#rubs my dirty little raccoon hands together

[daistea]

"𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜" - 𝙼𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

“Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”

 You knew what Cithis was getting at. You also knew there was more to read than what she thought, because Mithrun was your friend and you adored him and wanted to kiss his face with your face. Still, accepting that remained quite difficult. 

 (Learning a new language is always hard at first)

  gn reader, implied to be a short lived race

  5,000+ words :o 

  tw: minor description of violence and blood

  Post-canon Mithrun, could be considered spoilers

An ink black eye flickered up and landed on your face. You knew it was there. You always knew when it was there. The light shiver that ran down your back was like a cold finger languidly tracing every bump of your spine. 

 You didn’t know whether you liked it or not. 

 But you accepted it, for the most part. 

 Mithrun’s gaze was devoid of light as you met it. It was only natural for his prosthetic eye to be glassy and lacking in life. Yet, his remaining eye was like that as well. Fleki liked to joke that the captain had ‘dead fish eyes’ and you could see what she meant sometimes. Most of the time, though, you considered his gaze to be more like an endless pit. An endless pit that you were always on the verge of falling into.

 But you managed to keep your balance— for the most part. 

 It didn’t help that Mithrun stared. He stared, and stared, and stared. If you were in an especially combative mood, you’d meet his gaze and stare back. His good eye would start to flicker a little, like when a cat slowly shuts its eyes. You once heard that cats slow blink to signify that they love you. But Mithrun wasn’t a cat. He was an elf. An elf who had a habit of trying to consume you with his gaze alone. 

 It was one of the days when you couldn’t help but return his look. You glanced up from your plate of food, fork in your left hand and your other hand fiddling with a napkin. Ever since the dungeon, Mithrun had become more physically expressive. He had his elbow on the table and his cheek resting in his palm. As his sleeve fell down his forearm ever so slightly, you could see a hint of a pale scar. 

 “Don’t you ever get tired?” You couldn’t help but ask. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop to think about the consequences or implications. 

 Mithrun only blinked. A slow blink. 

 “No,” he answered simply. His voice wasn’t what one would call particularly deep or rumbling, but it was scratchy. When you heard him speak for the first time, you wondered if he had ever drank a glass of water in his life. 

 And the lack of inflection in his tone was something you eventually got used to. With a sharp ear, you could pick up the lilts at the end of his sentences when he asked a question. You recognized when he was annoyed, when the growl in his throat got more pronounced. You knew when he was sad, when emotion thickened every word. It was all subtle, learned. And you were good at learning. 

 For the most part. 

 “I don’t mean physically,” you replied, returning your attention to the food on your plate. 

 “Then?”

 “I mean—” What did you mean? You weren’t quite sure. You were sure of the fact that you didn’t want this particular vegetable as part of your lunch. So you lifted your plate and absently scraped it off onto Mithrun’s. He didn’t react. 

 He did, though, slightly raise his brow. He shifted to sit up a little, moving his palm to his chin instead, eyes still lingering on you like petrichor after a rain shower. The slight tilt of his head told you that he was expecting an answer. 

 You forced the words to the tip of your tongue. It was rare for you to keep your thoughts to yourself, especially around Mithrun. As unreadable as he could be, the assurance that it was difficult to genuinely offend him was comforting. Except, this instance was different. If you openly acknowledged his habit of staring, that was too close for comfort to a much bigger acknowledgement. Mithrun’s heart, and yours, were closely guarded, surrounded by layers of walls. He’d knocked down a few of yours. You’ve knocked down several of his. But going any further was risky, at least in your opinion. The walls were bigger and more well guarded and seizing them might not produce anything good, anything worthwhile. 

 But his head was tilted and he was watching you. You felt as if you were on a stage with a spotlight shining down on you. 

 Might as well get it over with. 

 “Staring,” you said, “don’t you ever get tired of staring?”

 His good eye blinked. You’ve seen Mithrun surprised or shocked before, and you knew he wasn’t. Then, that meant he was expecting that question. He was aware of his staring and was doing it on purpose. 

 “No, I don’t get tired of it,” Mithrun said as he sat up straight, elbow slipping off the table. He grabbed his fork and began poking at the food you had scraped off onto his plate. Peeking just barely through his hair were the chewed, jagged tips of his ears. They flickered. Elves really couldn’t hide their emotions well, their ears tended to give them away. 

 The fact that he was feeling anything made your heart flutter. If only you knew what it was. It couldn’t be embarrassment or shame, those didn’t exist within Mithrun. Then what? What else could someone be feeling when called out for their habit of excessive staring? 

 “I mean, I’d just like to know why,” you said without thinking, again. It was rare for either of you to feel as if you needed to fill the comfortable silence you often shared, but at that moment in particular your heart was clenching and something unpleasant passed through your abdomen. The question had crawled up your throat and slipped out of  your mouth. 

 “Why I stare at you?” He asked. You were seventy five percent sure it was a question. But sometimes, Mithrun would simply state something, not asking at all, just echoing. You could usually tell the difference in the lift of his voice. Subtle, but there. 

 “Yeah,” you met his gaze. Ink black. You started to teeter on the edge of the dark pit again. “Do you stare at everybody like that?”

 “Do you ever see me staring at other people like this?”

 No. And Mithrun knew that you didn’t. The question was hypothetical, designed to draw the answer out of you. 

 You felt your jaw tighten as you stared down at your food. You’d missed something, a little morsel of a vegetable you didn’t like. You promptly scraped it off onto Mithrun’s plate before answering him. “I guess I don’t.”

 “And?”

 Fire flickered to life inside your chest. “And what?” You snapped your gaze back to his, “What do you want?”

 His brow raised, “You’re the one who wanted something.”

 “I want to know why you’re always staring!”

 “Why do you think?”

 You couldn’t help but groan, burying your face in your hand, “Mithrun, please just give me a straight answer. I can’t handle this right now.”

 “Why not?”

 Glancing up, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. His ears flickered again. Was he enjoying this? As much as he could enjoy something, at least, which was more than before the dungeon. 

 That fire within you only grew taller and hotter and more destructive. The flames warmed your heart but also threatened to burn through your bones and muscles and ligaments and consume your body entirely. You didn’t know whether you wanted to smack Mithrun over the head, or grab the collar of his shirt and pull him close for a kiss. 

 Or both? Both were good. 

 You managed to resist the urge growing beneath your skin and instead shot him a weak glare, “Because— Because you’re not eating and it’s weird for me to be the only one eating right now, especially with you staring at me, watching me chew.”

 Half true. 

 Mithrun’s nose wrinkled a little in thought. Slowly, he grabbed his fork and speared one of the unwanted vegetables you’d given him, finally eating. Relief flooded your body, until his gaze flickered back up to your face once more. 

 “Happy?” He asked before swallowing. 

 “Never,” you snarked back, “you’re still staring. Why?”

 Did you want to know? 

 Another wall was crumbling and you were doing all you could to keep it from crushing you beneath bricks and emotions and emotional bricks. It was a mistake to ask that question, to even bring this subject up. You couldn’t go that far. You shouldn’t knock down those walls. You wouldn’t acknowledge the terrifying, unknown thing that had been growing between you and Mithrun ever since he’d decided to live. 

 You remembered that day. Celebrations surrounded you. Mithrun’s hand clenched the grass beneath him, the only betrayal of his feelings at the time. His knuckles turned white, but he finally let go as the realization, the emptiness, settled in; acceptance of the fact that he had nothing to live for anymore. 

 You remembered the relief when it all changed, when the listlessness disappeared. You remembered Senshi’s words. You remembered the sting of hot tears in the corners of your eyes as Mithrun smiled for the first time in forever. 

 It was a secret tucked inside your chest, kept close, chained up. But at night, when you stared at the ceiling with bright eyes and racing thoughts, you let the secret out just a little bit. You loved the captain like a desert dweller loved an oasis. You loved the captain like flowers loved rain. You loved the captain like—

 “I can’t not stare at you,” Mithrun’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You crashed back down to Melini, to the restaurant and to him, shattering on the floor and making a complete mess. 

 “What?” Your voice was just as scratchy as his now. You grabbed your sweating glass of water and gulped it down. 

 Mithrun waited for you to finish before he continued, “I can’t not stare at you. It’s simply what I do. What I want.”

 And he wanted so little. 

 The wall crumbled, and you internally cursed yourself before returning Mithrun’s gaze. “You don’t want that.”

 “I want that.”

 Was this really happening? Years of longing, of denial, of fear, all built up into one moment. And the moment was taking place in a dingy restaurant where you and Mithrun were surrounded by chattering people and the scrape of utensils on plates. Nearby, someone laughed. But it was as if cotton had been stuffed into your ears, your focus entirely on the elf sitting across from you— and his dead fish stare.

 You began to consider your possibilities:

 Option 1: Kiss him. 

 Option 2: Fake a heart attack to get out of this.

 Option 3: Explain your fears about starting an official relationship with him. 

 Option two looked best. 

 You put a hand to your chest and coughed a little, “I-I think I’m—”

 Mithrun rolled his good eye and stood up. The legs of his chair scraped across the ground as he loomed over the table, looking down at you. “Let’s go already, we have work to do.”

 You scoffed, “I’m kind of busy having a heart attack here.”

 “The heart attack excuse didn’t work when you wanted to get out of that dinner with the Canaries, and it won’t work now.”

 He was right. He was always right. You hated that. 

 You stood up as well. Mithrun went to the front of the restaurant to pay. People used to cast him curious glances as he passed by, but very few did that anymore. The locals of Melini knew who Mithrun was and were generally used to his presence. Plus, the kingdom had become a melting pot of different races and cultures as of late. Seeing an elf wasn’t too surprising these days. 

 You watched the back of his head. He had a curl there. He’d always had that curl. Something in the back of your mind desperately urged you to wrap it around your finger. 

 Mithrun cast you a flat glance as he made for the front door. “Are you going to just stand there? Or are you coming?”

 Your frown covered up the flutter of your heart. You followed, silent, grumpy, your right hand itching to take his left. 

 And as you followed him into the street, you noticed, just for half a second, that his fingers flexed, then curled into a fist before releasing.

 This was bad. How could the people of Melini happily go about their lives as your world started to shift? How was the sun still shining? Why didn’t time stop for you as the growing thing between you and Mithrun got too large to ignore?

 (Perhaps you were being too dramatic.)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

 The captain did not only stare. He touched. 

 It was weird, really, because he didn’t enjoy being touched. Mithrun would prefer to keep his personal space, you knew. The Canaries often invaded it and he said nothing to stop them, but you saw the twitch of his ear, the slight narrowing of his good eye. Lately, since he’d been learning how to be more expressive, he would sigh. It was that kind of sigh that told the listener precisely what he wanted, the kind of sigh that spoke a thousand words his lips refused to say. Those thousands of words usually consisted of ‘get away from me’ or ‘stop touching me.’ 

 He never sighed with you. 

 But perhaps that was because you knew better than to invade his personal space. He had no qualms invading yours. He touched you. Often. At first, you noticed it too much. The feeling of Mithrun’s hand on the small of your back made your mind race with questions. Eventually, you got used to it and hardly noticed it anymore. 

 But that hyper awareness had returned since the staring conversation. 

 And also since the staring conversation, he touched you more than ever before. 

 Mithrun’s long fingers wrapped around your wrist. They were always cold, for some reason. He held up your wrist between your bodies, but he wasn’t looking at you. His attention was on something rustling through the forest. His other hand leaned against the rough bark of a tree. There was absolutely no reason for Mithrun to be holding your wrist right now, but you had a feeling he didn’t even notice what he was doing. 

 “Quiet,” he said in a low tone, casting you a glance, “there’s someone up ahead.”

 “Someone?” You asked, “Not something?”

 “Yes. Someone.”

 Melini had many types of people. Most of them were good, interested in the future of the nation. Yet the existence of an entirely new country caught the attention of other types of people. The laws weren’t yet established, Laois didn’t really care about imposing taxes, and homes were still being built. While it had settled down as of late, criminals still flocked to the area. 

 Mithrun cast you another glance. His good eye, black, flickered up and down your body. The look only lasted for half a second, but it still made heat flare up in your abdomen. 

 “Stay here,” he commanded. 

 The heat disappeared as you sent him an incredulous stare, “Excuse me?”

 “Stay here,” he echoed.

 “No,” the argument escaped your lips quickly and harshly, “I’m going with you. There could be any number of people out here and I won’t let you face them alone.”

 His eye narrowed slightly as he turned to fully face you, “There’s a chance I won’t even be fighting. They could simply be hikers.”

 “Don’t lie to me, I know when you’re on edge.”

 Another narrowed eye, another flicker of his ears. The chewed tips slowly lowered, pressing back against his head, barely visible through wavy locks of silver. You’ve always thought that when elves did that, they looked quite aerodynamic. 

 “Fine,” his voice was flatter than usual, “but stay close to me. I won’t allow you to be hurt.”

 Mithrun released your wrist, but his fingers deftly slid down your skin, across your palm. A shiver ran through you as he tangled your fingers together. They were puzzle pieces fitting perfectly, created specifically to hold each other. 

 And Mithrun didn’t seem the slightest bit affected by the fact that he was now holding your hand. He simply turned and began trudging through the foliage of the forest, gently pulling you behind him. Did he have any idea what he’d done? Did his sharpened elf hearing notice the pumping of your heart? Would he even acknowledge it? 

 He held your hand tight, as if afraid you would slip away. 

 “They know we see them,” Mithrun murmured. Tension filled the air and threatened to suffocate you. It was the feeling of danger, and a tingling through your limbs that made your hairs stand to attention. 

 He pushed aside a thorn bush, not caring when the sharp tips pricked his skin or when they clung to his clothes like childish hands trying to desperately keep him from leaving. He slowed down a little so you could navigate the bushes more carefully. His fingers slipped away from yours, but he kept your hand, holding it up like a gentleman helping a lady out of a carriage. 

 The moment you escaped the bush, he interlocked your fingers once more. 

 Your mind raced as you followed him. Why was Mithrun holding your hand? What did it mean? Was he trying to acknowledge your relationship? Impossible. That was impossible. Mithrun surely didn’t want a relationship with you. There was something between you two, obviously, but it wasn’t anything either of you were ever going to do anything about. At least you thought as much. His desires weren’t just going to randomly appear again. And surely you weren’t special enough to cultivate anything new within him. No, Mithrun was just being—

 The taut pull of a bow string filled the air. It happened too quickly. The whish of an arrow cutting through the atmosphere— it sliced the tension in half so smoothly, like butter. You only caught a glimpse of it as it came straight for your chest. 

 But it never hit you. You’d closed your eyes without realizing, but when you recognized an utter lack of pain, your eyes shot open to inspect the situation. 

 Mithrun still held your hand. Tight. A little too tight. You could see his jawline clenched, his ears pushed back. In front of you, only inches away from your chest, was the arrow. He’d caught it mid air. His hand was wrapped around the shaft and his knuckles were white as he gripped it. 

 Your heart didn’t just skip. It flipped, did an entire gymnastics routine, then promptly flopped onto the floor and passed out. 

 There were wasps in your stomach. Not butterflies. Wasps. 

 And Mithrun was angry. His chest rose and fell before he slipped his hand away from yours. You only caught a glimpse of his face as he turned away, but you could see the flicker of silver consuming the black; the crackle of a flame, the flip of a switch, a lightning strike in the distance. 

 He reared his arm back and promptly launched the arrow at something between the trees. A guttural noise erupted. It was thick with something, pain or blood or shock or fear. A tall-man stumbled out of hiding with the arrow lodged in the front of his neck, then he collapsed face down in the grass. 

 Silence. 

 Mithrun lowered his arm and stood up straight, staring at the body. 

 Your throat was strangled, but you managed to push the question out nonetheless. “Did you just… throw a goddamn arrow so hard that it went through a man’s neck?”

 “Hm?” Mithrun sent you a glance, his eye widening just the slightest bit. But it returned to the black pit that you were seconds away from falling into. “Oh, yeah, I did.”

 “Just now,” you pointed at the literal corpse laying in front of you, “you killed him.”

 His brows furrowed, “Obviously.”

 “Why?”

 “He was going to kill you,” Mithrun looked at you as if the answer was clear and he was genuinely confused at your bewilderment. He lifted his hand, the left one, and held it out for you expectantly. 

 While your mind raced with questions and horror and a bit of admiration, you placed your hand in his. The air smelled like blood, metallic. Mithrun told you that he wouldn’t allow you to get hurt. He meant it. It felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of your lungs. 

 Maintaining eye contact, he leaned forward, pressing his dry lips to your knuckles. The forest, the chirping of birds, even the warmth of the sun overhead, faded into the background. All you knew at that moment were his cold fingers holding yours, the feeling of his lips on your skin, the lingering look he was giving you. 

 Damn.

 His expression wasn’t blank this time. His good eye wasn’t lifeless. He looked at you through his lashes, his gaze glued to your face. Or perhaps not glued, but rather welded. He didn’t smile, he didn’t blush. But the intent was clear. His lips gently brushed across your knuckles for precisely four seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Your heart started to do its gymnastics routine again. 

 You could’ve lived beneath the spotlight of his gaze forever. 

 Yet soon enough, he dropped your hand and turned away. The tension dissipated like mist as he began walking, casually stepping over the corpse. “Let’s go. There’s been reports of a cockatrice nearby.”

 Right. Monsters. Work. 

 You looked at the corpse and the blood soaking into the soft earth, drying to a darker color on the leaves and grass. You should’ve been horrified, but…

 The fact that Mithrun was willing to kill for you only made you burn. Your knees were weak.

 This was a desperate situation. This was a confusing situation. This was the kind of situation that required an expert. 

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

 “Are you stupid?” Cithis asked. 

 Perhaps. You weren’t quite sure anymore. 

 You held a coffee mug tightly, wrapping both hands around it as you sent Cithis a pleading look. She returned your expression with something like boredom and disinterest. White braided hair fell over her bare shoulder. She sat across from you with one knee over the other and her hands politely clasped in her lap. While this elf woman was the picture of elegance, you knew what she really was. You knew how she could be. 

  Which was precisely why you’d come to her. 

 “I don’t understand,” you began explaining, feeling a ramble coming on, “he stares at me. He holds my hand. He gets furious if someone tries to hurt me. He looks at me sometimes with this face that almost makes me think he wants me. He—”

 “I think you’re stupid,” Cithis interrupted casually, “Or in denial. You know precisely how the captain feels. Admit it already and stop wasting everybody’s time.”

 You couldn’t help but scowl, “I don’t want to admit it.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because—” the words got caught in your throat and you had to forcefully shove them up and outwards, “Because it freaks me out. I don’t want to ruin the comfort between us. I don’t want Mithrun to one day get tired of me. I don’t want to… to die and leave him behind. He deserves better than that.”

 Cithis only tilted her head, “Don’t you think he deserves to get what he wants? How often does the captain want something?”

 Rarely. And you held the firm belief that when Mithrun wanted something, the world should bend its knee to meet that desire. Yet, this was different. Did he want you? Why? How? How can you be sure? Cithis seemed sure. How? Why?

 Her stare was unamused. She looked at you as if you were a dead fly that landed in her food. 

 “I guess I just don’t want to assume,” you finally said with a heavy exhale.

 “There’s no assumptions to be made here. He wants you. Everybody knows it.”

 Your head shot up, “What?” 

 “Everybody knows it,” her eyes narrowed.

 Nonsense. That couldn’t be true. You scoffed, “No.”

 “No?”

 “No.”

 “Listen,” Cithis leaned forward in her chair, pinning you in place with topaz yellow eyes— or piss yellow, how you described her eyes usually changed depending on your mood. “Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”

 You knew what Cithis was getting at. You also knew there was more to read than what she thought, because Mithrun was your friend and you adored him and wanted to kiss his face with your face. Still, accepting that remained quite difficult. 

 You shot Cithis a dark look. Her lips twitched into a smile that held not even a hint of humor. 

 “I’m aware,” you said, “however, that doesn’t mean I understand. Does he even know how to flirt? Does he know how a relationship would work with him in this state? Do I know how a relationship would work between us? Does he have any desire to be, you know, intimate? Does he—”

 Cithis interrupted, “Honestly, I believe the captain would burn down the world just to keep you warm. But that’s just my observation.”

 What?

 “What?”

 “Idiot,” she huffed, “he touches you every chance he gets as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t have his hands on you in some way. He stares at you like you’re a damn masterpiece—”

 “He stares at me rather blankly, actually.”

 “But he’s still staring.”

 “Maybe I’ve always got food in my teeth or something on my face.”

 “You know I don’t really enjoy doing this.” Cithis leaned back in her chair and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Her piss yellow eyes narrowed, “It’s much more interesting to watch you and the captain silently orbit each other than it is to so dramatically reveal his feelings. Yet, I think it’s time you stop being foolish and give him what he wants. He’s developed this odd love language for you and I think you should start learning it.”

 She was right. You hated it when Cithis was right. 

 But that was why you’d consulted her in the first place, because you knew she’d be right. Still, how annoying. 

 “Okay,” you threw your hands up, “What do I do? What’s the next step?”

 She smiled softly, but her furrowed brows and pitying eyes made it clear that she was condescending you. You were a child trying to ask her why the sky was blue. 

 “Kiss him, obviously.”

 Kiss him. Just kiss him. How simple. How elementary. The idea of kissing him definitely didn’t fill you with stinging wasps or anything. 

 All you could do was close your eyes to block out the sight of Cithis’s condescension. “Yeah. Kiss him. That’s– Yeah.”

 “Now go,” she waved a dismissive, elegant hand, “off with you.”

 Whatever. You shot her a glare before setting the warm coffee mug on the table in front of her. You’d been gripping it like a lifeline, and you hoped it left a ring on her nice table. Her lips parted in silent offense at the tiny act of revenge. 

 You left Cithis’s home. Were you assured? Yes. Were you going to kiss Mithrun? Probably not. 

 There was still so much to sort through, still so many concerns. Mithrun wanted you and, apparently, everybody knew it. He hadn’t even been trying to hide his feelings all this time. You accepted his staring and his touching and his willingness to do anything you asked as simple friendship. 

 Maybe you should kiss him. 

 Maybe you should—

 “What’re you doing?”

 A shout ripped from your throat. You couldn’t control yourself, you stumbled backward, putting up your hands as your heart jumped and your stomach churned. You knew who it was that had snuck up on you. He did this all the time. 

 “Mithrun,” you hissed, “stop teleporting to me, you know it drives me up a wall!”

 Mithrun’s nose twitched ever so slightly. He was considering your words, just a little. Then he shook his head, “No. I don’t think I’ll stop.”

 Right. Okay. So, he wasn’t willing to do anything you asked of him. Again, you could only wonder if he enjoyed this. Did Mithrun like getting on your nerves? 

 You two were standing outside of Cithis’s little house. She should’ve been in jail, really, but she and the other Canaries had been pardoned, sort of. It was really more like a house arrest. You knew that Cithis didn’t care enough to watch you and Mithrun out her window, but it was still unnerving to be so near her, knowing what she knew. 

 Now, you were the one grabbing him. You took his wrist, gently pulling him down the road. “Come on, we need to talk,” you said. 

 Mithrun’s good eye widened just a little as you led him through the streets of Melini. It was more crowded than usual. Merchants called out to passersby and people laughed and talked and lived their own little lives. And this was your life, now, pulling the man you adored through a crowd in a desperate attempt to find a quiet, private spot. 

 You still hadn’t decided whether or not to kiss him. 

 There was an alley nearby. It seemed relatively clean. You and Mithrun entered the alley and walked around the corner of a stone building before you released his wrist. Yet, immediately, he took your hand, unwilling to allow even a second of no contact between your bodies. 

 The words came flowing out of your mouth as if a dam had broken within you. “Your love language, I’m learning it.”

 He only blinked, “What?”

 “Physical touch,” you raised your other hand, wrapping it around his, “quality time,” you met his eye and considered the possibility of drifting in black ink forever, “acts of service.”

 He blinked once more. “Oh. I see.”

 Your brows furrowed, “Why were you near Cithis’s house anyway?”

 “I was simply passing by when I saw you.”

 “And your first response was to teleport to my side?”

 His head tilted slightly, “Yes. It was.”

 “Why?”

