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crescentsteel · 4 years ago

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Keeping a Secret - Part 2

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn warnings: lots of swear words, tsukki being a a closet softie wc: 6k (lol no chill as always)

[a/n]

Sorry for the delayed update. I added almost 1k words just to solidify the characters to give depth even more to the story. Feel free to reread. (It's totally not because I started a different series altogether.)

When I say this is slow burn, I meant sloooooooowww burn.

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. :)

AO3

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

What were you even thinking? Actually, why weren’t you? Had you used at least two brain cells of yours, you wouldn’t have momentarily lost your mind and kissed Tsukishima. You could’ve justified your actions if you were drunk, but you ingested not even an ounce of alcohol that night.

History will remember yesterday as the day a a sober you and a very displeased Tsukishima who found yourselves smooching publicly in the middle of a club. You’re just glad that no other member of the team goes to the same university you both go to. Else, you'd run the risk of getting seen.

Were so touch-deprived that you couldn’t resist even Tsukishima? And what about him? Why did he get along with it? You don’t think he actually hates you. Hate is such a strong word. He just exceedingly dislikes you. So why would he make out with you? Maybe he thought of it as a way of finally standing up to you?

Ugh.

You’re thankful that you didn’t have training yesterday. You were a mess the whole day trying to make sense of what happened. Not that you’re any better today; you’re still baffled as fuck. But you’re glad you had that day off so you wouldn’t have to face him immediately.

For the first time ever, you’re dreading going to the gym. Even if you’re tired or you lack sleep, you’ve never felt distressed as the manager of the Sendai Frogs. All this because of Tsukishima. But can you really put the blame on him when it was you who initiated it?

“Good morning, y/n,” Eiji, the captain of the team greets you.

“Morning, Eiji,” you say back. Even though he’s older than you, you dropped the salutations already, same with everybody else.

“You okay?” he asks worriedly.

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely! When am I ever not okay?” You toughen it up and erase the troublesome kiss in your head. You are their ever shining manager, first and foremost. Anything outside of that has no place in this gym.

“Never. It’s almost scary actually,” he answers with jest.

“Right? ‘Cause I’m a freaking goddess.”

He gives you a noble bow. “Indeed, you are, my lady.”

You giggle softly. Your players really are the best on and off the court (except for Tsukishima). “Go do your drills instead of buttering me up, ‘captain.’” He gives you a mock salute then jogs off towards the net.

“Y/n!”

You saunter off to your coach after you were called. “Yes, Coach?”

“Can you help tape the blockers?” You nod willingly, quickly discarding unnecessary thoughts of Tsukishima.

“Tsukishima’s free. Go start with him.”

You almost flinch upon hearing his name.

‘Great,’ you groan internally as you get the wrap from your kit and drag your feet toward the source of your uneasiness. But what did you expect? Of course, you’d have to deal with him sooner or later.

“Morning, Tsukishima,” you greet him with forced normalcy, acting like nothing’s wrong. As you take his left hand and you’re instantly reminded of what happened the other night -- how this hand gripped your waist while his mouth moved against yours… how his skin felt against the palm of your hand as he towered over you, body against body in a dance so dangerous and so hypnotizing that you lost yourself in the moment.

You tried your best to calm down yesterday, but seeing him right now makes you want to smack yourself from your momentary insanity that led you to kiss him.

Instead, you give him the nicest, brightest smile to channel your frustrations as you start taping his fingers. You just hope and pray that he doesn’t bring it up.

“Morning, manager .” It was an indirect jab at you. Even when he says it with a dead tone, you know he’s taunting you by addressing you as manager - a tortuous reminder that what happened last Saturday night wasn’t forgotten.

Instead of yielding to the provocation, you respond with your own. You might have messed up, but you’re not letting him get the upper hand. “How was your weekend, Tsukki?”

“Horrible,” he quickly answers without even thinking.

“Ditto. What happened to yours?” you ask with fake curiosity, already knowing why. Even if you didn’t kiss him then, he was already acting up like an angsty teen forced by his mom to attend a children’s party within the neighborhood.

“Went to a disgusting party.”

You nod pretentiously. “Mine’s horrible too. I got g-”

“I didn’t ask,” he interrupts.

“Well, you’re still going to hear it,” you respond just as distastefully as he cut you off. “I got groped by some perv, but I kinda punched some good manners unto him.” You release his left hand and take his right one to tape it as well.

“And?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s it. After that, I just went home from how horrible the experience was.”

You look up to him, meeting his sardonic gaze paired with a raised eyebrow from what you just said. You know that he understood that you were referring to something else other than the perv incident as horrible.

“How about you? What happened to that disgusting party of yours?” you press on.

“I bumped into someone I didn’t really want to see.”

“And?”

“Do you really wanna know how horrible it was for me?” A smirk creeps up on the corner of his mouth as he asks. There were many times before that you’ve wanted a taste of Tsukishima’s vile sarcasm, just to know what he’d say to you. Today is not one of those times. You don’t want him using that reckless kiss against you.

“Actually, no. I don’t really care.” You let go of his hand you just finished working with and look around to look for anyone you could use as a distraction from Tsukishima’s attempt to retell the kiss from his perspective.

“Kogane!” you brightly call the setter as you bounce cheerfully towards him.

Even if you don’t show it, Tsukishima knows he’s gotten under your previously impenetrable thick skin. He detests what happened last Saturday. The more he remembers it, the more he abhors it. The only reason he’s not totally hating himself for getting swept along with your shit is because he knows you hated it too, probably more than he does since it was you who kissed him first.

His smug grin only spreads when you march to Kogane with that cutesy act you only show to players from opposing teams to unsettle them before matches. You take both Kogane’s hands and beam at him. “Do you want me to tape your fingers?”

“Y-you don’t have to, y/n. I can do it myself!” Kogane blurts out, panicking at your sudden closeness and physical touch.

“But I love taking care of you guys,” you pout at Kogane, which only makes the setter blush a shade almost close to red.

Tsukishima follows you to help his babbling, flustered teammate.

“You’re going to kill him, y/n,” he says as he passes by you and Kogane who now looks like he stopped functioning.

You blink at Kogane, realizing what you’re doing to the poor guy.

You must have been really bothered by Tsukishima and unknowingly projected it to someone else.

Tsukishima sneers as he sees you try to ease Kogane from his severe fluster but only make it worse by rubbing his shoulders.

A dash of pride and satisfaction swells on Tsukishima’s chest as he watches you get agitated with the situation you, yourself caused. Getting back at you feels even better than he imagined it would be.

Even though you and Tsukishima are in the same class, you don’t really notice his presence. Sometimes you’d even forget you’re classmates. Now, though, you are more aware of the fact that he’s actually there than you ever have.

“Alright, class. For your main project this semester, I’m going to have you partnered up. You need to come up with a comprehensive report on mating behavior of reptiles. I’ll randomly generate your assigned reptile.”

You groan. Another collaborative work in the same subject. You don’t like working with others because you don’t want to adapt to anyone’s schedule. You like to get things done ahead of time. You hate procrastinating because you don’t want your uni requirements getting mixed up with potential tasks from your managerial job, especially whenever tournament seasons come.

The last collaborative work you worked on is a group project where you did most of the work yourself. You wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t have fucking freeloaders as groupmates. The little shits made you do 90% of the project because you wanted it done early.

You just pray that this time, you get to be paired with someone responsible. You tap your pen on your desk while you wait for your name to be called.

“L/n and Tsukishima.”

You drop your pen at your professor’s announcement. It bounces twice on your desk before rolling to the floor, but you don’t move to pick it up. Your gaze immediately flies to where Tsukishima is seated and find him glaring at you already. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous this entire situation is.

Seriously? Were you a serial killer in your previous life or something? Did some higher power decide to punish you for your grave sins like this?

Whatever. You’re not having any of this shit.

You wait until the class is over and approach your professor. “Sir. I’d like to do this project alone.” Or at least with someone else.

He continues to type something on his laptop, not bothering to look up at you, as he asks, “Why is that?”

“I just feel more comfortable doing things on my own, Sir. Please.” You try to give him your nice student smile but his eyes don't leave his screen.

“Then what? Have you increase my workload?”

Shit. You forgot that this particular professor of yours is known to not budge to anyone. You scramble your brain for another excuse.

“Sir. Can I do this project alone?” you suddenly hear Tsukihima’s voice behind you.

Finally, your professor closes his laptop and eyes you two unenthusiastically. “My answer is no to miss Y/n, so my answer to you, Mr. Tsukishima, is also no. I don’t know what the deal is between you two, but you’re doing this together.”

You can’t help but scowl despite being right in front of your professor. If it wasn’t for that darn kiss, you would’ve loved working with Tsukishima. Even though you don’t have the same classes, his schedule won’t be that hard to match up with because you two have the same training days. Secondly, he’s smart. You won’t have to carry the whole weight of the project.

“You know what, I’ll reconsider.” A glimmer of hope lights up in your chest as you hear your professor’s words. “I’ll allow you two to work individually — but with an automatic ten point deduction for this project.”

“No,” you and Tsukishima respond at the same time.

“Great! You’re already getting along swimmingly.” Your professor picks up his stuff and stands up. “Enjoy,” he waves a dismissive goodbye and leaves.

You slowly turn around to face Tsukishima and find that you share the same lour that he has. You cross your arms and lean on your professor’s desk. “Guess we’re together, Tsukishima.”

You allowed yourself one week to compose yourself before you agreed to start the project with Tsukishima. You still saw him at training days, and even then, you tried to have the least amount of interaction with him so the ‘incident’ wouldn’t be brought up again. Meeting him for a project where it’s just you two is different and you needed time.

As much as you don’t want to be with him, you told yourself that it’ll be over soon. You just pushed the kiss in the back of your head and convinced yourself that it was just a stupid kiss. It didn’t mean anything. He probably just went along with it out of spite, so it’s best you think of it as a spur of the moment madness. That way, you won’t be bothered if he sordidly brings it up again. At least now, you can go back to your usual, cheeky self around him.

You’re about to text Tsukishima that you’ve arrived at the station you agreed to meet up at but you already see him there standing while he’s scrolling his phone with his usual white headphones on.

Unfortunately for you and him, the reptile assigned to you two are crocodiles. It’s the worst possible assignment you could get among the roster of reptiles assigned. You need to travel all the way to Wakabayashi for a legitimate crocodile farm to observe, compared to other reptiles which are easily accessible with nearby zoos in Miyagi. You just pray that you’ll only need this one trip to get all the data you need for your report.

You walk towards him and instantly regard how he looks. Despite being in the same university, you don’t see him around much. Even in your sole class together, you’re seated way too apart from each other to even look at each other’s direction. Not that being seated beside each other would’ve made a difference. You’re not friends. There’s no need to talk to him since everything that’s volleyball-related is relayed through line. To you, he’s just one of your players. As far as you’re concerned, the only Tsukishima you’re aware of is the one sweating his white shirt and training shorts during practice.

To have this much involvement with him outside the gym is throwing you out of your usual loop. You continue studying him at a distance. Today he’s wearing white plaid pants, black turtleneck (probably long sleeves) with a lighter shade of black coat on top, and a brown wool scarf. He also has a gray bonnet that makes his blonde locks frame his face nicely.

What the heck? Did he always dress like this even in class? How come you never noticed?

He finally notices you. He puts down his phone and removes his headphones. “How long have you been there?”

“Wow, Tsukishima. You look kinda hot,” you blurt out without thinking.

His eyes expand at your statement that came out of nowhere. “Huh?!”

“Oh, sorry. That must’ve been random. But you look really good though. I kinda feel like I’m meeting a date,” you say with objective candor as you continue to stare at him.

That catches him completely off guard. The other day you’re on the edge around him. You weren’t even paying much attention to him during training, but now you’re back to being a headache whose mouth knows no bounds as you faze him with your unfiltered thoughts. Now, it’s him who is uncomfortable again with your thorough eyes scanning him approvingly.

“As if I’d ever date you,” he snaps back at your remark to which you scoff at.

“I didn’t say you would. Maybe you’re forgetting, I’d never go out with a member of the team.”

“Right. But kissing one is totally fine, huh?” he retaliates in an instant with a condescending look. He waits for your reaction, eager to see you distraught and bothered by it. To his dissatisfaction, you don’t behave in such a way. Instead, you sigh defeatedly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I got a little crazy that night,” you say casually to a degree that you sounded like it was just a petty accident. “You kissed me back, so I’m sure you were too. Right?”

The last word is conniving, and he can tell why you phrased it that way. You’re leaving him no choice but to disregard what happened or else it’s going to seem like it meant something to him. The hell it does. It simply resurfaces back on his mind sometimes because of how unpleasant the memory is.

‘Devious woman,’ he snarls in his head.

It should be okay. Your reason for what you did can also be his excuse for how responded to it. What he didn’t like is that he hasn’t even managed to make the most out of that incident, while you immediately found a way to undo the grave you dug for him to bury you into.

Plus, the only advantage he sees out of partnering with you for this project is the possibility of being able to pester you the way you pester him during practice. Obviously, that’s already thrown off the window. Now, there’s nothing in it for him for the duration of the project. He is left with nothing but the fact that he has to endure your company. To think that he’s already so miserable when this afternoon has barely even started.

“Yeah,” he answers with contained resentment. “Can we go on the bus now?” He asks to deviate away from the topic already. He was hoping he could still use the incident to unnerve you, but it’s for naught now.

He enters the bus first and assumes you’ll follow him, which you do as you take your seat beside him. You get your shoulder bag and take out a notebook.

“Can you take a look at this outline I made for our report?” you ask while you hand him your notebook opened at a certain page.

“I can’t read while the bus is moving,” he says then waits for a lame comeback from you. But you don’t comment about it. Why must you keep on being such a wildcard?

“Ah, okay. I’ll just tell it to you then,” you smile at him. “This trip is going to take long. It’d be a waste of time to not make use of it, right?”

He groans internally. Why must you be right all the fucking time?

He also made an outline last night, but he didn’t tell you because he thought it’d be better if he just did the data-gathering himself and let you take the pictures the report should have. He forgot that you’re not as irresponsible and carefree as you present yourself to be.

He listens to you explain your outline, looking for flaws in it for the sake of his grade and also for his self-satisfaction. And he does find a few.

“You should have separate discussion points for mating characteristics for male and females. I’m sure they have distinct traits. Also, I think we should include more than just one species, preferably three if the farm has it.” He continues, “Maybe we can note certain unique behaviors per species. It would be inconclusive, but it would still be nice to include it as a commentary.”

He hopes to extract even just a tiny hint of embarrassment from you for he’s thought of it better than you did. But you just stare at him for a good few seconds before you break into a dazzled smile.

“Oh my God. Yeah, you’re absolutely right!”

You open your notebook and scribble the changes in your drafted outline. “Is there anything else?” You consult him genuinely. You accept his criticisms with an open mind, which vexes him even more.

“Nothing,” he grumbles.

“Alright. Let’s just revise it again once we see what’s on the farm.”

He doesn’t bother replying anymore since you’re once again right.

He puts on his headphones again to drown out whatever chatter you plan to have with him since you’re done discussing the project for now. Instead of bugging him, you take out a bunch of readings and focus on them intently, completely ignoring him.

With nothing to entertain him aside from the music on his ears, his peripheral keeps going back to you and how hard you’re concentrating with the papers in your one hand and a pen in the other.

He removes one muff of his headphone from his ear and asks you, “Don’t you get motion sickness?”

You really must be into what you’re studying because you flinch when he speaks, causing you to drop your pen.

He feels responsible for it so he leans down to pick it up, but you also do the same. As you both reach down to grab your pen, your temple collides with his.

“Ow,” your fingers go to massage the spot, failing to notice as he does that your faces are too close for comfort. He watches you wince for a quick while before looking at him, finally realizing that he’s within a proximity familiar to you both.

It’s reminiscent of that night except this time, the natural light affirms that it wasn’t just the ambiance of the club that made you attractive enough to pull him in and share that heinous kiss. With your well-lit features, he can see that you’re thinking about the same thing he is.

Your eyes fall on his lips and for some illogical reason, he does the same.

Like last time, you’re the first to act on it. The major difference is, instead of leaning in, you retreat. You sit up straight with your fingers still on the side of your head and smile graciously at him. “It’s fine, Tsukishima. I’ll get it,” you say, which he finds half-witted because he’s still bent down and he can already grasp the pen.

He sits back up and hands you your pen. You use the hand on your temple to get it.

“Oh, thanks.” You stare at the pen for a second, then tuck it in your pocket. “Anyways, yeah. I don’t have problems reading in a moving vehicle.”

You dive back to his question and disregard what just happened. It works for him. He’d rather not think about it as well.

“Have you not seen me scrambling paperwork on our bus rides to and from tournaments?”

“No.” He prefers not to pay attention to you. Hell, he pretends you don’t exist when he can. So naturally, he doesn’t know what it is you do when you’re not being your pestering self. It pains him to admit it, but you do get shit done -- efficiently, too. He should be glad because at least, you won’t be like his previous groupmates.

Still, just you being … you, ticks him off.

You laugh out of nowhere. “For someone who doesn’t speak much, you’re so fucking transparent.”

He frowns, not being able to grasp what you meant.

“Okay, look. I like pissing you off. I really do. And you, you don’t like me a lot. But for this project. Can we pretend that I’m not your annoying manager and you’re not the nasty Tsukishima I know?”

“How the fuck can I do that when we see each other almost everyday as such?”

You roll your eyes and smirk. “Right. What was I even thinking? Go ahead and be emo with your music over there while I study here, yeah?” You pat him on the shoulders twice with that patronizing grin you always give him before pulling your pen back from your pocket and focusing once more on your readings, completely paying no attention to him for the rest of the trip.

—

As soon as you reach the crocodile farm, Tsukishima suggests that you two roam the area separately to cover more ground. In reality, he just wanted to get rid of you even for just a few minutes. He needed a break from you.

He does so by taking his time strolling around the place, observing how the area is situated. It looks like a park with its vast lush green environment and man-made waters to habituate the crocodiles. There are four main areas: the museum, the hatchling house, the zoo, and the breeding pens. He first goes to the museum, looking at the skeletal structure of some crocodiles. It isn’t really significant to the project but he can’t help admire it.

When he realizes that he’s taking longer than he initially thought, he starts looking for you. He sends you a text, but you don’t reply. You had gone to the zoo’s direction so he assumes you’re somewhere around that area.

When he does find you, you’re not alone.

There you are near a crocodile pen, getting friendly with a guy he’s sure you just met.

It’s so familiar. The only difference is that you’re not wearing the Frogs’ jacket and you’re not in the Sendai gymnasium. He walks towards your direction, not caring if he’s going to cut off your little chat. You’re there for the project, not to snag some random bozo.

As he closes in behind you, he hears your conversation.

“Actually, birds are more closely related to dinosaurs than crocodiles. You couldn’t tell, right?” you explain with zeal.

Tsukishima stops in his tracks at the foreign feeling in his chest. Wait a minute. Is he actually impressed? Moreover, what the heck is he impressed for? You should know that. You are both in a higher herpetology class. Even though it hasn’t been discussed during lectures, it’s natural that you know that. However, the guy you’re talking with isn't as enthusiastic.

“Can’t blame you though. Crocs and dinos share the same sexy vibe with those chill eyes and scaly skin. Also, look at those smokin webbed feet. Fucking work of art, dude. You feel me?” you press on fanatically.

The stranger looks at you with a forced smile, obviously weirded out by your ‘passionate’ description of the reptile. “Yeah, sure. I have to go now. Bye,” the guy bows and storms away from you.

You turn your attention back to the lowered pen in front of you with a satisfied smile and shudder when you see Tsukishima already there beside you.

“Gah! You scared me. Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask with your hand still on your chest.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you creeping out that stranger.”

You tither at his answer. “Glad you didn’t. It was fun seeing him all freaked out.”

He finds it weird. He thought you just had an aversion towards athletes. That’s why you keep driving away anyone who’d approach you during matches. Apparently, that’s not the case.

“He looked like he’d follow you back to Miyagi if you didn’t go all freaky nerdy on him.”

You jeer at his comment. “He could follow me to the ends of the Earth and I still wouldn’t give him my number. I’d rather date Mr. Crocodylus siamensis over here than boring dum dums blinded by how hot I am.”

“Then why do you entertain them?” he follows up.

“Caaaauuusse it’s fun to see them squirm,” you declare cheerfully as you veer your gaze at him. “Why the sudden interest with the way I handle men, Tsukishima?”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your lips tugging up to form a playful smirk. “Don’t tell me you suddenly find me interesting?”

You really do know how to push the right buttons to provoke him. He grits his teeth from your audacity.

“I’m joking for fuck’s sake! My god. I already know that even if it’s just the two of us on this planet, and we’d have to procreate to restart the world population, you’d rather choose to doom humanity than have anything to do with me.”

Among all the correct things that came out of your mouth, that was the only thing he could verbally agree with. “Good you know,” he retorts.

You don’t seem to take offense though. You still keep your unwavering smile as you get your phone out and take a picture of the Borneo crocodile.

