#thank god he chose a sport that leaves nothing to the imagination

[mydogisveryadorbs]

bad day | jj maybank x reader

summary: jj has a bad day and he just wants to be with you

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of abuse, sad jj, fluffy ending (ofc)

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

3.5k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

To the outside world, JJ Maybank has a perfect life. He has the best group of friends, he parties all the time, he has all the freedom in the world, and most importantly, he has you.

To the outside world, it is practically impossible for JJ Maybank to have a bad day. How can you have a bad day when you have a perfect life?

The only person in the world that knew that bad days are actually a common occurrence in JJ’s life, was you.

When the two of you had first started dating over a year ago, you too had believed that JJ’s life was perfect. His outgoing personality and carefree nature were what initially attracted him to you and he fought hard to maintain that persona. It wasn't until three months into your relationship that you realized that the blonde boy had it so much harder than you could've possibly imagined.

Truth be told, JJ didn't open up to you on purpose. In fact, if he had it his way, you would have never had to see him break down the way that he did.

You didn't know what to do when you first found your boyfriend laying on the bathroom floor in the Chateau, body shaking with sobs. At first, you thought he had been in another rough quarrel with Rafe and his friends. But when he looked up at you, tear stains on his cheeks and the saddest eyes you had ever seen, you knew this wasn't just some run-in with a couple of kooks.

It didn't take long for you to get over your original state of shock and comfort the boy. Your younger sister had bad anxiety and experienced panic attacks often, and still, you found yourself on the less prepared side when it came to soothing the blonde you adored so much. It was hard for you to understand that the tough, wild, teenager that you had fallen in love with was simply a cover for the fragile boy inside.

You can still vividly remember sitting on the bathroom floor for hours with JJ. Despite your unfamiliarity with your boyfriend’s suffering, there was not one second that you had even remotely questioned your love for him. If anything, seeing him in such a vulnerable state made your appreciation for him grow.

JJ himself, on the other hand, did not know how to accept the comfort you had given him. He was so used to being alone every time he was feeling down. So used to hiding all of his emotions from the people around him. 

The two of you went through many difficult nights of him pushing you away and trying to block you out. But just as fast as he was building up his wall, you were tearing it down.

JJ doesn't know the exact moment when he allowed himself to succumb to your solace. Still to this day, it's hard for him to believe that someone as beautiful and compassionate as you can possibly love someone like him.

The more he let you in, the harder it was to be without you and now, whenever he had a run-in with his father or was unsure of himself, his first impulse was to call you.

You never hesitated to comfort the boy, knowing that he would do the same for you. And as much as you tried to stay strong for JJ, sometimes everything got to be a little bit too much. 

JJ will never forget the day you were holding him after a fight with his father and you couldn't hold it in anymore. You let out heart-wrenching sobs into his hair. The sound alone brought tears to his own eyes and the two of you held each other all night, whispering sweet nothing to one another.

JJ is having a bad day.

He should have known when he woke up this morning and you weren't in his arms. He glanced over, immediately recognizing your small handwriting on a blue sticky note which was stuck to your pillow. The note explained that your parents had asked you to come home, but that you would come back to the chateau to be with him that night.

have a great day and don't miss me too much lovie!

His heart fluttered at your sweet words. How did he get so god damn lucky? Popping open his phone case, JJ folds your note and sticks it inside, just in case he needs to read it again later.

Despite the loving feeling he got in his chest while reading your note, his day quickly went downhill.

When JJ opened the cabinets above the sink to make himself a bowl of cereal, they were empty. He brushed it off and went to work with an empty stomach.

At the hotel, a group of kids bumped into him while he was clearing a table and he dropped a wine glass on the floor, shattering it. His boss chewed him out for 30 minutes before putting him on dish duty for the rest of his shift.

After work, JJ went to the local market and used his tip money from the day to buy a sandwich and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers for you. He knew you would make a big fuss about him spending his money on you, but he loved to see the cute look of surprise on your face whenever he got you something like this. It made whatever he had gotten for you worth every penny.

On his way back to the Chateau, JJ was stopped by none other than Rafe, Topper, and Kelse on their bikes. He tried his best to ignore them, knowing that you hated when he got into fights, but as soon as Rafe mentioned a snide comment about your ass, JJ immediately threw the first punch. He didn't realize until after the fact that one of them had stomped on the flowers he bought for you.

As much as he hated it, the blonde boy knew he needed to go home to get a fresh pair of clothes. He could always ask you to get a pair from the drawer of his clothes you had in your room, but that would require telling you what had happened and he didn't want to be a bother while you were with your family.

He knew he was screwed when he arrived at his “house” and saw his father's truck parked in the dirt outside. JJ hoped that he would be able to slip by without being noticed, but his horrible luck from the day continued.

His father was in the stage of his drinking where he was drunk enough to be angry with his son, but not drunk enough for JJ to outrun him.

JJ’s cheek throbbed on his walk back to the Chateau and he was sure that he was sporting a fresh black eye. His ribs were sore as hell and the only thing that kept him moving was the thought of seeing you.

When he arrived at John B’s house he instantly took note of your missing car. He prayed that you had simply walked and that he would see you laying on the couch when he entered.

There was someone sitting on the couch, but it was not the person JJ was looking for.

“Dude,” John B said when he noticed JJ’s figure standing in the doorway. “What happened to your face?”

“Where's (Y/N),” the blonde asked, ignoring John’s question.

“She called and said she wasn't sure if she would make it,” Kie said, drawing JJ’s attention to where she was standing. “Her friend Carlee’s boyfriend cheated on her, so she went to comfort her. She said she tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail,” the curly-haired girl explained.

Glancing down at his phone, JJ noticed it was dead. His shoulders slumped. All he wanted was to see his girl after a shit day, was that too much to ask? He knew first hand your dedication to your loved ones, and he knew it wasn't fair of him to want all of your comfort and love for himself, but he couldn't help it.

You were too nice, he decided. But that's why he loved you so much, wasn't it?

“So what happened to your face,” John B asked again, taking a sip of his beer.

JJ glowered at his best friend. “What do you care,” he snapped. He knew he shouldn't take his frustrations out on John B, but you were his coping method and he didn't know what to do without that.

John B raised his hands in defense, standing up to grab another beer. “Jeez, dude,” he said, “Just asking.”

“Well maybe you should mind your own goddamn business,” JJ yelled.

The brunette boy halted his actions and turned to face JJ. “What the fuck, man?” he asked, voice rising. “You really want to do this.”

“Yeah, I do.” He definitely didn't. “You know,” JJ snapped, “Maybe if you spent time with your actual friends instead of your fucking kook girlfriend, you would know what was going on in my life.”

John B scoffed “That's rich coming from the guy who spends every waking moment trying to impress a girl who's way out of his league,” he yells.

JJ knows he's right. You were too good for him. But you chose him anyway. Why?

“Fuck you,” JJ sneers, shoving past his best friend and walking out the back doors. He needed space.

You were getting ready to leave your friend's house when Kiara called you. 

Carlee was a sweet girl, and her douche of a boyfriend definitely didn't deserve her so you told her exactly that. But this wasn't the first time something like that had happened between them and based on previous occurrences, you figured Carlee would go a week before she decided to get back together with him.

It was times like these where you really thanked your lucky stars that you had found a boy like JJ. The two of you had your moments like any healthy couple, but you knew in your heart that he would never do anything to purposely hurt you.

You smiled when you saw Kie’s contact. “Hey girl,” you answer in a country accent, giggling at the end.

“(Y/N),” she said and your smile dropped, immediately understanding that there was something wrong. “You need to come to the Chateau right now.”

Your feet skid to a stop and you feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Is JJ okay?” you ask her in a rushed tone.

Kie’s voice is shaky when she speaks. “He came over today with a black eye and a bruised cheek and when John B asked about it JJ kind of freaked out,” she explains. “They are screaming at each other right now. (Y/N), you gotta come quick,” you could hear yelling in the background.

“I'm on my way,” you assure her, hanging up. You run to your car, heart twisting in worry. It wasn't like your boyfriend to act like this so you knew something had to have happened.

You drove to the Chateau faster than you ever have before, getting there in under five minutes. The second your car pulled up to the house. You were flying out of your car and running inside the screen door.

“He's outback,” John B says upon seeing you enter.

Your eyes snap to him and they soften at the sight of his distraught face. “You alright, JB?” you ask.

He nods slowly. “I've never seen him like that, (Y/N),” John B tells you, his voice laced with worry. “You gotta help him.”

You nod your head, walking outside to find your boyfriend. You don't have to go far, spotting his hunched over the figure on the porch steps.

Slowly, you make your way towards the boy, and despite the fact that it's the middle of summer he is shivering violently.

You place a hand on his shoulder and he immediately flinches away from your touch. Your heart breaks at his reaction. “JJ, love, it's me,” you tell him softly, crouching down next to his body.

Hearing your voice, JJ lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are red-rimmed and filled with tears and the skin around the right one is hidden by blue and purple. Your eyes scan his face and you take note of the bruise on his cheekbone and his split lip. Your hands itch to remove his shirt, knowing that there are more hidden underneath.

The sound of JJ’s choked sob brings your eyes instantly back to his. 

“Oh, J,” you say sorrowfully, opening your arms for him. “C’mere.”

The blonde boy instantly falls into your embrace and you cradle his body tightly. He sobs into your shoulder and you feel a wet patch grow in your shirt. “I needed you, I need you,” he cries into your shoulder.

Softly shushing him, you run your fingers through his hair. “I'm here, J, I'm here,” you tell him, your heart aching for the boy in your arms. You don't know exactly how long you sit there, his hands clutching the back of your shirt tightly.

Slowly, his sobs die down before he is only sniffling every few seconds.

You pull back slightly, tenderly cupping his face in your hands. “Can we go inside?” you ask, gently brushing back the blonde curl that had fallen over his forehead.

JJ nods slightly and you stand up on the porch, helping him do the same. You bite your lip when you notice his subtle limp on the way inside. You notice how quiet the Chateau is and silently thank John B and Kiara for giving JJ the space he needs.

 Leading him into the bathroom, you help JJ sit on the counter and you quickly grab the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Opening it, you grab a cotton swab and an alcohol wipe to clean his lip and cheek, wordlessly realizing how many times you've had to do this.

“Why are you here,” the blonde boy asks abruptly. If you weren't paying attention you would have missed his small voice.

“What'd you mean, J?” you ask, continuing your work.

JJ sighs. “Why are you here?” he asks again, slightly louder, but still quieter than you are used too.

“Well, I was leaving Carlee’s house and Kie called me and told me that you-” JJ cuts you off, pulling away from your grasp slightly.

“No, (Y/N),” his tone is harsh but you can hear the brokenness laced behind it. “Why are you here? With me instead of with your friends? Or better yet another guy that can buy you nice things and doesn't have emotional trauma? A guy who's not broken?” he says the word with such hatred that it shakes you to your core.

“JJ,” you gasp, hurt flashing across your features. How could he think that? JJ instantly wants to take it back, but he wants even more to know your answer. “You are not broken, you hear me?” you say, honesty clear in your voice. “Your flaws are what make you, you. I don't need fancy gifts or expensive jewelry to make me love you! I love every single thing about you, JJ Maybank. From your head to your toes. I love you just the way that you are and there is nothing you can do to take that away from me. Ever.” Your voice is strong and serious. You leave no room for argument as you continue to patch up his face.

JJ doesn't speak again letting the words sink in, scared that he will break down for the second time that night. His eyes fall to the floor and he lets you tend to his cuts.

When you are satisfied with your work on his face, you tap the boy's arm lightly and his eyes snap to yours. “Lift your shirt so I can see,” you ask him, not making eye contact. When he doesn't move, your eyes lock with his. “Please, J,” you beg, in a quiet voice, “I need to see.”

The blonde knows he will never be able to say no to you, especially when you ask him that way, so he gingerly lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side and wincing when he moves the wrong way.

JJ expects you to pity him. To tell him you're sorry the way everyone does. But you simply stare at his injuries, eyes welling with tears. And this, JJ decides, makes him feel infinitely worse.

Your hand reaches out to trace the large, purple-black bruises. JJ shivers at the touch of your soft hands on his skin.

He grabs your hand suddenly, pulling it up to his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “I'm sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, using the hand not in JJ’s to run through his hair. “None of that, okay? I'm here because I want to be. And I will always be. No matter how many times you try to push me away.”

You feel hot tears on your hand and you quickly slide between his legs, pulling him back into your chest, careful of the bruises on his ribs.

“I love you,” JJ cries into the crook of your neck. “I love you more than anything else in this fucked up world.”

“Shh,” you say softly. “I know, lovie, I know. I love you too. Endlessly.”

JJ pulls back at your words, just enough so that he can look into your eyes.

You used to think your favorite color was purple. When you were ten you painted your entire room purple and even bought purple bedding. But the moment you looked into JJ’s cerulean eyes, it instantly became your new favorite color.

JJ looks from your eyes to your lips before leaning forward to kiss you.

The kiss was soft and passionate explaining every emotion the two of you were feeling. No matter how many times the two of you kissed, your heart raced like it was the very first time. 

Pulling away for air, JJ rests his forehead on yours. 

“What happened today, J?” you ask in a quiet voice. 

JJ bites his lip, leaning back slightly. His first instinct is to tell you that nothing happened and that he's okay, but JJ knows you wouldn't believe him for a second. So he recalls his day, telling you every detail. Just knowing that you know, makes JJ’s heart feel a little less heavy. “A-and I bought you these flowers from the florist on main, y-y'know the ones you love, and I couldn't even bring them to you,” he says sadly.

You caress his cheek. “Love, I don't care about the flowers, all that matters is that you're okay,” you assure him, honesty evident in his voice. “And as for your father, you are staying here or at my house from now on and the next time I see that son of a bi-”

JJ cuts you off, grabbing your hands. The last thing he ever wants is his father hurting you. “(Y/N), no,” he says, the vulnerability in his voice evident. “You need to promise me that you won't confront him. I don't want you getting hurt.”

You sigh, knowing how important this is to the blonde boy. “Only if you promise not to go back there unless I'm with you,” you compromise with him.

He nods, kissing your forehead gently. “Can we please go to bed,” JJ asks and you can hear the sleepiness in his voice. Nodding, you help JJ off the counter and the two of you walk to the spare room in the chateau. The two of you climb into the bed. You are still in your clothes from the day, but that is the last thing on your mind.

JJ moves his arms to wrap around your middle but you gently push his shoulder back. “Turn around, J,” you tell him quietly. You know that JJ secretly loves to be the little spoon and you secretly love to be the big spoon. He would never openly ask you to spoon him, but you can read his body language like a book.

He rolls to his other side and you wrap an arm around his bare middle, careful not to hit any of his bruises. You nuzzle your nose into the back of his tanned shoulder, breathing in his scent deeply.

“I love you (Y/N)” your boyfriend whispers, his hand reaching to hold your hand that is tracing his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

You press a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “Always, JJ,” you tell him earnestly. “I love you more than anything.”

The blonde boy falls asleep in your embrace, feeling truly safe for the first time that day.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

masterlist :)

[watevermelon]

✧ Soulmate!Sakusa x Reader; You are Karasuno’s manager and, unfortunately for the both of you, very popular among those in your year.

➳  A/N: This is so fluffy and nothing like how I usually write, but it was fun!! Thanks for the ask!! (: <3

✧  Masterlist

----xXxXxXxXxXx-----

There was a strange pull to volleyball that you could not fully explain, just that you were always associated somehow with the sport. In middle school, you were the manager of Kitagawa Daiichi and tended to hang around the loud duo of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. And eventually, when you chose going to Karasuno, it was no surprise that Kiyoki had roped you into becoming a manager again.

You were the last of your year to meet your soulmate - many of your friends having met their’s already. 

Kageyama did not recount it often, but Hinata made up for it on a near daily basis. The short player described the event vividly, remembering how the setter’s intimidating face was almost enough for Hinata not to realize that suddenly his world was much more colorful.

Yamaguchi described his encounter like a breath of fresh air, a sudden rush of adrenaline that came with each and every color of the world. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and the seeing members of the team often joked that Hinata looked like a bright orange fruit.

You didn’t even know what orange looked like.

Soulmates were an interesting concept in that some people may live their whole lives never meeting them, wallowing in the black-and-white hues that they were born with. Some give up, disheartened over trying for so long to no avail. Your teammates were especially lucky to have met their soulmates, even more so to have met them at a young age.

Many of the members of the student body either didn’t care for this soulmate business or cared too much about it. Some were hunting almost constantly for any sign, while some expected the fact that they were going to have to travel far eventually when they were adults.

You tried not to think about it at all.

It was cute, hearing the stories of reunions and having someone who nearly completed you. But it was hard to imagine someone who was meant to be with you.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were quite popular among many in underclassmen. You were one of the infamous Oikawa Toru’s close friends and had the looks to rival his own. Many people had complimented the two of you in the past, asking if you were soulmates and saying that you would make a good couple based on looks alone.

It annoyed you how much fair skin and flowing locks were enough to blind people to who you really were. Your friendliness often got misconstrued for something else, many of these dumb boys digging for more than just the amicable smiles you were giving.

Tsukishima said the simplest solution was to shave your head, to which you almost killed him. And Yamaguchi said it was only natural since you were very pretty. Tanaka joked that the power of two beautiful managers would win them nationals alone.

And so, almost on a daily basis, you were rejecting boys' confession left and right. From the notes hidden in your locker, to the ones passed to you during class, to those who were brave enough to wait for you outside of the gymnasium - you rejected them all with careful smiles.

But that small amount that you gave, they reached for it hard.

Give an inch and they’ll take a mile.

Many hadn’t been deterred in the least, eager to try to make you fall in love with them despite having said you were not interested. It annoyed you to no end, being surrounded by flowery language and people who wanted to get close to you, but not for who you actually were. It was all looks and appearances, nothing more.

And you hated it.

There were times that you wondered if you should just take the lid off. 

Why stay cool and composed over people who hardly cared about how you felt?

Didn’t you just want to go batshit crazy one day?

Thankfully, your volleyball boys were also a big help in warding away others. Tanaka and Nishinoya were quite the pair in keeping people away from you during practice games, even when it wasn’t necessary.

((You remembered they first time seeing Akaashi’s cute face and begging to whatever volleyball god’s were out there that he was your soulmate. It was only a little disappointing to hear that he already had one. But seeing how cute the setter and Bokuto were, you figured they truly were meant to be.))

Tsukishima was a silent help, even if he did not admit it. His quick wit and salty words were more than enough to keep others at bay when he was around. Hinata, bless the poor boy, was much denser than you and often didn’t realize flirting until Kageyama had his tongue down his throat.

Karasuno was progressing all the way to Spring Nationals and you could not have been more proud of your boys. The team was built like pillars on-top of pillars, teamwork and hardened skill having sharpened all of them over the past year.

The first day of nationals, the team was mingling in the lobby among all the others that had progressed this far. It was almost intimidating, being surrounded by some of the strongest volleyball players your age in the entire country.

And, unfortunately, you weren’t free from leering eyes then.

Kageyama branched from the group to greet some of the friends he made during the training camp and Tanaka was off having a spiritual moment. You were scanning the room until suddenly you were just standing there alone.

It was the perfect opportunity to pounce and there was someone within your immediate personal space already asking for your name. You smiled at the sudden attention of one, two more people, attempting to back away before the group got any larger. Excusing yourself from them, you headed toward the wall to try to distance yourself and get your bearings.

Someone was already there, huddled in on himself in the corner and basically telling everyone to stay away. He had a mask covering most of his face and his hands were tucked in his zipped jacket, basically staying away from touching a single thing around him.

The moment you made eye-contact, it was almost like a flash of light.

You were looking at a bright mix of yellow and green, contrasted by his pale skin and pitch-black hair. It seemed he was just as surprised, bright eyes widened comically as he stared back at you.

It was more than just the school uniform - there was color everywhere.

From the tan of the walls to the gray tiles on the ground, you scanned the room and saw the different assortment of schools like you had never seen before. Bouncing around was a tuft of orange, Hinata eager to talk to members of other schools as he bounded around the room.

Orange.

You turned back to the reclusive young man and you realized the startling new fact.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was your soulmate.

One of the best spikers in the entire country and resident in Tokyo, hours from where you grew up, was your soulmate.

You knew all about him from the volleyball spreads to the front covers. Among the hundreds of other kids here, he was one of the top picks to watch in the entire nationals. Itachiyama was even one of the top seeds to win it all. It was crazy to think that he, this already highly decorated teen, was your destined other half.

If not for volleyball, would you have ever met?

“What’s your name?” His voice was barely above the crowd and you took a step closer to hear him proper.

You introduced yourself and thought about offering a hand for him to shake, just to realize that the germaphobe would probably never take it. And so, without a word, you rubbed a bit from your hand-sanitizer and then offered the appendage to him.

There was a hint of smirk behind the mask before he took it, muttering your name low on his lips.

He reached into one of his pockets and took out his phone, wordlessly waving it in the air for you to exchange chat ID’s. You recited the numbers back to him, adding each other to keep in contact. And while you both surely had questions, there were only a few minutes until the starting ceremonies.

“Karasuno?” He recounted, “Kageyama Tobio goes to your school.”

You wanted to groan, unsure what the setter’s reputation was like on the high-school level. You would defend your blueberry friend against his king of the court days, but with your soulmate, was that weird?

“Yes, we’re in the same year.”

“Ah.” Sakusa replied simply, his eyes still wordlessly on you.

Was he expecting a response?

“Your eyes are blue.” He commented bluntly, “They look different, nice.”

“Thanks?” You chuckled and responded lamely, “I don’t even know what blue means.”

You saw a small smile form beneath the mask, a crinkle in the corner of his eye. “I’ll show you, one day.”

“I look forward to it.”

There was something about his voice, low and throaty that had you desperately wanting to hear more for it. And while you enjoyed your little moment, there were a few alarms and shouts from the administration, it was time to line-up soon. You bowed curtly in thanks and turned to leave, waving at him as you left.

It was sort of… not what you had imagined?

Not that you were truly expecting anything. You were both still teens and at a competition, it was not like you were hoping to jump into your soulmate’s arms and get married into the sunset right away. But Sakusa was so curt, so blunt. So different from what you were used to.

It was refreshing.

Kiyoko took up the task of fetching Hinata’s shoes and, for once, you were the manager sitting alongside the coach courtside. You felt the reassurance and support from Karasuno’s cheering section, many familiar faces from your Shiratorizawa match. But, along with it, you felt the strange outpoor of pressure at having eyes on you.

More than once you were scanning the crowds to see people avert their eyes, caught in the act. How did the volleyball players deal with this? Each movement they had - receives, spikes, serves - it was heavily scrutinized by every person in the audience. Even more so on this level of competition, with commentators for live TV observing each match.

You saw some of your competition floating around, many sporting pensive looks and even notebooks as they observed Karasuno. Slapping your cheeks lightly, you steadied yourself to focus as you took your own notes on the team. Every successful jump server from Asahi, every spike from the other team’s ace, you had it all down.

And you were on the court, near jumping for joy with the rest, when Karasuno locked itself in as victorious in the first round.

Sakusa approached you after you were all done packing up, most of your team surprised at seeing the strong ace approach you so casually. Kageyama was the only one that was even his acquaintance, but he waved off an informal greeting as well.

You could tell immediately that he was not comfortable, tending to stick to himself normally. And yet here Sakusa was, approaching you when it was not expected of him at all.

“Congrats to your team.” He stated in a low voice.

“Thanks.” You said with a smile, watching as his eyes dropped to your shoulders then back up to your face. “Something wrong?”

He pursued his lips silently before moving to take off his outer jacket, “Here. Wear this during tomorrow’s game.”

Tomorrow's game with Inarizaki? You mentally wondered.

You didn’t question it, taking the jacket with a small grin and folding it in your hands. You still had your Karasuno jacket on and didn’t want to fumble around while the gorgeous ace was watching.

Of course, your team hadn’t caught on either.

“OH?!” Tanaka was immediately on the offensive, “And what claim do you have here city boy?”

You raised your palms to calm him down, an enraged Nishinoya not far behind him. Suga sighed in the corner, moving to grab them by the backs of their collars before they tried to throw hands with a nationally ranked spiker.

Before you could say anything, Sakusa explained with a flat face. “She’s my soulmate. Is it wrong for me to try to get closer to her?”

The reaction was immediate. You heard the, waaah!, from where Hinata was standing the sudden, excited gasp from Yamaguchi.

“Wow! Lucky you, (L/N)-chan.” Suga stated, a smile on his face as he regarded the both of you.

“When did this happen?” Daichi inquired after offering you both smiles.

“Before, when I got lost during the opening ceremony.”

“And you didn’t say anything!” Hinata exclaimed more than questioned.

“I didn’t want to distract you from the game.” You stated back, shrugging lightly.

Sakusa cleared his throat and you turned back to him, “I have to meet back with my team.”

“Okay, safe travels.” You said, earning a nod as he left.

“Wow, he’s so… different from you!” Hinata observed, trying not to be rude.

“He’s… nice to you.” Kagayama commented also, his head tilted and his eyebrows furrowed as if he was trying to find a better word to describe it. 

“That seemed pretty normal though?” Yamaguchi asked.

Kageyama immediately countered, “No, his normal is not like that.”

“He’s cute.” You responded lamely, thinking about his dark hair and matching eyes. 

He was quiet, but not to the point where you felt like he was purposefully closing you off. It was more like, if he had nothing to say, then he would not find the need to ramble on. Blunt with a purpose - which you honestly liked.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was hoping you took his words to heart and wore the jacket the entire next day. He had thought about his soulmate once or twice before, but never really dwelled on it since he had more important things to worry about. A soulmate was something he could not physically complete on his own, and while he hated leaving the issue half-assed, it is what it is.

But now that he knew who you were? 

Sakusa wanted to know you whole.

There was no denying it right at the onset - you were beautiful. If there were any other words - immaculate? Stunning? Absolutely show-stopping?

He had no expectations and yet here you were blowing them all out of the park, your beautiful looks only enhanced by how observant and friendly you had been at the onset.

It annoyed him that he was not the only one to have noticed this, many leering eyes following you as you went. Even more so when you were on the bench in the main stadium, many people in the stands around him remarked that Karasuno’s manager was insanely attractive.

No matter, you were his soulmate.

It only get worse when the rice-field asshole showed his face, Atsumu greeting Sakusa with the usual, Omi-Omi.

It seemed they were both interested in watching Kageyama play with his team. He was good during the training camp, but another thing entirely with the small spiker that completely their freak-duo.

But of fucking course Atsumu had to make a comment about you.

“And suddenly I’m lookin’ forward to playin’ them tomorrow.” The setter stated, eyes shooting to where you were sitting.

Sakusa had half the mind to put him in his place, but it would do no good. After all, the setter was an idiot, but actually liked to get on his nerves sometimes.

And so wearing his jacket should be more than enough to stake his claim.

Sakusa had a game the next day, but the bright hues of his yellow-green school colors were easy to pick out in the crowd. You were wearing it just like he asked, the jacket looking much too big on you.

But it was the smile on your face as you cheered on your team that made him want to smile back, even though he knew for a fact that you were not looking.

Baby steps, you would get there soon enough.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Recommendation engines and "lean-back" media

In William Gibson’s 1992 novel “Idoru,” a media executive describes her company’s core audience:

“Best visualized as a vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organism craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed. Personally I like to imagine something the size of a baby hippo, the color of a week-old boiled potato, that lives by itself, in the dark, in a double-wide on the outskirts of Topeka. It’s covered with eyes and it sweats constantly. The sweat runs into those eyes and makes them sting. It has no mouth…no genitals, and can only express its mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire by changing the channels on a universal remote. Or by voting in presidential elections.”

It’s an astonishingly great passage, not just for the image it evokes, but for how it captures the character of the speaker and her contempt for the people who made her fortune.

It’s also a beautiful distillation of the 1990s anxiety about TV’s role in a societal “dumbing down,” that had brewed for a long time, at least since the Nixon-JFK televised debates, whose outcome was widely attributed not to JFK’s ideas, but to Nixon’s terrible TV manner.

Neil Postman’s 1985 “Amusing Ourselves To Death” was a watershed here, comparing the soundbitey Reagan-Dukakis debates with the long, rhetorically complex Lincoln-Douglas debates of the previous century.

(Incidentally, when I finally experienced those debates for myself, courtesy of the 2009 BBC America audiobook, I was more surprised by Lincoln’s unequivocal, forceful repudiations of slavery abolition than by the rhetoric’s nuance)

https://memex.craphound.com/2009/01/20/lincoln-douglas-debate-audiobook-civics-history-and-rhetoric-lesson-in-16-hours/

“Media literacy” scholarship entered the spotlight, and its left flank — epitomized by Chomsky’s 1988 “Manufacturing Consent” — claimed that an increasingly oligarchic media industry was steering society, rather than reflecting it.

Thus, when the internet was demilitarized and the general public started trickling — and then rushing — to use it, there was a widespread hope that we might break free of the tyranny of concentrated, linear programming (in the sense of “what’s on,” and “what it does to you”).

Much of the excitement over Napster wasn’t about getting music for free — it was about the mix-tapification of all music, where your custom playlists would replace the linear album.

Likewise Tivo, whose ad-skipping was ultimately less important than the ability to watch the shows you liked, rather than the shows that were on.

Blogging, too: the promise was that a community of reader-writers could assemble a daily “newsfeed” that reflected their idiosyncratic interests across a variety of sources, surfacing ideas from other places and even other times.

The heady feeling of the time is hard to recall, honestly, but there was a thrill to getting up and reading the news that you chose, listening to a playlist you created, then watching a show you picked.

And while there were those who fretted about the “Daily Me” (what we later came to call the “filter bubble”) the truth was that this kind of active media creation/consumption ranged far more widely than the monopolistic media did.

The real “bubble” wasn’t choosing your own programming — it was everyone turning on their TV on Thursday nights to Friends, Seinfeld and The Simpsons.

The optimism of the era is best summarized in a taxonomy that grouped media into two categories: “lean back” (turn it on and passively consume it) and “lean forward” (steer your media consumption with a series of conscious decisions that explores a vast landscape).

Lean-forward media was intensely sociable: not just because of the distributed conversation that consisted of blog-reblog-reply, but also thanks to user reviews and fannish message-board analysis and recommendations.

I remember the thrill of being in a hotel room years after I’d left my hometown, using Napster to grab rare live recordings of a band I’d grown up seeing in clubs, and striking up a chat with the node’s proprietor that ranged fondly and widely over the shows we’d both seen.

But that sociability was markedly different from the “social” in social media. From the earliest days of Myspace and Facebook, it was clear that this was a sea-change, though it was hard to say exactly what was changing and how.

Around the time Rupert Murdoch bought Myspace, a close friend a blazing argument with a TV executive who insisted that the internet was just a passing fad: that the day would come when all these online kids grew up, got beaten down by work and just wanted to lean back.

To collapse on the sofa and consume media that someone else had programmed for them, anaesthetizing themselves with passive media that didn’t make them think too hard.

This guy was obviously wrong — the internet didn’t disappear — but he was also right about the resurgence of passive, linear media.

But this passive media wasn’t the “must-see TV” of the 80s and 90s.

Rather, it was the passivity of the recommendation algorithm, which created a per-user linear media feed, coupled with mechanisms like “endless scroll” and “autoplay,” that incinerated any trace of an active role for the “consumer” (a very apt term here).

It took me a long time to figure out exactly what I disliked about algorithmic recommendation/autoplay, but I knew I hated it. The reason my 2008 novel LITTLE BROTHER doesn’t have any social media? Wishful thinking. I was hoping it would all die in a fire.

Today, active media is viewed with suspicion, considered synonymous with Qanon-addled boomers who flee Facebook for Parler so they can stan their favorite insurrectionists in peace, freed from the tyranny of the dread shadowban.

But I’m still on team active media. I would rather people actively choose their media diets, in a truly sociable mode of consumption and production, than leaning back and getting fed whatever is served up by the feed.

Today on Wired, Duke public policy scholar Philip M Napoli writes about lean forward and lean back in the context of Trump’s catastrophic failure to launch an independent blog, “From the Desk of Donald J Trump.”

https://www.wired.com/story/opinion-trumps-failed-blog-proves-he-was-just-howling-into-the-void/

In a nutshell, Trump started a blog which he grandiosely characterized as a replacement for the social media monopolists who’d kicked him off their platforms. Within a month, he shut it down.

While Trump claimed the shut-down was all part of the plan, it’s painfully obvious that the real reason was that no one was visiting his website.

Now, there are many possible, non-exclusive explanations for this.