 Now it was his turn to furrow his brows, “Why not? It’s what I wanted to do, so I did it.”

 “And the staring,” you murmured, breathless, “the hand holding, the lingering touches… That’s what you want as well?”

 You didn’t expect Mithrun to react strongly to this conversation, and his reaction fulfilled your expectations. He remained calm, but his gaze lingered strongly on yours. His other hand slowly raised and he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles onto your skin. You couldn’t help but lean into the touch. 

 “Yes,” he answered, voice as scratchy and tired and level as ever, “that’s what I want.”

 “Why?”

 His composure broke just slightly. His eye narrowed and his lips quirked into a little frown. “Why wouldn’t I want to touch and stare at my partner?”

 …What?

 “Excuse me?” Your tone was thick with disbelief as your heart began to do flips. “Your partner?”

  “Yes?” His brows furrowed and he blinked a few times as if confused, “My partner.”

 “...Me?”

 “Yeah.”

 “But—” it was as if someone had punched you in the lungs, “Me?”

 “Yeah?”

 “I’m your partner?”

 A sigh as he closed his eyes. “Yes. You’re my partner. You have been for the last year.”

 “...Huh?”

 His eyes opened to pin you in place, “Were you not aware that we’ve been dating for this long?”

 “No!” You couldn’t help yell, “I wasn’t aware! I thought we were just good friends!”

 Mithrun said your name, tilting his head with a hint of a smile on his lips. He was amused. How rare. You only wish it wasn’t at your expense. “I wouldn’t do these things with just a good friend.”

 Alright. Cithis was right in calling you an idiot. 

 You felt like you were about to explode. You weren’t sure if that explosion would be from anger, embarrassment, or adoration. All three? You were going to self combust, then your flesh would fly everywhere and get on the walls and cause this huge, bloody mess. All that would be left of you were chunks. But if that happened, Mithrun wouldn’t be able to hold your hand anymore. He wouldn’t be able to stare. You weren’t about to take that away from him. The world needed to kneel and deliver him whatever he desired on a silver platter and you were not about to stop that from happening just because you exploded. 

 “I am in love with you,” you said matter-of-factly. It was pure word vomit. 

 “Yeah,” he remained calm, “I know.”

 He knew. Of course he knew. You wanted so badly to smack him over the head. 

 “If you knew…” your voice was strangled as you resisted every urge to scream, “then why haven’t you ever kissed me?”

 Mithrun shrugged. He shrugged. 

 “Do you want me to?”

 “Yes!” You snapped. 

 “Alright.” He released your hand, then grabbed your face and gently pulled you closer. His lips met yours. You wanted to melt. You were basically a popsicle on a hot summer day, then. And you had no clue what to do with your hands. 

 The kiss was… chaste. And soft. You weren’t quite sure what you expected. Certainly not passion, not from Mithrun. But chaste? That wasn’t right either. It was kind of… laid back, as if he’d kissed you a million times before and this was just another to add to the pile. 

 That wouldn’t do. 

 You figured out what to do with your hands. One gripped the front of his shirt, balling your fingers up in the fabric. The other stretched around his neck and tangled into his hair. He made a small noise of surprise. Satisfaction flickered through your chest. Gently, but firmly, you pulled him closer to you. Your back hit the stone wall. Your chests brushed against each other. His left hand dropped from your cheek and found your waist as he dug his fingers in and suddenly yanked your body against his. 

 There. That was better. 

 Slowly, Mithrun deepened the kiss, tilting his head. His hand slid away from your cheek and found a resting place on the back of your neck. You were both breathing through your noses as you kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed. 

 Heat began to build up in your abdomen. Your entire body tingled. He pushed you further against the wall and let out a soft exhale before introducing a soft bite on your lower lip. Another flash of heat wracked you, leaving you breathless. 

 Finally, the need for oxygen dominated and Mithrun pulled back, but only a few inches. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, letting out an exhale. 

 “I think… I like that,” he murmured, “We should do more of it.”

 All you could do was nod weakly. 

 “Right. More,” you leaned in, pressing your lips against his, and it started all over again. 

 One might call it a new beginning. In reality, it was a continuation of what always was. You set aside your endless questions and kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him some more. 

 You’d officially fallen off the edge. No more teetering, no more balance. You were gone, and you’d never hit the ground. 

[shugar0cone]

Hey love your little writeing peices! Was wondering if I could request an Alastor x reader where it's the readers b-day and maybe there (attempting) to make a cake together?

•Alastor is a cook not a baker so he ain’t the best he burnt cookies but only you know that.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!” Charlie hung a little hat on you saying birthday bitch. “I uhh could not find anything.” Says Charlie with a nervouse chuckle. “Ohh no love it’s fine.” You say taking it off. “Aww you don’t like it.” She says pouting. “Nah, just ain’t feeling it ya know.” Your hand rested under your chin. “Ok, wanna talk about it? OH WAIT WAIT THIS COILD BE A REDEMTION AC-“ you put a finger over her mouth shushing her. “Can we not today.” You just wanted time with your crazy ass boyfriend Alastor, but he had a meeting today and you haven’t seen him all day, even when you woke up he was gone. “What, smiles got ya tweaking.” Angel says at the bar. “No she just has a boyfriend who’s a pice of shit.” Says husk. You got up sighing. “Imma go take a nap.” You say walking upstairs. “But it’s only 3pm…” vaggie says walking in taking the place on your couch. “And it’s my birthday I’ll do what ever I want.”

You layed in bed feeling down, your deer dear is gone on your birthday. You understand that he’s busy but still it hurts.

You slept soundly no dreams just blank. You heard alastors radio static and get up. “Al?” You say rubbing your eyes. “Happy birthday love.” He gave you a gift of a raccoon skull, or a raccoon demon you can’t tell. “It’s pretty.” You smiled at it. “Hey Al when’s the last time we baked.” Alastor made a scratiching sound on the radio recalling the cookie incident.

“Al! It doesnt matter if you separate dry and wet it dirties dishes.” This was why he burnt cookies there was too many dishes. “Yes it does!” He snaps his head back at you. “Nuh uh.” You say. “Yeah huh.” Says Al. This went back and forth for awhile. Then another thing ocored. “AL YOU PUT TO MUCH MILK FOR THE BUTTER CREAM!” You say pointing to the runny cream. “Nope I didn’t.” He flicked some of it in your face you then grabbed a spoon flicking some back. You two laughed, fuck it’s chaos when you two bake.

[whispers-of-lilith]

It’s all those steamy gremlin energy thots™️ for Toji.

QUIN. THE WHEEZE I WHOZE JUST NOW. I feel like a raccoon in a corner rubbing it's grubby little hands together whenever I make a dirty post about him.

It's an honor to provide the world with steamy gremlin energy thots for Toji 🫡

What's my ™️? ❀

[umbrellamedic]

"Collared" - from Jill (during sex of course)

Send "COLLARED" for my muse's reaction to your muse putting a collar on them.

Bertha can't be bothered to open her eyes when her post-orgasm bliss is mildly inconvenienced by the feeling of something around her neck. She cracks an eye open only to confirm that this is Jill's doing. It is. The medic lifts a hand to brush over the material at her neck: sturdy leather, smooth save for a D ring at the front, a proper buckle instead of one of those quick-release disappointments, just tight enough that she can feel it every time she breaths. Tight enough that it's impossible to ignore or forget.

A shiver runs down her spine as the same frequency as the dreamy rumble in her throat. Her blush darkens from a relaxed dusting of pink to deep scarlet as she tugs her lower lip between her teeth and raises her gaze to Jill. It's dizzying how quickly she goes from relaxing and considering sleep to heat pooling low in her abdomen, thighs rubbing against each other and growing slick with her renewed excitement.

"Don't go breaking my heart." Instead of trying to drag Jill down to her, Bertha sits up to meet the cop close enough that their lips brush while she purrs, "I can be a very good dog, provided the one holding the leash can handle the task. If you can't be strict, I am more than happy to bite you." For emphasis, she nips Jill's lips and playfully tugs before letting to.

It feels almost surreal. Raccoon City is a bombed out shell of its former self, Umbrella is collapsing under the weight of every dirty secret that could be dug up on them by the media and the governments of several countries, and this: Bertha, somehow, spared trials and incarceration; a former Umbrella employee that's more useful in the BSAA than behind bars. She owes it to Jill.

They survived Raccoon City together, they disabled the Nemesis and collected all the evidence Umbrella sent the Wolf Pack to destroy; so much to go through together. Enough to prove Bertha's severed loyalty from Umbrella, and her effectiveness on a team with Valentine. The quarantine they're in- more to keep them out of any kind of spotlight and away from journalists than to monitor for viruses, far as Bertha can tell- is not as bad as the medic had feared it would be.

A cozy little shared space that may feel sparsely furnished to others, but is as comfortable for Bertha as her own apartment across the Atlantic. A gym that is more than adequate. Jill, and a bed or shower or counter tops or that one time on the couch because some movies just aren't worth paying attention to when it's much more fun to go down on the brunette. Just thinking about it makes Bertha grin; one of her hands slides up Jill's thigh, hoping to find the other woman as invested in their activities as she is.

"Anything you want, I will do; Mausebär."

[jinouchibhue]

[rubs my dirty little raccoon hands together] what kind of requests are we talking about? just wrestling, everyday, or anything?

It needs to be like practice stuff like things from Life, bodies. People, heads. No promises but I'll doodle some wrestlers, I just need to fill up some pages

[pickledpascal]

Achilles’ Heel

Relationship: Benoit Blanc x Ezra Wayne

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Elle decides to celebrate her 22nd birthday at an escape room, bringing Ezra and Benoit along.

Elle's 22nd birthday was in a few days and Ezra usually liked to go all out to celebrate them. He had the means to. He wanted to make each birthday memorable for her in some way. Now that Elle was old enough to make her own decisions, Ezra would just ask her what she wanted to do to celebrate. Usually, it would just be dinner with some friends, a small party, maybe she'd even ask to reserve a theater when one of her favorite movies was playing nearby. 

Not this time.

This year, she wanted to go to an escape room. Perhaps Elle chose it just to watch Benoit struggle, laughing her ass off as he tried to gather clues to no avail. 

And laugh she did. 

They just barely got out of the room before the timer ran out with the help of Ezra putting in the right combination of numbers on a steam-punk-like machine near the door they needed to exit from. As they exited, Elle couldn't stop laughing at Benoit's inability to figure out what they needed to get out. 

"You know these sorts of things are my Achilles' heel!" Benoit complained as they walked to the car. They rode there in Benoit's car, an Ashton Martin DB5 in gunmetal gray. 

Elle gave Benoit a light squeeze from her spot next to him. "I know and I love you for it." She grinned happily.

Ezra cocked an eyebrow at Elle and shook his head slightly as a chuckle escaped him. His daughter certainly was an interesting creature. A little less dirty than a raccoon found in a dumpster but the same sort of energy. 

"We solved it though, that's the important part." Ezra tried to make Benoit feel better, rubbing his shoulder gently as he pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

Benoit could sense what Ezra was trying to do, a light smirk making its way to his lips. "Y'know what would make me feel even better, darlin'?" He teased softly as he wrapped an arm around Ezra's waist to press their lips together.

Even after being together for months at this point, there was rarely a moment when Ezra or Benoit didn't feel winded after a kiss. It filled their chest with an unexplainable feeling. Something about it, they knew it was good. It had to be when they've never felt better in their entire life when they weren't together. 

"Ugh, you guys act like high-schoolers." Elle feigned disgust, shaking her head but Benoit and Ezra could hear a tinge of affection in her voice as they pulled away from each other. 

Ezra set a hand on Benoit's shoulder as he looked at Elle. "Careful, kiddo, or else I'm not paying for food tonight." He teased softly.

"You wouldn't!" Elle gasped, a hand on her chest. 

"I would. Now get in the car." Ezra ordered with a small laugh, getting in the passenger seat after Elle climbed in the back of the car. 

Keeping Elle humble was a little difficult at times but it helped that Ezra gained his wealth later in life so she was used to not always having what she wanted. The most difficult thing for Ezra, though, was not buying everything Elle wanted. He wanted to give her the world but he knew it would only give her a sense of entitlement, like she didn't have to work for anything. That's not what Ezra wanted out of Elle. 

So far, so good. Elle had a relatively normal job working at a local coffee shop chain as a barista. She earned her own money, only asking for her father's when it was a necessity or something she knew they could enjoy together. 

Benoit drove back home after going out for dinner–to Ezra's house. He practically lived there. Most of his clothes were folded in Ezra's dresser and some even were hung up in his closet. He had a feeling he'd be permanently moving in soon with the way everything was going. Benoit barely slept in his apartment anymore. 

"Elle really loves you, Benny." Ezra hummed, an arm around Benoit's shoulder as he played with Elle's hair. She had his head in his lap, fast asleep while a movie was playing on the TV. It cast a white glow on their faces. 

Benoit smiled softly at the girl–one he was glad to appoint as his adoptive daughter. His eyes flicked back up to Ezra's and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I love her too." He whispered, running a gentle hand through Ezra's hair. 

The man was letting his gray's grow out and Benoit had to admit, it made him all the more attractive. Although, the plan was most likely to have Elle dye them a some random color. The color she chose depended on the day and Ezra simply let her.

Ezra leaned into Benoit's shoulder, a content look on his face. "I… want to make it sorta official. You and I." He admitted, piquing Benoit's interest. "You've basically been living here for the past few months, I've just been putting off asking but… I think you should move in. You're already like a second father to Elle and I know I would love coming home to you–"

He was cut off by a peck to his cheek. "I was waitin' for you to ask." Benoit admitted with a light blush on his cheeks. 

Ezra let out a light laugh, pulling Benoit closer as a sigh escaped his lips. He's had quite a hard life but that didn't matter anymore. He was safe and comfortable, so was his little family whom he loved so much. Those who have wronged him most likely had it harder than him and he couldn't find it in himself to care. 

They didn't matter. This little moment did. 

Ezra's daughter asleep in his lap while he was cuddled with the love of his life. Well, maybe not as asleep as she seemed. 

"Finally." Elle pursed her lips, her voice a little tired from the nap she just awoke from. "I've been waiting for you to ask him." 

Ezra's face went blank as he looked down at his daughter. He grabbed a pillow and smothered Elle's face with it, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The young girl struggled for a moment, her legs and arms flailing until she fell onto the floor with a loud thump.

"Dad! Uncalled for!" Elle exclaimed before she turned to Benoit, "Can't believe you just let that happen. Aren't you a detective of the law or something, Dad? That was totally illegal and downright abusive, actually." She joked, crossing her arms from her place on the ground. 

Past the shock of Elle calling him 'Dad' for the first time, Benoit let out an amused laugh. Was this what a proper family was like? Dysfunctional with lots of faults but beautiful and nice and fulfilling. It filled Benoit's sense of self with contentment, far better than any conclusion to a case could ever be. 

Yeah, being a dad was nice. 

[kythed]

“almost funny”

synopsis: suna rintarou thinks you’re out of his league, and you think he’s out of yours.

tagged: general dumbassery, fwb-to-lovers, some profanity, sexual references but nothing explicit.

commitment level: 5.6k words.

It’s almost funny, really. It’s funny how what started out as a purely physical transaction has now transformed into a one way ticket to Simpville with the name Suna Rintarou stamped on it in big red letters. Suna runs a hand through his hair in frustration as he stares down at your sleeping form, curled up in his SF Giants tee that fits you like an oversized nightgown. He loves how you look there, wearing his clothes, bed head resting on his pillows. It’s almost embarrassing how much he loves it. How much he might love you. 

He doesn’t really remember when he started seeing you as more than a good fuck. Maybe it was that time you told him he looked pretty with your lipgloss smeared across his mouth. 

“That’s a nice shade on you,” you’d laughed as he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “You should wear it more often.” 

Then, before he could respond, you’d yanked him back in by the collar, licking into his mouth, deep and dirty. He shivers now even just thinking about it, recalling the taste of that lipgloss. Strawberry lemonade, the sort that comes in little bottles at the dollar store. However “pretty” he might’ve looked in that moment, he’s sure you looked a hundred times better. You always do, and you don’t even have to try. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even in your worst moments. 

Or maybe it was the time you remembered his birthday when no one else did. January 25th; all his friends had taken off on their ski trips or tropical vacations, but you showed up to his apartment toting a cupcake and a single candle, belting a loud, out of tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ until he shut you up with an impulsive kiss on the lips. You’d been surprised, but not so surprised you couldn’t kiss him back. Suna’s pretty sure most friends-with-benefits don’t do that sort of thing. They don’t sit across from each other at the kitchen table, splitting a vanilla cupcake and laughing over matching frosting mustaches. They don’t hug each other goodbye after two hours of scrolling through YouTube and nothing else, content to linger in that air of tentative familiarity and pseudo-friendship. 

Whatever the reason, whenever it happened, all Suna knows now is you’re more than just a fuck buddy. He doesn’t even want to associate the term with you — it feels disrespectful. He wishes he could just stop pretending. Stop pretending he doesn’t want you to be his. 

“Hey.” 

Suna grins at your low, throaty morning voice. It’s cute. 

“Hey,” he responds, reaching forward to flick your shoulder. “You slept in.” 

“Did I?” You blink the sleep from your eyes and squint at Suna’s bedside clock. 9:06. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.” 

You fly out of bed, wiggling into your jeans and tossing your hair into a careless ponytail before frantically scanning the room. “Have you seen my sweater anywhere?”

Suna exhales through his nose before getting up and walking over to his closet. “I hung it up last night so it wouldn’t be wrinkled.”

You freeze in your tracks, slowly turning with a teasing grin plastered on your face. “Oh? How considerate of you.”

Suna shrugs, avoiding your gaze. He feels a flush rise to cheeks and desperately hopes it doesn’t show. “Just being polite.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a little crush on me,” you crow before taking the sweater from the hanger and slipping it over your head. 

“You wish,” he snorts, but all he can think is you’re absolutely right. 

You ignore him and begin shoveling all your things into your purse: a compact mirror, lipstick, house keys. You glance at the clock again. “I’m gonna be so late to this lecture. Damn. Maybe I can text Aiko and ask her to record the first part for me.”

Suna raises an eyebrow. He remembers your friend Aiko from a party last year, before you and he began your… arrangement. She’s outgoing, friendly, and probably the flakiest person he’s ever met. “She’s not gonna do that. Just let me drive.”

“No, it’s fine,” you automatically brush him off, heading into the bathroom to splash your face with lukewarm water. “You probably have your own shit to take care of.”

Yeah, you, he thinks, but instead he says, “Not really. Plus, you’ll probably miss the whole thing if you try to bike to campus. Let me take you in the car. I’ll strap the bike onto the back.” 

You give him a look. “Are you sure, Rin?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he says, throwing on a shirt. “Outside in five, and I’ll have you there by 9:30, easy.” 

After a few more weak protestations, you finally agree, and as he drives you to your university, he lets himself pretend you’re his girlfriend sitting there in the passenger seat. He turns on your favorite artist’s Spotify mix on the aux and smiles to himself when you hum along, watching the city fly past out the window. What he wouldn’t give for that reality, one where he can love you without all these restrictions, these tricky boundaries between friends and lovers. When you jump out of the car, calling a cheeky “I’ll text you!” over your shoulder, he pretends it’s an affectionate “I’ll see you for dinner tonight!” instead. He pretends that instead of rushing to get away from him and into the lecture hall, you kiss him on the forehead and squeeze his shoulder, reluctant to leave.

“Fuck me,” Suna says angrily before slamming his palm into the horn, scaring a few freshman walking to class. “And fuck you too!” 

He’s not sure who “you” is. Maybe the universe. 

No, Suna Rintarou doesn’t know why or how it happened, but he’s in too deep now. And he’s pretty damn sure you’ll never feel the same way. 

+

You slide into your seat beside Aiko just as the guest lecturer pulls up his power point, breathing out a sigh of relief. Aiko shoots you a grin, waggling her eyebrows. Suna? she mouths, and you roll your eyes, nodding nonetheless. Aiko can hardly wait until after the lecture to start pestering you about it. 

“So,” she says as you leave the auditorium together. “Did you tell him yet?” 

“Tell him what?” You dig in your bag for your water bottle, groaning when you remember leaving it on the edge of Suna’s sink last night. 

“Tell him that you’re in loooooove,” Aiko sings, nudging your shoulder. 

You scoff. “Okay, first of all, I don’t love him.”

“But you like him,” Aiko persists, and you hold up a finger. 

“And second of all, even if I did, I would never tell him.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes before realizing you hadn’t taken your makeup off and thus probably have awful raccoon eye bags. “He’s so out of my league it’s not even funny. It’s kind of pathetic for me to think he’d ever like me back.” 

Aiko scoffs. “If anything, you’re out of his league. You could pull any guy you wanted to. And when I say any, I mean any. Like, I bet you could even get Jake Gyllenhaal.” 

You laugh. “Why specifically Jake Gyllenhaal?”

Aiko shrugs. “Dunno. Just the first hot guy that came to mind. But forget him. My point is, Suna Rintarou is definitely yours for the taking. All you have to do is —”

“I know, I know,” you interrupt. “All I have to do is confess.” 

“Exactly,” says Aiko. Before she can open her mouth again, you cut in. 

“Okay, but listen, Aiko,” you say. “Suna’s the kind of guy who doesn’t let himself get attached. He fully admitted to me when we first hooked up that he’d never had a girlfriend. And that’s obviously not from lack of female interest. It’s because he doesn’t want one.”

“Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t found the right person yet.” Aiko starts heading towards the campus coffee shop, and you follow her. 

“Sure,” you say, getting in line. The cafe is crowded with students getting in their daily caffeination, inhaling sugary lattes and bitter espressos just to stay awake through their next class. Ah… college. “Or maybe he just. Doesn’t. Want. One.” 

Aiko keeps arguing all the way up until you reach the cash register, where you realize you haven’t even decided on what to order yet. 

“Hey there,” says the cashier, smiling sunnily. “What can I get for ya?” 

You blink. He’s attractive. Very attractive, actually. Bleach blonde, a crooked grin that screams trouble in the best sort of way. Miya, says the little name plate pinned to his shirt. “I, uhh…”

“Take your time,” he says leaning forward like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Between you and me, we have an excellent mocha latte. Not too sweet, y’know?”

You find your manners. “Oh, um, yeah. That sounds great, actually.” 

“One mocha latte, then?” he asks, picking up a cup, and you nod. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of serving today?” 

When you tell him your name, he smiles to himself and scrawls it on the cup. “Pretty.”

You flush and pay, hands shaking a little when you slide your card down the side of the machine. The cashier notices and shoots you a knowing look. Five minutes later, when you pick up your drink from the other side of the counter, you see not only your name written on the lid, but a phone number, too, along with a tiny winking face. 

“What’d I tell you?” exclaims Aiko shrily when you leave the shop. “Any. Guy. Period.” 

You shake your head in exasperation, but you can’t help but throw a final glance over your shoulder, meeting the eyes of the cute cashier one more time. Maybe Aiko does have a point. 

+

That weekend, Suna’s stretched out on his couch, dangling his feet over the armrest and staring up at the ceiling. It’s one of those lazy Saturday afternoons, and usually he’d be enjoying his alone time. Not today, though. Today there’s something — someone — on his mind, and that someone is spelled y-o-u. His phone pings, and he snatches it up with embarrassing speed, groaning when he sees it’s just Atsumu. 

“Bastard,” he mutters, not even bothering to open the message. Probably just asking for the O-chem lab answers. 

Suna rolls over onto his stomach, pulling up your contact name. What he really wants to do is see you, but how is he supposed to do that without sounding weirdly desperate? Hey, he types out. Wanna come over and watch a movie? He pauses for a moment before adding, Pizza’s on me. 

He buries his face in his hands and deletes the text. That makes it sound like he’s asking you out. Well, that’s what he does want to do, but you can’t know that. He’s fairly certain if you knew how he felt about you, you’d freak out. Girls don’t like to be tied down, he reminds himself. Suna groans again, grabbing two fistfuls of hair in irritation. 

“Why are women so complicated?” he says aloud, letting the words echo in his empty apartment. He takes a couple seconds to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and unlock his phone again, this time settling on a simple Come over. Short, sweet, and to the point. Well, not exactly. That makes it sound like all he wants to do is sleep together, when he’d really rather just… talk. Spend time with you. 