“Should we go see the breeding pens now?” you ask nonchalantly, dismissing the previous conversation like it was nothing.

You both decide to hire a designated tour guide to assist you while you observe the crocodiles, particularly the ones for breeding.

“Hi, Ms. l/n. I’m Sara and I will be your guide for today,” she introduced herself with a dedicated smile.

“I’m so thrilled that you and your boyfriend decided to learn more about crocodiles for your date,” she adds.

You and Tsukishima glance at each other before turning back to her.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend.”

You both say simultaneously, except yours sounded like a friendly correction while his sounded like a dead announcement.

“We’re just classmates for a project,” you correct her.

She bows apologetically with embarrassment and worry. “I’m so sorry for assuming that.”

“No worries, Sara,” you reassure her before Tsukishima says something unnecessary. “Can you lead us on the breeding pens? We’d like to observe the whole thing.”

“Of course. Right this way.”

Aside from the mishap earlier, you find Sara competent at her job as she fills you in with details not included in the sign boards in the pens. She gives you information about the mating process that you didn’t find when you researched about the subject. You assume Tsukishima’s thinking the same because he doesn’t say anything out of the blue.

“By any chance, will we see a pair mating today?” he asks after a while.

“I’m not really sure, Mr. Tsukishima. It’s really up to the animals.”

You tug on Tsukishima’s sleeve when you catch sight of one crocodile latching himself on top of another.

“What?” he asks irritatedly, but follows your line of sight.

“Oh, lucky. There you go.” Sara announces with a pleasant smile.

You get your phone and your notes. You multitask listening to Sara, taking photos, and scribbling notes on your paper pad.

On the other hand, Tsukishima multitasks observing the crocodiles in action and observing you.

You’re asking important questions to the guide while juggling other tasks. Yes, he doesn’t like you and loathes being partnered with you. However, that doesn't mean he won’t cooperate with you. He won’t mind if you ask him for help, but you seem to have even forgotten that he’s there.

He grabs your phone from your hand, garnering a confused look from you.

“I’ll take the photos. You take down notes.”

You flash him an honest, grateful smile. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

Then, you proceed with the things you’re doing more at ease.

He can’t tell who he’s more pissed at, you or himself. Something about that display of productivity and wit unnerves him. It’s as if it’s telling him that his chagrin over you is unreasonable because you’re actually reliable when it counts. What’s worse is you’re completely oblivious to it. In fact, you’re almost ignoring him.

Goddamn it. What’s he doing? He’s completely distracted now from the project and is solely focused on you. He quickly shakes it off and calms himself down. His attention should be on the reptiles, not you.

He turns his attention back to the crocodiles, but the mating act only lasted a few minutes. After that, you both barrage Sara with an array of questions that she looked too overwhelmed by the end of your tour.

You’ve covered almost everything for the day and it’s already around 6 in the evening when you get on a bus on the way back to Miyagi.

“That was fun!” you comment ardently with an abnormal shine on your face when you sit down on the bus on the way back. He wears his headphones on before you start a conversation he’s not willing to have. From his peripheral, he sees you turning to him and as he predicted, your mouth begins moving while you animatedly narrate words he could not hear.

He’s already acting as if he can’t hear nor see you, but you still don’t stop. Knowing you, you will not stop until you make sure he notices you. He wearily removes his headphones only to see you not saying anything and only mouthing words with hand gestures.

“Seriously?” He scowls at you. He’s already exhausted at having to deal with you even for just half a day, but you still have the energy to mess with him.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you snicker but it erupts into a hoot of laughter shortly. You gasp ridiculously after you ride out your stupid amusement from poking at his patience. “Tsukki, I swear to God. You make the best faces,” you say while wiping away your joyous tears.

“Were you even going to say something worth listening to?” he questions sourly.

You study him then shake your head. “I think you’re tired, so let’s just discuss what we gathered next time. You can go ignore me now,” you tell him with an understanding smile despite the slight banter.

You tilt your body in his direction and hoist yourself up a bit to put his headphones back yourself like it’s no big deal.

You settle back into your seat while he stills on his seat, stunned with what you just did while you get your readings again and shrink to your own bubble. You don’t seem to make anything of it, so he doesn’t as well. It was very you to mindlessly get on anyone’s — particularly his — personal space anyways.

He increases the volume of his headphones and tries to relax. Yet, his attention keeps swerving back at you every now and then. You’re really concentrating hard with your brows burrowed while you stare at your hand-outs. After a while, he notices you bobbing your head from the corners of his eyes.

He can tell you’re as tired as he is and trying hard to fight the sleep that’s taking over you. The bunch of papers you previously held are now clutched on your lap.

On the last bob of your head, you snap out of it. You blink repeatedly and return your eyes to your readings again. To no avail, you’re shutting down with your eyes fluttering when you try again. You look like you decided to give it a rest and put your papers back in your bag. You cross your arms and lean back to your seat.

He feels relieved that you finally yield to your physical exhaustion. He doesn’t need an additional bullet point to his list of why he can’t fully hate you. Also, you won’t run your mouth at him if you’re asleep.

He feels the soft thump of your head on his shoulder. You probably did too as you suddenly bolt up and tell him ‘sorry' which he only understands based on how you mouthed the word. You lean back again and try to settle back to sleep. But when you start dozing off, you sway to the other side of your seat which is the aisle of the bus.

He grabs your shoulder to prevent you from tumbling down to the aisle. Your disoriented self looks around, alarmed at his sudden touch.

“Just fucking lean on me,” he spits out, irked that he has to say it out loud. It’s not like he pushed you away. You could’ve just stayed as you were and he would’ve turned a blind eye at it out of recognition of the effort you put in today. He’d just consider it one of those times that you do something annoying and he just ignores you as a response.

You regard him with dazed eyes. You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something but decide against it as you shut your eyes again and you let your head rest on his shoulder. But even then, your head still falls forward from time to time. He puts a hand on your forehead to settle you back on his shoulder and slides a bit downward on his seat to accommodate you.

Jesus Christ, you can study in a moving vehicle but can’t even do a simple thing like sleep properly on it. Why does he even have to adjust for you?

He heaves furiously in contrast to your steady breathing, letting him know that you’re easing deeper to your sleep.

He distracts himself by looking at the window, witnessing the unmoving dark sky and the changing scenery below. He lets out a sigh.

Maybe he should’ve just accepted the ten point deduction.

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged - pls check your settings?)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @celestialarchiveshq @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu

#tsukishima x reader #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #tsukishima smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #tsukishima kei #for the love of kami-sama #pls let the tags work

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elefics · 4 years ago

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torment / chapter 1

First chapter for torment! Basically setting up Lyla’s character and background, and how she ended up at the Academy. The juicy stuff is coming soon hehe

As long as I can remember, as a kid, I felt like I didn't belong. I didn't fit in, and always felt just slightly out of place. Like, don't get me wrong, I could probably have led a normal, relatively happy life outside of the coven. But I would never have found my place.

One of my earliest memories is levitating during recess in third grade.

I was playing hide and seek with my best friends – but everyone is your best friend at that age, or so I thought. It was one of those moments...when you're hiding in a dark corner of the playground, breathing hard from the adrenaline coursing through your tiny body at the thought of being found, smelling bark and sweat and salami sandwiches, where time and space doesn't exist. You're so focused on hiding, on making yourself invisible and winning the game, that you forget who and where you are. I forgot. And I paid the price.

When I finally opened my eyes, I wasn't in a dark corner of the playground. I was floating seven feet in the air, and below me were the horrified expressions of my friends and teachers. Frozen in time. That moment is frozen in my memory forever. It was the first time that I realised I wasn't just weird, but special. There were powers inside me that other people, and even myself, didn't understand yet.

My teachers, missing a handbook on protocol for dealing with young witches coming into their powers, did the only thing they knew to do - sent me to the office. The other kids were still shaking like leaves, hiding behind our teachers' legs like toddlers.

My mother picked me up an hour later. I ignored the concerned glares of the office ladies. Mom and I got McDonald's, like we always did when I had a doctor's appointment or a day off. At the time, it felt completely natural. I thought she just 'got it', like floating in mid-air was a regular Tuesday occurrence. In hindsight, I remember her staring at me with a mix of fear and awe through the rear-view mirror. She was shitting herself, and didn't know what to do next.

She sent me back to school the next day, which was the worst possible option.

The other kids had grown braver and meaner overnight. I was their new favourite toy and punching bag. They called me a witch, and I took it as an insult. (If only I knew!) They called me evil, ugly, dirty. They said I'd grow fat moles and that my skin would turn green. They told me to stay away from them. So I did.

Within a month, I didn't have a single friend. They were repulsed and terrified of me, but loved to poke fun from a distance. All I wanted to do was play handball or tag.

"Lyla. Enough is enough." Mom said one night over dinner.

I was playing with the food on my plate, but not with a fork. I made them spin and dance, like a potato and broccoli ballet. My face fell, and so did my dinner, collapsing sadly onto the ceramic. Gravy splattered onto my thumb.

I apologised. I learned to push my powers deep down inside of me. Whenever I felt like they'd spill out, I pinched the skin near my knee. It kept me grounded and in control.

In tenth grade, I pinched myself so hard I bruised. It still wasn't enough.

I'd kept to myself and stayed out of everybody's way, from my mother to my teachers. I was the quiet polite girl who sat in the back of class and got her homework in on time. I minded my own fucking business. That was, until Mrs Brooks called me a freak in front of our entire geography class.

Mrs Brooks ended up with a broken arm and I ended up in the principal's office. I hadn't actually touched her at all, and I guess that was what scared my teachers. I hadn't been called into an office since third grade. Mom was already there, sitting in one of the black fold-out chairs, with her keys in her hand and glassy eyes. She held a few sheets of paper in her hands. Signing me out, surely. We'd be at the drive-thru in twenty minutes.

Mr Petersen, our grey-haired principal with a passion for 'fun' ties, sat beside my mother, with his hands neatly in his lap. He had been whispering softly to Mom, but stopped as soon as I approached. He looked at me with sad, brown eyes.

His tie had dinosaurs on it. It feels stupid that that is the one thing I remember so clearly.

"Hi," I said quietly from the doorway. I scrunched the hem of my tee-shirt up in my hand.

The disappointment was palpable. Mom ignored me completely, like looking up at me would make it all so much worse. She stared at my converse, or the carpet, or the fish tank humming gently by the door. Anything but me. Her leg bounced up and down, like she'd had too many coffees that morning. But it was two in the afternoon and her nerves had nothing to do with caffeine.

Two men in suits approached the office. For a moment the sinking feeling in my stomach froze me in place, blocking the door. Shaking off the feeling, I stepped aside to let the men in. Their suits were far too nice for a small town like ours. I'd assumed they were here for some important government business with the principal.

They smiled softly and shook their heads, almost in sync.

"Mom? What's going on?" I asked. Panic was bubbling in my throat like bile.

The realisation came as one single, simple thought: They're here for me.

Their hands were tight around my upper arms and wrists like shackles. They barely struggled.

"Mom! Mr Petersen! Mr - what's going - where are they taking me? Mom!" I kicked and screamed until my throat was hoarse. After a while, I went numb. Wherever these men were taking me, I was helpless. They were so much bigger, taller, older, scarier, than fifteen-year-old me. A small part of me, deep, deep inside, thought, wherever they're taking me, it has to be better than here.

---

"Happy birthday Lyla!" Zoe yelled, tackling me into a hug in the middle of the kitchen.

"Keep your voice down," I laughed. It was barely seven in the morning.

I loved the way the light streamed in through the kitchen windows here. Making my morning cup of tea was my favourite part of my day. Or at least one of them.

There were a lot of favourite parts now.

"I will not. It's not every day you turn eighteen." She said as she stirred a bowl of pancake batter.

I smiled softly, pouring the milk into my mug. Watching the white-brown patterns swirl, I couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" Zoe smiled.

"I'm just really glad to be here. I didn't think I'd make it to eighteen a few years ago." I surprised myself with my candour so early in the morning.

"Well, I'm very glad to have you here. We all are." Zoe's warmth brightened the entire room. I believed her.

"Morning girls. Happy birthday, Lyla." Cordelia descended the stairs with her usual poise, already dressed and made up. Her smile faded after quick greetings were exchanged.

"I need you to wake the other girls and get dressed. We have visitors coming."

---

A/N: Hey! I've started this fic as I fun exercise to get myself to start writing again. I finally watched season 8 of AHS so now I'm obsessed, and I haven't really written anything substantial in like a year, so I figured I'd use this passion/interest and make something of it!

God, I've missed fanfic writing. (I wrote The 1975 fics on Wattpad when I was like 13/14 and they're pretty tragic but they were so fun...so I'm back!) I just wanted to say that while this is based in America, I'm not super familiar with American schooling systems (and I'm sure there are other things I'll slip up on)...so things might be just slightly out of whack for you guys. I'm Australian, so I'm going to base the ages/grades off our system and assume the system in the US can't be that drastically different (e.g. in grade ten I was fifteen). A lot of this fic won't be based on formal schooling systems anyway but I thought it was worth a mention. Just go with it lmao. Super keen to keep writing! x

Taglist: (tiniest ever, let me know if you want to be added!)

@angelicmichael @theneverendinghunger @outpostmichael

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flying-elliska · 4 years ago

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So I watched Happiest Season (livewatch with @beeexx my fave penguin enthusiast 🐧🐧🐧)

Overall I enjoyed it ? But it's not the light-hearted romcom it's been promoted as.

Spoilers !

The positive:

- Kristen Stewart, het icon of my teen years, is just glowing in this, like she is so happy to be finally playing gay lmao. This is really her story. Her character, Abby, is by turn charming, adorable, funny, and relatably awkward. Also, her glam butch style is just A++. And she has good chemistry with her co-star - they feel and behave like a believable couple (which has been a problem with actresses playing wlw in the past where you could really see they weren’t fully into it.) They were super cute together. This still feels cathartic somehow, like Bella Swan decided to go see a therapist instead of going off the deep end and finally figured herself out.

- I loved that this isn't the "token gays in a sea of straightness" trope. Abby's BFF is gay and really funny - and this particular trope feels a lot less annoying when the gay BFF is there for another gay person so it's more like queer solidarity instead of him being a prop for a straight person's development. Him trying to play straight was just hilarious. Aubrey Plaza plays Harper's (the other part of the main couple) ex and she is just great, seems a bit shady at first but her helping Abby out was just...so compassionate. Also she is probably the hottest character in this movie let's be real. And I loved the bit where she takes her to a drag bar (the straight bar where Harper goes to seems so drab in comparison fjfj)

- There were some funny, classic rom-com shenanigans moments - the sneaking around, getting stuck in the closet, etc...the creepy twins were quite funny too, if infuriating. My favorite was definitely Jane, the overlooked kooky sister, who "has been writing a fantasy book for the past ten years" (I can relate) and whose overachiever family has pretty much given up on her (I can also relate).

-Ngl the whole ‘rich people being fake and neurotic and making everything x100 times more difficult than it has to be’ bit felt very realistic. Like, I’ve met those people, and they are just as annoying in this movie as they are in real life. Also a very realistic rep of having to fake who you are in a town full of fake people pleasers and over achievers (even if it was stressful to watch lmao) and how Christmas can bring out the worst in people.

- Even though it has issues, the ending was very heartfelt and I definitely cried. This movie is just really raw and sad in some parts, but in a way that felt genuine and you can tell that a lot of queer people were involved in making it. It really touches on this deep seated anguish of possibly being rejected, of not knowing whether your family is going to accept you or not, on desperately trying to pass because you’re afraid of change...I think a lot of that comes to the actors being really good, like all of them, and really acting their heart out. And the moment where the dad decides to forego a big donor/supporter because he doesn’t want to force his daugther to hide really touched me. I also really liked the part where the BFF talks about how everybody’s coming out journey can be different and it’s important to remember that, especially if you have the chance to come from a very tolerant background.

The Less Positive

- The movie has been criticized for being weirdly apolitical (for instance the dad is a mayor but we never learn anything about his actual political opinions) but tbh this is supposed to be a Hallmark-like holidays movie I think that’s kind of part of the genre to be in this sort of happy slightly tone-deaf bubble and I don’t think straight movies of this type get this sort of criticism so yknow i’m fine with that bit i guess not all queer movies should have to be deeply political (even tho yeah it’s still very homonormative and ‘all about family values’ etc etc)

- Most of the issues I have with this movie center around Harper, Abby’s love interest and the one who lies to her family about their relationship. Now, I think Mackenzie Davis is a really good actress. And I do feel sympathetic for the character. The movie really makes you understand all the pressure she’s under, how her parent’s love is conditional, all the public scrutiny, and why she behaves the way she does. And her finally pulling through made me cheer for her. However, there were a lot of moments in the movie where I was genuinely unsure if I should be rooting for Abby and her to stay together. She does a lot of things that are definitely deeply unhealthy and questionable and had me going ‘Abby pls run away while you still can’. I feel a lot of compassion for her. But I simply don’t think the movie gives us enough happy time with Abby and Harper for me to really want them to be together as a couple -they spend a big part of the movie being mad at each other. They should have given us more scenes with them at the start to really get a feel of who they are as characters and as a couple, so when it gets rough, we actually root for them to pull through. This is an issue a lot of mediocre romances have - they assume we will root for the characters just because they’re said to be in love. For me, that doesn’t really work. And even though the ending made me quite emotional (again, great acting) - as a romance, it doesn’t really work for me.

- I really liked the bit where the family realized they had been putting this pressure on each other to be perfect and as they shared all these secrets they finally came together as a family. But...honestly, the family started out as just so profoundly neurotic it felt a bit unbelievable (and their social circles felt like a nightmare). A bit like Abby and Harper’s relationship being all ok after Harper’s big change of heart. The whole ‘mom’s secret desire to do karate but it’s unlady-like’ being put on the same level as her daughter’s coming out had me rolling my eyes. And there is a forced coming out scene which I really really hate.

- I think what I am really tired of, is queer movies who center coming out so much, the anxiety of being accepted or not, etc. And who present coming out as this revolutionary process that is going to change everything immediately. In my experience, at least, it’s often a process of small inches, towards self acceptance, towards your family coming to terms and learning to be less unconsciously bigoted, sometimes good intentions, sometimes microagressions or being erased, etc etc. I also just really want queer stories and queer romances who are not centered on coming out, on ‘what will others/my family think’, who have shenanigans and tension based on other things, with characters who might struggle with self acceptance sometimes (or not) but who have other things going on as well and who are fuller characters. It’s about damn time. Until then, the movies we have will end up feeling a lot like a PSA for straight people.

Overall

I still think this is a pretty quality movie. Good acting, believable and often funny dialogue, good chemistry, etc. (And let’s be honest, the bar for wlw movies is uhhhh not very high.) I really enjoyed watching Kristen Steward play gay and have chemistry with pretty ladies. There was room for holiday gay movies (even tho I want to see more, with more diverse characters).

It feels like wish-fullfillment for a certain type of queer person - (upper) middle class, with parents who are...ambiguously accepting. It does transcribe well this tension of not really being to predict their reaction - and illustrates the importance of being very obviously accepting with your children - like tell them it’s okay for them to be gay from the start, even if they turn out to be straight - otherwise they will be left wondering if they’re not. It’s this fantasy that everything will turn out all-right after you come out, you will fit in your family better than before, your mistakes will be forgiven if you are earnest enough, and life can go on as usual but better. And it is sweet, and cathartic, in a way, even if not revolutionary.

But yeah, as a romance, I wasn’t entirely sold on it. And I think it was promoted as a lot more uplifting than it really was.

#happiest season #wlw movies #lgbt rep #movie review #kristen stewart #ellie watches movies #wlw rep

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vannahfanfics · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday, Izuku!

Category: Friendship Fluff, Family Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Class 1-A, Inko Midoriya, Toshinori Yagi, Shouta Aizawa

Hey, everybody! This story is a submission for two of @bnhabookclub’s events; I’m incorporating the prompt “Gifts” from the Bingo Event as well as the prompt “Happy Birthday!” from the Celebrating Deku event! I hope you enjoy it! Let’s give a little love to our favorite adorkable hero-in-training! :)

“Wake up! Wake up! For I am here!”

Izuku groaned loudly and rolled on his side to blindly fumble for the button on his alarm clock. He uselessly slapped the nightstand a few times, making the various items situated atop it jump and jostle. Still, after a few unsuccessful tries, he managed to bang the bright red button that turned off the alarm. The slightly grainy, robotic voice of All Might faded into silence, and Izuku laid in his bed for a few minutes, blissfully trapped in the twilight of half-sleep. However, a dull ache soon began to throb in his left arm. The pain stubbornly drove him into consciousness, and so with a sigh, he opened his emerald eyes to stare uninterestedly up at his white bedroom ceiling.

He reached around with his right hand to ghost his fingertips over the blotchy red scar tissue that marred his upper left arm. It had been a month since the incident at the Forest Training Camp, but the injuries he had sustained in the fight with Muscular were still very much healing. In another two or three weeks, the U.A. students would be returning to the campus- living in dormitories thanks to the relentless villain attacks- and Izuku wondered how his mangled arm would fare. It doesn’t matter, he thought obstinately. I’ll make myself stronger and stronger, because I have to!

