#the fact that he's the ace of hearts might be a key detail too though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

volleychumps · 4 years ago

Note

Hello dear!!! imma make a tooth rotting fluff imagine request in which kenma, sakusa, wakatoshi and kageyama(you can add others if you want uwu) have a secret relationship with reader chan and somehow their team finds out and they start to freak out since their relationship is a secret? lol this is too long but im just craving fluff. thankk youuu!!!!

I saw your requests, goregous- sorry it took so long!! I love you, hope you guys enjoy!!

Thank you for 2.5k followers-you guys make me want to combust (in a good way)!!!

Getting Found Out in a Secret Relationship (Kenma, Sakusa, Wakatoshi, and Kageyama)

“Experiencing the Unexpected”

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

Kenma

“...You’re positive no one’s going to come in?”

“Relax. Kuroo left the clubroom keys with me, and everyone knows I skip today’s practice.” Kenma responds quietly, leaning his head on yours as you stop looking nervously at the door, your boyfriend swiping his thumb over your conjoined hands to calm you down. You fiddle with the pastry in your hand as Kenma chews the other half, content with finally getting some private time with you. Avoiding you or at least pretending to care less about you was more straining than he thought.

“Why don’t we just tell him? Kuroo and the team wouldn’t bother you forever-”

“Then you clearly don’t know them well enough.” The setter huffs as you bite back an amused grin, planting a small peck on Kenma’s cheek as the setter’s eyes widen mid-chew, glancing down at you smiling a cute smile to yourself.

“Then whatever you’re comfortable with, love. I won’t rush you.”

“Can I say something?” Kenma mumbles shyly, finishing off his half of the pastry and basking in the quiet of your environment as you lick some frosting off your thumb, turning towards him with an arched brow.

“I really really like you, Y/N.” Kenma says quietly, and your eyes widen a fraction before a huge smile breaks out onto your face- he only ever had to say the most heart-wrenching things at the randomest moments. Your smile only grew when a timid hand cups your cheek, your own hand running through Kenma’s long hair affectionately as he shyly peppers kisses across your cheek-

your giggles apparently loud enough for both of you to fail to hear the fiddling of the lock.

“Kenma, you bastard! How many times-?”

You shove Kenma off right away, a red hue to your cheeks as you catch sight of the rest of the team standing behind their captain wide-eyed and bewildered at seeing their anti-social setter in a locked clubroom kissing a girl-

Through your blushing haze, your mouth hangs agape at Kuroo not even reacting, winking at you once with a grin in greeting before grabbing Kenma by the collar.

“You’re skipping practice again?!”

Yaku sweatdrops. “Oh. So we’re pretending like Y/N wasn’t locked in a room with Kenma voluntarily?”

“Were they...cuddling?”

“Lev, I’m sorry I didn’t shield your eyes on time-”

“...you knew?” Kenma ignores his idiotic teammates, more focused on the fact that Kuroo hadn’t even batted an eyelash before the captain simply shrugs, spinning his own set of keys on his finger.

“I have my ways.”

“That means you stalked him.”

“I prefer the terms, quietly followed-”

“Can we please focus on the fact that Kenma was showing genuine human emotion to a girl out of his league-”

You turn to your boyfriend amongst the bickering teammates, lopsided grin on your face as Kenma groans into his hands. With your own red hue on your cheeks, you hug him, observing the chaos before kissing his cheek- sending the team into another gasp of shock as Kenma sighs, looking at you with a why? expression on his blushing features.

“Cat’s out of the bag then, huh?”

“...a pun. We just got found out and your first reaction’s a pun.”

Sakusa

“You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“I know! I did because I want to.” You shoulder your bag with a small greeting smile on your face- one that had the stiff boy’s chest tighten just a little bit as Sakusa merely nods once. You arch a brow at the high rise of his chest, coy grin tugging at your lips-

“Did you run here?”

“Of course I didn’t.”

You laugh a little, taking note of his still-wet hair and sloppily shoved gym bag, walking up to him to straighten his mask for him. “You’re teammates aren’t the least bit suspicious?”

“Ha. Those idiots don’t know how to be suspicious.” Sakusa says, thankful they had all gone home already as you sit down on the nearby bench to help re-pack his gym bag that you knew was obviously bothering him. You laugh a little, knowing where to put what in the way Sakusa liked- and a rare tender feeling spread across his chest as he tugged his mask down before he could convince himself otherwise.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?” You question, not looking up from sorting his towel from his shoes before pale fingers gently tilt your head upwards- taking you off-guard as Sakusa makes an exception and plants a chaste kiss on your forehead, clearing his throat and tugging his mask back up quickly. You smile, cherishing the rarity of the moment before-

“I CALLED IT.”

“Bokuto-san, he might hear us!”

“...He definitely heard you, are you slow?”

Sakusa hangs his head, a slow burn on his cheeks as he tugs you behind him from your seat on the bench, glowering at the floor as his three annoying teammates pop their heads timidly around the corner of the practice gym.

“Oh heeeeeey Sakusa.” Atsumu laughs a little too loudly as Bokuto follows in suit, looking around as if he were lost as Hinata mimicks him, and you peek over your boyfriend’s shoulder to muffle a laugh into the back of his jacket. Sakusa glances at you, eyes softening a little at your actions.

“Fancy seeing you here!” Hinata waves to you mostly as Sakusa sighs, eyes looking up darkly.

“You’re all vermin.”

“What, it’s not like we followed you because we were suspicious of your secret rendezvous with Y/N even though I totally called dibs first-”

Atsumu clamps his mouth shut at the glower in his friend’s eyes before clearing his throat. “A joke. It was a joke.”

“Waaaa Y/N, we’re your friends too! Why keep it a secret?” Bokuto whines, suddenly next to you as Sakusa wonders just when the excited ace made his way over, holding you by the shoulders as Hinata clenches his fists, orange eyes asking in the same fashion. Atsumu blinks, suddenly all alone as you stutter- attacked at all angles at once.

“You would mess with Kiyoomi at practice if you knew.” You scold, and all three take on an offended expression that had you giggling. “What? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t.”

“No use, Y/N.” Sakusa tugs you out of the herd, finally reaching his limit for the day. “Let’s just go home while we can still count our braincells-”

“Wait. You two live together?!”

“Show us your place! Show us your place!” Bokuto and Hinata chant as Atsumu crosses his arms with a winning smirk as you put a hand on your boyfriend’s chest, pouting all the while before Sakusa facepalms.

“Fine. Bring your germ-infested pets into the flat, Y/N.”

Ushijima

“You’re tense.”

“Yeah? Wouldn’t you be?” You look at the entrance to the gym a second time before Ushijima shrugs, holding you a little closer as he nuzzles his face into his shoulder. He hadn’t meant to keep you a secret, but it was crucial that no press ever found out and harassed you about the details of the intimate life he wished to keep hidden.

“Practice doesn’t start until another hour. They have no reason to come in here yet.”

“Still, it’s risky- we can just...”

“Y/N.” You stop fidgeting at the authoritative tone of your boyfriend’s words as Ushijima’s arms tighten around you a little more, and you blush at the position. Your back was pressed up against the broad boy’s chest, sitting in between his legs comfortably as he simply soaked in your presence while mumbling into your hair.

“I haven’t seen you in awhile. Did I miss you more than me? Is that why you’re more focused on my team walking in on us than this time we have together?”

You groan at the tug of your heart, pouting up at your boyfriend as you turn a little to do so. “Come on, don’t guilt trip me like that!”

“Cute.”

“Stop.” You whine, and the corners of Ushijima’s lips tug a little before he gently cups your jaw upwards, brushing your nose with his as you gulp at the proximity.

“You missed me, didn’t you?”

“S-Stop stating the obvious.” You blush, agitated look in your eyes as Ushijima simply allows a small smirk onto his lips- your cute response prompting him to close the distance. You smile into the kiss, feeling his arms hold you a little closer as you basked in the rare affection you ever got to share away from prying eyes-

The sliding of the door had you shoving out of your boyfriend’s hold as your now-widened eyes caught sight of a head of red hair. A familiar one, at that- as you hide your face into Ushijima’s neck.

“Tendou. I saw you.” Your boyfriend’s voice wasn’t even embarrassed as you hear the door creak open again, his friend’s voice filling the gym in a slightly teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, carry on!”

To your horror, a second voice sounds as Semi Eita kicks the redhead out of the way. “You’re perverted and annoying? The good traits just keep coming, huh?”

“S-Semi-senpai, is that not assault?”

“It’s only assault in any other case that isn’t Tendou.” Shirabu responds to Goshiki as the team all file in, and you blink at the fact that your boyfriend didn’t look the least preturbed at the situation- merely sighing as if this were a minor inconvenience as he rubs your thigh, attempting to calm you down but simply making the situation worse.

Shirabu takes a purposeful step in front of Goshiki with a sigh as Tendou over-dramatically gasps, prompting you to shove Ushijima’s hand away as Semi crosses his arms, the only one still seemingly sane.

“Y/N L/N’s your girlfriend, Ushijima?”

You feel his head nod.

“Cool.” Semi shrugs before going to set up the net as Ushijima finally releases you, and you stand before bowing deeply in apology- for what at the time, you didn’t know.

“You’re...cute?”

“Why would you say that in a disbelieving tone, Tendou-”

“I...I need to get a girlfriend to become the best ace...!”

“I’d appreciate it if you all don’t let the public find out.” Ushijima ignores the strange antics of his team as they all shrug and nod, and their captain glances down at your still shocked figure before turning you to face him seriously.

“...They know about us.”

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell.”

Kageyama

“Tobio! You did so well-!”

Your eyes widen a little when the blue-eyed boy picks up the pace towards your waving figure in the halls of the tournament, sighing as he leans his forehead on your shoulder, hands still shoved in his pockets as the upper half of his torso is now parallel to the floor. His gym back drooped with his movement as you still in shock at the public display- when your whole relationship had ever happened behind closed doors.

“Someone might see...” You say softly, and Kageyama grunts in reply, basking in the feel of you as you blush, running your hand softly through his raven hair.

“Tired?”

“You have no idea. When I saw some asshole talking to you in the stands during my game and I couldn’t-”

“Breathe.” You laugh a little as Kageyama lifts his forehead off your shoulder to stare at you seriously. “Where’s your team?”

“In the stands over-eating.” He shrugs, hands snaking around your waist, causing you to yelp a little as the blue-eyed boy buries his face in your neck. “God, I missed you.”

“You can miss me in a more private place, you know.” Your eyes dart everywhere before smiling into Kageyama’s hair, relaxing the slightest bit as Kageyama brushes his lips against your cheek as he pulls back.

“I want to show you off. Why do I want to keep this secret again?”

You blush at the affectionate words, wondering if the time you had to avoid each other was taking a toll on him, before cupping his cheek carefully-

“That’s what we’d like to know, Romeo.”

“Ooh, that rhymed Ryuu.”

You watch as your boyfriend’s face slowly melts into one of realization, his head slowly turning to see all of the Karasuno volleyball club staring with some sort of food in their hands- watching as if this were the most interesting film of the year.

Kageyama’s soul seems to slowly leave his body, and you offer a wave of your hand a bit awkwardly as Tsukishima nudges Hinata with his shoulder, chewing on a granola bar snarkily.

“I told you so. Cough up five bucks.”

“How does Kageyama-Kun have a girlfriend?! Does she even know him?!!”

“Is...is that a legitimate question, Hinata?” Yamaguchi, mostly dragged along in the plan of following a suspicious escaping setter after they won their match, scratches the back of his neck.

“Now, now- Don’t crowd.” Suga laughs, walking up to you and slinging a friendly arm over your shoulder before lowering his voice.

“But in all seriousness, you’re not in danger or anything- right?”

“Suga!” Daichi tugs his friend back as Kageyama puts his face in his hands before taking a deep breath, and for a second you think he’s really going to handle the situation really well-

You blink when he grabs your hand.

“Run.”

“Tobio, we don’t have to-”

“Run.”

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

General works: @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @takemetovalhalla @yams046

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu kenma #KENMA #Kenma Kozume #haikyu kenma #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima

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phantomrose96 · 4 years ago

Text

King

cw: heavy angst, non-canon character death, violent imagery, emetophobia

It’s pretty long, so heed the Read More.

...

Bakugou is sitting in the police station.

Time isn’t moving forward with him. It has a hand over his mouth holding him back, holding him down, beneath the surface of the unreal waters which suspend him. All sounds reach his ears muffled. The phone ringing, and the station hand answering. Chatter, officers exchanging details, Bakugou winces at the utterance of the word “explosion”. None of it is real. None of it can be happening to him.

He jangles the handcuffs on his wrist, and this attracts the weary attention of the station hands. The cuffs aren’t necessary. He is not going anywhere. He sits, and he stares forward, and his ears ring.

Bakugou has fucked up. Bakugou understands for the first time in his life the sensation of fucking up beyond repair. He is watching dreams evaporate in front of his eyes, staring forward unseeingly at the pallid white floor tiles around him. His eyes trace their lines. He does not see them. They are not real. He is not real. He has fucked up. He has fucked up.

Behind his eyelids, a single image burns. It is branded into his eyes. The scorched wick of a torso lingers there, shifting to a negative impression of itself with each blink. A torched wick, balanced on disembodied legs, falling forward. Falling forward. Falling forward. Falling forward again with each blink. It’s a sight he has no way to unsee.

His heart rate picks up. His breathing comes faster and shallower. He says nothing. He has fucked up. He has fucked up, and he can never fix this.

Because he is still, and because he is silent, no one pays him any mind.

…

A man walks into the precinct. He is just a bit portly, immaculately dressed in a suit and tie. He shrugs off the tweed overcoat, leaving just vest and undershirt and tie, and hangs it with familiarity on the coat rack by the entrance. He lifts his bowler’s hat in greeting, and overlapping responses greet him from the precinct office. “Fujimori” is uttered, affably. He extends a hand, and several workers shake it with a smile. A joke is cracked. A chorus of deep belly laughs follow. The man with the bowler’s hat – Fujimori – calms his mirth and asks one of the officers about his kids, and when the idle chatter ends, he asks where his client is.

Fingers point toward Bakugou. Fujimori lumbers over, with a confidence that reminds Bakugou of lions, his face at ease. Fujimori lowers himself to a squat so he is eye level with Bakugou.

“I’m Hiroji Fujimori. I’m a lawyer with U.A. You’ve had a hell of a day, huh, Katsuki Bakugou? Why don’t I help get those handcuffs off and get you home for some rest?”

Bakugou looks up. He hears the words, but his ears are still ringing, so he clearly has not heard them correctly. It sounded like the man said he was going home.

“Home?” Bakugou asks.

“Well, the U.A. dorms. Under protective custody but, I promise, you won’t even notice.”

“I’m not going home,” Bakugou responds. He isn’t sure it’s his own voice speaking, or his own lips moving.

“Oh? Got somewhere else you’re headed?”

“Jail.”

Fujimori lets out a deep laugh, the kind that rumbles his whole body. He fans himself briefly with the casefile in hand. “Right. Right right right, no one’s given you the run-down. Ease back those shoulders, son, you’re not headed to jail. Chin up! Try for a smile. This isn’t my first rodeo.” He offers a nod back to the officers. “Ain’t that right?”

There’s a chorus of agreement. Bakugou is looking, but not processing. His mind hangs on “not headed to jail.”

“…When am I going to jail, then?”

“Hopefully never! Not very becoming of a U.A. Hero to be doing time, hmm? Come on. There’s a car waiting out front for you. Let’s gather up your stuff and get you home. Bet you’re dying for something more comfortable than this chair, and these cuffs. Hell, I bet you want nothing more than a night in your own bed right now. Poor boy,” and Fujimori angles his head over his shoulder, “just how many hours have you lot kept him all tied up here, hmm? A touch reprehensible.”

Fujimori is wrong. Bakugou is not thinking about his bed or rest or sleep. Nor is he concerned with how many hours he’s been sitting at the precinct – though it’s been several. He has not thought about those things because time has not restarted. Because there is no future of his to consider with a bed and rest and sleep, not with the unfixable thing he’s done.

Bakugou says none of what he’s thinking. He’s uncharacteristically uncapable of trying. So he silently stands when Fujimori motions him to, and follows as Fujimori takes him back to the precinct desk, where Fujimori strikes up another amicable conversation with the officer in possession of the keys.

…

Back at the dorms, Bakugou showers off the smell of flesh that isn’t his own. He crawls into his U.A. bed for what he is sure is the last time. Hours pass staring at the ceiling, until Bakugou slips into dreams which play back his own last calamitous explosion to him a few dozen more times.

…

Fujimori is waiting for him the next morning, parked alongside the grass outside with the dew brushing along the footboard of his Mercedes. He is wearing a different suit today, a darker one, and he is holding two steaming cups of coffee, one which he offers to Bakugou. Bakugou takes it, though he isn’t sure why. The feeling of heat soaking into his palm is abhorrent.

“How’d you sleep?” Fujimori asks. His attendant opens the back-left passenger door for Bakugou. Bakugou stares. He does not answer, and he does not get in. Fujimori continues. “We’ll just be headed into the office for a few hours this morning. Some of my colleagues would like to meet you and hash over some details from yesterday. Might ask you to sign a few papers, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Fujimori gets in the back-right passenger door. The attendant takes the wheel. Once settled, Fujimori cranks up the AC and fans himself with the documents in his hand. He motions for Bakugou to get in as well. This time, Bakugou complies. Fujimori leans over and shuts the car door for him.

“You said you’re a U.A. lawyer?” Bakugou finally asks. He grips the coffee too tightly in his lap. He’s wearing his U.A. uniform, with the pants hitched up correctly. It’s what he was ordered to wear.

“Sure am. Going on 20 years this September. Y’know, I’ve got a son a little bit younger than you. HUGE fan of the U.A. Sports Festival. I get tickets and bring him every year. You were his top-ringer, favorite by a mile. Your victory over that Todoroki kid—

“Stop.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop.”

“Ah, sports festival a sour subject with you, son? As I recall you did end up restrai—”

“No. Stop being so casual. And friendly. Like this. Sports festival. Sports festival?! Like that’s ever going to matter again!” Bakugou’s voice builds toa crescendo, pent up horror spilling from his mouth like a faucet. “It’s cruel, don’t you think, to make me talk about U.A. like I’m ever coming back.”

“Hey now, the way I see it you’ve still got another two full years at that school before they’re done with you.”

“If you think that then you don’t know what happened yesterday. What kind of lawyer are you who doesn’t even know—”

“I know your case file forward and back, son. I’m no amateur. In fact, I’m very very skilled at what I do.”

“Then you know that I k—”

“—Calculated an unwinnable risk, and acted under extreme duress, and fear for you own life, in the face of a paralyzingly dangerous situation. And I know that your actions were necessary to ensure the safety of yourself and all others in the area.” Fujimori raises his own coffee to his lips and drinks from it, leaving the both of them to ruminate in the whir of the A.C. “An admirable and heroic act, with a tragic but unavoidable outcome.”

Bakugou feels colder, in a part of himself untouched by the A.C.

“…It wasn’t like that,” he whispers.

“I assure you it was, boy.”

The car blinker clicks on. They hang a left. Bakugou fixes his eyes out the window, watching the world spin by him. There’s an anger like solid ice encasing his heart, the kind he cannot act on, the kind that paralyzes him in his seat, the kind he’d only felt once before – when All Might lost his power for him – that Bakugou had vowed to never feel again.