“Oh, God,” he mutters. “I’m so done for.” 

It takes what seems like forever for you to arrive, breathless from biking, hair slightly mussed. Suna grins, biting his lip. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. Even if all he can get is the sex, then he’s sure as hell going to appreciate it. You smell like lavender laundry detergent, he notices when you press yourself into him, fumbling to close the door behind you without breaking the kiss. 

“Well, hello there,” you laugh when he finally breaks away and draws in a shaking breath. “Somebody’s eager.”

Suna rolls his eyes. “As if. You just took so long to get here.” 

You cock an eyebrow. “You texted me like half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, and you’re half an hour too late.”

You snort and hurl a pillow from the sofa at him. He catches it and smiles, taking your wrist and drawing you in for another messy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Sorry that I don’t have the power of teleportation,” you quip, laughing when he pulls you into the bedroom. Suna resolves to take his time with you today, undressing you carefully, trailing his lips down your sternum and collarbones, grinning to himself whenever you gasp. He almost catches himself saying “I love you” at one point as you cling to him, mumbling his name, but he placates himself with kissing you extra hard at the end instead, pulling you into his chest and falling back into the pillows. 

Usually, you’d take a few minutes to lay in silence, tracing shapes in his skin, and he’d lean back with closed eyes, imagining what it would be like to be loved by you. Slow early morning kisses, skin on skin, whispering and giggling and everything cheesy he used to hate but now wishes he could experience with you. Today, though, you peel yourself off of him and grab your phone as soon as it buzzes, fingers flying in response to whoever had texted you.

“New boy toy?” he jokes, almost choking when you don’t immediately say no. Oh, shit. “You’re kidding.”

“Just a guy I met the other day,” you say casually. Suna stares, slack jawed. “Works at the coffee shop near the quad.” 

“Coffee shop?” He furrows his brow. Doesn’t he know someone who works there? He internally scowls, digging into the back of his brain. Aran? Osamu? 

“Mm,” you say, suppressing a smile as the nameless suitor sends another text. “His name’s Atsumu Miya.”

Suna’s heart nearly falls right out of his chest and cracks at his feet. “No.”

You look up, raising an eyebrow. “No?”

“Not him,” Suna says, forgetting himself, forgetting the nature of your relationship. 

“I didn’t realize you were in charge of who I can and cannot be interested in,” you say bitingly. 

Suna sits up. “I’m not. It’s just, Atsumu… he’s not your type.” 

“You know him?”

“Yeah,” Suna says, thinking back on his days observing the Miya twins’ antics. “He’s not your kind of guy, trust me.”

“Pray tell then,” you say. Oh, fuck. You’re irritated. “Who exactly is my kind of guy?” 

Me, he thinks. I’m your kind of guy. “I don’t know. Just trust me though, okay? Atsumu… he’s difficult.” 

“Thanks, Suna,” you say, tone tinged with sarcasm. Suna cringes. You only ever call him by his surname when you’re upset with him. “But I think I can go out with whoever I want to go out with.” 

“Fine.” The word tumbles out more harshly than he’d meant it to. 

You stare at him in disbelief. “What, are you mad at me or something?” 

Suna exhales heavily. “No, I’m not mad. It’s not like we’re dating or anything. I just wanted to give you a little guidance. As your friend.” 

“As my friend?” you repeat. “My friend?”

Now it’s Suna's turn to be confused. “Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, Suna,” you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, pulling your clothes on. “You tell me.” 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say here,” he says, watching as you struggle to pull your shorts back on. He knows what he wants to say. No, we’re not friends. We should be together. Isn’t it obvious? 

You huff, grabbing your bag and the water bottle you’d left behind the other day. “You know, I don’t really know either. Forget I ever said anything. I guess I just thought…” 

You trail off and shake your head, heading towards the door. Suna scrambles out of bed to follow you, pulling on his pants as he hops down the hall on one leg. “What’s that?” 

“I said forget it,” you call over your shoulder, trying to slam the door, but Suna catches your wrist. As you stare up at him, he thinks he sees your lip quivering, eyes shining with half-formed tears. “Let me go.” 

“I’m serious,” Suna says. “What did you think?” 

You draw in a deep breath, and for a second, Suna thinks you’re about to say the words he’s always wanted you to say. Then you look away. “Let. Me. Go.” 

Slowly, Suna releases you from his grasp, and you stumble backwards, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. 

“Don’t call me.”

“Wait, no —”

“Don’t call me, Suna!” you say loudly, before turning on your heel and speed walking down the stairs. 

Oh. Oh. Suna stares in shock at the place you were just standing on his doorstep. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

When he heads back inside, head empty but for the single thought, I’ve just lost the best thing that ever happened to me, he glances at his phone on the counter. In an instant, he’s opening up his messages, pulling up Atsumu’s. 

Met a cute girl LOL. Gonna bring her to that party on Friday. 

Then, in a separate bubble — Btw: chem answers? 

+

“And then he called me his friend,” you say angrily, handing Aiko the box of Oreos. The two of you are sprawled on the floor of her dorm room. “Just like we were two bros who got together to play XBox every once in a while, instead of two people who had literally just banged.” 

Aiko takes a cookie before handing them back to you. “Asshole.”

“I mean, I know technically we were ‘friends with benefits,’” you say, stuffing an Oreo in your mouth. “But I guess I thought we could be something more. I thought there was no way he could kiss me like that, look at me like that without feeling something. Guess I was wrong.” 

“Screw him,” Aiko says. “You’ve got boys lined up around the block, and he thinks he can treat you like rubbish? Absolute bullshit.”

“I don’t have boys ‘lined up around the block,’” you remind her, smiling regardless. “Just one.”

“And that one is hella cute!” Aiko says. “You’re way too cool to pine over some guy who thinks you’ll just answer his every beck and call without even committing to a relationship.” 

You sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… ack. I don’t know. Am I jumping to conclusions? He seemed like he wanted to talk to me more, but I kind of stormed off without saying anything.” 

“Seems like he was pretty clear,” Aiko says with a shrug. “Your call, though. If I were you, I’d forget about him. Plus, you have Atsumu now. That’s a promising route.” 

You smile down at the Oreos, thinking about the cheery bottle blonde. “Yeah… he invited me to a party this coming Friday.” 

Aiko gives you a look and nudges your knee with her own. “You’d better wear that black dress.”

“You think?” you laugh, momentarily forgetting about Suna. 

“Oh, definitely. Gotta look your best on the first date.” 

“Right, and then after that I can just dress like a bum,” you joke. You purse your lips. “Rin might be there. Apparently he and Atsumu are pretty close.” 

“Even better,” insists Aiko. “Make him suffer a little bit. He won’t like seeing you all dolled up on Atsumu Miya’s arm.” 

“I’m not gonna try to make him jealous, Aiko,” you say, and Aiko shakes her head.

“No, I just think he needs to understand what he lost,” she says. “You don’t even have to pay attention to him at all, though. You should try and get to know Atsumu a little better.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, before reaching down for another cookie. “Oh. We’re out.”

“Gas station run?”

“Gas station run.” 

+

When Friday rolls around, you’ve successfully managed to avoid thinking about Suna the entire day. You have a calculus exam in the morning, and then a club meeting in the afternoon, and by the time you get done with everything it’s already time to get ready to leave for the party. It’s across town at someone’s loft apartment, so Atsumu offers to give you a ride, rolling up in a shiny Lexus, a sharp contrast from Suna’s old Chevy. 

“Hey,” he says, getting out to open the door for you. “You look great.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you say. “Although, I might prefer the work uniform.”

“Oh, please,” Atsumu says with a grin. “That apron does nothing to flatter my figure.” 

“Mhm.” The ride there is a slightly awkward one, but that’s normal, you tell yourself. You’ve gotten so used to the easy, teasing camaraderie you and Suna have that you’re rusty in regards to flirting. Atsumu has a different sense of humor, too, nothing like the dry sarcasm Suna’s such an expert in. You shake your head. Stop thinking about him. 

Even sitting next to a new guy, you can’t help but run last weekend’s drama over in your head. The past few months have been a jumble of mixed signals, and last Saturday was no different. How he tenderly brushed your hair from your face as he hovered over you, how he pulled you into his arms afterwards … how he seemed almost jealous when you mentioned Atsumu. Was it really jealousy? Exactly how much does Suna Rintarou care for you? You roll the numbers inside your head, trying to quantify the soft touches and lingering stares. He’s not easy to read; trying to understand Suna is like trying to decipher Greek without ever taking a single class. 

Even trying to get a measure on how much you care for him is difficult. You definitely like him as more than a friend. The only reason you agreed to the whole friends-with-benefits thing in the first place was because of a little crush that grew, that fed on that intimacy… but you’re not so sure now. 

“Here we are,” says Atsumu, jolting you from your contemplation as he pulls up alongside the curb. When you climb out of the car, he takes you by the hand, flashing you a quick smile. Your heart trips over itself, and you smile back. “Let’s do this.” 

+

Suna doesn’t show up to the party. He spends most of Friday busying himself at home, paying off a couple electricity bills, cleaning out the fridge. He even does a load of laundry. That’s how bored he is. By the time the clock strikes eight, he feels as though he’s Swiffered every single kitchen tile, folded every shirt, and wiped down every counter in the entire apartment, all to avoid stewing over you and him and all the ways he keeps messing up. But after doing everything on his to-do list and watching a movie and cooking his own dinner (unheard of!) he finds himself pacing around the living room, biting at his nails and thinking about you. More specifically, you and Atsumu. He hopes you’re not wearing that little dress you wore to the club with him a couple months ago. Not that you don’t look great in it — you do, and that’s the issue. The better you look, the more likely Suna will never get a chance to be with you again. 

To be fair, he’s not entirely sure how much of a chance he’s ever had with you. You’re incredible, plain and simple. Gorgeous, intelligent, the best player two on every video game he’s ever played with you. You’re not especially adept at the games themselves; no, there’s just something about you. There’s always just been something about you he can’t seem to find anywhere else. 

“Damn it,” Suna grunts aloud, flopping down on the couch. It’s nearing half past eleven now. He wonders what you’re doing. Dancing to some shitty music in some crowded living room. Sipping a can of cheap liquor. Letting Atsumu touch your waist, his hand dipping lower and lower until — 

Suna buries his face in the couch cushion. He’s usually not one to let his imagination run away with him, but tonight seems to be one of many recent exceptions. If only there was a way to know where he stands with you, or at least where you stand with Atsumu…

Well, there is a way, actually. Almost of its own accord, his hand inches towards his phone, sliding it open and somehow finding its way into his Snapchat. Fingers shaking, Suna clicks on Osamu’s story. It’s dimly lit, a mass of bodies, loud, drunk guys and scantily clad girls. The music is too loud, even through the phone. Suna squints at the screen — there’s Aran, even Kita’s there, quietly sitting in the corner, but no sight of — Suna’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Because there you are, and you’re not alone. You’re sitting on Atsumu’s lap, but he can’t see your expression because Atsumu is kissing you sloppily, and — oh, God — it looks like you’re kissing him back. 

And you’re wearing the fucking dress. 

“Damn,” Osamu says in the background. “Looks like he’s getting some tonight.”

Suna throws his phone across the room like it’s a grenade, staring down at his empty hands in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Not to him. Not to you. 

For the first time, Suna Rintarou thinks he understands what it really means to want someone. Not in a sexual way, but in the deepest sense of the word. Want. He wants you, and he’s pretty sure he’s never wanted anyone or anything quite so much in his life. 

All of a sudden, before his brain even has a chance to catch up, Suna finds himself shrugging on a jacket and snatching his keys from the table, dashing out the door like he’s being chased. If he leaves now, he thinks, starting the car and nearly slamming the door on his foot, he can get to the party before you leave. And then, well, then he’s not quite sure what he’ll do, but he’ll do something. 

Again, though, it seems as if the universe might be against him, because there’s an accident on the highway and it takes twice as long to get across town as it should. Suna cusses loudly over the incessant honking and chews on the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. When the traffic lets up and he finally pulls up to the apartment complex, parallel parking in a spot that’s probably illegal, he races up the stairs and into the loft, grabbing the first partygoer he sees. The poor kid’s plastered beyond belief and stares at Suna like he’s an extraterrestrial, eyes glassy.

“You see a girl leave here? ‘Bout this tall, probably left with some douchey looking blonde dude?” 

The kid blinks, hard and slow, before nodding. “Yeah, man, you just missed her. That your chick or somethin’? Because she was sucking face with —” 

Suna spins on his heel before the kid gets a chance to finish his sentence. He’s lucky Suna doesn’t deck him the head, he’s so irritated. 

“Sucking face,” he mumbles, climbing back into the car. He has the route to your house memorized (although he’s not sure how), and he’s pretty sure he breaks about twenty traffic laws trying to get there, so it takes significantly less time to arrive, but to Suna, it feels like an eternity. How did he ever sleep soundly at night knowing other guys had a shot at you before this? He doesn’t know, and he hopes he never has to worry about it again. Not after tonight. 

He gets there just as Atsumu’s pulling out of the driveway. Suna flashes him a mental middle finger and resolves to kick his ass later. No time for that right now. You’re still standing on the front porch, and when Suna stumbles out of the car, you turn towards him, mouth agape. 

“Rin? What are you—”

“Give me a chance.” He’s breathless, eyes wide and hair whipping around his face in the cool breeze. His heartbeat pounds in his ears like it’s about to burst blood vessels.

“Huh?”

“Give me a chance,” he repeats, reaching forward to take your hand. Your palm is cold against his. “I can do so much better, I promise.” 

You furrow your brows. “What in the world are you talking about, Rin?”

The dam breaks. The dam breaks, and everything — the longing, the frustration, everything — comes pouring out in a waterfall of rushing words he doesn’t even have time to think over before they splash at your feet.

“I can do so much better than Atsumu. He doesn’t know you. I know you, and I, well, I’ve liked you since forever, okay? I know your favorite color and your birthday and which Chinese place you like to get takeout from on Saturday nights.” Suna clears his throat. “I know that you like to be hugged from behind and that you hate it when people see you cry. I know so many things about you, and I want to know more.” 

“Rin—”

He holds up a hand. “Just listen. I know we’re just fuck buddies, or friends with benefits, or whatever the hell you want to call it, but I want to change that. You mean so much more to me than the sex. God, even if we never slept together again, I would still love you.” 

You stare at him. “Love?”

Suna swallows hard. “Yeah, fuck it. Love. I love you. Whatever that means to you, it means to me. I love your stupid jokes and your stupid laugh. To be honest, I’m so in love it feels like I’ll never love anyone else.”

He stops to take a deep breath and a shaky laugh. “Pathetic, right? I know it is. I can’t help it. I’m well aware that Atsumu is way more charming and outgoing, and I was probably wrong when I said he wasn’t your type… but I just need to know if I have even the smallest chance of winning you over.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Then another one. You’re gazing at him, head cocked, and the seconds tick by. He still has your hand in his, growing warmer via body heat. Suna feels himself grow increasingly nervous at your expression, curious and almost apathetic — until a wide smile breaks across your face. You laugh, and he thinks it must be the best sound he’s ever heard. 

“You weren’t wrong.”

“What?”

“He’s not my type,” you say. “We didn’t click.” 

“But — I saw, uh — Osamu’s story,” Suna stammers. “Sucking face.”

“Sucking face?” You squint in confusion before chuckling again. “Ah. Yeah, I kissed him. It was part of some stupid game. He’s kind of bad at it.” 

“Atsumu’s a bad kisser?” 

“Well,” you say, drawing the word out. “I wouldn’t say bad. It’s just… you’re better.” 

Suna’s silent for a second, letting the words ricochet around his brain. He’s better. He’s a better kisser. It was just a game. You’re not into Atsumu. “So… does that mean…?” 

“I love you, too.” You smile, and it’s not like your usual cocky grin. It’s sweet and almost… shy. 

“You love me, too?” Suna repeats in utter shock. He hadn’t expected to get this far.

“That’s what I just said,” you say. “What are you, a parrot? Speaking of which, though, I think that whole speech was the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” 

Suna doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step closer and pulls you in for a hug. A real hug, not like the hesitant embrace you’d given him on his birthday, or the side hug he gave you after running into you at the grocery market a few weeks ago. No, this is a true, bona fide hug, and he translates everything he’s ever wanted to tell you but couldn’t into his arms wrapping around your waist. 

“So… wanna come in and watch a movie?” 

+

A little while later, Suna’s stretched out on your mattress with you between his legs, chin resting on the top of your head. You’ve changed out of your dress and wiped the makeup from your face, and Suna catches you yawning in the corner of his eye. There’s a trashy romcom droning on your laptop at the foot of the bed. To any outside onlooker, the scene is mundane, just a typical couple enjoying each other’s company. To Suna, though, this is paradise. 

It’s almost funny. It’s funny how, a week ago, Suna was a boy pining for a girl he thought he had no chance with. He looked at you and saw something unattainable, someone who would only ever want him temporarily. (And, unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way.) He experienced an overwhelming amount of want, heart knotting in on itself and twisting and turning until it pushed him over the edge, forcing him to confront his own desires. His own inadequacies. 

It’s funny how love is what everyone longs for, but it’s also the hardest reward to earn. It’s the most uncomfortable, heart-wrenching, nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing pathway to happiness Suna’s ever seen. But still… he’d do it all over again if he had to. The months of headaches, the overthinking. It’s worth it. You’re worth it. 

Oh, well. What can he say? Suna leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your temples, and you tilt your head up to smile at him. Love’s a funny thing. 

Fortunately, Suna’s always down for a good joke.

[mintchanniemint]

pairing: [still friends] bassist!chan x (fem)reader wordcount:  ~2.6k  [these events are not chronologically connected to the previous parts!] taglist: @100797-bc @chansrms

Achoo! 

You groaned as your own sneeze made you feel like your whole head spinned for five minutes straight. You were desperately trying to reach for your phone on the bedside table but your forces were nearly nonexistent, it felt so difficult to even just move your eyes. You could hear the never-ending buzzing of the device, and you couldn't even wonder who would be able to make so many notifications pop up in such a short time. You had caught a bad cold, probably due to the previous night, but you weren't even able to tell your friends about it. You just hoped they didn't worry that much. You sighed, giving up on your small mission to let your hands finally reach your phone and decided to rest a little bit, hoping you would gain some energy to get up and go get some medicine for your headache. Not even ten minutes had passed and that peaceful, way too silent silence got interrupted by a really long hold on your doorbell. 

You suddenly opened your eyes and stared intensely at the white ceiling. It's Chan. Only that guy was able to be so annoying just by ringing the bell. But how could you tell him you got sick? And that it was entirely your fault since he warned you and told you to bring a jacket with you and then found yourself in an unfortunate rainstorm with just a simple t-shirt? 

"Eugh… give me a minute…" You murmured, somehow hoping your voice could reach your friend's ears although it left your mouth in a really low whisper. The ringing got even more annoying and obnoxious and you took a deep breath before finally trying to leave your warm bed. "The quicker I move, the faster it will end." You kept repeating to yourself as you got up, tried not to lose balance, stomped your feet around to catch both your slippers but being able to only wear one, and proceeding with quickly moving from your room to the front door, your right hand always following the wall by your side as everything around you was spinning. 

You struggled a bit with the various locks but then you finally were able to open the door, and the annoying ringing stopped when your tired, heavy eyes met with the red haired guy's. 

"Why didn't you answer my messages-" 

Your ears were barely able to catch those words before everything around you suddenly turned off. 

The next thing you saw was that familiar white ceiling: you were back in your bed, under many warm blankets, and a beeping thermometer under your arm.  Your gaze slowly moved to your side, seeing a bottle of water where your phone was previously left on your nightstand. Raindrops gently hitting against the surface of the window as you got welcomed by your friend.

"You're awake." Chan's soft voice reached your senses as you felt like you were slowly relaxing. He sat on the bed and your eyes focused on his silky features, as his warm hand got the thermometer from under your arm and he checked the temperature.

"Is it bad?" 

He only sighed, his eyes fixed on the display. 

"That bad?" Your voice sounded a bit worried and he quickly turned off the small device and put it back in its case. His eyes met with yours and his gaze softened as he let his hand wander under the four piles of blankets just to look for yours, and hold it. 

"It's really bad. Why didn't you listen to me and left without bringing a jacket with you." 

There he goes! You huffed and you quickly pinched the same warm hand you were distractedly letting your fingers trace on a few seconds before.

"Did you really come all the way to my house, ring my damn door for, like, ten minutes without even giving me a break, only to scold me?" 

"Yes." 

You pinched his hand even harder. 

"Not only for that."

Your two fingers let go of his hand for a second, distractedly tapping on the same spot they were previously pinching, waiting for him to continue. 

"I also got to see you faint in front of me." 

"You're such an idiot." You couldn't help but let a tired giggle leave your lips, as those words were blurred out together. 

"Make sure to eat something before taking your medicine." 

You looked at him in silence, blinking a few times as your eyes didn't move from his. It was as if you were trying to tell him something without actually saying it.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon… don’t make me say it- 

"Why are you looking at me like that." 

"...Channie, I'm kinda sick, could you please make me some food? A sandwich maybe? Hm? Hm? Or porridge? What about some-" 

"Don't call me Channie-" 

"Oh, c'mon! Please, please, please!"  You started whining right away, now both of your hands holding his and randomly pulling it and just… throwing a whole tantrum while trying to keep a cute tone in your voice. His expression didn't change a bit, he was definitely not surprised by that whole theatrical scene. 

"Okay, okay. I'll make something for you. Stay here and sleep." 

You suddenly stopped and looked at him with sparkly eyes as you started to loudly thank him. 

"You don't look that sick anymore, though. Maybe I can just go home-" 

"No, don't go!"  Those words left your mouth before your brain could even register what you were going to say. You looked at Chan in silence as he was clearly processing what you said. Those were, really, a few simple words; but it was probably the veiled desperation hidden in your tone that got both of you quite startled. When did you even become this clingy?

He didn't say anything, probably not to make that small situation even more embarrassing, and left your room, not before making sure that you were going to rest and not follow him around. 

"But Chan, this is my house!" 

"I'm in charge of cooking today. I don't want to see you wander around the house like a lost raccoon looking for food." 

You had no words left to win that debate so you just huffed and hid under your blankets, leaving only your face uncovered as you stared at a small wolf plushie sitting on your desk; its cute, closed eyes reciprocating your gaze. You started to feel your mind slowly wander from thought to thought before you finally fell asleep, hoping to feel better after the nap. 

You couldn't really tell how much time had passed, but you tried to slowly open your heavy, tired eyes as you were feeling, once again, the whole world spinning around you. 

"Gwah… Chan…?"  You mumbled as you heard his steps, signaling that he probably just finished cooking some small meal for you. He left a bowl on the nightstand and sat on the bed. He probably could tell that you were more in pain than earlier. 

"Are you okay? Do you have a headache?"  His voice reached your ears in a soft, low tone, the only way you could answer was by slowly nodding. You felt his big hand quickly reaching your forehead.

"Gosh, I can't even open my eyes…"  You blurted out and slowly opened one eye as you tried to somehow focus on Chan, sitting right next to you, his back now facing you as he was looking for the thermometer he had used earlier to check your temperature. 

Before you could even say anything else, he suddenly turned around once again, his dark eyes meeting with yours for a fraction of seconds before you squeezed your eyes. 

"It hurts…"  You mumbled under your breath. Chan just sighed, his soft hand slowly moving some strands of hair from your face.  His hands felt quite cold, probably meaning that you were boiling hot since they were usually warm whenever he touched you.  You turned your head, letting your cheek lazily rub against the palm of his hand.  The red haired guy suddenly moved a bit closer to you, hesitant for a bit, before you felt his soft, plump lips rest against your forehead. 

What…?! 

You abruptly opened your eyes, but he was leaning against you and all you could see was his torso covered by one of his usual black hoodies. 

"Chan-" 

"Yeah, you're getting worse. Can you sit properly? So you can eat." 

Damn… why couldn’t he just use the thermometer?! It’s literally in his hands!

That was quite unexpected, the words you were trying to say faded on the tips of your lips and before you could even realize it, you were now sitting on your bed. Chan moved various pillows behind your back so you could rest comfortably and he brought a small cloth to put on your lap, on top of the various layers of soft blankets that were covering you. 

