#sorry i sucked ass trying to kill this guy my hands r stiff + it threw me off guard so hard

[lolchat]

what

[pearlsephoni]

The Trial of Shoyo Hinata’s Rising Heartrate, Witness Three: Tanaka

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: T (just for language)

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kagehina (Kageyama/Hinata)

Characters: Ryuunosuke Tanaka, Shoyo Hinata, Yu Nishinoya, Chikara Ennoshita, Hisashi Kinoshita, Kazuhito Narita

Word Count: 1,794

Summary: Ever since Kageyama and Hinata were first banned from the gym by Daichi, Tanaka had found himself taking the troublesome crows under his wings. But he still doesn't understand why he can't stop worrying about the first years' fight.

A/N: Author’s notes can be read on AO3.

Tanaka was no stranger to fights.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. For all his posturing, he’d never actually been in a fight. He’d gotten close a few times, but a threatening tap of his fist to his palm usually got his message across fine. And while disagreements were bound to arise within the team every now and again, he’d never seen an actual fight break out. The closest they’d come was the argument between Nishinoya and Asahi, and thankfully Tanaka had managed to hold the libero back before he tried to cause any real damage.

Which was why he’d reacted so instinctively when he followed Yachi into the gym just in time to see Kageyama fling Hinata to the floor, only for Hinata to throw himself back into the fight as recklessly as he went after Kageyama’s tosses. In the few seconds he’d seen, Tanaka knew this went beyond any other argument the first years had had before, and even went beyond any regular fistfight. There was real, tangible hurt and betrayal between the two, and his fresh instincts as a senpai made him put a stop to it as quickly and efficiently as he could.

So he punched them. And he didn’t regret it. His punches got the job done, after all.

But still…the emotions he’d seen the previous night weren’t something that would go away in the single day they had off. He wasn’t some sort of expert on emotions or anything, but he had a bad feeling their animosity would leak into the next day’s practice, and they only had a few weeks until the Spring Qualifiers.

“Ryuu.”

Those punks were at the center of their attack. If they couldn’t get their shit together, then…Tanaka would never say it out loud, but he really didn’t know if they could pull off the victories needed to go to Nationals.

“Ryuu?”

He wished he had Daichi’s calm state of mind and firm faith in the team. Maybe that was something that came with being the captain.

“Ryuu!!”

“Earth to Tanaka!”

He snapped out of his thoughts and found Nishinoya, Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita staring at him, all in the middle of big bites of their lunches. “Huh?”

“Geez, man,” Nishinoya mumbled around his mouthful. “What’s up with you? You never zone out like that.”

“Sorry, I was just…did you guys hear about the fight between Hinata and Kageyama?”

“I overheard you telling the third years about it,” Ennoshita said. His eyes were on Tanaka, but he still managed to catch Nishinoya’s chopsticks before the libero could help himself to a sausage from his bento. “I don’t get it, was it any worse than their usual arguments?”

“Yeah, bruh, they were throwing each other to the ground and everything! It was crazy, Yachi thought they were going to kill each other.”

“Probably would’ve,” Kinoshita sighed. Tanaka couldn’t really see him around Narita perched on his desk, but he could imagine the chagrin on the blonde’s face. “You’d think those two hate each other if they weren’t attached to the hip.”

Narita hummed at that. “They didn’t look very attached this morning. They wouldn’t even look at each other, it was weird.”

“What’d Daichi-san say?”

Tanaka shrugged at Nishinoya. “He said they’d be fine. Said it’s not the first time they fought, and they’ve gotten over humps before. But I dunno, man…I don’t think he’d be so confident if he’d seen it himself.”

“No, that wouldn’t change,” Ennoshita murmured, “He’d still have faith in them, that’s how the Captain is.”

“So you need faith, too, Ennoshita!”

The look he pinned Nishinoya under was deeply unimpressed. “Shut up. Are you clowns done with your lunches? You gotta leave those desks soon.”