“Izukuuuu!” The green-haired boy sat up in bed as his mother’s voice floated down the hallway. “Are you awake, dear?”

“Yeah! I’m just getting up,” he responded in an equally loud call. When he threw the covers off himself and swung around to get off the bed, he caught a glimpse of the date glowing in bright red numbers in the black screen of his alarm clock. June 15th… Oh! It’s my sixteenth birthday! He remembered with a gleeful smile. Now that he had sufficient motivation to get up, Izuku jumped out of bed to wrestle himself into some slippers. When he opened his door, his mother was waiting in the hallway, twiddling her fingers.

“Oh! Good morning, sweetie. Happy birthday!” she smiled broadly and shuffled forward to envelop him in a hug. Izuku hummed contentedly and wrapped his arms around her middle to embrace her with equal enthusiasm. “Ah! My little boy is sixteen… Oh, dear, I’m getting old,” Inko moaned forlornly and began to sniffle. Izuku laughed and pulled back to blot at his mother’s tears with the hem of his tee-shirt.

“Aw, Mom, it’s okay,” he chuckled.

“Yes, yes,” she tutted and wiped harshly at her face. “Today is your day! I’ve already prepared breakfast for you!” Izuku exclaimed in delight and scuttled into the kitchen, with his mother tottering behind him and laughing good-naturedly. He was greeted with a scrumptious array of fried eggs over buttered toast, seared beef, and white rice. He scarfed it down and chased it with sweet black tea his mother had also prepared, bleating compliments and gratuitous remarks to his mother all the while. Afterward, he helped her clean all the dishes, although she kept dithering around him and insisting that he shouldn’t have to do any chores today.

“Mom, just because I’m sixteen today doesn’t mean I have to lump all the work on you!” he snickered while putting the pots and pans in the cabinets. He blinked when the chime of the doorbell rang through the small apartment. “Oh? Who could that be?” he wondered aloud, abandoning the dish he had been drying to trot up to the front door. He opened it and nearly jumped out of his skin when a big, broad, muscular body shoved its way into the room, which now rang with bawdy laughter.

“I am here, young Midoriya, to wish you a happy birthday!” All Might crowed, his button-up shirt straining to keep from snapping into threads as he flexed his massive biceps. Izuku let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a warble at his mentor’s sudden appearance.

“Ah! All Might!” he cried. His mother called greeting from the other room, peering around the wall with a shy wave, to which the number-one pro hero laughed audaciously and responded accordingly. Izuku’s cheeks turned pink, and he hurriedly bundled the large man into a room where his mother couldn’t see him. “All Might, are you sure this is wise? How long can you hold your muscle form?”

“Not long,” he admitted with a slight frown. “However, that doesn’t matter, for I am here to take you on a super-duper special outing, my young Midoriya!” he crowed with another loud laugh. He then peeked his head around the crown molding to smile dazzlingly at Inko, who squeaked and straightened up. “Of course, if your dear mother doesn’t mind me stealing you for a few hours. I wouldn’t want to ruin a mother’s wonderful day with her son!”

“Oh no! Please, go ahead! I have to go shopping for dinner anyway,” Inko laughed amiably with a dismissive wave of her hand. Izuku yelped as All Might then grabbed him to bundle him back to his bedroom.

“Excellent, excellent! Now then, young Midoriya, get dressed!” As the door slammed shut behind him, Izuku exhaled deeply and fiddled with his fingers.

I never would’ve dreamed that I would be spending my birthday with All Might, he thought. The notion brought a giddy smile to his lips, and he hastily began rifling through his closet to find something suitable to wear.

~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the apartment was out of eyeshot, All Might released his muscle form. He collapsed against the brick wall of a nearby building with an exaggerated sigh, wiping blood from his lips with a pink-stained rag. Izuku fluttered nervously around him, arms flapping.

“All Might, are you sure about this?! You’re not in the greatest of health! I mean, you really ought to be in bed being tended to by a doctor or two or three, not spending the day with me! I’m certainly not worth it; it’s only my sixteenth birthday, after all! I can’t smoke or drink or vote or drive- wait, no, I can technically drive now. I wonder when Mom will take me to get my driver’s license. Wait, are you taking me to get my driver’s license? I’m not nearly prepared! I need to practice a little first!” He continued to babble, nervously fiddling his fingers, until Toshinori slapped both his hands down onto his slim shoulders. He clamped his mouth shut with a squeak.

“Young Midoriya. Focus.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m taking you out today because I wanted to be here for you on your birthday.”

“Thank you, sir!” Izuku smiled gratefully at him. The fact that his beloved teacher and mentor desired to spend such quality time with him outside of training made a warm feeling bubble up inside his body. “If I may ask, what are we doing today?” he inquired as the thin man began a leisurely pace down the sidewalk. Toshinori chuckled amiably and patted him on the head.

“Patience, young Midoriya. Some of life’s great joys come by surprise!” Izuku gasped in awe and mentally committed the sage advice to memory to hopefully quote later. Together, they plodded merrily through the subdivision to soon transition into the business district. It was a lovely day for a jaunt to town; it was pleasurably warm with just a faint breeze to keep things cool, and the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky. Izuku found himself in high spirits, considering the lovely weather and the fact he was strolling around with his cherished teacher. I wonder what he has planned! Oh, I’m so excited! He thought, unable to contain and eager wiggle. Toshinori chuckled warmly beside him.

After about a twenty-minute walk, they arrived at a nice restaurant in the center of town. An iron-wrought fence enclosed a garden eating area with elegant stone paths and a cloth veranda to protect restaurant-goers from the elements. Izuku recognized it as one of the ritziest venues in town- and therefore the most expensive. When Toshinori stopped walking to smile at him expectantly, Izuku’s jaw nearly struck the floor.

“What? N-n-n-n-no way, All Might! I can’t-! You can’t-!” The taller man snorted with laughter and unceremoniously bundled him inside despite his sputtering protests. Izuku’s back straightened like a rod when the usher regarded him with a critical look. “Why are you doing this?” he hissed under his breath as Toshinori whispered something to the attendant, who nodded curtly and whirled around. Izuku and his mentor followed the tuxedoed man to the back of the restaurant, where they were escorted into a spacious room with a long table set for over twenty people. Izuku’s emerald eyes were as wide as green moons as he beheld the setup. “Um… All Might, are we expecting others…?”

“Dekuuuuuu!”

“OHMYGOSH!” Izuku screamed as someone abruptly hugged him from behind. He glanced over his shoulder to see Ochako’s round smiling face blinking up at him.

“Happy birthday!” she giggled happily. Pink-faced and thoroughly flustered, Izuku could only release a high-pitched whine as she scuttled around him. In her moment of distraction, All Might had assumed his muscular form. “Hello, All Might, sir!” she chirped jovially as she bounced over to him. The hero chortled good-naturedly and patted her shoulder.

“Hello there, Uraraka! Good to have you.”

“Umm, All Might? What is happening?” Izuku whispered as Ochako procured a small wrapped package and set it at the center of the table.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ochako laughed and hopped into a seat. “We’re here to celebrate your birthday, Deku!” Izuku’s face turned the color of a tomato. When he looked wide-eyed at his mentor, he just grinned broadly and shrugged. At this point, Tenya game bundling in.

“Midoriya! Happy birthday!” he cried with exaggerated waves of his arms. Izuku squirmed uncomfortably as the tall boy plopped a large wrapped present atop the table right beside Ochako’s. He took the seat beside the bubbly girl, and they devolved into avid conversation; Izuku took the opportunity to scamper over to the muscle-bound hero.

“All Might! Did you arrange this?” he whispered fervently.

“Why, of course, young Midoriya! I imagined that you wanted to spend your birthday with your friends,” the pro hero answered. A bright haze of pink blazed over his cheeks, and that bubbly happy feeling rose inside of him again.

“My friends…” he echoed in wonder. Izuku jumped when someone kicked the door open.

“Oi! Are we late?!”

“Ka-Kacchan!” Izuku stammered in shock as the explosive blond boy charged in through the door. Frankly, the green-haired boy was shocked to see Katsuki attending his birthday celebration. When Eijirou poked his head over his shoulder to grin toothily at him, Izuku reasoned that perhaps Katsuki had been persuaded to attend. Izuku jumped and squeaked when Katsuki tromped over to slam a crudely-wrapped package into his chest.

“Here, loser, for your stupid birthday. Now, where’s the food?! I’m starvin’!” Katsuki complained loudly and stomped over to Ochako. “Oi, Cheeks, you got any food?” Eijirou chuckled and set a present down by the others before also wishing Izuku a happy birthday. Izuku was basically short-circuiting, because his poor brain couldn’t handle all the information being thrown at him at once.

“Looks like I’m right on time,” droned a gravelly voice from the door. Izuku’s jaw flopped open when his teacher, Mr. Aizawa, sauntered in bearing a small package for a gift card. He casually tossed it beside the others before striding over, hands stuffed in his jumpsuit pants pockets. Izuku was amazed that the underground hero would have the gall to stroll into such an upscale place wearing such casual clothing. Props to Mr. Aizawa… “Happy birthday, Midoriya.”

“Th-thank you, sir! I’m very grateful to everybody for planning this,” Izuku smiled sheepishly. Aizawa gave him a charming smile before walking over to keep Katsuki from clambering on the table to punch Tenya in the jaw over some silliness or another.

It wasn’t long before the rest of Izuku’s classmates showed up, and they were soon embroiled in a fun and raucous lunch. Izuku tried not to think about the terrible mess that the staff would have to clean up, nor the enormity of the bill that All Might would have to foot as a result of their avid celebration. Instead, he tore into the filet mignon and grilled asparagus before him. He purred happily at the excellent flavors bursting over his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut as he savored the spices and marinade. After enjoying the delicious food, they piled up all the plates, glassware, and silverware on the edge of the table so that Izuku could have ample room to open his gifts.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” Izuku laughed sheepishly as Mina shoved the sizeable pile of gifts over to him.

“Oh, hush! Now open mine first!” the pink girl insisted while shoving a glittery pink bag over to him. The sparkly confetti rained from the tissue paper as he tugged it free from the confines of the plastic container. His face turned nearly as pink as the solid plastic when he peered down into the bottom. “I’m funny, right? Right?” Mina cackled as Izuku pulled a container of calcium gummies and a bottle of milk from the bag. “’Cuz you break your bones all the time!” she howled as she doubled over and held her belly.

“Very funny, Mina,” he muttered blankly, not sure whether to be offended or amused.

“Aha, I know, I’m a genius,” she sighed as her laughs faded down into giggles. “Here’s your real gift, though,” she said and held out something to him. Izuku flushed when he realized that it was a pair of All Might-patterned socks. He spluttered a simple thanks and tried to suppress the urge to rip off his shoes and slide the socks onto his feet. He elected just to push the item aside and go on to the next gift. Katsuki eyed him intensely as he grabbed the roughly-wrapped package and tore away the gift paper. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he beheld the limited-edition All Might hoodie, holding it with trembling hands.

“Ka-Kacchan,” he breathed in amazement and looked at his childhood friend and rival. Katsuki snorted derisively and looked down at his feet.

“Don’t gimme that dumb stare, loser,” the blond huffed. “What, did you think I was gonna turn up empty-handed? I’m not an asshole.”

“Uh… That’s exactly what you are, Bakugo,” Denki snickered. He then yelped when Katsuki boxed him over the head.

“Mind your own damn business, Pikachu! Gah!” Katsuki growled and shot Izuku an intimidating stare. “Anyway, happy birthday, or whatever…”

“Aw. Bakugo, you can be sweet when you put your mind to it!” Ochako praised. A pink tinge came to Katsuki’s cheeks, and he muttered something under his breath. Izuku looked down to admire the soft fabric of the exclusive hoodie and smiled.

