#last year she finally pulled the ‘i shouldn’t have let you get an english degree’ card

[helpingfriendlybook]

thinking about how my mom has said the exact sentence “if you want to make money in a library you have to go for a master’s degree” upwards of 50 times + pressured me to get a fulbright and shamed me when i realized it wasn’t for me + told me to apply to an extremely selective mfa program in texas with 2 weeks notice + wants me to go to grad school in ireland + told me to look into mlis programs in boston. in her eyes i’m “too smart not to go for more school” and when my brother asked her if i wanted to go back, she said “well i think [they] should.”

[nugnthopkns]

i know you get deja vu

word count: 1.4k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, cursing, it's mild angst up in this b

recommended listening: deja vu | olivia rodrigo

a/n: wrote this short little ditty while avoiding my adult responsibilities lmao. it is not great but i really like the premise, maybe one day i'll do something more with it

Your eyes have to be failing you.

There’s no way he showed up, let alone with another girl – who looks shockingly similar to you. She’s a more polished, more refined version of yourself, and anger bubbles in your stomach the moment you see him walk through the door with her in tow.

When your parents informed you they’d invited Pierre-Luc to your graduation party you shrugged it off. Their reasoning was he’d been a large part of your college experience, and it was sound enough logic. You stumbled across him in a coffee shop during your freshman year and quickly fell into a romance that lasted until a few months ago. The breakup was rather brutal, though your family doesn’t know that, so you didn’t expect him to stop by your parents’ house to congratulate you on completing your degree.

Much to your distaste he does make an appearance, with who you presume to be his new girlfriend. You don’t want to stare at the pair, but you can’t help it – they look good together, possibly better than you and Pierre did. However, you notice that the young woman has on a dress that’s identical to one hanging at the back of your closest. Pierre had bought it for you when you accompanied him to France one offseason, and the thought of him replicating the trip with her crosses your mind.

Finding it too much to be in the same room as him, you excuse yourself from a conversation with some of your father’s business partners and grab your sister by the elbow on the way into the sunroom.

“What’s the matter with you?” She grumbles, upset you pulled her away from a conversation with a boy she has a tiny crush on.

“He’s here,” you whisper shout, doing your best to inconspicuously point to the culprit of your dampened spirits.

“Who?”

“Luc.”

Her expression softens, and it’s clear she feels sorry for you. “Shit. I didn’t think he was actually going to show up.”

You let out a rather strangled laugh. “Me either, but he’s here and I don’t know what to do.”

The two of you stay tucked inside for a few more moments, deriving a plan that gets your ex-boyfriend off the premises as fast as possible without him seeing you. She heads outside first, making sure to grab one of your cousins who’s obsessed with hockey on her way. Together they make a beeline for Pierre, who is beyond excited to catch up with your family. You slip through the door and into a conversation with some fellow graduates in the back corner of the yard. It isn’t interesting, just about future plans, but it keeps you occupied. You’re careful to keep you back turned and your voice low – anything to keep your existence inconspicuous.

Your sister keeps Pierre-Luc busy, chatting to him about how the playoffs went and what his goals for the offseason are. A small crowd gathers around him, mostly just extended family members who haven’t seen him in a while, and he indulges their questions with a kind smile. You can tell your luck is running out, that he’s finally going to spot you in the crowd and rush over to say whatever he came here for. The fates are cruel, and at that moment your mother calls everyone into a circle for a toast.

“I want to thank you all for coming,” she says, pulling you to stand beside her. You can tell Pierre is looking at you, but you avert your eyes and look anywhere but him. Your mother continues talking. “We’re incredibly proud of our daughter for completing her degree, and we can’t wait to see what she does next. If you’re here, we appreciate the role you played in her success. To Y/N!”

Your name is chanted like a chorus, and your eyes meet Pierre’s as he raises his glass. The intensity of his stare makes you blush, and you bury your head into your father’s shoulder, playing it off as being overcome with emotion. More toasts ensue, including one where you thank everyone for their continued support, and then the cake is cut. You try to slip inside, praying that Pierre-Luc and his date will leave, but the devil himself grabs your elbows as you open the back door.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, accent thicker then the last time you heard his voice. You can’t lie to yourself – he looks good. The sunshine has done wonders for his skin, and the tattoos peeking out from his shirt sleeve look new.

“Thank you.”

You offer nothing more to the conversation, which clearly upsets him, but he doesn’t do anything other than knit his brows together. It makes sense that you wouldn’t want to speak to him since the last time you did was the screaming match that ended your relationship. You go to make your exit, but the small girl hanging off Pierre’s side speaks.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she smiles. “I’m Maisie. Luc talks about you a lot.”

“Pardon?” You’re caught off guard. Why would he talk about you to his new girlfriend?

The man in question shifts uncomfortably, like he’s going to get caught in a lie. “Yeah, it’s so nice that you guys are still friends.”

There it is. Saying that you split amicably is probably the only way he could convince her to attend this stupid party in the first place. “Ah,” you sigh, “Well not everyone is afforded the same luxury.”

Against your better judgement, you compliment her dress. Maisie thanks you graciously, explaining that Pierre bought it for her and once he’s cleared to leave Columbus they’ll be taking a trip to France, with a pit-stop in Portugal because she’s never been. Your insides churn, but you manage to keep a glaringly fake smile plastered on your face. The conversation shifts, and you find out that she also studies English Literature and expects to graduate next year. You laugh off all the coincidences, but it’s obvious to you and Pierre-Luc that Maisie is a substitute for the person who came before her.

“Why don’t you go get us some drinks babe?” Pierre asks, and the girl skips away after reaching on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

You fiddle nervously with the hem of your dress, anxious to be alone with him. “It isn’t what it looks like,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“It’s exactly what it looks like Luc, and don’t you fucking dare say otherwise.”

He lets out a defeated sigh. “So what if it is? I think it’s glaringly obvious that I still love you.”

No shit you think, but you bite your tongue and say something more respectable. “I’d say so. She’s exactly like me, but hopefully she won’t mind being asked to put her whole life on hold.” There’s a bite to your tone that you can’t help, but it sets Pierre-Luc on edge.

“You can’t still be fucking on about that.”

You’re seeing red now, irate that he is still choosing to minimize your emotions. “I am! Because you asked me not to continue school, which is something I explicitly told you I wanted to do, just so I could be a more conventional NHL girlfriend. And then you broke up with me when I said I wouldn’t do it.” You inhale a deep breath before continuing. “I hope you have fun with Maisie in France. You should take her to that little café we went to, in Bordeaux, where we ate so much food we couldn’t walk back to the hotel. And I hope that every time she looks at you like you hang the moon, you remember that you’re recycling our entire relationship because you let it fall apart at the seams.”

Perhaps your emotions got the best of you, because the look on Pierre-Luc’s face is nothing short of shock. You’re taken aback too – your parents raised you better than to say hurtful things, but seeing him again brought up a myriad of things you hadn't yet dealt with. Without another word, you spin on your heel and head inside, slamming the door behind you. It shouldn’t upset you this much, after so many months, but for a reason you’re unwilling to admit to yourself it does.

You sit in the bay window of your childhood bedroom, wrapped in a blanket even though it’s the beginning of summer, and watch as Pierre-Luc presses a kiss to her forehead before thanking your parents for inviting him one last time. Just like him, every relationship you have for the rest of your life will be an attempt to replicate the love you had for Pierre – a never-ending circle of deja vu.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice @2manytabsopen if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 2)

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

Previous Chapter: The First Meeting

Next Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

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

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

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

CHAPTER 2: The Rebirth

You had a hard time falling asleep that night. Your mind is trying to remember the vision, but the images remain blurry. There was a faint heat lingering from the man's body pressed against yours.

‘Could we possibly be…. It’s not impossible but….’, your mind was working 10,000 miles an hour trying to think of the possibilities. There was only one thought that came to mind and it made you blush. You pulled up the covers and snuggled against your stuffed plushies and pillows. You had to pass by the library and get permission tomorrow.

At least the weaponry was amazing. Noritoshi senpai even showed you inside and pointed you to the crossbows he often practices with. ‘He must be a capable sorcerer. The way he holds himself up with such dignity was already a dead giveaway. A natural born leader huh.’ you wondered.

You fell asleep that night dreaming about a lovely Phoenix, being reborn from ashes.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was pacing around in his room. He had passed by the library on the way back from dinner, and grabbed several books. “The Secrets of Foreseeing the Future, Vol. 1”, “Alternate and Parallel Worlds”, “Past Lives: A Study”, and “The Life and Works of Abe no Seimei".

He paced around his dorm room, looking over the book that was bothering him the most. “The Tales and True Records of Soulmates”.

He scanned through the main parts of the book. It spoke about bonding. There apparently were 2 types of bonding, emotional and physical.

When 2 halves of a whole reach a certain degree of understanding of each other, they establish what's called a half-bond or a phantom bond.

This begins to link their emotions. Intense anger, fear, joy, disgust, sorrow, and love can be felt from the very first stage. As their bond strengthens, they begin to share more emotions, as well as short strong intentions.

Intentions are used to depict a state of being. If they have a goal or a state of feeling over a particular matter, their partner can pick up on it.

The near final stage of a full bond is when they start to share physical sensations. When one gets injured, it will resound with the other.

The strongest bond is known to share special abilities and thoughts via telepathy between a fated pair.

Noritoshi's mind was definitely in overdrive. There was SO MUCH information on soulmates. But the one thing that wasn't explicitly stated was how a soulmate pair found each other.

How do soulmates confirm that they are indeed soulmates? Most of the information was based on soulmates who simply claimed to be. Then what about how they came to be?

So now he knows that soulmates are supposedly able to share emotions and feelings to a certain degree. But there was a lack of information in the book. What about visions? The vision he shared with y/n was one of a kind.

It kept discussing how the known most popular existence were the parents of Sugawara no Michizane. One of the three great vengeful spirits that is the ancestor of the Gojo clan.

He made up his mind. Taking out his phone, he dialed up his father.

Beep. “Noritoshi? It’s so late, why are you calling at this time? It best be an urgent matter.” his father gruffly answered.

“I am sorry to disturb you father. It’s just, there is a new student here in school. A First year called Tsuchimikado y/n from the Tsuchimikado clan.”

“Ahhh, them huh? Powerful group even though there are only a few of them. They don’t really talk about their techniques that much. They are descendants of Abe no Seimei and yet they kept to themselves as a minor clan of jujutsushi… So what about her?”

“She might possibly be my soulmate, but I am still confirming. Do you have any books or records on soulmates at all?”

At this, his father sat up straight in his study. “Are you serious? And what can you say to prove such claims? Do you know how rare a soulmate bond is?”

"I am aware. And I know we may not be soulmates. But I have some suspicions. If you have any info about soulmates, The Abe clan, or the Tsuchimikado clans, I would appreciate it." Noritoshi replied.

"Okay. I'll have a look and get back to you. Feel free to come by the main house this weekend. Look over the main study. There are also some records on Soulmates there."

"Thank you father. Have a good evening."

Beep.

Noritoshi sighed. He undid his hair bindings and combed out his hair. And opened the book again. He read through the table of contents in case he missed out on any major pointers.

He couldn't read the book in one sitting, because he is still reviewing for the TOEIC and improving his English.

He yawned and was about to retire to bed, remembering his promise to bring you around tomorrow, when one particular word jumped at him.

The binding process of soulmates. He quickly flipped through to the page and found out with horror that some of the pages had been torn out.

It wasn't him who did it. (Obviously). But now he has to go and tell Utahime sensei about it.

He took a closer look at the remaining few pages.

"The Binding of Soulmates. It is known to vary per pair. Some pairs found themselves to be born with a matching symbol in the inside of their arms or on their necks from birth. While others form it upon passing the first stage of -" and the page ends with a violent diagonal tear from the upper right corner to the lower left.

That's pretty much all that he can take away from the book so far. Frustrated, he decided to go to sleep. Nothing about sharing visions was mentioned so far. Maybe they weren't a fated pair after all.

But deep in his gut, Noritoshi knew that you were an important person to him. That was for sure. As he fell asleep, he shared the same dream with you. A lone Phoenix, being reborn from its ashes.

◇◇◇

The following morning, you didn't know where to meet up with Noritoshi senpai so you simply went to the same place he left you last night. On your way there, you passed by a tall robot kind of thing which spooked you. You stared at it, wondering if it was a kind of automation that serves the technical school.

To your surprise, it turned towards you and bowed while greeting, "Hello. I'm a 1st year student here at Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College. You can call me Mechamaru. Kokichi Muta is my real name, but I use robots to fight."

Your eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "My name is Tsuchimikado Y/n, also starting here as a first year student. Pleased to meet you!" You bowed back.

“So… is your body inside that robot?” you asked him.

“No, as a result of heavenly restriction, which if you haven’t heard of yet is a means of exchange/ a binding contract, my body is elsewhere. I am controlling this robot from afar.”

Your eyes bugged, “That’s incredible! To have that much cursed energy, plus it is over such a long distance.” You were jealous as long-ranged techniques are something you try to work hard and specialise on.

“It’s not that fun being physically stuck in a basement.” Mechamaru didn’t sound too amused.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that… “ you floundered as you mentally hit yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“No need to apologize. I am used to it.” He waved it off coolly.

"You're the first other 1st year I've met Mechamaru. I wonder when the others will come. I've heard of 2 others." You wondered.

"I've already met one of them. Miwa is her name. You won't miss her with her bright blue hair." He replied. His voice was so stiff and robotic, a strange feature.

"Ohhhh I see. I'll keep that in mind!" You smiled. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll catch you around for sure! Please take care of me."

"Don't let me keep you waiting. Please also take care of me and see you around." Mechamaru waved as you ran off.

More students to meet huh. Your heart pounded in nervousness and excitement. So it was Miwa and Mechamaru so far. ‘Ugh, I’m so bad with names. I’ll surely get used to it.’ you thought to yourself.

You rounded the corner and nearly plowed through Noritoshi senpai in your haste. “Whoa there, careful,” he held his hands out in case you slipped, but you were fine. You caught yourself just before you hit his personal space.

You were surprised to see him already there, in the same clothes he was in yesterday (was that his uniform? You had yet to get yours, which had custom arrangements).

"Good morning Noritoshi-senpai!" you beamed up at him. He looked down at you amusedly, liking your bright energy. “Good morning y/n.”

Your smile grew wider upon hearing your name fall from his lips for the very first time. For a moment the both of you just stood there smiling. Then Noritoshi beckoned you to his side as you walked around the campus.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.

"Ah yes, though it might take some time getting used to the dorm rooms here. But everything is pretty much convenient. Especially the kitchenettes in our rooms." You were still excited about starting classes.

“Did you have your uniform tailored to your liking?” You asked him.

“Ah yes, I requested a looser fit. I am used to wearing a kimono and wooden sandals at home. I simply requested for them to be made in a similar fashion for comfort. And it gives me enough space to hide all of my weapons.” He smiled gently down at you.

“Ahhh I see. I have also put in a request for my uniform, but I don’t have it yet.” you said.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too long now, classes start in 2 days after all.”

He brought you around the main gardens. “It’s so big,” you gaped, excited to train here. There was so much open space, it would be good for flying practice. “The other buildings are offices for the staff, and warehouses for special tools and materials.” He explained.

Then Noritoshi led you to a corridor with tons of doors. “These are the 3rd year classrooms. First and second year classrooms are upstairs. We can have a look if you’d like?” He asked.

You agreed. And on your way to the staircase, you came face to face with a man going down the stairs. He was incredibly tall and ripped. With his hair tied up, a scar racing down on his left eye, he grunted at Noritoshi in greeting.

He came down and faced you both, before addressing Noritoshi. “You ready for class? Is this a new student?”

“Of course I am. And she is a first year. Tsuchimikado Y/n.” Noritoshi introduced you and you quickly bowed in greeting. “You can call me Tsuchi san or just Tsuchi as I know my last name is long. It is very nice to meet you!”

Noritoshi noted that you didn’t offer to be addressed by your first name this time and felt weirdly happy.

“Todo Aoi, 2nd year. So… what man or woman is your ideal type?” He asked as he loomed over you menacingly. You barely came up to this man's chest.

….. What in the world are you getting into?

Fun fact: The Tsuchimikado Clan are indeed a real clan descended from the Abe Clan and Abe no Seimei the Onmyouji himself. I chose Abe no Seimei as a parallel to the three great vengeful spirits from whom the big 3 Jujutsu families are descendants of. As Abe no Seimei was also a major figure during the Heian period. But of course my story is a work of fiction so other than the onmyouji himself, everyone else is not real^^.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[cynical-mystic]

ZKMonth 21 Day 5 - Soulmate Marks

On the day you were born, you were given a necklace that was one half of a design. The other half was given to your soulmate. No one knows where the necklaces came from; they just appeared around the necks of infants and grew as they did. You couldn’t take them off until you met the person you were destined to be with. This made it a bit easier to find your match.

Katara didn’t really care whose necklace matched hers. Sokka, her brother, had always been obsessed with finding the other half of his.

She just wanted to live her life, get her degree, and get a good job so she could help support their grandmother.

Her necklace was half of a crescent moon with some kind of design carved into it. She didn’t have the whole thing so she couldn’t tell what the design was supposed to be. When she was little she’d drawn pictures of it trying to guess the full thing, but none of them ever looked right.

One day, as she was sitting in her Intro to Literature class, someone who wasn’t the professor walked in. She knew this class had a TA, but he’d never come to class before as most of his job was helping to grade their smaller assignments.

“Professor Wu is ill today,” he said, not looking up at them as he sorted through his materials. “I’ll be leading discussion on Darcy and Elizabeth’s refusal of their matching necklaces in Pride and Prejudice.”

He looked up and met her eyes, and her necklace grew warm.

It was as though time froze. Both of their necklaces fell from the choker position to a normal necklace length, and they took each other in.

He was good-looking despite the scar that covered half his face. He seemed well put together based on how he was dressed and the state of his bag.

But she didn’t even know his name.

Not participating in class discussion was out of character for Katara, but today she felt like it was excusable. Somehow he was still able to teach class, but she couldn’t focus.

Should she go right up to him after? Should she just ignore him and leave?

When the clock chimed the hour, he made the decision for her, packing up his things as quickly as possible and all but bolting out of the auditorium.

Suki, her best friend, put a hand on Katara’s shoulder as she stared after him.

��I saw your necklaces,” she said, gesturing to Katara’s neck.

Out of habit Katara grabbed for her pendant but it wasn’t where it usually was, as she already knew. She pressed it against her chest and found she couldn’t speak.

“So much for finding your match not meaning anything,” Suki teased. “You’re starstruck!”

“I don’t even know who that guy is!” Katara moaned.

Suki pulled out her folder for this class and thumbed through the papers. She pulled the syllabus out and handed it to Katara.

TA: Zuko Tamura.

“It even has his email,” Suki pointed out. “You could email him!”

“I’m not going to email him,” Katara said, shoving the paper back at Suki. “Did you see the way he ran out of here? He has no interest in me.”

Suki shook her head, but really couldn’t say anything to this. She’d seen him bolt just like Katara and the entire rest of their class had.

Later, Katara was studying in the quad, her books laid out around her on the blanket she kept in her bag, when a shadow fell over what she was reading.

She looked up to see Zuko, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

“Can I help you?” she asked cooly. “You’re blocking my light.”

“Sorry,” he said, stepping to the side. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Katara nodded her head to the open spot on the blanket and Zuko sank down, setting his bag down beside him.

“I’m sorry I freaked,” he said. “I was not at all prepared for what happened to happen.”

“Neither was I,” she admitted.

“You probably know my name already, because I’m your TA, but I’m Zuko.”

“My name is Katara.”

He nodded, recognition flashing across his face. He’d graded her papers, so he’d had some idea of who she was already.

“I just needed to tell you something,” he said, still fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

“Yeah?”

“I...um...I have a girlfriend.”

This didn’t surprise her. People often had significant others while they were waiting to meet their soulmates. Some people even married those who weren’t their soulmates because of various reasons.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m not interested in a relationship right now, so it doesn’t matter.”

Zuko nodded and stood up.

“I’ll see you around, then?”

“Sure.”

As he walked away, Katara wondered if they would see each other around, or if they would both avoid each other as much as she intended to avoid him.

Like she’d told all her friends and family, it didn’t matter who her soulmate turned out to be. She wasn’t interested in a relationship.

A few years after her first encounter with Zuko, Katara was a senior and working in the college’s library.

One day he came in, looking a bit frazzled, and approached the counter where she was running check-outs and checking in books.

She recognized him immediately, of course, but what she hadn’t counted on was him still wearing his necklace.

Hers was tucked into her backpack. Always close, but no longer around her neck. It was the easiest way to keep most guys away.

He looked up and stepped back when he recognized her.

“Katara!”

“Zuko.”

Her tone must have confused him, because he looked at her for a moment before looking back at the paper he had in his hand.

“I have a few books on hold from other libraries.”

“I’ll get them.”

She retrieved them from the shelf behind the counter and took his ID card from him to check them out to him.

“What are you still doing around here?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you have graduated last year?”

“I’m doing my masters in English.”

She nodded.

Finally, the books were checked out and the ticket printed. She stuck it to the cover of the book on the top of the stack and pushed it towards him.

“Here you go. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks.”

He took the stack of books into his arms but didn’t walk away.

“Is there something else I can help you with?”

“I was wondering...would you be up for coming to my place and watching anime?”

Her eyes widened.

“Are you really that desperate for a relationship? We don’t know each other at all!”

“Not a relationship,” he muttered. “I don’t really have any...any friends? And you seem nice.”

To her surprise, her heart went out to him.

“What about your girlfriend?”

“She dumped me when she saw my necklace,” he explained.

Katara nodded thoughtfully.

“Sure, I’ll watch anime with you,” she said, grabbing her phone. “What’s your number?”

They exchanged numbers and as he left the building with a friendly wave, Katara couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe being friends with her soulmate wouldn’t be all that bad.

Months later, after weeks of anime binging and laughing over stupid sitcoms Katara had loved as a child, Katara realized she’d fallen for Zuko.

Not in the passionate, the love is burning inside of me, kind of way, but a softer way. He’d slowly become the person she wanted to hang out with the most, and she found she wanted to spend even more time with him than she already did.

When she suggested moving in together, he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t you think that’s a little much?” he asked. “We aren’t even dating.”

Katara shrugged.

“We don’t have to share a room or anything. I think it would just be nice to coexist. I like being around you and want to be around you more.”

Zuko nodded slowly.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he admitted.

When she told her family they were moving in together, they were thrilled until she emphasized that they weren’t romantic in any way.

“Why are you moving in with him then?” Sokka asked. “Just because he’s your soulmate doesn’t mean you have to spend your life with him.”

“I don’t really want to spend it with anyone else,” she said, shrugging. “And I want to be around him more.”

“Do you love him?” her father asked.

“I do,” she admitted.

He nodded thoughtfully.

“I support you, Katara,” he said.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Katara was pleased when Zuko seemed to be even more similar to her than she’d thought he was. They spent a considerable amount of their free time together and engaged in a lot of physical touch such as hugging and snuggling and holding hands, but he never tried to make it sexual. Which was more than fine by her.

Eventually, though, he did bring it up.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this life we have?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well usually things would be, I don’t know, more physical?” he said. “Aren’t you interested in sex?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I was a bit worried that would be a problem.”

Zuko let out a huge breath.

“Thank goodness,” he gushed. “I’m not interested in it either, which was another reason why my ex probably broke up with me, but that’s beside the point. You make me happy, Katara, and I’m glad we can be happy just the way we are.”

She reached out and took his hand in hers.

“So am I.”

@zutaramonth​

[emberfrostlovesloki]

#25 Drowning (in Paperwork).

Prompt: You overhear Spencer defending after someone calls you stupid / lazy.

Category: Angst / Comfort

Content Warning: None

A/N: Sorry that I have been gone so long. Grad school has been as busy as I imagined it would be. I’m almost free however and will hopefully post often over the break. This piece has been sitting idle for months so here is it. This is a collaboration with @imagining-in-the-margins​ who came up with the idea for the story. They have some awesome CM content, so I highly recommend their blog. 

Word Count: 2K

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Y/n = your name 

Y/l/n = your last name 

_Y/n_ was currently slumped over her desk asleep. The bullpen was mostly empty at the moment because most of the members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit were out grabbing their lunch from the breakroom or getting food from the many take out joints near the FBI compound. Agent y/l/n_ had planned on shot gunning a cup of coffee and continuing her paperwork over their most recent successful case. The unsub, Keith Drivesdale, had ended the whole situation very dramatically with a seven mile footrace in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Tennessee. Mr. Drivesdale had been kidnapping young female hikers on the Appalachian Trail, assaulting them, and then dumping the bodies across state lines on the trail. Drivesdale had been repeating the same pattern for four months until the authorities in Georgia, Tennessee, Virginia, and Pennsylvania had the sense to contact the other states sheriff stations to see if there was a pattern in the type of killings that were happening on their portion of the trail. By that time the unsub had killed eleven young women. The man hunt had concluded with twenty five sheriffs, five helicopters searching for the last victim from above, and _y/n_ and Morgan tracking down the man on foot. When they had found his trailer, Keith had not attempted to injure Kelly Browning, his last victim. Morgan stayed with the hiker until Jason and Emily came to take her to the hospital. Meanwhile agent _y/l/n_ had run after Drivesdale. The unsub finally tired enough to make a bad decision in his choice of trail to attempt escape on. The man had run himself onto a lookout with a high drop. _Y/n_ had her gun pulled out and said, “Mr. Drivesdales there’s no place to go. Give this up.” Keith pulled out a pistol from his belt and said, “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I really couldn’t.” The man quickly put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. His body wracked with the impact of the bullet, and the unsub fell back off the lookout, and into the river below. A second later Derek rushed into the clearing. The other agent was afraid that the unsub had hurt _y/l/n_. With the accelerating chase over, and the case solved the team piled into the jet and returned to D.C. 

