#plenty of people need their chair to go INTO THE FUCKING STALL WITH THEM

[felixvanhuss]

I think perhaps if you boast about how your place is wheelchair accessible it should....perhaps.....be wheelchair accessible everywhere instead of roughly half of everywhere. Just a thought

[yoongiblunt]

Today was a fever dream

I’ve had this shitty heat rash that has made my hands cramp, burn, and sting. I also have blisters from working while my skin is so sensitive. I have a UV allergy and made the mistake of going out in the sun on the 4th, which was the hottest day the US has ever recorded with UV rays of like, 12. I didn’t know that, obviously. But I got a little sun and a little rash. The AC being broken at my job made it so much worse though. It’s nearly 100 degrees in the building and we have literally been getting awful reviews because of it and even had a pregnant woman get sick due to it. The Ac NEEEEEDS fixed but our owners are dragging such ass.

I started having awful blisters coming up on my hands, arms, and legs while working. I went to deal with it and MOD literally was upset at me for sitting in the manager chair while I applied burn cream and bandaids. So I told him what was up and he MOCKED ME. So I lost my cool on him a little.

I watched a customer come to the store with a messed up order, she asked for extra beef lamb on her gyro and that’s a little subjective due to our already large portions. She drove home and came back during shift change, so her order took a little longer. Her fries, from a separate order, got cold, and she demanded we replaced those as well. We remade both orders even though only one was messed up. She drives about 10 minutes away o guess and comes back pissed because her fries are cold. Maam you were in an air conditioned car and they were hot when you left. Food cools. She demanded a free meal, and the 19 year old trainee explained that they had already fixed the meal and all she could do was grab fresh fries as that’s the only thing that was wrong. The woman demanded that joy eat or touch her fries to see how cold they were. Joy refused and the woman threw the order at her.

A friend came up to me while I was working and she said she had done some coke before she came in and felt bad. She’s a regular user so it was weird to feel that shitty after a couple of bumps and she asked if I had test strips. I knew the bartender and her fiancé had them as they are hardcore harm reduction bitches and are all about making sure someone is using safely. I wasn’t really concerned with if she got it at my job or did it at my job, moreso I just needed to know what she had taken on the off chance that she began to OD. I meet lynlee in the office and she tosses me a couple of tests and I run Leelee to the bathroom and we test the bag just to find out she had been dosed on Fentanyl. Naturally I calmly grab her face and am checking her out to see if she’s okay. She insists that she just needs to go home and get to bed. I get her a ride home and make sure security walks her out, have her send a picture of the positive test to her dealer, and flush the coke. I let MOD know, and this man literally just gets mad. He’s like wtf like why did she do it here. Idk man, we have plenty of people doing coke here. He got upset because he thought that she would tell her friends that they can get their shit tested here. Bro. That’s not an okay way to think about that. It’s like he totally overlooked the fact that one of our customers ingested fentanyl and could have overdosed and had we not tested her coke we would not have known what happened. Warranted, most of FOH is narcan certified due to lynlee wanting to cut down on accidental overdose among friend groups. He was like we aren’t gonna talk about it and no one needs to know.

I said fuck that and texted the general manager and let him know because not only is he my roommate, but the last thing I need is it getting around I was in a bathroom stall with leelee with a bag of coke, or that she “did coke with me” that had fent in it. I’m three months sober. I’m not touching that shit. I did it to protect her and make sure she had knowledge on how to test her drugs in the future for her safety.

Obviously Caleb told me I did the right thing and told me he would make sure I didn’t get in trouble if anything was said.

I was obviously ridiculously stressed about the ordeal and got off the clock and won a bunch of fireball shots because apparently the only luck I have is playing quarters for free shots.

We all hung around at the bar and got a little drunk and then a bunch of us went to the pocket museum, which is literally just an alley way connected to our historical saenger theater that has little miniature people hidden around and art from local artists. It’s a really cool spot, and has twinkle lights and music playing all night long. We got some Taco Bell and twisted teas and explored and star gazed. We absolutely tagged the parking garage a little ways away with some trans rights shit. I was a little insecure about literally being on the security cameras laying on the pavement while we stargazed so I shot the museum a little message letting them know that we were just looking at the stars and that we were alright. They have security cameras for people who steal from the exhibits and deface the alley as it’s part of our historically protected district. A lady and her kid literally took blue paint and splashed it all over the place.

The people who run the page actually messaged me back saying that they appreciated us having a good time and enjoying their space and that our drunken star gazing was safe with them.

I brought cole and Brooke from work over and we had a mini dance party in my room and I got to show them some cool music videos. It’s been a long time since I’ve hung out with people without being high as hell, so it was nice. I taught cole a couple of bass lines and he asked me to play a random song (alien blues) and I hadn’t heard the song in a while but gave it a shot, I managed to play thru most of it without fucking up and he complimented my playing. I was super embarrassed tho because I did fudge a few notes. He even scolded Brooke for talking while I played because he was listening.

Idk it was a really good night and a really bad night all the same. My life really is an uncomfortable balance of good and bad.

Caleb wants to throw a triple birthday party for himself, his son Aaron who is turning one, and me next month and told me to go on and ask the days off cause he wants a week of partying with a bouncy slip and slide.

Even tho things are often rough, I’m starting to feel a little more loved.

[comfortwriting]

Papa Don’t Preach - F.W

Fred Weasley x Reader, inspired by the song ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ by Madonna.

About: the reader discovers that she is carrying her boyfriends baby, the two of them decide to keep it; but the storm gets heavier when she breaks the news to her father.

Theme: fluff and angst

Warnings: teen pregnancy, mention of abortion, swearing.

Throwing up into the toilet, moaning Myrtle giggled at you and sat on the window ledge. “That’s the third time this month” 

You wiped your mouth with your sleeve and got up off your knees, flushing the loo you unlocked the door and washed your hands at the sink. “I’m aware Myrtle.” You answered, glaring at her before walking out.

You rushed into the common room, luckily the only people in there were Fred and George. They were messing around pretending to duel with their wands, little sparks hissing out the end. 

“Have you seen my bag?” you asked, searching around the room.

The boys couldn’t hear you over their loud laughter, you stood there and put your hand on your hip, glaring at your boyfriend. “Fred, please. This is important.” 

Fred and George stopped messing around and spun on their heels. 

“You okay love?” Fred asked, walking over and putting his arm around you.

You shook your head no and sighed “I just need my bag” 

George walked across the room and picked up your red toiletry bag. You quickly retrieved it, walking over to the sofa you sat down and rifled through it, flicking past your period pads and tampons you pulled out your mini calendar.

Fred and George sat down next to you, the two of them sharing looks of concern. 

You counted through the squares, week by week and flicked the page, then another. A wave of sickness and panic pooled inside of you, you put your head in your hands and shook your head.

‘I can’t be, we used a contraceptive charm... surely it worked’ you thought to yourself, your knees shaking and your stomach churning. 

“Y/N, what's going on?” George asked, his brother too worried to utter a word.

Everything started to make more sense: the persistent morning sickness, the bloating, the all-day long nausea, your weepiness and mood swings, your breasts constantly feeling tender.

“I think I’m pregnant” you choked out, swallowing hard.

Fred felt his heart sink, feeling scared and annoyed at himself for getting you into such a scary situation.

You went back into your red bag and pulled out a pregnancy test you got from the pharmacy at Christmas when you were back in muggle London.  

You stood up, putting the test up your sleeve, walking to the same bathroom, hoping Myrtle would be elsewhere harassing Harry.

“Back so soon?” Myrtle questioned you.

“Fuck off, Myrtle!” You yelled at her, losing your temper.

You walked into the empty stall, locking the door behind you. Fred waited outside as you pulled down your skirt and knickers and sat down. “Fred, put a tap on for me will you?”

Fred walked over to the sinks turning the tap on waiting for you.

You followed the test instructions and stood up, the sound of the fast flowing water made this a lot easier for you, but then again you were always needing a wee with the growing pressure on your bladder.

Flushing the toilet and putting the lid down you placed the stick on lid and walked to the tap to wash your hands. “Thanks love” you smiled at Fred.

“You know, whatever happens won’t make me run away.” Fred smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “How long do we have to wait?”

You smiled at him, drying your hands on your skirt you walked into his arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m surprised that you didn’t leg it” you joked, trying not to linger in your fear. “we’ll find out in five minutes.”

Fred stood outside the stall where the test was waiting. “Want me to get it?” He asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

You shook your head “it’s okay, I’ll get it.”

Walking into the stall, you creeped up on the test like it was a pest you were about to wallop. You grabbed it, your whole future, your whole worth and life would be determined by this stick.

You walked out of the stall standing next to Fred, he wrapped his arm around you. You took me a deep breath and turned the test over so it was facing you. Two blue lines in the little windows stared back you, looking at the key on the handle you got your answer; you were pregnant.

“What does it say sweetheart?” Fred asked sounding nervous.

You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m pregnant with your baby Fred and.. I want to keep it.” You decided.

Fred pulled away for a moment in shock but he smashed his lips against yours, kissing you like he had never kissed you before; his pool of love spilling into you.

“Let’s go and find George, I want him to be the first to know.” Fred beamed, you nodded your head in agreement with him.

“Am I really?!” George asked, sounding like his father, he grinned at the two of you.

You nodded your head and showed him the test, George got up on his feet and hugged you and then his brother.

By 5 months your little Weasley started to move inside of you, you would jolt at first and you started to notice stronger movements and little kicks during your classes, grabbing Fred’s hand you placed it on your bump.

The students started to spread rumours and the professors couldn’t ignore it anymore, after all, you weren’t denying it.

You and Fred were forced to address the rumours, you were both scolded for being so irresponsible but you were also provided with support for your academic studies and a much needed appointment with Madame Pomfrey.

You were lucky, Hogwarts still accepted you, The Weasley’s (after taking time to adjust) were so excited for you and Fred, but you were most nervous to tell your dad; the man who always believed in sex after marriage, hated the Weasleys, and slated pregnant teens who needed help.

Fred pulled out a chair for you at the kitchen table, once you sat down he pushed it in for you making enough room for your little bump.

“Pack plenty of food on that plate, dear” Molly smiled warmly at you.

This caused Ron’s mouth to gape open “All because she’s pregnant doesn’t mean she can—“

“If I were you I’d shut it” Fred warned his little brother

“unless you want to wake up to spiders in your bed.” George added, smirking.

Papa I know you're going to be upset

'Cause I was always your little girl

But you should know by now

I'm not a baby

“So what’s with the visit?” Your father eyed up you and Fred, trying to figure out why you were home on a Saturday.

Fred sat awkwardly on the sofa, his focus shifting on various objects around the room, he feared that your father would rip his head off if he were to look him in the face for longer than a second.

“I just wanted to come and see you, I thought I’d come here instead of going to Hogsmeade for the fifth time in a row” you smiled shyly, trying to keep calm.

Starting to sweat, you fanned your face with your hand, if you were to remove your jumper showing your larger bump you’d be kicked out before you could offer an explanation.

Your father noticed the fishtail braid in your hair and smiled.

“I remember braiding your hair like that when you were a little girl, you could never sit still on my knee. You would always fidget wanting to go and play with the other little girls and boys down the street”

You smiled at such a fond memory of you and your dad, hoping that he would do the same if you were to have a little girl.

“Dad, we uh.. we’re actually here because we’ve got some news.” You opened up bravely, remembering to not place your hand over your bump.

You always taught me right from wrong

I need your help, daddy please be strong

I may be young at heart

But I know what I'm saying

“Has something happened at Hogwarts?” He asked, “have you done something?” He turned to Fred with a fast forming glare on his face.

Fred shook his head, “I—“

“Fred hasn’t done anything” you replied quickly, stopping Fred’s chance at coming clean.

“I brought you up to know right from wrong, to work hard, to respect yourself, to stay away from vermin.” Your father spoke, his words like tiny pins pricking at your chest.

You held your dads hand walking through Diagon Alley to buy the equipment you needed for your first year at Hogwarts.

Waiting in the queue outside Ollivanders a young girl with a baby bump walked past, holding out her dirt covered hands. “Could you spare a sickle or two? I’ve got nowhere to go.” She begged.

Your father pushed you out of her presence, standing in front of you “not a chance, you silly girl.” He spat at her.

You gave her a glance of sympathy and stared down at your shoes.

“Don’t have sympathy for that pathetic girl, she got herself into this mess and she shouldn’t rely on hardworking people to get her out of it!”

The tears in your eyes made your vision go glassy, wiping them away with your sleeve, Fred was quickly asked by your father to leave the room and to wait outside in the hall.

“Dad” you cried, feeling a lump form in your throat “I don’t want you to be angry or upset, I’m responsible for my own actions and choices—“

“What have you done? Tell me!” Your father began to lose his patience.

Fred stood outside the door in the hallway, pacing up and down in tears, he blamed himself - you grew up without a mother and thanks fo him you might be losing your father.

The one you warned me all about

The one you said I could do without

We're in an awful mess

And I don't mean maybe, please

“I don’t want you hanging around them Weasleys, Y/N. They’re bad news.” Your father droned on, walking you to the train.

“They seem really nice” you muttered quietly, admiring the twins getting onto the train.

“They’re too poor for their own good, Arthur has a strange obsession with muggles. That wife of his clearly has a problem closing her legs with all them kids!”

You sighed, feeling annoyed and embarrassed to even be related to the man who was dropping you off.

“I better hurry up or I won’t find a good seat” you replied.

Your thoughts spinning around your head made you dizzy, you had to swallow down the bile. “Please don’t be mad with Fred, he’s a really good guy”

Your fathers hands were bunched into fists, his knuckles started to turn white. “What has he done? Fred, get in here now!”

Fred felt he could faint at any moment but walked back into the living room and sat next to you, taking your hand in his.

“We’re in a really tough situation.” You trailed off, more tears spilling from your orb like eyes.

Papa don't preach I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

“I’m pregnant.” You breathed out, feeling the weight suddenly lift of your shoulders “and I’m keeping it”

Your fathers face flushed with rage, he got on his feet and pulled out his wand but your instincts beat him to it, disarming him you shielded Fred.

“Dad please don’t do this.”

“You’ve really done it this time, girl!” Your father yelled. “Did I not raise you better? Did all those lessons mean nothing?!”

You began to shake in your shoes, but you stood your ground, Fred took himself away from your shielding. “She’s done nothing wrong!” He defended you.

“I bet you’ve done this on purpose, haven’t you? Get a beautiful young girl up the duff so no one will want her!” Your father bellowed at him.

He says that he's going to marry me

We can raise a little family

Maybe we'll be all right

It's a sacrifice

You and Fred cuddled in the upgraded double bed, his thumb circling yours as your hands glued together.

“I’m going to marry you, Y/N. Once we have this baby and get on our feet.” Fred murmured lowly, trying not to wake up his brother who laid fast asleep on the floor.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” You replied, your hormones making you weep in relief.

“We’re going to have the most amazing life, mini Fred’s and Y/N’s running around.” He chuckled, kissing your head. “We can get through this.”

“It was an accident!” You yelled at your dad through tears, you gripped your bump feeling the little one kick out.

“A mistake more like!” Your dad yelled back “I was begged not to bring you up after your mother died, that was my mistake! And even worse, there will now be a bastard in the family!”

His horrible comments ripped you into pieces, the pins now turning into hot pokers.

Fred wanted nothing more than to tackle your father to the ground, to beat him senseless but he grabbed your hand and tried to control his emotions.

“We’re going to get married dad, but now it’s more common for non married couples to have kids!” You argued, trying to persuade him.

“Married! With what money! You’re more deluded than I bloody thought, he doesn’t even love you!”

But my friends keep telling me to give it up

Saying I'm too young, I oughta live it up

What I need right now is some good advice, please

“Have you truly thought this through?” Hermione bored into you, pacing in the common room.

You looked up from your books and nodded “yes, how many times do I have to explain?”

“I’m just saying it’s not too late to change your mind, you’re too young to be bringing a child into this world.”

“I’m still studying and attending classes aren’t I?” You huffed, scowling at her. “You’re younger than me!”

“But what about getting a job to provide for your child? It’s irresponsible!”

“I get it!” You yelled at her, you slammed your book shoot and tossed it across the room, storming out.

You were hyperventilating, Fred rubbed your back helping you regulate your breathing.

“You’re dead to me, now get out, both of you. Leave my house and never come back!” Your father yelled.

“Daddy please” you wailed “I really need you, please don’t do this.”

You walked away from Fred and up to your dad gripping his hand in yours, “I need my dad” you cried, searching his lifeless eyes for a response.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

You cried your eyes out, climbing into your dads arms for a cuddle.

“Please don’t cry” he wiped your tears “what’s got you so upset?”

“I’m not ready to go to Hogwarts, I don’t want to be so far from you.” You wailed, your hair sticking to your face from all the tears.

Your dad tutted and chuckled at your silly worries “you’re going to love it once you’ve settled in, and you can always write to me if you need to.”

Your father snatched his hand back out of your grip, he picked up his wand and stared down you and Fred.

“You both need to leave before I do something I can’t take back.” He warned “NOW”

You cried all the way back to Hogwarts, Fred and George comforting you when you broke down into a mess. Hermione helped you catch up on all the work you had missed from being unable to attend classes as you got into the later stages of your pregnancy, you were about to burst at any moment.

Daddy, daddy if you could only see

Just how good he's been treating me

You'd give us your blessing right now

'Cause we are in love

We are in love (in love), so please (so)

“Mum!” Fred yelled from the bathroom, holding your hand “It’s happening!”

Laying a pool of the water that burst from inside you, you were slammed with contractions making it hard for you to get back on your feet. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for the past nine months.

Molly stumbled into the bathroom and moved her hands around rapidly, piles upon piles of towels and blankets filled the room and the bath started to run.

“Fred help me get her trousers off so we can get her into the bath.”

“Mum we can just use—“

“We can’t use magic for everything!”

After finally getting you undressed they placed you into the bath.

Fred held your hand and knelt beside you, stroking your hair and placing kisses against your temple.

“Please don’t leave me” you cried, feeling frightened.

I’m not going anywhere, love.” He reassured you.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby, hm

I'm gonna keep my baby, ooh ooh

You opened your eyes and looked down still thinking you were in the bath, you found yourself in Fred’s bed, wrapped in blankets with a towel over your chest.

You tried to sit up but Molly stopped you, “take it slow, dear” she said softly.

“Where’s Fred? Where’s.. where’s my baby?” You asked feeling panicky.

Before you could drive yourself into worry, the bedroom door opened and Fred walked in with your bundle of joy.

Fred now delighted you were finally awake came by your side and placed your child into your arms.

You had passed out from losing too much blood just as your child came into the world.

“Madame Pomfrey was hammering at the door, brilliant timing really.” George told you as you counted your child’s fingers and toes.

“Is it a girl or a boy?” You asked, looking up at the Weasleys standing around your bed.

“A beautiful baby boy.” Fred replied, kissing your head.

“Fabian Weasley” you smiled, looking at Molly. “Let’s name him Fabian.”

[wordsnwhiskey]

Is It Living If You've Left Your Life Behind?

Pairing: Dave York & GN!Reader

Summary: Thanks to you, Dave escaped the showdown with McCall. You planned to take him to a safehouse on the other side of the country where he could recover and get started on living a new life. In order to do that though, he has to leave his wife, his daughters and his life behind. He can't help but wonder, is it really living if he has to leave his life behind?

Rating: T for Language I guess

A/N: This is my late submission for @autumnleaves1991-blog 's Writer Wednesday. I got into my feels tonight and Dave was calling to me. It's my first time writing for him and this is a different take on Dave than I'd normally go for. A softer/angstier Dave but honestly, given this situation where he survives? I don't see classic Dave shining through, at least not until something kicks his ass into gear. The man is injured and more than a little lost. Also, I'll probably edit this later, it's 03:30 and apparently I have a knack for posting things when I should be asleep.

Masterlist | AO3

There was nothing but the open road ahead of him as he sat in the passenger seat, a permanent grimace affixed to his face. His pain ebbed and flowed but at least that meant he was alive. Alive with nothing but the open road ahead of him and his entire life behind him.

Dave really only had you to thank for that. A life debt for a life debt even if it meant he no longer had his life, not really at least. His girls were well over a thousand miles behind him, everything he’d known and loved, he’d likely never see again. You were the only thing Mac hadn’t counted on and even though Dave had lost religion a long time ago, he thanked whatever god or higher power out there that you had kept your head about you during the showdown.

He had been furious at first that you hadn’t tried to kill McCall, only stalled long enough to get him and yourself out of there under the cover of the storm. His anger had quickly dissipated though, you had made the right call, of course. He still had trouble seeing out of his eye, a concussion from being blown off of his feet and plenty of bruises complemented the odd cut or two Mac had managed to land. Things would have been a lot worse had you not intervened.

You glanced over at Dave, hunched over, curling himself into the passenger window. Dave fucking York. He had really gotten himself in it this time but you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame him. In this industry, shit decisions had to be made all the time and Lady Luck was rarely ever kind. People died, that was the business. What else was the married father of two supposed to do when he was cut loose? Assimilate? That kind of thing wasn’t for people like you or Dave York, not really. McCall was too high up on his high horse to get enough oxygen to his brain and too blinded by his own grief to see it.

Then again, you were definitely biased.

“How’s your pain level?”

You asked, and were met with a withering glare, his newly-crooked, hawkish nose only served to further accentuate the harshness in his eyes.

He hadn’t talked much during the already several day trip. Not that you needed the conversation, but you understood better than anyone he knew who was still alive aside from the man you were fleeing from, what this felt like. You hated how people romanticized it, leaving everything behind and starting over. It never worked that way. Your family and friends lived and died and you couldn’t be part of any of it. And now Dave, Dave had two daughters and a wife but they might as well be poison now. Poison to his mind, torture to think about. Poison to the touch if he ever went to see them again, because surely McCall would be watching them from afar, waiting.

The same thoughts seemed to be on his mind, from the corner of your eye you could see him slump further into the window, clutching a small photograph he had pulled from his wallet. For all that he was, former agent, mercenary, murderer, assassin, he was still a family man, a soft man at heart and going into hiding away from this family had just as much likelihood of killing him as McCall did.

“I’m not going to see them again am I?” Dave murmured as he stared down at the photo, thumb grazing over his daughters’ faces.

You opened your mouth then closed it again, contemplating giving him platitudes or the truth. He chuckled at your reaction, a hollow sound devoid of any humor.

“Spare me the bullshit.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened and you let out a sigh.

“I don’t know Dave. If McCall winds up dead then yeah, that’s an option. I haven’t been back to see my family but I don’t have the same… things anchoring me somewhere or drawing me back.”

Silently, he turned to resume watching the passing orange and brown landscape fly by.

It had been about another two hours since he last spoke and he had been so still and quiet, you thought he might have fallen asleep.

“Why’d you do it? Why are you doing this?”

His voice is gruffer, made thicker from the knot of emotion in his throat. It startles you out of your own reverie.

“Do what?”

“Why did you bother saving me? You could have made it out of there and been in another country by now. Fuck, you could have dumped me at a hospital anywhere along this godforsaken road and still be in another country by now.”

You frowned, somehow you had hoped his relative silence meant you would be able to get through this journey without delving into any sort of feelings.

“It crossed my mind, on both counts.”

He raised an eyebrow, not so much in surprise that you had thought about it, more so that you hadn’t gone through with it.

“I didn’t have any part in Susan’s death so McCall would have stopped hunting me eventually.”

You spared him a glance, he was staring at you intently, analyzing.

“Is this the part where you tell me you love me?”

You scoffed and looked at him incredulously then shook your head.

“No, it’s even more pathetic than that, Dave. You’re probably the closest thing to a friend I have and we’ve tried to kill each other before.”

That got a small laugh out of him, because really, what was more ridiculous in their line of work than friends?

Probably having a family. Dave grimaced as the thought echoed in his mind.

“We were the best at what we did.”

He said, with an air of nostalgia and you nodded in agreement.

“And the worst, somehow even with us each taking on contracts for the other, here we are, still living.”

The small smile faded from your lips at his silence and lack of a response. Your gaze fell on him again as he shrugged his mouth and sighed.

“Are we? Is it living if I’m leaving my life behind?”

This was not the Dave York you knew. Occasionally, you had seen the wry humor, and suave exterior give way to the side of him that accepted “New Hamster” as an answer instead of “New Hampshire” but not even that remained. The Dave next to you had all of those layers peeled back. He was raw and unsure.

You didn’t answer him for a few minutes, honestly there wasn’t much of anything you could say that wasn’t a load of shit. You were both too practical for pep talks. Moreover, it wasn’t a question you had even stopped to ask yourself. The answer and the journey to that answer was a dangerous one.