For starters, it was a very bad social media website. It lacked even rudimentary social tools. The Washington Post called it “a primitive one-way loudspeaker,” noting its lack of per-post comments, a decades old commonplace.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2021/05/21/trump-online-traffic-plunge/

Trump paid (or more likely, stiffed) a grifter crony to build the site for him, and it shows: the “Like” buttons didn’t do anything, the video-sharing buttons created links to nowhere, etc. From the Desk… was cursed at birth.

But Napoli’s argument is that even if Trump had built a good blog, it would have failed. Trump has a highly motivated cult of tens of millions of people — people who deliberately risked death to follow him, some even ingesting fish-tank cleaner and bleach at his urging.

The fact that these cult-members were willing to risk their lives, but not endure poor web design, says a lot about the nature of the Trump cult, and its relationship to passive media.

The Trump cult is a “push media” cult, simultaneously completely committed to Trump but unwilling to do much to follow him.

That’s the common thread between Fox News (and its successors like OANN) and MAGA Facebook.

And it echoes the despairing testimony of the children of Fox cultists, that their boomer parents consume endless linear TV, turning on Fox from the moment they arise and leaving it on until they fall asleep in front of it (also, reportedly, how Trump spent his presidency).

Napoli says that Trump’s success on monopoly social media platforms and his failure as a blogger reveals the role that algorithmically derived, per-user, endless scroll linear media played in the ascendancy of his views.

It makes me think of that TV exec and his prediction of the internet’s imminent disappearance (which, come to think of it, is not so far off from my own wishful thinking about social media’s disappearance in Little Brother).

He was absolutely right that this century has left so many of us exhausted, wanting nothing more than the numbness of lean-back, linear feeds.

But up against that is another phenomenon: the resurgence of active political movements.

After a 12-month period that saw widescale civil unrest, from last summer’s BLM uprising to the bizarre storming of the capital, you can’t really call this the golden age of passivity.

While Fox and OANN consumption might be the passive daily round of one of Idoru’s “vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organisms craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed,” that is in no way true of Qanon.

Qanon is an active pastime, a form of collaborative storytelling with all the mechanics of the Alternate Reality Games that the lean-forward media advocates who came out of the blogging era love so fiercely:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/06/no-vitiated-air/#other-hon

Meanwhile, the “clicktivism” that progressive cynics decried as useless performance a decade ago has become an active contact sport, welding together global movements from Occupy to BLM that use the digital to organize the highly physical.

That’s the paradox of lean-forward and lean-back: sometimes, the things you learn while leaning back make you lean forward — in fact, they might just get you off the couch altogether.

I think that Napoli is onto something. The fact that Trump’s cultists didn’t follow him to his crummy blog tells us that Trump was an effect, not a cause (something many of us suspected all along, as he’s clearly neither bright nor competent enough to inspire a movement).

But the fact that “cyberspace keeps everting” (to paraphrase “Spook Country,” another William Gibson novel) tells us that passive media consumption isn’t a guarantee of passivity in the rest of your life (and sometimes, it’s a guarantee of the opposite).

And it clarifies the role that social media plays in our discourse — not so much a “radicalizer” as a means to corral likeminded people together without them having to do much. Within those groups are those who are poised for action, or who can be moved to it.

The ease with which these people find one another doesn’t produce a deterministic outcome. Sometimes, the feed satisfies your urge for change (“clicktivism”). Sometimes, it fuels it (“radicalizing”).

Notwithstanding smug media execs, the digital realm equips us to “express our mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire” by doing much more than “changing the channels on a universal remote” — for better and for worse.

Image: Ian Burt (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/oddsock/267206444

CC BY: https://creativecommo

ns.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[aaronhotchnersquarterzip]

Meeting You Flipped the World Upside Down - Or Maybe Just Mine

This is it guys, I’m really proud in general of myself for finishing this and I hope you all enjoyed it as well. When I started this fic I honestly planned for a major character death or something dramatic like that. Never in my wildest dreams did I see this ending. I’m not mad though, I’ve had a rough time lately and this really summed up a lot of my feelings. There are people who will never truly leave your life and that's okay. You just shouldn’t let the thought of them hold you back. This has been my favorite thing to write ever and I want to thank everyone who has supported this and made me feel so good about my writing. I did leave this open ended if I ever did want to continue it but I think I want to write something a bit lighter next. I really hope you all enjoyed this as much as I have and remember to stay safe and drink some water today - Mya

Summary: Reader has been a rut, stuck in a never ending cycle of college worries and job interviews. Never did she think that SSA Aaron Hotchner, or Agent as she likes to call him, would walk into her favorite late night diner and flip her world upside down. And he for sure didn’t expect to fall in love so quickly with the soon to be college grad. They navigate finding love and working together to rediscover what that means for each of them.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner X Female Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Epilogue

Aaron Hotchner did flip your world upside down. Maybe just not in the way you expected. But in the way you needed. You watched your children chase their father around the backyard. It was nearly below freezing but they were going strong. You made hot chocolate for their impending arrival inside. In the meantime you curled up on the couch with a warm blanket and watched the fire burn. The Christmas tree was lit nicely in the corner of the living room, an abundance of presents spilling out. 

You pulled out your phone and scrolled through some old pictures. Baby pictures of your three children. Your wedding, it was a fall wedding. More than you could have ever dreamed of. You also looked at your college graduation pictures. Emily, JJ, and Penelope had surprised you and showed up to commencement. Screaming when you walked across the stage. You should call them soon. Finally, you found the picture you were looking for, you and Aaron at one of Dave’s dinners. It was a candid that Morgan took when you weren’t paying attention. Aaron has his arm around you while you’re talking to JJ about god knows what. It’s your favorite picture, beyond a shadow of a doubt. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room, you chose to remember nights that those. He changed you for the better, it was only fair you acknowledged that. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when your husband and kids ran inside from the cold. 

“There’s hot chocolate on the stove waiting for you monsters!” You yelled to them as they rushed to change into warmer clothes. 

When they had all settled and had their mugs of hot chocolate, your husband joined you on the couch. Soon followed by your children, two girls and one boy. They quickly turned on a pixar movie and snuggled up to you underneath several blankets. There was nothing you would change about your life. This was exactly where you were meant to be. 

By the time the credits rolled to Monsters University all three of them had fallen asleep. You carefully tucked in your youngest daughter, Greer. She was about to turn 2 in the spring. Your surprise baby. You couldn’t have been happier when you found out. Sure the stress of raising three kids got to you sometimes but they reminded you of all the good in the world. 

Next was Cheyenne, named after where you met your husband, Noah. You were travelling around the west and made a pit stop in Cheyenne and met the man you were meant to spend forever with. You couldn’t think of a better name for your first daughter, Noah couldn’t have agreed more. She embodied everything good about your husband, his compassion for sure. She was smarter than you by a long shot at just 8 years old. 

Finally you came to your oldests room. He had been a welcome surprise just a few months after your wedding. Your not so little boy mirrored you in a way you never thought possible. It scared you at first, everything about being a parent is scary sure, but nobody prepares you for raising your twin. He had your hair and eyes, Noah’s nose, but everything about him was you. His ambition never failed to wow you, he pushed himself to lengths you truly couldn’t believe sometimes. He however, did inherit some of your bad genes though. Sometimes he didn’t know when to stop, when to slow down and enjoy the present. You got better at that with age, you want him to achieve everything he puts his mind to but you need him to see when it’s happening. Not when it’s happened. 

You reached down and pushed some of his hair from his face so you could kiss his forehead. 

“Goodnight my sweet boy,” you whispered and he snuggled further into his blankets. You smiled softly and walked out quietly. He was already 12, sometimes you couldn't believe that you made it this far. You grew as you moved farther away, you knew that your life belonged out here. Sometimes it’s hard to trust fate but how could you justify meeting Noah and creating your dream life in your new favorite spot in America without believing at least a little bit in fate. 

You softly closed your little boy's door and ran your hand over the nameplate crested in the center of the door, Aaron, written in hues of blue. 

As you cuddled with your husband while he slowly fell asleep, you reached for your phone and scrolled through an album made just for you and Aaron. Noah may be your future, but Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner was the love of your life and you forever had a part of him. 

You pulled up his contact for the first time in 18 years and sent him the photo from that dinner at Dave’s a lifetime ago. You wrote a short message, 

I forgive you Agent - Y/N

The last thing you expected was a response, especially so quickly. It was a picture that you had posted on social media a few weeks prior, celebrating your 13th wedding anniversary. 

I’m happy you found better. What are their names? - Agent

My youngest is Greer, then Cheyenne. - Y/N

You wait a few minutes to respond, you know he read the message prior.

He’s named after the love of my life Aaron - Y/N

He called you then. You moved quickly and quietly from your bed and down into your living room. Answering before the line went dead. 

“You were the love of my life too Y/N. I just didn’t know it.”

There you sat, where just hours ago you were wrapped in blankets with your family, you were now transported to your life with Aaron. Staring into the fire with tears in your eyes. 

“It wouldn’t have mattered, Aaron, sometimes finding the love of your life doesn't mean spending the rest of your life with them. It means loving them for the rest of your life, even if that means watching them love someone else.” 

You could hear him sigh on the other end of the line, “I never stopped loving you. I won’t ever stop loving you Y/N.” 

“I will always love you too Aaron. I think I’m happier now than I ever was with you though. JJ told me you got remarried Agent. Congratulations. I’m sure she's perfect for you.”

“Yeah, pretty much. Her name is Beth, Jack loves her too.”

“I miss him. I’m happy he has someone again. You deserve to be happy Aaron. I forgave you days after. Hell hours even. But I knew that we both needed someone who understood us better. We both deserved that.” 

Just then you heard a door creak and the sound of feet pattering towards you, “mama,” Aaron’s voice squeaked out. 

“Right here, baby. What's wrong?”

“I heard you talking and wanted to talk with you too.” You laughed a little before putting your phone on speaker and introducing your son to Aaron. 

“Well alright, but I think you might need to know his name before you talk to him.” Aaron caught your drift, introducing himself through the phone. 

“Hi Aaron, I’ve heard all about you. My name is Aaron too and there is nothing I want more than to talk to you.”

Your little boy perked up at the idea that this man had the same name as him, Aaron was a good sport and talked to him for about 20 minutes before your boy was yawning between every word. 

“Say goodnight to Aaron buddy,” he murmured out a small goodnight and was helped back into bed. 

“He reminds me of you, I’m sure you know that already.”

“Everyone calls him my clone. Maybe it’s wishful thinking but sometimes I look into his eyes and swear I see you looking back at me Aaron. He’s how I imagined our children would turn out. Perfect in every single way.”

“Your husband is very lucky to have you Y/N. I’ll envy him until the end of time.”

You sensed this was the end of the conversation, you subconsciously wanted to never stop talking to him. That part of you that would always yearn for his comfort when you were breaking down in the bathroom or when you were so over the moon about something at work. You wanted to share those moments with him first. I guess some part of you always would. 

“I love you Aaron.”

“I love you too Y/N, goodnight”

“Goodnight Agent.”

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Baby Love - Part 10

A/N - Finally an update!! 💕

chrisevans I'm so excited to announce that Y/N and I are expecting!! We are both over the moon.... i cannot even put into words how happy i am right now.

Mama and baby are both doing great and Dodger is thrilled that he's about to become a big brother.

#BabygirlEvansComingSoon

It was a few weeks after the premiere, middle of May, my 5th month in my pregnancy that Chris finally put out the announcement and surprisingly it went well....better than i could ever have imagined. The messages from Chris's fans were amazing! Of course there was still some haters but nothing that was too awful or couldn't be ignored. It was nice that it was out now and i didn't have to worry about someone finding out and leaking it to the press.

Chris was scheduled to start filming 'Defending Jacob' a series for Apple TV mid June through to July. The good thing being it was filming in Massachusetts, 20 minutes from home so he wouldn't have to stay away.

Chris was finally upstairs getting ready so he could head to set, he had been whining this morning about wanting to stay home with his girls.

I was currently laying on the sofa in a sports bra and shorts, with my now 6 month belly showing while i watched some crappy daytime show.... i had removed Chris's t-shirt when i started getting hot flushes.

"Okay im ready to.....go. Jesus christ why are you half naked right now?" I looked round to see Chris looking me up and down like i was the tastiest thing he'd ever seen. I rolled my eyes looking back at the TV "hot flushes, i sweat through my shirt...i feel like I'm burning alive"

"Such a drama queen" he chuckled

"Excuse you?..... you wanna try going through this??" I snapped, i knew as soon as it was out of my mouth it was uncalled for and instantly felt bad "I'm sorry i didn't mean to snap.... is the damn AC even working?" i said almost feeling like i was gonna cry. Chris came walking over crouching in front of me with a cold cloth and draped it across my forehead.

"That should help a little and i got you some ice..." he passed me a cup of ice chips and i cried.

"Hey! Whats wrong?"

"You're just the best boyfriend ever"

"Awww" he chuckled pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Don't.... I'm all sweaty and gross"

"I like you all sweaty" he wriggled his eyebrows making me laugh "and you're not gross..... you're beautiful. I nearly had a heart attack seeing you laying here looking like this.... now i really don't wanna leave"

"You have to, stop making excuses"

"I dont want to leave you alone like this..."

"I wont be, Scott's coming over we're gonna go for lunch later"

"Oh.... "

"You're okay with that right?"

"Yeah of course" he smiled before leaning in to give me a kiss.

"Hey! its just me!" Scott yelled from the front door on cue.

"In here!" I yelled reaching my hands out to Chris to help me up into a sitting position.

"Yikes! what is going on with you you're a mess" Scott said looking concerned.

"Thanks! Thats just what i needed to hear Scotty" i scooped out an ice chip and popped it in my mouth.

"Hot flushes" Chris told Scott and he pulled a face.

"I'll be okay in a minute, it'll pass. Though im pretty tempted to go jump in the damn pool right about now"

"Stay outta the pool sweetheart, maybe a lukewarm bath or shower would help?"

"I'll be fine Chris, you need to go or you're gonna be late"

"I don't wanna leave you alone...."

"Err hello? Im here, she's not alone" Scott said coming to sit next to me on the sofa.

"Can you put your shirt back on.....i don't feel comfortable...." Chris started to say while looking me over again.

"Stop! I am not putting that thing back on when i feel like I'm in the pits of hell Evans!" I said pointing at the soaking wet t-shirt on the table " besides Scott's seen me in my bathing suit plenty of times.... I'm wearing more now than i was then! also incase you forgot.... I'm not his type"

"I feel insulted!" Scott gasped before smiling at his brother.

"Just go to work! I will call you if i need anything, we'll be fine".

Chris sighed but nodded, he leant in and gave me a kiss and finally left for set.

"Geez he always like that?"

"No, he's got a little more protective as the pregnancy has gone on but that was new"

"He's probably just worried about you. This is the first time he's had to really leave you since you've been pregnant"

"He'll be back tonight! He needs to chill out. I know i sound like a bitch and i really don't mean to but i literally feel like Satan himself is roasting my body!"

"You want some more ice chips?"

"Yes please".

After another 30/40 minutes i finally felt myself cooling down.

"Oh thank god! I think it passed"

"For now"

"Thanks!" I laughed "I've had a few hot flushes here and there but nothing like that... that was brutal!"

"Well I'm glad it passed, why don't you go take a shower and we'll go get some lunch, it will do you good to get some fresh air, we can even take Dodger"

"Sounds good to me".

Scott and i grabbed lunch at a small family run cafe that was kinda tucked away, not a lot of people actually knew about it which was the reason we chose this place when we'd have lunch....it also had a small outside seating area where we could sit with Dodger.

Once we were done with lunch we took Dodger for a walk in the park where he found a new friend, they ran around together for a good half an hour.

"Wow he's gonna be beat" Scott laughed as we sat on a bench watching the two dogs running around.

"Good! He has too much energy!"

I chuckled "i'll be wanting to sleep and he brings me his toys wanting to play its exhausting" i said exaggerating, truth was i loved that Dodger always wanted my attention.

"Well he's gonna have to learn to share you when my niece arrives"

"Do you think he'll be okay with the baby?"

"Im sure he will, Dodge is a good boy"

"The best, i just worry. I worry about everything lately though" i laugh rubbing my hand over my belly "you ready to head back?"

"Sure"

I whistle and call for Dodger and he comes running straight over allowing me to attach he's leash.

"Lets go home bubba" i scratched behind his ear before handing the leash to Scott.

We got back to the house and let Dodger out of the car, he ran straight towards the front door and started growling and scratching at the door.

"Hey stop!" Scott said quickly and Dodger turned to look at him before starting again this time barking loudly.

"Whats his problem?"

"I don't know....."

"Maybe Chris is home?"

"His car isn't here....." i opened the door and Dodger ran inside sniffing everywhere.

"Hey Chris you home?" Scott called out but i already knew he wasn't, this didn't feel right.....

"Scott, somethings wrong....."

"What do you mean?" He asked turning to me looking concerned.

"I don't know its just a feeling i have"

Dodger suddenly ran past us and up the stairs, we followed him up to find him sitting outside mine and Chris's bedroom scratching at the door.

"Chris....." Scott called again thinking Dodger just wanted to get to him but no answer, the house was silent.

Scott stepped forward and opened the door and we both gasped at the what we saw. The whole room was trashed.

"Scott..... what if someones still in the house?" I turned to him with wide eyes as panic set it.

"Stay in here with Dodger, I'm gonna check the house..."

"No! Just call the cops, stay in here with us!"

"I'll be fine! They're probably long gone, Dodger would be going crazy if they were still here...but i just wanna make sure".

"Please be careful! I'll call the cops"

"Okay lock the door behind me".

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier @fairlightswiftly @hiddelstannerbarnes @bellamy-barnes @buchanansebba

Baby love tags @jennmurawski13 @mybabyboytony @ms-betsy-fangirl @vampgirl1997 @ajosieface @afuckingshituniverse @chmedic @esoltis280

@southerngracela @bethabear12 @letsdisneythings @sellulii @katiew1973 @princess-evans-addict

@deidrahouseofpain @siren-queen03 @shipatheart @little-dark-empress @xxloki81xx @lizzyclifford13-blog @booktease21 @lets--be-honest @thevelvetseries @farfromtommy @mery-be @drakelover78

[liukangmybeloved]

everyone else is fighting for second {Mortal Kombat (2021)}

SPOILERS FOR MORTAL KOMBAT (2021)

Summary: Canon Divergent AU. Crack & Fluff. The team develops into something of a found family, which happens to include Cole's actual family. They take a day off from fighting to go to the fair, where the biggest question is 'who is Cole's daughter's favourite in the team?' Besides her dad, of course. Kano is very competitive about this question.

A/N: 1968 words. I will take a meat-tenderizer and FIX the canon and make it SOFT. i love cole young and mk 2021, if you don't like that, you've been warned. everybody lives/nobody dies AU & kano isn't a traitor. also imagine there's just like.... more time before the tournament. enough to become a found family. like i said, fluff & crack. warnings for swearing.

If Cole had it his way, Emily and Kano would have never met. He would be perfectly happy letting everyone else on the team meet her, but he's yet to hear a single sentence leave Kano's mouth that didn't include some colourful variation of 'fuck', 'shit', 'wanker', or 'cunt'. So unsurprisingly, he wasn't exactly eager to let his teenager daughter near the man who Sonya had literally called 'scum of the Earth', but alas.

"I'll be on my best behaviour, pinky-swear!" Kano's grin was all teeth as he'd held his pinky finger up to Cole's glowering face, wiggling it a little when Cole made no move to finish the pinky-swear.

"If you say - cunt -" and the word sounds so uncomfortable coming from Cole, he damn well looks uncomfortable just saying it, "within a hundred feet of her, I'll get Kung Lao to cut you in half." And he gesutres over to where Kung Lao and the rest of their ragtag bunch of misfits; the man in question had forgone his usual weapon for a more modern, soft-brimmed sunhat, but his jaunty wave to Kano at the sound of his name still managed to be menacing. The Australian shuddered in horror at the mere thought; at least he took the threat seriously.

"You don't have to be jealous, man," the threat seemed to only have dampened Kano's jovial attitude momentarily, as he's got a spring in his step as he follows Cole to the rest of the gathered champions, "Uncle Kano's gonna set a fuckin' - flippin' -" he corrects himself as Cole shoots him a warning look, "great example." Sonya barks a loud, derisive laugh as Cole sees fit to remind him that he's not Uncle Kano.

"Emily's a good kid," Liu Kang assures, kind and sincere.

"Yeah, she never even believes me when I tell her Kano's a dirty, little rat," Kung Lao smirks in the face of Kano's sudden outrage, and Cole is pretty sure that, despite it being Emily and Alison's idea, to give the team a day of levity and to bond, this might be the worst plan he's ever agreed to.

"This is a day of bonding, not of infighting," Raiden's voice joins them, followed by the God himself only moments later, which is enough to unite all the champions in confusion at his choice of wardrobe for the day. While still sporting a majority of his usual attire, somehow he'd managed to procure a t-shirt with a meme of all things on it, a personalised meme!

"I designed it myself, I think it turned out pretty okay; whaddya think?" Kano sounded far too proud of himself, looking at the cartoon drawing of what could only be Raiden himself pointing awkwardly at Thor as depicted in Marvel Comics, who was pointing back.

"We are both Gods of Thunder," Raiden explained, pointing to his own shirt; Sonya had gone wide-eyed, unsure of how to react, while Jaxx was doing his utmost not to burst out laughing.

"I... didn't know you knew what a meme was," Cole admits, though honestly, once the shock had worn off of, it was rather charming.

"I didn't know you knew what a meme was," Kano fired back, equally confused.

"I have a thirteen-year-old, of course I know what a meme is -" but then it seems to hit him just as it hits Sonya and Jax, and the three of them turn to the pair of confused, cave-dwelling, internet-free champions. None of them knew where to begin trying to explain the whole situation, but thankfully, Raiden chose that moment to open a lightning portal, and they all headed through quickly.

----

The night that Cole and his family had gone home after everything had gone down, the fighting, Sub-Zero, and the man he's pretty sure is the ghost of his ancestor, Emily had looked him dead in the eye and called him a super hero.

And then told him that his friends were really cool.

This was a sentiment that his new friends seemed to share about his family.

Cole quickly comes to realise that family isn't something a lot of the rest of the team have nowadays; they have each other, but for a lot of them, that's mostly it. He sits on an invite to dinner that he'd already ran past Alison several days ago, before inviting Liu Kang and Kung Lao over, if nothing else, to repay the hospitality they'd shown him so early on.

Alison's rule was that there was to be peace on their property; no training, no fighting, but the team was welcome as long as they didn't bring trouble to the door.

So then it was Sonya and Jaxx, who brought dessert when they came over.

Emily once asked what Thunder Gods ate. Did they eat? Cole wasn't sure. He extends an invite to Raiden anyways, but it's politely declined. The next time, however, he took up Cole's invite, mostly for the company, and to thank Alison and Emily for their patience; having Cole away so often wasn't easy, he'd be the first to acknowledge that. Alison appreciated the sentiment, as did Emily, though she was also just bursting with questions for the God, and he did his best to answer what he could.

Then finally - finally - after so long spent with the team, of most of them coming to find comfort and serenity in his home on the occasions that they need it, Kano is invited to Sunday lunch too.

----

"I know us champions and our super powers are pretty cool," Kano says to Emily, the moment they step through the lightning portal and emerge into the sunshine and the noise of the fair, "but I'm your favourite, right? Besides your old man, of course," and he rolls his eyes a little at that, as does Cole, for very different reasons, while Alison shoots Cole a questioning look. Thankfully she still does not trust Kano as far as she could throw him.

For her part, Emily answers incredibly diplomatically, sounding much older than her thirteen years, and quite a bit like her mother;

"Kano, you're a grown man, my approval shouldn't matter to you," she sounds sincere, which is completely undercut by Kung Lao sliding into step beside Kano.

"Which means you're not her favourite," he teases, and Kano practically growls back, embarrassed, while Emily calls out to Raiden that she likes his shirt. He practically beams.

"Not a lot of people will really get it, though," she points out, and Raiden muses on that for a moment.

"But I get it, and it's mine."

"Fair point," Emily nods at that, as their strange group steps up to buy tickets.

---

Emily spends more of the fair of people's shoulders than she does actually walking, which delights her endlessly. Mostly she's up on Jax's shoulders, and charges her cotton candy for the ride, ripping a small chunk from the one Cole had bought for her.

"It's weird seeing you all look so normal," she says to Sonya, the two of them in line for the Dodge 'Em Cars alongside Liu Kang and Kung Lao. Sonya grins, knows exactly what she means, gaze turning to the two members of the Shaolin Order of Light, not that anyone would know simply from looking at them now. Where Liu Kang had found a pair of trendy, ripped jeans was beyond Sonya's imagination.

"You look cool, though," Emily amended quickly, "I didn't realise you all would come to the fair, but I'm glad you did," she's smiling brightly as they get closer to the front of the line.

"Who did you expect to come along today?" Liu asks, eyes wide and curious. It wasn't that he was as competitive as Kung Lao or Kano, but he still found the child's interpretation of their group to be interesting. She knows, in some capacity, what they're capable off; she'd watched her father slice, dice, and kill Goro after all. The fact that she could think so highly of them speaks a lot to her capacity for kindness, or perhaps her childish naivety, but Liu preferred to think it was the former.

Emily, however, goes quiet, seems to be a little embarrassed. She mutters something, avoiding eye contact with any of them, and Liu goes to ask her to repeat herself, but she interrupts him while doing so;

"I wanted Dad to have a day off," she admitted, before adding, "and... and Lord Raiden; I don't think he's had a day off this millennium."

"It's good of you to look out for them," Sonya tells her fondly, "our team can be pretty single-minded, but we needed this day off, I think." And she gives Emily a pet on the shoulder, and lets her steer the tandem Car when they finally get a turn.

----

"It's me, right? I'm your favourite," Jax asks Emily over lunch, not because he genuinely believes it, but because it riles up Kano, and to a lesser extent, the competitive Liu Kang.

"Jax is one bad day away from pledging his allegiance to Skynet, he can't be your favourite -" Kano grumbles.

"Dad's my favourite," Emily reminds them sternly, and Cole has to hide his proud little smile, before she adds, "and mom's my favourite too, the rest of you, well of course you're all badass as hell -"

"Is it Liu? 'Cos he's pretty and you're, yanno, a teenage girl," Kano scowls at the warrior who'd been attempting to just quietly enjoy his basket of fries. Both Cole and Alison are wearing similarly murderous expressions, and Kano raised his hands in mock surrender, dropping his gaze.

"Actually," Emily said pointedly, despite the embarrassed flush on her cheeks, though she was mirroring her parents intensity, "my favourite is Raiden because he's literally a God that shoots lightning out of his hands, and you're now my least favourite because you're a rat bastard."

"I taught her that," Kung Lao was grinning from ear to ear, and when he and Emily look to each other, they share a definitive nod.

"How come he's allowed to teach her words like bastard?!" Kano demanded to know.

"Because you're a bastard," Sonya interjects.

Kano is thankfully quiet for the remainder of lunch, sulking at his end of the table as chatter returns to normal, returns to talk of how everyone else had been enjoying the day.

----

At the end of the day, Kano shoves a large, stuffed kangaroo at Emily that he'd won at the booth where you had to knock over bottles.

"Didn't even use me eye or anything; lost an hour of my life and fifty fuckin' dollars," he was grumbling, while Emily was examining the prize.

"You won this?" She seemed endeared by it, endeared by the thought that he'd put the time into winning it for her.

"'course I won it, can I stop being your least favourite now?" He asked, and Emily tucked the kangaroo beneath her arm, giving him an appraising look.

"You can't buy my loyalty -"

"Wouldn't want it if it could be bought, I know that shit from experience," Kano interjected, crossing his arms defensively, ignoring where Cole was glowering at him every time he swore.

"But you put time in, and effort, so you're back to third with everyone else."

"As long as none of those bastards is beating me, I'm okay with that."

As they headed to the exit, to where Raiden had created a lightning portal for them all to go home through, Emily reached out and punched Kano lightly in the shoulder.

"Thanks, Kano, it's pretty sweet that you care so much."

"Don't tell the others," he grumbled back.

"We've been with you all day," Jax calls out, "we already know."

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 7

Word Count: 4,131

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning and Pens (others)

Notes: So today was like crazy busy, but I was able to finish this tonight then do a quick edit. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but here it is anyhow...haha! Hope you guys have a great weekend! Happy Reading!

As you followed Logan to the lobby, you thought for sure this was going to be another false alarm, just as the rest had been. Why after all this time in the bubble had these men decided to fight, you had no idea? You knew tensions were high with games starting but they all had seemed fairly cordial with each other. There were about a dozen players gathered round when you saw the first fist fly and suddenly your heart rate sped up. You wormed your way to the front, to see who the hell was fighting. You weren't surprised to see Brad Marchand mixing it up with one of the Flyers but you couldn't quite tell who it was as their back was to you.

 The two teams had just come off a round-robin game, that you had no clue as to who won as you'd been busy working the entire time and not caught any of the game, but it obviously left a bad taste in their mouths. As Marchand swung with his right hand, the two twisted and it was then that you saw Travis Konecny was the one he was fighting with. While you knew that TK was a bit of a chirper, you'd seen a completely different side to him that first night in the bubble. You'd honestly thought he'd be the least of your worries here, other than maybe calling you up again to say his bed squeaked, yet here you were watching him take a jab at Marchand. Not that Marchand probably didn't deserve it, hell you wanted to take a swing at him the other day when he'd shoved you into the pool.

 You looked around at the other players that had gathered hoping one of them would put an end to this whole mess, but they seemed more entertained than anything. Part of you wondered if this went on would more of them end up fighting? TK had a nice right hook into Marchand's jaw and you saw them stumble back knocking a vase of flowers off the entry table and shattering it. That's when you knew you had to do something. "That's enough boys," you yelled trying to use your most authoritative voice, but it was ignored as Marchand threw a punch to Konecny's abdomen. At some point, you were sure this was going to turn into a wrestling match with the two of them lying on the ground amidst shards of glass. You gave a sharp whistle hoping that you sounded like one of the refs during play and that they would at least calm a bit, which they did. It was at that moment you chose to try and break the actual fight up, apparently feeling more like a referee now that you'd got them to just circle each other, neither one letting go just yet.  Taking your arms, you moved between the two hotheads saying, "I said stop fucking fighting in my…" You weren't exactly sure what happened next but you felt a partial fist fly to your jaw. It knocked you off your feet and sent you stumbling back hitting your head against the table the vase had been on moments ago.

 "Holy fuck!" Someone yelled. You closed your eyes to stave off the pain that was now not only in your jaw but also on the back of your head. "Jesus, are you ok?"

 "I don't think she is."

 "She's bleeding."

 You had no clue who was saying what but you could feel a million pairs of eyes on you. "Someone call one of the trainers."

 "I'm fine," you managed to mumble out while opening your eyes, only to have your vision blurred by blood trickling down. "Ok, maybe not." About five players were kneeling down around you, or maybe it was four, it was hard to tell as the blood obscured your view. Finally, someone gently pressed something against your forehead to stave off the flow.

 "Fuck (Y/N), I'm so sorry, you got messed up in this." It was Travis's voice you were sure of it and not because you knew Marchand would never apologize but because you recognized it from your night with him. Only he wasn't surrounding you at the moment.

 "Next time keep it on the ice and not in my hotel." You went to sit up but felt a little woozy. A strong arm clamped around your waist. It was the same person who was holding, what you now believed to be said person's shirt, against your head.

 "I think we need to get you somewhere else then this lobby." The voice was smooth and rich, and pleasing to listen to, yet every time you tried to see who it belonged the damn t-shirt was in your way.

 "You can take her to her suite." This voice you knew, for you'd been plotting to strangle him so many times over the last several days, it was hard to forget.

 "Thanks, Logan, I was just going to say that."

 "Here hold this and I'll carry you." In one easy swoop, strong arms scooped you up, and then he was standing with you in his arms. He was shirtless and you could feel his muscles bunch as he held you. Vaguely you realized where his shirt was at, as you held it to your head.

 "Logan, can you clean this up, please? And have Carly get new flowers in here." You saw him scurry away out of the corner of your left eye.

 "I'm sure there's someone in charge here that can take care of that." The man who was now carrying you off to the elevator said.

 "Yeah, that's me," you told him catching a glimpse of soft brown curls as you again tried to get a good look at his face.

 "Oh, I didn't realize." Which seemed funny considering how everyone at the hotel seemed to know who you were.  "What floor?"

 "Penthouse."

 "Well, I guess you are in charge then." He laughed and you found yourself joining in, even though your head hurt a bit. The ride on the elevator was short and soon you were in your room and he was setting you down on the sofa. "I'll grab you some ice if you steer me in the right direction."

