#my grammar in this post probably sucks but i’m tired so i’m just gonna post this anyway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thefactsofthematter · 3 years ago

Note

hi bestie <3 you said send in some requests, so i'm suggesting:

javid with, "it's not okay! you're not fine!"?

i hope you have a good day !!!

hi bestie <333 i had so much fun with this, i haven't done a short little fic in ages!! here's a 2.7k javid fic - a college au and a classic (emotional) hurt/comfort type deal, heavy on the comfort ;)

"Wanna come for dinner at my parents' house tonight?"

Davey is laying on Jack's couch after his last class of the day, since Jack's apartment is just off campus, and it's a ridiculously convenient place to go nap after a long day of school. He honestly spends more time here than at his own apartment that he shares with his sister, a short train ride away.

"I'd love to," Jack replies, his gaze still glued to his computer screen, "but I totally forgot I have an art history paper due at midnight, analyzing a painting, and I haven't started. It needs to be ten pages, and I don't even have an outline. I'm gonna sit here and write until my eyeballs fall out."

Davey laughs softly.

"That sucks. Do you at least have some research done?"

Jack turns to him with completely dead eyes.

"Not a single academic source."

Davey glances at the clock. Jack has seven hours to pull this off, which is doable, but... intense. It would've been a lot easier to spread it out over a few afternoons, and it'll be a painful squeeze to get ten comprehensible pages of writing done tonight. Jack can write decently fast, but his spelling and grammar are atrocious, so he'll have to factor in editing time too. Davey is not envious of these circumstances in the slightest.

"Shit. Good luck. That sounds awful, but I'm rooting for you. What's your prof's late assignment policy?"

Jack, entirely beaten down, leans forward to rest his forehead on his keyboard.

"He won't accept them past the due date without a good reason... which I don't have. I'm just an idiot and forgot to put it in my planner— thank god Romeo texted me today to ask if I was done."

Davey pushes himself up and walks over to where Jack is sitting at his little dining table, under the constantly-flickering fluorescent bulb. He wraps his arms around Jack's shoulders and kisses the back of his neck.

"You got this. I'll come back here after dinner and bring you leftovers, okay? My mom's gonna be sad you couldn't make it, so she'll totally pack up a plate for you."

"You don't have to come all the way here," Jack sighs. "Your place is closer to your parents, and this is out of your way— you have work in the morning anyways, so you should go home and go to bed. I'll be fine, I'll probably write faster alone anyways."

Davey kisses him again, this time leaning around to plant one on his cheek.

"If you're sure." Jack's plan is probably the smart move, since Davey's shifts at his stupid coffee shop job start ridiculously early, and coming here would mean staying up with Jack until he finishes, probably distracting him. "In that case, I'll see you tomorrow after work, and I'll bring the food then... keep me posted about the paper, text me when you finish. And make sure you eat something."

Jack turns back to look at him with a strained, stressed attempt at a smile.

"For sure. Go have a nice time with your family, and tell everyone I say hi."

"Aba, you're doing it wrong. You have to use your left arm."

It's getting late in the evening, dinner has been eaten, and Les is trying to coordinate the family to make a TikTok with him. It's not exactly going well.

"My left or your left?"

"It doesn't matter, we have the same left!"

Davey has thankfully been placed in the back row, both because he's tall and lanky, and because he's so uncoordinated that Mom used to make you wear one of those leash backpacks as a kid to keep you from wandering into traffic... which is true, but Davey isn't sure why Les even knows about that. He certainly wasn't around yet when that was the case, so he probably heard it from Sarah.

While Les tries once again to explain how this little dance is supposed to work, Davey's phone starts to buzz in his pocket. It's probably a spam call, but he's not particularly invested in the dance lesson so he pulls it out to check.

Incoming call: cowboy babyy 💖🤠

Davey frowns. Jack never calls him. It's always texts or voice memos, since he's got some kind of weird aversion to talking on the phone. If he's calling, it must be important.

"Hi babe," he says, pressing his phone to his ear and walking off to his old bedroom to get some quiet, while Les shouts at him in the background for not taking this seriously. "How's the homework going?"

Jack is quiet for a second too long as Davey toes the door shut.

"...Not great. I'm really frustrated." He pauses and sniffles a little, sounding almost like he's holding back tears. "I don't know why I called you while you're having a good time with your family, though. I shouldn't be bugging you."

"Hey," Davey breathes, "you're not bugging me at all, sweetheart. Is the paper not going well?"

"I just... I'm so bad at writing, and I don't know what I'm talking about, and I have no idea how I'm gonna get this done in time." His voice is shaking, and it's breaking Davey's heart a little. "I'm being dramatic, though. I just need to keep working on it."

Davey sits down on the edge of what's now a guest bed, his old outer space-themed comforter replaced with something more neutral.

"You're not dramatic, it's okay to be upset. Do you want me to come over and help?"

Jack's breath hitches softly, and it confirms that he's almost definitely crying.

"You don't have to, you're busy with your folks. I'm sorry for calling." He shudders a little as he must try to take a deep breath. "It's okay... I'm fine."

Davey sighs, almost exasperated with Jack's self-sacrificial sense of pride. He'll never ask for anything for himself, not wanting anyone to go out of their way for him, even when he seems to be having a panic attack of sorts.

"It's not okay; you're clearly not fine, Jackie," he replies. "We already ate, and I'm not busy. If you want me to come over, I'll be there... do you?"

Jack is quiet for a moment again, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"Yeah. I do."

Davey nods, though Jack can't see him.

"Okay. I want you to take a little break from writing until I get there, alright? Change into your pyjamas and have a glass of water. Try to relax a little."

"Okay... thanks Davey."

The call ends, and Davey rejoins his family while tucking his phone away in his pocket.

"I have to go." He kisses his mother on the head as he walks by. "Thanks for dinner, Ima."

"Is everything okay?" she asks, catching him gently by the elbow before he can get too far.

"Yeah..." he sighs. "Jack's just having a hard time with homework, I'm gonna go help him out."

His father ruffles his hair and gives him a quick hug.

"You're a good boy, David. Take him those leftovers— your mother's cooking can fix anything."

"For sure. I'll see you guys next weekend, and I'll try to bring Jack along then."

He waves goodbye to Sarah and Les, grabs the dish of food, and then sets off on a speed-walk to the nearest subway station.

Jack is sitting on the couch when he arrives, his knees pulled to his chest, looking very soft and cozy in pyjama pants and one of Davey's old hoodies from some baseball tournament. He's staring into space, and he hardly even moves to acknowledge Davey's presence when he walks in.

"Hey darling." Davey leaves the dish of food on the counter and crouches down in front of Jack to try and catch his eye-line. He carefully takes Jack's hands in his own. "Hanging in there?"

Jack finally looks at him and nods, but as he blinks, more tears slip out and roll down his cheeks.

"I'm only done two pages," he mumbles, practically whispering. "I don't know why it's so hard, but I just can't do it."

"Oh, Jackie..." Davey reaches up to wipe Jack's tears, cupping his face gently with both hands. "Hey, you still have three hours, right?" Jack nods. "That's lots of time. We're gonna figure this out... let's just sit here and calm down a little first. It's gonna be okay."

He climbs up onto the couch to pull Jack into a hug, and the moment he's settled, Jack wraps his arms around him and breaks, sobbing into his shoulder. Davey cards his fingers through his hair and rubs his back; he's never seen Jack this distraught, especially not over homework. There's a good chance the problem runs a lot deeper, and stressing over an assignment was simply the last straw.

"You're alright," Davey continues, since talking is what he does best, even in moments like this. Jack is shaking with the force of his tears, breathing so hard Davey worries he might hyperventilate. "Listen, it's just one assignment, my love... if you get a bad grade, or if we don't finish in time, we can deal with that. We'll hand in whatever we finish tonight, so at least you won't get a zero. Worst case scenario, you retake this class in the spring... even that doesn't sound so bad, does it? I know you could handle it, if that's what happens."

Jack nods a little, but his tears don't stop.

"I'm so tired of being stupid," he hiccups, after a long while. "I keep getting distracted, and I can't word things right, and I spell everything wrong, and- and maybe I should just drop out, because I'm clearly not meant to be doing this."

"Baby..." Davey sighs, giving him a gentle kiss on the temple. "You're so intelligent, Jack. You're almost done your degree— after this term, you've only got one year left, and it's not like you do poorly in your classes, is it? Even when it's something hard for you, like writing, you always do well when you put in the work. What did you get on your sociology paper a couple weeks ago?"

"Ninety percent," Jack mumbles, muffled by the way he's speaking into Davey's shoulder. "But I spent so long on it, and you edited it for me. I'm gonna fail this one. I can't do it in one night, and I can't write papers without your help."

"Well, I'm here to help now, aren't I?" He rests his hand midway through brushing it through Jack's hair and scratches his scalp gently, which makes Jack shiver and laugh quietly through his tears. "Right? And you can write, darling— all I do is fix up the spelling and grammar for you. The ideas and words are all you, just like when you give presentations and knock it out of the park every time. I sure can't do that."

Jack finally looks up at him.

"Yes you can. You get nervous beforehand, but when you do a presentation, it's always really good."

Davey smiles at him, now that they're actually looking at each other.

"It's hard for me, though. Just like writing is for you— but with lots of effort, you're really good at it. See my point?"

Slowly, a small smile spreads across Jack's teary-eyed face, and he nods. Davey feels rather accomplished with this development.

"I guess so." He wipes at his eyes and sighs. "Sorry about this. I'm such a mess."

"No apologies. I don't blame you for getting overwhelmed— you're in a tough spot here." He pulls Jack in for a quick kiss, which they both smile into. "I brought you dinner. Go heat it up when you're ready; I'll look over what you've written so far and see if I can come up with some more ideas to add on. We're gonna work together on it, okay? What painting did you choose?"

"The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew by Caravaggio," Jack sighs, looking almost forlornly at his computer on the table. "I have a lot to say about it, and lots of good stuff in my notes, but I just can't put it into paragraphs and sentences that make sense."

Davey nods, watching Jack as he stands up to go put the leftovers from Davey's family in the microwave.

"Well, I don't know anything about paintings, but if you talk me through it, I can help you put the actual paper together." He pauses as an idea dawns on him. "I'm gonna email your professor and ask about an extension— it might be a shot in the dark, but we should at least try. The worst he can do is say no."

"Sure," Jack replies from the kitchen, his voice still shaky. "He's a total hardass, though. Fingers crossed for a miracle."

Davey sits at the table, opens up Jack's email, and starts a draft.

Hi Professor Diaz,

Apologies for the short notice, but I'm wondering if it would be possible to have an extension on the analysis assignment, even if it's just by a few hours. I unfortunately mixed up some due dates in my planner, and I thought I had an extra week for this assignment; I only realized the mistake today, so I'm currently scrambling to get it done in time.

Would it be at all possible to turn it in a few hours late, just to have a bit more time to finish it up? I would really appreciate any amount of time you're willing to give me.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, Jack Kelly

He shrugs, sends it, and sincerely hopes a little professionalism and a decent (if slightly fabricated to make Jack look less forgetful) excuse will go a long way.

It's quarter to eleven, the paper is now five-and-a-half pages long, and Jack isn't crying anymore. He's in the zone, talking aloud about the painting while Davey helps him get his vague ideas into concrete sentences, and they're on track to have at least seven or eight pages by the time midnight rolls around�� it might not get full marks, but it'll be better than nothing.

Jack's computer dings with the sound of a new email while they're taking a two-minute break— something they've interspersed every half hour, since Jack's focus is best in shorter bouts. He's in the middle of walking laps around the apartment to get his energy out and annoy his downstairs neighbours, but he scrambles back to the computer at the noise.

"We got a reply!" he shouts.

Davey is over on the couch, and he watches Jack's face closely as he opens the email. So far, so good... and then he slumps down in his chair in a show of what could either be defeat or relief. Davey can't quite tell, so he jumps up to go read it for himself.

Sure. Email it by 11:59pm tomorrow.

Sent from my iPhone

"Yes!" Davey shouts, grabbing Jack by the shoulders. "I told you it was worth a shot!"

Jack laughs, and then reaches up to pull Davey down for a kiss.

"You're the best, Jacobs. A fucking lifesaver." He rubs at his eyes, and then pushes his computer away, across the table. "I'll deal with this tomorrow. Let's just go to bed— you still have to be up early."

Right. Davey has a dreaded Saturday morning opening shift tomorrow— they open at five, and he has to be there well in advance to get set up, so he's got no chance at getting more than a few hours of sleep. He's going to be dead on his feet in the morning, probably fuck up a few coffee orders, but it'll be worth it to have helped Jack through tonight.

Poor Jack seems completely exhausted— as anyone would be after crying so hard earlier— so collapsing into bed after washing up quickly is an utter relief. Davey, despite being tall and long-limbed, greatly enjoys being the little spoon and Jack is happy to indulge him, so they curl into the familiar position.

"Thank you for everything tonight," Jack whispers, practically into Davey's ear. "I love you so much."

Davey smiles as his eyes fall shut, and he kisses Jack's knuckles softly, where his arm is wrapped around him.

"Any time, darling. I love you too."

#both my current projects are slow burns so an established relationship fic feels good #hope u enjoyed it!!!#javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #newsies fic #my writing

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clynnra · 3 years ago

Text

Strongest Together

After that disappointing last ten minutes of the series finale, I didn't think I would ever write for my beloved boys again. But, thanks to binging lots of episodes of the show on ion since it started airing there (happy to post this story on one of ion's Five-O Fridays) and reading many fix-it fics, I had to do this for Danny. I will be forever bitter that our last glimpse of him ever was hurt (physically and emotionally) and alone on Steve's beach. So this is my way of fixing that sad image. There's background (literally, just a few minor mentions) Steve/Catherine and Danny/others, but this is a McDanno story. I didn't want to vilify Steve, since he should take care of himself and find peace, so I hope that comes across. Finally, eternal thanks to my beta PhoebeMiller for making my story way better than it was with her fantastic feedback about story line, diction, and all the grammar. She's an awesome writer in her own right - go read her wonderful stories! And always thanks to SheppardMcKay for inspiring me to post fic.

Steve and Danny. Danny and Steve. Steve left Danny. Danny was alone.

Sighing, Danny knew he had his kids, his family and the team. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt so fucking much. Days like today, it still hurt to breathe.

Danny didn’t begrudge Steve finding his peace. Or his taking care of himself. Hell, he tried to instill self preservation in his Neanderthal time and again. But when Steve finally took his advice and put himself first, it had ripped Danny’s heart to shreds.

It still hurt so damn much because of the way Steve left. The timing sucked. Just out of the hospital, Danny could barely walk even with his cane. This proved Steve was hiding the depth of his own suffering. Normally, he'd never leave Danny when he was injured. Danny smiled and remembered Steve raiding his house for cookies after he'd been shot in quarantine. The fondness bubbling up just about killed him.

More memories of this year from hell came back, and Danny had to sit down. He'd moved himself into Steve's house after Doris died because he sensed Steve needed him. The loss was just too much after Joe's death. When Joanna had died, Steve was there for him, cooking him eggs most mornings, claiming routine was good. Danny knew Steve was talking about himself, too.

They'd fallen into something Danny dared call a relationship when he was awake late at night, insomnia raging. He and Steve lived together. They ate meals together most nights. They walked Eddie, locked up the house and said good night like a couple.

A couple of idiots, Danny grumbled now. Or was he the biggest idiot? He'd made this huge leap into what proved to be a lonely abyss.

What hurt the most was Steve pretty much rejecting the idea of the two of them growing old together on that beach. Danny didn't know for sure when his best friend would return from his Kung Fu adventures. He'd only counted on Steve coming home at some point. Now, when he replayed their last conversation, the dagger twisted in his chest even more.

The sad fact was - Danny loved Steve. Not just like a friend. He loved him like I want to spend the rest of my life with you even though you drive me crazy, you caveman. He never told Steve he was in love with him. Danny was scared and convinced such an admission would be suicide. Because he feared their friendship would be over, was so sure of it, in fact, that he kept all of his feelings locked away. He didn't want to fuck up the best friendship he'd ever had.

Not to mention, Steve was straight. He'd never given Danny any hint that he was interested. Unless you counted Steve's octopus arms and his total disregard for Danny's personal space. Which Danny did not dwell on. No way could he let himself go there. That's why he'd pushed Steve into dating. First Brooke and then the vet. Neither had really worked out, and Danny did not allow himself to question why. He would have kept on searching for the perfect mate for Steve, too, if he hadn't left. Even though Danny wanted it to be him.

No one knew Danny's secret. Although he mostly dated women, he had a few relationships with men while at Seton Hall. He kept his attraction to men close to the vest. He'd thought his college experiments were in the rearview mirror until the giant goof stole his crime scene.

To distract himself from the heartbreak over Steve’s dating, he’d focused on reconciling with Rachel in a vain attempt to stitch his family back together. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, it just didn’t work since he was in love with Steve. When they finally figured out they were better as friends, Rachel shocked him with advice to stop dithering and tell Steve. He was so taken aback by Rachel’s accurate insight into his heart, past all his bullshit, he’d gone to that bar and met Joanna. Like so many other things in his life, hooking up with her to forget Rachel and Steve had ended all kinds of bad. Spectacular didn't even cut it. Joanna's death wasn't his fault. This he knew. But he couldn't stop feeling guilty. She was with him in the car because of how he'd chosen to mend himself, and she'd died after everything he'd done to try to save her.

And of course, there was Catherine. He envied her for having Steve the way he wanted. She knew every inch of him. She knew so many more secrets. Steve had opened his heart to her - and what had she done? She'd pulled a Doris. More than once. And the idiot took her back.

Weren't they a pair? Danny knew he was a hypocrite for being angry with Steve about getting back with an ex time and again. He didn't care. He couldn't help feeling upset that Steve was with Catherine (probably this very minute) and not him.

+++++++

Three months had passed since Steve left, and Danny’s PT was coming along well. He texted Steve a few times a week to check in, while Steve returned his texts within a couple hours. They’d spoken on the phone a few times, and Danny lost himself in the comforting cadence of Steve’s voice. Their calls ranged from about 20 minutes to almost an hour, and their talks were nice. But during one of their conversations, as he listened to Steve chatter on about what he did in whatever destination he was currently staying, Danny realized that Steve’s journey to find himself didn’t include him. Steve didn’t need him like Danny needed him. And that revelation punched the breath out of him. He tried to cover it, but Steve, with his keen SEAL senses, heard it.

“Danno, you okay?” Steve interrupted his story about what he saw in Scotland.

“Yeah, babe, I’m ok. Just still get tired sometimes. Had PT this morning and energy kinda zapped. You mind if we pick this up some other time? I’m gonna have a lie down.” Danny chewed his lips as he lied. It was a white lie, but still.

“Ok… you take care buddy. I love you.” Steve said with a note of concern.

“You too.” replied Danny. He couldn’t tell Steve he loved him on their calls because he didn’t want Steve to hear how in love with him he was. Texting “love you, too” was fine, but when he said it, he felt his heart in his throat.

Putting his phone down, Danny glanced around himself. He was still at Steve’s house sitting on his couch. Eddie was laying on the floor nearby. And Danny came to a decision. Steve was out finding himself, and Danny really needed to do the same. He had spent so much of the past ten years being part of Steve and Danny that outside of being a father to Grace and Charlie and being on the task force, he‘d kinda lost himself. He felt like his life wasn’t making sense after deciding to just be friends with Rachel and then the tragedy with Joanna. He knew that in order to move on with his life, he had to make a change. He would always be there for Steve, but it was time he was there for himself.

A few days later, Steve called again. This time he was in Ireland. He told Danny about the beautiful scenery there, and after he was done, he asked, “So, what are you up to now, Danno? PT almost done right?”

Danny took a deep breath and started. “Funny you should ask that. I, um, I’m gonna move back to my place, Steve.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Why? Danny, is something wrong?” Steve replied, trying to keep a lock on his emotions.

“No, babe.” Danny grimaced and continued. “I just, uh, think it’s time to move back. You know, you’re out there trying to find yourself and your peace without me…”

Steve gasped, “Danny…”

Shaking his head, Danny kept going. “and that’s fine, Steve. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. You deserve to find the peace and happiness you need. I just need to find myself again a bit. After Joanna died, I felt sorta lost. And I was starting to make sense of my life again before Daiyu Mei swooped in…” He didn’t mention and when you left me. Danny shook that thought from his head.

“So, I need to do this. To remember who I was before I was part of Steve and Danny…” he finished with a fake chuckle.

“Danno, are you sure?” Steve asked, a note of sadness in his voice.

Danny nodded even though Steve couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

There was another moment of charged silence.

“Ok, Danno, I got it. You need this, so I got your back. Whatever you need. Hey, I gotta head out, but I’ll call again, alright?” Steve sounded like he was happy for Danny but wasn’t quite believing it.

Danny replied, “Sure. Bye, babe.”

Steve said clearly, “I love you, Danny.”

“You too.” Danny croaked out. When the call ended, he dropped his phone next to him and covered his face with his hands taking in a few deep breaths.

It was time to find who he was again without Steve.

+++++++

Danny finally completed his eight weeks of PT, and his doctor okayed his return to light work aka paperwork. He still had to check in each month since it was his second gunshot wound in his chest in two years. As part of his process to return to Five-O, the governor mandated Danny to complete visits with his therapist since he survived such a traumatic experience. At first, he was annoyed he had to go to therapy again; he’d rather eat pineapple on his pizza. But during the couple of months of sessions about his kidnapping and near death at the hands of Daiyu Mei, he found himself working through various issues including the death of his partner Grace, his guilt over Matty, his complicated relationship with Rachel, Grace’s kidnapping and almost fatal car accident, Charlie’s paternity and medical condition, as well as other work related stresses and traumas. The governor’s directive for Danny’s therapy was once a week for two months, but he continued past that, and for a few weeks, he was going twice a week. He just unloaded whatever was burdening his mind and heart. He felt stronger for it. He even told the therapist about his feelings for Steve, and she suggested that to find closure or peace about it, he should consider discussing his feelings with Steve. Danny knew she was right but wasn’t ready yet. However, talking things out gave him the perspective he needed.