"What’s on the menu today, chef?"  You giggled lightly, your voice not able to filter your tiredness as you suddenly sneezed. You were glad he left three boxes of tissues right next to you. You were able to catch a really light smile painting his lips before he sat down holding the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. 

"Just some porridge."  He replied with his usual colourless voice, although you had to admit that at this point you were able to see every single one of the many colours that he always coldly tried to hide from others. 

"Here, be careful not to get your blankets dirty while eatin-" 

"Aaaaahn..."  You didn't even think twice before making that really childish noise as you opened your mouth, waiting for Chan to feed you. Your eyes met his as realization was slowly hitting you. 

… wait a minute… 

Was I just… supposed to… not… Chan… wasn't he…  

Silence brutally struck in the room as you suddenly felt like that plushie on your desk got really and fascinatingly interesting to stare at and to give your whole attention to. 

He wasn't going to feed me! I'm such an idiot! Why did I even think about that? What's wrong with me!! 

Your mind was getting beaten up by such thoughts as your eyes intensely kept staring at the plushie, completely ignoring Chan next to you. 

"I heard all of that." 

You nearly screamed as you quickly looked at him, your eyes drowning in terror. 

Is he some wizard or something? Did I talk out loud?! No… Maybe he’s an alien?

You quickly brought your hands on top of your head, as you started glaring at him, your lips pressed in a pout and your fingers slightly tapping on your head. 

"What are you doing now, the food might get cold if you keep messing around, idiot." 

"What am I thinking now? Can you read my mind?! How much do you know?!" 

He looked at you, clearly unamused, and took a deep breath as he stirred the meal in the bowl. 

"Here, open your mouth. You're clearly not gonna recover from this at all."  Ignoring your words, he carefully led the spoon full of warm porridge to your pouty lips and, as you kept staring at him, hands still on your head, you slowly opened your mouth, welcoming the exquisite food that the bassist in front of you was able to make. 

"Mh… it's really good!"  You mumbled between spoonfuls. Chan kept feeding you and, after you thanked him for the meal, he gave you a glass of water and medicine. 

"Drink it, so that headache won't bother you anymore."  He said, as you were slowly drinking your medicine.  It tasted so bad and you couldn't help but whine, looking at the glass in your hands with a rather upset expression, when you suddenly heard a giggle coming from Chan. 

"You looked so ugly right now." 

"Hey! So rude! Don’t make fun of me!"  You jokingly stuck your tongue out. He smiled and lightly booped your nose before he got up and brought the bowl and glass back to the kitchen. 

As you could faintly hear him washing the dishes, you lay down again under your blankets, your eyes following some random raindrops that would end up against your window, racing against each other and tracing abstract figures on the glass.  You were feeling really thankful for Chan, if he wasn't there you probably would have spent the whole day sleeping not able to take care of yourself. He was always there for you, he would always come to help at the right moments and although sometimes you might have shown reluctance to him, you had to admit that you had always enjoyed every single second spent with him by your side. 

As you were getting immersed in your own thoughts, your eyes suddenly met with those of the fluffy wolf plushie that was previously on your desk.  You didn't notice Chan entering your room and in order to get your attention, and maybe also make you cheer up a bit, he decided to use that plushie you intensely stared at before you had your meal.

"Isn't he cute?"  You smiled at him, taking the plushie in your hands and slowly patting its cute head. 

"Mh."  He nodded, he looked both way too focused and distracted at the same time. You often wondered what was going on in his mind, sometimes finding yourself wishing you were secretly able to read his thoughts.

"Chan, are you okay-" 

"Be careful next time." 

"Oh, c'mon… this stuff can happen! I'm completely fine now, thank you. And sorry… for probably ruining your whole day? It’s also raining, you shouldn’t have come all the way to my h-" 

“I was in the area anyway.”

Yeah, no. He used that excuse so many times, along with his usual “I was at the grocery store” when the same exact store is also in his neighbourhood. He often tried to save himself saying that “the cookies in the one next to your house are better”, but you just let him be and as a consequence he was probably convinced you fully believed in that tiny lie. 

You didn't get any kind of reply from him besides those few words, and you started to think that… maybe you did ruin his day? What if he had other plans? What if he was supposed to go practice but instead he got stuck spoonfeeding his way-too-stupid-but-not-enough-not-to-catch-a-cold friend? 

You sighed, but before you could say anything, his hands took the plushie from yours and he carefully examined it in silence. 

"Tell her she might be stupid, but that she would never ruin my days." 

"Chan, what-" 

"And tell her that she might be careless sometimes, but that she's also really strong and that I would always come to help her no matter what." His eyes were glued on the soft cartoonish wolf in his hands, and as every single word left his lips, you could feel your cheeks heating up and this time was definitely not because of the fever. As your tired eyes tried to focus a bit more on Chan’s face, you were able to notice that his cheeks as well were now tinted in a gentle light red.

"...And tell her that I can't read her mind. That place is probably some maze full of weird fantasies about me feeding her." 

"Hey, stop that!"  You suddenly looked away, covering your face with the blanket as you tried your best not to get up and use the little energy left in you to knock him out. 

"You idiot!"  You mumbled, your voice wasn't able to hide that shy smile printed on your face, but before you could even formulate a proper answer to everything he said, you heard a small, gentle and comically serious "boop." leave Chan's lips as he made the grey plushie gently hit your forehead. 

"And lastly, tell her to get better soon. I want to go look at the stars with her again."

[daistea]

i want to ramble oc lore here cause to me ur like cool and all knowing of lore

!!❗️‼️❗️‼️!!!

YES PLEASE ! I WANT TO HEAR EVERYTHING!

[lazuli-bloom]

Gas Station Souvenir

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 3868

General fiction, first meeting

You work a few shifts at a shitty gas station off the interstate only to have something follow you.

--=--=--

Creeping darkness snuffed out the remnants of sunlight, and the twilight hours did not flatter that rundown gas station. Ignored grime fermented in the corners. The air carried the harsh scent of chemical cleaners and the pungent odors they failed to mask. The gas station sat cut off from society and seeping in growing shadows. It invoked a buzz of disquiet at the edge of your thoughts. It’s a place where it’s best to keep stops brief. Where the longer one stayed there, the stranger the place became.

But there you were, skulking the aisles of an eerie gas station. Dressed in clothes that could use a wash, with a name-tag pinned to your hoodie.

You needed money, and this place let you pick up a few shifts. They payed cash and didn’t ask too many questions, which was right up your alley. The pay wasn’t anything to write home about. Then again, nothing warranted contact with that lot.

Two weeks of shifts would bankroll you across a few more states. Your first day came with a warning from the full-time clerk training you; if you see anything strange, or unusual, ignore it. Pretend like you never saw it. Also, to stay away from the raccoons. The ones near the gas station were a lot meaner than most.

For most of your shifts, that was a rule you stuck to. It was a good rule to have. One that you really should follow. But on your last shift at the gas station, you broke that rule.

It was late into that last shift where yours overlapped with the night cashier. Running out of things to do, you started cleaning up the counters. You didn’t think you’d make much headway with cleaning, but it helped pass the time.

You reached the coffeepot’s counter and got to cleaning. Empty sugar and creamer packets all discarded into the trash. Amid wiping down spills, you noticed an oddity wedged between containers. A simple business card.

Unease urged you to leave it alone. Throw away the card and forget about it. That would be the smart decision. However, curiosity had other plans. It drove you to pick it up and look the card over. It was a business card, after all. How strange could that really be?

The card’s yellowed paper frayed at the corners. It advertised the services of a “Bio-Exorcist” but had no contact information. The only other detail was an unusual word printed three times. Not much to go off of.

You meander to the front counter, trying your damnedest to decipher that word.

“Beh-tel... Gi-use?” the syllables came out more like a question. A question that caught the attention of the full-time cashier. He glanced up from his book and asked what you said. “Just trying to read this.”

He sat down his book to look over the card.

“Bio-Exorcist? Like some kind of pest control? We have a few guys come in occasionally and do what they can, but the bugs and mice always come back. And snakes.”

“Weird way to phrase it. Maybe they’re trying to make it sound fancy? But that’s not what stumped me, it’s the word on there three times. You know what that says?”

“It’s a star in Orion.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve come across it a few times in some of the sci-fi novels I’ve read. It’s pronounced like Beetle-Juice.”

A frigid breeze chilled the two of you mere moments after he answered your question. Both of you turned to the front door, expecting a customer walking in and letting in the cool night air. But there was nothing. He handed you back the card and picked his book up.

“You should just throw that card away and forget about it.”

You want to ask why, but the question dies in your throat. You already knew why. Ignore the strange. Pretend it isn’t there, so it doesn’t cause you trouble. That hitchhiker you passed by several times and never saw him in the rear-view mirror? He seemed alright on his own. The lady at the shitty motel chilling the air on her way passed you to the pool? She obviously wanted to go swimming. That man you saw crawling on the ceiling during your stint here. None of your business. They had their problems, and you had your own.

Still, there was something nagging at you whenever you looked at the card. Something. Was it actually a something? Your burning curiosity? It almost felt as if it was someone telling you to keep the card, at least for a little while longer.

Once your co-worker was back to reading his novel, you looked over the card one more time. You mutter under your breath the name of the star, only to shiver when another strange rush of cold air crashed over you. You slip the card into your hoodie’s pocket and head to a spot of the gas station that wouldn’t give you chills.

The rest of your shift trudged along slower and slower. The closer to your freedom it got, the slower the seconds crept by. Customers became sparse, not helping stop time from dragging its feet. The only thing that you could do to pass the time was to keep up the futile effort of cleaning the counters. That and keep tabs on the one guy lingering in the gas station.

Said guy looked to be another of the ignore and forget them variety. His appearance alone was enough of a tipoff. Dirty suit in a black and white stripe pattern matched oddly with messy green hair. What hit home the message of “mind your own business” was the fact that you caught a glance of the guy gliding through the shelves. Nope. You may have been struggling to find things to do, but dealing with whatever Mr. Stripe Suit was up to was out of your pay grade.

Finally, the end of your shift was upon you. You took off your name tag and slammed it down on the counter to get the cashier’s attention. A grin plastered your face as you turned over the name tag. You asked for your pay, and he handed you your money. You count it to yourself before stuffing it into your pocket. Once all squared away, you waved him a quick farewell.

“Have fun with the stripe suit guy, He’s been looking at all the garbage snacks on the shelves for the past hour,” You mention maybe a little louder than you should have. But you weren’t sticking around, so who cares?

You get out to your car, where there were thankfully no raccoons trying to eat your tires, and hop in. It may have been getting late, but you wanted to at least get a few towns over before you stop at a motel for that night.

The motel you came across was on the cheaper end, but it was “good enough”. You quickly got your room squared away and after a sweep of the room you got into the shower. Once you got out, the air seemed to be colder than you expected it to be. You got your pajamas on and ended up putting your hoodie back on to keep some of the chill off you.

Stuffing your hands into your hoodie’s pocket, your fingers brush up against some worn paper. You take out the thing and look it over, instantly recalling what it was you were holding. The weird business card.

“Such a weird spelling to end up pronounced as Beetlejuice.”

A draft of cool air blew by and you shiver. You huff and go check the a/c, expecting it to be dialed unbearably low. However, you find the stupid thing turned off. You scowl and turn up the heat.

It kicks on with a struggle, but once it gets going you take a seat on the bed. You him to yourself and shift attention back to the card. Why did you even pocket this? Curiosity? Somewhat, but you’ve been curious about countless things before. A strange souvenir? You never collected oddities before, why start now?

Your eyes scan over the words one more time, this time reading the card out loud.

“For the bio-exorcist, call; Betelgeuse,”

Another breeze of cool air got you shivering again. Stupid heater needed to warm the room faster.

“Betelgeuse,”

Another draft, this time accompanied by the lights in the room flickering. Maybe this hotel wasn’t as “good enough” as you previously thought.

“Betelgeuse.” The lights buzzed loud as the last syllable passed your lips, and the next instant all the lights went out.

You grit your teeth and voice your complaints to no one. “Oh, come the fuck on!” You heave out a growl and get up to check out the window. With your luck, your room would be the only one with the electrical issues.

You march a few steps to the window when you heard a gravelly laugh, way too close for comfort. A chill shot down your spine. You whip around to see who was there but only find yourself in the inky darkness of the hotel room. Not even the outlines of the furniture stood out in the dark.

You ball your hands into fists, not planning to go down without a fight. Body shaking, you scan over the room, staining your eyes to find anything. You grit your teeth and bark out, “Who’s there?”

The reply didn’t come as a proper response, just more laughing, right up next to your ear.

You spin and bring your fist up to get as much force behind your punch as possible. You swing blindly, only able to use the sound to aim. And to both your relief and dismay, your fist connects with something cold and scratchy.

The lights flick on the next second, allowing you to see a man in stumbling back a few steps away from you as he cupping his cheek. You look him over and can’t shake the notion you’ve seen him before. Pale skinned and dark rings under his eyes with the green in his hair extending down into his stubble. There was also that ratty old coat that he wore over a monochrome striped suit.

Your brows knit as you piece together why his appearance looked familiar, and when it finally clicked, you took a step back. Shock surged in a fleeting moment, replaced swiftly by raising your guard once more. Your hands still clenched into tight fists, you demand to know who the hell he even is.

“Geez, babes, didn’t expect you’d be so punchy,” he laughed as he stood upright, still rubbing the side of his face. “not that I’m complaining.”

Your glare narrows as you try to not react to his flirtatious tone.

“Answer me.”

“You already know my name,” he said, taking his hand away from his face. He leaned forward with a grin spread across his face showing off sharp yellowed teeth. “You’re the one that summoned me after all.”

“Summoned? But I didn’t... wait. The card?”

“Yep. Said my name three times, spoken unbroken. And now I’m here.”

“You. You were at the gas station a few towns back. Who, or what are you?”

“Gotta say babes, kinda rude to only acknowledge me right as you leave. But I’m willing to forgive ya for that since you summoned me~”

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you?”

His grin faltered, likely due to you ignoring his flirtations. He must have wanted to get a rise out of you.

“I’m a demon. The ghost with the most and the best Bio-Exorcist out there!”

“So you’re a demon, ghost.... bio-exorcist?”

“Yep!”

The bright smile on his face alongside his cheerful tone threw you more than you expected it to. He looked so happy and excited at that moment. If he hadn’t just admitted to being a demon, ghost... bio-exorcist, you might have thought he was rather cute.

“I guess the demon-ghost thing explains why the first thing you did was try to scare the shit out of me.”

“You give quite the warm welcoming yourself babes, with that punch to my face.” There didn’t seem to be any anger in his gravelly voice. Something you took notice of was how the lighting in the hotel room made the green in his hair look more pink on the ends than you thought it should.

You press your lips into a tight line and cross your arms. After a moment of looking him up and down, trying to figure out the strange demon’s motive, you give up and just ask him. “So then Mr. Demon, what now? You wanting to get my soul or something?”

“Nope, nothing like that. You read my card, says right on it I’m a bio-exorcist.”

“That like pest control?”

“Pretty much, get all the breathers out of places so the ghosts there can relax.”

“You going to run me out of my motel room then?” you ask with a pointed glare, “’Cause I swear to god I’ll send your ass back to hell if you so much as try me.”

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you were expecting from the demon, maybe a haughty display of power or aggression. It certainly wasn’t a purr with hooded eyes.

“So much fight and fire in ya! I like that.”

The growl in his voice when he said that made blood rush to your face. Damn this flirtatious bastard. He took your moment of shock to step closer.

“You don’t have to worry ‘bout that baby. You seem like fun. I won’t do anything, unless you want me to~”

You shake your head and regain some composure. You heave out a deep breath and take a step back. The fire on your face still burned, but you did your best to ignore it.

“How about this, Mr. Demon, pretend like this whole thing never happened? I go my way, and you go where ever to help as many ghosts as you want.”

This guy was full of surprises. You gave him a free pass to go bother as many others as he wanted and not have to put up with you. He should have been overjoyed. Instead he looked deflated, and weirder was you caught blue and purple seep into his hair.

“So soon? Bet we just started hanging out! Come on, we can be BFFFFs Forever!”

You searched his face for any sign of lying, anything to tip you off he wasn’t being genuine. That search came up empty. Furrowed brows, the stare of a hurt puppy, and blue taking over more and more of his once green hair.

“You... actually want to be friends?” you ask more to yourself than him, “I don’t think I’d be pleasant company.”

He tilted his head. At least the blue stopped spreading. That didn’t seem to be a color that suited him.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why wouldn’t you be pleasant company?”

You glance away, a bit thrown by the question. Maybe more by the tone of his voice, still rough and scratchy, but confused. And you could have sworn there was a trace of hurt softening his voice, but you might just be imagining that one.

He waited for an answer, and the longer you waited, the more it made you fidget. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He genuinely wanted to know your reason. Just get it over with, then he’ll finally leave and not want to hang around you.

You take in a deep breath and straighten up, holding yourself with strength and confidence. Qualities that you couldn’t fake well enough to even look him in the eye when you explained yourself.

“I don’t stick around anywhere for any more than a month. I don’t make friends, or keep in contact with anyone, I just keep moving. It’s better if I’m alone, that way nobody has to put up with me for very long.”

His head stayed tilted, like he still didn’t quite understand. Or maybe he did and wanted to know more. Either way, his expression stayed soft with brows knit quizzically. For a demon, he looked kinda cute.

You tap your foot and keep your gaze off him. This was stupid. Were you actually going to tell this Betelgeuse guy about your problems? Hopefully, he’ll get the picture and leave once you do. You bite your lip and heave out a drawn-out sigh.

“It’s hard to be around people for long stretches of time. Always being judged and have to walk on eggshells. Otherwise, I end up pissing off everyone for just wanting to be me. I got sick of not meeting stupidly high standard and left.

“There, happy? I’m just some annoying mortal, that can’t fit in. I’d rather not pal around with a demon only to end up pissing you off too. It’s easier if I’m alone.”

There was a silence between you and Betelgeuse. Your hands grip tighter on your arms as you wait for his reaction. Was he finally going to leave? Maybe he’ll try some trick on you before he does. You close your eyes, waiting. Still, there was only silence.

You chance a look up at him and find some blur rushing you. There wasn’t time to move, and you ended up with arms wrapped tight around your body. Before you had the chance to squirm out of the demon’s clutches, he pressed you tight against himself. His body was on the cooler side of what a body temperature should be. There was a unique odor to him as well. A variety of scents mixed; mold, mildew, dust, rot, but the strongest of them was damp earth.

“I knew I was going to like you!”

“Since when?” you ask, still squirming in his hug. He didn’t seem likely to let go of you soon. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying to at least get your arms a bit more freed up.

“When you punched me~”

His sing-song tone with a slight purr was not the tone you expected. Especially when bringing up the subject of you decking him in the face.

Your brain tried to process all the information you’ve got, but it was getting bogged down with too much weird things. You open your mouth to say something, but the words never come.

“So, babes!” Betelgeuse chirped, “What’s the plan? Cross Country road trip? See all the landmarks and weird roadside stops? Scare all the breathers from coast to coast?”

“You seriously want to tag along with me? My life is a train wreck. I can barely scrape by for myself most of the time.”

“Good thing I’m dead. I don’t need to eat. Or sleep. Plus~”

He leaned back and snapped his fingers. Odd, considering his arms didn’t budge from their hold on you.

At the snap the lights flickered once more, this time accompanied by all the furniture not bolted down, raising up to float. You turn your head as much as you can to look over the room. The mattress, table, chair, microwave. Hell, the bathroom door that was barely on its hinges rose and floated with all the other things.

Betelgeuse flicked his hand down and everything came crashing down to the ground with a loud clattering. You had the microwave’s rough landing in your line of sight. It landed on its corner, and that door flew off. You’re going to have to hide that later.

“I can help with that ‘barely scraping by’ thing.”

“How?”

“The finer points can wait, let’s just say I wouldn’t exactly get caught if I take something I like.”

Stealing. Got it. You groan and rack your brain to process all this. This demon-ghost seems very adamant about sticking with you. Not sure if that’s a great reflection on yourself. But regardless, you haven’t exactly had a lot of prolonged contact or socialization in a while. Maybe... ?

“Alright. You can stick with me. At least for a few weeks or something.”

The next thing you knew, your feet were off the ground. Air rushed over you as the room spun. Your feet were back on solid ground a moment later. As your brain was struggling to catch up, he pushed you backward. You latch on to Betelgeuse’s shoulders to keep from falling. His face came in close, planting a kiss before you could even react.

Your lips stayed shut tight as your cheeks burned. When he pulled you upright, you push against Betelgeuse with all your strength. Finally, you broke out of his hug.

He had a stupidly bright grin on that adorably punch-able scruffy face of his. You wipe off your mouth rather roughly before shooting him a glare. You head to the bathroom, where the door lay on the ground. Stepping over it, you grab your toothbrush and brush your teeth.

Betelgeuse peeked in for a moment and frowned when he saw what you were doing. He didn’t linger though, and at first you wondered what he could be up to, only to hear the TV blaring.

You drag your feet out of the bathroom and swipe the remote from the spot beside him on the bed. You thought about just turning it off, but decide to just turn the sound down before handing the remote back.

“I’m only staying here the one night and plan on getting up early to leave. Don’t care what you do so long as you keep it down and let me sleep.”

“You need me to sleep next to ya and keep the nightmares away~?”

“I though you said you didn’t sleep.”

“Don’t need to, but I can. And I’m willing to if I had a pretty little thing like you in my arms while I did.”

“I kick and roll in my sleep, also steal blankets. Doubt it would be comfortable. Seems like causing trouble for the other people here would be the more fun option for you,” you said as you turn off the lights. The one closest to the bed you left for last. You pull up the covers and crawl into bed before turning that light off too. “I might get a room with two queen beds next time, though.”

You yank the sheets out from being tucked in and quickly wrap yourself up in them. You bid him a goodnight, and he says one back. The room got quiet, and it seemed like he was actually going to keep it down so you could sleep. The TV buzzed softly with some show playing and your breathing slowed as you drifted to sleep. You were all snuggled up tight in the blankets, just about to plunge into the darkness of sleep. And the last thing you are half made aware of was an arm snake over your waist.

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Compartmentalization

Ada Wong tries to keep her work as a mercenary far fro her private life--and very, very far away from her secret girlfriend, Claire Redfield. Her clients don't know about Claire, Claire doesn't know about her clients, and Ada likes it that way.

Raccoon City blows that all to hell.

Or: Resident evil 2 if Ada and Claire were girlfriends before the game started.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, guns, blood, death, spoilers.

AO3.

~

“You,” Ada tells the zombie lurching after her, “are ruining my date.”

The zombie gurgles on its own blood and Ada dispatches it with minimal disgusted grunting. To be fair, he isn’t actually interrupting her date--that honor goes to the mission as a whole. Damn it, but she’d promised she’d take Claire out on a road trip to celebrate her finishing her final exams this year. Well, Ada would let Claire take her on a road trip, because Ada Wong did not do long sweaty hours stuck in a car in traffic with nothing to do. Long sweaty hours stuck to Claire on the back of her girlfriend’s bike? Now that Ada could do.

But she isn’t doing that, and it is entirely her client’s fault. “ Capitalism ,” Ada spits, echoing Claire’s voice in her head. Against her better judgement, she feels the corners of her mouth lift. Smiling about a girl even when she’s alone? God, she’s hopeless. “Get a grip , Wong. That sample has to be around here somewhere.”

~

“You’re FBI?”

“Yes,” Ada snaps testily, folding her fake badge up and slipping it back into her coat pocket. “And you're interrupting a private investigation.”

The cop frowns, eyes darting to the dog’s body on the concrete two feet from his face and the blood spatters on the walls. Any second now, another dead body might smash its way through another wall and be upon them. His thoughts are written clear across his face-- there’s a few better things for them to worry about than an investigation.

The guy is a rookie, through and through. His face is open and unlined. While he’s healthy and unscathed, he’s also obviously awkward in such a life-threatening situation. He’s never done this before, never brushed with death on the daily. He looks like a kicked puppy. Ada’s almost tempted to put him down right here and now, just to save him the pain and herself the trouble.