 "Kitchen is down the hall on the left." He turned and you got a view of his well-defined ass as he walked away. God, even the muscles on his back were sexy. You heard him rummage around a bit and you wondered how bad you actually looked. You were too far away from the hallway mirror to find out, but you imagined you had blood in your hair from the cut; you just hoped your jaw wasn't sporting a nice bruise. It was then, that he walked out of the kitchen and you were finally face to...well somewhat face to face, with your rescuer, Josh Anderson. It was no wonder that he didn't know you, as he wasn't currently staying at your hotel. "Now, let's see that pretty face of yours," he said while cupping the good side of your jaw. "I don't think it'll bruise too bad. Didn't look like Marchy got you full force with that hit." Josh gingerly put the ice to the spot that had been hit.

 "I should've figured it was Marchand that hit me. He's had it out for me since he got here."

 "Marchy has it out for everyone, but I can't see why he would pick on someone as beautiful as you." The compliment caused you to blush, but thankfully between Josh's shirt and the ice, you didn't think he'd notice.

 "Not sure what I ever did to him, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me."

 "Well, his loss is my gain." It was Josh who was blushing a bit at his own words this time and you found it very attractive. "Now, let's have a look at that cut and see if it needs stitches." He brought his shirt down and examined your head. His lips just a hair's breadth away from yours making you ache to kiss him. "I think you'll be good with just some butterfly ones. It doesn't look that deep, though I can call our trainer and have him come over and double-check."

 "No that's ok. I'm sure your right. I have some upstairs." You went to get up and he placed a supporting arm around your waist.

 "Here why don't you just let me…" Before you could even take a step, he scooped you back up into his arms and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He made it seem like carrying you around was nothing, and honestly, it was sexy as hell. He set you down at the vanity stool in the bathroom. "Ok, so where are bandages?"

 "Top shelf there is a medical kit with some in." He grabbed it, shuffling through it to find what he needed. "This might sting a bit," he told you as he opened up an alcohol swab to clean the cut first. You winced as he gently stroked it over the wound. When he stepped back, you finally looked in the mirror at yourself.

 "Oh my god," the words were out of your mouth before you realized how they startled Josh.

 "Are you ok? Did I hurt you more?"

 "No, it's not that. I was just looking at my face…or maybe my hair." Dried blood covered half of your face and your hair was matted and tangled like a stray dog's. "I look like I walked out of the set of a horror movie."

 He laughed, brushing your hair back before placing the steri strip on your forehead. "It's not that bad."

 "I seriously need a shower."

 "Oh…uh…" Josh fumbled around with his words, looking very uncomfortable and you sort of chuckled to yourself. "I can leave you alone then…probably should be going anyway."

 "You don't have to," you mentioned casually, though you weren't sure that he would take you up on your silent offer with the way you looked at the moment. "I mean, I'm still a little unsteady on my feet." There wasn't a whole lot you knew about Josh Anderson but what you did know of him, was that he was the protector type; so you tried to play to that sensibility of his.

 "Well, I wouldn't want you to fall in the shower and get hurt worse." There was a cute little smirk on his face and if you weren't doused in blood you would've kissed him. Instead, you stripped off your top, yet another piece of clothing ruined, you thought vaguely. Your skirt and shoes followed till you were left in nothing but your bra and panties. Josh made quick work of getting rid of his shorts and stood there in front of you in his boxer briefs. Reaching around you unclasp your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders and to the ground, before gliding your panties down your legs. Josh bit his lip as he drank in the sight of your body; his eyes lingered a bit long at your breasts before moving down to look at your pussy. Even though he still had his boxers on, you saw his cock twitch as he took you in. You let him drink his fill and when he didn't make a move, you stepped into the shower hoping that he would follow. He did within seconds.

 The water sprayed over your head diluting the blood that had been matted to your hair and skin. When you went to grab the shampoo, Josh's hand stopped you. "Let me." He put some in his hands, then started to massage it into your scalp. His fingers were gentle and he avoided your cut as best he could, sliding through your hair all the way down to the ends. When he was done, he had you rinse then followed up with conditioner. It was only as that rinsed out of your long strands that you finally turned to face him. Droplets of water coated his body, and there was a heated stare in his gaze. Josh was tall, so you went up on your toes so that you could kiss him. His arms immediately went to your waist to press you to him. Maybe it was his caring nature or the way that he'd just simply swooped in to take care of you, but your body just completely melted into him and you moaned into him as his tongue caressed yours. Josh was a sensual kisser; his mouth and tongue just working its magic on you as he ignited a flame deep within.

 His hands roamed around your back only to slide up your sides and move to your breast. Breaking the kiss, his lips traveled southward along your neck and collarbone until he was cupping a breast and bringing it to his lips. His tongue swirled around your nipple before he took it in his mouth and sucked on it. You felt yourself grow damp though it wasn't from the water cascading down on the two of you. Josh lavished each of your breasts, and with every tweak and caress you moaned out his name. When his fingers skated down past your stomach to slip between your folds, you thought you would die from the pleasure he was giving you. It was nothing like the other night with Tom. Josh knew exactly what he was doing. Listening as you moaned out what you liked, so he could repeat the action again. "I want to taste you so bad," he whispered, before dropping to his knees. You backed up against the shower wall, and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. His tongue slipped out to lick a strip between your folds, and you found your hands threading into his hair to urge him on. They were small little licks at first before he actually sunk his tongue deep in your pussy. You tossed your head back forgetting about your injury, but not caring when he repeated the action. His nose nudged your clit as he licked at you furiously. Your hips started to buck and one strong arm, held you upright and secure against the wall, as his mouth suctioned on to your clit.

 "Yes Josh, fuck that feels so good." You panted out, as your hand locked around the back of his head. He slid two fingers into your pussy easily, pumping them in and out, while he continued his torturous treatment on your clit. Your orgasm hit as he made that simple come-hither movement with his fingers. Your legs shaking, body writhing as the pleasure overtook you. He dropped your leg back down when you finally came down from your high. Moving gracefully off the bathroom tile, Josh stood up and kissed you. Your essence still lingering there on his lips, as his cock pressed hard against your stomach.

 Reaching down you clasp your hand around the length of him; twisting your hand as you stroked him, in a way that had him hissing out his pleasure. "Fuck (Y/N), I just need to be in you." He moaned out. "It's been way too long." He drew your leg up again to wrap around his waist this time, allowing him easier access to the place he longed to be. His cock nudged between your folds, the head just inside you. Josh was thick and as he slowly slipped inside you; you could feel your pussy stretch to accommodate him. "Damn you're tight." You weren't sure if that was the case or if he was just so big, but you knew he felt delicious as he bottomed out. He took a minute, just looking you in the eyes as he stayed buried deep inside you.

 In the next second, his lips were on yours and he started to move. His tongue mimicking what his cock was doing, as he thrust in and out of you. You were simply two bodies sliding together as the water pelted down on you. Josh pinned you to the shower wall again, his strong arms biting into your waist and you thought you'd have bruises there but you knew he was also keeping you from falling down to the tiles. You looped your arms around his shoulders, so your hips could meet each of his thrusts. The water caused your leg to slip off his hip. "Josh…" you panted out.

 "I know," he hissed and he was pulling out of you so that you both could be more comfortable. He twisted your body so that your back rested against his chest for a moment before, bending you down. You spread your legs wide giving him greater access to your cunt so he could glide back in. Using the bench seat, you placed your hands there to hold on as Josh grabbed ahold of your hips before thrusting back in. Moans echoed off the bathroom walls as your bodies slammed together. "Fuck, yeah baby," Josh groaned as you pushed your ass back against him.

 His hand on your hip, snaked down so his finger could rub circles around your clit. "Yes…Josh…yes." He had you teetering on the edge in no time. It was when his other hand drew you halfway up and his lips bit down on your neck that you completely lost it, cuming with a loud moan. Your legs shook and felt like they would give out but Josh held you close still pumping in and out of you as you came down from your high. He pounded in and out of you a few more times, before thrusting even deeper into you and spilling himself inside your pussy. A guttural moan left his mouth and his fingers dug deep into your hips holding you still as he came.

 He stayed inside you for a minute as he said, "Damn, I needed that." Dropping kisses on your shoulder, he slowly pulled out. "Thank you," he said softly, turning you around so he could once again capture your lips in a sweet kiss. "We should probably finish up." You knew he was right, though you were out of energy after two orgasms. Josh must have sensed this for he grabbed your loofah and the shower gel, and started to wash your body. His touch was gentle and he added more soap to his hands, abandoning the sponge as he washed your breasts and pussy. You couldn't help the moan that left your mouth as he touched you; your body still sensitive. "God, you are so sexy. I could…" He didn't finish the sentence.

 "You could what?"

 "You've already given me enough. Especially with this," his hand brushed the water off your forehead where your cut was. You'd completely forgotten about it. Your eyes dropped down to his cock, where you could see it coming back to life.

 "I'm fine Josh," you told him, looking him in the eye. "Though maybe we should get out of this shower."

 He chuckled lightly. "Agreed."

 He went to turn off the water and you stopped him. "Let me at least wash you a bit first." Josh eyed you funny considering he really wasn't the one that needed to shower. "Humor me." He shrugged and you grabbed the soap. The feel of his hard muscles under your soapy hands, made you tingle all over again. By the time you reached his cock, it was back to being erect. The suds made it easy to work your hand up and down the length. This time it was Josh that was moaning as you pumped him up and down.

 "Babe," his voice warned, as he gripped your wrist and you knew it was time to rinse off and continue this out from under the water. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist before taking another so that he could dry you off. His fingers were swift yet gentle as he made quick work of drying you, then did the same for himself. The two of you shared more soft kisses as you headed to the bedroom for round two, which was just as magical as it was in the shower. "I should probably head back to my hotel before I'm missed," Josh finally said as the two of you laid in bed.

 You hummed your agreement. "I forgot for a little bit that you're not staying here."

 "Well hopefully we'll get to move over here soon and maybe we could continue this." The idea of spending more time with Josh was definitely appealing and something that could be happening soon.

 "I'd like that," you told him as he kissed your lips one more time before crawling out of bed. "I'll walk you down."

 "You don't have to, but you should get some ice on that jaw." He tipped your head to the side and winced. "It's starting to bruise a bit."

 "Ugh, at least it doesn't hurt."

 "You're one tough cookie." He pulled on his boxers and shorts, while you grabbed a robe. "You know I'm not opposed to beating the shit out of Marchand for you."

 "Don't bother, he's not worth you getting into trouble."

 "Well, I'm sure he'll get his somehow," he gave you a little wink and you wondered what he was planning with that statement. "So this was fun…well except that part." He gently touched your bandaged head before kissing you. "See you soon?"

 "I sure hope so." With one last kiss, he left you alone, and you went to grab the ice he talked about earlier. Now that you were done having your fun with Josh, you realized your jaw did hurt a bit, but a couple of aspirin would help. You headed back upstairs to grab the meds, then laid back down on the bed, texting Carly to make sure everything was fine, which it was and she told you to take it easy.

 You were half asleep when your phone rang; a FaceTime call from Tyler popping up on the screen. "Hey Ty," you answered sleepily.

 "Hey…omg what happened to you?"

 In your half-asleep state, you'd forgotten about the bruise and cut on your face. "I stupidly tried to break up a fight. It didn't go well."

 "Jesus babe, are those stitches?" There was concerned laced in Tyler's voice, as well as a worried look on his face.

 "No just butterflies. I'm fine." The look he gave you said he thought you were lying. "I swear it's not that bad."

 "Who the hell was fighting? Better yet, who do I have to kill?" You winced, not really wanting to tell him. "(Y/N), I swear to god if you don't tell me…"

 You weren't sure what he was going to do if you didn't tell him, but there was also no point in hiding the truth. "It was TK and Marchand, though apparently, it was Marchy's fist that caught me."

 "That fucking son of bitch." His face was getting red with anger. "I'm gonna kill him."

 "Easy tiger," you tried to tease but you could tell he wasn't having any of it. He started to pace around the room. "What are you doing?"

 "Packing. I told you I'm going to beat the shit out of him."

 "Tyler, you're not a fighter." He finally stopped at your words.

 "I'll still beat him to within an inch of his life."

 "Oh, stop. I'm fine. And you're not coming here. You're in the damn bubble and not going anywhere on my behalf." Tyler had a tendency to overreact at times and this was one of them, though you'd never seen him this angry before. "With a little makeup, you won't even see it."

 "You can't stop me from calling him and bitching him out."

 "Well, if it gets him to settle down in my hotel, I'll gladly take the help." It would be nice not having to worry about being thrown in the pool again or him starting up fights with another player. "But enough about that, tell me about your day?" The two of you chatted for over an hour, Tyler never once hinting about anything sexual happening, which surprised you a bit. It was nice though just talking about everything and anything with him. You always had this easy banter with him, but this just felt different. "Hey, I have another call coming in. Can I call you later?"

 "You can call me anytime babe. Feel better." He kissed you over the phone and you did the same for him before hanging up.

 You didn't recognize the number, but said hello anyhow only to be met with, "Hey (Y/N), I need your help?"

[iamyoursinblog]

The window

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x Reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Word Count: 3,1 k

LIST

___________________

You moved to a new house, but due to the workload, you could only get home after a few days. It was already night outside. You walked into a spacious bedroom on the second floor and smiled broadly when you saw the window you fell in love with at first sight. Perhaps this was the main reason why you chose this house, even though it was too large for one person. The window was from ceiling to floor, replacing one wall. You could watch the stars while lying on your bed. You took off your jacket and threw it over the back of the armchair, remaining in your trousers and shirt. You came close to the window looking at the sky, the smile never left your face, the view was incredible. You raised your arms up stretching your body. Your gaze went down and you met a pair of eyes looking at you with curiosity. It was a guy. A very handsome guy. He was standing on the first floor near a window as big as yours. While you were looking at him, he turned his gaze to the sky. He probably also looked at the sky until you came to the window. You should have looked away, but you didn't want to. The handsome guy was wearing pants and a shirt, and his jacket was lying on the floor next to him. You smiled when you realized that your clothes were the same color and style. It was wrong to stare like that at a person you don't even know when he was in his room. But his handsome face made it impossible to look away. You met his gaze again when he looked at you. He smiled and goosebumps ran down your skin. He nodded his head ‘goodbye’ to you and disappeared into the darkness of the room. For a few more seconds, you continued to stare into an empty dark room before moving your gaze to the sky. “I wonder who he is,” you whispered to yourself. It seems that you just saw another big plus of this house. You smiled and went to the shower, and after then fell asleep.

A few days later, you met your neighbor again as you sat on an armchair near an open window. He smiled and waved at you before you had time to think, you already waved at him with a broad smile. For a second, his gaze fell on you, and you realized that you were dressed alike again, light jeans and a light blue T-shirt. After finishing his coffee, he got up from the floor and left the room. A few minutes later, you heard the noise of the engine, and you realized that it had left. For a second, you wondered if your next outfit would match.

You had to leave for a few days, but you were surprised how much you wanted to return home. You were never tied to home, and frequent trips only made you happy. But now the person you don't even know makes you feel homesick. No matter how hard you resist, you missed him ... When you returned home late at night, you were surprised to see a large box next to your gate. You didn't order anything, then what is this box ... After you parked your car in the garage, you went outside and picked up the box before heading into the house. You went into the kitchen and put it on the big table. You looked at the box, and there was not a single inscription on it. You opened the box and your eyes widened. On top of the white wrapping paper was a note, written in beautiful handwriting.

‘Congratulations on the move. Hope it would look pretty with your armchair. Your neighbour, Jinyoung'

You read the note over and over again, still not believing in its reality. A wide smile appeared on your face. "So his name is Jinyoung." You opened the paper and laughed when you found a soft blanket inside, the same color as your chair. Having risen to your room, you covered your chair with a blanket, thanks to this it began to seem even more cozy and more comfortable than before. Turning to the window, you looked into Jinyoung's dark empty room. You clapped your hands when you remembered that your living room rug has been in your trunk for ages, but it didn't fit your interior. After looking at the empty floor and light interior of Jinyoung's room, you decided it would be the perfect gift for his room. You quickly ran downstairs and, finding a piece of paper, wrote

‘Thank you Jinyoung. Hope this makes a great addition to your room. Your neighbour, ______! ’

Going down to the garage, you took the packed rug, put the note inside, and went outside. You were glad it was night and the street in your neighbourhood was completely empty. You felt like a spy sneaking into someone else's house. Leaving your gift carefully at the entrance, you quickly ran home. Your heart was pounding as fast as after a marathon. You looked at your red face in the mirror until a wave of laughter covered you with "God, I'm acting like a teenager."

You had to leave early in the morning, so you couldn't see Jinyoung. You tried to get home as quickly as possible so that you ‘accidentally’ meet him. And luck was on your side, you managed to return home while it was still daylight. You took a quick shower before fixing your hair and makeup. You walked into the dressing room and picked out a mid-thigh swing dress. You went up to the room on the second floor and went to the window. Your face lit up when you saw on the floor the rug you gifted, next to which there was a cup. You were happy that he liked your gift. You sat down in a chair and took a book, tried to read it. It was hard to concentrate, you read the same line several times. You saw movement in the room, and completely turned your attention to the book, pretending to be immersed in reading, and not spying on your neighbor. You could feel his gaze on you, but you kept looking at one point in the book. You really wanted to see Jinyoung's face, but that would be too obvious. After a while, you raised your head and your heart quickened its pace when a wide smile met you. You waved to him, and pointing to the blanket raised your thumb up, showing what you like it. To which he stroked the rug on which he was sitting and repeated your movement. You laughed. Today he wore a loose shirt and dark pants. He got up and opened the door and went out into the street, you also got up and went out onto the terrace.

“You seem to be copying my clothes,” he said, pointing to the color of his shirt, which was the same as your dress.

"I just wanted to tell you this, that you are copying me"

“I came home earlier”

“But I saw you after I sat and read.”

He laughed and goosebumps covered your skin "Do you always read one page for almost 10 minutes?"

Oops .. I think he noticed it ... "I just could not concentrate, as I felt that someone was staring at me."

"Then why didn't you look at me right away, but only after 10 minutes?"

“I didn’t want to stare, it’s not decent,” having said that, you immediately regretted, because now it seemed that you weren’t glad that he was looking at you. Although, in general, you are the person who always stares out of his window.

"Okay, I will consider." For a second, his tone became serious and cold enveloped you. “If you stop repeating outfits after me, I'll stop staring at you,” he smiled broadly, and the worry receded.

"And if I repeat your outfits the next day, will it count?"

“I think I can come to terms with it. Although I do not think that you will be able to repeat them. I have to go, see you next time." He waved at you and walked back into the house.

Your body trembled with excitement, you were wondering what exactly he started the game, but you wanted to play it with pleasure, even without knowing the rules.

The next day, you returned home in the evening, and after rising to the meeting place with Jinyoung, you practically fell to the floor laughing when you saw him sitting on the floor, in front of an open door, in an animal pajama and drinking wine. You walked out onto the terrace, still laughing.

“Wow. I'm impressed with your choice, but don't think that I can't match such an amazing outfit. "

“We'll see tomorrow” he raised his glass in your direction and then drank it to the bottom. “Then I'll see you tomorrow night” he smiled and got up from the floor and left. This is going to be fun ... you walked back into the room wondering how many stores you would have to walk around to find a same pajamas.

Every day it became more fun to return home, his imagination knew no bounds. You seemed to be at the cosplay festival. You laughed together every night, enjoying each other's company. Even though everyone was in their own house, it seemed like there was nothing between you. After a few weeks of your game, you stood on the terrace in your superman costume and waited for Jinyoung with his next assignment. You were surprised when he walked into the room in an unbuttoned shirt and jeans. He sat down on the floor watching you through the closed window. His gaze was playful, challenging you. You grinned and shook your head to accept his challenge. The next evening, you stood in front of the mirror and looked at yourself. You didn't have the courage to be just in a shirt on your naked body, so you put on a short sports top under the shirt. You went to the window waiting for Jinyoung.

Minutes seemed like an eternity. A dim light will fill his room. He walked in in the same shirt and jeans as yesterday, but today his shirt was buttoned up. In his hand was a glass of wine, and putting it on the floor, he looked at you, evaluating your outfit. His gaze was considered a mockery, because you did not completely repeat his outfit. He reached for his shirt and took the edge shirt out from his jeans, and slowly began to unbutton it. His gaze was heavy, followed by confidence in his every move. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off and threw it on the floor. Your gaze wandered over his naked torso. Your mouth was dry with the urge to run fingers over his abs, wanting to feel how his muscles would strain from your touch. His gaze was fixed on you, and every movement was like a dangerous jaguar preparing to jump. The excitement went through your body. Now this game has become dangerous. You waited with apprehension and lust for tomorrow evening.

All day your mind has been busy with Jinyoung. You seemed to be looking at your watch every 5 seconds, hoping that your evening meeting would finally end. When you got home you put on yesterday's shirt and jeans, but this time you were wearing a transparent lace bra, not a sports top. You rose to the second floor and froze near the window. Leaning his hand on the glass, Jinyoung stood only in boxers. "Oh gosh ..." Your breath caught at the sight of his sexy body. Your fingers were shaking so much with excitement that it took you a long time to unbutton the buttons on your shirt. Taking a deep breath, you calmed down, you wanted it. You wanted him. Having calmed down, you began to tease him unbuttoning every button. You could see that he definitely liked what he sees in the window, and the protruding dick of his boxers was proof of that. You threw aside the shirt, remaining only in a thin transparent fabric ... You played with the straps, making him languish with desire. You turned back to him, you got rid of the bra, sending it in a pile to the shirt. You looked back at him, sending a lustful look before you left. You knew that tomorrow you should only be in your underwear, and you were wondering what would happen next ...

The next evening, when it was completely dark, you turned on the dim light in the room. You looked down at your body, you chose the sexiest lingerie you had. "Is he really going to be naked" this thought did not leave you all last night and today. You were looking out the dark window. But where is Jinyoung? On the first floor the bell rang, looking at the clock you were confused, you were not expecting anyone. Going downstairs, you froze when you saw Jinyoung on the screen. You opened the front door, and a few minutes later he entered the house.

"Hello"

"Hello"

Your head was spinning and it seemed all thoughts left your head. Only after a moment did you realise that you were standing in your underwear. Even though you chose it for him, now that he was in the same room with you, you felt awkward.

He took a step in your direction, and you wanted to retreat, but the legs did not listen to you. He continued to approach while you persuaded your body to move even a millimetre.

“I decided that it would be nice to be with you tonight” he came up to you and ran his hand over your arm. “Unless of course you mind it” he looked down at you “I like what you chose for me” his smile made you forget how to breathe.

“I thought you don’t know which next outfit to choose, so you didn’t show up in the window.” You tried not to show your nervousness, replacing it with sarcasm. He reached for his T-shirt and after a second it fell to the floor.

He began to unbutton his jeans "Oh, _________, believe me, I know exactly how I want to be in today."

He raised his hand and pulled you to his body, kissed. Everything inside was screaming with a mixture of excitement and intense desire. The kiss began quite gently, but quickly changed to passionate. His hands gripped your body as his mouth and tongue caressed you. Your head was spinning, it seemed a little bit more and you would faint.

Because of this, you did not even understand how exactly you ended up on the second floor. Your consciousness came back when he pushed you onto your bed. He take off the remnants of his clothes and you groaned as his hard cock twitched with excitement. It was so sexy, you reached out, wrapping your fingers around his dick. His groans filled the room as you continued to tease him. He grabbed your wrists, chaining you to the bed. “I think you've been teasing me for a long time. Now it's my turn"

"Why do you think you didn't make me want you from the first meeting?" you moaned as his fingers covered your clit.

“We seem to have wasted too much time, playing in 'kindly neighbours'.” he got rid of your underwear before he covered your nipple with his mouth. You arched your back wanting more pleasure. His fingers teased your clit and pussy, slowly fucking you. Your moans turned to whimpers wanting more.

“I want you, Jinyoung! Please, Jinyoung, I need you ”

“________, you moan my name so sweetly. I want to listen to this as long as possible.” He pushed two fingers hard at you, and a groan with his name flew from your lips. He continued to give rough thrusts, forcing you to plead. Finally, your pleas were heard and, having moved, he ran his dick head over your pussy. Your hips moved to meet him wanting more. You screamed when, with a sharp jolt, he entered you completely. He pressed you to the bed, not giving you the opportunity to refuse what he gives you. It was too much, he was big and stretched you, mixing pleasure and pain into one whole. He thrusted several more deep, hard thrusts before his speed increased. Blood rushed at your veins, spreading pleasure throughout the body. His groans echoed deep into you. Your body has turned into a bundle of huge nerves, which is about to explode. It seemed like something unreal, as if you were in one of your dreams, your eyes closed, and you felt the heat fill your body. You were afraid to open your eyes, suddenly everything will disappear. You hugged him tightly, your fingers dug into his skin as he continued to kiss your face, your neck and your shoulders ...

His thrusts were hard and fast. "Fuck ... Damn ... this is so good... I'm gonna cum." His words, exploded you into a violent orgasm and after a moment his screams filled the rooms as his own orgasm swept over him. His movements were erratic, prolonging your overall orgasm. Your body seemed to float above the bed. He continued to give light thrusts, you opened your eyes, his face was saturated with the pleasure he received from you. His eyes were tightly closed, and you ran your fingers over his face before leaving a light kiss. He finally opened his eyes to meet yours.

“I was so afraid that it would be just my dream.” He kissed you with such tenderness that your heart seemed to stop beating from an overabundance of feelings. The realization that your fear was one for two made a few drops of tears roll down your cheeks. “Are you okay?" he looked at you anxiously, wiping the wet traces of tears with his fingers.

“Yes, I feel great.” You smiled at him and hugged him tightly.

“I love your bedroom, you can see the stars even while lying on the bed”

“That was one of the main reasons why I stayed here,” you answered, resting your head on his chest and looking up at the sky.

“I am very glad that you liked this window and that you stayed here. What other reason? " he lifted your chin forcing you to look at him

“Incredibly handsome guy in the window opposite” you sent him a smile before he kissed you.

You looked at the window because of which you wanted to stay here and smiled. This house is perfect. As well as the guy in whose arms you are now lying.

___________________

LIST

[spaced-out-imagines]

The Mentor’s Child (a multi-chapter Shinsou x reader fic): Chapter 6

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Warnings: none!

If you like my stuff you can buy me a ko-fi here!

Taglist: @universal-imagines​, @lucio-the-beautiful-goat​, @lostgirlheart​, @katsheen​, @estrellitaaart​, @complexhouseplant​, @vinaios​, @ale-the-jedi​, @ewwis​

A/n: hey guys sorry for the late update. I was just hit by a really bad slump and I couldn’t write at all for a couple of weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter anyways!

“Oh god I hope this wasn’t a big mistake,” was the only thing running through your head. You and Shinsou were walking down the sidewalk, making your way to the cafe. Shinsou matched your pace which made the trek a little less awkward thankfully. However, you were still panicking slightly on the inside.

Shinsou hadn’t said anything since you left the school and the only time you spoke was to give directions. The air was a bit tense but both of you chose to ignore it. You hoped that when the two of you arrived at your destination then a conversation would naturally occur. But, you also had a sinking feeling that you would have to carry said conversation, simply because Shinsou wasn’t the social type. 

Luckily the cafe wasn’t too far away from the school and soon enough the building came into sight. You let out a sigh of relief and you pointed at the sign out front. “There it is,” you told Shinsou. He simply nodded and you walked up to the door. You opened it, a bell chiming as you did, and held the door open for Shinsou behind you. 

You were about to walk up to the counter, already knowing what you wanted as you had been there before, but stopped when you remembered Shinsou had to check the menu. Glancing at him, you said, “I’ll wait until you know what you want before I order, I’ve been here several times so I already know what I want.”

Shinsou met your gaze and he shrugged. “I’m just going to get a black coffee so we can just go up now if you want.”

“Oh um okay,” you muttered. You went up to the counter and placed an order for your favourite pastry and drink. The cashier swiftly inputted it and you handed him the money before giving your name. He gave you a smile as he passed you your receipt. Shooting him a small grin back, you stepped aside to let Shinsou place his order. You went to stand by the pick-up counter and Shinsou joined you after a minute or two. 

The two of you waited there for a little while before both your names were called back-to-back. You went up and grabbed your pastry bag along with your drink in one hand. After a quick internal debate, you also took Shinsou’s cup and turned around to hand it to him. He nodded in thanks and began to walk towards a free table by the windows. The two of you sat down and settled in, putting down your bags and cups. Shinsou wrapped his hands around his mug while you took out your pastry. As you took a bite of the sweet treat you couldn’t help the hum of delight that came from your vocal cords before quickly covering up the sound by clearing your throat. Shinsou simply looked at you in amusement as he took a sip of his coffee.

Silence filled the air as both of you drank your beverages. As the minutes passed, you felt the tenseness leave your shoulders and you allowed yourself to lean back in the comfy armchair. Drumming your fingers on the round wooden table, your eyes moved up to look at Shinsou. He was looking out the window, watching as people walked around. The sun shone through the window and onto his face. It turned his indigo hair a shade lighter, making it almost a violet colour, and it caused his eyes to shine. However, it also made those dark eye bags stand out more on his pale skin and you couldn’t help but frown in concern.

‘“So how do you like the training so far?” you asked, breaking the silence, “is it tiring along with all your other schoolwork?”

Shinsou turned to face you and he hummed, thinking for a moment. “It’s not that bad. I’ve gotten used to a certain routine at this point. The training itself is difficult for sure but I have a lot to catch up on if I want to get into the hero course so I’m prepared to work hard,” he replied.

You nodded in understanding. “I was just wondering because you always look so tired. Those are some heavy eye bags after all,” you said and touched the skin under your own eyes.

He snorted and smirked slightly. “I’ve had these long before high school, the training with Aizawa-sensei has nothing to do with it. At this point, I think they’re going to stay for the rest of my life.” This statement caused a chuckle to escape and you took a sip of your drink. Shinsou then asked, “are you planning on trying to get into the hero course?”

This question caught you off guard and you almost choked on the liquid going down your throat. You roughly swallowed and coughed slightly. Shinsou looked at you, a little concerned, but you waved your hand to signal you were fine. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you replied, “...no I’m not planning to.”

“Why not? I thought since you’re Aizawa-sensei’s kid you would want to follow in his footsteps,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve honestly considered it many times before but the hero life just isn’t for me,” you said with a bitter smile, “I would have to use my quirk a lot and I’m just not comfortable with that… as you could already tell. Even if it would be cool to follow my parents’ footsteps I just can’t see myself doing it.”

Shinsou stared at you for a moment before nodding. The two of you then sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, not knowing what to say to each other. You timidly nibbled at your pastry and stared at the table, avoiding his gaze. Just as you were about to say sorry for making things tense Shinsou spoke up again.

 “You know I meant what I said during that training session,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at him which he took as a signal to continue, “I’m referring to when I said your quirk is useful. If you catch your opponents off guard with it, as you did with me, it really gives you an advantage. In a more furnished or full environment, you could also use it so they couldn’t hear you. It’s a good quirk for stealth missions.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him in surprise. “I didn’t expect you to think about my quirk that much. I’m a little shocked,” you told him.

He sipped at his drink and looked out the window, almost like he was trying to hide his face. “Well I felt bad that I made you upset and I’m just telling the truth,” he replied, “I might not know what happened to you in your past but I just want you to know that I don’t think you should be ashamed of your quirk.”

A smile crept onto your face. Even if you couldn’t bring yourself to believe his words quite yet it was nice of him to try and console you. From what you saw in class, you had seen Shinsou as a blunt and cold person. However, it seems as though you were wrong in that assessment. “Thanks, Shinsou,” you said. You then paused for a second but decided to say what was on your mind. “You shouldn’t let what others say about your quirk get you down either.”

His eyes widened slightly but before he could say anything you continued. “I’ve heard about what you’ve gone through in the past and I know how you view your quirk. But your quirk can honestly be really heroic in its own way. You can stop a fight almost instantly, and you could prevent a lot of collateral damage since you wouldn’t have to physically fight the villains. It’s powerful in a different way and it’s really useful. You almost beat Midoriya at the sports festival for crying out loud. Sure your quirk could be used for evil actions but I don’t think you would use it for that. You’re too determined to be a hero, there’s no way you could be a villain.”

It was his turn to look at you in shock and you couldn’t but look away slightly, a small blush on your face. You hadn’t meant to go on a tangent like that but you wanted to make sure he knew you were being completely honest. After a few seconds, he muttered a quiet “thanks” and then cleared his throat before changing the subject. “So are you Aizawa-sensei’s biological kid? Did he have you before marrying Mic-sensei or something?” he asked.