With the end of PT and his ongoing therapy doing well, he told the kids first he was moving out of Steve’s house. They were shocked, Tani near tears while Junior took the news stoically. But once Danny told them why, they were very supportive and helped Danny move to his now renovated place over two weekends. Lou, Quinn, and Adam also chipped in their time to help with Danny’s move. Since Junior moved in with Tani, they figured out a schedule of who would check on Steve’s place and when including the upkeep of the grounds. Junior and Tani told Danny once he was cleared for regular work, he could share some of the maintenance duties. They'd take care of it for now. Tani joked that maybe they could get Kamekona to hire some of his family. Danny rolled his eyes and smacked her. None of them had enough money for that enterprise.

Eddie was another story. Poor guy was just adapting to his master being gone. Now they were relocating him. Danny decided Eddie would live with him, and Junior would take him as time allowed since he loved Eddie, too. It was a good arrangement, as the loyal dog loved each of them. And he enjoyed the extra attention he was getting.

Danny felt like things were starting to get back to the new normal without Steve while he was at work doing paperwork and running point for any cases from HQ if needed. He surprised himself that he got the hang of the HQ computer table after getting lots of help from the team. Quinn was especially patient, and he appreciated it.

While Danny settled back at work, he still kept in contact with Steve. His best friend would mostly text him to check in with how things were going and send some pictures of gorgeous landscapes and appetizing food. When they did talk on the phone here and there, Steve would catch Danny up on things with him. Danny winced when Steve spoke about Catherine, but tried to sound as supportive as possible. He had to keep reminding himself that if Steve was happy with her, he would just have to accept it. And during one of these phone calls, Danny promised himself that he needed to start dating again. He may be in love with Steve, but he also owed it to himself to move forward and not spend the rest of his life pining after his best friend who was happy with the love of his life.

In a bold move, he asked Adam to be his wingman, explaining he needed to shake things up. He wanted to reclaim who he was before Daiyu Mei and even before his last disastrous attempt to get back with Rachel. What he left unspoken was his need to reinvent himself without Steve.

Adam didn’t even raise an eyebrow and had replied, “You got it, brother. You were there for me when I was lost without Kono, so I’m here for you.”

Danny was so grateful. They went to nice bars, the types professionals patronize. Danny did score dates with some doctors, lawyers, and accountants. He surprised Adam by dating both men and women, but after that initial shock, Adam supported his choices, even offering to set Danny up with friends. He even went on a few double dates with Adam and Tamiko. The companionship was nice, and the sex even nicer, but Danny didn’t feel like any of these people would help him get over Steve. At least he felt like his life was more balanced and not just focused on Steve all the time.

When he first mentioned to Steve that he was dating again, there was a silence long enough that Danny thought the call dropped. He could easily FaceTime Steve but just could not find the courage to see his beloved face again. The phone calls offered distance, a buffer. And Danny needed it so he could continue to support Steve and survive his updates when they included Catherine.

Just when Danny was ready to ask his best friend if he could hear him, an exaggeratedly upbeat Steve jumped back in.

“Hey, buddy, I’m glad you’re getting out there again. You deserve to be happy, too.” His voice cracked on the last bit.

After that last odd tone from Steve, they continued like normal when Danny filled him in on the latest with Grace and Charlie. The rest of the call was pleasant with some of their usual teasing.

But on the next call when Danny mentioned how he and Keith went on a double date with Adam and Tamiko, Steve choked and started coughing on the phone.

“Hey, babe, you ok? Don’t choke on the butter in your coffee, alright?” Danny joked.

Steve got his breath back and said, “Sorry, went down the wrong tube. Wait, so you’re dating guys now, Danny?”

Danny didn’t care for Steve’s tone, but answered, “Well, I did date a few guys back in college, but just stopped once I met Rachel.” He didn’t mention and once I met you. “Is that gonna be a problem for you, Steven?”

Steve quickly responded, “Of course not, Danny. I’m just shocked you never told me this in the over ten years we’ve known each other. And for the record, it’d be hypocritical of me if it was.”

Now it was Danny’s turn to gasp. “Wait, when the hell were you dating guys, Steve? In all the years we’ve been together, you’ve only talked about women.”

Sighing, Steve said, “Well, I didn’t really date guys, Danny. When I was deployed, I helped my teammates out like they helped me. So to be more specific, I’ve had sex with guys, but not actually dated them. I enjoyed the sex and was even attracted to some of the guys, but DADT kept me from being open about being sexually attracted to men.”

Danny couldn’t help himself. “Did Cath know?”

Steve chuckled briefly. “Of course, man. I told her I slept with several men and was attracted to some. She was cool with it since she had some bi friends and family.”

Danny admired Steve’s honesty, and he wanted to be honest, too.

“Steve, dating these men and women - it’s nothing serious. Don’t get me wrong, the company and sex are great, but they don’t compare to you.”

It sounded like Steve sniffled on the other end of the line. His voice was slightly hoarse. “And just so you know, partner, no one will ever replace you. No one can. Hey, we gotta grab some food…”

Danny teased, “Try not to ruin your food with pineapple, you animal. Enjoy your meal.”

Snickering, Steve added, “Copy that.”

Steve’s voice became sincere again. “I’ll call you again soon, Danno. I love you.”

Automatically, Danny replied, “You, too.”

Steve’s breath hitched before saying, “I miss you, Danny. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

Danny exhaled, “I miss you, too. Bye, babe.”

Once Danny placed his phone down, he was like, good going Williams. You almost told him you’re in love with him while Cath was right there. Don’t be an idiot next time.

+++++++

It had been a week since that eye-opening phone call and about six months since Steve left, Danny had been back to regular responsibilities at work for about a month. His therapy sessions were twice a month now. He was still seeing people but didn’t feel the desperation to date like when he first started a few months ago. He felt confident in his own skin again, feeling better both professionally and personally. But he was still in love with Steve. Danny finally decided. Fuck it. I’ll always love the maniac, I just have to live with it.

And it came to a head during one of their phone calls almost two months later.

Danny couldn’t keep himself from asking, “You happy with Cath, Steve?”

There was a pause before Steve said, “I wouldn’t know. She left about two months ago on another CIA assignment. She offered to come back when her job was over, but I told her that I need stability and consistency and her work didn’t provide that. I said I was proud that she found her way and happy for her that she loved her job. I told her that I would always love her, but she deserved someone who was in love with her.”

Danny’s heart sped up with hope. “So, what are you saying, Steve?”

Steve pushed air through his nose. “I’m saying that I couldn’t commit to her because I’m in love with you.”

“Steve…?” Danny’s voice shook with emotion.

“Danny, every time I told you I love you when we ended our calls, I meant it as I’m in love with you. You never repeated it to me so I assumed you didn’t feel the same way. But once you told me you dated guys, I got hopeful again. And after that phone call, I stopped sleeping with Cath. And she knew something was up with the no sex but never called me on it. That’s just not what we do. Things are easy for us, and when they’re not, we still pretend that they are. But my heart couldn’t just be satisfied with what was easy and familiar anymore. I needed the challenge and passion. I need you.”

Danny confessed, “Babe, I’m in love with you, too. I just couldn’t tell you since I thought you had your happily ever after with Catherine. When I figured you guys were permanent, I dated to move on without you. But it’s no use, Steve. I want you. I want everything with you.”

Choked with emotion, Steve whispered, “Danny.. I’m coming home.”

“I’m so glad, babe. I love you.”

+++++++

Two days later, Danny was at baggage claim. He spotted Steve immediately, tall and gorgeous with a full beard and short but longer than military regulation hair. Steve saw him too, and his face lit up with a huge smile that crinkled his eyes. They moved quickly through the crowd to each other. As he got closer, Danny spotted the specks of white in Steve’s hair and thought it just made his big goof even more handsome. Finally, they were in front of each other. Dropping his duffel, Steve wrapped his arms around Danny hugging him tightly. He tucked his face into Danny’s hair and inhaled deeply.

“Danno, I missed you so much.”

Danny just squeaked out a “me too” while he hugged Steve. He was too busy inhaling the travel worn scent of Steve. He couldn’t get enough of the man he loved. He rubbed his face into Steve’s chest, reveling in the physical presence he had wanted so much all these months and at long last had.

They moved so their foreheads were resting against each other. Breathing the same air, not aware of the bustle of the people around them.

Danny broke their peaceful bubble by moving his face away so he could look into Steve’s eyes. “Did you find the peace you needed, babe?”

Huffing and licking his lips, Steve shook his head. His left hand held Danny’s face as his gaze never wavered. “Not yet, but I’m working on it. I know I’ll get there with therapy and what I need most.”

Danny tilted his head questioningly at Steve.

“You.”

Then Steve kissed Danny. Eyes fluttering closed, Danny returned the kiss. Like this thing they were doing happened every day.

Feeling a surge of joy, Danny broke the kiss with a smile. Smiling himself, Steve opened his eyes.

“I think I need you to repeat yourself, I didn’t quite hear you,” Danny said with a smirk as he pulled Steve down again. This time, the kiss was firmer. Danny nipped Steve's bottom lip and he opened his mouth. Always the control freak, Steve cupped Danny's face so he could move him where he wanted. He hummed contentedly as he tasted Danny. A couple times, their teeth clacked, but their tongues soothed the minor mishaps. The frantic exploration continued until they needed air.

Eyes opening and panting a bit as their lips parted, they grinned at each other goofily.

“I think we gave the airport enough of a show, babe.” Danny joked.

Steve chuckled. He sobered a bit and said, “Danny, I love you.”

Danny smiled brightly as his heart thudded happily. “I love you, too, Steve. Let’s go home.”

“And where is that exactly?” Steve asked mischievously.

“Wherever you and I are together.” Danny replied quickly.

Appeased, Steve grabbed his bag and slung it on his left shoulder. He pulled Danny under his right arm as they walked to the car.

Danny with Steve. Strong on their own. Strongest together.

FIN.

#H50 #McDanno #Hawaii Five-O #hawaii five 0 #i made this #spoilers #Fic

38 notes · View notes

purple-fireflies · 3 years ago

Text

try to slip past his defense (without granting innocence)

A/N: Soy Luna Grey’s Anatomy au -- some plot devices will be the same, others may differ. (This is just an excerpt, I'll post the full chapter on ao3 & tumblr when I'm done with it!)

Other notes:

The title is from The Fray’s “How To Save A Life” which is basically the show’s anthem song (that and chasing cars)

Sometimes, certain dialogue may be verbatim from the show (this is only for medical-related plot devices, ie meeting patients, assigning lab reports, establishing exposition, etc) so I’m stating here right now that that specific dialogue belongs to Grey’s Anatomy, and the characters belong to Soy Luna, but everything else belongs to me

Juliana never had the last name given in the show, so for story’s sake, it’s Bahiense.

She’s referred to as “The Nazi” but that’s not meant to offend anyone at all, it was the nickname given in the show, so I’m transferring it here.

In Soy Luna, Ámbar is one year older than Luna, but here she’s the same age as her

In Grey’s Anatomy, there are only 5 people in each group of interns, but for plot’s sake, there are 7 each

In the show, Benicio’s name was never mentioned, so for writing purposes, his last name is going to be Calisto

Luna sits up quickly—bad idea.

She winces at the light coming in through the window and groans at her headache.

And someone stirs next to her.

Exactly how much did she drink?

Enough so she doesn’t remember the name of the smirky boy staring at her, pulling on his boxers.

She is never drinking again.

And he needs to leave.

“You are?” He asks, grinning the grin that probably got Luna into this mess.

“Humiliated on so many levels,” She mutters, “And I’m late, as well. So if you could just, I dunno, leave, that would be perfect,”

“Or we could pick up where we left off?” He asks, with a grin that tells Luna he isn’t used to being rejected.

“No, seriously. I’m late. Which I shouldn’t be on my first day of work, so?”

Take the hint.

“Wait, so you live here?”

Jesus Christ, she’s going to be late.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it was my aunt’s house, but I’m selling it so technically, not for long.” She rushes out.

“I’m sorry,” He replies, actual emotion in his eyes.

“My aunt is still ali—you know, we don’t have to do the thing,”

“We can do whatever you want,”

Really?

“No, the thing. Where you pretend you care or ask me nice questions or whatever. Listen. I’m going to go upstairs and shower, and when I get back, you’re not going to be here, uh…”

What was his name?

He laughs softly, “Matteo.”

“Luna,” She replies, shaking his hand.

“Bye, Luna,” He says winking at her.

She smiles in response and jerks her head towards the door.

“Bye, Matteo,”

And that’s the last she has to see of him.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you,” The chief, Tamara Rios, says as Luna stumbles into the room, causing everyone to stare at her.

Great job, Valente.

Luna walks around the room. She sees Ámbar, avoiding her gaze as if it was poisonous. She sees another girl, a brunette, looking around the room with wide eyes. She sees Simón, looking back at her, and resists waving at him as a kindergartner would. She walks around the OR a little more and sees two girls so close they might as well be stuck together, one a blonde and the other a redhead. She bumps into another boy, who just huffs softly and brushes her off.

Rude.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The resident takes 3 more interns, leaving Luna with the brunette she saw at the orientation.

“Only 6 women out of 20,” She says, sighing, as if mad at the statistic itself.

“And I think one of them’s a model. As if that would’ve helped with the whole respect thing,” The redhead interjects.

Luna and Ámbar share a look.

Luna turns to the brunette.

“You’re Nina, right?” She says, smiling.

Nina nods, “Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Bahiense.”

“The Nazi? Me too,” Luna replies.

The guy who bumped into her says, “You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we’ll be tortured together,” He says, trying to lean into Luna’s space.

Luna and Nina exchange a quick look saying, God, can you believe him?

A doctor comes up and calls out “Smith, Valente, Ponce, Simonetti, Medina, Sánchez, Álvarez,”

Ámbar walks up to the guy and asks, “Bahiense?”

He points down the hall.

The seven look down to see who he’s pointing at. It’s a woman slightly shorter than them, using a cane to stand up, ordering some other resident around.

The guy who bumped into her says, “I thought the Nazi would be a guy,”

Sexist much?

“I thought the Nazi would be...you know, the Nazi,” Luna mutters.

“Guys seriously? Maybe it’s just professional jealousy. You know, maybe she’s just brilliant and they’re so jealous so they call her the Nazi. Maybe she’s nice.” The redhead says, and Luna sees her nametag saying Jimena Medina.

The blonde next to her, Yamila Sánchez, Luna supposes, nods.

Which means the only one left that she doesn’t know would be...Luna cranes her neck to see his nametag.

Ramiro Ponce. Who is currently staring wistfully at Yamila.

Please.

“Let me guess, you still have hope left in your heart,” Ámbar says to Jimena, rolling her eyes as if it’s what she was born to do.

Jimena shoots Ámbar a dirty look (wow, Luna wishes her luck with that can of worms) and proceeds to try to shake Dr. Bahiense’s hand when she walks over.

Dr. Bahiense looks at her hand as if it’s infectious.

Jimena, undeterred, continues to say, “Right, well. I’m Jimena Medina, but you can call me Jim if it’s easier,”

Yamila, who seemed to jump out of thin air, says, “And you can call me Yam,”

Bahiense looks so unimpressed Luna thinks that if contempt alone was enough to murder someone, Bahiense would be a serial killer.

Luna shares a quick look with Simón, who gives her a reassuring nod.

Bahiense looks them all up and down, evidently annoyed with being stuck with their group (ouch).

"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change,” She starts, then moves to a bench, filled with different objects, “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours,”

Everyone rushes to grab their pagers, studying them before Bahiense starts talking again.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop, and don't complain!”

Bahiense opens what Luna supposes is an on-call room, “On-call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woken me for no good reason, we clear?”

Luna rushes to nod, writing furiously on her notepad, and then goes, oh.

She raises her hand.

Dr. Bahiense looks extremely pissed at Luna for having the audacity to have a question.

“Yes?”

“You said five rules. Those were only four.” Luna says, trying not to wilt against Dr. Bahiense’s gaze.

“Rule number five. When I move, you move,” She says after her pager beeps.

That’s some TV show shit right there.

They break into a run and watch as Dr. Bahiense runs down a couple of doctors.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The helicopter—yes, a helicopter—lands, and a doctor pulls out a teenager on a stretcher.

This is way too much for Luna on her first day.

“What do we got?” Bahiense asks, and Luna hears Nina correct the grammar under her breath.

As the paramedic puts the girl on the stretcher (while she’s seizing) he says, “Katie Bryce, fifteen-year-old female, new-onset seizures, intermittent for the past week, ID lost en route, started grand mal seizing as we descended,”

Bahiense stops, leaning on her cane for a second, and then it’s all business.

“All right. Yam, put her on the side, 10 milligrams diazepam,” Bahiense groans when Yam does it incorrectly, “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large-bore I.V. don't let the blood haemolyse, let's go!”

Yam injects the diazepam and Katie stops seizing.

Luna releases the breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Another doctor, in dark blue scrubs, another doctor comes up in stark contrast to what she and the other interns are wearing. Luna catches his name very quickly. Gastón Perida.

Nina sucks in a breath as he walks past them, Luna realizes with a start.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” Dr. Perida says, and Luna catches how Nina stares at him with intent.

Dr. Bahiense, her sudden brashness gone, replaced with respect as she says, “Absolutely Dr. Perida,”

Dr. Perida nods, his eyes brushing over the intern group, stopping at Nina, and he then continues.

“All right, Dr. Bahiense, I’m gonna shotgun her,”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem. seven, a tox screen, Nina and Ámbar, you're on labs, Ramiro and Yam, patient workups, Luna, get Katie for a CT, she's your responsibility now,”

Wonderful. Her first day and she gets the really hard patient.

“What about me and Simón?” Jim asks.

Bahiense looks so tired when she stares at Jim, “Right, you two, uh. You get to do rectal exams. Okay?”

Jim and Simón have faces that say no, not okay.

Luna makes a face gloating at Simón and he just glares at her in return.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Ámbar peeks into the OR where Dr. Bahiense is. Bahiense comes out and looks at her expectantly.

“Um, Katie Bryce's labs came out clear, there's nothing in the results that explain her seizures,” She says, hoping to catch Dr. Bahiense to ask her what she really wants to ask her.

“And…?”

“ I heard every year the attending on-call picks the best intern and, and lets them perform a procedure, during the first shift?” Ámbar asks, glaring back at Dr. Bahiense when she tries to stare her down.

Ámbar Smith does not get stared down.

“Go away. Now.” Dr. Bahiense says, and Ámbar groans internally.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam sighs at yet another ill-tried joke Ramiro attempts.

Flirty in med school and flirty now.

Why should she even bother?

“We have one more patient to work up,” She mumbles and he nods, walking slower to keep up with her pace.

She places her stethoscope and hears for a heartbeat. “Everything seems to be in order,”

“So he’ll be fine?” The woman next to him—presumably his wife—asks.

“If you don’t count that my bacon days are over, sure,” The patient replies.

Yam shares a smirk with Ramiro.

“You'll have surgery tomorrow with Dr. Perida, I hear he's good, and after that, you can have all of the bacon-flavored soy product you can eat,” Ramiro interjects, speaking easily with the patients.

“Please, kill me now,” the patient jokes.

“Wish I could, but I took the Hippocratic Oath for a reason,” Yam replies absently, going over and signing his charts.

She blushes at the weird looks she gets and rolls her eyes at Ramiro’s never-ending smirk.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Katie. Won’t. Stop. Talking. Which isn’t helping Luna find her way through these halls.

Did she just miss the last turn?

“You’re lost,” the kid says, grumbling.

What do you think I’m trying to fix right now? Luna thinks to herself and just about stops herself from saying.

“I’m not lost.” Luna insists, then remembers she’s a doctor, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m missing my pageant. How do you think I feel?”

“Right. You’re missing your pageant.”

This poor girl is in the hospital with seizures and the only thing that she can think about is her pageant.

Luna feels sorry for her.

“The Spokane Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could've won,”

Luna absently hums and realizes that they’re going the wrong way. Again.

She turns around and pushes Katie back the same way.

“You are so lost. What are you, new?”

Luna chokes back a laugh. Yeah, something like that.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam watches Ramiro try to give their patient a central line. It’s not working.

And it’s visibly hurting the patient.

She groans and pushes past him, about to put the line in when Dr. Perida waltzes into their room and raises his eyebrows.

“Out.” He says, his nice demeanor replaced with annoyance.

Do all of the residents and attendings just hate interns on principle?

Yam glares at Ramiro and pulls him out, watching from the window as Perida puts the line in perfectly.

“Bet you used to mess up a lot when you started out,” Ramiro tries to joke with Perida.

Yam just winces and nods at Dr. Perida as she leaves.

Ramiro at least has the decency to look sheepish.

This is going to be a long shift.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna sits, taking Katie’s patient history and generally listening to her incessant babbling.

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse,” Katie says.

Luna bites back a retort.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Simón groans at the plate of food in front of him. The number of rectal exams he and Jim had to do was enough to take the appetite away from anyone.

“This shift is 80 hours long, you have to eat, Simón,” Ámbar mutters, her gaze hardening after leaving Simón’s eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Eat.” Ámbar insists, pushing Simón’s plate towards him.

“You try eating after performing 17 rectal exams. The Nazi hates me. I want to puke.” Simón says, his face contorting.

“Just don’t puke near me,” Ámbar mutters.

“The Nazi’s just a resident. Attendings hate me,” Ramiro replies.

“Did you know Luna is inbred?” Nina asks, and all heads whip to her immediately.

Partly because no one expected the shy ingenue to say anything.

And partly because Luna being inbred is very surprising.

Simón hurries to say “It’s not uncommon to be the kid of a doctor,”

“I mean royally inbred. Her mother is Lili Benson.”

“Shut up. The Lili Benson?” Jim asks.

Nina nods.

“Who’s Lili Benson?” Ramiro asks.

“The Benson method? Where’d you go to med school, Antarctica?” Yam says incredulously.

No one notices how Simón and Ámbar tense up as Yam continues talking. “She was one of the biggest women surgeons. She practically invented th—”

“She won the Harper Avery. Twice.” Jim says, rolling her eyes at Ramiro.