Self-hatred. Ice instead of fire. That is what makes it so paralyzing.

“…Why are you representing me?”

“Because U.A. requested that I do.”

“And why would U.A. care? This wasn’t a U.A. mission. This didn’t have anything to do with them.”

Fujimori turns and offers him a warm smile. His face is disarming, and gentle, and grandfatherly, and he extends a hand to pat Bakugou on the shoulder.

“Come now, I think you’re a sharp enough boy to figure out the answer to that question.”

…

Bakugou leaves the office numb again. His memories of the incident feel hazier now. They feel less his own. He’s been asked to hold on to someone else’s construction, to coddle it in his mind until he believes it is his own. He needs to sew it back into himself. And forget his own memories. And move on.

Six hours have passed since he walked into the conference room with Fujimori, met with a half-dozen other lawyers whose names and faces all escape him now. He’s been asked too many times to describe the villain’s face, to describe man’s dress and his expression and his body language. Bakugou no longer trusts any memory he has of face, and body, and dress, and name.

Bakugou does not remember what, precisely, the villain said to him. He does not remember how he said it or why. Or how the villain had used his quirk, or how many times, or how close to Bakugou. Bakugou knows with certainty the villain had smashed him into the pavement, because it is that white-hot rage he felt in response that is seared into the memory behind his eyelids, like an after-image in the wake of an atom bomb.

The missing details, the absent paint strokes in his memory, have been helpfully filled in for him. Bakugou has been informed by the half-dozen lawyers that the villain had attacked him first, and with such bloodlust and such aggression that Bakugou had acted purely, and only, in defense of himself. Bakugou has been informed that the contusions to the back of his skull, documented at the police station, and the abrasions along his arms and legs and back all constitute intense physical trauma, from the villain who struck first, against Bakugou who had every reason to fear for his life.

Bakugou has been informed that the villain was a scoundrel, a lowlife, a man with a record and no family and no ties to the community.

Bakugou ruminates on all these new elements he’s been told to graft into his memory, as the car vibrates beneath him and Fujimori makes idle one-sided chatter on their ride back to U.A. All these memories meld together, such that Bakugou cannot pick apart what is his own, and what is not. He stares into the blood-red setting sun over the horizon, and he realizes he never will be able to.

There were no witnesses. There were no cameras. The only other man, who might otherwise have had the chance to defend himself, is dead.

…

Bakugou showers again. He already showered this morning. Bakugou tells himself it is because he’s been out all day. He doesn’t let himself consider what about the outing has made him feel so unclean.

So he doesn’t think about it, and he scrubs off the phantom lingering smells of burnt flesh from his body, and towels off, and changes into sweats. Alone in his room, with the blood red of the setting sun eking through his window, Bakugou considers going right to bed. His eyes shift to the clock beside his bed. It’s 5pm, and he hasn’t eaten yet today.

Bakugou stands, indecisive, and moves to the door.

When he opens it, he sucks in a sharp breath. Todoroki is standing at his doorway, leaning ever so slightly against the wall, his appraising eyes roving once over Bakugou before he straightens up entirely.

“Move,” Bakugou says.

“Where did you go with Fujimori this morning?”

Bakugou balks, only for an instant. He shoves past Todoroki, and sets his focus on navigating to the dorm kitchen. “Who?”

“The lawyer. I saw from the window. You were talking to him. You got in his car. And you’ve been gone the whole day until now.”

“What do you care?” Bakugou picks up his pace. Todoroki matches it.

“Because it’s Fujimori.”

“I don’t know what that means. Fuck off and leave me alone.”

“What did he want with you? What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Fuck off.”

“Tell me.”

Bakugou stops cold and whirls on Todoroki. He feels his hand twitch, but he thinks better of it.

“It’s from my work study. It’s confidential. I can’t tell you, and I wouldn’t tell you anyway. We’re not friends. You don’t demand things from me. Fuck. Off.”

Bakugou takes off again.

“Fujimori…” Todoroki trails off. He hustles to keep himself in lock step with Bakugou, flanking him, refusing to be shaken off. “Just tell me why it’s Fujimori then.”

“Again, I do not fucking know what that question means. Why the fuck do you expect me to know anything? Do I look like a lawyer? Go bug Deku, you clingy piece of shit.”

“Did I hear my name?”

Bakugou rounds the corner, Todoroki in tow, and he finds himself face to face with Midoriya. Midoriya has one eyebrow quirked, hair wet from his own shower, grasping a glass of water in his hands. Midoriya’s eyes flicker between Bakugou and Todoroki.

“What… are you two up to? Uh, something fun?”

“Good.” Bakugou grabs Midoriya by the shoulders, lifts him, and spins halfway around in place. He plants Midoriya back down as a human divide between himself and Todoroki. “Deku’s here. Go bug each other.”

Midoriya looks back and forth between Bakugou and Todoroki. Worry creases his brow. “Um, okay? Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, Todoroki?”

Bakugou glances for a fraction of a second at the kitchen, and curses under his breath, and turns in place, and shoves past Todoroki and Midoriya. He stalks back to his room, where he slams the door shut and locks it. He throws himself onto his bed and buries his face in his pillow, not bothering with the lights.

There’s muffled chatter in the hall. There are footsteps pattering overhead. There is a world outside his room that has spun on without him.

The question ‘why Fujimori?’ sits like a rock in Bakugou’s chest, and he rips the pillow out from beneath himself, pressing it over his head completely.

It’s fully dark now. Bakugou has no intention of moving from bed.

It is 5:07 pm.

…

Bakugou remembers very few details from the incident, anymore.

His memories are more like wispy embers, and they burn, and they flash-ignite without warning. He remembers heat, humidity, sapping sweat dripping down his hairline and curving along his nose. Heaving breath like a swelling knife wound in his bruised chest cavity. The viscous wetness of blood mingling and running in spider veins down his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, where it painted his teeth and tasted coppery on his tongue.

He remembers rage, white hot, swamping his mind. He remembers uproarious indignation that anyone could fell him like that, crack his head open on the concrete like that, knock the air from his lungs like that, make him taste his own blood like that. He remembers his every breath being a wheezing effort. He remembers the sun searing him, blisteringly bright, when he could manage to pry his eyes open to the spinning sky above. He remembers a ringing that stole all sound from his ears.

Bakugou no longer knows anything past that. His memories aren’t his own. The ones that were are overwritten, or buried, deformed beneath the crushing weight of denial. But he hadn’t meant to. He knows he hadn’t meant to. It has to be that he hadn’t meant to.

A slamming at his door tears him from his hazy half sleep. Bakugou sits bolt-upright, and his heart is slamming in his throat.

“Yo, dude, you get dinner yet? I haven’t seen you like all day. What’s up?”

Bakugou blinks, bleary-eyed, and the clock at his bedside swims into view. It’s 8:47 pm.

Bakugou lays back down. His every nerve remains on fire.

“Go away, I’m sleeping.”

Bakugou can sense the hesitation at the door.

“Alright,” Kirishima answers, and his voice is careful. “Catch you tomorrow then.”

…

In the common area, Kirishima walks in with his fingers threaded through his loose hair, his motions agitated, and he falls onto the couch beside Midoriya.

“Yo, hey, Midoriya, you know Bakugou pretty well, yeah? Do you think something’s like, up with him?”

Midoriya looks up from his phone. Iida, sitting on the adjacent couch, slams his book shut with entirely too much force. “Bakugou had an excused absence from class today! I can confirm this, if you are worried he is shirking from his student duties.”

“Nah nah – I mean – maybe that’s part of it, I dunno. But it’s not just that he wasn’t in class but like, I haven’t seen him at all today. And I tried to go bug him just now but he shut me out.”

“Bakugou goes to bed early,” Iida continues.

“I know he does but like. I dunno. It’s different. It’s kinda reminding me of how he acted after Kamino.”

“I saw him earlier today, but just for a little bit,” Midoriya answers. “Todoroki was talking to him, then he told me to talk to Todoroki.”

“Why?”

“Um, I don’t actually know. Do you know, Todoroki?”

“I don’t know,” Todoroki answers from the floor, where he sits leaning against the couch Kirishima and Midoriya occupy. After a moment of silence, he adds in, “But it’s something bad.”

Kirishima straightens, couch springs straining beneath him. “What do you mean bad? What do you know?”

“He was with Fujimori.”

“Who’s Fujimori?” Kirishima asks. All eyes remain pinned on Todoroki, not a flash of recognition in anyone else’s face, not even Iida’s.

“He’s a U.A. lawyer.” Todoroki fidgets. “He’s… a specific kind of U.A. lawyer. I saw a lot of him, when I was very young. After Mom went away, I saw a lot of him, pretty much every day.” Subconsciously, Todoroki raises a hand to skim along the uneven skin of his left eye. “Dad was his client.”

“Oh, um, I met a couple U.A. lawyers after we rescued Eri.” Midoriya shoots a quick glance to Kirishima. “Me and Kirishima both. Bakugou’s doing a work study right now. Maybe it’s like… maybe something like Eri happened.”

Todoroki shakes his head. “You and Kirishima have not met Fujimori. Whatever U.A. lawyers you talked to, they weren’t Fujimori.”

“What makes you sure?”

Todoroki lingers in the silence. His lips part, but he says nothing immediately. He thinks long and hard on the words hanging behind his tongue. There’s a twitch along his mouth, some repressed fidget of hostility that comes slowly burning into his eyes.

“I’ve been told not to talk about Fujimori. My father has told me not to. But… I think I don’t care what my father told me.” Todoroki pushes off from the couch he is leaning on, settling toward the center of the carpet and turning in place, so that he completes a circle made of himself, Kirishima, Midoriya, and Iida. “I might still get in trouble with U.A.… But maybe I don’t care about that either.” Todoroki pauses. “Fujimori… Fujimori is a monster. Scum, the lowest and most disgusting sort of person humanity has to offer—no, not humanity. Calling human would be too generous. He’s a weapon, not a human.”

Midoriya scoots a fraction forward. His body leaks with uneasy tension. “And he’s… you said he’s someone who works for U.A.? U.A. hired him?”

“U.A. would be sunk without him,” Todoroki declares coldly. “And Fujimori… does not get involved lightly. And he would never be involved in the Eri mission, because U.A. wasn’t at fault for anything bad that happened there.”

“I…” Midoriya fidgets again, waxing uncomfortable. “I mean, um, not all the details of that mission were made public, you know. It um… that mission didn’t go as planned. I mean, I don’t… I’m not blameless, I think, for the things that went wrong.”

“Me neither,” Kirishima cuts in.

“Sir Night Eye—”

“I know Sir Night Eye died,” Todoroki responds, chillingly flat. His eyes appraise Midoriya once-over. “Did you kill Sir Night Eye?”

“No,” Midoriya answers. “Why would you even—”

“Then Fujimori was not your lawyer.”

Silence fills the room. A palpable dread sets in over them, like a blanket of fog, clammy and cold to the touch.

“What… do you think Bakugou did?” Iida asks.

“Something as bad as my father did to me and my mother,” Todoroki answers, and he does not hide the personal condemnation from his voice. “Or worse.”

…

Bakugou wakes at 6:15 am to another message from Fujimori. It requests Bakugou meet him outside once more. No dress code is specified.

Bakugou appears wearing the sweats he fell asleep in, leery eyes meeting Fujimori who stands along the same dew-swept section of street beside the U.A. dorms. Bakugou shifts furtive glances up and to the dorm windows, face racked with tension.

“People can see us from the windows,” Bakugou comments, curt.

“Does that worry you?”

“Yes. Todoroki knows you. Why the fuck does Todoroki know you?”

Fujimori lets out a good-humored chuckle. “Ah, Todoroki’s boy. Figures he may not be too fond of me.” Fujimori adjusts the suspenders digging into his shoulders. He is more casually dressed today. “Well then – here’s some excellent news for you: this will be very, very brief, so brief you don’t have to worry about being spotted with me.” Fujimori curls a smile, wide and self-satisfied on his flushed red face. “Would you like to hear another lick of good news?”

“What?”

Fujimori extends a hand, low and firm, an invite to be grasped and shaken. “All charges against you have been dropped. You’re a free man with a clean record, Katsuki Bakugou.”

Bakugou does not take Fujimori’s hand. He doesn’t so much as move. He feels as if the ringing in his ears is back. He feels again as if he’s misheard.

“…There hasn’t been a trial yet.”

“You’re right about that. We nipped it in the bud before it even reached that stage. That’s a fantastic development, because trials have their way of dragging their feet. For years, sometimes. You’re a fortunate young man.”

“How?”

“Hmm?”

“How did the charges get dropped?”

“Well I just compiled your case is all. Argued it before the district judge and the chief of police over a nice batch of chamomile tea I brewed early this morning, and they’re both exceptional, bright, reasonable men of conscience. Not one person in that room wanted to see a U.A. star’s future snuffed out before it could even begin.”

“I killed—”

“—And there’s a few weeks off, being offered to you too, courtesy of the U.A. President Nedzu himself. He wants you to take the time you need to heal from this trauma. There’s a therapist too, under U.A.’s direction, that we’d like you to meet with daily. Sorry, that part’s non-negotiable. But she’ll be good for you. You’ve been through a lot for a boy so young. Everyone just wants to see you succeed.” Fujimori steps closer, and he rests a heavy hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. “And most importantly, the events from that day are under gag order. No word of this will ever reach anyone outside that precinct or outside U.A.”

“The villain…”

“Pardon?”

“What happens to him now? With his—with the—with what’s left of him. …What happens?”

“That’s not for people like you or me to worry about. You, especially, my boy. Just focus on the happy news.” Fujimori retracts his hand, and he lumbers back toward his car. There is no attendant this time. He opens the driver’s side door and glances back to Bakugou from overtop the car. “There will be a few more meetings in the coming weeks that you’ll have to attend with my colleagues, and a few more things for you to sign, and just a few attestations. But no one will ask anything difficult of you from here-on out. The hard part’s over. Quite luckily, this may be the last you see of me.”

Fujimori tips his hat once more, and disappears into his car with the tinted windows. It’s nice—the car. It’s exceptionally too nice, and too proper, and too clean for a man like Fujimori.

The engine revs. Fujimori vanishes along with the car at the next left turn.

Bakugou is left alone in the cold clammy morning air, with the sun wicking at the grass-top dew drops mingling with the cuffs of his pants.

Time restarts for Bakugou.

Now, and only now, Bakugou feels the passing wind against his cheek, and the wetness at his ankles, and the cadence of songbirds characterized by their punctuation through time. Time is moving fast again, with him in the stream, spinning dizzyingly forward.

Fujimori is right, this news is good news, Bakugou understands that. There’s a future in front of him again. A hero path ahead of him. He can carry on. He can graduate from U.A. He can become the #1 Hero. He can surpass All Might.

Bakugou’s memory stirs.

He is stricken with the image of two eyes looking back at him, gray and befuddled, panicked and unsure. They are eyes which belong to a head, a head with belongs to a body, all atop legs too scattered to know where to run. The image is a quivering bit of prey in front of him, cowed into a quaking revolting shell. It is a thing filled with regret at the sight of the rage it spurred from Bakugou by daring to slam Bakugou into the pavement first.

Bakugou remembers pulling the pin from his gauntlet. He remembers doing it with revelry. He remembers the sweet, nigh-intoxicating high, the euphoria that came with the sense of complete command, absolute control, unchecked power, the drive to win, to win, to win.

He remembers the lock and jolt to his shoulder, now. The eruption of searing heat. The explosion ringing in his ears. And the quaking, shivering thing of prey, in a moment of panic, darting directly into the blast, when all common sense dictated that it should have darted away.

Bakugou now remembers the blast erupting into black smoke, with a smell so wretched on its wind that Bakugou had buckled on spot. Bakugou now remembers the feeling -- suddenly greasy, suddenly unclean with the blowback of the blast, suddenly sticky dripping sapping wet with—

Bakugou remembers the torched wick of a torso – with full context now, he sees it. Suspended in time. Atop legs that should not stand.

Alone now in the cold morning air, alone outside the U.A. dorms, Bakugou buckles at the waist. He doubles over, falls forward like the image so seared into his mind. He moves forward in time with the dismembered legs, both his knees and its knees hitting the ground. Bakugou’s palms strike the dew-strewn lawn, his legs sink into the wetness. He holds himself up a moment, on arms too trembling to command, with a heartbeat too slammingly loud in his ears, and he loses his stomach contents into the grass below.

…

Bakugou is in class that same day. He does not take any of the offered leave, even when Nedzu appears at his dormitory door that morning at 7:30, even when Aizawa pulls him aside at the classroom entrance to ask, in as few specifics as possible, if Bakugou really intends to be here.

Bakugou confirms both times that he’s fine, and that he’s going to class, and that he doesn’t want them to mention anything to do with this ever again.

In class, he pretends to not see when Kirishima tries to catch his attention. He pretends not to feel the cold lick of malice from Todoroki’s eyes probing his back. Hardest of all, he pretends not to notice Midoriya’s pleading look, that detestable, abhorrent disarmed expression of weakness and worry so characteristic of him.

…

The partners are presumably random, but Bakugou stares on with disgusted certainty that Midoriya’s been intentionally assigned to him for sparring practice. Each pair of students has been spread about in sparring rings around Ground Beta, ample room given between each location, such that no quirks, and no voice, could carry between any two. Only the loudspeaker affixed to the Ground Beta building issues commands to each group.

The round starts.

Bakugou squares his feet, crouched slightly, hatred burning cold in his eyes. Midoriya meets his gaze, and squares his own feet, and raises his own hands. A silent few seconds of tense nothing passes between them. Bakugou’s gauntlet-less hands itch.

“Dodge!” Bakugou barks across the makeshift arena.

Midoriya loosens his footing a fraction, confusion crawling back into his face. “You haven’t attacked me yet.”

“Well get out of the way before I do!”

“If you attack me, then I’ll dodge.”

“Well you better! Because I’m telling you to dodge!”

Midoriya blinks. Bakugou remains rooted in place. In a split second, Midoriya has bounced from his spot. He winds back a kick, the shimmer of green iridescent veins spawning like stream rivulets down his thigh, down his leg. He closes the distance between them, and Bakugou only stares back wide-eyed as Midoriya’s shin connects with his jaw.

Bakugou stumbles, face smarting, a white-hot lick of rage exploding like a cannon from within his chest. The anger swamps his mind and drowns all thought and leaves him only with the livid, licking, untamable desire to fire back.

He thrusts a palm out, arm locked in tight at the elbow, immaculately drawing Midoriya into his line of attack. Midoriya’s eyes go wide, but he is still in the air, still falling, and won’t get the chance to course correct until he hits the ground. Bakugou has the shot.

Bakugou does not take it.

Time slips around him again. Leaving him behind, knocking him at the ankles, as if he is standing knee-deep in a stream to which he does not belong. The force threatens to make him stumble. He simply stands, hand extended, the promise of an explosion sputtering behind his palm.

Midoriya lands, and Bakugou has left himself wide open.

Midoriya doesn’t take his shot either.

“Do you want to… maybe call off the fight, Kacchan?”

“No! Attack me again!” Bakugou yells, hand thrown out harder, though nothing bursts on his palms.