Involuntarily, you felt your body tense up a bit at the mention of your family life. “No he and papa adopted me when I was younger. I was probably about nine when I began to live with them,” you said stiffly.

Shinsou watched as you drummed your fingers nervously. He seemed to pick up on your sudden shift in demeanor because he didn’t push further and instead asked, “I see. What’s it like being his kid anyway?”

Grateful for the change in topic, you allowed your body to relax again. You let out a snort at his question. “In general he’s a pretty normal dad I guess. He’s caring and loving in his own slightly gruff way. You could say papa and I have long learned how to understand what dad truly means when he says stuff,” you replied, “although there are times where he does some interesting things. Like how he brings stray or injured cats back home all the time. I’ve basically grown up nursing cats back to health and a lot of the time we visit certain spots to leave food for the ones who need it. It makes me happy to help them though since we can’t exactly take all of them in.”

“That definitely sounds like something Sensei would do. Before meeting him I never would have thought Eraserhead’s weakness was cats,” Shinsou said.

You giggled, “right? He can be so intimidating at times but really he’s a softie. Another thing that’s a bit strange I guess is that I constantly have to make sure I don’t trip over him when he’s in his sleeping bag. Dad can honestly sleep anywhere and I have tripped over him while going into the living room more times than I can count.”

Shinsou chuckled at this, “sounds fun. How do you not notice a big yellow caterpillar bag on the floor in the first place?”

“Sometimes I’m distracted okay? I swear I’m not that oblivious to my surroundings,” you replied with a slight pout.

He simply smirked at you before hiding it behind his cup. The two of you continued to make idle conversation even after you long finished your drinks. It was actually quite nice to talk to Shinsou and while he was blunt and honest he wasn’t an unpleasant person to be around. You came to the conclusion that he simply had some walls up, and with what he had gone through as a kid it was understandable. Everyone had their fair share of demons and you weren’t one to judge.

About forty-five minutes had passed by the time you checked your phone again. Your eyes widened as you saw the time and you began to stand up. “I’m sorry to cut this conversation short but I have to get going. My dads might worry and I have some school work I need to finish,” you said.

Shinsou glanced at his own phone and nodded. “I have to get going as well honestly, so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay cool,” you replied. Both of you grabbed your bags and any garbage that sat on the table. On your way to the exit, you tossed out your trash with Shinsou following suit. As you walked out, you shot a grin at Shinsou. “Thanks for coming with me. It was probably really weird when I just suddenly invited you out,” you said with a sheepish laugh.

“No problem. It was nice getting to know you anyways. Plus the coffee here is actually pretty good,” Shinsou replied.

“Right? I found it when hanging out with some friends one day and now it’s my go-to spot,” you told him, “also I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I think it was nice getting to know you as well.” You were right about to take your leave when you realized something, “oh we should exchange numbers! That way we can contact each other outside of school. If that’s cool with you of course.”

Shinsou hesitated for a moment, thinking about it, before he said, “sure why not.” You grinned as you took out your phone. After you opened a new contact page, you handed it to him and he quickly inputted his information before giving it back. 

“Awesome thanks,” you said, “let me just send you a quick text so you have my number too.” Fiddling with the device, you sent him a simple greeting text and a ping was heard from his own phone when he received it. He checked the screen and gave you a thumbs up, signalling it went through properly. “Thanks again Shinsou, I had a lot of fun talking. I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” you said.

“See you tomorrow Yamada,” he replied with a wave. The two of you then began to walk in two different directions, away from each other. As you began to make your way home the smile on your face never faded.

“Well that went better than I expected,” you couldn’t help but mutter to yourself, as you walked down the streets to get to your house.

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 20. Courage

‘Her courage was her crown and she wore it like a Queen.' Atticus

When I walked inside after waving goodbye to Adrien, Harry and Lourdes were still in the kitchen. They looked at me, as if waiting for an idea of what came next.

“Well, I, for one, need a drink.” I said, trying my best to give them a smile.

Harry got to his feet and poured us some wine.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lourdes asked.

“I don’t think we can.” I told her. “I don’t know what happens next. All we can do is wait.”

She avoided my eyes, and mumbled, “I know how much you love that.”

“Shut up.” I said, grabbing the glass Harry offered and drinking most of it in one sip. “Distractions, right? That’s what I need.” I said, looking at him.

“Oh, Harry! Do you have Amazon or iTunes or something?” Lourdes asked, excitedly.

“I think I have both. Why?”

“I know what we should watch!” She smiled, jumping up and going to his TV. “It’ll get your mind off things!”

Half an hour and half a bottle of wine later, we were watching Frozen.

“How do I know this song?!” I asked, confused and entertained at once, as Elsa let go of her fears on the screen.

“Some songs are so popular they are just downloaded into our subconscious without us noticing.” Lourdes said, but I wasn’t hearing her.

I was singing Let it Go.

Harry laughed. “I think you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.” I complained, more than contested. “Sadly. I’m just… slightly buzzed.” I said, going right back into singing the words I somehow knew.

“I wish I knew what being drunk feels like.” Lourdes said. “It looks fun.”

“…Let it go–I’m not drunk.” I corrected, mid song.

“It’s not all it's cracked up to be.” Harry sighed.

I scoffed. “Says the guy who–”

“You don’t need to finish that sentence.” He said, making me laugh.

To Lourdes, I explained, deflated. “He’s right, though. Really, it just makes you make dumb mistakes.”

She looked at Harry, “Like dressing up as a nazi?”

“Lourdes!” I admonished, completely sober now.

“No, no…” Harry said, soothing. “It’s fine. She’s not wrong. But, sadly, no. That wasn’t a drunk mistake. It was just… a mistake.”

She looked away from him. “Do you regret it?”

“Of course.” He answered, without a second beat. “Every day. But I was… dumb. Young. Privileged. Completely unaware of what it truly meant. I just… I thought it would be funny. I was an idiot.”

On the screen, Elsa wasn’t bothered by the cold. I drank more wine.

“How about this, Lou?” I proposed. “When you’re… seventeen I’ll let you try wine.”

“Seventeen?!” She asked, surprised.

“…and eleven months.”

“Eleven–are you serious?!” She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I’ll get you drunk before your birthday, in a responsible way, in a safe and controlled environment.”

“Ugh.” She complained, and then talked to me in French. “Like you waited until you were eighteen.”

“Excuse me? Yes, I did.” I replied, also in French.

“Really? What about the time when you came home from–?”

“Okay, but that was an accident!”

“Okay, my French is not that good!” Harry complained. “What did you say?”

Lourdes gave me a smug look.

“Nothing.” I said.

“Really?” She chuckled.

“Shut up and watch the movie.”

She sighed, “Okay, what’s up your butt?”

“Nothing.” I shrugged.

As I sat in the middle, I saw from the corners of my eyes as she exchanged a look with Harry.

“Truth or dare?” He asked.

I sighed. “Truth.”

“What’s up your butt?”

I gave him an annoyed look, but he just grinned at my sister. I looked away.

“Adrien just gave me a lot to think about, I guess.”

“I think he was right.” Lourdes said, sitting up, pausing the movie. “Not about everything, like going to America. That’s dumb. But about you.”

“You think I have power, too?” I asked, half hope, half skepticism.

“I know you do.” She shrugged. “But that’s not new, you’ve always had.”

I scoffed. “Excuse me?!”

“Mags, I don’t know what family you’ve been living with, but the rest of us know you as the perfect one we need to live up to.”

“That’s-” I started, but gave up with a sigh.

After all, in one of the last times I had spoken to Louis, he had told me I let our parents do whatever they wanted with me and my life. So, of course my parents saw me as the one who always said yes. Who never questioned. No wonder they thought it was okay to not tell me anything. No wonder they were so upset I had ‘ran away’. And, if that is who I was, it made sense that that’s how my siblings and cousins saw me.

“I don’t want that to be true.” I told them.

“Why not?” She asked. “It’s a compliment. Sort of.”

Harry reached over to the bottle of wine, and refilled my glass. I took a long sip.

“Even if it is true,” I started, “doesn’t that mean they can do what they want, and therefore they hold the power? And not me?”

“Not really.” Harry said. “Because they’ve grown dependent on you always being there. Especially now.”

“Now I’m the heir?” I asked, whispery. Almost afraid if I said it too loudly he would leave, as if he didn’t already know that.

“Yes.” He said, avoiding my eyes. “A death that alters the line of succession is a big deal. It’s a big change. People grow used to a royal family, they see us as newborns, they watch us grow up. For someone they expected to watch grow old and become king to die so young, I imagine it shakes up the entire collective mindspace of the whole country… Not to mention the ways it can affect politics and all the people who may try to take advantage of it. They may not have told you much yet, but they’ll need to start showing you off soon, to reassure the public that the family is still there, and that the throne is secure. Just because we’re ceremonial doesn’t mean they don’t need us. Unfortunately.”

The silence that followed wasn’t bad or uncomfortable. The twinkly lights and wine helped.

“Truth or dare?” Lourdes asked.

I looked at her, surprised.

“What? Apparently that’s the only way you answer questions now.”

I exchanged an amused look with Harry, who looked down, grinning.

“Dare.” I chose, defiantly.

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine.” She said. “I dare you to let me try your wine.”

“Fuck off.” I said. Harry laughed. “Don’t think I forgot about the smoking and cutting class bullshit. I’m not rewarding your behavior.”

“Just a sip!” She justified. “You just said that it’s healthy to let kids try these things at home, in a controlled environment!”

“Oh, so now you’re a kid again.” I grinned, sarcastic. “I thought you were a teenager.”

“I’m just saying,” she argued, “you want me to go after it myself? Who’s to say what I might get into?”

“Oh, my God.”

Harry laughed harder. 

“You know, to be fair,” he tried, “I wasn’t allowed to drink and I still did it way earlier than I probably should. Maybe if I had been allowed to taste it at home the whole mystique of it wouldn’t have wheeled me in.”

“Who’s side are you on?!” I asked, as Lourdes nodded enthusiastically. I sighed. “Fine. One sip!” I told her, pointing a threatening finger. “And with one condition.”

“Maman and Papa never find out.” She guessed.

“We take this to our graves.” I told her, serious. Then, I looked at Harry, who tried to suppress his grin and made the motion of locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key.

I sighed, grabbed my wine glass and passed it to her. “Slowly!” I warned.

She sat up, excitedly, and changed positions so she was facing the both of us, sitting on her knees and closing her eyes as she held the cup with both hands.

“I need to enjoy it the most, so... Okay, I’m going to pretend I’m a fancy adult who just came home from... practice--” Harry and I tried to suppress a laugh. “I’ve been practicing for my… third Olympics where I will, once again, win gold, of course.”

“Of course.” Harry nodded, amused.

“…and my hot, live-in boyfriend, who happens to be a… what’s a hot sport?” She opened her eyes, staring off into the distance.

I laughed.

“Does he have to be an athlete, as well?” Harry asked.

“I’m not going to just date anybody.” She replied, all seriousness. “I need to respect a boy to make him my boyfriend.”

“Hear, hear.” I agreed.

Harry smiled. “That’s fair. How about gymnastics?”

She pouted. “Male gymnasts are all… tiny.”

“Swimmer!” I chimed in, excitedly. “All swimmers are hot!”

“That’s good.” She agreed, before her smile fell. “Oh, but that's the summer Olympics.”

“So, that just means your schedules don’t conflict with each other!” I argued. “He’ll be free to go to your competitions, and vice, versa.”

She smiled. “Okay! That’s good. Awesome, okay, so!”

I smiled, and leaned back into Harry, mindlessly. He seemed to take in a sharp breath as my head laid on his shoulder, before he slowly moved his arm up and passed it around me. I leaned into his embrace, feeling his skin and clothes warm up parts of me I hadn’t realized were cold. We watched Lourdes daydream.

“So, I come home from practice and my hot, live-in, swimmer boyfriend is cooking us dinner, and–”

“Oh, boy, you really need to lower your expectations.” I mumbled.

Harry sighed. “I forget what a rare breed I am.”

I scoffed, as Lourdes giggled. “You can’t cook!”

He looked mock-outraged. “Yes, I can!”

“Harry, you couldn’t even flip a pancake without burning yourself.” I argued. “You didn’t even have oregano!”

“Okay, I may not be a great Chef, but–!”

“Chef?! It’s just oregano!”

“…I know enough not to starve!”

“Okay, I’ll lower my expectations!” Lourdes interrupted. “Hot swimmer has ordered us delivery. I thank him, and he hands me a glass of wine…”

She dreamily closed her eyes and brought the glass to her lips. Almost immediately after she drank, she spit it back into the glass, making us break into laughter as we watched.

“Disgusting!” I accused.

“This is awful!” She complained. “Why is it so bitter?!”

“Oh, my God!” Harry said in between laughter, his head back, a hand to his ribs.

“That’s really expensive wine!” I added.

“How do you drink this?!” She asked, smelling the cup, before trying it again, making the same face.

“Ew, Lourdes, no!” I complained, taking the glass from her. “Disgusting!”

“Yikes.” She complained.

“Yeah, remember this next time someone offers you alcohol.”

--- ---- ---

    We fell asleep right there – with the end credits of the movie rolling up, in the living room blanket covered stone floors. Lourdes curled up to the side, her blonde hair sprawling out around her, hugging a couch pillow. Behind her, I still had Harry’s arm around me.

His eyes were closed, peace all over his face. I pulled the duvet over us, snuggling into him and ready to embrace sleep. I let my arm rest across his stomach, on the side of his waist. As his shirt was wrinkled up, I could feel his skin under my fingertips, so I stretched my hand under it.

He was so warm, and his stomach moved up and down slowly as he breathed. Slowly, I brought my hand up across his stomach, feeling his pecs on my palm.

It now felt too warm for the duvet, but I remained completely still, hidden underneath it, with nothing but the screen and the twinkly lights illuminating us in the darkness.

I felt a chill over all of my skin; it felt too personal, too risky, but I couldn’t bring myself to get away. Resting in his embrace, his shoulder under my head, his face right above mine, his breath lightly breezing over my hair, and his warm skin on my palms… it was exactly where I felt I needed to be.

So I raised my hand higher, slowly, just a little more, to hover over his heart. His breath grew heavier, and his arm tightened around me. I felt his lips on my forehead and his heart under my hand beat so fast it was almost worrying.

On my forehead, his lips whispered so low I wasn’t sure I had imagined it. “It’s yours.” He said.

I moved my head only slightly to his direction, so he knew I was listening.

“What is?” I asked, matching his tone.

Instead of replying, he just moved his other hand – the one not around me – to touch my arm under his shirt, slowly making its way up until his hand was above mine, above his heart. His finger tapped my hand, twice. I didn’t need words, the gesture said enough.

His heart, it said. His heart was mine.

“But you know that, already.” He whispered.

I could barely breathe, and the duvet felt almost unbearable now as my skin grew hotter.

But I couldn’t answer. All I could do was stretch my fingers up to intertwine my fingers with his.

I thought it was the end of it. I thought we would just sleep now, and I would wake up tomorrow struggling to understand if it had been a dream or not. Then he spoke again, just as quietly as before, but slower, so I could make out every word.

“Don’t marry him.”

“…What?” I looked up higher; it felt like if I couldn’t see his eyes, it might not be real.

He looked down at me, under his lashes; the twinkly lights made his hair look golden.

“Don’t marry him.” He repeated.

Again, I couldn’t answer. So he rested his lips on my forehead again, and we let the hours tick by.

Both of us took a long time to fall asleep.

--- ---- ---

When I woke up, we were still on the floor under the twinkly lights of the blanket fort. Lourdes was facing away from me, her knees almost to her chest. In the middle, I still had my head on Harry’s chest, and his arm around my shoulders felt warm, but the noise echoing around the house was anything but.

He moved his arm delicately from under me, and I grunted a complaint, mindlessly.

“Sorry.” He whispered. “The phone.”

He stumbled to his feet, crawling out of the fort slowly, and walking, crooked, to the phone mounted on the wall in the hallway, in front of the stairs.

“Hello?” He said, on a low tone; his voice guttural from sleep. “Who? What do you–? Are you sure? Yes, I know who– I just–” He sighed. “How soon…? Okay, okay. Thanks.”

He returned the phone to the wall and soon he was kneeling in front of the fort again.

“Hey.” He touched my arm, gently. “Mary, wake up.”

“Good morning.” I tried to smile. “What’s going on?”

His face was serious. “We have another visitor.”

Behind me, Lourdes grunted. “Tell them I’m not going home, Harry, especially if they insist on waking me up.”

Harry’s eyes were on mine. “It’s your father.”

I sat up, “What?”

“We’ve been through this with your mom, already.” He started. “I’m not joking, he had to be signed on at the gates. He’ll be here in a minute.”

I recalled Adrien saying he would send someone ‘with power’. Surely, he couldn’t have meant–

“What do I do?!” Harry asked. “Send him away?!”

“When you say our father,” Lourdes asked, crawling up from behind me, “surely you don’t mean–?”

“Forgive me, do you have another one?! Because I’ve only met the King one.”

“Oh, God.” She mumbled, just as I forced myself to get up. “Oh, God, Maggie–”

“Okay,” I started, “Okay.”

“Should I send him away?” Harry asked.

“Maggie, the fort!” Lourdes aggressively whispered, hurriedly pulling the blankets and twinkly lights down.

“I can just send him away, like with the others!” Harry repeated, whispery still. Behind him, the pole holding the fort up hit the floor with a dull thud.

“One of you, help me!” Lourdes whispered at us, pulling the chord of the twinkly lights out of the outlet and trying to ball up all of the blankets and pillows.

There was a knock on the door. We all froze in place.

“Oh, God.” I shuddered.

“Maggie.” Harry said, holding on to my arms gently. It was the first time he used the nickname only my family used for me. “Do you want me to send him away?”

“You can’t send him away!” Lourdes whispered, now so low I could barely hear her. “He’s the king and you barely know him!”

“It’s my house, I can do what I want.” Harry replied, awfully calm. “Margueritte?”

I took in a deep breath in and one deep breath out, and then there was another knock on the door.

“I have to speak to him.”

His hands traveled down my bare arms until my hands, which he held firmly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

I smiled, sadly, down at our hands. His touch was so soft.

“That’s not true.” I said, shaking my head.

He stepped closer to me. “Yes, it is.”

My eyes felt heavy, my throat felt tight. I wanted nothing but to lay down inside our blanket fort into his arms and stay there forever.

“I’m the Crown Princess of Savoy.” I looked at him, allowing the words to break us apart as I knew they would the moment my brother died. “There’s a lot I have to do that I don’t want.”

He looked like he was going to protest, and I wasn’t sure how much of it I could take. So I pulled my hands from his and walked to the door.

My father was wearing a high neck wool shirt, black, and a khaki blazer over it. He was clean shaven, as always, and his receding hair was now so gray it was almost impossible to tell it had once been blond.

He seemed surprised I opened the door, or that was just the smile he gave me; a tentative, surprised small smile. He let out an almost imperceptive sigh before saying, softly,

“Bonjour, Margueritte.”

“Papa.” I replied, feeling breathless. “Bonjour.”

His eyes then examined every piece of me and I was, at once, fully conscious that I was still wearing Harry’s sweatpants and shirt. As we had just woken up from sleeping on the floor after a late night, my face was probably still swollen, my hair a mess, my eyes dirty.

“Tu as l'air bien.” He decided, diplomatic. “Confortable.”

‘You look well. Comfortable.’

“Nous venons de nous réveiller.” I justified, embarrassed, feeling my cheeks redden. ‘We just woke up.’

He nodded. “May I come in?”

I started to open the door, but closed it again.

“It’s not my house.” I explained. “I–”

“Of course!” Harry shouted from inside. “Entrez, s'il-vous-plaît!”

I looked down at the floor as I opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.

It felt so weird. Like intruding and being intruded on at the same time. I felt an urge to apologize, but I couldn’t decide to whom. To Harry for bringing him all of this? To my father for not being dressed?

As he walked inside, taking the house in slowly, I hurriedly let my hair down and brushed it with my fingers, putting it back up with all its loose strands on a ponytail.

The sofa was still facing the back wall, and the coffee table was pushed against the bookshelf. The TV was back to its place of origin, but the chord was clearly hanging to the side. Surprisingly, the blankets, pillows and twinkly lights were gone.

“Your Royal Highness.” My father shook Harry’s hand, with almost no accent. “How do you do?”

“Your Majesty, sir.” Harry bowed his head. “I’m well, thank you. And yourself?”

“Good. The flight was good.” He nodded.

The small talk was killing me. Harry, however, stood tall and confident, one hand firmly shaking my father’s, the other casually in his sweatpants’ pocket. He also had sleep all over his face.

“Is my other daughter around?” My father asked, casually. “Or is she still asleep?”

“I’m here!” Lourdes called from the stairs. Two seconds later, she jumped as if having leapt over the last two steps. “Papa, bienvenue!”

She was in jeans and my sweater, slightly too big for her, but in a stylish way. Her hair was brushed down and, though her face still looked a little swollen as well, she overall looked as though she had been up for a while.

She kissed his cheeks and he held her in place, hands in her shoulders. He spoke in French,

“I am very angry with you.”

Her face fell. “I wasn’t smoking!”

“I know that, and we will talk about it at home.” He replied. “But running away? Not answering your phone? We were worried!”

“It’s hardly running away when you sent me here.” She justified. “And I was with Maggie! In a palace! I couldn’t be safer!”

They went on like this, in French, as he berated her and she tried to justify herself. I caught Harry’s eyes behind them, and tried to give him an apologetic, humorous, if awkward look. But he looked away.

“Papa?” I called after a while of this, trying to be brave, remembering Harry’s French wasn’t so good. “Maybe we should speak in English? As we are in England. And in Harry’s house.”

They all looked at me, all somewhat surprised.

“Of course.” He said, smiling at him. “Sir, I am sorry to trespass even more on your hospitality. Is there a place where I would be able to speak to my daughter with some privacy?”

Harry thought on it for a second, looking around the living room. Lourdes gave me a silent, desperate look.

“Why don’t you talk here?” Harry proposed. “I have been meaning to show Lourdes to the gallery in Kensington, anyway. It’s closed to the public today, so it should be safe. What do you say, Lou?”

Dad’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname, perceptible only to those who knew him enough.

Lourdes looked at each of us and sighed.

“Sure.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Why not?”

Harry followed her to the door.

“Thank you.” I told him as he passed by me.

He smiled in acknowledgement, but didn’t look at me.

They left.

I could hear each of my heartbeats as I looked back at my father. He walked over to the armchair and looked at me, smiling sadly.

“I can wait until you get changed.” He said.

I nodded and had to stop myself from running out of the room. At the stairs, I realized Harry and my sister had just shoved all of the blankets and pillows out of sight. They were crammed in the small space precariously, only a tiny passage through in the corner where Lourdes probably made her way up and down to change.

I schooled my face to not react to it and attempted to climb up as quietly as possible, hoping my father wouldn’t make his way to this end of the room and see it.

In the guest room, Lourdes’ pajamas were on the floor. I picked them up and put them on the bed, as well as my bag, quickly emptying its contents to find clothes that felt appropriate. My dress for the wedding was wrinkled, so I would have to make do with jeans and the simple blouse I had on in the train.

As I got dressed, I was overcome with shame again. Why did I feel so embarrassed at wearing pajamas or not having formal day clothes? How was I to know he was coming? And why were my clothes not good enough if they were mine? If I liked them?

I was reminded of Louis, lecturing me about dressing up the way mom wanted me to. I stopped myself just before pulling out the shirt; Harry’s shirt. I had told my brother I would stand up for myself and my own fashion choices, but now I had to stand up for a lot more. For being heard and for being told the truth. For being allowed to do something with my life other than look pretty in pictures. I had to.

I took in a deep breath and kept Harry’s shirt on. Then, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went back downstairs.

Dad was standing in front of the bookcase holding a picture frame in his hand, the same one Lourdes had noticed when she arrived.

He made no comments of the clothes I was wearing; instead, he returned the photo to the shelf and said, as he walked back to the armchair.

“I knew her, you know?” He started in French. “The late Princess of Wales.”

“Yes, I remember.” I said. “I was there when she visited Savoy with Prince Charles.”

He seemed confused. “Right. That must have soon before she passed.”

“It was.”

“You won’t remember this, Maggie, but we were actually in Britain when it happened.” He sat down, crossing his legs and sitting back, leisurely. “We went to–”

“I do remember it, Papa.” I interrupted. “That was the first time I met Harry.”

He suppressed his surprise better this time, nodding.

“He was a good kid. Bright, charming, smart… It was a terribly traumatizing event to happen to such a young child.”

I grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and placed it across the room from him, in front of the still turned sofa.

“Which is what I imagine made him into such a problematic young fellow.”

“Should we talk about us now?” I asked.

As anxious as I was to have this conversation with my father, I was more impatient at his tone regarding Harry.

“We are.” He replied, gravely. “I can’t pinpoint anything else that might have brought you to this, Margueritte.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Henry. What is it? What did he say to you to get you here? To get you to do this?”

My mouth dropped open, and I, for one second, was almost amused.

“Are–? Are you serious?!”

“I understand he is charming and fun, Margueritte, a lot of men are, particularly to pretty girls like you–”

“Wow, Papa–”

“But he is older than you, and he has a reputation, which has not been manufactured with no cause.” He insisted. “He’s wrong for you even before we focus on the fact that he is a foreign royal.”

“Do you hear yourself?!” I asked, choked. “Harry is not the problem, Papa! He has nothing to do with this!”

“My daughter,” he started, enunciating the word loudly, “my firstborn, the little girl I raised, would never have done something this outrageous! Goodness, Margueritte, you’re a good girl! You’re kind and respectful, and you have always put others before yourself! You were always a good student, you went to Harvard, for goodness’ sake!” He took in a heavy breath, “To just disappear like this with no effort to alleviate our minds! Do you have any idea how worried we were?! What went through my head when they came into my office to tell me they had no idea where you were?!”

He uncrossed his legs, sitting up now, restless, fidgeting with his hands.

“I have sat through so many security meetings discussing the risk assessments for each of you, having to hear from expert after expert what are the most likely horrible things to happen to you, and having to decide what the best way to protect you is! And to suddenly be told that the two security officers who were meant to keep you safe simply lost track of you in a foreign country!”

His voice was raising with each word, until the last one, which he shouted, finally getting to his feet, restless.

“Did you even spare a single thought to your mother and me?! We could barely sleep for three days, we were in and out of meetings with the staff trying to decide what was the best way to go about the situation,” he went on, now walking up and down the living room, “Should we contact the police? Interpol? Ask the Scotland Yard to intervene?! So many people trying to show us what the best resolution would be, to then be told you were just… sleeping over at Kensington, walking right in of your own free will as if it’s a holiday!”

He ran a hand through his hair, nervously; a far cry from the composet monarch he was in public.

“And not one call… Not one call going through…” he mumbled. “It’s alright, I tried to tell them. She probably had an issue with her phone. It must be a misunderstanding… Marie-Margueritte would never be this dismissive and disrespectful!” he shouted, again. “And to then have Auguste’s account of how he was treated when he was merely trying to make sure of your wellbeing. Do you think that is an appropriate way to treat your private secretary?! You’re a Crown Princess, Margueritte! You have a responsibility to the people whose job revolves around making you the best future monarch you can be! Do you understand that?!”

My palms were aching, burning, as I scratched them with my nails, tightly holding my hands in fists as I took in deep breath after deep breath.

“Not to even speak of the disrespect towards your mother! To not even see her, after she made the whole trip here?! To allow your… Harry,” he said, with contempt, “to treat her as… as–!”

“He was nothing but polite and kind to maman.” I interrupted, speaking for the first time, my voice barely a shaky whisper. “She was the one who changed the tone of the conversation, Harry did nothing but be honest about why she wasn’t allowed to go upstairs, and he was still polite at that.”

“And why didn’t you see her, Margueritte?! If you had a problem, why didn’t you come home and speak to us about it?! Is this fun for you? Is this what the plan was the whole time?! Because I’ll tell you this, I have never yelled at any of you kids like this, never since you were born!” He sighed. “What is the point? Tell me?!”

He removed his blazer, methodically, slowly, breathing heavily still.

“And Christopher!” he added, shouting. “What are we to tell him?! As far as I understand he left for Canada thinking his girlfriend was going home and all was normal, how are we to explain to him this little holiday you took at another men’s house?! You think he’ll enjoy this information?! Or did you just assume your mother and I would lie for you?!”

“Christopher is my problem, not yours.” I said, shaky. Hands hurting, still. “And I’ll tell him what–”

“I don’t think you understand, Margueritte!” He interrupted, walking over, and sitting again, leaning into his knees to look me in the eyes. “Whatever is your problem, is our problem, too! You’ll be Queen to Savoy one day, you don’t get the privilege of privacy, anymore! Or you think it’s not a big deal that Christopher will be the country’s consort one day?! You think that’s something we can just worry about later?!”

I tried taking another calming, deep breath, but I couldn’t anymore. It was as if my throat was also tighter from the anxiety and anger.

“Do you even know how many threats we’ve received since you became Crown Princess?!” He asked, whispery now. “Do you even realize the amount of detail and accurate information that has to be in a threat for it to be deemed credible?! Do you even know how close you could have come to coming to serious harm in the way here when you were completely alone?!”

“No!” I interrupted, using all of the strength left in me to raise my voice enough so he would hear. “I don’t! I don’t know any of it! Do you know why?!”

I waited, looking at him, but, confused, he seemed to have no response.

“Because you don’t tell me anything!” I told him. “None of you! And that was fine, Papa, when I was a child, or when I was just someone who would never be needed to work for the Crown, but from the moment Louis died I knew my life had changed completely, and I kept waiting for someone to tell me how and what to do, but no one did! Even when I asked! And I asked, and asked! Almost every day I asked, and I was dismissed and condescended to, by almost every single person in the Palace, including you and Auguste, who is supposed to work for me, somehow!”

I ran my hands down my jeans, trying to assuage the burn of the scratches there.

“You talked to me when it was about quitting my job to give the press something to talk about,” I started, “and to make sure I knew I had no choice in what my own staff was, but that was it. I was never given any… choice, any direction.”

“Alright.” He nodded, sitting back again. “Alright, then what do you want, Margueritte? What is it about your life that is so upsetting now?!”

“You do not get to say it like that anymore!” I shook my head. “You don’t get to make me feel like my feelings don’t matter, Papa. If you do, this conversation is over right now.”

“When have I ever–?!”

“You always do that!” I interrupted. “At first it was about me being too young to have any real issues, it was about being too pushy or demanding, when all I wanted was some power over my own life!”

“Margueritte, if sometimes I am harsh, it’s because I don’t think you understand what your life really is.”

“I know I am privileged!” I assured. “I am very aware of that, but that was never the problem. No, the problem is that you, and maman as well, got used to me always being accommodating of whatever it is you needed! We need a child for a photo opportunity, well, Margueritte can catch up with school later, by herself, let’s pull her from class to bring her to an event, then! Well, we need to improve female registration for military service, Margueirtte would attract a lot of girls, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind postponing university a year!”

“Are you saying we made you do those things?” He asked, sounding truly concerned. “You were always given a choice, Margueritte. That was always important to us!”

“But is it a choice when the people asking are the most important people in my life?!” I asked, eyes watering. “When the people asking are the two people I love the most in the world? The two people I could see working so hard to do a good job for the entire country and to be as good to us as they could be?! How could I say no when saying no was upsetting to you? How could I say no to anything when I knew there was so little I could actually do to help!”

He looked down, hands fidgeting again. But I powered through, thinking of Louis; thinking of the promise I had made to stand up to myself.

“The truth is I think you got used to me being the easiest answer to whatever problem you had. Always.” I said, trying to sound calmer. “Even when I was in America! If there was a scandal, like with uncle’s divorce, and you needed someone to put in front of a camera to draw attention to it, you never had an issue asking me to come home, and I never said no, because I felt too guilty.”

I felt a single tear fall from my eye.

“I used to feel guilty that I didn’t want this life, when you had no choice, when Louis had no choice.” I confessed. “And then, when he died, I felt so guilty about inheriting his title that I couldn’t say no to anything. Even if I didn’t want to quit my job in such a public way. Even if I didn’t want to fire Cadie. Or Joyce.”

I dried my cheek with one hand, taking a deep breath. Dad hadn’t moved, yet.

“You got used to me being easy, dad. To not fighting. To not trying too hard to stand out, to accepting anything you needed. Even if it was about my life. My choices. My staff. My clothes?!”

“When have I ever policed your clothes, Margueritte?!” He asked, hoarse.