“So I didn’t know one thing.”

“I would kill to have Lili Benson as my mother. Scratch that, I’d kill to be Lili Benson.” Nina says, her eyes alight.

“Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. I swear if it wouldn’t get me fired, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.” Luna says, walking over to their table, sitting next to Nina.

She seems to miss the wistful glance Simón throws her way.

She does seem to notice the way everyone’s staring at her.

“What?”

Nina opens her mouth to say something but stops immediately when Dr. Perida walks over.

“Good afternoon interns. It's posted, but I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice,” Dr. Perida says, and Luna feels a rush of hope.

Or. Felt. Seeing as Dr. Perida is clapping Ramiro on his back (it was kind of worth it to see him choke a little on his salad) and saying, “Ramiro Ponce. You’ll be scrubbing in on an appendectomy this afternoon. Congrats.”

Luna deflates.

She wanted that surgery.

She wanted it really badly.

“Me?” Ramiro asks, not quite believing it. Or maybe he’s just wilting under Yam’s intense glare.

“Enjoy.” Dr. Perida says, nodding to everyone.

Luna doesn’t fail to notice that he’s staring at Nina while he says that.

Nina doesn’t fail to notice either, if the blush on her cheeks has anything to say about it.

Ramiro looks like he’s still in shock.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“I’ve seen his file. Ramiro Ponce barely even made the cut to get into the program. He’s not your guy.” Juliana says to Gastón, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, he’s my guy alright,” Gastón responds, absently checking the labs.

Juliana sighs, “Every year you pick your guy, and every year your guy suffers most.”

Gastón smiles. Everyone who knows him knows his easy nature, his inclination to being on the side of less serious.

Unless of course, it has to do with work.

“Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line, Bahiense.”

“I get it. I respect it. But Ramiro? Ponce is a puppy. A cute little puppy that is waiting to be killed. He can’t take the pressure. Think about it, Perida.” Juliana says, walking away.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna watches as Katie’s parents stumble into Katie’s room.

The look of pure worry and fear on their faces makes Luna warm to them immediately.

A couple of hours ago, their kid was supposed to go on stage and wear a sash and be a kid.

Now they’re scared that their kid could be dying.

“Katie?” The mom asks, trying to hold her hand.

Luna falters, not wanting to break their little window.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s just a tad groggy,” Luna says, standing up.

“Will she be okay?”

“Does she need surgery?” The parents ask at the same time.

Their urging faces make Luna wish she had an answer.

“Uh. You know, I’m not her doctor, I am a doctor, just not hers. Anyway, I’m not Katie’s doctor. I’ll go find him.” Luna rambles.

Luna finds Bahiense, “Katie’s parents have questions. Should I get Dr. Perida to answer them?”

“What? No. Perida’s off the case. The case is the new neuro attending’s case, Dr. Balsano. He’s over there.” Bahiense says, pointing to…

Oh god.

Please.

Not today.

This is not happening.

Matteo turns and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes clicking in recognition.

This is not happening.

Luna is not dealing with this.

She turns away from his gaze and walks away. What is she going to do?

She walks towards the stairwell and gets grabbed in.

She stumbles and Matteo catches her, running a hand through his hair, which Luna grudgingly admits looks not bad.

No. Luna. Stop it. Luna. No.

“Dr. Balsano. Did you need anything?” Luna asks, trying to not look at flustered as she is.

Matteo looks positively ecstatic at this turn of events. “Dr. Balsano? This morning it was Matteo. Now it’s Dr. Balsano.”

Luna dearly wants to slap that smirk off of his face.

“Dr. Balsano, we should pretend this never happened,”

“What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or kicking me out this morning because I don’t know about you, but both are memories I’d dearly love to keep.”

This guy really can’t take a hint.

“No. No. No. This is not happening. There are no memories of anything. I’m not the girl in the bar and you’re not the guy in the bar. I am your intern, Dr. Balsano.”

“I see how it is. You took advantage of me last night and now you want to forget about it.” He says, smirking incessantly.

“I most certainly did not,”

“I was drunk and vulnerable. Not to mention, insanely good-looking,”

“You’re not that good-looking,” Luna says, while her traitorous brain says Liar over and over.

“Sure I’m not. But last night, I was wearing my red shirt and I was extremely good-looking and you took advantage,”

He’s not entirely wrong about the red shirt.

“I didn—”

“Want to take advantage again? Say, Friday night?”

He’s smiling again, only this time it’s a smile, not a smirk.

Maybe Luna wouldn’t have said no if he wasn’t an attending.

“No. You’re an attending. I’m your intern. And I would seriously appreciate it if you stopped looking at me like that,” Luna says, glaring at him. It doesn’t seem to deter him.

“Like what?” He asks innocently as if he has no idea what he’s doing right now.

“Like you’ve slept with me,”

Matteo smirks.

“Dr. Balsano. Have you ever considered the fact that this is inappropriate?” Luna breathes.

He doesn’t say anything.

Luna sighs and leaves, the door slamming behind her.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Open. Identify. Irrigate. Close.” Jim instructs, and Yam sighs.

“Jim, I think he’d know,”

“He looks like he’s going to puke,” Jim shoots back.

Yam looks at Ramiro and says, “We have to go to the gallery now. Don’t screw it up.”

They walk up and take a seat behind Luna and Nina.

The intern above them says, “He’s going to faint. He’s a fainter.”

Yam fights back a if you only knew.

“Nah, I’m guessing code brown. Right in his pants,” another intern snickers.

Yam and Jim share a look.

Sure, she’s not a huge fan of Ramiro but he helped her a lot in med school. He helped Jim a lot in med school.

This is just savage.

“He’s going to sweat himself unsterile,”

“10 bucks he’s messing up the McBird,” someone says.

Oh god, they’re betting on Ramiro.

“20 says he cries,” Ámbar says, and sends an apologetic look at Luna.

“I’ll put 20 on him melting down completely,”

“50 says he pulls the whole thing off.” Yam hears herself say.

Luna grins at her, “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where the hell is your loyalty?”

Yam breathes out.

The entire gallery, while it was buzzing before, is now silent.

“75 he can’t even ID the appendix,” Ámbar says again.

This time it’s Simón shooting her the look.

“I’ll take that action,” someone says.

Eric, Yam realizes.

The idiot from their bio class.

Nina elbows Luna when Dr. Perida says, “Okay, Ponce, let’s see what you can do,”

Jim breathes in quickly and Yam also holds her breath.

Do it right do it right please do it right.

“Here it comes,” Simón says.

“Scalpel,” Ramiro says and the nurse hands it to him, echoing the word.

Ramiro takes it and everyone cheers.

Perida motions for them to shut up as Nina says, “God, he’s quite a bit of trouble,”

Ramiro gets ready to cut as Perida instructs, “More pressure.”

Ramiro manages to do it without any mishaps and then proceeds to say, “Pickups.”

The scrub nurse echoes the command and hands him the instrument.

They go on for a little bit, and Yam thinks he might actually pull it off.

Until it goes downhill after Ramiro takes out the appendix.

Perida mutters an angry remark as all the interns in the gallery call him Double O’7.

Jim shares a worried look with Yam and asks Luna, “What does 007 mean?”

Luna sends them an apologetic look.

“License to Kill.”

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The cool air rushes into the basement that Bahiense’s interns have settled into.

The majority of them pile onto the gurney as Nina goes to the vending machine looking for some chocolate.

Luna winces at the whine that Ramiro makes as he walks into their “hideout”.

“They’re calling me 007 aren’t they?”

Luna groans and shoves Simón’s head off of Ámbar’s lap so she can fall asleep in it.

She’s too tired to deal with any human interaction that requires her to, you know, have any sort of emotional security.

“No one’s calling you 007,” Jim and Yam lie (but they do it in unison so like, props).

Ramiro shoots Yam an annoyed look, “I was on an elevator and Eric whispered 007,”

Ámbar pushes Luna’s head off of her lap and glares at Ramiro, “How many times do we have to go through with this? 5, 10, 15? Please tell me soon or I’m going to rim your head off.”

Ramiro sits on the gurney and groans “Eric whispered 007 in the elevator and everyone laughed,”

Luna picks her head up from where she’s trying (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep and actually feels sorry for the guy for a second but the aching limbs and pounding migraine make it kind of hard to console the poor guy.

“They weren’t laughing at you,” Jim says.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” Jim asks.

“Yes,” Ramiro, Ámbar, Simon and Luna say.

“007 is a state of mind,” Nina yells from the vending machine and throws a packet of chips at Luna as she walks back.

“Says the girl who finished first at freaking Stanford,” Simón yells at her.

Nina just rolls her eyes in response.

Just as Luna finally feels the call of sleep, her pager beeps.

She just wanted 5 minutes.

“It’s 911. Damn. I gotta go,” and Luna takes off at a sprint.

“I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one cares if you kill an old person.” Ramiro continues after Luna leaves.

“Yes. Yes, they do care if you kill an old person. Plus. Surgery is hot. Geriatrics is… Well, it’s for freaks who live in the basement with their mom,” Simón replies.

“I have got to move out of my mom’s,” Ramiro mutters.

Nina and Ámbar share a grin.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna’s out of breath by the time she gets to Katie’s room.

She really has to go to the gym more.

“Finally,” Katie mutters.

Luna looks around, seeing if anything’s wrong.

Oh god, please tell me she has a good reason for this. She has a good reason. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Are you alright?” The nurse paged me 911.”

“Ha, it took me forever to get her to even pick up the phone. I had to go full Hulk.”

“Wait. So there’s nothing wrong? Nothing medically wrong?”

“I’m bored.” Katie shrugs.

Luna likes to think she’s a nice person. A little absentminded at times, but a nice person nonetheless.

Katie, however, is really testing the whole “do no harm” thing.

“I am not your babysitter. I am not your cruise director. You can’t just page me for anything.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. My pageant is supposed to be on cable, but it’s like this hospital lives in the ’90s. I can’t find anything. If someone who’s not me gets the crown, I should at least get to see it.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She’s a teenager. You were also stupid as a teenager.

“Okay. This is a hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep and stop wasting my time.”

“I can’t sleep, my head’s all full.”

“Those are called thoughts. Run with them.” Luna says in a fit of anger.

She’s been working for almost 24 hours and she just wanted 2 minutes of rest.

But maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at a patient.

But that’s a lesson for another day.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna and Nina are in the ER when they hear a loud voice.

“4B has post-op pneumonia. Let’s get her started on antibiotics, okay?” An intern says to a nurse.

Someone didn’t tell the newbie not to piss off the nurses.

“Are you sure it’s the right diagnosis?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. I’m only an intern. But here’s an idea. You go and spend 4 years in med school and then talk to me. She’s got shortness of breath and fever. It’s post-op pneumonia. Start antibiotics.” He sneers.

Luna rolls her eyes.

The same guy walks over to her and Nina, “God, I hate nurses. I’m Benicio. I’m with Jeremy. You guys are with the Nazi, right?”

“You know it doesn’t have to be pneumonia, right? It could be splinting. Or she could have aPE.”

He sneers again (does it ever leave his face?), “As I said, I hate nurses.” and walks away.

“Well, he’s an absolute idiot,” Nina says, shooting daggers towards Benicios across the room.

Luna’s about to respond, but her pager beeps again.

“Dammit, Katie.”

This time she walks.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

#soy luna #soy luna fic #lutteo #soy luna grey's au #simbar #yamiro #gastina #hope you guys enjoy it!

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littlegiantposts · 4 years ago

Text

movie night

pairing: todoroki x f!reader

warning: strong language probably. possible anime/manga spoilers! grammar mistakes :( I suck at writing

summary: It’s not that Y/n didn’t want friends, it’s just people always found her intimidating

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent lol sorry about that, so like yeah I’m gonna be saying y/n, but also i am deriving her personality, attitude, looks from a character that I’ve sort of made up in my head haha. also idk if this is like a headcanon, imagine, or like a scenaro....so sorry. And like, sort of a side note, I love making main characters that are like sorta op so y/n’s quirk and story is sorta insane, but you guys dont really have to worry about it too much because its not really in this so....yeah, i guess its just some context. I wrote this while listening to a playlist I made, titled, “ur a badass hero with class 1-a” on spotify so if ppl wanna hear it, I will post a link to it lol. OH and class 1-a are in their second year! That’s a lot, sorry! But, I hope you enjoy!

y/n’s quirk (if ur curious): controlling the 4 elements (aang from the last airbender vibe lmao); but she also got a companion named koda (think of Moro-no-kimi from Princess Mononoke for the look)

Y/n was never good at making friends. It’s not like she didn’t try, because she did. When she was a little kid, living on Catalina Island, she made a lot of attempts to make friends with fellow children in her pre-school and middle school. It just seemed that they wanted nothing to do with her, talking bad about her behind her back or acting as if she just didn’t exist.

It started to get exhausting for Y/n to keep trying and ending up always failing. So, when enrolling in the top hero school, UA, Y/n thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different.

Nonetheless, it’s not like she had absolutely no one. She had Koda! Her best friend in the whole wide world, well her only friend, which was her pet wolf. However, Koda doesn’t like being called a “pet”, let’s stick with her companion. They are quite the inseparable duo.

Y/n looked down at Koda from her desk who was lulling herself to sleep on the floor as Present Mic was teaching an English lesson. Y/n wished she too can sleep at this moment, “It wouldn’t hurt if I just closed my eyes for just a couple minutes.” Y/n thought. Oh, she was wrong though.

“Alright! We are going take a short break since we need to get our new textbooks,” Present Mic’s voice rang through her ears with all his elongation and passion, “Y/n and Todoroki! What about you two go get the books from the library!” Y/n would have jolted at the mention of her face, but she was honestly too tired to do so.

She nodded her head, got up from her desk, and looked at Koda if he was going to follow her. Of course, he perked up at the mention of her name and was going with her. A small smile was now on Y/n’s lips. Y/n was glad that she knew she can depend on Koda, always in her corner.

As she pushed her chair away from her desk, getting up and walking towards the door, she didn’t realize that most of the class was either looking at her or the half and half boy, for he had to endure the trip with the enigma that is Y/n.

The class just doesn’t know Y/n that well. She was one of the new students this year, along with Shinso. However, they at least knew of Shinso from last year. Y/n was a brand-spanking new addition to the class. Not to mention, her introduction to the class was nothing short of intimidating.

Aizawa knew Y/n had a lot of strengths. In fact, he used her skills as a type of learning lesson for the class. Not to mention, he completely singled her out during the “lesson” as he instructed the class that Y/n will have a bell that is tied around her belt. All they had to do was get the bell. Y/n, being the competitive person she was, didn’t back down at this challenge. Safe to say, no one was able to get the bell that day.

Y/n sighed at the memory. “Maybe, if you had some chill, you would be able to get a friend, Y/n” a voice in her head said, causing Y/n’s shoulders to shrink and her hands to be stuffed into her pockets. (Yes, she has pockets with her uniform. Yes, she’s still wearing the school uniform skirt. She sowed pockets into them for this very habit.)

“Uh, hey wait up.” a deeper voice called, already identifying who it is.

Y/n turned to right, looking at Koda for a brief second. From far away, one would think he was just grimacing, but as Y/n was closer, she can see he was very close to full-on growling at the sound of his voice.

Koda doesn’t really like Todoroki and Y/n always found it funny. Koda found everyone else real entertaining. As much as Koda was a wolf, he really was a people’s person. If Y/n didn’t know any better, it seemed Koda had a better relationship with her classmates than she actually did.

Y/n adopted a tired smile as she reacted to Koda’s growling at Shoto. She then looked behind her, seeing Todoroki jog lightly towards her. Her small smile soon faded away.

“Even if you try again to be a friend, you know that people will always end up fearing you.” Y/n honestly wanted to bang her head against a wall because this annoying voice was truly the bane of her existence.

Y/n stopped in her tracks. Koda made eye-contact with her, almost telepathically asking her, “Why are you stopping for him?!”.

“I may be aloof, but I have to at least be polite.” Y/n told her wolf companion. Koda only let out a breathe of frustration as he also stopped as well.

Todoroki soon caught up to the duo and was on Y/n’s left side. And the three began their trek to the school library.

There was some silence.

For Todoroki, it was so awkward. “Why don’t you say something to her?” he asks himself, “Or are you going to let another opportunity slip?”

You see, Shoto Todoroki admired Y/n. She was incredibly skilled with her quirk. She was confident, but not arrogant. She was an innovator, while still accepting old principles. She was naturally smart, but always open to learning. To him, she was so balanced. He couldn’t help himself as the admiration started to soon feel like a crush on the dark haired girl.

For Y/n, she didn’t think anything of the silence. In fact, she was grateful for the silence. More silence, means less time for talking. Less chance of Y/n making a fool out of herself.

“You seem more tired than usual. Trained a lot yesterday, I presume?” And Todoroki broke the silence that Y/n was trying to insist.

“Yeah, trying out a new technique with my water.”

Y/n was surprised.

She really could have been more blunt with her answer.

Theoretically, all she really had to respond with was a “yeah”, but she decided to add that last part.

Why? Why did she feel inclined to go into more detail? Now, Y/n was confused.

“That’s cool.” Todoroki wanted to hit himself in the head. “That’s all you got to say? What a conversation this is” Shoto mentally sighs. He feels like his heart is going to burst at how fast its going.

“I’m actually trying to freeze it, but that turns out to be harder than expected,” Y/n almost slapped her hand on her mouth.

Why is she going into more detail? This doesn’t make sense. She’s been quite blunt lately when people try to talk to her, so what gives?

Is it Todoroki, himself? “Maybe he put a spell on me or something.” Y/n didn’t think the “icy-hot bastard” would dabble in witchcraft, but things were just not adding up in Y/n’s mind. All these thoughts woke Y/n right up, ridding herself of her tiredness.

As for Todoroki, his mind was going into overdrive. “She’s having trouble with freezing water? She must know that this is my specialty. Is this her way of spending time with me? Does this mean the feelings I have for her are mutual? Perhaps, we can train together and I can help her with freezing.” The mere thought of spending time with Y/n outside of class made his cheeks warm up.

He was an absolute love-struck fool for Y/n.

“Oh, we’re here.” Y/n stated the obvious as they stand in front of the school’s library, halting Shoto’s mental mumbling, which almost resembled one of Midoryia’s ever-present babbling.

Shoto Todoroki immediately shot his arm forward to open the door for Y/n, but Y/n was thinking the same thing and they reached for the same handle.

Their hands touch.

And Todoroki thinks he can die happy now. Y/n’s hand is so soft. Much to his dismay, Y/n immediately drew her hand back as if his hand was scalding hot water.

Y/n mumbled a quick “sorry” and places her hand on the other handle as there are two doors to the library, she opens it and immediately walks through it as Koda follows in tow. Koda dawns an absolute confused look as he didn’t know what the hell that interaction was about.

The actual task of getting the books aren’t that hard. In fact, it was an easy and quick task.

So, why is this causing Y/n’s mind and heart feeling like they are overheating.

As they walk back to the classroom with stacks of textbooks, Y/n thought, “Okay, there’s no way in hell that he will try to talk to me again, especially after that awkward incident. Now, let’s breakdown why the actual hell you acted that way, Y/n.” She mentally scolded herself like she was a child.

Todoroki, as always, had a different plan and decided to continue the conversation, “You know, if you need help with freezing water, I can always help you since that is part of my quirk.”

Y/n has officially short-circuited.

He is voluntarily asking? Voluntarily. Asking?

Asking if Y/n wanted to train together?

This has never happened before, and she doesn’t know how to respond. “I would like that. I typically train in the morning and sometimes after school” is what Y/n felt like saying. It is as if her mind and mouth were working against each other.

However, Y/n’s thoughts were cut short as she heard the chatter of some of her fellow classmates. They three of them were very close to their classroom as their door to the room was wide open.

“Hey guys, if we’re having a movie night tonight, do you think we should invite Y/n?”

It was Midoryia who asked the question. Y/n, Shoto, and Koda stopped dead in their tracks at the mention of her name. Shoto and Koda looked at Y/n with a worried expression. For her own good, she probably shouldn’t be listening, but she couldn’t help but be curious of her classmates’ plan in regards to her.

“It’s not that we don’t want her there. It’s just that, who is up for asking her?”

Silence. No one responded to the question.

Koda notices how Y/n’s grip on the textbooks tightened. Shoto noticed how your head was now titled downward, hiding your face.

“She’s just so intimidating. And not to mention that training exercise we did when we first met her. She’s sort of scary, to be honest.”

“Scary. You’re scary, Y/n. Terrifying.” She couldn’t help but repeat her classmates’ thought of her. She was just torturing herself at this point. No point in dwelling on first impressions, but as this is affecting her current relationship, or lack thereof, with her classmates, she couldn’t help it.

“Y/n-” Todoroki tries to interject before Y/n gets the wrong idea.

But, it’s too late.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the offer though, Todoroki.” Y/n’s words were slow. As much as her brain was going a million miles per hour, her mouth was evidently slower as her breathing was heavier.

She wanted to disappear, or at least get swallowed by the ground. She kept her head down as she strode into the classroom. Her classmates being oblivious to Y/n’s knowledge of what they truly think of her, paying no attention to her.

Shoto was basically frozen in place, next to the door, but he gained composure and walked in the class as well, a couple seconds after. Y/n quickly placed her books on the front desk where Present Mic sat behind of, she sat back in her seat that was in the back of the class.

Y/n watched how Shoto was still standing in front of the classroom as he was stopped by his classmates. Now, they were just chatting, probably talking about the upcoming movie night.

Y/n felt jealousy bubble up inside her. She wished she can chat like how Shoto was effortlessly talking away to his classmates. Or how Midoryia stopped him with such ease to talk about a social event.

Y/n yearned for some friendly interaction. That’s what she wanted when coming to UA.

She wanted to be normal. As normal as she could be. A normal teenager.

“Things don’t always go according to plan, huh?” Y/n pouted and placed her head on her desk and just waited patiently till the school day was over.