Claire would be pissed if she ever found out. Not that she would, but still. She’d want to know the cop’s name and where he’s from and how he got here. Claire would want to help him.

(Claire was never supposed to factor into Ada’s decision making. She was supposed to be a fling, someone to take the edge off and help Ada destress a little between missions. She wasn’t supposed to wriggle her way into Ada’s head, wasn’t supposed to slip through the chinks of Ada’s armor, and yet, here Claire is. She's with Ada without even being present. Claire is somehow essential for Ada to continue living. Love, Ada thinks, is a bitch .)

“Right,” Ada grumbles, and pulls her sunglasses off. He seems more comfortable when he can see her eyes, even if Ada rolls them as he releases the tension from his shoulders. “We’d better work together here.”

~

“This isn’t a game!” Ada snaps. Leon bristles but subsides.

“I know, alright? There were so many more of us--survivors--before, and now…”

His eyes are far away and Ada snorts. “Don’t worry, Rookie, I’m sure whatever little girlfriend you have got the hell out of town. Which is what you should be doing.”

His mouth falls open but he doesn’t look like he’s on the brink of tears anymore, so Ada considers it a win. Hysterics are the last thing she needs right now. No, what Ada needs right now is a goddamn breakthrough with this mission if she wants to go home in one piece. “She’s not my--”

“Yeah, yeah, save it. You know that’s twice I’ve saved your ass now?”

“I didn’t realize you were keeping score.”

~

“We need to terminate her before she turns.”

The words taste like ash in her mouth. Leon shifts anxiously beside her. Ada feels bile rise in her throat. She used to be able to hold her gun up without her trigger finger trembling.

(What would Ada do if it were the one person she cares about half-dead and turning?)

“Ada...Leave them be,” Leon murmurs.

She lowers the gun and resolutely does not think about Claire's skin going grey.

~

If she gets out of this, Ada Wong is going to absolutely tear her client apart for sending her into this mess. No sample is worth listening to Leon drone on about all the people he’s worried about.

“What about you?” Leon looks up from rummaging through a safe box for ammunition. Ada hums, tapping at the keyboard in front of her. They seem to be just above the Umbrella building she needs to get into; if they call the tram, they should be down there in just a few minutes. “Do you have anyone you’re here for?”

“No.” Thank God. Claire is still back on the coast, waiting in her dorm room for Ada to come back from her “last minute work trip.” She’d promised Ada she would wait for her to come back before starting her road trip, so they could go together. Ada’s been hoping to get some of her own research done before she gets back to Claire anyway; something about Claire’s brother disappearing into radio silence in this very city rubs her very much the wrong way. Claire could be walking straight into a trap. So yeah, maybe there was an ulterior motive for Ada taking this mission, if only to scout ahead and save her girlfriend the trouble of getting herself killed by the dead.

Good thing she has Ada to look after her.

“Oh. Well, that’s good, I guess. No family? Friends?”

“I’m here for the mission, Leon.”

Ada’d almost left him for dead many times; what good would he do her? Leon’s been an unexpected boon in the city, but he’ll run out of usefulness eventually. They all do. (But Claire would like him. He’s got the same fire. Ada settles for muttering darkly to herself about how soft she’s becoming for one redhead with a temper.)

“Yeah,” he concedes glumly. Damn it, it looks like the tram is manually operated; they’ll have to get down to the platform to power it up; Ada can’t call it to them from here. She’s so busy fuming she almost misses his next comment. “Still, there are innocent people in this city who are going to need our help to get out of this mess. Like the girl I came here with. I hope she’s found her brother…”

What? No.  

No, it can’t be. There are so many people living--or undead, now--in Raccoon City. Claire is at college, a million miles away, and she’s smart. She wouldn’t come out to the middle of nowhere in the Midwest in the middle of the night after Ada asked her not to. She’s safe.

(She’s safe. She has to stay safe, because Claire is just about the only thing Ada has that isn’t part of her cover. She’s Ada’s . Ada’s to love, Ada’s to spoil, Ada’s to annoy, Ada’s to protect. She’s got to be safe.)

(But that doesn’t stop Ada’s blood from running cold. How many missing brothers can Raccoon City boast?)

~

Leon passes out from his wounds. The Claire voice in the back of her head won’t let Ada leave him to die; her stomach curdles at the thought of Claire finding out what she’s done, how ruthless Ada can really be. So Ada gives him her coat and resolves not to let herself think about how soft she’s getting until she’s curled up in the apartment no one but Claire knows about with a certain pretty redhead under her arm.

Ada ends up with a shard of scrap metal through her leg for going to the trouble of helping Leon.

Typical.

~

The rookie, to his credit, does come to save her. His face screws up when she gets up to limp her way to the tram with him but Ada shakes off his desperate attempts to help. She’s tired of this: she’s tired of being dirty and grimy, she’s tired of gunshots and blood spatter, she’s tired of not finishing her mission on time, and she’s tired of worrying about what Claire must be thinking right about now.

Claire isn’t even here!

(She’s tired of ignoring the increasingly loud thought that if Claire weren’t safe Ada would lose her mind.)

The tram is grey and drab and the most comfortable, safest place she’s been in since coming to this godforsaken city. Ada slumps gratefully into her seat and lets Leon fuss at her on the ride down. Her leg aches, pain radiating up the base of her spine and pulsing at the back of her skull. (What if the wound is infected-- )

Leon is still so young, a puppy dog through and through. It’s too easy to convince him to bring her the virus with a kiss.

(Thank God Claire isn’t here.)

(Her handler told her there’s another way to get the G-Virus if Leon can’t do the work for her, but even for Ada it’s distasteful. Sherry Birkin is as old as Emma was, and if she couldn’t pull the trigger when Emma was clearly dying, could she trust herself to do it when faced with a perfectly healthy little girl?)

~

Leon pulls a gun on her. Fantastic. Will this mission ever fucking end?

“Leon, please! We don’t have a lot of time--”

“As much as I wanted to trust you,” Leon snaps, scowling, “I didn’t.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ada mutters to herself. Leon’s eyes don’t widen when her gun raises to match his. The facility shakes around them and the walkway rumbles beneath their feet. Ada curses whatever possessed her to wear heels tonight.

“Hey!” A voice that sends ice through her veins shouts from behind the man Ada has lined up in her sights. Leon’s shoulders are too broad to glimpse around, but she must have heard wrong, it can’t be--

“Whoever you are, you’d better get moving, this place is about to blow!”

Not taking his eyes off of her, Leon turns his head. “Claire?”

“Wha--Leon?”

“ No. ” Ada whispers, numb.

“Claire, get out of here!”

Claire is here. Claire didn’t listen to her. Claire came to Raccoon City to find her brother. Claire isn’t safe. Claire is coming up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Leon, eyes wide and darting between the two of them.

Claire sees Ada.

“Ada?” Claire jolts forward before curling a hand around Leon’s uninjured shoulder. “Leon, don’t hurt her! I know her--”

“No you don’t.” Leon says. Something deep in Ada’s core is shivering. Her throat has locked up, the muscles there spasming. Her mind is blank. How can this be happening? Claire isn’t supposed to be here. She isn’t supposed to see Ada like this. She isn’t supposed to know . “You may think you know her, Claire, but she’s a liar. I bet you think she’s FBI, huh?”

“I…” There’s a clang and a small, childish squeak and Claire whirls around, throwing out her hand. Behind her, a blonde girl Ada only saw in photographs before dropping into the city huddles on the nearest platform. “S-stay back! We’ll--let us just sort this out and then we’ll get out of here.”

Of course. Claire wouldn’t have left without trying to save a kid. This stupid, reckless, noble woman. (Ada loves her so , so much, so much that it makes her sick.)

“She isn’t FBI.” Leon spits, his eyes sparking. Ada sneers at him as best she can while her world turns upside down. Her feet are frozen to the floor even as it rolls beneath them. “She’s a mercenary and a liar. She tried to trick me into giving her the G-Virus so she can sell it to the top bidder.”

“No, no, you’re--you’ve got to be wrong.” Claire turns and her eyes are so green and wide and Ada can feel her heart cracking in her chest. “Ada, tell him he’s wrong. You’re not--you’re here to help, right? You’re here to help me.”

“Yes,” Ada says, but it scraps at the lining of her throat on the way up, comes out mangled and false. She’s never been this bad a liar before. But she’s got to keep trying; she’s hanging onto a ledge by her fingertips and if Claire turns from her, if she goes away, Ada will have nothing left to hold on to. Nothing matters now, not the G-Virus or Leon and his gun or the mission or the city set to explode around them. Nothing matters but Claire’s green eyes staring uncertainly into her own. ”Yes, that's right, Claire. I--I had to cut work short and I was worried you’d gone ahead to Raccoon City without me--”

“That’s a lie! Claire, she’s never once mentioned you. She’s only been lying to you. She wasn’t on a work trip before she got here, she came here for the virus and nothing else. Did you tell Claire you were FBI too, Ada? Or did you save that one for me?”

“Claire, who are you going to believe?” Ada asks, desperation clawing at her veins. But Claire’s gaze has shifted to the blood drops Ada can feel flaking against the skin of her cheeks and chest, to the gun in her hands she’s holding too steadily not to be trained in firearms. Claire’s always been too smart for her own good. “Your girlfriend or some rookie cop who’s in too far over his head and snapped under the pressure?”

“Sure didn’t seem like you had a girlfriend when you kissed me.”

“Shut up!”

She can’t be losing her cool like this. It’s dangerous, and while Ada likes danger, it’s also stupid. An amatuer move. How has she fallen this far?

Claire reels back a step. “Wh--what?”

“It’s not what you think,” Ada switches tactics. Denial isn’t working. But if she can twist this back around on Leon, maybe Claire will listen to her long enough for Ada to get them out of here. She can call her extraction team and, provided she’s snagged the virus off of either Leon or Sherry, hold it for ransom so they’ll let her take Claire to safety too. She’s in a rush, though, and getting sloppier by the second. In moments they won’t have a walkway to stand on as the NEST tumbles down around them. “I just needed to get to you as fast as possible. I’d do anything for you Claire.” (She really, really would.) “Let’s--let’s just take Sherry and go. Leon can keep the virus, I only wanted to make sure it was destroyed to protect you, but he can keep it if I know you’re with me and safe. Come on, get Sherry and we can leave.”

She knows as soon as she stops talking, breath bated, that she’s said the wrong thing. Claire takes tone, two, three slow steps back. “I never told you Sherry’s name.” Claire says quietly.

Leon speaks then, chiming in with more incrimination and defamation and any other accusation he can hurl at Ada, but it doesn’t matter. Ada can see the light that’s gone out of Claire’s eyes, can see the poison spreading through her mind like black veins. She’s adding up the late nights, the strange bruises, the way Ada is squirrely about work, all the times she’s used kisses and sex as distraction on Claire before. Damn Kennedy and his big mouth. Ada never should have saved him.

The three of them waver there on the precipice. Ada’s gun does not lower and neither does Leon’s. Claire doesn’t blink, her eyes never leaving Ada's, her face crumpled and confused and war-torn. Ada stares back, holding her gaze as if through sheer force of will she can make all of this stop happening, as if she could smooth this all over if she just keeps looking into Claire's eyes. For a second, no one moves, no one speaks.

The NEST makes their choice for them, though, as it crumbles, blocks of concrete crashing into their walkway and the platforms beyond. Sherry screams. Claire is thrown against the railing and Ada’s gun spirals out of her hands as the metal below her begins to give way. Ada almost screams herself when the floor really does disappear and her feet meet open air. Only Leon’s quick reflexes stop her from falling.

Her heart breaks open, a hot wave of something too strong to be sadness and too sweet to be defeat when Claire stumbles away. The redhead looks back once, a long, lingering look that Ada feels all the way down to her bones. Claire hesitates; Ada sees her shifting on the balls of her feet, moving to take a single step back towards where Ada dangles from Leon's fingertips. For the first time in a long time, Ada isn't sure of what Claire is thinking.

Sherry screams again. Claire's mouth opens and even though Ada can't hear over shrieking metal and growing fires, the sob Claire lets out shakes her to her core. Then Claire bundles the little girl into her arms and turns from her.

Ada looks up at Leon, who sweats and shakes and holds onto her for dear life not even a second after threatening to kill her.

“Take care of Claire for me,” Ada tells him, and lets go.

~

Later, holding on to the rope ladder swinging from the extraction helicopter her client sent for her, Ada wonders how long she’ll have to wait before she meets Claire Redfield again. If Ada has it her way, it won’t be long.

[bakugou-jpg]

Cherry wine || Single dad!Tsukishima

Hello, hello ! I here by present you with chapter 1 of cherry wine. I apologize for the last bit since it was a bit rushed but i do hope you will all enjoy it anyways. Also! Thank you so much for all the kind words and support you guys have given we really appreciate it :)

Masterlist

-Chapter 1-

________________________________________

"..Wake up bud, there's cereal waiting for you on the counter."

The covers moved, a small groan coming from underneath them. A tuft of dirty, messy, blonde hair peeked through the top together with the nose of what seemed to be a stuffed meerkat. "Noo.." A voice grumbled, barely hearable due to the covers almost deafening the sounds coming from underneath.

It didn't take long before the curtains were shoved aside, the blinding sunlight shooting through and immediatly taking grasp of whatever it could find. Which also seemed to be the face of the 7 year old boy hiding from his father underneath the covers.

"Dad! Its too bright, i'm going blind!" The boy whined while pushing his stuffed animal into his face. He nuzzled his face into its fur and sighed, enjoying his last few seconds of comfort in bed. Monday mornings were the worst, a morning where his father wouldn't have any mercy with waking him up. Even if that meant tossing him over his shoulder or for his wiggly fingers to find their way onto his side while that very annoying smirk was present on his face.

Tsukishima stretched, letting his eyes get used to the morning sunlight before dragging his long legs to the small turtle enclosure that was placed on top of a drawer. He flicked on the light and immediately checked if the turtle, who went by the name of Mika, was still alive and good. Once he was greeted by the grumpy eyes of the drowsy turtle he reached for the small box of crickets and took out the last two, tossing them into the enclosure after having opened the top and closing it again afterwards.

He crossed his arms and looked at the hidden boy with a raised brow. "Kaoru Tsukishima. Your cereal will get soggy and i'm not making you a new bowl. So get out of bed or else i'll help you." He said, walking towards the bed and kneeling down, tugging at the sheets.

An mischief giggle errupted from under the blankets and a head poked out of the sheets. A pair of golden brown eyes peeked up at him and Tsukishima certainly didn't miss the big grin on the boy's face.

Kaoru was almost a carbon copy of his dad. He had his dad's dirty blonde hair, golden-brown eyes and his dad's interest in dinosaurs. It brought some sense of pride to Tsukishima, knowing that he did that. That a kid so smart, imaginative and nice was his son.

Had you told Tsukishima, 10 years ago when he was 16, that he'd father a boy at the last year of his college and take responsibility for him by raising him on his own. How he'd provide and do anything he did for his son and that every decision he made was for his son? He would've called you crazy, saying how he wouldn't be stupid enough to make the decision of doing such things without the right protection.

It was something that was true, Tsukishima had been dumb enough to not use the right precautions that one night. He was too busy thinking with his dick instead of his brain, too busy with his own desires instead of thinking of the consequences.

Though Tsukishima wasn't religious in any way or shape, he was god forever thankful that he wasn't a responsible person that one night.

"..I'm not leaving my bed" The boy said while giggling like crazy, knowing exactly what the outcomes could be. He had one of his arms tightly wrapped around his stuffed meerkat and pulled the blankets up, trying to hide his smile but Tsukishima's didn't miss how his eyes crinkled and how his eyes held nothing but joy.

The tall man dipped down, throwing Kaoru's sheets off the bed revealing the boy and grabbed his ankles. He stood up, taking a few steps back and dangled the boy upside down by his legs. Kaoru burst out in a fit of giggles, his arm dragging over the floor and his shirt slipping down his chest down to his head. His dad moved his legs on his shoulders, Kaoru now up side down dangling on his back as he took him down the hall, to the kitchen.

Tsukishima slowly lowered Kaoru, making sure he wouldn't just harshly fall onto the ground and hurt himself. The boy put his hands on the ground and his legs slipped down his father's back, landing on his fours. He jumped up, immediately letting his eyes scan the kitchen counter before grabbing his bowl of cereal. "Thanks"

Whilst climbing onto the stool next to the kitchen island, Tsukishima quickly put down a spoon before disappearing somewhere into bathroom only to return with a small pile of fresh clothes. He walked back into Kaoru's room and put the pile of clothes on top of his bed, making his bed before doing so.

"Eat up, brush your teeth and get dressed. After school we're gonna buy some more food for Mika, no buts. Now hurry up we're gonna be late"

Kaoru groaned and shoved a spoon full of colored dinosaur shaped cereal into his mouth. "Mnnyeah wyeah" The boy said with his mouth full, some droplets of milk going down his chin and onto his pyjamas.

Quickly finishing his breakfast, Kaoru hopped off of the stool and ran to his room. He quickly got rid of his pyjamas, leaving the discarded clothes somewhere on the ground for Tsukishima to once again clean it after him, and pulled his sweater over his head. The raccoon print on the front was a bit damaged after having been in the washing machine several times, but Kaoru loved it very much regardless of it.

Tsukishima was in the bathroom, splashing his face with water rubbing a towel rather harshly over it. He put his toothbrush back into the cup placed next to the mirror and spat out the remaining bits of toothpaste that was in his mouth.

There was a soft tug at his sleeve, the 7 year old boy signaling towards the cup that held the toothbrushes and Tsukishima handed him his dark blue toothbrush. "..thanks" Kaoru mumbled while putting a little dot of toothbrush on it before climbing onto the

Tsukishima left the bathroom and went to the hallway, sliding his feet into his shoes when he felt his phone buzz.

        Turning off his phone again, Tsukishima could hear quick footsteps coming his way. He kneeled down, loosening Kaoru's shoes for him since Kaoru always managed to take the longest time getting them on.

"Kuroo's waiting for me, u can tie your shoes in the car just be careful u don't trip" He said while grabbing Kaoru's bag, checking to see if he put his lunch in.

Kaoru shoved his feet into his shoes and looked at Tsukishima with pleading eyes. "Can you carry me to the car~? Pretty pleaseee?" His son begged while looking at him with his hands folded. Kaoru was forcing puppy eyes,

A look most parents would think was adorable..

Tsukishima tilted his head and looked down at Kaoru, his eyes scanning over the body from the 7 year old. "Kaoru, can you do this?". He moved his foot up and down, kicking his leg in and out before looking back at Kaoru again who was looking at him with a confused look in his eyes.

Kaoru nodded and got up. He started copying Tsukishima's movement, moving his foot up and down, kicking his legs in and out and even wiggling around with it a little. "Yeah, of course.." The boy muttered, his eyes looking back up at Tsukishima.

..but Tsukishima absolutely hated it when Kaoru tried to bribe him with just a single look.

"Well then your legs work perfectly fine now get your butt to the car or else i'll leave you home alone and you can walk yourself to school." Tsukishima said with a smirk, looking down at his son with a devilish glint in his eyes. He unlocked the door and waited for Kaoru to catch up, who was currently groaning and rolling his eyes at his dad.

"Daaad!" Kaoru whined, leaning into his father while holding onto his arm while he locked the door again. He pressed his face into his arm and started making inaudible noises into his sleeve.

Tsukishima was still smirking, loving nothing more but to tease his son and get on his nerves sometimes. He reached into the pocket of his coat and grabbed his car keys, pushing a button so that the car would unlock. "Kaoruuu" He said in a similar high pitched whiney tone, something which made Kaoru puff his cheeks, only getting more and more annoyed by his father's behavior.

The two of them got into the car, Tsukishima making sure Kaoru was buckled up correctly, and they left their apartment complex on their way to school.

It wasn't too far away, a ten minute ride tops. The ride to school was always quiet, except for the music Tsukishima put on softly playing in the background. Kaoru wasn't exactly a morning person, though already having finished his morning routine the boy was still sleepy and when Tsukishima would look at him through the rear view mirror, he'd almost every time catch his son dozing off.

With the familiar building in sight, handsful of children screaming and running around. Parents kissing their kids goodbye, dropping them off and immediately leaving and of course the gossip moms  who's husbands already left for work and were currently either talking about other children or the way other parents raise their children. Tsukishima knew they talked about him often, after all he wasn't very involved with the other parents there just with his son. He also knows he'd get judged for the fact he'd raise Kaoru without a 'mother figure' in his life was something he apparently 'needed'.

Tsukishima couldn't give the slightest fuck about what those women thought about them, but he had to admit that sometimes he wanted nothing more than to shove his foot up-

"Thanks for the ride, say hello to Kuroo for me!"

Kaoru unbuckled himself and leaned towards the front of the car, giving his dad half a hug due the fact that hugging like that didn't go as smooth, and Tsukishima ruffled his hair in response. "Hurry up, bud, you're gonna be late" His father said, looking at all the kids who hurried inside of the building.

The boy gasped and quickly grabbed his bag from the seat next to him.  He threw the door open, it almost bouncing back shut from the force, and quickly jumped out of the car.

Tsukishima furrowed his brows and glared at Kaoru. "Oi, Kaoru careful with the-"

Without sparing a second of his attention to his dad, Kaoru swung around and threw the car door shut with big force. It was as if the boy tried to blast the car to the other side of the road just with his hand. They sound of the door colliding with the car made Tsukishima's ears buzz and he groaned.

"-door, Kaoru Tsukishima are you deaf?"

Kaoru had already ran inside of the building, not sparing a second glance back at his dad as he greeted his friends with a big smile.

Tsukishima groaned and rolled his eyes, starting his car again before taking off. "Little asshole" he muttered under his breath, turning his car around to go towards his work but not before making a stop along the way first.

The ride there didn't take long, after all Kuroo also didn't live too far away from the school Kaoru went to. In a way, it annoyed Tsukishima. After all Kuroo was a pain in his ass that he couldn't get rid off, yet it was better than having to drive for over half an hour just pick him up.

With the leaves twirling in the wind, around his car which slightly blinded his sight for a second, Tsukishima slowly stopped his car and looked up at the two story house whos curtains were all closed instead of 1 room which was probably Kuroo's.

After college, Kuroo had moved in with Kenma. Tsukishima didn't exactly really know Kenma, the two of them barely having anything in common except for the fact they both used to play volleybal and were associated with Kuroo. All he knew from Kuroo was that Kenma now was quite a famous twitch streamer and his working hours were ungodly which was most definitely why all the curtains were still closed except for Kuroo's room.

Right before Tsukishima could reach for his phone on his deskboard, the front door flew open and the raven haired man who's hair always looked messy walked out of the door with a smirk. He waved at Tsukishima, who only rolled his eyes at him and started his car again, and quickly locked his door before walking towards the car parked in front of his house.

"Took you long enough-"

"U wanna take public transport next time? Cause i'd be more than glad to go straight to work and let you ride the metro every morning if its a bother for you." Tsukishima said while turning his head towards Kuroo as he entered the car. There a digustingly sweet smile on his face, his eyes squinted and his voice was laced with a thick layer of sarcastic politeness. He slowly opened his eyes again and send a death glare Kuroo's way.

"In fact you could take the metro right no-"

"Okay, i get it! Geez, Mr dinosaur, chill your ass down. Who got on your nerve this morning?" Kuroo exclaimed while clicking his seatbelt shut. He shoved his brown leather bag, that over the years got quite some damage here and there, down in front of his legs and spread his legs his folded hands resting on his lap.

The car drove away from its previous parked spot and slowly sped up. The blonde male behind it gripped the wheel a little tighter and squinted his eyes as the rays of the sun started irritating them. "Think that's a question you already know the answer of" He answered, moving down the sun visor from the car.

Kuroo scoffed and shook his head. He rested his elbow against the door and supported his head with his hand. His hazel colored orbs scanned over the area, his eye falling onto two kids holding hands while walking to school.

"When's ya' next match? Cool if we hop on by?"

Sendai frogs.

Sendai frogs was a volleybal team, one Tsukishima had joined a few years ago. At first volleybal to him wasn't something he did for 'fun'. He never understood why his teammates got so overly excited about scoring just a single point or how they'd cry because they lost. If you told 16 year old him he'd be joining a somewhat 'proffesional' volleybal team for fun, he'd laugh at you and call you names.