“You may not have done it, but you didn’t try to stop it, either.” I replied. “And I can’t go on like that, Papa. I can’t go on letting you, and Maman, and Montennon or Auguste or whoever, make me into a paper doll Crown Princess, to be dressed up and sent away to look nice for a picture, that’s not who I am. I can’t do that anymore.”

He nodded, slowly, seeming alarmingly calm.

“I’m the Crown Princess now, and I accept that.” I told him. “Mostly because I don’t have a choice, but I accept it regardless. But if I am to do this, then things can’t be the way they’ve always been… I can’t just say yes, and you can’t just dismiss me when I say no. I need to be allowed to ask questions, and I need actual answers. If I’m to learn what I need to learn, then I need the staff to see me as the heir, as their future monarch, not as good, obedient Princess Margueritte, and they won’t as long as you still treat me as the good daughter you’re trying to protect, or the one you pull out when you need help because you know I won’t complain!”

He took in a deep breath, biting his lip; his hand scratched his chin, and he looked at the center table behind me, thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry I disappeared.” I told him. “I honestly am, but I would do it again. Because I didn’t know what else to do… and let’s be honest, why should I be home? It’s not like I have been doing a lot of work. I don’t have a job anymore, and the work I wanted to do was quickly shut down by Auguste.”

He sighed, exhausted. “There’s a lot going on that you don’t know, Margueritte.”

“Then tell me!” I said, louder than intended. “That is my point!”

“There are things you’re not ready for.” He shook his head. “This job isn’t as simple as you seem to think it is. You can’t be ready one day after someone dies unexpectedly.”

“I didn’t expect to be ready in one day!” I assured him. “I wanted to learn. I just wanted to know there was some sort of plan that didn’t include telling me to avoid the news and just go enjoy my day.”

“That is not what happened–”

“That is exactly what happened!” I contradicted.

“Do you think maybe we just wanted to give you time to grieve for your brother?” He asked.

“I did.” I nodded, enthusiastically. “More than that, I assumed you needed time for that. I assumed it just felt too hurtful to see me in his place when he had just died.”

I looked away, tears falling from my eyes again when my voice broke.

“But months passed, Papa.” I went on. “Months. Then the year was done. And nothing. And fine, if I’m to do nothing, then I’ll do nothing. But why should I quit my job, then?! If I can’t have an active part in this role, then why should I be home, doing nothing, every day?! Should I spend every day just waiting for the moment you’ll need me for another photo opportunity?!”

“It’s much more than that, Margueritte.”

“Good.” I nodded. “That’s good, then tell me what it is!”

We sat in silence, looking away from each other as I tried to dry my tears as soon as they fell.

“I realize that it’s hard…” I started. “I miss him every day. I cry every day. I think about all the things he won’t be here for, every day… And I can only imagine what it’s like for you, having raised him for this job his whole life and now to not only be unable to see him do it, but to have to accept me into it. But, Papa, you need to understand that I did not want this.”

“…You don’t think I know that?!”

“I honestly don’t know!” I shrugged, crying. “But I can understand that it can feel like… like a betrayal to Lou. For me to have his title now. I feel it, too. But I think he would know, surely he would know that I did not wish for this!” 

I tried to dry my tears again, as they fell more freely now.

“For the rest of my life, every time I wear that crown, every time I am addressed as Crown Princess, or Queen, I will be reminded of the fact that my brother should be here.”

I stood up, and walked over to the bathroom near the stairs. I washed my face with cold water, trying to take in deep breaths, trying to think of the promise I made to Louis. Trying to fight the desire to tell my father I would just do whatever he wanted as long as this ended.

When I came back, he was using a handkerchief to dry his own cheeks.

“Do you remember…?” He started, sniffling slightly. “On the train ride to London last year, for the tour, when you asked me to promise you that would be allowed the space and time you needed to focus on your own life?”

The memory was like a dream from a lifetime ago; I nodded, as I sat back down on my chair.

“When your brother died,” he started, so calm and in such a low tone now that I could barely hear him. “My first thought, after him, was you. It was the heartbreaking realization that I would not be able to keep my promise.”

He definitely stifled a sniff, now.

“I have spent so much time feeling guilty over bringing you and your brother and sister into this family, Margueritte.” He admitted. “I have loved you every single day of your lives, but there hasn’t been one day that I don’t fear you’ll resent me for bringing you into a world where you have no real free will. No expectation of privacy… So, when I knew how much I would have to ask of you… All I wanted to do was try and keep your life from changing too much. I figured, if I can keep you out of the conversations that need to happen, if I can keep you just informed enough, then you can go about your life, and those changes won’t feel so disruptive. I just… I didn’t want you to have to give up anything.”

“But that is not your choice.” I told him. “It’s not your choice, either, Papa… You don’t think I know that?”

“I was afraid, chèrie.” He told me, apologetic. “I was afraid you’d blame me. And you’d be right to do it.”

“This is not your fault.” I said, louder. “Keeping me out of the loop on conversations about my life, that was your choice. And it was a bad one. But the changes that need to happen, those are not your choice. I know that.”

He nodded, almost reluctantly. 

“We can’t bring him back.” I said. “And we can’t stop my life from changing, it already has. But you can help me. You can help me be… good at this. Good enough that Louis would be proud of me.”

He nodded, took in a deep breath and ran his hand down his face, staring into the floor. He had never looked more tired. I sat back on my chair, hands in my lap, no longer closed in fists. I tried to calm my breathing, and to allow him time to decide where we should go next.

“Okay.” He said, after a while, nodding. “So, you want to be included.”

I sat up. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He nodded again. “I’ll make sure you’re more included going forward.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He sighed. “I don’t know what that means, Margueritte.”

“I want a meeting.” I said, bracing myself, trying to ignore the painful anxiety ache in my stomach. “With the whole staff, mine and whomever from yours needs to be there. I want… to be told, item by item, everything that needs to be different now. I want to understand why it needs to be different. I want to choose a new security team, to be headed by Joyce.”

“Joyce has been transferred, Margueritte.”

“Then transfer her back.” I insisted. “And Cadie, too.”

“Margueritte.” He sighed. “If you’re serious about understanding what your new role is, and I think you are, you’ll have to be prepared to accept that there are things that are out of your control. Sometimes, staff issues are one of them.”

“Then you can explain that to me… at the meeting. With our staff there, including Cadie.”

He sighed again. “You can’t fire Auguste.”

“We can discuss it in the meeting.” I repeated. “It’s more professional.”

He grinned, scratching his nose. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“The staff will need time to prepare material for a meeting this… itemized.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “It’s pretty early now, how about tomorrow night? That should give them time to prepare.”

He looked at his watch. “…I suppose.”

“Good.” I nodded. “Then it’s settled. Tomorrow. Six?”

He let out a long sigh, and nodded as he got to his feet. “You will have to be home. Will you be home?”

I gulped, looking around the room, already missing it. Realizing I would have to leave Harry’s clothes behind, pack up my bag, and travel back to being five hours away from him. Realizing I would have to sleep alone again. 

But I had been right before. I had to do a lot that I didn’t want to.

“I will.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: Extra long, meaty chapter! WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT ‘DONT MARRY HIM’ MOMENT???? And MM finally standing up for herself??? But now she has to leaaaaaaave??????????? Let me know what you think??? Thank you SO MUCH for reading, I cant thank you enough! What do you want to see next? <3 ]

[daddychims]

Offside Pt 9

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Masterlist!

Genre: Smut, Soccer AU, College AU

Pairings: Soccer Player! Jungkook X Sports Trainer! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Other BTS members all make a cameo as well because I’m an OT7 Trash!

You work as a sports trainer, providing basic first aid and injury management for the Hanguk University’s soccer team. Going with your mundane life of caring for the dozen of guys hurting themselves in the soccer game takes a turn when one of the guys catches your eyes. It’s not his breathtakingly good looks or his muscular athletic body usually seducing girls at the campus that catches your eyes. But the action plan in your kit, indicating he is diagnosed with Asthma is what draws your eyes time and time again to the Golden Boy of Hanguk University.

Warning: Slow burn, eventual smut, Taehyung being a freaking tease the whole time, Fuckboy!Jungkook, Asthmatic! Jungkook , mentions of episodes of Asthma, Take your Ventolin kids, Take your medications kids!

"J-Jeon," You breath heavily, the sensation of his hard member brushing against your thighs running a rush of arousal between your thighs "open the door!"

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk flying on the corner of his lips "Sure?" he asks, pressing himself against you and grinding his lower abdomen

"I-Aah-" you moan out when he finally touches you where you need the most, eyes widening at the realization that the lewd sound has finally left your lips "J-Jeon!"

"See?" He smirks as he continues traps you between his two veiny arms that rest just beside your head on the wall "You just gotta let go and enjoy it," he leans closer, lips pressing close to your ears "Trust me, I can make you feel so good, you'll forget everything."

"B-But Jeon-" you voice out the words weakly, every nerve In your body fighting against your logic for more stimulation

"Just like that baby, " he nods in approval as he traps your earlobe between his teeth and nibbles on the soft flesh "Call my name like that"

You close your eyes, his seductive voice and sinful action against your core making you lose a momentary control when a loud knock on the door snaps you back to the reality, and you immediately flinch against his touch.

"Jeon, your girl is asking if she should go home?"

You hear Taehyung's words yelling against the wooden door, your eyes wandering on the guy whose face is resting a few inches away from your neck, eyes hooded and dark.

"Tell her to go home," He yells in annoyed tone "I'm busy."

"No!" You immediately retract as you guard your arms up against his chest to establish the space he's trying to occupy "Jeon, Stop messing around and open this door! Seriously!"

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk flying on the corner of his lips "You sure?" he asks, rolling his hips skilfully against yours in attempt to change your mind

"I-" you breath out, struggling to form the words "I'm sure!" you nod, trapping your bottom lips between your teeth to prevent any further sounds leaving your lips

"Fine!" His expression hardens as he rests one hand on the side of your head while the other plays with the lock of the door, you watch as his eyes glance between you and the door lock, gaze dark and unimpressed as you just wait for him to finish his task.

You sigh in relief, feeling the pressure off your thighs as he finally ceases his misbehave down there and unlocks the door with a click.

"I guess I'll see you soon," you murmur the words weakly, in an attempt to fill out the awkward silence between you

"In two days," He confirms as he grabs your arm and pull you to the side to open the door

"Can we meet on campus?" you quickly ask, trying to prevent the future risks of being alone with him in his room again

"No, I don’t really want people to see us."

"Oh" you respond with the sound of disappointment, as something inside you sinks unexpectedly, so he's embarrassed to be seen with me, you think.

"Meet here?" he asks, breaking the silence as he looks at you with intrigued eyes

"S-Sure!" you nod reluctantly as you quickly avert your gaze and turn around to leave his room.

When you open the door, Taehyung is waiting outside looking at you with a mischievous smile

"Here they are," He flashes you his usual goofy smile before bringing his eyes to the girl beside him who's standing there staring at the two of you, more specifically at Jeon "I hope we didn’t get in the way of anything."

"Nah its alright, we're done."

You hear Jungkook's words and immediately turn around to look back at him with furrowed eyebrows at how quickly he changed his plan with you.

"What?" He asks raising an eyebrow as he rests his weight on the doorframe "Do you have anything else you wanna discuss?"

"No." You reply dryly, trying really hard to hide the roll in your eyes at his smug act

"Okay then," he nods as he reaches forward and grabs the girl's arm and pulls her inside his room, giving you one last smirk which is tainted with annoyance before shutting the door in your face.

"Woah!"

You hear Taehyung's comment but decide to just shrug it off as you make your way down the hallway, trying to hide your own emotional turmoil and the fact that you were about to fall for the fuckboy's act a few seconds ago.

"I thought you guys were up to something," you hear Taehyung's voice as he wraps his arm "But I guess even Hanguk's golden boy cant get into your pants Sugar."

"Why? You wanted to call dibs on his girl?" You look at him with a teasing smile  as you stand just before the entrance and look back at him "Sorry I ruined your plan Tae!" you fake pout

"Not exactly my plan," he smirks amused at your response as he leans closer against your lips "I was more thinking about joining the two of you." he wiggles his eyebrows

"Maybe you can join them?" You point at Jungkook's room, tone tinted with a slight saltiness that is foreign to your own ears

"Nah," he throws his shoulder up, hands reaching up to mess his freshly showered hair "Jungkook will probably take his anger off on the poor girl, don’t wanna get in his way."

"What? Why?" You furrow your eyebrows, gulping nervously as you hear his words

"So unfair," he murmurs as he arms wrap around your neck and pull you closer to his face as he looks into your eyes "You pissed him off, but the poor girl will be walking with a limp for a week," he then smirks as if he's imagining what will happen in that room as he mutters "I'm pretty sure she'll love it though!"

You just stare at him with lost eyes, a cold shiver running down your spine as you digest every single word when he finally releases his hold on your neck "See you at training, Sugar!" he waves as he turns around and walks down the hallway to his own room.

-

"I can't believe you woke me up at 7 AM on a Saturday morning for a professional development seminar."

You bring your eyes from the pamphlets in front of you to the whining guy who's sitting across you, sipping on his iced coffee

"Joon, I'm sorry but literally no one in my group of friends are nerd enough to do this with me," you pout as you quickly take a slice of the cake in between you on the table and bring it to his mouth

"So what's with the sudden interest in Exercise Induced Asthma?" He asks leaning closer to look at the piles of notes you made in the one hour seminar "I thought you don’t wanna work in Sports!"

"I still don’t," You nod as you try to avert your gaze clumsily "But you know, the job opportunities are limited and who knows what I'll get once I graduate. Just trying to keep my options open."

"Very convincing," he laughs "Even my dog knows you want nothing to do with sports physio since year 1. who are you trying to fool?"

"I-" you hesitate before quickly bringing your pinky finger "Swear you wont tell anyone?"

"Woah, this is more serious than I thought," he nods intertwining his pinky with you "what is it?"

"You know Jeon from Hanguk's soccer team?"

"Of course," he nods "Hanguk's Golden boy, who doesn’t know him?"

"He has asthma," you murmur, looking around to make sure no one is hearing you

"Oh, that …" his expression hardens as if he remembers not very foreign memories "I knew that," he averts his gaze as he continues "Earlier this year when we were doing the team admission, the school asked me to give them a hand in the selections."

"He applied for SNU?" your eyes widen in surprise "and then chose Hanguk over SNU? That doesn’t make sense!"

"Well no," he shakes his head "Both schools were trying to recruit him," he takes a sip of his coffee as he continues "they kept upping each other's offer trying to lure him in and in the end he chose SNU!"

"Then why is he in Hanguk now-"

 "A week after he applied for the team, SNU rejected him and that’s how he ended up In Hanguk's team."

"Why would SNU let him go? Weren't they trying to recruit him in the first place?" you immediately ask trying to connect the dots "Why …" your eyes widen at the sudden realization "because of his Asthma?"

"You did NOT hear it from me," he quickly warns "This is highly confidential information, they will kick me out of the school if they know I told anyone."

"Oh," you nod, biting the corner of your lips "so that’s what happened!"

"Yeah, its shame he couldn’t join our team. the guy has a lot of potential," he nods with a pout  "I was looking forward to having him."

"That's why he's so adamant about it," you whisper as things start to make sense in your head

"Why are you suddenly so interested in Jeon?"

Joon's question brings you back to the moment and you part your lips to answer when his pupils dilate

"Are you- OH MY GOD YOU'RE FUCKING HANGUK'S GOLDEN BOY!"

You bite your lips, sending an apologetic smile to a couple of people who are doing their work in the pleasant silence which is now disturbed thanks to your friend.

"Joon can you please keep it down?" You scold as you quickly cover the guy's lips

"Y/N, you cant!" he quickly pulls your eyes down and hold them as he looks at you with stern eyes "I'm not allowing this."

"I'm not sleeping with him," you rush the words trying to calm him down

"Then why?" his eyes widen again "Do you like him? YOU LIKE JEON?" he raises his voice again receiving another unpleasant glare from those around you

"No, Oh My God Joon can you please let me explain," you sigh as his expression finally softens and he nods "I've been given a homework by Dr Kim, the clinic's Sports medicine specialist to work on his medication before the games. That’s it!"

Joon furrows his eyebrows trying to put the new information in the context

"That’s why I wanted to go to this seminar today," you explain pointing at the pile of papers in front of you "I thought it might help me understand his condition better."

"Are you sure that’s it?" He asks after a few moments of pause "Jeon is a good guy on the field," he continues "But from what I heard he's the type that bets on his tally counter of girls he fucks in a week," he hesitates as he reads your expression "he's not your type of guy Y/N."

"Joon," you smile, heart warming at his words of warning "I live on Hanguk's campus, I've heard about his reputation. You have nothing to worry about me."

"You don’t really get what I mean," he sighs as he leans with a worried smile "I'm not worried about you," he hesitates, chewing his words as he adds "I'm worried about him and his effect on you."

You gulp nervously, the words of concern hitting differently this time. If you were quite honest, you were also worried about the golden boy's effect on yourself . No matter how tough you were, it was only a while before you gave in to his games if he really wanted to repeat what he did yesterday.

"I'll be fine, he doesn’t even look at girls like me," you quickly form the words, trying to not worry your best friend with your abnormally long silence "really Joon, don’t worry."

“If you say so,” He nods, still unconvinced by your reassuring words before he mutters "by the way, You don’t think you paid me back with just a cake and coffee, did you?"

"What?" You ask in a confused tone "I thought we're even now!"

"Incorrect," he shakes his head "Now that I accompanied you to your nerdy morning, you need to do me a favor!”

"I should have known," you sigh, staring back at the guy "You sounded too enthusiastic this morning, you planned this all along."

"I'm a man of passion," he says in a proud tone "I do anything to get what I want, even if that means waking up and dozing off in the most boring seminar of my life."

"It wasn’t that bad," you pout as you gather your papers "Fine, what time and where?"

"That’s my best friend," he grins through his teeth "I'll text you the dets."

[carnistirs]

retrouvailles

↳ @taangweek 2020 Day 4: Future

This one could go for past as well, but I’m dropping this today because the setting’s technically in the future. Here’s 7k+ words of Aang and Toph being soulmates.  

Read it on ao3 or under the cut

retrouvailles {French} the happiness you feel upon reuniting with someone after you've been apart for a long time

‘

“Are you alright, miss?” a voice asks, soft in the clamor of the snack aisle—

It’s violent, the way Toph’s ripped away from her little daydream, and her body’s still flinching as her eyes and ears slowly readjust to the people around her. There are no flying bisons and wingled lemurs here because they don’t exist, because she’s in a goddamn grocery store.

She tiredly lifts her gaze up – all the way up – to an angelic figure leaning over her, what with the lovely features and the bright light brimming around his shaved head. He’s all broad shoulders and lithe muscles and effulgent tattoos, and even though he looks like an incredibly kind person, something about him sets her teeth on edge. Like she should know him by now even if she’s never met this man in her life.

“Was I blocking you,” she replies, unable to help the flatness of her voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Toph moves to walk around him, oddly reluctant.

“No, wait—” the guy blurts out, panicked, his nimble fingers reaching out to curl lightly around her shoulder blade—

And they say it’s like nothing else matters, that touching your soulmate for the first time is like sating a hunger you never knew you had.

She’s always thought that was a fat load of bullshit – what, you meet the stranger that’s supposed to be your other half and it’s happily ever after just like that? – but here she is, a hypocrite to her own thoughts.

Toph hones in on the warmth that’s molded around the curve of her shoulder, feeling a far too pleasant burn smear its way down her spine. She leans away from the stranger by a few inches, just to test it their limits, but fuck, it hurts. She’s met him for a total of three minutes and the sensation of not touching him already leaves her with an ache she can’t even begin to understand.

He makes a hurt noise in his throat when she leans away, jarred by the abruptness of their separation. His hands follow after her, touching the points of her elbows this time, and Toph feels the tremor in his hands, hears the quickness in his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, tightening his fingers around her skin. “I know we don’t know each other, but—”

“This is so stupid,” Toph groans, but she’s slipping a palm over his wrist thoughtlessly, touching the thrum of his pulse. “Why a fucking Walmart of all places?”

Her soulmate’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Why not a Walmart?”

Because it’s the lamest place ever, she wants to say, but then she catches his smile and she stutters to a stop. She gazes at his pretty grey eyes and knows them, has seen them in multiple lifetimes.

(It’s you reverbrates in the space of her chest that used to be hollow, that used to be a void tundra.)

There’s a soulmark on her forearm now – long, golden vines with leaves that twist into the complimentary ones wrapped around his own skin, and the longer they touch, the more intertwined their vines become. It’s both thrilling and unsettling since, so far, Toph’s lived through twenty years of her life with a bare forearm.  

“So,” Toph ends up mumbling, because she knows where this is going to lead and because someone has to eventually, “your place or mine?”

‘

“Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?”

“I don’t see why not.”

‘

Her soulmate’s name is Aang, a vegan pacifist whose happiness seems endless, and the while he’s chirping to her about his life like an excited hummingbird, she finds it harder to fathom why the fates specifically chose him for her.

“I’m talking way too much about myself,” he chuckles in embarrassment, pink dusting over his cheeks.

Shrugs. “I asked.”

Aang’s curled up with her on his couch – his apartment had been closer -  idly playing with one of her hands. Their tea sits on the coffee table, cold and forgotten, but she’s too stupidly inebriated with the feeling of his hands on her own to care. Toph doesn’t mind the constant touching, surprisingly. It feels so much better than anything else, and there’s this still moment where they watch his vines crawl from his fingers over to hers.

“What about you?” He’s close enough for his cheek to brush her shoulder. “Tell me about yourself? Pretty please?”

“I’m an art student,” she grins back, unwittingly, at his enthusiasm. “I go to BSSU.”

He positively beams at this. “I go there too! Why is it that I’ve never seen you around campus before?

“Different curriculum maybe?

Toph feels the heat of his gaze wandering everywhere, stiffening slightly only when it drops to the puckered skin on her right leg. “Is there a story behind this?” she hears him ask quietly, his fingers hovering over the scar, but not quite touching it.

“You’re going to think I’m fucking crazy.”

“Try me.” Aang’s isn’t sporting that bright smile anymore, but his face has softened completely. “If you want, that is. You don’t have to tell me.”

It’s strange and new and terrifying, but he’s a gentle breeze in their bond, surrounding her without suffocating her, smoothing over the points of her body that are maybe a little too rough, a little too jagged.

“Well, there’s this forest near the house I grew up in,” Toph starts, drumming her fingers along his soulmark. “I walked through it so many times that I practically memorized it. I really thought I could navigate myself through the forest blind, so I put on a blindfold—”

(The darkness doesn’t welcome her, not the way she wants it to.

Her bare feet press into the earth and she doesn’t feel the vibrations of the earth moving around her, doesn’t hear the songs of squirrels skittering up the old trees, of worms writhing in the dirt. She feels disconnected from everything, small and insignificant.

She carefully glides along the flat surface of the boulders, but misses her next step, falls down and keeps falling—)

“Anyway, now I have a permanent reminder of how much of a dumbass I was,” she says, half bemused, half self-depreciating.

But Aang opens his arms, his face silently pleading, and she hesitates a little. Her soulmate is a stranger wrapped in odd, familiar skin and when they’re pressed together, it’s like they’re speaking an old, sacred language only their bones know.

They should be in bed right now like most soulmate couples their age – or at least kissing, maybe - but she supposes she’ll fail at that too amongst other things.

So, Toph leans in, biting back a satisified hum when his arms coil around her shoulders. He smells like clean laundry and a hint of cinnamon, and when he sighs in content, she feels her muscles relax.

“I like to stand on the edges of high places,” Aang noses against her hair, probably unaware that’s he’s doing it too. “My friends can’t stand it when I do it, but I can’t help it. I never have the urge to actually jump,” he adds in a small laugh, “but I like to imagine that there would be a way for me to somehow catch myself if I do. Then I remember that it’s not possible and I feel this...incredible loss.”

An unexplainable loss you never had in the first place. Yeah, she gets it.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” His eyes languidly trail after the uplifted bend of her mouth. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

There’s an anxious spike of hope blooming in the pit of Toph’s stomach and it’s not coming from her. She doesn't exactly know how she knows this either, but it's all Aang she's feeling.

It’s coming from him.  

Which is ridiculous because Toph shouldn’t be able to feel him like that. Soulmates don’t work like that. There’s soulmarks and the constant need to be close, but not this invasion of other people’s emotions—

“Yeah, sure,” she says.

Everything is okay. Everything is fine.

Get a fucking grip.

‘

“Some bonds only need an hour of touching and they’re okay for the whole week,” she says at the threshold of his front door, lingering. “Maybe we’re like that? I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

“O-Okay,” Aang stutters, brows furrowed, looking like he really wants to follow after her like an imprinted duckling.

Toph lets go of his hand then and the sharp sting she feels should have been taken as a warning. She takes a step back though, forcing herself to play dumb to his white fingers clenched around the door frame and the sudden pallor of his face.

Her fingers tingle in a particularly awful way as she waves goodbye to him and the discomfort is rudimentary, really. It’s nothing she can’t handle, considering she’s had worse done to her skin.

She makes it as far as the turn of the hallway, right when Aang’s out of her view.

Pain grips at her right arm and the numbness flares outward, careening her into the wall. She can’t fucking breathe because it feels like her lungs are being scraped out by a rusty spoon, like her ribs are being branded by hot iron—

Aang barrels into her at a frightening speed and they go teetering to the floor, but he curls his body around hers protectively, possessively, breaking her fall. He’s mouthing something frantic against the hollow of her throat, but she can’t hear it because she’s too overwhelmed by the sensation of his pain pressing down on top of hers.

Whatever she’d felt earlier is vaulting back tenfold and it’s so strange to feel her own emotions looped back to her through a feedback that’s experienced through him. She feels him desperately wanting to take away the unseen hurt throbbing in her while trying to compress his own down and, gods, this isn’t normal.

“Um,” Toph whispers, her voice trembling with her body as she clings to him. “Okay, that was a dumb idea. I’m sorry—”

“Maybe you should stay with me for a couple of days—”

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “We have school. How are we going to do—”

“There’s an exemption form we could fill out online. It’s for soulmates who have recently bonded. It’ll get us out of classes, just – please, please don’t leave.”

“I don’t have extra clothes on me or a toothb—”

“You can borrow my clothes. You’ll drown in them because you’re so tiny,” Aang laughs, hoarse, sliding shaking fingers into her unbound hair. “And I have an extra toothbrush you can use. We’ll figure it out, Toph, please.”

What the fuck, what the fuck—

“Alright.” She closes her eyes, surrendering herself to raw instinct by sticking her nose to the skin underneath his jaw. “I’ll stay.”

‘

“Choose well. A sky bison is a companion for life.”

He’s holding an apple in his hands and his legs are jittery – like it’s impossible for him to stay still. The baby bisons are circling their mother in the air and his breath catches because he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

There’s a small bison just a few feet away, looking like it’s waiting for him. It appears to be the runt of the litter, but that’s okay because he’s the smallest in his class too. If it accepts him, then perhaps they can grow together.

Biting his lip, he carefully approaches the small bison and offers the apple to it.

It – no, the bison is a he – sniffs the fruit along with his extended hand before opening his mouth expectantly.

He tosses the apple in and allows himself to pet the bison on the nose while the latter chews. He doesn’t expect the bison to nuzzle into his touch with a pleased rumble, but the creature does anyway, leaning too far in until he loses his balance and falls on his rear end. The bison licks at the whole of his face, pulling happy giggles from his mouth and he knows, then and there, that he’s found the one.

“I guess this means we’ll always be together,” he smiles wide, hands rubbing on either side of the creature’s muzzle—

‘

Toph blinks awake to find herself plastered to Aang’s back with both of her arms snaked around his chest. One of his hands is clasped in hers, their fingers twined, and she has a leg thrown over his hip as if she’s slept with him like this their whole lives.

His bedroom is small and simple, but there’s a slight airiness to it that reminds her of the temple in her dreams – or not dreams, apparently. She sees this temple in the sky in quick flashes while she’s awake too, and if they don’t show her in the company of monks, then it’s always with that six-legged bison.

“I can hear you thinking,” Aang mumbles sleepily.

She presses her face to his shoulder. “Shit, did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, you waking up actually yanked me out of sleep too.” Gently tightens his fingers around hers, reassures her that he’s not upset. “It’s not a big deal. What’s bothering you?”  

I think I’m seeing your memories from a past life never quite leaves Toph’s mouth.

“Nah, it’s nothing.”

And maybe that’s the wrong thing to say because Aang just turns in her hold and exhales into her neck, slipping his arms around her waist. His fingers tease the hem of a shirt that’s too big on her and he asks in a hushed tone if it’s okay. Toph nods, her skin shivering in loose delight once his palm slides underneath the shirt to splay itself flat against the small of her back.

The moonlight peeking through the curtains shows her one side of his face – the argent in his eyes, the fan of his inky lashes, the indent of his cheekbone. Objectively, he’s stunning, so she could have done a whole lot worse.  

“You know I can tell you’re lying, right?” The corner of Aang’s mouth lifts, amused. “I can feelthat something’s wrong.”

“Can we just—” Opens her mouth and shuts it, frustrated inside. He rubs his thumb in calming circles against Toph’s skin and she still doesn’t know if she likes how one touch can clear her muddled thoughts just like that. “Can we just pretend that we don’t have some weird telepathic-empathic thing between us? Just for tonight at least? Fuck, it’s a lot to unpack on the first day.”

His hurt is muffled, but it’s there and she feels it her chest, taking root. “You think it’s weird?” he whispers, sounding like an open wound.

“Doesn’t this freak you out?”

“Yes, of course it does.”

But underneath the blanket of her own emotions, she senses fear for this bond. Fear at the thought of Toph rejecting him so quickly. She tightens her leg over his hip instinctively, telling him no, she’s not rejecting him. She doesn’t think that’s even possible at this point.  

He presses a smile into her clavicle, relieved. “Do you remember dinner? When you were groaning after taking the first few bites of the pasta?”

Toph blushes. “Don’t make fun of me! I didn’t know artichoke sauce was even thing!” Or so delicious. “I was caught off guard, okay?”

“You were happy eating what I made for you and I felt that happiness,” Aang says, so soft. “It felt beautiful. You felt beautiful, Toph.”

(And I’d give you the whole world to keep you happy forever, he sings into her veins even if he doesn’t realize it yet, even if he’s just as scared and lost as she is.)

What an optimstic fool he is. “I might drive you nuts,” Toph throws back instead.

“Oh, I know you will.”

She pinches Aang’s side, cackling at his high-pitched shriek even when the sharpness of her index finger and thumb on his skin echoes against her own.

‘

“Where the hell have you been!”

“Chill, Sparky,” is Toph’s lazy response as she waltzes into her apartment, leading Aang in by their tangled fingers. “I texted you.”

“‘Be back in a week, dude’ doesn’t give me much to go by. A fucking week? You could have been dead for all I knew!”

“Stop projecting your sibling issues onto me. I’m here, aren’t I? Besides, when you found Sokka and Suki, the three of you didn’t leave your room for more than a week, you dirty hyprocrite!”

“At least you knew where I was the whole—” Zuko abruptly closes his mouth, his gaze darting to the towering man at Toph’s heels. “Aang? Wait, how do you two know each other?”

Toph lifts both their arms, showing him the fresh knitted vines gleaming on their skin. “He’s my soulmate. How do you two know each other?”

“I know Sokka and Sukki,” Aang chimes in cheerfully. “Wow, what a small world, huh?”

“How’d you two—”

“Anyway,” she interrupts brashly, not in the mood to retell their romantic, fateful meeting at Walmart, “Aang’s gonna be staying here for a week and then I’ll go back to his place for another week, and so on and blah blah. At least until the bond settles. You get it. Let us know when dinner’s ready,” she adds, practically yanking at Aang until they’re both confined in her bedroom.

Aang taps the end of her nose. “That was mean.”

“Please,” Toph makes a point of rolling her eyes. “Zuko barely said a word to me after touching the other two. They burst into the apartment like a fucking hurricane, almost doing it right there in our living room. So fucking rude.”  

‘

She’s in the shower when she suddenly feels absolute terror choking at her, nearly making her slip on the tiles.

Toph barely wraps herself up in a towel before she’s barging out of the bathroom, extremely thankful that her room’s close by. Aang’s on the floor, back leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, quivering fingers curled around one of her older sketchbooks. Aang blindly reaches for her when she approaches, pulling her down onto his lap and burying half of his face into her shoulder blade.

“Is my art that terrifying?” Toph tries to joke, but he doesn’t even smile.