“Thanks, Kacchan…”

~~~~~~~~~~

Izuku’s friends were very generous. He scored a multitude of fun gifts, including a quaint mug and some tea bags from Momo, a new videogame from Denki, and some cool new laces for his signature red tennis shoes from Ochako. Mineta even managed to give him something halfway-decent, a gift card to the local bookstore. However, the small purple-haired boy naturally began salivating and talking about the very indecent things that Izuku could spend it on. By some feat of acrobat-like ingenuity, Tsuyu flipped him head-first into the busboy’s dirty dishwater.

The sky was dyed red, and the sun was sinking towards the horizon by the time Izuku bid his friends and Mr. Aizawa adieu and set out for home. As soon as the last student vanished from sight, All Might released his muscle form and collapsed against the alleyway wall.

“Ugh, that was rough. I didn’t know if I was going to make it,” Toshinori lamented as he wiped the blood dripping from his mouth with the back of his hand. Izuku smiled gratefully at him.

“I really appreciate you for putting this on for me, All Might… I can honestly say this has been one of my best birthdays ever!” Izuku chirped. Toshinori chuckled lightheartedly and stepped forward to pat him a few times on the back. All the gifts bundled in Izuku’s arms bounced slightly with the jostling of his body.

“Of course. I’m glad I could be there for you. Oh! I almost forgot,” he said and began fishing in his back pocket. As much as he could with his arms laden with presents, Izuku waved a hand in refusal.

“What? No, All Might, I can’t accept anything more than you’ve already given me!” he protested. “You spent so much on that dinner, and all this effort into inviting everyone over and straining yourself to keep up that form- I can’t! I refuse! No!” All Might ignored him and procured a Polaroid camera. Izuku blinked, very confused, and the tall, lanky man held the camera above their heads and jerked him by the arm to pull him into the camera frame.

“Cheese, young Midoriya!” he grinned before the bright white of the camera flash nearly blinded the shocked boy. He just managed to squeeze in an uneven, shaky smile before Toshinori’s thumb tapped the button to take the picture. Immediately, the camera spat out a black photo rimmed in white. Toshinori plucked it from the printer and shook it vigorously until the color finally developed. The blond man inspected the photograph before smiling in satisfaction, and then pulled out a marker. He plucked the cap off with his teeth and scrawled something across the bottom of the photo. Izuku blinked as Toshinori plopped the camera down atop the mountain of gifts, then showed him the picture.

Happy birthday, young Midoriya. Smiling, his teacher tucked the photo between some boxes. Their happy faces grinned at Izuku, and he felt his eyes watering. It was such a simple gesture, yet it meant more to him than the most expensive gift in the world.

“Thank you, All Might. This is the best birthday ever,” he repeated in a soft voice, and the tears dripped down his cheeks. All Might chortled and ruffled his green hair.

“Always with the waterworks. That’s all right. Sensitive people make great heroes because they’re very empathetic,” he mused. Izuku sniffed and nodded, but he didn’t want to cry all day, so he struggled to wipe his face with his upper arms. Somehow, he didn’t knock any of his gifts out of his hands. “All right then!” All Might announced and clapped his hands together. “Your mother is probably hard at work on dinner for you. Let’s not keep her waiting, eh, young Midoriya?”

“All Might! Please stay for dinner.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t-“

“Please! I insist! Plus, knowing Mom, she probably already has the table set for three.” All Might grimaced and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Well… If she’s already burdened herself…” Izuku didn’t let him finish the thought and hurriedly bustled out of the alleyway. “Ah! Wait, young Midoriya!”

Izuku ignored him, trotting down the sidewalk towards his home. The fruits of his friendship bobbled in his arms, and a big bright smile graced his face. Maybe he couldn’t do much with turning sixteen, but if the day led to him spending time with the most important people in his life, he would argue that’s a pretty momentous occasion indeed.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @simplybakugou @sadistiks @wesparklebitch

#bnhabookclub #bnhabookclub event #bnhabookclub bingo event #bnhabookclub deku event #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction

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crossiantgay · 4 years ago

Text

Ch 1 of the Logince Princess and the Frog au!!!

This is my biggest fanfic by f a r . Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: voodoo, frogs, brief mention of food

Words: 5049

“Now here I’d like to tell you a story. A story that takes place right where we are, in the Big Easy. Down here in Louisiana, there’s a city you may have heard of, way down by the River. Does New Oreleans ring a bell? The place where jazz is always playin’ and you’re always guaranteed a good time. The lifestyle we live is as slow as the Mississippi. But you’ll have a treat down here in New Orleans. Oh, you haven’t lived if you haven't had a good bowl of gumbo with some grits. Or hear that smooth jazz that just sweeps you off your feet, mm, that’s the good stuff. If you want to truly live, come down to New Orleans to do it. We’ve got magic, sure do. Good and bad in New Orleans. Give ya what ya want but take what ya have. My dream since I was a youngin’ was to see New Orleans. You know, everybody got dreams. Rich people, poor people we all got dreams. This story I’m about to tell you focuses on one boy’s dream and the unusual way it comes true. Oh, this is a story of magic and love, plain and simple. The weird ways fate ties us together. Alright, I’ll stop stalling. You ready?”

“Please, I’m going to get the funds, I swear-” Logan begged to the bankers.

“I’m sorry, where do you expect to get all this money? We can’t offer you a loan until we believe you can get the money to pay us back” They said, not budging a bit.

“But-”

“We have made our decision.” An attendant escorted him to the door. He gruffed and walked out.

He had been saving up for so long for this library and a building finally opened up that he could buy, only for some big wigs to come in and make an offer higher than he could bid. This was his mother’s legacy, his dream. He just had to get this library, he didn't know what he’d do if he didn’t. He sighed, walking to his work at the school. He picked up a paper on his way to teach science at the Middle School in the area. It didn’t pay much, but it was the best job he could get. The paper’s headline was

“Prince Roman of the Carnacty family coming to New Oreleans!” Logan sighed. Always ex-celebs who run out of luck coming to all the big cities to get their name in the headlines. He walked in the front door, greeting the attendant lady. His kids were already in the classroom, patiently waiting. Their mouths were going a mile a minute, he was trying to just get a snippet of the conversation. One kid said kind of loudly,

“I can’t believe he’s coming to New Oreleans! A real prince!!!”

“Well he’s gonna marry me, I can already tell” One of the girls scoffed. He tried his best to stifle a laugh. It was well known the prince wasn't exactly into the princesses. Well, neither was he for that matter. Women were just so… dramatic. They all stopped talking as the bell rang, piercing through the room. Announcements crackled over the intercom, telling the kids that Math Club had been postponed and the basketball game tonight. He stood up from his desk, highly caffeinated and began teaching the kids. Amelia and Lucas raised their hands several times to ask questions during the lecture as expected. He let out a sigh of relief as the bell rang once again, signaling the end of school. He filed out quickly after the kids. He was supposed to meet with his dad today, one wednesday a month they got together to talk. God bless his father, when Logan was a child, he tried so hard to support Logan financially he rarely got a chance to spend with his son. But now that Logan was off on his own he and his father had some more time to spend together.

He met his father on the block they’d agree they’d meet. He wanted to show his father the building he had his eye on for awhile. Technically they weren’t supposed to be there but oh well. He walked up the dusty stairs and pushed open two heavy dark oak doors to reveal an empty building with a staircase leading up to a second story. There were big french-style windows on the walls, illuminating the dusty room with a beautiful golden-white light. The building itself was made of bricks that were painted over a creamy tan color. Logan’s mind flooded with images of neat rows of bookshelves, with fluffy pillows and seating arrangements scattered around. The floors, polished to a shine and half of the upper floor dedicated to an information area and classes, taught by anyone who wanted to volunteer. But best of all, there would be a plaque on the back wall, visible right when you entered, saying “Dedicated to Mary L. Berry”. He would make his mother proud, do something right for once. He snapped out of his thoughts as his father said,

“Sure is a fixer-upper” His dad chuckled a bit.

“Well of course. I would rather add my own furnishings and make it my library than buy a dollhouse. There is so much room for improvement!” He walked towards the center of the building, getting bathed in light.

“Isn’t it just astounding?” There were stars in his eyes.

“Well, sure is… something.” HIs father tentatively walked towards Logan. The light died in his eyes.

“...what? Is it not adequate?” The light died in his eyes as he turned towards his father. “If there’s anything you don’t like about, we can fix it” Logan’s father sighed and put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Bub-” Oh no. His father only called him bub when something was wrong. “You don’t get money like this from teaching- or for waitering for that matter, either. Maybe something a bit smaller?”

“It’s for mom though- it’s what she would have wanted”

“First of all, she only wanted you to be healthy and safe. Second of all, you should be doing this for you, not to rekindle the embers of your mother’s dying dream.” Logan sighed.

“I want to be a librarian though- It’s my dream, too” His father looked at him worriedly.

“If your heart’s in the right place, bub… either way, how are you going to get the money? People like us can’t afford such a lovely place.”

“You like it?” Logan said excitedly. HIs father shot him a pointed look.

“I’ve been saving up. I have enough to meet the market price” His father knew he wasn’t telling him something but he let it go. “I have been waiting so long for this, and it’s finally in my grasp. I just have to work a few more overtimes and I’ll-” His father cut him off.

“Woah woah woah. I asked you before if you had the money. Do you or not?” Logan looked to the side.

“There’s a higher bidder”

“Oh…”

Logan sighed and walked over to the door and opened it, rising up a cloud of dust.

“We should go, we’re not supposed to be here anyway…” Logan’s dad gave a curt nod and tipped his hat. His father hailed a cab and hopped in.

“See you soon!” He hollered as the driver took off. Logan nodded and waved as his father disappeared down the street. He sighed and let the tears that he was holding back roll down his cheeks as he looked to the building.

“I was almost there…”

(------)

One of his coworkers taunted him. “C’mon, the Mardi Gras party held by Charlotte every year is tonight. You guys grew up together, you should go!” He rolled his eyes and straightened his tie.

“Mardi Gras parties are frivolous events where people get dressed up like little kids and get drunk on mimosas. Does that sound like something I would enjoy?”

“Aww, you’re no fun.” His coworker whined.

“I am plenty of fun!” He huffed and put his hands on his hips.

“Well if you were really fun you’d join us.”

“Fine… I’ll go to your little party or whatever.” His coworker smiled.

“I knew I could convince you! It's a costume party, so dress up!” His coworker hollered from down the hall. He sighed. What had he gotten himself into?

(~~~~)

“C’mon Remus! We’re finally here! There are places to go, people to meet! Hurry up!” Roman hollered from up the street. Remus huffed as he adjusted to the bags he was holding. Roman’s bags. While his brother was what, talking to one of the locals? His brother never helped with anything. It was always up to Remus.

“If you could maybe help I wouldn’t be so far behind”

“ALL I HEAR IS EXCUSES, BROTHER! LET’S GO!” He didn’t know why Roman insisted on calling him ‘brother’. The way he treated Remus was as if he was a servant, not a royal. But of course, because Roman was first in line for the throne, nobody really cared about Remus. Was his name in the papers? Nope. It was just Roman’s. Everything was Roman, Roman, Roman. Remus grudgingly quickened his pace as he followed his brother.

“Isn’t this a lovely city?” Roman stretched out his arms.

“Yeah…” Remus mumbled.

“...is there a problem, brother?” Remus rolled his eyes.

“No, everything’s a-ok” Roman sighed.

“What is it, and let’s not let your terrible mood leave a stain on this vacation” Remus did his best not to punch his brother in the face. He sighed.

“Nothing…” Roman smiled.

“Then let’s go, see the sights, eat the food!” He sped ahead and Remus sighed. He watched his brother talk to another shop owner. He looked up and Roman was being escorted into the man’s shop.

“WAIT-” Remus rushed in behind him. He turned a corner into the entranceway for the shop his brother went into. He looked up as he left the bags outside. The sign on the top of the door read

“Dr.Janus’s Fortune Tellings and Palm Readings” This was insane. Stick it to his brother to get his fortune read. You stay rich and Mom and Dad make you marry. You inherit the crown and you live happily ever after. It didn’t take a genius to know that was what would happen. Well, he had the money to spend. He sighed and walked into the building. The ‘shop’ had a high ceiling and dust coated the floors. The place was very poorly-lit, the only light in the building coming from a few lamps hung from the walls. Speaking of the walls, they were a dark mauve. They were ordained with intricate-looking masks, of every color and shape.

“SSSit down, gentlemen.” The lean man ushered them to a dusty and old looking circular brown table. As the man turned to them, he saw half of the man’s face appeared to be covered with scales.

“Welcome, you’re in my world now, not your world. I’ve got friendss on the other sside.” The man’s voice was slippery and he was drawing out his s’s. Roman faked a smile and nodded. He didn’t want to be rude but this was creeping him out.

“Sit down at my table, Put your minds at ease, if you relax it will enable me to do anything I please.” The man’s long tailcoat swished behind him as he turned and smirked.

“I can read your future, I can change it ‘round some, too” Roman’s disgust soon turned to awe.

“Really?”

“Really, yes.” He smirked and grabbed a black top hat from one of the hooks on the wall.

“I'll look deep into your heart and soul,” he looked to Remus and nudged him. “You do have a soul, don’t you, Remus?” Remus sat back in his chair and raised an eyebrow.

“How do you know my name?”

The man, who he assumed to be Dr.Janus, turned over his shoulder. His light brown eye almost seemed to glow yellow as sunlight caught it.

“I have my wayss…” He glanced over at his brother and his brother was wiggling in his seat, Roman looked as if he was about to watch a magic show. Dr.Janus pulled a deck of cards out of his sleeve and placed them on the table. He pulled out some other things, a ragdoll and a pendant.

“I’ve got voodoo, I’ve got hoodoo, I’ve got things I ain’t even tried,” He ran a gloved finger over the designs that were etched into the wood pendant.

“And I’ve got friends on the other side.” Roman looked worried.

“Hey, Remus, maybe we should go, we have that um, royal thing we have to attend. Remus caught his arm and pulled him down back into the chair.

“C’mon, brother, right when things get interesting you wanna scatter?” This act had piqued Remus’ interest. “You always tell me to be brave, why not take some of your own medicine?” Roman looked to his brother and sighed. Dr.Janus swallowed and began shuffling the cards.

“The cards, the cards, the cards will tell, the past, the present and the future as well.” He laid down three cards to demonstrate.

“Thesse are Tarot cards, cards that have a deep connection with the other side” Remus thought he was seeing things as a red light flickered in the ‘eyes’ of one of the large masks on the back wall. “The cards, the cards, just take three. Take a look into your future with me” He fanned out the cards face-down and displayed them in front of them. Remus eagerly grabbed three cards and Roman tentatively followed suit after. Dr.Janus motioned for the boys to flip the cards over, grinning. Roman flipped the first one over, first. It read ‘the sun’ and had a very detailed gold inking of the sun in the center.

“You, young man, are from across the sea,” Dr.Janus began. “You come from two longs lines of royalty.” Roman flipped the other card over. It read ‘the hermit’; with another gold design on its ‘face’. “Your lifestyle’s high,” Dr.Janus turned the card upside down. “But your funds are low. You’ve got to marry a little sonny who’s daddy’s got dough” Roman raised an eyebrow and Remus laughed.

“Really? Ol’ Mommsies and Popsicle cut you off?” Remus laughed and clutched his stomach. Roman elbowed his brother.

“I understand. You just wanna enjoy life, be free. Hop from place to place. But freedom takes green.” Dr.Janus rubbed his fingers. “It’s the green, it’s the green, it’s the green you need.” Dr.Janus flipped over the next card. “And in your future it’s the green that I see” The card read ‘ten of pentacles’ on the top of it and a gleam flashed in Roman’s eye as he grinned. Dr.Janus turned to Remus.

“On you, young man, I don’t want to waste much time, you’ve been pushed around all your life,” Remus scowled and Dr.Janus flipped over the first card. The card read ‘justice’ on the top and was upside down. “You’ve been pushed around by your mother and your father and your brother,” Remus knitted his brows. “And even if you were the best you can be, you’d still be pushed around” Dr.Janus turned over the next card and it read ‘the fool’, also upside down. Remus glared at Dr.Janus and Roman held Remus back from lunging at Dr.Janus. Dr.Janus, however, was unmoved.

“But in your future, the you I see,” He turned over the final card. “Is the man you’ve always wanted to be” This card read ‘chariot’ and was upright.

Dr.Janus took off his gold gloves to reveal scaly hands. He extended a hand out to each of them.

“Shake my hand, c’mon boys, won’t you shake a poor sinner’s hand?”

Remus eagerly shook his hand quickly and Roman hesitated before giving a strong shake of Dr.Janus’s hand.

“Yessss,” The man hissed and his right eye glowed yellow. Smoke filled the room.

“Are you ready? Are you ready?” There was a strong beating noise, almost sounding like footsteps or a heartbeat. Roman felt his forearms tighten and he looked down as two golden pythons twisted themselves around his arms, pinning him to the chair. Weird shadows danced across the walls and Remus thought he could almost hear other voices.

“Transformation central,” Dr.Janus hissed as he held up the wooden pendant.”Transformation central,” He walked over to Roman, unfazed by what was occurring around them. His scales on his face and hands glowed yellow in the shift of lighting and the smoke.

“Transformafication central, can you feel it?” Roman yelped as something pricked his finger. Smoke filled the room up to their heads and the boys’ vision was obscured.

“You’re changing, you’re changing, you’re changing, all right,” The man’s yellow eye and scales were the only things visible to the thick fog encompassing them. The beating grew steadily louder as Remus felt a pendant slip around his neck.

“I hope you’re satisfied. But if you ain’t, don’t blame me,” His eye and scales glowed bright yellow, almost blinding them. “you can blame my friends on the other side” And as Dr.Janus uttered that last word, the beating stopped and everything became encompassed in darkness. They could still see the aftershine of the man’s eye and scales long after it faded out.

(~~~~)

Logan hovered by the snack table, not wanting to get dragged onto the dance floor and be made a fool of. Patton hurried over to him, in a baby blue dress.

“Isn’t this just amazing? And rumor is Prince Roman’s supposed to get here soon! Imagine us! Meeting a real prince!” Patton’s golden curly hair flew up as he jumped in excitement. Logan smiled and toasted a glass. “By the way I love your prince costume You see, Larry and his wife are a horse over there, lovely costume. And your coworker, Daisy is dressed as a- I’m not quite sure. Anyway, I’m going to go see if the prince is here yet!”

“Knock yourself out, Pat” Logan forced a smile and watched as Patton hurried out to the dance floor.

(~~~~)

Remus awoke groggily. He sat up slowly and looked down.

“Wha-” He sat up and looked at his hands. They didn’t look like his. These weren’t his clothes, either. No- he couldn’t- He rolled up his sleeve and his suspicions were confirmed. His brother had a scar on his bicep, from when they got in a swordfight as kids.

“Who did this?” He yelled.

“I see you’re up,” Dr.Janus hissed from another room.

“What did you do to me?” He shakily stood up and gripped the side of the chair. He felt like he was walking in too-big shoes. Dr.Janus walked out of his office and stood beside Remus.

“Now, what you’re going to do is you’re going to go to the party tonight. There’s a boy, Patton Hudson. His father is the richest person in New Orleans. If you’re able to woo him, you’ll be rolling in the dough. You’ll be more famous than even your brother. Doesn’t sound spectacular?” Remus nodded and Dr.Janus placed two firm hands on Remus’ shoulders.

“I can do that,” Remus nodded, now sure of what he had to do.

“Good boy. One thing, however.” Dr.Janus placed his hands on the necklace and lifted it up. Remus shuddered as he looked down at his hands again. Callused and worn, unlike his brother’s smooth ones.

“Don’t take this necklace off or the illusion will fail. Alright?” He slipped the necklace back around Remus’ neck and he nodded. He smirked and ran a hand through his brother’s soft, brown hair.

“Let’s do this.”

(~~~~)

Logan sighed as he rested his hands on the balcony railing. He watched as a glowing prince made his way down the stairs to the partygoers. Of course, once he did, Patton was the first to greet him. Logan sighed. He didn’t get the obsession people had with this prince.

“I know. I look absolutely hideous in that outfit.” Logan jumped back as he looked to his left where the voice came from.

“Who said that??” he looked around worriedly. All he saw was a frog sitting on the balcony railing.

“Over here, monsieur.” Logan looked at the frog.

“I need to sit down. I think there was something in that drink. There is NO WAY a frog is talking to me” Logan gripped the railing as he appeared to turn a bit pale.

“Well think again. It is I, Prince Roman” The frog hopped closer to Logan.

“No- the great Prince Roman is out there dancing with Patton Hudson.”

“Pfft! That is not I! That must be someone else.” Logan scoffed.

“Well then who is it?”

“I’m not sure. I should have never talked to that man. Now I am a slimy frog while someone is using my body. And they say fairy tales aren’t real-” Logan turned to Roman.

“Wait what man?” He raised an eyebrow.

“It was Dr.- something. He had a black hat and yellow gloves-” Logan’s eyes widened.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been messing with Dr.Janus. Nobody messes with the snake man- everyone knows that.” Dr.Janus had dark magic. You didn’t mess with him. Of course Logan had heard the rumors of strange and unworldly things happening to people that talked to him.

“Well I just got here 2 days ago and I guess I must have missed that on the brochure.” Roman snapped and Logan sighed.

“I feel bad for you, but what can I do about that?” Roman looked down and Logan raised an eyebrow.

“... you could kiss me. I know it sounds insane, but if this is anything like that children’s story, I need to be kissed to be turned human.” Logan jumped back.

“You mean that fairytale, the Princess and the Frog? Those are fiction books for children!”

“Well then do you have a book detailing what to do if you get miraculously turned into a frog by any chance?” Logan sighed.

“Either way, I’m not kissing a frog. No way Even if you weren’t a frog I wouldn’t kiss you. I just met you.” Roman let out a scoff.

“I am not that ugly!”

“I never said you were ugly.” Logan said flaty.

“So you think I’m cute?” Roman wiggled his eyebrows and Logan felt a heat rise to his cheeks.

“No-NO- I never said you were cute either-”

“But you think it,” Roman smirked.

“You are really arrogant, you know that?” Roman blinked. “And stupid, too. It means self-centered.” Roman mouthed an ‘oh’.

“I am not arrogant! I am gorgeous!”

“Well if not that then you sure are stupid. I’m not the one that got myself turned into a frog.”

“Speaking of that-” Roman cleared his throat.

“No, for the last time I am not kissing you.”

@subtlereferencetomyinterests

#logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides virgil #ts deceit #deceit sanders

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gayshipsandanxiety · 4 years ago

Conversation

a conversation that happened between me and my "family" last night

my sister: what does grandma think of black people?

my dad: it's complicated i dont wanna talk abt it.

me: *snorts*

my mom: what?

me: dude it's not complicated either you like black ppl or you don't.

dad: well, your grandma's very old.

mom: she's a very good person.

me: but she doesnt like black ppl, is that what your saying?

dad: you have to give her some credit, everybody was like that when she was growing up.

me: so she's racist.

parents: no.

mom: you cant label ppl like that, there are so many ppl who if they saw a person in danger they wouldnt hesitate to save their lives, no matter their skin color.

me: they just wouldnt be friends.

mom: ...yes

my dad: and i dont think racism is a bad thing.

me: w h a t

my dad: isnt racism just having pride in your race? i dont see anything wrong with that.

me: nonononono omg no

me: *goes on like a 15 minute rant abt overt and covert racism*

dad: *spends like 5 minutes saying how he could see himself asking a black person if they wanted fried chicken etc and he doesnt see an issue with that*

me: *sarcastic laughter*

mom: and you cant just go around asking people their political views when you meet them.

me: well i wanna do it for saftey reasons since im super queer and i need to know if they're gonna kill me or not.

mom: nobody's going to kill you, you live in a very sheltered area.

me: *more sarcastic high pitched laughter bc yeah i live in a great neighborhood and im upper-middle class but that doesnt mean im safe from queerphobes*

dad: why do you always have to do that? i thought we were havng an adult conversation but now you have to go and do that laugh thing.

me: bc im trying to make sure i stay away from homophobes but mom says they can still be good people.

mom: first you befriend the person, then you see the issues.