Yet a lot had changed since then. He now enjoyed it more than anything else, feeling an extreme wave of pride wash over him everytime he'd block a good ball or score a point. The wave of pride became almost some sort of tsunami everytime he'd look at the bleacher's and see Kaoru wearing a kids-sized version of his shirt with green and yellow stripes painted on his cheeks while cheering him on.

Tsukishima tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sighed. "Do whatever you want. Just google the next few matches it should be on there somewhere." He spoke, slowly halting the car when the light turned red.

Kuroo grabbed his phone out of the pocket of his coat, silently mumbling about how Tsukishima could show some more appreciation, and started typing away. His eyes slightly squinted as he let them run over the screen, trying to read the little letters at the bottom of the page.

Once the traffic light turned green again, the car took off and rode through a pile of dead leaves that laid on the pavement making them all shoot up into the air before they gently and gracefully whirled back onto the ground.

The ride there wasn't exactly long nor short. Both Tsukishima and Kuroo were blessed with the fact they were able to find a place to live in the same town as where their jobs were located. It was only about 15/20 minutes by car and about 30/35 minutes with public transport.

Sendai city museum.

It wasn't the biggest museum in japan, that was for sure, but it had one thing that interested Tsukishima a lot when he started looking around for an internship in his last year.

A fossil department. One with the most magnificent dinosaurs, his favorites and the fossils themselves were of great quality. Though, back then, Kaoru was only about 1/2 years old Tsukishima never forgot the way his big golden brown eyes would stare up at the mammoth that was 100 times his size back then. How he'd coo while making grabby hands towards the triceratops while trying to wiggle out of his father's safe embrace.

It was one of the first times Tsukishima took Kaoru somewhere, only being about 19/20 years old back then and still being kind of new to all of the changes Kaoru was going through. It was weird realizing the tiny baby he held in his hands before was becoming a human being with actual personality.

Probably one of his proudest memories, knowing his son might love dinosaurs as he did.

After he graduated it didn't take long before his old internship had offered him a job for he had worked really hard back at Sendai city museum as an intern and they wanted him really badly. An opportunity that opened many doors for him, for about 7 years later he was now head of the fossil department after working hard to achieve his goals.

It didn't take long before Tsukishima had learned about the fact that 2 years before he joined, a certain 'friend' of his got himself enrolled into the science department as a researcher.

So that is exactly how Tsukishima found himself dropping Kuroo off at the museum every morning for the last 6 years.

Closing the door behind him with a soft bang, he reached into his pocket and pressed the lock button on his carkeys. With the signal of the lights flashing for a moment and the familiar beep echoeing in his ears, the two men took it as their sign to walk towards the entrance of the museum.

The raven haired bedhead stuffed his hands into the pocket of his coats and stretched his shoulders, his eyes glancing at Tsukishima from the corner of his eye. "You've got that big opening on Friday, right?" He questioned, stopping in front of the automatic doors while waiting for them to open so they could enter and be welcomed by the warmth inside.

Once the doors slid aside, the two men made their way inside and Kuroo already started unbuttoning his coat. "..Nakamura mentioned something about it so i was just wondering. Heard it was a pretty big deal."

Tsukishima hummed and sighed, removing his hands from his jacket to take his glasses off his face now that the change of temperature was starting to make them get fogged up.

"Just a 'grand opening' for a new fossil i've been trying to get my hands on for some months now. Recently discovered somewhere in the US, you know why i left for two weeks? But yes, that is friday."

His eyes were slightly squinted, not wanting to run into anything or look over an object. His eyesight was quite poor so in many ways had he been glad to hear that so far, knock on wood, Kaoru hadn't inherited that gene.

Kuroo hummed, pursing his lips slightly while greeting the older woman who was sitting behind the welcoming desk. He started unwrapping his scarf from his neck and folded it, slowly coming to a stop once the two men had reached the spot where they parted ways.

"What time?"

Tsukishima sighed and pushed his glasses further up his nose for they started slipping off. He shrugged and turned around, his back turned towards Kuroo as he made his way towards his office. "Eight and i'm not picking your sorry ass up" He said, bag swung over his shoulder.

His footsteps echoed through the hallway, his eyes set on the large entrance at the end of the hall that read 'Jurrasic' in somewhat elegant yet adventurous way to catch the attention of both eldery but also of kids. He could hear Kuroo saying something, but for his own headache he decided not to pay attention to it as he entered the fossil display area.

With a triceratops on his right, his eyes settled upon the fossil on the other side of the room. A stegosaurus. Though, it by far wasn't Tsukishima's favorite dinosaur, it was his first ever project. To add to that, the fossil was on great shape too. It's back plater being in perfect condition, something which isn't very common with a stegosaurus fossil for the fact that it's back platers are so thin and fragile.

Even though it had been 6 years since it got here, Tsukishima always took a moment right before going into his office to admire it. Of course, he was very proud of all of the fossils and projects he did over the course of the last 7 years, but that stegosaurus being his first big fossil project brought a lot of pride with it.

In the middle of the hall was a big red curtain, circled around the fossil hidden behind it that reached all the way to the top of the high ceiling. So far, Tsukishima's tallest fossil. Surely, not the one with the best quality, but it was a new dinosaur and a tall one at that and that by itself had been enough to draw a lot of attention of the public.

"Ah, Tsukishima! Good to see you"

Tsukishima's eyebrows slightly rose as his eyes locked with the ones of his boss who was currently standing in the middle of his office.

It was strange, for Tsukishima barely saw his boss during his usual work day. There were many weeks where'd it go by without even seeing the man. After all the museum was quite big and his boss worked in an office on the third floor while Tsukishima worked on the first.

Perhaps, there was something urgent? After all, why else would he be waiting for him in his office? Only then did he notice the new desk lined up in front of his own, two cardboard boxes filled with computer material inside of it. Since he was the only person working in this specific office that would mean-

His boss clapped his hands together and smiled warmly. "There'll be a new person joining you today. Hope its not a problem she'll be in your office, i was hoping you'd be able to take her underneath your wing? She's still quite new to the job and worked at a museum in Miyagi before here before she moved." He started explaining, his hazel eyes settled upon Tsukishima's form as he moved to place his bag next to his desk. The man took one of his hands out of the pocket of his blazer and held it out towards the door, nodding towards the same direction.

In the 7 years Tsukishima worked at the museum, he had been completely alone in an office for 5 of them. The first two, he was under the wing of his mentor. An older man, around his 60s, who taught him all the ropes of this job. He was very kind and wise, Tsukishima admired him and was very grateful for all the knowledge he received from him. He retired two years later, leaving Tsukishima alone in the office they used to share. Surely, some people came and went, but around the time of last year Tsukishima became the head of the department after having put up 7 years of absolute great work and got his own office. Besides, there weren't many people working on this department for some reason.

"Oh! Sorry!"

In the door opening, Tsukishima was met my a pair of legs holding onto a cardboard box with a big pile of organisers balancing on top of it. He could see the slightest glimpse of (H/c) coloured hair sticking out of the top. A few papers fell down one of the high storage cabinets, probably because the woman had bumped into it with her sight being blocked.

Tsukishima watched as the pile of documents and organisers started tilting and quickly took a step forward, straightening them before taking them from her. He took a step back and looked down at the woman now standing in front of him.

She opened her mouth, about to thank him, but once she looked at his chest her eyes widened surprised by the fact Tsukishima was so extremely tall being 1,95 meter tall and all. Her eyes traveled up his body, stopping once they locked with his eyes.

"..thank you. Sorry i thought that if i piled it up it would be a bit faster instead of having to walk up and down to the entrance." The woman said with a small chuckle following afterwards.

He could notice she was a bit nervous, hiding it with a smile and some sort of awkward humor. There was just the slightest hint on pink dusting her cheeks. Not because of the fact he made her flustered, but because of the fact she suddenly felt like a very tiny mouse compared to the tall man of a giraffe looking down at her.

The man turned around and placed the pile on top of her desk, the woman following shortly afterwards and placing the box next to it before clenching and unclenching her hands to relief the cramps.

"I'm (Y/n) (L/n), thank you for having me here and nice to meet you" She said while holding out her hand. Tsukishima looked down at her hand for a moment before taking it, squeezing it as he shook her hand.

"Kei Tsukishima. Glad to have you here."

(Y/n) smiled at him and held his gaze for a moment, peering into his eyes for a moment before quickly removing her hand from his grip and look away not being able to hold eye contact before feeling intimidated.

Once again, their boss clapped his hands. The man walked towards the two of them, softly slapping a hand onto their shoulders and squeezing it. It was quite the friendly gesture, something he did often and Tsukishima had gotten used to it over time but he could see how (Y/n) slightly flinced at the sudden action.

The older man laughed warmly and sighed rather loudly. "Well then, now that's settled, Tsukishima why don't you show her around a bit yes? Just take today to show her around the hall, teach her all the basics and get to know each other a bit yeah?" He said, removing his hands from their shoulders only to rub them together as if wanting to rub off the germs.

Without even having waited for a response, the man walked towards the exit and closed the door behind them leaving the two new colleagues alone together in an empty room.

There was an awkward silence. From (Y/n)'s side it was not knowing what to say, not knowing what Tsukishima liked talking about or what type of humour or interests he had. Of course, talking about their job seemed like the most logic thing to do since they both liked it but maybe it was a bit too predictable and boring to begin with. All the thoughts and panic ran through her head, yet Tsukishima just didn't seem to notice the fact there was an awkward silence and didn't feel the need to fill up that silence.

He looked at the boxes, peering into them to look at all the cables and gadgets. "Do you need help, setting that up?"

The woman's head snapped to her right, snapping out of her thoughts and followed Tsukishima's eyes. She peered into the box and started rubbing the back of her neck, a crooked smile appearing on her face. "Oh, uhh. If you'd like to, i mean i'm pretty bad with setting up electronics. My..old roommate always did that for me." She said with a chuckle. She started unpacking the boxes, placing all of the equipments on the desk. Tsukishima followed after her, organizing all the cables.

"I'm not the best at setting stuff up either, but i can try to help." The blonde said while lifting the monitor out of the box and placing it down. He adjusted it slightly, making sure it was straight and not tilted all the way to the sides. "..Is this spot good?"

(Y/n) hummed and nodded as her hand unconciously fiddled with the side of her blazer, rolling a button between her fingers. Maybe she should of have figured out how to do this at home first, asking a friend or one of her parents to help her. That would've made a better impression then she currently was making, standing next to Tsukishima while watching him with big eyes while handing him all the things he asked for. Like a kid holding a flashlight for their dad.

With his back on the ground, Tsukishima started connecting some of the loose cables with a zip tie to make sure the bottom of her desk wouldn't be a tangled mess. His eyes were slightly squinted and his bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, something he often did while doing something physically he had to concentrate on such as putting together Ikea furniture.

His mother had commented on how Kaoru started doing it, saying how she'd always notice how he'd try and copy a lot of things Tsukishima did when Kaoru was a toddler and how he'd really focus on everything his father did. That phase was over, sadly because Kaoru's grandma was delighted with looking at the scene that Tsukishima himself never noticed, but it seemed that Kaoru had taken over the same expression whenever he coloured or build something with legos.

Tsukishima plugged the powerboard into the outlet and flicked on the power button. A sigh left his nose and he pushed himself up, clumsily shuffling out from underneath the desk. The space was tiny, way too tiny for Tsukishima's long body and that surely was confirmed when he bumped his head against the top of the wooden desk.

(Y/n) kneeled down, looking at Tsukishima with a worried expression. "Are you okay?" She asked after hearing the knock and seeing him rub the back of his head.

The man hummed and nodded his head, quickly getting up and plucking a little dust bunny off of his sleeve before throwing it into the trash. Tsukishima turned towards the computer and once he saw that all the lights that were supposed to be on were on he turned towards the woman standing behind him. "That should do it for now. I'll send you some codes via mail soon so that you can get access to Bicrosoft for stuff like word and excel."

He took the last empty cardboard box and folded it together, making sure not to rip it for Tsukishima wasn't sure if she wanted to keep them for something else. "I'll show you around after you're done setting everything down, after that you need to fill in some things to get your own ID card. To prove you work here. " He said while showing her the ID card that hung on his neck, secured with a dark blue neckstrap.

There was his picture on it, one taken in his usual work attire, in front of a white screen. The picture was already a bit old, it being from 3 years ago already, and was supposed to get replaced soon but so far neither Tsukishima or his boss really bothered about it. Next to his picture there was his full name, birthdate, profession/the department he worked at and his employee code.

The woman leaned a bit closer and examined the card, humming to herself before backing up again. Her eyes scanned over her desk that was now filled with a completely set up computer and a small smile made its way onto her face.

(Y/n) looked at Tsukishima and bowed her head slightly. "Thank you for setting it up. I think i'd still be here next Thursday if i had to it myself, i'd never be able to figure out which cord would go where." She said, once again with forced awkward humor and a smile. These jokes, trying to act 'relaxed' and 'fun' really weren't paying off at all. If it wasn't the awkward smile on Tsukishima's face it would be the fact that she didn't even find them funny herself.

With a second of silence gone by, the two of them started doing their own thing. As (Y/n) unpacked her stuff, placing down a plant and filling her drawers with paper and pens, Tsukishima was busy on his computer to try and already get the form for her ID ready.

The upcoming hour had been spend mostly in silence.

Once again, it was some sort of not noticing the awkwardness hanging in the air type of situation coming from Tsukishima. After all, he was just doing his thing and concentrated on the words he read on the screen and the things he typed. The man didn't notice how she bit her lip and fiddled with her blazer. He didn't even notice when she was done and stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do or say.

First days at work were always rather awkward, right? She'd be fine eventually..right?

Like his boss had already informed him, today wasn't exactly very productive.

Tsukishima spent all his time helping her, mostly with getting programs installed and telling her about how certain processes of things went. Like the process of getting a new fossil in, something the museum was currently in the middle of doing.

Though it had already been a few hours since the two of them met, they still hadn't really talked. Well, they had, but only work related things. There was no small talk or getting to know each other a bit better, something that Tsukishima later on realized he might should. After all, she was under his wing now and she had to feel comfortable.

God how he was bad at that.

"Why did you pick this over the museum in Miyagi?"

The two of them were currently standing in front of a pachycephalosaurus, als referred to 'Egg head' by Kaoru. They were in the middle of the tour, Tsukishima showing her around a bit and telling her about the history of where the fossils were from and how they got them.

The question seemed to have taken (Y/n) off guard for a moment, the eyes that once admired the fossil now slightly widening before snapping towards Tsukishima. He could see how she licked her lips, softly tugging her bottom lip before they tugged into a smile.

She chuckled and looked and moved her hands around, signalling at all the fossils around them. "I think this is enough of an answer, don't you think? I wanted to move somewhere else, so once i found the job application i knew i couldn't let this opportunity slip through my fingers."

Tsukishima slowly nodded his head. He looked around the hall, his eyes scanning over the variety of fossils, plastic dinosaurs and pictures. It was set up in a way so both children and adults could enjoy it, the choice of fake plants and placements of the dinos together making it look like as if you were walking around amongst them. It wasn't too over the top, after all people who wanted to admire the fossils also still had to enjoy walking around here without thinking it was too childish.

He inhaled deeply and looked back down at the woman standing in front of him, his golden brown eyes locking with her (e/c) ones. "I chose it for the same reason. Walking around here made me realize that something like this was really somewhere i could see myself walking around even when i'm old.."

There was a moment of silence before Tsukishima sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"..what made my decision final though, was the paycheck" He followed, not even meaning for it to sound like a joke and also not realizing it until he heard a laugh escape the woman's throat. For the first time that day, it being a genuine one.

A small half sidded grin made its way onto Tsukishima's face and he adverted his eyes to the red curtains that were currently hiding the new fossil from the public eye.

"I mean, that paycheck really did look good" (Y/n) said, an actual more relaxed smile present on her face. Though, it wasn't the funniest thing in the world, she felt more at ease. After all this was the first time today the two of them had an actual fun interaction.

She looked at Tsukishima for a moment and noticed how his eyes were looking at the other side of the room. Following his gaze, she now too noticed the curtains and barricaded area. When coming in today, she hadn't been very focused on the fossils around her since she had her attention on not dropping the boxes in her hand.

Tilting her head and squinting her eyes,the woman turned her body towards the new discovery. "What's behind that?" She asked him, adeberting his eyes back to him.

"A brachiosaurus. Discovered in the US, process took a few months but he's finally here." Tsukishima said while stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He hummed for a second before turning towards (Y/n). "The big reveal is gonna be Friday evening at 8. You should come, it'll be a good experience for you to see how these things go."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened and a small smile made its way onto her face. She switched her gaze between the currently hidden by the curtains brachiosaurus and Tsukishima. "Really? That would be wonderful, i'd be honored!" She exclaimed, her hands folding together. There was a spark in her eye, one of excitement. After all, its not every day you get to experience such a thing in your first week of working at a new place. "Could i see it now?"

The man opened his mouth to answer but quickly closed it again. A small smirk made its way onto his face and he tilted his head slightly. "I think it would be more interesting to wait until Friday, that way it will be a reveal for you too."

(Y/n)'s had raised her eyebrows at him and slightly squinted her eyes. "You-..I..That's a wonderful idea, Tsukishima! There's nothing i love more than a good surprise.." She exclaimed, a tone in her voice Tsukishima couldn't quite place but the twitch in her eyebrow said enough.

Softly snickering at her reaction, soft enough for her not to hear, the two of them completed their tour. Though they still didn't talk a lot apart from work related things, (Y/n) had now started asking him a bit more questions. About when he became interested in dinosaurs, where he went to college etc. Still, in a way, related to work yet subtly going off course to more personal stuff.

"Is this your son?"

Tsukishima looked up from the map he was holding in his hands and saw (Y/n) examining a framed picture he had on his desk. The only picture there, really. He looked back down at the map and nodded. "Yes, Kaoru." He said while signing his name at the bottom of the paper.

(Y/n) put the picture down on his desk and smiled. "He looks a lot like you. How old is he?"

"He just turned 7."

Her eyes slightly squinted and she pulled up her eyebrow, her head tilted as she looked at Tsukishima with a questioning look. "You're 26 right?"

Silence.

Great, not only are the judgemental karens at Kaoru's school there but he now apparently also has one at work. Not that he minded, he couldn't give less of a shit about it but it was annoying as hell.

Tsukishima sighed annoyed and closed the map with a loud bang. He turned around and shoved it into the office storage closet. "Yes i am 26 years old and yes i was 19 when Kaoru was born, no i do not regret it." He said, a very annoyed tone lacing his words.

Once again, there was a silence.

"I think its wonderful that you're a dad, my apologies if you thought i meant it in a judgemental way. Just curious, but i'll stop the questions if you feel uncomfortable-"

"Oh, no its okay. I'm used to people..Doesn't matter, my apologies" Tsukishima said, face palming internally. In this moment, there was nothing more he wanted to do than punch himself in the gut what a great way of responding to a new colleague who's just curious about his life.

(Y/n) only chuckled and shook her head. "Its okay, don't worry about it." She said, grabbing her coat from her desk chair one they put together that morning with a bit of a struggle. Their shift had already ended, after all they didn't have anything to do today except for introductions to each other and everything new to her.

The already slowly setting sun creeped its way through the blinds, landing on top of their desks and warming up Tsukishima's coat that was currently on top of his own. Tsukishima quickly closed them, closing everything up so they could leave, and he took his coat and bag from his desk. "If you close up, always make sure to close the blinds. Though it currently isn't the biggest problem, in the summer the sun shines onto the computer and can get them overheated and its not the nicest thing in the world" He said, turning off the light of the office as the two of them left the room.

"Noted. Once again, thank you very much for showing me around today and helping me with everything. I'm also very grateful for the fact i'm able to work under your wing." She said while slipping her arms through the sleeves of her coat. Her fingers made quick work of the buttons and belt and she quickly swung her bag over her shoulder afterwards.

Tsukishima shook his head and wrapped his scarf around his neck. "No need. I'd like to see what you've got up your sleeve" He said, the two of them exiting the fossil area only to end up in the big reception hall where right next to the front desk a raven haired man was talking to the old receptionist with grin.

It only took a few seconds until Kuroo had spotted them, quickly wishing the receptionist goodbye and jogged towards them. His eye fell onto the woman next to Tsukishima and his eyes immediately lit up. "Ah, Tsukishima, who might this be? Nice to meet you, i'm Kuroo i work as a researcher here." He said while holding out his hand, something (Y/n) gladly took with a smile.

"I'm (Y/n), nice to meet you too. I work with Tsukishima." She said, shaking his hand before retreating it back into her pocket. Right before she was about to say something else, her eyes fell onto the clock on the wall and immediately widened.

She quickly bowed her head before sprinting off. "I'm terribly sorry, i'm gonna miss my train! I'll see you tomorrow, goodbye!" She yelled, her bag swinging left and right next to her money as her coat swayed behind her. Within seconds, she was out of sight.

Kuroo grinned and nudged Tsukishima with his elbow, something which made the man wanna roll his eyes all the way back already knowing what was about to come. "She looks like a nice person and likes dinosa-"

Tsukishima's lips pulled into a sugary sweet smile and he closed his eyes. "Oh? You heard her didn't you, the train's leaving soon i'd hurry if i were yo-"

"Geez, geez, mr dinosaur! You really can't take a joke, huh?" Kuroo said, rolling his eyes and scoffing afterwards. He shook his head as the two of them left the building and sighed. "You know, you'd never actually leave me here, you're too nice for that" Kuroo said with a grin, waiting at the passenger's seat door as Tsukishima got into his car.

The blonde raised a brow and looked at Kuroo through the window, closing his door behind him while starting his car. The ravenette pulled at the doorhandle several times with no success and his eyes widened as Tsukishima drove the car out of the parking spot, without Kuroo in it.

"O-oi! Tsukishima i was kidding, please let me in man!"

__________________________________________________

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Taglist:

@iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire @pooofthechicken  @its-bnha-babe @tchalameme @breaking-ur-kneecaps​ @fallingintoimagination @extrasugafree @verbluehte @keikink @beanst0ck @naughtylittleweeb @guzmagirl @soft4kei @igorsbby @pleasemelafook-outta-ere @tanzaniiite @weyheyjxlya @obsessedwhxre @beew @itsanimecrack @sugawalmartwobble @pattys-got-cakes @deathcab4daddy @queenmira29 @astrablossom @savemesteeb @assclowning @yakus-yakult @food8me

[stripper-patrick]

Squish🐠 Florian Munteanu

Warnings: smut, lots of fluff, pain

Tags: @mrsbanreswillseeyou

Relationship: Florian Munteanu x black plus sized reader

I walk through the true white halls of the hospital. My chest is tightening up. I’m nervous and scared as hell. I got a call from the hospital saying my boyfriend and neighbor in the hospital.

I arrive at the desk with barely enough oxygen to sustain myself. “Florian Munteanu”

“Yes he’s in room 266. Can I ask of your relationship towards him” she wraps the arm band around my wrist

“I’m his sister” I lie. She looks at my dark skin tone with confusion

“Take the elevator to the third floor and follow the arrows” without anything else being exchanged I run to the elevator pressing the button frantically.

“Please God just let him be ok” I say a silent prayer and cross myself before the door opens.

Being in this shitty thing couldn’t have been slower. Finally when the door opens I race out and look at the wall 266 on the left.

I make my way to the room and it’s silent. I knock on the door and hear a low voice telling me to come in. I walk through and go through the curtain seeing Florian with a cut on his swollen cheek. His knuckles are wrapped in ice and a nurse is wrapping his ribs up with bandage.

Tears spill over my eyes and I let out a controlled breath. I turn around and close my eyes getting myself together. “Y/N I’m ok” I dry my eyes and take another deep breath turning around

“If you were ok you wouldn’t be on the hospital what the hell happened” I ask

“You don’t know this but I’m a boxer and I set you as an emergency contact which is why you’re here but I promise I’m ok I’ve been through worse baby”

“Saying that doesn’t make anything better I swear” I sit down and he smiles

“You worry too much”

“You don’t worry enough”

“I want a cheeseburger when can I be released” he asks the nurse. A middle aged woman with a nice structure.