It was the following day after the case and the paperwork was due by the end of the workday. Derek and Spencer entered the bullpen. Morgan walked up to _y/n_ desk and pulled The Decameron out from under the sleeping agents folded arms. Surprisingly this movement didn’t stir the sleeping woman. After a few minutes of standing over _y/n_ Derek gently patted her shoulder. The female agent jerked awake, and gripped the sides of her desk. Morgan startled a little at the sharp movement, and said, “Hey, are you alright _y/n_? After rubbing her palm over her eyes and replied, “I’m fine. I had a paper due last night and about a hundred pages of reading left before attending lecture tonight.” Spencer smiled and moved forward saying, “I’ve read The Decameron five times. If you want me to give you a summary of the pages you haven’t read yet I’d be happy to.” _Y/n_ smiled at Reid. She knew that reading that much text was going to take longer than she had. Also, she never missed an opportunity to hear Spencer flex his extensive knowledge. Therefore she replied, “That sounds great. I’ll treat you to some good coffee. You talk and I take notes. If that seems like an equal exchange to you.” Spencer smiled, trilled at the idea of getting to spend time with _y/n_. Derek could see Reid’s excitement, but refrained from saying anything about it in front of agent _y/l/n_. After an awkward moment of silence the standing agents moved toward their respective desks and started working on their own paperwork. 

After another three hours _y/n_ startled awake again. She internally berated herself for only getting an hour of sleep last night. Unfortunately editing a ten page paper took longer than she had anticipated. The paper was 15% of her final grade in one of the three graduate classes she was taking at Georgetown University. She looked up at the clock and was thankful that she had only been out for ten minutes. She was longing for the day to end, and to spend an hour or two with Spencer. Speaking of the young genius, she couldn’t see him anywhere in the brightly lit desk area. She also noticed that one of her thicker, unfinished files was apparently missing. She took the approach she always did when something strange happened near her; get a cup of coffee and figure it out after the caffeine hit her. She pushed her chair out from her desk and moved toward the break room. As she approached the small coffee area that was separated from the rest of the breakroom by a wall and door on the far right that led to the coffee she craved, she heard her name brought up. The voice sounded slightly like, ‘Dave, Devin, David’ she couldn’t really remember his name at the moment. He was a new quantitative technician that made sure all the servers were up and running as they should be. He often was in the bullpen in a desperate grasp to get into Penelope's good graces. From what she heard from Garcia was that the computer analyst hated the new guy's guts. “He thinks he is so smart, smarter than everyone else, even me,” the computer genius had once told _y/n_ over drinks. _y/l/n_ stopped and waited to see if the man had something else to say and wondered who in the world he was talking to. It’s not like this Dave guy knew her at all. It only took a moment before he heard his voice again, “So did she ask you to work on her files?” After a second _y/n_ heard a voice she definitely knew, Spencer's. He replied to the comment, “No, I just wanted to help.” There was a scoff from Dave and he replied, “Well I wouldn’t put it past her to ask you to do extra work for her. She’s such a lazy person.” This type of talk shouldn’t have gotten to her, she had heard worse. But hearing some egocentric man who didn’t even know her talk about her behind her back hurt in a way she hadn’t expected. What hurt her more was what Spencer said next, “How is she lazy?” _Y/n_ sucked in a breath and tried to stop the warm tears from rolling down her face. She had been doubted by cops, by teachers in the academy, by her own family that she wasn’t capable of doing this job. She didn’t expect to find her own team doubting her. Especially not Spencer. From the way he asked it sounded like he was trying to get more information about how she just wasn’t good enough. She wanted to move away, but couldn’t move her legs, instead she slumped against the wall and heard Dave say, “She’s always asleep at her desk, she doesn’t do her work, I don’t know what she’s like in the field, but I bet it’s not great.” The silence after his statement was finished was deafening. 

At least it was deafening until Spencer replied. On the other side of the wall Spencer was leaning against the counter as Devin made a rude remark about _y/n_. He furrowed his eyebrows and asked the middle aged man to elaborate. When the man replied he was just digging himself into a bigger hole. After Spence finished a swig of his coffee he cleared his throat and said, “Let me tell you something about _y/n_, first of all she performs excellently in the field. The case we just finished almost entirely was solved by her. Secondly, just because she’s new to the team doesn’t make her less valuable, in fact it makes her more valuable. She sees things in the cases and the team that we don’t. I hope that doesn’t change. Third, she’s not lazy or stupid, she’s pursuing an advanced degree in English Literature. She’s essentially condensing her master and PhD. into four years. I don’t see you reading three hundred pages a night of the literary canon plus secondary readings and trying to write a dissertation at the same time. Also, she's taking three classes this semester, which is a full load at Georgetown University. So don’t tell me that _y/n_ is lazy. She’s far from it. Also, maybe stop making observations about people you don’t know to a profiler, and especially to me.” With this Spencer brushed past the man and out into the breakroom. Spencer noticed _y/n_ leaning against the wall. Once he saw her it became exceedingly clear that she had overheard the conversation he just had with Devin. He walked quickly over to her and gently grabbed her elbow and led her away from the wall and the break room altogether. As the pair entered the hall Spencer quietly said, “I’m sorry you had to hear that in there.” After the duo entered the hallway and moved back toward the bullpen. Before they both entered the bullpen _y/n_ stopped Spencer by touching his arm lightly. The genius stopped and looked down at her. She gave him a small smile and bit her lower lip slightly before saying, “Thank you for defending me in there. It means a lot.” Spencer shook his head slightly, as if in shock, and replied, “You don’t have to thank me. That guy is an idiot and an asshole.” Reid’s word’s caused _y/l/n’s_ heart tug slightly, she smiled up at him and said, “So, are we still on for later today?” Spence smiled and nodded. With the conversation being finished for the moment he opened the glass door to the bullpen and held it for her. 

An hour later _y/n_ was sipping on a warm chai latte and Spencer was going over the last fourth of Boccaccio’s plague narrative. It was raining outside, and the atmosphere in the coffee shop felt like it’s own cozy little bubble separated from the rest of the world. After Reid had finished his recap and _y/l/n_ had all her questions answered she looked up and said, “Spencer, um, I was wondering if you’d like to do this again sometime, but without the books and notetaking and all that?” The lanky agent shifted in his seat before responding, “You mean a date?” _Y/n_ smiled slightly uncomfortably, hoping she hadn’t crossed some kind of professional boundary with her colleague. She thought about her response and replied, “It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. I would like it if I didn’t have to have the excuse of studying to spend time with you. You’re a cool guy and I’d like to know you better if you were comfortable with it.” Reid couldn’t suppress the small smile that crossed his face briefly before saying, “Sure, I’d like that a lot.” _Y/n_ looked down at her notepad to hid the redness of her cheeks from Reid. It wasn’t anything yet, but she hoped with time she could tell Spence how she truly felt about him. She reminded her self of one of her favorite quotes, ‘all in good time my love.’

[hwayoungscorpioshin]

Filthy Rich, Spoilt Rotten | fourteen

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Summary: Seungwoo covers up corruption and you are an activist in your spare time.

Also known as Seungwoo’s life as your employer

The last time Seungwoo has been to Hong Kong is about half a year ago and while he cannot say that nothing has changed since then, the city does not feel the same either. It is almost nightfall when they arrive at the hotel. The girl has surprisingly — and pleasantly — kept herself together quite well. A slight nausea and a bit of dizziness are all that's happened to her and since they have stepped onto solid ground again, she has looked better.

Still, when they approach the reception desk, she takes a step back to let him talk to the receptionist himself. So much for being the boss, Seungwoo thinks jokingly. He seriously doesn't mind. In fact, he would rather her act towards him with a little bit more familiarity than what is she currently doing. But he doesn't know if they're close enough to be like that.

"Let's go?" the girl asks as she tugs at his sleeve.

Seungwoo realizes he's been staring into space and shakes his head briefly before falling into step with her. True to his promise, his father has booked them a suite for that personal task that he's assigned to Seungwoo. It will be a chore to keep the girl preoccupied, but it will definitely be a lot harder to explain to her the current situation. So, as they get on the elevator shaft, Seungwoo thinks hard of what errands he should give her.

"A penny for your thoughts?" she asks him suddenly.

"What?"

The girl flips her hair over her shoulder, "You've been in your own thoughts since we got in the car until now," she explains.

Seungwoo tilts his head to the side, "Have you been watching me, miss?"

"Never mind that I asked, then," she huffs and then, makes a face.

Seungwoo smiles, "You sure you're not curious?"

"No..." she shakes her head but the slight hesitation in her voice says otherwise.

The elevator bell dings as they arrive on the tenth floor. The girl leans away from the railing to get out first. Seungwoo lets her have her little fit before following suit. He can't say he's not enjoying teasing her from time to time but he'll have to tell her eventually.

As they walk down the hall, the girl faces him again, walking backwards as they move further into the hall, "Hey, do you want to go grab something to eat later?"

"You want to go outside?" Seungwoo asks.

She nods her head like it's the most obvious thing on Earth, "Don't you want to?"

"Well..."

"That's great!" the girl exclaims, "I don't know if cheap ramen is your thing but trust me, I know this place with a really good menu."

For a ramen house with such cheap, good food, Seungwoo is surprised that they don’t have as many customers as he thinks they should have. The place is small but it’s not cramped and him and the girl can easily have some privacy while eating without him having the need to rent out the entire place. If his brother Hangyul can see him right now, he’ll probably laugh and tell him that this is not his scene. And he’ll be right, but as he listens to the girl talking about the history of the place and how she’s found it, he realizes he cares none about how cheap the place is.

“And that’s how Minhee and I ended up eating here every time we visited,” she finishes.

“You and your brother seem really close,” he comments.

The girl smiles faintly, “Yeah,” she sighs as if she’s remembering something, “He can be annoying sometimes, but yeah, I think we’re pretty close.”

Seungwoo senses that there must be more to the story but he doesn’t press on it. If she wants to talk about it, she will.

“You know what,” he whispers, “I could use a walk after this heavy meal.”

She takes one look at him and his hand rubbing his stomach, “Who knew a giant like you can have such small stomach?” she teases, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not a giant, you’re just tiny,” Seungwoo replies and ruffles her hair.

The girl rolls her eyes at him as she stands up and picks up her coat and bag, “You coming?”

He grins at her cheekiness and follows suit. The owner thanks them in English as they rush past him in the entrance which they both return. The air is cool and light when it hits Seungwoo in the face and only then does he realize that the ramen house they have just been in has no air circulation whatsoever. No wonder the place is cheap, Seungwoo thinks.

He takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the back of his neck which he now feels is drenched with sweat, “What the hell? It must be a hundred degrees in there,” he complains.

“Hey,” the girl turns to him with her hands in her pockets, “I said I knew a place with good ramen, not fresh air.”

Seungwoo shrugs. No need to complain about it now that they are out of the restaurant, anyway. He follows the girl as she skips towards the less busy part of the city. Seungwoo’s mother would have a fit if she sees her jumping around like that just right after eating. Nonetheless, he strolls right behind her, watching her hair bounce with each step.

“Where are we going?” he calls after her.

“You’ll see,” she replies, smirking.

He trails after her, tempted to ask some more, but as they pass the quieter part of the city and go into some sort of residential area, the scenery calms him into silence. The quiet doesn’t last long, though, because as soon as they turn left to a community playground, the girl’s phone rings which shocks both him and her out of peace.

She must have felt annoyed by the disturbance because then, she swings open the gate to the playground rather harshly before digging her phone out of her pocket. The place itself is illuminated by the street lamps littered everywhere but when the girl pulls her phone up to her face, the irritated look on her face is amplified. Seungwoo has never seen her with this expression before so, he says nothing and decides to wait until after she either rejects the call or answers it before saying anything.

“What do you want, Minhee?” the girl hisses.

Once he hears this, Seungwoo walks over to a swing set and settles into a seat to give her some privacy. He tries not to watch her as she paces back and forth about twelve feet away from him. It must be something really sensitive, he surmises. It’s not like her to fight with someone over the phone like this, but something inside him tells him that he hasn’t known this girl for so long. Who is he to know what she’s actually like outside of work?

He shakes his head. It’s a thought he doesn’t want to entertain.

The girl finally walks over to him and he hears her tell the person on the other line to call her later. Her dismissive tone must have prevented the other person to argue some more because she pockets her phone right away. That or she hasn’t not really bothered to wait for a reply.

She shoots him an apologetic smile, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Seungwoo shrugs. He doesn’t want to expound on it if she doesn’t want to.

“I love my brother to death but sometimes you just want to punch them, you know,” she chuckles as she lowers herself on the swing seat next to him.

Seungwoo laughs. So, that’s it.

He raises an eyebrow, “I have four brothers. I know exactly what you mean.”

“Oh, that’s right. I haven’t met the other two, though. Like, officially,” the girl lifts her head up as if she’s remembering something, “I mean, like, I’ve seen them in photos before, but I haven’t seen them in person,” she stammers.

“You’re not missing much, to be honest,” Seungwoo jokes.

She smiles, deep in thought and then, turns to him. “All of you seem really close. You guys ever fight?”

“Well, yeah, that’s pretty normal in a family. Don’t you think?” the metals creak as Seungwoo plays with the swing, “Why? Did you and your brother get into a fight?”

The girl shakes her head, “No. He’s just so nosy. I might end up getting mad for real.”

“I’m sure he only has your best interests in mind.”

“That’s the point, though,” she says in a slightly raised voice, “It’s my best interests, shouldn’t I be the one to determine that?”

Seungwoo stops playing on the swing to take a good look at her. It seems to be a more serious conflict that he has initially thought.

“I remember when my brothers and I were in high school — when we were in high school,” he starts, completely avoiding her question, “I had this huge crush on a girl and they kept on pestering me to confess to her even though I wasn’t ready then. They never stopped telling me to confess until graduation.”

“Well, did you do it?”

“No,” Seungwoo shakes his head wistfully, “I never had the courage.”

The girl leans away and only then, does Seungwoo notice that she’s been leaning closer to him all this time as she listens. She looks relieved, but he doesn’t trust the lighting in the playground. It could just be his imagination again.

He clears his throat, not wanting to stay on the topic for too long, “Anyway, I’m just saying, maybe you should give your brother a chance with what he’s telling you. Just hear him out, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

A conflicted look passes over her face, “I guess…”

A/N: I took that headline from an actual news article since I can’t write a headline for shit. I hope you guys don’t mind 🥺

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[shushmal]

Written for @dynamicbkdkzine​!! Leftover sales are still open, check it out!

We’re Just Strangers Really

At four years old, Bakugou Katsuki is the coolest kid Izuku has ever met. At eight, Kacchan is everything Izuku wants to be. At twelve, Izuku is so far behind, but he’ll catch up. He knows he will. At fourteen, as an omega sitting in the principal’s office, Izuku finally understands that he never will. He’ll never catch up to Kacchan, no matter what.

Read it here on Ao3!

At four years old, Bakugou Katsuki is the coolest kid Izuku has ever met. He stands tall, grins wide, and looks everyone in the eye without flinching. And to Izuku, who is made of shy smiles and trembling fingers and shuffling feet, no one is braver than Kacchan.

At eight, Kacchan is strong and steady, even when he looks down his nose at Izuku with a sneer. He’s popular but unapproachable, and yet somehow Izuku still finds himself in Kacchan’s close orbit. He’s grateful and a little pleased that he gets to share that precious space, because Kacchan is everything Izuku wants to be.

At twelve, Kacchan is sure of himself in a way that Izuku desperately wants to be. Kacchan walks without wilting to the side, speaks without stuttering, and smiles only when he means it. His grades are top of the class, his quirk is amazing, and when he opens his mouth, everyone stops to listen. Izuku is so far behind, but he’ll catch up. He knows he will.

At fourteen, sitting in the principal’s office, Izuku finally understands that he never will. He’ll never catch up to Kacchan, no matter what.

-

Inko is a rigid structure on the verge of collapse at Izuku’s side. She’s biting back tears as she listens to the principal talk, but all Izuku can hear is white noise. He already knows, so he doesn’t need to hear the words “we can’t accommodate an omega in this school” and “our sister school will gladly accept him and train him” and “there are scholarships he can apply for.”

She’s clutching the forms in her hands tightly, the paper wrinkling in her grip. “The scholarship doesn’t pay the full tuition,” she says and her voice wavers on every syllable, every word.

The principal shifts uneasily in his seat. “No, it does not.”

“Izuku worked hard to get into this school,” she says. “To get this scholarship. He deserves it.”

“I understand—”

“I don’t think you do. I know exactly what kind of school that is!”

“Midoriya-san,” he chides her, and Inko’s shoulders hunch around her neck. “We don’t offer full-rides to omegas. I’m sorry, but it’s just not financially sound for the school board.”

Inko stands suddenly, and Izuku jumps, worried she will tumble to the ground, but instead she stands tall, an omega woman looming high over an alpha’s desk. “So my son, because of how he was born, does not deserve the same education as any other child? How wretched can you be?”

“Midoriya-san—”

“I’m not interested in whatever else you have to say.” Inko takes Izuku’s hand, and leads him out the door. They pass Izuku’s classroom on their way out, and he can feel all the eyes of his former classmates following them as they go. He doesn’t look to see if Kacchan is one of those that are watching.

-

“Izuku,” Inko starts, and stops. There are tears drying on her face, and Izuku knows she’s cried all that she can. She has apologized so much already, and Izuku doesn’t know if he can stand it if she does again. “Izuku, I’m—”

“It’s okay, mom.” He reels her in and hugs her tightly, squeezing her and committing to memory the feeling of his mother’s arms around him—her softness and her warmth—because he’s not sure when he’ll be able to see her again, if he’ll ever be able to see her again. They're both older now than they had been, both of them spent, slow, sad by the years they've struggled through. “I’ll be okay, so don’t worry about me. I’ll write to you and call you, and when…” Izuku swallows, biting back his own tears he’s desperate not to show her. “Well, maybe I’ll get to see you sooner than you think.”

Inko doesn’t say anything for a moment, just holds him as tightly as she’s able. When she steps back, her eyes are defeated.

“You’ll be a lot older than the omegas here,” she says, her voice quiet and sad. “Most of them will have just presented, so they’ll be more attractive to anyone looking. Don’t let it get to you.”

“Mom—”

Shushing him, Inko cups his face, looking him dead in the eye. “You may be here a while, baby. You’re twenty-two and you’re quirkless. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, but, please, don’t agree to the first alpha that looks your way, okay? Protect yourself.”

Izuku nods, stomach churning. “I won’t.”

“Wait for someone good, someone kind,” she says. She pulls him down until she can press a kiss to his forehead, and Izuku’s chest tightens. He wishes he were a child again, and she was tucking him into bed with a good night kiss. “They’ll come to you, I’m sure of it.”

Trying to find it in himself to believe her, Izuku nods and hugs her one last time before he picks up his bag and disappears into the matchmaking house.

-

The lounge is bustling with activity this Saturday, tentative alpha and omega matches meeting in a more relaxed setting as they get to know each other. Izuku is there too, waiting on an alpha woman that had signed up to meet him, but he’s not holding his breath. She hadn’t exactly seemed too enthused with him after their initial introduction, so he’s much more focused on the calculus book in front of him.

He’d never been able to attend university since he couldn’t get a high school degree, but that hasn’t stopped him from learning. When she can, his mom will send him a new text book for him to study, subjects she thinks might be helpful: Advanced Japanese, English, Russian, History, Biology, Algebra, and so on.

Izuku studies them diligently, for lack of anything better to do. The mothers don’t like it much, telling him that it makes an unattractive mate to have his nose constantly in the books.

That doesn’t matter much to Izuku anyways. He’s practically a pariah as it is, so what can it hurt?

“Izuku-kun!”

Izuku glances up to see one of the younger omegas, Hina, grinning brightly at him over the couch, the alpha beside her glancing over curiously.

“Ground Zero’s on the television!”

Perking up, Izuku stands to see the news clip better. And Kacchan is on the screen, covered in soot and dirt, his face set in a hard line, his eyes intense. Izuku’s already sure it’ll be in the papers in the morning, so he’ll probably be cutting it out to add to his scrapbook.

Someone obligingly turns up the volume for him, the muffled report coming through clearly. “—hero Ground Zero-san has engaged a large villain in eastern Hosu. If you are seeing this report, please avoid the area at all costs as the pro-heroes work to—”

“Izuku-kun is Ground Zero’s biggest fan,” Hina tells the alpha, grinning mischievously. “They used to go to the same school, can you believe it?! You should see the poster he has in his room!”

Izuku tweaks her ear without looking at her, dodging her retaliatory swipe with a teasing grin. The alpha gives Izuku an appreciative once over, and Izuku tries not to cringe visibly. The guy's nearly twice Hina’s age, older than even Izuku, and he’s hoping the house mothers will convince her that it isn’t a healthy match for her.

On the screen, Kacchan stands victoriously over his defeated opponent, his face still a blank mask despite the deep furrow of his brow and the intensity of his eyes.

Distantly, Izuku wonders when Kacchan stopped smiling.

-

“I don’t think she’s coming, Izuku-kun.”

The house mother’s voice is sweet and a little sad, and her face is drawn up in a pinched expression when Izuku looks up at her. It’s the fourth missed appointment, and Izuku’s not at all surprised. It’s not the first time it’s happened in the three years he’s been here, and it won’t be the last.

“That’s okay, Auntie,” he says, easily. “I know you had hopes for this one.”

She sighs and runs a hand through her graying hair. “Someone has to,” she says, and Izuku doesn’t have to look at her to know how much she pities him.

Instead, he goes back to his room to lay on his bed and try to distract himself from the emptiness that sits heavily in the middle of his chest.

-

Someone is pounding on his door when Izuku pulls out his earbuds, and the door bursts open before he can even stand up.

“Izuku-kun!” Hina shrieks, her face lit up with a bright, excited grin. She grabs his arm and drags him into the hall. “You’ll never believe who’s here!”

“Hina-chan,” Izuku says, chiding. She tugs hard on his arm to get him to move faster, but Izuku’s bigger and he likes to piss her off, so he walks slowly, forcing her to slow down. “It’s early, you shouldn’t shout.”

“Who cares!” Hina squeals, undeterred by Izuku’s dragging feet. “Hurry up, hurry up!”

Laughing, Izuku finally obligingly picks up the pace. “You act like All Might is here.”

Hina grins at him over his shoulder, eyes sparkling. “Nope! Someone even better!”

When they reach the lounge, there’s a crowd of omegas at the entrance, all of them tittering and whispering as they peak around the corner. Hina shoves her way through, dragging Izuku behind, and the crowd parts easily, all of them lighting up when they see Izuku.

“What’s got all of you—” Izuku starts before he looks up, and the words die in his throat.

Across the room, Kacchan is looking directly at him, the house mothers at his side chattering excitedly. Izuku gapes, frozen in the crowd of young omegas, all of them piled around him with grinning faces. Hina’s still clutching his arm, but Izuku’s too shocked to look at her, eyes only for the man he used to know all those years ago.

Kacchan doesn’t look even a little surprised to see him there.

“Oh!” one of the house mothers says when she looks up. Her voice is breathless with excitement. “Izuku-kun! Please come to my office!”

There’s several hands on Izuku’s back, urging him forward, and stiffly he turns, looking at all other omegas that are looking at him with excitement and encouragement. “What are you doing? Go, go!”

So Izuku goes, moving robotically to follow his house mother back towards the private greeting rooms and offices. He can’t look up when he passes by Kacchan, unable to meet the heavy gaze he can feel on his skin. The pro hero is a warm presence at Izuku’s back as they file into an office, the door closing behind them with a final, gentle click.

-

“So, it’s a requirement for your job…”

“Yes.”

“Then…why me?”

“...I don’t want to share my home with some stranger.”

“Ka—Bakugou-san, we’re practically strangers ourselves.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Baku—”

“Katsuki’s fine,” Kacchan interrupts him. Izuku finally looks up then, but Kacchan’s not looking at him now, his face turned away when he adds, “Or Kacchan, whatever’s better for you.”

Izuku feels a familiar fondness warm him from the inside out, and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “Okay then, Kacchan.

“I accept.”

-

The elevator moves with a smooth glide, just the barest of hums as the city sinks away below them. Izuku watches the skyline, blue with fluffy clouds and fading trails of overhead planes. Beside him, Kacchan shifts the strap of Izuku’s bag on his shoulder, eyes forward and back ramrod straight. Izuku hasn’t once seen Kacchan relaxing in the past three days, becoming stiffer and quieter with each form they had signed.

Izuku himself keeps quiet. It won’t be the first time that an alpha has regretted taking a mate from the matchmaking houses.

Before he’s even aware they’ve stopped, the doors slide open and Kacchan steps out into a short hallway, opening his front door with quick, jerky movements. Izuku follows slowly, pulling his suitcase behind him.

They’re silent as they slip out of their shoes, and Kacchan leans down to pick up Izuku’s suitcase as well, carrying all of Izuku’s meager belongings into his home, Izuku trailing behind. The penthouse is smaller than Izuku would have imagined, the living area and kitchen sharing one space with a wall of windows to the left. There’s a small, empty balcony and stack of weights in one corner of the room, one of the few pieces of personalization in the entire home.

“Here,” Kacchan says gruffly, shouldering open a door towards the back of the apartment and setting Izuku’s bags on the bed. “This will be your room.”

Startled, Izuku quickly looks up at Kacchan. “My room?”

Kacchan glances at him, before looking away. “I really hope you don’t expect us to share a bed right off the bat.”

“Well, we are practically married,” Izuku says faintly, feeling boneless with relief. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Good.” Kacchan runs a hand over his head, ruffling his already wild, spiky hair into something even more untamed. “You can do whatever the fuck you want with the place, I really don’t care. The whole apartment, I mean. I didn’t really see the point when I’m always working, but you can do what you want.”

Izuku wanders after him when he steps out of the room, looking at the blank walls and stark, modern furniture. “Have you lived here long?”

“Barely a year,” Kacchan admits. “I usually stay in the on-call rooms at the office.”

“You work too hard.” Izuku glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and watches as Kacchan scowls. “That’s the reason they made you look for a mate. Do they really think that forcing you into a relationship is going to fix your problems?”