#so my parents are racist?#i think?#idk #lmao can someone kidnap me #my dad: dont put people in boxes #also my dad: lol black ppl liek fried chikin #im fucking done #i thought mom would understand cos shes a woman so she should be able to grasp yes all women #and like how you should figure out if a man is problamatic before u date him so u dont get fucking murdered #but nooooo #talking about my family

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danyka-fendyr · 5 years ago

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Absence of Good - 6

Chapter 6: Take Your Troubles and Double Them

Okay so it’s a long time coming but here it is! I took so long writing this because honestly I was just super burned out and dreading writing it. So a part of this was written in small increments, but then today I actually wanted to write, so I sat down and -imagine this- just wrote it. Now I know I just did a fic where characters get injured but well... If two characters are two halves of a whole, the perfect yin and yang to each other, when the one gets hurt should not the other also get hurt? ...and I needed it for plot reasons because we’re finally to the point in this story where I’m storyboarding. Anyway, I hope it’s up to snuff since I actually edited this time.

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

AoG Taglist: @pancakefancake @prettyboyspenerrr @youreasnack @alioop3818

Wordcount:

Warnings: Extremely dark themes. Violence against children. Death and murder. Death of children. Torture.

“Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain.”

-Patrick Rothfuss

You were sitting in the bullpen, working on not working. Technically you were supposed to be writing up reports, but it was early April and everybody had spring fever. There wasn’t a single member of the BAU who was actually doing what they were supposed to except maybe Hotch.

“Hey, Garcia, I’ve got a fun fact for you,” you said.

“Am I going to like it or is it about serial killers?”

“You’re going to like it.”

“Then fire away!” Garcia beamed at you.

“Did you know that the average human needs at least 8 hugs a day to maintain oxytocin levels?”

Garcia looked like the cat that ate the canary. “So what you’re saying is…it’s actually beneficial for me to declare group hug time!”

Immediately she latched onto you with an enthusiasm that could only be achieved by one Penelope Garcia, and with a glare that dared the rest of the team not to come join in.

Some people might be surprised that Spencer was the first to join, but the people who knew him knew better. While the Doctor might seem stiff and awkward from afar, once he got comfortable with people he could be quite warm and affectionate. It just might take a few months or…years. Either way Spencer had no reservations about snuggling into you, and his head was a surprisingly good fit on your shoulder.

It didn’t take the rest of the team long to join in, cocooning you in an envelope of human warmth.

“Does this count as my eight hugs for the day since there’s like, a dozen people hugging me right now?”

“There are exactly 6 people hugging your right now and no,” Spencer said. “It has to be chest to chest contact to count as a full hug.”

“So this counts as no hugs?” You asked, disappointed.

“Don’t worry sugar plum, I’d be more than happy to provide you with an unlimited supply. Whenever you need a hug you just let me know,” Garcia said, patting you on the head as the group hug disbanded.

Not a moment too soon either as Hotch walked in to announce a new case. Nothing like murder to raise your oxytocin levels.

Hotch made the briefing short and sweet, as he always did. There was a series of child abductions happening in Pennsylvania, which meant time was of the essence now more than ever.

“This unsub is escalating at a rate we couldn’t have possibly foreseen. He’s quickly getting desperate and has already shown himself to be deeply unpredictable. Amongst his victims is now 22-year-old Alicia, a nanny to one of the children he abducted. This unsub will go through anything or anyone to achieve his goal, and the murder of Alicia Bennet shows no signs of remorse anywhere in the body positioning or methodology. Wheels up in 10.”

You could feel the panic hit you like a shot of whiskey, burning in the pit of your stomach. You tried to control it though. Panic always came with this job, but it was harder with unsubs like this. Fast moving and unpredictable and ruthless. Something in you knew before you ever stepped foot on the jet that this one would haunt your nightmares.

Spence noticed your distress immediately, finding it in the jittery way you grabbed your go-bag and the shaking hands that made you a cup of tea on the plane before you sat down by yourself to think while the rest of the team brainstormed. After giving his contributions, he was quick to join you.

“It’s eating you alive, isn’t it?” He asked.

You looked up at those soft brown eyes and knew there was no use lying to him. He always knew exactly what you were feeling. You communicated in a language you didn’t even know, in the quirk of his mouth and the skim of his fingertips and the curve of your spine and the whispers of your breathing. A tacet tryst all your own.

“I don’t like time crunches.”

He accepts that as an answer and an end to the conversation. Except there is never an end to your conversations anymore. The silence just stretches into a requiem of every word between the two of you, a living, breathing thing still. Which means there is nothing awkward about you interrupting it, because the conversation is still going.

“Do you ever wish you’d just…taken a gap year? Or several gap years? You certainly had the time.” You laugh a little bit.

Spencer’s answer is fast enough that you know already what he will say.

“I thought about it once. After everything with my Mom…I almost did.”

“So what stopped you?”

“Well I brought up the idea to my Mom and her reaction was basically that I would give up what I loved over her dead body.” Spence huffed a smile, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “What about you? You had the time to take a gap year too. Why not?”

You leaned back against the smooth leather of the jet seat behind you.

“I thought about it. When I was 16 I had this brief ambition to take a gap year to be an occupational therapists assistant.”

“That’s not even a real gap year!” Spencer elbowed you teasingly before going serious again. “So why didn’t you?”

“Well to say my parents thought it was the worst idea I’d ever had would be an understatement. I pitched them the whole scheme, you know? I would go and get my associates degree and then I could use that to get the job and train for a year then help pay my way through college while I was getting my psychology degree. They said that if I stopped for a year though I would never go back to school and get my bachelor’s and then it would all be a waste. So, here I am.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, thoughtful as he always was. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to go after your dreams.”

“It’s okay. I’m happy to be here, so it all turned out for the best.”

Hesitantly, Spencer’s hand came to rest over yours on the armrest. “I’m happy you’re here too.”

You turned your face away from him, but you were unable to stop your eyes flicking back to him, your breath coming too fast for a different reason now. There were certain lines that coworkers just didn’t cross, and you and Spencer…you had been skirting those lines for quite a while. This was just a new way to push the limits.

You should have known right away that it would be a bad idea to try to go undercover. There was a reason you didn’t go undercover in your line of work, the reason being it was stupid. But the best way to catch this guy might just be to masquerade as a nanny for a child that you were almost certain he would target. What made you so certain? Well, she was his after all.

Eventually, Garcia had pieced together enough clues to determine that your killer was a Mr. Derek Mayner and that he had a young daughter who had been adopted by an upper middle-class family. Her mother had hid her existence from him, but you could only assume he had found out since the girl’s mother had been killed when she was only two in a way that fit your killer’s style all too well. Unfortunately for Mayner but fortunately for Gina, his daughter, he was put in prison shortly after that for drug possession and a series of other crimes including aggravated assault and a few other more minor charges. Once Garcia discovered that it was easy to draw a connection between the girls who looked eerily like Mayner’s daughter, as well as Alicia Bennet’s resemblance to her mother, the chilling cherry on top of this case.

Gina’s adopted parents had agreed to let you pose as a nanny, as the other option was leaving their daughter almost entirely unguarded against her serial killer father. You had been the obvious pick from the team as you were the only one who was young enough to be a truly believable nanny. And who would suspect sweet little you was hiding a gun inside your purse?

In theory, everything should have gone off without a hitch. The adopted parents would go out for dinner at the same time they always did on Saturday, their standing date, leaving you with Gina. You would be wired, and so when the unsub broke into the house trying to abduct the sweet 4-year-old girl in your care you would speak your codeword and the team would come back you up while you got Gina to safety.

In theory, the unsub didn’t take you by surprise.

In theory, the unsub didn’t come out of nowhere and shove you into a glass coffee table.

In theory, your mic didn’t break.

In theory, you didn’t get abducted with a 4-year-old girl you were supposed to protect.

Everything was better in theory.

You came to groggily, trying to gain your bearings. Everything hurt but breathing especially. The first thing you realized was that you had probably broken a rib. Well, not you. Derek Mayner had broken your rib. Wait…the unsub. Where was Gina?

You looked around in a panic, causing a sharp, stabbing pain to shoot through your chest before you caught sight of her. She was slumped unconscious just off to your right, and it looked like her tiny little body had been drugged. Something to keep her docile while Daddy dearest kidnapped her.

She stirred slightly, coming out of her drugged haze slowly. She blinked up at you with wide chocolate colored eyes for a moment before quickly bursting into tears. That was bad. That was very bad.

Before she could attract her father’s attention, you quickly pulled her into your lap, holding back a scream from the pain in your ribs.

“There now, it’s alright sweetheart.”

You doubted you looked like it was alright. You could feel the scratches littering your face and body, and you were sure there were some shards of glass stuck through your arms, fibers laced through your face. It didn’t get better when you failed to calm her.

“Take your hands off my daughter.” Mayner growled at you, slamming the door open.

“I’m just trying to calm her do-”

“I said take your hands off her!” He screamed, reaching around her to hit you.

The blow landed weakly, but the pain of it was increased by the injuries you had already sustained. It jarred Gina out of your arms, which only made her cry harder, her distress increasing. Mayner roared, furious.

“Look what you did!”

That was when your pain really began.

He dragged you out to a barn at the edge of the property, an abandoned house he had been keeping you and Gina in. Grabbing chains that implied a sickening amount of premeditation and perhaps more kills than you had given him credit for, he strung you up from the rafters, your toes barely dangling from the floor. With your broken ribs, the agony was unspeakable.

Mayner’s past kills had been fast, more business-like than most of the unsubs you dealt with. His primary focus had been getting his daughter, and his aggressive tendencies took a backseat to that. Now that he had her though, he was free to explore. And explore he did.

It seemed like the pain was never ending, exploding across your body. In the back of your mind you noted that it probably meant something that Mayner’s preferred weapons were knives, and he really liked stabbing. You clung to that, trying to escape to a different mindscape.

In your head, you were on the jet, discussing a case. Your case, since apparently you could only get so far removed from your current situation.

“Impotent, most likely,” Rossi said casually.

“That would explain the stabbing, but not the daughter. You think his impotency happened in the two-year gap where he was in jail?” Morgan asked.

“It’s possible.” Emily leaned forward in your mental rendition of the jet. “That would explain the obsession with his daughter. As far as he knows, she’s the only child he’ll ever have.”

“That makes sense. A man’s children are his legacy, and a man like Mayner would be obsessed with taking control of that.” Hotch nodded.

Mayner dragged the knife up your side, and your mental vision blurred red hot. You tried to focus, tried to bring it back, but it hurt. Gosh, it hurt so bad. You scrambled for any memory you could reach, any happier, higher place. Your brain supplied you with an unexpected one. You remembered Spencer telling you a story of when an old unsub he and Hotch had interrogated in jail tried to kill them. Spencer had talked him out of it by asking one simple question.

You took a jagged breath. “Do you want to know why you did it? Why you killed all those girls?”

Mayner froze, and a wild hope sprang up in you.

“I mean, that’s not like you, right? You’ve committed a lot of crimes, sure, but you’re not a murderer.”

If you could just string him out long enough, the team would come for you. You knew they would. They had to.

“I did it for my daughter. You wouldn’t understand.”

“But I think I do understand Derek. Because you didn’t have to kill all those little girls. But you did it anyway, didn’t you? And you liked it, right? I can tell you why if you just put the knife down.”

“What would you know about me? You’re just a nanny.” He spat in your face.

You tried to hold back your disgust, not to let any weakness show. “I’m a psychologist. I work for the FBI, and I was assigned to go undercover and protect your daughter. And do you know why they picked me? Because they knew, they knew that I would understand you Derek. That I’m the only one who can.”

“What do you know about me?” He demanded, lowering the knife ever so slightly.

“I know that it started with Gina’s mother, right? She was the first person you’d ever really killed. And when you did, there was such a rush, wasn’t there? You would do anything to get that kind of high again. It was better than the drugs, better than anything you’d ever done before. So then you wanted to do it again. But more than that, you wanted your daughter back. So what did you do? You went after your daughter, like any good father. But in the process, you couldn’t control your appetite, could you? You had to kill. But you could have killed anyone, anything. So what do we have to ask ourselves now?”

The barn exploded, and you could have cried with relief.

“FBI! Put the knife down now!” That was Morgan’s voice, strong and authoritative.

Derek didn’t put up much of a fight. Sure, he liked murdering people, but he also liked staying alive. You had broken before he was even cuffed.

Tears poured down your face, the excruciating pain and relief washing over you.

“Get me down,” you begged, a mantra rolling out of you over and over again. “Get me down. Get me down.”

It was Spencer who raced to your side, gently extricating you from your chains. Who caught you as you collapsed, yelping in pain.

“I need a medic here! Now!” Panic laced his voice, and you dimly registered that you had never heard Spencer this afraid before.

“G-Gina, is she?”

“She’s fine. Just breathe, okay? You’re going to be okay.” Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face, and you realized you were freezing.

“I’m, I’m okay Spence,” you tried to say through stuttering breaths. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Medic!” Spencer’s voice was a frantic demand now, but it was getting dimmer.

You vaguely registered Mayner, begging you for an answer as Morgan dragged him away.

“Why?” He asked. “Tell me why.”

You coughed, which hurt, but seemed to come secondary to the hot blood dripping down your chin. Summoning up all of your remaining strength, you looked Mayner in the eye in a last act of bravado.

“I have no idea.”

Then you passed out.

You came to for the second time in what you guessed was 24 hours, except this time you were in a hospital wing.

“Mmmm,” you murmured quietly, shifting in your bed. “Is that morphine I feel?”

You heard Spencer chuckle to your left. “Actually, it’s fentanyl. They tried to give you morphine, but I convinced them fentanyl would be better.”

“And by that he means he bullied the poor nurse into giving you the good drugs,” Garcia said from your other side.

You laughed weakly, but that definitely still hurt. Guess the drugs could only do so much.

“Okay Penelope, you’re going to have to stop being funny now because that hurt.”

It seemed you had unintentionally caused the blonde distress as tears sprang to her eyes and she leaned forward to give you a very gentle makeshift hug.

“Oh, I’m just so happy you’re okay! Spencer’s been sleeping in hospital chairs for the past two days and we were all so worried! About you, obviously, not him, although we were kind of worried about him too because he already slouches so much and-”

“Spencer!” You frowned over at him. “Go home.”

“No.”

“Yes. You’ve been sleeping here for two days? That’s insane. You’re going home and you’re going to take a bath or shower, whichever you prefer, and then you’re going to eat some real non-hospital food, and then you’re going to sleep for 9 hours in a real bed.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Spencer protested.

“Which was all well and good when I was asleep and flirting with death, but now I’m awake and I feel fine. Which means you need to go take care of yourself.”

“But what if they try to give you morphine instead of fentanyl? Or what if they don’t run the right tests or they miss something that I would have seen or what if-”

You precariously turned so that you were facing him better, wincing slightly as you did so. “Or what if you went home and rested and let Garcia and the rest of the team take good care of me, and then you came back tomorrow?”

“She’s right, boy wonder. In your current state of delusionalness, you wouldn’t be able to catch anything the doctors supposedly missed anyway. Come on, I’m having Morgan drive you home.”

Before he could complain further, Penelope ushered him out of your hospital room, leaving you alone with the strong scent of hand sanitizer and latex gloves, under the bright white lights that were sure to give you a migraine if you kept staring at them. So you turned to the only other option left. You closed your eyes, stopped staring at the cursed lights, and went to sleep.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart.”

-Fyodor Dostoevsky

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #matthew gray gubler #mgg #tw: violence #tw: mention of drugs #tw: torture #tw: death #tw: child death

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dionysus-complex · 4 years ago

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Fairly long personal post below the readmore.

A person in my mom’s family who’s been a part of my life since I was born passed away earlier this week and it’s just...strange. I never felt particularly close to him and he was homophobic and racist in that politely passive-aggressive Utah way (which lost its veneer of politeness at the end b/c of the dementia) so I don’t think I’m really grieving for him. But his death has exposed a lot of rifts in my mom’s blended family and it’s making me rethink some events from my childhood and just how my mom’s (middle-to-upper class, largely Mormon) family always seemed like the side that had things together as opposed to my dad’s (working-class) side and now I feel like it’s very much the opposite and I was just trained as a kid to see rural working-class culture, speech, mannerisms, etc. as something shameful.

Also they’re doing an in-person indoor funeral, in Utah, where the coronavirus outbreak is now so bad that New York has imposed a mandatory 2-week quarantine on everybody that travels there from here! And I’ve said that I’ll attend via Zoom but that I refuse to attend in-person and like perhaps I’ve ruffled some feathers but I also have a reputation on that side as the family’s radical leftist anyways so I don’t really care at this point. I’m just still worried b/c I’m staying with my parents and my dad also feels uncomfortable about going and has pre-existing health conditions and is scared of catching Covid but I think he feels pressured to attend and I don’t like that.

Anyways back to the normally-scheduled blend of academic blogging and aesthetic pictures of the western US.

#personal #death cw

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ymnfilter · 5 years ago

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He Found A Love [Klaine FF, One-Sided Sam/Kurt]

Summary:

Set somewhere between Born This Way and Rumors. Sam is jealous that Kurt doesn't have a crush on him anymore and is in a relationship with klaine.

Sam had first noticed Kurt when he first entered the Glee Choir Room. It's not surprising. Kurt demands attention. Not in a way Rachel does, with her loud voice and questionable actions. Kurt demands attention silently. As if he knows all he'll have to do is exist and everyone will always just look at him. He dresses like he wants to impress the world, acts like royalty even when he thinks no one is looking at him. During the weeks Sam has spent in the school, he has never once seen Kurt Hummel's facade slip.

But back to the point, Sam noticed Kurt when he first performed in the choir room. Mostly because Kurt had been staring at him quite intently. But Sam hadn't known then, hadn't really thought much about the other boy's glasz eyes, paper-delicate skin, or pretty features. He had just turned his head slightly more to the left and found himself mesmerized with Quinn instead.

It was easier to pin his affections on her. Because Quinn was a her.

He should've known it wouldn't last, though. He spent most of his time, that wasn't being spent chasing Quinn, looking for Kurt, or staring at Kurt, or wanting to talk to Kurt. Kurt had one of the softest voices he had ever heard. At the same time, he also had the coldest tone. He could tear you to pieces just with a few words and then heal you back to health with even less.

And Sam soaked in the attention Kurt gave him. It might be slightly childish but Sam liked that Kurt liked him even if he was going out with Quinn. He was on the football team, had the head cheerleader as his girlfriend, and had the (beautiful) resident gay kid in love with him. It was like he was living in a teen rom-com.

Nothing could go wrong.

But then, well. Then Blaine happened.

Suddenly there was another boy for Kurt to dump his affections onto. And he seemed to like this Blaine kid even more than he liked Sam. He was positively smitten, and while the rest of the glee club might find it cute, all Sam could do was find it irritating.

Because now Sam couldn't look for Kurt and find him looking back at him. Now whenever Sam looked at Kurt, it was to find the other boy grinning at his phone.

He couldn't talk to Kurt without realizing that the softness of his voice was gone. The gentle tone of his voice was reserved for quiet phone calls to his boyfriend in front of his locker in the middle of hallways. Or the parking lot, or sometimes even the choir room.

Sam hated it, but he could tolerate it. And it was fine, because even when Kurt texted Blaine between classes, he had to look up from his phone at some point and look at Sam instead. And just because Kurt wouldn't talk softly to him anymore, doesn't mean Sam couldn't make him laugh with his mad impression skillz.

Yes. Skillz with a 'z'.

But then Finn invited everyone over for game night, and Sam had all this excitement contained in him. Excitement for some undivided time with Kurt (and the rest of the boys, but at least not Blaine) excitement for getting to talk to Kurt. Maybe if he made Kurt laugh enough, Kurt will start using the soft voice with him again. Sam was really just very excited.

And then all his excitement turned to shit when he rang the doorbell to the Hudson-hummel household and a completely unfamiliar boy opened the door.

Sam had never seen him before, but he knew who he was. And he hated him for it.

"Who're you?" Puck asked from behind him, and the boy smiled, all straight white teeth and crinkled laugh lines. He looked like a fucking showman. Sam hated him more.

"I'm Blaine. Kurt's boyfriend."

"Ah. You're the boy my boy is smitten with. I'm Puck. This is Sam, and this is Mike." Puck made the introductions as Blaine opened the door wider to let everyone in.

"It's nice to meet you all. Kurt talk about you. I hope you don't mind Finn inviting me for game night too."

Finn invited him? Finn? Sam felt betrayed. With the way Finn always rolled his eyes whenever Kurt brought Blaine up in conversation, Sam was sure Finn hated the guy. And now he's inviting him to sacred game nights?

"Nah man, the more the merrier." Mike said with a smile, and Sam wanted to gasp dramatically in outrage.

"But the real question is, are you any good?" Puck asked with a smirk.

"I board an all boys private school. Trust me when I say that before Kurt, video games were the only way I could spend my nights and stay sane."

Sam bristled. Before Kurt? How did he spend his nights now then?

Sam was about to open his mouth and say something that was no doubt offensive. Maybe something about the guy's crazy curly hair, or how no matter how dapper he looked or acted, it still wouldn't change that he was still at least half a foot shorter than Sam.

Thankfully, they reached the living room by then, and Sam's attention was completely directed towards Kurt, who was sprawled across the small love seat, his head on the cushion and legs dangling from the arm of the chair. Those beautiful eyes looked up from where he was reading some girly magazine and smiled at Sam (and the rest of the guys, but really at Sam.)

"Hey, Kurt." Sam said and casually took a seat at the front of the sofa closest to the one Kurt occupied. Hah. He inwardly cheered, where you going to sit now, Blainey boy?

"Hey Sam." he said and smiled and Sam preened. Kurt turned to the others, "Hey, you guys."

Sam was still smirking silently as the others answered the greeting, but it dropped pretty fast when he saw Blaine making his way to the love seat Kurt was laying on. There was no space. Where was he going to sit? On Kurt's stomach? But then, Kurt silently raised his upper body up a bit, and Blaine sat on the space cleared, only for Kurt to drop his head on Blaine's lap the next second.

No.

Sam looked around, no body was looking at the two of them. Why wasn't anyone looking at the two of them? Mike just put on the Call of Duty 3 CD of the play station and Finn casually passed the controllers to everyone, including Blaine.

Why wasn't anybody going to say anything about those two essentially cuddling with each other on sacred game night?

"Dude, where's your mom? I thought you said she had a day off?" Sam said after a while. It was to mostly serve as a distraction whilst he tried to shoot at Blaine as subtly as possible. Sure, it wouldn't be good for their team (Blaine was a good player, for someone who's gay) but it was the only thing Sam could do not to snatch Kurt's hand where it was lightly caressing the back of Blaine's neck.