“I- …. It’s the best option you’ve got right now, Dave. It’s a pretty fucked situation, my advice? Take it one hour a time and if you can manage that, take it one day at a time.”

“An hour?” Dave shook his head and rubbed his stubbled chin with his hand. “All I’ve seen for hours is dirt and sand. While Mac is probably watching Carol and the girls like a fucking hawk.”

You pursed your lips, and eyed the upcoming sign detailing the available lodging and food at the upcoming exit.

“Well you’ll have the inside of our next motel room to stare at in another hour.”

Dave slipped back into silence and you simultaneously welcomed and detested it. Things were simpler without him getting all philosophical on you and contemplating what made living actually living. It hardly mattered though because he had already gone and planted that damned seed inside your brain.

You pulled up to a not entirely shitty motel and paid for the night before going back for Dave who was waiting in the car. The room wasn’t terrible and after a thorough check, you could at least confirm there weren’t any critters who would be keeping you company. At least there were two beds.

After a dinner of pizza from the diner down the road you had taken Dave on a detour to the gas station to get a burner phone. In your haste to put as much distance as possible between you and McCall, you hadn’t bothered to get him one earlier. Once that was finished you both headed back to your room to unwind.

Dave sat in one of the rickety chairs at the small table that seemed to be actively trying to shed it’s veneer layer. With a sigh, he went to work stripping and reassembling his pistol. It was calming, relaxing for him. All of the pieces had a purpose, an order, to be pulled apart then reassembled, very much unlike his life right now. Nothing had purpose or order and everything had been pulled apart, leaving him broken shards to piece back together.

Hours passed and by the look of him, you figured Dave’s fingers might have gone numb from the repetitive movements and his eyes were drooping, well his good eye was drooping more than normal since the one McCall had nearly managed to gouge was still a little worse for wear.

“Dave, get some sleep. You’re no good to me or yourself if you’re half asleep.”

You know he’s been fighting sleep for a while now, he does every night just like he fights the pain you’re sure he’s feeling but refuses to take anything for. For the first time since you two set off, you’re not annoyed by it. He’ll sleep soundly at least once he let’s exhaustion take him. All the better for what you have planned.

It wasn’t until 01:00 that Dave was finally asleep soundly enough that you felt you could get up without waking him. Quietly, you made for the table, using the flimsy pad of paper and pen there to write a note before you walked out the door and shut it behind you. Thankfully, the city you had stopped in was populated enough that rideshare services were available and in less time than you had figured, you were on your way to the airport.

Dave woke up and immediately knew something was off. It was too quiet and there was too much sun trying to peek through the curtains for it to be the usual time you both headed out for the day. He sat up quickly and grabbed his pistol, then looked around the room for any signs of danger until his eyes fell upon the pad of paper on the table. A sharp pain arched through his skull when he stood up, a remnant of his concussion. He took the note in hand and began to read:

Dave,

I figure, if I’m lucky, I’ve got 4 hours on you. If I’m really lucky, I’ve got 6. Anything more than that and I’m disappointed in you, Dave.

He looked up from the note at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read 07:30. A wry grin threatens to take shape on his lips. You’d be disappointed.

I’m not going to make this some sort of sappy letter. I don’t have time for that shit. You were right. It isn’t really living if you’ve left your life behind. Out of the two of us, you’re the only one who really has one to miss. The only way you get to go back to Carol, Molly and Alice is if McCall is out of the picture, so I’m going to give it a shot. I left you enough cash to pay the room through the week and then some. If you don’t hear from me after a week, call the number at the bottom of this note and tell him you’re cashing in a favor for me. He’ll help you out. Might even know someone else who can help with your family. I left you the car, keys are on my bed.

Good Luck.

Dave’s throat went dry and then he saw at least four shades of red before he finally calmed down to assess the situation. Then all at once, it was like ice had been poured in his veins and things began to shift into focus.

What the fuck was he doing?

This entire time he had been wallowing, perhaps well earned, but he should have been planning. He had let his grief for the loss of Susan, the storm of emotions he felt seeing Mac still alive and a simple job that had spun drastically out of control, completely cloud his judgement. He was just as well trained as Mac, but he had let his anger and emotions get the best of him on that watchtower, he couldn’t let that happen again.

Dave moved quickly and methodically as he collected everything he needed from the room and headed out to the car. He really shouldn’t drive with his eye being what it was but he only needed to get to the airport and he could make it that far at least.

He couldn’t let Mac kill you, like Ari, Reznik, and Kovac. Family.

Like hell if he was going to let the closest person he had to a friend get killed.

If anyone was going to kill you, it’d be him, just for you trying to pull off something as stupid as this.

He knew this was the best move though, Mac wouldn't be expecting an attack this soon this time, the attack wouldn't be in the middle of gale force winds on Mac's home turf. You... and he would have the upper hand this time.

Dave got through the airport with relative ease thanks to him having TSA pre-check, no one bothered to ask him about his eye which he did his best to hide with a baseball cap.

He sat down and waited for his flight to be called. Mentally, he began going through the disassembly and reassembly of the rifle he had with him at the watchtower to help focus himself and pass the time.

The PA system broke his concentration and alerted him that it was time to board. Dave was tense when he finally got to his seat and sat down. His jaw was set in concentration as he started to come up with a new battleplan and weighing his options. Yes, he was injured but he'd been through worse on missions and come out on top.

At least one person was going to die by the end of the week and he'd be damned if you and him weren't the last ones standing.

Thanks for reading, tagging a few people interested/who might be interested:

@wheresarizona @pascalsimp @beesting77 @boxdyeblonde @lackofhonor @kaybrownies @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @elegantduckturtle @janebby @faithkeeper-81 @doin-stuff @danniburgh @pascalslittlebrat @mothandpidgeon @mouthymandalorianalso @phoenixhalliwell @kesskirata @starlightmornings @wyn-dixie

[the-angriestpineapple]

caught // bakugou x fem reader

18+, aged up, last semester at UA. A male reader here.

Your last semester at UA was really really difficult, if you were being honest. It made sense for it to be, UA was one of the most prestigious schools. All the hero course students were basically studying together as one big clusterfuck – there were specific tables at the library that had all but been roped off for your classes whenever you needed it. Hero students would show up, sit at the tables and study with whomever was there. Usually you got a good mix of 1-A and 1-B students. Iida, Kendou, and Yaoyorozu were there a lot trying to help in any way they could. Kaminari, Tetsutetsu, and Sero were usually there trying to understand multiple subjects. When you got there that afternoon on a Sunday though, the tables were empty. That wasn’t the worst thing, you mostly understood the subject you came to study. It was near silent for a good twenty minutes and you were so in the zone that a stack of books being dropped on the table next to you made you nearly fling yourself from your chair. You look up with irritation, ready to tear into whom you are assuming is one of your friends playing a prank, and are met with angry red eyes. Bakugou Katsuki.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The question is out of your mouth before you can really think about it, and he raises his eyebrow. Of all the people you thought you would see at the group study table, Bakugou was not one of them. He was so reclusive. “Promised Shitty Hair. Why, you got a problem with me or something, princess?” He drops down into the table next to you and stares at you with those intimidating red eyes. You try to bristle, to not look like his intense glare is shaking you to your core. “No, you just aren’t one to help people study. Or at all.” It’s a low jab, saying that to a future pro Hero – and a damn good one, you’ll admit – but you can’t help it. His eyes narrow. “I help people plenty,” he growls. You just turn to look back at your notes. Prickly, asshole attitude or not, you had the biggest crush on Bakugou Katsuki. He was so fucking beautiful to look at, even when scowling. His drive and ambition and domineering presence were all so attractive to you, and more than a few times you’d gotten off to fantasies of what he would be like in the bedroom. You’re not sure you’d exactly call yourself submissive, you certainly had a mouth and plenty of sass. However, the thought of Bakugou and his angry red eyes staring down at you as you take him into your mouth… But you can’t focus on that right now, you need to study. There’s a few moments of near silence, the only sound in the room being your pencil scratching at paper as you take notes, before you register Bakugou opening his book next to you. You wonder how long it’s gonna take Kirishima to get here. You aren’t super close with him, or any of 1-A really, but you know he’s really good at keeping Bakugou in check. And bantering with everyone around him. And being a distraction from the ridiculously chiseled body currently sprawled over the chair next to yours. You glance quickly at him out of the corner of your eye, focusing on his face. He’s staring down at his book, neutral faced while he reads. He’s even handsome when he has no expression, fuck. You don’t want to get caught looking at him so you look right back down at your notes. Yes, Calculus. That was definitely a thing you needed to know right now. You carefully write down the next problem without bothering to check the last one. “It’s wrong.” You pause, then turn to look to your left. Bakugou has one of his arms thrown over the back of his chair, legs spread, and he’s looking right at you. You are just staring at him, so he rolls his eyes and gestures to your notebook. “Your last problem. You did it wrong.” What? No you didn’t. You look down at the problem with a frown glancing over your work. “No, it’s right.” Bakugou gives another exasperated sigh and snatches your pencil from you. “Look, you idiot. It’d be right if you hadn’t copied the problem wrong in the first place.” He shoves his way into your spaces, your senses overcome by the subtle scent of caramel. He circles the figure you had incorrect, then jabs at it with your eraser in the book. “See? Maybe learn to fucking read.” He drops your pencil on your book. Your face flushes and you take the pencil back with slightly shaky hands. Fuck. It only takes a couple of seconds to know that you are going to need to excuse yourself. He was too close, too mean. You drop your pencil on the book again and abruptly rise, taking off for the bathrooms. You don’t see, but Bakugou frowns as he watches you go. Luckily the library is nearly empty so you don’t run into anyone on your way to the bathroom. You push into the women’s room and immediately beeline to the first stall, shoving your way into it and slamming the door behind you. Fuck. Him calling you an idiot and insulting your reading level shouldn’t be hot. That’s fucking ridiculous. But it didn’t change the fact that you were soaked. You waste no time, not even bothering to take off your panties as you perch on the edge of the toilet seat. You just push them to the side and start to circle your clit, whimpering at the contact. You were already so close, your whimpers getting a little higher as your hips start to rock… You gasp as your orgasm hits you, letting out a small moan that you’re hoping won’t attract any attention, unable to help his name falling from your lips. Katsuki. Always Katsuki, never Bakugou. You take in a big gulp of air as you come down from your high, not wanting to get back up and go out there. But you have to, all of your stuff is out there. And you do still need to study. You clean yourself up and rise to head out to the sink, making sure you wash your hands thoroughly. You’re in a little better mood now, calmer. Sure you can handle whatever it is Bakugou is going to throw at you when you come back. You open the door and step out directly into a solid chest. You squeak in surprise and take a step back. Your eyes widen in horror. Standing there, fists clenched, was the man whose name you just cried out. “Bakugou, I-” “Don’t.” Shit. You want to fall through the floor. If you thought the expression on his face was intense before, it’s nothing compared to the look he’s giving you now. He brings his hand up and you half expect him to punch you, and honestly you probably deserve it, but instead he’s pushing you into the bathroom. Ah, doesn’t want people to see him beating you up, you guess. He shoves you into a wall, slamming his hands on either side of your head. He crowds in close and caramel fills your senses again. “Were you just fucking yourself?” You swallow as you look up at him, unable to answer. It’s pretty obvious that you were. His eyes narrow at the blush that fills your cheeks. “You get off on being talked to like that? I thought you were in here crying, I came to fucking say sorry, and here you are with your fingers jammed up into your cunt and moaning my name like a goddamn slut.” He was coming to apologize? Kirishima must really be rubbing off on him. You still don’t know what to say to him though, and just drop your eyes. “Get on your knees.” You jerk your head back so fast you nearly slam it into the tile wall. “U-uh, excuse me?” you manage to stammer out. Did you hear him wrong? His scowl slowly turns into a smirk though, and your heart stops as he leans in. “I said… get on your knees.” You swallow hard before sinking down. The way he has you pushed up against the wall makes you have to spread your knees apart to make room for his legs. Your eyes flick to the door. This is a public restroom, there’s no way to lock it from the inside. “Don’t look at the fucking door. Look at me.” Your eyes are drawn back up to look at Bakugou, and they widen as he reaches for the buckle of his belt. “Such a dirty bitch. You even had the audacity to call me by my given name.” The tone he’s using is sending a chill down your spine, biting your lip as he unbuttons his pants and reveals a pair of tight black boxer briefs. His pants are usually pretty baggy, but you can’t help but think how miraculous it is that they were able to hide the solid length you’re faced with now. He chuckles and wraps his hand around his hard cock. “I bet this’ll feel so much better than your fingers.” Fuck. It will, you know it will. And you want it so badly.

“Open your mouth, princess.” You do, eagerly sticking out your tongue. You’re dying to know what he tastes like. He smirks at your enthusiasm and pulls at his boxer briefs until they are low enough to bare his cock to your face. It’s bigger than average, a fact that you just know Bakugou is proud of. He grabs his dick by the base and levels the head with your open mouth, rubbing it on your tongue. He tastes salty, only the tiniest hint of sweet, but that might be because his hands are so close to your face. “I’m assuming you want me to be rough with you,” he says lowly. You nod as best as you can with an open mouth and a cock on your tongue. He grunts, starting to rock his hips gently and letting the head of his dic drag along your tongue. “Good. We use a color system. Green is good, yellow is slow down, red is stop. If you can’t talk, pinch me twice. If you call red or pinch me, we stop. No questions asked. Got it?” You’re a little surprised, but you nod again. Bakugou drops his free hand to your head, and your eyes flutter closed as his calloused hand strokes through your hair. Fingers tangling into the strands. “Close your mouth.” You look up at him, finally getting your wish of seeing how his face darkens when you wrap your lips around his hard cock. Then his fist tightens in your hair and his hips jerk forward. He starts a hard pace, the plush head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. He grunts as he fucks into your mouth, head rolling back for a second. You’re pleased to know that he finds your mouth to be that good. When he rolls his head back forward to look at you his eyes are somehow even darker. “Yeah, fuck, you take that cock so well. Look at you. You’re so fucking turned on by this. I bet you’re dying to touch yourself again, to get off while you’re choking on my cock.” Your eyes flutter and you moan around his length, which only causes him to pick up the pace. After a few thrusts he pulls out of your mouth, your eyes shifting to look at his face in confusion. He leans forward and spits directly into your open mouth, then straightens and rams his cock back in. You moan at the treatment, willing your throat to relax so that his next thrust slips into it. He growls out, yanking harder onto your hair before pulling out again. He uses your hair as leverage to pull you to your feet, then yanks you by the arm over to the sink before bending you over the counter. One of his hands presses hard into the middle of your back to keep you bent over. The other rubs at your dripping folds. The sudden contact makes you let out a mewl and arch your back, desperate for more. “Needy slut,” he mutters, deft fingers moving your panties to the side and plunging two fingers deep into your core. You cry out and immediately push your hips back into his hand. He curses and starts to curl his fingers inside you, alternating between stroking your walls and scissoring you open. He’s doing this to prepare to take him, and you know it. It doesn’t matter that it feels amazing to you, he has a goal in mind. He works you open with a single minded ferocity, stretching your walls until he’s sure you can take him. From this vantage point if you look up, you can see the reflection of Bakugou biting his lip as he watches your pussy sucking in his fingers. Your already completely fucked-out face, and he hasn’t even  gotten to the main event yet. You whimper as he pulls his fingers from your aching sex, but your eyes widen when he lewdly licks your fluids off of them. “Goddamn delicious,” he rumbles, meeting your eyes in the mirror. He wraps his hand around his cock again, rubbing his tip against your entrance. You make a high pitched noise in your throat and try to push back, but his hand keeps you where you are. “Color, princess.” You look at him through the mirror, confused for a moment until you foggily recall his speech. “G-green,” you gasp out, speaking for the first time since you started. “Fuck, Katsuki, green, please, please just fuck me.” You cry out as a sharp slap blooms pain across your ass accompanied by the familiar crackle of Bakugou’s quirk. “I didn’t say you could call me that,” he snarls out. “I’m sorry Sir,” you say timidly. You don’t miss the way his pupils dilate. Perfect, exactly what you hoped would happen. He slams into you with one hard thrust, pushing your hips into the counter top edge. You cry out loudly, sure by this point that if anyone was anywhere near the bathrooms they would hear you. You weren’t being anywhere near quiet, and Bakugou’s delicious mix of growls, grunts, and moans were not entirely quiet either. His hands roughly grab your hips and he pulls you back into him. He thrusts his hips forward and pulls you back with each thrust, fucking into you as hard as you hoped he would. Bakugou Katsuki never did anything half-assed. “Fuck, you take me so well. Look at you, you’re a fuckin’ mess. You love this.” One of his hands releases your hip and he slaps it across your ass once more. This time no quirk, which was disappointing, but he was otherwise occupied. You moan at his words. Yes, you want to be good. You want him to want to do this again. The coil of heat is winding tighter in your belly with every thrust, and Bakugou can tell. He can feel your walls tightening around his length. He leans forward, as close as he can to your ear without losing his momentum. “That’s it princess, cum on my cock.” The words do you in and you cry out as the coil snaps, your walls clamping down on him. He slams into you one more time and releases as well, moaning as his head rolls back. He stays there for a few moments, pulsating as your walls flutter around him. “Fuck.” He sighs as he pulls out of you, leaving you bent over the counter. He shifts to the sink and cleans himself up quickly with some damp paper towels. You aren’t sure that you can move yet, your legs too shaky. He grabs more paper towels and dampening them, then walks back to you and starts to clean you up. “W-what-” “I’m not that big an asshole.” He sounds slightly annoyed, and your face flushes. Well how were you supposed to know that he’d be so tender after he just fucked the soul out of you? He shifts your panties back over to cover your sex, and flips your uniform skirt back down. “I’ll head back to the table first. You come after.” That made sense. You straighten up, still a little wobbly, and look at him. You nod your agreement. He stares at you for a few beats, then steps forward and gently takes your chin in his fingers. He brushes a soft kiss to your mouth, a surprised noise coming from your throat. He gives you a smug grin, then slips to the door. You lean against the counter, your fingertips brushing your lips. How… how had he just flipped your world upside down so easily? You take a few moments to compose yourself, straightening your uniform and fixing your hair, before you step back out in the library. “Hey, Y/N!” You blink at the sunshine smile of Kirishima Eijirou. “I thought these were your notes! You gonna study with us? Bakubro is great at Calculus!” Your eyes flick to the blonde, who is almost giving you a smile. “I’m great at a lot of things.” You have to say that you agree.

[fangirlovestuff]

A Very Colin Christmas - Colin Shea x reader

Ch.4 - A Holy Jolly Christmas

ch.1  ch.2  ch.3

a/n - hey lovely people!! here’s the fourth chapter, and a reminder that tomorrow there’s no chapter and friday will be the last one, so happy Christmas eve eve to those who celebrate, enjoy!<3

Summary: Slowly but surely, you discover why Colin was so apprehensive about having his family over, and also realize something you should’ve realized long ago...

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: curse words, angst if you squint

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The next day, it was the morning of Christmas eve, and you figured you should do some grocery shopping before stores close down for the holidays, so you put on your clothes and headed out of the apartment, locking the door behind you and turning around to –

"Good morning," Eleanor was standing in the threshold of Colin's apartment, the morning newspaper in her hand.

"Good morning," you answered with a smile you hoped didn't look too fake.

"Who lives there?" she asked.

"Just, uh… my friend," you shifted uncomfortably. "I um, this morning I got a text to… come help her, and now we're done and it's still pretty early so I figured I wouldn't bother you. I was just going home to change."

"Alright, we'll see you later I assume," she stated.

"Of course," you smiled awkwardly and went down the stairs as quickly as you could. Once you were out of the building you started heading to the shop, and as you were walking you pulled out your phone to call Colin. He didn't answer, and you sighed in frustration before putting your phone back in your bag. You hoped he had enough sense to handle it on his own.

While you were shopping, there were some interesting developments at Colin's.

"Colin," Eleanor barged into his room and opened the curtain. "I think your girlfriend is cheating on you."

It took his foggy brain a second to register her words. "What?"

"I don't think you can trust her," she crossed her hands on her chest.

"Good morning to you too," he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Colin, I'm being serious, I-"

"I know mom, let me just wake up for a few minutes and we can talk about it, alright?"

"Fine," she said, her lips drawn into a thin line and left the room. Colin sighed groggily and went to get dressed and brush his teeth. He didn't know what the fuck his mom was talking about, but he sure as hell was going to stall as much as he could without knowing.

When he went into the kitchen, she was there. Obviously.

"There you are! So this morning I went out to bring the newspaper."

"Anything interesting in it?" he asked as he started making himself a coffee.

"No, but listen to this – when I was in the hallway the door opposite opened, and guess who came out? Your girlfriend, Colin. It was your girlfriend."

It took all of his willpower not to burst into laughter on the spot. Instead, he frowned. "What did she say?"

"That her friend was living there and needed help. But I'm not buying it," she shook her head. "She looked very suspicious."

"Well, she's telling the truth mom," he smiled. "Her friend is living there. She introduced us, actually," he lied casually.

"Oh," Eleanor frowned. "Okay then."

Only when she left Colin could allow himself to snicker into his coffee. That was close.

When you came back with your groceries, you prayed Eleanor wouldn't see you, since you couldn't excuse that away if she had. But thankfully, the hallway was empty, and you let yourself into your apartment without any more awkward encounters.

You shot Colin a text asking him when he wanted you to "arrive" at his place, and he said that in about an hour or so. That gave you just enough time to take a long shower and almost forget about the morning.

An hour later, fresh out of the shower, you knocked on Colin's door. Eleanor opened the door, and she smiled a tight-lipped smile as she ushered you in.

You both sat down in the living room, Colin and his dad nowhere in sight. You assumed they were both somewhere in the house and simply didn't hear you arrive, but you thought asking where they were was maybe a little tactless as Eleanor led the way to the living room, sitting down seemingly eager to talk to you.

"So," she started, "how did you and Colin meet?"

"Oh, um," you fumbled over your words for a second trying to come up with a convincing story, "I met him at a gig of his. I thought his music was great and when we got to know each other I realized how great he was himself," you smiled.

"Really? That's funny, because Colin told me your friend from across the hall was the one who introduced you…" she trailed off in an unsaid question.

Your heart was racing as you tried to keep up with your lies, but you didn't let it show. "Well, she actually did. She was the one who brought me to see his show that night. When she told me her neighbor was a musician I was a little skeptical, but we both had a great time. After the show she took me backstage and introduced us, and the rest is history," you channeled your relief into a smile.

"Grilling her already, mom?" Colin said from behind you and you resisted the urge to sigh in relief as he came to sit beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"We were just having a conversation, son," she chuckled.

You chuckled as well, trying to diffuse the tension. "Yeah, I was just telling her about the night we met, when we were at that gig of yours."

"Oh yeah, it's a cute story," he smiled at you.

"When are Andy, Laurie and Jacob coming for dinner?" you asked in an attempt to change the subject before it gets awkward.

"They should be here at around six," Colin replied.

"Oh, you know Andy's a lawyer, right?" Eleanor asked you.

"Yes, we talked about it last night," you chuckled embarrassedly.

"Ah, of course! Anyway, I'm just wondering why his brother here doesn't follow in his footsteps," she reached forward as if sharing a secret with you. "You know, if you ever want to start a family, a steady income is very important."

"Well, we haven't even moved in yet, Eleanor," you were getting a little pissed now. "I'd say I have no say in what Colin chooses to do or not do, right?"

"Of course, I'm just worried about my little boy," she smiled at Colin and he returned what looked more like a grimace than a smile.

"You shouldn't be," you said, "he's wonderful," you looked at him and smiled genuinely.

"Awww, thank you," he said playfully, and you giggled.

"You two are such a cute couple," William, Colin's father said as he entered the room, sitting next to Eleanor.

"Yeah, you are," she agreed with him.

You and Colin just smiled at them. You didn't know what he was thinking, but what you yourself were thinking terrified you. I wish we were.

Soon enough everyone was there and you could start on the Christmas dinner, which was mostly courtesy of Eleanor and Laurie but at least Colin provided the venue. While you were eating, they were all talking amongst themselves, which left you plenty of time to think things over.

The thing was, while you had initially agreed to all of this, you just thought of it as a favor to a friend, nothing more, and now you were starting to realize just how… magical denial was. Because even in Colin's family was kind of annoying, apart from his admittedly hot older brother, Colin was surprisingly un-annoying for the last couple of days. He was actually being really… sweet.

It was the last thought that truly sent you spiraling. Because knowing Colin can be this sweet made it all the more bitter that it wasn't true.