Kacchan has no reply to that, his shoulders stiff and tense. After a long moment, he turns away from Izuku towards what Izuku assumes is his room. “Fuck if I know. I have the night shift in an hour. Like I said, do whatever you want.”

“So,” Izuku says to his back, because Izuku really can’t help himself. “I can put up my Ground Zero poster?”

Kacchan rounds on him, glaring fiercely. “Fuck no!”

“I’m teasing you, Kacchan.”

“Good, I thought you’d gone braindead, idiot.”

“Sign it for me, at least?”

“Die.”

-

Izuku is used to living in tight quarters with others, but never so close with an alpha. Kacchan moves as Izuku remembers, with purpose and taking up all the space he’s granted. It’s a little different now though, when he sees Izuku. He doesn’t shrink away or flee, but keeps his distance, maneuvering around Izuku without touching, saying as little as he can get away with.

Izuku’s glad for the space. He knows everything he should expect from his mate, and what was expected of him. He’d been prepared to go through those motions as best as he could. For Kacchan, he could at least do that without putting up too much of a fight.

It’s a relief then, when it seems that Kacchan expects absolutely nothing of him. He had given Izuku his keys and a credit card, and never bothered to specify where and when he could use it, never asks where he goes, and never expects Izuku to be there when he comes home. Rarely is he there himself when Izuku wakes and often leaves before Izuku goes to bed. He sleeps the day away, and the only meal they share is breakfast.

-

Heats have always sent Izuku’s senses into overdrive. Normally, he doesn’t notice the differences in smells, but the week leading up to it, Izuku can barely focus on anything. Kacchan’s smell is so incredibly strong. It hangs heavy in the apartment, in the fabrics, in his clothes that Izuku has taken to folding for the alpha. It takes everything not to bury his face into Kacchan’s shirts, and he leaves them stacked neatly in a laundry basket at Kacchan’s door. They avoid each other like the plague.

Until the day it truly hits, when Izuku’s body goes hot all over and his legs begin to tremble, Kacchan manages to face him, shoulders squared as if he’s facing off a particularly powerful opponent as he looms in Izuku’s doorway.

“Do you…” he starts, shifting from one foot to the other. Izuku can’t meet his eyes. “Do you want me to…?”

“I’ll be fine.” He tries to say it with some conviction, even though he’s trembling, his muscles aching.

“Deku.” Izuku startles, finally meeting Kacchans gaze. With a sudden realization, he doesn’t think he’s heard Kacchan call him by name since middle school. Especially not that name. Kacchan cringes like he’d insulted Izuku’s mother and barrels on. “Izuku, I know it’s going to be rougher than usual.”

Izuku swallows. “It’s okay, I’ll manage.”

He watches as Kacchan’s gaze drops to the floor, running one large hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t be a hardship, you know? You’re right, I didn’t want a mate,” he says, a little softer, though he looks constipated admitting it. He chews his lip, before his eyes flick back up to Izuku. “But when I saw you, I realized that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Oh…” Izuku murmurs, astonished and feeling a little dizzy.

“But I can sleep in the on-call room at the office if you’d rather be alone.”

Izuku looks at Kacchan then, really looks, and it feels like he’s truly seeing him for the first time. His face is twisted up in a scowl, but his eyes are serious, uncertain, his entire body tilted towards Izuku as if caught in his gravity. And Izuku has never once wanted to be touched as badly as he does at this moment.

“Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs, stumbling to his feet, and Kacchan meets him halfway. He shudders as Kacchan wraps his arms around him, a little stiff, awkward, but there’s a fire licking up Izuku’s insides and he’s never felt this want to be wanted in all his life. “If… If you’re okay with me,” he says, and melts against Kacchan’s body, pressing his face to his chest. “Then please stay.”

The tension loosens out of Kacchan’s spine. “Okay, then,” he says, his voice gentle. “I’ll stay.”

And then he leans down, a hand on Izuku’s hip pushing him away just enough until Kacchan can press his mouth to Izuku’s. His heart flutters in his chest, picking up a staccato beat, and Izuku is suddenly too hot all over. He gasps into the kiss, teeth nipping at Kacchan’s lips, and swallows Kacchan’s groan when Izuku plasters himself to his front.

“Kacchan,” he breathes, clutching to the thin tank top Kacchan wears to bed, trying to pull him even closer, until he’s practically climbing Kacchan’s front. “Kacchan, please,” he whines.

With a growl, Kacchan scoops him up, large hands at the back of his thighs, and tips them both onto the bed. Kacchan’s kisses are fierce, hot and wet and demanding, and Izuku meets each touch with just as much want, fingers sinking into thick, blonde hair and tugging until Kacchan angles his kisses just so or Kacchan’s hands finally move across his skin, over his hips and his ribs.

Izuku arches his back, pressing himself closer as Kacchan lays across him, his weight grounding and the heavy feel of his cock against Izuku’s belly satisfying.

“F-Fuck,” Kacchan hisses. “What do—”

Impatient, Izuku wraps his legs around Kacchan’s waist and grinds up against him. Kacchan’s head drops onto Izuku’s shoulder and he moans, loud in Izuku’s ear, and Izuku may be drunk off of his heat and the spicy smell of this alpha, but he’s never been so in love with someone’s voice as he is now.

He feels too tense, packed too tightly into his skin, and right now he needs— “Kacchan, please fuck me.”

“Wha—!”

“Please,” Izuku says, grinding his teeth and ripping himself out of his clothes. “Please, please.”

Kacchan gapes at him with wide eyes, unmoving until Izuku snarls and kicks him hard in the side. He falls to the bed with a grunt and then a gasp when Izuku pulls his shorts down over his cock.

“You move too slow,” Izuku says, climbing on top of him. Kacchan moves on instinct, hands at Izuku’s hips, his stare still shocked and off guard even as Izuku sinks down on him.

“You—” Kacchan gasps, hips shuddering. “Move too fast.”

Izuku swallows, rocking down and taking each satisfying inch as slowly as he can. “Don't want to wait,” he breathes. “Please, Kacchan, need you.”

“Fuck.” He bucks up into Izuku, seating him all the way onto his cock as he curses, Izuku’s heat surrounding and consuming. Kacchan’s hands press a bruising grip into Izuku’s thighs, and he gives, fucking up into Izuku as he begins to bounce in his lap. “Holy fuck, Deku.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Izuku begs, thighs trembling as he raises himself up and drops back down onto that delicious length. “Please, Kacchan.”

Startled by the sudden growl and heavy weight, Izuku goes easily when Kacchan flips him back onto the bed, shoving his face into the sheets, and filling him in one quick thrust. “Fine,” Kacchan snarls, bending over Izuku, and fucking into him mercilessly. “Whatever you want, Deku.”

And Izuku moans, sinks his teeth into his arm, and comes just like that.

-

Izuku wakes slowly to the dim darkness of his room, content where he is trapped under blankets and pillows and his mate’s heavy arm. Squirming around, he rolls over in Kacchan’s hold until he wraps his arms around Kacchan’s neck and hides his face in his hair. Kacchan grumbles, his arms tightening around Izuku’s hips and he buries his face in Izuku’s neck with a sigh.

“The fuck you awake for,” he mumbles, grunting when Izuku throws a leg over him. His hands trail down Izuku’s back, over his ass and down his thigh, hitching Izuku’s leg a little higher over his body.

“No reason,” Izuku whispers back, smiling.

The bed smells like the two of them, like warm spices and fresh rain and comfort, because Kacchan hasn’t been back to his own in nearly six months now. Every night before his shifts, he curls around Izuku, and every morning after he comes home to do the same thing over again, only rising when Izuku goes to make them breakfast.

It’s good. It’s so good, and Izuku had been so sure not even a year ago that he’d never have a fraction of this.

“Kacchan,” he says. “I love you.”

Kacchan’s hold tightens around Izuku, silent for a long moment, but Izuku knows he’s awake. He’s not waiting for an answer, content to relax in Kacchan’s arms, raking his fingers through Kacchan’s hair. He’s almost drifted back to sleep when Kacchan speaks.

“Marry me.”

Izuku stiffens. “What?”

"Marry me," Kacchan says again, sitting up and looking at Izuku with wide eyes. Izuku gapes up at him, dumbstruck, as Kacchan grips his hands. "I'll get you a ring. A dozen rings, one for each month." Kacchan’s fingers tremble between them. "Just say you'll marry me."

He can’t help the way he smiles, stretching across his face, and he laughs. “Kacchan,” he sighs, sitting up as well. “You could just say ‘I love you.’ You don’t have to marry me.”

“I want to,” Kacchan snaps, setting his jaw. “So say yes.”

Laughing helplessly, Izuku nods, pulling a hand from Kacchan’s grip to wipe at the sudden wetness of his eyes. “Yes then, I’ll marry you. Even if it’s completely unnecessary since we’re already mated.”

“It’s absolutely necessary, so shut the fuck up.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

Kacchan huffs when Izuku laughs harder, tipping forward to smother his giggling into Kacchan’s chest. “You’re such a loser,” he grumbles, even as he hugs Izuku a little closer and lays him back against the mattress.

“And you’re a brat,” Izuku says around his giggling. “I love you.”

Sighing, Kacchan presses his face against Izuku’s neck, but he can’t hide the smile on his face, pushed against Izuku’s skin as he whispers, “I love you, too.”

[oikawasballs]

Mad Dog and Puppy

Hey so it was brought to my attention that people can no longer access the original “Mad Dog and Puppy” English translation post since the OP deleted her account. She’s a friend of mine and she felt bad so she asked if I could repost it, so here y’all go:

From Haikyuu!! Light Novel 6, Chapter “Mad Dog and Puppy” written by Kiyoko Hoshi with illustrations by Haruichi Furudate.

One fine holiday in fall, there was a man standing in a convenience store nearby Aoba Jousai High School. The guy, wearing a volleyball jersey, walked out as the opening and closing door made an electronic sound. The man’s name is Kyoutani Kentarou, a second-year member in Aoba Jousai High’s volleyball club.

Kyoutani tore the wrapping of the chicken—chicken is his favorite food—that he took out of the convenience store bag before sinking his teeth into it, making an audible noise; this was how he walked toward school. The volleyball club took Mondays off. Practice starts morning today, which is a Sunday.

Kyoutani had not attended the club for quite a while since the middle of his first year due to various circumstances, though he has been recently thrown into the spotlight for coming back after being recalled by Oikawa, the team captain.

At the preliminary round of the Inter-High Miyagi Finals in June, Aoba Jousai suffered defeat at the hands of Shiratorizawa Academy, the invincible champions. It was necessary to regroup and reorganize the currently completed team in order to clear themselves of the disgrace come the next Spring High School competition, move on from second place and aim for the Nationals. What they wanted to strengthen in particular was their offense. The fighting strength that served to be the trigger of that was Kyoutani, whom Oikawa jokingly called “Mad Dog.”

**********

For Kyoutani, club activities are frankly troublesome; everyone in the club is annoying and he wished they would stop calling him Mad Dog or anything for that matter. Though he tries not to care about that too much, as long as he gets to keep playing volleyball. 

While there was a common agreement for the time being among the manager, coaches, the captain and other third-year members on what to do about him, at any rate, Kyoutani‘s fellow second-years had more complex considerations. They, who had been practicing everyday since he left, felt they’d been working hard only to be sidelined by Kyoutani who just came back as if nothing happened when they thought he already quit.

That same Kyoutani also did not seem keen to a change of heart just because he came back, his attitude still as bad as his manner of speaking. And while they thought things would turn out fine if Kyoutani thoroughly practiced at the very least, he would often still come late to practice.

In the third gymnasium where the volleyball club is gathered, Yahaba Shigeru, a second-year back-up setter, clicked his tongue silently as he glared at the clock on the wall.

**********

Kyoutani was noisily eating his chicken while walking down the road when his mouth came to a stop. His feet, hurrying as he thinks he’s running late, stop at the same time. He noticed a small cardboard box placed at the middle of a gaping-wide, empty plot of land—basically like a missing tooth—in the residential area along the street he uses everyday to go to school.

“…?”

The empty lot was covered in tall grass, and it didn’t seem like it had only been there since yesterday or today. But Kyoutani had never noticed this area. That it had suddenly caught his attention must have been because of the cardboard box. The cardboard box from an online shopping website that could often be seen here and there did not appear to have been trampled upon or crushed nor did it appear to have been drenched in rain and lost its shape; it was properly, squarely propped up and brand new, which made it unnatural, and it was almost like a poorly constructed trap.

Regardless, Kyoutani came up and stepped into the thicket quickly without hesitation and peeked inside the box.

“…Fur?”

A light-brown furball that is around two sizes smaller than a volleyball is inside wrapped in an old towel. As soon as he tried to crouch and touch it, two wet, small, black eyes appeared from inside the round ball. Kyoutani, surprised, pulled back his stretched-out hand.

“It has eyes!”

Inside the box, the furball opened its red mouth and made a vague sound. That is when Kyoutani finally realized.

“A dog.”

What was inside the cardboard box seemed to be an abandoned puppy. It’s very small and frail, and it doesn’t have a collar on. That said, a lot of dogs walk in that area, so it’s not an unusual sight at all. Kyoutani, concerned he was going to be late, resolved to leave the place immediately.

However, the puppy clambered up the box making it tumble and fall to the ground and followed Kyoutani as it cried. It turned back but cried helplessly with its small tail waving back and forth.

“… Meat.”

Kyoutani noticed that it was following because of the chicken he was holding, so he threw the last of it into his mouth in one go, noisily chewed and then drank water. He then folded up the paper wrapping, pocketing it and immediately walked out of the lot.

It is a dog after all. It only tried to follow me because I had food, that‘s all. Thinking that, he headed to school without looking back. He would get a scolding if he arrived late, so it was for his sake that he rush and ignore some dog.

Walking at a quick pace, Kyoutani slowly sulked. A rush of memories came and went and he suddenly felt bad.

He expected to be made to come back by Oikawa, the team captain, but the unsettling part was having to hear complaints from other members for such a small matter as if he was the only one who had been causing trouble all the time. He even thinks to himself of quitting this shitty club on the spot if he so ever hears someone self-importantly explain to him that volleyball is about team play while lecturing him. Thinking that, he even became angry at himself for staying with the club for these past months without quitting. The wave of exhaustion that had slowly been building over him was starting to crash. There probably really wasn’t much of an excuse for losing his shit on people, but he realized that his desire to start yelling and acting like a completely impatient prick was really only a desire to let out his exhaustion, frustrations, and confusion.

He’s never told anyone that and never will. He thinks, just maybe, that they wouldn’t understand.

“…”

Club activities are annoying, and the fact that the cuff of his jersey keeps brushing against his ankles whenever he takes a step is annoying too. The grass in the empty lot might have been wet with the morning dew. He thought of that as he looked at his foot. And when he did, he realized he was about to step on a black-ish shadow or something, so he stopped in panic as if a piece of trash had landed in front of him.

However, before his feet was no trash but the puppy earlier looking up at Kyoutani.

It made a sound.

“The dog.”

Why is it still following him when he has no food anymore? Does he still have the scent of meat? Without realizing, he tried to take a sniff of his jersey, but he’s not sure. Kyoutani furrows his eyebrows and glared at the puppy silently. However, the puppy, probably because it was still small and untrained or because animals cannot precisely comprehend human emotions, coiled around Kyoutani’s feet and cried.

“…You’re in my way.”

That is what he said, but of course his words remain undecipherable to the puppy, who bites Kyoutani’s pants while tumbling and crying; it is enjoying the moment, even letting its tongue out.

“…”

He strangely became irritated while looking at that innocent furball. “Becoming attached to anyone and starting to beg food from them is probably what you do. You probably go around stealing people’s convenience store chicken knowing they couldn’t possibly resist a small creature like you, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he said.

Okay, maybe he had been a little harsh. Or maybe a lot. 

But having accepted the puppy wouldn’t understand anything he was saying, Kyoutani left the poor dog and ran away. He has to go to the club anyway.

He thinks he can hear its helpless voice from behind him, but he ignores it and continues running.

Yahaba would probably see this as some kind of sarcastic mockery, wouldn’t he? Well, of course he would. 

This whole thing is stupid.

Kyoutani thought it was ridiculous to be running then when he was already late anyway, but he continued to sprint toward school, never slowing his pace.

This day is going to suck.

**********

“You’re late. Are you actually serious about this?”

As soon as he arrived at the gym and removed his jacket came Yahaba’s jeering. Kyoutani, ignoring him—though he does momentarily get upset about it—joins for spiking practice. He did arrive late, and he has no choice but to explain to them that it is a dog’s fault. He’s watching Yahaba while he speaks, can’t even explain to himself why, because he shouldn’t care, but he does. Regardless, the benchwarmer didn’t mind telling him things as they are.

While Yahaba has been grumbling his discontent even after Kyoutani had silently fallen in line, he finally shuts up when his fellow second-year Watari glares at him. Oikawa, the captain, who had been looking at what Yahaba had been doing from across the net, also kept calmly focused on his own practice. This degree of dispute had not been a rare occurrence since Kyoutani’s return, but it was better compared to last year’s. Things were grimmer that time to the point that Kyoutani would ditch club activities. He supposes it’s better now since he hasn’t quit yet.

The gym’s atmosphere returns to normal and practice restarts after having momentarily paused. Yahaba and Oikawa stand on either side of the net, and they go and toss to the spikers who enter the court taking turns. Next is Kyoutani’s turn. He throws the ball to Yahaba, the setter, and runs. The toss was made. He steps in looking at the ball, jumps and hits it.

Before that, everyone else made impeccable spikes that no one could complain about. However, Kyoutani hits the ball taking advantage of his weight and power, but upon landing, bumps into Yahaba while bearing that excessive force on his way down.

“Ow! Why would you bump into me?! Watch where you’re going! You came late and still have the guts to do that?”

Kyoutani also grows angry as Yahaba complained, his hands on the floor.

“What does my being late have to do with bumping into you?”

“Whatever! I’ve had enough of your excuses. I’m just telling you to take things seriously!”

That caused Kyoutani to hesitate. He had expected Yahaba to supply his reasons for him, so he could just deny everything while watching the results.

He gets up heavily and looks down at Yahaba, who is still on the ground, and says:

“Aren’t you the one who should be taking things seriously?” Even to himself, Kyoutani knows his voice sounds way too harsh, but he can’t help it, and he can’t explain it, and he won’t even try.

Yahaba’s eyes fix instantly in that furious way that Kyoutani tiredly decides he’s never going to live down. “What did you say?!”

Kyoutani takes a deep breath. He can’t talk about this, he’s barely holding his shit together. “…I’m going home.” And that sounded so pathetic he’s almost ashamed of himself.

“Huh?!”

Yahaba, his eyes wide upon hearing Kyoutani’s quite selfish remarks, didn’t try to stop him. “We don’t need Kyoutani in the team. We can win without him. We’d be better off without him,”  he thought.

The club members were dumbfounded. Kyoutani who had just arrived left the gym alone.

**********

The winds of fall felt awfully cold as if in connection with him leaving the hot, stuffy gym. Kyoutani returned to the path he had dejectedly come from.

He came to play volleyball, yet he couldn’t do a single decent spike. He was so frustrated, asking himself how it had come to this point he almost wanted to scream. Club activities were troublesome, and all the club members were annoying. Come to think of it, it doesn’t matter if it were a team composed of hard-working individuals or even if it weren’t a school club at all as long as he can play volleyball. There are a lot of teams everywhere. Volleyball isn’t something people cannot do if they aren’t wearing the Seijou uniform.

At that moment, Kyoutani heard some crunching sounds in his pocket. It’s the paper wrapping of the convenience store chicken. He took notice of it at once and wanted to quickly throw it away, thinking of it as a huge bother due to his frustration. He thought of going back to the convenience store when he realized upon raising his head that he was all of a sudden back in front of the empty lot earlier.

“…”

It felt like a premonition of a mildly uneasy event to come. However, without even giving him time to escape, the thicket rustled, revealing a dark reddish-brown furball that tumbled out.

It makes a sound.

“…It’s you again.”

The puppy coils around the cuff of his jersey pants as if it remembers Kyoutani or it remembers the smell of the convenience store chicken. Why is that? Why is it so attached to him? He never gave it food, yet why? Kyoutani was struck with questions. But he immediately stopped thinking about it, and at that moment thought of once again running away to another direction.

“What is it with you? You could be playing with other dogs, you know?”

Oh hell no. Not now.

He turns too fast, knows he does, stumbles and feels like an idiot, but who the hell could blame him? Yahaba is feet away, wearing the same Seijou jersey uniform. He stands with seeming unease, glaring at Kyoutani, his gaze fixed on him like a spotlight of pure, unrelenting interrogation.

“You came back to us after being asked, and now you’re playing with a dog?” His voice is so off-hand that Kyoutani can’t read it. That makes him nervous.

However, Yahaba seemed surprised when he noticed the cardboard box sitting there.

“Oh, is that an abandoned dog?”

Kyoutani sulkily nods as the puppy remained coiled around him.

Yahaba raises his voice for some reason. “Are you going to take in an abandoned dog or something?” There’s all this shock and excitement in his voice that would be funny as hell if it were, oh, any other time and any other day. “This ain’t no shoujo manga, you know! For goodness sake, stop fucking with me! For all I know, you could be planning something awful!”

What the hell is he talking about? Goddammit. “Fuck off, Yahaba. Damn, you’re so fucking crazy. Just leave me alone!”

Kyoutani thinks it may say something about their relationship that Yahaba doesn’t even blink.

“But what are you really doing here, Kyoutani? I don’t buy that you left practice just to play adorable puppy finder, though that’s what I’m going to tell anyone that asks, just so you know.”

Annoying little shit.

For his part, Yahaba had never liked the careless and conceited way Kyoutani behaved since he joined the club in their first year. Or rather than not liking him, it was annoying that Kyoutani kept causing trouble with their senpais despite the two of them belonging in the same year. Kyoutani would yell “fucking shits” to their third-year seniors and just generally go around not giving a fuck like he had no common sense. You’d think he’d been living his whole life so senselessly.

But indeed Kyoutani was amazing. It was frustrating but he was incredible and had no equal among their grade. They had him join practice matches, and was also a regular first-year player in official games. That’s why it was frustrating, since the same people also expected something out of him. Yet that guy…he was amazing yet picked fights with their senpais and was hated by them in return. He would take on challenges he could not win; it was as if he didn’t care about anything at all. People were honestly relieved when he stopped showing up to club activities.

But even Yahaba could not vocalize any complaints when Kyoutani was called back by Oikawa. They treated him like some hotshot rookie despite him being gone the whole time. Even worse, he barely came to practice making people wonder why he even came back at the first place, though he still played as amazingly. He was really a frustrating fellow.

Irritated by the memory, Yahaba watched Kyoutani standing before him. He silently glared at the dog biting and pulling at the cuff of his teammate’s jersey.

With his back turned, Kyoutani thinks he can actually hear Yahaba grinding his teeth.

“Why the hell did you even show up late just to leave on your own and then bother some abandoned dog?”

“I‘m not bothering it! This dog just followed me by himself!”

“Are you trying to appeal to girls by telling them animals like you?”

“What the fuck?!”

They just keep exchanging words like that, and while they do so, the puppy tumbles around Kyoutani’s shoes and seems to be falling asleep.

Yahaba continues, dropping his voice to convey how very, very serious this discussion suddenly is. “You know that dog is going to be trouble, right? We have to make sure it’s taken somewhere farther from here.”

Kyoutani searches for the right response. Play dumb? Look shocked? Throw a fit? Or…“Huh?”

“I think I have an idea.”

“Does it involve leaving?”

Yahaba grins at him now like he’s the funniest thing ever. Then he laughs. It’s an odd, almost foreign sound–he hasn’t heard Yahaba laugh in way too long, and it’s edgeless, and it’s amused as hell, and it’s just Yahaba all over again. And through all this, Kyoutani tries not to pay attention to how weird this whole thing makes him feel. “Sort of.”

Kyoutani raises his brows at that statement. “I really, really don’t like how you said that.”

“Jeez, stop glaring! And anyway, as if I’m going to believe you. You senseless moron. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you ate that dog alive.”

Kyoutani decides to ignore that, not sure why Yahaba seems determined to piss him off. Bastard.

Yahaba continued mumbling and then held up the puppy that had fallen asleep atop Kyoutani’s shoes. “This puppy needs to eat. You think you can get some dog food?”

“Sure, I can pull them out of my ass,” Kyoutani snapped. 

Yahaba snorts his opinion of that one, then he looks up, studying Kyoutani’s face. Kyoutani doesn’t dare move. One wrong move and he won’t be able to breathe. Yahaba does that to him sometimes.  

Yahaba relaxes then. Whatever he saw, or didn’t see, in Kyoutani’s face seems to satisfy him. He then puts the puppy back inside the cardboard box, holds the thing up to his chest and urges the other boy, “Hey, we’re going.” He doesn’t even know why he’s saying this. He’s not seriously thinking of–he just isn’t.

“…Huh. Where?”

Kyoutani grew flustered. Where on earth could they be going with a dog in hand? At any rate, Yahaba didn’t seem to have any idea where to go either.

“For the meantime, how about the police? They might tell us at least where to bring it. Anyway, you carry it since you found it in the first place. I don’t want to get bitten. Hey.“

Yahaba’s eyes flicker down, fixing on Kyoutani with that disturbing team-radar that he seems to have tuned on him at some point.

Kyoutani takes a slow, deep breath, clearing his head. Thinking this through will mean he’ll screw it up. That’s what always happens when he overthinks something. It’s what happens when anyone overthinks something. Do it or don’t, but don’t sit on your ass–or stand in the middle of an empty lot–and try to think about it.

“Fine. I think you’re out of your mind, but fine.” The grumbly undertones hide the worry.

“Great,” Yahaba answers with a spastic nod, and the tiny fluff of hair at the top of his head jerks around hypnotically. Kyoutani realizes it’s almost impossible to look away.  "Let’s go then, Mad Dog-chan.“

Kyoutani gives him a narrow look and makes a bitterly amused sound. "I hate that.”