“Tomorrow morning. We just wanna make sure there’s no hemorrhages in the middle of the night”

“I’m staying”

“Y/N-”

“Ma’am I don’t think we can have overnight guests”

“You can today” I say. She looks down and finishes his bandage before leaving.

“You don’t have to stay”

“I’m staying and there’s nothing you can do to stop me” I say “you gave me a panic attack while I was driving so for my own sake I’m spending the night with you”

“I appreciate it”

...

I wake up and see Flo asleep. I stand up and stretch. The nurse comes in and smiles at me.

“I’m gonna go home to change and shower then I’ll be back” I whisper. She nods.

“Promise” I hear a low voice and then around seeing Flo with his eyes open. I walk over to him smiling.

“Promise” I kiss his head and leave going back to my apartment. The drive felt like the longest drive ever. Even with my nap I was still tired. I open the door and take a deep breath collecting my thoughts. My phone rings and I see it’s Flo.

“Hey Squish you ok”

“Did you just call me Squish?” His voice is raspy and deep. Ugh so hot.

“I did” I smile setting my purse down. I go in my bathroom and look at myself. I look like a raccoon.

“When you get a chance can you feed Zuni please the spare is under the mat”

“I will” I say

“Thank you princess”

“Of course” I hang up and go outside. I grab the key from under the mat and open the door revealing the beautifully structured apartment.

“Zuni” I call. A cute Savannah cat appears and meows at me. She rubs against my leg and I go into the kitchen seeing her empty bowl. I fill up her cat food and give her some water. I see the plants sitting on his window sill and I water them. I look around the house looking for cat poop just in case and surprisingly I don’t see any. My OCD makes me fluff the pillows and fix the crooked pictures of him and his family.

I leave out his apartment and lock it back before going back to mine. I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and hair brush. I also grab a change of clothes putting them in my large purse. I grab a hair brush and some water in a spray bottle for my kinky hair.

I go into my bathroom and take a shower feeling the hot water drench me. I’m so tired.

Once I’m out I grab my phone checking the time, 4:56am. I put on a t-shirt and some leggings grabbing my slides. I grab my purse and walk out to my car feeling the warm spring weather hit me.

I turn the ignition and turn off the music just driving in silence. I do this a lot when I’m tired or emotional. He wants a cheeseburger and there’s only one place I know that’s open 24 hours. CJ’s. I drive over into the drive thru. I order food for me and him and proceed to the hospital.

I get back to the hospital and I’m immediately sent up. I get up to Florians room seeing him asleep again.

He opens his eyes hearing my movements and he tries to sit up but hisses in pain. I drop my stuff and rush to his side “lay back and chill out please”

“This is making me mad” his veins are prominent in his arms from his anger “I wanna move as a gotdamn please and hug you and kiss you and stand up without being in pain”

I lean down and hug him and kiss his lips “there now you only have two problems to work on. I bought you something”

His hand moves to my butt in my leggings caressing it. Since he’s having a moment I’ll let him feel me up a little “what’s that”

“A double cheeseburger” his eyes light up and I smile.

“I love you” he kisses me “but what about the nurse”

“I’m hiding it” she comes in and smiles at us. I sit in my seat waiting for her to take his blood pressure. When she’s finished she smiles at him.

“I’ll be back in like 2 hours to give you more pain medication if you need it”

“Thanks” he says. She leaves and I grab the cheeseburger from my purse

“Shit the sauce got in my bag”

“I’ll buy you another”

“I hate when you do that” I say handing it to him. He lifts his arm and retracts in pain. I stand up and sit next to him. I unwrap the cheeseburger feeding it to him.

“I want you to ride me and feed me” he says out of the blue.

“Squish you can’t get any until you feel better I don’t care what you say”

He whines “you can sit on my face”

“Absolutely not” I smile

“Can I at least get a kiss” I roll my eyes and lean in kissing him. I lean back and feed him the rest of his cheeseburger.

I clean off my hands and eat mine “I got us a milkshake to share” I pull out the large chocolate shake. He takes a sip and tries to sit up again. Florian groans in pain and I look at him.

“Where are you going” I ask

“I have to pee” I set down the stuff and go to his bedside helping him. I wrap his large arm around my shoulder and he tenses groaning at the pain.

“I’m sorry” I say. He’s finally to his feet and he takes a deep breath. He walks to the bathroom closing the door and I sit on the bed.

After like 3 minutes I hear his deep voice “babe come here”

I get up and open the door seeing a tent under his hospital gown.

“This is what you do to me” seeing him like this does turn me on I’m not gonna lie but what if he gets hurt more?

“I don’t wanna hurt you Florian you’d be better off waiting” I say

“I’m a big man I’ll be fine” he says “come bounce on it”

I couldn’t resist. I walk towards him and pull down my pants “promise me you’ll say something if I hurt you”

“Promise” I drop my underwear and go over to the bathtub putting my hands on the ledge. He follows me and carefully slides in with ease. I arch my back and start bouncing my ass on his meat feeling it graze my g-spot. My head drops and I spread my legs more going down further.

“That’s it shit” he moans. I feel his hand palm my right cheek before coming down hard on it. Both of his hands make their way to my hips and I grind harder. My ass is clapping against his hips.

“Look at this sight” he moans. I bring one hand up to my nipple rolling it for extra pleasure. I let out a shaky moan with his name to follow.

“Florian” He smacks my butt again making me moan out and slow down. I pick up the pace again still careful not to hurt him. Unfortunately this time my hair was in a pineapple so he couldn’t pull it.

I let my butt jiggle and come down harder feeling his dick press against my g-spot.

“Look at you bouncing on my dick like a rabbit damn you look so sexy” he slaps the side of my thigh and rubs my clit. I feel Florian move so now regardless if I’m up or down his dick is right on my spot “you’re gonna make me cum”

He rubs my clit harder and I cry out. Florian growls and I feel his legs shake as well as he cums. I lean all over him at the same time gripping the ledge of the bathtub.

My legs shake and nearly give out when he carefully moves his arm and holds me up. Despite his pain and my shaking body he continues to rub my clit making my toes curl and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

I push him off and watch him chuckle as I sit on the ledge. “You’re lucky I cant get on my knees and force you to cum in my mouth” he’s obsessed with eating me out

“The nurse is going to kick our asses if you don’t get back in that bed” I smile

“Do you need help getting up”

“I’m fine are you good” he nods. I stand up and grab the rail just in case my legs do me dirty. I grab my underwear and pants slipping back into those and he just watches me.

“You ready” I smile

“Always” I get on the non-injured side and wrap his arm around my shoulder. I help him back to the bed and he sits down slowly.

He moves over to the side and pats the bed. “Come lay with me”

I look at Flo and he pulls my arm. I get in the bed carefully and lay on his chest. After a little while I finally hear his faint snores. His heart beating is the most clamming noise to which I find myself falling asleep to.

[thatringboy]

The Day Before Halloween - Supernerds

I had some people ask me how Matrix became a superhero so I decided to write out part of his origin story! Also, last name reveals for Oliver and Matty

Word Count: 2,306

Warnings: Blood mention

Matthew Oeste was a superhero, but not a usual one.

He had no flashy powers, striking physique, booming voice, nothing that would make him stand out. He learned from a young age that firewalls on the internet didn’t apply to him. Passwords? Nonexistent. He had the entire digital world at his fingertips and he could control it all with a thought.

Matthew didn’t ever plan on becoming a hero. He kept his head down, helped his parents around their bodega, got good grades and lived a normal life. He refused to cut his hair when it started growing down his back, went to prom with a pretty girl, got a scholarship for a two year degree at a local university and floated through life without many problems. With his powers, Matthew could easily rise to the top of the advertising and marketing world, being able to monitor trends all across the globe at once.

His parents always told him that the hardest part was not changing things. It was a cheesy line that they had stolen from some superhero movie, but Matthew thought about it often. Every time he checked his phone, he could feel his mind wanting to slip within the cyberspace and roam around, so he learned not to. Even if the digital world was usually much more interesting than his real life.

For the most part, Matthew’s life was also superhero-free. Sure, there was the resident team of superhumans that lived in the city, but the young man was never swept up in a battle that flattened city blocks, he didn’t participate in online forums about which hero was the coolest, he didn’t pay attention to which villains got arrested and which escaped prison. For the most part.

There was one incident in his childhood that always popped up in the back of his mind from time to time. He was either nine or ten, it was October 30th, he had just walked home from fourth grade and was thinking about how Mama and Papai had saved up enough money to get him a brand new superhero costume for Halloween. This year, little Matthew was going as “Cyclone”, the resident leader of the city’s heroes who enforced justice with his magnificent wind powers.

He had skipped into the Oeste’s corner shop with such a wide smile, happy to show his parents how well he had drawn himself in his costume. It was a very excellent stick figure, his teacher had said, the best she had ever seen. He was a little worried about telling his parents about how he broke two hair ties during recess, but he had also found two whole dollars on the street that could go towards paying for more. He was a big boy, a freaking fourth grader already! He could pay for his own dang hair ties!

Matthew had waved to the young cashier who’s name he could never remember and immediately went to the backroom so that he could pull out his drawing and get it ready for presentation.

While he worked on smoothing out the paper on the small plastic table he often did his homework on, Matthew heard a noise from the alleyway outside, the only thing separating him from where the dumpsters sat and the bodega’s backroom being a door that was only locked at night. Matthew got up and balled his small fists before stepping over to the door. He had superpowers, he could fight off whatever raccoon or rat was digging around in the trash no problem! 

Would you want to fight a fourth grader who could change the tv channel with a thought? I didn’t think so.

Matthew slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open before jumping out of the doorway with the scariest face he could put on.

Sitting on the street, curled up next to the dumpster was a boy only a couple years older than Matthew, unkempt hair falling in his face and arms wrapped around his frail form. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in over a week.

The younger boy dropped the hero act and ran to his side with a worried face. “Hey, are you okay?”

The older boy flinched and tried to scoot away from the child approaching him, but just pressed further into the dumpster. His clothing smelled of sewage and he had a blood stain on his cheek. Whether it was his blood or someone else's, Matthew couldn’t tell.

The younger boy thought for a second before digging the two dollars out of his pocket. “Wait here!”

He ran back inside and slapped the crumpled bills onto the bodega counter. “How much food can I buy with this?”

The teenager working the cash register gave the little boy a smile before pointing to a bag of chips on one of the shelves. “Two bucks can get ya one of those.”

It would have to do. Matthew grabbed the back and ran back to the backroom before locating a towel and wetting it in the backroom’s sink. He jogged back outside to see the older boy hadn’t moved at all, his breathing was slow and labored.

“I got you some chips! I would have gotten you some clothes, but mine are all too small for you. Sorry.” He offered the bag to the starving boy.

The older boy snatched it from Matthew’s fingers and tore it open before shoveling the bbq potato chips into his mouth with such ferocity that Matthew was impressed that he didn’t hurt himself.

As he ate, Matthew got a chance to rub the damp towel across his cheek like his own Mama would when he scraped his skin if he fell. The blood came away and luckily, it wasn’t from a wound. Well, lucky for the boy, not for whoever the blood belonged to.

“I’m Matthew, what’s your name? Do you go to school around here? Do you need my Papai to call your’s?”

The older boy didn’t answer him, opting to dig his fingertips into the chip bag to scoop up the crumbs. As Matthew worked, he ended up shifting the old jacket the older boy wore and noticed that he wore a faded orange uniform underneath it. Printed on his breast pocket was a single word and some numbers that Matthew didn’t understand.

[CHAVEZ #10824006]

“Is your name ‘Chavez’? That’s a funny name, my substitute teacher was named Mr. Chavez today, but you two don’t look alike.” Matthew continued to wipe the blood away. He had watched enough Fast N Furious movies with his parents to know that the uniform belonged to a prison, but why would a little boy be wearing one?

Chavez crumbled up the bag and tossed it aside before slowly getting to his feet, his worn sneakers digging into the pavement. He was over a head taller than Matthew when he stood up straight.

“Thank you.” He whispered to Matthew.

The younger boy opened his mouth to say something, but he heard his mother call his name from inside the bodega. 

He spun around and cupped his mouth with his hands. “I’m out here, Mama!”

She appeared in the doorway and looked around the alleyway behind her son. “Meu filho, were you feeding the street animals again?”

“Huh?” Matthew turned around and the older boy was gone, the balled up chip bag discarded on the ground.

Matthew still went trick-or-treating in his new costume after that, but he threw his drawing away and never wore the costume again. For the next week, the little boy had nightmares about the boy named Chavez in the dirty prison uniform, but he could never figure out why. After that day, Matthew stopped paying attention to superhero news, stopped drawing himself as a hero and stopped making up scenarios in his head where he used his powers to throw bad guys in jail. If locking up kids like Chavez was part of the heroing job, then he wanted no part of it.

It wasn’t until he was all grown up, almost twelve full years later, that Matty looked into what happened to Chavez after that fateful meeting behind his bodega. 

He was lounging in bed with Oliver after working out together and neither had the energy to do anything else for the day after they had showered. Oliver was reading a book with half of his body laying against Matty’s, his head leaning against the younger’s shoulder like he was a human pillow.

Matty had his phone in one hand and the other was tangled in Oliver’s hair, slowly petting the supervillain like he was a large dog lying on him.

“Hey, Ollie?”

“Hmm?” Oliver shifted so he could turn his head and look at his lover, setting his book down on his chest.

“What’s your last name?”

The supervillain pressed a small kiss to Matty’s jaw. “Why d’ya need to know?”

“You wanted help in finding what tribe you’re from, right? If I plug your family name into a database then the search could be easier.”

“Aight,” Oliver went back to his original position and pulled his book back up. “Chavez, Oliver Chavez.”

A common name, but it was a start. Matty gripped his phone and shut his eyes, his head falling back onto the pillow as he let his mind sink into the small device. He couldn’t actually see anything in this mode, but Matty could visualize a keyboard and a search engine appearing before him.

He didn’t have to move a muscle before his lover’s name appeared in the search bar and his mind dove deeper into the internet. But before he could move to plant the name into an ancestry tracking site, a news article from twelve years ago caught his interest. Matty willed the article forward to read the title.

NATIVE AMERICAN SUPERHUMAN FOUND GUILTY OF CITY-WIDE BLACKOUT & DEATH OF MAYOR

Oliver Chavez, an undocumented superhuman from the Docks District, has been charged with the murder of the late Mayor Murbenks on Tuesday, October 21st.

The image the article used of Oliver Chavez was hidden under several paragraphs describing how a superhuman with electric powers caused a city-wide power outage during when the old mayor was getting his heart operated on. The picture of the superhuman in question showed that Oliver Chavez was a young boy wearing a scared expression on his eerily familiar face.

The memory of the day behind the bodega flooded into Matty’s mind and jerked him back into his body, the feeling of his lover reading on his chest grounding him when his heart beat faster with the rage boiling inside of him.

Not once did the article mention the boy’s age. All the article spoke about was how the boy used his powers to overload the circuits in the power plants and caused power to go out in the entire city. Oliver Chavez was thirteen and all the article spoke about was that he was a Native American who grew up in the foster system and was from a poorer district of the city.

Matty opened his eyes and leaned over to press a kiss to Oliver’s hair, causing the older man to hum softly as he turned the page of his book. “That was quick, what'd ya find?”

“Found out that I was hungry, that’s what. Mind moving, big guy?”

Oliver grunted and groaned as he sat up, his muscles sore from his work out, but happy to let his partner slide out of bed and make his way to the door.

Matty took his time walking to the lair cafeteria and picking up two backs of bbq potato chips before heading back to Oliver’s bedroom and sliding back into his original spot, smiling when Oliver sat back up to let him back in.

The ex-hero dropped one of the bags onto Oliver’s chest and pulled open his own. “There ya go, Chavez.”

Oliver frowned and moved the bag out of his line of sight. “I didn’t ask for anything.”

Matty sighed and popped a chip into his mouth. “Funny, you didn’t ask for anything the first time I gave you some chips either. You just said ‘thank you’ like a polite little boy.”

The supervillain closed his book and set it aside, sitting up and twisting to make a confused face at his lover. “When did this happen? Am I forgetting something?”

The ex-hero snorted and gave his boyfriend a loving smile. “You don’t remember? Day before Halloween, a little over a decade ago, Chavez No.10824006? A little Portuguese kid giving you some food and cleaning you off?”

Matty watched as Oliver clearly raked his mind for the memory and how his eyes slowly widened in realization. “Holy shit, the little fucker in the stupid jacket was you?!”

“Hey, my Mama got me that jacket!” Matty pouted.

He let out a noise as Oliver’s large arms wrapped around him and he felt the weight of his lover fall on his chest. “Damn, I guess you’ve really been saving me since day fucking one.”

Matty hummed and kissed the top of Oliver’s head again with another smile. “I guess I am. But truth be told, your last name is kinda boring.”

Oliver lifted his head up with a cocked eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, I think you’d do much better with mine instead.”

It took the supervillain a hot minute to run what Matty had said through his brain. When he did, Matty relished in the way his face burned and how he pushed his face into the ex-hero’s chest with a whine. “Matty-y-y-y, you fucking ughmmnm, that was smooth as hell.”

“I know.” He kissed Oliver’s hair again and attempted to pull his arm out of the embrace so he could grab his chips and pop them into his mouth with a satisfying crunch.

[avengerscompound]

The Test

The Test: A Clintasha Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count:  3111

Rating:  M

Square filled: @clintbartonbingo​ - G1 Missing Scene

Warnings:  Sex talk, pregnancy scare, talk of past miscarriages and red room stuff, angsty, hurt/comfort

Synopsis:  When Natasha wakes up feeling nauseated, she and Clint had to face the possibility that she might be pregnant.  With the newness of their relationship and the fact that the Red Room has made it impossible for her to carry a baby to term, the three minutes it takes for the test to work are the longest of their lives.

A/N: After Natasha showed up in Rocket Raccoon with two of Clint’s kids I’ve been thinking about a story about how that happened considering in 616 Natasha can’t carry kids to term.  Now with Katie Barton showing up too, this story of finding out Nat was pregnant came to me.  I’m really happy with how it turned out.

The Test

Natasha woke completely engulfed in Clint’s arms.  That’s how it had been since she’d started her relationship back up with the archer.  It was like he was worried that during the night she’d disappear on him again and realize they weren’t meant to be together.  Not that she could blame him for that.  Their history was anything but smooth sailing but even at their worst, she had loved Clint Barton.  He was her best friend.  The only person who looked at her and saw the potential for what she could be despite her past, rather than a limited version of herself because of it.  There were often times she didn’t think she could live up to the image Clint had her, but god damn if she didn’t want to when he looked at her the way he did.  Even when he was married to someone else, or she was dating someone else, he never looked at her with anything other than the eyes of someone who truly believed in her.

They had always felt inevitable, but timing or their own messed up bullshit had gotten in the way.  This … this felt different.  Permanent.  Home.  She just hoped they didn’t mess things up again.

As much as she wanted to stay, wrapped in his well-toned arms, the bathroom called her.  She slipped out of his embrace, pushing a pillow into his arms as he reached out to the once occupied space.  She knew it wouldn’t keep him asleep for long but it would buy her some time in the shower alone before he hopped in behind her and it became about anything but getting clean.

She used the bathroom and hopped under the warm stream of the shower, letting it wash over her.  It was a rare day where she didn’t need to be somewhere doing something.  It was nice to be able to just enjoy it.  She grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into her palm.  Something about the scent triggered her gag reflex.  She dry heaved as she rinsed the soap from her hand, and staggered out of the shower, dropping to her knees and throwing up into the toilet.

Clint appeared behind her and pulled her hair back behind her head.  “Are you okay, Nat?”

“No,” Natasha said, throwing up again as he rubbed her back.  When her stomach finally seemed to settle, she sat back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  “Pizdets.  That came out of nowhere.  I can’t even remember the last time I threw up.”

Clint helped her to her feet.  “Maybe it was something you ate.  Those shrimp tacos from that dodgy-looking food truck?”

“You had three times as many as me,” Natasha argued as she got into the shower.  She used the water from the showerhead to rinse the taste of sick out of her mouth.  “Why aren’t you sick?”

Clint stripped off his clothes and took out his hearing aids, putting them on the top of the medicine cabinet.  He climbed in behind her and circled his arms around her.  “Because I’m a manly man and you’re just a tiny girl.”

Natasha elbowed him. Hard.  It made his foot slip out from under him and he pinwheeled his arms trying not to fall before Natasha caught him again.  ‘Are you trying to make me kill you?’ she signed.

“Yeah, I was regretting that as the words were leaving my mouth.”  He said a little too loudly.

Natasha let out a breath and leaned her head against his shoulder.  She wondered if it was the tacos.  She’d been feeling a little off for weeks now.  Achy and ill.  Like she was getting the flu.  She stood back and looked up at Clint.  ‘Maybe it wasn’t the tacos.  Maybe I’m getting sick,’ she signed.

“Can you even get sick?”  He asked.

She shrugged and turned away from him.  Honestly, she didn’t think so.  While the serum she had was flawed compared to Steve’s it had always kept her healthy.  Maybe it had started to run its course now.  Or maybe whatever she caught had been designed specifically to attack super-soldiers.

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Clint teased, running his hands up Natasha’s sides.  “Let me see.”  He cupped her breasts and seemed to bounce them in his palms like he was trying to weigh them.  “They do feel bigger.”

Natasha scowled and wheeled around on him as she tried to mentally count back to when she’d last had her period.  She had never been great with birth control.  The hormonal stuff worked for a little while and then the serum would start adjusting for it, and her body physically rejected any kind of implant.  So there was just the barrier kind, and she’d remember that most of the time until things got comfortable.  Normally it didn’t matter.  The serum had made it hard for her to conceive anyway.  But not impossible.  “Don’t even joke about that!”  She snapped, not even bothering to sign it, and trusting he got the tone in her voice by lip-reading alone.

“What?”  Clint asked, a genuine look of confusion on his face.  It was hard to keep her fear and anger directed at him.  Besides, as far as he knew she was just infertile because of the Red Room.  He didn’t know the dirty details.

She huffed, jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and dashed to the bedroom.  She grabbed her phone and started going through her calendar to work out exactly how late she was.  Clint appeared in the doorway, still dripping water, with a towel wrapped low on his hips as he put his hearing-aids back in.  “What did I say, Nat?”

“Pregnant, Clint!”  Natasha shouted.  “I think I’m pregnant!”

Clint just stared at her with his mouth opening and closing like a fish.  “What?  What?  What do you mean, Nat?  You said you couldn’t?”

She dropped her gaze.  “No,” she said.  “I can.  I have been before.”

“What?”  Clint said.  “Nat!  You said!  I would have been more careful!”

“I know, Clint!”  She cursed under her breath.  Just a string of random nonsensical swearing in various different languages, including Latin.

While Natasha was trying to figure out how exactly to explain to him how she’d fucked up, Clint’s face seemed to go through a whole emotional journey.  Like he was experiencing the five stages of grief all at once but instead of settling on acceptance, he settled on a hopeful optimism.  He moved to Natasha quickly and kneeled on the ground in front of her.

“But this is good,” Clint said, taking her hands in his.  “Nat, if you are… you get to be a mom like you wanted.  That’s good isn’t it?”

Natasha felt a very unfamiliar sensation in her eyes.  Was she about to cry?  Was Clint’s hopeful little puppy face about getting to have kids with her going to make her cry?  She rubbed her eyes in frustration and shook her head.  “You don’t understand, Clint.”

“Is it me?  You don’t want to have kids with me?”  He dropped his hands and flopped back onto his butt.  Lucky seemed to sense something was up with his favorite human being and he padded over and flopped down directly in Clint’s lap.  “Of course you don’t.  Why would you?  I’m a fucking mess.  I’m sorry, Nat.  If you… I dunno… want to …”  He shook his head and shrugged.  “...alone.  Or whatever.”

“Oh, you idiot bird,” Natasha said, kneeling on the ground in front of him and cradling his jaw.  “I love you so much.  Of course, I would want to have kids with you.  If anyone it would be you.  It was always you.”

“Then what is it, Nat?”  Clint asked.  “Shouldn’t you be excited?”