Koda worriedly looked at Y/n. “She’s going to want to train after this. And I bet she’s going to push herself harder because of today.” Koda knew Y/n very well. Knew her like the back of his hand, well, paw.

And, Koda was right. Y/n was in gym gamma, completely exhausted. Sweat covered her body as her muscles were screaming at her take a break. Her labored breathe continued as her body was trying its best to keep up.

Y/n was frustrated. “Why? Why am I like this?” she kept repeating like a mantra.

“I want to be normal. Why can’t I be like them?”

“Why?”

“You’re a monster. It’s actually quite simple.”

Y/n threw a punch with her fist encased in water, and it wasn’t until after that punch was thrown, she realized that there was now an evident hole in the thick, solid concrete wall.

Y/n fell to her knees. Koda hurriedly made his way to her, making sure she didn’t do anything too stupid. Once Koda was close, she was doing something unexpected.

She was crying.

Hot streams, cascading down her face. She started to hiccup, her breathing erratic. “A-am I scary to you, Koda?” her voice was so small.

Koda nudged his way in between her legs and nestled his head into her neck. Y/n, full on sobbing now, wraps her arms around Koda and her cries are muffled by his fur. Wailing and self-deprecating questions can be faintly heard from her if anyone were to enter the gym.

A couple minutes passed. Y/n’a breathing returned to a calm rhythm.

“Thanks, Koda. I needed that,” Y/n sniffles, “C’mon let’s go make dinner, I’ll whip you up something special for putting up with me today.” Koda’s tail immediately began to wag at the thought of Y/n’s cooking.

Y/n was an independent person. She likes doing things on her own as much as can. She doesn’t eat the food from the school cafeteria, instead, she opts for making her and Koda’s meals from the kitchen that is provided to them in their dormitory. And indeed, she made a delicious dinner for both of them.

Now, the hard part. Because of how long her training took, showering, and making dinner, Y/n knew that her classmates were in the common space already, probably preparing to have their movie night. And, she had to pass them. It was a short distance, short walk, Y/n was trying to reassure herself. Just walk straight towards to the elevator and you’re safe.

Y/n takes a deep breathe and walks out of the kitchen. The chatter of her classmates emerges to her ears, but as she walks towards the elevator, the chatter dies down.

“Oh no.” Y/n’s eyes widened in fear. “Way to go on ruining the mood, Y/n.”

Thankfully, the elevator was quick and the doors slide open, making an easy escape for Y/n and Koda. She let out a breathe she didn’t even realize she was holding in as the doors slid shut. Y/n looks at Koda, who was already looking at her, “It’s better this way, anyway” Y/n didn’t know if she was telling Koda that, or herself.

On the other side of the elevator’s doors, her classmates collectively let out a sigh, “Well that was another chance we wasted.” Kaminari was the first to break the awkward silence.

“Tch. Like any of you have the guts to actually ask her.” Bakugo chimed in.

“Oh please, Bakugo, I know she intimidates you, too.” Mina fired back.

“Whatever.”

“She heard you guys.” Todoroki suddenly talked. Everyone casted their attention to him, “Earlier today, I mean. She heard you guys when you were talking about inviting her to movie night.”

The once light-hearted atmosphere in the room was now tilted with guilt.

“She heard all that?” Midoryia incredulously asked, only imagining what you would be feeling because of their words.

“She must feel terrible.” Ochaco openly voiced her thoughts.

“She probably hates us.” Kirishima adds in.

“She means well, I promise. I think we just need to give her a chance.” Todoroki tries to reason with his classmates.

“First, we need to apologize.” Midoryia proposes as he looks among his classmates. His classmates collectively nod their heads in agreement

“You’re right. Well, good luck Midoryia.” Kaminari pats his back as encouragement. Everyone else either gives an encouraging smile or a thumbs up.

“Ha?! What?! You guys already decided that I’m going to be the one to apologize?” Izuku was flailing his arm around and was checking everyone else’s reaction.

“Well, yes. It’s your idea and you are one of the most apologetic people here.” Iida explained to an overthinking Midoryia.

After regaining composure, he realized that this was probably the best option, “Okay, I’ll, I’ll go now.”

Midoryia makes his way to Y/n’s dorm room. He was nervous. He only had very limited interactions with Y/n. So, he really didn’t know what to expect. Before he knew it, he was before your door.

On the other side, Y/n was chowing down on her food. She took a swig of her water, “So, how’s the food? I tried a new technique on roasting the veggies.” Y/n babbled on for a bit, but she realized that Koda’s plate was hardly touched. Her gaze landed on Koda who was sitting on her bed with a very obvious frown, staring at the door. Y/n immediately knew why.

“Hey, if you wanna go hangout with them, I can push the buttons on the elevator for you-”

Koda was irritated at how difficult Y/n was being, she can just ask them if she can join. It was simple. Koda used his mouth to latch on to Y/n’s sleeve and started to drag her to her dorm’s door.

“H-hey Koda! Not cool, man! You know, I can’t go down there.” Y/n tugs her sleeve away from Koda.

Koda turned to his last resort. He did his signature pout.

“Oh, please. You know that stopped working on me awhile ago. Besides, we can have our own movie night, right?” Y/n tried to reason, but her reasoning just felt sad.

Before Y/n could step away from her dorm’s door, she heard a knock. The two quickly tuned their heads at the door as if something miraculous just happened.

Y/n took one step toward the door.

“It’s Midoryia.” Koda began to wag his tail, “don’t get your hopes up too quickly.”

Y/n opened the door only a slit for her head to poke out, “Oh, hi Midoryia. Is something wrong?” she asks.

“U-um, no nothings wrong.” he responds as nerves start to take over and he doesn’t continue on.

“Okay.” With that, Y/n closed her door. Koda wanted to scratch his eyes out. This was her chance! For someone who was the top student in her class, she was so stupid. “He didn’t want anything. Sorry to disappoint, Koda-” another knock interrupted her.

She looked at the door, “It’s still Midoryia.” Koda rolled his eyes.

Y/n went to to open the door, again, only opening a bit, “Yes, Midoryia? You sure something isn’t wrong?”

“Uh, well I was wondering if we can talk for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Y/n stepped out of her door, and shutting it.

However, Koda was right on her trail, but was shut out by the now closed door. He pouts at the door. And how holds his ear to the door, interested in the conversation that has yet to come.

“So, what’s up?” Y/n asked the green-haired boy.

“I, we, as a class, wanted to apologize for our words today.” Midoryia spoke in a remorseful and quiet tone.

Y/n was taken back. “So, they know that I heard what they were saying? Must have been Todoroki’s doing.”

“Look, it’s fine. I know I’m intimidating-“

“But it’s not fine. We shouldn’t have treated or talked about you that way.”

Y/n was stunned at his words. He took that as a sign to continue, “and we were hoping, if you’d be okay if we start over and become friends.”

Y/n remained cautious with her walls, “You know, friendship isn’t really a perquisite for this course.”

“Of course, I know that. We all do, but it doesn’t hurt to have them, right?”

Y/n felt like tearing up. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to put her trust in that last statement of his.

“I’ll be be down in 5 minutes,” Y/n stated rather blandly, but it didn’t matter to Midoryia.

“Great! See ya!” He waved and started to head back to the elevator, before he pressed the button, Y/n called him once more,

“Midoryia?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” and nods his head. He couldn’t be more thrilled that this will all work out.

As for Y/n, she opened her door to her dorm, and closing it as she stepped inside.

As soon as she was in the comfort of her own room, she broke into her happy dance. Her fists clenched, eyes shut, shoulders scrunched, jumping in the air, squeals make their way pass her lips, with the biggest smile on her face

Koda felt a wave of relief of wash over him. He was glad that she was finally experiencing acceptance.

After the moment passes, Y/n sighs and looks at Koda, ruffling his fur on the top of his head.

“Well, shall we?” Y/n said in an extravagant manner as she opened her door and bowed.

Koda, playing along, held his head high and strutted out. Y/n let out a light-hearted laugh and they made their way down, together.

Once Y/n actually made it to the common room, all of her classmates were looking at her, stopping their conversations as well. The confidence that Y/n help was long gone, feeling now awkward yet again.

However, the silence didn’t last too long as the class enveloped her in boisterous apologies, hugs, and pats on the back.

To say Y/n was overwhelmed was understatement. She had never been around these many people, giving attention towards her. It was new territory she had yet to cross.

“Guys, you should probably let her breathe.”

That was Todoroki. Y/n pried her eyes away from Mina who was asking what conditioner she uses, and looked at Shoto. Y/n mouthed a “thank you” and he simply nodded.

The class went back to their seats, muttering apologies again for getting in her personal space.

Now, Y/n faced yet another problem:

Where is she going to sit?!

She kept standing where she stood for a good couple seconds, scanning the area for any good spots.

However, there was actually only one spot open. And, it just happen to be next to Todoroki.

Y/n mentally prepared herself and started her path towards him. Of course, Shoto knew this. He was the one who made sure he saved a seat right next to him just for this occasion.

But things don’t always go according to plan, right?

Rightly so, right before Y/n could take the unaccompanied seat, Denki was coming back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, plopping right down on the seat.

“Oh, hey Y/n! I’m glad you made it! You want some popcorn?”

“No, I’m good, thanks though.” Y/n was able to play it off as she chose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, which coincidentally was in front of the seat that Shoto resided.

Shoto was irritated. He wanted you to sit next to him. For crying out loud, that was the whole reason he had this seat open in the first place. All he does is sigh, catching Y/n’s attention.

Y/n turns back to Todoroki, sending a small smile his way, but then turning back to the screen as her fellow classmates were arguing on what to watch.

Y/n put her hand to her chest. This is weird. Why is her heart rate so high? She’s not usually like this. Maybe Todoroki did cast a spell on her.

Y/n couldn’t think about it too much as the movie began playing.

#bnha shoto #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki x reader #midoriya izuku #mha x you #mha x reader #shoto todoroki x y/n #mha angst #bnha imagines

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sunkissedspider · 5 years ago

Text

Late Nights | Tom Holland

MASTERLIST

***taglist is open!!! just send an ask or message me and i’ll add you :)***

***requests are open!!! just send an ask or message me your request if you have one :)***

pairing: Tom Holland x reader

summary: you and Tom get to talking one night and realize what you've been missing

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it, this is fictional), making out, language, fluff, etc.

listen to: 18 - One Direction (the lyrics don't work perfectly with this, but it's just such a soft song and i love it so much 🥺) for the fluffy parts of this and No Idea - Don Toliver (the tiktok version, not the regular version) for the smutty parts

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: repost since the first time i posted, it flopped!!! i was going through a little stage of writers block, but then one of my friends sent me an idea and i ended up writing this :) this is also the first Tom/non Peter thing i've posted on here. sorry for any spelling and/or grammar errors!!

(not my gif)

It had only been a few months since you had moved into the house next to Tom's, and let's just say that living next to your best friend was awesome. You and Tom had met when you were super young, and became best friends fast, and you two still continued to be close to this day. You guys even dated for a bit, and, even though you broke up, you went back to being just friends super quickly. You both never really talked about when you two were together, or the fact that you lost your virginities to each other since it was your first serious relationship. You both had dated (and slept with) other people, and were never bitter towards them, you guys even became close friends with some of them.

Nowadays, you two were both single and would hangout whenever you could. But, with Tom being an actor and with you working, the times you would be with just each other were rare. You would strategically plan movie nights and things like that, but you guys had been busier now than you had been in months, and you hadn't been able to see Tom in a few weeks, so you both were going crazy.

You were partially going crazy because he's your best friend, but also because you still had feelings for him. You just blamed it on the fact that you missed him and you were happy that you guys were neighbors now, but you knew that you were only lying to yourself about that. You didn't tell anyone how you were feeling at all. Not even Sam, who happened to be another one of your best friends.

***

It was around 1:00 am when you woke up alone in your house. You and Tom were both free the next day, but you were exhausted from work, so you opted to go to bed early and just see each other the next day. But here you are now. Cold and by yourself in an empty bed in an empty house. You decided to text Tom, knowing that he'd probably be up late watching T.V. since the boys were gone tonight.

y/n:

you still up?

tom:

yep :)

y/n:

do you wanna hangout or something? i'm lonely lol

tom:

come on over, the door's open

You practically sprang out of bed when you read that, throwing on a loose t-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers before locking your front door and heading over to Tom's house.

You walked up to his front door, opening it before walking in, breathing in deeply. The smell was comforting. It just smelled like Tom, a smell that you had missed like crazy over the past few months.

"Tom?" You asked after removing your sneakers by the front door, walking from the entryway towards the living room.

"Y/N!" He shouted, running over to you and wrapping you in a giant hug after springing up from the couch. You could almost hear his smile when he said your name.

"I missed you so much, Tommy!" You shrieked when he picked you up and spun you around the room.

He set you down after a few seconds, moving in to hug you again, breathing deeply. "God," He chuckled against you. "Three weeks is way too long not to be able to see you."

***

You two talked about everything under the sun for almost an hour. You talked about work, about friends, about how you two used to be together... That was the thing you talked about the most. The whole time, you could've sworn that Tom was going to kiss you, but he didn't. You hoped that he felt the same way about you still, and talking about everything again just made you realize how you felt about him even more. Who knows... maybe he was thinking about you in that way too.

After a while of watching some random show on T.V., Tom turned to look at you.

"You don't have a boyfriend, right?" He chewed on one of his lips nervously, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips over and over again.

You laughed so hard at that you snorted, your back arching as you chuckled.

"No, not at all. Even if I was, you'd be the first to know, Tom." You looked back at the screen, still laughing slightly from Tom's question.

"I haven't been in love with someone since you." He breathed out, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped quietly, almost like he was trying to swallow his nervousness.

"W-what?" You muted the volume on the T.V. before turning look at Tom face-to-face, the movement on the screen causing shadows to move across his face.

"Still think I'm in love with you, to be totally honest." He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I- Tom," You were staring at him, eyes blown wide. "What are you talking about?"

"Over the past few months I've realized how much I'm so fucking in love with you, Y/N. I don't sleep because I'm thinking about you, I can barely even concentrate when I'm talking with someone other than you. I'm so in love with you that it hurts." He explained, you two still staring at each other.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, his eyes locked on yours.

All you could do was nod, your mouth opening slightly as Tom gently placed his hands on either side of your neck. He moved towards your slowly, licking his lips slightly before closing the distance between you two. His lips were soft and tasted like mint toothpaste, a thing that you had missed about him. The kiss was perfect, soft and slow and familiar. Your lips molded together perfectly, like they were puzzle pieces that only fit together with each other.

Your hands started on his chest, pressed against it lightly as you just barely gripped the fabric of his thin t-shirt, but trailed up to his hair as the kiss grew more heated as the want you two had for each other grew stronger and stronger. Before you two knew it, you were kissing sloppily and stumbling through the halls, desperately trying to reach Tom's bedroom as quickly as possible.

You sighed lightly when you fell deftly onto the sheets of Tom's bed, smiling happily as he kissed down your stomach, your loose t-shirt pushed up to underneath your breasts. Your breath hitched in your throat when he nipped at the waistline of your sweatpants, another gasp falling past your lips when he did it again.

You moved around again to pull your sweatpants and underwear off on your own, already tired of his teasing. Tom laughed when you greedily pulled him up to you again, practically ripping his shirt off of him, exposing his toned chest which took your breath away for a few seconds, your eyes blowing wide for what felt like hundredth time tonight.

Tom chuckled and moved to stand up, removing the rest of his clothes, revealing his muscular body to you even more. He moved over to you again, his body hovering over yours as he kissed you hungrily after removing your shirt, revealing your breasts which caused him to moan as you giggled at his reaction.

He kissed down your neck, sucking and biting slightly, loving the way that you moaned.

"Tom," You moaned breathlessly, nails scratching at the skin of his back. "S-stop teasing, I want you inside of me." His movements stopped right then and there, your words causing him to groan.

He leaned over you again, his hard cock in one of his hands, looking at you; your back at an angle against his pillow, your eyes blown wide with lust.

"Are you sure you want this? We don't- we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can walk you back to your place and we won't ever talk about this again if that's what you want. I won't even tell Haz." He questioned seriously, a slightly nervous look on his face.

"Stop, Tom," You laughed as he continued rambling, kissing him hard to finally make him stop. "I want this. God, I want this to happen so badly. I've wanted this to happen for so long."

That was all Tom needed to hear before kissing you again, finallysliding into you.

You two practically moaned in sync, the feeling of Tom inside of you taking the breath away from both of you. And as soon as you breathlessly told him to move, he did just that. He moved out of you slowly, relishing the feeling of being inside of you, before snapping his hips forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin and loud moans filling the quiet room.

You moaned even louder when looked above you, the sight sending you into a euphoric state; Tom was groaning loudly above you, his dark brown curls falling against his forehead as the moonlight coming through his open window lit the two of you up perfectly.

Your hands moved through his hair, tugging harshly when he hit that spot. He switched between paces; either quick, forceful thrusts or long, slow ones. It didn't matter though, either drove you absolutely crazy.

"Tom! Shit, I'm gonna cum! Fuck," You practically shrieked, Tom's head moving to the crook of your neck, nipping slightly at the sensitive skin.

"Fuck, baby, me too!" He groaned against your skin, his eyes screwing shut tightly as he tried not to cum yet, wanting you to let go first.

He thrusted into even faster, and with one particular thrust, you came. Hard. Harder than you ever had before. Just like you knew you would. And practically a second after, Tom came too, his teeth biting harshly into your left shoulder as you both basically screamed.

Tom tried his best not to collapse on top of you, but he failed miserably since you both were absolutely exhausted. After a little while, Tom spoke up first;

"Sorry about your shoulder." He said with an almost innocent voice, his fingers lightly grazing the prominent bite mark on your left shoulder.

You chuckled lightly at that, Tom looking up at you with a big smile on his face before he moved up closer to you, moving so that you both were snuggled up underneath his comforter.

"I love you so much." He mumbled against your skin, kissing you quickly before closing his eyes and sinking back into his pillows again, you against his chest.

"I love you too, Tommy." You chuckled quietly, your fingers tracing small patterns onto his toned chest.

After a few minutes, when you both were almost asleep, you heard a loud knock on Tom's door.

"Yo," You heard a voice from behind the door, the voice of Harrison. The sound of at least three people chuckling could be heard too. "If you two are gonna fuck again, would you mind being a little bit quieter? The boys and I could practically hear you two when we were walking back from the pub."

__________

taglist: @ertherealrose

#peter parker #smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #mcu

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bigbrotherlouis · 4 years ago

Note

for director’s cut: the raleigh/airport scene in ‘i can’t find nothin’...’ if you would like to!!!!

ANGELA you’re gonna make me talk about sex scenes on main?! let’s DO IT

(director’s cut meme)

andrei understands, on some level, why they have to fly commercial, (i’m always going to make players fly commercial in fic if i can. direct action.) even with a job like theirs, but in practicality, when he’s wandering around the raleigh airport at six am after their flight out is delayed, he doesn’t.

marty’s laughing at him in the way that means he’s trying to be subtle about it, but andrei’s too grumpy to care. (this was for la.) it’s too fucking early and the line for coffee is too fucking long.

“it’s too early,” he whines. marty flips over the book in his hands to read the back cover.

“boo fuckin’ hoo, bud.”

“i’m tired.” and again, in russian, “я устал.”

“не— не— i don’t care,” (i couldn’t remember how to phrase this properly and i didn’t want to look it up, plus it’s funny) marty snaps back. “it’s your own fault for watching tv until one in the morning.”

“it was gossip girl,” he mutters. “important american culture.” (in one of my transition workshops where we learned to handle moving countries, we watched mean girls as an example of american culture. true story.)

“uh huh, and degrassi is exactly how canadian high school was like.” (didn’t like the flow on this sentence but i couldn’t figure out how else to phrase it. oh well.)

andrei is, like, ninety percent sure marty didn’t finish high school in canada, but he’s not willing to take the chance that he’s wrong and get teased about it. “please, can we go to starbucks now? давай, давай.” [let’s go, let’s go] (translation is always a struggle, and even more so when it’s a different alphabet like russian. i decided to include translations when context isn’t immediately clear for the reader’s comfort. also, this is something my family does-- use a different language when we want to stress something, like svechy stressing that he wants to leave)

“talking in russian won’t get me to go any faster, svechy,” marty says, placid for the early morning, and shoves a book into andrei’s hands. “here. read this and distract yourself.”

“i don’t read until i awake.” (svechy’s syntax was hard for me to write, because i want it to be clear, true to character, and respectful all at once which is hard to balance. it’s why svech’s grammar can sometimes seem a little inconsistent-- sometimes, i chose respect and readability over true to characterization. also, transliteration of accents can make people seem childish or dumb which is absolutely not what i want!)

“sucks to suck.”

andrei grumbles under his breath, a mixture of russian and english and some of sebastian’s favourite swedish (this should be finnish. oops.) curses thrown in there too, absently drumming his fingers on the cover of the book he’s still holding. marty is paying him no attention, which almost bothers him as much as the lack of caffeine does.

he’s cocking his head to read the spines of the books in the airport store when he feels the heat of someone step behind him, too close for politeness, and he’s whirling before he can even really think about it. (there really aren’t a lot of places spies can meet up by accident without getting too repetitive, especially in something that’s supposed to be silly and short, but an airport felt plausible.)

“whoa,” says joel, stepping back out of andrei’s elbows. “easy there.”

“joel?”

“in the flesh,” he says with a grin, and andrei’s thinking about how twice is a coincidence but three times is a pattern when (this is me lampshading their constant meetups because i didn’t feel like expounding on it LOL)— “is that twilight?”

“i— what?”

“the book you’re reading.”

andrei looks down at his hands and then scowls in the general direction of the shelves. fucking marty. (this is the whole reason they’re in the bookstore. for me to make this joke about svech holding twilight.)

joel tips his head to the side and grins wider. “didn’t peg (haha peg) you for a vampire guy, but i can see it. wait, fuck, are you from transylvania?” (apologies to americans but this is a little jab at your general geography abilities)

“no, not in in russia,” he says absently. “siberia, yes. transylvania, no. why you here?”