Before, you could just tell yourself that Colin Shea wasn't really capable of love. That he wasn't ready. But now that you were seeing him like this, you knew that wasn't true, it couldn't be. No, the agonizing reality was – he can love. He just didn't want that, and certainly not with you. He had every opportunity to start something with you – hell, even just a one night stand – and he didn't. Sure, he flirted and joked around, but when it came down to it, you knew what Colin Shea seriously flirting looked like, and it never once happened with you, and you were sure of that.

Because if he really tried, deep down you knew you would let him succeed.

The food in your mouth suddenly became too dry, and you gulped down some water to steady yourself.

After dinner, everyone sat down in the living room to watch a Christmas movie. You and Colin sat next to each other on the couch, and you were trying to concentrate on the film when his hand wrapped around your shoulder. Nothing too bold.

You tried to hold your concentration, but then he started drawing patterns on your shirt, running his hand along the covered curve of your shoulder and all together with your thoughts it was… just too much.

"You know what guys?" you said after a few minutes, "I think I should probably go. I'm just pretty tired, I'm sorry," you said as you left your chair.

They all just kind of stared at you, and you didn't blame the after that out of the blue statement. All you knew is that you needed out of here.

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[enigma-im]

I Want You Back

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Lizardman x F!Human

Warning: communication issues, displacement, arguing, confrontation of feelings, healthy communication, sex in the kitchen

          Feelings are hard, talking them out is even harder

----------------------------

The front door opens with a sudden click. I look up from my phone, listening intently. I hear the subtle taps of talons on the floor leading towards the living room. I look back down at my phone when I realize who it is.

"You are here quite late," I call out bored. His clicking stops near the couch just behind me. Out the corner of my eye I see his scaled hand slide over the top of the cushion. Quickly he climbs over the back of the sofa and settles with his feet over the top and himself on his back.

"I do things you know," he grumbles as he reaches out for my thigh. As he pulls me closer I feel a wave of annoyance at him. It seems unbridled, if not a little childish. He rubs his face to my leg as he hugs it close.

"What things could you possibly be doing in the woods," I find myself snapping down at him. I don’t bother looking at him, still seemingly stewing in annoyance. I flip through my phone as I wait for an answer. His nuzzling has stopped and out the corner of my eye, I see him staring.

"I do plenty of things, I did have a life before you," he growls.

"Oh, prowling around the neighborhood and taking young women to ravish in the woods. I can see how you can be busy," I snort with a frown. I don’t mean that, I don’t know why I'm being this way. Him being near is both calming and frustrating. It feels like arguing with a sibling or a parent as a teenager.

"you are the only one I have ever done that with and you know it," he barks back. He rights himself on the couch, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he glares down at me. "What the hell is your problem," he sneers. Feeling my anger bubble I snap towards him with my own glare.

"Nothing is my problem, I'm just curious why you were late," I answer.

"Why does it matter that I'm late, I'm here now," he argues.

"trying to hide something? Just tell me what you were doing," I lean into his space. I can't stop myself.

"I was going to telll you until you started snapping my head off so now I rather not," he sits back on the couch, growling like an animal. I glare at him, barely noticing how childish I'm being. To be fair he is being just as ridiculous. Then again, two wrongs don’t make a right.

Not being able to bring myself to calm down I pout back in my seat. I snatch my phone from my lap and angerly read through my feed. I know he wasn’t doing anything bad, I trust him. Still, I feel we are drifting a bit, and it's frustrating when I can't voice my concerns.

With a growl he shoots up," I'm going out." he marches out the room. His claws echo around the house along with the loud stomps. I feel myself panic a bit, not wanting him to leave on such bad terms.

As I hear him grab the door I call out," Heath!" I wait for a response. I hear nothing, not even the sound of the door opening. "I'm sorry," I call out softer. The silence is nerve-racking. Did he leave?

"I'll be back," he sighs. The door creaks open then slams closed.

"Fuck," I grumble as I rub my face.

It feels like weeks since Heath and I have had a normal conversation. At first, it was fine, I was so busy with work. It's a bit of a busy season and we have been so short-staffed. I'd leave early and show up back home so late. Most of the time Heath would be asleep when I got back so we never had the chance to talk. Then, since I was never home he took to entertaining himself. Since he wasn’t home during the day I never saw him on our days off.

Once everything slowed down that’s when the arguing started. I don’t remember who started it or perhaps we both have such a short fuse lately that we began this together. Generally, the harsh words would end with us just going to bed or sitting in stiff silence. Last night was the first time he has left. It scares me, to say the least.

Coworkers have started noticing my sour moods. I hardly acknowledged that I was bringing my anger from home to work but everyone else has. I've snapped at some people, snatching papers from others, answering in short words. It's been stressful.

"Meeting is moved to four," Casey walks into my office.

"Four, what was wrong with three," I huff, typing away at my keyboard.

"Not everyone was available for three so it was pushed to four," Casey leans against the door frame with a smirk. I pass an off-shoulder glance at her, sneering to myself when I see her grin.

"What are you smiling about," I grumble. She doesn’t answer for a moment so I turn fully towards her, cocking a brow. She gives me a once over before shaking her head with a smile.

"Nothing, just thought of something funny," she waves her hand.

"Well please do share with the class," I cross my arms, tapping my foot on the carpet. She continues to eye me, mounting my frustration of this conversation more.

"You have a boyfriend, right," she bites her tongue. I stiffen at the question. Everyone here knows I have someone but don’t know what he is. Can't imagine everyone here would be so open-minded with Heath and I's relationship. Even if he was human I don’t think anyone would approve of how we met either.

"Yes," I answer cautiously.

"Must be a shame you haven't been home much lately, what with all the late hours," she asks with mirth. What the hell is she implying?

"Yea, and," I squint at her.

She chuckles to herself, mumbling," you are a bit slow today, huh?" she straightens and asks bluntly," when is the last time you two had sex?" I choke on my breath, coughing while she laughs.

"There are some HR concerns here," I try to joke as I catch my breath.

"Yea, well, you have been a tyrant as of late so I think that’s more of a concern," she points out.

"I have not been a tyrant," I ponder," ok, I may have been less than civil but I highly doubt its because of my love life."

Casey walks further into the room, closing the door behind herself. " You poor naïve girl. Do you understand the importance of intimacy in a relationship? My husband and I went through a bit of a dry spell and we were at each other's throats. Wanting to be near each other but can't stand the feelings hanging over us," she gives me a sympathetic look.

"Yea, that doesn’t mean that’s what's wrong! Perhaps I am just stressed with work," I counter.

"Then you know a good way to relieve stress," she grins," sex. Preferably with your boyfriend." I grumble at her reasoning, crossing my arms and looking out the window. I hear her sigh beside me, stepping closer and turning my chair. "Has he been tense too," she asks. I glance over to her and nod slowly," have you two talked about this?" I shake my head," then go home tonight and you two talk then fuck each other's brains out. Do you both some good." my face heats up and I immediately cover it with my hands. She reels back and laughs as I grumble into my palms.

"Casey, you disgusting perv," I chuckle along with her.

"Hey, if I'm right then tell me about it tomorrow. Till then, have fun," she continues to laugh as she exits the room, leaving me to my own devices.

I huff in amusement as she leaves. I turn back to my desk and let my mind wander. She could be right, I never thought of it though. I have not been in a serious relationship like this one, never having a stall in my sex life with someone. Do people really get like this over something as ridiculous as sex?

In a rush of questions, I pull out my phone and Google 'What causes arguing in relationships'. Immediately I find a list with explanations on the first link. Most were simple like 'family issues' or ' unshared chore load' but the most common was lack of intimacy.

"Well fuck," I groan as I read. I never knew this was a thing. Who pushes someone away when all they want is to be around them? The article fits exactly what's happening though, down to a tee. I guess that answers it, Casey might be right.

After work, I sit down in the living room going over my thoughts. Heath isn't home yet which has been common as of late. It's still daylight out so I'm not too worried. As he said before, he does have a life outside of me. I find myself feeling a bit hollow as I think about him. I miss him. It’s a weird thought, I have seen him every day but… it doesn’t feel the same.

As I work around my feelings the back door opens. I twist around on the couch and look through the kitchen doorway to see Heath closing the back door.

"Hey," I call out. His head snaps up and I'm disappointed that I'm not greeted with his normal smile. I guess things have been bad lately.

"Hey," he grumbles as he walks further into the kitchen. He steps out of view and I hear the fridge open. I hop off the couch and head towards him, wanting to face him before I lose my nerve. He is hunched over with his head in the fridge when I see him. I can't help but look him over, admiring his strong body. I really have missed him.

I startle him when I wrap my arms around his middle, resting my head to his back. His posture softens as his hands engulf mine.

"I've missed you," I grumble into his scales. His sigh is content like he agrees with me. His hands pet over mine before his fingers separate them. He twists around as he holds me. He holds our hands close to his chest before leaning down and placing a gentle kiss to mine.

"I've missed you too," he nearly whispers. I try to bite back my smile but it has never worked around him. Instead, I pounce forward and hug him close. His chuckle rumbles up from his chest near my ear. His hands settle on my back as he holds me close too. We stand in the kitchen near the open fridge until the machine begins to beep. We part as he shuts the thing. I settle against the counter opposite of him and watch him. His gaze settles on me and I can feel the inevitable confrontation settling above me like a knife on a rope.

"Heath," I sigh," we need to talk."

His head drops with his own sigh," yea, we do."

We stand there for longer than we need to, no one speaking as we continue to prolong the issue. I know what I want to say but having to speak about it feels too vulnerable. It's too personal to explain how much our distance has been hurting. I hate arguing with him so this is necessary.

"I'm sorry-"

"I've been-," we both start at the same time.

We chuckle before Heath points to himself," I should start."

"Yea, go ahead," I lean back on my hands against the counter.

With a sigh he starts," I've been such an ass lately, and I'm sorry for not just telling you what I've been doing. It was never anything bad, it just felt wrong to tell you. We have been so apart lately that sharing things like my day has been alarming. I want to be around you but when I'm there I feel so frustrated. I've been taking that out on you and I'm sorry." I nod at his confession as I think on my own words. I feel the same way, I want him near but I push him away when he is there. Its been so confusing and frustrating. Thank god for Casey or I would have sat in my own feelings instead of confronting the problem.

I look at his worried face for just a moment," I have been less than fair with you. As much as I want to blame you for all of this as a stubborn proud woman I know that’s incorrect. I haven't been home lately and I know that’s been hard on us both. I think because no one said anything about it that we have just been suffering in silence till we just started snapping at each other like children."

"I wanted to say something about you not being here but it didn’t seem fair. It's your job, its how you pay for all this," he gestures to the house," I didn’t want to make you feel bad for me so I just kept quiet about it."

"That's exactly why I think we have been so distant, we haven't shared our feelings. I hate having to work late and not being able to sit down with you on the couch, watching some stupid show while we talked about anything. I adore actually going to sleep together more than showing up when you are already in bed. Also," I turn away with tinted cheeks," do you remember the last time we had sex?" he stares at me confused and in thought.

"Last month, I think. Fuck, has it been that long," he walks over," god, babe, I'm sorry. It has barely crossed my mind, you have been so tired lately I didn’t want to make it worse with my wants." he rests his hands on either side of me, cornering me to the counter.

"No, I'm sorry. I've been so busy I haven't even thought about it and it isn't till Casey brought it up tha-," I try to apologize.

"Wait, who is Casey and why are they more aware of this than us," he looks a bit offended. I reach out and smooth my hands over his arms.

"Casey is a lady from work, she confronted me in my office and offered a reason for my snippiness lately," I find myself chuckling," she said she has experience in this, having gone through it with her own husband. I didn’t believe her at the time but after doing some reading it made sense. I've wanted you around but pushing you away in the process. I love you, Heath, I'm sorry for being a lousy girlfriend." I look down at his stomach as I sit in self-pity. He startles me by grabbing my shoulder and crushing me to his chest.

"Babe, I love you too. I've wanted you around but not being able to talk to you about anything in fear that it will stress you out at work has been killing me. I've been talking with this Were who has trespassed here and I didn’t want you to fret because I had it under control. That’s what has been keeping me busy all week," he finally explains.

The relief of having everything out now is so sweet. I thump my head to his chest, sighing with finality. This whole thing has been ridiculous and childish. All we had to do was talk to each other, it was so simple.

"We are idiots," I laugh," if you want to have sex all you have to do is ask."

Heath snorts, pulling me into a hug. I wrap my arms around him, burying my face into his chest as he nuzzles my hair.

"If I knew it was that easy I would have had you sooner," he rubs his cheek to my head," so, doll, want to have sex?" I huff in laughter, shaking my head with a snicker.

"I think I can pencil you in," I joke," you think you can be free around 8?" I lean away from his chest, smiling at his amused annoyance.

"Shut up," he kisses me. I laugh against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifts me onto the counter, growling as his hands fall to my thighs.

Our kiss is hungry, demanding more every second as we begin to palm at each other. A brief split allows him to remove my shirt, diving back in shortly after. He snarls near my neck, licking and nibbling the sensitive skin.

"I've missed you so damn much," he growls," your taste rivals all others." his teeth pinch the skin near my ear while he pulls me into his crotch. I arch my back, pressing my chest to his. The sweet love bites bring my pulse up with every nibble.

"I've missed your fierce attentions," I chuckle, rolling my hips into his hardening cock. He rumbles with a growl, stopping his bites in favor of pushing his cock between my thighs. I lean away, thumping my head lightly against the cabinets, and watch his cock. The pointed tip peaks near my stomach, the sight too appetizing. With a grin I reach down and grab him, thumbing his tip.

"Damn," he seethes," I've missed your soft hands." he watches me jerk him off, nuzzling against my shoulder. His attention son falters as he catches sight of my breast. As I pinch at his tip he licks at my nipple, sucking the nub into his mouth with a purr.

I gasp, stopping my hands," I've missed your tongue." he chuckles against me, swirling his wet tongue over my chest with interest. The cold air cools the saliva covered skin adding more to the otherwise pleasurable assault.

Heath soon lowers his body into a kneel as he licks down my stomach. He is face to face with my clothed crotch. With ease he grabs the hem of my pants and tugs them down, nearly pulling me off the counter with them. He gently guides my legs outs of the clothing, letting it drop to the kitchen floor. He growls eagerly, parting my legs when he focuses back on my crotch. Fitting himself closer he buries his face against my cunt and licks.

He hums," I've missed your delicious pussy." he swipes a lick again, swirling his tongue along my clit with practiced ease. I nearly bang my head against the cabinet again as I arch into his mouth. The immediate pleasure screams to me, telling me how stupid I was for forgetting about this. How could I ever forget about how talented his rough tongue is, forget enough to not seek him out every night? I pet his head, panting as he laps at my folds.

My climax is quick, as to be expected from such an unnecessary hiatus. Also to be expected from someone who knows how to play me like a fiddle. He drinks from me, pulling as much as he can from me before he is willing to part. As he leans away I catch the glistening coming from his wet mouth. He licks around his lips, smirking up at me with that cocky smile.

"I've missed your pleased face," he says as he stands. He crowds me as I rest weakly on the counter. I place a hand to his chest, catching my breath still.

"I think it was my turn," I joke," I've missed your cunnilingus skills."

Heath hums as he rests his head against mine," one more and it's my turn again."

"Alright," I pet at his chest," I've missed how hot you make me by just being you." Heath smiles, the fire in his eyes dulling in favor of watching me sweetly. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

"I've missed you in general," he almost whispers," I love you."

I cup his cheeks," I love you, too. Now, show me how much I've missed your cock." he snickers, leaning away to look down between us. He grabs himself, pushing the pointed tip to my entrance.

"You have always had a way with words," he pushes in, sighing as he does," but I can confidently say, I've missed how tight you grip me." he releases himself, leaning forward to rest on his hands. His head props against my shoulder, his breath barely coming out. Without preamble he bucks his hips towards mine, burying himself quickly with a stuttering gasp. I copy him, gasping as my head thumps once more against the cabinet.

"oh yea," I pant," I've definitely missed your big dick."

He shakes his head with a laugh," such a way with words."

Heath starts slow, relishing in the retreat then enjoying the entry. The gentle push and pull are enough to ease me, relaxing my body but still stroking a flame. A light pleasurable burn begins where he reaches the deepest, trailing after him with every pull. The burn becomes demanding, taking us both and telling us 'more'.

"Heath," I grab at his shoulder, tightening my legs around him. He catches the message, snapping his hip harshly. He begins a quick climb, bucking his hips faster every second. Soon he is plowing into me, forcing breath from my lungs. His knee bumps into the cabinets below, adding to the sound of our bodies clapping against each other.

"doll," he groans near my ear," I'm at my wits ends here, te-agh-tell me your close." I claw at his scaled skin, pulling him closer as I roll my hips to meet his.

"y-yea," I pant, hugging him to me. We both eagerly take from the other, grunting and groaning as we reach our mutual ends.

He is first, stuttering his hips with a broken growl. I feel him cum, his warmth flooding my insides. The heat brings upon my own climax, squeezing onto his throbbing member. He leans into me, gasping as I milk him. We both stiffen till our bodies take their fill, soon falling lax against each other.

The kitchen becomes quiet, my ears ringing for a moment. I soon hear Heath's ragged breathing, the rushing of my ears fades. As we come back to ourselves I pet at his back, holding him with my legs.

"I've missed this," he kisses my shoulder," I just wish I had enough thought to take you to bed first but I'll take what I can. Though it's hard to cuddle like this." I laugh, resting my cheek against him.

"We can still go to bed," I answer with a shrug.

He nods," give me a moment."

We rest in the kitchen for a second longer before he lifts me off the counter. He carries me upstairs to our room, cradling me against himself as we lay in bed. I grab the blanket and throw it over us before relaxing into his hold. Everything feels peaceful, like the stress of the last few weeks have been lifted. I can finally fall asleep next to him, protected in his warm hug.

"you awake," Heath whispers.

"yea," I answer, humming in content as he pulls me closer.

"I'm sorry for not talking with you about my frustrations, I promise I will talk with you if something is bothering me," he says. My heart flutters at his words, pleased about his declaration.

"I promise I will do the same, I'm truly sorry I was so snippy with you. I hate that I was that way, you never deserved it," I answer.

He hums," so, let's not be idiots again and fuck on the reg."

I snort," That's one way to put it."

"it's a good idea," he shrugs," expect sex in the morning."

"Alright," I laugh," I eagerly await the morning."

"good," he hums," now go to sleep, you'll need it."

I shut my eyes, allowing sleep to begin its claim," good night."

"night."

-----------------------------------

Technically a second part to Crocodile Rock. Also very similar plot to Under Pressure. It just something that i tend to do in relationships. i’m so bad at talking it out that i will stew in my frustrations. its really bad thing to do, just talk it out.

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Crocodile Rock

Under Pressure

[mizumelona]

set me up | atsumu x reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re an ambitious career woman, who’s got everything…except a significant other. Your mom, sick of you showing up to family functions alone, sets you up on a series of (terrible) blind dates. You make these dates meet you at your favorite restaurant, Onigiri Miya, but for some reason the owner’s jerk of a twin brother always happens to be there exactly when things crash and burn.

NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to my lovely friend Sharon who encouraged me to start this blog and helps me with my writing. @Sharon I kept my promise hehe.

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~

You tossed Atsumu’s sweater into the washer with your other juice covered clothes and made your way to your bedroom. You picked up your phone to text your mom.

Lovely Daughter:

I think I need to take a break from these dates

You still wanted to find a boyfriend and flex on your cousin, but this blind dating thing wasn’t exactly working out. You cringed remembering that your favorite cream shorts might be ruined for good. Taking a step back seemed like a good choice for now. Maybe you’d spontaneously run into someone worth your time. Blonde hair and a cheeky smirk flashed in your mind.

Huh. What was that? You shook your head. That was definitely not happening.

As you finished sending the message you got another notification.

Boss:

Reminder that our team is working from home this week while they replace the carpets in the office. Can you send me the updated prototype of your project by Friday morning?

Ugh. Working from home was bad news for you. Despite being an overachiever, your home was a safe oasis that was completely separated from your work life. When it came to trying to work while your favorite blanket and TV were 2 feet away, you had no self-control. You tried to look on the bright side. Who knows? Maybe this is the week you learned a little self-control.

~

Onigiri Miya. Thursday 6:27 PM

It wasn’t.

You had plenty of inspiration on Monday but took a break to watch one episode of your favorite sports anime and ended up binging the next two seasons. Tuesday you’d pulled up the files you needed to work on but you saw a manga spoiler while browsing Instagram and decided to binge the manga too. Yesterday you were shook about the most recent cliffhanger and got carried away reading fan fiction. It wasn’t until 5 PM that you realized that the prototype was due in a day but by then you were already fucked.

Cut to you grinding like crazy for the past 24 hours. You’d pulled an all-nighter last night except for 20 minutes at 5 in the morning when you crashed and knocked out on your keyboard. When you woke up there was an imprint of the spacebar on your chin. Finally you had most of the prototype completed, so you were crawling out of your cave for some food.

Sweats, glasses, hair messily pulled away from your face. You haggardly stumbled toward the restaurant. You’d exhausted your instant noodle supplies and had been so focused on finishing the damn prototype that you didn’t stop to eat today. You were pretty sure you were going to pass out if you didn’t get some food in your body ASAP.

You pushed the door to the restaurant open.

“Welcom- woah [Y/N]…you doing okay?”, Osamu paused mid rice ball roll and looked you up and down.

“Holy shit ya look like a zombie!”, Atsumu exclaimed from his usual seat at the bar.

You ignored Atsumu’s comment. You had no energy left for making snarky comebacks. “Osamu. Three Minced tuna onigiri and an iced Calpico please and thank you.”

“Sure…”, Osamu gave you a concerned look before turning to get started on your order.

You dumped your things onto an open table and sunk into the seat. You flipped open the laptop that you’d brought with you and started tapping on the keys. There was a big fat error alert on the screen. Great. You tried to edit the file. Another error. Ugh you were so close it was frustrating. You typed a few more edits in. Success! Loading…

Finally. You leaned back into the chair, staring at the ceiling. You heard some familiar footsteps approaching you. Here he comes.

On cue, Atsumu slid into the seat across from you. “Yo what happened?”

“I’m an idiot. That’s what happened.” You closed your eyes and massaged your temples. Your head was aching from staring at the screen for so long.

He snorted. “I know a lotta idiots but you aren’t one of them” He peeked over at your screen. “What’s with the laptop? This isn’t a coffeeshop sweetheart”

“Work.” You bluntly replied. You scrunched up your face. Sure his voice was smooth as ever, but right now anything but complete silence was making your head pound.

“You’re in a good mood aintcha?” He smirked. You glowered in his direction, your dark circles making you look extra ominous.

“Stop irritating my customers ‘Tsumu” Osamu smoothly shut Atsumu down. He placed a tray of food on the table. “I got three minced tuna onigiri and an iced Calpico”

“Bring me a drink too ‘Samu”

“Get it yourself ’Tsumu”

An upbeat ringtone started playing from Osamu’s pocket. He pulled his phone out and took the call. “Hey babe��I’m just at the restaurant…no, it’s not that busy…wait…what!” Osamu raised his eyebrows.”…Okay yeah I’ll be right there.” He turned to Atsumu. “‘Tsumu close the restaurant. I need to go help Sharon”

“Huh? Ya can’t just-“, Atsumu tried to protest, but Osamu took his Onigiri Miya hat off and shoved it on Atsumu’s head. Osamu scrawled a note about closing early and taped it to the door on his way out. Atsumu stood there looking irritated as he watched his brother run off through the window.

He turned to you. “Well ya heard him. You’re gonna hafta take your rice balls and work home sweetheart”

Wait. You checked your screen. 15%. Rip. Starting the process while you ate dinner probably wasn’t the best idea, but you needed this to finish loading and couldn’t risk it getting messed up on the trip back up to your apartment. You turned to Atsumu, “I’m sorry about earlier. Please let me stay a little longer. I really need this thing to finish loading”

“No way”

“It’ll only take a second” You pleaded with him. He turned to walk away. “Please. Atsumu”

He paused. Wait, was that the first time you’d called him by his real name? He turned back to you with that devious smile he got whenever he had one of his “brilliant” ideas.

“How ‘bout this? You help me clean, I’ll letcha stay here even though I really should be closing up”

“Deal”

~

Onigiri Miya. 45 Minutes Later.

“I’m pretty sure when we made our deal you said it would take ‘just a second’”. The bashful smile from earlier had long been wiped off his face replaced with the current impatient scowl. You’d finished eating your onigiri shortly after Osamu left, and you two had been sitting at the same table sipping Calpico and watching the loading bar for the last 45 minutes.