The drawing had been done in charcoal, dark and blurry around the edges, and she almost doesn’t remember drawing it. There’s an enormous centipede thing crawling out of a cave, its legs reaching out to take, to steal. The only colors on the sketch are the red lips and the grey eye markings of the Noh mask it’s wearing on its face, but she’s not sure if that makes it better or worse.  

Aang’s voice is a quiet, little thing when he asks, “Where did you see this creature?”

(“My old friend, the Avatar,” the monster utters in a serpentine hiss. “It’s been a long time.”

“You know me?”

“How could I forget you? One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me,” it accuses, the white mask flickering into the face of an older man with a mustache and a long beard, “maybe eight or nine hundred years ago.”

“I didn’t know that.” It’s difficult, keeping his emotions out of both his face and voice. “Why did he – or I – try to kill you?”

The thing changes again – a beautiful woman this time, with long brown hair and familiar, sad eyes.  

“Oh, it was something about stealing the face of someone you loved.”)

“A nightmare, I think,” Toph answers carefully. “Actually, you know what—”

She rips the page out of the sketchbook and crumples it tightly in her first. It feels like an ugly omen against her palm, riddled with malice and sadism, and she chucks it into her trash can.  

“You didn’t have to do that. That was your work,” Aang murmurs, his guilt gnawing at her.

“It was a creepy-ass drawing. I don’t know what I was thinking when I drew that.” Pause. “I have better stuff on my desktop if you want to look.”

He kisses her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “I hope the creatures on there are less frightening.”

“Don’t be such a wuss. Wanna see what a badgermole looks like?”

‘

After their soulbond settles, they’ve learned that they can get through the day by themselves relatively alright as long as there was skin-to-skin contact for at least an hour beforehand. It no longer hurts to be away from Aang, but it is uncomfortable as fuck, like an itch burning inside that’s screaming at her to scratch it until it’s bloody and raw.

Which is fine.

So ridiculously fine.

The lecture is a drone in the back of Toph’s mind as she doodles along the corner of her notebook page to take her mind off the itch. The mintiness of the gum she’s snacking on ebbs away suddenly, turning into something vastly different.

She chews again, tasting raspberries, fruit juice, bananas, and...almond milk?

Aang is waiting for her outside the door when her class ends and as soon as he sees her, his entire face lights up like the sun. His content rolls over Toph in a soothing whisper and she subconsciously mimics his smile, her body humming with want.

In spite of the protesting noise she makes, Aang scoops her up in his arms until her feet are dangling above the ground. He nuzzles his cheek to hers, his breath warm against the ridge of her ear, and he twirls them once because he can’t help himself. She hisses at him to put her down, but it doesn’t really bother her as it normally would with literally anyone else.  

“Did you have a smoothie?” Toph asks.

“Yeah.” He keeps his hands pasted to her hips, his eyes bright with excitement. “I tasted the gum you were chewing earlier.”

“I want to say that I’m surprised, but am I really at this point?”

A deep chuckle as he cups her face in his palms. “Don’t be so glum. Think of all the possibilities! What if you’re really hungry, but you don’t have time to get food because you’re taking a test or something? I could eat something and you’d be able to taste it.”

“Oh, yeah, super cool. What if you’re hungry and I decide to get a hamburger?”

He blinks, his grin faltering. “I’m vegan, Toph. You know that—”

“You’re not actually eating it – you’re only getting a taste. Like you said, all the possibilities. You ever want to try a steak? Or a milkshake with actual milk?”

Toph bites back a smile, doing a poor job of concealing how much she really enjoys it when he gets all flustered.

‘

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“You drunk already?” Sokka passes a bemused glance at her. “I don’t remember you being that much of a lightweight.”

It’s warm in the bar – she can tell by the slight flush on Sokka’s cheeks that has nothing to do with being intoxicated – but Toph still burrows her nose deeper into the wool scarf coiled around her neck, still tightens her coat around her. Aang may be on the other side of the city, but he’s somewhere outdoors, somewhere cold, and the alcohol isn’t making her any warmer.

Aang doesn’t do well in colder weather, but he’s having fun with his friends even if he’s getting the both of them sick. She can feel him missing her, missing the press of her fingers on his skin even though they’d seen each other hours ago.  

“You have two soulmates,” Toph grumbles. “The idea of past lives shouldn’t be that fucking implausible.”

His shoulder gently bumps against hers. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset—”

“Okay, okay, let’s start over,” Sokka smiles at her, completely genuine and not at all mocking. “Why do you suddenly believe in reincarnation?”

“I have these dreams,” she says, her brows knitting together as she curls her hands tighter around her glass. “Well, I used to think they were dreams, but then I’d see something while I’m awake. They’re always about Aang in this completely different life and it’s like I’m a passenger in his body, just going through the motions.”  

“And you think these things are actually his memories from a past life.”  

Toph exhales quietly, the lines of her body losing their tautness. She feels mildly less insane now that someone’s acknowledged it for her.

“They feel too real to just be my imagination. It’s always him in the same timeline.”

Sokka hums, thoughtful. “Maybe they are his memories, Toph. Who knows? Soulbonds can’t be explained, but people accept them anyway. For what it’s worth, I believe you.”

“If this is you making fun of me, I swear to—”

“No, I really mean it! Like, if I didn’t end up with Suki and Zuko – or either of them – in a previous life and reincarnation’s just a thing that’s giving me a second chance to actually be with them, then that’s pretty cool. Fate’s doing me a solid.”

“Second chances,” Toph muses, more to herself than anything.

“Yeah, why not?” He downs the rest of his glass. “On a side note, what else are you feeling from Aang since the bond started? Something tells me you guys are...not normal.”

Toph starts to respond, but then she hunches over the counter, shoulders shaking. It slams into her out of nowhere and she has to clamp both her hands over her mouth to muffle the uncontrollable laughter. She’s yanked further and further into Aang’s joy, feeling it so keenly that the corners of her eyes begin to prickle with tears.

“What is happening,” Sokka blurts, alarmed and concerned. “Are you having a stroke—”

“One of Aang’s friends did something stupid and funny,” she hiccups out in short breaths, still guffawing. “It might – it might have been Bumi.”

Sokka gawks at her, frozen in place. He then orders another round of drinks for the both of them.

‘

Monk Gyatso lies against the wall, just bones and dust, and the omniscient rage of a thousand lives sinks down on him—

‘

The weight of his grief completely buries Toph, so much that she collapses in a public restroom. Her fingers scrabble at the tiles beneath her, desperate to clutch onto something, anything, as the memory consumes her. Something vibrates in her pocket for a long, long time, but she’s too busy screaming soundlessly into her palm to notice.

Panic slips into Toph, making her blood run cold, and the longer she ignores her phone, the more frenetic her soulmate feels—

“Toph?” is his voice on the other line, wildly frantic, when she finally answers the call. “Did someone hurt you? What’s wrong, where are—”

“I—” Her breath comes out in harsh pants. “It’s o-okay. You don’t need to come.”

Rustling, like Aang’s already preparing to step out. “No, no, that’s not what it feels like,” he argues softly, and now there’s pain in his voice because she won’t let him come to her, won’t let him take care of her—

Her chest squeezes tighter, aching. “I slipped. I’m, uh, good now.”

“Toph, please.” His voice breaks and she screws her eyes shut, tasting saltwater in her mouth. “Please let me come to you. Tell me where you are.”

So she whispers back that she’s at the tea shop near their school, the one owned by Zuko’s uncle.

Aang rushes into the women’s restroom ten minutes later – a feat in itself, considering the usual commute is twice that amount – and she’s never wanted him to see her like this, hunched under one of the sinks and sobbing over a memory that isn’t even hers.

He sucks in a sharp breath like Toph’s pain cleaves him. His eyes are red-rimmed and she can’t even look at him because she’s so sorry. She’s sorry that he’s lost his people, sorry that he’s lost his home, sorry that he’s lost his entire culture.

The way he stalks over to her is noiseless, ghostlike even, and then he’s plucking up all the bird bones of Toph’s body, folding himself around her and concealing her from the rest of the world. It makes her cry harder, if anything, to the point where she’s dry-heaving against his chest, but it helps when she pushes her hands under his shirt to touch the tight skin around his hips.

She tells him everything. That he was raised by Air Nomads in another life. That he was something called the Avatar. That they lived in a world where people could manipulate the elements as they pleased.

That they lived during a long, long war.

“You controlled the element of air first,” Toph rasps out later, when it finally doesn’t feel like her lungs are going to give out on every inhale. “You and Appa got caught in this storm, and then you did something that left you frozen at the bottom of an ocean. Katara and Sokka found you, but when you came back to the Southern Air Temple, everyone was dead and it had only felt like you left days ago, but a fucking century passed—”

To his credit, Aang doesn’t once ask who Appa is or what the Southern Air Temple is supposed to be. His heart beats faster and his skin jolts at the familiarity of her words, but he holds her still.

“Breathe, T,” he says, rocking her, sweeping her dark hair away from her neck so that he can kiss the small space behind her ear.

She does. Inhales for four seconds, exhales for six—

It’s a breathing technique that Monk Gyatso had taught Aang. Had taught her.

Their soulmarks cling to each other distressingly, her aurelian leaves and vines overlapping his.

“Do you ever dream of me?” Toph asks, calmer.

“I have many daydreams about you.” And that’s mischief slanted against her nape, rounded out by his mouth. He’s soft and playful now, making her sink further into his embrace. “When your memories come to me, I don’t actually see anything.”

Tries not to be too disappointed. “Oh.”

“No,” Aang smudges a smile against the corner of her mouth, gently thumbing a tear-stained cheek. “You were blind in your last life, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t see. You didn’t need to. You felt these vibrations in the earth and it allowed you to see and hear things no one else could. You were the greatest earthbender that ever lived.”

“She sounds way cooler than me.”

He tips her face up. “You’re just as cool as she is,” Aang breathes, and there’s a brush of lips against hers, slow and sweet. “Just as beautiful.”

(I found you again, her soul thrums out, the loudest it’s ever been inside her.)

Toph twists in his arms, chasing after his mouth. It’s almost too much and not enough at the same time, tasting his honeyed delight and feeling it mingle with her own. His hands shove themselves up her sweater to frame the space of her back as he parts his mouth, allowing her to—

“Gee, it looks like you guys are fine in here,” comes a monotonous drawl that has them breaking apart, sputtering. “And here I was, worried for no apparent reason.”

“Mai!” Aang practically yells, his ears turning beet red. “When did you – why are—”

The other girl waves a dismissive hand. “Toph and I were going over work. What was supposed to be a five-minute restroom break turned into a forty-minute one,” she adds pointedly, raising a brow.  

“Sorry,” Toph says sheepishly. “I had a thing. Like a panic attack or whatever. It’s gone now, so no biggie.”

Aang, severely disagreeing with her on that last statement, wraps her up tighter in his arms.

“We’ll continue tomorrow,” Mai says then, and it may just be Toph’s imagination, but she thinks she sees the former’s face soften a bit. “Get some rest.”  

After Mai leaves, Aang plays with her loose hair. “We should probably leave too.”  

“Yeah.”

But Toph’s leaning in, pausing only a few inches away from his lips and grinning when he automatically closes the distance. She feels that buzzing of happiness again and whether it’s his or hers, it doesn’t matter.

‘

Aang’s shoulders are still quivering as he drops shaky, open-mouthed kisses along the crease of her hip. He’s been pulled apart to pieces, beautifully and painstakingly, and the remnants of bliss still drumming within him makes it slow to put those pieces back together.

She only knows because she feels the exact same way. She feels everything.

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else.” His voice is wrecked and his lips are so kiss-swollen, but he’s still this hopelessly exotic thing sprawled between her legs. There’s an indelible glaze to his to expression that makes him look so thoroughly fucked, and when he rests his chin on her stomach and looks up at her with soft, needy eyes, something inside her chest just melts.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Toph husks out with a laugh.

“Yeah, why didn’t we,” he murmurs back, still loopy, nosing the skin around her navel.  

Toph strokes her fingers along the arrow inked on his head, pulling a quiet mewl from him. The arrow tattoos on his body are the same design, the same placement – just the wrong shade of blue. These lines are darker than the ones she sees in his memories.

Maybe the effervesent, illuminating blue that once marked Aang as an airbendering master doesn’t exist in this world.

“Can you skip your classes tomorrow?” he asks.

“Why?”

His answer is a trail of wet kisses up the flat stretch of her belly. “Because I want to keep doing this.”

“Really.” Toph plays off as nonchalant, even when her heart skips a beat. “You want to render us incapable of walking by the time we’re done?”

“Toph, I don’t think I’m able to walk now,” Aang chuckles, before looking up at her from beneath his lashes, coy. “But I still want you in my bed whether we’re having sex or not. I just want you.”

His want reverbrates in the apex of Toph’s thighs and she wishes she can be as open as he is. She wants him in her bed forever, but the words become stifled in her throat, never leaving her mouth. He smiles at her though, tender and adoring, like he knows what she’s trying to say.  

She rolls them over, straddling his hips. Gratification seeps into her at the way his pupils dilate, at the way he takes her in breathlessly.

‘

He’s upset – so very, very upset – and she doesn’t know why.

Toph feels it two blocks away from his apartment and it spurs her to walk faster, to the point where she’s running.

After letting herself in, she finds Aang leaning over the kitchen counter, the stiff lines of his back obvious through his thin shirt. She leans her back against the counter and presses her elbow to the nimble fingers constricted around dark granite.

“What’s up, grumpy?”

Her soulmate breathes out noisily, his shoulders bunching forward like he’s trying to make himself much smaller than he is. He doesn’t turn to face her, doesn’t immediately trap her in his arms like he usually would after a long day apart. He leans against her though, heavy, part of him trying to disappear into the pale abyss of her skin.

“We weren’t married to each other,” Aang whispers, horrified. “I was married to someone else. A non-bender, I think. I don’t recognize her voice.”

And there’s really no point in getting angry with Aang or this mystery woman because the past is the past, but jealousy festers anyway, scratching at her bones. She tries to taper down it to keep him from feeling it, but he flinches, looking even more miserable than before.

She tries for apathy then: “So? It was in the past – a past we’re only barely starting to get details from.”

“But I was still seeing you. I had kids with this woman, but I was still sneaking around with you—”

“Okay, so I was a side chick. Whatever, that’s fine—”

“It’s not fine,” a muscle in his jaw jumps, “none of this was fine. I’m seeing this from your persepective, remember? You weren’t okay with this.”

“Why does it fucking matter?” Toph spits, a small part of her regretting it when Aang’s mouth pinches into a thin line. “Maybe we never got together. Maybe sex on the the side was our only option. Whatever the fuck we did in that lifetime, it’s got nothing to do with what we have in this one!”

(“She’s beautiful,” he murmurs, gazing down at the newborn. “Did you decide on a name?”  

“Suyin’s kind of pretty. Has a nice ring to it.”

Tightly swallows. “Toph, is she – is she mine?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman in bed mumbles. “It’s not your problem.”

“But—”

“I’m not repeating myself, Twinkletoes. And she doesn’t belong to anyone but me.”)

Then Aang grazes her side with feather-light hands, silently asking for permission. She’s still bristling in her skin, but he makes the frustration and shame go away with just a brush of his palms on her body.

She wants to stay mad at him, wants to stew in silence all by herself, but she physically can’t, not when he’s already made a home for himself in the space of her ribs.

Toph pulls him in with an incoherent grumble, binding her arms around his torso to anchor him back to earth because he feels like he’s going to float away. He shivers against her, mouthing soft apologies against the column of neck as he clings onto her. Even on her tiptoes, her head barely reaches his chin, but she leans on them anyway because she doesn’t want him breaking his neck trying to bury himself in hers.

“Maybe I leave my wife when our kids are older,” he says, his teeth scraping over her shoulder. “I leave her for you.”

“You really think that happened?”

“Yes,” comes Aang’s response, but even that sounds a little unsure. Like he desperately wants it to be true. The uncertainity makes him press into her until there’s no visible space left between them. “Why wouldn’t I do that for you? We’re soulmates. I don’t believe in any lifetime where you’re not always by my side.”

Toph rolls her eyes. “You’re such an embarassing idiot sometimes.”

Aang smiles, his tongue flicking against her jawline. Heat simmers at the pit of Toph’s stomach, rising languidly, and his hands are at the back of her thighs. “I need you,” he sighs, catching her mouth with his.

“I know, you dumb airhead.”  

She quickly finds herself hoisted onto the counter before she’s tipping her head back, letting him unbutton her flannel and kiss his way down—

‘

“Don’t worry,” Katara says. “We’ll find you a teacher. There are plenty of amazing earthbenders out there.”

There’s a deep wrongness in him as he stares back at Gaoling. Like he’s making a mistake by just giving up and leaving—

“Not like her.”

After he climbs onto Appa with reluctance, he doesn’t immediately lift the reins. Sometimes, there are rewards to being patient, to sitting still and letting the winds carry their answers to you. When he listens to the currents around him, he catches a flurry of hurried footsteps headed in their direction.

Delicate hope grows in his chest.

“Toph!” Happiness etches itself onto his face, wide and open, when the small girl runs out of the forest. “What are you doing here?”

“My dad changed his mind. He said I was free to travel the world.”

It’s a bold-faced lie.

But when Toph smiles, something inside his own stomach flutters wildly—

‘

“Are you alright, miss?” a voice asks, waking her, his mouth lightly tracing the curve of her ear.

“Fuck off,” Toph mumbles, still face down on the table, in spite of her fingers reaching out to rest along the nape of his neck. The taste of coffee – the strong kind – lingers on her tongue. “M’ tired. Why’d you drink coffee? And a goddamn red eye at that.”  

Aang tugs at her hair teasingly. “Because I almost fell asleep while driving over here to get you.”

“Ugh, you’re going to keep me up all night.”

“I can think of a few things we could do to pass the time,” Aang smirks, nuzzling his nose along her cheekbone. “Or, well, one specific thing actually—”

Toph snorts. “Dork.”

He snatches her up, fingers digging into her side as he drags her onto his lap. Peals of laughter escape her while he tickles her relentlessly, so much that the harder she laughs, the more she feels him eventually shaking with laughter too, amplifying the sensation. One of the campus librarians shushes them sharply and she feels Aang hiding his face into her throat to escape the blame.

“What’s that?” he inquiries out of nowhere then, reaching for something on the table—

“No snooping!” Toph hisses without any real heat, swatting his hand out of the way to shove the tiny book into her backpack.

It’s a flipbook that she’s still working on, showing Aang peacefully bending all four elements. She had originally wanted to illustrate him kicking Ozai’s ass, but she doubts he would like the violence of it, so she’d gone with this instead.

Aang perks up in excitement. “Is it for me? My birthday’s in a couple of weeks, you know.”

Rolls her eyes. “Just wait and find out, Twinkletoes.”

She stands up in an attempt to gather her things, but as soon as she does, the feeling of a thousand pins pricking at her legs washes over.

“Your legs are numb,” Aang glances over with both bemusement and sympathy, on the verge of discomfort himself. “Here, I’ll carry you.”

“Nah, let’s just wait—”

But Aang pulls her arms over his shoulders, picking Toph up until she’s literally hanging onto his back, before he grabs her backpack. She hates being picked up in any manner, but it’s a losing battle with a cheerfully persistant soulmate like him. She yanks on the lobes of his ears, but he just grins, hitching her body higher.

“Yip-yip,” Toph says.

“Do I look like a flying bison to you?”

“You’re right, that was a terrible comparison,” she replies. “Appa is obviously a hundred times better than you.”

Aang makes an affronted noise, but Toph rests her head on his shoulder blade and kisses the elegant line of his neck, placating him. The brisk air hits her face once he walks out of the library and Toph tucks her face harder into his skin.  

“I had a dream that you were looking for someone to teach you earthbending,” she whispers, wistful and smug. “You wouldn’t settle for anyone but me. Said I was the best out of all of them.”

“There’s no one else like you,” Aang replies easily, thumbing nonsensical patterns under her thighs.

He’d said that in his past life as well.

“Hey, Aang?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think we ended up together.” Because the snippets of his memories where he’s an adult are a lot sadder, filled with such hurt and longing. “I think we might have crashed and burned.”

Aang breath falters in her ear and he grips her harder, refusing to lose her to their past failures, to whatever broke them.

“We’ll do better this time, T.”

‘

(And they do.)

‘ [end notes: 

BSSU = Ba Sing Se University

To clarify, what's normal for soulmates in this universe - (1) soulmarks appear as soon as soulmates touch each other (2) the need to be touching - the limits of this can vary with every soulmate bond, it all just depends.

As you can see with Aang and Toph, they obviously have a lot more going on with the XD

I hope this wasn't too confusing with the way Toph was receiving Aang's memories. Anything in italics was her seeing a memory. If anything was in parenthesis, that meant that Toph experienced the memory before the present time. Let me know if the italicized text isn’t showing like it does on the ao3 link. Tumblr’s being shitty for some reason. 

If this was all confusing anyway, go ahead and yell at me]

[imagine-loki]

The Naughty Poltergeist

TITLE :The Naughty Poltergeist

CHAPTER: #1 of ?

AUTHOR'S: lokilover9 & velvetzybanshee

RATING: M

NOTES: This one shot is based on Loki having paid penance for ruining Thor's coronation. He never fell from the bifrost, nor attacked earth and is now free. Not to discount his true history, we just thought he deserved some happy. As for Felipe, he's based on the Spanish character Agador Spartacus, from the movie  The Birdcage and speaks in broken english. 

EXTRAS: Madre = mother  niña = girlfriend  panocha = pussy

Original Imagine  

Imagine thinking your new house is haunted. No one knows Loki lives there because he's always invisible and conjures furniture as needed. Disgruntled by your presence, he behaves like a poltergeist until one day you've had enough."I'm not leaving! Show yourself dammit!" Nothing happens for days and you think he's gone. Then while giving friends a tour, you find him naked on your bed drinking whiskey. "Cheers, darling. You did say show myself." Only you can see him and he follows you around like that for the remainder of their visit.

Loki was content residing on Midgard. With Thor King of Asgard remaining heavily influenced by Odin, he felt displaced as ever and decided to travel abroad. It was aloud providing he didn't hide from Heimdall and returned were the realm threatened, but that didn't mean he behaved. Midgard's continents teamed with beautiful maidens and Loki spent months at a time seducing them across the globe. Yet an introvert by nature, the constant socializing became exhausting. He needed intervals of solitude to rejuvenate his mind and cock. Indecisive of where, he conjured a world map, closed his eyes and randomly chose a location. 

First attempt. "A Frost Giant in the Amazon? I think not." 

Second. "Middle of the Bermuda Triangle? Know enough aliens already, thank you." 

Third. "Inside and active volcano? Fenrir's arsehole." He scoffed. 

Fourth. "Very well. Maine it is." 

The god settled in a vacant Victorian evicting its two following buyers with  'ghostly' shenanigans. Yet to the king of this miniature palace's annoyance the next didn't frighten so easily. 

Alexis was proud having bought her own house after a long divorce. Closer to friends and hours from meddling family, she'd thought herself free of troubles until sensing the place haunted. While unpacking, items started going missing and resurfacing in different places like her keys, clothing and once her vibrator after an evening of ménage à moi, disturbingly appeared in her dishwasher the next morning. Doors would slam, electricity short circuited, faucets unexpectedly ran, but most disconcerting was a voice randomly whispering 'mine' into her ear. Whether in the shower, her yard, doorways, the ghost didn't care. Alexis burned sage, had the house blessed, held a seance with a local paranormal group, but nothing helped. When returning after a long day at work to find half the main floor repacked, she angrily shouted into the air. 

"Ha ha, trickster! You don't scare me and I am 'not' leaving!" She held up a large envelope. "This is 'my' crib and here's the deed to prove it. Show yourself dammit!" Nothing happened so she put everything back, showered, grabbed her vibrator and stormed into the upstairs corridor. "And one more thing! See this? Touch it again and I'll summon your ass with a ouija board and douse you in holy water!" 

Loki inwardly chuckled. 'I'll be sure to bring a towel.' When she fell asleep reading in bed, he snuck a peek at what had intrigued her. 'Smutty fanfiction? Tisk, darling. Who could your heartthrob be? The name sounded familiar so he googled it. 'Ah, the actor from Crimson Peak. Good movie, but I'm much better looking. 'A wicked grin curled his lips when she moaned Tom's name. 'Maybe I need to play a little 'dirtier.'

With the next several days uneventful, Alexis thought she'd frightened the ghost off when in reality he was buying time. Since moving her in friends offered extra hands in their free time, but it was her befriended neighbor, a single gay man with a flamboyant, funloving personality who'd helped the most. They met one afternoon when she peered over his fence to complain about blaring Salsa music as he hosted a pool party. Felipe was sunbathing in a yellow thong, wearing sunglasses with enough bling to impress Liberace and choked on a shot of tequila when she whipped a pebble at his head. He invited her over with a promise to adorn shorts, they hit it off and became besties. 

Alexis planned to have other friends over for dinner one month after moving in, but with all the goings on had postponed twice. Now with a set date, Felipe was invited too and asked what she planned to cook.

"Who said anything about cooking? I suck at it Amigo and prefer no one hurling on my lawn." 

She waved a take out menu and he dramatically gasped. "Chinese food for eight people? Where you gonna put up you blow job booth to pay the mortgage after?"

Alexis smirked. "You're such a slut, Felipe."

He shrugged. "Happy whoopie stick makes a happy me."

"I think I've forgotten what they look like." 

"I show you mine, but no touchy touchy." She laughed, knowing he was kidding. "Too long without sex causes brain damage, niña. How long its been for you?" 

"Since my ex and I separated nineteen months ago."

"Ay dios mio. I lend you my Dustbuster for the cobwebs down there."

"Not funny, Felipe." 

"See. Abstinence makes everyone bitchy. My sister Maritza too. She was happy single before becoming a nun. Now she's Oscar the grouch with eyes like the chucky doll."

"How come you can pronounce words like 'abstinence' and 'cock' so well yet not others?" Alexis teased.

"Don't make me spank you. Come, we go shopping."

"For what?"

"I help you cook. We stay home and talk about cock, mine will curse me in Spanish. He's lonely too."

Alexis slipped on footwear. 

"Why you wearing those?" Asked Felipe.

"What's wrong with flip flops?" 

He stepped onto the porch. "You need something sexier, like bitch boots."

"It's ninety degrees in the shade today."

"So?"

Loki sighed when the door closed, relieved for some peace. He thought Felipe annoying enough as a neighbor yet worse as a guest who never stopped talking. So much so, he'd pondered concocting a tongue numbing spell, sneaking into his house and applying a heavy dose while he slept. But knowing his flair for drama, he'd run panicked to Alexis in the Boo from Monsters Inc. robe worn onto his deck every morning, carrying a note pleading to stay and until recovering, would hysterically sob each time he couldn't sing along to one of the show tunes on his phone. Loki opted to tolerate him for now. He'd be gone once Alexis left. 

The day of feasting came and while she handled finishing touches around the house, Felipe prepared guacamole dip and ingredients for fajitas while mixing margaritas. Hearing music, Alexis snuck to the kitchen and started recording him singing to Bad Girl, by Donna Summer while dancing like a hussy. 

"Toot toot, hey, beep beep

Toot toot, hey, beep beep

Hey mister, have you got a dime?

Hey mister, do you want to spend some time, ooh yeah

I got what you want, you got what I need

I’ll be your baby, come and spend it on me…"

He startled when noticing her.  "Girlfrien', you post that on social media, I kill you."

Alexis propped her phone on the counter and joined in wildly shaking her chest. 

Felipe tried the same. "No fair. I need big titties like yours to jiggle. Next time I bring tangerines and a bra."

Loki secretly watched on. 'Fucknuts.'

The three couples soon arrived. One, old neighbors of Alexis, Blake and Deidre, the others, her friends, Sage, Lisa and their newest flames Colby and Grant. She started a tour on the main floor then the upper leaving her bedroom for last. Excited to show it off, she was already opening the door as they shuffled out of the second.

"And this is my creme de la...eep!" She quietly squeaked once inside.

The resident spookster sat perched against her headboard sporting only what the Norn's delivered him to the universe in and winked pouring himself a whiskey. "You did say show myself, yes?"

She hurried out, slammed the door and her friends froze on approach. "Erm..wouldn't ya know I forgot to make my bed. Anyone for a drink?" 

Alexis passed them for the stairs and cringed when Deidre spoke. She was nice enough, but sometimes persistent when it wasn't welcome. "Nonsense, friends don't care. Right everyone?" 

Alexis continued down. "Enter at your risk then." 

Felipe watched her rush by into the pantry, close the door, followed and closed it too. "What you are doing?" 

"I can't go back out there."

"Why?" 

"He's upstairs naked on my bed." She anxiously whispered. 

"Which boyfriend? I take up the wooden spoon."

"No, the fucking ghost!" 

"It's a man? Is he hot and what do I tell your peeps? You afraid to come out of the closet?"

"Felipe!" 

"Sorry, it's the margaritas."

"I thought you the one person who believed my stories."

He eyed her sympathetically. "I do. You want I go bribe him to leave with a mcsqeezy?"

"Will you be serious? Ghosts aren't supposed to be naked. One look at him and everyone will think I invited them for an orgy." 

Blake and Grant came down first catching bits of their conversation and quietly conversed. 

"Can't believe she's still imagining this ghost." Blake wise cracked. "I always told Deidre she had a screw loose."

"Nah." Said Grant. "Lexi's a smart cookie. Sounds more like she needs a man. There's one inside with her. Maybe they'll shag, knock some shit off shelves." 

Felipe stuck his head out the door. "You not so quiet, cumquats. I gay. You want I show you my jolly green giant and shag 'you' inside against the creamed corn?"

Loki rubbed the back of his neck. 'I sacrificed prowling beaches of the French Riviera for this?'

Hearing the ladies coming, Alexis approached Blake and quietly inquired. "Still peeing in your wife's pond at night, murdering her koy? I'd see you through my bedroom blinds. Who's a few cans short of a six pack?" 

"Oooh snap." Said Felipe. 

Grant nudged the arse. "Let's chill in the dining room. There's a makeshift bar and appetizers."

The ladies entered the kitchen. "Who's a nincompoop?" Asked Deidre.

Felipe almost answered but pursed his lips together when Alexis loudly cleared her throat. "You know, just my ex."

"He sure is, honey." 

"Your bed's made, girl." Said Sage. "The room looks great." 

They all agreed passing through while thirty year old Lisa's younger boyfriend lingered. "Pretty awesome digs ya got here."

"Thanks." Replied Alexis.

Colby slid his hands into his pockets. "Soo..Lisa says you think it's haunted."

"Yep."

He spaced out for a second, staring at the floor. "I once thought a bat in our house was my dead uncle Howie haunting my parents for selling his mannequin of Vlad the Impaler. But hey, sometimes weird shit happens when you're stoned right?" Alexis and Felipe were saved when Lisa called him. "She misses me already. Laters." 

"He looks fresh from his madres panocha." Commented Felipe.

"That's the way Lisa likes them. Says the younger they are, the easier it is to train them."

Loki rolled his eyes. 'Age is irrelevant.'

Felipe feigned fright by playfully biting his nails. "She bad. Maybe Colby wear a leash and bark like a good doggy for her?" He goofily imitated one in a deep voice. "Woof, woof..woof. Or maybe he sound like an angry chihuahua?"

Alexis smirked. "I have my own problems. A streaking phantom who now makes unexpected appearances."

Felipe gave her a margarita. "Cheers. These make everything better." 

Alexis gulped down the beverage as he watched with raised brows. "Thanks. Next time that streaker appears, I'll just ignore him."

"Next time I give you smaller glass. Go enjoy you friends, niña"

She gave a thumbs up on her way out. "I got this. Easy peasy right?"

Loki mischievously grinned. 'Darling, I'm just getting started.

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #27: [EXTRA CREDIT]

A worst-case alternate timeline.

She clung to him the moment they brought her forth, such that he had to tear her away from him to get a better look at her. At first glance, she seemed unblemished, but she had been in their custody for more than a week; he'd known her to recover from black and blue bruises in half that time. Worst of all was that she did not cry as she clung to him, not as she had when he'd last seen her on Ala Mhigo's last day of freedom. Instead she trembled, shook with fear the likes of which he had never seen from her before, and he had no words at all with which to comfort her.

But even now, the Garleans would not take her from him again. He fought the first man who tried with manacled hands, shoving him into the stone wall of the dungeon with such force that he heard his skull crack through his helmet. He was halfway through with choking the second one when six guns pointed through the bars of their cage.

When he slipped into unconsciousness only a moment later, propelled into sleep through a haze of Garlean sedatives, he watched through his daughter's eyes, as helpless as she was, as they brought her in for experimentation.