“well, i just like to lurk around airports for fun. you see interesting people like this.”

“really.”

joel snorts. “no, i have a flight, dumbass. i’m a business bitch.” (my rule of thumb for writing joel’s dialogue is to think of the most ridiculous thing i can imagine a person saying in any given circumstance and then assigning him that line.)

“a business bitch?”

“yeah, dude. makin’ money moves n’shit.”

“you’re not following me?” andrei asks, aiming for teasing, pretending it’s not a real question. (more lampshading. i was lazy.) joel makes his eyes go wide and innocent, and mostly doesn’t succeed.

“andrew,” he says, outraged. “are you accusing me of being a stalker?”

“yes.”

“oh, so you’re definitely team edward. (this joke fell into my lap) i see how it is. can’t a bro say hi to his bro in an airport, especially after getting a decent brojob the last time they saw each other?”

andrei mouths the word brojob (i crack up every time this term is used and joel would absolutely say it) and then shakes his head. “no.”

“tough crowd. what are you doing here, buddy?”

“waiting for marty to finish so we can go to starbucks. too early and he is too slow.”

“yeah?” joel looks over at where marty is now examining the overpriced souvenirs with a very careful air, taking them off the shelves and putting them gently back. (i was very into this image) “wanna go stand in line with me?” (high romance there, bee)

strictly speaking, marty and andrei are supposed to be together when travelling, just in case someone gets snatched. it’s happened before, but andrei really, really wants something to drink before they fly out to fucking vancouver, or wherever they’re going. he can’t even remember. besides, if joel was going to snatch him, he would’ve done it earlier, in the hotel when andrei was fucked out and happy. he shrugs. (listen. i didn’t want to do any worldbuilding because it was a fun au so i did the bare minimum.)

“sure. marty, i go to stand in line,” he yells and marty waves a hand without looking up. the line stretches down the hallway, too many people patiently waiting for a rush. (i’m so familiar with this and it makes me sad just writing about it) andrei can’t fault them; he’s tired too, which is why he doesn’t realise that joel’s pulling him towards the bathrooms instead of the coffee shop, pushing him into the family stall and shoving the door closed. (i’m gonna be honest: i have absolutely no idea why i made this a sex scene. like none. i remember being halfway through and being like “....i’m writing?? airport sex??” but i don’t remember why i decided it was a good idea.)

for a second, andrei thinks this is when he gets kidnapped and killed, a rival taking him out in the crowded airport where no one can see. the bulgarian maneuver would’ve been a lot less conspicuous, but oh well. (this is referring to the bulgarian assassins who killed a journalist in the 80s? i think? with a poison-tipped umbrella and i’m just now realising that’s probably not common knowledge)

instead, joel clicks the lock in place and presses up close, plastered to the front of andrei.

“wha—” says andrei, but it’s swallowed up in joel’s mouth, swallowed up in the kiss that joel gives him. he kisses back, of course he does, because it’s a fucking good kiss. joel hums, coaxing his mouth open for a minute and then biting on his lower lip before pulling away. he doesn’t go far, hands skimming down andrei’s body until he drops to his knees on the dirty bathroom floor.

“we are in a toilet,” andrei hisses. “in an airport.” (svech has the practical response)

joel shrugs, giving him the biggest shit-eating grin as he undoes his belt. (joel is never not going to be smug) “guess you have to be fast, then. besides, i owe you one.”

technically, he still got off last time, even if it was pretty basic, it’s not like andrei’s going to say no, not when joel is looking so eager and mischievous.

“don’t make too much noise,” instructs joel, (i realised after i posted the fic that both blowjobs start with someone giving instructions and i’m gonna say it’s because it’s a literary parallel and not because i don’t know how to transition into sexual acts) and then he’s got his mouth on andrei’s dick and andrei can’t think of anything else to say. he bangs his head against the door and clamps a hand over his mouth, digging his fingers of his other hand into the wood behind him.

joel is good enough that andrei’s not going to last long, not like this, getting off on the secrecy of it all. (read: i just didn’t want to write a lot. but also i think svechy has an exhibitionist streak in him and joel definitely does) it’s a tiny bit shameful in the way that makes him groan into his palm, makes him rock his hips into joel’s hot mouth. joel just hums around andrei’s dick and that’s— okay, that’s a lot. andrei’s gonna get a splinter under his nails from digging so hard, or maybe he’s gonna die on the spot, or like something because joel pulls off to just go right back in again and fuck. (fun fact! i’ve never had sex i don’t know what i’m writing)

“fuck,” he hisses through the meat of his hand. “fuck!”

it’s too loud, probably, and joel’s eyes flick up to his with a warning.

“sorry,” andrei breathes. joel pinches his thigh, sharp enough to sting, and embarrassingly, that’s what makes him come with a noise between a breath and a whine.

“baller,” (joel pick something less sexy to say i dare you) joel says smugly when andrei comes back to earth, enough of a douche move that andrei can’t help but roll his eyes. he flicks joel on the cheek.

“you suck.”

he grins. “well, yeah. obviously.” (low hanging fruit but he’d say it so i wrote it)

“idiot,” andrei mutters and then tugs on joel’s shoulders until he stands up, pulls him in until he can nudge at joel’s jaw with his nose. “i help you?”

joel shakes his head, his hair tickling the side of andrei’s cheek. “nah, i like it when you owe me. hey, does it count as being part of the mile high club if we’re still on the ground?” (i was literally in the middle of posting this fic to ao3 before i realised i had not made a mile high joke which was unacceptable. typed it right into the text box)

“no?”

“damn. it’s on my bucket list.”

“you so weird,” andrei tells him, not managing to keep the fondness out of his voice, and then yawns so hard his jaw cracks. “i’ll pay you back with a drink.”

“oh my god,” says joel and then pinches andrei in the side so he twitches. “i just gave you the best airport blowjob—”

“only airport blowjob.”

“the best fucking airport blowjob of your life, and you’re thinking about drinks? fuckin’ ridiculous, andrew.”

“not andrew, yo-el.” (this is svech getting back at joel as best he can. trying to give it as good as he gets it. establishing banter!!)

“sure, bro,” joel mumbles and andrei shoves at him so he can get his pants back on, fumbling with the door. “next time better be fuckin’ phenomenal. you owe me big time.”

“excuse me, you said it was payback. we equal.”

“maybe i changed my mind,” joel says with a grin, bumping him with his hip.

“maybe i disappear forever,” he replies, halfway between teasing and halfway to serious. joel reaches up to fix his snapback (this is also for la.) and shrugs.

“nah, you’re too sweet to do that.”

“i’m not sweet.”

“uh huh, bro. keep tellin’ yourself that shit.”

the line’s gone down, incredibly, and they’re close enough to the counter that andrei has to start thinking about what to order. he should probably get something for marty, or risk getting whined at all flight.

“yo,” says joel when they’re two people away from the barista. “you got digits?”

andrei hesitates and then holds up his hands, wriggling his fingers. “uh. yes?” (it’s probably more in character for real life joel to ask for instagram instead but this joke made me laugh so much that i couldn’t bear to leave it out. also it’s a little fun second language moment)

joel blinks at him for a long second and then breaks out into a wide smile, shaking his head. “nah, not those. i mean, like, a phone number.”

“i don’t have a phone,” he mutters and then pulls one out of his pocket. (YES this is a tumblr post ripoff but svech wasn’t just going to give it up so easily so in it went) “okay, give.”

he dutifully types out the sequence joel rattles off and then sends a smiley face to the number when joel makes him text.

“cool. now we can text instead of ambushing each other in public.”

“that not me,” andrei tells him. “all you.”

“you’re jumpy and it’s cute.”

“i’ll delete your number. block it.” he warns and joel waves a hand.

“yeah, yeah,” he says cheerfully and then leans over to tell the barista what he wants to drink. it’s the most ridiculous sugary concoction, hardly any coffee, and andrei stares at him in horror. (this is projection for my horror at some of the things i’ve seen in american coffee shops. that’s just. so much sugar. also prime chirping opportunity to show their personalities and dynamic a little)

“you gonna drink that?” he asks and joel frowns a little. “is just sugar. candy.”

“yeah, so? it tastes so good.”

“you not gonna have teeth.” he orders two cold brews and pays. “you gonna die early from sugar.”

“somehow,” joel says with a sparkle in his eye, “i don’t think it’s gonna be the sugar that’ll nerf me in the end.” (minor foreshadowing here! also lmao @ the thought of joel saying nerf)

he gets his vanilla bean java chip unicorn whatever frappuccino— literally, what the fuck— and takes a satisfied sip.

“disgusting,” says andrei. “no more kissing for you.”

“aw, bud, how am i gonna practice? you said i needed it.” (it’s not stated in the fic but joel learned how to flirt from watching tk and patty and i think it shows)

“lost cause,” he tells him airily. he’s about to suggest something— he’s not even sure what— when someone appears over joel’s shoulder.

“farabee,” the guy says. he looks stern, but that might be the impressive beard. or the death glare he’s levelling andrei’s way. “where the fuck have you been?”

joel brandishes his drink. “caffeinating it up, g. stayin’ alert and awake.” (real life joel has said this at least once to claude, and i will stand by that statement)

g’s frown gets deeper. “we’re going to miss our flight.”

“nah, we’ve got time— oh, shit. yeah, we gotta bounce, bruh, but i’ll catch you later? text me.” (inelegant departure but my goal was to not overthink things in this fic, like i’m prone to do, so i left it) he almost literally get pulled away by his elbow, towed by his ginger friend through the airport so he can enthusiastically wave his goodbye.

“well,” marty says out of nowhere, reaching for his cold brew and making andrei jump. “there’s good news and bad news.”

“okay.”

“the good news is that he’s cute and somehow into your stupid face.” he takes a long drink, conscious that andrei is about to hit him for making him wait and enjoying it very much. (he’s dramatic and also i wanted to draw out the surprise a little) andrei needs new teammates.

“the bad news?” he prompts.

“the bad news,” repeats marty, grimacing. “the bad news is that he’s definitely in the same line of work as us.”([john mulaney voice] the other shoe just dropped.)

everything in andrei’s head grinds to a stop. “uh. what?”

“i recognize his handler. giroux, french canadian division.” (i’m gonna work g into fic when i can bc i love him)

“joel’s american,” he says absently and marty takes another drink, shrugging.

“so philly’s an international cooperation team. (this was my way of making the international aspect of the spy teams make sense, and also to not have this be enemies-to-lovers, as much as i love that trope) can’t imagine that ever happening.” he gives svech a look which, yes, andrei knows they work together because of a treaty or whatever, but still. he wants marty to be wrong about joel, for so many reasons.

mainly because he doesn’t like feeling like he’s been conned, not when he’s so good at doing the conning, and this is a big one. (it’s not my fic if there’s not at least a little angst!)

“fuck,” he says glumly. marty pats him on the shoulder.

“well,” he says. “at least he’s cute.” (marty’s trying to show his support for svech here! he just wants good things for his friend :)))

that was so fun to do, thank you so much for asking! ily!! <3 <3 <3

#personal issues #fic talk #hockey fic #hockey #hockey bros #my fic #long post #selkiefinalist

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nordic-language-love · 5 years ago

Text

Goal Evaluation

Another two months have gone by so it’s time for my next goal reevaluation! I’ll put this under a read more as it’ll likely get long.

I’m going to start by saying I’ve been slacking the past two months, no question about it. I’ve been trying to think about why I lost my motivation and I think these are probably the answers:

With Spanish, I lost motivation because my classes weren’t pushing me and I had exams on topics that bored me. All I’ve learned in the past two years of classes is about holidays and my daily routine. For the first year that was... a little dull but okay. A second year of it was not okay. For the first half of the year I had a tutor who, despite making me feel small and stupid during classes, pushed me to better myself. For the second half of the year, we had a teacher who was lovely, but made me grow complacent. Since classes have stopped for the summer, I’ve just not found the motivation to pick it back up again.

I also debated dropping Spanish and picking up French. I’m still considering this, but I’ve decided I want to take at least one more year of Spanish, and then I’ll reevaluate.

With Norwegian, I think I just burned out a little bit. I always do this: I push myself so hard, and I see a lot of improvement, but then I burn out, i lose the progress i made. Then I feel like I suck and everything is difficult and I wonder why I even bother.

I also planned to push myself to do the Bergenstest next year because I felt so in a rut I decided maybe I should try my chances at university in Norway, but now with the new possibility of having a performance career, my priorities have changed, and I want to focus more energy on improving my performance skills.

So with this all in mind, here’s my updated goals:

1. Improve my Norwegian level from A2/B1 to B2 Improve my Norwegian level to an all-round B1/B2 and start learning nynorsk. I think if I can pull my speaking up to a B1 level I’ll be happy to say I’m a B1/B2 level. I’ve been saying for ages that my speaking lets me down so, so much, and I’m kinda tired of it tbh. I’ve also found that I feel more comfortable trying to mimic vestland dialects than I do standard østnorsk, so I’ve decided screw it, if that’s gonna get me speaking, then I’ll try learning a vestland dialect instead of standard østnorsk. I’d also like to try and write a little bit my nynorsk, as a lot of vestland dialects seem to more closely mimic nynorsk than bokmål. So expect some badly-written nynorsk posts on top of my badly-written bokmål posts!

Changes to make: practice speaking every week, even if it’s only 5 minutes here and there. Keep reading articles, even if it’s not the full thing. Write posts in nynorsk as well as in bokmål - maybe write a post in bokmål, then write it again in nynorsk? We’ll see lol.

2. Maintain my Spanish at A2 Improve my Spanish from A1/A2 to B1. I feel like I’ve slipped back to A1/A2 rather than solid A2 because I’ve been slacking, but I want to improve again. And now that I’ve changed my mind about the Bergenstest and decided I do want to continue Spanish, I think aiming for B1 is achievable. I think again the key here is to keep focusing on the aspects of the language that interest me, practise little and often and try not to burn myself out.

Changes to make: Start working through my grammar books again, start writing in my journal even if it’s just a few sentences.

3. Write and speak more in my target languages. Obviously with me slacking I’ve not been doing this, but I definitely want to change that! I need to remind myself that it doesn’t have to be good to be worth doing. If I only say or write a few disjointed sentences, that’s still better than not doing anything. I especially need to do more Spanish writing and more Norwegian speaking.

Changes to make: Try to write one journal entry per language per week minimum, get some sort of speaking or pronunciation practice in even if I don’t record it.

4. Keep an account of what I did each week. I’ve missed a couple of weeks recently because I didn’t feel like there was anything to report, because I’ve been slacking. So really I just need to actually do things so I don’t feel ashamed of myself for not doing anything lol. But I also need to remember that it’s okay to not do loads, given I have other things to focus right now.

All in all, languages are not my main priority for the time being. And that’s okay! The prospect of actually living some kind of version of my dream life is pretty exciting, but I’ve got to work for it, so that means putting some other aspects of my life on hold for a bit.

#progress report #goal evaluation #langblr #learning languages #language blog #languages #norwegian langblr #spanish langblr

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goingknowherewastaken · 6 years ago

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This is a writer shaming post.

Maybe “shaming post” isn’t the most accurate description for this post.

“Tip/Heads-Up Post On How Writers Can Get More Readers” is a more accurate description...with the twist that it is written in a salty and Done^TM manner thanks to the amount of bullshit that’s happened in the past year.

Basically, I am fucking done with it. Done with the pathetic bullshit that has been going on for the past how many fucking months - hell, this goes beyond months! Fucking years this shit has been happening in the fanfiction community and I am done with seeing this shit continue to happen.

Fucking. Done.

Anyways first and foremost before I get into this, I am not forcing anyone do any of these. Then again maybe I should be because these things are all things that have been repeated by all of a lot if not all of us writers and many writers have not bothered to improve on different points that I am about to make. So maybe consider these and how badly you want to improve your writing and note count, yeah? And dear god please stop with the bitching and moaning.

*sips tea* So, let’s get started, shall we?

♦♦ No one is obligated to read your work because SURPRISE everyone has their own preferences.

What does that mean????? It means that not everyone likes everything so they may skip it if they don’t like what their reading. If what you put for the fic is a turn off then they won’t bother reading it or if halfway through they realize they don’t like it then they will leave it.

So maybe the reason you aren’t getting notes is because it’s simply something that some people aren’t into. And don’t you dare get mad at the readers for that nor should you be trying to force them to read your stuff.

► Follow up point! There might also just be a small fandom for whatever it is you just wrote for!! Just keep writing!!! You never know, people might become curious and join the fandom for your content :D

♦♦ You gotta know your audience (for Reader Inserts).

Who are you writing the fic for? Women? Men? WOC? Trans men? Everyone?

Everyone has preferences for their fics, but the preferences get more intricate when you look at various demographics.

Women of Color are not going to finish a reader insert if they see details (from terms to gifs) that would make the reader a white woman. Men are not going to read a fic for a female reader.

It’s fine to tailor a fic to a specific demographic. Great, actually! But you need to be mindful and respectful of it. If you say the fic is going to be a gender neutral fic then you gotta make sure that it is gender neutral. Reader Inserts should always be race neutral unless you are tailoring it to a minority. Don’t try to get high and mighty about the “what about white people????” shit. Just don’t.

Speaking of which...

♦♦ Step away from what you know.

A phrase that many cling to often gets brought up in these moments: Write what you know.

A dangerous phrase.

“I don’t know how to write for X because I’m not X.” It’s the usual statement said when people are asked to write for something that they are unfamiliar with.

Now, if you’re a new writer - I mean brand, spankin’ new - and are still figuring out the writing world - you get a pass to say this, but the longer you’re writing...

No. N - fucking - o.

Sticking to what you know and not exploring new themes and views stunts your growth. You do not improve. You do not grow as a writer. You do not grow as a person.

Challenges and learning new things help us grow and become better...and get more readers.

♦♦ Just because you can write it doesn’t mean you should.

Oooooh boy.

Everyone raise your hand if you’ve ever had a bunch of people come at you telling you that what you wrote is bad. By bad I don’t mean that they’re saying that it was badly written, but that what you wrote was insulting and/or wrong and you should never write that again.

If you raised your hand then I sure as hell hope that you heard those people out because if you didn’t and you just went into a pissy “waaaah these people are being mean and telling me to stop this and I don’t understand why and I don’t want to stop” mode then you need to pull your head out of your ass.

Sometimes, we do get readers who just want to nitpick everything and it’s easy to dismiss them. I had a person once tell me that I needed to stop using large spaces between paragraphs because they didn’t like large spaces. You’re damn right I ignored them because it was a stupid thing to pick at. (The spaces were due to the writing program I was using fyi.)

Other times, though, if many people are bringing it up, then it is something to be listened to.

► Example - Cisswapping. I said Cisswapping not Genderbending. Both deal with changing the gender of a character for a work. Now there are instances of genderbending that are acceptable - like if the character can canonically shift their gender at will and/or identify as genderfluid; there can never be enough fics written about trans characters or readers.

But Cisswapping - just changing the character’s gender...now that is a massive no-no. Like, saying that James T. Kirk (Star Trek)(male) is going to now be Jamie T. Kirk (female) - not making the character trans or genderfluid, but saying that from birth Kirk is actually female in your work - that is shitty. How do I better explain how bad this is? Hmmmm...you guys know how shitty it is when a POC character is whitewashed?

It’s that shitty and insulting.

Cisswapping characters erases and disregards so many people and their stories and struggles. See, fandom ships usually M||M and the majority of the time the people that are disregarded are people who are gay and/or trans. These are people who have gravitated to fanfiction to see themselves and those like them reflected in works because popular culture is still trying to catch up to them. We can now see more gay and trans characters and celebs in our movies and TV screens and such than we could years ago, but fanfiction will always be a sure place to find that representation.

So to suddenly find that Jane Doe decided that she wanted this popular M||M ship to be M||F ship... You bet your ass people are gonna be pissed. It takes strength and bravery to transition...but you just said that that means nothing compared to having an M||F ship.

If you are that desperate to have a character in an M||F ship, just make an OC.

Just leave the idea of Cisswap behind.

(PS - thank you @insane-sociopath ♥)

►► Follow-Up Point - Do your research before going and writing your fic. There are plenty of sources online - not to mention people to talk to - that will help you out.

► Example - And rpf ships because those involve real people whose personal lives you are disregarding for your “fantasy” and no matter how many times you cry “but I respect them!!!” the dozens upon dozens of fics and fanart you post (both sfw and nsfw) about the rpf ship says otherwise. And the hyper-analyzing of photos and stuff to say that they’re in love…it’s on the creepy side of obsessive.

Not to mention you guys tag the celebs in the ship in your posts... Like, you guys do realize that the internet is not a vacuum right? Celebs and those who know them personally can see your shit and the process is made all that easier when you tag the celebs so it shows up in the celeb’s tag. Platonic and romantic relationships between celebs have been damaged after finding out about the rpf ship you guys have been creaming your pants over.

If the rpf ship in question are both single it’s just a tad bit less weird (still weird though) and if they are a legit couple in real life it’s definitely less weird to ship them (writing nsfw stuff for them is disturbing as fuck though). If one or both are in a committed relationship with someone who is not the other half of your rpf ship then uh-uh no way did you not read the start of this example?????

Reader inserts involving celebs can be looped into this as well if you think about it. There’s usually more acceptance for reader x celeb fics, but it doesn’t mean that they are accepted by all nor that you shouldn’t be treading lightly.

To wrap up this point, you might have scared off readers because they are tired of seeing you writing something that you shouldn’t be writing. This isn’t a “well you just said that people can have preferences and don’t have to like everything” thing. This is a “you’re probably being a tactless dick” thing.

*note - many do get a lot of notes on celeb content, this section was more addressing the hate that gets sent

♦♦ People rarely have time to read your work right the minute it’s posted.

Did you know that mankind created this thing called Time and that the Earth is divided into timezones? No? Well, you’re education failed you.

See, when you post a fic online, the following people will see it - those who you tagged in it, those looking in the tags you tagged it with, those who have selected the option to be notified every time you post something, and those who are simply scrolling through their dash. The latter point is what we are going into right here, right now.