“It’s really almost done now.” You were running out of excuses to stall for time.

“Hurry it up. I got things to do sweetheart”, he said and took a noisy sip of his drink.

Okay [y/n] we need to think of a way to stall. You went through your options. Hm. Actually, complimenting people usually works pretty well, especially when that person has as big of an ego as this blondie. Okay you decided on your plan of attack.

“Hey” You smiled innocently at Atsumu. “Thanks again for waiting with me. You’re a lot nicer than I thought”

“How many times do I hafta tell ya that that creepy smile isn’t fooling me?” Atsumu set his drink back on the table. “And was that supposta be a compliment? When did I ever do anythin’ to piss you off?” He leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Says the guy who crashed not one but two of my dates”

“I didn’t do nothin’”

“You were the reason the strawberry juice was on the table to begin with”

“I’m also the reason why you’re still here even though I could’ve kicked you out an hour ago.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“Touche” You leaned forward. “How about we call a truce then.” You held out your hand.

He looked at your hand skeptically. “Truce? That implies we were fightin’ in the first place”

“You gonna take it or not?”, You smiled slyly and waved your hand. “Let me tell you now. I’m not someone you want as an enemy”

“Jeez that’s pretty scary sweetheart.” He leaned forward with his trademark cheeky grin…and was he blushing a bit? “Fine. Truce.” He reached out to shake your hand.

“I know the perfect way to celebrate” He said, rising from his seat. He walked behind the counter and rustled around in the fridge. You heard him mutter, “Where did ‘Samu put it”, as he continued digging around. “Aha. Here it is!”, he declared, finding whatever he was looking for. Atsumu walked back and plopped down in his seat, setting two cups of pudding on the table.

“Haha. Nice.” You picked up one of the pudding cups but noticed a little note stuck to it. “Huh. What’s this?” You pulled off the note to read it. Osamu’s pudding: DO NOT EAT. “Wait a second we can’t-“

Atsumu took the container out of your hands, broke the seal on the cover, and handed it back.

“Atsumu!”, you exclaimed.

“You’re welcome.” He opened his pudding cup and shoveled a spoonful in his mouth. “Mmm”

Well it’s not like you could put it back now that it was opened. You scooped a spoonful into your mouth. Your face lit up. Osamu’s pudding preferences were on point.

“I have a question”, Atsumu asked. “Why were ya tryin’ so hard on those dates anyways? Those guys were obviously trash, and ya don’t really seem like the type that’s desperate for romance.”

What he said wasn’t wrong, and you two were kind of having a moment here. You figured it’d be fine to tell him about it.

“Ugh the thing is” You gulped down another spoon of pudding. “I’m trying to prove something to my family”

“Huh?”

“They don’t think I’m capable of romance, and my shitty cousin loves to rub it in my face. I’m trying to find a guy so I can flex on them”

He smirked. “Hah, that’s real petty”

You pointed your spoon at him. “I don’t wanna hear that from you.”

“Fair point”

Your computer chimed. You both turned to look at the screen. 100% Loaded.

“Yes!” You pumped your fists.

“Finally” Atsumu sighed, scraping the last of his pudding out of the cup. “So, ya gonna help me clean?”

“A deals a deal. Where should I start?”, you said combing your hair out of your face.

“I’ll take the tables. You’re on dish duty”

Atsumu went into the supply closet and came back with a rag. You caught yourself staring as he pushed his sleeves up. Okay the man had beautiful forearms, so what? You quickly looked away.

“You okay [y/n]?”, Atsumu interrupted your thoughts, cocking his head. Shit. You hoped he hadn’t noticed your little slip-up.

“Uh yeah! I got the dishes!”

~

You’d emailed the final prototype and you two were almost done tidying up. The only thing left to do was mopping the floor.

“[Y/N], How about we have a lil challenge”

You raised an eyebrow.

Atsumu brought two mops out of the supply closet, tossing one to you. “I’ll race ya. Last one to mop to the other side loses”

This was stupid there was no way you were about to have a dumb mopping ra-

“Unless you’re too scared”

You gripped your weapon. “Hah, You’re on”

You both stood at one end of the restaurant. Mops in hand.

“Ready” Atsumu clenched his mop. “Go!”

You realized that challenging a pro-athlete to a fair race was stupid. That’s why you didn’t intend to play fair. As soon as Atsumu motioned to take his first step you swiped your dripping mop in front of his foot. He lost his balance.

“Fuck!”

“Haha Loser!”, you turned to laugh at him. Thwack!

Atsumu collided with you knocking you backward. You hit the ground with a thud, securely pinned under him. Shit. He hauled himself onto his hands and knees, looking down at you.

“You cheated!”, he shouted.

“That doesn’t give you the right to tackle me!”, you shot back.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to tackle you!”

“So what!”, you grabbed his collar pulling him back so your foreheads were touching. You both paused. Shit. Did you just do something weird?

You were suddenly very aware of the nice smell wafting off his hair. You gulped. There was a pink blush creeping over Atsumu’s nose. He looked dumbstruck at first but soon a cheeky grin spread across his face.

“Wow [y/n], you’re pretty bold huh.”

“Shut up!”

The chimes jingled and the door opened. You both jumped and turned to the sound.

“Oolala”, the girl who came with Osamu was snickering.

“…is that my pudding?”

~

After that, you’d both apologized to Osamu, properly mopped the floor. You were getting ready to go home now. Luckily neither of you had been seriously injured in your little incident, but any time your eyes met Atsumu would shoot you an infuriating smirk.

As you were about to leave, Atsumu called out to you. “Hey [y/n] I’m gonna need my sweater back soon”

“Oh right! I forgot it at my apartment but I washed it so I’ll bring it by tomorrow”

“Sounds good. Good night [y/n].” As he turned to walk away, he looked back over his shoulder and smiled at you. It was a sincere smile like the one he gave you as he handed you his sweater the other day. You couldn’t help but smile back. This guy.

Your phone buzzed as you started walking back toward your apartment. You pulled it out.

Jerk Cousin:

Family brunch two Sundays from now. Don’t forget you’re in charge of fruit. My mom told me to remind you. She also said to tell you that you can bring a plus one, not that you’d need it lol

~

Onigiri Miya. Friday 11:15 AM

You’d slept like a baby that night, and woke up more refreshed than ever. It was like your 24 hours of hell never happened. You pulled open the door to the restaurant.

“Hey Osamu is Atsumu here? I have the sweater I kept forgetting in my apartment” You rustled through your bag pulling the sweater out. Looking up, you suddenly noticed that the restaurant was more packed than usual, and most of the occupants were looking at you.

“Oya?”

“Oya oya?”

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Indomitable

Pairing:   Sebastian Stan / Plus Size Reader

Words:  1.5k

A/N:  Written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ endless quarantine as long as there are prompts we’ll write them thingy, and a prompt from @prunes-said-bucky​.  I’ve never written Sebastian before, never really considered it TBH, since he’s not just a character to play with but hey, I gave it a shot.  Hope it’s not horrific.

Warnings:  Angst, body shaming, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, strong and confident plus size reader, emotional support, kissing and teasing, no smut.

There is a section that contains a list of body shaming comments.  This is a block quote with ######### at the start and end, so feel free to skip over those if you are so inclined.

***FINAL REMINDER TO READ THE WARNINGS FOLKS***

Sebastian slumped back in his chair.  The computer screen glared at him accusingly as bile rose in his throat.  He did this.  He failed to protect you.  His career, and the whole shebang that went with it; toxic.

There were good parts, hell, there were great parts, but this… this wasn’t one of them.  His fans were usually great.  Kind, accepting, fun, keen, and dedicated.  He loved Winter’s Children and gave as much of himself as he could while maintaining a balance that kept him sane.

You were part of that. Far removed from the lime light, you were a nobody.  A regular person.  Not tied to the entertainment industry in anyway other than being his girlfriend. The world barely knew you existed and he worked hard to keep it that way.

Until now.

“Hey, sweetie!”  You knocked on the study door after letting yourself into his apartment, peeking in to see him at his desk.  “You need anything?  I’m just about to make some fresh coffee.”  You smiled knowingly; he loved his coffee

“Oh, hey, yeah sure.” Sebastian scrambled to shut the screen off so you wouldn’t see what he was reading.  “Thanks, babe.”  He smiled back.

“Oooohh, was that porn?” You smirked, coming to stand behind him, resting your hands on his shoulders and feeling tension there.  “Discovering something new you want to try, huh?”  You teased a little to lighten the mood. Something had him stressed out.

He sighed, leaning his head back to rest against your stomach.  From there he looked up at you, past your boobs, with worry in his big blue eyes.

“I wish it was porn.”

“Skype audition not go so well?”  You massaged his taut trapezius until he moaned lightly, relaxing under your touch.  You slid your hands into the neck of his shirt, smoothing them over his chest, feeling the light prickle of stubble where his chest hair was starting to grow back in.  “Want to talk about it?”

He wrapped his hands around your wrists, stilling you gently.  The nervous lick of his lips concerned you.

“Oh, the audition went great.”  He sat up, swivelling his chair to face you where he tugged on your hips to sit you across his lap.  “It’s what came after that I need to talk to you about.”

You could see something was really eating him up but you let him get to it in his own time.

“I spoke to Elaine.”

“Social media manager, Elaine?”  You knew every member of team of people who Sebastian relied on in his career. Elaine had been with Seb for years, helping him managing his social media presence, and she was very good at what she did.

“Right.”  He stroked your lower back absently.  “Well, I called her because some pictures got out.  Of us.”

You knew he tried to keep you separate from all the media stuff.  He needed a safe haven, and he also didn’t want to ruin your life with paparazzi hounding you and gossip sites dissecting your whole existence.

“Of the other week when we went out comet watching and ended up getting jiggy in the back of your car?” You teased.

He laughed, scrunching his face up in that cute way you loved.  “No.”  He grinned. “Surprisingly, not that.”

“Phew,” you play acted utter relief, “thank heavens my tatas didn’t make it onto TMZ.”

“You’re amazing, you know that right?”  He squeezed his arms around your waist.

“Yeah, I know,” you beamed, “caught you, hook, line and sinker, didn’t I?”  You murmured into his hair, pressing a kiss there.  “What’s up?”

“I don’t really know how to deal with this, y/n.  It’s everything I’ve always tried to shield you from.”

You tightened your arms around his shoulders, reassuringly.  This really wasn’t like him at all.  “Just show me.”

 The pictures were fine. Seb and you, sat on a wall by the banks of the Danube, eating charcoal black ice cream in the sun.  Holding hands by the stalls of a street market. Him stealing a kiss while you laughed at something he said.  They were older photos from a trip you took to Romania the year before.  You smiled, remembering the fun you had there.  Seb’s boy-like exuberance as he rediscovered his country of birth with you.  They were great memories.

It was the bitchy comments that he was concerned about.

##########

Why would someone as hot as him be with someone like her?

Ikr, she fat

Who is she?  Nvr seen her b4

Not surprised we’ve never seen her.  I’d be embarrassed to bee seen with her too.

Pity fuck

Maybe it’s for a role.

Guurrrllll… Swap that ice cream for a salad.

She’s disgusting! Sebby what are you doing?!!!

Look at that fat body! What a waste of a pretty face…

Pretty? Lol pretty ugly.

What does he see in her?

He looks younger in this. Must’ve already dumped her fat ass.

She’s curvy?  Maybe he likes that. Not my cup of tea though.

Curvy like the Michelin man lol

Definitely not the right clothes for your body type sweetie… dress appropriately.

Lost all respect for Seb now UGH!

Look at that cellulite!

Seabass meets a whale lol

##########

You glanced through the comments.  Most were positive but some were brutal.  You could see why he was upset by these.  He cared a great deal about his fans but this was making him consider if it was worth the effort.

Sebastian swallowed nervously, looking up into your eyes.

“You’re worried about how I feel about this?”

“Of course I am.”  His tone was pleading.  “I love you.  I never wanted you to get dragged into any of this crap, but look at them!”  He was getting agitated.  “I’m going to tell Elaine to take it all down, I’m done.”

“What’s that going to prove, huh?”  You soothed.

“Nothing.  But it’ll be gone, right?  No more fan stuff if they can’t respect both of us.”

“I dunno, it seems a shame to deprive your good and loyal fans of their sexy seabass,” you winked at him, “besides if the things people did online got to me I’d have drawn a line in the sand at some of that filthy dirty fan fiction they like to write.”

“C’mon, y/n, I’m being serious,” he begged with his eyes.  “They can’t talk about you like this.  It’s shitty and they’re completely wrong.”

“Babe.”  You levelled a steady gaze at him.  “I don’t care what these people think.”  Stroking your fingers soothingly through his hair, you scratched and massaged gently.  “The only people whose opinions matter about any of that stuff are right here in this room, okay?”

Seb sighed and hid his face in your plush bosom, and for a while neither of you spoke.  He relaxed, breathing slowing until you thought he’d fallen asleep.  You trailed your fingers across the back of his neck and to the sensitive place below his ear.

“If you keep at that there’s going to be trouble.”  Muffled against your chest you could feel him smirking.

“I like trouble.”  You whispered with a cheeky grin as he lifted his head.

“Thanks for distracting me.” He stretched up to place a chaste kiss on your lips.  “I think I know what to do.”

“Oh?”  You chuckled as he scooted the wheels of the chair closer to the desk with you still in his lap.  You tried to give him some space but he held you firm.

“Stay put,” he shifted so you were stable again, “this’ll take 2 seconds.”

Sebastian fired off an email to Elaine, letting her know everything was fine.  You weren’t concerned by the comments but he suggested letting a few of his top most trusted fans to help moderate the official site.  Let them get invested in the two of you as a facet of his brand.  You were definitely here to stay.

He counted himself the luckiest man alive to have found someone so caring, kind and gentle as you, but also someone so confident and steadfast.  Your spirit was unbreakable.  You were his rock, the foundations on which he grew and thrived.

 “So, now that you’re done righting wrongs, what’s the plan for today?”  You asked sweetly.  “You asked me to sleep over on a work day, so…”

“Well, first of all,” he eyed you mischievously, “I’m going to reiterate how much I love every single inch of you.”

“I like the sound of that,” you simpered.

“Do you?”  He teased.

“I do.”

“Good,” Seb nuzzled your neck seductively.  “Then we’re going to go out to eat,” he nipped your ear with his teeth.  “I made reservations.”

“Sounds… public.”  You sighed, distracted.

“Don’t care.”

“Okay…”

“And then,” he pulled back to look you in the eyes.  “Then, I want to talk to you about getting a place together.”

“You had this planned? You kissed him between sentences.

“I did.”

“Seems rushed.”

“Four years is plenty long enough,” he murmured.

“Ok,” you smiled against his lips, “but I’m keeping my apartment.”

“Of course.”  He slid his hands into your hair ready to deepen the kiss but paused.  “Where else is all your craft stuff going to live?”

Laughter rang out as you swatted at him and he tickled your waist.  The world could do whatever the hell it wanted.  As long as you both had each other, there was nothing else you needed, and nothing you needed to prove.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

what if in the distance series, she’s been having a really stressful week with her album promotions and whatnot and all calum wants to do is make her feel better and the facetimes can only help so much so he decides to fly out and surprise her 🥺

Thanks so much for the suggestion! I’m going to combine it with this one: 

i’m feeling rlly down do u think for the distance series you could write another blurb about the reader being really upset and not wanting to bother cal but she tweets a really concerning tweet and cal calls her and she’s balling and maybe he sings to her to make her to feel better and the next week she gets a care package?

I did some tweaks. Her album’s not out yet. She’s just promoting the singles. But the album is coming out soon! I’m not a professional, so I don’t know how any of this actually works. But I’m trying. 

Here are parts one, two, three, four, and five. This is the Distance series on my masterlist!

If you have any suggestions or ideas for this series, please feel free to send them to me! I will try and use as many as I can while also progressing the story along!

_______________________________

The thing about life is that, sometimes when one thinks there’s not much lower that they can do, there’s something right around the corner that proves deeper is possible. Though the tweets hadn’t exactly lessened,  she made a point not to be on social media unless she had to be, she only interacted with fans for a spare few minutes, liking tweets and reply to the love and positive outreach. Her relationship with social media is rapidly evolving and for the first time in a while, she kind of understood the reason why Calum never seemed to be on his. It was a hard river to get out of, if one floated down it too long. 

But now, she was looking at her schedule for promotion and while thankfully most things were still relatively close to her, traveling this much so soon, made her nervous. She tried to speak with her manager and the team, to see if some of the interviews could be scheduled for video. They had managed to keep a decent portion video based but still too many required her traveling. “I’ll try to talk to some people, but you really have to get out there, have people see your face. Besides, you already traveled out of the country once before. What’s the big deal now?”

It makes sense and she’s still new to this game. But going to see Calum is completely different than being in cities for hours before flying out for the next. Just the idea of her being herded around made her a little uncomfortable. “I understand that, but when am I supposed to be a human being during all of this? I still have songs to finish. And I visited a friend for a few days. Totally different than bouncing around god knows how many countries in two weeks. I need time to breathe in all this.”

“Listen, we’re here to help you out. The only way for this relationship to work is if there is mutual respect.”

“That’s rich,” she retorts. “I’m only simply asking that for my mental wellbeing that we adjust some of the interviews, that’s all.”

“And we will see what we can do.” The rest of the meeting is tense and it grates every nerve in her soul that there seems to be no real regard. It’s really just in the tone. Like she’s a child begging for candy in the checkout line while her mother has already told her once before that there is candy at home. 

But she has to in some ways take them at their word. She lets this go for now but when the next day, she receives an email that the schedule will remain the same, she knows in her gut that no one actually talked about rearranging anything. Can she really afford to cause a ripple? Especially so early in her career? These people kind of did pluck her from obscurity but at the same time, shouldn’t her voice be heard?

Remember the compression socks, reads the message from Calum. He sent her a care package last week, after hearing about her promotion schedule. It was going to be hell and Calum wasn’t going to hide that fact from her. She hadn’t told me about the small feud. So he sent things that helped him out a lot, the socks for the constant air travel, a sleep mask, vitamins, a book that he recommended but she hadn’t stopped by the local shop to buy, a pack of her favorite pens that she had to order from a place in New York, and a beautiful bound leather journal. Her wire bound notebook was curling at the corners and well loved. It was by time to get a new one but she had a hard time giving up on things. 

Snapping a picture of her carry on, she makes sure the socks are resting right on top. I would never. 

You got this, buttercup. Calum stares at his phone, wishing he could do a little 

The first couple of days aren’t so bad. The flights aren’t terribly long. The interviews are kind of fun, filled with plenty of laughter. There are gimmicky games based on her singles and they didn’t always pan out completely, but for a second, she figures maybe she had overreacted. But soon the interviews grow repetitive, the games are no longer fun. She can’t even write, by the time she’s on a plane, all she wants is sleep. The time zones are killer and she swears time means literally nothing as she’s hurded about. 

I’m losing it, she texts Calum. Losing all sense of her humanity. She’s grateful to meet her fans in the small pockets of time she’s allotted and that keeps her going. But slowly and surely, her body is drained. No amount of sleep means anything. She can’t hardly concrete. It’s all crumbling around her. She doesn’t feel human. 

“Are you sleeping?” Calum asks, through the screen. His picture goes pixelated for a quick second but then it straightens back out. 

“Yeah. Just doesn’t seem like enough though.”

Calum knows that feeling. He knows that look in her eyes too. It’s hard to keep up the facade when constantly about.  “Eating enough?”

“Kinda,” she admits. She tries to think what she had for breakfast. But that was hours ago and now she’s sitting waiting for another plane that will take her even further ahead in time. Will she be eating breakfast again soon? Does it even matter right now?

Calum passes along a few more tricks, but mostly aims to distract. He talks about the new music he’s working on. She asks if she can get a sneak peak and he’s more than happy to oblige. If that’s all he can do for the small moments in time, he’ll do it. He wishes he could do more though. It’s not easy and he’s fortunate to have three other people that are going through it all at the same time as him. There’s always a support system. But it’s just her. And she can confide in a couple of her security guards, they’ve become a level of friends, but it’s still not quite the same. 

“I miss my dog,” she confesses, randomly amongst the reverbing rumble of Calum’s bass as he finishes the last chord in the progression. Her chest starts to ache. And the tears are stinging her eyes before she can really stop them. “I miss my dog so fucking much,” she cries in a whisper. “I miss my bed. I miss you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s hard to be away. I totally get it.” His heart races, because of her tears but also because of her confession. Now, probably isn’t the time, not to get hung up on that last sentence but his mouth is moving before he can will it not too. “I miss you too. And I know your dog misses you. And it’s okay to miss us. We’ll always be right here when you need us.”

It doesn’t help to be having this breakdown in the middle of an airport. And sure, there might be headlines in the coming days but at the end of the day she’s so human. No matter how much she wants to pretend nothing ever affects her, it does. It always will. Her wall isn’t without some flaws. She does her best to calm the tears, steady her breathing but it feels so right just to let it all out. 

She manages to excuse herself to that bathroom. There are still about thirty minutes before her flight and she has to get it all out now before she boards. With Calum still on the line, she sobs in the bathroom. A toilet flushes alerting her that she’s not as alone as she once expected but locked into the stall, it doesn’t matter. Calum soothes her as best he can, telling her it’s okay to get it all out.  Ten minutes later, she’s cleaned up and running back to her gate. “Thanks, Cal.”

“No, no need to thank me. Just take care of yourself, okay? Please.”

She nods, guards waiting for her with her bags. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Just like she knew, it’s all over the internet the next day. The woman interviewing asks if everything’s okay, what sparked the teary episode. “I’m human, in case anyone forgets. I am human and I just hit my limit. I think we all need to take a moment to remember we are human. I am. You are. The person listening to this. We’re all human at the end of the day.” That’s all she has to say because if truth be told, she’s still at that limit, she’s still hitting that wall in which everything feels hazy but crying her eyes out helped a little bit. 

Calum sees her interview, not trying to look for it, but it pops up on his timeline. Her voice shakes as she speaks, lower lip quivering but her tone is strong, there’s a fire behind her eyes as she talks. Calum knows she’s hitting that wall and she won’t really get over it until she gets home and gets a chance to unwind. It’s crazy. Really, but he can’t do much over a call or over a video chat. So he figures out when her return home is and books a flight out for the next day. He should really make sure she wants company to, but it’s too late now as his email dings with the confirmation. 

It’s midday and it should require more pants than she’s currently wearing, her only plans are to stay curled up on her couch and snuggled up with her dog. She has plenty of food in the house and she doesn’t mind taking the moment to cook for herself. The knock at her door is surprising and she stands, hollering that she needs just a moment and scurries to her room to grab a pair of shorts off the chair in her room that has just become the clothes chair when things aren’t dirty to go into the laundry but aren’t clean to stick back into the drawer. 

And there’s Calum, just standing at her door. A hoodie on his head, covering the baseball cap and his sunglasses. “Hey,” he exhales with a tiny grin. 

All she can do is hug him, shaking with a small bit of laughter. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, or if I’m hallucinating this, but I’m absolutely okay with this.”

He kisses the top of her head. “Just here to cheer you up, buttercup. That’s all.”

-H

[adrenaline-roulette]

I say no

Pairing: Josh Washington x Reader Summary: This takes place in the aftermath of the events of Hannah and Beth’s disappearance, and before the return to the mountain. I’ve been listening to, I say no from the Heather’s musical on repeat lately, and have basically created a multi chapter fic to go with it. I’m not sure how many chapters this will be in total, but this first chapter is mostly being used as set up, and introducing our lead!   Warnings: Language  Word Count: 2.5K+

Chapter One

Being the new kid in school is never an easy thing, starting part way through the term though? That only makes things worse. You want to say that it isn’t your fault that you had to change schools, truly you do. But unfortunately, that would just be a lie. There was no one else you could blame, not really. It was your choices which had lead you to being expelled, no one had forced you to do what you did, this was all on you. Starting part way through the term meant you hadn’t been given the chance to select your own classes, and instead, had been thrown into anything that had a free space. Which was how you had ended up here, sitting in a computer lab surrounded by media students, with you not knowing the first thing about film production.

The class consisted of roughly thirty students, all of whom had broken off into either partners or small groups, gossiping about what they had gotten up to during their mid-winter break. You sat alone, scribbling todays date at the top of your notebook, as you absently swivelled in your chair.  Straining your ears, you tried your best to pick up on what some of the surrounding people were talking about, though you were only able to pick up bits and pieces. “Washington sisters…” “-Police didn’t find any trace.” “Think Josh will come back?” “Hannah and Mike got cosy….”