“I…” Midoriya hesitates. He looks around, and he lets the rivulets of power bleed away from his arms and legs. He loosens his footing, stands taller, lets the tension ease out of his body. “You know, um… After we rescued Eri, I couldn’t really do much of anything for a few days. I couldn’t even use my quirk without having to focus way too hard on it.”

“I don’t care about your stupid mission. Attack me! Attack, you damn nerd!”

“Is it… something like that for you too, Kacchan? …Is it something worse?”

“Mind your own damn business! And get out of the way before I fire at you!”

“Todoroki isn’t being too kind with his guesses. …Kirishima refuses to believe what Todoroki has to say, if that makes you feel better. But I think I know you a bit better than Kirishima, actually, and I’m not sure what to believe.”

“What makes you think I give a single shit about what Icy-Hot thinks? Or what you think?”

“Are you allowed to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“…How bad is it? The thing that happened?”

“’How bad?’” Bakugou mocks. “Not at all! Zero! Nothing! Everything got resolved this morning. Nothing’s happening. There’s nothing more to it. You can tell that to Todoroki, and tell him he can keep his prying eyes the fuck off me cuz there’s nothing more for him to see. And you can fuck off for good measure too.”

“Everything got resolved… because of Fujimori?”

“We’re still fighting. Shut up and dodge! Attack! Do something!”

“Because – what Todoroki said – is that’s what Fujimori does. He makes problems go away. No matter what. By whatever means necessary. That he’s U.A.’s ace in the hole. That U.A.’s spotless track record – its perfect reputation – for decades…” Midoriya trails off. Bakugou falters at the sight of Midoriya wiping at his own cheek with the heel of his palm. “Stupid of me, huh, Kacchan?” Midoriya says with a bitter laugh. “I just assumed U.A. put out perfect heroes, all perfect heroes. That every pro from U.A. was like All Might. That every pro from U.A. just… could never do anything wrong. I idolized all of them. Every single one of them, for being perfect heroes. I thought Endeavor was a fluke… I wonder how many Endeavors U.A. has made?”

Bakugou lets out a strangled noise. He thrusts his right palm out with force, and he fires off a blast that lights and catches, erupting outward, hurdling toward Midoriya. Midoriya dodges it with hardly any effort, a simple step to the right and the blast does not so much as lick him. Midoriya doesn’t bother striking back just yet.

“What about you, Kacchan? …It wasn’t as bad as Endeavor, was it?”

“No—it—aggh! I told Icy-Hot it wasn’t even about me. My work-study—it’s just because my work study—”

“With Moonshot, yeah?” Deku curls a hand. He lets a wick of electric green static burst in his palm, which whips his hair with its ebb and flow. “Your work study is with Moonshot right now. Moonshot’s office is small. She only has herself and three sidekicks, and none of them are U.A. graduates. You’re the only person from U.A. working there.”

Deku strikes. His attack clips Bakugou’s left side. Bakugou bears it, not so much as a noise escaping his lips. He side-steps, ducks, and slams Midoriya beneath the ribcage with enough force to knock the wind from Midoriya’s lungs.

“You always think you’re helping, you damn fucking nerd. You’re not helping! You’re just prying into shit that doesn’t concern you. It’s over. It’s done with. And I can’t talk about it anyway! So shut up, before I make you shut up.”

Midoriya pulls in a few wheezing breathes. He coughs, and straightens, and speaks along a rasp.

“Actually… I don’t even think I’m trying to help, Kacchan. I want to help you. I always do. You know that. …But I’m afraid this might be something I can’t help with, or can’t bring myself to help you with, if Todoroki is right.”

“Icy-Hot knows nothing. He’s full of hot air and conspiracy theories, and it’s none of his business. Whatever he thinks happened is wrong, and he should shut the fuck up about it.”

“Are you sure he’s wrong… King Explosion Murder?”

“Shut up.” Bakugou’s palms crackle, and he squares his feet again. “Shut up and di--… Shut up and fight me.”

Bakugou doesn’t wait for a response. He throws himself right into the fray, with the one and only goal of firing his explosions off in quick enough succession to prevent Midoriya from getting another word in.

…

“Sensei! Sensei Sensei!”

Aizawa pauses at the sound of pounding mechanical feet hitting pavement, the rumble of vibrations shaking the ground, and fence, and rubble near Ground Beta. A wetness has stirred in the air, the threat of an impending thunderstorm.

“Iida, I was just coming to collect eve—”

“There’s a fight! Uh—well of course there are fights as this is a sparing match exercise but there is a fight which is not part of the designated sparing activity I mean! I’ve come to report an incident of student violence which I witnessed! I saw it happen and promptly came to find an authority figure and luckily you’re right here but I request you accompany me back to the meeting grounds where—”

“Who?”

“Bakugou, and—”

“Midoriya,” Aizawa concludes.

Iida shakes his head, frantic, spinning on spot and motioning Aizawa to follow as his suited legs take off once more. “Not Midoriya! Todoroki…”

Aizawa falters, and then he picks up his pace to match Iida. He steels himself, and it takes no longer than 20 seconds of threading through rubble for the two of them to round the corner, and enter the scene which had already announced itself with the rising cacophony of voices from 30 feet out.

With a split-second glance, Aizawa gleans three immediate pieces of information from the gaggle of 19 assembled students standing at the center of the training ground.

One, that Bakugou has been knocked down to the pavement, soles of his shoes, seat of his pants, and palms of his hands flat to the ground, left cheek split and leaking blood, with a creeping redness threatening to swell many times over in size across the breadth of the wound.

Two, that Midoriya has grasped Todoroki from behind, his arms looped up beneath Todoroki’s armpits and locked in place in a forceful attempt to restrain Todoroki, who’s lashing against the hold.

Three, that Todoroki’s right fist is split and bleeding, and he is staring down at Bakugou with the spark of murderous intent in his eyes.

“Tell me what you mean by ‘It’s been resolved’. It’s over? Meaning Fujimori already— What did you get away with? I think I know. I think I know what you did. So tell me I’m wrong. Tell me what that scumbag let you get away with.”

Bakugou says nothing. He raises his left hand to his cheek, pressing lightly. A heavy raindrop falls from above, landing with a patter on his cheek.

Todoroki pulls against Midoriya. “Answer me!”

“Todoroki!” Aizawa shouts. He marches forward, eyes alight with his quirk activation, though there is no need for it. Neither boy has used his quirk.

“This bastard’s been meeting with Fujimori.” Todoroki thrusts a hand out, index finger extended, sharp in its accusation as he turns bodily to Aizawa. “And whatever he did, he got off scot-free this morning! He’s bragging about it!”

“Todoroki. That’s enough.”

“He needs to tell us!” Todoroki challenges. A rumble of thunder affixes itself along the end of his words, as if chorusing agreement. “How can we be comfortable calling Bakugou a classmate until we know?”

“Midoriya, you can let him go. I’ve got this under control.” Aizawa’s eye flicker to Midoriya, who blinks, and hesitantly releases his arms from Todoroki.

Todoroki looks between Aizawa and Midoriya, his confidence wavering. “Sensei, you know who Fujimori is. You have to know who he is. You’ve been at U.A. long enough.”

“Yes, I know who Fujimori is. He’s a U.A. employee. Not a villain.”

“Then you don’t know who Fujimori is.” Todoroki counters. He thrusts both hands out. “He’s the reason my mom—he’s the reason my dad—he’s the reason I—” Todoroki catches himself all three times, unable to, or perhaps forbidden from saying more.

He backtracks, calms himself, a glint of desperation lighting in his eyes. Todoroki turns in place, bodily facing Bakugou once more. “Just defend yourself. Just tell me what happened. If you’re innocent then clear your name, and just tell us what Fujimori wanted with you! Why can’t you do that? Why?”

“Todoroki that is enough. This is not like you, and it is not acceptable,” Aizawa growls this time. He stalks forward, using himself as a means of separation between the boys, and he grips Todoroki by the shoulder. “I think you’re letting your personal feelings get in the way of common rationality. My office. With me. Now.”

Todoroki appraises Aizawa, and then his eyes go wide. A few more heavy drops leak from the blackened clouds above. They plick across Todoroki’s face, riding his expression, loosening with shock.

Todoroki opens his mouth, and the energy has been sapped from his words.

“…You know. You know what it is, don’t know? You’re part of this. You really are okay with this.”

“Not another word until we reach my office, Todoroki. If you defy me, I’ll consider it grounds for suspension.” Aizawa turns in place, and he surveys the rest of the class with deathly cold eyes. “Midoriya, Iida, take Bakugou to Recovery Girl’s office. Everyone else, get back to the dorm. I don’t want to hear a word about this by tomorrow morning, understood? The threat of suspension extends to all of you.”

There is a palpable unease in the air that rides along the rumble of the clouds. The rest of the students nod, Uraraka and Asui with a prick of tears at the corner of their eyes. Wordlessly, Iida extends a hand for Bakugou to grab, and lifts him from the ground.

Kirishima throws one last worried look in Bakugou’s direction as the skies fully open. The class is caught in the downpour, the scenery effaced by a thick sheet of heavy rain. The three boys vanish from view, and Kirishima raises an arm overtop his head for cover, and he joins the others headed back to the dorm.

…

Class begins wordlessly the next day. No one dares to mention it, but everyone has noticed Todoroki’s empty desk. The threat of suspension, of following in Todoroki’s footsteps, cows everyone into compliance. Bakugou sits stiff in his own seat, his insides too mangled, his dreams too riddled with his haunting memories playing on repeat to afford him more than a few moments of uninterrupted sleep the previous night. He feels full of cotton, his stomach in knots, his brain too much a hazy mess to make sense of what’s unfolded. His jaw has swollen, hot to the touch.

Aizawa enters, his face blank and tired. He shuffles a few papers and greets the class with a monotone Good morning. Most voices echo the greeting back, but quieter, mumbled. Only Iida seems to muster the energy for a proper greeting. The downpour from the previous day has lightened, but not vanished. It plicks against the muted gray windows, sealing in the atmosphere.

“The bin for your English essays is now on the front table. Present Mic says you may turn them in any time between now and Friday. Late submissions will not be accepted.” Aizawa shuffles the papers in his hands. “Also, we have another announcement.” Aizawa nods to the doorway. Faces turn.

Shinsou stands at the entrance, face drawn into a bit of a grimace. He rubs at his neck and looks away. “Um… Hi. I’m Hitoshi Shinsou. Some of you already know me.”

No one answers him, because the class already knows Shinsou, and they’re all weary of what answering him may lead to. On a different day, friendliness might have won out over fear. Today, no one can muster the optimism.

“He’s transferring into 1-A starting today. Please extend a warm welcome.”

Silence beats around them. Iida manages a clipped greeting. A few more students nod. Bakugou watches it all unfold from his hazy fog.

Shinsou is no more lively in his acknowledgement of his introduction. He looks away, hoisting his bag on his shoulder, and shuffles down the aisle. He reaches Todoroki’s seat, and places his bag atop it, and sits down.

Midoriya’s chair screeches backward. He is standing, his face a mask of concern. “Uh, Sensei, Shinsou, um, that’s Todoroki’s desk. Todoroki sits there.”

“Todoroki has decided to transfer to Shiketsu High School, effective today,” Aizawa states simply. “Sit down, Midoriya, and raise your hand in the future if you wish to speak.”

Bakugou feels the ripple through the air. The potent unease. The prickle of disbelief that comes in just the form of a few slipped gasps, a few wide eyes swinging to Todoroki’s seat, and then swinging over to him, as if staring at him may reveal the answers they’re never allowed to know.

The haze in Bakugou’s brain won’t let him think. It’s made worse by his own shock, and his own disbelief, and his own gnawing discomfort in his gut when he looks over, and finds Todoroki absent from his seat.

It’s Kirishima’s pained eyes that he accidentally meets in the process.

“Bro… what’s happening?” Kirishima leans across the aisle. He speaks as quietly as he can for someone suppressing shock. “Please man, please just tell me it isn’t anything bad. Tell me Todoroki was wrong. Please dude. Please, I just gotta know you didn’t—”

“Kirishima!” Aizawa barks from the front of the room. Kirishima goes stock-still, spine stiff, head snapping forward to face the teacher. Aizawa turns to face the board, and he grabs a piece of chalk, snapped at the midpoint, and begins to write textbook page numbers on the board. “Not another word on the topic. I thought I made myself clear yesterday, or would you like to be an example?” Aizawa turns, and lifts an eyebrow in Kirishima’s direction. Kirishima, white in the face, shakes his head. “Good. I didn’t think so. Now be quiet. Class is starting.”

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #violence //#non-canon character death //#angst //#hello welcome to a bad idea that got worse.

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washymylifeaway · 4 years ago

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SakuAtsu Fanfic recs pt2 leggo

I promised a pt 2 and here it is! Link to pt 1 here :) I was lazy so given summaries (I cped this time, but in the future I might paraphrase), and ofc these aren’t all of the ones I loved, just some :D So in no particular order, have some SakuAtsu <3

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading (esp cause I didn’t put individual warnings PLEASE make sure you’re okay with the content!!!!!!) and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

Teach Me, Tune Me, Tempt Me by Anonymous (E) 38.8k // Sakusa Kiyoomi needs to conquer many lifelong fears in order to enter his first romantic relationship. Miya Atsumu is there to guide him every step of the way, even if the one Sakusa desires is someone else.

Flowers Bloom In Our Masks by UnicornFlowers (G) 24.5k // "Mysophobia, also known as verminophobia, germophobia, germaphobia, bacillophobia and bacteriophobia, is a pathological fear of contamination and germs." "You read that off of Wikipedia." "That's the point, Omi-kun. I read up on it fer you."

the art of folding a handkerchief by Emlee_J (T) 5.6k // “Atsumu-san’s just realised he likes Sakusa-san,” Shouyou says simply, as though announcing the weather. “Ahh,” Bokuto nods sagely, standing up straight and nodding his head, as though this was a perfectly normal thing to hear and not monumental in any way. “'Ahh?'” Atsumu protests, indignantly, “what do ya mean ‘ahh?’” “We were wondering when you were going to notice,” Bokuto shrugs, and Atsumu gawps at him. “'Scuse me?” He splutters, and whips his gaze around to Shouyou, who bobs his head at him in confirmation. “How did you two notice before I did?” Atsumu blurts out. "Most people do," Shouyou says softly. -In which Atsumu develops something annoying, like feelings for a teammate, but at least he has a couple of wingmen and Tobio's seemingly infinite resources to help him out.

for whom the heart beats by cielelyse (T) 1.6k // Atsumu's heart keeps skipping a beat whenever Sakusa's around - so often that it's baffling and honestly downright concerning. "I think I might have a medical condition," he says into the phone. "Good," says Osamu, and hangs up.

as you are by papertulips (G) 5.8k // Kiyoomi learns that falling for Atsumu is the easiest thing in the world.

Hide and seek by badreputation (E) 10.5k // It’s just a fleeting infatuation. As long as he pushes through it he’ll manage. So what if nowadays there isn’t a night where he doesn’t dream of Sakusa pinning him down on his own bed, in the shower or make Atsumu go down on his knees in the hallway? Those are just pesky details.

People Will Say We're in Love by tirralirra (T) 9.5k // “Saku...Atsu? What does that even mean?” Atsumu says, squinting at the device. People seem to think that Sakusa and Atsumu are in love, so they come up with a list of things to do to deter that. Maybe it would work...if they weren’t in love.

do not separate! by aalphard (T) 5k // He knows he likes peanut butter and the tuna onigiri Uncle Shamu makes for him. He knows he likes volleyball and the way his daddy looks so, so cool when he’s on court. He knows he likes drawing and playing with toy swords. He knows he likes reading and it’s even better when Atsumu is the one reading for him. He knows he likes to have pancakes in the morning but he also really, really likes tamagoyaki and he knows his daddy can’t make those at all. He tries, but fails every single time. He knows his daddy’s teammates like him and he knows they’ll help him if he wants to play with them one day. But the thing is he likes Uncle Omi-kun more than he likes the rest of them and that is a secret he won’t tell anyone that’s not his daddy. He doesn’t like to make people sad.“Omi?” “Yeah?” “Nao said he likes you more than he likes the rest of the team. Don’t tell’em.” or atsumu is a single dad and kiyoomi can't help but fall for him.

you make my heart burn by myhopeisjhope (G) 9.2k // “What’s up with that awful expression?” Atsumu asked. He leaned against the counter with his hip, looking directly at Kiyoomi, his regular fox-line grin plastered on his face. Kiyoomi made eye-contact with him then, his eyebrows knotting in annoyance, but Atsumu was too interested in the cute pair of beauty marks above Kiyoomi’s eye to care about the glare that was sent his way. “What’s up with that awful hair?” Kiyoomi shot back. And that was exactly when Atsumu decided he liked the guy.

somewhere in the middle (i think we lied a little) by akanemnida (E) 4.3k // “Body worship,” Miya said instantly, after Kiyoomi asked him what he wanted as reward as the winner of their service ace competition. “I can do that,” Kiyoomi said with a frown. “God, you really are the vainest person on this planet—”Miya shook his head, smirking. “Nuh-uh, Omi-kun. I meant I wanted ‘ta worship ‘ya.”(Or: Sakusa and Atsumu and all the blurred lines in between.)

san'yō expressway, 6:17 pm by yamabato (T) 8.1k // Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe. Kiss him again, maybe. They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out.

affection by papertulips (G) 2.1k // "I gave you the key to my house for emergencies only." “This is an emergency.” “What?” Atsumu pouts, looking up at him with wide eyes that definitely work on Kiyoomi but he will never admit it. “I missed you.”

love could be labeled poison and we'd drink it anyways by myhopeisjhope (NR) 21.3k // "Huh?" is Atsumu's response, and it's seemingly the only thing the man could think of after the minute-long silence that stretched between them. "We should break up," Kiyoomi repeats, more clearly now. He doesn't let any emotion seep into his voice, keeping it neutral and detached, as if breaking up with Atsumu was the easiest thing ever, while in fact it's the complete opposite.

And I'll Ask for the Sea by meeks00 (T) 6.9k // When a couple of his teammates reveal that Atsumu has feelings for him, Sakusa doesn’t react well. It doesn’t help that Atsumu is his typical petty and salty self. --“Come on,” Atsumu is saying in a wheedling tone behind a bright grin. “Just stop,” Sakusa snaps suddenly. “Will you just leave me alone for once? I don’t even like you!”Normally, Sakusa’s words don’t phase Atsumu at all. He’ll talk over Sakusa or brush off any harsh words easily enough and might turn to someone else for the attention he apparently craves. But this time, Sakusa’s words seem to stop him cold, the smile freezing for just a moment on his face.

the Definition of Miya Atsumu, by Sakusa Kiyoomi by orphan_account (G) 4k // Miya Atsumu is a self-centred prick who thinks he's top shit. Underneath the word 'asshole' in the dictionary is a picture of his stupidly pretty face. Sakusa Kiyoomi's definition is, according to him, 100% correct, until he takes a closer look.

i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by liliapocalypse (T) 7.6k // Seeing Sakusa stressed out, Atsumu writes random letters on Sakusa’s skin to soothe him during the team’s assisted stretches. Somewhere along the way, the touches shift from barely tolerable to something Sakusa actively craved for. One day, though, Atsumu accidentally writes a confession instead.

it ain't no matter of 'if' honey, it's just a matter of 'when' by irleggsy (M) 2.1k // With a beer in one hand and an accusatory pointer finger on the other, Sakusa slurred, shouted even, “Atsumu. If you wear those godforsaken cutoff camo jorts one more fucking time I’m breaking up with you.”Atsumu made a noise in his throat caught somewhere between a wheeze and a squawk that came out more of an avant-garde honk noise than anything else. He stared up at Sakusa with wide eyes, a bewildered smile just barely glued onto his face. Or: The MSBY Black Jackals go to a bar. Sakusa likes to run his mouth when he's drunk.

dog eat dog eat dog world by perennials (T) 8.4k // You are your first and only line of defense against the universe.