“You never told us before,” Yahaba actually looks concerned.

“Nobody asked.”

“I mean, I remember you telling Oikawa-san to stop calling you weird names, but I don’t think anyone’s realized that you actually hate it.”

“What a fucking surprise,” Kyoutani sneers.

Flexing his fingers, he takes a breath and lets it out like he was taught. Easy and slow. It’s been worse. Other people have done and said worse. At least, he thinks so. “Whatever. Call me anything you want, just tell me where the fuck we’re going.”

Yahaba pauses, looks at him seriously. And though they’re standing right in front of each other, the look in his eyes says he may as well be a thousand miles away. “I guess we have a lot to talk about, Kyoutani.”

Are you lying to me, Yahaba? “Any reason why?”

Yahaba drops his head to contemplate his outstretched foot. “I’m bored?”

“Try again.”

“Because you apparently want people to ask you stuff? And I think that’s cool. I can think of a lot of things to start with.”

Kyoutani bites back something snarky and unkind, swallowing a lump in his throat and wondering if he could possibly be any more annoyed than he is right now. But whatever. It’s never comfortable to remember their earlier spats, and if this could make things a little better, then what the hell. Besides, he just isn’t up to any more arguing today. He shrugs his shoulders. “You ever tell anyone anything, I’ll deny it.”

Inside the box they’d been pushing back and forth to each other comfortably slept the lumpy, small ball of fur. Its breathing was surprisingly fast, faster than when it was coiled around Kyoutani’s feet, as if to show evidence that it was a living thing.

**********

Somehow—and Kyoutani has no idea how, never will, doesn’t even care—Kyoutani and Yahaba walked the road side by side carrying the cardboard box. Both of them were completely silent, though they sometimes peeked inside when the dog moved or made a sound. And when their eyes accidentally meet, they would turn away and awkwardly face somewhere else. This happened many times over, uncomfortable enough for them, until Yahaba who was then lightly carrying the box finally said, “Having a dog inside an online shopping website’s cardboard box feels almost like you got a dog delivered to you, doesn’t it?”

“…”

Yahaba, a bit embarrassed that Kyoutani only continued walking without giving any response, snapped. “Hey, you’re supposed to say something in return when someone talks to you. What sort of reaction was that?”

“…You’re boring.”

“You’re the last person I want to hear that from! And just so you know, when the senpais are proved right and we actually end up becoming friends in the future, you’re going to feel so dumb for ignoring me.”

Kyoutani makes a weird sound right next to him. Like he’s choking to death, though he can still walk okay, so Yahaba’s not too worried.

“Oh, there’s the police box! Let’s go.”

The two entered while carrying the box. A young police officer is seated on a chair writing something, and he looks at their faces. The police box was small to the point that nobody could fit anymore after the two went in; it had posters about remittance fraud and traffic safety, leaflets about wanted criminals and maps of the neighborhood pasted all over. The police officer examines the insides of the box without a word after taking a peek at them as if suspecting Kyoutani’s bad expression.

“Whose dog is this?”

However, Kyoutani just says vague statements like, “It went after my convenience store chicken,” and “I came from practice.” Yahaba had no choice but to answer from the side.

“Um, it’s an abandoned dog, so we’d like to ask what we should do with it.”

“Doesn’t it have a collar?”

“It’s still small, and it was in this box wrapped in a towel. I think it was thrown away.”

“You picked it up?”

Yahaba shook his head upon being asked by the police officer. “This guy did,” he said as he turned his eyes to Kyoutani, who was just staring straight ahead, like he had nothing to do with this conversation at all.

“You there,” the police officer said nodding his head. He took out documents from a drawer and looked at Kyoutani. “It will be received here at the police box as quasi-lost property, but will you care for it in case the owner did throw it away or the owner doesn’t appear?”

“…Huh?”

Kyoutani was surprised and then looked at Yahaba as if asking for help. However, Yahaba just shrugged. The police officer looked at the two and started explaining, as if he had been repeating a set phrase he had gotten used to saying often, with a gentle nod.

“Ah, in case the owner does not appear, it will be moved to a health center after a few days, but there it will be temporarily …”

Despite him just having started speaking, Kyoutani suddenly slams the desk. The color of the police officer’s eyes changed, but Kyoutani yelled without regard.

“What crap is that? We’re asking you where to bring it so we can have someone take care of it! That’s what I want to hear about!”

“Just wait, you idiot!”

Shaking off Yahaba’s effort to stop him, Kyoutani glared at the police officer. “We don’t need your help anymore!!”

Having said that over his shoulder, Kyoutani rushed out of the police box carrying the cardboard box, the puppy poking its face out of it. Yahaba was left alone in the police box, bowing his head saying, “I’m sorry. That guy’s an idiot,” as an excuse and followed Kyoutani who had run off to somewhere.

Upon finding Kyoutani who was standing a little far away all the while holding the box, Yahaba ran to follow him without pause.

“What the hell was that back there?! You do understand you’re not helping, right?! Though I was surprised too when he told us to bring it to a health center…”

“I know he was surprised, but would a person normally suddenly yell like that? You would have to be crazy to yell at the police, right? Was that occasion not more appropriate to just look annoyed, get out without a scene and ask for help? What was the point of coming all the way here only for you to get mad?” thought Yahaba, but he didn’t feel Kyoutani would comprehend it even if he said it. The newborn puppy seems more likely to understand than Kyoutani. Even now, Kyoutani continues to silently glare at Yahaba’s feet, making Yahaba wonder what it could be that has piqued his interest. The dog inside the box was staring at Kyoutani’s face with its wet eyes.

While it was looking at them, Yahaba found himself suddenly thinking of many different trivial things:

“This guy doesn’t really have a clue. Fine, let’s go to the police, he said. They’ll help us. Or not. I don’t understand why this dog is ignoring me, why it’s so attached only to this jerk.”

"Stop deciding things on your own. I really don’t understand you.”

Just as Yahaba said that, Kyoutani quickly turned on his heel without even nodding at Yahaba and walked toward town, still carrying the box. "I’m trying to help, asshole.”

Is this guy serious?

“Wow, you’re really something else,” Yahaba thought with a slight sense of admiration. Moving his brows as if to ask where they’re headed to, Kyoutani just ignores him and goes to walk steadily alone. A helpless cry can sometimes be heard making a sound.

While gazing at the distance with Kyoutani’s back getting smaller and smaller, Yahaba tells himself: “This is good for now. The mad dog and an abandoned dog—that’s just too much for me, and surely this task would be too much for anyone, too. Anyway, he’s not a kid anymore, and he’ll probably figure it all out by himself. And even if he doesn’t, that wouldn’t be my fault.”

However, Yahaba felt his mood grow heavy and clouded. Something is pulling him into action, like small fishbones poking the insides of his throat. In his mind’s eye, he can see Kyoutani looking at him absently, and Yahaba hates that look on his face: stubbornness warring with an unhappiness so deep he can feel it from here.

“Oh, this is bad.”

There’s no reason why he should, why he should want to do this. None at all.

He eventually accepts it.

“Wait for me, for fuck’s sake! The senpais will get mad at me if I don’t come back with you!” 

In the end, Yahaba chases Kyoutani and the puppy.

**********

Beyond the police box is a main road that gets a lot of pedestrian traffic. Yahaba stopped and turned to Kyoutani and the puppy. “Okay, listen to me before you decide to get stubborn. With how things have turned out, it’d be best to entrust this to someone we can trust.”

However, Kyoutani only glares at Yahaba, his expression betraying his disagreement.

“…”

“What’s that look for? I mean, can you take care of this? Or do you actually want to go back to the police?”

Kyoutani was exasperated as he averted his eyes; the puppy stretches its body from the box and licks his chin. Kyoutani puckers his face and half-heartedly returns the puppy inside the box as he was tickled by its fur. Yahaba tried not to pay attention to the cute interaction.

“Neither of us can take care of it. And since that’s the case, we’ve got no choice. Surely kind-looking people love dogs. A kind little girl and a puppy—that’s the best-case scenario, right? It should be totally better visually than you and a puppy, shouldn’t it? Right?”

While he didn’t really understand why the person they would hand the dog over to had to be a girl, that scenario was indeed better. If they can’t take care of it themselves, there’s no choice but to find another person who can. Kyoutani reluctantly agrees.

“Fine, let’s find one.”

Yahaba hadn’t even realized he wasn’t breathing until it escapes in a soft sigh. Okay, that’s done. He immediately looked around their surroundings. It’s still early in the morning, and naturally his eyes would land upon a person who is out to walk their dog. Among these persons who already have a dog, there should be at least one of them who would not mind taking in another one, he thought.

He tries approaching a few people, but none of them would take in a puppy. While he thought taking care of one or taking care of two made no difference and took the same amount of time and effort, it was probably not so. Is there no one who would willingly accept a dog and just think of it as the little brother or sister of the dog they already own?

When the two grew tired, the puppy who had been quiet inside the box all that time suddenly made a shrilling bark.

“Woof, woof, woof!”

The two looked at the distance thinking it was barking at the appearance of its original owner. But the person immediately averted his eyes and looked at the ground.

The person that was there was a poorly built man who didn’t quite fit the morning atmosphere. Yahaba, his eyes not particularly looking at anything, tells Kyoutani with a small voice, “Hey, make it shut up. Do something, Kyoutani,” imploring him to make it quiet, though the puppy didn’t seem to care and continued to bark. After a while, the man seemed to have noticed that it was him being relentlessly barked at by the dog.

“Hey, what is it?”

The man slowly comes close. The way he’s looking at them is threatening. The way Kyoutani was looking back at him is also threatening, but it is a wholly different notch higher. The dog continues to bark even more. This is bad, and it’s getting worse, thought Yahaba who decided to just let this misunderstanding come to pass. Just as when he had convinced himself that it was best not to say anything unnecessary, to fake a smile and avoid making trouble and to slowly move on without provoking anyone, Kyoutani suddenly dashed out toward the man barking like a dog.

“Who’re you? We’re not doing anything! What are you looking at?!!”

“…!?”

Yahaba promptly pulls the mad dog back and ran away. He can hear someone yelling, “You want a piece of me, brats!?” But it was preferable for school sports club members to just run away. Yahaba yells while running for his life:

“Why would you go pick a fight with someone like that?! Look at your opponent!”

“Shut up!”

“Huh!?”

He continues to run regretting not escaping alone and deserting this idiot and his idiot dog. Yahaba finally came to a stop thinking they’d be fine by then having come from several blocks away at that point.

“Fucking hell.”

He clicks his tongue looking at Kyoutani beside him with the cardboard box in his hands not even looking tired at the very least despite running out of breath, at least compared to himself who is breathing with his shoulders. It really angers him.

“Why did you fucking come back…” Yahaba told him and looked at the distance as if unable to endure any further. Suddenly, the color of his eyes sharply changes. Yahaba combs his hair with his hands, steals the cardboard box from Kyoutani uttering, “Sorry!” before running off. Kyoutani chases him, the hardest chase he gave in his whole life.

In the end, what Yahaba was chasing after all was a group of high school girls in uniform.

“Girls! What do you think? Would you care to look at a puppy? A puppy!”

The girls variously reacted with caution at first: “Eh?”, “Is this for filming or something?”, “Does it bite?” But they timidly looked inside the box, likely enchanted by Yahaba’s gentleness. They then shriek out of joy upon noticing a puppy curled up into a ball inside.

“Eh, is this really a dog? Oh no, it’s so cute. Look, look!”

“What’s this? Is this a real dog, like does it really move? Why is it inside a box? You’re doing this to record our reactions, aren’t you?”

“What dog is this? It’s so fluffy.”

“Isn’t this a Shiba? Shiba Inu. Right? Did I guess correctly?”

One of the girls who came forward and said that blushed with a hiccup. Her eyes were fixed onto the face beside Yahaba’s. That prompted him to look at the space next to him, and there was Kyoutani glaring at the girls, his eyes brimming with bloodlust.

The other girls also notice Kyoutani’s stare and find themselves frozen.

“Hey, what are you doing?!”

It was too late, however, and the girls let out a high-pitched scream and ended up running away. Yahaba loses his patience and violently gets mad.

“Stop glaring! One of them could have taken this dog! We had good communication, and you were staring at them as if you wanted to turn them into stone! What was that all about? Are you some kind of Medusa!?”

Kyoutani steals the box and the dog back from Yahaba and snaps back. “Do you have some ulterior motive?!”

“I don’t! I mean, I did but that’s got nothing to do with what happened just now!”

“You never have no ulterior motives.”

The puppy also cries as if to add to the tension.

“Are you a total idiot!?”

A car pulled over next to the two boys who had been arguing at the middle of the road. They immediately kept their mouths silent, then a woman revealed her face from the driver’s seat and spoke. Her words were beyond anything the two could have possibly expected.

“Excuse me. You don’t really want to throw that dog away, do you?”

Noticing that Kyoutani is instantly growing into a frenzy upon hearing that sentence, Yahaba stops him saying, “Just wait!” What is up with him? Is he some kind of feral child? Is he less evolved than a dog?

The woman gets off the car and speaks to them while Yahaba calmed Kyoutani down.

“Do you know what would happen if you threw that dog away? Even if you leave it to an animal shelter, there is no guarantee that its owner would be found.”

“It’s not like we don’t know that already!” Kyoutani barks as if ready to bite, while the woman asked with mild bewilderment, “Eh, then why are you …”

“You shut up already,” Yahaba seethes and commands Kyoutani to keep quiet before he told her the actual story of how they picked up an abandoned dog and how they were then trying to find a new owner. Upon hearing their and the dog’s bizarre adventure, the woman apologizes saying, “I’m sorry. It seems I misunderstood the situation,” then she struck the hood of the car she had been riding.

“But it’s a good thing I called you out. I’m going to look for its owner myself.”

“… Eh?”

Kyoutani and Yahaba looked at her blankly and observed the car she’s been riding in more carefully. The hood of that roundish car had drawings of dogs and cats, written on it was the name of a veterinary hospital.

“Veterinary hospital…?”

The woman worked at a veterinary hospital and she explained that she can find an owner by coordinating with organizations that help abandoned dogs and cats.

“Our hospitals also have fliers recruiting people who want to own pets.”

Upon saying that, the woman took the box where the puppy was in from Kyoutani. The puppy whined and licked Kyoutani’s hand when his hands let go of the box.

“I will contact you when we find an owner.”

She places the box on the rear passenger seat saying that and closes the door. Then they could see the dog through the glass but couldn’t hear its cries.

The woman hopped into the driver’s seat and immediately drove off. Yahaba bowed at its rear window, but Kyoutani just stood there stiffly as if feeling uneasy.

The car was soon out of sight, and the puppy issue ended an instant too soon. The two of them quarrelling just earlier then felt like a dream. But it was not a dream; it was real. And speaking of reality, they must go back to the club soon. Yahaba turned to Kyoutani who was standing beside him. “Hey, look. The dog’s gone now, and we have to go soon.”

“…”

Kyoutani glared at Yahaba as if sulking. And he kept at it. But Yahaba understood how Kyoutani felt. It was a strange feeling, as if a hole had been punched through his heart, or as if a feeling could not linger because of how fast reality had unfolded. But they can’t afford to slack off here, either.

“Everyone’s waiting. You caused some trouble for the senpais, and it wasn’t something you should have shown to our juniors, either. Just realize that you have teammates who are waiting for you just like that dog has friends waiting for him, too. I think it was cute that you immediately tried to search for a rightful owner and it got attached to you. It’s so unlike you.”

Yahaba continued watching Kyoutani who was staring intently at his shoes like a sulking child. Yahaba felt stupid for feeling frustrated earlier somehow.

Why did I have to tell a jerk like him words like that? He came in late and left by himself. He picked up an abandoned dog on his own and caused trouble for me. And now he’s sulking that the dog is gone. I’m honestly glad when he doesn’t show up to practice, yet why did I bother following him to bring him back with me…

Yahaba fell into silence as Kyoutani raised his head. And then he said, “Let‘s go. Quick.”

Then he immediately walked forward alone.

“Huh?! Oi, wait for me! I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying that!”

“You smell of dog.”

“You smell worse!!”

**********

The two walked up the school path, alternating between silence and bickering. Neither of them talked about the puppy. They probably will never talk about that dog going forward, Yahaba thought.

Soon enough, they were at school. Just as when Yahaba thought of suggesting that they explain to the senpais why they were late, he heard a feeble cry from somewhere. He looked around expecting something bad about to happen, when they noticed they were back at the empty lot where they had picked the dog up.

“Here…”

The thicket brushes against their feet. Without them realizing, they stopped and explored the area before a kitten revealed its face amid the grass.

It meowed.

“It’s a cat.”

“Hey, don’t look at it. Act like you didn’t see it!”

So said Yahaba as he pulled Kyoutani away. Yet the kitten helplessly climbed up Kyoutani’s jersey using its claws, and before he knew it the kitten was perched atop Kyoutani’s large shoulders meowing.

Then it licks Kyoutani’s cheek.

“Why the heck are they so quick to get attached to you!?”

“It’s not my fault!”

“I hate the fact that you’re so easily liked!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

It had been around an hour since practice started. The two, wearing the Aoba Jousai volleyball uniform, were still a far way off to returning to the third gym, however.

**********

The End

[calumance]

LA Devotee - Part IV

Warnings: I literally can’t write without cussing, that’s about it

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Emily’s best friend finally finds out the secret she’s been keeping, but now has to deal with a bigger issue.

A/N: Here’s Part four my lovely little berries. Feed back and requests are always welcomed!!

Part I | Part II | Part III

         Being so concentrated on my work, I had no idea how much time had gone by, not until my phone dinged, and I realized the sun was starting to go down. My fingers wrapped around my phone while my eyes glanced at Calum, still sound asleep on my couch. A small smile pulled at my lips, which quickly faded when I saw Mikayla’s “We’re on our way over!” message. Oh fuck. I set my phone down and walked over to Calum. It’s not that I didn’t want her to meet him, it was more of the fact that I literally lied to her last night, and also, she’s a handful if we’re speaking truths now. I placed my hand on Calum’s arm and shook him enough to stir him awake. “Hey,” I said drawn out, a smile stretching across my face. “I forgot that I had made some dinner plans with my friend. She and her boyfriend are coming over.” Calum started to sit up, “I’m not saying you need to leave, you can stay if you absolutely want to, but she is literally a ball of energy, and if you’re not ready for that, then you can either leave, or you can go sleep in my bedroom or something?” Please go sleep in my bed, please go sleep in my bed.

           Calum ran his hands through his hair and smiled. “I’d love to meet your ball of energy friend.” Fuck. “Do you mind if I clean up a little?” I nodded reluctantly and stood up, my knees cracking on the way up. A disappointing side effect of getting older. He followed me down the hall and I pointed to the bathroom. “Thanks, mind if I shower?”

           “Uh,” I looked in the bathroom and pulled a towel off the linen rack and handed it to him. “I don’t mind, but I don’t have any men’s soap or anything. You can use mine, but it’s all floral and fruity scented.”

           He smiled while taking the towel from my hands, “I don’t mind. Thank you.” As he closed the bathroom door, I walked the rest of the way down the hallway to my bedroom and pulled on some jeans and a black tank top, pretending like I hadn’t sat in my pajamas all day long. Right as I walked past the front door, there was a quiet knock. My feet stopped, and I took a deep breath before opening the door. Mikayla was standing there, a huge smile stretched across her face, Trevor standing behind her holding grocery bags. “We stopped and got something to make since you have a really bad habit of just ordering pizza or Chinese food.” I opened the door further letting Mikayla and Trevor into my apartment. Trevor walked past me into the kitchen and set the bags on the counter. Just as Mikayla was about to say something, the shower shut off and Mikayla leaned back looking down the hallway, “I’m sorry, is there someone in your shower?” She looked at me, and I knew she just caught me in my lie.

           “Uh,” I looked down the hallway trying to think of something coy to say. Coming up with nothing, I pursed my lips and slid my hands into my back pocket. “Yeah.” Mikayla looked at me a large smile pressing across her face in that “I fucking knew it” way. Before Mikayla could actually vocalize that, Calum came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, just running the towel over his wet hair.

           He smiled and threw the towel into the bathroom and started walking towards us. Mikayla’s smile completely disappeared when she saw who was in my bathroom. Without taking her eyes off him, she whispered, “Emily, what is Calum Hood doing in your apartment?”

           I smiled at the fact that she is having the same realization I had the other night.  “Uh, he’s the one who gave me a ride home from the club the other night. We’re friends now, and he came by this morning after he was done in the studio.”

           She grabbed my arm and harshly turned me so our backs were toward Calum. “Emily, tell me the truth, did you sleep with him?” I shook my head, “You’re serious?” The serious look on her face made her eyebrows raise and her lips pull down into a frown. “Well, you have way more self-control than I do. Okay, I’m not mad at you for lying to me last night, only because of who it is.” She turned us back around just as Calum took his last step, “Hi, I already know who you are, but I’m Mikayla and this is my boyfriend, Trevor.” Mikayla grabbed Trevor’s arm and pulled him closer to him. Trevor lifted an arm then Mikayla pushed him, forcing him to return to what he was doing in the kitchen. Sometimes I felt bad for Trevor, never got much of a chance to really speak.

           Mikayla joined Trevor in the kitchen and Calum stood next to me, “You’re right, she is a ball of energy.”

           Keeping my hands in my back pockets, I shrugged, “Yeah, but sometimes it’s what you need when you’re definitely not a ball of energy.” Calum didn’t say anything to that, just nodded and shrugged in agreement. We joined the other two in the kitchen and helped cook the meal. The table was full of laughter and drinks as we all sat at my little table. I even think Trevor cracked a joke or two. In the time I had been dwelling in my own pain, I had forgotten how good it felt to laugh, and to enjoy the company of other people. I looked across the table at Calum who was laughing, causing the wrinkles on the side of his eyes to show. Why was it that when he walked into my life, a cloud cleared? What was it about him that made the sun shine again?

           Mikayla and Trevor left leaving Calum and I alone in my apartment. He was sitting on my couch, drinking a beer and watching something on TV. I sat of the opposite end of the couch from him and pulled my knees to my chest. “Thanks for staying and putting up with my friend.”

           After the bottle left his lips, he nodded. “I had a good time, she’s not that bad. Definitely more energetic than I ever was or ever will be.” He said after swallowing his drink. He looked over at me and smiled before directing his attention back to the tv.

           I kept my eyes on him, his right ankle resting on the top of his left knee. His right hand held onto his beer bottle which was resting on his right knee. His left arm stretched across the back of my couch, making me want to crawl into the side of his body. My thoughts were racing, wanting to tell him everything that he’s been wanting to know, he’s been so patient with me. Never pushing me to tell him about myself. As much as I wanted to spill my whole life to him, I kept my head level and told him a couple fun facts about me, “My favorite color is a deep red like the color of the lipstick I was wearing at the club, I graduated college with a bachelor’s degree in English, and I absolutely hate mushrooms.”

           Calum looked at me, eyebrows pulled in such a way that he was concerned but interested at the same time. “Okay.” He finished his beer with one drink and stood up. “I’m going to head home, thanks for letting me come over.” His hand brushed over my arm as he stepped past me.

           I struggled to stand up in my scramble to get over to him. “You don’t have to leave; would you stay if I told you more about myself?”

           He pushed his bottom lip out into a pout, but the corners of his lips turned up, “No, I just think it’s time for me to head home. Duke needs to be fed and let outside.” He tossed his bottle into the trash and grabbed his keys from the table by the door. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” With that he opened the door and left.

           Something in my stomach burned, like I had done something to upset him. I wanted to run after him, but my heart told me not to. I flopped back onto my couch and pulled my legs up towards my chest. My mind raced, and I grabbed my phone. My nails tapped against the screen as I thought about texting him, but I didn’t. Instead I went to Instagram and searched his name. My heart fluttered at all of the pictures of him, and I couldn’t help but smile. He put on this tough guy exterior in photoshoots, but in reality, he’s this big softy. I saved one of the pictures and set it as his contact photo. Feeling defeated still, I slowly got off the couch and made my way to my bedroom, calling it a night.

           Sleep didn’t happen, I spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, with quick bursts of thirty-minute naps here and there. When my alarm went off, I pressed my palms against my eyes and groaned. With a large amount of hesitation, I got out of bed and started my normal daily routine. With my hair pulled into a messy bun, and my coffee ready to make the trek to work with me, I pulled my work flats onto my feet and my blazer over my shoulders and headed out my door, making sure it locked behind me.

           When I got to the office, the only person to greet me was Mikayla, which was how it usually went when I walked into the office. We walked together to our desks, hers across from mine. I put my head into my hands and sighed, “I didn’t sleep for shit last night, Mikayla. I don’t know if I upset him or what, but I told him some ‘fun facts’ about myself and he just said ‘okay’ and then decided to leave.” I dropped my hands onto my keyboard, making my computer screen come to life.

           Mikayla was typing away but looked at me over the top of her computer screen, “Emily, he likes you, I can tell by the way he was looking at you last night, but he’s a gentleman, so he’s not going to push his feelings on you.” She shrugged and looked back at her computer screen, “He probably just wants to know more about you, but you’re such a tightly closed book.” She continued to type, but then stopped to move her chair so she could see me completely. “You shouldn’t lose sleep over it though. Like, for the first year Trevor and I were together, I had no idea what he actually wanted out of our relationship. It took a while, but we did end up finally spilling everything to each other and it turned out he was just as nervous about our relationship as I was.” Mikayla shrugged and moved back in front of her screen. “Just give it time, you met him three days ago.”

           She was right, it’s been three days, why was my mind so wrapped around him? I put the work I had finished at home on my desk and started my work day. When lunch time finally came, I locked my computer and grabbed my bag to head to the lobby of the building to get the same lunch I get every day. Just as I started to walk next to Mikayla, my phone started to ring. Calum’s face showed up, “It’s him, should I answer it?” Mikayla insisted that I should, but by the time I decided I would, it ended, sending him to my voicemail. We made it to the lobby and got in line at the café before the notification of a voicemail appeared on my phone.