Posting it once and assuming that everyone else will do your dirty work on spreading the news that the fic is up for reading only allows for a certain number of people to see it. It is highly encouraged to reblog your own shit. A lot. Like, ten times a day or even days on end. Hell, you should still be reblogging it long after you posted it. When you reblog your work you are putting it back into people’s dashes and giving it a better chance of being seen by other people. Depending on when you post could mean if an entire country and it’s residents (aka - followers and readers) is enjoying their free time, sleeping, attending classes, or working.

So maybe the reason you’re getting no notes on it is because barely anyone has seen it due to it being posted at a bad time for them.

Also, even during free time people are busy; they could have also seen it and are waiting until a later date to read it. Or they just aren’t in the mood for whatever theme your fic is. Regardless, don’t fret or be like “well I guess no one wants to read this now�� or shit like that. Give them time. Patience.

♦♦ How is your fic written?

You don’t become a fantastic writer overnight. It takes time and effort and practice. Sooooo much practice. Some people who have been around for a while will only read fics with good grammar. A thing which is actually rather rude considering those writers with “bad grammar” are usually people who are in the early stages of their writing career or they are writing in a language that is unfamiliar to them. And I give you writers in those two categories a damn huge KUDOS. Do not stop writing because a reader is rude and is like “blah your writing sucks!”

Writing takes practice and with every fic written and read we all get better and better.

►► Some extra tips for us all to look out for:

+ Research! Research! Research!

+ Massive blocks of text scare people off. Try breaking them up into smaller paragraphs when you can.

+ Take a look at your tenses. This is something I myself am working on improving in my own writing.

+ Find yourself some beta readers! They are a huge help when it comes down to figuring out your fic!

+ If it’s a long work, please use the read more option. Hitting a long post on tumblr mobile without a read more is one of the worst things and it puts many readers off.

+ Use a mix of said and adverbs; don’t be afraid of either. Adverbs can help set the scene more, but too many or using the wrong ones just makes the writing tacky; said gets boring after a while and only brings forth so much to the table.

+ Make a masterlist - preferably a mobile friendly version!! You can do this by making a text post and linking your works and then embedding that link in your tumblr bio!

+ Read! Read! Read! Reading a wide variety of fics can help improve your own!

+ Don’t steal anyone else’s fics!!!! This is just really obvious people.

♦♦ Did you do anything at all to introduce your fic to people?

This is a huge point. See, most people don’t bother reading a work if they don’t know what it’s about. I don’t. If I can’t immediately see the ship or characters involved (not everyone likes every character or ship), warnings, a summary, or even the fandom (there’s so many Steves guys...you gotta include the last name of a Steve if you’re not gonna put their fandom) then I don’t even bother reading it. Books and movies and TV shows introduce us to these things; why can’t you?

And warnings.

♦♦ Did you post any warnings about your fic?

There are two types of people in this world. Those who see no warnings and don’t bother reading it because they don’t know what’s in store for them and others that will see no warnings and will then assume that the fic is safe.

Big surprise when they’re caught off guard by something serious and they refuse to finish the fic. If people know that you are a chronic non-warner of sensitive content then they will not be returning to read any of your work. SPOILER - NOT WARNING PEOPLE ABOUT SERIOUS AND/OR SENSITIVE CONTENT NOT ONLY EARNS YOU NO NOTE ON THAT FIC BY PEOPLE BUT IT ALSO MAKES YOU A FUCKING JACKASS IN THEIR EYES

Warnings save a writer’s ass.

I cannot stress this enough - include warnings for your fic!!! Ao3 is built on warnings (the tags are warnings people) and people seem to get readers fine there. What’s your issue with putting warnings on tumblr fics? And they help summarize a fic (summaries also can act as warnings fyi)!!!!

Some people will argue that warnings = spoilers. They don’t want to give a heads up about sensitive content in lieu of not letting anyone know a single detail of what happens. Do I need to point out what’s fucked up with this statement? You are putting spoiling your fic above the mental and emotional health of your readers? (I swear to god if you try to argue that a trigger is only something that sets off self destructive behavior you need to check yourself. What about those that end up suffering panic attacks or emotional breaks? Or that writing doesn’t trigger anything? How does seeing other visual stimuli set off a trigger but not text? People can be triggered by any number of things; it all depends on the person. We can’t tag or warn for every trigger because there are so many, but the least you can do is warn about the mains ones (sexual assault, violence, abuse, self-harm, injury,...).) If you’re really gonna be anal about that then a trade off will be putting them in the tags and then telling people they can find the list of warnings there. But you gotta tell people where to find the list of warnings.

Not to mention that this stuff will dictate where someone reads your fic. Now, a lot of people read some really sexy or violent store bought books in public, but that is strictly text. I’ve seen a lot of fics with some nsfw gifs and moodboards slipped in. Most of us are already fearless when it comes to reading nsfw stuff in public, but the visual things can get people into a shit ton of trouble. And of course you have plenty of people who are mindful of what they read in public.

Or that they don’t have to use warnings because movies and tv and such don’t give warnings. Oh, yeah, you read that sentence right. There are people who have not been paying attention at all to movies and tv and such created over the past several decades.

Or that ‘real life doesn’t have warnings’... I’m sorry have you checked the labels on medicines and other products? Or have you seen road signs? We have warnings everywhere people!!! It’s about fucking time that written works got better with it.

If you don’t have anything serious to warn about then don’t put any warnings, but if you do then dear god you should probably do some warning.

♦♦ Make sure to tag!!!!

On tumblr there are two different types of tags - the @ and the #.

The @ tag - Tagging people means that those people will be notified that you posted a fic (or they should be assuming tumblr is working properly)! If you don’t know who to tag, pose a question to tumblr asking if anyone is interested. A lot of people also are open to and encourage you to tag them if you have something that you think they may be interested in. And regardless of if you do tag people or not, people will often times approach you through comments, replies, asks, and DMs with requests to be tagged in future works.

The # tag - using tags on your fics is so fucking important. These tags are how people find your stuff. Tag wisely.

► Example - Let’s say you wrote a Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers fic; expected tags should be - bucky barnes, steve rogers, captain america, the winter soldier, marvel, stucky, bucky barnes/steve rogers, bucky barnes x steve rogers, captain america x the winter soldier, avengers,...

Honestly, I could add more tags to that.

Another example - A Bucky Barnes reader insert fic; expected tags should be - bucky barnes, marvel, reader insert, bucky barnes x reader, bucky barnes/reader, the winter soldier, bucky x reader,...

You get the idea?

Tag your shit, but don’t over tag it. Stick to the necessary tags and don’t skimp on those, but don’t tag the unnecessary tags.

What are unnecessary tags? These tags are tags that have nothing to do with the fic and/or are not the main focus. Bucky Barnes x Reader fics should not be showing up in the Sam Wilson tag if Sam is not a main focus in the fic. Spirk fics should not be in the McKirk tag if McKirk is not the main focus of the fic.

Many people will not read your work on purpose if you pull this shit because they’re pissed that your cluttering the tag with unrelated work for not reason.

But tumblr used to say that only the first five tags will be counted towards where a post shows up in searches, but I’ve sort of found this to be false? I’ve found many posts show up in searches where the tag I searched is actually far past 5 tags in. Basically, all of the tags are valid.

So tag responsibly people!!!!

And I think that wraps it all up.

I was going to do a section dragging readers, but I think that will be for another time because this is a little on the long side. Because sometimes us writers can follow all of the above and still have no notes.

Anyways, once again, I am not forcing anyone to do any of these; it’s all up to you what you want to do in regards to your writing. I and a whole bunch of other people are just exhausted with the bitching and moaning people are doing in regards to not getting readers when there are several easy actions that could be taken to change that.

#long post

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strange-down-here · 7 years ago

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Bruises (Peter Parker Soulmate Au)

Summary: Your soulmate gets bruises everyday, making you worried sick. Your brother, Flash, accidently helps finding your soulmate.

A/n: This is my first one shot I’ve ever written in English because it’s not my main language so there are probably a lot of spelling and grammar mistakes. I’ve decided to post it nevertheless because of the amazing @tommoholland2013!

You were used to waking up in pain. The bruises on your body were becoming normal. Your soulmate was getting new ones everyday. And you were too, since you were connected with him. But still, you were worried sick. What was happening to him? You could only imagine what was going on and it drove you crazy. Who was he? What was his name? How old was he, what were his obsessions and habits? Did he like sports or was he more interested in physics, art? It was a mystery you were burning to know. But sadly you haden’t met him yet. The only evidence was the bruises.

Today you woke up to another one. This one was a large one on your hip. It was bright blue, looked fresh and ached like hell. Your whole body was covered in yellow, green and blue bruises, all from your soulmate. You took some pain killers that stood on your nightstand and gulped them down. Another thing that has become normal to you. You couldn’t do anything else against it. Standing up hurt like hell and you scrunched your face, cussing silently. Why did it have to ache so badly?

“Another bruise?” You spun around only to groan in pain. Your brother, Flash, was standing at the doorframe, his eyes covered in worry. You nodded and showed him your hip. “I’m worried”, you admitted and looked at your feet. In the next moment you were wrapped in a hug, your head leaning on his shoulder and his chin resting on your head. You heard him sigh. He was always worried about your well being, silently cursing your soulmate because he hurt you too. “It’s gonna be okay”, he whispered while caressing your back.

“I can’t do this anymore, Flash. What is happening to him? I want to get to know him and hold him in my arms, not letting him go so he is safe.”, You cried, tears making your sight blurry. He sighed again, “You have to be strong for him, for you. You will find him and everything is going to be alright.” You sniffed and wiped your tears away. He was right. You had to be strong. For him.

“You have to get ready, we’re leaving in ten.”, Flash said and let go of you. You nodded, “Yeah…”

School was tiring. Even though you had taken pain killers your hip was throbbing, keeping you awake and aware that your soulmate was hurting as well. You sat alone at the very back of the classroom, leaning your head on the desk. You couldn’t concentrate and started drifting off when your teacher Mrs Henry called your name.

“Would you pay attention, Miss Thompson?” You sighed, trying not to make it worse by saying anything back to her. Mrs Henry was a small woman in her late fifties. She was strict and unfair. She preferred some students over others and hated you because of no particular reason. She just did and gave you a hard time. Thankfully the class was over and lunch began.

You’ve put your books in your locker and looked at a photo nearly two years ago where you had no alarming bruises, no pain, no worries. You sighed and slammed your locker shut, pushing your feelings away. Time to eat, you were starving.

You were waiting for Flash to pick you up for ten minutes. You were getting annoyed, he had PE last class and he was always here on time. You sighed, sitting on the engine cowling and looked at your phone screen. No messages. You unlocked your mobile.

To Flash:

Where r u?

I’m waiting..

You turned it off and that’s when you saw the big black eye. You had a black eye. You gasped touching it. “Ow!”, you exclaimed. It hurt like hell. Some people turned to look at you, immediately finding the black eye only to see your jaw turn blue. You moaned, “What the…?”

“Seems like your soulmate gets beaten up, Thompson”, shouted a football player. “Oh fuck off!”, a sudden voice hissed. It was MJ, One of your best friends. You two befriended after you had been assigned lab partners and helped each other with homework, helped each other when one of you needed it. “I hope he’s okay”, she said. “Yeah, me too.” “If you ever need something, then call me. But you better call your brother now, see you tomorrow.” You smiled at her and dialed his number. It took a minute but he finally answered, “What’s up?” “Why are you late?”, you asked.

“Had to talk to someone, I’m sorry. Can you wait five minutes?”, he sounded out of breath. Probably because of PE. “Please, hurry. My soulmate’s got beaten up again, Flash. I have a black eye and my jaw is completely blue. It hurts and i took my last painkillers at lunch.”

You heard him suck in his breath. “No”, he whispered. “What? Flash, just come! Talking hurts like hell!”, you grumbled. You ended the call, taking a look in the front camera. “Why…”, you whispered to yourself and closed your eyes.

When your brother came into view he said no word. He looked nervous, almost guilty, only to snap at you when you asked him a few times what had happened. “Oh my god, just shut up. You’re so annoying! Can’t you just stop talking about that soulmate bullshit?” You went still, shocked to your bones. You heard him scream at some people at school but he never yelled at you. You sniffed your nose holding the tears back. You were done after all these things that happened today. He knew you were worried about your soulmate but he let you down when you needed his comfort the most.

He stopped at a red light and you took your backpack to get out of the car. “Where are you going?”, he asked annoyed, “Get in, come on!” You shook you head. “No, bye Flash.”, you said, backing your rucksack and walking down the street to your favorite cafe intending to stay there until dinner. You were angry and wanted to calm down before facing Flash again. He was a dick, yes, but you didn’t want to say things you would regret in the morning.

After you had sat down on your usual spot in a cozy corner, you looked at your phone.

Two missed calls from Flash

(12) messages from Flash

You read them, sighing.

(Y/N)?

Where are you?

I’m sorry

Come back

Please

(Y/N)

Come on

Really?

How childish

I’m really pissed

Come back now, don’t be stupid!

Fine! Don’t come home! Piss off!

You tried holding your tears back as the waiter put your hot chocolate in front of you. “It’s on the house, sweetie.”, she rubbed your back before going back to the counter. Now, there was no holding back. You sobbed pathetically in the back corner of your favorite cafe hoping that your life would somehow change to the better.

After you had gathered yourself up again you called MJ, hoping she would pick up soon. And she did. “Hey?” “Hey, MJ. Can I stay over at your place?” “Sure, are you home?” “No, I’m at the cafe.”, you said while gathering your things, “I’m coming.”

You told her everything and she listened. MJ never interrupted you while you spoke, a thing you really appreciated about her. And at the end she told you her honest opinion. “I think it was good not to snap back at him, but I think you should talk, let him explain what happened, why he snapped at you. But only if you’re ready and in control of your emotions. If you don’t feel calm enough, you can stay over and decide tomorrow what you’ll do.”

You nodded and turned off your phone, not wanting any distraction tonight. You two were talking all night until you both eventually fell asleep.

The next day you decided to go home. It was Saturday, so you didn’t have to worry about school. Your mom scolded you and gave you house arrest. She took your phone and laptop so the only thing you could do was doing your homework since Flash was avoiding you. You tried to talk to him but he would just ignore you, so you decided not to waste your time.

It was Monday and your mom still had your phone. You’ve received another bruises on your arms and legs over the weekend. After you’ve covered your bruised up, you noticed that Flash left without you, leaving you to take the subway. “Hurry up, honey. Here’s you mobile, I think you’ll need it.”, your mom said, “Bye, love you!” You raced the stairs down to the next subway station, squeezing into the subway, holding onto a random pole. Not noticing the person next to you who had the exact same bruises on your face as you. You turned on your phone, reading the messages from MJ and your friends. You scrunched you nose.

To MJ:

Hey, MJ. My mom took my phone. I’m on the subway, cause Flash ditched me. What’s the matter?

From MJ:

Poor u.. I think I might know who ur soulmate is.

You choked on your spit nearly dropping your phone in the progress. “You’re okay?”, someone asked besides you. Surprised, you looked at him. Your chin dropped. It was Peter Parker. “Your bruises…”, you whispered with wide eyes. Your phone vibrated again.

From MJ:

It’s Peter Parker. I think I saw him yesterday and he had bruises like yours.

But you didn’t bother to read the message. You asked the probably most important question in your whole life, “Do you have a big bruise on your hip and others on your legs and arms?” His eyes went also wide, probably catching up, “Oh my god, don’t tell me… I’m so sorry… I.. are you…?” You laughed nervously, “I… how? I mean, why? I was so worried, are you okay?” He laughed, “No… I mean yes! I’m fine!” Your gaze dropped onto his shirt. It had some physics joke on it. You smiled. You had a feeling you would get along just fine. “Good, but can you tell me the reason why you’ve got those bruises?” You saw him tensing up, “ Not here. Let’s talk at school?”, he asked really nervously, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. You furrowed your eyebrows. “We don’t have any classes together today, I think.” “Ew. Monday sucks twice now… lunch?”, he asked hopefully. “Yeah, sure.”

Classes were taking forever today. Neither Flash, MJ nor Peter were in your classes, but you kept on texting with MJ.

To MJ:

He was on the subway. We talked. OMG MJ I’ve found my soulmate!

From MJ:

Do you know why he has those bruises?

To MJ:

No.. we’re talking at lunch

I’m so nervous I can’t concentrate

From MJ:

Chill, I’m sure he’ll tell you everything

To MJ:

Ur probably right but still.. It has to be serious

He seemed nervous.

From MJ:

It’s gonna be alright, don’t worry.

Finally, it was lunch. You raced to your locker, now realizing that Peter’s was across from yours, as you saw him shoving his books into his. You bit your lip and walked up to him, tapping on his shoulder. He turned around, smiling when he saw you. You found yourself smiling as well. “Ready for the real talk?”, you asked playfully. He nodded, “Just let me take this with me.” He took a bag pack out of his locker and shouldered it. You held your hand out and he took it, leading you into an empty classroom. His hands were a little bit sweaty but you didn’t mind. Your heart was beating, bursting at the seams. You sat down next to each other.

“I’ve searched so long and you have been always there. I was so dumb”, you sighed. “Do you know what Flash did last Friday”, he began, alarming you. “What happened?”, you asked, taking his hand in yours. He looked at it, then intertwined your fingers, “We were arguing like always and then I said something and he punched me in the face. He got a call and left.”

You squeezed his hand and traced his bruises with your other hand. “That pisser. That was me, telling him that my soulmate has gotten hurt again. He was mad, I left and slept at MJ’s. Got house arrest because of that”, you chuckled, tracing his lips now, “Seems like you’re a bad influence, Peter.” He sucked in his breath, eyes locked on your lips. “Am I?” You nodded, starting to lean forward. “I’m Spiderman”, he blurted. You blinked a few times, “Sorry, what?”

He opened his bag showing a familiar red and blue suit. “That’s where my bruises are from.”, he mumbled. “Oh”, you bit your lip, “My soulmate is Spiderman. Huh.” “Yeah…”, he scratched his neck. You slapped him. “Ow!”

“Do you know how worried I’ve been? I thought you have been beaten up or something like that! Couldn’t you be a little more careful? I was crying because…”, you stopped, searching for words. “Because what?”, he asked. You breathed heavily, “Because… because I cared for you even when I didn’t know who you were.” “I’m sorry. I really am.”, he said taking your other hand in his as well, “I’m gonna make it up. I’ll make sure to make it up the next fifty years and more.” Your breath was caught in your throat, but you smiled. “That sounds okay?”, you nodded, “Good. Does that mean I also get to do this?”

He leaned forward and when you didn’t move, closing the gap between your lips and making your knees go giddy. You kissed him back, running your fingers though his locks and pushing yourself against him. You hoped this would never have to end. He was being so gentle, running his fingers over your palm and resting his other hand on the exposed skin on your hip, where your bruise was, his fingers ghosting over it. He pulled slowly away, leaning his forehead against yours. The lunchbell rang. You sighed, of course you had to deal with reality again. And with Flash. You were going to talk to him.

“We should go”, Peter said, eyes still closed, licking his lips. “We should, probably”, you agreed, “I’d rather stay like this.” He smiled, “Me too.” You kissed him again and whispered against his lips, “I’ll talk with Flash after school. He’s going to regret punching my soulmate.” He chuckled, “It’s okay. We got together this way”, he mumbled, kissing your cheek. “Together?”, you asked, smiling. “Well, would you like to be my girlfriend?” He looked into your eyes, smiling nervously, a tint of red on his cheeks. You nodded, “Yeah, I’d like that, soulmate.”

#peter parker #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #soulmate #peter parker x you #flash thompson #avengers #the first avenger #peter parker one shot #one shot #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine

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delicatefury · 7 years ago

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I’m back in my city, at the LCS, enjoying a coffee on a miserable day. The bar exam is over and I have two days before I go back to work. I still need to do one last thing for my bar application (the state’s a UBE state so I have to do an “educatonal component” on the differences in the state law from the common law. It’ll probably take me a morning or an evening and it’s an open book test that you can keep taking until you pass), but other than that, my time is completely my own for the first time since frickin’ September.

So here’s the plan of what’s going to change going forward:

Back to writing! Good news everyone, I can finally write and plot and all that good stuff without immediately being distracted by the guilt of “you should be studying”. I’ve got some asks to answer, some plots to lay down, and some editing to do but I hope to have a new TDPL snippet at the very least ready to go by Friday. Still no clue when chapter 5 will be ready though. I need to rearrange some plot stuff first.

Also, I plan to have a second or third draft in my one completed original story done by my 30th birthday in seven months, so depending on inspiration, so expect some general writing rants about that too. (I’m going to flood my two best friends with drafts of that once I’m ready. One because she is a nit picker who loves reading more than I do so will easily find every plothole, grammar mistake, and OOC moment for me, the other because she’s been heavily invested in my writing since we were fifteen and I still have some old, old drafts covered in her notes and questions and excited squeeing.)

Reading! My goal is 8 hours a month (at least) which means about two hours a week. I’ve got Terry Pratchett’s Night Watch sitting on the table right now, and I found a copy of The Hero of Many Faces at the used bookstore (warehouse, actually. That place is friggin’ huge), so that’s probably next. I want to finish a book or two a month, so once I reach those goals, I’ll be working on some of my massive tomes from college (Socrates, Plato, some political books and collected writings, some stuff on game theory... etc.)

Drawing! My paper collection habits have left me with a lot of sketchbooks and drawing pads, so if I want to keep indulging, I have to start using them up. Plus, I love having a visual reference for the characters I’m writing. Also, my skills are super rusty. So, I’m gonna try to do a reference picture a day (from Senshistock on deviantart and a couple drawing apps since I can’t do posemaniacs. No computer so the pics don’t load. Which is a shame. Those thirty second gesture drawing exercises are awesome.) I’m also gonna use some time on the weekend to learn/refine a skill. This week? Skin tones. ‘Cause I suck at them. Always have.

Painting! One evening a week (or every other week) just having fun with a canvas and trying new things. I’m tired of bare walls so I’m going to fill them up with my own work and learn as I go. I’ve got so many ideas too, pages of sketchbooks filled with basic designs and rough sketches that I’ve been dying to put to canvas. Also, motivation to get my office clean.