Who Could Have Seen This Coming? by crone_zone (M) 16.7k // Peering out the side of his eyes at the man walking beside him, Sakusa wondered why he’d impulsively changed his mind about his plans this evening when he’d noticed Miya’s reluctance. Surely he wasn’t worried about this asshole, was he?--In which Sakusa impulsively invites Atsumu over to his apartment when he sees he's upset and something entirely unexpected happens: he realizes he likes this asshole. Cue [off-camera]sex, mutual confessions, insecurity, and adorable losers who are opposite in all the right ways.

Miya Atsumu's unwavering love for Sakusa Kiyoomi and an unholy amount of terrible food analogies that should not have the right to Exist by aiviloti (G) 5.6k // Five times Miya Atsumu talks to (harasses) his friends and sibling because he has feelings for Sakusa and doesn't know what to do or how to deal with them and the one time he talks to Sakusa about it. “How do you make friends apart from showering them in praise?” Atsumu wails one night, and Osamu thinks, oh god, here we go again.

Sakusa's Secret Admirer by TwilaFrost (T) 20.2k // Every day after practice, Kiyoomi finds another letter inside his shoe locker. It's only every signed: -❤ He's determined to find this person. Is it crazy to fall in love with someone you've never met?

take what's yours and make it mine by claudusdiei (T) 5.9k // (this has a second fic hehe) atsumu falls in love four times in his life (or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

School Bus Yellow by yuuki (G) 4.9k // Atsumu has a crush on Sakusa, and it’s kind of ridiculous how much he likes a guy who wears ugly colored jackets and is afraid of germs.Though, Atsumu’s probably not all that great himself. He’s still figuring that part out.

show me how by emeraldpalace (G) 2.9k // Sakusa isn’t sure when or how it happened, but the fact remains: Miya Atsumu has become a comfortable constant in his life.

touch me (i want you to) by melstar (G) 3.9k // He should have seen it coming, really. Spend six months tip-toeing around the line of domesticity with the team’s resident germaphobe, and there was no way he’d be able to think of the guy the same way anymore. Or, Atsumu touches Sakusa's arm once and thus begins a downward spiral into the inescapable jaws of attraction.

Dreaming of You, Talking About You by kitkatwrites (T) 1.1k // Osamu learns that Atsumu talks in his sleep, especially about a certain wing spiker from Tokyo.

If your world falls apart, I'd start a riot by Serendipity (jenjaemrens) (NR) 3.1k // "It was Atsumu who was the older brother, but it was Osamu who was more protective of him. He would always protect Atsumu from things around them that could hurt him. "Or, the story of Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu through the eyes of Miya Osamu.

but soft what light by min_mintobe (T) 2.1k // "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, Bokkun—" Atsumu drawls, "—hot. "In which Miya Atsumu woos Sakusa Kiyoomi by (gratuitously, seductively) quoting Shakespeare. One-shot.

sakusa kiyoomi's fixation on (miya atsumu's) lips by catsoncocaine (E) 3.7k // Everything about Atsumu is fucking beautiful, but there is one specific part of his that is like kryptonite for Kiyoomi. It is both his curse and his remedy, rendering him useless and yet egging him on to move at the same time. Kiyoomi hates it as much as he loves it.

The Jacket In Your Closet by dai_naning (T) 8.6k // According to the gossiping players around him, Miya Atsumu is an asshole. He's an incredible player in court and an obnoxious person off the court. He taunts people, points out their weakness, and doesn't give a shit if he's disliked or not. Some even say his teammates ostracize him. Sakusa looks at Miya Atsumu and can only see a player who keeps his eyes firmly forward, demanding the same to the players who want to stay on the court. Sakusa can't fault him for that. (That doesn't erase the fact that he's an asshole though. And that he's still the one who gave a jacket to a stranger.)

sakusa kiyoomi is....an uncle? by miyaudrey (T) 5.9k // “Oh, by the way, my nieces and nephews are going to be there.” “Your what now?” Or, Atsumu finds out three hours prior to a Sakusa family gathering that Kiyoomi is an uncle.

Confessions of a V-League Setter by Anubis_2701 (T) 3.3k // "Never?" Sakusa's lips thinned. "No, never. Now stop talking to me." Or, Atsumu discovers that Sakusa Kiyoomi, germaphobe and reluctant heartthrob of the Black Jackals, has never been confessed to before. He decides to change that.

Touch Me by cajynn (E) 3k // Sakusa actually likes being touched but he's very picky when it comes to who and how. When the who turns out to be Miya Atsumu he has a crisis.

Please Stop Crying by dauwtrappen (G) 2.9k // Friday starts off well until it doesn’t and Kiyoomi can hear something crash, feel something snap inside him when Miya, about to set him up for a quick attack, suddenly starts crying in the middle of their three-on-three. Kiyoomi doesn’t even react when the ball bounces off his head, doesn’t cringe when his face is smushed against the net briefly because he forgets to land in front of the it. He’s too shocked, too appalled with the tears pouring out from Miya’s eyes to care.

I can't take much more of your hesitating by playexodus (T) 2.7k // The curved sides of Atsumu’s pecs peek through that absurd tank top at just the right angle. Sakusa swallows. “Your entire chest is hanging out of that shirt. We’re in public. You could at least pretend to be a decent, morally upright person. Not to mention that this Los Angeles beach boy aesthetic is terrible on you.”Glancing back down at Atsumu’s chest to glare at his sharp, glistening collarbones is a bad idea. Sakusa wills his eyes to stay fixated on Atsumu’s face. As it turns out, this too, is a bad idea. “Oh?” Atsumu turns his half-lidded gaze onto Sakusa, the corners of his mouth curling. “Just to be clear: you’re definitely not enjoying the view then, Omi-Omi?”

curse breaking by allicanseeispink (T) 9.2k // Nearing the fourth hour of the silent treatment, Kiyoomi’s already frayed nerves began to whittle down to their last fibers. Today, it was raining. A proper Tokyo monsoon tantrum just shy of a full-blown typhoon that left puddles on sidewalks and fell from an angle so wicked it eluded umbrellas. It was raining and they haven’t spoken in almost four hours. (In which Sakusa wanders into the minefield that is Atsumu's feelings and tries not to blow things up.)

Summer Special: Omigiri by mika60 (T) 6.9k // Miya Osamu always comes up with the perfect marketing plan for his shop, even if it involves the two biggest idiots he knows.

a list of things sakusa kiyoomi hates by BrenH (T) 7.3k // “Just fuckin’ write shit down so ya remember it then. ”It was probably supposed to be a joke, just Osamu being as annoying and unhelpful as always, just reminding him that he shouldn’t have bothered trying to count on his brother for help. He’s forgotten about the whole thing until a few days later when he’s shopping and comes across a small, black notebook shaped like a cat, and his brother’s stupid suggestion flashes through his mind. Before he knows it, the cute little notebook is dropped in his basket, purchased, and in his possession. Or, the one where Osamu suggests Atsumu keep a notebook to track all the things Sakusa hates that he does, and he takes it further than he means to.

A Challenge, A Cat, and A Confession by Kitaa (G) 6.2k // Atsumu enjoys bothering Sakusa. One day he bothers him enough to be invited over to his apartment, only to discover that Sakusa has a plant, a cat, and a cute laugh.

Multiples Of Two by yuuki (G) 3.3k // He does everything in multiples of two. The day Sakusa Kiyoomi died, Atsumu checked his pulse twenty-eight times. Okay, so Sakusa Kiyoomi has never died. And Atsumu has never been close enough to Sakusa to be able to check his pulse. So what if Atsumu is just being dramatic again? He’s allowed to be dramatic when he’s in love with a man who has less emotion than a rock.

gold rush by sketchedsmiles (T) 18k // When the MSBY Black Jackals sign their newest team member, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Atsumu makes it his personal responsibility to befriend the indifferent player.

got sand in my eyes (and my shorts too, damn you miya) by luxnoctre (T) 4.7k // On one of their rare rest days, Hinata takes the part of the MSBY team to the beach. Chaos ensures. (or alternatively, do not piss off Sakusa when he is in the middle of relaxing)

mortality is found in the flesh of your sins by citronnes (M) 10.6k // dickhead one, sakusa kiyoomi. dickhead two, miya atsumu. neither understand how to communicate. Pray tell, why are you drawn to him?Are you drawn to him in the way he looks beautiful even when crying? When his eyes are red, shiny tears streaking down, lips quivering, is he beautiful?

This was v long ahahaha.... Anyway, is this finished? No LOL, but I’ll just make small additions via reblogs (?) over time. Maybe :) Sorry if you wanted me to ramble on about SakuAtsu,,,, slide into my messages/asks for that LOL. Maybe over time I’ll add the commentary from other posts I make in the future :’)

#sakuatsu #haikyuu fanfic rec #haikyuu fic recs #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq fic rec #anime #manga #sakuatsu fic recs #i'm a lazy person #also if you saw me saying i was gonna post kyouhaba #no you didnt #like i just said #lazy #there are a lot of fics in that one #anyway #all of these are really good #like i couldnt not put them all #ya know?

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mannien · 3 years ago

Text

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - CHAPTER 1

The one with stress, takeout food around the world, late night walks, and Disney dreams.

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: some stress, some anxiety, mention of sex, and a lot of smiles

Masterlist

Fourth week into the morning pitch meetings at BBC, Millie felt lifeless and drained. The room was usually exploding with ideas, creative energy, and a lot of constructive feedback to the few interns who were allowed to join the conversation with editors, writers, and producers. That morning had started ugly enough for her: with an overwhelming number of e-mails about the schedule and missing content for Politics Live.

When she first landed her spot at BBC, Millie was over the moon. She was constantly calling it a dream come true, a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to begin a writing career in media. Her degree seemed to be the best choice for her future and Millie was ready to prove that graduating from humanities can actually land her a decent job. Her first days were filled with morning preparations, early commute to the city centre and exceptionally smoothed out shirts. The work environment in such a fast-paced industry felt inspiring and daunting at the same time, but Millie felt obligated to use this experience to its full potential. Each day she attempted to learn more than the day before and possibly show off a tiny bit more of her creative skills to her superiors. She spent her evenings researching topics and people, trying not to fall out of the loop. Being one step forward was hard work, one that Millie desperately wanted to ace.

The second week of her internship brought a slight shift to her agenda. After grasping the general concepts of working for a major radio and TV broadcasting company, she was aware of the production processes. She tried to happily follow up all the details about the work of a writer, a researcher, or an editor – just so she could be prepared for the follow-up of the introductory week. And as she hoped her interview was remembered and she would soon contribute to any program touching upon music or pop culture, her dreams and calls were slowly fading away. The intern manager ascribed her to the team devoted strictly to politics and daily news, having no vacancies for the popular radio programs. Even though she took whatever spot was offered, it was only to get more insight and experience.

Having already managed to speak up a few times during the morning routines in the conference room, Millie eased herself into the work environment and was treated like a regular employee. But the first wave of success quickly passed, especially when she was hit with growing emptiness in her brain. She did not enjoy politics, so as far as she could, she attempted to sneak in a sociological aspect into the context. But her tactic had an expiration date.

A couple of heads were expectantly turned at Millie when she was unsurely stuttering her weak ideas for the upcoming programme. She knew it wasn’t going well and she was mentally cursing herself for trying to impress the producers that much so early on.

“This isn’t gonna work. We’ve covered this enough in the evening news. Let’s take five, and maybe you’ll come up with a different angle. I’ll give you another shot here.”

Hugh, the head writer took off his glasses and watched her fidget in her seat. She nodded and took a deep breath, before leaving the room for a short break. Her mind was racing in panic; she wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t have any idea. She walked back and forth through the corridor until she cursed quietly and walked away to the main hall. She pulled her phone from the back pocket and without overthinking this anymore, she called her boyfriend. He picked up after the third ring.

“Babe, can I call you back…”

“No, Frank,” She felt determined and fierce. Her hands shook from the pure view on board members slowly coming back from the kitchen with fresh coffee mugs. They were probably waiting to hear her another take on the TV show which Millie, wholeheartedly, was beginning to hate. “My work on the programme is too basic and I’ve been roasted for the past fifteen minutes or so. Hugh has me in the spotlight in front of everyone. Help me, please?”

“It’s not your fault they’ve given you a job you’re not good at, babe. It’s just an internship, they will roast you anyway.”

Millie’s lungs were ready to stop working and suffocate her. She feared she might start hyperventilating, or at least meet up with a panic attack from the nerves. Franklin’s reaction seemed to be absolutely unfair and inconsiderate of her actual feelings, and he must have felt that through the piercing silence on the line.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much about it. They will probably just give you another placement where you’ll fit more, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing.” And just like that, she started doubting herself and her right to overthink her situation. It didn’t sit well with Millie and she could feel anger slowly making its way through her veins.

“Can’t you just fucking help me? This one time?” She lost her temper, she lost her patience. At the same time Riley, one of the end writers, started waving at her from the end of the hall as to show her that her time is coming to an end. “I need a hook, or something that would spark a debate. Brexit-themed, maybe. Can you think of anything?”

Frank groaned loudly. He wasn’t exactly happy that she made him break down his ambitious wall and let her in on topics he was too invested in. Millie could hear him moving around as he left his desk of the equally large office of The Guardian, until the line went surprisingly quiet. Her anger and fear made her clutch her phone tightly to her ear, while her legs started carrying her slowly to the terrifying conference room.

“Think internationally. See what the Spanish had to say about May’s resignation from the Office. Think economics in the EU. Try to stand on the Union’s side and do some fair judgement.”

“Give me facts, not ideas. You’re the one who knows politics.”

“Spanish government says that May’s resignation is bad news. Compare it to the popular opinion that she was the worst Prime Minister since the 18th century and the American war on independence.” Millie breathed in, trying to desperately grasp all the details he just provided her with.

“That’s a… harsh and history-digging argument,” She mumbled in surprise, “where did you get that from?” She grabbed a yellow post-it note from the reception desk and quickly scribbled the key words on it. Her briefing on politics was never something like this and she could feel the embarrassment making its way into her heart. It wasn’t her way of thinking and she felt like a fraud.

“I can’t tell you that.” By the end of the single sentence Millie could feel the blood escaping her face, making her look pale and scared for dear life. She didn’t want to have heard that sentence, she was definitely happier not knowing how did he come up with a story like this. That was one of the many reasons she tried not to talk business with him.

“An opinion entry. A column for The Guardian. Shit, you just busted one of your colleagues.”

“Sometimes I hate it that you’re smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You just saved my internship!”

“Please don’t say that. I will pretend that we just talked about the weather.”

“I’ll spend them the details. You’re the best, Frank.”

“Alright, go kick ass.”

And that she did. Franklin did save her internship, mainly because Millie avoided the specifics about who and why said something so harsh about the resigning Prime Minister. However, it definitely did spark interest among the production board. Afraid of not being so lucky next time, she decided to politely suggest a replacement for her permanent internship division within BBC, due to her ‘personal discomfort with discussions over issues of such importance and potential shame to their glorious country.’

Millie felt bad for using her boyfriend’s knowledge for survival at work. She wasn’t genuine and her idea didn’t come from her hard work - it was sourced in fear and anxiety-driven reactions. This situation proved to her that she wasn’t fit for the position, but it also raised her stress levels around the fact that she couldn’t get by on her own in the industry. She didn’t want others to navigate her through it all, but the conversation she had with Frank had also made her uncomfortable. Her need of support in a stressful situation was primarily turned down, so—naturally to her character—she started to worry even more.

With a heavy heart and two bags of Wagamama takeout, she walked up the stairs to his apartment. She was usually working until later hours than Frank, so all she really needed was for him to open the door for her. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for the two turns of the lock. He opened still in his work attire – tailored jeans and a light grey button up shirt. He was holding his phone next to his ear and humming approvingly to the speaker when he looked her up and down. He winked at her and let her in, as he continued to talk with someone.

Inside, Millie found the TV turned on with a football game playing. His work jacket was still hanging on the back of the tall stool in the kitchen, and the grocery bags laid unpacked on the table. She took off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she made a little room for their food on the countertop. Pulling off her sweater, she peeked into the shopping bags – she wasn’t surprised to find a couple bottles of beer and food essentials, a multipack of tissues and a large box of condoms.

“What’s all this, babe?” Franklin came up to her and briefly kissed her on the lips, before looking into the boxes with deliciously smelling food.

“I just thought it might be nice to eat some goodies,” She smiled, trying to sniff out his mood first. He smiled back at her with approval and reached for the plates in the cupboard, so she continued, “also, it’s a ‘thank you for being my saviour today,’ kinda thing.”

“Ah, yeah. I bet everyone on my floor will hate BBC’s guts for that.” Frank said it so casually, with a shrug to follow up, that Millie struggled to understand the dynamic he had at The Guardian. He seemed to be a great fit for his team, because a week into his new job, he was already invited for Friday drinks and talked about his co-workers just like anyone would about their long-time friends. She couldn’t understand how was he getting so lucky at any step, but the last thing she wanted to do is doubt him. Any time worries and competitiveness clouded her brain, Millie was making extra room for compassion and support.

Frank unloaded some of the curry on his plate and started eating with a fork, and then made his way to the living room where he spread out on the sofa. He didn’t say anything else, somewhat scaring Millie that he will let her know he’s uncomfortable randomly, on a promisingly good day. Trying to figure out her brain, she followed his actions and took some extra food to the coffee table, before sitting down next to him.

“But you’re not gonna get into trouble for that, are you?” she was biting the inside of her cheek hard, definitely not used to not being judged for using someone else’s help.

“Nah, I don’t think so. They don’t know I’ve got a girl at BBC, so I should be just fine.”

Millie ate her curry in silence, suddenly at loss of words driven by his surprising statement. She didn’t want to raise an argument or seem overly sensitive. But for some reason she hoped that he would talk about her at work, especially considering his already formed strong bonds in the office, and a definitely higher success rate in his position. Ever so charming Franklin, he always glowed among people. She couldn’t really fight with this, so she just kept any comments to herself and focused on her food.

Frank switched the channel to the evening news and pulled her to his side once they were done eating. It comforted Millie to know that at the end of the day, they could both enjoy each other’s company, no matter what was happening at work. She didn’t pay much attention to the news, but rather focused on the way he reacted to it and what he enjoyed. She felt too tired to get invested in another load of politics, so she just soaked in his warmth and curled more into his side. He smelled of coffee and heavy, musky cologne that he liked to reapply frequently. Millie closed her eyes and breathed out the stress that weighed her down after a long day, finally finding peace.

“I’ll go grab a beer, you want one?” he abruptly stood up, making her slightly loose her balance and lean back towards the pillows. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You’re awfully quiet today.” He spoke already from the kitchen, not even catching a glimpse of her pursed lips.