But then again, maybe if Kurt's dad and Finn's mom were home, they wouldn't let their son and his boyfriend act so couple-y and cozy in the middle of the living room.

"She and Burt went grocery shopping. They should be back in a bit."

From where he was sprawled on the couch, Kurt pouted,

"I really wanted to go too. I heard there's a sale on sea food this week."

"Dude, you always grab stuff that no body's even heard of before. And you won't let Burt get the good beer." Finn said as an explanation.

"That's because I would really like my dad to hit his 90s." Kurt snapped back, and before Sam could say anything to back Kurt up, Blaine piped up,

"Maybe they just wanted to spend some alone time together. It is the weekend."

"Grocery shopping? They wanted to spend some alone time together grocery shopping, Blaine?" and Sam snickered. Mike looked at him weirdly for a moment but Sam payed him no mind.

"Hey, come on. You love getting groceries with me."

Kurt was silent for a moment, and Sam's heart dropped, because when Kurt spoke next, it was a whole new level of soft voice.

"Well yeah, but it's shopping with you." Blaine looked away from the screen to grin at Kurt, and on screen his avatar died. Sam killed him. No body noticed.

"I rest my case." Blaine mumbled, and Sam cursed himself for sitting so close, because from this distance, he could hear the awe in Blaine's voice. He could also hear a soft, pleased , almost silent hmm that Kurt let out as a response.

"Hey Kurt, how's the French homework going?" Sam blurted out the first thing that came out of his mouth. And it was a very reasonable thing to ask, in his opinion. After all, everybody knew French was Kurt's favorite subject in school, a school that he didn't share with Blaine. Sam couldn't have thought of a better conversation topic to freeze Blaine out. But it back fired. Again. Because of course it did.

"You don't take French, Sam?" Kurt asked him with an adorable head tilt. Sam's mind went into overdrive,

"Yeah, but my friend, Brett does. He told me that your teacher was kind of really dragging you all through the mud this week."

Kurt scoffed,

"Brett? You mean that boy that smells homeless? I would hardly expect him to enjoy a language as sophisticated as French. I have no idea why he's taking it if he finds even the basic tenses difficult."

Sam didn't know what to say to that, but apparently Blaine did,

"You guys are still on tenses? In your junior year?"

"The rest of the year is. I myself, am already quite fluent. But, I really wouldn't mind someone I could practice it with. I can only talk to myself so much in French."

"You do know that you have a boyfriend who's also fluent in French?" Blaine teased him, glancing at Kurt for a moment before going back to looking at the TV screen,

"You wouldn't mind doing that for me?"

"Of course not. I'll just hit you up whenever I'm studying it, and we can practice together."

How does Sam manage to kick himself so thoroughly?

Before Sam can say something that would inadvertently end up with Blaine and Kurt spending even more time together, he hears the lock of the main door turn, and Mrs.H's voice calling out a sweet we're home! to the boys. Blaine deliberately dies onscreen and both him and Kurt get up to help Mrs. H and Kurt's dad with all the bags. Sam feels like he should help to, but it's probably like his 2nd time at the Hudmel's , and he is predominantly Finn's friend (who himself is still playing) even though he'd much rather be here as Kurt's boyfriend, so the whole thing would probably just be super awkward,

"Oh, Blaine dear, I didn't know you were coming over today! I would've made some of that custard you like so much."

"I hope it's no trouble, Carol. Finn invited me to game night. Plus, dad's off to Costa Rico on business." Blaine grins, "As for the custard, I was hoping you could teach me. Just in case I start showing withdrawal symptoms."

Carol laughs, "Oh honey, if I taught you how to make the custard, I'm afraid we might just not see you again."

"Yes." Kurt drawls, good naturedly, "That's why Blaine's my boyfriend. Because of custard."

"Darn it, you figured me out." Blaine retorts, but pulls Kurt closer to press his lips to the other boy's temple.

"My, aren't you too just the cutest!" Carol sighs and turns to Kurt's father just as he's coming in through the garage, "Aren't they just the cutest, sweetie?"

"Yes. That's how I'm going to end up in the hospital again. Diabetes from my son's relationship." Burt grunts before turning to Blaine with a grin, "Hey, kiddo. Didja watch the game yesterday?"

"Hell yeah. Buckeyes won 25-11. It was awesome."

"Yer damn right, it was. You staying over for dinner?"

Blaine smiles cheekily, "If you don't mind."

"Of course not, we haven't seen you in a bit over a week."

"Yeah, school's been a bit rough. Mid terms are coming up."

And the conversation continues between the four members as they put away all the grocery. They sound like a regular family, with Blaine blending seamlessly with his boyfriend's parents. It's all Sam can do to not groan out loud. If Mr. And Mrs Hummel are so supportive of Blaine and Blaine and Kurt's relationship, Sam can't really see any way to break them up so that Kurt would pay attention to him again.

It's a childish thought anyway. Sam thinks. It's not like he wants to date Kurt anyway. Sam's straight. He is. It's just, attention and hero worship directed towards him is good for his self esteem, regardless of the gender of his admirer.

And Sam admires Kurt, Kurt is beautiful and strong and elegant to the point where it's almost regal. To have someone like that admire Sam had gone to his head way too fast.

And yeah, maybe watching Blaine and Kurt together hurts Sam's stomach a little. But he's pretty sure he'll get over it eventually. Maybe he'll skip some of the Hudmel house game nights from now on. It'll be a step in the right direction.

#klaine #glee #old fic #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #kurt and blaine #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #ao3

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ricky-corderbro · 5 years ago

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Raindrops keep falling on my head || Ricky & Orion

In which driftwood is collected, thoughts are scattered, and everybody get too wet for their own good.

Ricky was, by his very nature, a social creature (literally). He loved being around other people, loved feeling that energy, but even as social and extroverted as he was, there were still moments when he just needed to be by himself. Which is why after his morning run he’d found himself down at the beach near his house. Since Harris Island catered to the upper crust, the beaches were generally deserted in the morning, since it was more of a “martini lunches” kind of community. It gave Ricky ample opportunity to prowl the beach in search of some driftwood he could use in his art. People online paid what was truly a ridiculous amount of money for driftwood sculpture and “conversation pieces” and Ricky found a decent enough supply of it on the beach outside his home to keep his bank account pretty nicely stocked. It helped his state of mind that the February morning was cold, with a decent wind tousling his hair. He naturally ran hot, because of Selkie biology, and he preferred being outside in the cold, feeling the cold sand between his bare feet and the wind against his bare arms, only clad in the tank top he’d done his morning run in. He sang softly to himself as he gathered up the wood the storms had tossed on shore, an old lullaby his mother had sung to him when he was young. “A leanbh mo chléibh go n-eirí do chodhladh leat. Séan is sonas gach oíche do chóir.” He was not that close to on key, but, he’d never been a strong singer, bad hearing prevented that, but as the wind carried the soft words of his song away the crashing waves also served to stop him from hearing someone else approaching on the sand.

Orion was avoiding his family. He had slept at the abandoned Scribe Headquarters the night before, something that had become more and more frequent. His family barely even questioned it anymore, buying the all nighter at the library excuse because honestly, what else would someone like Rio being doing? As far as they knew, he didn’t have any friends. He barely did. As long as he showed up for training and lessons, they didn’t seem to really care where he disappeared to. So while he had some time to kill before he had to be back at the Quinn household, Orion avoided his home by strolling down to the beach on Harris Island. During the summer, this place would fill up quickly and stay busy for the majority of the day. But this was the early hours of the morning in February. The wind blowing off the water made it feel even colder and Rio clutched tried to sink deeper into his hoodie to shield himself from the morning air. He had expected the place to be completely empty but was surprised that someone had already beaten Orion to the beach. The closer Orion got, the more details he could make out about the man. For how cold it was, the man was barefoot walking through the sand with nothing but a tank top and skinny jeans to provide shelter from the winds. He didn’t even look cold. Orion was already curious about the man before he could got close enough to get a better look. The man was… really attractive, for lack of any coherent thoughts that Orion seemed incapable of forming at the moment. Maybe it was for the best if Orion forgot about the beach and just went ahead and headed home. He could grab a shower before training. Unfortunately for Orion, he had been too busy staring at the stranger that he hadn’t been looking where he was going. His fought caught against something on the ground, and with a yelp he felt face first onto the cold, frozen sand.

It wasn’t until someone tripped and fell flat on their face that Ricky’s terrible hearing told him he wasn’t alone on the beach. He turned to see someone trip and hit the hard sand and tossed his bundle of of driftwood to the side “Oh shit!” Running over he offered a hand to the young and admittedly cute as hell man to help him up, “Definitely not the kind of weather you wanna be rolling in the sand in. Warm sand is better than icy sand for sure.” The guy looked vaguely familiar, and Ricky couldn’t quite place where he knew him from, racking his brain as he waited for the guy to grab his hand, “Definitely thought I’d have the beach to myself this morning. Usually people avoid it during the winter, so it’s the best time to wander it.” He did a quick once over to make sure the cute brunette hadn’t cut himself on something before offering up his most glittering smile, “I’m Ricky, by the way. Welcome to the wonderful world of getting sand outta your hair!”

Orion should have known that he couldn’t get out of the situation without finding a way to embarrass himself. Though he wished he could have done it less painfully. The sand was cold and hard, packed so tightly together that it refused to budge when Orion’s face collided with it. Even worse, the man had witnessed it happen and ran over, handing out a hand as an obvious offer of help to Orion. Up close, the man was even prettier, which made Orion want to bury his face back into the sand. Orion sighed deeply, trying to avoid driving himself into complete panic mode, he grabbed onto the man’s hand and let him pull Orion back up onto two feet. “It’s not as soft.” Orion agreed, wiping at his face to try to wipe away any grains of sand that may be sticking there. At least there were some perks to face planting at a beach in winter. The frozen sand made less san stick to his face, and the cold air made it less obvious how hard Orion was blushing. “Um. Same here. It’s a little…” Orion took stock of the man standing in front of him, probably about half a foot taller than Orion himself. He was barefoot with a tank top on. Not exactly February attire. “Uh cold. Aren’t you freezing?” Orion was freezing in a long sleeve shirt, hoodie and track pants. “Ricky?” Orion questioned, immediately picturing his online conversation with the master of self-confidence, “Like, three nice things in a mirror Ricky? I’m Orion! Or Rio. Uh… we talked online. About self-confidence.”

Feeling his smile grow even brighter by several orders of magnitude, he nodded vehemently, loose curls flying around his face, “Three things in a mirror Ricky! And you’re my fucking favorite constellation dude! Are you saying the nice things? Do I need to pull my Ricky magic and just fucking teleport and make you say them?” Rio’s hand was shockingly warm as he dragged him back up to his feet. He wanted to brush some of the sand from the other man’s hair, but, remembering the difficulty with which Orion had even agreed to saying nice things about himself, Ricky thought that physical contact was probably a big no. “Huh?” He looked down at the torn black jeans, tank top, and bare feet and realized that to a normal human, like Orion apparently was, and not somebody gifted with Selkie biology and body heat, he looked like a crazy person. “Not really. I love the cold. If it’s too hot I just feel gross and lethargic. Cold always perks me up. It’s like my gramma always says, craiceann fuar, aigne gear… cold skin, sharp mind.” He scratched idly at his shoulders, fingers tracing the whorls of the tattoo that poked out from under his shirt without really thinking about it, “Do you need something to wipe the sand off your hoodie? You can use my shirt. I promise I put it on right after my shower this morning, it’s not like gross or anything.” The smile stayed bright, if a little less manic as he beamed down at the shorter man, “What brings you to my beach this blustery day?”

“Oh uh that’s me! I’m saying them, I promise.” Orion laughed nervously. He had been trying, truly. Though usually he could only think of basic things, like ‘your hoodie looks nice’ or ‘good job surviving training’. But it was a start. He was mostly surprised that Ricky had actually remembered him. As the two talked, Orion casually wiped at the sand that had stuck to his hoodie and pants. Orion understood preferring the cold to the heat, but there was still a line to be drawn. But he figured that was Ricky’s business, not his own. Orion couldn’t quite catch the words spoken until Ricky said translated them, but the foreign language made Orion perk up. “I love that! Was that… Gaelic?” He guessed, unsurprised by the fact that a foreign language was what could work to break Orion out of his shell. But Ricky offering the shirt off his back was just enough to shove him right back into said shell. “Oh uh no, no! I don’t want to do that. It’s fine it’s just sand.” Orion shrugged and chuckled through gritted teeth. His arms were bad enough, he didn’t need the whole package to have to avoid staring at. As things were now, Orion was trying to focus on a particularly dark patch of clouds drifting towards them instead of making eye contact. “I was just killing time before heading home. Nothing exciting. You?”

“Good. Nobody wants to see me in the mirror behind them in the morning…. Well…” Ricky scratched the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, “They do… but not like that.” he had to admit he was a little surprised that Rio could pick Gaelic up by sound alone. Most people forgot that it was an actual language, “It was! My mom was from Ireland so I grew up speaking it, and since my dad’s from Venezuela I grew up speaking Spanish at the same time. Son of two immigrants I’m just like the walking American dream.” Rio’s body language and tone took a sharp turn after he’d made the offer of the shirt, and Ricky quickly pivoted the conversation, “Collecting driftwood.” he gestured to the pile left abandoned behind him, “Got some orders to fill. Middle class folks just love driftwood home accessories. GIves them that whole ‘on this is only my summer home’ vibe and they’ll pay well for it.” He felt his eyebrow raise a little before chuckling, “Killing time on the beach in February. Sounds like a damn cold escape. But it is nice to see a friendly face out here.”

Orion’s eyes widened at the obvious innuendo and a nervous laughter escaped his lips. He had to admit that the self confidence was impressive. After Orion was done laughing, a genuine smile rested in its place. The confidence was endearing and not something he was used to. Except on Athena, where it was not nearly as appealing. “I love that! That’s so cool. I’m really interested in learning about different languages. Spanish is actually on my list. I mean they’re all on my list. But since I can’t feasibly learn all the languages, I have a top five that I want to start with.” He realized that he was rambling now. Something he tended to do when he was nervous or overexcited. In this case, both. “Orders to fill?” Orion asked curiously, eager to shut himself up, “Oh? For the art? I think it’s really cool that you make things for others and sell them. That’s impressive.” Orion gripped at his hoodie, scratching at his arm nervously and eventually crossing his arms to stop himself from fidgeting. He couldn’t help how awkward he got around people, especially attractive people, but he had practiced ways to make him appear a little less awkward. Or at least he hoped that it did. “What? No! Not escaping at all. Just uh wasn’t ready to go home yet.” Orion was back to laughing nervously, searching for something else to say. Anything else to say. “Homework! Once I get back to the house I gotta start on classwork and I’m avoiding that like the plague. But I agree! About the friendly face. Oh and thanks for helping me up by the way… I don’t think I said that before.”

“Well hey! If you ever need someone to practice your Spanish with, I’m around!” It was nice to see what appeared to be a genuine smile come to rest on Rio’s face, “It’s also cool that you have a top 5 list of languages to learn. I just speak like…. three and a half and I think that’s probably where I’m gonna stay.” Ricky chuckled a little as he started to pick the pieces he’d left on the sand “yeah. People need their decorative driftwood candle holders or side tables. Though it’s not nearly as impressive as you’re making it sound. It’s just what I do. Some people teach. Some people are scientists. I’m just a dude in a workshop playing with some wood… which came out wrong I’m so sorry.” Rio practically radiated a nervous energy, which wasn’t what people usually were like around Ricky. It was a little unnerving, and a little upsetting if he was honest. So much of Ricky’s energy and life was spent making the people around him happy and comfortable, not being able to do that here made his brow crinkle slightly. “I don’t fucking miss homework. God. I’m almost done with my masters and it’s mostly practical assignments now. If I ever have to write another paper again I’ll cry. I was…… not a strong student. Shall we say. Pretty much the opposite. School was always super hard for me.” His laugh cut through the wind and the waves brightly “you don’t gotta thank me for that my dude. Just what I do…” the thought trailed off as he looked up and saw some pitch black clouds he hadn’t noticed before coming in very fast from the East, “huh……. that’s…… not great”

“Really?” Orion asked, a bit of wonder apparent in his voice. There was no faster way to learn a language than immersing himself in the language and culture. He started in baby steps, listening to the music, changing the languages on movies to the language he was learning. Eventually working up to changing his phone and laptop languages to his language of choice. But having a practicing partner would be even better. “I would love that. And three and a half languages is super impressive. Uh- What other languages do you know? English, Spanish… Are you fluent in Gaelic?” Orion asked, immediately excited. Certain languages were pretty common around the area now, so seeing one of the rarer languages was incredibly exciting. “Don’t sell yourself short. I bet your art makes a lot of people super happy. Their days are better because of the art you make. That’s gotta be pretty cool.” Orion’s breath caught at the accidental innuendo and he scratched nervously at his neck. For how cold it was outside, his face was surprisingly warm. The blushing must be intense, but he hoped that Ricky just assumed it was the cold air on his cheeks that was making Orion flush. “Schooling isn’t easy. I think having a good professor makes a huge difference on the level of difficulty a class is-“ Orion was interrupted by Ricky’s statement, noticing the dark clouds rolling up against them. The wind had picked up as well, and Orion could tell that rain wasn’t too far behind. Scratch that, just a few moments later Orion felt the first few drops against his skin. The rain was here now.

“Oh yeah dude. I mean half the time I talk to myself in not-english and I talk to myself a LOT. A partner wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. At least somebody would be talking back. He fiddled with the bundle of wood in his hand as he listened to Orion ramble, which he seemed to do a lot. Ricky wondered if it was nervousness around a stranger, nervousness around a hot stranger, or just a general state of being, “I am. I’m fluent in Gaelic, Spanish, and English… and I’m like…. Moderately passable at ASL. I’ve got pretty terrible hearing, and I can read lips really well, but one of my other friends who’s also hard of hearing uses ASL a lot and I’m trying to get better at it for her.” He couldn’t help but laugh at Rio’s incredibly earnest compliment, opting for a gentle shoulder punch as the safest form of physically expressing his thanks, “That’s real sweet of you, Rio, but this shit doesn’t make people happy. They just feel momentarily fulfilled because they bought something and they can brag about it being artisanal. Some of my stuff makes people happy. When I make someone a piece of furniture. Or carve them a box in the shape of a weeping willow that they put pictures of a loved one in because they’d spent a lot of time together under a tree like that. Something make people happy… just not driftwood shit.” When Rio started talking about professors and helping make classes easier Ricky had been about to interject that no, he was just legitimately not that smart when he felt the first drops. “Fuck.” Before the word was even fully out of his mouth the gentle hiss of a drizzle on sand had turned into the sound of full-blown torrential downpour, interjected with peals of thunder and flashes of vivid lightning. “My workshop is right up the bluff!” He pointed towards the stairs leading back up, and the peak of the roof just barely visible over the edge, “We can wait this out there if you want!” Without really waiting to hear Rio’s response he started running towards the safety of the workshop, and the warm dryness it represented.

Orion was so excited to be talking to someone that knew so many languages that he was actually passionate enough to talk to this complete stranger. The rambling wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was better than the alternative. Curt responses and stuttering. A staple of Orion’s conversations and one of the many reasons that he spent most of his time hiding out in a building that had been abandoned for forty years. He was even more excited to hear that Ricky was also learning ASL. He briefly wondered if the friend he was talking about was Skylar, but she had mentioned that multiple people had expressed interest in the language to her. Maybe there were just a lot of ASL users in this area. Regardless, it was exciting to know someone else that Orion could practice with as well. Though, he didn’t like hearing about Ricky’s theory about the furniture. Regardless of the source, whether it was driftwood or the weeping willow box. It all sounded beautiful. But Orion didn’t get much of a chance to tell him that, since the rain came rolling in way faster than expected. Ricky shouted something about a workshop and then took off across the beach, Orion following behind as quickly as he could. The rain pelted against Orion’s clothes hard enough to bruise. Ricky was just a blur in Orion’s eyesight, but Orion followed behind, leading up to the workshop and rushing in with Ricky. Despite what must have been only a minute or two out in the rain, water poured off of Orion’s body as if he had suddenly decided to hop into the shower fully clothed. He was shivering, the mix of cold and the pelting rain turning hands almost a purplish color, he could only imagine what the rest of him looked like. But after getting over the initial shock of the sudden change in weather, Orion finally glanced around the workshop. It was filled with art, works in progress and some that looked completed, or maybe they still had some work to go as well. But it was all incredible. “Holy… woah.”

It was…. Slightly uncomfortable having somebody in his workshop. Even Winston hadn’t seen it for the first month they’d lived together, and they lived together. Inviting someone who was a total stranger into it made Ricky nervous and as someone who didn’t get nervous… he was uncomfortable with the situation. “Uh… sorry about the mess.” He quickly turned on the space heater in the corner; while his ongoing curse meant he was cold as the grave constantly, he could see Rio’s hands literally starting to turn so pale it was worrying. He rooted around on a shelf in the back and pulled out an old sweatshirt proudly emblazoned with UMaine’s mascot, Bananas the Bear, and the words “Swim Team Captain” and “Cordero” on the back, “Here. you can put this on til your hoodie dries. You’re gonna freeze to death if you keep that thick wet thing on… like legit.” He awkwardly squeezed water out of his curly hair and shuffled his feet on the ground, “So uh…. Yeah. Workshop.” It almost felt like Rio could look directly into his soul. This room didn’t just house the things he made for others, it also housed the things he made for him. The schematics for his new hopefully-unsolvable-by-genius-draugrs puzzle box were scattered about a table, meticulously labelled. An unfinished sculpture of a man carrying a giant torch sat on the back bench. It was all, frankly, a little much.

The change in attitude was almost immediate from the moment that Orion walked through the door. The Ricky here in the workshop was a completely different person than the one that Orion had talked to online and the beach. He seemed nervous and a little more stiff in his movements. Orion got the impression that wasn’t used to others being inside his place of work, and didn’t seem to like it much either. Orion didn’t take it personally, of course, but decided that it would probably be best to leave as soon as possible. A loud crack of thunder from outside made Orion second guess himself. He would leave as soon as the weather cleared up. Soon, Ricky was handing off a shirt, way too large for Orion himself, and telling him to change into it to get into something dry. The shirt was from the college and had Ricky’s last name embroidered on the back, which he remembered had certain implications in high school that Orion would choose to ignore. But Ricky expected Orion to… change into this? Now? In front of him? Orion immediately stiffened up and felt dizzy. “Oh uh – Thank-thank you.” He laughed nervously, though the laugh came out more pathetic than he had hoped, “Do you uh.. have like a bathroom or some place that I can change into it?”