“There are so many things, Clint,” she said, looking down again.  “We’ve only just gotten back together.  Our lives.  But most of all…”  She stopped and let out a shuddering breath.  Clint looked at her with both fear and hope written all over his features and she was about to break his heart, the same way hers broke every time she thought about this.  “Clint, it’s not that I can’t get pregnant.  I can’t carry to term.  The serum makes the pregnancies non-viable.”

“Oh,” Clint said.  The sound almost like he’d been punched in the stomach.  “Oh,” he repeated.  He leaned forward pressing his forehead against hers.  “Has this happened before?”

Natasha sucked in air suddenly and two tears escaped her eyes.  She turned her head away from him.  He couldn’t see her weak like this.  She couldn’t be weak like this.  Not in front of Clint.  Not when he looked at her like the way he did.

He reacted quickly, shoving Lucky off his lap and pulling her into it.  His hands bunched in her hair and he kissed her.  The kiss was everything she needed it to be.  Strong and reassuring.  Loving and tender.  She knew exactly what he was thinking as he kissed her.  It was going to be okay.  Whatever happened, good or bad, they were together and it was going to be okay.

When he broke the kiss he kept her wrapped tightly in his arms.  “Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves, Nat.  When was the last time you had your … you know?”

Natasha pulled back from him and got back up, retying the towel around her.  “My period?”  She asked, and Clint nodded enthusiastically.  “Good god, Clint.  You want to have a baby with me and you can’t even say the word period?  What if this works and it’s a girl, and I die, and you have to tell her about periods?”

Clint started laughing as he got up.  “That is really getting ahead of yourself, Nat,” Clint said and when the scowl didn’t leave her face, he shook his head and looked into her eyes.  “If we do end up having a daughter together, I promise I’ll practice saying period.”  He sat down on the side of the bed and patted the space beside him.  Natasha moved up next to him and put her head on his shoulder.  “But when was it?”

“I’m not sure exactly.  It tends to be erratic.  They really did a number on my reproductive system.  But I’d say around two months ago.  Give or take a couple of weeks.”

Clint patted her leg and got up and started pulling on the dirty clothes he had scattered around the room.  “I’ll go buy some tests.  Okay?  Then we’ll know and we can work out what to do from there.”

Natasha watched as he hurriedly got dressed and Lucky seemed to be determined to try and trip him over.  “Clint?”  She said quietly.

“Yeah, Nat?”  He said as he pulled on his shoe.

“You’d be a good father, you know?”  She said.

Clint came over and kissed her forehead.  “Thanks, Nat.  You’d be a great mom.”

“I’m really scared.”  She whispered.

“That’s okay,” he whispered.  “It’s scary.”

She caressed his cheek with her thumb and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.  “I’ll be right back.”  He said and whistled for Lucky.  The mutt trotted after him as he headed out the door.

Natasha was still lying staring at the ceiling when Clint burst back through the door.  She hadn’t moved at all since he’d left.  She had just stayed lying there, wrapped in her towel with her legs hanging over the end of the bed.  The only difference between when Clint left and when he arrived was Liho was now curled up on her chest.

“Nat?”  He said softly.  “Are you dead?”

“I wish I was dead.”  She replied.

He sat down beside her and gave Liho a scratch on the head.  “I got you some presents.  Look.”

She sat up, putting a disgruntled Liho on her pillow, and looked in the plastic CVS bag he was holding open.  Inside was some Hershey’s Kisses, a Pez Dispenser in the shape of Ariel from the Little Mermaid, a bottle of strawberry lemonade, a small remote-controlled car, and the pregnancy tests.

“You bought all this for me?”  Natasha asked, looking up into the blue of Clint’s eyes.

Clint nodded and kissed her forehead.  Her eyes glistened with tears again and Clint's heart ached for her.  He knew how she felt about looking this weak, even in front of him.  He wished he knew the right words to say to make her realize she could do this.

“I love you, dummy.”  She whispered.

“I love you too, Nat.”

Natasha sighed and pulled out the tests.  “I better do this then.”

Clint sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Natasha to come back out of the bathroom. He pulled the remote-controlled car from the box and set it up.  When Natasha returned, she sat down next to him and put the tester on the bedside table.  Clint handed her the car’s remote.

“What do we do if it's positive?”  Natasha asked.  Her voice was hollow like she had lost the ability to emote over this anymore.  She started driving the car and immediately hit the dresser, knocking one of the wheels out of alignment.  Clint got up and picked it up.  He grabbed the multi-tool he kept on the dresser for when he wanted to mess around with his custom arrowheads and came and sat back down while he attempted to fix the small car.

“I don't know, Nat,” he said, frowning.  “What do you want to do?”

“I just -” she let out a breath and leaned over to watch what Clint was doing.  He wasn't entirely sure himself, but he'd taken off the whole base and was trying to straighten up the wheel.  “I hate how the Red Room still has this control over me.  I want to be a mother.  And I can't imagine anyone else being the person I have kids with except you.  But they've taken that from me.  This will just go like it did last time.  I'll get excited about it. Start buying baby things.  And one day I'll wake up in a huge pool of blood and it will be gone.  I can't go through that again, Clint.  It'll destroy me.”

Clint put the car back together and put it on the ground without saying anything.  Natasha pressed on the controls and the car did a donut and spun off under the bed.  Lucky barked at it and crouched with his head under the bed, his tail wagging like a helicopter blade.  “I’ve been through that too, you know?”

Natasha turned her head to face him.  “What?”

Clint nodded and fiddled with his fingers.  “Bobbi.  It wasn’t planned.  Like now.  But damn if we weren’t excited about it.  She didn’t make it very far into it before we lost it, so we never told anyone it happened.  Didn’t want the sad looks and asking if we were over it yet.  It hurt.  Bad.  But you move on.  There’s not a lot of choice.  Whatever happens, if you want to try to go ahead with it, I’ll be here.  If you do end up losing it.  I’ll be here.  If you really think you can’t go ahead with the pregnancy… for whatever reason… I’ll be here, Nat.”

Natasha rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close.  “What if it does work out?  I want to be a mother more than anything, but are we really ready for that, Clint?  How would that even work?  What if all that happens is we end up breaking up and raising this kid who just hates us for never being there because there’s always Avengers stuff?”

Clint shrugged and reached under the bed.  He pulled the car back out and took the control from Natasha and started to drive the car in figures of eight around the bedroom floor while Lucky both chased it and ran from it.  “Now?  Later?  What difference does it make, Nat?  We’ll never be ready.  Not really.  But I love you and I want… all of that with you.  We can work it out.  Even when we weren’t together, it’s always been you and me.”

Natasha put her foot out and the car banged into it.  Lucky pounced on it and flipped it onto it’s back.  They both started laughing and Clint pulled Natasha into his arms.

“We’ve never talked about any of this before.  Family.  Children.  Not even marriage.  You married Bobbi but you never even brought that up with me.”  Natasha said.

“Bobbi asked me,” Clint said.  “In fact, Bobbi asked me, took me to Vegas and booked a cabin in the mountains with a spa, so we were married and on our honeymoon within a week of her saying she even liked me like that.  The first day I met you, I was in love with you.  I would have married you right then and there.  But I know you, Nat.  That’s never been you.  You want to get married?”

You smiled and nosed at his cheek.  “Maybe. To you.”  She let out a sigh and wrapped her arm around his waist.  “I hate the can still hurt me.  I’ve been away from them for years and they can still make me cry.  I don’t cry, Clint.”

“I know, Nat.”  He said gently.  “You’re my strong and emotionless girlfriend who I love very much.”

“Has it been long enough?”  Natasha asked.

Clint picked up the test and looked at it.  There were two indicator windows, a really small one with a single vertical line running through it and a much larger one that had what looked like a big bright pink plus.  His heart skipped and for a second he forgot how to breathe.  Positive.  The test was positive.  Natasha was pregnant and maybe she’d end up losing it, but right now she was pregnant with his baby and he was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life.

“Positive.”  He said, keeping his voice neutral, in the hope that how happy he felt wouldn’t put pressure on her to do something she didn’t want to.

Natasha looked up at him and slowly her face broke in a smile.  “We’re parents, Clint.”

Clint grinned and leaned in and kissed her, cradling her jaw in his large hands.  Maybe it would go the way it had for both of them in the past.  Maybe they’d have to work through their grief together in the broken, fucked up way they both dealt with things like that.  But right now, at this very moment, they were parents and nothing, not even the Red Room could take that from them.

[wardenrainwall]

Day 2 of Alternative NaNoWriMo Words:  3,556 Pairing: Blackwall/Inquisitor Cadash Rating: Explicit Summary:  Blackwall once told Rija Cadash he wanted her in nothing but stockings and a garter. She obliges him.

Rija pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to quell the roiling she felt. “This was a mistake,” she breathed out, catching sight of her reflection in the long mirror. She was going to make an absolute fool of herself. A single candle lit the small storage closet and the dark kohl around her eyes made her look more like a raccoon than seductress.

She regretted ever opening her mouth to Josephine when they had been in Orlais. Walking past a boutique, Rija had hesitated, struck for a moment by the mannequin in the display window. Delicate lace and silken straps, Rija had recalled Blackwall’s words at the Winter Palace, his desire to fuck her while she wore nothing but silk stockings and a garter belt.

Josephine had lit up, dragged her inside, and helped her pick out the perfect outfit, promising to bring any man to his knees. At the moment, Rija had been excited, thrilled by the entire thing. But now, as she stared at her reflection, she felt foolish.

“Rija, love?” His voice called from her room, where he waited for her, sitting in a chair near the fire, a dark scarf covering his eyes. “Everything alright?” he asked and she pressed her lips into a line.

Blackwall loved her. She’d yet to figure out why, but she knew that he did. He loved her body. He told her that often. Every time he touched her, Ancestors, he practically said it every time he looked at her.

“Yeah,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Yes, just… you still have the blindfold on right?”

“I do,” he called back and she straightened her spine, set her shoulders back, and tried to find the confidence that she’d felt when she’d first tried the dark blue lacy teddy on. Drawing open the door, she peaked her head around the corner to look at Blackwall.

True to his word, he still wore the blindfold, though he had shifted in the chair. He leaned back, legs stretched out, a lazily relaxed pose. Firelight lit him from behind, casting most of his features in shadow. “Rija?” he asked, his head turning toward her at the sound of the door creaking open.

“I bought you something,” she said, padding silently across the cold wooden floorboards until she reached the edge of the plush rug. He perked up at that, sat up a bit more, leaned forward, one elbow on his knee.

“Bought me something?” he questioned, she saw his brows lift behind the bit of cloth.

Rija hummed quietly and then she reached out and took his hand in hers, felt the rasp of calloused fingers. “I did,” she told him, stepping closer. A quiet voice in the back of her mind reminding her that he adored her.

“Do I get to see my gift?” He squeezed her hand, tugged, drawing her closer.

“Not yet,” she told him. Rija took his other hand and stepped between his spread knees. “I… I feel a little bit silly,” she admitted, ducking her head down to brush her lips against his. He kissed her back, sucked her lower lip into his mouth, and gently bit down on it.

“Tell me why.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time-”

Blackwall’s brow furrowed again. “A tattoo? A piercing?” He made a quiet rumbling sound in his throat that made heat build in her belly. “I have a few ideas of what you could get pierced.”

Heat turned her cheeks pink and she bit down on his lower lip. “Stop that. No, nothing so… long-lasting.”

Blackwall groaned. “You’re killing me, my love. Either give me a proper hint or let me see.”

“It is something I got while in Orlais,” she told him then brought his hands closer and rested them on her hips. His fingers flexed, squeezed, rubbed against the delicate lace.  Blackwall’s head cocked to the side, slid up, slowly, stopping just below Rija’s breasts. Her breath caught in her throat and she waited for what he’d do next. But then his hands shifted, making their way down her sides, over her hips, where his fingers found the bare skin at the top of her thighs, down a bit lower, he groaned.

“Maker, preserve me, Rija,” he traced his fingertips along the top edge of the stockings. “Love.” His voice came out a rasp, and then his hands slid around to cup her half-covered bottom. He squeezed and pulled her closer. “Not one single thing about you wearing lacy underthings is remotely silly. Fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen me yet,” she said quietly, that twist of nerves starting up in her belly again.

One of Blackwall’s hands slid around to her back, found the back to be non-existent, and skimmed his fingertips up her spine to slide into her hair where he wrapped it around his fist and dragged her face close to his until their foreheads touched. “I can tell you, honestly, you’re beautiful, stunning, drop-dead gorgeous. Do you want to know how I know that?” he asked, his voice going husky.

“How?”

“Because I know you. Because I’ve seen you, love. I’ve seen you wearing your pretty dresses. I’ve seen you dirty and disheveled after a battle. I’ve watched you fall exhausted into bed wearing nothing but one of my shirts.” He kissed a trail along her jaw to her ear. “Because I have seen you in the throes of pleasure and I know you. And you are the most fucking beautiful person I’ve ever been so lucky to be with.”

Tears filled Rija’s eyes and she felt almost as if her heart had been torn wide open in her chest. The sincerity he said it with, she knew he believed it. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. “Fuck,” her voice came out a rasp and she lightly slapped his shoulder. “Asshole, you’re going to ruin my makeup, and I spent way too much time on it.” Rija sniffled and Blackwall reached up, ripping away the blindfold to meet her gaze.

The dark makeup around her eyes made that crystalline blue-grey of her left eye seem all the more depthless. The right on the other hand, while masterfully created, lacked that same depth. “Love,” he breathed, cupping her face, thumbs catching the tears that fell onto her cheeks.

“I hate you,” she muttered, but the words held no heat as she leaned into his touch.

He smiled, gaze soft. “S’okay,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against her lips. “I love you enough for the both of us.”

Her breath hitched and she hit his shoulder again. “Stop it, I can’t-” Rija twisted away from him, threw her arms out to the sides, and huffed. “You’re just supposed to want to fuck me.” He’d started calling her love not long after they had returned from the Winter Palace and she had tried to pretend it meant nothing to either of them. Just a pet name for him.

Blackwall’s gaze traveled slowly, from her eyes, down over every inch, every curve. “Maker’s breath, woman, I do want to do that.” Delicate dark blue lace hugged her breasts and torso and down to her hips. He found himself wondering how much give it had if he’d be able to tug aside the crotch when he put his mouth on her. Bits of ribbon led down to where they clipped onto the thin silk stockings that were the same dark blue as the outfit.

Pushing up to his feet, he closed the distance between them. “And more,” he breathed, making a slow circle around her. Her curls hung midway down her back, and the lingerie was completely open in the back, cutting down low to start just at the curve of her rump. “Fuck,” it came out a rasp.

“What?” Rija turned her head, her brows drawing together.

Every day for the rest of my life isn’t long enough , he thought, and for a sad, bitter moment, he knew he wouldn’t even get that long. “Come here,” he said instead, taking her hand, he drew her back to the chair in front of the fire and nudged her into it before sinking to his knees in front of her. Then he was kissing her, claiming her mouth with a deep kiss. He’d be sure that by morning Rija would never doubt, not even for an instant, how fucking perfect she was to him.

How many times would he have to remind her that she was the embodiment of beauty to him? As many times as it took to be sure she knew. He wished he could track down her family, the previous lovers who made her think less of herself and beat them all within an inch of their lives. Blackwall slid his hands up her sides, where he cupped the heavy weight of a breast in each, his thumbs rubbing over her pebbled nipples. He would never get enough of her, he thought, hearing Rija’s breathy moan.

He kissed along her throat and breathed in the scent of her skin. A soft floral note with her usual leather, smoke, and beeswax. Orleasian soap , he thought, and for a beat, he was twenty years old again, cocky, without a clue how to properly please a woman. Lifting his head, he looked at Rija and saw the desire written all over her face. And he was grateful for every lesson he’d ever learned about pleasing a lover.

“Blackwall?” she breathed out his name because that was who he was now.

Ducking his head without a word, Blackwall wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. “Oh!” Rija let out a quiet cry as she tangled her fingers in his hair. He laved at the puckered flesh, then sucked, enjoying the contrast of texture between her skin and the lace. Nuzzling his way over to the other breast, he rubbed his nose along the curve of her breast, and then gently sunk his teeth into her other nipple.

“Fuck!” Rija shouted, hands tightening in his hair, she shoved her breast against his mouth and her hips began to rock faintly against his stomach where he settled between her thighs. Dropping one hand down to that strip of bare skin between her hip and the top of that silk stocking. Maker’s balls, those stockings would be the death of him.

“You’ll wear these, all the time,” he rasped against her breast, drawing back to watch as he traced a fingertip along the top edge, feeling both skin and silk. Then he looked up to her face, Rija’s skin was flushed, lips parted, her eyes wide as she stared up at him. He’d buy her more stockings. In every color, he could find. “Under every dress,” he told her because he knew how she preferred her pretty dresses when she wasn’t out on the battlefield.

Rija’s tongue flicked out over her lower lip and she nodded. “Okay,” it was a breathy sound that had his cock going even more rigid in his trousers. Groaning he cupped the back of her head and kissed her hard, his tongue sliding between her parted lips. He slid his other hand from the stocking up, feeling along the garter to where it met the lacy fabric that teased him. Letting him see her every curve, but hiding her skin, her scars, her stretch marks.

Blackwall dipped his thumb beneath the fabric at the crease of her thigh and mentally did a little jig, feeling it give enough that he knew he’d easily be able to tug the crotch of the fabric away and lick her, fuck her. It was something they had both discovered they found particularly erotic. Quick couplings, with just enough clothing, pulled aside to find their pleasure. Letting out another groan he shifted his hand felt the top of her curls. Every color, he silently vowed. Red, black. Something brighter, maybe gold. Breaking the kiss he let his beard scrape over her throat and felt the quiet vibration of her moan as she arched her back.

Nuzzling either breast, he went down lower, stroked his hands over her thighs, spreading them wider to make way for his shoulders, glancing up, he met her heavy-lidded gaze and nuzzled the damp fabric that covered her slit. “Maker, have mercy,” he breathed, and then licked over the fabric. Rija made a quiet sound and leaned back in the chair, one of her hands coming down to cover one of his own where it still rested against her thigh, while the other slid into his hair and gave it a slight tug.

The sound Blackwall made was nearly a growl as he lowered his head once more and this time he used his free hand to push aside the fabric and lapped his tongue up between her lower lips, again and again, pushing just barely at her opening and up to her clit, where he lingered each time. He ignored the throbbing press of his erection against his breeches and suckled Rija’s clit between his lips until she cried out, her thighs jerking against his hold, but he didn’t let up, her juices soaked his beard and he couldn’t get enough of her.

Another sharp tug at his hair and Rija bucked so hard he nearly lost his hold on her. His need for her reached a breaking point. Blackwall lifted his head, yanked down one side of the neckline of lace, and latched onto her breast as he drew her legs around his waist and stood. She clung to him, panting his name against his ear as she squirmed in his arms. “I need you, please, please, Blackwall,” her voice was sex dipped in honey and Maker knew, he’d give her anything she asked.

Tossing her onto the bed, she landed with a bounce and looked up at him as he yanked his shirt over his head and then yanked at his belt. He still had his damn boots on and he cursed softly. Rija’s lips curved slightly, all that nervousness seeming to disappear in the thick fog of lust that hung in the room now. She lay back on the bed, one hand rising to cup the breast he’d exposed, her nipple still damp from his mouth, while she lowered her other hand to her spread legs, and covered the dark wet fabric there. “Ancestors,” she murmured, “the things you can do with that tongue of yours.”

Blackwall shoved his trousers down, yanked off his boots and his cock bounced against his belly, hard and aching. “Just wait till you see what I can do with my cock,” he told her, one hand curling around the base, he gave it one firm stroke as he reached for her ankle with the other. Bracing a knee on the edge of the bed, he tugged at her foot, dragging her closer. “On your knees, love.” He wanted to fuck her every way imaginable that night. His need to be pressed close, their chest slick with sweat, their hearts beating in rhythm as he pounded into her, filled her until she was claimed, was his.

Rija twisted on the bed, drawing up onto her knees, her shoulders against the mattress, her face turned to look at him over. Blackwall hesitated a moment, afraid his desperation might make him too rough. “Please, my love,” she murmured and Blackwall swallowed hard, his chest splitting wide open. “Inside me, I want you-” her breath hitched and he grabbed hold of her hips and looked down to see her fingers there, stroking her clit.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice low and drawn out. Then he guided his erection to her opening, rubbed it through the wetness, spreading it coating his cock with it. “Maker-”

Then Rija pressed her hands flat on the bed and shoved back against him, impaling herself on his cock, drawing shouts from both of them. His hold on her hips was so tight he knew he’d leave bruises, but when she clenched her inner walls around him, he abandoned all thought and reason and withdrew almost fully before slamming his hips forward.

Her fingers curled in the thick duvet as she braced against his almost violent thrusts. And she relished in every second of it. Throwing her head back she let him have control over their movements, yanking her rump back against his hips as he pounded into her. The only sound in the room was their panting breaths and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. “Yes!” Rija was close, so close that she teetered on the edge. But if she shifted her hand down to her clit, gave herself that final push, it would shift her whole body, and ruin the blissful drive of his cock inside her.

“Blackwall, Blackwall-” she panted, desperate for that nudge. But then he was pulling out of her, and her mind reeled. No, no, she’d been so close! But he manhandled her, flipping her onto her back, and she let him position her. Tugging her legs up, so that they were flush against his chest as he pushed into her again. Rija shuddered. He was already big for her, but now he felt huge inside her with her thighs pressed shut and he took up that pace again, fast and hard thrusts and she gripped the blanket beneath her, desperate for something to dig her nails into as he quickly had her at that edge again.

But now she could look up at him, see his eyes, watch him watching her. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, one still free, the other covered by the lace. Rija held his gaze and released her hold on the blanket, knowing he’d hold her exactly where he wanted her. She tugged at the fabric, freeing her other breast, and then she held them, cupping and kneading, catching her pebbled nipples between her knuckles and squeezing.

Blackwall’s eyes darkened and he rubbed his cheek against her calf, not once breaking his steady rhythm. “Oh,” she breathed, her back arching, because she was so close again, and the way he watched her so intently, was a pleasure all on its own. He moved so quickly, she barely processed it before he was leaning over her, his mouth latching firmly onto one nipple as he held her legs hooked over his forearms at the knee. His cock felt even deeper like this, and it was as if there was a string straight from the nipple that he suckled to her clit because that edge that Rija had been teetering on for what felt like hours vanished in a rush of rapture.

Rija wrapped her arms around him, her nails biting into his shoulders, as she made a sound of primal pleasure. Blackwall’s thrust grew rougher, more erratic, and hypersensitive, she felt each pulse of his cock as he spilled his release inside her. “Fuck,” he breathed against her breath. “Fuck,” his voice was ragged and he continued rocking his hips against her. “Again,” he released his hold on one of her legs, pushed his hand between them, and circled her clit. “Again, fuck, Rija, come for me again.”

Who was she to disobey? Her thighs jerked against his sides, holding him tighter as that delicious pleasure rolled through her again. Stop, don’t stop, her mind reeled, and then his mouth was against her ear, whispering in a voice like gravel how hot and wet she felt around his cock. How her soft curves made him ache. And Rija was utterly lost.

It could have been years later when she sighed, her cheek against his chest as she lay stretched out over him, a blanket haphazardly dragged up over them. He’d stripped her out of the lacy garment and stockings and now held her, his fingers stroking over her tangle of curls. Lifting her head she rested her chin on the back of her hand where it lay over his heart, he looked down at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Welcome back,” he murmured and she smiled drowsily.

“Warden Blackwall,” she murmured, then her brows drew together. “I love you,” she told him, terrified and so certain at the same time. An expression crossed his features so quickly that she didn’t have a chance to process it. “I wish-” she drew in a breath. “I wish you’d never joined the Wardens. I wish that I’d met you before… before all of this.” Because being a Warden was a death sentence. And maybe, maybe if they’d met years earlier, she could have saved him from it, and he could have saved her from herself.

“Rija-” he stared down at her, the sincerity in her voice, he struggled to breathe past the lump that had formed in his throat. Tell her, he thought. She’d forgive him the lie. Wouldn’t she? I’m not really a Warden. I never joined. I’ve committed horrific crimes, but, please, please, still love me. But instead, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I love you, too.”

She smiled a little, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into his touch before she rested her cheek back against his bare chest. “I know you do. I know.”