“I just need to wind down. It’s been stressful day.” She pushed a little smile on her cheeks as he came back with a frown. He took a few large sips of his drink and put it on the table, before lowering himself on the couch and leaning over Millie.

“I can help you relax, if you want.” He raised an eyebrow in a flirtatious manner, leaning into her and leaving a series of delicate kisses on her lips. He then moved onto her jaw and sucked on her skin, but never left a mark. Slowly massaging her waist, he slid his hand under her shirt and sprawled his fingers across her hip to pull her closer.

Millie enjoyed the warmth that started to spread through her body, but she couldn’t find any energy to give some of it back. She felt drained and exhausted, so a mere thought about participating in sexual activities was sure to make her at least slightly uncomfortable. Unless Frank was willing to change something about it.

“Okay, hold on,” her chuckle and a light push at his chest made him narrow his eyebrows in confusion, “I don’t think I’ve got enough energy today, Frankie.” Her whisper was followed by a reassuring smile. She weaved her fingers through his short hair and kissed the tip of his nose.

“What if I provide you with some energy first?”

“What, you’ll give me an energy drink?” She laughed at her poor joke and he chuckled, too, but more at her silliness than anything else. He laid her down comfortably and cautiously peppered her with kisses on her neck and the tiny bit of cleavage that was available without unbuttoning her shirt. She was slowly giving in, allowing him to get lower on her body and touch her. Frank either wanted to make her feel better, or was really horny. But whatever the case was, she didn’t want to stop him and ruin his enthusiasm. The glow in his eyes and admiration painted across his face were too intoxicating to back away. His touch was filled with sparks of emotions and a kind of drive that Millie was addicted to. She felt wanted and needed, and that’s what made her return the heated kisses despite her hooded, weary eyes.

They walked hand in hand through the chilly evening, sometime after she persuaded Frank to walk her to the nearest tube station. The wind was slightly tickling her neck, but other than that she felt at peace. She let her hair down, flowing gently with each blow of the air and lightly caressing her face like a safety blanket. They swayed their hands until they had to make room for a group of people passing by.

“Jane texted me about a little get together this Friday,” She mumbled into the night, trying not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around them.

“Ah, yeah. Aaron told me about it, too. I guess we’re going, right?”

“Yeah, it might be nice. The girls mentioned this new club near their apartment? I think that’s where they wanted to go.”

“Cool. I could use a little break.”

As they continued their walk, Millie mostly focused on leading the way through tight London streets. Franklin’s parents rented him an apartment in the city centre, close to everything you could dream of in London. It also meant crowded streets at any hour, so to have a nice walk around the neighbourhood usually requested it to be late at night. But it didn’t matter to him, as long as he had a short commute to the office and all other things that life requested from him, within reach. There were times when he would mention coming back to Manchester and supporting his parents at their law firm, but Millie saw how much he preferred his growing career as a journalist. Mathilda and William were a generous couple, so they shared their resources with him and tried to help him get into the business as smoothly as possible. Sometimes she wanted to ask him about his permanent position at The Guardian and whether his name had anything to do with it, but she never felt comfortable enough to do it. Some things were better left unspoken.

Reaching the staircase to the station, Franklin stopped and made her turn to him and look up at his smiling face.

“Thanks for coming over tonight. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled shyly, nodding her head in reassurance.

“I wish you could finally move to the city, though. It would be so much easier if you were a few blocks away.”

“You do realize that even if I moved out, it wouldn’t be anywhere nearby?” Her chuckle resonated through her body, almost as if she wanted to humour herself at the topic that had started to come up more often in their conversations.

“I could ask around the office if anyone has a room available to rent.”

“But I don’t want to share my personal space with strangers, you know this. Don’t try to change my mind about it.” She smiled tightly.

Frank has been trying to persuade her into moving out for months. He wanted to be closer to her, within a short train journey, rather than a whole commute in and out of Kingston. He felt comfortable in the business of London, and Millie liked to call him out on being spoiled by having an apartment on his own in such a lively part of the city. But she wasn’t financially ready to leave her family home in equally comfortable Southwest London, where she had all she needed within her reach, and her social life was just a tiny bit longer train trip away. It was a source of their small disputes from time to time, because it was Millie who spent more time on going to his place and spending time there. Naturally, it made her feel more engaged in their relationship and Frank tried his best make up for the difference. But one thing that never occurred, was Millie staying over for longer than a night. Even a night’s sleepover was a rare event, somehow always blessed by excuses from either one of them.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he pecked her lips and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I talk about it out of concern, okay?”

“Okay. But I like my train rides and I like Kingston. So let’s just deal with it for now, yeah?”

“’Course,” He sent her a tight smile before giving her one last kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

Millie was one of those people who could be easily judged as thinkers. Years of taking trains and buses in and out of central London taught her to cherish every moment of peace she gets during her journeys. That’s how she learned to create playlists for each season – summer commutes were always different than autumn ones; they required different sounds and lyrical quality. Intense months during university semesters also showed her how to read fast between the stops and how to juggle standing on the tube and holding an open book without falling, as the train slowed and rushed every few seconds.

As she was approaching her station in Kingston, she stopped the music but kept her earphones in. A bunch of other people was hurrying to get out of the train and get home as soon as possible, but after leaving the station, she would have a lonely 15-minute walk to her neighbourhood, so she always tried to stay alert in the evenings. Getting on the sidewalk in the busiest area of Kingston, she closed her book and put it back in her backpack, pulled the jacket tighter around her middle and continued her steady walk.

The air was getting crispier with each minute outside. It was refreshing and calm, disturbed only by a few laughs from the pub across the street and two cars passing her by. She turned into one of the quieter streets, where the buildings were becoming shorter and more separated from each other. Brick fences and trimmed hedges adorned the concrete sidewalks on both sides of the street, illuminated only by a few lanterns. Most of the light was coming from the windows in a row of semi-detached houses that Millie has known for a good chunk of her life.

Right when she wanted to cross the street and take a right, she heard a subtle clicking of a dog collar and a leash. Soft padding from the back was slowly approaching her and becoming louder, as well as someone’s whistle.

“Tess, come here!” a hushed call didn’t disrupt the peace of the night, but rather added the familiarity that Millie adored. She slowed her walk and turned around, just in time to be met with lightly jogging blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier. She panted lightly with her tongue out and reached Millie’s legs, where she tucked her head and mewled timidly.

“Oh, and who do we have here?” Millie chuckled at the dog’s persistence in keeping close. She scratched her head and patted her on the back, “are you on your evening walk, Tessa? Is that right?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you, Millie,” Dominic reached them and sent Millie a kind and apologetic smile, “good evening.”

“Hi, it’s good to see you.” She beamed at the middle-aged man, whom she learned to adore like a family member.

“Likewise, yeah. Heading home?”

“I am, just got off the train.”

“We will keep you company, then. Is that alright?” He fixed his glasses and leaned down to attach the leash to Tessa’s collar. Millie’s insides warmed and her mind calmed down at the idea that she will get to spend a few minutes with a friend.

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. I bet Tom would have my head, hadn’t I offered,” they chuckled at the mention of his son. Their laughter died off comfortably and escaped into the night air, while Millie reminisced about the caring nature of the Hollands. “How is it going at BBC?” he asked after a moment, letting her go first through a narrow passage.

“It’s… going,” she smiled shyly, not sure how to dress up her words. In Dominic’s company she always felt one step behind in her creative skills; his writing and comic abilities exceeded her capabilities, or so she thought. “but I feel like I’ve definitely hit an end with politics. I know it’s only been a month, but it’s just… it keeps on proving that I should be writing about something else.”

“Oh, it’s totally understandable. Rest assured, you’re not the only one stuck like this,” They turned the corner onto her street. “but I wish you luck there. They have some sensible editors, so I assume you’ll get a chance at something else as well.”

“I hope so. Today I asked them about switching departments and the intern manager told me she will think about it, so there is a tiny light.”

“Something will always work out. You’re smart, you’ll find your way there.”

Dom and Millie continued down the sidewalk, until Tessa stopped near the gate to Millie’s house. She sniffed the pavement and turned back to the girl who crouched down to pet the Staffy one last time.

“Thanks for walking with me,” her smile was genuine, coming straight from her heart. “please say hi to Nikki and the boys. Is Sam still home?”

“He is, he starts his practice at the end of June. So, we all will be here to celebrate your birthdays.”

“Oh, that’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“That’s true. But you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“I know, thank you.” With fondness painted across her face, she scratched Tessa’s ear and stood up straight, reaching for the keys in her pocket.

“Have a good night.”

“You too. Bye, Tess!”

Whenever she got the chance to interact with someone from their family, Millie instantly felt their love and care penetrate her straight to the core. It was this kind of relationship that had been built through the years, only making it stronger and bringing it closer to the concept of family.

Nikki, Dom’s wife and Anna, Millie’s mother met shortly before Millie and Tom were born. At first only neighbours, soon they became best friends to the point of engaging their families in a kind affair. Greetings at the doorstep turned into late night family dinners and weekends away with the kids. They were used to spending most of the birthdays and holidays together, especially when Millie and Tom’s birthdays two days apart brought them all closer. She raced her best friend in Anna’s womb and came out to this world right before the brown-haired boy. Ever since the Beavers celebrated the birth of their third and youngest daughter, the Hollands began their journey with four boys. They always stayed close and treated each other like family, deeming it necessary to nourish their friendship and turn it into something everlasting. The example of their parents taught Millie and Tom to mimic the closeness and made them create their own little world.

Millie’s older sisters also treated Tom, Harry, Sam and Paddy like brothers, but not as much as Millie did. Samantha and Liz were already grown toddlers when the families got together, so they figured more as the female patrons of their youngest sister and her adventures with the boys. But Millie and Tom’s friendship turned into something so effortless and harmless that no supervision was necessary. They were each other’s partners in crime, best friends from next door. Their mothers had signed them up for the same dance classes, helped them get to the same summer carnivals, and let them have late nights in makeshift dens. Millie was one of the first people their dog, Tessa, got familiar with. She missed him dearly when he started his journey as a young actor, but Nikki made sure he always made the time to call his best friend when the time zones were somewhat cooperating. They nurtured their friendship through Millie’s education and Tom’s career, not stopping even for a moment. He was there for her always, carrying her home when she scratched her knee after falling off the slings. She would help him with homework whenever he felt too embarrassed to ask his parents. Tom escorted her home from her disaster of a prom; he was the first one to understand her anxiety and help her through it. And Millie always read the books and scripts Tom needed to prepare for auditions. Just like that, they always found home in one another.

Their house smelled of baking and freshly watered plants. As quietly as possible, Millie took off her shoes and tip-toed into the kitchen, turning on only the least invasive, small lights. She put down her backpack and lightly stretched, letting out a tired, yet content breath. Her eyes scanned the kitchen in search for the source of the sweet scent, and there it was, on a cooling rack in the corner, covered with a tea towel – fresh lemon sponge cake, the favourite of Millie’s mother. Lightly dusted with powdered sugar, it added an extra layer of sweet comfort to the late night’s atmosphere. She left the cake untouched, but put the kettle on to quickly make herself a cup of tea for a good night’s sleep. She let out an overwhelming yawn and rested her hips on the side of the countertop, patiently waiting for the water to boil.

She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. The brightness of the screen was almost blinding, until it adjusted to the low lighting in the room. She could feel the anticipation growing in the back of her head as she noticed a new message.

(Tom) I got you something today

After a second or two, a picture loaded under the message. Millie gasped and smiled like mad, when he showed her a pair of Minnie Mouse sequin ears. It was an artefact that Millie has always dreamt of, not having an opportunity to go to Disneyland ever in her childhood. She awaited the chance with high hopes and wandering mind, but she knew the trip had to be thorough, well-planned, and wholesomely happy.

(Me) You were in Disneyland????

(Tom) yeah we did promo for spidey today

(Me) I’m so jealous rn

(Me) THANK YOU FOR THE EARS!!!!!

(Tom) it’s alright

(Tom) I didn’t get any weird looks at all

(Tom) Just casually carried around this shiny sparkling beauty

(Me) I bet you loved this feeling

(Me) I bet you bought yourself a pair too

(Tom) Don’t tell anyone

(Me) You could always pretend they’re for Tessa

(Me) I just saw her and your Dad btw

Whenever her and Tom texted, it always sparked a never-ending conversation about sweet nothings. They mocked each other, talked about their days, spoke about all things home. It allowed them a safe space from their daily hustles; Millie was able to breathe lightly and happily, and Tom had a chance to detach from the world he desperately tried not to drown in.

Almost spilling the tea, she slowly made it upstairs without losing the sight of her phone screen. She struggled to turn off the lights in the corridor without making a noise but somehow, she managed not to disturb her parents too much, as she reached her bedroom. Safe within her own little space, she put down the mug and let go of her backpack and jacket. She threw herself on the softest bedspread and waited patiently for Tom’s reply.

The text bubble stopped and a massage didn’t appear, but her phone started ringing. Millie answered the FaceTime call and waited for the camera on his phone to adjust and show his familiar face.

“I had a meeting with Disney and they want me to participate in one of their projects for a Marvel-themed ride at Disneyland,” from a crooked angle she could see his neatly gelled hair and uneven eyebrows. Tom was walking somewhere, but then sat down and perched his phone on the mug that stood on the coffee table, so that she could see him better.

“That’s exciting, right?”

“Oh, yeah!” She could see him rummage in a brown paper bag and pull out a box with some takeaway food. “But I’m telling you this because we could turn it into our Disneyland trip that you’ve wanted, right?”

“That would be nice, yeah.” She smiled back at the screen, but a terrible yawn sneaked in to her expression. Tom scrunched his forehead and took a large sip from a bottle of water.

“I didn’t wake you up now, did I?”

“No, I just came back home. I am tired, though.”

“Yeah? How was work?”

“Stressful and not nice. It wasn’t a good day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

Tom spent the next minutes carefully listening to her words and trying not to spill his soup on his fresh clothes. He hummed to some of the stories and asked little intrusive questions, to get the whole picture. She kept rubbing at her eyes and stifling her yawns every now and then, at last making a mess of her mascara and getting it all over her skin. Despite the seriousness in her voice, Tom smiled fondly to himself at the view of her ruined face that probably mimicked her current mental state. It wasn’t something he should laugh about, but it was rather endearing to have her so comfortably sharing her lows with him, while he casually ate his lukewarm, very late lunch.

“Why are you laughing at me?” She returned his smile, knowing it was probably something she did.

“You made yourself look like panda.” He chewed on a chunk of chicken from his second plate. The wrinkles by his eyes deepened with each of her chuckles and proved to them that this is the lightness they need in their daily routines. “Well, it’s good you asked for a new placement. You should be comfortable in your work environment. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she yawned again and stopped herself mid-rubbing her eye again, earning a wholesome, groggy laugh from her friend, “your dad thinks they will give me another chance.”

“I mean, he knows some people there, so he probably has a point.”

“Yeah, I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high, you know?” A comfortable silence rested between them after he nodded and continued munching on his food. Millie stood up from her bed and took the phone with her, but also started to slowly get ready for the night.

“You will know when the moment feels right and shows you something worth a shot. Trust yourself, Mills.”

“I guess…” she trailed off, making her way to the closet to find fresh pyjamas. “I’m glad my panda face entertained your… what is it, lunch break?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he chuckled, enjoying the playfulness of her tired self, “I should be coming back in two weeks. We could hang out then, if you’ll have the time.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Alright, I’ll let you rest. Text me anytime, yeah?”

“I will. Thanks for the Minnie ears!”

“You got it, Minnie Mouse. Sweet dreams.”

* * *

After her little mishap with Politics Live, Millie tried her best to keep up the hard work, but stay low. She tried not to focus too much attention and just assist other workers in their tasks, only coming up with ideas when necessary. She strived to come back to her public voice, but she knew she needed it to have a comfortable outlet, preferably in another setting and on different topics. She was greeting the intern manager with additional caution and kindness, trying her best not to leave her case forgotten.

Segregating files for the research team seemed to be the best solution to her temporary creative break. Her attention to detail and wholesome care about the task being done to its full potential came in handy. She volunteered to help the group of meticulously scribbling and researching men in keeping their documents in order.

The soft mumble of the radio in the background was interrupted by a guy named Tim. He always wore rock band t-shirts under his jackets and Millie swore she had seen him participate in a wild dance routine during the last year’s Glastonbury Festival. He stopped typing on his keyboard and started to quietly hum a song that was definitely different to what Scott Mills was announcing on Radio 1.

“Oh my God, do you guys know this song? I can’t get it out of my head!” he groaned in frustration, making a few people in the open space office chuckle.

“Do you know any words, maestro?” Millie’s head snapped up at the sound of Kim, the intern manager’s voice. She was passing by with a bunch of files and a coffee, before she perched herself on his desk, obviously making fun of her friend.

“It’s got this very cool, mariachi-like trumpet between the lines,” he mimicked a trumpet player and hummed some more, “and the guy sings something about stopping a feeling…”

“Justin Timberlake?”

“You know he’s not my jam, Kim! It’s an old-school song.”

“You’re the old-school one here.” Kim’s comment earned a couple more laughs at poor Tim, who was genuinely struggling. “you’re the researcher, have you googled it?”

“Of course I googled it, stop mocking me! People are watching.”

Their little light-hearted exchange brought a breezy atmosphere to the office and made Millie smile some more. She kept on looking up at Tim to check if he’s found the song he was looking for, but without luck. Her fingertips started to tingle with each swipe through the pages in a file, because she felt like she knew the song. Deciding to come against her decision to lay low, she gently cleared her throat and swallowed her nerves of speaking up in a new environment.

“Hey Tim, have you tried to find it on Spotify?” they both looked at Millie with playful smiles, as anyone would to the up and coming intern fresh out of university.

“I don’t think it’s the title of the song, so I won’t find it there.”

“But you actually could,” she offered, biting her lip nervously “since the recent update, you can now type in the lyrics into the search bar and the results will show you all licensed songs with the same or similar lyrics.” Tim instantly reached for his phone and started typing away.

“Oh really? I didn’t know that, let’s see…” Kim looked into his phone and watched his progress.

“And since you’ve remembered a catchy verse, it’s very possible that others also tried to find this song through the same words. So, it will probably come up within the first few results.”

“Alright, smarty.” He shook his head in amusement. Millie watched as Kim’s face got ridden of any emotion and just stared at Tim’s work.

“But if nothing comes up, you can always try ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ by Blue Swede.”

Millie waited with racing heart at their reactions. Tim clicked on one of the results and raised the volume, filling the room with a sound so familiar to Millie’s memory. She smiled shyly and internally patted herself on the back, before coming back to her task.

“How did you know this song?” His triumphant smile was radiating, as he did a little dance in his seat and twirled on his rolling chair. “It’s such an old tune, I didn’t think your generation would know it!”

“Yeah Millie, how did you know?” Kim encouraged his question and watched her carefully, almost as if she was studying her intern.

“It’s in the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy. I wrote a paper on it.”

“Hm.” Kim’s unreadable expression was giving Millie chills, but in a positive way. She liked to be asked about things that interested her and prompted her to be creative, so the way this situation evolved was close to burst her heart into passionate flames. “I’ll ask the Radio managers if they want a music and pop culture geek, how’s that sound?”