           I sat across from Mikayla and looked at my phone, a bit afraid of what he had to say. Mikayla told me to listen to it. Reluctantly, I tapped the play symbol and put the speaker to my ear. “Hey, it’s Calum. I wanted to apologize for leaving the way I did last night. I’m not exactly sure what came over me. Uh, anyway, I think you’re crazy for not liking mushrooms, and red looks good on you, so I’m glad that it’s your favorite color. You’re probably at work, because it’s Monday, but I was really hoping to catch you. I wanted to ask you over to my place for dinner sometime this week. Uh, yeah, call me back. Bye.” I blinked a few times still hovering over the fact that he told me I looked good.

           “What did he say?” Mikayla said, mouth full of food.

           “He apologized for leaving the way he did, and then told me that my red lipstick looked really good the other night?” It was a question, because I still wasn’t sure I actually heard him say that. “He also wants me to go to his house for dinner sometime this week. Should I go?” I put my phone down and grabbed my fork, stabbing at my salad to pick up the lettuce.

           Mikayla’s eyes widened, as if it were stupid to even ask that question. “Well of course you should go, I think you’d be crazy not to. You should call him back, I’ll help you through the conversation.”

           I shook my head and took the bite of my food. “I’ll call him back after work.” I chewed my bite and looked at Mikayla. “You don’t think he’s like asking me on a date or anything, do you?” Mikayla nodded furiously, then told me the past two times Calum and I hung out were most definitely dates. “I don’t know if I’m ready to date, Mikayla. My life was literally ripped apart by the last person I was with.”

           She swallowed her bite, “Yeah, but from what you’ve told me about your ex, he was a piece of shit. What makes you think that’s going to happen again?”

           I stabbed the salad in front of me aimlessly. “Trauma, that’s what makes me think it’s going to happen again.” Mikayla sighs, and I sigh after she does. “Maybe it’s not that I think it’s going to happen again, but maybe I’m afraid he’s going to find out I’m divorced and think differently of me? Like he’s going to think I’m not worth his time, because maybe I am worth his time, I was just married to a shitty person.” I stared at my salad as if it was giving me all the answers to the questions of life.

           “Maybe that’s what you tell him.” My eyes snapped up towards Mikayla. “Tell him that you married a shitty person and had to get out of it, resulting in a pretty shitty divorce.” She shrugged holding onto her sandwich then took another giant bite, a glob of mayonnaise falling onto the plate. I continued to wonder how he’d react if he found out that I was a divorcee.

           The work day ended and, on my walk home, I thought about calling Calum. My fingers grazed over his name a few times, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, not yet. I looked out into the street and squinted at the soon-to-be setting sun. Once I was inside my apartment, I set my bag on the table and opened the fridge to grab a drink. In a fluid motion, I opened the drink, threw the cap onto the counter and walked to the sliding door out onto my balcony. The lawn chair on my balcony squeaked as I sat in it, proving how unsturdy it actually is. My throat felt dry as the first drink ran down my throat.

         The only sound I could hear as I sat there was the sound of the traffic on the street below me.  A breeze blew across my face and I looked down at my phone that I was spinning in my hand. I wanted to call Calum, but I was afraid; of what I wasn’t sure. I washed my drink down as liquid courage and tapped his name, putting my phone to my ear. He answered, and my throat felt tight. “Hey, I got your message, sorry I didn’t call back earlier.”

         He cleared his throat and I could hear a door shutting. “That’s okay, I’m just glad you got it.” He cleared his throat again and I ran my thumb and my pointer finger across my forehead.

         Why were we so awkward with each other? Was there that much tension between us? I let out a breath, moving the phone out of the way so he didn’t hear me. After fighting with myself to find the courage, I put the phone to my ear again, “What day did you want me to come over?”

         “Is Friday okay?” There was a difference in his voice, I could hear that he was smiling. It made me think about the wrinkles that appear by his eyes when he smiles a real smile. Thinking about him smiling like that caused the butterflies in my stomach to flutter.

         I cleared my throat this time, breaking the nervousness out of my throat. “Yeah that sounds great.” Calum started to say his goodbye, but I stopped him, “Wait, Calum,” he paused, “When I was twelve, I fell down the stairs and chipped my front tooth. I’ve gotten it fixed, but about three years ago, the seal they had put on fell off, so instead of sealing it again, they just rounded my tooth to make the chip less noticeable, so one of my front teeth is shorter than the other one.”

         He chuckled, “You can’t even tell. Goodnight, Emily. I’ll see you on Friday.”

         I smiled, hearing his soft chuckle on the other end of the phone, “Good night, Calum.” After hanging up, I went back inside and found myself in my bedroom. I threw myself on my bed and hugged my phone to my chest. Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Time travel rescue crossover fic; 11th Doctor x teen reader ft. Queen

*Author’s note*

Well guys this is it. After tomorrow I will be HOME FREE OF SCHOOL AND THEN GRADUATE AND LEAVE COLLEGE FOREVER NEXT THURS. So now that I FINALLY completed my assignments save for my final tomorrow, I can finally start posting some more stuff up. Now this series came from a wattpad request, and not only that but I’ve seen several time travel fic regarding Queen but this one is a little different, welcome to my 2nd crossover series and this one is based around.

DOCTOR WHO!!!  Yep and as mentioned in the title it takes place during the 11th gen. of the Raggedy Doctor. So in this fic it’s the ACTUAL band Queen, not the BoRhap boys being Queen. So some facts I’m pulling based off people posting facts through here and some knowledge I began to find myself. I hope you all enjoy the first few chapters of this series and give it a shot :) Happy reading the next few parts I’ve got. And if you’d like to be tagged in this series, just leave a comment below.

Taglist (this series open):

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@ixchel-9275​

@waddles03​

@platawnic​

@bensrhapsody​

@geek-and-proud​

@queendeakyy​

@kairosfreddie​

_______________________________________________________

*December 20th, 2019*

I was riding my bike through the streets of London which was packed with Christmas decorations.  Everyone scrambling around trying to do last minute shopping, I however had a different agenda.  I was going to meet a friend of mine that I promised I would meet.

I arrived off the corner of Kensington street and there I saw the famed blue police box.  I parked my bike just across from it and looked around to make sure no one was watching or coming towards this direction before finally hopping on in.

And once I stepped inside, I found myself in a place that looked bigger on the inside.  For you see this wasn’t any ordinary police box, this was the TARDIS, a time machine in English that was owned by none other than…..

“Ahh so good to see you’ve arrived on time (y/n).” Well speak of the devil.

“Don’t I always when it comes to you?” I said as I walked towards the raggedy old fool and hugged him.  A man known as The Doctor.

“How’s your nan doing?”

“She’s better.”

“I know she is, now that she don’t have to worry about you hanging around with those no gooders. Aren’t you glad I found you when I did?” To make a long story short, after both my parents were thrown in prison on various charges, my nana was the only legal guardian to take care of me.

Well by the time I reached 13, I was starting to follow down the same path as my parents.  A life of petty crime, mostly gang banging and some drugs.  That was until the Doctor came into my life when I was turned 14.  After a few time adventures with him, it got me to see that life really is too short.  So I left the gang life and tried to make things up with my nana and I’ve been clean and good for 2 years now.

It’s hard I’ll admit, especially trying to get away from the violence that I had been known in my gang.  Back with them they called me the ‘Tigress’ cause I showed no mercy when it comes to fighting, I could literally become a savage animal at the snap of a finger.

We hugged each other and he said.

“So what shall it be today?”

“Well…..” I pulled out my phone and opened up my Youtube playlist and went to the first channel that was labeled QUEEN concerts and I clicked the first link.  “Could I maybe tempt you into taking me back to a Queen concert? Specifically their Christmas Eve concert they did after the release of a Night at the Opera in 1975. I think next to the Live Aid performance, that’s my favorite concert of theirs.”

“Well as I once said I didn’t ever want to tamper with actual history. But it’s Christmas, the time for miracles. Maybe I could overlook this just once. Plus who could refuse a Queen concert?”

“Apparently most kids my age.”

“Alright so Christmas week 1975.” The Doctor went over to the control and flipped some switches and soon we were off.

However as we were traveling through time and space, there was a sudden jolt.  The lights flickered and I was knocked over towards the railing.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know. We shouldn’t have hit something.” He activated a few buttons and turned on the monitors.  The look on his face turned pale with horror.

“What is it Doctor?”

“We picked up a straggler.” The TARDIS jolted again.

“Is there any way to shake it off? I mean what exactly has us?”

“I’m still trying to read into it’s vital signs but it’s cloaked itself good, even from this old girl.” Suddenly the doors opened and soon coming in was this figure.

It sorta looked human as it did have a human form but it’s skin was like a dolphin or a sharks, it had long claw-like nails with webbing between each finger.  It hissed at us and the Doctor quickly improvised and directed the TARDIS in a sudden right jolt.

The creature went towards the wall but it kept its eyes locked right on us.

“Doctor the doors!” I cried out.  He looked towards the doors to still see them open.

“Hang on and don’t let go whatever you do! Just hang on tight to the railing!” I nodded and he tried as best as he could through the wind of the time vortex we were still spinning through.  I kept my eyes on the Doctor unaware that the creature was slowly crawling up towards me.

Suddenly I felt this painful grip on my forearm and slowly claw down it.  I let out a cry and I turned to see the creature standing right before me.  It hissed at me revealing razor sharp teeth, it’s black soulless eyes staring deeply into mine.

“Doctor!” I cried out.  Then without warning, the creature dug its claws into the back of my hands and pushed me outward forcing me to fly out of the TARDIS, barely hearing the Doctor calling out my name.  Then I guess I must’ve blacked out because I couldn’t remember anything after that.

When I finally came back around, the first thing I felt was cold and something wet.  When I slowly opened my eyes, I saw nothing but white powder in front of me, as well as flakes falling onto my face.

Slowly I got up and found myself in London, or at least I hoped it was.

“Doctor? Doctor!?” I called out.  I looked down at my hands to see they had indented claw marks and were bleeding.  As a wind chill blew across me, I began shivering and I walked out of the alleyway to see people walking along the streets with shopping bags.

‘Okay so I know I’m on Earth, or at least I think I am. But when exactly am I?’ I thought to myself.  I thought if I kept walking then maybe I could find a store or something to shed some light on where and when I am.

I walked along and I could see Big Ben as well as the London eye, okay so I am in London. And based on the fashion choices that I saw people walk by in, I could be in the 70’s.  Finally I reached a newspaper stand and I quickly grabbed a newspaper and read the date.

December 19th, 1975.  Okay so I was one day and 44 years into the past, thank god for that at least.  I mean I could’ve landed somewhere far worse.  But what happened to the Doctor? And just what was that thing that attacked us? As I went to turn around I bumped into someone.

“Sorry I—I was looking where I was…..”

“No problem love, it was an accident.” That voice it—it couldn’t be.  I looked up and the first thing I see are those entrancing blue eyes and long golden hair that shined like the sun.

“You’re—you’re……” I was completely starstruck because standing right before me was none other than Roger Taylor.

“Roger Taylor? Yes, I’m going to assume you’re a fan of Queen?” I softly nodded.  Oh my god I can’t believe that I’m standing in front of the Roger Taylor.

I mean—it was because of him I became interested in the drums.  Shortly after I left the gang life behind; since I had always been a Queen fan since childhood, my nana bought me my first ever drumkit after my six months of being clean of the violent outbursts.  She thought I could do have a better outlook banging the drums instead of banging with another gang.

His style of drumming has always fascinated me and sometimes I would try to copy some of his solos as best I could, and I’ll say that I’m a pretty decent drummer but I’ll never be up to his level of drumming.

“Well since you seem to know my name, may I know yours?”

“Uhh (y)—(y/n).”

“It’s nice to meet you (y/n).” he held out his hand for me to take.  I was nervous to take his hand but I didn’t want him to think that I was a bitch. Hopefully the bleeding has stopped, so I reached out and I took his hand.  Unfortunately he immediately noticed the blood.  “(Y/n)….what happened to your hand?”

“Oh well I—I was…..a cat scratched me.”

“These don’t look like any cat scratches I know. And believe me Freddie has over 7 and I’ve been scratched by almost all of them at some point in time.” He then tucked some hair away from my face and he continued, “Be honest love, I won’t judge you but I need to know. Did—did some arsehole…..assault you?” Well to a degree but not in the way he was implying, but how do you tell your idol that? So to kinda put him at ease I whipped up a quick excuse.

“Well…..I—they just came out of nowhere…. I-I-I tried to stop them but they…..”

“Ohh you poor thing,” he cooed as he gently embraced me.  “Come with me. I can help heal those scratches and make you a warm cuppa, eh?” I nodded and he then guided me towards the Hammersmith Odeon.

When we got there, I’ll be honest that I couldn’t believe that I was in the actual Hammersmith Odeon theater.  Cause back—well forward in my time it’s called the Hammersmith Apollo and it’s mostly shown dance acts, and live performances for comedians.

“First aid’s in the dressing room. That’s the last known place I know it was at when Fred was dealing with some blisters the other day.” He guided me towards backstage and I saw dozens of roadies and other volunteers and workers getting ready for sound checks, probably for a rehearsal.  “Here we are.”

Roger opened the door and guided me inside. Already I saw four sections of the big dressing room where each band member got ready.  I saw from the photo of Veronica holding baby Robert that the section I was standing near was Deacy’s corner.

Just ahead where the red special was and what appeared to be an astronomy book was Brian’s place.  And of course the one where dozens of cat pictures along with the beautiful Mary Austin’s picture was Freddie’s.

“Okay let’s see; first aid, first aid, first aid.” Roger muttered as he went through Freddie’s side.  Lifting up various music sheets, journals and drawers. “Damnit Fred where the bloody hell did you put it—Ah-ha there you are!” He then pulled out an old school style first aid kit. “Right have a seat over here love.”

“I—I don’t know. I mean am I even allowed to be in here?”

“No not really but this is an emergency. So come on, sit. I don’t bite.” Cautiously I walked further in the dressing room and sat down in Freddie’s seat. “Okay let’s see here, we’ll need antiseptic cream, and…bandages.”  He took out the cream first and he told me to show him my hands.

He then began to doctor up both my hands, but just before he put the first aid kit away, he noticed that my right sleeve was stained with blood.  He carefully rolled it up and that’s when I saw the four long scratches that went from just an inch or two below my elbow to my wrist.

“Oh my god love. I—I’ve never seen a weapon do something like this, what did they use?”

“I—I couldn’t see what it was. Is it bad?”

“I don’t think so. But let me go a bowl of water, and a couple of towels to see what we’re dealing with here. Blood always makes things seem worse than what they are. Just stay here for a moment okay?” I nodded and he smiled at me before exiting the dressing room.

Once he came back with items, he set them down on the table and gently guided my arm over the bowl and dipped one of the towel into the water.  He wrung it out and slowly began dabbing away the blood.  I hissed on occasion and with each hissed, he apologized.  Once the blood was cleared away, he dabbed the dry towel over my wet forearm before carefully observing it.

“Well they don’t look too deep for stitches, otherwise we’d need to call the hospital.”

“Yeah, thank god.” I was grateful for that because I won’t even be born until 30 years from now so there’s no way any hospital would have my records.

“Hey (y/n), if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened?”

“It—it’s honestly a blur to me Roger. I was—just minding my business with a friend of mine then next thing I knew we got jumped and….oh shit my friend he….he doesn’t know where I am! I-I have to find him!”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey (y/n), (y/n) calm down. Deep breaths for me.” He gently calmed me down and got me to take a few deep breaths. Man, who would’ve thought the Roger Taylor would be the one comforting me during a freak out episode.

“Sorry.” I muttered.

“No, no don’t apologize at all. Look let’s get you healed up first, and then we can think about finding your friend, alright?” I nodded and he said as he gently cupped the side of my face and gingerly thumbed across my cheek “Atta girl.”  Suddenly the door opened and a voice said.

“Whoa were we interrupting anything here my darlings?” Oh my god—no way. It was him, it was really him.  Freddie Fucking Mercury. Vibrant and young Freddie Mercury. Alongside him I saw Brian May to his left and John Deacon was to the right.

“No not at all guys.”

“Whose this?” asked Brian.

“This is (y/n). I found her—well actually she ran into me while I was at the newsstand. Shortly after she got jumped by some thugs.”

“Oh you poor darling!” Freddie cooed as he raced up towards me. “Who were the bastards that did this to you? You give me descriptions and I’ll fucking murder them!”

Aww, I can’t believe that after just meeting me not even 10 seconds, Freddie’s already wanting to defend my honor and beat up the fake thugs that did this to me.  All those interviews of people calling Freddie nice, seeing it with my own eyes, they weren’t even close to describing Freddie’s kindness and loyalty.

“It’s alright Freddie, there’s no need for you to go to jail for assault.”

“Well fuck that! Anyone who gangs up on a girl like that deserves to have their arses beaten.” Can’t argue with him on that. Suddenly I felt the stinging sensation of the antiseptic cream go onto my scratches.

“Sorry love.” Roger apologized.

“It’s—alright.”

“Roger give the girl fair warning next time!” Freddie exclaimed.

“Would you like anything to drink (y/n)? Water? Tea?” asked Deacy.

“Well Roger was gonna offer me a warm cuppa.”

“How about a hot chocolate instead. After a night that you had, why not take something a little warmer. Plus nothing cures trauma better than chocolate.” Deacy offered.

“Okay, I can go for a hot chocolate.”

“Coming right up.”

“Lucky duckie. Deacy dear makes the best cup of hot chocolate ever.” Freddie told me.

“Sneaky bastard won’t let us in on how he makes it!” Roger called out.

“Because you lot don’t deserve to know!” Deacy called back as he peeked back in the room before heading back down the hallway to make my hot chocolate.

“Right, time for the bandages.” Roger said.

“Here Rog, I’ll take care of that.” Brian stepped forward and took over the doctoring.  My god if you had told me three years ago that I would be getting doctored by Brian May and Roger Taylor, be served hot chocolate handmade by John Deacon and having Freddie Mercury rub your back comfortingly as your being doctored by the.

I would’ve told you, you were crazy.

As Brian began wrapping my arm up, he looked up at me and asked.

“Too tight?”

“No, no it’s fine.” I assured him.  He softly smiled and kept wrapping my arm up till it covered up the last of my scratches.

“There all done.”

“Thank you Brian.”

“You’re welcome (y/n).” he said with that warm smile of his.  It was then Deacy came walking in with a cup of hot chocolate.

“Here you go (y/n), I just took it out of the microwave so be careful.” I took the cup between my hands and allowed the hot mug to warm up my cold, numbing hands.  I blew on it before taking a light sip.

Holy shit the guys weren’t kidding. I mean at first my nana’s hot chocolate was always the best but now I’m starting to think Deacy’s overpowers my nana’s special recipe.

“Oh my god, this is so good.”

“Glad you like it dear.”

“I mean—I think you just kicked my nana’s famed recipe out the window.”

“Well I mean no disrespect to your nana.” Deacy said apologetically.

“No, no, no hell if she were here, she’d be wanting to get your recipe herself.” Deacy smiled that sweet, eye crinkled smile as he softly chuckled.

“Not only the best bass player we could find but also the best hot chocolate maker we could ask for.” Freddie praised as he placed an arm around Deacy’s neck.  Aww my god I can’t believe I’m witnessing firsthand of the bond these two shared. No wonder why Deacy left after Freddie died.

“Oh stop it you old tart.”

“Ahh Brian! Deacy’s using those dirty words again!” Freddie whined out.

“Hey lads, the manager’s closing up the stadium for the night if you all are done for the night.” Queen’s future manager Jim Beach came into the dressing room.

“Thank you Miami.” Freddie said.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight (y/n)?” asked Brian.

“Uhh well I—”

“Yes. As we were on our way here I told her that she could stay with me for tonight. Just in case those thugs try and find her again.” Roger spoke as he wrapped an arm around me.  I looked to Roger and he looked down at me assuringly and winked at me.

“Well then let’s get a move on. I’d rather not be locked up in here over night.” Deacy said.

“Well said Deacy. Not like back in Atlanta eh?” Freddie teased.

“I thought we vowed to never talk about that!” Deacy snapped.  As the guys walked on ahead, Roger and I lagged behind and I asked him.

“You sure it’s okay for me to stay with you?”

“Yeah. I’ve got an extra bed in my room. Plus I don’t want you to be out in the streets in the middle of winter.”

“Thanks Roger. But what will I do about clothes?”

“I’ll let you borrow some small clothes as pajamas for tonight. Then tomorrow Freddie and I can help you shop for some clothes. Maybe we can also find that friend of yours.” I smiled softly and said.

“I—don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing, c’mon let’s get back to the hotel and into bed. You’ve had a long night and look like you could use some rest.” We then got into the car and the driver drove the five of us back to the hotel. Roger guided me towards his room and using his key, he allowed me in first.

It was a pretty big sized room with two beds as he said, a small telly and a closet.  Roger went inside and muttered to himself before finally pulling out a plain black t-shirt and some sweats.

“Here, these are too small for me, hopefully they’ll do you some good. The loo’s just over there.” He pointed towards the jointed room beside the bed farthest from the window.  I walked inside of it and changed out of my clothes and into Roger’s old stuff.

The pants were obviously a little too long but the shirt fit snug around me.  I then went over to the mirror and looked down at my bandaged arm.

“Oh Doctor, I hope you’re alright. Where—whenever you are.” I don’t know what that thing was that attacked but I prayed that he was alright and somehow managed to lose it.

“(Y/n)? You okay in there?” I heard Roger’s voice say.

“Yeah, yeah Roger I’m good.” I then stepped out of the loo and Roger looked me over.

“Not bad, I’ll give the pants a trim so that they’re not dragging across the floor tomorrow. Then tomorrow when Freddie and I take you out, we’ll get you some clothes that will fit you.”

“Do you think he’ll want to join us?” I asked

“Absolutely. Besides he looks for any excuse to shop and he’s better at picking clothes than me. I just pick what matches based off of fabric, damn eyesight.”  That I did know for a fact.  But I chose to act like I didn’t know that fact.

“Thanks again for all that you’ve done for me tonight.”

“Again love, no thanks are necessary. I just hope your friend didn’t get into the squabble you were in.”

“I hope so too.” I muttered before letting out a long yawn.  Roger softly chuckled.

“It’s getting late, why don’t you get some sleep?” I nodded and walked over to the bed that was closest to the radiator.  I tucked myself in and almost immediately fell asleep on the old, lumpy mattress.

*Roger’s POV*

Even though she had taken my bed next to the radiator, I didn’t have the heart to move her.  After the night she’s been through, she deserved to have as much comfort as possible.  

After taking my nightly shower and changing into my pajamas I looked over at (y/n) hoping that we would find her friend in good health, cause if (y/n) managed to get away with scratches like those, then I pray her friend’s not worse.

[katiekitty261]

And they were roommates// Jim Mason x Fem!Reader

This started as a request from my lovely @wroteclassicaly, but it kinda turned into its own beast LOL. (Also, the title just makes me laugh. I had to keep it. Forgive me)

This is a little college AU type situation, the characters might be OOC because of it. This is also my first length fic for jimmy :’) 

@ladynuwanda​ and ella, I’m just pointing out that I saw this gif...and I had to use it. Legally I couldn’t use a different one. 

Description - Jim is the boyfriend of your college dorm roommate and you hate each other, but do you really?

Word count- 4800+

Warnings- swearing, a little blood. Brief description of violence. Maybe slightly submissive Jim if you squint? I don’t know. Smut. Near-Death experience?

Read on Ao3

You wanted to throw something.

Your lovely roommate Leah begged you to let her boyfriend Jim, stay over for a few ‘hours’. You usually didn’t let her, but she wouldn’t shut up about it. You decided you’d study in the student lounge while you waited for her to text you that you could come back.

The text never arrived. You ended up falling asleep at one of the uncomfortable couches. Your back ached and you forgot to set an alarm, so you only woke up with 15 minutes left to get to class.

“You look dead,” You looked up to see Medina Mason taking a seat next to you in the courtyard, dropping her books on the picnic table.

“Your brother kept me awake all night.” You said bitterly, stabbing a bite of your salad.

“He did what?” She raised her brows at you.

You coughed, realizing what it sounded like. “No- God…” you wiped your mouth, “He was with Leah. All night.”

“In your room?”

“Yes, and I had an exam!”

“I’m sorry, I can try to talk to him if you want, knock some sense into him.”

You smiled at her and nodded, “That would be great. I have English next week and I can’t afford to fail this one…”

You liked Medina. She was Jim’s twin sister, but the complete opposite of him. You honestly didn’t know how they shared the same DNA.

You had known them since they started college in the same year as you, but you never got along with Jim. It was like he had some kind of vendetta against you or something, like his goal every semester was to find a way to piss you off more. This year he had really spread the icing on the hate cake by dating your roommate.

Medina tried to convince you that he was just doing it because he probably likes you, which was bullshit. Jim Mason did not like you.

He hated you. Just like you hated him.

It didn’t help that he was panty-dropping gorgeous. Not that you would ever admit it, though.

“There’s a party tonight. You coming?” Medina asked you sighed.

“I shouldn’t… I need to study.”

“Oh come on. It’s Friday night, you have the whole weekend to study. Come have a few drinks with our friends, and you can forget all about my brother.”

“Forget what about me?”

You groaned internally at the familiar voice. Looking over to see the devil himself, with his arm wrapped around Leah's waist.

“That I couldn’t go back to my dorm all night because you and Leah wouldn’t keep your hands to yourselves.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m SO sorry I forgot to text you! We just fell asleep.” Leah tried to explain, but you rolled your eyes.

“You could’ve joined us if you liked.” Jim winked as he spoke and you scoffed.

“Fuck you, Mason.” You turned your back to him and continued eating. You didn’t miss him saying, “only in your dreams,” under his breath but you chose to ignore it.

“Are you going to the party, Jim?” Medina asked, you heard him reply in agreement.

You definitely weren’t going now.