A chorus of groans rose from the group, before Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Narita obediently cleared out. After they parted ways with Narita in the hallway, Nishinoya slung an arm around Tanaka’s shoulders, tugging him into an awkward half-crouch as they walked back to their classroom. “Quit worrying about them, dude! They’ll be alright, like Daichi said.”

“Yeah...I guess we’ll see, huh?”

For the rest of the day, and the next school day, that was all Tanaka needed to ease his mind and forget about the fight. After all, Daichi was right - those two had gotten into arguments before, had entered the team practically at each other’s throats. There was no reason they wouldn’t bounce back from this, maybe even faster than they had before.

When Hinata bowed in apology to him before practice started the next day, Tanaka really thought everything was ok. The first year looked chipper as always, ready to play his hardest and push the rest of the team along with him.

Then Coach Ukai announced he would be playing with Sugawara instead of Kageyama. And the freak duo passed each other to opposite sides of the court without so much as looking at each other.

Shit.

Hinata still played well. Better than well. Tanaka didn’t know what he did with the team’s day off, but he could tell that it must’ve had something to do with volleyball.

And yet...something was off. For all his smiles and energy, he was strangely quiet. Any time he wasn’t actively playing or responding to a plan for the next rally, he seemed to draw into himself, clearly preoccupied with…something.

Tanaka could barely understand the odd, volatile, intuitive bond between the freak duo, and he didn’t really know what he could say to help them fix the fracture that had formed. But when the team got ready to split up for individual practice, he found himself approaching Hinata at the edge of the court. “Hey, Hinata.”

The first year looked up from where he was stretching on the floor. “Yeah, Tanaka-san?”

“Listen, I…I know fighting with a teammate sucks. Especially when you’re working together as much as you and Kageyama.” Or Nishinoya and Asahi. He couldn’t forget the days after Asahi left the team, when the barest mention of his name made the libero turn stiff and silent. “But it happens, man. And you’ll always have the rest of the team. We’ll be with you on the court, and we’ve got your back off the court, too.”

Hinata’s wide eyes became downcast as Tanaka spoke, and when he replied, his words were directed to the floor. “Thanks, Tanaka-san…but I dunno if I’ll even be on the court if Kageyama won’t toss to me.”

“Nah, he will!” Tanaka plopped down on the floor next to Hinata, joining him in stretching. “Kageyama’s an idiot, and he’s stubborn as hell, but man, does that guy know the game. He won’t mess it up because of a fight.”

“But then he’ll only toss the same toss that he always has, and I won’t be able to choose the path of the ball, and we’ll get blocked out again.” Hinata’s hands clenched against the floorboards, and when he looked up, Tanaka was startled by the cold focus in those usually-warm brown eyes. “I wanna fight for us on my own terms. I know I can do it. But it’ll never happen if Kageyama won’t believe in me. He’s my partner, and he doesn’t believe in me.”

Partners, huh? Tanaka was suddenly reminded of a conversation he’d stumbled across between Suga and Daichi at the beginning of the year. They hadn’t noticed him because Daichi’s eyes had been pressed behind his hands, and Suga’s eyes had been fixed on the new captain, hands gentle on his shoulders. It didn’t take long before Tanaka had felt too guilty to keep eavesdropping, but he’d heard one thing in particular from Suga that had stuck with him ever since.

“We’re partners, Daichi. On and off the court. So quit trying to handle everything by yourself and let me help.”

There was a stubborn pride in Hinata’s eyes where Suga’s had held gentle care…but their gazes did share a sense of yearning, an almost-desperate entreaty to their partners.

Tanaka knew Hinata hadn’t used “partners” with the same meaning as Suga did. But as he listened to the first year talk, he wondered if maybe it did hold the same meaning, and Hinata just had no idea yet. “He does believe in you, man. I think he’s just scared of messing with what’s worked so well. Maybe if you keep working at it by yourself, get some tips from Coach and stuff, he’ll come around. It’s happened before, and it already seems like he’s getting his ass in gear to improve his tosses.”

Hinata finally grinned at that. “I’m way ahead of you, Tanaka-san! I got Coach to help me out yesterday.”