It sounded like Millie put the trust in herself at the right time.

****

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear@sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection@cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0 @spideyspeaches

If it bothers you that you’re tagged, please let me know!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland x oc #mornings in Sheffield park #misp #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb

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artcupcakes · 3 years ago

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Thanks for being chill then!! I’m gonna leave a very long detailed review on the actual fic itself, but for now here is the preliminary (critique) overview.

Buckle up, AC;; this is kinda picky of me to be pointing this out. I am BY NO MEANS a trained author! Just putting that there.

So I only spot,, about three typos. If you meant them that way, of course!

Carving (divide, engrave) < Craving (longing, hunger)

Withdraws (take away, verb) < Withdrawals (can refer to drugs, noun)

Revenant (revived) < Reverent (respectful, awe)

(I thought “contentions” was a typo but turns out there’s a second definition to it. The more you know.) That’s sort of a minor thing though, the rest of my complaints are just quality of life things!

Awwww AWWWWW “his soul sang at its rightness?” bruhhhhh that’s so cute dude ughhhhghhghhhh in my opinions, how amazing a fic is would be measured by the emotions it elicits from the reader. When I read this particular line, I felt something akin to a punch of pure fluff. No joke, that means it’s really good.

So when writing, you want to try and not use the same word twice in a single sentence! (and if more experienced, connecting paragraphs count, too)

For example: “The ending might be close, but the new beginning was also just as close.” < “—just over the horizon.”

Same thing goes for metaphors and similes (imagery)!

“Which might be why his soul sings upon seeing the rare visiting heisters, It only made sense.” (WHICH IS SUPER ADORABLE BY THE WAY) < “—why his heart flutters in his chest upon catching a glimpse,”

Preference: I normally refer to the characters with different terms so it doesn’t feel quite as redundant. Like for Dallas: “Mastermind, Crew Chief, the leader, the heister, the veteran (uncommon), the caporegime (rare)”

Bain is my favoritest FAVORITE and he gets a lot more: “the hacker (case sensitive, capital refers to Joy), the navigator, the contractor, the guide, the veteran (rare), the Watcher (unused)”

(There’s a neat trick you can do with this: the way the characters refer to each other! My version of Dallas calls Bain “their navigator,” and likewise the hacker thinks “his colleague.”)

I really enjoy gen fics, THANK YOU OP for writing this! Also the dude is stinkin’ touch starved I love it hehdidjsjskxn

(I’m aware that it’s kind of ironic; me screaming at grammar and immediately swapping over to spamming keys. If I were writing myself, I would say I was “alternating/oscillating between the differing states.” The best way I’ve described this imo is as follows: “blinking on and off like some kind of defective binary code.”)

Last thing, most sentences can be combined using commas; semicolons are used when a sentence can technically end but you want to add something more.

AAAHAHHH the hopelessness is STRONG in this one! I NEED MORE PLEASE YEAAAHHHH

ESPECIALLY THE FIRST FEW SENTENCES!!! which I rewrote for you because I really really REALLU LIKED IT

“No matter what you do, death would always come to claim your soul, in the end. It was inevitable, eventually happening to everyone, with no exceptions.

Bain had known this unchangable fact ever since he had the ability to understand his circumstances.

His plans were meticulously lined up, and he had made peace with the situation. And yet, there is a stark dissonance between what he believes and what he does. The navigator would quietly panic about it as his remaining days steadily ticked down to zero. Dread pooling in his gut as the date ceaselessly approached.”

Bain knows that his relationship with them is far too close for it to be classified as strictly business, but he doesn’t care. YESSSSS OP THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING YATAAAAAAHHHHH

All in all, REALLY GOOD for your first post!!! NICE

Spelling, truly my oldest and worst enemy(Yet Grammar as whole I do pretty alright. One of my best subjects even).

Some of your rewrites are a bit too wordy for my taste; but that's a taste thing more than anything. Also me being a scatter brain but that's not the point! I'm so glad you the fic enough to show your passion by wanting to see it to be more! :D

As well as liking that the characterizations. That was something I worry about.

I'll make sure to not over use the names next time. It's a bit harder to do with a character like Bain instead of say Dallas(Nathan, Steele[and all of it's various additions that can be added such as Elder and The], Crew Chief, Banker, Mastermind, Medic, etc) but I'll see if I can scramble my brain eggs!

Either way really glad you liked it ^u^

#I was doodling all day hence the piss poor response time #The Revenant Mastermind #Fanfic Feedback #DesPaaCeeToeee #Sometimes you just need advice from a frog bois #Also the Soul Sang thing could also be constructed as Watcher Bain PDG Fourth King Theory #But we aint gonna talk about that ;)#Interpterion and all #The Revenant Mastermind - Armcannos #feedback #My Fanfic #AO3 Feedback #ACresponds #ACfeedback #ACwrites #textpost #Bain #Payday #Dallas

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melodiesofblueroses · 4 years ago

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can u do Yuu and Ryo hc's (fluff) with a s/o who shows her love with drawings?? tysm and i tope you hace a nice day!

aww this was such a cute request! Thanks for requesting anon, and I hope you enjoy it!

»»————————-　♡　————————-««

♡ Yuu Mizuno

just how like Yuu loves to cook for you and prepare handmade lunches for the two of you, you like to show your affection through drawings

sometimes it could be a bit embarrassing to show affection out in public such as kisses on the cheek or hugs from behind, unlike Yuu who didn’t mind at all and initiated such acts of pda

drawings also worked well because to anyone else they may seem like nothing more than a bunch of scribbles, but they were more than that to the receiver

he could always tell that you poured your heart into each one, even if it was doodles such as hearts and whatnot

just the thought that you were thinking of him made them a symbol of your love

and he cherishes each and every one of your drawings

he’s got a whole box underneath a bed filled with your artwork, whether it be tiny doodles on a napkin from the cafeteria or a painted portrait from art class

Yuu also carries around one of your pieces with him everywhere, neatly folded in either his phone case or wallet

it was just a little something that reminded him of you, and every time he looked at it, Yuu never failed to smile

on days when he’s feeling down, he loves to go through your art and just admire them for some time, especially the details such as the brushstrokes, composition, or the little easter eggs you may have hidden throughout

he could feel your love for him radiate from the drawings, and sometimes all he needed was a reminder of that

one of his absolute favorite pieces was a doodle you passed to him one time in the middle of math class

the teacher was droning on about something the day before winter break, Yuu couldn’t really remember what, and he was playing with his my melody keychain that was attached to his house keys

no one was really paying any attention as everyone was waiting for the final bell to ring in order for break to start

someone had tapped him on the shoulder and slid him a flashcard with the words “from y/n” messily scrawled on top

when he turned it over, he swore he felt his heart jump

it was a small portrait of him dozing off in class, with sparkles and hearts and cute characters all around like a frame

it was a bit messy and nothing more than the outline of a finished piece, but nonetheless, Yuu loved it so much that he still carries it on him to this day

honestly considers it a bit of a good luck charm

“gahh! that biology test was so hard,” you sighed. “how’d you think you did Yuu?”

“hm? well~, I think that I aced it”

“really?! geez, I thought you didn’t like stuyding that much”

“I don’t, but it’s all thanks to my good luck charm~”

“oo, let me see it,” you said with awestruck eyes, completely oblivious to the fact that it was your drawing all along

“nope, it’s only for my viewing eyes”

“mean”

»»————-　♡　————-««

✿ Ryo Nishimiya

he always knew that you liked art since he first met you in art class, which he was pushed into by the school counselor

you two sat next to each other, and you quickly took a liking to him, always trying to strike up a conversation which did annoy him at first (not that he would tell you that now)

however, you two chatted regularly throughout the semester, and before long, the two of you became friends which soon evolved into something more

during his time in art class, you always gave him some sort of drawing or doodle at the end of the week, which did confuse him, but Ryo also kept all of them stashed away in his room (he didn’t want to admit his crush on you)

when you two begin dating, the drawings become more frequent, almost a daily thing

more often than not, they were either portraits of him or involved little twin stars in some way, which always made him go bright red, especially if he was in school where someone might catch sight of it

one time when it was his birthday, you gifted him a large portrait of him that you had made during art club

it was an acrylic painting of him reading a book, and honestly, Ryo almost cried right then and there when he first saw it

he didn’t really know why, but every time he looked at one of your drawings, Ryo always felt himself go red and become more nervous and a bit of a stuttering mess

it was almost as if you created them specifically for him only with no one else in mind

as much as he hated to admit it, Ryo loved the feeling

it was like a reminder that you were his. you were actually his s/o, and no one else could have your love except him

Ryo was a bit curious as to why you always gave him drawings though, so he decides to ask you one day while you’re over his house

“oh...” the usual smile you had whenever you were around him fell and turned into a frown, and Ryo panicked a bit, wondering if he had said anything wrong. “if you don’t like them I can always stop-”

“no!” Ryo unconsciously shouted, immediately turning a bright red once he realized the outburst he had caused. “i-i mean, if you like doing them, then you don’t have to stop. I love them after all.” although the last sentence was muttered under his breath, you still heard it

grinning from ear-to-ear with a dust of pink on your cheeks, you responded “well, I just wanted to show you how much I adore you”

critical hit, instant k.o

Ryo was sure that he died in that moment

“h-how can you say that with such a straight face ?!!”

you made these to show your love? did he have to do something to show his affection too? but he was too embarrassed to do such a thing. gahh!! this was all so confusing,,but also he felt so warm on the inside?

from then on, Ryo made sure to appreciate all your drawings even more than before and to show his own form of affection more frequently

"oh-ho, what’s this?” one of his older sisters exclaimed, holding up a drawing of Ryo she had found underneath his bed

“h-hey, give that back!”

#sanrio danshi #sanrio boys #Yuu Mizuno #ryo nishimiya #sanrio boys x reader #asks

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

Text

A New Adventure - Pt. 2

Proceeding Genesis

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Getting Arthur to the doctor’s is no easy task. Walking back to your small home, he’s distracted by everything: the houses, the lawns, cars parked on the street. Everything is foreign to him.

He keeps asking where the horses are and you explain horses and carriages have been replaced by automobiles and that people stopped using horses as a main mode of transportation back in the 1920s.

Your dog Sage is in love with the cowboy. She keeps sniffing him and licking his hand as you walk home. He thinks she’s adorable and keeps patting her head.

Arthur patiently waits in your yard while you put Sage in your house and grab your car keys and wallet. You try thinking about how to get him meds when he’s not insured or even licensed in modern forms.

Getting Arthur into the car is almost a joke. He’s fascinated by your car (a small sedan) and can’t believe this little machine replaced horses and buggies. He’s even more surprised when you tell him it can go over 90 miles an hour. He states he can’t even fathom how fast that is.

He finally sits down in the front leather passenger seat. You turn on the seat warmer out of habit and he finds it weird to have his back and butt being warmed by a chair rather than the other way around.

You start playing a rather neutral playlist of some movie scores so as not to shock him too much. He can’t understand how your phone tells your car what kind of music to play. You tell him what little you know about Bluetooth and he scoffs. “Waves I cannot see,” he says, just like he does in the game with that Marco Dragic guy. You suppress a smile.

He’s in awe when the car moves and how smooth of a ride it is. You try not to speed (you have a horrible habit of not sticking to the speed limit. Common problem in Utah), so that the speed won’t startle him or make him sick. He can’t understand why everyone moves so uniformly, but he also seems to see nothing but chaos in the way the other cars react to the traffic lights.

He asks constant questions about everything he sees, and you debate how much to tell him about things before his brain simply can’t process anything. Shit, if he weren’t already sick, you wouldn’t even be doing this! But observing him at a red light, you see the paleness to his face, the redness in his eyes. He cannot wait anymore.

Once you get to the instacare office, you’re relieved to see your cousin at the desk. She’s a nurse who works here and you’ve been close most of your lives. You pull her aside and tell her without spilling too many details that Arthur needs meds for active TB. She gives you a worried look when you mention he has no insurance, but says she might be able to pull a few strings to put the meds onto yours so the price will be cheaper.

Finally, after talking with her for some time and filling out several forms in which you have to do a lot of guessing, the doc comes out and calls Arthur’s name. Everyone gives Arthur questioning looks, thanks to the fact he’s still in his rugged, dusty clothes.

Arthur gives you a horrified look but you nod and send him on his way. (Author’s note: I know that in realistic situations, they’d give him a TB test that would take two days to develop into a readable outcome, but we’re going to skip that.)

Some time passes and then Arthur comes out with a few slips of paper in his hand. He hands them to you, asking what they are. They’re prescriptions for some very heavy medications, including antibiotics. You finish the last bit of paperwork and thank your cousin again for helping put him on your insurance for this visit.

You drive to the closest grocery store and tell Arthur to stay in the car while you go pick up his meds from the pharmacy. You also firmly tell him not to touch anything, afraid he might accidentally make it so the AC or heater nearly blasts you into space when you come back or he’ll adjust the seats or mirrors or something. He raises his hands to show he won’t touch anything.

You feel kind of bad leaving him alone, but taking him into a grocery store right now with everything else would be a bad thing. Too much stimulation, you think.

When you see how much the meds will cost, you thank God that your insurance provides a spending account to cover meds. You’re also relieved when you see one of the bags has an inhaler in it. The doc must have decided he wasn’t bad enough to need oxygen, not yet anyways. But you know from playing the game he will have a matter of weeks without these medications.

You take Arthur home and then decide, against your better judgement, to let him inside. He promises over and over again that he won’t take advantage of your kindness.

He’s in awe again when he sees the inside of your home. It’s definitely nothing fancy and has the essentials of a modern home, but you remind yourself the homes he’s used to: one room cabins with gas ovens and rickety furniture, sometimes with a loft for the occupants to sleep.

You unpack his meds and figure out what his medication schedule needs to be. You pull out three different large pills and tell him to take them now. You also show him how to work the inhaler and tell him that whenever he feels short of breath or tightening in the chest to use it. You then demand he hand over his cigarettes, throwing them in your trash. He complains, but you tell him the health problems associated with them and how they’ll only make his condition worse.

After he’s taken his meds, you show Arthur your spare bedroom. Your mother used to sleep here when she visited from her home down south, but now that she has her new boyfriend, you hardly see her. Not that you mind, she tends to be a nuisance.

Arthur expresses his gratitude several times. You can see the lost sheep’s look in his eyes still and feel sorry for him. Maybe it would be better if you gave him his meds and sent him back to the cave and to West Elizabeth.

When you suggest this, he automatically turns you down. He’s fascinated by your world and his gang has suffered so much trouble lately, his heart can’t bear what else might come.

It takes a bit of convincing on his part, but you finally decide to let him stay for a few days until he figures out what he wants to do. He thanks you again and offers you a ring as payment. In the game, it must be worth about 8 dollars. Nowadays, probably much more, but you turn him down.

You go out to the kitchen to begin cooking dinner after Arthur gets established in his room. He comes out to watch you and offers to help, but he’s so lost in your small kitchen, you tell him to just sit down at the table.

He does and Sage automatically rests her head on his knee, begging for pets. Arthur seems to be in love already with your dog. Not a surprise, most people do with her.

You cook a quick meal of some Kraft Mac for time’s sake since you do have to get up early and go to work. Arthur’s fascinated by the stove. He finds it strange that every house has an electric stove and oven.

He finds the food you cook even more strange and makes a goofy face after the first bite. It’s obvious he’s not a fan but he graciously eats it without saying a word.

After you clean up dinner, you’d normally go and watch a show before going to bed, but you decide that might not be the best thing to do with Arthur just yet. It’s obvious he’s tired from everything he’s seen today, plus he obviously doesn’t feel good.

You decide to just read a book instead for the night. Arthur stays in your living room, investigating everything. He finds your movie shelf and pulls out a DVD. He opens it. “Is this what books are like these days?”

“What?” you say, coming out of your room and holding a book in your hand. “No, Arthur, that’s a movie. I’ll, um, I’ll show you what a movie is tomorrow. Books still look like this.” You show him the one in your hand.

He takes the book and studies the front cover of The Hunger Games. It’s one of your favorite series and you figure if Arthur wants to read it with you, he might be only semi-lost. He flips open to a random page and reads silently, then he closes it.

“Well, at least that’s one thing that ain’t changed,” is all he says.

You look a bit at his clothes, still rugged and dirty from his adventures. Unfortunately, you’ve no clothes for men except for your dad’s favorite shirt in your cedar chest. He used to wear it a lot before he passed away. You offer to throw his clothes in the washer and also offer him a bath.

He agrees, though you can tell he’s nervous about you seeing him in less than what he’s wearing. You have to reassure him time and time again that you’ve seen more naked people watching TV.

You show him how to work the tub. He’s amazed by how hot water pours from the spout.

He finally gives in and goes into the bathroom, handing you his clothes through the cracked door.

You throw his clothes into the washer, but not after taking a slightly guilty sniff of his shirt. You won’t ever admit it to anyone, but you’ve always wondered what Arthur would smell like. Sure, maybe you harbor a cyber-crush on him, but again it’s not something you’d tell anyone. Especially not him. You smell his shirt and are surprised when it smells like pine and grass.

You throw his clothes into the washer and set a timer on your phone to change it in about 40 minutes.

When you pass the bathroom to go to your bedroom, you can hear Arthur’s deep voice humming a tune you’ve heard him sing when he’s riding his horse. It makes you smile.

After he’s done bathing, he comes out wearing your bathrobe (which barely closes over his broad chest) and a towel wrapped around his waist.

You have to avert your eyes from his chest, trying to hide the blush. He’s blushing too.

He decides to wait in the spare room until his clothes are done. You tell him it’ll be about an hour and a half.

When his clothes are finally finished, you hand them back to him. A few moments later, he opens the door, revealing himself in nothing but his union suit and pants.

You announce you’re going to bed and so you go into your room with Sage. For good measure, you lock the door. You don’t know why you’re so paranoid about Arthur in your house. If he wanted to attack you, he’s had plenty of opportunities to do it. Still, you can’t help but feel a little safer knowing the door’s locked.

It takes you awhile to fall asleep. You hear, through the thin walls of your home, the soft rumble of Arthur as he snores. You wonder what the next few days will bring.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur x female reader #arthur morgan x female #arthur morgan x reader #R* Games #rockstar games #I'm awkward #a new adventure

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

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omg my initials are J and his are B and i was wondering to get a love/relationship/sexual reading? he’s a new guy i’m talking to but the issue is he is a bit older than me as in 11 years. if you can’t do this it’s fine ❤️❤️

strap yourself in cause this is a bit of a long one lmao

tarot: 9 of pentacles/the hermit, knight of pentacles/the star, 7 of pentacles, 2 of wands, 7 of cups, king of swords, the empress, the hierophant

Okay so this is kind of just some general info regarding this connection.

The hermit represents seeking something and the 7 of cups is related to fantasies so these cards in the same row indicate that you’re looking for something, something you’ve been fantasising about, maybe dreaming about. The 9 of pentacles is a sign of rewards or things paying off so to me that indicates this connection is what you’re looking for.

The knight of pentacles represents you. In the jane austen deck is also doubles as the star which shows a hopefulness but with the energy of the knight, there is effort being made too. You’re not one to sit back and wait if you know what it is you want. When the king came out to clarify it i literally said “oh of course” out loud because with an 11 year age gap, he was bound to be a king to your knight. The king of swords is very disciplined though and theres a sense of power and authority as well. He’s intelligent too and often puts his head over his heart when making decisions.