---

"Ashelia?"

"Yeah, Daddy?"

He'd requested the training hall for their privacy and some fresh fruits from the viceroy's private shipment, and he'd been granted both. Now that he sat with her, under the glaring fluorescent lights they'd installed, he doubted either would make much of an impact.

"Now that we're beginning to create new lives for ourselves, under Garlemald..." The words rang hollow, even to him. "...it's come time for us to take up new identities as well. New names."

She nodded, but nothing in her bright eyes registered understanding.

"It's something I did often as a Riskbreaker," he continued. "I would have any number of names that I would pick and choose from, as part of a disguise. It would help keep me and you and your mother and Aunt Alma safe - to make sure no one could find us if there was an accident."

"Has there been an accident, Daddy?"

"No." Not yet. "But it's still important to be careful. If you're a-" He couldn't bear to say it - the word "soldier." "If you're here, with me, you have to be undercover. I'll need to make a new name, and you will too."

For the first time, she frowned, as sure a sign as any that she was deep in thought. She stared down at the apple slice in her hand but did not bring it to her mouth. "But if I get a new name... how will Edge and Joshua and Frimelda find me?"

As always, she asked the questions he had no answers for. "If they're still alive," he began uncertainly, "then I imagine you'll find them, someday. If it's meant to be."

He had already been instructed not to speak to her of the Twelve. Whatever comment he had made previously had been so innocuous that he barely remembered it, but the warning had been severe - accompanied by a veiled threat to void his future visits.

"Will Mama and Aunt Alma still know who I am, up in the heavens?"

"Always." He reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, but she did not lean into the touch. "And they will love you no matter what your name is."

At last, she broke into her gut-wrenching sobs.

"I’ve decided I’ll be Rosenheim," he whispered to her. "In one of the old tongues, it means 'the home of the rose.' Aldous Rosenheim - what do you think of that name for a disguise?" When she did not respond, he asked, "Would you like to hear the name I've chosen for you?"

She heaved a few shuddering breaths, and nodded.

"It's Vera. Vera Rosenheim." He hated that her sobs stilled almost at once. "Mondeberta kept it in her kitchen; do you remember?" He certainly remembered all too well the time she had plucked a sprig of one, with the intention of eating it whole on a dare. "It can be used for... healing." And for making a serum strong enough to render a grown woman catatonic in the Undercity for more than a year of her life. But it was the only Ala Mhigan herb that could pass as a Garlean praenomen. "It's a wonderful name."

"NO!" she screamed, jumping to her feet. "I'm ASHELIA!"

"Ashelia Marco Riot." He allowed himself the indulgence of the full name Tia had chosen for her, not knowing when it would leave his lips again. "Ashelia, listen to me. You will always be my daughter. And I will love you to my dying breath and beyond." That was the most he could promise her. Even he had heard of the children van Baelsar had taken away - children of nobles and merchants and commoners alike. He could not swear that she would not be among their number before long. "But we can't let any more Garleans know who you are, can we? This is part of what it means to be in disguise. We'll have to pretend, perhaps for a very long time. But I'll-"

She ran from him then, for the first time in her life. When at last he found her, curled up in an abandoned corner of the research wing, he could not bear to comfort her with her new name or her old one.

---

To the Garleans, it was the first time she'd snuck out since the new year. Rosenheim knew differently, thanks to his dreams. His daughter had made a habit of leaving her chambers on nights when the viceroy was due to return and the guards' rotations were thinner in her wing. From there, she'd sneak out along the palace ramparts, steal down into the gutter, and find a quiet outcropping of Undercity territory long since abandoned by any self-respecting dweller.

By the time the knock came to his door to inform him that Vera was out of bed, he'd seen her sit at her destination for more than an hour of unbroken solitude. The only reason he was awake was that their connection had been cut - severed by an abrupt end to her concentration.

He shrugged on a uniform with the vague excuse of joining the search, only he knew precisely where to go. He knew better, too, than to follow her exact paths; a quicker route lay within the palace itself, and he was loath to surrender her own means of escape. For a single heartbeat of a moment, as he breathed in the midnight air, it was enough for him to recall himself as a boy, albeit older then than his daughter was now, exploring the Undercity for the first time.

When he at last came upon the place, it was somehow grander in person than through the eyes of a child’s dreams. He had remembered this hideout as an old weapons cache, littered with rusting swords and moldering barrels. Although the Echo had presented to him the change that had been wrought since he had last set foot here, he nevertheless could not believe his eyes: what had once been a useless, deserted corner of the Undercity was now transformed into an immaculate shrine to Rhalgr, decorated with trinkets and lit up by blue-burning candles.

He did not find his daughter there alone.

"Walker," came a familiar, imperious voice.

The Black Wolf, shorn of his helm and garbed in a simple leather coat, leaned in a corner. Vera copied his pose nearer to the cavern's entrance. The shrine gleamed along the far wall, as though in witness.

"Lord van Baelsar." He inclined his head but gave no further greeting, waiting instead for the viceroy to explain his presence here of all places. He did not, and neither would Vera meet his eyes.

"Would you care to explain to your father," said Gaius van Baelsar to Vera, "why you chose to leave your chambers?"

Vera bit her lip. Still she stared at her own feet.

"As you explained to me," the legatus continued, "you came here to pray to Rhalgr on behalf of your late mother."

The words hit Rosenheim with a pang of guilt. It was, of course, the 27th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon - Tia's birthday. A day he had not even known that Vera had remembered, and which he certainly had not.

"Share with your father what I said to you."

Her voice was quiet but firm. "That reliance on false gods is a weakness."

"You are among the best and brightest of your generation, Vera. You will make a name for yourself in Garlemald, should you continue to excel. But you will not excel so long as you succumb to worship. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, my lord."

But that was not all. The viceroy showed no sign of satisfaction as he stared down at Vera, and Vera continued stifling her words through her clenched jaw. At last, she demanded, "Why can't I join the Crania Lupi?!"

"You are twelve years old, Vera," Rosenheim said before he could stop himself.

"You've much still to learn," van Baelsar added. Rosenheim found himself glad for the man's agreement. "And your role in Case 72 takes precedence over-"

"NO!"

Rosenheim forced himself to draw breath, to steady himself, to ready for any sign of anger from the most powerful man in occupied Ala Mhigo. But van Baelsar did not move. Instead he watched, along with Rosenheim, as Vera's hands balled into fists and she alternated her fury toward each of them and then to the altar.

"I hate being in that stupid tank!" she screamed. "I'm not learning anything, I'm not getting better - I'm just stealing power from dead things and I HATE IT!"

After a beat of silence, in which her words echoed endlessly around them, Gaius van Baelsar stepped forward from the wall. He drew himself up to his full height, there in the Undercity passage, and looked down at the girl before him with an expression Rosenheim could not read.

"I will repeat what I said before," he said, slowly, "only once. You, Vera oen Rosenheim, have the means to excel among the Empire. But you cannot honor your gifts - be they from your father or from the XIIth - if you traffic in savagery."

With no more words of admonishment, van Baelsar left the tunnel, leaving a teary-eyed Vera to follow closely in his wake.

---

Camilla was already shouting by the time he entered the briefing room, though not to anyone in particular. A notarius he had never seen before was still scribbling notes, as though she had not yet been informed to disregard her commanding officer whenever she became like this. A trio of privates shifted uncomfortably at attention, one of them still sporting a deep cut to their upper arm.

"Walker," she snapped, rounding on him at once. "Where is Seraph?"

"I've not seen her yet, ser," he replied. "I imagine she's only moments behind."

"She was instructed to arrive with you, at her earliest convenience."

"What's happened, ser?" She would hate him questioning her in front of so many, especially subordinates - but it would be best to get it out of the way before Vera arrived.

Sure enough, she bristled visibly. "She disobeyed a direct order; that's what happened."

Surely she of all people would not think him capable of buying that. "I was on backup outside Specula Imperatoris," he reminded her, as if she needed reminding of his role in this whole ordeal. "No new orders came in-"

"'No new orders came in'?" Camilla repeated, her voice breathy with affront.

"-and she carried out her existing instructions, as per the briefing."

She drew close enough to jab a finger into his chest. "Do not play the fool with me, Walker! You know as well as she does that the presence of a superior officer in the field takes precedence."

"And you know as well as I do, Pilus-" He scanned the room for the faces of any who might be stupid enough to relay what they were hearing to anyone else, and decided to chance it. "-that if literally anyone else had shown up, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Or perhaps if your daughter wasn't an arrogant, insubordinate bitch-"

"What, that's all?"

Vera had slipped in, unbeknownst to them both, still wearing her mud-spattered protective gear and her white hair coming loose from its high Garlean bun. Whatever retort he had for Camilla flew from his mind at once. Echo or no, it would never not be a relief to see her in the flesh after a mission.

Camilla rounded on her at once. "What were you playing at out there?!" she demanded.

Though the pilus towered over her in her heels, Vera remained utterly unfazed. "I carried out my existing instructions, as per the briefing."

"Do not test me! Your petulance has made a mockery of yourself and your project."

"Of you, you mean."

"How dare-"

"I slew every target we identified as a threat, and more besides," Vera pointed out, her voice quickly growing cold. "I took out more than a dozen Resistance leaders in all, and I gathered intelligence on a figure creating a schism in their ranks. You mean to tell me I was supposed to step aside from a mission I spent half a year preparing for, forsake what could be my only chance of recognition, because some spoiled little princeling decided to finally grace colonial soil?"

He could not fault her the words. He felt them and shared them, somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach.

"You will hold your tongue!" Camilla screamed, leaning her face into Vera's. "And mark me: you will be held accountable for your disrespect!"

The door slammed open, causing the three anxious privates to jump. Camilla whirled about, teeth gritted; Vera did not so much as turn to face the newcomer.

"F-Forgive me, Pilus," he stammered through an imperial salute. "I bear a message from Crown Prince Zenos yae Galvus. He seeks an audience with the one who, ah, 'interfered with his hunt.'"

With a wordless glare at Camilla, Rosenheim gave a single nod to acknowledge the summons and strode out in the direction of the Hall of the Griffin. He did not need the Echo to tell him his daughter was at his back.

"You did well today," he murmured, once he knew they were alone.

"Why are you still fucking her?" she retorted.

Another difficult question. "The crown prince will likely seek to test you. You can take my sword."

She did so, albeit with a scoff of frustration; hers had gotten cracked during her battle with a man the others had called Meffrid. Still, she could likely sense his unease, and twenty years together had taught them both not to argue against the other's intuition.

"You'll be alright." He wasn't quite certain where the platitude came from, even as it left him, but his daughter’s eyes widened as she nodded.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the throne room as the right hand of the new viceroy.

[pcttrailsidereader]

Trevor’s Eternal Trail

As a parent and a PCT hiker, I can’t imagine a more difficult but therapeutic testimonial for a father to write. Doug’s son, Trevor, died on March 27th after slipping on ice and falling several hundred feet to his death near Apache Peak not far south of Idyllwild.  This poignant reflection that will help Trevor be remembered as a complex, passionate young man and not just a statistic.

In Memory of Trevor Laher by Doug Laher

I am the father of the Pacific Crest Trail Hiker, Trevor “Microsoft” Laher, who perished in the mountains south of Idyllwild, California, this past Friday, March 27, 2020.  As you can imagine, we are devastated by the loss of our son. But somehow, my wife and I want to let the world (or at least the hiking community) know who our son was, how much he loved hiking, and why (despite everyone’s best efforts) he chose to stay on trail.

We just don’t want Trevor’s legacy in the hiking world to be that of an anonymous asterisk in PCT lore of someone who died doing what they love.  He was a man, a brother, a son, a grandson, a cousin, a friend, and boyfriend to his lovely girlfriend, Elise. He had his whole life in front of him.  This is who he was, and this is his story.

One of the greatest days of my life was the day he was born (Feb. 12, 1998, in Cleveland, Ohio). He loved playing sports as a child, but soon realized he didn’t possess the dexterity and speed to compete as an athlete, so he turned his interest and energy to academics, where he excelled.  And although we relocated to Texas in 2010 due to the recession, we still cheered on and watched our beloved Ohio State Buckeyes on Saturdays. Some of my fondest memories I have with Trevor are the times we spent watching our team as we proudly donned the school colors of scarlet and gray.  The 2010 move of the family to Texas, for a new career opportunity, was tough on 12-year-old Trevor. He threw himself into academics and video games as a mechanism to deal with the sorrow of leaving everything behind in Ohio.

Trevor was introduced to hiking in 2015 when a friend invited him on a trip to Yosemite National Park. They day hiked more than 50 miles in three days. He walked away in love with the hiking and instantly knew that he wanted it to be a mainstay in his life—to climb to mountain peaks and see the soul of our planet. It was as if the world that had existed before had only been visible to him in black and white and now suddenly everything had turned to vibrant colors. He loved the beauty of the trail—the experience and the solitude. He loved the endorphin rush of a physically exhausting climb. He loved hiking by himself.  He loved hiking with others. He loved the trail.

Shortly after his trip to Yosemite, he immediately began planning his first overnight backpacking trip with his close friend Alfredo. The flu prevented Alfredo from making the trip with him and thus began my love of hiking with my son. I served as his back-up and went from “Couch to AT” in 12 hours.

We were completely ill-prepared as we set off into the Smoky Mountains on our first backpacking trip.  We predictably made all the classic first-time hiker mistakes. We carried too much food, packed for our fears, and off we went with 50-pound packs saddled on our backs. Trevor knew I was not in shape to do this hike when he asked me to join him.  I agreed to do it to spend time with my son. He told me, “Dad…I’m getting you to the top of this mountain—you lead the way. We’ll go at your pace. Stop as frequently as you need to. We’ll get through this together.” It took nearly five hours to traverse more than 3,000 feet of elevation gain over five miles to the first shelter.  Trevor offered multiple times that we could head back down to the trail head and call it a trip. But we hadn’t driven 12 hours to turn around and head home. We persevered. The trip took a physical toll on my body (chafing, exhaustion, soreness, and two lost toenails). And despite all that, it was an adventure of a lifetime that I will cherish forever.

When it came time to go to college, there was really no decision to be made. Ohio State was the easy choice. While there, he blossomed and turned into an amazing man. He joined the Trekking Club at Ohio State. He hiked the Presidential Traverse in the White Mountains of New Hampshire and the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon (down and back in less than six hours). He also made at least one trip back to the Smoky Mountains every semester with his good friend Chandler. Trevor simply loved hiking.

Trevor and I would try to schedule hiking trips together when we could, mostly while he was on break from school.  Our most recent adventures included Eagle Rock Loop in the Ouachita National Forest and the Outer Mountain Loop in Big Bend National Park.

It was during this time at Ohio State that he developed a passion for exercise and fitness. He was obsessed about being physically fit because he knew he would need it for something he had been dreaming about since he was 17 years old.

About 18 months ago, Trevor told me of his intentions to carry extremely heavy course loads over his next three semesters at Ohio State so that he could graduate a semester early to hike the Crown Jewel of all long-distance trails, the Pacific Crest Trail. I objected at first. It was a source of contention with us for several months. Then, approximately a year ago, I started buying in to the concept of him hiking the PCT. And if he was going to make this hike, I was going to serve as his wingman, his trail manager so to speak.

For months on end, I spent hundreds of hours watching PCT vlogs, reading books, and watching gear reviews.  I began the long process of purchasing all of the gear he would require for his adventure. Trevor had two main agendas during this time. First, to study hard so he could finish school early. And second, to focus on maintaining, and even increasing, his already high level of fitness. Trevor ran 30 miles a week to keep himself in top physical condition.

We both obsessed over the trail. As the research and days passed, I became more and more emotionally invested in Trevor’s hike. I wanted this adventure for him as much as he did for himself.

Trevor hiked Big Bend a second time right before Christmas 2019 with his best friend Domenic. In grieving with each other this past week, Domenic told me that “Trevor and I had just finished the trail. I was exhausted and I was looking back at the mountains with amazement, bewilderment, and wonder. It’s at that moment Trevor looked at me and said, ‘Now you know why I’m so passionate about hiking the PCT!’ ”

Trevor’s need to put mileage under his feet prior to his trek was one thing, but his training for the PCT was next level. He deprived himself of comforts knowing that he would not have them on the trail. On our last training hike together (a quick 15-miler), he laid down in the creek bed soaking himself through.  Trevor knew there would be stretches of the PCT that he would need to hike soaking wet, tired, and exhausted.

Trevor’s cadence might be as slow as 2.6-2.7 miles per hour when doing a leisurely hike with me, but he could instantaneously turn on the jets at a moment’s notice.  I was always in awe to see him hike at a 3.5 mile-per-hour cadence up steep climbs. And he could maintain that pace for hours. He was 6’3” and 200 pounds. He had long legs with a huge stride. If God wanted to create his vision for a perfect hiker, it was Trevor.

Unlike most PCT hikers, Trevor knew he was not going to make it to Canada. Trevor was a brilliant computer coder.  He was offered a job at Microsoft, starting mid-July. So, when it came time to securing the permit for a PCT start date, he knew he would have to start early. Even with starting early, he would only have around 100 days on the trail. His target was to reach Crater Lake by July 1 and call it an adventure.

We knew starting in mid-March had its risks. We developed a plan accordingly. If there was heavy snowpack in the Sierra, then he would bail at Kennedy Meadows and head immediately to the Southern Terminus of the 800-mile Arizona Trail. We felt our alternate plan wouldn’t be needed as reports of a low snow year in California made an early start on the PCT possible. We were happy his plans were coming together.

So on March 9, roughly a month after turning 22 years old, Trevor, my daughter Olivia, and I headed to Phoenix, Arizona, to spend a week with his grandparents, after which they would drive him to Campo a week later. Everything was in great shape. And then, suddenly, everything started to unravel.

We got to Phoenix on Monday the 9th. There were growing concerns about the coronavirus, but nothing significant—at least that’s the way it was when we boarded the plane. Upon landing in Phoenix, the world was changing in front of our very eyes. The stock market had crashed. Concerns of the virus were growing with each passing day. That week was full of excitement for Trevor and anxiety for me.

The day before we left, I told him that maybe going on the hike was not such a smart thing to do anymore. But he was within spitting distance of the Southern Terminus of the PCT in Campo, so the yearn to start on March 16 was strong. In his mind, he was practically touching the Southern Terminus. Nothing was going to stop him now.

His sister (Olivia) and I flew back to Texas on Friday, March 13. Saying our final goodbyes at the airport, Trevor gave me a longer embrace than usual—much longer in fact. And in that embrace, he whispered to me, “I love you Dad. Thanks for all you’ve done to help make this adventure a reality for me.” To which I replied—“Go hike the shit out of that trail!”

His grandparents dropped him at the terminus on Monday morning.  A few quick photos, big smiles, and some hugs. Then he was off on the adventure of a lifetime.

Trevor pushed himself to Lake Morena on day one. He couldn’t have been happier. It was in Lake Morena that he connected with his tramily. The tramily would morph into larger and smaller groups of people over the coming days, but there were three gentlemen whom he consistently stayed with through the entire journey: Leo from Milwaukee, Jannek from Germany, and Cody from Australia—the latter two were with him on the morning of Friday, March 27, when the accident happened.

His group hiked through a snowstorm, pulling into Mount Laguna on Wednesday. They were fortunate enough to hole up in one of the tiny houses to escape the snow. Their game plan was to stay there two nights as heavy snowfall was scheduled through Thursday. But they wanted flexibility in their plans and only booked one night. When they called the next morning to book a second night, they were told the tiny house had already been booked. They had no choice but to head back out into the snow.

I spoke with his hiking partner, Leo, this past Saturday. He told me how miserable that day was. They were cold, soaked to the bone from the heavy wet snow. They were miserable. The group struggled unsuccessfully to find a protected location to set up camp. It was in that moment, during their first real moment of adversity on trail, that Trevor told him, “It’s during these moments of adversity, through trial and tribulation and our actions in dealing with these moments that define who we are as human beings.” Hearing Leo recount this to me brought me to my knees. I had been sobbing all weekend after I learned of his passing, but this shook me to my core.

That same day, the day of the snowstorm, the Pacific Crest Trail Association (PCTA) had issued a statement that all thru-hikers not yet on the trail should postpone their hike, and that all hikers already on trail should get off due to COVID-19 concerns. I pleaded with Trevor that it was time to end his dream. To come home. The trail would still be there for him next year. Or five years from now. Or even 10. Trevor said that until it became illegal to stay on the trail, he was going to continue hiking. “This is my dream Dad…I’m living it right now. The views, the vistas, the things I get to see are the most beautiful that I’ve ever seen in my life. If I lose this opportunity now, I’ll lose it forever.”

And so became our daily argument for the next week. I begged him to postpone his trek. I told him he was being selfish. I told him he was putting himself and others at risk. That he wasn’t thinking about Elise, his sister, his mother, or me. I threatened I was going to withdraw financial support and would no longer resupply him (my last option). I think we both knew I would not do that.

I said things I regret. I even lobbied the USFS to terminate all PCT permits to no avail. The most haunting, prophetic thing I said to him was, “Please come home. I don’t want you to get sick on the trail—or worse yet, die. It would devastate me if I had to be the one to call Elise and tell her something happened to you.”

After about 5-6 days of trying to convince him to come home, I realized he was staying put. There was no getting him off the trail, at which point I would focus on supporting his hike. I vowed to myself, if he wouldn’t come home, then I’d at least do what I could to keep him as safe as possible with current information and good resupply boxes.

Trevor and the group trudged on. They were closing in on Warner Springs, having just passed PCT mile 100. I sent Trevor a text and asked him how he was feeling and how his body was holding up. He told me other than a few pesky blisters, he was feeling great and that his body was strong. I remember him saying there were a couple of members in his tramily that were nursing some injuries… sore ankles and knees, but he said could not have felt better.

Trevor’s closest trail friend, Leo, was nursing a bum knee after hiking several days without a break. Leo got a hitch from Warner Springs via the PCT Trail Angels Page on Facebook to a hotel to take of couple zero days to heal up. Leo encouraged Trevor to take those zeros with him but Trevor, Jannek, and Cody were still feeling strong. Trevor had limited time on the trail. They were going to press on without Leo. While sitting in his hotel room for a couple of days watching the news, Leo learned of the severity of COVID-19. He decided to end his hike at this point. I’ve asked myself multiple times, “What would have happened had Trevor stayed back with Leo that day?” His decision to press on will haunt me forever.

Our last communication with Trevor was on Thursday night. They had just pulled their 8th straight day of “twenties” (twenty-mile days) by completing a 3,000-foot climb. Arriving to their camp site at PCT mile 166.5, they hunkered down for the night. Trevor sounded exhausted. He was eager to complete the last 14 miles into Idyllwild where he, Cody, and Jannek were planning to take two zeros. While in town he’d pick up his resupply (which included his ice axe and microspikes) in preparation for Mt. San Jacinto and Fuller Ridge. He never made it to Idyllwild.

A friend called me on Friday to notify me of a tragic accident on the PCT close to Trevor’s last known location at mile 166.5. Of course, at that time, we didn’t know the hiker involved was Trevor. The news report mentioned a hiker had succumbed to their injuries before the rescue team arrived.  The report suggested the rescue occurred “near” Mountain Center, of which Trevor was close to the prior day. He was now some 10-15 miles past that point. But when you’re dealing with the wilderness, the word “near” could mean one mile, five miles, 10 miles, or even 25. I was slightly concerned and would remain that way until I heard from Trevor, but I was confident he was well past the search area. I had two thoughts. First, Of all the hikers on the trail, what is the likelihood this deceased hiker was Trevor? Second, He had his driver’s license with him. If it was Trevor, Search and Rescue would have certainly reached out to me by now. I was confident it was not him, but would remain mildly concerned until I heard his voice. That voice never came.

7 p.m. rolled around in Dallas/Fort Worth. I knew Trevor would have been in Idyllwild by now. Every time I tried calling, it went straight to voicemail.  He would likely have access to internet in town. Therefore, he would most likely be on his phone. It was also about this time every night that he would check in with us via call, text, or his Garmin InReach.  I started to worry. I called the Riverside County Sheriff’s office.

I won’t go into all the details of the next several hours, as some of those details will only remain with my family. Speaking to the Sheriff’s Deputy who orchestrated the Search and Rescue, and then subsequently to the Coroner were some of the most difficult conversations I’ve ever had to have in my life. My life was changed forever when the Coroner told me, “We have Trevor.”  

To the best of our knowledge, Trevor slipped on a patch of snow-covered ice near Apache Peak (PCT mile 169.5). Trevor’s accident was first reported by Cody and Jannek via their emergency GPS device at roughly 9:38 a.m. PT. Rescue crews from the Riverside Mountain Rescue Unit and the California Highway Patrol Medic and Air Operations Unit arrived on site at roughly 10:30 a.m. Five fire trucks, two helicopters, and more than 24 rescue personnel fought the elements during the rescue mission.  One helicopter focused on rescuing Cody and Jannek while the other attempted to locate Trevor. Dangerous terrain, coupled by severe weather, prevented the helicopter from locating Trevor. They were able to locate a safe landing spot to drop Medic Charles Rhodes of the California Highway Patrol (CHP) onto the trail. Medic Rhodes hiked and eventually bushwhacked a total of five miles to reach Trevor at 1:30 p.m. Sadly, prior to Medic Rhodes’ arrival, Trevor had succumbed to his injuries from sliding several hundred feet into a steep ravine. I am grateful to the men and women who risked their lives to recover my son. I will forever be in their debt.

As you can imagine, Friday, March 27, 2020, was the darkest, most painful, heartbreaking moment of our lives. The grief of losing our son has hit us like a tsunami. The unstoppable waves drown us in grief each time they hit. There’s nothing that can be done to stop them. It’s several days later now, and the waves still come.

I yearn for the day when Trevor’s family and closest friends can talk about him and look at photos without pain or grief, but instead smile and recall the happy times we shared together.

Trevor was not a statistic. He was not a PCT asterisk. He was everything you want in a son. As parents, we were so proud of him. He was our child. Trevor LOVED hiking! He was handsome, responsible, and smart. He was going to make this great world a better place. He was convinced he would someday write a computer program that would change the world. Most importantly, I want people to know that he cared deeply about his family and friends. He was philosophical. He was a deep thinker. He genuinely cared for others, encouraging those closest to him to be “the best version of themselves they can be.”

Just as in life, Trevor made the same impact on others during his brief time on the PCT. As communicated to me by his close trail friend Leo, who said, “While our time together was brief, it was intense. We had several deep conversations on the trail and my viewpoint on the world has in many ways changed because of Trevor.”

My hope and wish is that Trevor’s death can start the healing of a hiker community that has been ravaged and torn apart by COVID-19. What was once a free-spirited group who loved “The Trail,” the community has become name callers who have hurled insults at each other because of one’s position to hike or not to hike. I beg of you, that if there is one way we can honor Trevor, I ask that you put aside your differences and come together as a community. And I ask that you not judge Trevor for his decision to remain on the Trail. COVID-19 did not kill my son. His death could have happened to any one of us, in any year.

In closing, I’d like to leave you with a quote from Trevor shared with me by his girlfriend, Elise. In which Trevor says, “We are not individual souls, but a collection of the souls of the people we love the most—we are one in the universe.”

Be good to each other. Love each other. Come together as one hiking community and heal the pains by which the coronavirus has inflicted upon this community. That’s what Trevor would have wanted.

Hike on, my son. I count the days when we’ll be rejoined again on the highest of all mountain peaks in Heaven… on the Eternal Trail. The trail of eternal life.

[piperemerald]

Lean On Me

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Tododeku

Words: 8084

Read On A03

Sitting in the common room might have been a cry for help. Shoto knew that, at this point of the night, he probably should be in his dorm sleeping off the day. That was what everyone else was doing, and it wasn’t like he was any less exhausted. Even now when he wasn’t moving at all, he could feel the strain of his aching muscles. Still, he had chosen to sit here instead of going to sleep.

It was partly because he knew that if he went to his dorm room he wouldn’t be going to sleep. He’d just be laying in bed playing through the events of the day over and over again. Not like that wasn’t exactly what he was doing right now.

Shoto sighed. It wasn’t like he was waiting for someone. In the back of his mind he remembered that he used to do this when he was a child. When he was upset and wanted one of his older siblings to ask him what was wrong he’d find a reason to be in the kitchen or living room instead of his bed, hoping that they’d notice and try to break down the wall that was steadily building.

A hesitant knock at the door tore him from his thoughts. The door wasn’t closed, it wasn’t supposed to be closed, that meant the knocker had done so for Shoto’s benefit as a sort of tentative warning. 

He wasn’t surprised when he turned his head to see Midoriya standing there. That was the first problem, because Shoto should be surprised that anyone else would walk into the common room this late at night. 

He shouldn’t feel slightly relieved, and a little bit more at ease. He wasn’t waiting for Midoriya. He wasn’t waiting for anyone, because he wasn’t a child who wanted someone to try their hand at reaching him. He didn’t need that anymore.

“Hey,” Midoriya walked into the room. He sat next to Shoto on the couch. It sunk in a little bit more under their combined weight. 

“You should be in bed,” Shoto commented. He was right, Midoriya looked even more exhausted than he felt. He had a right to be, Shoto knew how hard he had worked today.

“So should you,” Midoriya commented. 

“Right,” Shoto nearly swallowed the word. 

This was awkward. He wasn’t a genius when it came to social cues, but he could at least determine that much. Still, the ball should be in Midoriya's court. He was the one who had chosen to sit next to him, to come into the room.

Shoto couldn’t stop himself from wondering if Midoriya had purposely sought him out to talk to him. He couldn’t think of any other reason that he would be here. Midoriya was one of the most conscious people that Shoto knew, so he would know the importance of getting plenty of rest after a day like today.

Why did that thought make him feel dizzy? It shouldn’t.

“So,” Shoto didn’t know what to say.

Midoriya was fiddling with the hem of his shirt. It was a light green night shirt. He was in his pajamas. 

“So,” Midoriya echoed. “I’m, um, I thought you might want to talk.”

“Oh,” Shoto uttered. 

“About today, I mean,” Midoriya quickly added. “And I also thought that you wouldn’t be the one to start the conversation.”

“That’s correct,” Shoto answered.

“I said two things,” Midoriya pointed out. “Which one of them is correct?”

He was looking at him now with those bright, green eyes. That was the same way that he’d looked at him the day that Shoto had told him everything, it was the way he’d looked at him when he was shouting at Shoto back at sports festival. It was hard for Shoto to let people in, but for some reason he’d spilled a lot of himself to Midoriya. He didn’t know where he was supposed to draw the line.

“Both, I suppose,” he let out a heavy sigh. Midoriya was still watching him. “I’m alright. It’s not like I’m not going to get my license. I will.”

And it wasn’t like it wasn’t his fault that he’d messed up. He made a mistake and he’d learned a long time ago that there were always consequences for making mistakes. 

“I know,” Midoriya’s voice was softer now. “But it’s okay to feel an emotion.”

Shoto heard the statement behind that. It was okay to be upset. It was okay for him to be mad that he wasn’t on the top anymore. It was okay for him to feel the shame that he was supposed to. After all, he was always winning, wasn’t he? This was the first time that he’d actually lost something in front of everyone. It was the first time that he’d tried and failed.

In the sports festival, everyone had known that he hadn’t used the full extent of his ability in the final round. They knew what he was capable of, and they’d known that there was a good chance that if he had tried he could have come out on top.

This wasn’t like that. This second place wasn’t like the one he’d settled for back then.

Second place. God, he hated that phrase. He hated that it didn’t mean nothing to him. He hated that, despite everything, he really wasn’t all that different from his father. He was still crippled by failure. He was still unable to see past the idea of competition. 

“It isn’t,” Shoto said out loud.

“Todoroki,” Midoriya was concerned, but he wasn’t going to push. He respected Shoto’s boundaries. He respected that there were walls Shoto wasn’t ready to take down yet.

Shoto wished that Midoriya would take a hammer to those walls. That way he wouldn’t have to.

“I wish it didn’t bother me,” Shoto chose his words carefully. 

“Why?’ Midoriya asked.

“Because the more failure marks my pride, the more like him I am.” 

It took a second for Midoriya to take that in. Shoto watched him process it. He watched Midoriya struggle with what to say next. It made Shoto feel bad for putting him in this position. It wasn’t fair that Midoriya had to carry Shoto’s problems when he was already so busy carrying his own. It wasn’t fair that Midoriya was the only one who Shoto knew how to be himself around.

He was the only one Shoto knew how to be vulnerable in front of.

“You’re not like him,” Midoriya uttered.