___

“Black or red.. or purple… or Yellow?”

“Why don’t you just wear a rainbow?” You leaned back on Medina’s bed as she picked out something to wear to the party.

That she was forcing you to go to.

“You know I’m not good with style… I want to look decent.” She pouted at you, holding up two dresses for you to see.

“Blue. Blue is your best color.”

“Blue wasn’t an option… but you’re right. It’s a Mason thing.” She started shuffling through her closet again, looking for something in blue.

“What are you wearing?” She asked as she finally picked out something.

“What do you mean? I’m already dressed.” You gestured to the clothes you were wearing already. A white T-shirt and a pair of light wash denim capris.

“You are not.” She rolled her eyes, “We’re supposed to be having fun… Don’t you want to meet someone? Get laid? You can’t dress like that.”

“I’ll dress whatever way I want to, Dina.”

“Fine. At least put on makeup.”

You compromised with Medina and let her put a little makeup on you. Not much, but a little mascara and concealer can make a difference.

___

You recognized Led Zeppelin playing when you and Medina got to the party. The music was so loud you could barely hear her talking to you as you went to find drinks. If you were going to have any fun tonight, you needed something to drink.

Dina ditched you about an hour in, something about going to smoke with a guy she had met. Not that you minded, you were buzzed enough to not care anymore. You danced with a few of your girlfriends, enjoying the music and swaying with the crowd of scantily dressed college kids.

You spotted Leah, dressed in a bright red mini skirt that was pushed up so high you could see the giant dream catcher she had tattooed on her thigh. Her brown hair sat loosely on her shoulders and her red lipstick was smeared on her lips. She was sitting on Jim’s lap, her arm around his shoulders.

She waved at you with a smile, making him look in your direction. You tried not to notice how good he looked in his old worn jean jacket, you really did try. In your inebriated state, however, your efforts were fruitless. You tried to pretend like you weren’t checking him out, just looking back at Leah, you waved back and gave her an awkward smile.

Jim tapped her legs so she would move, getting up and making his way toward you. You tried to walk away, but before you could make it through the crowd, he had made it to you first.

“You really wore that?” He looked you up and down.

“So what, not all of us have to dress like sluts to go to a party, Mason.”

“You didn’t even change what you wore earlier,”

“Why do you pay so much attention?” You asked,

“I’m not.”

“Mhm. Just like you’re not over here bothering me instead of your girlfriend over there on the couch.” You emptied your cup and turned to leave, but Jim reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“You shouldn’t drink anymore if you’re here alone.”

“Who are you to talk? I’m not alone, Dina is with me.” You shrugged off his hand, ignoring the warmth his hand had left on your skin.

“I just saw her leave with some dude, you are alone. We both know you can’t hold your liquor well either.”

“Who says I can’t hold my liquor?”

“The last party you went to you fell off the deck into the pool.”

“That was on purpose.”

“Sure it was. What about that time you threw up in the bushes and Medina and Leah had to carry you home?”

“Why do you care so much? You don’t seem to care about me any other time.” You turned to face him, swallowing when you realized how close he was standing to you. He practically had you backed up against the counter now.

“I don’t.”

“Then leave me alone.” You pushed him away from you and he stumbled back, watching as you poured yourself another drink and downing it in one gulp, making an exaggerated “ahhh” to annoy him.

“You’re a fucking pain, you know that (Y/N)?”

“Only in your ass, Mason.” You winked at him, grabbing another drink before you could disappear back into the crowd, leaving Jim alone in the kitchen.

___

The rest of the night was basically a blur.

Somehow you ended up in the upstairs hallway, some strangers lips attached to your neck, making obscene noises as he tried to grope your breasts through your bra. Your shirt had a drink spilled on it, which was making you feel wet and uncomfortable.

You weren’t really enjoying yourself to any degree, and you tried to push him off of you but he wasn’t budging.

“Dude, get off me…” You said, He ignored you trying to unhook your bra, but you pushed on him again.

“There you are… Hey-” You heard a voice that didn’t belong to the stranger call out, and suddenly he was ripped from you, making you stumble against the wall.

“She said to get off her.” You recognized it as Jim, holding the other guy by the collar of his shirt, a murderous look in his eyes.

“She wanted me, bro. Lay off.” He tried to get free of Jim’s grip, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Jim… let him go.” You said, but he ignored you.

Jim punched the guy square in his face, you could hear a crack that had to be his nose. The guy stumbled back, cursing at him.

Luckily instead of fighting back the guy ran off holding his bloody nose.

“Jesus fuck, Jim. You didn’t have to do that.” You grabbed his hand, his knuckles were bruised and bloody too.

“What happened to your shirt?” He asked, eyeing your chest. It was showing your bra through the wet fabric. You would’ve felt grossed out (you liked to tell yourself) if you hadn’t been so drunk, but at this moment having Jim Mason staring at your chest left you tingling in all the right places.

“Some asshole spilled their drink on me.”

“Come on, I'm taking you back to the dorm.” Jim shrugged off his jacket and handed it to you, telling you to button it up before he grabbed your hand and walked you outside with him.

You were too tired to argue, too hot under the skin to shake his hand away, enjoying his attention on you way too much.

Plus you felt so warm inside his jacket, unconsciously pulling it tighter around you.

Jim drove you all the way back to your dorm, where you found Leah passed out on her bed still fully dressed and everything.

“Did you bring her back too?”

“Earlier. She was tired.”

“You came back for me?” You asked, Jim looked at you and sighed.

“Go to bed.” He gently pushed you toward your bed, You flopped onto it and fell asleep seconds later.

_____

Sunlight and a pounding in your head woke you up the next morning.

You groaned, covering your face with your pillow, but the dryness of your throat and your bladder stopped you from sleeping in any longer. You stood up, realizing you were still wearing Jim’s jacket, but you had managed to take off your jeans while you slept.

Most of your memories were hazy, but the ones involving Jim were crystal clear in your mind.

He was actually nice to you. Really nice.

Any warm thought your brain was conjuring disappeared when you looked over and saw him in bed with Leah, her back pressed against him, a smile on her lips as they slept.

“He’s her boyfriend… and he’s Jim.” you shake your head, trying to remove any weird lingering feelings as you walked to the bathroom.

After taking care of yourself, washing your face and brushing your teeth among other things you walked out to find Jim and Leah awake, Jim was sitting up in bed, his hair ruffled from sleep and looking stupidly beautiful for first thing in the morning. Leah was standing at her closet in her underwear.

You forgot that you hadn’t put on pants when you walked to the bathroom, and Jim noticed right away.  

His eyes trailed down your legs, and back up again, a certain look in his eye as he stared at you wearing his favorite jacket and not much else.

You felt uncomfortable, feeling your face heat up as he blatantly kept his eyes on you and not his underwear-clad girlfriend just a few feet away.

“Is that Jim’s?” Leah asked, bringing your attention back to her.

“She spilled a drink at the party,” Jim responded before you could, and you nodded.

“You really shouldn’t drink so much…” She said and you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. I need to get dressed.” You stood in place and unbuttoned the jacket, Jim’s eyes glued to your half-naked state. You wondered if Leah didn’t care or if she was really that dumb that she didn’t notice the look Jim was giving you. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice the look he was giving you, either. You threw the jacket in his direction, and it seemed to snap him out of his daze.

You grabbed clean clothes from your closet and retreated back into the bathroom. You felt your cheeks hot as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. “What the hell is wrong with me today?” You muttered to yourself as you started to get dressed.

Jim usually didn’t affect you this much. For some reason this morning, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

“Jim and I are going to breakfast!” Leah called out a few minutes later, you muttered a reply before flopping back onto your bed.

Your head was still pounding and you didn’t think you could be around them for any longer, so you downed a couple Advil and went back to sleep.

____

“This is exactly what I needed. Exams are a bitch, aren’t they?” Medina said as she zipped up her wetsuit. You and a few friends decided to go surfing since it was a Saturday and you had nothing better to do. You couldn’t surf very well, but Medina was teaching you.

“Is Jim here?” You asked as you grabbed your board. Medina shrugged.

“Maybe. Why?”

“No reason… He was acting really weird to me at the party last night. I was drunk so I might be remembering it wrong, but I think he was actually worried about me.”

“I told you, (Y/N). He doesn’t hate you. I know my brother. He doesn’t hate anyone.”

You wanted to argue, but the memories of last night irritated you. He rescued you from some total creep, gave you his jacket and brought you back to the dorm. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf?

“It’s weird and I don’t like it.”

“Maybe Leah is changing him?”

You wanted to laugh. “I doubt he’s getting any kind of influence from her. She can barely keep her class schedule straight let alone control anything Jim does. Too busy preaching about how much she loves her “aesthetic”. You mimicked the annoying way she acted and Medina laughed.

Leah may have been your roommate and you were civil to each other, but you were far from friends. She had a tendency to be a little overbearing and being her friend was exhausting, so you just stopped trying. Your annoyance living with her only grew when you found out she had started dating Jim.

“I don’t know why he’s with her. She’s not his type at all.”

“Jim has a type?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“I thought he would just fuck anything that moved.”

“He’s not like that (Y/N). He wasn’t in high school at least. He didn’t sleep around until he got here. He doesn’t when he’s dating someone either.”

“I really don’t know what he sees in her.” You said as you noticed the couple appear on the beach. Leah was practically skipping in the sand, wearing a bikini that you were sure was two sizes too small. It was pink and gaudy, a bright contrast to Jim’s dark wetsuit.

Great, he was here to surf too.

“She’s hot and he’s shallow?” you finished, Medina shrugged. “Maybe”.

You got into the water which effectively ended the conversation as you tried to focus on surfing.

You caught a few good waves, but you weren’t nearly as good as Medina. You kept getting distracted by Leah yelling at Jim every 10 minutes, asking how he was doing and begging for him to come back to the beach.

You tried your best to ignore him, but it wasn’t working.

Jim didn’t surf as much as Dina did, but he was still a pretty good surfer. You found yourself watching him, sitting on your board almost forgetting completely that you were there to surf too.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Medina shout, and you looked over at her, she was waving and pointing, and you realized she was pointing at the very large wave that was coming right towards you.

You tried to act fast, but you didn’t act fast enough. The wave crashed into you and knocked you off your board, you felt the ankle strap on the board rip off as you went under the water. You struggled against the surge, swimming up, but as soon as you did another wave crashed and sent you in the water again.

You could feel your vision starting to blackout from lack of oxygen, and your lungs burned as you involuntarily sucked in water.

“This is it, I'm about to die.” You thought as your vision finally went dark.

___

You gasped for hair and opened your eyes, sputtering water and looking up directly into the eyes of an angel.

Had you died? Wait. No. It wasn’t an angel. It was just Jim.

“Thank god,” You heard medina yell, you realized she was sitting by your side, as Jim hovered over your body in the sand, his hands on your shoulders still.

“I almost drowned…” You coughed, “Did you save me?” You looked up into Jim’s eyes, his face was only a few inches from yours. He nodded.

You fell silent. Jim had saved you from literally dying, and he was sitting close to you now you almost wanted to kiss him.

“Oh my god! Are you ALRIGHT?!”

Leah’s shrill voice rang in your ears as she ran over kicking sand on you, making Jim pull away but he didn’t take his hands off of you.

“I’m ok I think…”

“You should get checked out,” Dina said, you shook your head. “No, I’m fine. I just need to get back to the dorm.”

“I can take you.” Jim piped up, and Leah gave him a dirty look.

“She’s fine. We just got here.”

Medina gave her a nasty look. “She almost just drowned.”

“She’s fine. Let’s go Jim.” She pulled his arm and he pushed her off.

“Jim,” You stopped him. “Just go with her. Dina can take me home…”

Jim helped you up, earning another dirty look from Leah. “We need to talk.” He whispered in your ear, leaving you confused a little light-headed.

____

The rest of your exams came and went, and you felt fine after a few days. Normal even.

Except, it wasn’t normal.

You hadn’t seen Jim all week, not since he left the beach. Normally you’d find him in your dorm, hanging off Leah, or bothering you and Dina while you studied, but you didn’t see him once the entire week.

You tried not to let it bother you, but the less you saw him the more you couldn’t get him off your mind. It was driving you mad.

Your brain was constantly invaded by him. His stupid blue eyes and wavy hair. His stupid freckles and his stupid smile.

He’s the one who said he wanted to talk, Right? So why was he avoiding you?

“Fuck…” You groaned.

You needed to end this. Whatever it was.

You made your way to his dorm, knowing where it was because you had been there a few times with Medina. Standing at his door you felt stupid, You didn’t even know if he was there, and what were you going to say, “Why are you ignoring me after you said we needed to talk? It’s stupid. Please stop ignoring me so we can go back to hating each other like normal.”

You scoffed at yourself.

You started to walk away, but the door to this dorm swung open.

Jim gave you a confused look, and you stood still.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“What took you so long?”

“I- what do you mean? You wanted to talk to me. Why did I have to come to you first?”

“I had some things to deal with, I figured you’d show up here after you heard.”

“Heard what?”

“You don’t know?”

“I don't know! I don’t know what’s going on. I never know with you, Mason.” You were starting to get angry.

He crossed his arms as he sat down on the couch, you followed him in.

“Nevermind.” You huffed, and he stood up. “Wait, don’t.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here, you’re right. I don’t know why I care so much about you… stupid ass…”

Jim walked up to you, grabbing your wrist to keep you from walking away.

“Do you really hate me?”

You swallowed.

You wanted to say yes, you really thought you did, but you couldn’t think straight.

“Medina said you thought I hated you. I know you think I do, but do you really hate me?”

The way he looked at you made your heart stop. No. I don’t hate you. You wanted to say it, but you were frozen.

Fuck it.

You turned and grabbed his face, pressing your lips hard to his.

Jim stood in shock as you kissed him, but quickly caught on and kissed you back. Wrapping his arms around you as he deepened it, walking you back until you were pressed against the door.

His lips were as soft as silk, and he tasted like mint. Your hands tangled in his brunette waves as you kissed him feverishly.

You broke the kiss first.

Breathing heavily as you stared at him, looking at you with a surprised expression.

“Should we do that again?” He asked you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest.

“Leah, what about Leah? You’re dating her… She’s my roommate-”

Jim’s lips cut you off.

“I broke up with her, After the beach.”

“What? Really?”

“I only dated her to get closer to you. The way she acted after what happened. I couldn’t stand it. That’s what I meant, I figured you had heard from her.”

“To get closer to me?...” You scrunch your brows together.

“You’re really that oblivious?” He had his arms wrapped around you, but you didn’t make any effort to push him away further.

“I like you. I have, for years. I never hated you… I just didn’t know how to tell you. I dated Leah cause I was hoping you’d be jealous. It was stupid.”

“It was stupid. I thought you hated me so much that I thought I hated you.”

“You don’t hate me, do you?” He asked again, but this time he knew the answer.

All the secret feelings you had bottled up the last two years came bubbling to the surface as he confessed to you. Every little stupid thing you had thought he had done to piss you off in the past, every sweet thing you pretended wasn’t sweet came to the forefront of your mind.

“I'm an idiot and I think I’m in love with you.” The words fell out of your mouth as you stared up at him, only a few inches from you. You could feel his heart beating in his chest under your hands.

He pressed his lips back to yours, this time the kiss was less rushed, you could feel the tenderness in how he kissed you. His hands wrapped around you like he never wanted to let you go.

“I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” You breathed as you kissed him, his arms wrapped around you tighter.

“For the record, I love you too, and I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now kiss me.”

Jim didn’t need any more convincing after that. He pressed his lips yours again, this time with no intention of stopping.

“Is your,” you continued pressing your lips back to his as you spoke, “roommate coming back anytime soon?”

“Mm no, at his parents for the weekend.” Jim walked you over to his bed, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt and you gave him a nod, letting him know this was ok.

“Good god, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” Jim stared at your shirtless form, his hands making quick work of your bra and tossing it aside. His lips immediately found your chest. Gently lapping and biting, one hand caressing while he kissed and sucked lightly on your skin and nipples.

“I think I have an idea…” you sighed at his touch, running your fingers through his hair.

“We’re both idiots, right? We could’ve been doing this way sooner.” Jim laughed as he straightened himself up again, taking off his own shirt as he talked.

You admired the way his arms flexed and for once you could stare at him without feeling guilty.

“Like what you see?”

You shut him up with a kiss.

Your hands worked Jim’s belt as you kissed hungrily when you finally undid it you let him sit on the bed as you slid his pants off him.

His cock was strained against the fabric, pressing its full hard length for you to see how much he really wanted you. It practically made your mouth water.

Jim Mason was blessed in every department it seemed.

You dropped to your knees in front of him as he sat on the edge of his bed, running your hands up his thighs.

“You’re such a tease,” he adjusted his hips, his cock still straining for attention.

“I’m not in a rush…” you winked playfully up at him before finally taking his throbbing member in your hand and giving it a few light strokes.

Jim groaned through his teeth, bucking up into your hand.

“Are you going to cum if I put my mouth on you?”

“I- Maybe,” he wanted to say no, but with the way he was feeling Jim knew he wouldn’t last if you wrapped your pretty little lips around his cock.

Another time.

You kept your hand wrapped around him as you pushed him back on the bed so you could straddle him, stopping only for a few seconds to pull the rest of your pants and panties off.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Yes, in the side drawer.”

“I guess your whore tendencies do come in handy sometimes, Mason.” You reached over and found a little foil packet, resuming your straddle position as you sat on top of his thighs.

His cock was dripping precum now, and you couldn’t resist leaning down and cleaning the head of his cock with your tongue.

“Fuck, (Y/N).”

You tore open the condom carefully and rolled in on him, “do you want me to ride you?” You asked him, he stared up at you straddling him, completely naked and practically dripping with need all over him.

“Please.”

You adjusted your hips so you could grind the tip of his cock against your clit for a few seconds, moaning softly as you rocked against him. Jim’s hands found your hips as you directed his cock into you.

“Fuck, I love you.” You found yourself saying again as you felt his cock fully seated inside of you.

You leaned down and pressed another kiss to his lips, and started rocking against him. Agonizingly slow for Jim’s preferences.

He gripped your hips tighter, moving you the way he wanted you to move now. He lifted you up so he could fuck you properly, eventually sitting up and wrapping his arms around you while his cock was still buried inside you.

Your wrapped your arms around his neck in return, enjoying the sensations flowing through you as you simply stayed still, feeling your naked chests pressed against each other and your hearts beating in synch.

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that to me…” Jim pressed his forehead against yours, stealing your lips in another kiss and another after that.

“I love you, Jim Mason.” You whispered against his lips. “I love you,” he smiled in return before deepening the kiss.

As he kissed you, he adjusted your position so he was on top. Driving into you with slow but firm thrusts, his tongue tracing the most sensitive part of your neck sending chills up you as he fucked you.

One of Jim’s hands eventually found your clit, running along it in slow circles as he continued to fuck you, Making you moan his name in his mouth.

You climbed the mountain together, feeling your orgasm build and you could tell by Jim’s sloppy thrusts that he wasn’t far behind,

You moaned loudly as you finally felt your release, so loud, in fact, you imagined everyone on this floor could hear you, not that you cared.

Jim followed suit, spilling into the condom while still inside you. You kept your legs wrapped around his hips as you both rode out the last of your orgasms together.

“How you do you think Medina is going to react?” You whispered as you laid against his chest, Jim laughed.

“I think she’ll be happy. She’s been waiting years for me to tell you how I feel.”

“YEARS?”

____________________

I’ve had this finished for a couple days, but I kinda hated it so I put it off, edited it a little. But I wanna post it before the new season or I never will. Hope you guys liked it anyways lol :)

Requests OPEN

Everything Taglist - @wroteclassicaly @manyimaginativemuses @unholyromanoff @thispandaisbored @queencocoakimmie @daadddysprincesss @ms-mead  @mega-combusken​ @desidia-1​

If you want to be added/removed send me an ask :) My everything taglist is for everything, including blurbs. I can also add you to separate tag lists for specific characters like just Michael/ just Duncan, etc.

(I edited this entire fic and tumblr wouldn’t post it. I thought I was gonna die) 

[youreverycolor]

An Unlikely Love: Post Script (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)

AN: Prompt #186 from 200 Prompts from @drink-it-write-it (“I’m eating because I’m very uncomfortable.”). I will probably be using Anna Stein’s character in a lot of the oneshots I write, so perhaps they’ll get their own miniseries. :)

Also should add that I wrote this while on Percocet after surgery so I apologize for typos or weirdness.

Written for @madpanda75; if you would like to be tagged on future Barba oneshots/fic, please reply and let me know! :)

Song: “My Shot” from the Hamilton soundtrack

~*~*~*~

“Mr. Barba? Anna Stein is here.”

Rafael Barba, the boy-wonder assistant district attorney, was not known for getting tongue-tied. In fact, he was usually the one doing the tying. But when his assistant opened his door and announced Anna’s arrival, he didn’t know what to say. After cases were over, he would nod in the victim’s direction, acknowledge their thank-you, and head back to his office to start all over again with someone else’s nightmare. He couldn’t remember a time when a victim had come to visit him after the case was over—and Anna’s case had been over for a year.

Last time Rafael had seen her, Anna was talking to Olivia in the hallway outside the courtroom where her rapist had just been sentenced to fifteen years in prison. Despite the victory, Anna had looked frail and somewhat dazed. After his years working with SVU, he knew this was understandable; sometimes a victim became so consumed with the trial that they didn’t quite know what to do after it was over. But he also knew Olivia had told her what she told all victims: that people who go through horrific experiences can survive and thrive when they get the support they need.

“Send her in,” he replied, but Carmen was already one step ahead of him—before he could even stand up, Anna was walking through his door. His breath caught in his chest; if he didn’t know better, he would never have been able to imagine this was the same woman who cried on a witness stand as John Buchanan tried to rip her apart. This woman walked tall, her blonde hair cascading down her back, pale skin glowing under the slightest coat of makeup. She looked like life had been breathed back into her.

She smiled at him as Carmen closed the door behind her. “Mr. Barba,” she said, walking toward his desk. “Thank you for taking a minute to see me.”

He extended his hand and she took it, giving him a confident shake. He remembered that about her; no matter how traumatized she had been, her handshake was always strong. “Of course,” he said. “How are you, Ms. Stein?”

“Please, call me Anna.”

“Okay, Anna. Have a seat.” She sank into of the chairs on the other side of his desk and, instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat next to her. “What can I do for you?”

“This is going to be a little—I mean, it’s going to sound—” She took a deep breath. “Ever since the trial, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do next. As you can imagine, I didn’t really feel I could go back to work there.”

“I can imagine. Your company wasn’t exactly helpful in the investigation.”

“No, of course not. They were more interested in protecting him. The CEO is more valuable than an executive assistant, and I’ve basically been blackballed in the financial industry.”

He nodded sadly, knowing how these things usually went. “Well, if it’s legal assistance you need, I can certainly recommend—”

She held up a hand. “Oh, no, no, that’s not it. But it’s kind of related, I guess. Like I said, I’ve been thinking about what I want to do now. And I talked a little to Detective Benson—Olivia—about it, and she’s the one who suggested I talk to you.”

He was intrigued. “Go on.”

She looked upwards and then let out a loud sigh. “I think I want to go to law school,” she finally said. “I know that that’s going to sound really—I mean, who just ‘decides’ to go to law school, right? And I know that most people go right after undergrad, and I have a biology degree, not political science or English, and—why are you smiling?”

He didn’t even realize he was. But listening to Anna talk reminded him of how excited he had been when he got his acceptance letter to Harvard Law. It shouldn’t even have been a surprise to him, considering he was poised to graduate from Harvard College. But it was still one of the most joyous days of his life, the beginning of the future.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not that I’m not taking this seriously. But I’m not sure what I can do to help you.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “I guess it’s just that seeing how hard you fought for me…I don’t really know any other lawyers, Mr. Barba. And I want to talk to someone who’s done this. I know you’re really busy, and I understand if—”

He shook his head. “No, no, I’d be happy to talk. Right now, I have to finish prepping this case”—he gestured to the open file on his desk—“but if you have some time later this week, I’d be happy to make some time.”

“Of course. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“First lesson about being a lawyer. Never turn down the opportunity to influence new lawyers.”

She grinned and stood up. “I’ll make a note.”

He whipped out his phone and checked his calendar. “Does Thursday night work for you? I could be free after seven.”

“That’s perfect. I hear Forlini’s is popular with the legal crowd.”

“Usually when I’m there, I’m eating because I’m very uncomfortable.” She raised an eyebrow. “Tends to be where the squad and I go after we lose a case,” he explained. “The food’s a comfort when justice isn’t.”

“Got it. So, where then?”

He thought for a second. “How do you feel about Latin food?”

***

The summer evening threatened a storm. Between when Anna left her apartment and her arrival at Coppelia, the Latin American diner in Greenwich Village where she was meeting with Rafael Barba, the wind had picked up and nearly blew the cab door off when she opened it. Thankfully, Rafael hadn’t arrived yet, so she had time to escape to the restroom. Once she secured the door behind her, she set to fixing herself up. She pulled her hair into an approximation of a bun on top of her head, opting to work with the windblown look rather than fight against it. She took her leather jacket off and disentangled her double-layered necklaces. After picking a piece of lint off of her black t-shirt and smoothing the lines of her jeans, she was satisfied that she looked like a decently put-together woman. But just before she opened the door to head back into the diner, she dropped her coat and went back to the mirror.

Before the rape, she’d never worn perfume or makeup. But she decided, once she started to rebuild her life, that it was time to take risks and try new things. She knew this wasn’t a date. She didn’t intend it that way when she’d asked to meet him. She didn’t expect he thought anything different, either. And yet, she still coated her lips with watermelon gloss and gave herself an extra spritz of Chanel Mademoiselle from the travel bottle she carried with her.

When she made her way to the front of the restaurant again, Rafael was just entering the restaurant. She tried to look unassuming; the last thing she wanted was to seem overeager, especially next to the confident and collected ADA.

“Ms. Stein,” he said. “Glad to see you found the place.”