None of the names being thrown around meant anything to you, but clearly whatever had occurred was the talk of the school. You felt almost left out, a part of you wishing you had been here at least a few months longer, that way you may at least know the people who were being discussed. “That’s enough, settle down everyone!” A female voice calls from the front of the classroom, causing silence to fall over the entire class. “Welcome back class, I hope you all enjoyed your winter break….” As the woman, who you now assume to be the teacher continues with her welcome, you take the chance to look her over. Dark brunette hair had been sculpted into a high bun atop her head, the hairs having been pulled so tightly away from her face, she almost appeared bald at first glance. A bright smear of fuchsia coated her lips, and you have to give her credit for that, it was a bold colour choice for a woman bordering on sixty… She wore a knee length, blue 1950’s style skirt with pale pink roses dotted around the edge, completing the look with a white turtle neck sweater. All in all it was an, interesting outfit to say the least. “Now, we have a new student starting with us today, Y/N Y/L/N please make yourself known to the class.”

Fuck, you knew this part was coming, but that didn’t make you dread it any less. Fighting back the groan which danced on the tip of your tongue, you pushed yourself up from your chair, raising your hand partially. “Hi.”

“Hello Y/N, I’m Mrs Hill. Welcome to our school.” Your teachers smile is all teeth, and you respond with a soft head nod, not wanting to be stood any longer than necessary. Mrs Hill returns to the board at the front of the classroom, marking the end of her greeting towards you. A breath slips out as you collapse back in your chair, causing a few sets of eyes to turn your way.

You’re perhaps ten minutes through class and had already zoned out, doodling tiny patterns in the margin of your page, when the door swings open and a young man enters, his bag slung over his shoulder, and a look of unease gracing his features. “Ah, Josh. Thank you for joining us, please take a seat.”

The man, Josh, looks about ready to argue with Mrs Hill, but quickly loses all fight when he catches sight of the blonde man sitting one seat away from you. The blonde was shaking his head no, while mouthing something to Josh. You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but whatever it was, it was enough to get Josh to stalk across the class and take his seat. You had chosen to sit at the back of the class in the corner, while the blonde man had sat nearby, leaving one seat free between you. Josh rolls the spare seat away from the desk, dumping his bag and flopping down ungracefully. He turns in his seat, looking over his shoulder at you, and lifting one brow, before his attention is drawn back to Mrs Hill.

*****

Two weeks down, and god knows how many to go. You had successfully done the bare minimum in all of your classes so far, much to your teachers’ disapproval. The only class which you put any effort into was media, surprisingly. Whether that was because you actually enjoyed the subject, or because Josh and the blonde man who sat next to him, Chris, were both willing to help you out, and include you in their groups, was still up for debate. “Hey, hey Y/N, wait up!” A familiar voice calls to you from the opposite end of the corridor, you turn to see Chris bounding down towards you, the man reminding you of an over excited Labrador.

“Hey, what’s up Chris?” You smile, zipping your bag closed, after swapping your books from your previous class out for the books needed for the next.

“I wanted to see if you had anything planned for lunch today?”

You regard him with raised brows, thinking back to what you had packed for your lunch. “Um, nothing special. Just the usual ham and cheese sandwich….”

“What? Oh, no that’s not what I meant! I wanted to see if you’d like to have lunch with me and Josh, and the rest of the gang? If you don’t have other plans that is?”

“Oh, um yeah? Yeah, that sounds really nice thanks.” You grin, before following Chris down the corridor, where he leads you into an empty classroom. “Right, is this the part where you murder me?” You chuckle, though you quickly stop as you notice a look of hurt flash through his eyes.

Chris drags his fingers through his already messy hair, an uneasy smile forming over his lips. “Haha, no. Um this is one of the perks of being mates with the class president.” He shrugs, flicking the light switch on, and illuminating the room.

“The class president? That’s Mike yeah?” You ask, expecting Chris to answer, instead you’re met with an unfamiliar voice in response.

“At your service, and you are?” The man in question bows, extending a hand to you with a cocky grin.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You grin, fighting against the eyeroll which threatened to overcome you. It wouldn’t do to go rolling your eyes at the class president, that would be a great way to make him dislike you!

“So tell me Y/N, how is it you know who I am, yet I don’t know you?”

You shrug, resting your hands in the back pockets of your jeans. “The girl who showed me around on my first day pointed you out in the corridor. She said she would’ve introduced us, but didn’t want to interrupt your game of tonsil hockey.” Your lips quirk at the corner as you finish.

“This tour guide you had, was she about this tall, blonde hair, hazel eyes, and covered in paint splatters?” Chris laughs, his eyes now shining with mirth.

You nod, looking between the two men. “Sounds like something our Sammy would say. She’ll be along soon, and I’m sure Mike will want to have a couple of words with her about introducing him in such a way.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, this time with Sam walking in, followed closely by Josh, then a blonde woman and brunette woman you didn’t recognise. “Y/N, hey it’s great to see you again!” Sam waves, as Josh makes his way over to you, leaning against a desk near you.

“You remember my name?” You blink in surprise at Sam, who simply grins in reply.

“Of course I remember your name, we don’t get many new students here.”

“Don’t bullshit Sam, we get plenty of new students here.” The brunette smirks, flipping her hair behind her ear as she sidles up to Mike.

The second blonde giggles, a tinkling sound which you imagine would get tiresome rather quickly. “It’s just not everyday we get a new student who burnt down their last school’s science labs….”

You bite your bottom lip, a frown creasing your features as you cast your gaze towards the ground. Slowly, you nod your head, blinking away the stinging tears which clawed at your eyes. “Right, thanks for that. This has been great guys, but I’ve got my own personal demons who can talk to me like this, I don’t think I need to hear it twice.” You mutter, pushing away from the desk and starting across the room.

“That’s great Jess, really, just perfect.” You hear Josh growl, and you notice the blonde shrink away under his harsh glare.

“Em, that wasn’t fair. And Jess, pull your fucking head in.” Chris grumbles.

You move towards the door pushing your way through, paying no attention to the two people you barge past who had been trying to enter the room. “Everything alright-” You don’t stick around to hear the rest of what the new voice had to say. You didn’t need this, all you had to do was get through the rest of this year, and then next year and finally you would be finished with school. Fuck friends, who even needs them anyways?

You storm into the bathroom, slamming the stall door closed behind you, and making sure to lock it, before sitting down on the toilet lid, doubling over and resting your forearms over your knees, then pressing your forehead against them. After a few minutes there’s a faint knock on the bathroom door, which you find odd, it was a public bathroom, why would anybody bother knocking? “Y/N, its me… Can I come in?” That was Sam, you would recognise her voice anywhere. You’re half tempted to tell her to bugger off, but she hadn’t done anything wrong, if anything she had been trying to keep the peace.

“Yeah.” You call back, the only response being that of the bathroom door creaking open. You can hear male voices just outside, but you pay them little mind, putting it down to students passing by as Sam entered.

The silence which fills the tiled room is tangible, and a part of you almost thinks Sam had never even bothered to come inside. “I’m sorry about Jess and Emily. They’re, well I don’t even know how to describe them really. Neither of them have a filter though, I guess that’s a start… They’re dealing with something at the moment, we all kinda are, but they don’t seem to know how to vice those feelings…. I don’t know if anything that I’m saying is making any sense. But just know that I’m sorry.”

You watch Sam’s feet pace back and forth in front of the stall door, occasionally pausing as if she were about to settle, then picking up their walk once again. Leaning forward, you unlock the door, allowing it to swing inwards. “I did it.”

Sam pauses, locking eyes with you and tilting her head to the side. “Did what?”

“I burnt down the science labs. Nearly got a teacher killed in the process….”

Sam nods, averting her eyes for a few seconds. “Yeah, I know. I was told before taking you around school, the admin staff wanted me to know that apparently you could be, how they said, unstable…”

Your head perks up at this, and you wipe away one of the few tears which had slipped free. “They said I was unstable?”

Sam nods once again, though this time remains silent. “I’m not though! It was something that happened, but I’m getting the help I need!”

“Hey, it’s okay! I never thought you were!” Sam moves into the stall, resting a hand over your shoulder rubbing her thumb in gentle circles there. “During winter break, we did something terrible… At least, I think we did. If anyone found out what we did, they would call me unstable too.”

“Wh-What did you do?” You stammer out, blinking up at the smiling woman. She looked far to innocent to have done anything worth being labelled unstable over.

Sam shakes her head no, the smile falling for a moment. “Not now, I’ll tell you some other time. For now, lets get you cleaned up, and ready for class.”

You take her outstretched hand, and feel yourself be pulled into a standing position, allowing Sam to lead you over to the sinks, where she wets some paper towel, and dabs it under your eyes, clearing them of your smudged makeup. “There we go, good as new!” She grins, balling up the paper and throwing it into the bin. “Ready to head back out?”

“No, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” You shrug, following Sam to the door, her hand resting on the handle.

“I’ll talk to Jess and Emily, see if I can get them to apologise…”

“No, I don’t want a forced apology. I’d be happy with them to just not bring my past up again.”

“Easy done.” Sam pulls the door open, and you both march back into the world of school life, the corridors were beginning to fill with students once more, and you could only assume classes would be starting shortly. Chris and Josh had made themselves comfortable on the ground, backs pressed up against the wall as the spoke animatedly about something.

Josh is the first to see the both of and leaps to his feet, grinning mostly at you. “Hey, sorry about the girls back there… They can be a bit bitchy sometimes.” He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb, back to the classroom you had all left.

“It’s fine, I know how girls can be sometimes.” You shrug, turning to smile softly at Sam, before returning you attention to Josh.

Sam watches Chris from the corner of her eye as he struggles to stand up, rolling her eyes as it takes him three attempts. “Come on you big oaf, we’ve gotta get to History.”  She grins, taking a few steps backwards down the corridor.

Chris seems reluctant to leave, but does so anyways, passing you one final smile before leaving with Sam. “Right, class. That’s a thing isn’t it?”

Josh smirks, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and leading you through the mass of students. “Mhm, it is a thing. But no one said it was a mandatory thing…”

You turn your head to look up at Josh, who had his eyes locked dead a head, his sight set on the front doors. “Last I heard, school in fact was mandatory.”

“I’ve been given special privileges due to, external circumstances. We’ll just say I needed you for support?”

“Fine, where are we going then Josh?”

MASTERLIST

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Chapter Two out now!

[kalendraashtar]

Fanfiction - Dark Shines

Friday 13th and a Harvest Moon call for witches and crime stories! This chapter debuts an incredible new moodboard, made with love by the amazing @sassy-sassenach and lovingly accepted by this author. Thank you so much! ❤

Part I, Part II

Dark Shines

Part III – Tasseography

Behind the ash wood door was a spacious room, substantially darker than the inside of the Beauchamp’s Cup front store. Still, that diffuseness didn’t feel like the dimness of depraved things, but more like the controlled atmosphere meant to protect old books and antique items.

Jamie could identify hundreds of glass jars and wooden boxes, made of a myriad of different colours and shapes. There were also books aplenty, some neatly stored in a massive bookcase against the back of the space, others – probably the ones more frequently used – stacked in piles between the two worktables and the imponent desk.  The writing table was built from a beautiful white wood with an almost invisible grain, ivory-like, that Jamie eventually identified as holly, one of the sacred trees of the old druids.

There were also other objects scattered around the surfaces, stranger and somehow more disturbing in their simplicity – a small silver bell, a pendulum, several knives in different sizes, candles and a totally black tea-set, with seven delicate-looking cups and a robust teapot, which sparkled like an onyx stone would under the intense gaze of the moon.

“Tea first, I think.” Claire said amiably, pointing him in the direction of a plush burgundy armchair in front of her desk. Jamie nodded and tried not to stare openly around him, half-expecting her to go for the wicked looking set of porcelain. Instead, she retrieved a fairly common pair of tea-cups from a sideboard, reassuringly white with the rim simply embellished with soft pink lilies. “Do you have a preference?”

“Whichever ye’re having is fine.” The criminal profiler answered, studying the tea-maker as she prepared the infusion with the measured practice and solemnness of a ritual. After she offered him a cup, pungent with the fragrancy of mint and lemon verbena, Jamie thought he had endured enough politeness for the time being. “So, will ye tell me about the true nature of yer relationship with Morag MacKenzie and Mary Hawkins, Miss Beauchamp?”

The rumoured-witch sipped her tea placidly, blowing softly against the rim of the cup, a magnetic movement of her lips that drew gooseflesh on his arms. “They were faithful clients, almost since I founded the company a couple years back.” She nodded to herself, seemingly content either with the taste of the brewing or with the progress of the conversation. “And they were...curious, about other subjects. Sympathizers, one might say.”

“Do ye mean that they were some kind of witch-groupies?” The man raised a brow, mechanically stirring the liquid with an odd-looking small teaspoon, the point carved like a coiled snake.

“I’m not a member of the Beatles, Agent Fraser.” Claire rolled her eyes, scrunching her perfectly perky nose. “They weren’t groupies. They were interested in some aspects of power and the barriers that stop most people from using it.”

“Were they yer version of Muggles, then?” James Fraser smiled bitterly, silently reprehending himself for letting his own perspective on the subject so abundantly clear. He needed her help, as much as he was convinced that she was a blatant schemer. “I gather from what ye’re sharing that they didn’t have any…power of their own.”

Claire’s eyes fixed on his face, with an intensity that was almost predatory, and then they slowly descended to his upper leg, where he felt her gaze like the two gunshots that had once pierced his flesh, hot and devastating like speeding bullets. It was strange to be once again close to people who knew part of his story, even though they couldn’t possible fathom him.

When her lips moved, it felt like being underwater listening to the secrets of a siren, that he could never accurately reproduce. “Everyone has power. Maybe not what we’d prefer - but some. You won’t find any magical wands here, Mister Fraser, but there are still instruments – conduits, if you’d like – that one might use to do…what I do.”

“And what is that, exactly?” He raised his brow, his tone lowering to a not-too-subtle provocation. Jamie was trying to draw her out, to force her to show more of herself openly - most people revealed plenty with the simplest behaviours, like a choice of recurrent words or hand mannerism, but Claire Beauchamp was undecipherable.

“More tea would be nice, wouldn’t it?” She didn’t wait for his answer, diligently grabbing his cup to refill it from the steaming teapot. Claire squinted at the bottom of his empty cup and then smiled, a lopsided movement of lips that was the true portrait of light-heartedness.

“Found something amusing there?” Jamie asked, annoyed at the growing feeling of rawness, of extreme and unwanted exposure. “I dinna believe in fortune-telling or in the reading of tea leaves, so spare me the telling of some grand adventure in my future, aye?”

“You put too much sugar in your tea.” She revealed cheerfully, deliberately ignoring his borderline-rude remarks. “I don’t need to resort to tasseography to realize that you’ve already experienced too much bitterness in your life.” With ease, she returned him the teacup refilled with a second helping of the hot beverage. “Besides, there’s always more of someone’s past at the bottom of a cup than of the future. That’s the nature of the leaves themselves – they are the tea’s past.”

Jamie offered her a narrow and cold indigo look, retrieving a pen from his pocket to scribble down some notes. “Do people really fall for these tricks?”

“Do people really fall for the brooding and intimidating approach?” She quirked her lips as if she was about to laugh aloud and with a strange twitch his pen fell from his hand, as if it had acquired a life of its own. The policeman bent down haphazardly to catch it, furrowing his brow. “I’m guessing there was something else you needed from me, Agent Fraser, if you chose to come here in the first place. What brought you around, before I volunteered the information that I knew two of the victims?”

“I’m the one who should ask the questions here, Miss Beauchamp.” He clenched his jaw and, before he could continue, his pen – which had been innocently resting on the table, after a stalled first attempt at escaping his possession – slid from the edge of the table and rolled happily away.

“Must be an air draft. Edinburgh and old buildings, you know?” Claire sipped another generous gulp of her tea, her grin barely hidden behind the cup. “Ask away, Agent Fraser. I’ll be on my very best behaviour.”

Before Jamie could explain the mysterious symbols that had led him to her door, and show her some of the illustrating crime scene photos, his phone vibrated inside his pocket.

“Fraser.” John said, with a hint of excitement and consternation in his voice. “We have a fifth victim. Uniforms responded to a call from neighbours complaining of a dog who wouldn’t stop barking, and found another atrocious scene. Meet me there?”

“Aye. Text me the location.” Jamie said shortly and ended the call, when in all truth he wanted to yell a wholehearted “Fuck!”. “Miss Beauchamp, I’m afraid our interview will have to be postponed. I might come by tomorrow for some further inquiries.”

“Of course.” She raised from her chair, the dove around her neck seemingly flapping her wings for a short fraction of time, that left Jamie wondering about the true contents of his afternoon tea. “I’m not always here, so I’ll give you my home’s address in case you need to reach me.” She politely walked him to the door, the very impersonation of an impeccably mannered hostess.

“I’ll be in touch.” Jamie said; it was meant as a farewell, but somehow it sounded like a threat. Claire shrugged and waved him off as he closed the door behind him with more firmness than usual.

Only when the young, yet seasoned, criminal profiler reached his car did he realize that he couldn’t really remember the details of Claire Beauchamp’s face – only her striking eyes. It was as if she had hidden herself behind a curtain of undisturbed mist.

***

The scene in front of them was oddly, but not at all reassuringly, similar to the ones they had witnessed, either in first-hand or by way of photographs.

“Another woman. But I guess that’s not surprising.” John said in a murmur, shaking his blonde head. He was paler than usual, and a few wrinkles in his usually impeccable shirt denounced a bone-deep tiredness. “So far the forensic team couldn’t find any signs of forced entry. Again.”

Jamie nodded in agreement, their train of thought synchronized like a flock of birds during murmuration. “These women know the unsub. There’s no way around it, really. They willingly opened the door to let him in, probably entertained him for a while before things took a verra gruesome turn. They didn’t foresee any danger coming from that person.”

“But while they seem to know him, he doesn’t show any classical signs of regret or guilt, does he?” John pursed his lips in concentration. “The unsub didn’t cover her bodies or place them in any comfortable or nurturing position. Didn’t leave any tokens to show respect, as well.”

“Aye.” Jamie sighed and crouched down, his eyes slowly trailing down the cold body of the most recent victim, as if her skin could whisper the name of the perpetrator through its pores. “But this also isna sexual. He doesn’t engage in sexual intercourse with them perimortem, even if all of them were young and bonny. No evidence that he wanks in the scene or that he takes anything other than the forefinger to fantasize later.” His eyes searched for his companion’s. “This doesn’t seem like a true-born serial killer to me, to be honest. More like a hitman, eliminating specific targets for a very earthily reason.”

“I don’t know many hitmen that make such a spectacle of their killings, though.” They walked to the threshold of the room, watching as Denzel gave instructions to some uniformed officers to collect statements with the neighbours. “Usually a revolver or a good piece of sturdy nylon around the neck. This scene took time and intention.”

“Maybe all the production around the murder is the most important part of why he does it.” The redheaded profiler theorized. “It can all be about the ritual.”

“We’re still waiting on her ID.” John brushed his forehead. “But plenty of pictures around.” He pointed towards a large frame with his pen, where a photo of the victim surrounded by other women dwelled. She was abundantly black-haired, with a unique white streak in her bangs, and warm and sapient brown eyes. All the faces depicted were either smiling broadly or making funny faces, as they sat around a presumable beach bonfire.

“A mhic an diabhoil!” Jamie’s jaw dropped, as he slowly approached the image and almost touched one of the women’s faces. “I think that’s the woman I’ve just met at the teashop.”

[lullabieswrappedinlies]

An Easy Thing

Summary: A mutual attraction but never anything more -- until now.  Pairing: Jack Ryan x Reader Word Count: 1635 Warnings: Drinking, previous verbal abuse.  Request: Dialogue 11 from my prompt list requested by @booklover1814​. Dialogue bolded in the fic.  A/N: I’ve been writing a Jack Ryan series, but this is a little different from that, so be kind with your feedback, please! (Also, forgive me ... a little Jim Halpert may have snuck into my characterization. I’m working on it!) Tags: @professorkrasinski​ @booklover1814​ (Tag list is open!)

Wanna make a request? Send your own or check out my prompt list.  Masterlist of Fics

GIF found via Google Images Search. 

At the end of a long day in the office, you rubbed your hand over your face, careful not to smear whatever makeup was left after the hours you had spent at work. With a sigh, you shut down your computer, locked your file cabinet, and pulled the compact from your purse to check your appearance before leaving your cubicle. 

“You outta here, Y/L/N?”

The smile at Jack’s voice calling out to you simply couldn’t be helped. “Yeah, finally. It’s been a long day.”

“That it has.” He ran a hand through his thick, brown hair. You momentarily wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like to push your fingers through his hair. “I could use a drink. You game?”

Checking the time on your watch as a stall tactic while you decided if that was really the best idea or not, you finally shrugged. “Sure. A drink wouldn’t be so bad. What could it hurt?”

A lot, your brain told you as you waited for Jack to shut down his own cubicle. This wasn’t the first time you and Jack had gone for drinks after work. This wasn’t the first time he had looked at you with that smile, with that shine in his eye. The attraction was there, and it was mutual, but it didn’t matter. You would never let things get that far. 

At a pub within walking distance, the two of you found some stools next to each other at the counter. As it was a place you both frequented, the bartender placed a pint in front of you both without even asking your order. You drank down a good portion, anxious to drink away some of the tension of the trail you were following back at work. 

Jack worked on his pint, too. There was no conversation, but that wasn’t unusual. One of the things you appreciated most about Jack was that he could sit with you in the silence and let you speak when you were ready. At the bottom of your first pint, you were ready. 

“You ever get tired of this job?” you asked him. 

“There are days when I think of more exciting tasks I’ve completed and I get restless. But in general, no, I wouldn’t say I get tired of it.”

You sighed and delved into your second pint. “There’s just so much shit in the world, you know? People hurting other people, in the name of one god or another. Or worse, for no fucking reason at all. And it’s never gonna end.”

He nudged you with his elbow. “Something more going on that you want to talk about?”

You shook your head and heaved a deep sigh. “It’s personal and stupid. Something I shouldn’t let get to me so much. Another pint or two, I’ll sleep it off and be just fine tomorrow.”

But Jack wasn’t going to let it go. Everybody had their bad days, but you weren’t one to usually let it drag you down this far. 

“C’mon, Y/N. Tell me what’s going on.”

He only ever used your first name when the two of you were not in the office. It was always your undoing, always the thing that made you stop drinking so you could get home sooner rather than later. The tender way he said your name tonight almost broke you. Before you could tell him anything, you swallowed down the lump in throat. 

“My ex, he called last night. He was — such a cliche, dumb story. Things were great in the beginning. His family loved me, my family loved him. And I loved him. Too much. It was a weakness, and I think he saw that.” You took two large gulps of your beer, letting the amber liquid give you the courage to finish out your story. “After about a year, the negative comments started. It was more than usual bad moods from him. Then it was everyday. Nothing was good enough. I wasn’t good enough. I don’t even know what changed, or who changed. I don’t know if it was him or me —”

“Stop right there,” Jack admonished, “it wasn’t you. Maybe I didn’t know you then, maybe I don’t know him. But I know it wasn’t you.”

Your eyes glazed over, and you did your best not to blink so that the tears wouldn’t fall. Sniffling and shaking your head, you asked the bartender for a couple of shots. 

“Anyway, after that, after I got away from him, it was hard to have that confidence back in myself, you know? At work it’s easy, sure, but he was never in that environment. Outside of work … I don’t know. It was just easier to be alone. But, it was getting better. I thought it was getting better. After a year of being happy and a year of him tearing me down, then a year on my own, I thought I was doing better.” You cleared your throat. “I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered it. He must have been drunk or something, but apparently his life has been pretty shit since I left. It’s not my fault — I know it’s not my fault — but, somehow, he did a pretty damn good job at making me feel like it was my fault.”

When you had ordered the shots, you had intended one for you and one for Jack, but you threw them both back in quick succession and chased it with another swig of beer. Jack changed the subject; you couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t know what to say or because he was doing you a favor. Either way, you appreciated his effort.  

Two more shots and another pint later, without supper in her belly, Y/N was nearly falling asleep at the bar. Jack paid the tab and helped her out to the sidewalk. He hailed a cab and got her into the back, then scooted onto the seat, giving the driver her address. 

Her keys were easy to find in the outside pocket of her bag, so Jack let both of them in the small house. She stumbled through the door; Jack followed close behind, setting her bag on the couch, and taking a good look around. He had walked her to the door many nights, but had never been inside.

“Thank you for bringing me home,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “I’m just gonna take a shower and go to bed. Sorry for getting emotional at the bar.”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t even worry about it.”