“But I could be,” Shoto’s voice shook. He hated that it took so little to make him crumble. “I thought I worked past this. I thought it didn’t scare me anymore, but—”

He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He didn’t want to hear himself say it.

“Caring about your achievements doesn’t make you into him,” Midoriya’s eyes were boring into Shoto. 

He could get lost in those eyes. He wanted to. He wanted to swim in them and forget any problem that he ever had. He wanted there to just be Midoriya. He knew that wouldn’t fix anything, but maybe it could make the pain go away for just a second.

But that wasn’t who Midoriya was. He wasn’t a distraction. He wasn’t the kind of person who would have Shoto’s pain to be put on pause only to be pushed onto him again later. Midoriya wanted to help him. He always wanted to help him.

“It’s my pride,” Shoto said. “No matter how much I try to pretend it’s not there, it is. I want to be the best. I know—that’s not something that ties me to him, but it could be. Maybe I want it for the wrong reason.”

“Why do you want to be a hero?” Midoriya asked simply. 

For a second, Shoto had no idea how to answer. For a second he just looked back at him. He looked back at the very slight curve of Midoriya’s lips. He looked back at the eyes that now seemed to be certain they were in on some sort of secret. 

“That’s a loaded question,” Shoto stated.

“No, it isn’t,” Midoriya replied. “It’s an easy one, and you know the answer.”

“Midoriya—”

“Why do you want to be a hero?” Midoriya asked again.

“It’s not that simple,” Shoto was back pedaling, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop.

“Why do you want to be a hero, Todoroki?” Midoriya was stubborn. Shoto had always known that.

“Because I want to be good,” Shoto blurted. “I want to be able to look myself in the mirror at the end of each day and know that after all of the shit I’ve been through, I didn’t let him make me into a monster.”

Then Midoriya smiled openly.

“That is why you will never be like him,” he stated. “Because you, Shoto Todoroki, are a good person and feeling bad about not being the best isn’t going to just take that away.”

Shoto didn’t know how Midoriya seemed to know exactly what he needed to hear. He didn’t know how this kid could tear down all of his defenses and make him feel things he used to think were impossible. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky to have Midoriya in his life.

“You said my first name,” Shoto uttered because he was an idiot. 

“Oh,” and then Midoriya was turning red. “Yeah, sorry. That might have come out weird. I don’t know, it’s just, I thought maybe it would mean more? I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, you know. This isn’t making any sense is it? I don’t—”

“You’re muttering,” Shoto cut him off.

“Right,” Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” Shoto meant this. He meant it more than he could ever possibly express. 

“It’s nothing,” Midoriya said. 

“It’s not nothing,” Shoto told him.

The smile was back now. It was big and bright, it was the kind of smile that forced everyone who saw it to be happy. Being around Midoriya made Shoto want to be happy. Midoriya made Shoto want things he never imagined wanting. 

I love him.

That thought was so much less jarring than it should have been. Shoto should have been shocked, he should have been reeling from that discovery, but instead he felt as if maybe he’d always known. He’d known since the sports festival and in incident in Hosu. He’d known since his eyes locked onto that determined that Midoriya wore so often. He’d known since that determination had been directed at him.

Shoto was in love with this boy. He was so helplessly in love that had hadn’t even realized it until now.

“It’s late,” Shoto said out loud. 

“Yeah,” Midoriya nodded.

“You look tired,” Shoto added. 

“So do you,” Midoriya replied. 

Then neither of them said anything and neither of them stood up to leave the couch. The silence that passed between them wasn’t like the kind of silence Shoto was used to. It wasn’t full of unresolved tension and words that were better left unsaid. It was comfortable. Shoto wasn’t used to being comfortable.

Midoriya leaned his head back on the couch cushions. Shoto noticed how close it was to resting on his shoulder. He wondered if that was on purpose. It probably wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

Because there was no way that Midoriya shared his feelings. Midoriya couldn’t be in love with him.

Midoriya was just a good friend. He just couldn’t bare not helping people. That was all. Whatever made him come here tonight, Shoto knew that it wasn’t some secret attraction that he was keeping under wraps. It couldn’t be, and he should be okay with that. He should be content just to have someone like Midoriya as a friend, because Midoriya’s friendship was so much more than he’d ever thought he’d get.

“You’re probably excited,” Shoto spoke not to full the silence, but to make his thoughts be still for just a moment.

“Hm?” Midoriya turned his head to look at him. Shoto briefly forgot how to breath. How could he go from not noticing his feelings to them completely controlling him in a matter of minutes?

“To have your license,” Shoto explained. “You’ve been working toward this for so long.”

“Yeah,” Midoriya smiled slightly. “I am excited, but not the way I thought I’d be.”

“Yeah?” Shoto raised an eyebrow. It was his turn to listen now.

“It feels good,” Midoriya continued. “Don’t get me wrong. But it also feels like this is only the first step. And now I’m realizing how long the path really is, and I’m excited, and I’m ready, but maybe I’m not as ready as I thought.”

“You’re doubting yourself?” Shoto asked.

“Maybe a little bit,” Midoriya said sheepishly. 

“Don’t,” Shoto uttered.

“Oh,” Midoriya let out a small giggle. “Um, thanks?”

“I mean,” Shoto kept talking. “You shouldn’t. The fact that you got this far just proves that you’re going to be able to handle whatever is thrown in your path. I mean, maybe you’re not ready for all of it right now, but that’s because you’re still learning. You’re not supposed to be there yet, you’re just supposed to be ready to learn.”

“You’re really smart,” Midoriya’s eyes were full of something that Shoto didn’t know how to read. “Thank you for saying that.”

“You helped me,” Shoto reminded him. “And I’m only saying it because it’s true.”

“We’re in this together right?” Midoriya asked. 

That question caught Shoto off guard. The pure honestly, that Shoto knew had to be influence by how incredibly sleep deprived his friend was right now, was startling as well. Midoriya really meant what he was saying, and he was asking those words as if he’d been thinking about them for a long time.

“I mean, I know we’re kinda each other’s competition,” Midoriya said hastily. “But we’re reaching for the same thing, and I want us to be reaching together, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Shoto felt something rise in his chest. “Yeah, we’re in this together.”

“Good,” Midoriya closed his eyes and let out a small yawn.

Two minutes later he’d dozed off. Five minutes later his head was leaning on Shoto’s shoulder. Ten minutes later Shoto was also asleep, his head gently resting on top of Midoriya’s.

—

“Should we wake them up?”

“No! Not until I get a picture, this is so cute!”

“If they don’t get up soon they’re going to miss homeroom.”

“So? When do you think was the last time those two actually got a full eight hours? We’d be doing them a favor by leaving them.”

“What kind of classmates would we be if we allowed them to be late when we could have woken them?”

“Iida, stop shouting, you’re gonna—”

The first thing that Shoto registered when he opened his eyes were that his classmates were all staring at him. The second was that his shoulder felt numb and his back felt slightly stiff. That was when the night before dropped back into his memory and he realized that the boy who’s head was still on his shoulder was a heavier sleeping that him.

“Morning,” Shoto stated.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you up,” Uraraka said sheepishly. “But class is going to start soon.”

“Todoroki, student aren’t supposed to spend the night in the common room,” Iida informed him. 

“Shh, you’re gonna wake Deku up,” Uraraka hissed. 

It apparently was too late to prevent that. The next thing Shoto knew, Midoriya’s head was lifting off of his still numb shoulder and a groggy voice was asking what was going on. Shoto had a feeling Midoriya was used to getting more sleep than he had that night, and suddenly felt sorry that he was the reason his friend had such an unrestful night. 

Iida and Uraraka ushered them back to their dorms to get ready for what Shoto was certain was going to be the most agonizingly slow day of classes he’d ever had to endure. Either by fate or by Midoriya lagging behind to walk with him, they ended up exiting the building at the same time. 

“I’m sorry I kept you up last night,” Shoto told him as they speed-walked to their first class. They were already late. Shoto couldn’t bring himself to care right now, but he was certain that Midoriya did.

“Don’t apologize,” Midoriya stopped walking and turned to face him. The abruptness was startling. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I just mean you could have gotten a decent night’s sleep,” Shoto stated dumbly.

“So?” Midoriya shrugged. “I’d rather know you’re okay than get enough sleep.”

Those words made something inside Shoto’s chest freeze. Or maybe that wasn’t the right word. Maybe once again Midoriya was doing exactly what he had since the Sports Festival. He wasn’t lighting a fire inside of Shoto, he was drawing out one that had been there for a long time, and watching it burn.

“Come on,” Midoriya started jogging. “We’re gonna be late.”

It took a second before Shoto could will his legs to run after Midoriya. Even then, he felt an odd lightheaded sensation that didn’t leave him for the rest of the day. If he was being completely honest with himself, he was alright with everything Midoriya made him feel never leaving at all.

—

“I think I’m in love.”

Shoto knew the sentence sounded like it was coming out of nowhere. In a way, it kind of was. He’d never talked to his mother about anything like this before. This was probably the most personal thing he’d said to her yet. Sure, they’d talked about a lot of things over the past few months of him visiting her, but all of those conversations felt like they were figuring out how they were supposed to go about whatever this was. 

No matter how many memories they shared from back when Shoto was small and no matter how much she loved him, he was a different person than he used to be and picking up where they left off was so much easier said than done.

That was why Shoto understood the look of surprise on his mother’s face when he blurted that statement. It was a pleasant surprise, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he had put her completely on the spot. He couldn’t help it. He needed to tell someone and the only other person he felt comfortable talking about something this personal with was, well, Midoriya. 

“That’s wonderful,” she smiled at him. “Do you want to tell me about her?”

For a second Shoto wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say next. He hadn’t thought about having to come out to anyone before. He hadn’t thought that he’d need to until his feelings for Midoriya threatened to consume him. He had barely even given much thought about the sexuality that these emotions attached him too.

Maybe that was odd. After all, most people in his situation would be having this conversation before hinting that they were in love with someone. Most people would have given a lot of thought about what the gender of the subjects of their attraction meant and how that had to change everything. Most people would have figured this out at a younger age and carried the weight of it with them as they grew up.

Only for Shoto there wasn’t a string of boys and conflicting emotions that brought him to this discovery. For Shoto there had only been Midoriya and whatever his feelings for him meant.

“It’s Midoriya,” he uttered.

They’d talked about him before. Now that he was thinking about it, Shoto had managed to fit Midoriya into their conversations a good handful of times. It was hard not to, after all it was Midoriya who’d got him to use his fire, it was Midoriya who’d broken him out of his shell, it was Midoriya who’d shown him that it was okay for him to be happy.

“Oh.” Shoto’s mother didn’t look anymore surprise than she had before. “That’s wonderful, honey.”

It felt nice to hear someone else say that. It felt nice to have his emotions and everything attached to them seem a little bit more normal. 

So Shoto told her about how he’d realized this. He told her about that night when him and Midoriya had both fallen asleep on the common room couch and how this was the first time he’d ever felt something this extreme for anyone and he wasn’t sure how to go about his life now that these emotions were trapped in his chest.

She listened, and smiled, and it felt normal. Shoto liked that.

—

“You should take a break.”

Shoto felt like a bit of a hypocrite. He was no stranger to pushing himself too far, but something about watching someone else do it set off a red flag in his head. Maybe that was just because that someone else was Midoriya. 

A group of them had met up to train that Saturday morning. Shoto wasn’t sure if any of them had intended for it to turn into a competition, but of course that had been the result. Midoriya still wasn’t the best at pacing himself, or recognizing that he was human and humans needed to rest for that matter.

“Oh,” Midoriya seemed to only now stop to take a breath. Shoto could read how much exhaustion was in his face. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Shoto felt himself relax bit too. Until that second, he hadn’t realized that he was tense to begin with. He wondered if Midoriya could tell. He hoped he couldn’t, but at the same time didn’t mind if he could just a bit.

“You wanna get lunch?” Midoriya asked, catching Shoto completely off guard.

It was a simple question, and probably not one that should render him unable to form words, but it wasn’t like him and Midoriya had spent much time together outside of UA before. 

“If you’re hungry, I mean,” Midoriya looked a bit sheepish now. “Or don’t have other plans.”

“Okay,” Shoto nodded. Was it always this easy to seal his own fate?

So Shoto followed Midoriya to a coffee shop that also sold overpriced sandwiches and copied Midoriya’s order because his brain was too busy swimming to process the words on the menu. Midoriya chatted away the whole time. Still, Shoto could see the exhaustion he was carrying. He wasn’t sure if Midoriya was getting worse at hiding things like that or if, as he spent more time with him, Shoto was getting better at reading him.

He liked to think it was the later. He liked to think that slowly he was becoming more in tune with the little signs that Midoriya gave out. He liked to think that they were getting close, but it wasn’t like he had previous friendships to compare this to. 

“Thanks for telling me to take a break,” Midoriya said once they were sitting down with their food. “I kinda keep over doing things.”

“I’ve noticed,” Shoto said before he fully realized he was speaking out loud. 

“Oh,” Midoriya raised an eyebrow.

“I mean,” Shoto said quickly. “You push yourself a lot. It’s good, but you need to know your own limits.”

“Yeah,” Midoriya sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, I’m just scared I’m going to fall behind.”

“That won’t happen,” Shoto told him seriously. Midoriya just looked at him. Shoto had a feeling that meant he should go on. “You’re the most driven person I know. You work so hard even when you can afford to relax, and your quirk isn’t holding you back either. Giving yourself time to breath isn’t going to make you lose your place.”

Midoriya was still staring. Shoto’s mouth felt dry. That was too much. People didn’t just say things like that. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Thank you,” Midoriya was smiling now. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

He looked like he was going to start crying. If Shoto didn’t already know how emotional Midoriya could get, that would have sent him into a full on panic. Still, the look on his face was different than the teary-eyed expression Shoto was used to seeing whenever Midoriya was over excited or relieved. Behind the smile, Midoriya looked tired. 

“Are you okay?” Shoto didn’t know how else to phrase the questions.

“Um,” Midoriya’s smile tightened slightly. “Yeah. I’m great.”

“I mean really,” Shoto wasn’t good at this. If he couldn’t break his own walls, how was he supposed to even approached someone else’s? “You can be honest with me, you know?”

“I’m not lying.” Then something gave way. Then Midoriya let out a breath, and Shoto knew that Midoriya understood him. He knew that Midoriya had needed to heard that too. “I’m just a bit tired.”

“Okay,” Shoto nodded. “That’s fair.”

“Do you ever wonder if you’re not worth all of the fait everyone puts in you?” Midoriya asked, his voice was quieter now. “I mean, not you! You’re amazing, Todoroki, and completely worth everything everyone says about you, I mean me. I’m not worth it. God, I sound like a mess right now.”

“Midoriya.” Without fully realizing what it was he was doing, Shoto had reached forward so that his hands covered Midoriya’s. “I know what you meant. And I also know that it won’t make you feel any better if I just say you’re wrong. You are, though—you’re worth so much—but that’s not what you want me to say, is it?”

“I’m going to let everyone down at some point,” Midoriya whispered.

“You shouldn’t have to carry anyone else’s expectations,” Shoto squeezed Midoriya’s hands. “Strive for your goals because they’re what you want. No one else matters.”

“But so many people have helped me,” Midoriya uttered.

“Did you tell them too?” Shoto asked. “Have your ever even asked for help, Midoriya?”

“No,” Midoriya shook his head. 

“People help you because they care about you,” Shoto told him firmly. “You don’t owe anyone else your success, and none of your friends or teachers are going to demand that of you.”

That was when Midoriya started crying. Shoto sat there, still holding Midoriya’s hands, and waiting for the storm to end. He let Midoriya release the emotions that Shoto was sure he had to have kept bottled inside of his chest for a long time. He let Midoriya cry, and didn’t say anything, because he knew that was what Midoriya needed from him. Midoriya didn’t want to be told his tears were pointless, he wanted someone to hold onto as he let his emotions sweep through.

“I guess that makes us even,” Midoriya said in a far more uplifted voice when they left the coffee shop. “You made sure I was okay, and I’ve made sure you were okay.”

“We’re far from being even,” Shoto said honestly. Midoriya had no idea how much Shoto owed him. Shoto doubted that he would ever fully understand that.

“You know, we can hang out on normal occasions too,” Midoriya informed him. “It doesn’t have to be when one of us is falling over the edge.”

“Right,” Shoto’s mouth felt dry again. “I’d like that.”

“So would I,” Midoriya smiled at him. Shoto was very certain that smile was going to be the death of him.

When they reached the dorms Shoto was surprised when Midoriya pulled him into a hug. It was quick, just Midoriya’s arms looping around his shoulders for barely a second, but it still made Shoto’s heart beat fast. It still knocked him off his center of gravity.

“Thanks for today,” Midoriya was still smiling.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Shoto meant this. “We’re friends.”

“Yeah,” Midoriya nodded. “I’ll see you later, Shoto.”

He seemed to only hear himself a second after the name dropped from his lips. For a second, Shoto was pretty sure that Midoriya’s face reddened in what he could only call a blush. Before he could take the sentence back, Shoto was grinning.

“See you later, Izuku.”

—

They spent more time together after that. Shoto began finding excuses to end up in Izuku’s dorm room after school. Most of the time they would just study together, and for half of that they were usually joined by Uraraka and Iida too. Still, it was nice. They found a knew normal and Shoto liked it.

Sometimes he wanted more. He told himself over and over that it was only human for him to. Everything he’d gone through hadn’t erased the fact that at the end of the day he was still a teenager and at the end of the day he was still in love with his best friend.

Shoto had decided that was the easiest way for him to mentally frame Izuku. Just friends felt like he was trying to minimize what he knew had grown into something very strong. In a way, they acted as each other’s crutches. They didn’t always need the support, but when Izuku did Shoto knew how to recognize it and Izuku seemed to always be there in the moments that he just couldn’t hold everything together on his own. 

Izuku was probably the most important person in Shoto life. He wouldn’t say this out loud, because he would never even think to put that much pressure on him, but that didn’t make it any less true. Shoto loved Izuku, he felt like he did more and more each day. Sometimes he was afraid that the feeling was too much for him, he felt as if he was going to overflow. 

Those were the nights when he would lay awake in bed, unable to let himself fall asleep. This was a knew kind of insomnia. Shoto had dealt with demons all of his life, and he was used to peace refusing to find him in the dark, but this time it wasn’t nightmares that kept his mind awake. 

This time he wasn’t sad or angry or even scared. He was happy. That emotions had never made him feel like he was going to be swallowed whole before.

“You wanna sleep here tonight?” Izuku didn’t even look up from the text book in front of him as he asked the question. Shoto was thankful for that. He was thankful that Izuku couldn’t see the complete shock on his face.

“I’m just a few floors up,” Shoto reminded him.

“Yeah, I know,” Izuku shrugged. “You don’t have to, I just thought it might be easier. It’s getting kinda late.”

“Okay,” Shoto nodded. “I should probably get my pajamas, though.”

“I think that would kinda defeat the point,” Izuku laughed and actually looked up now. “I have some extra you can wear.”

“Okay,” he found himself uttering. “Sounds good.”

Shoto knew this was a bad idea. He knew that if thoughts of Izuku were what kept him from drifting off in his own room, then there was no way in hell he would get a wink of sleep when the subject of his affections was only a few feet away from him.

Still, he didn’t argue. An hour later when the words on the books they had been going over were starting to blur and Shoto couldn’t bring himself to focus on any of the information he was trying to take in, Izuku suggested they get ready for bed. So Shoto found himself wearing an oversized All Might t-shirt and sweatpants that were a little bit too short on him, and feeling completely incased by the smell of whatever soap Izuku used.

“Do you have an extra pillow?” Shoto asked. He figured he could survive a night of laying on Izuku’s floor. It wasn’t like he was planning to get much sleep anyway. 

“You can fit up here,” Izuku told him as he scooted to one side of the bed.

That was the moment that Shoto regretted not getting himself out of this situation. Surely, this was crossing a line. Maybe Izuku didn’t see it that way, but Izuku didn’t know about his feelings. Izuku didn’t know that, deep down, Shoto would probably kill for the chance to just lay next to him. Shoto was fully aware of how creepy that sounded and he was fully aware that if he accepted there was no way he would be able to keep thoughts like that out of his head.

“Seriously.” Even in the dim light seeping through the window, Shoto was certain Izuku was smiling that incredibly bright smile. “I promise I won’t kick you in my sleep.”

And because Shoto couldn’t think of an excuse that could get him out of this situation—because if he said he didn’t want to he knew it would open up everything that he was trying so hard to keep under wraps, and because maybe he did desperately want this—Shoto nodded and climbed into the other side of Izuku’s bed. 

They didn’t talk. Shoto listened to Izuku’s soft breathing, and stared at the ceiling, and tried very hard to keep his thoughts alway from the fact that they were inches apart. He tried not to wonder what it would feel like to wrap his arms around Izuku and feel his back against his chest. He tried not to recognize how this was exactly and not at all what he wanted. 

As time dripped by, Shoto realized Izuku wasn’t falling asleep either. At first he simply figured that his friend wasn’t all that tired or that the idea of sleeping next to someone was more distracting that he’d imagined, but the longer they laid in silence the more Shoto became aware of every tiny shift in movement Izuku made.

Shoto felt the air around them become less calming than it had been back when they were simply studying. He felt unasked questions pressing down around him, and part of him was certain that Izuku could feel this too. Part of him was certain that he wasn’t alone in feeling lost and confused right now.

“Shoto—”

“What are we doing?” The question was probably too harsh, but Shoto didn’t know how to beat around the bush. He didn’t know how to hint at things he wasn’t ready to admit and he didn’t know what he was supposed to be saying right now.

“Well,” Izuku let out a nervous laugh. “Not sleeping.”

“You asked me to stay for a reason,” Shoto understood this now.

“Yeah,” Izuku didn’t lie to him. He never did. 

“Why?” They were so close. This was such an odd torture.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Izuku stated. 

For a second Shoto was silent. So that was what this was about. Shoto didn’t know why disappointment sunk into his chest. It wasn’t like he’d expected something else.

“I wasn’t aware it was that obvious,” he finally said.

“I thought maybe it would help to not be alone,” Izuku sounded uneasy.

“And you couldn’t just ask me if I was alright?” Even in the darkness Shoto could see Izuku’s silhouette flinch at that. 

“You can leave if this isn’t helping,” Izuku murmured. “I was just worried about you.”

“I’m sorry.” Why did he always have to mess everything up? Why couldn’t he just be glad that he had someone like Izuku looking out for him? “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m the one who made a decision for you,” Izuku sounded as tired as Shoto felt. “I just thought that if you wanted to talk about it you would have said something already. This seemed like the best way to check in on you.”

He’d give Izuku points for thinking things through. He’d also take away those points for not thinking anything through at all.

“I’m alright,” Shoto meant this. “I’m not having nightmares if that’s what you were thinking.”

“It was,” Izuku admitted.

“It’s not like that,” Shoto promised.

“But there is something.” Izuku wasn’t stupid and Shoto wasn’t as good of a liar as he used to be.

“Yes,” he let the word fall from his lips.

“Can you tell me?” Izuku sounded hesitant. He sounded like he was afraid that Shoto wasn’t going to let him in. 

Shoto wanted to. He wanted to so badly, but if he told Izuku the truth then he would lose everything he’d come to depend on. 

“I don’t know,” Shoto wanted this to be over. He wanted this whole conversation to have never happened. 

“Oh,” Izuku murmured. “You don’t have to, I’m not trying to push you or anything like that. I just need you to know you can trust me.”

“I do,” Shoto meant this. He trusted Izuku more than he trusted himself. “But this isn’t something you’re going to want to hear.”

“What does that even mean?” Izuku’s voice was near exasperated and Shoto didn’t blame him. “I’m not going to judge you, okay? You know me better than that.”

Shoto didn’t know how to say that was the problem. He knew Izuku better than he’d ever let himself know anyone. They had something special and he didn’t want to ruin it. 

But he couldn’t just be silent. He owed Izuku some sort of answer, and he knew he had to say something. They were in too deep now. Shoto should have just gone back to his own room that night. He should have known that this was going to be too much for him.

Shoto sat up on the bed. It was too dark to see Izuku’s expression, but his eyes could make out his outline as he laid propped on the pillow next to him.

“I’m what’s wrong,” Shoto uttered.

“I don’t understand,” Izuku said slowly.

Shoto didn’t know how to explain. He didn’t know how to pour emotions that he’d let take over his entire being into words. He didn’t know how to tell Izuku that he couldn’t stop thinking about it—that the reason he’d lost so much sleep was because every time he closed his eyes all he saw was that smile and the light that never seemed to leave Izuku’s eyes.

Shoto didn’t know how to say any of that, but he couldn’t just sit there.

“You can punch me for this,” Shoto stated before he did what he’d been longing to for so long.

Before Izuku could question him, before Shoto could lose his nerve, before his brain could stop spinning for long enough to realize this was not a good idea—Shoto leaned forward. For a brief moment, his hands rested on Izuku’s pillow holding himself above him before gently guiding his mouth to where he knew Izuku’s was. 

Their lips touched. 

It wasn’t the kind of kiss that Shoto had spent his nights longing for. It wasn’t the kind that people wrote songs and poems about. In truth, it was barely a kiss at all, but that didn’t matter. For no more than a second, Shoto’s lips brushed against Izuku’s. For no more than a second, he showed Izuku what he was too scared to say out loud.

And then reality set back in.

And then Shoto was jerking backwards, suddenly aware of what he had just done. Panic seized his chest. He could feel his whole body shaking. His mind filled with every time he’d told himself that he cared too much about Izuku to let his feelings be known—that if he did, he would lose the one thing that was keeping him grounded.

“Shoto, I—”

He didn’t let Izuku finish that sentence. Before he could even fully realize that he was moving, Shoto was scrambling off of the bed and darting for the door. He could hear Izuku shouting after him, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t bring himself to look Izuku in the eyes after that. He wasn’t sure he could handle Izuku telling him that he didn’t feel the same. 

He ran down the hallway. He didn’t know where his legs were taking him. It didn’t matter, he just knew that he needed to run. When he finally stopped he was in the common room and that made sense. Of course it was where he’d first realized that he was in love with Izuku that he would process that truth that his feelings would never be returned—that he’d ruined everything.

Shoto sunk onto the couch. He let his head drop into his hands. It was only now that the tears came. It was only now that he fully felt his world come crashing down around him.

Maybe Izuku had been wrong that night that he stayed up to calm down Shoto’s racing thoughts. Maybe Shoto was like his father. After all, he’d managed to burn everything he touched. 

When the couch dipped next to him, Shoto’s reflexes were fasted than his logic. He hadn’t heard someone walk in, but when he jerked up to meet Izuku’s eyes, he understood that it didn’t make sense for anyone else to find him. Still, he wished Izuku hadn’t followed him. He wished that Izuku could be just a bit less kind.

Shoto watched Izuku take in the tears in his eyes. He watched Izuku think, and then he watched him not. Before he could say anything, Izuku’s arms were wrapped around him and his head was resting against Shoto’s chest. 

“I’m not going to punch you for that,” was all Izuku said. 

Shoto could find the words to tell Izuku that the embrace was going to hurt more.

“Can we pretend it didn’t happen?” Shoto asked when he was certain his voice wouldn’t break. He felt Izuku stiffen before pulling out of the embrace.

“No,” Izuku stated.

“Oh,” Shoto should have seen that coming. He should have understood it wasn’t fair to ask that of Izuku. “Okay. If you don’t want to be friends anymore, I get it.”

“Shoto—”

“And don’t try to spare my feelings, okay?” He needed Izuku to hear this. He needed to be able to say it. “I know this is going to change things, and that’s okay. I’ll get over it eventually, then maybe we can go back to how things were.”

“Can I say something?” Izuku was giving him a look that Shoto didn’t understand.

“Yes,” Shoto uttered.

“You’re kinda an idiot, you know that?” Izuku said flatly.

“I’m aware,” Shoto said before he could stop himself. Izuku let out a small laugh.

“But you’re half right,” Izuku was smiling now. Shoto didn’t understand how he could still have that smile in a moment like this. “I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Okay,” Shoto would pretend that it didn’t hurt so much more to hear Izuku say that. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t!” Izuku looked exasperated now. “You’re not letting me talk!”

“I’m sorry,” Shoto let the words slip out.

“No, don’t apologize—just,” Izuku let out a loud sigh. “You know what? I give up!”

And then Izuku was kissing him. 

For a second Shoto was frozen. For a second he couldn’t bring himself to believe that this was really happening. Then the burning in his chest took over—then his hands reached up to cup Izuku’s face and he let himself give in to the kiss. He let himself have what he thought was going to be forever out of his reach.

“Are you sure?” Shoto asked when their lips parted.

“Yes,” Izuku whispered. “I thought you wouldn’t feel the same. I was afraid I was going to scare you away.”

“You never could,” Shoto took Izuku’s hands in his. 

“Good,” Izuku grinned. Shoto noticed the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. This wasn’t like back in the coffee shop, this was the kind of crying that Shoto and everyone close to Izuku was used to. It was the happy cry. Somehow Shoto had been the one to cause it. “Can you keep kissing me?”

Shoto answered by pressing their lips together again. As long as Izuku wanted him, he wasn’t ever going to stop. As long as Shoto could have this, he wasn’t ever letting go. 

At some point Izuku ended up on top of him. At some point the kissing melted away into just a soft embrace. At some point Shoto closed his eyes and felt himself drift off easily for the first time in weeks.

—

“Okay, this is getting out of hand.”

“Should we wake them up?”

“Am I the only one who doesn’t get it? Like how is that comfortable?”

“Yeah, you don’t get it.”

“Guys, do you think they did stuff in the common room? They’re too classy to do that right? Right?”

That question made Shoto determined not to open his eyes until he was sure that Izuku was awake as well. He could feel the weight of Izuku’s head on his chest, and no he wasn’t comfortable anymore but he didn’t care. Last night had been the single best thing that ever happened to him and he almost didn’t care that their entire class was currently gawking at him and Izuku and the clearly more suggestive position they’d fallen asleep in this time. 

After a moment he felt Izuku shift on top of him. The room fell silent. Shoto could practically feel Izuku coming to his senses. He let out a soft sigh a murmured something into Shoto’s shirt—into his own shirt that Shoto was still wearing from the night before. 

Then he was suddenly springing up into what Shoto assumed was meant to be a sitting position off of Shoto, but ended up only resulting in knocking the both of them off of the couch. They landed in a heap on the common room floor, their classmates still all staring at them. 

“Morning,” Shoto uttered.

“Hi guys,” Izuku was slowly turning red. “Um, we were studying last night. I guess we fell asleep out here.”

“Right,” Shoto nodded. “Studying.”

It was clear that no one in the room bought that. Out of the corner of his eye, Shoto was Uraraka dissolved into a fit of giggles. He’d let Izuku handle telling their friends what had actually happened last night—or at least part of it.

Izuku muttered another excuse before grabbing Shoto’s arm and pulling him out of the common room. They didn’t stop until the door of Izuku’s dorm room closed behind them. Then Shoto was laughing, and Izuku was insisting that it wasn’t funny, and for the first time Shoto found himself wiping tears from his eyes that weren’t born from anger or sorrow.

“I guess we should probably explain at some point,” Izuku rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Yeah,” Shoto nodded. He was still laughing. 

“Maybe next time we do that we should actually sleep in one of our rooms,” Izuku added, his voice a little slyer now.

“Next time?” Shoto raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, if you want to,” Izuku said quickly. He took a step closer to Shoto as he spoke. “We could take things slow, though. We didn’t really talk about what the next step is last night.”

“We didn’t really talk much last night,” Shoto said with a smirk.

“Well, yeah.” The blush was back on Izuku’s face. Shoto decided that he liked it. He decided that he liked being the one who caused it. 

“So,” Shoto reached forward to tread his figures through Izuku’s hair. “What is the next step?”

“You wanna get breakfast?” Izuku asked him. “As a date.”

“I’d like that.” Shoto smiled before closing the distance between them. 

He could get used to this. Until last night, he hadn’t thought it was possible to be more than someone Izuku could lean on, but somehow this made sense. Somehow, he knew that everything had been leading up to this. After all, they could still carry each other when they needed it and strive for the same goals as a couple. 

“Just promise me one thing,” Izuku murmured when their lips parted.

“Anything,” Shoto said softly.

“Next time something’s bothering you, especially if it’s about me, just tell me, okay?” Izuku was looking at him with those bright eyes, and now Shoto realized he could let them melt his heart. 

“Promise,” Shoto nodded. “As long as you don’t hold back because you think you’ll scare me off.”

“Deal.” Izuku held out his hand in a joking manor. Instead of shaking it, Shoto used it to pull him in for another kiss. 

He definitely could get used to this.