“First of all, it wasn’t easy—this place is a hole in the wall, literally—and second, Counselor, I told you to call me Anna.”

He took off his overcoat, and Anna was surprised to see that he wasn’t wearing a suit. Instead, he had on a dark blue Henley and slim-cut jeans; somehow, she had never pictured him wearing anything other than suspenders and ties. “Well, if you want me to call you Anna, then you’re going to need to call me Rafael.”

The waiter sat them at a booth toward the back of the restaurant, where, thankfully, the noise was much quieter. Rafael ordered a scotch, and Anna ordered a glass of sangria. “Thanks again for agreeing to meet with me,” she said.

“No need to thank me,” he replied. “That said, I’m not sure what I can offer you. I went to law school ten years ago. It’s probably an entirely different process now.”

“It’s not really school I want to know about so much as…well…your life.”

“My life? What do you mean?”

The waiter brought their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Neither of them had looked at the menu yet, so they tabled the discussion in order to do so. “What’s good here?” she asked.

“Everything. But at the risk of sounding unbelievably boring, the Cubano is the best in the city.”

“Sold.”

“Wow, that was easy. Next, you’re going to let me talk you into applying to Harvard.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “What makes you think you talked me into anything? Maybe I already wanted to get that, and you just confirmed my choice.”

He smirked. “You’ve got a good poker face.”

“After what I’ve been through, I needed to get one.” When she saw his face fall slightly, her blue eyes flashed. “That was a joke. A bad one.”

He relaxed and took a sip of scotch. “I get it. We all cope differently.” Before she could ask what “we” meant, the waiter returned for their orders. Once he disappeared again, Anna pulled a notepad from her bag. Rafael laughed. “You do know that you have to trade your handwriting in for your law license, right?”

“You used notepads during the trial.”

He was taken aback. “You noticed that?”

“I had to focus my attention somewhere, I guess,” she said. “It was either that or be constantly aware of the assault on my life choices.”

She was referring, of course, to John Buchanan. He was the guy every rich white man accused of rape hired to get them acquitted and was also the perfect caricature of a defense attorney. His usual M.O. was to call the victim a slut or accuse her of lying or, Rafael’s personal favorite, claim it was consensual, rough sex. Listening to Buchanan, one would think that every woman on the planet enjoyed being dominated and sodomized.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more to protect you from that,” Rafael said sadly, casting his eyes downward.

Anna’s eyes softened and she leaned across the table. “You did your job. I know that. Why do you think I’m here?”

He looked up at her again, and then at her notebook. It was one of those old-school composition books, the kind he used in high school. “Okay, first question. Why do you want to go to law school?”

She took another sip of sangria. “You promise not to laugh?”

“Of course.”

“You.” His eyebrows shot up, nearly off his forehead. She smiled behind her glass; she knew he’d have that reaction. “I know it sounds like I’m just kissing your ass, but it’s true.”

“No, that’s not why I’m—it’s just—I’ve prosecuted hundreds of these cases, and—well, truth be told…”

Anna cocked her head. “What? What is it?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve never even had a victim visit me after the case was closed, and now I’ve got you telling me that I made you want to go to law school. It’s a bit…”

“Overwhelming?”

He shook his head. “Not overwhelming. Just…unexpected.”

As their food arrived, she said, “If I’ve learned anything from the last two years, it’s that sometimes, the things we expect least change our lives the most.”

It would be years before Anna and Rafael realized how right she was; for the moment, he was content to tell her all about the law, and she was content to listen to him talk.

[drakelis]

OVERVIEW

Full Name: Drake Li Pronouns: He/Him Nicknames: You Little Weasel, Get Back Here Asshole Alias: N/A D.O.B: May 23rd, 1990 Languages: English Occupation: Assistant at the Golden Goose Gym, Student Sexuality: Heterosexual

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

Height: 5′11 Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Tattoos: a flower bud poking through dirt and grass that covers up his gunshot wound, vines down the front of his left shoulder

FAMILY INFORMATION

Father: Crisanto Li Mother: Jasmine Gwynne Brothers: N/A Sisters: N/A

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Positive Traits: optimistic, easy going, humorous, loyal Negative Traits: nervous, fearful, shy, oblivious  Likes: animals, university, coffee, friendships, snow Dislikes: gangs, yelling, loud sudden noises Wants: to build a new life from the ground up, something he can be proud of Fears: falling back into old habits and unhealthy circles of people Character Inspirations: Nathan Drake (Uncharted), Jake Peralta (Brooklyn 99)

DETAILS

Drake Li was born to two people who really, really didn’t have their shit together nor did they want to. One irresponsible night led to the inevitable and there he was. He doesn’t remember a lot about his parents. He was always being dropped off to be looked after by extended family on his father’s side. His mother had no ties to Grimmbook except for Crisanto who she met... somehow. Drake doesn’t know the full story, nor is he interested in hearing it. 

One day Drake was dropped off to be looked after by his uncle and his older cousins. That was the last he ever saw of his parents. Crisanto, embedded deep within the criminal underground of Grimmbook like much of the rest of his family, ended up picking a fight where he shouldn’t have with a rival gang, the conflict ending with a massive amount of casualties on both sides. When she realized he was dead, Jasmine packed up her bags and left town, not bothering to look back. There was nothing tying her there. Not even her child. 

Growing up with his extended family was...fine. Drake was taken care of to the minimum of most minimum degrees. Maybe barely having their shit together was a Li family trait. They made sure he didn’t starve and always made sure that he was at home by nightfall but otherwise he was on his own. Drake was nursing himself back to health after having caught the flu when he was 7. He figured out how to make a splint from things he could find in the medicine cabinet by 9. He was a resourceful little kid, though no one really noticed.

Things continued on like that for years, until Drake was 11 years old and had suddenly caught the attention of one of his older cousins who needed help with a ‘job’. Of sorts. All he had to do was talk to this random lady and keep her talking until his cousin came back. He was a much better speaker back when he had no clue what was going on, so Drake found the job easy enough to do and he was glad to help or at least be noticed. It was the first crime he ever helped to pull. His cousin made away with the woman’s entire weed stash with Drake none the wiser. 

He’d seen the dark underbelly of his town, though. He knew it was there. He’d seen shoot outs happen outside his bedroom window. He’d seen people get roughed up in plain daylight over some petty squabble just walking home. He knew it was there. He just never thought he’d get involved in the way he had. 

It was a slow decent for him. Bit by bit his family dragged him into pulling off bigger and bigger crimes with them, gaining their trust with a natural charisma and quick fingers. He was a good tool to use. Sometimes they’d let him go off on his own, which led him to getting into trouble with the law more often than not. But his sweet demeanor got him out of detention centers fairly quickly and it was never all that bad anyway. He actually learned a lot, talking to the guards and parole officers when they gave him the time of day. They were actually kind, which was weird because for the longest time he had thought his family and relatives were kind. But after a while Drake realized they were just south of the definition. 

He cut his family off after the incident that nearly got him killed. At 25 he was offered a job from one of the many criminal organizations he’d gotten involved with over the years (possible connection!)  But already feeling unsure with where his life was headed he said no, thank you but I know a couple of guys who might be up for it. He told his uncle and his cousin about the job, completely unaware that after he did they spent weeks conspiring behind his back to double cross the organization that had asked for an extra couple people to help pull off a crime of their own. 

He almost didn’t know why he was getting attacked up until the people sent to kill him came with a whole super villian-esque speech which at the least, was extremely convenient. They shot him in the stomach and left him for dead. After his run in with the vet that saved his life and the consequent hospital stay, Drake packed up his very few things and left the only home he’d ever know growing up, unsure what to do with himself or where to go. 

He bounced around Underland a lot, living out of a few motels for weeks on end, renting out random apartments when he could afford it. He did odd jobs for a long time but nothing that he particularly enjoyed and nothing that required all that much skill, which he quickly realized he didn’t have a lick of.

Then he met Maggie Yao and his life finally seemed to be turning around. She saved him from a very similar fate from 4 years back with an incredibly quick and efficient display of skill. She offered him a place to stay and something to do while he tried to figure out how and where to start rebuilding his life. He owes her more than she knows. She’s cared about him more than anyone else in his life. Honestly Drake would do just about anything for her.

He’s almost gotten to the point where he can say he’s starting to build something of his own. Taking night classes at the university for biology has made him the happiest he’s ever been and he’s met some good people through his studies too. And he still has Maggie. And he hasn’t heard from his family in ages. So things are finally looking up.

EXTRAS

They never actually got the bullet out from where he’d been shot. Drake would say that it makes going through metal detectors an adventure every time.

This guy has. Some STRONG bard vibes. Maybe he doesn’t sing or have enough skill to play any instruments. But the charisma, when he chooses to trust in it, is strong with this one.

He still has some PTSD from almost dying... twice. He doesn’t really like to talk about it because he doesn’t want to worry anyone but he still gets the shakes and is liable to jump like a scared cat around loud sudden noises. Nightmares are occasional but he gets them sometimes.

Despite growing up around a crime family, Drake never really found himself getting into drugs all that much. He’ll smoke to calm himself down sometimes and he’s not adverse to going on a drinking bender if there’s someone else there to do it with him but he ain’t usually about that life.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Study Buddies They’ve seen Drake at the University library on a lot of nights and decided to share his table so they wouldn’t have to study alone. One night became two became a habit and they’ve become fast friends because of it [OPEN]

Spill The Beans

With all his time spent working in Underland’s criminal underbelly, Drake has a lot of connections and a lot of useful information that could get a lot of people in some very big trouble. However, considering how he never spoke a peep and almost lost his life twice, he’s rather reluctant to share anything despite how hard this person may try to pry it out of him [TAKEN; Daniel Mickey]

I’ve Got My Eye On You, Punk

Just because Drake is done with Underland doesn’t necessarily mean Underland is done with him. This person has been sent to keep an eye on him, just to make sure he doesn’t blab about anything he shouldn’t be. But knowing Drake, he hasn’t really noticed that’s what they’re up to just yet [OPEN]

I’m So Into You

Talking about Drake’s amazing ability to be oblivious to just about anything, he probably hasn’t noticed this person dropping every hint known to mankind and making eyes at him from across the room when they’re there at the same time. This crush of theirs feels a little hopeless but yet they can’t seem to shake it no matter how many times Drake doesn’t seem to notice [OPEN]

More to come!  Extra headcanons can be found here

[pertinax--loculos]

‘Dash’

So, for funsies I went through @yourocsbackstory to try to get myself in the writing mood again. This is what happened. I stopped at ‘Skills’ cuz I’ve already spoiled enough if you read close enough haha.

Come meet Dash.

Introduction

My name is Dash.

Or, well, it’s not really. That’s what everyone calls me. It circumvents the pain that comes with my first name, the questions that come from my last.

The knowledge that comes from my second.

I thought my life was pretty much mapped out from here. There was the beginning, that I barely remember. The next chapter, that I wish I could forget. The third, the honeymoon. And then now; not the best, far from the worst, an existence I was fairly certain I’d be able to bear, at least until the drugs or the alcohol overwhelmed me and my body gave out and I’d be buried in an unmarked plot under a false name with maybe three people to mourn me. If I was lucky.

Then that idiot fundie wandered into my life.

The Church is a fucking blight on society, the worst thing that’s happened since organised religion first got a foothold within civilised communities. It’s like they took all of the parts that made people unwilling to admit they were Christian in intelligent company and emphasised their importance until they were the only things that mattered.

To say nothing of what they think of the brainbent.

But unfortunately, what the old movies and books used to say is accurate. Give people a common enemy and they’ll unite under almost any flag.

The brainbent weren’t an enemy. But you consider the prospect of the barista at your local coffee place potentially being able to tell the future, or to read fucking minds, and tell me you would’ve stood against the Church.

I’m sure you will.

You’re lying.

Which is why Raleigh was such a surprise.

The Partners focus on the commoners, on people who know what the Church is about but haven’t been indoctrinated since birth. Members are basically written off as a lost cause. Even if, somehow, that person would’ve been a supporter if they’d been born in the right place, it’s not worth trying to convince them after years and years of brainwashing. They learn to suppress any thoughts, any opinions, that don’t jive with the company line. Trying to tell them otherwise is useless.

Which is why I don’t.

And still he came back.

I mean, Alec is probably right. He normally is. Odds are I’m being an idiot by even considering that this guy may be open-minded enough to accept that people exist that don’t believe the same as he does.

(And that’s not even going into all the other fucked-up facets of my existence.)

But for some reason, I’m willing to take that chance.

Even if it kills me.

Family I

There was always the memory of the Others.

It wasn’t a clear comparison; it wasn’t like he could look at Now and realise that it was different to Then. It was more like some weird false memory from early childhood buried deep within someone; a recollection of a room full of glass when apparently it had been an open-air market. A jar filled with blue that no one else remembered.

A loving mother and father. A melody without words.

There were other hints, of course. They never raised a hand at the child they insisted was his brother. They refused to acknowledge his grasp of genetics and never gave an explanation for the colour of his eyes. When he woke screaming for a mother he knew he no longer had the false one pretended, but she never offered the glass of milk, never pulled him onto her lap and stroked his hair and sung that song until he drifted off into gentler dreams.

Things got worse and worse as he got older. The more he could articulate the problems he had with the narrative they fed him the worse the punishments got. The first time he’d mentioned having another, a different, father they’d been too taken aback to respond; the reaction the second time had ensured he’d never bought it up again.

Every achievement, every failure, always framed within what he wasn’t and what he’d lost, what he lacked and how he disappointed.

One day, teenaged and trying to squirm his way into their good graces, he’d heard his brother mentioning the girl in class. He’d piped up as well, after seeing their indulgent responses, letting them know that there was someone in his class too, a boy who’d caught his eye. He’d been banned from school for a week after that.

His father told him people would ask questions about the bruises.

 Friends

He’d assumed that the confession that the intimacy bought him no pleasure would be enough to make her disappear. He’d lost acquaintances for less, many times before.

So when she turned up on his doorstep three days later he stopped, stunned, with the door open.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Letting in the cold?”

It was nearly a hundred degrees outside, and he was already sweating through the long-sleeved shirt he’d pulled on to open the door. He stepped back to let her in, still speechless, and followed her as she walked confidently through the rooms to his favourite.

He swallowed a few pills just for something to do. It was a stupid idea, his supply was already running low, but he hoped the kick would help him through whatever conversation was to follow.

She watched, her brows pulled together in disapproval, but didn’t break the silence.

“What do you want?” he said finally, his voice too rough, too apprehensive. He’d told her he couldn’t do it anymore, but he knew deep within himself that if she offered enough…

She shrugged, her face clearing. “I’m of the opinion that no one should be alone, today of all days.”

Dash just stared at her, utterly uncomprehending.

“Y’know,” she said, and then raised her eyebrows a little when his expression made it clear he didn’t, “Christmas?”

Oh, fuck, of course. He’d known the date was approaching but it meant less than nothing to him, except for the fact that most of the shops were closed. He really shouldn’t have had those pills, not if he was gonna have to last another two days before he could restock.

She kicked her legs out in front of her as she leaned back against the wall, eyes roving the spartan room. “So you got a tv or what?”

Which was how they ended up sprawled on his bed, fully clothed and above the covers, picking at the leftovers of a pizza he’d had in the fridge while a tiny voice in the back of his head insisted that this was what friends actually were.

 Education

He accepted the envelope with a sinking feeling. He knew what the letter inside was going to say.

Miss Phillips gave him an encouraging smile all the same.

“I know you struggle in some classes,” she said kindly. “But you really do excel in others. And really, all you need is a little extra help in English and I think you’ll be doing fine. I’ve explained that to your parents in your report.”

Like that’s gonna fucking help, Dash thought, but all he did was smile and nod. It wasn’t her fault he was stupid. It was his. He’d been told that many times.

He walked to his locker and gathered his things slowly. He could already hear his brother crowing in his ear, with his perfect scores and better comments. If he didn’t know better he’d think that the teachers were aware of the identify of their father and tailored their comments to suit.

But if that was the case why did they still throw him under the bus?

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to learn. He did, and he loved the stories, loved listening to what happened and even analysing why the author might have put certain characters and phrases in certain parts and why. But expressing that through writing was beyond him. Understanding why or where a comma went or why through was spelled o-u-g-h but throw was spelled o-w sent his head into a spin and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing his teachers could do about it either, as they spent their time with those that were better, those who had a right to their last names instead of a tenuous and fluctuating claim.

Mr Carr, in the workshop, was astonished by him. Said he was among the best students he’d ever had, was amazed by his ability with electronics and the way he could take apart and put together components without ever glancing at the instructions. He said he was a natural, that if he wanted he could certainly go places, because there was always a need for someone to fix those things that were broken.

But his parents assured him that he was what was broken, and the grades sent him into the dark. They never even read Mr Carr’s report.

 Family II

Family had always been a dirty word.

He was caught in a weird sort of limbo; there was that which he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to bring up, and then that which was current but which he was not really a part of. Intellectually, academically, he knew what a family was. Hell, even from observation he knew what a family was. If he took a step back, removed himself from the equation and simply watched Father and Mother and Brother interact, then he knew what a family was supposed to be.

But try to impose himself upon that and he was reprimanded, reminded that he was not a part of it, that the family he might’ve been a part of no longer existed, that he was Other, that he was Alien and unwanted and his duty was only to disappear and to cause no more problems than he already had.

So when he met his family he was overwhelmed.

They walked through the door and were suffocated in affection, enough that Dash had to get out of there; he found him later, hidden in the garden, his face concerned.

“We were wondering where you’d got to,” he said, quietly, gently, as he always did.

“They don’t need me there,” Dash replied.

His eyebrows tugged together in the beginning of a frown. “Maybe not, but we want you there.”

Dash’s laugh was bitter, a little too manic. “No you don’t.”

It took a while – way too long, he should’ve been back with his family – to coax Dash out of the greenery and into the bulk of the backyard. Waiting there was an elderly woman, older than anyone Dash had had reason to interact with.

“This him?” she’d said, but before either of them could react she’d grabbed Dash’s hand and yanked him forward.

Dash couldn’t help but flinch. It didn’t appear to affect her. Her eyes, bright and the same colour as his, searched his face.

“Ah, yes, very good,” she said. Dash glanced around wildly but he was just standing there, something that might’ve been embarrassment pinking his cheeks.

“Are you satisfied now?” he said.

The old woman grinned at him over Dash’s shoulder.

“Yes,” she said. Dash felt his fingers on his elbow; just before he towed Dash back into the anonymity of the rest of the garden they heard her speak again.

“I see what you say about his eyes.”

 Rivals

Fuck.

Dash had managed to avoid this dick for nigh on two months. Why the hell he was encountering him now, just as the oxy started to kick and make him loose and easy and happy, was anyone’s guess.

Probably the Members would say it was god’s work. Dash was pretty sure it was a punishment.

The guy stalked up to him, characteristic scowl twisting his features. He had to be six inches taller than Dash, but he didn’t back down.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled.

Dash stared into his dark eyes, tossing up a number of responses. Sarcastic, sardonic, flippant, honest; none of them seemed quite right.

He went with combative, in the end.

“I heard you’d be here,” he said, conversational. “Figured I might take the chance to learn your name.”

The guy’s eyes narrowed. They were close enough that Dash could feel his breath on his face.

“What the hell would you need that for?” he said. “Seeing as you’re not supposed to be here, and all.”

Dash twitched his shoulders in a shrug. “Yeah, well. Sorry, but I’m not really good at taking orders.”

Something flickered behind the guy’s eyes, something that might have been amusement. “I get the feeling that you’re more likely to do the opposite of what the orders might suggest.”

Dash caught his eyes again and raised an eyebrow. “Wow. It’s almost like you know me.”

Pause. The guy’s breathing had evened out, but he hadn’t moved away.

“Are we having, like, a civil conversation right now?” he said.

Dash quirked his eyebrow again. “Certainly seems that way.”

Another couple of beats. “Is it just me, or does there seem to be an extraordinary amount of sexual tension involved?”

Dash couldn’t stop the grin from tugging at his lips, even as he leaned in closer.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “It’s not just you.”

 First Love

Despite the mistake of telling Father about him, Dash kept watching him.

Over the week it took for the bruises to fade he thought about him. When he first returned to school, his was the first face he looked for.

He didn’t seriously think it would lead to anything. How could it, given what everyone believed? But Connor was new to the city, and he wasn’t involved with the Church. That much Dash had figured out through rumour and innuendo. And he was left alone, during recess and lunch, all of the Members turning their noses up at him, to the point where Dash wondered why on earth his parents had sent him to this private school. After all, there were schools for commoners. They weren’t as good, but that was the sacrifice people made.

Not Connor’s parents, apparently.

And he was the only one who didn’t conceal his staring at Dash’s fading bruises.

He’d been staring beforehand, of course. That was what had made Dash first mention him to Father, the mistake that had led to him realising that he wasn’t the same as his brother and never would be. But it was he alone that continued to stare even after Dash’s absence. The others seemed to have been told not to.

Not Connor.

Dash cornered him after school one day, halfway across the green in the front of the school. Connor looked surprised but not alarmed, moving easily backwards as Dash stalked towards him. His ease crackled against Dash’s already strained nerves and he had to viciously curb the instinct to lash out, his learned impulse to beat down anything that stood against what he was trying to do.

They stopped when Connor’s back hit the wall of the gym. Dash was mere inches from his face, trying his best to channel the disgust and rage he’d seen so often on Father’s face.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” he demanded.

Connor hadn’t flinched like Dash would’ve under the violence of the question.

“I’m worried,” was all he said.

That threw Dash for a loop. Why the fuck would anybody be worried about him?

“You’re lying,” he said, suspiciously.

Connor raised his eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”

Dash hesitated for a couple of seconds, made his voice even more strident to make up for it. “Because you’re trying to get me to admit it!”

“Admit what?”

Connor’s voice was still gentle, questioning without prying, and Dash found himself whirling away from him, knotting his fingers in his hair and pulling, focusing on the burn on his scalp and not on Connor’s placid, knowing words.

The touch on his elbow was foreign in its gentleness. “Whatever they’ve told you,” he murmured, barely audible over the shouts reverberating in Dash’s ears, “They’re wrong.”

When Dash’s fingers found his he felt like he was home for the first time he could remember.