Then we have the 7 of pentacles and the empress. The seven of pentacles is about hard work and perseverance. There’s progress being made. But the empress can represent clandestine matters so it feels like you’re hiding this from someone. Maybe people you know, friends or family, would be opposed to you being with someone so much older than you. However, the empress is also a sign that this is a good time for romance to bloom and that a relationship could be deepening soon. She can also symbolise like really good sex too so that’s fun, but as she is also tied to fertility, there is also a warning here to use protection if the risk of pregnancy is involved and not something you want right now.

Finally the two of wands is about hesitating and deliberating over a decision. With the hierophant under it, it seems like the age gap is probably what’s holding you back. The hierophant is about tradition and conformity and obviously a relationship with such a large age gap isn’t exactly traditional. It probably goes against the conventions and ideals imposed on you by others as well as pre-conceived ideas about yourself. But the hierophant can also be a good sign for a relationship.

tarot: 10 of pentacles, queen of pentacles, 8 of wands, king of swords/the emperor, judgement, queen of cups, 4 of swords, 7 of cups, page of pentacles, 2 of swords

So with these cards I wanted more info on where this relationship could go, what the outcome might be.

The 10 of pentacles is a good place to start. It’s a sign of a happy home, prosperity and success in family matters. Under it is the queen of cups who represents comfort and calm. She’s sometimes described as the wife card because the cups suit ties to emotions and relationships. And Judgement is a sign of renewal and rebirth, so it feels like this could be the start of something good.

It’s a little odd we have another queen card (and one in the line of sight of our returning king of swords). Judgement can also be an indication of reflection or that something isn’t working so maybe check he isn’t talking to anyone else right now. But the rest of the cards don’t really indicate a 3 party situation so I wouldn’t be worried. The queen may be referring to a past relationship of his, especially with the 4 of swords under it. Perhaps he’s divorced or separated from a former partner. Of course, the queen of pentacles can also represent security, wellbeing and abundance so she might just be another sign that this would be a positive relationship for you. The 4 of swords can deal with peace so that would confirm that positive message.

Then we have the 8 of wands. The sex card. There’s physical attraction here for sure. It’s being clarified by the 7 of cups so again, fantasies. A possibly sign that this guy thinks about you while he masturbates (especially with the 7 of cups next to the 4 of swords). The page of pentacles is related to desire as well so this definitely indicates a healthy, passionate sex life.

And finally, the king of swords over the two of swords. Obviously the king of swords came up before and represented B but it’s interesting that under him is the 2 of swords. That’s a card of indecision and difficult choices. The pessimistic part of me is a little worried about that other queen and what she might have to do with this decision. Perhaps it’s just that he’s concerned about the age thing as well - he’s wondering if he shouldn’t find someone a bit closer to his age (a queen rather than a knight). Like I said before, the king of sword puts his head over his heart so it may be that he wants you but feels it wouldn’t be right or that he shouldn’t. This might also be a warning for you to not do that same thing. Right now you’re deciding whether to pursue this connection or not. But overall these are some pretty positive cards and I think these last two might be telling you to think things through but don’t discount what you feel. It might seem unusual to people you know, it might sound odd on paper, but if you want it and you feel like it could work, then go for it.

I should also mention that the king of swords doubles as the emperor in the jane austen deck. So over the two readings we had empress and emperor show up. The emperor is also a symbol of male power/authority as well as stability and protection. It could be that he’s a little dominant or maybe just more experienced than you. But the stability indicates a steady relationship and the protection shows that he’s want to look after you.

Your romance angel oracles are: Passion - allow your heart and soul to sing with joy! / Flirt - extend your lighthearted energy to others! / Playfulness - to recapture romance, allow your inner youthful spirit of fun to shine!

Passion is obviously there with the 8 of wands and flirt makes sense too. I think it’s very interesting that the playfulness card mentions “youthful spirit” and I think it’s saying that your age is not a downside, it is in fact a positive.

Your love oracle is Plato: At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet / love is simply the name for the desire and the pursuit of the whole / the madness of love is the greatest of heaven’s blessings.

Your hearts say: If you could do anything what would it be? The answer dwells in your heart not your mind, for the heart is the gateway to the soul. and Acceptance is the key to inner peace. At times, we must accept things as they are. There is no point trying to change that which is beyond our control.

Very interesting! That middle bit on the plato card definitely ties into the idea of going after what you want. That first heart card definitely ties into the king of swords, head vs heart thing i mentioned and the second heart seems to be reminding you that age isn’t something we can change.

And then 3 words from my destiny cards - satisfaction, acceptance, enthusiasm.

Acceptance again! Right near the heart that talked about the same! Satisfaction and enthusiasm are both good signs too. They might be related to sex or just a general positive energy within the relationship.

The world, the fool, ace of swords, ace of wands, the chariot.

A quick look at sexual chemistry. The fool says there is chemistry for sure. He’s the first card in the tarot and represents the beginning of a journey so it’s still a spark but it has potential to grow into a flame. He’s also a sign that good things can happen when we let go of our fears and trust your heart.

The world is a sign that you would absolutely enjoy it if you had sex with B. It’s a card of completion and fulfilment. And he’s got the ace of swords which is one of the few positive swords cards. But it’s about triumph, clarity and accomplishment. So you’d both enjoy yourselves.

To describe the sex we have the ace of wands which is fantastic. the ace of wands is about desire, inspiration and vitality. Wands are related to passion and energy and the ace is basically the purest form of that, it’s essence. So this sex would be passionate, vigorous and satisfying. The ace of wands can also be about creativity and inspiration so it’s also possible you’d try some things you haven’t done before which could be part of why the 7 of cups showed up before.

And will you have sex? The chariot. Yes. The chariot is a card of movement and ambition so theres a sense that you both want this, that you’re both pushing for it to happen.

More details on the sex - Rip my panties off / You are sooo delicious / wicked games / handcuffs.

Theres a possibility things will get kinda kinky, which ties into that creative energy of the ace of wands. With B coming up as a king and the emperor i wouldn’t be surprised if he enjoyed playing with dom/sub dynamics. Enthusiasm also came up before and rip my panties off definitely sound enthusiastic and eager. You are sooo delicious implies oral sex too.

#card readings #was half way through and got called away from my desk #and when i came back the page had refreshed itself and i lost everything ahhhhhh #but i think i remembered everything i'd wanted to say #anyway #this was a long on but a fun one

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cryoculus · 5 years ago

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Part 3 for the ushiwaka soulmate au BLEASE !

← Part One

← Part Two

» Word Count: 6,162 words

You guys can all support this whole thing on AO3 as well :3c Also,,,, this is SO long congrats if you don’t puke with the word count

***

Fall had already begun months before Ushijima noticed.

In his defense, securing Shiratorizawa’s spot in Nationals was practically the only thing that plagued his mind on a daily basis since September rolled around. The change in season was the last thing on the ace’s mind.

Even if Shiratorizawa was the crowd favorite, one could never be too sure with a victory that hasn’t happened yet. And that bitter truth came crashing down on him like a bullet that shot an eagle out of the sky. They’ve been soaring through the heavens for so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to plummet to the ground.

But he supposed this wasn’t too bad of an alternative.

“Oi, Tsutomu, pass the marshmallows will you?” Tendou drawled lazily, yawning once the words left his lips. “I might fall asleep and tumble face-first into the bonfire with how slow you all are passing it around.”

Reon patted the middle blocker’s back tentatively. “There’s enough for everyone, Tendou.”

“Yeah, but he isn’t the most patient of senpais now is he?” Semi rolled his eyes, taking a bite out of the perfectly roasted marshmallow impaled on a stick.

“Say that to my face, Semisemi!”

As far as routine went, Tendou and Semi’s constant bickering was sporadic but strangely reassuring. Their animosity towards each other was one sign that his teammates weren’t as devastated with their unexpected defeat as Ushijima initially thought. Hell, the mere fact that the ace even agreed to toast marshmallows at the dormitory’s rooftop with all of them was probably grounds to assume he wasn’t as baffled either.

Ushijima felt as if he should feel more resentment—towards himself or Karasuno, he didn’t really know. But the familiar, light-hearted atmosphere that enclosed them all in front of the crackling flame Shirabu and Soekawa had set up earlier let the tension in his shoulders ebb away for the first time since they lost a week ago. The autumn breeze caressed his face in an almost comforting manner, too—as if to say it’s alright; you can rise back to your feet again.

When Tendou finally got his turn to sift through the bag of marshmallows, the ace carefully toasted his own evenly on all sides. The golden brown tinge on the treat certainly looked appetizing, and though he usually forgoes sweets since they disrupt his diet, Ushijima could afford to stray from routine every once in a while. But as he twisted the stick around to make sure he did a satisfying job, his eyes caught sight of the tiny letters scrawled on his index finger.

He paused in his ministrations, affixing the soul mark with an almost somber gaze. Along with Shiratorizawa’s untimely loss, Ushijima hadn’t forgotten that chance encounter with you in the hall just outside of the stands in the Sendai Gymnasium. It was an unforgettable sight, really—Niiyama’s most valuable player clamoring to reach him just before he and Tendou departed the venue, breath too ragged and eyes too hopeful.

Are you my soulmate?

The moment you showed him the soul mark etched onto your inner wrist was all the confirmation Ushijima needed. Your fates were predetermined to intertwine before you were even born, and that lasting belief of his where such bonds were nothing short of a farce was beginning to recede as the days passed idly by. He couldn’t get the sight of your tear-glistened eyes as you clumsily excused yourself out of his mind; the way the radiance fled your face so quickly the moment he insisted you had the wrong person.

Olive eyes drifted off to the blanket of stars that hovered over him and his teammates. Looking back, Ushijima was quite certain that his adamance towards soulmate bonds wasn’t the only factor that drove him to lie so brazenly. Maybe it was because he couldn’t face you regardless of how the sight of you tied his stomach into knots and set his heart aflutter. He had the gall to say he’ll be seeing you at Nationals when he’s the one who’s going to be absent after all.

Maybe Oikawa wasn’t the only one who harbored worthless pride.

“Oh, Ushijima-san, your marshmallow is burnt,” Shirabu cautioned, nudging the ace’s shoulder lightly as he pointed at the charred marshmallow on the tip of his stick.

He sighed, internally chiding himself for getting lost in his own train of thought before promptly taking a bite out of his newly crunchy treat.

***

“(Surname)!”

You paused mid-sip from your water bottle to cast a questioning glance over your shoulder. Coach Suzuki had that look on her face that foretold a thorough scolding, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“What’d you do this time, senpai?” Amanai snickered, plopping herself onto the floor.

“I don’t think I want to know,” you grumbled, setting down the water bottle before getting up on your feet. You strode over to where your coach stood with folded arms at a leisurely pace, delaying your demise for a few more seconds. But once you were standing right in front of her, the first thing she asked you was—

“What sport are you playing, (Surname)?”

The question had you blinking at her, confused. Her tone carried such a sincere ring to it, too, so you weren’t sure if she’s messing around or not. Nonetheless, you answered, “Volleyball,” with an equal amount of sobriety.

Coach Suzuki nodded slowly. “Yes, yes. Volleyball. Now, may I ask you what kinds of apparel and gear are allowed on court?”

Your body went frigid in the next preceding moment, gulping nervously when you understood what she was being so strident about. “U-um, knee pads, knee braces, and…padded arm sleeves?” You pitched in a wobbly smile at that last part, hoping she’d let this slide.

“Padded arm sleeves,” she echoed, her narrow-eyed gaze shifting onto the black wrist band you still stubbornly wore despite Mei’s countless protests. “You’ve never really used any gear apart from your knee pads. I remember you specifically telling me that arm sleeves and arm bands were uncomfortable and disrupted your rhythm.” The coach flashed you a grin that sent a jolt of fear skidding across your skin. “Now, pray tell, why are you wearing a wrist band, of all things? Those don’t count as volleyball gear, as far as I can recall.”

“N-no reason,” you stammered.

“Oh, so the reason for your poor performance these past few weeks is also non-existent, I presume? (Surname), Nationals is a month away, and instead of improving, you’re regressing.”

If looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet underground with the way Coach Suzuki was glowering at you. Outside of the court, she’s definitely one of the kindest adults you’ve met thus far. Not all coaches would get pork buns at a convenience store with her team. But otherwise, she’s more uptight than any of the male coaches you knew of and, if somebody were to ask what your one fear was, it would be a pissed off Niiyama Volleyball Club coach.

“Coach, (Name)’s been feeling sick lately,” Mei intruded just in time, patting your shoulder affectionately. “I can vouch for her.”

Coach Suzuki remained unfazed at Mei’s attempt at redeeming you, but sighed after a few moments of contemplative silence. “You’re running fifty laps around campus if she doesn’t snap out if it, Haruno.” With that, she tucked her clipboard under her arm before heading back to where she was previously seated. Once she was out of earshot, Mei heaved a relieved exhale, turning the both of you around before promptly dragging you to an unoccupied corner of the gym.

“(Name), is there something you’re not telling me?” she probed, worry creasing her features.

Your hands were clenched into tight fists, fingers digging slightly into your palms. How long has it been now? A month? Yes, that should be right. It’s been a month since your last rejection, and for some reason, it hit you harder than the rest.

Usually, it only took a few days or so of self-pity and you’d be back on your feet once again. But now, even if you weren’t specifically thinking of a certain olive-haired ace, melancholy sank its claws deep enough into you that it’s beginning to affect your performance in both volleyball and your own schoolwork. So much for moving onto better things.

When you didn’t answer, Mei raked her fingers in her light hair, sighing. “How can I help you when you won’t even tell me what’s wrong? It’s the soul mark, isn’t it? You’ve never wanted to actively cover it up as much as you do now—”

“I asked him.”

There’s a brief pause that lapsed in your conversation before Mei incredulously uttered, “What?”

“I asked Ushijima-san,” you began, breathing rather shakily, “if he was my soulmate.”

Being friends with Mei for years had its perks, and that included her being able to know what was going on without you explicitly disclosing all the details. Her eyes glinted with the realization and instead of responding with words, she engulfed you in a warm hug. You supposed it was obvious enough, too. You only become this sullen when you’ve made a wrong gamble after all.

“Promise me you won’t wear that silly thing anymore?” Mei pleaded.

“Fine.”

When practice ended and you’re left alone in the locker room with her, Mei asks if you had any plans for the night.

“No, not really. Why?” you spared her an inquisitive glance.

“I heard they already set up the Starlight Festival,” she intoned. “You want to detour for a while?”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

***

When Tendou had told him that his own soulmate bond was fairing much more smoothly than his, Ushijima didn’t think he was actually serious. The red-headed middle blocker joked about things about eighty percent of the time and Ushijima made it a habit not to believe everything that came out of his mouth. But the presence of a certain Tsukishima Kei in what was supposedly “roomies’ night”, as Tendou had dubbed it, was baffling in its own right.

“This could’ve been a double date if you didn’t chicken out, Wakatoshi-kun,” his roommate jeered as he slung an arm around his younger companion.

“Tendou-san, don’t act all high and might now.” Tsukishima simpered. “As far as I can recall, I was the one who confirmed this. All you did was sneak glances at me all throughout our game.”

“Ah, Kei-kun, I was merely testing the waters! Waiting to pounce in for the kill!” Tendou imitated a cat swinging its claws menacingly, earning their group of three a few questioning stares from the other passers-by, much to his companions’ chagrin.

Tsukishima wasn’t bad company at all, even if he was the one who managed to stuff Ushijima during their last match, and therefore a threat to his career. But given that he’s already made peace with the fact that Karasuno had defeated them fair and square, the ace let himself enjoy the young middle blocker’s company. Tsukishima Kei ran on the same wavelength as he did, but was definitely more reproachful with Tendou’s impertinent behavior.

When the blond came knocking on their dormitory earlier this evening, he informed Ushijima that they’d been seeing each other often during the past three weeks once the truth that they were soulmates finally sunk in with him. (That certainly explained the solitude Ushijima had in their room recently. And it also backed up the fact that Tendou always had a sleazy grin plastered on his face whenever he came back late in the evening.)

He may not have expressed any sort of explicit reaction, but the ace was happy for them. That little scuffle he had with Tendou about this soulmate matter almost seemed like it happened a lifetime ago.

As he tailed the both of them at a short distance, Ushijima stuffed his hands inside his jacket, eyes roving around the street they were traversing, his breath materializing in the chilly December air. Tendou hadn’t told either him or Tsukishima where he planned for them to go, saying it’d be better to see it with their own eyes. But with the abundance of people mulling about, carrying candied apples, goldfish in plastic bags, one preschooler even wore a Kabuki mask—Ushijima was starting to get a hint of their destination. There’s only one event in Sendai similar to festivals in the summer that was held this time of year after all.

***

“Ahh, this takoyaki is really the best!” you moaned in delight before shovelling another piece into your awaiting mouth.

Mei snickered beside you on the bench both of you occupied. “Who knew all it took was one trip to the Starlight Festival to get your spirits up.” She tossed her empty disposable plate into a nearby garbage bin before sighing. “It’s gotten pretty cold lately though, hasn’t it? I wish I brought a scarf.”

You could only grunt in agreement. Niiyama High required its students to enter and exit school premises wearing the prescribed uniform, regardless of any extra-curricular club activities like volleyball. The mid-thigh skirt offered no resistance to the cold brought upon by the winter, but at least you had the foresight to bring your track jacket with you. Poor Mei had nothing but the uniform blouse to shield her from the low temperature.

“It’s real pretty though, the festival,” Mei continued, her eyes marvelling around the hundreds of Christmas lights coiled around the trees planted on either side of the walkway. They were clustered close enough to each other that it cast a light orange glow on your skin and clothes, and for a moment, you felt a little warmer. Pedestrians crossed over intersections to sample some of the food stalls lined up neatly in front of you. Children scuffled about, carrying as many prizes won from the game booths that their small arms could hold. Lovers were tucked away in the other benches, basking in the radiant sight that was the Starlight Festival. A chorus of indecipherable chatter blended in your ears along with the city’s evening traffic. Strangely, the noise wasn’t at all bothersome. If anything, you were feeling quite pleased with the sounds of merriment all around you.

“I’m just going to grab a drink,” you informed your best friend, who busied herself with gawking at the scenery. “Don’t give up our seat, alright?”

“Fat chance,” she scoffed. “This seat’s perfect! I probably won’t be getting up ever. But don’t take too long, okay?”

You spared her a soft chuckle before slinging your gym bag across your shoulder to head off to where the vending machines were. Slinking past the other festival-goers was a little bothersome though, since most of them walked in groups. Eventually, you reached a part of the walkway that wasn’t as congested and, lo and behold, the vending machines gave off their own beautiful, fluorescent glow. You ran over to fall in line behind a tall figure that seemed to still be deciding what he wanted from the assortment of colored drinks and mineral water. Since you weren’t in a rush, you patiently waited for him to make up his mind.

“Wakatoshi-kun, I’ll have strawberry water! Kei-kun wants a Pepsi~”

That familiar, sing-song voice made your breath hitch. You heard it come from your vague right, but you’re too stunned to look in that direction—

“Oh? (Name)-chan is that you?”