If Ricky was uncomfortable with having Rio in his studio, at least the other man looked just as uncomfortable. When he mentioned changing into the sweatshirt Rio’s entire body language and tone suggested he hadn’t had a high school experience filled with locker rooms. When he asked about the bathroom Ricky couldn’t help but smile weakly. “Uh not in here. Sorry. I just converted the garage. But um… “ he quickly scrambled for something. Rio couldn’t stay in the wet hoodie. It might legitimately be the death of him. “Oh!” He perked up slightly as his brain prevented what should have been the immediately obvious solution, “I’ll go outside!” He had a hand on the door knob before it clicked that this would mean leaving Rio alone in his workshop. With his art. His secret art. That he never showed anyone. And would probably burn before anyone saw it. But Rio was seeing it. Before he could burn it. Fuck. “Just like. Uh. There’re towels on the shelf there. If you wanna dry off. Use the ones on the shelf. They’re clean. Ones on the bench probs have varnish or stain on them. Just like, holler when you’re done.” Before Rio could object, which Ricky was sure he would, he dashed through the door, standing back in the brutal downpour.

Orion was perfectly fine with freezing to death in his hoodie, rather than change in front of Ricky. And yet, the idea of Ricky willingly walking back out into the rain just to let Orion change in solitude was even more embarrassing. How selfish did Orion have to be to make Ricky do that? He tried arguing against the man, but Ricky was already fumbling with the door knob, yelling about towels and rushing out into the rain. As if it wasn’t just as dangerous for him to be out there, barefoot in the freezing rain. Orion sighed... it was too late now, he supposed. Orion grabbed one of the tells Ricky had pointed out before making his way over to stand by the space heater. Even alone, Orion was uncomfortable getting changed in this small space. But slowly, he peeled off the soaking hoodie, followed by the long sleeve shirt underneath that refused to unpeel from his skin. One strip pulled against a fresh bruise and Orion winced in pain but remained careful not to make any noise. The last thing he needed was Ricky rushing back in because he thought Orion had hurt himself. Once both were off he patted gently at the skin with the towel. As he did so, a couple of pieces from across the room. Charcoal sketches of Ricky, as well as a sketch of a child with a woman. Maybe Ricky and his mom? A chessboard that Orion had noticed when he first walked in (as a fan) but was just now realizing that it was a board that Ricky had built himself. There were also a few sketches of people that Orion wasn’t familiar with around the room. He finished dabbing at the cold skin and crawled into the sweater. It was massive on Orion, who was practically swimming in the material. The sleeves hung past his hands and the shirt went down to his mid thigh. But it was dry and warm and comfortable, so Orion couldn’t complain much. He was walking back towards the door when he stopped at the torch statue. From afar, it was a pretty immaculate statue. But closer it was even more beautiful. He could see the man rising from waves and tears falling from his face. It was hauntingly beautiful, a surprisingly sad sight coming from someone as confident as Ricky. Speaking of, he realized that he had spent too long snooping through the man’s personal art and leaving him alone in the rain. “Uh- Hey you can come in.” Orion yelled out towards the door, hoping it was enough for Ricky to hear him.

The rain was cold, so cold it almost felt like burning, in a weird paradoxical sense. But then again, that could have just been Ricky himself. The curse had stretched on for over a month now, and there hadn’t been a moment’s respite or warmth the entire time. Morgan had said that they were close to breaking it, and he believed her, it was just a little hard to see the silver lining when his very core felt frozen to listlessness. The garage lacked eaves, and therefor any way of protecting himself from the rain, but the force of the deluge was such that he honestly didn’t think it would matter. His teeth began to chatter, and all he could think to do was just start talking. Ghosts were real, maybe his mom was listening. “Not really a fan of leaving him in there, ma. But. Man’s clearly got some body related issues and far be it from me to judge any of those.” He continued his conversation with the empty air, fluid Gaelic slipping in and around the interruptions of the thunder until he heard Rio yelling from inside. Quickly ducking through the door he stood just inside, shutting it behind him and dripping onto the floor. The sight of Rio drowning in his hoodie was…. honestly a lot more adorable than it should have been, but Ricky quickly pushed that thought from his mind as he shot the other man a crooked smile. “Uh. Hey. So. I’m gonna take my shirt off. Because it’s cold and wet af… I just wanted to like…. forewarn you or something.” Turning back towards the door so his back was to Rio, Ricky stripped off the sodden tank top and let it fall to the floor. He knew either side of him that faced Rio there’d be things to raise the other man’s eyebrow. Ricky had a fair number of scars on him from misadventures in the ocean, it was just a matter of which ones he was showing off. “So……….. yeah. I’m gonna be honest with you man. I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to do here.”

Orion couldn’t help but feel miserable watching Ricky walk back into his own workshop dripping wet from the storm that Orion had inadvertently sent him back out into. Orion grabbed another towel from the stack and began walking towards Ricky, freezing when Ricky warned him about taking his shirt off. “It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me.” Orion claimed. He was only partially lying. An attractive guy taking his shirt off in front of Orion was bothersome, but not nearly as bad as the idea of Orion himself exposing his body. He could survive as long as he stayed clothed. Ricky turned his back, pulling the tanktop off. Orion went to look away, but the sight stopped him short. There were scars lining his back, not unsimilar to the ones on Orion’s. His head tilted curiously, focusing in on the wounds and wondering how Ricky had gotten those scars. But Ricky speaking finally snapped him out of the spell and Orion quickly looked away from Ricky’s body. “Uh, I grabbed you a towel.” Orion threw the towel over to Ricky and realized that though he was technically here by invitation, he wasn’t quite sure he was welcome. Orion wanted to talk about Ricky’s art, tell him how cool and beautiful it was. How talented Ricky was. But wasn’t sure if that was the right move considering it hadn’t been Ricky’s intention to show the place off. “Uh – Thanks again for letting me come over and wash it off. I don’t think the rain is that bad anymore. So I can probably head out now. Thanks again.” Orion awkwardly grabbed for his soaked hoodie and long sleeve shirt and then began heading towards the door.

As soon as Orion mentioned that it didn’t bother him if Ricky took his shirt off he could immediately tell that it did. Which was unfortunate because Ricky had been seriously considering ditching his jeans too, but it seemed like the sight of a guy only in some black boxer briefs might be more than the nervous young man could handle, “Uh huh…” as he slipped out of the shirt he couldn’t help but call Rio out on what was obviously a lie. “Thanks for the towel.” He turned to face Rio and catch the thrown towel before using it to dry his still sopping hair. When he was finished he draped it over his shoulders, using it to cover as much of himself as he could. Jagged scars stood out bright white against the darker skin he’d inherited from his father, and some of them involved stories he couldn’t really tell. Luckily, he didn’t feel the need to explain as Rio made some motion to start heading out into the deluge. Before Ricky could respond, a crack of thunder shook the small building and he looked through his damp curls at the other man, “Bullfuckingshit you are, Orion. It hasn’t let up a single goddamn iota and if you think I’m letting you go out in that you have another thought coming. I will strip goddamn naked and stand in front of this door to stop you but you’re definitely not leaving yet.” His inborn protective streak overrode his nervousness at having someone in his most secret sanctum and he tried to give what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “Do you like tea? I’ve got an electric kettle out here. And some really fucking dope lapsang suchong that I got from town the other day.”

Orion was being threatened, so apparently he wasn’t leaving the workshop. Not until the rain actually let up. Orion held his hands up in surrender and backed away from the door. He supposed he could hang out here a bit longer. “Uh sure, tea is fine.” Orion didn’t have much experience with tea, his family preferring coffee to anything else. But he could give it a try. He wasn’t sure that either of them were particularly comfortable with the choice, but it had been made. So Orion awkwardly set the wet tops back down and awkwardly strolled around the place as Ricky worked to get the tea ready. This time, he tried to be more subtle, not full out gawking at the art. He didn’t want to make Ricky uncomfortable. But he decided that if he were staying any longer than it was worth the risk to at least tell Ricky how great his art was. “Um…” Orion spoke aloud but couldn’t quite find the words to say. Instead, he began talking with his hands, putting together a few words that he had learned in sign language. I think your art is really beautiful. Suddenly, he realized that Ricky had said he just barely knew ASL. So he finally spoke, “Um… I think your art is really beautiful.” Orion repeated himself, speaking slowly and signing the words again as he spoke.

“Tea is always good. You’ll like this. It’s smoked over pine needles so it smells literally like a cup of campfire.” Ricky turned on the kettle and pulled two mugs down, carefully spooning the loose tea into a steeper. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Orion made his orbit around the room, obviously looking at everything. It couldn’t be helped; he knew he was at least passably talented and he’d invited the man in, but when Rio turned and signed out that he thought his art was beautiful, for some unknown reason Ricky felt a lump in his throat. He chuffed a laugh and nodded gratefully when the other repeated his phrase out loud, Thank you. He signed back, But beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I think I see more flaws than you do, you might be... his knowledge failed him for a moment as he tried to remember symbols “Claonta.” he finally muttered out loud, his brain having to click through several languages to get his meaning across, “Biased.” He poured the water over the tea leaves and offered a mug out to Rio, “you should let it steep for five or so minutes, but it’ll be nice to hold. Warm you up. Plus it smells good.”

Luckily, it seemed Ricky could recognize Orion’s signing. He signed back towards Orion, the boy being pleasantly surprised that he was able to follow the conversation. He was picking up quickly on the language. “Claonta” Orion mumbled to himself, wanting to hear the word from his own lips to get a feel of the language. Orion assumed that it was Gaelic. He would need to consider adding the language to his current list. After all, a lot of history behind Fae fell within Irish and Scottish mythology. If he was going to protect the creatures from his family, it couldn’t hurt to learn a language that some of them may still comprehend. At the very least, he could use them to help translate some of the older journals in the Scribe library. “I don’t think I’m biased at all. I don’t even know you.” Orion claimed, walking to Ricky to gently grab the cup from his hands. The mug was hot, but Orion welcomed the warmth, maybe it would give some color back to his skin. Not that he had much to begin with. “If anything, I’d say you’re the one who is biased. Spend too much time on something and you begin to obsess over every little flaw.” As he waited for the tea to finish steeping, he listened towards the walls, waiting for the rain to let up. He had bothered Ricky enough. Now it was time to go. “Are you selling any of this stuff? Or is it just for you?”

It brought a smile to Ricky’s face to hear someone, even somewhat clumsily, speaking the language of his heart, “That was surprisingly not terrible.” Their fingers brushed briefly as Orion took the mug, and Ricky found the somewhat strange and unwelcome thought in his head that he was sad he was still cursed, because he couldn’t actually feel what they felt like. That was absolutely not where his mind needed to go right now. “It’s my livelihood. I have to obsess over every flaw. If stuff starts going out flawed then… I’m up shit creek.” He took a slow orbit around the room, tea abandoned on the table as he looked over what Orion was seeing (not that he could even feel its warmth anyway). “It’s a little bit of both. Some commissions. Some just... “ His voice fell uncharacteristically silent, because it wasn’t used to speaking about these pieces. His hands haltingly rose to finish the sentence, Working some things out. He tried not to look at what was very clearly a self portrait in wood and metaphor but his eyes glanced over it quickly, “But. Enough about me. My heart’s pretty clearly and embarrassingly laid out here. Tell me about you. Why such trouble with being nice to yourself in the mirror?”

Flattered by the comment, Orion scratched at the back if his neck nervously, “I’ve been told that I pick up on languages pretty quickly. But I am familiar with Gaelic a bit, so I know about the pronunciations.” Orion shrugged, trying to not make much of it, “Some of my favorite pieces of history come from mythology, and European mythology has all kinds of fascinating folklore, so I’ve come across Gaelic a few times while learning about those stories.” But the last thing Orion wanted to do was bore Ricky to sleep with boring history crap. And clearly, the last thing Ricky wanted to do was talk about his art, as he changed the subject pretty quickly. Message received. Even if Orion had no interest in talking about himself, he would bite. He was the guest after all. “Um, honestly I’m pretty boring. Nothing super exciting about me.” Orion started, finally taking a sip of the tea. The taste was a lot stronger than he had expected, but not hating it. It had an earthy taste to it that Orion couldn’t exactly pinpoint. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I live here on Harris Island with my parents and twin sister. Uh, and I’m in college right now. Double majoring in history and computer science. Honestly, there’s nothing else even remotely interesting about me. I just have never had a ton of self-confidence. What do you want to know?”

“That’s beyond impressive. It’s one of the harder European languages. Maybe I’ll have to recruit you to be my language buddy. I can teach you some Gaelic so I don’t have to call my gramma for a decent conversation.” Rio seemed to have a mean investigative streak if he was reading deep enough myths to need any sort of scrap of Gaelic knowledge. Listening to Rio talk about himself was, in a way, painful. Every statement was colored by some caveat about how he was boring or uninteresting and Ricky couldn’t stomach hearing it. It hit some deep part of him, something inherited from his mother and her bottomless capacity for good, and he wanted to help fix it. “Surprised we haven’t run into each other on the beach before. I’ve lived on Harris Island since I was ten after… yeah since I was ten. But history and computer science is really cool dude. That’s like… Jesus. That’s way above my intelligence level. Like. Miles above it.” He took a sip of his own tea. “Here’s your first Gaelic lesson. Repeat after me. Taím cliste. Táim suimiúil. Is fiú a bheith ag caint faoi.” It might have been a dirty trick. But. It wouldn’t be the first time Ricky had conned someone into being nice to themselves.

“Oh! I’d love that.” Orion agreed a little too quickly. “I mean, if you’re serious. I am always interested in learning more about languages.” Not that he didn’t have enough on his plate already, but it was just another language. What could be so bad about learning the basics? Besides, if he befriended Ricky then maybe Rio could convince him to help translate some of the journals at the Scribe headquarters. He would just need to figure out how to explain that to him. “Yeah, that’s crazy. Small word I guess.” Rio of course knew why they hadn’t run into each other. Orion’s childhood was filled with training, studying and school. No time for distractions or useless hobbies. It wasn’t until just a few years ago that they were granted a few new freedoms. But that didn’t matter, not anymore. “It’s not. I mean, it’s-“ Orion cut himself off. He wanted to say the majors were nothing special, but he couldn’t say that without Ricky defending Orion’s honor or something. Better to just ignore it and speak some Gaelic. Orion repeated the words back to Ricky slowly, knowing enough to understand that Orion was saying something about himself. “Wait… what did you just make me say about myself?”

“I’m absolutely serious. I can only handle hearing someone ask me why I don’t have a husband yet and when I’m going to adopt her some grandkids so many times before I seriously consider throwing myself off the bluff outside. Someone who can talk to me about other things in my native… well… at least what I consider my native tongue, is always welcome.” Ricky returned to his tea, holding it loosely in one hand as he listened to Rio, enjoying the smell of smoke that wafted off the warm liquid, “Though to be fair I think I’m a couple years older than you, and I spent a lot of my time out in the woods being sullen and a grump and one eyeliner pencil away a poster child for behavior issues. Didn’t really take the time to get to know the rest of the island.” It was actually legitimately impressive that Rio could even pick up that he was talking about himself. It indicated more than just a passing knowledge of the language, “you know, sometimes affirmations work better if you don’t know you’re saying them. But, you were saying that you were smart, that you were interesting, and that you’re worth talking about. Which are all incredibly valid statements.”

Orion gulped at Ricky’s statement. Had he just said husband? That was a twist that Orion hadn’t necessarily expected. He had just expected the muscled, ridiculously tall and attractive man was straight, like everyone else. But Orion needed to get a grip on himself before he ended up having a panic attack or passing out on Ricky’s floor. “Uh- yeah. Well I’d be honored. I love having someone else to practice with.” He took small sips of the tea to avoid it burning his mouth. “Yeah well, I didn’t get out much. So I guess it makes sense that we missed each other.” Orion wasn’t sure how much older Ricky was than himself, but wondered what it might have been like if the two had met each other years prior. Maybe Ricky would have been able to force his self confidence on Orion back when it could have actually fixed him. “Wow. Cheap trick dude.” Orion laughed, cursing himself for actually saying the word dude out loud. To another person. Jesus he was awkward. “Is this what practicing languages will be like? Just you trying to trick me into compliments?”

It didn’t seem like Ricky could make a statement without Rio looking like he was about to pass out from the shock of it, and somehow it seemed like the revelation that he was gay was another thing added to that list. Ricky didn’t think it was a homophobia thing, he’d seen some of the glances the other man had given him when he’d taken his shirt off, but either way, it probably wasn’t a good look if a near-stranger passed out in his workshop. “I think it’s easier. My gaelic got rusty after my mom died, and it wasn’t until I went over to Ireland to meet her family and see the village she grew up in that it really got strong again, and that’s because they prefer to speak Gaelic. Gramma legit refuses to speak English.” He almost snorted tea out of his nose when Rio called him dude, if only because it seemed like the most out of character terminology for the man to use, “Is it a trick if I’m just getting you to speak the truth in a different way?” He sat at one of the stools in front of his workbench and pulled a piece of paper towards him, idly sketching as he talked, “We had to read The Picture of Dorian Gray in high school and like, oof, not my fav, but, at some point someone says something about how an object of beauty can’t ever truly appreciate itself because it can’t accurately grasp the entirety of its own beauty. Think of it that way. I’m just like… filling you in on the beauty you’re missing.”

Orion hadn’t expected to hear that Ricky’s mom had passed. He supposed Ricky had seemed too positive for something like that to have happened to him. Though the fact made a few of the art pieces around the room make a bit more sense. The portraits of his mother and himself, never past a certain age. Orion could only assume that those pictures were from around the age that his mom had died. It also helped explain some of the sadness that emanated from the torch statue. “My parent’s don’t see the point in learning another language besides Latin. Which they only made us learn so we could read the bible.” Orion blinked a few times after saying it, surprised by himself that it had come out of his mouth. “But my sister and I both love them. Of course, she’s better than me at it. She’s fluent in quite a few languages already.” It was too late now he supposed. He was careful not to expose too many secrets about his family. Too dangerous for all parties. “It’s definitely still a trick. Regardless.” Orion giggled. “I can’t believe I just got compared to an Oscar Wilde character. I mean, that’s like every literary college student’s dream.” Orion’s hunter hearing picked up on the changes outside, the pounding of the rain against the workshop lessening, the sounds of thunder further and further away. He scratched at the back of his ear instinctively. “Uh, sounds like it’s finally letting up. So I can get out of your hair soon.”

As far as sentences that made it sound like you were raised in a cult went… revealing that your parents only allowed you to learn Latin so you could read the bible was right the fuck up there, “Well…” Ricky attempted to be as tactful as he absolutely could, which was a stretch for the normally blunt if charming seal, “There’s certainly something to be said for reading the classics in their original language.” Which was technically going to be Aramaic or something along those but Ricky certainly wasn’t going to split semantic hairs like that. He was just going to take this victory and keep on going. “Never really had much religion when I was growing up. I think my dad was raised Catholic, but my mom wasn’t, so it really wasn’t around much. Then, you know after she… and then he left… so not really much church going in my childhood.” The series of truncated phrases had left an awkward feeling in the air that Ricky quickly attempted to cover up as he scrambled through one of the drawers looking for something, “Well then I guess I’m just going to have to start reading a lot more, if that’s the key to getting you to accept compliments.” When Rio made the comment about the rain letting up, Ricky laughed, straightening as he found what he was looking for in his desk, “Well, this isn’t Phantom of the Opera, Rio. I’m not holding you captive in the catacombs, you’re welcome to leave whenever you want, though you being here definitely isn’t you being in my hair. My hair is way too nice for that.” Not strictly true, he was still about ten seconds from an anxiety attack with Rio seeing all of his art, but Ricky had a feeling that if Rio knew that there’d be an explosion of mutual anxiety. “Well. Here’s my card.” He held out what he’d been looking for in his desk, one of the many cards he’d had made when VistaPrint was having a sale. “Ricky A Cordero, Woodwork and Restoration” Printed in bold font in bronze on a black background. It looked far fancier than Ricky himself was, but, it had definitely gotten him some business. “I’m serious about the language thing. I can teach you Gaelic if you want, and I’m down to practice Spanish whenever you get a handle on it.” He also grabbed the piece of paper he’d been sketching on, folding it into quarters and passing it over to Rio, “Open it when you’re out of the rain. But. To help with the mirror affirmations in the morning. You know, I’m really glad that we got caught in the rain together.”

Orion wanted to tell Ricky that he wasn’t religious either. To have something in common. That he could never feel the pain of losing a parent, let alone both. But he could relate to parental issues in an entirely different way. But Orion had already said way too much. He had an image to uphold. His family was too dangerous on their own, and Orion wasn’t strong enough to stop them. Not yet at least. So, for now it would have to be left at that. He could read between the lines of Ricky’s statement. He knew what it had meant. “There are a lot of books I’d love to be able to read in their original texts. Just to see how much the translations differed.” Ricky was being nice obviously, offering Orion the chance to stay as long as he wanted. But Orion could tell that he was still on edge about someone he didn’t know well being inside of his workshop, so Orion decided it was time to take his leave and ease both of their minds before one of them lost it. But Ricky won a laugh out of Orion for the laughed at the hair joke at least. “Thanks. It’s fine. I need to get back soon anyways.” He grabbed the card from Ricky and inspected, noting the number on the card. Was Ricky just giving Rio his number? Definitely no time to explore that without freaking out, so Orion moved on. “I will definitely take you up on that! Once I get settled with my other classes.” Orion awkwardly took the scrap of paper and glanced at the outside of it, stuffing it into his jean pocket when he couldn’t make out any of the details from the outside. “Uh – yes. You too! It was nice meeting you.” Orion didn’t know how to take anything about Ricky’s statement, and was too afraid to think any deeper into it. Not right now at least, so he finished off his tea and handed the mug back off to Ricky before walking towards the door and giving one last awkward wave, “Welp. Bye then.”

When Orion got home, he went up to his room and immediately dug the paper out of his pocket and set it on his dresser. He began changing into different clothes but stared at the folded piece of paper the entire time. He slipped out of his soaked track pants and into a pair of dry joggers. Then he gently took off Ricky’s hoodie and folded it to add it onto his dresser next to the folded-up piece of paper. In Orion’s mirror, he examined the scars and bruises that riddled his body. Though not very similar to Ricky’s own scars, it was strange seeing someone else with their own wounds. Like the two shared a connection, even if Ricky couldn’t know about Orion’s. Orion was not brave enough to show the world what Ricky was willing to. He slipped on a short sleeve shirt, the training coming up being the only time he was willing to do so. The shirt would end up getting torn anyways, so no need to waste a long sleeve shirt. Before heading down, he finally grabbed onto the piece of paper and began unfolding, unsure of what to expect. But of all the ideas, he certainly hadn’t expected the portrait of Orion that Ricky had drawn. He recognized the stance as the constellation and he recognized the hunter’s face as his own, but other than that there were so many differences between Orion and the portrait in front of him. The hunter stood tall, not slouched as Orion so often did. The look on the hunter’s face wore confidence and determination, something that the anxiety ridden Orion did not have. ‘To Help with the Mirror Affirmations in the morning’ Ricky had said. A view that Ricky had wanted Orion to see for himself. Jesus. What did that mean? Orion had stared at the picture for a long while before he finally heard a voice yelling from downstairs. “Orion! You’re late. Let’s go. Practice is about to start. Athena is already in the guest house” He could hear from his mom’s tone that he shouldn’t make her wait any longer. He folded the paper back up and stuffed it into his top drawer. “Sorry! Coming now.” He yelled back down, before rushing into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind him.