[falsificatore]

       introducing liam d’antona as antony

“ our courteous antony, whom ne’er the word of ‘no’ woman heard speak ”  - enobarbus, antony and cleopatra (act II, scene II)

gday ! my name’s jason, i’m 18, use he/him pronouns, and live in eastern melbourne/the aedt timezone. this is my last year of mostly free time before i move to scotland to get my bachelors degree in acting - i’m insanely excited for this group, and i can’t wait to meet and write with you all! without any further ado, here’s liam!

stats

full name: liam riley santino d’antona age: 18 dob: 5th of december, 2001 gender: cis male pronouns: he/him nationality: english hometown: london, england current residence: edinburgh, scotland spoken languages: english & italian, both fluently - also knows some latin from school

history

( his full bio ended up being i-dont-even-know-how-many-thousand words long - again, kati, i’m so sorry - so for this intro i’m just gonna do my best to boil it down to the key points, but if you’d like to take a gander at the full thing you can do so here! )

tw for parental neglect, alcoholism, and death

liam d’antona was born the first and only child of an english businessman and the heiress of a historic italian winery - his parents had met in edinburgh in their early twenties, his father a student at ashcroft and his mother simply there on holiday. they kept up correspondence even when she returned home to campania, and pretty much as soon as he graduated he came down to stay with her - he won her parents affections through very quickly managing to expand their business to being more of a household name in the uk, and after they got married only a year and a half into their proper relationship they spent a few years making connections, going to lavish parties, and spending way more money than they needed to. both had already come from fairly wealthy families, but the increase in business certainly helped boost them a fair bit. 

finally, for no reason that liam could retrospectively figure out, they had him - and it was fair to say they weren’t the most generously loving parents. he was more a trophy baby than anything else, and while they were never especially vicious to him, they didn’t go out of their way to make sure he was being cared for. luckily, though, he had relatives who did - those being his grandfather on his father’s side, and his nonna on his mother’s. 

the two of them had only met in person once at his parent’s wedding, but they played equally important roles in essentially raising him as he grew up. his grandfather’s house was only a few minutes drive from his parent’s in london, so he spent more time there than not in his early childhood, spending most his time being read any book from his shelves that looked intriguing visually, and when it wasn’t that he would be taken to plays, galleries, museums, he’d be taught how to use a fountain pen and tie a tie, told stories upon stories about his life before his father was born. that was only for three quarters of the year, however - in the summers, liam’s family would travel down to campania to be with his mother’s family. while his nonno took care of business and entertaining his parents, his nonna would tell him about their family history, take him through the vineyard and down ancient streets, let him vent about his school life and tell reaffirm all the things he should be proud of about himself, her passerotto - she’d only ever get stern with him when his italian was off, but even then, she’d come round and forgive him within seconds. 

he doesn’t have a lot of clear memories of his early childhood, but he knows one thing for sure - it was golden.

primary school is where his early memory starts to clear up, especially when it comes to how he met his best friends - distracted when they were first put together as a group for an art class, they’d ended up essentially just spending the first ten minutes throwing paint at one another to see what worked, and when they got sent out and told to wait in the hallway, they’d ended up just heading outside and spending the rest of the lesson time trying to clean their uniforms under the bubblers while they got properly acquainted. he did manage to get on the good side of pretty much everyone else in his year level over time - he could tell jokes, he could speak italian, he knew enough random bullshit to impress people, and he’d actually argue with their teachers but in a way he just couldn’t get in trouble for it - but his gang of four? they were absolutely inseparable. 

when it came to actually learning, that’s where liam fell short - he’d only be able to focus if he actually cared about the subject, which was rare, and even then, liam’s always learned in conversations - all the random bullshit he’s learned, that’s all through things people have told him in discussion. he needs to be able to talk back if he wants to actually retain anything or he’ll just zone out and do something he finds more interesting - any individual studying he’s done is just to win an argument or make a point. the only extracurricular he ever did was debating - he was on his primary school team for his last two years there, but wasn’t allowed on his highschool one given how he outwardly said that the other teams points were ‘absolute bullshit’ when it was his turn to speak in the trial debates.

for his whole schooling career up until he was 16, there were only two classes he could say he did well in - latin, since it was close enough to his second language to be able to piece most things together, and english/literature, since he’d spent most of his time as a kid reading the books that would end up part of the curriculum. pretty much all of his electives were either with teachers he knew loved him, ones no one else would pick so all his friends could make it in, or simple bludge subjects - and one of the ones that fell into the last category was philosophy. he went into it with no clue what he should be expecting, but within twenty minutes he’d fallen in love - it was the one class where he was supposed to argue about nonsensical bullshit, supposed to think of out-there justifications, supposed to do all the shit he’d been sent outside time and time again for in every single other subject. it was like it was made for him - and for a teen alcoholic with an unfavourable learning style, those sorts of classes don’t come easily.

an alcoholic isn’t what liam would call himself - but the compulsive liar he is, his word shouldn’t always be trusted, especially when it comes to drinking. for him, it’s never been a risk, never an act of rebellion - his family’s fortune, his parent’s whole relationship, it was built on wine. he’s been drinking since he was five, sat up at his nonni’s dinner table with a glass of red next to his meal, and when he was finally allowed to tag along to his parent’s parties, no one seemed to mind him taking the champagne only offered by the waiters out of courtesy - some because they found it adorable, some because they were too inebriated themselves to think about it, and his parents? they simply just didn’t care. his mother had grown up with the same familiarity - it was just family custom, really. family custom that may have lead to a dependence, sure, but custom nonetheless - the passing around and judging of a new brand is the d’antona monopoly night.

for seven years since he started, his consumption was minimal - he’d have a glass at dinner, of course, and he’d take something if he was offered at a soiree, that was just polite - but it wasn’t until he was twelve when he slowly started to swim into dangerous waters. he himself wasn’t fully aware of the cause, but then, he wasn’t fully aware anything was changing other than he suddenly needed more and more to distract himself and feel anything but how he was - but the cause was there.  

his grandfather’s passing was nothing less than objective - one day he’s in his library, bitching about one of the dickheads from across the city they’d debated in their tournament that afternoon, and less than a week later his father arrives home from an unusual absence, sits him down at the table, and tells him - actually, he doesn’t know what he told him. he just comes away from it knowing he’d died. he can’t remember the conversation, can’t remember anything between the talk and the funeral - only that he hadn’t cried. neither of them had cried. he treated the funeral with the same business formality he treated his parent’s parties, keeping conversations short with a polite enough smile - but then, when the service starts and people he’d never met before start coming up and telling stories about him, his whole life, a life he’d only been there for a tiny fraction of, and the sheer love they have for him, the same as his - it’s too much. he can’t carry the coffin, can’t watch the hearse drive away - he simply collapses into his mother’s shoulder when they walk past the front row, and he sobs. for the first time since he was a newborn, he goes to her for comfort, and she gives it, in murmured italian he can’t be bothered trying to understand - but it can only last a few minutes before he has to pull away, wipe his eyes, and join the rest of the crowd. he stands alone at the burial. he doesn’t go to the wake. 

from then on out, he does remarkably fine. he goes back to talking at the back of the classroom, back to roaming the city with his friends, back to fancy parties - yes, he’s started topping up his own glasses more, taking a bottle with him when he and his friends go to hang out in the park, but he’s not crying, he’s not wallowing, and that, to him, is what matters. if there is one thing, though - he can’t bring himself to clear out the house with the others. when he comes home from an outing he’d organised as an excuse to get out of it and finds boxes and boxes of books in the corner of his room, he can’t touch them - can’t touch them for two more years. it’s only when he wakes up, fourteen, with one of the worst hangovers he’s ever had, that he finally turns to them - he can’t leave his room, he can’t look at a screen, so he finally grabs one at random. and he reads. and he cries, a bit, when he comes to the parts he can suddenly remember reading with him, when he’d do the voices or chime in to explain for the millionth time why what a character did was stupid - it’s cathartic, in a way. that becomes practice - whenever he’s hungover, at first, but soon it’s whenever he’s bored, whenever he’s lonely, he’ll go over and pick up another book, and he’ll read it until it’s done. soon enough, he uncovers a set of fountain pens, the ones he’d been taught to use as a kid, and he starts to use them again, properly, even if his friends give him shit for it at first. he goes down to his grave for the first time since he was buried, and though he doesn’t cry like he still feels like he’s meant to, he opens up a bottle of baileys - his favourite - and just talks. fills him in on all he’d missed, how his friends are doing, the girlfriends he’s had and lost since he started highschool, everything - and though he doesn’t stop drinking or properly clean up his act, he’s able to carry on.

as much as he would like to carry out all the wishes he doesn’t fully know, theres one thing liam knows he can’t do - and that’s go to ashcroft. both his father and grandfather went, business and literature majors respectively, and he knows full well they were both star students - but school’s not for him, especially not a school that posh, no matter how much they’d both encouraged him to apply as soon as he’s able. he’s seventeen, and he and his friends are taking full advantage of the fact that the school courtyard’s empty during their free gcse study period while everyone else is either in classes or, in their year, in the library - and then one of them comes up with the first spark of the plan. it’s simple - he knows he won’t have good enough results to get in, so to get his dad off his back, he’ll send whatever he gets off to ashcroft anyway, tucked in an envelope with a letter from his philosophy teacher - because who else - and some bullshit essay, and when he inevitably gets rejected, he’ll take as much money as he can and flee in shame. they all will - they’ll move to another part of london, or travel europe, or go to stay in campania, or wherever, and they’ll keep living their lives in opulence, only several hundred miles from where they first began. he does his exams, completely wasted all the while, and when his results come back he doesn’t even bother giving more than philosophy a glance before throwing them into the photocopier and sending the copy away to edinburgh. it’s flawless.

it should’ve been flawless.

when the acceptance letter comes, an actual letter in the actual post, the dickheads, he’s stunned. it takes over an hour for him to process it - there’s no way in hell he should’ve got in, but it’s his name on the envelope, his name at the top of the letter, he’s read it over and over and over again, there’s no mistake. he spends hours trying to find where the original copy of his grades were - on the photocopier, where he’d left them - and when he actually looks, he’s nearly paralysed where he stands. his mark for every subject, they’re all amazing. his whole life, he’s barely managed an average for most of his classes - when he asks his father, he just shrugs. he knows, he knows these can’t be his actual grades, he barely even remembers the exams - it isn’t until muckup day that he finds his answer.

they’re hidden at the back of the staffroom pigeonholes, only the ones belonging to his teachers - in each one, three bottles of wine, tied together with a ribbon, and attached, a card he immediately recognises as bearing an all-too-familiar signature.

it’s a school full of rich wankers, any family could use money as a bribe for better grades - but he knows full well how much all of this is worth.

not just any family can freely give out some of the finest wine in europe.

at first, he wants to go straight home, shout at his parents, call them out on all of their bullshit - he’s lied to get out of worked, sure, but he’s never cheated to get a ‘not exactly one in a million but pretty damn close’ position in one of the most prestigious schools in the country, and this isn’t even what he wants - but as he’s heading down the hallway back towards the main entrance of the building, he realises. he can’t. if he tells them he knows, then he’s admitting that he didn’t want to get in, he’s admitting he was trying to get rejected - he’ll ruin any chance he may have at salvaging the plan.

so he doesn’t mention it. he books a hotel he can stay in while he’s there for the campus tour, packs a bag and jumps on the 5:30am train from london to edinburgh. when his phone inevitably dies, he’s left only with the book he threw in last minute if he doesn’t want to just stare out into the countryside like he’s reenacting some kind of harry potter bullshit - it turns out to be moby dick, which is fine, not ever really a favourite, but decent enough for passing the time - but then he hits chapter 39. 

‘i know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, i’ll go to it laughing.’

he’d managed to forget about it until that moment, let it sink away like basically everything else he’d lost from his childhood, but - it was the quote his grandfather had always used to reassure him, to give him confidence. the evening before his first day of primary school, he’d kneeled before him, lifted his chin, and they’d said it together, and he had, he had gone in laughing, if he hadn’t he wouldn’t have made any of his friends, gotten away with any of the shit he had - it feels like a sign, in some stupid sort of a way. and then, when he actually arrives for the tour the next day, he happens to spot a board up on the wall, and at first he’s willing to just look past it, it’s just a boring old honours board, he’d seen plenty in his time - but then a name catches his eye. his grandfather’s name, illuminated by the faintest bit of sunlight coming in through the window - and it hits him like a bolt of lightning.

he has to be here. 

it only cements itself further and further as he walks around with the rest of the group, takes in the art, the architecture, everything - it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t deserve to stay, he’ll make it so he does. he’ll work hard. he’ll actually pay attention, even when he doesn’t want to. he’ll study everything he’s told, not just the things he wants to prove a point about. he won’t stop drinking, but he’ll only do it at the end of the day. he’ll be the model of a philosophy student. he’ll care. because if he doesn’t, he’ll have to leave - and if he has to leave, he has no idea what he’ll do with himself. 

it may be a retrospective resolution, but he’ll do it. he’ll earn his place at ashcroft or he’ll die trying.

personality 

(very, very narrowed down, only key points)

+ definitely something he’s inherited from having successful businesspeople as parents, liam is quite the charmer - he’s been able to get away with most of the shit he’d pulled at school for so long simply with a smile, a shrug, or a baffled ‘i don’t know, it wasn’t us, do you want me to try and ask around?’  + despite being largely neglected save for social situations by aforementioned successful businesspeople parents, liam is genuinely compassionate more often than not, and he tries his hardest to stay polite and civil, avoiding conflict when possible and trying to include people if they’re being left out - or at least figure out why it is they got left out in the first place. + even though schoolwork isn’t really his forte, he is naturally quite curious about the world, and loves debating questions and figuring out answers - if something intrigues him, he won’t be able to forget about it until it’s properly dealt with - even then the chance of it leaving his mind is rather small. when he wants to learn, he’ll learn, and he’s good at it - he’s a quick thinker and has a good memory. + above all else, liam is a romantic - he’s had more than his fair share of partners, but all of them he’s treated with equal adoration and respect. he falls in love with someone before even properly realising they’re in front of them, and he’ll do anything he can to make them feel cared for and like they can be comfortable around him. he has a lot of love, not just for people - old books, italy, good drinks, fountain pens - he’ll love something for the love of it, not because it’ll make him look more cultured or help him get further with those around him.

= liam is fairly matter-of-fact and objective - though this helps him get things done and does certainly lend a hand coming straight into the middle of a post-murder scene without letting emotions that aren’t really his cloud his vision, it can get in the way of him properly connecting with people he may not see as justified.  

- though it did help him make his way through both primary and secondary school without having to do much work, liam is a compulsive liar, and he has very little problem with it - he’s keeping up a lie he was at first horrified by that his parents put in place to stay at ashcroft, for example. being a good bluffer isn’t necessarily a good thing, and he doesn’t fully understand that. this extends to how he acts around others, able to quickly put on a mask and discard his emotions, no matter how well he’s actually doing. he doesn’t have time to feel bad, he has a job to do.

- although he does try to avoid lashing out, his temper can quickly rise and get the better of him - he does try to handle his argumentative streak by debating about irrelevant, stupid topics, which does work a treat to stop him from yelling at people, but it can definitely be annoying to some.

- despite confidence being good in some situations, it doesn’t always lend him a hand in trying to fit in with the others - especially in the aftermath of a murder, he should have more tact when it comes to approaching members of the society, but he really has no qualms with going up and just talking to them even if they’d love nothing more but to swat him like a fly, which, in some cases, he may definitely deserve.

- unless he really cares for the subject, liam will put in as little effort as possible, if any, to try and do a good job - despite being energetic, he mostly directs it strictly away from his schoolwork. if he doesn’t want to lend a hand, he’ll simply walk away with no concern for who he’s leaving behind.

imperium

it’s fair to say that liam got into not just ashcroft, but the imperium society because of his family’s notoriety and history with the school - but his name isn’t all he has, even if he doesn’t fully see it himself. he’s a skilled debater, able to see things both objectively and have that objective be outside of the box, and this has lent more than a hand when it comes to his work in his philosophy classes. he can take a lot of knowledge in and boil it down to the things that really matter, which, given how large some of the concepts covered are, is a fairly significant skill for his subject, and he’s able to apply or retract lenses to matters at the drop of a hat to see things from another perspective. he can find an argument in anything, and until he’s perfectly sure he’ll never be 100% concrete in any one view. in short; despite being brash about it, he’s a good philosopher.

octavia

liam honestly didn’t even know that there had been a murder at ashcroft until after he arrived - when he did learn about it properly, he was already beyond the point of being put off from the school by the fact. it was only when he was invited to the imperium society that he had to properly think about it - because it didn’t take a genius to realise there’s no way he’d be in if the spot hadn’t open up. immediately it started gnawing at him, and it was only made worse when he moved into escalus house, in the empty room he quickly learned was once lysanders. he’s felt like he’s being watched since he came in, and even though he knows its ridiculous and he has no reason to feel like he’s overstepping by being there, he’s tried to avoid being in the room on his own since he arrived, much preferring to hang around the communal spaces or just stick close to ophelia. he’s tried to avoid getting involved in the other member’s feelings about octavia’s death since it’s not his place and, honestly, he has no real idea what to make of it. he knows it was a tragedy, and he know it affected them all deeply, especially his cousin who he has the heaviest concern for - but he’s never been the best griever, he knows that just carrying on with his life and ignoring it isn’t a good way to go about death even if it “worked” for him, what’s he supposed to say to those still in the throws of mourning?

he doesn’t remember when he first dreamed about her, because really, he didn’t even know it was her - it wasn’t until he saw her photo up in one of the rooms that he was able to put a person to the face, but by that point, the dreams had been numerous. at first he just brushed it off - he’d probably just seen the photo in passing, and drinking a bit too much every night to make up for not being able to do it between classes like he had in highschool probably did something to his mind. but they kept coming, relentlessly - so, slowly, he’s started looking into things. this is just a problem he needs to deal with, deal with it and he’s done, he doesn’t need to get it involved with the others - and even though he tells himself he wants it to be done with faster, truly, he’s intrigued. he can’t rule out ghosts not existing, he’s a philosophy student, he’s spent more than his fair share of time debating it in class, what happens after death - so if she is really her, and it isn’t just because he’s thinking about it a lot more now, then doesn’t that mean something’s happened to bring her back? he’s no detective - but he’ll find an answer. despite this, he’s avoided joining in on rumours of her return, and denies ever having seen her, dream or otherwise.

miscellaneous

ExTP (50/50 observant/intuitive) the debater/the entrepreneur 9w8, the referee  sanguine gryffindor

- he has genuinely no idea what he wrote in his essay to get accepted into ashcroft - he was drunk while writing it, which isn’t a huge surprise given he hasn’t been fully sober at any given moment since he was about 14, but usually when he’s closer to sober than not he’s able to recall something. with the essay, though, complete blank.

- he’s never played any instrument, but he loves violin music - his first celebrity crush was alexander rybak, and he still has most of his discography on his playlists 11 years after first seeing him in eurovision.

- he’s been to italy every summer without fail since he was born, and though his mother was fluent in english, she still spoke to him in italian when they were at home.

- he is dependent on alcohol, but he’s pretty good at hiding the fact he has a few shots to wake him up in the morning and at least two glasses of wine in the evening - but he’s been drinking as a family thing since he was a kid, so you’d suppose he’s used to it. it takes a lot for him to get properly drunk.

- he’s never learned how to drive, but, again - hasn’t been sober since he was 14.

- he never watched a lot of movies or tv growing up, and still doesn’t, but he adores the truman show - he watched it for his philosophy class in high school when he was first starting out, and now it’s a go-to whenever he’s bored.

- he likes the debating aspect of his philosophy classes more than actually learning about the philosophers behind what he’s being taught.

- his handwriting is more than illegible, and it’s definitely not helped by the dual factors that he’s using easily smudged fountain pen ink and that half his notes are in italian - granted, translating helps him remember, but it’s no help to anyone else who wants to read them for revision.

- as far as his gang from school are aware, he hates ashcroft and is still trying to find a way to get himself expelled.

- he’s good at breaking things but can rarely put them perfectly back together - in his own words, he’s perfectly capable of undoing knots, but he struggles beyond shoelaces and ties and has literally no clue how people manage to tie two pieces of string together.

- despite struggling in school environments, he does still know a fair bit about history and just general random trivia, though for the most part its just things he picked up in conversations.

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Through His Eyes - Part 6

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no way an attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Through His Eyes will be posted every Tuesday at 10am NZST.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 [M] | 13 - FINAL

“Okay, so we just need to head this way now, Y/N.”

You whipped your head towards the voice and gripped tighter on her arm, unsure if you were hurting her or not. The sounds around you were overwhelming and you tried to compose yourself internally, worrying if you were attracting any attention with your behaviour.

It was your first day back at university and a mixture of nerves and excitement had already sent you into overdrive before your minder, Yoona, had picked you up. You were slightly dejected with having to be led around a campus you had known like the back of your hand for the past two years, but now that you were in the bustling environment, you couldn’t have been more thankful for Yoona’s aid.

“Relax Y/N, you’ll be fine. After all, English Literature is something you did a lot of during high school so your application said. I can’t see how hard it will be for you to keep up with this class.”

“I feel ridiculous though, having to start a new degree when I was already halfway through…”

“Through?” Yoona asked as your throat closed up, your mind imagining the painting studio you had spent the majority of your campus life in previously. A strong smell of clay triggered within your brain and you faltered in your step. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Huh?” Shaking your head clear of your previous Art and Design degree, you tried to smile. “Oh, completely. So we’re near the lecture building now?”

“Almost. I thought we’d have to turn back for home just then.”

“What, why?”

“This seems to all be too much for you. Are you sure-”

“Positive, I need to get on with my life. This will be perfectly fine, come on.”

Three hours later, and you had managed to last through the introduction class for one of my literature courses, and Yoona had taken you to the enrolments centre to get your disability information and access card. Now you were sitting at a table waiting for your friends to arrive, hoping for some normalcy to ease your heightened state. Whilst a small part of your brain was congratulating you for getting around campus somewhat successfully so far, you were slowly beginning to feel despair. You couldn’t even take two steps alone by yourself, the world never having felt this big until now.

It was scary being blind in a place you once knew so well.

“Y/N! I honestly didn’t expect you back so soon!”

“Neither, I honestly thought it was a joke when Clare told us.”

You smiled towards the voices of my friends Jinah and Lian. “Why would that be a joke?”

“I guess it’s not easy for you to be here right? I mean, it must be pretty scary.”

You nodded. “Well starting a new degree is a bit nerve-wracking.”

“I meant-”

You heard them both move across from you awkwardly. “Li, drop it. We’re not here to discuss that aspect to Y/N, right?”

“You don’t have to avoid the fact that I’m blind,” you stated, feeling dejected by their wording. You hoped it was because they were as nervous as you were, and tried to relax. There was no immediate reaction though, and you reached out over the table, tapping your fingers until you knocked into your drink. Both girls gasped as the water seeped over the edge and into your lap.

“Y/N, that was so silly of you! Why would you do that?”

“You both went quiet; I was trying to see if you were still there.” You remained calm, it wasn’t the first time you had spilt something over yourself.

“Of course, we’re having lunch together. Well, we should be but you’re really wet now. Aren’t you embarrassed? Where’s your minder?”

“Jinah’s right, you shouldn’t be alone like this. God, what a mess.”

The pair continued with their exclamations, whilst you remained silent in your chair. You were confused, wondering if they had always been this superficial, or having to look at life in a different way had made you take nothing for granted and let the small stuff not affect you anymore. Despite not understanding the sudden change in the pair, you were beginning to feel more uncomfortable being in their presence the longer they made a big deal about it.

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head slowly. This seemed to cease their constant talking. You sighed and folded your arms across your chest. “Leave.”

“What?”

“It’s obvious that my lack of eyesight is hard for you both to comprehend. Further, I’m not embarrassed by small things like this, it’s a part of my life now. You two have the problem though, so you’re free to leave.”

You heard Lian scoff. “Seriously Y/N, we took time out of our schedule to meet you here today. Clare was right, you’re not the same!”

You didn’t reply, unable to form a sentence that would make you sound as strong as your previous words had been. You listened to the scraping of their chairs, knowing you were alone at the table again. Your body let out a small tremor, the suppressed emotions making it difficult to sit and remain composed. You checked your watch for the time, knowing Yoona had given you an hour before she would come back. You had assured her that your friends would take good care of you, though that clearly had been a poor assumption.

Choking back your sobs from thinking over the word friend, you had never felt this alone in your life. You were known as the adaptable one, the friend who easily meshed into any group or scene, and happily made friends wherever you went. Now, because you had lost your ability to see, things were different. You were frustrated, knowing you still were you on the inside. Further, just because you lost your sight, didn’t mean you had misplaced all the years of memories and friendship with them. You were desperate to view yourself in their eyes, wondering what exactly about you made you seem different. You gripped the table edge then, hoping that Yoona would arrive soon. Admittedly, the wetness of your pants was bothering you, and adding greatly to your discomfort.

You managed to calm down enough to give Yoona a call, hoping she would be able to assist you to go home. Her phone, however, kept switching to the unavailable message, and your mind started to race, wondering what or who could help you. Your Mum came up as the most obvious solution but you shook away the thought, knowing if your first day had gone this rocky, she’d never let you back out the door again. Anxiety began to creep up from the pit of your stomach, and you felt queasy, your immediate need now being to make it to the bathroom.

Trouble was, you had no idea where it was.

You gathered your bag clumsily and reached inside for your guide cane, clicking it out to its full length once you had it out and stood up. You then raised your hand and feebly called out, praying someone would hear you. Thankfully, someone did and helped you over to the bathroom, allowing you to feel your way along the countertop before leaving you to assess your current predicament. You felt your pants and groaned that they were still damp. Cupping your hands under the faucet that you had managed to find, you waited for the sensor to catch your hands, unexpectedly getting sprayed with more water. You cursed, reaching into your pocket for your phone again.

“Why won’t she answer?” you questioned softly and contemplated calling your Mum. It was then that you heard the bathroom door open and footsteps entered. You tried to angle yourself away, feeling ashamed at how you must look to them. There was a small giggle and you lowered your head further.

“Don’t laugh; those taps have sprayed all of us before. She’s blind, she can’t help it.”

You stood there whilst they used the bathroom, and then when they came closer, you tried to smile. “Could you please tell me the name of this café?”

“It’s C4, do you need any help?”

“Thanks, do you think you could help me outside the building?” you continued, trying to battle away your ever-increasing anxiety. The truth was you wanted out. You needed to escape this hellish experience, but you knew you couldn’t do it alone. Despite the initial comments, they both were kind enough to escort you to the exit and after thanking them, you pulled your phone out again. Lowering your head, you rehearsed what you would say to your Mother, your mood darkening at thinking how poorly your first attempt of returning to normalcy had been. I guess I need to accept my goals are too big for who I am right now.

Your phone went off in your hand and you jumped at the sudden vibration, scrambling to make sure you didn’t lose it as you fumbled to push talk. “Help me!”

“Where are you?!” Jaebum asked and you felt so relieved to hear his voice. You could hear that his breathing had increased and yet the sound seemed to relax you further. “Y/N!”

“I’m at university and everything has gone terrible. My minder won’t answer her phone and I’m completely alone outside of a café.”

“What’s the name of the café?”

“C4, it’s near the English department. But I’ll call my Mum-”

“I’m already heading to my car. Don’t move, I’ll be there soon.”

The phone disconnected and you obeyed his instructions, shifting about slowly on your feet as you waited. Holding onto your cane for support, you remained standing still for an immeasurable time, until you smelt a familiar perfume coming closer. You moved towards it somewhat recklessly, hoping that Jaebum would be the only person in the vicinity to wear it. A hand soon slipped into yours and you began to cry with relief.

“I told you to stay still!”

“I knew it was you,” you told him despite your emotions and allowed him to lead you away from the campus, and all the way to his car. You hopped in and relaxed into the chair, listening as he soon sat down beside you. It was then that you panicked over who Jaebum was and gasped noisily. “Oh my god, why did you come here?!”

“You needed me!”

“Jaebum, you’re famous! You’ll get recognised!”

He sighed heavily. “I took measures to make sure I didn’t stand out too much. Regardless, how could I not come for you? Now explain to me in full what happened.”

You did as he asked, and when you finished telling your events, you hung your head dejectedly. “I guess I can’t return to university after all.”

“Why can’t you?” he asked softly reaching for your hand. “You’re too smart to be cooped up, Y/N/N.”

You blinked, realising the way he shortened your name was new. It felt good to hear him relax with how he called you. “Did you just give me a nickname?”

“Isn’t that what friends do? Give nicknames, listen and help, and drop their entire schedule when needed?”

“Jaebum!”

“Why not try giving me a nickname too then?”

“Okay, I choose irresponsible.”

“I choose to ignore that choice.”

“Idiotic.”

The car engine started and Jaebum pulled the car out of its park. “Well, my manager will agree there. But it doesn’t sound good, and it’s definitely not a nickname.”

“Oppa?” You teased and he went silent. “Hey, that was a joke!”

“Oh, so calling Mark that is fine, but not me?”

“Eh, oppa seems so, so-”

“Correct?”

“Fangirl,” you insisted and scrunched up your nose. Jaebum scoffed and you grinned. “I mean, I was, well am, a huge fan of you all, but it seems weird to call you that now.”

“So what will I be to you?”

“Everything,” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks redden deeply at the slip of tongue. Jaebum didn’t respond immediately and then you felt the car spin on itself quickly, disorientating you a little. “What is going on?”

“I need to show you something. It might give you some confidence to take control of who you are.”

You became curious; wondering how today had gone from disaster to complete comfort within such a short space of time. Smiling, you knew it was because Jaebum had become someone who you wanted to do everything with.

He accepted who you were regardless of your eyes.

_________________

[Part 7]

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