“Yesterday. On our day off.”

“Yep!” He bounced to his feet, the pride in his eyes shining warmer with his smile. “I realized I need to get better at hitting all sorts of tosses. That way Kageyama will know that I can hit any toss he sends me!”

Tanaka could only hope his bemused disbelief didn’t show in the grin that crept across his face. “You really care about what he thinks, don’tcha?”

“Yeah! If I’m gonna beat him, then I have to be good with and without him. I have to be good by myself so I can keep playing with him.”

“That’s the spirit!” Tanaka cheered, slower to push himself to his feet. “But y’know…it’s not so bad to be ignored sometimes.” The look of pure confusion Hinata pinned on him didn’t hold any judgment, but Tanaka could still feel embarrassment creep through him. “Not on the court! Just, y’know, like how whenever Kiyoko-san ignores me, I feel extra pumped up! Even though I know she doesn’t mean anything by it.”

The small confused frown curving Hinata’s lips wasn’t making Tanaka feel any better. “Yeah, but…don’t you have a crush on her? That’s different from how it feels when Kageyama’s being a jerk.”

Oh. He really has no idea. He’s absolutely clueless. Fuck. “R-right,” Tanaka stammered. “Yeah, it’s different, sure. Forget I said anything.”

Hinata looked like he was going to ask another question, before his attention was distracted by Coach Ukai’s call for him. “Coming, Coach!” He ran off with a final smile for Tanaka, who was left standing dumbly with his bottle held limp in his hand.

So. Hinata definitely had a crush on Kageyama. And had no idea. And no one else had ever mentioned anything to Tanaka, beyond the usual musings over the way the first years bickered constantly and still managed to play like lifelong partners. Which meant Tanaka was likely the only person who had realized anything. And he wasn’t about to discuss it with anyone, it wasn’t his crush to talk about. But the realization still made secondhand embarrassment prickle through him.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself. “Those idiots are doomed.”

[sebbytrash]

Shiver

Summary - You and Steve are on a mission together, stuck out in the middle of Russia in the freezing cold, waiting on your pickup. Forever the gentleman, Steve keeps you warm. At least, he’s trying to be a gentleman anyway.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings - Mentions of death (not graphic), endless lusting over Steve, Steve is a sweetheart and you will love him.

A/N -  This is a late, very late, birthday present for one of my closest friends @watchmemarvel  Charlie my love, I’m sorry it’s late but I hope it’s worth the wait. I love you more <3

A shiver wracks through your body again, cold seeping further into you, into every cell until your mind is blank with it. Your muscles are stiff and losing feeling as you huddle in the empty building, out of sight and out of the cold. That was the plan, anyway.

Fucking Russia.

You glance at Steve, see him tucked sort of into himself, his hulking limbs wrapping around him like a sturdy muscle blanket. Your eyes skim along the hard lines and settle on the set of his jaw, you let the thoughts that come along with it warm you a little, use them like a blanket against the ice slipping up your spine and the dark edges of your mind.

“How much longer, Steve?” You ask again, again because you’d asked before but hadn't really listened, hearing nothing past the deep throb of cold in your eardrums.

“Quinjet will be back in a couple hours. Y/N.” He repeats, gives you a look like maybe he’s getting worried about you, then shuffles closer, hesitates for a beat then slips an arm around you. The warmth, the niceness of it feels like heaven and you lean into him, pulled towards the heat of him. “It wasn't your fault, you know?” He says, low but solid, surety in his voice.

“Sure feels like it.” You whisper back, sucking in your bottom lip and chewing on it so he can’t see the quiver in it.

“You tried. We tried. It came down to you or him.” His arm tightens a little around you, “I’m glad you chose you. If you hadn’t… I- I don’t know what I’d do without you, sweetheart.”

You glance towards him, watching his throat work as he swallows, getting a little distracted in wondering how a neck can be so sturdy. You tilt your head and rest your cheek against his chest, forehead touching his neck, “Thanks, Stevie.”