Y/N gave him a lingering look, her mouth opened and poised as though she had something to say but couldn’t quite find the words. Instead, she shrugged and headed for the shower. 

Jack knew he should leave her alone. She had made it clear before that she wasn’t interested in a relationship, or anything close to it, but he hadn’t understood why until she had come clean about her ex. Maybe she hadn’t mentioned that man before because she didn’t want to appear weak, but in Jack’s eyes, fighting to stay alone only made her stronger. 

He shed his jacket, draping it over the arm of the couch. He toed his shoes off, then padded into the kitchen to make her a sandwich — she needed to get something into her stomach. He made one for himself, then waited. Once he heard the water shut off in the bathroom, he started the coffee. Another fifteen minutes passed before Y/N came into the kitchen in sweats and a hoodie, her wet haired secured in some kind of pile atop her head. Jack breathed deep the scent of shampoo and lotion that preceded her. She looked at the sandwiches on the table, the two mugs of coffee in his hands; a confused expression deepened her brow. 

“Why are you doing this? You didn’t have to. I mean — thank you. Seriously. But you didn’t have to.”

He had never seen her so unsure, had never seen her so on guard. That was the moment Jack realized how deeply her ex had wounded her. He wondered how far the abuse had truly gone, but now was not the time to ask questions. This woman was beautiful, smart, funny — nothing short of amazing. 

Jack set the coffee cups next to the sandwiches on the table, then took her hands in his. He pulled her arms around him, then cupped her face in his hands. 

“I’m sorry that someone made you think it’s hard to love you. I’ve done some pretty difficult things in my life, Y/N, but loving you has never been on that list.”

“Jack —” 

Whatever she meant to say following his name was lost in the tears that she could no longer hold back. She withdrew her arms from around him and hid her face with her hands. Jack pulled her hands from her face and wiped her tears with the pads of his thumbs. He sat in the nearby chair before pulling Y/N in his lap. 

“Look at me,” he instructed softly; it took a few seconds, but she did as he asked. “Don’t ever hide from me, okay? I’m not here to hurt, you. I’ll never hurt you.”

She nodded, then leaned in to hug him tight. Jack returned the strong embrace, leaning against her shoulder and breathing in deep the smell of her shampoo and lotion again. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and leaned back. 

“I really want you to kiss me, but I feel puffy and sniffly from crying,” she giggled. 

Jack wiped away the last of her tears stains and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, beautiful. There’ll be plenty of time for kisses later. I’m not going anywhere.”

[the-angriestpineapple]

caught // bakugou x male reader

18+, aged up, last semester at UA. Female Reader here.

Your last semester at UA was really really difficult, if you were being honest. It made sense for it to be, UA was one of the most prestigious schools. All the hero course students were basically studying together as one big clusterfuck – there were specific tables at the library that had all but been roped off for your classes whenever you needed it. Hero students would show up, sit at the tables and study with whomever was there. Usually you got a good mix of 1-A and 1-B students. Iida, Kendou, and Yaoyarozu were there a lot trying to help in any way they could. Kaminari, Tetsutetsu, and Sero were usually there trying to understand multiple subjects. When you got there that afternoon on a Sunday though, the tables were empty. That wasn’t the worst thing, you mostly understood the subject you came to study.

It was near silent for a good twenty minutes and you were so in the zone that a stack of books being dropped on the table next to you made you nearly fling yourself from your chair. You look up with irritation, ready to tear into whom you are assuming is one of your friends playing a prank, and are met with angry red eyes. Bakugou Katsuki.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The question is out of your mouth before you can really think about it, and he raises his eyebrow. Of all the people you thought you would see at the group study table, Bakugou was not one of them. He was so reclusive. “Promised Shitty Hair. Why, you got a problem with me or something, asshole?” He drops down into the table next to you and stares at you with those intimidating red eyes. You try to bristle, to not look like his intense glare is shaking you to your core. “No, you just aren’t one to help people study. Or at all.” It’s a low jab, saying that to a future pro Hero – and a damn good one, you’ll admit – but you can’t help it. His eyes narrow. “I help people plenty,” he growls. You just turn to look back at your notes. Prickly, douchebag attitude or not, you had the biggest crush on Bakugou Katsuki. He was so fucking beautiful to look at, even when scowling. His drive and ambition and domineering presence were all so attractive to you, and more than a few times you’d gotten off to fantasies of what he would be like in the bedroom. You’re not sure you’d exactly call yourself submissive, you certainly had a mouth and plenty of sass. However, the thought of Bakugou and his angry red eyes staring down at you as you take him into your mouth… But you can’t focus on that right now, you need to study. There’s a few moments of near silence, the only sound in the room being your pencil scratching at paper as you take notes, before you register Bakugou opening his book next to you. You wonder how long it’s gonna take Kirishima to get here. You aren’t super close with him, or any of 1-A really, but you know he’s really good at keeping Bakugou in check. And bantering with everyone around him. And being a distraction from the ridiculously chiseled body currently sprawled over the chair next to yours. You glance quickly at him out of the corner of your eye, focusing on his face. He’s staring down at his book, neutral faced while he reads. He’s even handsome when he has no expression, fuck. You don’t want to get caught looking at him so you look right back down at your notes. Yes, Calculus. That was definitely a thing you needed to know right now. You carefully write down the next problem without bothering to check the last one. “It’s wrong.” You pause, then turn to look to your left. Bakugou has one of his arms thrown over the back of his chair, legs spread, and he’s looking right at you. You are just staring at him, so he rolls his eyes and gestures to your notebook. “Your last problem. You did it wrong.” What? No you didn’t. You look down at the problem with a frown glancing over your work. “No, it’s right.” Bakugou gives another exasperated sigh and snatches your pencil from you. “Look, you idiot. It’d be right if you hadn’t copied the problem wrong in the first place.” He shoves his way into your spaces, your senses overcome by the subtle scent of caramel. He circles the figure you had incorrect, then jabs at it with your eraser in the book. “See? Maybe learn to fucking read.” He drops your pencil on your book. Your face flushes and you take the pencil back with slightly shaky hands. Fuck. It only takes a couple of seconds to know that you are going to need to excuse yourself. He was too close, too mean. You drop your pencil on the book again and abruptly rise, taking off for the bathrooms. You don’t see, but Bakugou frowns as he watches you go. Luckily the library is nearly empty so you don’t run into anyone on your way to the bathroom. You push into the men’s room and immediately beeline to the first stall, shoving your way into it and slamming the door behind you. Fuck. Him calling you an idiot and insulting your reading level shouldn’t be hot. That’s fucking ridiculous. But it didn’t change the fact that you were rock hard. You waste no time, not even bothering to take off your pants all the way as you perch on the edge of the toilet seat. You just push them to the side and start to stroke your shaft, whimpering at the contact. You were already so close, your whimpers getting a little higher as your hips start to rock… You gasp as your orgasm hits you, letting out a small moan that you’re hoping won’t attract any attention as your hand flies up to your head to catch your mess. Unable to help his name falling from your lips. Katsuki. Always Katsuki, never Bakugou. You take in a big gulp of air as you come down from your high, not wanting to get back up and go out there. But you have to, all of your stuff is out there. And you do still need to study. You clean yourself up and rise to head out to the sink, making sure you wash your hands thoroughly. You’re in a little better mood now, calmer. Sure you can handle whatever it is Bakugou is going to throw at you when you come back. You open the door and step out directly into a solid chest. You squeak in surprise and take a step back. Your eyes widen in horror. Standing there, fists clenched, was the man whose name you just cried out. “Bakugou, I-” “Don’t.” Shit. You want to fall through the floor. If you thought the expression on his face was intense before, it’s nothing compared to the look he’s giving you now. He brings his hand up and you half expect him to punch you, and honestly you probably deserve it, but instead he’s pushing you into the bathroom. Ah, doesn’t want people to see him beating you up, you guess. He shoves you into a wall, slamming his hands on either side of your head. He crowds in close and caramel fills your senses again. “Were you just fucking yourself?” You swallow as you look up at him, unable to answer. It’s pretty obvious that you were. His eyes narrow at the blush that fills your cheeks. “You get off on being talked to like that? I thought you were in here crying, I came to fucking say sorry, and here you are with your fingers wrapped around your cock and moaning my name like a goddamn slut.” He was coming to apologize? Kirishima must really be rubbing off on him. You still don’t know what to say to him though, and just drop your eyes. He just leans in closer. “Were you stuffing yourself too? Shoving fingers into your greedy fucking hole?” Oh shit. You weren’t this time, but you had before. The look in your eyes gives away everything and he shifts back a little. “Get on your knees.” You jerk your head back so fast you nearly slam it into the tile wall. “U-uh, excuse me?” you manage to stammer out. Did you hear him wrong? His scowl slowly turns into a smirk though, and your heart stops as he leans in again. “I said… get on your knees.” You swallow hard before sinking down. The way he has you pushed up against the wall makes you have to spread your knees apart to make room for his legs. Your eyes flick to the door. This is a public restroom, there’s no way to lock it from the inside. “Don’t look at the fucking door. Look at me.” Your eyes are drawn back up to look at Bakugou, and they widen as he reaches for the buckle of his belt. “Such a dirty bitch. You even had the audacity to call me by my given name.” The tone he’s using is sending a chill down your spine, biting your lip as he unbuttons his pants and reveals a pair of tight black boxer briefs. His pants are usually pretty baggy, but you can’t help but think how miraculous it is that they were able to hide the solid length you’re faced with now. He chuckles and wraps his hand around his hard cock. “I bet this’ll feel so much better than your fingers.” Fuck. It will, you know it will. And you want it so badly.

“Open your mouth, angel.” You do, eagerly sticking out your tongue. You’re dying to know what he tastes like. You don’t even notice the nickname change. He smirks at your enthusiasm and pulls at his boxer briefs until they are low enough to bare his cock to your face. It’s bigger than average, bigger than you are, a fact that you just know Bakugou is proud of. He grabs his dick by the base and levels the head with your open mouth, rubbing it on your tongue. He tastes salty, only the tiniest hint of sweet, but that might be because his hands are so close to your face. “I’m assuming you want me to be rough with you,” he says lowly. You nod as best as you can with an open mouth and a cock on your tongue. He grunts, starting to rock his hips gently and letting the head of his dick drag along your tongue. “Good. We use a color system. Green is good, yellow is slow down, red is stop. If you can’t talk, pinch me twice. If you call red or pinch me, we stop. No questions asked. Got it?” You’re a little surprised, but you nod again. Bakugou drops his free hand to your head, and your eyes flutter closed as his calloused hand strokes through your hair. Fingers tangling into the strands. “Close your mouth.” You look up at him, finally getting your wish of seeing how his face darkens when you wrap your lips around his hard cock. Then his fist tightens in your hair and his hips jerk forward. He starts a hard pace, the plush head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. He grunts as he fucks into your mouth, head rolling back for a second. You’re pleased to know that he finds your mouth to be that good. When he rolls his head back forward to look at you his eyes are somehow even darker. “Yeah, fuck, you take that cock so well. Look at you. You’re so fucking turned on by this. I bet you’re dying to touch yourself again, to get off while you’re choking on my cock.” Your eyes flutter and you moan around his length, which only causes him to pick up the pace. He’s right of course. Despite just orgasming you’re rock hard again. After a few thrusts he pulls out of your mouth, your eyes shifting to look at his face in confusion. He leans forward and spits directly into your open mouth, then straightens and rams his cock back in. You moan at the treatment, willing your throat to relax so that his next thrust slips into it. He growls out, yanking harder onto your hair before pulling out again. He uses your hair as leverage to pull you to your feet, then yanks you by the arm over to the sink before bending you over the counter. One of his hands presses hard into the middle of your back to keep you bent over. The other quickly undoes your uniform pants and yanks them down along with your underwear. He kicks your feet wide apart, giving himself access to you. The free hand wastes no time and comes in to rub at your entrance. The sudden contact makes you let out a mewl and arch your back, desperate for more. “Needy slut,” he mutters, spitting on your hole and using it as lubrication to start rubbing again. You cry out and immediately push your hips back into his hand. He curses and crouches down to tongue at your opening, getting you nice and wet for him. He’s doing this to prepare to take him, and you know it. It doesn’t matter that it feels amazing to you, he has a goal in mind. He works you open with a single minded ferocity, using tongue and slowly adding fingers. Stretching your walls until he’s sure you can take him. From this vantage point if you look up, you can see the reflection of Bakugou’s hair as he ravages you with his mouth. Your already completely fucked-out face, and he hasn’t even  gotten to the main event yet. You whimper as he pulls his fingers from your aching hole, but your eyes widen when he lewdly licks them. “Goddamn delicious,” he rumbles, meeting your eyes in the mirror. He wraps his hand around his cock again and spits on it, rubbing his tip against your entrance. You make a high pitched noise in your throat and try to push back, but his hand keeps you where you are. “Color, angel.” You look at him through the mirror, confused for a moment until you foggily recall his speech. “G-green,” you gasp out, speaking for the first time since you started. “Fuck, Katsuki, green, please, please just fuck me.” You cry out as a sharp slap blooms pain across your ass accompanied by the familiar crackle of Bakugou’s quirk. “I didn’t say you could call me that,” he snarls out. “I’m sorry Sir,” you say timidly. You don’t miss the way his pupils dilate. Perfect, exactly what you hoped would happen. He eases into you, making sure he doesn’t hurt you while you adjust to his size. Spitting on his shaft when he feels like he needs more slick. You have this sudden overwhelming urge to just start carrying lube around, just in case. When he feels you’re adjusted he pulls his hips back slowly and slams into you with one hard thrust, pushing your hips into the counter top edge. You cry out loudly, sure by this point that if anyone was anywhere near the bathrooms they would hear you. You weren’t being anywhere near quiet, and Bakugou’s delicious mix of growls, grunts, and moans were not entirely quiet either. His hands roughly grab your hips and he pulls you back into him. He thrusts his hips forward and pulls you back with each thrust, fucking into you as hard as you hoped he would. Bakugou Katsuki never did anything half-assed. “Fuck, you take me so well. Look at you, you’re a fuckin’ mess. You love this.” One of his hands releases your hip and he slaps it across your ass once more. This time no quirk, which was disappointing, but he was otherwise occupied. You moan at his words. Yes, you want to be good. You want him to want to do this again. The coil of heat is winding tighter in your belly with every thrust, and Bakugou can tell. He can feel your walls tightening around his length. He leans forward, as close as he can to your ear without losing his momentum. “That’s it angel, cum on my cock.” The words do you in and a hand flies to wrap around your own cock. Three strokes and you cry out as the coil snaps, your walls clamping down on him. He slams into you one more time and releases as well, moaning as his head rolls back. He stays there for a few moments, pulsating as your walls flutter around him. “Fuck.” He sighs as he pulls out of you, leaving you bent over the counter. He shifts to the sink and cleans himself up quickly with some damp paper towels. You aren’t sure that you can move yet, your legs too shaky. He grabs more paper towels and dampening them, then walks back to you and starts to clean you up. “W-what-” “I’m not that big an asshole.” He sounds slightly annoyed, and your face flushes. Well how were you supposed to know that he’d be so tender after he just fucked the soul out of you? He carefully pulls your clothes back into place. “I’ll head back to the table first. You come after.” That made sense. You straighten up, still a little wobbly, and look at him. You nod your agreement. He stares at you for a few beats, then steps forward and gently takes your chin in his fingers. He brushes a soft kiss to your mouth, a surprised noise coming from your throat. He gives you a smug grin, then slips to the door. You lean against the counter, your fingertips brushing your lips. How… how had he just flipped your world upside down so easily? You take a few moments to compose yourself, straightening your uniform and fixing your hair, before you step back out in the library. “Hey, Y/N!” You blink at the sunshine smile of Kirishima Eijirou. “I thought these were your notes! You gonna study with us? Bakubro is great at Calculus!” Your eyes flick to the blonde, who is almost giving you a smile. “I’m great at a lot of things.” You have to say that you agree.

[crutchie-with-a-y]

Good Day

(Warning: Drinking, Drunkedness) 

“Oh, good mooooooooorning ugly!” Race pulled open his dark red curtains and looked out over the rainy Manhattan streets. He didn’t necessarily dislike ugly weather, he was just telling it like it was. The clouds were a smudged pencil gray and had opened up on the pedestrians scurrying to their office or subway station to start the week. Race decided he wasn’t dreading this morning, at least, not as much as everyone else. Even though the Monday after a long holiday weekend always seemed to be particularly grueling, Race wasn’t having it. He pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up, looking in the mirror as he fixed his collar. A good day, that’s what this was. He rolled his wrists around in his crisp cuffs as he shook out his golden curls. Medda from human resources had once told him that every day was a good day if you just decided it was. He cracked his neck and slid his hands into the deep pockets of his dark dress pants, and, deciding he looked respectable enough, slid across the floor in his black dress socks, skidding through the doorway of his bedroom as he grabbed his shoes off the ground. 

A good day, he repeated to himself as he hopped into his kitchen, popping the shoe on one foot and then the other as he leaned against the counter. Let’s think about it, he thought, opening a cabinet to grab a tumbler for his coffee, a great job, great friends, the holidays just around the corner, and he had just gotten HBO go, and what a great investment that was proving to be. He popped the lid off the tumbler and walked over to the coffee machine. Now, some may call him old fashioned, but Keurigs were wasteful, and it was just a lot easier to make one pot of coffee and just always have it there, in case he needed a pick-me-up when he got home. The first thing he did in the morning was to hop out of bed and start the coffee, then shower and get dressed. Another thing to be grateful for, Rave thought as he poured, routine. A healthy one at that. How many people could say they had that, he asked himself, opening his fridge and grabbing his hazelnut creamer. Not a lot of people. He flipped off the lid and was disappointed by the few dribbles of white that splashed into his coffee. 

“Grrrrr,” Race growled to himself, tossing the empty bottle in the sink. “Hey Ale-no, excuse me, HEY GOOGLE,” He corrected himself as he dumped an unidentified but still horrifying amount of sugar into his coffee. He’d recently parted ways with his Alexa, and since Jeff Bezos was as an asshole, he’d decided not to get a new one. 

“How may I help you, Ra-aCecRACK?” The automated voice responded, causing Race to bend over in silent laughter. He’d somehow gave the machine his name wrong, but it was just soooooooo fucking funny to hear that clunky robot voice say Racecrack that he’d just left it that way. 

“Yeah, oh my god, uh, please add creamer to my list, and uhhh,” He opened the freezer and frowned, “ ice cream, breakfast sandwiches and grapes I guess, to balance it all out.” 

“Creamer, ice cream, breakfast sandwiches, and grapes have all been added to your list.” We're rollin', Race thought as he grabbed his coffee and snatched up his keys, wallet, and Juul from a clay olive dish on the counter that he’d gotten in the office white elephant last year. 

“Thank you so very much, Google, I will order you around more when I get home, servant speaker” He opened his apartment door, patting his left pocket to make sure his phone was there. 

“You are very welcome. Have a good day!” The voice called as he opened the door. 

“Already decided I would, Bitch,” 

“...okay then, Ra-aCecRACK.” 

Race clambered up the steps of the subway station, glancing down at his phone as he did. 8:34. Perfect, he thought, dashing across the crosswalk as the orange hand began to flash. He speed-walked down the sidewalk and up to a Jack in the Box. Plenty of time, plenty of ti-

Race’s thoughts on timing were immediately cut short when a man walked past him through the door of the fast-food place. His breath hitched. He blinked and walked into the building, taking a sharp right to the restrooms and ripping open the door to the single-stall, locking it behind him. He slammed his back against the door and slid down it to the floor, his hands attempting to rub the small tears back into his eyes. 

The man he’d walked past hadn’t done anything wrong, Race didn’t even know him. The only offense this man had committed was wearing the same cologne as a certain man named Austin. 

Who just happened to be Race’s ex. As of quite recently. 

The two-year relationship had ended with lots of fights and lies, and then finally an evening where Race had come home to a practically empty apartment. 

“God, Race you’re so so so so so stupid.” Race said to himself, smashing his eyes into his fists. He sat there for a moment, eventually giving up and letting the angry, heartbroken tears come. This was why he had to remind himself to have a good day. This is why he had gotten that stupid Google Home to replace the Alexa that had been taken. Because he couldn’t stand a lonely, empty apartment, where it was always silent, a constant reminder he was alone. The only were sounds were the ones he made, him going to the fridge for a beer, him sobbing into a pillow, his sarcastic commentary to no one but the walls. This is why he’d gotten that stupid thing, to just make it seem like he wasn’t entirely alone, give the illusion that there was someone to talk to, even if it was just to tell them to turn on music or to remind him to buy something. And this is what led to him laughing alone, at 7 am, in a kitchen with only a microwave and the fridge that came with the apartment and some plastic silverware because he wasn’t ready to face the fact he needed to go furniture and appliance shopping by himself, to his fake robot roommate calling him Racecrack. 

“Racecrack.” Race whispered. He giggled sadly. “RaaACEcraCk.” He let his hands drop to his side and he sigh-laughed, his shoulders slumping with emotional exhaustion as the misspoken name echoed against the tiles of the bathroom. 

“rAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaacccccccceeccccRrRrRaccccccck.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. He pulled himself up with the corner of the sink and looked at his red eyes in the mirror. “Ew.” He splashed water on his face, figuring that if it worked in the movies he might as well try it. He dried his face and rolled his shoulders back, looking himself in the eye one last time before leaving the bathroom to go and order. 

“Good Day.” 

“Morning, Race!” Hannah looked up from her receptionist’s desk as Race walked in. “What kept ya so long?” 

“There was a line for breakfast.” He leaned against her desk, waving his breakfast sandwich around before taking a huge bite of the greasy sausage and cheese mess which he held together between two paper napkins. Hannah chuckled. 

“Don’t worry I covered for you.” She reassured him, and then, before he could react, leaned forward and snatched a chunk of his breakfast. Race’s jaw dropped dramatically. “Lying-for-you-tax,” Hannah said, covering her full mouth as she talked. 

“RACE!! Race, have you filed your report yet, dumbass?” Jack’s head suddenly poked up out of one of the many cubicles in the office. Davey’s head popped up next to his, his hair a little rumpled, causing both Hannah and Race to look at each other. 

“Yeah, because all of that hard work you’re doing with Davey in there?” Race raised an eyebrow at them.

“Oh it’s hard alright,” Hannah added, followed by many OOOOOOOOOOOHs erupting from the cubicles of people who were eavesdropping. Race high-fived Hannah as Jack elbowed Davey out of his cubicle. The chuckles died down while Jack hopped up on top of his desk so he could stare down at everyone in their cubicle like he usually did when he needed to tell everyone something important, or at least something he thought was important. People leaned back in their chairs or stood up and leaned their arms over the tops of their cubicles, chewing on pens or making stupid faces at one of their coworkers while their boss talked. 

“Oh yeah, haha, very funny everyone. But seriously though, we need need to actually get some work done today-”

“But that’s not my job!” Henry shouted over the complaining noises that followed. Jack looked at him like he was a spot of mold on a brand new loaf of bread. 

“Yes actually, it is.” Crutchie reminded him, rolling his eyes. 

“DAMN IT.” Henry slammed his hand on his desk. 

“Aright, seriously though,” Jack said as chuckles shook the cubicle walls. “The new Company Event Planner’s first day is today, and they’re gonna be working in our space so Joe will be bringing them down.” 

“What’s their name, Jack?” Mike called, tapping his cheek with a pen. Jack rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I don’t know..I didn’t actually open the email so,” The office sigh-laughed collectively at their always-behind boss. “BUT Joe will be in here, so we do have to have something to show for our day.” A collective groan washed over the office. 

“Also,” Medda snapped for everyone’s attention from her corner of the room. “We’re having a welcome party for them at 3:30, so if you didn’t remember to bring a dish to share I suggest running to Trader Joe’s on your lunch break.” 

“And I already brought chips and salsa so you will have to be creative,” Finch added. 

“You going to visit the Trader, Race?” Buttons poked his head in Race’s cubicle while a large group of their coworkers gathered by the door. Race looked up from his computer and then to the form he was filling out. 

“Uhhh, I’ll catch up with you guys, I want to finish this before lunch.” 

“Okay, see ya!” Buttons darted off to crowd into the elevator with everyone else. Race sighed. He had a lot of work he needed to get done. With a new event planner, his job would technically be easier, but would also require a lot of teamwork between the two of them. Race’s official title was “Community Outreach Supervisor” and, like everyone else in the office, his job was actually meant for like five. I don’t mind though, he thought to himself, and he didn’t. He liked getting to work with prominent community members, he’d met some incredible people since he’d gotten this job, and he liked being busy, it kept his mind off other things he’d rather not think about. And lately, that was a lot of things. 