KNITTING! I’m finishing my nephew’s blanket before Easter now that I have the time to devote to learning the new skill needed to complete it. Then finish my brother’s scarf, work on my sister’s afghan, and make myself that pretty summer shawl I want before going back and working on socks for Christmas next year.

Law stuff!

Being Social! Again, no more guilt of “I should be studying” so next time my sister or coworkers say “let’s get a drink” I can say “OK!” Instead of “I really want to but...”

Cleaning! My office and room are nightmares right now. I was doing ok most of the last few months, but the entirety of February... yeah. But it’s spring and I need to pack up my winter clothes (in a new box that I know for a fact my cat can’t get into and which will be at the bottom of a stack of boxes just in case) and take stuff to the dry cleaners and air out the house before we switch from the HV to the AC. So might as well do a whole cleaning/purge, right?

Exercise! I signed up for cardio boxing at the very end of January but have yet to go (you know the drill of why that is), so I’m gonna go get my membership card and try to go at least twice this week.

Job search. My cousin’s wife’s workplace back home (and in the state where I just took the bar exam) is looking to hire people with J.D.’s, and she’s asked for my resume to show to their HR people, so I’ll be cleaning that up and sending it on. I also need to work on a writing sample. My current one is several years old, and, as I’ve been advised, I should probably start doing my own research to submit for publishing (since this is kinda what I want to be doing anyway). Also, my linkedin is embarrassingly out of date and bare, so, yeah. I’ll be working on all that in the evenings too.

Video games. I’ve finally started my Pokémon Sun game (hey, do any of you play it? I’d love to actually know the people I add to my friends’ list for once) and I’ve got a whole friggin’ backlog to get through. I’m gonna save up for a New3DS since the left-trigger of my current one is broke (a mild annoyance for most games, but for some of the ones I really want to play, it completely breaks the game i.e. I can’t aim in any Zelda game and I’m not good enough to play without targeting) as well as a switch.

Work on a side-hustle. Be it producing original stuff here for a Ko-Fi account, finally creating that etsy store for my cute little paintings (remind me to post the fox painting I made for my nephew), or selling my coffee cozies at the LCS, I’ve got plenty of ways to make extra money that I haven’t taken advantage of. No more! If I want to enjoy my daily coffee while still saving up, I gotta start earning extra money.

COOKING! And BAKING! I’ve got so many recipes better suited to spring than winter and so many cookies I’ve been neglecting (macarons and snickerdoodles and fancy iced sugar cookies...) because they take more time than chocolate chip. But now I have time and SUNLIGHT (which makes it easier for me to be productive in the evening. Once the sun goes down my mind says “day’s over” and goes into pre-bed mode. But we’re almost to SPRING so that’s not an issue anymore) so more messing around in the kitchen for me.

Now, is this too much to conceivably fit in a week when I’m still working full time? Probably, yeah. But I’ve always done my best and been happiest when I’m slightly overwhelmed (slightly being the operative word. Last month I was just completely overwhelmed because of that background chorus of “study study study study” going in my head at all times), so Imma try to do it all. Or at least attempt. And if I turn my “indulgences” of reading and video games into important self-care with goals and everything, I think I’ll be more able to healthily fit them into my life and schedule.

And I’m just... so excited to finally move forward. And if I end up failing the bar and have to retake in July? I’ve got nearly two months before I know if that’s an issue and nearly five months before that test anyway so I’m going to enjoy myself until then.

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negare-boshi · 7 years ago

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HQ!! Secret Santa: Daisuga for Becca

Ho, ho, ho! @sugakoush Merry Christmas! This is a whole lot of Daisuga fluff with just a small spoon of angsty angst because I don’t know how to write things otherwise. Nevertheless, I hope you like it and you enjoy it!

// this was organized by @haikyuusecretsanta // my main blog: @ellehletoile

Title: Home Sweet Home Pairing: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi Word count: 8K Rating: G Potential Trigger Warnings: Fluff overdose.

// AO3 link //

(I do apologise for any and all of the grammar mistakes this could contain!)

HOME SWEET HOME

The problem was the smell.

Of course there were other factors that had brought Daichi to this point in life, in which he wasn’t sure why he was gritting his teeth to the point of splinter. But when he lay on his bed with a frown and a heavy hollowness on his chest, the only thing that stood out was the damn smell.

The other things didn’t stood out as much, because the pile of reasons Daichi felt as heavy as he felt light weren’t as tangible. They weren’t around all the time, they were just pieces here and there: Suga wearing an awful arpon his mom gave him on Christmas and smirking at Daichi with a spoon at hand. Daichi trying to fight for his right to hold the TV’s control and winning, although Suga chose what they were watching, because Daichi was weak. The waves of companionship when Daichi got back from work, exhausted and tired and somehow lonely, and Suga being there on his computer. Like a candle in the middle of a storm, a lighthouse bringing Daichi back home.

Those made of Daichi’s chest a weird, confused mess of giggles and clenched lungs that gave him problems to breathe more times than not, but only when he was actively thinking of them. Daichi could close his eyes and breathe deeply and the memories of his hard, choking crush would dissolve for a little bit.

That is, if it weren’t for the damn smell. That soft lemon scent Suga had bought when they moved in, the mix of flowery soap they washed their clothes with, the small and yet unique tint of fresh air and leather Daichi had discovered belonged to Suga himself. It was like a film surrounding the oxygen of the apartment, and no matter where Daichi sat or lay or step on, it was always there.

Daichi’d started to call that smell home, and every time the thought crossed his mind he’d freeze mid step, suddenly hit by the realisation of his own overwhelming emotions.

Gods, he had it hard. Hard enough to blush when Suga came out of the shower, the mist of the hot water smelling of his shampoo and his clean body and it wasn’t even about Suga being naked under that towel every dang time, no. It was about Daichi stopping suddenly and willingly, watching blankly into nothingness, letting the breeze fill every particle of their apartment with Suga’s essence. As if Suga weren’t already everywhere.

It seemed impossible for a crush, —an infatuation, a yearning so huge Daichi couldn’t even put a name on it,— to last this long, and yet, here they were. Almost three years of housemates and Daichi’s feelings didn’t look like they’d cool off anytime soon.

“Daichi, I got us dinner.” Daichi had to blink thrice to the entrance, where Suga was fighting against his rain boots with his tongue between his lips. “It’s sushi.”

“Are we celebrating?” Daichi had to clear his throat, the tight knot of unexpressed want as choking as it was welcome. At least the distraction would keep him from staring way too long.

Suga smiled. Daichi’s heart did a backflip, a tango step and then fell on the ground with dramatic exaggeration. Still pretending to be dead it beat like a horse raising free through an infinite field, and it wasn’t until Suga got into the kitchen and started unpacking their dinner that it calmed enough for Daichi to go help him.

“So?”

“Not really celebrating.” Suga smirked up at him and Daichi smiled back, because one didn’t just watched Suga with that expression without answering it somehow. The urge to lean forward and kiss that smile was like silk on Daichi’s mouth. Suga’s eyes flickered with something, and Daichi teared his gaze away, suddenly shy. “I had a really nice day at work. Thought we could enjoy a fancy, —don’t look at me like that, it’s cheap—, shared dinner so the day finishes as good as it’s gone.”

“I’m glad you had a nice day.” Daichi beamed, chest and cheeks filled with warmth and joy. Hearing Suga’d had a good day brightened his, and Daichi fell another step into the deep pit of unrequited love. “You were able to pass that project you were working on?”

Suga’s smile could light up Japan on its whole.

“Yes! My new partner and I made it through this morning, and it was great! I’m really excited about it. The next months are gonna be pretty insane, so…” Suga shrugged, the soft line of his shoulders raising gracefully. Daichi wanted to reach for his neck and inhale the smell that had branded his mind and his soul, but instead he let his smile turn into something tenderer and softer. Suga’s own smile changed in sync, matching Daichi’s. “I thought we could have a good dinner together, ‘cause I don’t know when we’ll be able to do this again.”

Those words strung something in Daichi. It was filthy and heavy and it tasted fool, and it probably showed on his tugged lips because Suga send his way an apologetic smile in return. “Yeah, sorry. I promise it’s only for a little while.”

“It’s totally okay.” Daichi patted his arm, trying to break the odd tension on his shoulder, but only making it worse. Suga arched an eyebrow, aware of the awkwardness of Daichi’s actions, and Daichi found himself laughing shallowly. “I’m serious. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise to me.”

“But it’s our rule,” Suga pointed out slowly, as if testing Daichi. Daichi didn’t want to react to him, but his shoulders stiffened at the choice of words. “I like having dinner with you every night.”

“Oh, come on, Suga. Don’t be dramatic.” Trying to run away from Suga’s sharp gaze, Daichi turned around and took the sushi containers. “It’s not gonna be that long, and anyway, you’re entitled to have your life. Why would I complain?”

Yeah, Daichi, why would you.

Daichi wanted to complain.

But he didn’t.

Daichi wanted to crawl into Suga’s bed every night and wait for him and snuggle against his body and then fall asleep knowing at least they had that.

But he didn’t.

What he did was cook. What he did was prepare Suga bentos and buy him coffee and energy drinks he left around with post-its.

I hope you have a good day.

Don’t forget to eat.

Take care today and take an umbrella; it’s gonna rain.

I washed your clothes.

Be safe going back home tonight; and eat!

Daichi never wrote, I miss you, but he felt it was unnecessary. If Suga hadn’t realised through Daichi’s dumb post-its and his stupid caring tips, then it was pointless to tell him anyway.

Daichi held it together the first three weeks, because he was an adult and he had restrain and because his mind understood what his heart failed to see: Suga was, under no circumstances, forced to humour Daichi by sharing the small free time he had with him, if he even had free time at all. Daichi’s brain got the memo.

His heart didn’t.

At the end of the first month Daichi was so desperate for a bit of Suga he actually started delaying his own sleep, on the hopes he’d catch Suga when he got home back from work, each day later than the day before. The fact he could barely stay awake past twelve was bad, but it was even worse to wake up every morning with a blanket that smelled like Suga and with no trace of Suga on their damn apartment.

Daichi was going insane. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have work, because he did. But Daichi’s workday ended at six, leaving him with a ton of hours he had to fill out of his own apartment because, damn his sharp nose, he couldn’t spend more time in a house where Suga was so present in his absence.

That’s when the complaints started.

“It’s just—” Daichi frowned down at his beer, Kuroo and Bokuto both watching him in silent attention. “He’s never there anymore.”

“Well,” Kuroo chewed softly, as if Daichi would break if he spoke a bit louder. “You guys aren’t together. You can’t actually ask him to stay more.”

“That’s not what I want and of course I won’t say a thing.”

“Or you could,” Bokuto hummed as if his own thoughts were now just falling into his hands and he were seeing them for the first time. “I mean, you could tell him how you feel.”

Daichi blushed. He blushed so hard he actually saw the skin on the back of his hands get shamefully red. Kuroo chuckled, obviously delighted by Daichi’s unspoken crush. Bokuto just smiled kindly at him.

“I won’t.”

“You could tell him as a friend. I tell Kuroo all the time when I wanna hang out more.”

“You always tell me you wanna hang out more,” Kuroo retorted with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s because you never wanna hang out.”

Daichi’s stomach lightened at their quivering, known and safe land he was happy to step on. He was ashamed of his own complaints, of his own emotions. The project Suga was working on had been the most important of his career so far, and Daichi resented himself for not being able to show him the support he deserved. The support Daichi was eager to give him, but too petty to actually express.

“Anyway,” Kuroo hit Bokuto’s arm, who gaped at him, offended. “You okay?”

“It just sucks,” Daichi mustered, because as much as he hated feeling like this, he hated even more to swallow his own emotions. He wanted to smile and play it off, and he did, the small times he crossed words with Suga. But in Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s company he couldn’t bring himself to lie. He didn’t want to. “It sucks even more because I’m not able to tell him how I feel. And I never will.”

“Well, Drama Queen, chill.” Kuroo pushed the beer into Daichi’s hands. “Just get over these months and we will talk again about you confessing your beautiful, teen-ish crush when Suga’s back into a normal, living human’s schedule.”

Some weeks later, Daichi got home past twelve. Kuroo had gotten tickets for a techno concert, and although it wasn’t really Daichi’s sort of music, it had been nice to go out and get wasted and dance and sweat his desperation out.

For a little while Daichi’d been able to actually forget his heart was numb and pinning.

The lights told Daichi something was wrong as soon as he stepped inside, Suga’s working shoes thrown on the side of the entrance step.

“Suga?”

Daichi rushed through the corridor till the couch, where Suga was lying pale and shivery. Even from the distance Daichi could see sweat covering his silky skin, and he didn’t need to put his hand on Suga’s forehead to know he had a fever.

He did anyway.

“Daichi?”

“Hey,” Daichi said softly, going on his knees beside Suga. “What happened? Did you take something?”

“I’m just tired.” Suga tried to smile, but his chipped lips couldn’t shape it properly. “I’ve been working a bit too much, I think.”

“You think.” Daichi could hear the sharp edge of his voice. He didn’t want to be mad. He wasn’t even mad at Suga, but worry had its claws on his throat and his lungs, and Daichi couldn’t think properly. “You are barely home, you barely eat and you barely sleep. You always get here late and wake up earlier than me. And I go for a run every morning at six thirty.”

Suga blinked at him, his glassy eyes unfocused and feverish and Daichi felt like a dickhead, admonishing a sick person. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s ‘kay.” Suga did smile this time, soft and a bit shaky, but a smile nonetheless. Daichi’s breath caught on his lungs and he had to use iron restrain to stop himself from kissing him. “It’s nice to see you so worried you actually get mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I know.”

Daichi sighed loudly and, thoughtless, caressed Suga’s cheek. He pretended he was washing the sweat there, checking his temperature, but he was sure the way his eyes avoided Suga’s hazy ones was telling enough. “I’m gonna go to the conbini to buy you some medicine.”

“Don’t leave me yet.”

What a low hit. Daichi huffed soundly, pissed at his own weakness, and Suga snuggled onto the pillow, pushing his face closer to Daichi’s. “Thanks for all the food and things you’ve done.”

“You’re welcome.” Daichi fell on his side and let his temple rest near Suga’s hands. Suga watched down at him, that peaceful smile still playing on his lips. “You really should take something for that fever. And drink water.”

“I did drink.” Suga inhaled deeply, and Daichi had the impression he was inhaling him. Daichi couldn’t help himself when he rose his hand and caressed the skin of Suga’s jaw. “I think I just need to sleep. Your hand feels nice.”

Daichi ignored that last bit.

“You should take tomorrow off. I don’t even remember the last time you had a day off.”

Suga made a noncommittal sound and closed his eyes, sighing a deep, happy breath. It gave Daichi the impression of a baby cat, content and safe, finally able to fall asleep on its bed. Daichi’s mind was a mess of wants and words that burnt his tongue, and because he had missed Suga and his unmistakable scent, he let his hand take the wet locks of hair away from his forehead.

“Daichi,” Suga whispered softly, already asleep. Daichi smiled at him and caressed his warm skin again and before he did something really stupid, he stood up and went to the conbini.

He knew Suga wouldn’t do the sensible thing and stay home the next day, so he bought him some lemon drinks and more medicine than necessary and put it all in the table.

The post-it read, Take this and take care and don’t you dare faint or die. I made you food, so try to survive until you can go back to a normal person’s existence. Daichi.

There was a thick, scratched black mark right before Daichi signed with his name. It was unreadable, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out what word was hidden underneath.

Suga went back to a normal human’s schedule three months later with a smile as big as the sun, too many kilos thinner and his hair longer.

He also brought a boyfriend with him.

Daichi would have given his life and his soul to go back to those agonizing months when at least he could pretend there was hope at the end of the tunnel.

Daichi’s mood was awful and tiring and it had gotten so bad he couldn’t even stand himself. Mornings were the worst, because Daichi woke up with a knot on his stomach and vile on his throat, a wordless fear perfectly painted on the image of Suga and his damn boyfriend playing lovebirds in his kitchen.

It’s not as if that had ever happened. At least not in real life, anyway. But Daichi’s subconscious was, surprisingly, creative and thorough, and it had provided Daichi with a long list of nightmares he didn’t even want to consider. And they all had the same setting: Daichi, hopeful, crashing on Suga and his unknown lover being so obviously caring for each other it felt like a stab on his chest.

Since Suga announced a week after he’d gone back to a regular work schedule he had a boyfriend, and after the first night of nightmares, Daichi now stepped out of his room as if he were walking on mined land.

The muffled sound of the TV welcomed him when he made his way to the kitchen, the morning news throwing light into the living room. He could hear Suga hum a song while he prepared breakfast, his bare back as alluring as it was appalling. Daichi didn’t want to see the small marks of his freckles all over his skin, constellations he could see but wasn’t allowed to discover.

He felt like a man staring at the sky with no hope of ever reaching it.

“Daichi!” Suga beamed at him, the red mark of his pillow still on his cheek. “Good morning. You’re up late today.”

Daichi shrugged, not sure how words worked now that he was blinded by Suga and his perfect skin and his oh so missed company. “I went out with Kuroo after work.”

“Oh, right.” Suga turned around again, the light tone of his voice as carefree as it was fake. Daichi didn’t give it a second thought and stepped forward to reach for his mug right in time for Suga to lean back, as if he were about to talk to Daichi.

They stilled for a second too long, Daichi’s raised arm caging Suga in his chest. Daichi could feel Suga’s heat coming through his shirt, speeding up his already malfunctioning heart. Suga’s smell invaded his nostrils and his mouth, and Daichi licked his lips as if Suga’s presence were caressing them.

“Ah, sorry,” Daichi mustered, hoarse, and stepped sideways as Suga made a strangled sound and stepped forward, his hips crashing against the counter. Daichi couldn’t bring himself to look at him. He filled his mug with more coffee than he needed and made his way into the living room, where he felt safe and alone and he could pretend his heart wasn’t racing to death.

He wasn’t sure if the distance made it easier or harder to breathe, but at least Daichi’s eyes weren’t glued to a pale, naked back and a neck he had dreamed of more times than he should.

“Daichi,” Suga called him after a minute, his own mug in hand. There was an underlying tension on his frown when Daichi looked back at him. “Is it okay if my boyfriend comes today?”

The coffee turned into acid in Daichi’s stomach. The word boyfriend always sounded full of intent and meaning when Suga said it, but now it was a direct blow to his jaw. Daichi wanted to throw up, but instead he put a tight smile on his lips and nodded, slowly falling apart. “Of course. This is your home too.”

Daichi didn’t sleep in his bed that night, but that didn’t keep him from imagining Suga sleeping in his.

The nightmares were the worst when they came that evening, and Daichi swore he could feel his soul tear apart, shattered at the sight of Suga with someone else.

“You’re whimpering.”

“And it’s annoying.”

Daichi wanted to tell them they were annoying, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mean and lie. He had spent every weekend for a month in Kuroo’s house, taking over his couch and whining about his life. Daichi felt awful at how low he’d fallen. He could even feel his shoulders bend forward, as if they were unable to carry him anymore.

“I know,” Daichi agreed with gritted teeth. “I can’t help it.”

“Just leave that apartment, for god’s sake.” Kuroo threw him a bag of chips and Daichi was too miserable to catch it on time. It hit his face with a loud thud, and Bokuto laughed until he choked. “You’re practically living here anyway. You can stay in my couch until you find a new place, if that’s what you need.”

“Or you could just go and whimper at Suga,” Bokuto added, taking the chips out of Daichi’s hands.

“That’s stupid and unhelpful.”

“I’m serious.” Kuroo sat on the floor, dismissing Bokuto’s complain when he snatched the chips from him. “You need to decide what you do. Or you die pinning over Suga, or you move forward.”

It sounded so easy. It was easy, according to the simplicity of Kuroo’s words. Just step out of that apartment and find happiness again. But it was impossible to even fathom happiness in a world where Suga wasn’t in his life. It was the smell, and the late nights, and how Suga made fun of Daichi when they watched scary movies and then Daichi could barely sleep for a week. It was the shared food and the shared laughs and the fact Daichi couldn’t recall a safer place than being with Suga. After almost three years, Daichi’s heart and Daichi’s life had shaped around Suga’s existence, and just thinking about building a new one where he wasn’t there felt choking and wrong.

“So you’d rather die pinning,” Bokuto said, reading his thoughts.

Daichi didn’t have strength to deny it. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“I think ‘s actually pretty simple.” Bokuto kicked Kuroo and grabbed the chips back. “Nothing will change if you stay silent.”

“I don’t want things to change. That’s precisely the problem here.” Daichi frowned at Bokuto, the shadowed gaze of his sharp eyes cutting and scary. Daichi hated when Bokuto looked at him like that, as if he could see the world in a light Daichi would never be able to understand.

“I think Suga is in love with you,” Bokuto added, and Daichi’s world stopped suddenly on its tracks.

It was nice and light and for a second Daichi breathed with such freedom it was terrifying.

“Yeah, of course, that’s why he has a boyfriend now.” Daichi could hear the venom on his voice.

Bokuto rolled his eyes. “Imagine this. You’ve been living together for three years, and you’re sort of into each other. But you never do anything, or give the impression you actually want things to move forward because, duh, you just said yourself you don’t want things to change.” Daichi felt his chest constrict. Bokuto’s words were sharp but caring, and maybe because of that they hurt the most. “So the guy maybe has a thing for you, but you won’t act on it, you won’t even think of it, so he moves forward. Because life doesn’t stop just ‘cause you’re in love.”

“Bo…” Kuroo murmured, resting his feet on Bokuto’s shin. “That’s so deep and helpful.”

“I’m a master of love.”

“And yet forever single,” Kuroo continued, and Bokuto grew crimson. He turned around and kicked Kuroo again, coaxing a loud yelp out of him.

“Shut up! I was trying to make a point here.” Bokuto threw a pillow at Kuroo just to let him know what a dickhead he was, and turned his attention back to Daichi, who felt shaken and cold. “It’s okay if you want to live your life without stepping forward, but you can’t expect him to stay content with that.”