“God, Y/N, you're freezing. Hey- get in here.” He slides your body along the concrete like you weigh nothing, hooks under your knees and lifts you, settles you in front of him right between his legs. He opens the front of his jacket and slips the sides round you so you're both snug inside, his thighs tight against the sides of yours, his arms crossed over your stomach and over your wrists. The heat spreads through you, every single part of you that’s touching Steve feels like its scorched, tight and hot from more than just body heat.

“This okay?” His voice in your ear makes you jump and muscles tense, his fingers gripping a little tighter on your wrists, only loosening when you force yourself to relax against him again.

“Yeah, uh, yes. More than.” Did you sound as shaken as you feel? Probably. Did he? Maybe.

The mission had gone well, at first, you and Steve tasked with retrieving plans held on a poorly guarded Hydra mainframe in Kazan, Russia. It hadn't taken a whole lot of effort to take out the two guards in the building, and Tony had given you a neat little flash drive that did all the hard work for you, all you had to do was plug it in. Get in, get out, 30 mins tops. You just hadn't counted on...him. No older than his teen years, manipulated into a dark seated loyalty by Hydra, a new low for them really. Child soldiers. It’s what you saw, in any case. You hadn’t wanted to do it, take him out, you desperately tried not to. Steve had tried to reason with him, explaining the lies Hydra had told him, pleaded with him to lower his weapon but in the end it hadn't been enough. You saw it, the second he made his decision, saw the resignation, saw his face go slack and his eyes turn dead as he tightened his finger on the trigger. You felt the pain of his life taken before your bullet even hit him, time slowing till it was almost laughing at you, extending out the moments like a lifetime and taunting you.

10 minutes. That’s all it took, between meeting and killing the boy. 10 whole minutes.

The mission had been budgeted for a few hours and your pick up wasn't due for a while. Since Steve was so well known, Mr Captain America, there’s no way you could chance being spotted, not since tensions between the US and Russia were already at their peak since, well, forever really but most recent since the Siberia. Yeah, that was a shit storm that no one wanted to touch, never mind have in their back garden. So here you were, skulking in some abandoned building which reeked of death and horror like a slaughterhouse, the large open space doing nothing to quell the harsh temperatures of mid-winter Russia and the boys face playing in a loop in your head. The only thing that kept you from drowning in that image was sheer proximity to Steve.

The hard concrete floor is unforgiving, you shift a little to get more comfortable but also to keep as much of your weight off Steve as possible, trying to resist the urge to brush your ass back just a little and answer that too-ever-present question in your mind about the Serum and if it affected everythings size. You take in a couple of deep breaths, attempt to drag your mind from the gutter which is entirely unlikely given the object of your most recent ‘self-love’ episodes was pressed against you. Glancing down makes it worse- thighsthighsthighs- but at least you're no longer in danger of hypothermia… right? Steve shifts behind you, the muscles in his legs tensing against yours and sending heat straight to your gut. A yawn sneaks out, prompted by the long flight here and the emotionally beating you’d been through.

“Tired? You can sleep if you want, I’ll wake you up when we can leave.”

“S’ok Ste-” You fight the yawn this time, but he knows anyway, hand coming up to press against your forehead till your head has rolled back against him.

“Sleep, Y/N. I’ll keep you safe.” His voice sounds further away as your eyes close, the soft scent of Steve lulling you into a light sleep, his body pulling you tighter, heat wrapping like a blanket over you.

You hover in and out of consciousness, not quite awake and not quite asleep. Aware of the ache of sitting on the floor, shifting occasionally to ease it, mostly followed by another shifting of Steve. You vaguely wonder if you are too heavy, half flickering between that and sleep induced thoughts of arms and thighs and everything inbetween. Before you can get lost there, get too settled in those thoughts you force yourself up, blink yourself awake and straight up to stretch out those stiff muscles again. Steve releases his grip on your wrists to give you movement to do so, and you roll your back a little to relieve the ache.