Currently, Race was working on organizing job shadowing and internships by local high school students. He’d been emailing back and forth with a counselor who was plenty nice, but kinda sucked at providing him with all the information he needed. He hoped it would work out though. After going to several job fairs in gymnasiums crowded with confused students, he realized how important it was. The kids he met with were wonderful, they were polite and eager to learn, and he wanted to make sure they all got jobs they liked, were good at, and could make a living doing. This goddamn counselor, however, was not exactly putting a lot of effort into helping him do that. 

“Whatever.” Race closed a few tabs and put his computer to sleep as he stood up and slid his jacket off the back of his chair. He walked out of the office and down the hallway, jogged down a few flights of stairs, and took a deep breath of city air. Before he could exhale, however, an aggressive rain whipped across his face. 

“For fuck's sake.” Race flipped up his hood and rammed his hands into his pocket, as he ran as fast as he dared down the block with his head down. He dashed across the Trader Joe’s parking lot and headed toward the sliding doors, unsuccessfully trying to dodge the several shoppers who were losing control of their carts on the wet concrete. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” A voice said half-heartedly as the sharp metal corner of a shopping cart jammed itself into Race’s ribs, temporarily knocking the breath out of him. 

“Good...day,” Race wheezed as he dragged himself into the store, clutching his side. He staggered through the isles, trying to think of something nobody else would have thought to grab, which did not exist. He looked longingly at the shelves lined with liquor but knew that today was not the day to break office policy. Wondering if there was some sort of pizza bagel-esc thing he could grab, Race turned abruptly into a freezer aisle. Only to be hit in the face with the edge of a freezer door. 

“Oh. my god.” His hand slammed over his right eye and he steadied himself against a closed door, one arm still wrapped around his torso. A young woman holding a pint of ice cream gasped and rushed over to him. 

“I’m s-s-o sorry, sir!” she stuttered, unsure of what to do. “Are you alright?” Nope, Race thought, feeling a bruise forming, but a glance at his watch changed his answer. 

“Yep, no worries!” He straightened up immediately and darted down the aisle, ignoring the water that flooded his eye when he looked into the light. Joe was set to bring in the new event planner in ten minutes, and Joseph Pulitzer was always right on time. He squinted across the entire store, finally giving up and returning to the freezer section and grabbing the first thing his eyes landed on. 

“Gluten-free cheesy quinoa bites. Perfect.” Race declared aloud, stacking his arms withs several boxes, and then heading toward the express lane. 

“RACE FINALLY!!!” Jack threw his arms out toward the wet-haired blonde that stepped through the office doors holding a ripped paper bag. 

“Calm the hell down, Jack.” Race snapped, carrying his bag into the kitchen where the table was piled high with jugs of apple cider, plates of cookies, and vegetable platters. He chucked the hipster cheddar snacks or whatever the fuck they were on into the freezer and jammed the bag into the recycling. He stomped back to his cubicle and shrugged his coat off as he plopped into his chair. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. 

“Hey, Race! Want some more coffee?” Davey stepped up to his desk and shook the coffee pot he held in one hand and winced when he splashed some on his hand. 

“Yes, God Please.” Race grabbed his mug that had been sitting on his desk for who knows how long and held it up to be filled. 

“Joe’s gonna be down in a few minutes so make sure you look like you’re working,” Davey advised as he poured. He looked at Race’s face for the first time and gasped. “What happened to your face!” 

“What?”

“Oh, I mean not like, it’s just....your eye.” Davey sputtered. Race whipped around to look at himself in his computer monitor. 

“What’re you talking ab-oh, my god.” A black eye had formed where Race had been hit in the face had Trader Joe’s. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“Davey, you are a terrible liar.” Race snapped, opening a desk drawer and shoving boxes and papers aside. 

“Can someone get Race some ice?” Davey yelled towards the kitchen. 

“On it.” Someone yelled back. Davey looked back down to see Race unscrewing the cap of a flask and pouring its contents into his coffee. 

“What is that!?” Davey pointed with a dropped jaw. 

“Creamer.” Race said knocking the contents of his mug back and then slamming it onto his desk. 

“Race! You can’t be tipsy during Joe’s visit!” Davey whisper shouted as Finch spun into the cubicle with an ice pack wrapped in paper towels.

“Oooh, Race is tipsy?” Finch grinned mischievously. 

“I won’t be able to survive Joe’s visit if I’m not tipsy.” Race retorted, taking the ice pack from Finch and pressing it against his eye. Finch chuckled and leaned against the empty desk on the other side of the cubicle from Race’s, crossing his arms.

“So you get in a fight or-” 

“wHYYYYY HELLLOOOOOOO THERE! IF IT ISN’T JOSEPH PULITZER HIMSELF!” Jack shouted his greeting to alert the rest of the office of their boss’s presence. 

“Ah, shit.” Finch leaped up onto the empty desk and hurled himself over the wall into his cubicle. Davey shot out of Race’s space and dashed across the office, the entire office hearing him jump into his chair and then spin into his desk with a thud. A sweaty Jack escorted his boss and a new hire into an office full of stifled laughter. Joseph Pulitzer raised a critical eyebrow but decided to let it slide, and walked up to the front of the office so that he could introduce his newest employee. 

“Hello, everyone. As I’m sure you all know, I’m here to introduce our new event planner. Our company has long been on the search for a...” Race paid absolutely zero attention. As Joe droned on, he attempted to balance a pencil on the tip of his nose, wobbling it back and forth until Sniper reached over the wall and snapped it off his face. 

“You bitch!” Race’s exclamation was met with a round of disapproving hushes. He just scoffed and pulled out another pencil continuing to wobble, his chair creaking underneath him. When that pencil fell, he looked at it on the ground, decided it was too much work to reach down and pick it up, and grabbed another one from the broken mug by his keyboard filled with pens with mismatched caps, bent paperclips, and an assortment of chewed pencils. As he tilted his head up to place the pencil on his nose, he noticed the middle-aged man still talking at the front of the room. God, he’s still here? Race thought. He shook his head lightly and gently pressed the eraser against his nose. 

“So please join me in welcoming Spot Conlon!” A round of applause shook the office, knocking the pencil off Race’s nose. 

“Oh, we’re clapping.” Race banged his palms together obnoxiously before realizing there was an unopened email from the school counselor he’d been working with sitting in his inbox. He clicked on it and read it speedily, his eyes scanning for any ounce of the information he’d actually asked for. 

“Now, I’ll show you to your desk,” Pulitzer said, Race barely noticing as he scrolled through the counselor's useless paragraphs. “Good afternoon, Mr. Higgins.” 

“Look, lady, I don’t care about how many years you’ve been doing this, I just need to know how many kids are applying!” Race yelled at his monitor, completely oblivious to the two men standing behind him. A snort that Race didn’t recognize caused him to look up, and he met eyes with his annoyed boss. 

“Wha-Oh, hello, Joseph.” Race grinned widely. “How are you doing on this lovely winter day?” 

“Mr. Higgins, I’d like you to meet our, new event planner, Spot Conlon.” Pulitzer gestured to the short but broad man standing next to him with an amused look on his face, the same one who’d snorted at Race’s email rage. Race turned in his chair. 

And looked into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. 

They were dark brown and deep, eyes that had seen everything, smart eyes. Eyes that told a story. Eyes that looked at something and figured it out. Eyes that saw people for what they were. Eyes that were smart and hardworking. Eyes that lit up when the rest of the face barely moved. Eyes that Race could get lost in forever. 

Eyes that were looking down at him with a confused look. 

“Oh my GOD, I’m an idiot, as you’ve probably already guessed.” Race lept up and over-enthusiastically shook the hand that had been outstretched for way too long without meeting a second one.

“No shit,” Spot said with a smirk. Race wanted to crawl into his desk. 

“Ah yes, well. I’m sure you will enjoy working here with Mr. Higgins. I will have IT bring up your computer.”

“Sounds good,” Spot nodded. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Pulitzer stretched a hand out to shake, but Spot had already turned around and flopped into his chair. He, unsuccessfully, tried to turn it into a wave and then turned around to leave, Jack jogging up to him to walk him out. 

“So tell me,” Spot said, spinning around in his chair to look at Race. “Is he always such a pompous asshole?” Race laughed nervously, still having trouble looking him in the eyes. 

“He can be a bit much.” Spot snorted.

“Don’t sugar coat it. I came in a bit late because my bus got in an accident, and he goes ‘oh so you don’t have a car.’ This is New York. Who the fuck has a car?” Race laughed and shook his head. I love this guy, he thought. It’s been five minutes and he’s already my favorite person on earth. 

“Alright, fine. He is such a goddamn snob that he puts a minimum price for how much out outfits for the yearly gala cost, and,” Spot banged his hand on his desk in laughter, the sound of his chuckles and the smile on his face making Race’s heart flutter. “and we can’t wear the same thing as we did the year before.” 

“Oh god. I wear the same thing every day, he’s sure in for a shock.” Spot looked at the ceiling, right as their coworkers came up to their cubicle, some of them launching themselves over the walls and landing next to them. Spot’s eyes widened. “Is....is this normal for you all to come at each other like the stampede that killed Mufasa?” He leaned toward Race as he said this, and Race felt like his face was on fire as the rest of the office laughed. 

“Only when old Scar comes sauntering in and throws someone new into our gorge.” Specs responded, jabbing a thumb towards the door their boss just went through. Everyone laughed, and Race couldn’t help but stare at Spot as he rubbed his chin as he chuckled. You could cut ice with that jawline, he thought. 

“Yeah...Alright, so I’m the head of this floor, Jack,” Jack stepped forward and motioned for the others to follow. “This is Hannah, she does most of the talking with prospective new clients, and she will greet you by the door every morning-”

“I’m not like a talking welcome mat or anything, that’s just where my desk is.” Hannah butted in, her comment greeted by a smirk from the coworkers. 

“Right, and this is Davey, he does budgeting and money stuff, and this is Albert, head of marketing....” Jack continued to introduce everyone, each person stepping forward as he said their name. “And, saving the best for last, this is the lovely Ms. Medda, head of HR.” 

“Alright.” Spot nodded with a pleasant look on his face. “I’ve already forgotten everything you just said, but I’m sure by Christmas I will have stopped calling you the names you’ve all been assigned in my head.” 

“No worries,” Medda smiled as everyone chuckled. “We are having a little welcome party for you, so if you wanna follow us to the break room.” Everyone turned out of the cubicle and headed towards the break room, but Spot waited until Race had stood up to start moving. 

“Lead the way,” he said, making Race’s ears turn bright red. Once they got there, people were pouring drinks and stacking paper plates high with cookies and tortilla chips and chatting about the events of the day. Medda waved Race and Spot towards the table.

“Help yourself! It’s your party.” She smiled and gestured to the array of food in front of them. Spot bit his lip and inhaled loudly, causing Medda’s face to drop. “What is it?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Spot shook his head, “It’s just that....I’m gluten-free.” Race looked up quickly.

“Oh, dear. Well...I’m sorry about that, we’ll have to keep that in mind next time.” Medda shook her head. 

“No, no wait!” Race ran over to the freezer and held up his Trader Joe’s purchase. “I got this gluten-free ch-” 

“CHEESY QUINOA BITES!” Spot interrupted and grabbed the box out of Race’s hand giddily. Race chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah...”

“I’m sorry, I LOVE these things, bro,” Spot apologized as he opened the box. 

“Wait, really?” Race’s heart leaped. 

“Yeah,” Spot looked up at the microwave and squinted at the buttons. “How do you work this thing?” Race laughed at walked over to help him, his smile practically busting his face with the joy that his desperate purchase and been a good one. 

An hour or so later, the cheesy bites were gobbled down and everyone was seated at the table, telling Spot office stories and asking him questions. Race sat on his left, sipping root beer and watching closely. Spot was absolutely fascinating. Race just couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. The way his chocolate brown eyes dance when he talked, how he leaned forward on one elbow when he told a story. And his stories! They were incredible! He told stories of growing up in Brooklyn, which was mere miles away, that kept everyone on the edges of their seats and made the walls shake with laughter. 

“Speaking of drunks, I’m new to this area, any bars you all would recommend?” Spot asked the group, pulling Race out of his daze. 

“Oh well, THAT, my friend is a question for no other than Racetrack Higgins.” Finch walked around the table and gripped Race’s shoulder. “He holds the shot record of the office, and has the best drunk stories this side of the Hudson.” Race felt his ears go red. What a great way to start things off with the cute new guy, he thought, ‘Hello, I’m the office drunk!’ He wanted to just laugh it off, but then he looked up at Spot. 

“Is that so?” Spot turned to face Race and placed his elbows on the table, leaning forward, challenging him with his eyes. “Then, please, Enlighten me.” Race looked directly into those eyes and rose to the challenge, straightening up to meet his gaze because he knew, no matter how attractive Spot was, nobody told a story like Racetrack Higgins. 

“I’d love to,” Race responded confidently, recognizing his comfort zone. “But I think some tequila would make it a little better.” He looked up at the clock as the group snickered, and back at Spot who wore a smirk that recognized exactly what Race was doing. “It’s about five, what say we all pack up and go down to Maria’s for some shots and tacos?” 

“But, Race...it’s Monday,” Crutchie said, looking around for someone else to agree with him.

“Yes, and if I remember correctly happy hour at Maria’s starts an hour earlier on Mondays, so let’s get going.” Race slapped the table and stood up, heading out of the room and all but declaring that they were going. Spot was close behind him and the others shrugged and followed suit as Crutchie silently shook his head. 

“So how’s the bartender at Maria’s?” Spot asked Race as he walked into their cubicle, pulling his laptop back off the floor and setting it on his desk. 

“Oh, Aaron? Fantastic, heavy pour and great mustache.” Race responded as he slid his jacket over his shoulders. 

“Ah, I see you know him quite well.” A look of...something flashed in Spot’s eyes. Was it...jealousy? He wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, Race grabbed hold of it and dragged it back. 

“Oh yeah, we go way back.” He said, chuckling as if remembering an embarrassing story. “I’ve spent many a bad breakup with his shaker and that mustache giving me advice.” The same look stayed in Spot’s eyes, but he laughed as they headed out of the office and into the elevator. 

“TINA!” Race shouted as he walked through the doors of Maria’s Mexican Bar and Grill, throwing his arms toward the hostess leaning on her elbow at the front desk while his coworkers piled in behind him, shaking off droplets of rain and stomping their feet on the mat in the doorway. She looked up at the group, her long dreadlocks framing her well-highlighted cheekbones and jawline that she drummed against with her long, glittery maroon nails. 

“Oh well if it isn’t Shitface Race!” Tina grinned mischievously, gathering a stack of menus in her arms for what was going to be a large table. The group laughed and Spot looked at Race with a dramatic jaw drop. 

“Ah, Tina.” Race ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and leaned over the desk on one elbow. “Try not to expose me to much in front of my guests.” 

“Oh I won’t,” She assured him, throwing her dreads over her shoulder and beckoned for the group to follow her through the crowded restaurant to the largest booth. “Now will you be requiring any tissues on this visit and will you be ordering your usual three margaritas?” She joked as she winked at Race and gestured for the coworkers to sit. 

“Actually, my dear,” Race clarified over the chuckles, folding his hands on the table and swallowing hard when he noticed Spot sliding into the booth next to him. “We are here for shots!” 

“And food!” Elmer added, greedily opening the menu and licking his lips. 

“Then I’ll start y’all with some chips and salsa?” Tina clasped her hands together in front of her. 

“And guac!” Race hit Tina with finger guns and dancing eyebrows.

“It’s extra!” She shot right back at him with her manicured nails. 

“We can stretch it,” Jack said and slung his arm over Spot’s shoulders. “This is a cause for celebration, after all, Spot here is new.” Spot waved awkwardly at Tina and leaned away from Jack, causing Race to inhale sharply when he felt his shoulder brush against him. 

“That’s code for ‘Jacks buying.’“ He said, jutting a thumb towards his manager. 

“Good to know I won’t have to split the bill!” Tina smiled, and spun on her heel and walked towards the kitchen, ignoring Jack's protests and the group's laughter. 

“Hey!” The group looked up to see two women holding hands, one redheaded and one dirty blonde, waving at them as they weaved in between tables to get to their booth. 

“Oh my god, Kath and Sarah!” Henry waved back and scooted as far in as he could, attempting to make room for the couple. 

“What are y’all doing here?” Sarah asked as Katherine squished up against Henry and pulled her down to sit on her lap. 

“We’re celebrating a new member of our team on floor six,” Mush gestured towards Spot. 

“With shots!” Race said gleefully. Spot leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. He was barely able to hear what he said over the pounding of his heart. 

“Who are they?” Race opened his mouth but was unable to form words, wishing he had asked Tina to break a round of waters. He swallowed and looked straight ahead at the women, knowing that if he looked Spot in the eyes this close he would explode. 

“The lively ginger is the one and only Katherine Pulitizer, yes, the daughter of our boss. Interestingly enough, she works for our biggest competitor.” Race explained, stretching his hand toward his superior’s offspring.

“A fact that he does not know and shall never know,” Katherine added, her eyes wide. Race could see Spot’s smirk out of the corner of his eye and he melted a little bit just at the sight of it. 

“And that lovely gal on her lap is Sarah Jacobs, she works upstairs in design and is Davey and Les’s sister.” Medda continued the introduction. Sarah grinned, fanning her dimples with awkward jazz hands.

 “And this, ladies, is Spot, our new event planner.” Race looked back at Spot and caught his eye, and immediately whipped back around when he felt his face on fire. Katherine noticed and waggled her eyebrows at him before cupping her hands over her mouth to whisper into her girlfriend’s ear, whatever she said resulting in Sarah dramatically dropping her jaw at him. Thankfully, before either of them could say anything, Tina came up to the table, her arms lined with baskets of chips and ramequins of salsa and guacamole. Followed close behind her, to Race’s excitement, was another waiter, holding a tray of shots. 

“Holy shit,” Romeo laughed as the group clapped and whistled, excitedly rubbing their hands together for the next events of the night. As Tina took down orders, Race tried to get someone’s attention to slide the shots his way. Eventually, Spot noticed and he smiled, making Race want the liquor even more so it could calm the butterflies in his stomach. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Spot grabbed his napkin and slid the fork out of it and, reaching across the table, dragged the tray towards them. Race quickly followed suit, sliding the salt shaker with them as they pulled it across the table.  

“Good thinking,” He winked at him, and Race immediately reached for a shot while Spot licked the back of his hand and poured salt on to the moistened area. By now, Tina had taken everyone’s order and the group was munching on chips and watching the pair like popcorn and a movie. “Now, if you please, Race, entertain me with some of your infamous drunkard’s tales.” Their friends banged on the table in excitement, egging Race on. 

“Once,” Race quickly dabbed on and licked off his salt and then downed a shot, slamming the glass back onto the table when it was empty, “upon a hangover....” Spot’s eyes caught his, the way they dance intensifying the warm fuzzy feeling the tequila had gifted Race as their group erupted into wall-shaking laughter, carefree and ready to get plastered. 

“Are you FUCKING serious!?” Spot jokingly shoved Race as they exited the bar for the night, a little harder than he probably meant to as the liquor coursing through him had lessened his awareness of his strength. “Rhiana was really there?” Race’s heart still jumped at his touch, but it was less overwhelming with the buzzing of his head. 

“Yes, and let me tell you, Rhi-Rhi loves her RUM RUM RUM RUM RUM,” Race stumbled into cool Manhattan air, imitating the hip-hop star. 

“That’s amAZING!” Spot’s eyes went wide at him as their drunk friends staggered out behind them, each laughing harder than the next. 

“HOLY! FUCK!” Sarah shouted as she stomped onto the icy cement. “IT IS! COLD! AS FUCK!” 

“YES! We should build a lil’ fire.” Davey squatted down to warm his hands on an imaginary bonfire, tripping, and landing on his ass in a puddle of giggles. 

“We cannot do that, SILLY.” Jack bent over to help him up, almost falling himself. “There is no wood!” He waved around at the absence of trees as his friends nodded in agreement. 

“Well, then maybe we can heat things up ourselves,” Davey retorted, slamming his lips on Jack’s and aggressively pushing his fingers through his hair. The friends gasped and whooped at them, until Jack pulled away, scratching the back of his head with rosy cheeks. 

“Ah, AHEM, there’s our Uber!” He pointed, grabbing Davey’s hand and dragging him towards the black sedan that had just pulled up in front of the group. Jack waved goodbye as he opened the door until Davey kissed him again and shoved him inside the vehicle. The coworkers laughed as they pulled away, all drunkenly mumbling about the cold or about work tomorrow, as one by one their Lyfts and Ubers came to take them home. 

“Oh my god, I’m going to be hungover for my second day,” Spot whispered to Race as they watched Sarah and Katherine hop into a red Toyota. It was only when he said that did Race realize how close they were standing together. He immediately sobered up as he felt Spot’s shoulders rub against his as his coworker huddled toward him, trying to escape the brisk winds. 

“It’-” His voice cracked and Spot laughed obnoxiously, adding to the pink the weather had spread on Race’s ears. “It’ll be fine. I’ve been popping aspirin and vomiting in between meetings on multiple occasions. And this time everyone will be just as gone, so you won’t stick out as much.” Spot chuckled again.

“I guess.” They stood in silence for a while, watching their friends leave, and soon they were the only two left. Race wondered if he should say something, or if he had made him uncomfortable, but Spot spoke before he could. “I had a really fun time here,” He said and turned to look at Race. “I’m going to like working here. I can feel it.” Race laughed dryly, looking directly forward and watching his breath curl into the evening air. 

“Don’t be too sure, you’re going to have to sit next to me every day.” Spot turned to him again, and Race felt compelled to meet his gaze and realized his eyes had gone soft. 

“That’s the best part,” Spot smiled, and even though he was freezing and he could barely feel his legs and his fingers were burning from the cold, Race felt a rush of warmth shoot through him, racing through his veins and into his joints, his heart almost bursting. “Now, you wouldn’t happen to know what the fuck a gray Corolla looks like do you?” Spot looked back down at his phone as if he hadn’t just set Race’s heart on fire. It took him a minute to form a response.

“I-uh-I think you have your answer right there.” Race pointed to a car pulling up to the sidewalk. Spot looked up and nodded, waved to the driver, and then turned back to Race. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Yeah,” Race shuffled his feet. Spot looked at his own feet as if searching for something to say between his shoe buckles. 

“By the way,” He looked back up, having found the right words. “Where is a good place for coffee by the office? You know your bars so well you must know the best place for recovery from them in the morning.” Race chuckled. 

“The Chadwick Sister’s Coffee makes a mean latte.” He responded. He debated saying more, and then finally took the risk. “I could...meet you at the office early, walk you to it, say 8:30?” He licked his lips and waited for what seemed like thirty hours for Spot’s answer. 

“Sounds good.” Spot smiled. This seemed like the end of the conversation, but he didn't turn to leave. “Thanks for showing me the bar, it was fantastic, even though I still think you inflated your shot numbers a little.” 

“You’ll beat me next time.” Race smirked. Spot cocked his head as if studying his features with intense curiosity.

“Today was a good day, Race." He said, slowly turning away. "Good night," 

“Good night,” Race said, quieter than he meant to, so quiet he wondered if Spot even heard him. He watched as his new coworker climbed into the Carolla and pulled away. He stood there until he could no longer see the brake lights of the car, contrasted by the exhaust shooting out from underneath the trunk. 

“I need to go home.��� He said out loud to himself once the street was dark and the only light was coming from the bar behind him. He hadn’t called a cab, and he pulled out his phone to do so but then realized a stop for his bus was just a block away. He jogged towards it, his fists firmly pressed against the bottom of his pocket, wondering if he missed the bus. He wasn’t concerned. Nothing in the world could upset him right now, not even the aggressive sleet that came ripping through the air as his bus stopped at the light just before his stop. 

“Sorry about the wait,” The bus driver, a nervous red-headed woman with a septum piercing, apologized, anxiously squeezing the steering wheel as Race climbed through the bus’s open door and up the steps. 

“No worries,” He assured her, scanning his bus pass through the back of his phone case. “No worries at all.” He walked to the very back of the bus, passing an old woman who squinted to read her beauty magazine in the dim light and a short man in his early thirties, who sat clutching several paper grocery bags close to his chest. Race slid into a seat just as the bus pulled away from the curb. He leaned his head against the window, watching the raindrops speed down the window, illuminated by the bright traffic lights of the city, Spot’s words echoing in his mind. 

He’s right, Race thought to himself.

Today was a good day. 