“I want to step forward,” Daichi answered, his voice trembling and his face as pale as he felt sick. “I want him.”

“But do you want to be with him?”

The question lingered. When Daichi tried to answer, he choked on it.

“That only works if Suga’s in love with me,” Daichi managed to spit out. “If he isn’t, then me saying something will only break what we have now.”

“If you say nothing, you’ll never know.”

“Suga’s not in love with me.”

But from that point on, Daichi couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He thought about it at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner. He thought about it when he was on the shower, when Suga was on the shower. He thought about it when he came back home and found Suga on the couch, glasses down his nose, on the edge of the sit and about to fall, because he was too into the book he was reading.

Since Bokuto’s mouth had put it into words, the possibility that Suga might have feelings for him never left Daichi. It was like a lullaby played at the back of his head, and the more he thought about it and the more he tried to think of other stuff, the louder it got.

“Daichi,” Suga said one friday, already on his pajamas when Daichi got home. He looked soft and safe and welcoming and Daichi almost fell to his knees. Instead, he smiled, because he didn’t know how to show his feelings otherwise. “Wanna watch a movie with me? I know it’s Friday, but—”

“Isn’t… What about your boyfriend? I thought—”

“Oh.” Suga teared his gaze away, a soft blush on his cheeks. Daichi blinked, expression blank. What a sight, and what a hit. “He has plans with his— mom,” Suga seemed amused by that fact, but Daichi didn’t give it more thought.

“It’s been awhile since we watched a movie,” Daichi said with a nod.

“I bought popcorn.”

Daichi light up at the sound of that. He went to his room and got changed, putting on the sweatpants he had discarded that morning without a thought on the bed. Loose and comfortable, Daichi caressed the soft fabric and frowned. They smelled like the soap they used, but somehow they also had attached Suga’s scent, the one Daichi would recognize anywhere.

Daichi stared at his hands on the sweatpants’ pockets, his nose almost brushing the fabric there. He needed a second to register his own actions, the fact he had just buried his nose on his leg because he could smell Suga in him.

He was losing his mind.

“Daichi! Are you ready?”

“Coming!”

Embarrassed, Daichi rushed to the living room, Suga already sat on the couch, ready and excited. He had his legs under him, a bowl of popcorns at hand and a wicked smile on his soft lips.

Daichi grimaced. “Oh no.”

“Oh, yes! It came out the other day, so we are watching the ‘70s version.”

“Why.”

“That’s how you grow some resistance.”

Daichi whimpered softly but sat anyway. “I don’t want resistance.”

Suga didn’t listen. He put the TV on and made himself comfortable, getting swallowed by the couch and brushing Daichi’s arm with his. Daichi’s skin came to life, every cell, every nerve, every beat of his heart aware of every shift of Suga’s body. The way he wiggled to push his legs in front of him, how he put the bowl between them both without looking at Daichi, how he breathed deeply and fully, as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

It was heaven. Or hell. It was hard to decide which when his skin was inflamed, his heart was beating so fast he could barely hear the TV and the smell was filling his lungs like water, drowning him.

Suga was so close, he was too close, and the urge to subtly let his weight fall on him was overtaking Daichi’s will. The movie started with Daichi’s mind caught on Suga and his pale skin, Suga and his missed smell, Suga and the fact he had a boyfriend but now that boyfriend was absent so Daichi could pretend he didn’t exist.

The movie wasn’t as scary as others they’d watched, but Daichi was bad with horror. After ten minutes, although his skin was overly aware of Suga right there, he was cold and sweaty. Fear tasted like gasoline when mixed with popcorn, so Daichi stopped eating altogether.

“Daichi.”

He shrieked. Gods, he shrieked so loud it actually quieted the sound of the movie for a second. With wide eyes, Daichi stared at the bright screen, the crawl of a blush, red and hot, already covering all his body.

At least the cold of fear was now overthrown by the heat of shame.

“Oh my god, Daichi,” the amusement in Suga’s voice was as sweet as it was dreading. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Liar.”

Suga’s laugh was a sweet, loud caress. Daichi tried to keep his pout on his mouth, but Suga’s cackle could break any man. When Suga rested his forehead on Daichi’s shoulder, trembling so hard popcorns were falling all over the couch, Daichi finally gave in. He turned around right in time to see tears fall from Suga’s eyes, his laugh shaping his lips into the most beautiful of sights. Daichi stared at him. Drank him, the tempting freckle under his eye, the pale, perfect skin, the bright joy in his eyes.

It struck Daichi how beautiful he was, how much he had missed this simple moments. A heavy layer of yearning covered Daichi’s stomach. Suga wasn’t laughing anymore, now just staring back at Daichi with his eyelashes wet and his tongue clearing the dryness on his lips.

Daichi couldn’t stare away, even if he wanted to.

They were so close Daichi could count the small dots of gold in Suga’s brown eyes. So close, if Daichi inhaled deeply enough, he could breathe every piece of Suga and keep it safe inside his chest.

I want to kiss you, Daichi didn’t say. I love you, Daichi didn’t say.

Suga leaned forward, just a bit. Daichi mimicked him, unbidden. Suga was warm and soft and looked mild and welcoming, and Daichi wanted—

A phone rang. Loud. It was Suga’s, and Daichi knew that ringtone, because he had come to hate it with all his might. It brought reality back to the dream, too.

Suga groaned, as if pissed with his boyfriend for calling him. Daichi straightened his back and with a blank expression stared at the TV. His mind was a mess, and his heart an ashen massacre.

They didn’t finish the movie.

Daichi met Suga’s boyfriend four days later, on a damn Wednesday.

—Wednesdays were banned from that point on—

It was unfair and Daichi would have believed Suga to do it on purpose had he hadn’t been so surprised to see Daichi in the couch when they got in. As if this weren’t Daichi’s home as well.

“Oh. Daichi, I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight…” Suga looked over his shoulder, where a man slightly taller than him was smiling, his handsome face an annoying sight Daichi pretended to ignore.

“I live here,” Daichi said with a flat tone. Suga tittered and Daichi bristled in answer.

“Yeah, of course you do. I thought— Anyway, Daichi, this is Oikawa. Oikawa, my flatmate, Daichi.”

Daichi resented how damnly perfect Oikawa looked, the smile on his lips soft and honest, his fair skin a tint darker than Suga’s. “It’s nice to meet you. Finally.” Even his voice was pretty. Daichi frowned at the singing tone he used for that last word. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice things, I’d hope.”

“Of course! You treated Kou–chan so nicely while we were working on the project. Right, darling?” Daichi froze, a loud ringing sound crossing his skull from side to side at that Kou-chan and that darling. Was it him, or did it sound especially sharp when Oikawa said it? Daichi’s smile widened, but inside he felt like a volcano had just exploded and was destroying every fleshed land it encountered.

“Right.” Suga’s eyes were dark and amused and there was a gleam on them Daichi didn’t usually see. It bothered him enough to stand up and turn his smile in such a fake show his facial muscles hurt. “You okay?”

Suga sounded shy and mocking and Daichi would never understand how he made it work, and why the heck it made his dumb heart drum a happy song.

“Fine. Yeah. I’m just—” he pointed to his room, and then the entrance door, and he stood there trying to decide if suffering Kuroo’s complaints would be worse than staying here and seeing them all lovey-dovey. “I’ll go… to Kuroo’s. Yeah, so you guys can have some privacy and all that.”

“Oh, Dai–chan, please don’t,” Oikawa’s singing voice was annoying and it was drilling a hole into Daichi’s reasoning. “I wouldn’t want to kick you out of your house. Right, darling?”

Suga snorted at Oikawa when he heard that last part, but hid it behind a cough that had Daichi watching him with wary and worry.

“Sure, sure. I mean, of course, Daichi, please don’t leave on our account. This is your house. We could all watch a movie or something.”

“I think not,” Daichi said before he could hold his tongue. Suga’s gaze widened, a sparkle of recognition on those beautiful eyes of his. Daichi wanted to kiss him more than ever, but the need to kick him was as strong, so he did nothing. “Kuroo’s getting used to having me anyway. So, see you later, I guess. Bye.”

Daichi was a coward but he didn’t care. It was too painful, anyway. The drum of his heart wasn’t happy any longer; it sounded like the march of horses, running towards their early deaths.

It was later than Daichi expected when he knocked on Kuroo’s door. He might have been leaning to the side, but the amount of alcohol he had drank kept him from understanding his body’s movements properly. He knocked again with his forehead and his hand, and when seconds ticked and not even a sound came from inside the apartment, Daichi whined softly.

He almost fell face flat when the door opened with a soft click. Kuroo caught him against his chest, —his naked chest—, the mess of his sleep hair matching his black boxers.

“‘Rry.”

“What the heck, man. It’s three in the morning.”

“I know,” Daichi took a hold of Kuroo’s shoulders, trying to straighten himself, but his legs wiggled. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“If you throw up on my floor—”

Daichi didn’t throw up on the floor, but he made a pretty mess on Kuroo’s bathroom. The thought he’d have to invite Kuroo to at least a hundred dinners crossed Daichi’s clouded mind, and with his forehead against the toilet, he looked up where Kuroo was leaning on the door frame.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, more coherently this time. “I’m gonna pay you back.”

“Dude, you don’t have to pay me anything. But it’ll be nice if you got your shit together. You can’t keep coming back here every time Suga brings his boyfriend home.”

“They went straight to the bedroom today,” Daichi mustered, a heavy stone on his back making of his words a sad tangle of emotions. “I couldn’t— I think I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, that’s not something new.” Kuroo sighed deeply, his eyes scanning Daichi on his bathroom floor, tears at the corners of his red eyes, the rictus of his mouth broken and lonely and one step from shattering completely. “Daichi, my friend, you have to make a decision. And you have to make it soon. Look at you.”

Daichi whines. “I know. I know. I just— that stupid Oikawa.”

Kuroo froze mid-step when he heard the cutting of his tongue. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait a second. Oikawa. Oikawa is Suga’s boyfriend.”

“Yes.” Daichi squinted. “Wait, you know Oikawa?”

“Tall? Handsome? He has this vibe he could kill you if you actually piss him off?”

“Uhuh,” Daichi nodded absently. “Yeah.”

“Oh boy.” Kuro squated on Daichi’s side, his smirk as big as it was scary. “Daichi, you owe me your life.”

Daichi’s head was about to explode. There was a constant drum happening on his temples, getting louder and harder and more painful with each passing hit. He grunted loudly, and even that sound hurt.

“I’m dying.”

“Not yet,” Kuroo answered from his side. Daichi didn’t bother opening his eyes, the warmth of Kuroo’s body a nice blanket for his awful state. “It’s just your hangover.”

“Will I die from it?” Kuroo snorted. “What’s that annoying sound?”

“The door,” Kuroo answered unconcerned, as if this weren’t his apartment nor his business. “Suga, I’d assume.”

“Why would Suga be here?” Daichi growled, trying to turn around, but his body felt heavy and numb. Daichi couldn’t be sure if he was moving when he finally opened his eyelids half way, watching Kuroo read some papers, the glasses such a weird sight it broke Daichi’s hangover for a brief second. “I think I’m dying for real.”

“I texted Iwaizumi yesterday and told him you and I had sex.”

A long second of hard pounding went by, and Daichi couldn’t point out if the hits he was hearing were inside his head or Suga was really at the door of the apartment.

“Should I've understood anything of that sentence?”

“Probably not.” Kuroo smirked down at him, his eyes sharper framed by the glasses. “Iwaizumi is my friend from the gym. He’s currently dating a man called Oikawa, whom I believe you’re pretty acquainted with.” Daichi frowned, his headache getting worse with each of Kuroo’s words. “I assumed Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was playing fool, since I’ve seen them together and no one would ever believe they are nothing but madly in love with each other. Disgustingly cute, if you ask me.” Daichi made a noncommittal sound, totally lost with this conversation. The threads of alcohol were still hanging on his brain, and Daichi was divided between kicking Kuroo out of the bed or just let him rant it all out. “You still with me?”

Daichi huffed loudly. “Go on. I’m dying anyway.”

“So, as I expected, Iwaizumi told Oikawa I was giving you the night of your life.” The doorbell was ringing now and Daichi could swore a black hole had opened on his skull and was absorbing every bit of life he had left.

“I still fail to see how’s that making me want to die right now.”

“How impatient,” Kuroo smiled down at Daichi, the soft lift of his lips more tender than mocking. “Oikawa, as I supposed, is Suga’s friend, and he was pretending to be his boyfriend because, as Bokuto told you already, Suga’s pretty much in love with you.” Kuroo drawn his eyebrows together, deep in thought for a second. “Let’s just keep that part for ourselves, though.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell Bokuto he was right. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Right about what?”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you listening? Suga’s here, trying to tear my door down because he believes I’ve fucked you senseless.”

“I mean, you did in a way,” Daichi grunted softly, and Kuroo laughed hard enough to shake the bed. “Wait, what?” Daichi finally opened his eyes, and sat on the bed with the widen eyes of a deer about to be hit by a truck. “Suga’s here.” Kuroo nodded. “He thinks you and I had sex.” Another nod. “And you think he’s in love with me.”

“Dude, he’s been at the door for like ten minutes now. There’s no doubt he is in love with you.”

Daichi tripped on his way out of bed, a simple pair of boxers the only thing covering him when he rushed through Kuroo’s apartment till the still ringing door. Now that he was closer he could discern Suga’s muffled voice, the low threats he was aiming at Kuroo with sharp precision warming Daichi’s skin when he took the handle.

“Kuroo, open that door or I swear—˝

Daichi opened the door and Suga almost broke his nose with his fist.

“Oh, no, Daichi, sorry, I didn’t mean…” his voice wore off when Suga’s eyes caught Daichi’s naked body. His eyes roamed around his chest and his thighs and stayed there, on his underwear, as if the fabric had offended him beyond repair. “Oh. Well. I see.”

Daichi wondered if he really saw anything, or if he was mad and hurting. By how hard he was closing his hands in fists Daichi got a pretty good idea of which it was, but he couldn’t talk. His head was still throbbing and his mind was still a blank space unable to process the reasons Suga could have to be here, this early on a Sunday morning.

“I guess I should…” Suga pointed at his back, turning his body, hiding his expression. Daichi couldn’t talk, but he thanked himself when his arm reached forward and stopped Suga from leaving. “Daichi.” He sounded strangled.

“Wait. I can—”

“No, I get it. I should have… I mean, it was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?”

Daichi frowned when Suga turned back and faced him again, a red blush of anger lighting his cheeks. Daichi let go of his arm. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Kuroo,” Suga wiggled his eyebrows and laughed, dry and broken. It was the worst sound Daichi had ever heard. “You practically live here. I should have… Well, I’m an idiot and now I’m leaving.”

“I’m not with Kuroo,” Daichi said, still trying to catch every bit of information that was flying around his head. Gods, being hangover was the worst. Suga raised his eyebrows and looked at him with intent, but Daichi was too pained to bother worrying about it. “I’m not. I came here drunk and then I threw up and of course I wasn’t going to sleep with my clothes on after that.”

Suga didn’t look convinced on the least. He hummed, arms crossed, and looked at him as if by the simple power of his gaze he could see if Daichi was telling the truth.

“Please? Come in? So we can talk with some privacy.”

“Unless Kuroo has left, we won’t have privacy.”

“I heard that!” Daichi sighed at Kuroo’s amazed voice.

Suga inhaled shakily, catching Daichi’s attention. His shoulders were bent over, his nose red and his eyes hazy. There were shadows under his usually cheerful eyes, now cold and dull. Daichi wanted to pull him into his chest and hug the sadness out of him, but instead he just contented himself with a soft caress on Suga’s cold cheek.

Suga’s intake was harsh and sudden and his eyes lift to lock with Daichi’s, a world of pleas Daichi had never seen before swimming in his eyes.

“Please.”

Suga nodded and stepped forward.

Kuroo gave them some privacy. Which translated in him closing the door of the bathroom and turning on his speakers, loud enough for the lady on the corner’s shop to hear his music.

It was good enough. Daichi managed to borrow some pants and a shirt, and went back to the livingroom, where Suga was pacing around.

“Suga.”

“It’s my fault,” Suga blurted out. He couldn’t look up to Daichi, but his feet stopped moving. “I brought Oikawa and I thought I was being so smart but I wasn’t.”

“I know you believe that makes sense to me,” Daichi said slowly. “But it doesn’t. If you could explain…?”

Suga blinked up at him, the soft light of the morning painting his cheeks in oranges and golds, turning him into a statue of a god, beautiful and nostalgic and breathtaking. Daichi drank from him as he hadn’t allowed himself to do since Oikawa stepped in their apartment, and it hit him with a bull’s strength, how much he’d missed him.

“Oikawa’s my fake boyfriend,” Suga admitted with a plain voice. “I asked him to play the part because I thought—” he choked on his own thoughts, and a blush rose on his already painted cheeks. “I thought you’d get jealous,” he whispered, almost mouthed. Daichi’s brain wasn’t working properly, for he took three seconds too long to understand the meaning of his words.

“What.” Daichi gaped at him. “What do you mean…”

“Come on, Daichi,” Suga snorted. “It was pretty obvious.”

“What.”

Daichi felt like a parrot, unable to say anything beyond that dumb word.

“That I’m in love with you.” Suga watched him freeze. Even his lungs stopped. Daichi couldn’t move when those words crossed his skin and filled him till he couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, Daichi, don’t tell me. You didn’t know?”

“Of course not! You never said anything!”

“If I left more clues you would have drowned on them.”

“What?” Daichi really ought to stop saying that before its meaning got lost forever. “Suga—” a sudden laugh broke from Daichi’s chest, bubbles of fire and water filling him as if he were a bottle of champagne about to burst. “Suga, I’m not especially sharp for these things.”

Suga rolled his eyes. “No kidding.”

Silence fell. It was almost a physical thing, not heavy or awkward, but filled with possibilities and expectations. They were still some meters apart, Suga’s hands tangled, Daichi’s hands at his hips. The moment lingered. Tension was growing and growing, the hint of a step, the shadow of a smile.

Their eyes never teared from each other, and by the time the moment had grown so big it was embracing them like a blanket, they were both smiling like idiots.

“You’re in love with me,” Daichi beamed.

Suga shook his head, but his lips were wearing the sweetest of smiles. “Yeah.”

“And you fake dated your friend to make me jealous.”

“As I said.”

“And I was jealous.” Suga inhaled deeply, probably filling his lungs with that truth, with Daichi’s laugh, with the moment and the pretty colors of the sun, lighting them up. “I was so jealous I couldn’t even think. Kuroo and Bokuto have been one second from murdering me. Several times.”

Suga chuckled, his hand playing with his lower lip now. It was shy and yet tempting, the unmistaken gleam of mischief in his eyes making of Daichi’s heart a stuttering mess. His glare said, how long are you gonna wait to kiss me?

“I’ve been in love with you almost since we moved together,” Daichi confessed instead. His lips were drawn into a thin line, the weight of his emotions finally being freed from their cage a relief, and a curse. There was no coming back from this. Change, as dreaded as it felt, was happening, and it was as light as it was weird. It was like walking over broken shells, but instead of cutting him, the sharp edges were building him, reshaping him. “I didn’t— I was so scared of losing what we had, I never dared saying anything. You know, the nights together, the trust, the fact you were always there. You were my… You were…”

Suga stepped closer, a ghostly movement Daichi saw and Daichi drank from with his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I was…?”

“Suga.” Daichi exhaled his name, a plea, a wish, a dream finally at his hand’s reach. Suga was close enough now for Daichi to feel the way his chest moved, his heavy breathing matching Daichi’s.

“What was I, Daichi.” The soft touch of Suga’s finger on his jaw made Daichi close his eyes. The small spot of contact felt like a supernova, a blown star growing and growing, electrifying every cell in Daichi’s body. He was burning up. “Come on,” the whisper caressed his lips, “we’ve come this far.”

Daichi’s eyes cracked open. Suga was everything he could gaze at and, unthinkingly, he mustered, “Home. You’ve been home all along.”

The kiss happened like the best things always happen, soundless and caringly, thoughtless. A soft brush of lips. They were gazing at each other because their mouths meeting with their eyes closed felt wrong and unfitting. Daichi breathed Suga, the smell of lemon, of leather, of home. Suga’s hands flatted Daichi’s sides, the warmth of his palms a brand in Daichi’s skin. It send rivers through Daichi’s system.

In answer, Daichi groaned, a stupid sound that put a blush in his cheeks and a laugh in Suga’s mouth, still glued to Daichi’s. “Home, huh,” Suga teased him, his arms circling Daichi’s neck and pushing him closer. Daichi’s hands, somehow, had found their way to Suga’s waist. Daichi wasn’t sure he could ever take them away.

Letting out a noncommittal sound against Suga’s neck, Daichi tasted his laugh through his throat. “That’s sweet.”

“Thanks,” Daichi grunted against his skin.

“Daichi.”

“What.”

Bending his back away from Daichi’s touch, Suga leaned far enough for their eyes to meet again. Although shaped with a tender smile, Suga’s lips had an edge to them, as if words he wasn’t sure of were caught in them.

“Do you want things to change?”

It was said with a heavy seriousness Daichi wasn’t prepared for. He regarded Suga with a blink, the warmth of their kiss still in his lips. Suga’s eyes had grown dark. Daichi’s fingers pressed Suga’s flesh with unconscious intent.

“I want you,” Daichi answered with honesty. “I want to be with you.”

There was a long second of Kuroo’s music breaking their peace, in which Suga watched Daichi with eyes that went from unsure, to scared, to pleased in a beat. Daichi saw it all, the small journey of his emotions, and he was prepared when Suga threw himself at him, mouth open and arms choking.

Daichi kissed him back, pushed him up, hugged him until they were out of breath by the kiss as much as the way their arms held each other.

“Take me home, Daichi.”

Daichi smiled, and kissed that plea, and then laughed because home had just acquired a bright new meaning.

#haikyuusecretsanta #daisuga #haikyuu!!#sugawara koushi #sawamura daichi #fanfic

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