That’s when it happens, the shock of it sending you both scrambling to your feet. As you arched your back to stretch, your ass brushed against Steve, against him, full, solid, hard. He’s just as affected as you to the close proximity and the thought alone thrills you as much as it terrfies you.

“I’m sorry!” You both rush out, looking everywhere but at each other. His face snaps to yours, tight with confusion, “Wait, why are you sorry?”

“I didn’t mean to rub against you, shit. Was an accident.” You rub at your face and eyes, the last remnants of sleep shoved from your body as the adrenaline lights up your veins.

“No, I’m sorry. I just- uh, god, Y/N. You kept moving around in your sleep and I just…” You hear the desperation in his voice as he searches for a way to explain this, most guys would have laughed it off by now but not Steve, ever the gentleman, he needs to explain. He needs a reason.

“Hey, Steve, Steve it’s ok. No big deal.” You take a few steps, close the gap but not quite, “These things happen, yeah?”

“No, Y/N. It’s just that- fuck, how do I even...” He runs a hand over his face, dragging his skin a little, looking so lost.

You tut at him, shaking your head and fighting the smile on your face, “Steven, did you just cuss?”

He looks at you now, see’s the smile on your face and his shoulders loosen a little, a tentative smile working at his lips, eyes brimming with unsaid words. He reaches for you, steps up close so that your chests touch with each breath, slips his hand round your waist to the small of your back. Each action is slow, deliberate and laced with intent.

“Alright, Captain Ice Age, your chariot has arrived.” The static of the comms radio jolts you both, Tony’s voice like a bucket of ice on the situation and prompts Steve to take a step back away from you.

“On our way, Tony.” He replies, looks at you sort of haunted and hungry, like he’s not sure which is worse, lingers there a minute before blinking back into Captain America mode. Passive face, professional attitude, you see it all snap into place as he nods towards the door, making sure you leave first. You sigh but do as he says, following orders like the good little soldier.

You can hear the engines from the jet, but can’t see it anywhere. What is Tony doing?

“You need to uncloak, Spare Parts Man.”

“Ohhh, somebody's in a bad mood. What’s wrong, Y/N?” The jet flickers into view. “Did I interrupt? R-Rated handholding and cheek pecking?”

“Fuck off, Stark.” You say as you climb inside, followed by Steve who undoubtedly hears the whole exchange in his ear piece but says nothing.

The journey home is long but comfortable, a damn sight more comfortable than the building you’d just been stranded in. Steve sits up front with Tony, fills him in on the mission and takes over so Tony can start decrypting the data you had obtained. It keeps him busy, getting lost in his work is Tony’s trademark so you don’t see much of either of them for the duration. The quiet hum of the engine fills your head, leaving you with nothing to focus on but your own thoughts and today’s events. The boy's face flickers in and out, hovering with dark edges and void eyes. You shake the thought, try to focus on something else to drown him out, notice Steve’s silhouette against the front screen, shoulder hunched and fingers tight on the controls.

Steve. Focus on Steve.

Was he really going to kiss you? Certainly seemed like he was, unless you're reading too much into it but really, he leaned. Your fingertips vibrate with the need to trace his lines, all his lines of muscle and full, firmness. You’d always had a thing for him, sure, but had never given much thought to him reciprocating. Now, though, now you're thinking and it's a nice train of thought. Now the real question of the hour, what do you do? Nothing, you suppose, let him decide if he wants to continue the quiet almost moment you shared, pretend you're not avoiding out-and-out rejection.  

“Okay guys, preparing to land.” Steve’s voice cuts through your musing. You make your way to your seat and buckle in, giving him a thumbs up to let him know you're ready. Tony does the same, sliding in next to you instead of joining Steve in the cab up front.

“Doing okay, kid?” He asks, halting you when you realise what he means.

“Yeah, Tony. I’m ok.” You offer him a small smile which he returns, the moment remaining untarnished by your equal measures of sarcasm and sass. Tony was a kindred spirit, meeting you toe to toe in snark and love. He was a true friend.