[katsukikitten]

Majo

A/N the labor of love that was trying to post this thing. Let me know what you think of my first attempt at shy girl.

You stand in the doorway of class 1A, still not used to the move you were forced to make all from a stupid, stupid dare two months ago. You hunch your shoulders, it doesn't matter that you're so early that you're the only soul in the classroom.

It does not ease your racing heart or the intimidation that is class 1A.

Especially since you came from the support class.

"Are you going to enter or block the door all fucking day, extra?" A growl comes from behind you and you startle.

"S..sorry." You blush madly, stepping to the side so he may enter. He sucks his teeth in response and plops himself into his desk.

Deadly jaw sitting in an even deadlier palm. You swallow frustrated with your self and the furious blush that just won't go away.

The blonde is the last person you want to see. You sit in front of him in class and you already feel his candy apple red eyes piercing the back of your head although they currently stare at clouds that float gently across the sky. He sighs heavily and you only now notice the bandages on his cheek and forearms. You frown, was he pushing himself too hard again?

"Whatcha looking at, Y/N-chan?" A purr in your ear has your heart jumps into your throat before a deep chuckle rings out.

"Kiri..Kirishima-san." Your face is red, and you're stammering. Damning your body for flustering so easy, scarlet eyes slide back to you at the door. You look away instantly.

"Please I told you call me Kiri or Eijirou." He says rustling your short hair, before taking his seat. He talks to Bakugou who's eyes haven't left you yet.

You can tell when his eyes linger from the weight of them. Thanks to your quirk you can feel when someone's eyes are on you, it's one of the main reasons you are so shy. Knowing when people are staring AND feeling the heaviness of a gaze can be overwhelming. You've come a long way at learning to block most of them out, having them fade to the background but some people have intense eyes and it often comes to the forefront of your mind whether you like it or not.

And Bakugou Katsuki is one of the few you cannot ignore.

Still you woman up and sit down in front of him. Keeping your posture straight as you add some cliff notes to your notes from yesterday's class.

You no longer feel the burning sensation at the exposed base of your neck as you hear him and Kiri erupt into laughter.

You try not to blush. The rest of 1A floods into the room with plenty of time to talk. You feel thankful to hear the chatter that you've grown used to, their energy feels happy as they all speak.

The sound of a scrapping chair pulls you from your notes. You smile at the strawberry milk skinned girl with matching hair, as she sits closely to you. Elbows resting on your desk. Mina has wormed her way, as with the rest of the girls, into the status of friend.

"Oh do you need to borrow my English notes?" You beam brightly before it sours as you study her face. She wears that devilish grin, you swallow at the thought of trouble.

"I heard a rumor about you." You instantly blush and her smile widens.

"You cant just ask people about their own rumors, its rude!" Ida says, emphasizing his belief with jabs of his left arm.

"So its true by the hue on your cheeks huh?" She teases, you look for Urakaka-chan. Midorya, even Kiri for help but not a soul makes eye contact with you.

"Mina!" Ida chides but you take a deep breath. It was bound to make it to class 1A sooner or later.

"Wha...what rumor?" You whisper as anxiety gnaws at your chest as you worry over how twisted the rumor may have become.

"I heard you influenced two teachers with your quirk." She leans in closely and you try to avoid her gaze, "Midnight and All Might."

The class grows quiet at the mention of his name. You swallow thickly as you're sucked back into the memory.

It was just a fucking dare gone bad.

"Y/N, truth or dare?" What was supposed to be your best friend asked you.

"I..I'm not very good at this game." You said sheepishly but she grinned ear to ear. One of the things about Kiko is that she loooooved to bully you into abusing your power but she defended you from other, more dangerous bullies all through the school years so it was a no brainer to follow her to UA.

"Come on, itll be easy." You deepen in shade but not because of her peer pressure but because you feel those eyes on you again today. You seize, almost frozen from the weight before they seem to glide away, your shoulders relax. You see him across the court yard lazing in the shade of a tree.

"Look Y/N, I'll even give you your options up front." She looks around as she thinks, she spots her target "The dare is to make All Might and Midnight scream 'Fuck you' to one another."

"The truth?" You ask almost timid even after all these years.

"You tell us who you have a crush on." You go to open your mouth but she stops you, "Aina here can make you tell the truth with her quirk if you're lying."

You feel your skin prickle with worry, your cheeks blossom with embarrassment.

You're not even sure you if you like this person and to have Kiko know his name would be mortifying. You look her in the eyes with your most intense gaze she flinches. She's seen your ability first hand.

"Dare." You almost growl with a new found furry as you plop onto the grass crossing your legs. Normally you would need a mirror to do this but since it is two people you'll need to keep your eyes closed. One person is easy to manipulate but two, almost simultaneously will be difficult. You let the energies of others fade away as your world falls into a black drop. All Might appears and you startle for a moment when you see more than his energy lingering around him, you ignore it and you focus hard on Midnight.

They both appear on the black backdrop, you concentrate on them both until they come into sharp focus, they are closer together in this plane than in real life.

"Her nose is bleeding..." You hear Kiko's friend speak.

"Quiet." She snaps.

"Turn to one another." You whisper both aloud and to them. They do with ease, "You're angry, furious. How could they how could they how could they?!"

You watch their faces distort, pulling on distant memories in them both, altering the who they were furious with into one another.

"Now scream, tell them how you feel. Tell them what you've always wanted to yell at the top of your lungs." You breath in feeling both of their voices mingle together in your throat before you whisper, "Fuck you!"

"FUCK YOU!!!" They shout, pulling you from the plane at lightening speed. You smile proud of your work, that's the first time you've 'worked', as you call it, two people at once. The yard goes quiet as they both fluster, cheeks burning red as they realize what has happened. You wipe your nose at the wrong time catching the eye of Aizawa.

"Earth to Y/N?!" Mina asks. Your heart races before you look her square in the eye.

"Yes, it was me."

She looks shocked before she laughs, "Oh that's so cool!!"

You feel everyone's eyes on you, including a pair of deep red. You try to fight the anxiety but thankfully Aizawa lazily strolls into class with his normal bored look, distracting the class.

All but one.

"Alright class, sit in your seats." He begins the lesson shortly after the scrapping of chairs and desks cease. He starts with a history lesson of Hero's before segueing the conversation into identifying a quirk in moments. Your pencil scratches against paper, eyes fully glued on your handwriting to avoid Sensei's eyes. It's getting to the part of his lecture where he pauses for a question.

"What's the quickest way to identify a quirk, Y/N?" Fear grips you tightly in its inescapable fingers. Your heart clenches, blood rushes to your face and deepens in color on the back of your neck. Sweat collects quickly on your palms as you gulp softly. This is the first time he's called on you and Sensei's eyes feel heavy on the top of your head.

You know this is one of those questions that has several right answers and you know what the best answer is but what if you don't?

What if you say the wrong thing and Aizawa scolds you in front of every one?

What if it isn't the answer he is looking for and the whole class thinks you a fool when he says the most correct answer?

What if you can't speak at all? What if they laugh, shunning you back to the support class where you belong

What feels like ages passes in a matter of seconds. Seconds too long that could seem like stalling.

Oh Kamisama what if Sensei thought you weren't paying attention at all? You want to let your body shake but you clench your fists hard enough that your palm is sure to have bloody half moons. Your lip quivers as you try to force the answer out. Nothing comes and you bite your lip to keep from whimpering in front of the whole class.

Why you? Why did you have to be so fucking scared of the simplest shit?

You feel the burning then, not of the other nineteen students that wait patiently for your answer but of his unforgiving red eyes.

"You watch them." He growls impatiently behind you.

"Very good Bakugou." He says returning to his lecture. Relief and sadness seep into your veins, bringing you down from the rush of adrenaline. Shame hands heavy in your eyes at it threatens to spin. You swallow your disappointment and the sob that threatened to leave your lips.

Class goes on, lunch comes and goes in a blur and before you know it Aizawa is handing out his personal homework assignments. He goes up and down each row as he tells them their nightly task, dismissing them when he is finished. You hear Sensei pause behind you.

"Bakugou, tonight after your normal task I want you to meditate. Relax anyway you know how so you can attempt to keep your temper in check."

"Yea yea." The blonde waves his hand as if to shoo Aizawa before sensei takes a step to you.

"Y/N. How often do you get to practice your quirk?" You face him but keep your eyes on his chest

"I was called a witch growing up. So it wasn't until recently did I start getting the hang of it." You admit shyly. Aizawa thinks for a moment but you're too distracted by the energy that is still present behind you.

"Your file says you can do quite a bit. From spying to your display in the courtyard." You feel petrified as he discusses your quirk, something you've always wanted to keep secret but Kiko convinced you other wise. You swallow thickly wanting to protest but Sensei speaks much faster than you.

"I want you to spy on me from 5pm to 6pm tonight. I want detailed notes on what I've done for that hour. If you can hear my thoughts while you spy I want a select few of those as well." He gives a rare smile as you actually shake, "Let's add something else too. I want you to envoke a feeling in me. Or try to anyway."

"Sensei, you'll be too far..."

"I said try. It's best to try and fail than to fail to try." He grabs his notebook from the lecuturn before leaving you dumbfounded, so much so that you do not even notice that Bakugou is already standing at the door. His back to the class room as he readjusts his bag.

"Oi." He calls, burning eyes peeking over his shoulder, "Get a move on extra. They turn the lights off in less than ten minutes."

You scramble for your items as fear creeps into you once more. Being alone in the dark is how you discovered your quirk in the first place.

Your eyes snapped to his moving figure as he exits the class room.

"W...wait please Bakugo-senpai." That's how fearful you were of a wondering mind in an unfamiliar place. You rush for the hallway bumping into the ash blonde who bares his teeth in response.

Still he walks with you down the winding path to the dorms as the winter sun begins to set early. Once you see the dormitory for class 1A your practically fall into a sprint, almost late to prepare for your difficult assignment.

You slip off your shoes in a hurry, your thigh high socks give no traction on the shining wooden stairs and you slip. Falling up the steps but you have no time for embarrassment. You'll be missing your window of opportunity.

"Slow down!" A growl from the ground floor as the door to the stairwell slams shut. You fumble with your keys before finally swining the door wide open rummaging through your closet for the gift your grandmother gave you when you were a child. The opaque black orb of onyx weighs heavy in your hands as you set it neatly on the low table in your room. You slam your door shut, light candles and turn on your Himalayan salt lamp. You arrange your notebook before doing the math on the distance between you and Aizawa.

Five whole miles.

Was the campus really that large? You try to push down the panic of failing miserably as this would be the furthest you've tried to manipulate a mind

Spying, well spying was easy, you could see anyone anywhere at anytime with just a small compact mirror. But working them?

Well that would prove difficult.

You breath deeply before focusing on the orb before you, letting your eyes lose focus only to refocus in the black backdrop on conciousness. You slowly push away those you do not want to feel or see until you spy Aizawa. Your heart races as you approach him though he cannot see you.

You begin to write details about his apartment as you take it in, the smell of his now finished dinner and the sandlewood candle he has burning.

Most of the hour passes with a bore as he reads his book, a fat cat sleeping soundly on his stomach. Just as you're about to root through his mind for a feeling to alter Mina comes busting in through the door you forgot to LOCK in your haste.

She breaks your concentration as she guides the girls into your room, flustered you begin to lose site of Sensei.

"Oh what have we here?" She asks plopping down on her stomach in front if you snatching at your notebook.

"Hey!" But you can't tear your eyes away yet.

"Wow this is what you see?" Uraraka asks peering over Mina's shoulder.

"Sensei has a cat?" Asks Momo as she sits with her legs crossed.

"Yes and yes. Where is everyone else?" You ask, "Mina if you arent going to give me my notebook back at least take my notes. Please make them legible."

"Practicing still." Momo answers.

"Ah so you do have a bossy side!" Mina says delighted with her pen poised.

"Its not that. I..I just have more confidence when I use my quirk is all." You blush.

"So what is our great sensei doing?"

"Reading the same damn book he has for the past 55 minutes."

"What's he wearing?"

"Mina?!" You all say in unison.

"Please like you all don't want to know too." She gives a pointed look to everyone else around the room. You feel their eyes fall on you in curiosity.

"His hair is tied back. You can see his scar, he looks..." You pause, "Handsome. He's wearing a black t shirt and lounge pants that are loose fitting. He's reading some mindnumbingly boring book."

Five minutes pass with no change.

"Ugh Aizawa is boring. Spy on someone else."

"But..."

"But it will be good practice. Oh I'll let you spy on my crush." It's her turn to have a slight blush.

"You mean Kirishima-san?" You tease and she whines.

"Ah is it that obvious?"

"Yes." A chorus

You find him with ease, grunting as he does his nightly ritual of pushups. His phone in easy reach to change his music should he wish.

"He's sweating." You say softly, "He's almost done with his pushup regime. Mina send him a text. I wanna see something."

"Oh what..what should I say?"

"Some thing you normally would or..do something flirty." She listens and Kiri smiles at his pinging phone falling to his forearms, you relay his actions.

"Heh so cute." You whisper his own thought aloud in his voice. Mina's phone pings back with an extra string of emojis attached.

"aaahhh" she squeals, "Now make him fall in love with me."

You laugh aloud.

"It doesn't work like that. I...I can." You struggle to explain it, "If I fabricate the feeling he will find out eventually before getting extremely paranoid. I could do it if he's felt it before and just change who he feels that way about. But that's tricky love is much harder than hate."

They all stare at you astonished before chiming in with their crushes. You blush before Momo assumes her normal motherly roll.

"Let's not pressure her into doing something she doesn't want to do." She places her arm around you as if to protect you. You see how happy Mina seems to be so you decide to give in.

"But it would be good practice." You smile and now all the girls are sitting giving you their full attention, "Momo you first.

"T..todoroki." She admits more shyly this time and you let your eyes lose focus on the onyx orb.

"He's sitting at the katsu in his very traditional dorm room, idly scrolling through Insta as he maps out his outline for an upcoming paper. He's come across a picture from Momo. The selfie of you and your Russian doll 'BFFs'. He's smirking, like actual smile." You creep into his mind as he likes the photo. You relay how your chest feels a little warm and tight before adding in the smallest Todoroki whisper. 'Cute caption.'

Mina inhales sharply.

"I TOLD YOU HE'D LIKE THE SELFIE!! YOU'RE WELCOME FOR THE IDEA AND CAPTION." She gushes as Momo's cheeks deepen a shade.

"Midorya?" You ask U-chan who nods furiously. You laugh when you find him in the black plane of consciousness before you step into his room.

"What?" Uraraka asks nervously.

"He's staring up at his phone in his hands, lying on his back. He's thinking as he's staring at a blank message to a Uraraka in his phone. He's retyped a message four times that just says hey."

You giggle before saying, "Uraraka send him a text."

She does and you feel your heart burst when he reads the text. His palms sweat as he types out his request for a date that's not a date before he gives up and sticks with a how are you?

U-chan blushes and Mina laughs. You peer into the lives of a few others in class 1A as they call out suggestions. Jirou and Kaminari sit closely on the couch, Kaminari is sweating and scared she will notice. Sero snickers to himself as he plans a prank for Kiri later, mineta sleeps under a pile of huge blankets. Mina suddenly snaps up

"Oooh you know who I would love to see when they think no one is watching?" She asks having the full attention of the room, "Bakugou Katsuki."

Your blush goes into a shade of red so deep you almost feel light headed.

"Oh no. Let's uh...let's not look at him." You stammer but Mina bites onto it like a rabid dog.

"Come oooonnn. Aren't you curious too?" She has a point. You are curious if that hothead is angry all the time, "or do you have a crush on him?"

"It is not that." You snap before focusing on finding him.

He is by far the easiest to find, what with his intense energy. He might as well be a beacon.

You walk slowly through the endless black, stalling a bit before you approach the steam. Which should have been your first hint as you walk through the fog

"Ooooh!" You flush fiercely as you realize he is taking a bath. In water so hot it must be scalding.

"What?" They ask, leaning closer to the orb as if they could see.

You stand there in the bathroom with him as he groans outwardly sinking deeper into the bath his head leaning back against the tub. Your heart races, you don't need to reach into his mind as you feel a sense of calm surround you.

"He's in the bath." You whisper and they stare at your zoned out face though it is red. You go to pull away but you almost can't and the girls do not protest.

"He feels...calm. Relaxed. Warm. Hes so muscular and they ache. He's replaying fights in his head subconsciously. He's hurt."

"Where?" They breathe.

"Forearms mostly. Pushing his quirk pretty hard." You say nearing his skin, your fingers trace along the small burns before a shiver runs down his spine. You startle. No one has ever reacted to your presence before. You chalk it up to it being your own imagination

"He's got a text from Kiri-san. He mentions Mina, he's teasing him for..." you lean closer to read, before seeing your name on the screen. His body reacts to your name with such violence it causes fat tears to spill from your delicate eyes.

"Hey..."

"Quiet." You snap, you need to sort this knotted feeling he has. His stomach flips as he reads it, heart no longer calm and eyes no longer distracted by replays.

Your nose begins to bleed as you keep yourself from plunging into his thoughts. He sucks his teeth with a snarl, his mind is open and he projects across the small bathroom the sight of you. Blushing, from your first day in 1A to the deep hue you carried today in class.

"Asshole Aizawa." He mutters before slamming his phone down. Not even bothering to reply to Kirishima's text. 'I saw you walking home with Y/N today 😏"

The girls gasp as you relay the feelings, the encounter and text.

"I don't want to invade his mind too much. He's very open which means I could get lose in the call of my quirk." You admit and the girls nod.

"Oh no." You whisper shout as he begins to stand. You turn frantic as he reaches for a towel to wrap around his waist. The girls blush but demand every detail that you so painstakingly give them.

"I didnt see uh... but his back..." you start following him like a shadow as he makes his way to the mirror, "His back is chiseled like the gods. He isnt as scrawny as he seems. His shoulders broad and his eyes. Shit his eyes are looking right at me."

After that you go silent as the event unfolds before you.

You panic as you see them squint in the mirror at your reflection before a cocky grin disarms you.

"Spying on me are you, little enchantress." He says darkly and you suddenly feel stuck in the bathroom, struggling to return to your mind. It's rare but you've heard of people with your quirk before getting caught or being so close to someone they can be seen.

Why did you have to spy on Bakugo Katsuki?

You blush furiously at the intimacy. You cannot tell if you're feeling your own heart race or his as you stand in place struck dumb by that immobilizing gaze. He turns around closing the distance as you phase in and out of his vision. He grips your chin and you feel stunned.

To touch you? To feel you in the tunnel of your minds is astonishing. You gasp for air.

"Taking Aizawa's lesson a bit far aren't you?" He smirks, dark eyes piercing into your soul and suddenly you feel naked. He chuckles before adding, "Like what you see?"

You swallow your desire, of both him and to manipulate him here and now. It would be easy you can feel even at the fringes of his mind that he has wanted someone before.

It would be easy to make it you.

"Y/N?!" The girls shout but they sound far away, more blood seeps from your nose and even your eyes as you fight against yourself.

"You're pushing too hard." He bites out wiping away the blood with the pad of his thumb, explosions dance along his forearms in anger.

"It's time you leave little enchantress." He says pushing against your third eye chakra, you fall backward in slow motion before you slam into the floor that shatters the room and his mind into shards. You fall through the layer of darkness before inhaling deeply in your own body. The girls fuss over you with tissues but you are, for one of the first times in your life, angry.

Seething.

You hear the door to the boys bathroom slam and you stand, livid to be caught by him of all people.

How dare he

How dare he catch you

How dare he touch you

How dare he overcome your quirk.

Before you realize it you're standing in front of the hot headed boy's dorm, slamming your fist in a quick percussion.

You do not hear your friends follow your angry wake.

He swings the door open, only having had enough time to replace his towel with black boxers. His eyes are narrowed and mouth snarled

"What the fuck do you want?" A growl so low that suddenly you realize what you're doing.

It's much different staring into his hot red gaze in person than in the security of your own mind. You swallow as you feel everything rush around you. How could you be so stupid? He probably doesn't remember, he may have thought it all was a dream. Stupid stupid.

Fucking STUPID.

You begin to shake as the high of your very brief rage dies. Like a flame snuffed out of existance. You feel feverish, the hall spins and your vision begins to blur. You had pushed yourself too hard, spying and feeling people's emotions for hours was taking its toll. Your knees buckle beneath your slim frame but strong hands catch you before you fall to the hardwood. You're pulled into his dorm and sat on the edge of his bed. Your breath comes too quickly, what with the combination of the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the lingering smell of his body wash and the fresh linen of his sheets. You're over stimulated and not in the good way. If you aren't careful you'll begin to dissociate and then your mind will wander on it's own. Panic continues to plague you as you try to swallow down air.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You're shaking like one of those bitch chihuahua dogs." He snaps and with that fat tears fall from your eyes. How could you ever have had a chance with this strong, confident boy when you couldn't even face him after an almost imaginary confrontation?

"Why the fuck are you crying!?" A half yell.

"Its...its called a...a..." you stuttered before screaming, so frustrated with yourself and this infuriating dumbass, "IT'S CALLED A PANIC ATTACK YOU INSENSITIVE ASS!!"

Well if he didn't like you before he sure as hell doesn't now. You choke on a sob, slender hands flying to cover your deep crimson face.

How could you be so caught up in wanting to please your new, genuine, friends that its come to this? Sitting in front of an unrelinquished crush showing him the ugliest most valnurable side of yourself.

Because you're a selfish bitch, that's why.

"YOU BITCH! I TOLD YOU TO STOP WORKING ME! I'M YOUR FATHER FOR CHRISTS SAKE."

"YOU EVIL WITCH YOU MADE YOUR MOTHER LEAVE!"

A slap rings in your ears as you struggle to breath. The voices get louder and louder before you bend over, cradling your head with you elbows as your hands claw at the nape of your neck and upper back

Anything to make his voice go away.

Cool liquid collects under your nails and only then does the pain begin to drown it out. You dig deeper.

"Stop." A low threat with a tug of your arms has you facing the ash blonde, his hands tighten on your wrists. Only worry laces his bright candy apple eyes but all you see is disgust. You look away, eyes squeezed shut as you bite your lip.

"Oi..." You've never heard Bakugo speak so softly, "Y/N..."

You heart pounds against your ribs desperately trying to escape. He stands between your legs, letting go of one of your wrists, he places his cell phone in your hand. You blink away blurry tears as you stare down at his phone.

"I want you to describe what this feels like." His voice is gruff.

"Wha..what?" You struggle to speak, throat tightening.

"Go on." Is all he says, eyes watching yours. You swallow hard, hoping this isn't a trick question.

"Like a phone." You try.

"No, tell me what it's like. As if I've never held these things. As if I cannot feel." He sounds impatient but his eyes are anything but.

"Uhhhm smooth like glass. A good fit for your strong palm. It feels big in mine. Has a little bit of weight to it but not heavy." You say slowly, studying the phone.

He takes the phone and places a water bottle to your hand.

"Hard plastic, cold to the touch and smooth but different than the phone."

"Now this." He bites, shoving the closest thing to him which happens to be his favorite black *BOOM* shirt.

"Soft, like cotton soft. Warm. Smells like linen and you." You smile, fingering the shirt. Your thoughts fade as you are immersed in using your senses.

"Like me?" He prompts, voice getting lighter, "Well I can't smell or feel. What do I smell like."You laugh as you try to think.

"That's hard." A lingering giggle, "Um like..like sweat, a little spicy. Nutmeg, cinnamon. But not the bad kind of sweat. Clean if that makes sense."

You begin folding the shirt slowly forgetting what little remains of your panic attack. You let loose a shaky sigh, eyes focused on the warm fabric. Suddenly you feel a warm and sturdy body between your legs before your cheek meets an even warmer chest. You freeze, his skin is smooth, tantalizing and so so soothing.

"I want you to describe what this feels like." His voice ever soft as he rests his head atop of yours

"Wha..what?" You still struggle to speak, although now your throat has loosened.

"I want you to describe what this feels like." He repeats, voice so even and calm you almost wonder if this is Katsuki holding you. Your cheeks somehow blush deeper as you stammer.

"Wa...warm. Calming and yet my hair stands on end. Like..." You close your eyes to think, "Like just before a big summer storm. But instead if a huge storm it slowly turns into lying on the beach in the sun."

Time passes as you snuggle deeper into his chest sighing slowly before he starts to pull back. Cupping your tear stained cheeks with his deadly hands. His crimson eyes are level with yours before a devilish smirk crosses his lips.He kisses you so softly that it takes you a moment to realize it. When he pulls away he chuckles at your reddened cheeks. Admiring them with his thumbs.

"No more pushing yourself so hard my little enchantress."