#orion #raindrops keep falling on my head #chatzy

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dirtyahs · 6 years ago

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What Are We? (Tate Langdon x Reader)

HELLO IM BACK JESUS CHRIST IM SORRY IVE BEEN SO ABSENT LIFE IS KIND OF KICKING MY ASS BUT IM DOING MY BEST!! I LOVE ALL OF U FOR BEING SO KIND AND PATIENT <3

This was requested by my pal @stellaholland i luv u so much bby i hope u enjoy :,)

Word Count: 4,814

Warnings: unprotected sex, teasing (sexual and nonsexual), kinda fluffy at the end! (take that lightly, i dont write fluff well lmfao)

You stood in front of your closet, continuously searching through the clothes as if something new was going to appear. You pulled a black skater dress off of the hanger and slipped it over your head, looking in your mirror, only half satisfied with the way it looked. "You're just trying on the same dress in different colors, it's not that hard to pick one." You jumped when you heard a voice behind you, turning around to see none other than Tate. Your family had moved into the house about seven months ago. Both your mother and father were some kind of twisted horror fanatics, so they purchased the house knowing full well you'd be the owners of "Murder House." It was strange to get adjusted to at first, it's like living with ten other people, but only sometimes. Tate made himself visible the most out of everybody. "How long have you been sitting there? Fuckin' creep." You scoffed, sitting on the edge of your bed to put on a pair of black boots.

"Long enough." He smirked at you, standing up to walk to your desk, flicking through your notebooks. You saw Tate most often, but frankly, he was the last person you cared to see. He was obnoxious, arrogant, and overall just kind of a douche. You'd come home from school to see him laying in your bed listening to your music. Or you'd wake up in the middle of the night to things falling off of your bookshelf, furniture moving with no one being there. It was always him though. It's like he got off on just screwing with you; so he did. Quite often. Everybody else in the house was decent. Nora was sweet, she just cried a lot. Which was fair given her situation. Chad and Patrick were both okay individually, but when they were together, they were beyond irritating. Just so incredibly passive aggressive - you couldn't imagine being stuck in a house for eternity with someone you wanted to divorce. You stood up, smoothing out your dress before grabbing your small bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Your parents had decided everyone was going to go out on a nice lunch today. "Can you get out? I'm leaving." You pushed past him, opening your door and motioning him to walk out.

"I can never get out, angel." He said, sounding just as conceited as ever, making his way to the door, leaning against the wooden frame. "But I guess I can leave you to your little lunch date with mommy and daddy." He teased you condescendingly. You'd done your best to not let him bother you, but he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

"Thanks for being so kind, Tate." You gave him the sweetest smile you could manage, slamming your bedroom door when the two of you had exited.

ii. You'd finally gotten home a few hours later. Your parents were very good at starting conversation with every server you'd ever had. They get talking, and then the server gets talking and it seems to last forever. They do always get some kind of discount or something free for being kind though. Your mom had been a server for a decent part of her life, so she was always extra nice to them. Telling them you had homework to work on, you made your way upstairs to your room, hearing music coming from behind the door. Just as you suspected, Tate was sprawled out on your bed, hands behind his head, eyes closed. You sighed and walked over to your bed, smacking Tate's side.

"Can you get the fuck out? I have homework to do." You hissed. You definitely weren't going to do homework though. You'd probably end up reading, or watching YouTube or something - but Tate didn't need to know that part. His eyes opened slowly, and you felt like you couldn't look away. He looked angelic (ironically.) His blond curls spread messily around his head, face peaceful, and most importantly, he wasn't talking, which made him look amazing. Without a word, he moved over to one side of the bed, making room for you on the other.

"Tate, I mean it, get out. I've got shit to do." You tried to sound strong - however, you weren't very threatening.

"Whatever you've got to do, just do it quietly." He mumbled, eyes closing once again. Looks like you weren't going to be getting him out of your room. With that, you grabbed the book you've been reading and took a seat at your desk chair, kicking your boots off and putting your feet up on the desk. Your dress fell just a bit to reveal part of your upper thigh. Within minutes, you heard quiet snoring coming from the boy in your bed, blankets pulled up to his chin now. How he managed to make himself so comfortable in your room remained a mystery. It was his room first, technically though. You looked up from your book to see him snuggled tightly under the dark purple duvet, lips parted just slightly.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him - he looked so peaceful and quite beautiful honestly. No - what the fuck are you thinking? You thought to yourself. You don't like Tate - you haven't since the day you moved into this house. He was rude and condescending and way too overly confident. He might be nice to look at, but that's all he had going for him. You had to shut those thoughts down immediately. You shook your head and picked your book up again, returning to the chapter you were reading. iii. "Why are you going to school? Wouldn't you rather stay here with me?" Tate teased, leaning against your door frame, blocking you from leaving. He'd been there since you woke up, but he wasn't going to tell you that part. He'd watched you strip out of your pajamas and slide into your hip hugging denim jeans. He enjoyed seeing you - there was something so erotic to him about just watching you go about your normal routine. Not only was it erotic for him, he just liked to watch you. He was fascinated with the way you'd wing your eyeliner, or paint your lips your favorite pink nude. He liked seeing the way you'd quietly sing to yourself in the morning. Most people that moved into that house were terrified of him and everyone else there. You and your family were so different for him. Tate hadn't felt accepted probably ever in his life. Being accepted, and even admired was such a new feeling for him.

"No, Tate I wouldn't. I need to go to class today." You huffed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and crossing your arms. He had that stupid smirk stuck to his face. Today, it was hard to tell him no. He did this every few days, and you always pushed past him without a second thought. Today, you kind of wanted to stay home with him. But you couldn't. You'd always done well in school, and it was something you took pride in. So you did what you always did and pushed past him, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you walk away.

"Your ass looks cute in those jeans!" He called, blowing you a kiss oh-so sweetly. Your heart jumped a bit with his words. You sat in the cold blue plastic chair, resting your head in the palm of your hand as your English professor babbled on about the assigned reading. The assigned reading that Tate wouldn't let you finish. You were sat in your bed, legs crossed at your ankle trying to finish the chapter. You looked up to see none other than your blond haired nuisance. He was wearing torn up black jeans and Doc Martens. You had the same pair. He crawled over the iron swirls of your bed frame, and laid next to you - uninvited. He tried to talk to you about whatever he could - about your book, about your boots, about himself, about how good he thought you looked in a denim mini skirt. His flirting was always sarcastic. At least it seemed that way. No matter how sarcastic he was though, somehow his words always made your heart flutter. No matter how much you tried to suppress it. "(Y/N)? Can you tell me what happened to our main character in chapter 7?" Your teacher had her arms crossed over her chest, pulling you from your little fantasy - you just zoned out in class thinking about Tate fucking Langdon? Really?

"I-well Mrs. Sanchez..." You stammered, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, cheeks turned an almost electric red. How the hell did you get so carried off thinking about a boy you thought you couldn't stand?

"Please pay attention, all of this is important." She said, clearly unhappy with you. You were one of her favorite students, but she had almost ridiculously high expectations of you. Oh well, you thought, she'd forget about it tomorrow. You closed your front door behind you. It was about 3 o'clock. Your mom and dad would be at work for another couple of hours. But you were sure you'd walk upstairs to find Tate curled up in your bed for his afternoon nap, just like you found him there every day. He was a bit predictable sometimes. You trudged up the stairs, desperately needing some alone time. You'd found yourself day dreaming about Tate more than once. You'd see something that reminded you of him, and you'd feel your heart jump in your chest. You'd thought about the little freckle on his nose, and the way he'd touch all his fingers to his thumb when he got a little nervous. You'd thought about the one time you walked into the bathroom to see him shirtless standing looking in the mirror. His jeans were unbuttoned and hung low on his hips. His muscular shoulders stiffened a bit when he saw your reflection.

"I-I..." You stuttered, unable to look away. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here." Your cheeks were beet red, voice audibly shaking. "That's okay," He turned around and took a few steps towards you. "You can walk in on me like this whenever you want. It seems like you're liking what you see." He growled, his hand moved to rest against wall next to your head. You sighed and threw your bag to the floor, kicking your shoes off quickly. That memory ignited something in you and you couldn't deny the wetness forming between your thighs. Swiftly, you unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs, crawling into your bed. You hooked your phone up to your speaker, playing your "Steamyyyyy" playlist, as if you'd ever been with more than one person before. You ran one finger down your chest, to your stomach, finally reaching your black panties, one finger rubbing light circles over your clothed clit. You let out a throaty sigh, gradually picking up speed. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back onto the black silk of your pillow case. You pushed the fabric to the side, your fingertip finally making skin to skin contact with the little bundle of nerves held between your soaking folds. Your lips remained parted, letting out desperate little whimpers every few seconds. Your free hand gripped at the sheets as your finger worked faster, whimpers eventually turning into loud moans. You hadn't been alone to do this in so long - honestly, you'd forgotten what it felt like. As alone as you felt, you logically knew you were never alone in this house. Tate was sat in your desk chair, a distinct protrusion pressing against his light wash jeans. His jaw hung open as he watched you, in shock over how beautiful you looked.Your mind was running with thoughts of none other than him; you thought about his fingers working you like this, his large hands caressing your skin, his full lips pressing kisses into your neck.

"Tate..." You gasped, fully immersed in your fantasy, feeling that familiar tighten in your tummy, your fingers moved harder almost instinctively. Tate sat there, quiet. You'd finally rendered him speechless. His name fell from your lips several more times. His hand clapped over his mouth to hide his whimpers as you made his cock twitch against his boxers. Truthfully, he'd fantasized about you more times than he cared to admit. Seeing you like this was just a happy accident. He'd walked into your room with the intention to scare you, throw some stuff off of your shelves to mess with your head. But he stopped outside the door, hearing muffled moans. He opened the door slowly, eyes widening when he saw what you were doing. Suddenly, the coil inside of you snapped and your legs started shaking. Your jaw hung agape, nails digging into the soft fabric beneath you.

"Oh- fuck! Tate..." You hissed loudly, guaranteed that someone, somewhere in the house heard you. But, it was just Tate. He now stood at the end of your bed, watching as you soaked your fingers, his hand gently palming himself through his jeans. Once you'd finally ridden out your orgasm, you pulled your fingers from their spot between your legs, sighing deeply, satisfied. Your eyes finally opened and you looked around - still no one. Part of you was surprised Tate wasn't there to make fun of you. It was in that moment that you realized how loudly you'd been saying his name. You literally gotten off to him. He'd invaded your thoughts throughout the day and now he was doing it again in your only alone time. God dammit. You sighed and leaned up in your bed, rubbing your eyes. You couldn't keep playing this game with him - you needed to ask him what the hell his goal was. You needed to see what he felt for you.

You stood up and slid back into your jeans from earlier, making your way to your bathroom down the hall. The closer you got, you could hear a voice coming from inside. Your hand met the coolness of the door knob, but you stopped, feeling your knees weaken when you realized what you were hearing. From the other side of the door came strained grunts. Your heart was racing but you couldn't pull away. You pressed your ear against the door, the voice getting louder and louder.

"(Y/N)," the voice hissed - your suspicions were confirmed, it was Tate. "I-I'm gonna' cum..." He hissed, letting out a loud, relieved moan. Your mind was racing, desperate to see what he looked like in that moment. Moments later, you heard the zipper of his jeans and quicker than you meant to, you began your little run down the hall and down the stairs, no doubt he heard your foot falls. Your heart was going to jump out of your throat, you were sure of it. It was your own fault for thinking you'd ever have any kind of alone time in this house. Tate never left you alone - he saw you. He had to. There was no way that was a coincidence. You opened he fridge, not really looking for anything, just trying to occupy yourself. You jumped when you saw two hands on either side of your head, making contact with the fridge. Speak of the devil.

"Tate! You-you scared me." Whether he saw you or not, it was clear that something had you frazzled.

"Can we talk?" His voice sounded deep, gravelly, almost like when he'd just woken up. You finally turned around and looked up at him. His hair was a bit messy, cheeks tinted a pale pink.

"Yeah, about what?" Your voice shook with your words, hands clasped tightly in front of you. You looked up at him as he pushed his body closer to yours.

"No need to act like you don't know what you heard." He growled, chest pressed tightly to yours. "And I'm not going to act like I didn't see you soaking your sheets thinking about me."

His dark eyes looked bright. He got some kind of thrill out of embarrassing you. You opened your mouth to say something sarcastic back, but no sound came out. Tate being this close to you was making your heart race, you didn't have the overwhelming urge to shove him away like you normally would.

"I think," He whispered, lips ghosting yours, "You like when I tease you." He smirked, one hand moving down your side to your hip. "Why don't you tell me what you were thinking about, hm baby girl?" His lips brushing yours forced an unintentional moan from your throat, cheeks flushing almost instantly. "I-Tate..." You were mesmerized. He had you in the palm of his hand and it excited him. "I wasn't thinking about you." You tried to lie, realizing just how dumb you sounded after the words came out.

"Oh Tate," He raised his tone to mock you, "Fuck me, Tate." He chuckled down at you. "Nothing to be embarrassed about doll, I know you heard me saying your name just like that too." He gave your hip a firm squeeze.

"After what, nine months in this house, I think it's time you live your fantasies."

He held you tightly in his hands, spinning you two around so you were pressed against the edge of the counter top. You had nothing to say. Honestly, you were unbelievably excited. You'd thought about his hands touching your skin, his lips on yours, you've wanted this longer than you cared to admit. Your hand came up to hold one side of his face, taking a fistful of his hair and kissing him - hard. His lips worked against yours perfectly, feeling as if they were made to fit together. He got rougher, not hesitating to take control of you. He pushed you firmly against the cool marble behind your back, lips moving from yours down your jaw and to the soft skin on your neck. His kisses started gentle, but quickly got aggressive, nipping at the skin, leaving purple marks in his wake.

You tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, feeling him smirk against your skin before he pulled back to tug the gray fabric over his head, showing you his slightly toned torso. Your heart rate picked up once again as you looked him up and down.

"Your turn, angel." He cooed softly, watching as you followed his actions, tossing your tank top to the side. He smirked at you, using both hands to grope at your exposed chest, pressing possessive kisses to your chest.

"I've always loved it when you don't wear a bra." He teased you, his playful, mocking tone returning.

"It's much more obvious than you think." He smirked and tweaked one nipple between his pointer finger and thumb, making you whimper from the slightly satisfying jolt of pain. You leaned your head back, allowing your eyes to shut as his tongue replaced his fingers, flicking over your nipple. Your lips were parted, letting out quiet gasps of pleasure. His now free hands moved down your sides and to your jeans, unbuttoning them with ease and sliding them down your thighs. You kicked them aimlessly to the forming pile of clothes on he floor.

His kisses started moving south, trailing them down your breasts, to your stomach, to your hips, finally reaching the thin cotton fabric that was now soaked between your legs. One of his hands came up to lift your leg over his shoulder, his lips pushing a few light kisses against your clothed pussy. You whimpered, desperate for him. You'd never admitted it to yourself, but Tate has always a central theme in your fantasies. He'd force his way into your thoughts without you even realizing it, and after you were done, you'd push it away and pretend like you'd thought about someone else. You didn't want to be attracted to someone as annoying and immature as Tate, but now he had his head between your thighs and you had no intention of stopping it.

He'd pushed the thin fabric aside, flicking his tongue against your clit just once, to make you moan out in pleasure.

"Stop teasing me, dick head." You half whimpered, half challenged him. You did want him, so badly, but you couldn't let him see just how wrapped around his finger you really were. With your words he roughly pulled your hips forward, forcing a harsh smack to your ass.

"I like you much more when you're just moaning my name." He growled, but he listened to you. His lips attached to your clit and he began sucking lightly, not hesitating to push two fingers into your wet heat, making you squeal in pleasure. It'd been a long time since someone else's fingers had penetrated you, and somehow Tate was fucking amazing at it. He curled his fingers perfectly in rhythm with the way his mouth worked your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter top, knees growing weak. You felt that tight heat rising in your tummy, his fingers and tongue getting you so close to release, much quicker than you ever did by yourself.

"Tate- I'm gonna-" He stood up, smoothly lifting you up onto the counter, keeping your leg slung over his shoulder.

"You're cumming on my cock." He growled dominantly, his eyes looking dark and almost feral. He kicked his jeans and boxers to the side, completing the pile of your clothes. You couldn't help but watch as he stroked his length a few times before lining it up with your entrance, pushing into you painfully slowly. You looked up at him, taking in his features. His jaw hung open a bit, blond curls hanging in his eyes. He looked as perfect as someone possibly could. Once he bottomed out inside of you, he looked up, beginning to thrust into you, starting slow and picking up gradually.

"Fuck-" He hissed through gritted teeth, "You're so fucking tight." His hands rested on the counter on either side of your hips, fingertips turning white from how hard he pressed into the surface. He kept up a steady pace for awhile before you felt his hips stutter - he was close. He brought one hand up and began rubbing fast circles over your clit, making your legs tremble around him.

"Cum with me, angel." He growled, fingers picking up their pace, your lips barely brushing his as you felt that tightness return. Your jaw hung open now as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You watched his fingers and hips work in time against you, when all of a sudden you felt him release, covering your walls with his hot cum, forcing the coil in your tummy to snap. You came with him, nails digging into his shoulder, knees feeling weak before it was even over. You watched his face relax once he was finished, chest rising and falling quickly. He looked up at you through his hair, flashing a faint smile. He pulled out of you slowly, pressing a loving kiss into your cheek before bending down to dig through the pile of clothes to find his boxers. He slipped them over his legs, followed by his jeans, but you stayed in your spot on the counter. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" He looked at you, jeans resting low on his hips. "You get on my fucking nerves more than anything, and somehow you managed to have me up on this counter for you." You shook your head, blatantly in shock from what just happened. You didn't want it to end though. There was something about seeing Tate so vulnerable, yet so confident that just left you wanting more. He smirked, pulling his shirt over his head and shrugging. "Neither of us are complaining." He smirked, tossing you your shirt and helping you down from the counter. You pulled your tank top on, opening your mouth to respond when you heard the key turn in the door - your parents were home. "This isn't over, Langdon." You hissed, grabbing your clothes before rushing up the stairs, accidentally slamming your door much harder than you intended. A few weeks had passed since your encounter with Tate, and there had been a repeat of those events every few days. You two started to pick up on what the other one liked. Like how you enjoyed having your hair pulled and Tate enjoyed when you'd kiss his neck. He liked having you in control. For someone as confident and douchey he was, he liked having you dirty talking him, being the more dominant one occasionally. And god damn, that boy was always in the mood. You'd feel his hands on your hips when you'd brush your teeth in the morning, or when you were getting ready for bed, he'd kiss down your shoulders the way he knew you loved. But you didn't mind. If he wanted it, you were happy to drop what you were doing and sleep with him. It was a fun little arrangement. It was late, probably around 2 A.M., Tate was laid next to you, a blanket covering him from the waist down, his arms behind his head. You looked over at him, feeling your heart race a little faster. The more time you spent with Tate, the more you grew to appreciate him. He was funny, and charismatic. He'd make you giggle but then have you bent over your bed in the same minute. You couldn't help but miss the feeling of him when you slept alone in your bed. He was always warm. You pulled the blanket tighter around your chest as you leaned up on one elbow, looking over at his sleepy face. "Tate can I ask you something? It's kind of dumb, but I just need to know." You felt nervous all of a sudden. You weren't even exactly sure what you wanted with him. Could you be in a relationship with someone who died in the 90's? Was that even what he wanted? What if he just wanted to be fuck buddies? Is that okay with you? Your brain was jumbled with all these thoughts, interrupted when he looked over at you, skin almost glowing in the dim light. "What's up?" He looked up at you, his finger drawing lazy circles on his chest. You took a deep breath and visibly shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "What are we?" You blurted out, cheeks going red immediately. "Because we- we fuck a lot. You're in my room a lot. You never let me be alone, and I just don't want to say something weird, or continue being in the dark I guess." Your voice trailed off before you collapsed down onto your back again, suddenly unable to look at him. He looked over at you though, you couldn't meet his eyes. "What do you want to be?" "No, don't put this on me. Answer my question." He sighed, and you finally looked over at hi,. "(Y/N)," He started, looking over your chest before looking back into your eyes. "Honestly, this started as sex." Your heart dropped. "But you're right, we have spent a lot of time together. I like being in here with you, regardless of what we're doing." He moved to cup one side of your face. "I don't want to tie you down, ever. I can't leave this house, and I don't want you to be stuck here with me." You opened your mouth to cut him off, tell him that you were willing to be here with him, for however long he wanted, but he cut you off, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. "How about this - you and me continue what we're doing here. We can be boyfriend and girlfriend here, but I won't be mad if you find someone else, out there." His words almost brought tears to your eyes. You hadn't felt cared for like this in so long, and to be here, this vulnerable and intimate made your eyes well up. "Please just agree. If I could leave this house, I'd ask you to be mine right now, and I'd parade you around for everybody to see. But I can't do that, so we keep doing what we're doing, and see how things progress naturally." He flashed you a close mouthed smile, but it felt genuine nonetheless. One tear fell down your cheek, and you returned his smile. "That sounds perfect to me. Boyfriend and girlfriend, kind of." You grinned before he pulled you into a kiss, hands wrapping around you to keep you in his arms - and you'd stay there as long as he wanted you to.

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