“Enjoy your alone time with Stone Cold Steve Rogers?” And there it was, moment gone, Tony back. He loved to give you a hard time for that crush of yours.

“I hate you.” You say but laugh anyway, because it’s Tony and he always knows how to do that.

“Except you don’t.” He smirks at you, jostling a little as Steve finally puts the jet down.

You're both up and out as soon as it lands, you give him a punch to the shoulder on your way out and hear him cracking up behind you. Steve appears at the door, arm stretching out to help you down and your heart responds with an extra thumpthump.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He leans towards you a little, a smile working its way on to his face, “You know, you’ve been pretty thankful today. That’s 3 I count.”

Was he...was he flirting?

“What’s not to be thankful for, when a handsome man keeps you warm in the cold?” You arch an eyebrow, a silent dare to take the bait.

“Handsome, huh?” Bait taken.

“Definitely.” This time, your smiles mirror the other but with layers of intent and want. Tony catches your eye as he walks around, giving you an exaggerated thumbs up over Steve's shoulder. You roll your eyes and flip him off, Steve turns to see who you're aiming at and catches Tony blowing you a kiss. He turns back to you, eyebrows raised in question, you murmur a “Don’t ask.”

“I need to do the mission report, but can I come see you later?” Steve says, taking a few steps backwards but never breaking eye contact.

“Doors always open.” Like you could say no to him? He gives you a smile, the kind that makes your knee joints wobble and rushes away to do whatever it is a Captain does. You make it back to your room, showering quickly and changing into some lounge pants and a tank, the blue one that shows off a little cleavage that definitely wasn't deliberate. You tidy up a little, vacuum the lounge, straighten the bed because you never know and throw out the chinese take-out cartons that have been there for...a while. It’s been maybe an hour when there’s a knock at the front door. You make you way over to open the door, heart vibrating in your chest with how fast it’s beating, the dip your stomach takes ties you in knots.

The door opens to reveal Steve, as you suspected, changed out of his uniform to loose sweats and a white t-shirt. You roll your bottom lip absentmindedly as you take in the dips of his abs visible through the tight material, your blood hums in anticipation. When you finally meet his eyes you see the way he lingers on your neck and lower, see his pupils expand until his eyes are darker than you've ever seen. He steps forward, into your room, moving you back with him automatically and closing the door softly behind him,

“Thought we might continue where we left off earlier?” He murmurs low, closing the distance between you but not touching.

“Would be rude not to.” You reply, releasing him from his invisible binds he reaches for you, hands slipping around your waist again, so natural and easy like you were built for this.

You slip your hands up his chest, a slow path over the muscles you’ve been so desperate to feel and finally hook around his neck. His lips hover just out of reach, his breath mingling with yours and your heartbeat finally making it to your ears, drowning out everything but it and the sound of Steve's labored breaths. He tips forward and closes the distance, a soft brush of skin against yours before pressing more firmly, more deliberately with a feeling that reaches right down to your toes and back. You moan, quiet and low, and Steve uses it to deepen the kiss, mouth working against yours till your breathless and yet so full of him. It’s deep and thorough, and layered with feeling. You grip his neck tighter, needing him closer still and good God this man can kiss. His fingers inch under your tank, fingertips whispering gentling on the soft skin with goosebumps chasing them. A shiver wracks your body, this time it's a welcome one.

“Wait, wait- this isn’t…” His chest heaves with each breath, forehead pressed against yours and his words create a little panic in your heart.

“We don’t have to-” You whisper, mistaking it for nerves or something worse.

“No. No, it’s not that. Believe me it’s not that.” His look is like gasoline on the very open flame of your body and it slides down from head to toe. He looks wrecked.

“Then what?”

“I want to take you out. On a date.” He says, linking his fingers with yours and bringing them up to kiss your knuckles, his bottom lip catching on the them in the sexiest way. “You deserve to be wooed.”

A smile fights loose on your face, Steve Rogers, always the gentleman. An absolute sweetheart and seriously, how did you deserve this man?

“Okay, Steve. I think I’d like that.”