The mention of your name made the man in front of you go visibly frigid. You whipped your head to the right, only to be met with Tendou grinning at you like a madman. Right next to him was…Tsukishima Kei? You couldn’t really fathom a reason why Karasuno’s MVP was hanging around with Shiratorizawa’s Guess Monster, but the latter’s presence only meant that the person before you was…

***

“(Surname)?” Ushijima had uttered before he could even stop himself.

You gazed up at the eyes with unmasked surprise, lips parted slightly as you took him in. “U-Ushijima-san, good evening. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Neither did he. From the way he’d made your eyes glisten with tears the last time you saw each other, Ushijima simply didn’t have the heart to face you again. Not when he lied through the skin of his teeth. Not when he wasn’t ready to treat you with the same endearment Tendou showcased so naturally with Tsukishima.

At the corner of his eye, he could see his carmine-haired roommate whispering something to his partner’s ear before promptly walking towards the opposite direction, leaving Ushijima to deal with this encounter all on his own. The ace made sure to school his expression into neutrality, as he always had. But the lights from the trees that surrounded the area lit up your face in a way that made his heart rate pick up. The way you were looking at him so intensely didn’t help either.

“Are you perhaps with someone?” he inquired more to fill the silence than out of curiosity.

There was a moment’s delay before a reaction was incited from you. You blinked at him before sputtering, “O-oh! Yes. I’m with Mei-chan. I just meant to grab a drink before we head home…”

Ushijima made a noise of understanding before asking, “What is it you want then?”

Your brows knit together in momentary puzzlement, until his intention dawned on you. “Ushijima-san, you don’t have to pay for my drink. I-I have enough money anyways.”

“I believe I promised to return that favor back then at the Sendai Gym,” he reminded candidly. “Now, will you let me pay my dues?”

The surprise on your face took a while to ease, but you eventually acquiesce to Ushijima’s insisting words. “Well, it can’t be helped.” You laughed softly, folding your arms across your chest. “You don’t really seem like someone who’d take no for an answer anyway. I’ll take a bottle of water, Ushijima-san.”

He was all too eager to do as told.

***

When thick silence settled between the both of you once Ushijima handed you your drink, cheery holiday music could be heard streaming through speakers hidden from view. You leaned across one of the rails as you took a sip, the cold water rivalling the wintry air. You were vaguely aware of Ushijima’s eyes trained on your figure, but you didn’t make any moves that suggested you noticed him staring. Should you say something to him? What do you even tell someone who rejected you only a month ago when you run into him at the Starlight Festival? And did you really have to meet him by a vending machine again, of all places? Fate really was out to get you.

“Are you fairing well with training for Nationals?” Ushijima asked so suddenly you almost choked on your drink. Thankfully, you manage to contain your composure.

You let out a nervous sounding laugh. “Not exactly. I actually just got scolded by my coach earlier. Let’s just say I’ve been feeling a little out of it lately…”

From the steady scrutiny in his viridian eyes, something told you that he knew exactly what you were talking about.

***

The indistinct murmur of passers-by was muted in Ushijima’s ears when he caught wind of the possible reason behind your underperformance. If he’d known his actions thus far would only give you more problems than you had to begin with, the ace might have considered admitting what he truly was to you. Though he felt strongly against the notion of soulmate bonds, he wasn’t selfish. He wouldn’t choose his own belief knowing someone else’s well-being was at stake.

Resolving this whole thing was actually easier than he made it out to be. He knew that if he only showed you the sentence written on the skin of his finger, everything would be much, much easier. But whenever he considered the possibility of being with you, brief memories of his father and mother would flash across his mind—a cruel, but truthful reminder that nothing, not even soulmates, lasted for longer than they should.

He was afraid; he began to acknowledge this the moment he observed the shared, albeit reluctant, affection between Tendou and Tsukishima. All that was holding him back was the fear of something that wasn’t even sure to happen. Maybe if he owned up to the truth of your connection, you would outlast the odds that his parents were unfortunate to have.

Maybe…maybe you wouldn’t give up like they did.

Ushijima took in a deep breath, trying to clear away the haze of ambivalence that might cloud his judgement. When he turned to face you again, he’d already planned out his next course of action.

***

“Would you like to accompany me to the Fukuzawa Shrine to celebrate the coming of the new year?”

You had to do a double-take on that. Did Ushijima really just ask you to join him for a shrine visit for New Year’s? Was he really the same person who told you that you weren’t his soulmate? You must not have been discreet with the sheer confusion on your face because in the next moment, Ushijima cleared his throat, face flushed in what you wouldn’t like to think is embarrassment (even though it seemed that way).

“Of course, you’re not obligated to agree,” he supplied. “I simply thought it would be fitting to have a proper conversation about what transpired the last time we saw one another.”

“Why not talk about it now though?” you remarked dryly.

For a moment, his composure looked like it slipped—his eyes betraying a flash of anxiety you wouldn’t think Ushijima would ever let anyone see on him. But it’s gone just as quickly as it came. Perhaps it was a trick of the light?

“Didn’t you mention that Haruno was waiting for you?”

The reminder had your eyes widening like a doe caught in headlights. “Oh, shoot. Right. I’ve been gone for a while. Oh, man, she’s going to kill me,” you rambled to yourself before ducking your head into a curt bow. “Thank you for the drink, Ushijima-san. I’ll be off, and um.” There’s another pause in your words as you contemplated about his offer. He already confirmed that he wasn’t your soulmate—what’s there to talk about? But when your eyes latched onto his towering figure before you, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him in an inexplicably infuriating sense. Your mind had already resigned itself to the fact that you’ve made a mistake. Ushijima wasn’t your soulmate. But your heart, your ever traitorous heart, still insisted the same thing it had a month ago. The compulsion was a lot fainter this time; less ferocious than the last, but more resounding.

It’s him.

“Yes,” you said, mouth twitching into a warm smile. “I’d love to come with you to the shrine.”

***

The days went by faster than they had in the weeks that preceded that fateful day at the festival. Ushijima wasn’t entirely certain whether or not that worked in his favor. On one hand, the promised meeting at the nearby shrine would come upon him faster—by extension, the much awaited conversation that acknowledged your soulmate bond. On the other hand, the quick transition of days didn’t give him enough time to steel himself for what’s to come.

He hasn’t told Tendou (or anyone for the matter) about his plans. His loud roommate possibly assumed he’s still in denial with the facts in front of him. For a while, Ushijima had still been caught in the dilemma he’s been suffering even after he secured a meeting with you once the new year rolled around. But once he realized that you had no means of confirming your true connection aside from asking around and hoping to get the answer you wanted, the ace began to rethink his beliefs.

It certainly wasn’t fair for you. He could only imagine what you went through with such a generic soul mark even before you formally met him. From what he’s seen for the past few months, you were the kind of person that hated to break face in front of anyone; a person that always smiled no matter the problems you were faced with. If you had anything that weighed on your chest, you probably won’t even consider talking it out with him—opting to keep your feelings to yourself.

And it’s for that reason why he invited you out here to the Fukuzawa Shrine in the first place.

“Good morning, Ushijima-san,” you greeted breathlessly once you arrived at the meeting place in front of the shrine.

He quirked an eyebrow at your disheveled appearance. You were far from late, yet it seemed as if you were in a hurry to get here. “Good morning, as well, (Surname). Have you eaten yet?”

For some reason, your cheeks tinged pink at his words. Or maybe it was because of the effort to catch your breath? Nonetheless, you replied with, “Yeah. I ate a piece of toast on the way. How about you?”

“Yes, I’ve had breakfast as well,” he affirmed. “Shall we fall in line, then?”

You nodded vigorously. “Yup!”

***

You were used to falling in line for shrine visits; your family did it every year, after all, so you found no issues with the long queue that greeted you first thing in January, too. Although, weaseling yourself out of your annual shrine visits with your family in exchange for going with Ushijima was a bit hard to achieve. You had told them you were going with Mei’s family this year, and her mother had no qualms with making up a fake alibi for you. Mrs. Haruno was certainly the enabler for all your mischief. Good thing your family visited a different shrine.

In this case, however, it wasn’t mischief. It was spending the first day of New Year’s with a man you may or may not have strong feelings for regardless of your current state.

Contrary to your expectations, Ushijima didn’t just stand idly by, waiting for the both of you to reach the end of the line. He would ask you about varying topics that ranged from volleyball to college to your favorite food. While he didn’t exactly carry out a continuous conversation, he seemed to speak up just before the silence became awkward. From what you’ve heard about him, Ushijima was said to be the kind of person who didn’t really engage in meaningless conversation and mostly kept to himself. Was he adding ‘to start actively participating in conversations’ to his New Year’s resolutions?

“Hey, isn’t that Ushiwaka?”

Raising an eyebrow, you looked around for the person that uttered Ushijima’s nickname. The people around you, however, seemed to be engrossed with their own business. But you thought maybe it wasn’t too unusual that people recognized your companion. Who didn’t know Ushijima Wakatoshi in Miyagi?

“What? Oh, right. That is him. But that’s Niiyama’s Gemini blocker right? What’s her name again?”

Your gaze flickered to Ushijima, wondering if he was hearing any of this. However, the ace had a thousand-yard stare fixed on the empty space in front of him—too lost in thought to notice that both of you were the topic of someone else’s conversation nearby.

“That’s (Surname). Michimiya told me she’s the one that kept stuffing her during the playoffs. I wonder what she’s doing with Ushiwaka though.”

“They’re dating. Prove me wrong.”

“Suga, it’s rude to assume that two people going to visit a shrine together at New Year’s are dating.”

“Let’s bet on it then.”

You turned around and finally saw a familiar group of three guys and one girl, probably the same age as you, a few steps just below you and Ushijima. When your gaze caught the silver-haired boy’s, his face paled before hiding behind another boy with a hairdo that reminded you of a samurai’s. The most reasonable looking guy out of the group heaved a long sigh. You decided to pretend not to notice, turning back to face front as the line moved steadily once more.

“She totally heard you!”

“Asahi-san, don’t be too loud.”

“Kiyoko-san, I’m right, aren’t I? They are so dating!”

As you listened in on their quirky conversation, you failed to notice that one of the stone steps jutted out unevenly across the surface. Your foot got caught in the protrusion, causing you to lose balance. A yelp made its way past your lips, but before you could make a fool of yourself in front of the rest of the people in line, Ushijima managed to catch you by the waist to prevent you from toppling over.

“Yes, they are definitely dating,” you overheard the feminine voice you assumed belonged to ‘Kiyoko-san’ agree.

***

It took another half hour before you and Ushijima reached the top of the shrine to ring the bell and say your prayers. The shrine seemed a lot more crowded than it had been in the previous years Ushijima had visited. After you nearly stumbled off balance in line earlier, you haven’t uttered a single word since. He wondered if it was rude of him to touch you so suddenly without your consent, but it was better than simply letting you fall, wasn’t it?

You let the ace lead you to where the omikuji fortunes were tied across a wall of steel rods reinforced by two traditional stone pillars. Ushijima gestured for you to pull out your fortune, but you insisted that both of you did it the same time. Relenting, he pulled out his own omikuji in sync with your own movements.

“Oh? I got great fortune,” you gasped. “What did you get, Ushijima-san?”

Ushijima stared at the piece of paper in his hands. “Half-fortune.”

You nodded solemnly. “I see. Oh, you mentioned wanting to talk, right?”

The ace grunted in affirmation, gesturing for you to follow him further into the shrine.

Most would often think of Fukuzawa Shrine as bland or dreary, since it didn’t look as grand as the other shrines in around Miyagi, but they could definitely boast about the traditional garden tucked away from an outsider’s view. A massive koi pond stretched across the expanse of the area, seemingly paved to form a loop that separated the garden with the shrine itself. Wooden bridges connected them from four directions, and Ushijima offered his hand once you approached one of the bridges.

Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his, and though the callouses of your palms surprised him, he reminded himself that you were just as devoted to volleyball as much as he was.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Ushijima-san?” You halted your strides in the middle of the bridge, gazing at the koi that swam swiftly below.

The image of his father’s sullen smile appeared in his mind; his mother preparing dinner for only two; and all the times he asked why the gods would put two people together only to separate them in the end. The half-fortune he’d drawn out didn’t ease his agitation either. Every doubt, every fear, every second-thought, Ushijima experienced hurtled themselves at him at the same time. He gritted his teeth in resistance, refusing to let him be swayed by non-existent fears. Just because they were real for his parents, didn’t mean they had to be real for him, too.

What was real was the warmth of your hand in his, the hopeful curiosity in your eyes, and the thing he was about to do next.

“Will you forgive me?” he murmured, tucking behind a strand of your hair behind your ear.

The subtle action made your face beet-red. “F-for what, Ushijima-san?”

With the same hand he used to push back your hair, he showed you the soul mark that has been there all his life, leaving behind all the prior inhibitions he’s harbored for far too long.

***

Man, I really like your balls.

The words were written in elegant script on Ushijima’s index finger, too small to notice if you didn’t know what you were looking for. You blinked, recalling the very moment you managed to gather enough courage to strike up Shiratorizawa’s captain in a conversation. About three heartbeats later, you let go of Ushijima’s hand to bury your face in your hands.

“(Surname)? What’s wrong?” was his first response to your sudden timidness.

Face aflame, you lowered your hands. “N-no. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…that was really embarrassing. I’ve always known that those were my first words to you but seeing the actual mark in person? God…”

“You aren’t angry with me?” he asked incredulously, his mask of placidity falling apart to give way to an astonished expression.

“Why would I be ang—” At that moment, you realize that he actually lied to you that time when you asked during the playoffs. But for some reason, even if that was one of the most gut-wrenching rejections you’ve experienced, you couldn’t find it in yourself to resent him for it. You were right. It really was him all this time.

Without even thinking about it, you wrapped your arms around Ushijima’s broad shoulders and pulled him into an abrupt embrace. He momentarily strains against the gesture—implying he’s probably unused to such blatant affection—but he eventually let you bury yourself into the warmth of his jacket. You breathed in the musky scent that clung to his clothes, imprinting the aroma in your mind. This was your soulmate. You found him. You finally found him.

***

Ushijima wasn’t a fan of being touched out of nowhere. Sure, he’d support you when you lose your balance (which seemed often), but it was a different story when another person initiated the contact. The pet peeve was so bad that he nearly punched Tendou in the gut one time for hugging the ace when he had his back turned to him. When your arms enclosed around him, he hesitated out of reflex. Your respectful demeanor thus far made him think that invading another’s personal space was beyond you. But he supposed that when you’re finally united with your soulmate, knowing that he most definitely is your soulmate, this change in behavior was warranted.

His mouth curved into a gentle smile as he carded his fingers through your hair, pulling you as close to him as humanly possible.

Ushijima wasn’t a fan of being touched out of nowhere, but for you, he’d make an exception.

***

“Ushiwaka, (Surname)-san, hello!”

You immediately sprang apart from Ushijima at the sound of someone else’s voice acknowledging your presences. Ushijima cocked an eyebrow in confusion, turning his head towards the newcomers headed your way. It’s those four that were just talking about you earlier!

“Sawamura, Azumane, Sugawara,” the ace greeted each of them earnestly, but he seemed to be blanking off with the girl with glasses. Wait, were these perhaps the players from Karasuno? You wondered why they were so familiar.

“Shimizu,” she introduced, nodding her head minutely. “You must be (Surname)-san. I saw you at the awards’ ceremony. It’s a pleasure.”

Still unused to people recognizing you outside of school or the court, you could only stammer out a few words of thanks. That’s when you noticed that Ushijima had a strong arm wrapped loosely around your waist. But from the way he’s carrying the conversation so casually with the four of them, you assumed he didn’t even know he was doing it. A small smile rooted itself on your face, still unable to grasp the reality that’s before you.

“I’m really sorry for, you know, uh, ruining your plans to go to Nationals,” the boy who you presumed was Sawamura apologized sincerely.

Ushijima tilted his head to the side. “What ever are you talking about? I’ll most certainly be present at Nationals.”

“Huh?” you intoned, casting Ushijima an inquisitive stare. “Why?”

For the first time, a soft chuckle rumbled in the ace’s chest as he tentatively said—

“To watch my soulmate conquer the tournament, of course.”

***

Naturally, Tendou freaked out when Ushijima told him the news.

“You are now officially invited to our double dates,” he snickered triumphantly when the two of them were settled back in their dorm rooms after winter break. “Congratulations for graduating from being a third wheel, Wakatoshi-kun~”

Ushijima raised his index finger into view. What used to be a strange scribble of first words now served as a constant reminder of a relationship that’s yet to bloom. He couldn’t quite tell if he ‘loves’ you the way Tendou claimed to love his soulmate, but he supposed he’ll get there. Though that half-fortune omikuji still bothered him ever since both of you left the shrine this morning, Ushijima was uncharacteristically optimistic for what the new year had in store for him. Even if he already used up half of the predicted fortune for him all on telling you he was your soulmate, he didn’t particularly mind.

He’s more than willing to face life’s misfortunes. As long as you were by his side, everything would fall to place in time.

***

← Part One

← Part Two

#haikyuu!!#hqscenario #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu fanfiction #hqfanfic #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #soulmate au #haikyuu hc #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader

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itsakpopalypse · 5 years ago

Text

Jang Wooyoung/Ace (VAV) Astrology Ask: Romantic breakdown

@excindrela requested “Hi Rael! Would you please do astrology for Ace from VAV”

A/n Of course ! I am going to assume you would like it to be the same question as the previous one’s I have done (I hope so cause that’s what I did.)

I am pretty new to the Vamp world so this is based almost ENTIRELY off the chart itself, as I am still learning!

Thank you and I hope you enjoy!!!

He pretty pretty wow

Okay first of all I’d like to note that his chart is SO Virgo and Capricorn

honestly there is a ton of earth in general and we will tlak about what that means as we go along ,it’s just an interesting fact.

his 3 big signs are

rising scorpio , virgo sun and virgo moon

now I have had a few Idols I have looked through with this type of placement and it makes sense

Virgos are pretty perfectionist

attention to detail

workaholics

so yeah

anyway now the romance stuff

Scorpio rising

this is going to sound a bit like a broken record but I will try to make it cute

Scorpios are SEXY MYSTERIOUS COOL

or at least that is how they like to come off (inside they are emotional beans with many feelings who just want to be loved okay)

might seem a bit quiet, but they generally just don’t speak unless they have something noteworthy to say

if they do though

buckle up it’s going to be so deep

so when you first meet he is like “Sexy cool tough guy” and you will want to unwrap that

ask him questions that’s all it really takes.

They are inquisitive by nature.

if he likes you though, and it’s pretty new still, he won’t pursue it.

it’s going to be careful thoughtful steps

that’s amplified since his sun and moon are Virgo and they do not do well with failure

so he might pick you apart and try to figure you out like a puzzle

will ask a ton of questions that make you ponder if you even know yourself

like why do you need to know about that time that i fell out of a tree when i was 12 dude, we were talking about dinner or smth

Virgos can seem a little harsh so even if he likes you he may end up saying something that is a bit mean?

not intentionally it’s just they are basically all mothers

so it’s “worry worry worry”

and you’ll be like… it’s not gonna rain I don’t need 72 umbrellas and a rain poncho

but that’s how he would show he cared.

probably hella healthy

and organized

likes to look nice and be put together and wants to help you achieve that too

so if he is trying to impress you he may buy you some sensible item or get you food and drink if he thinks you’re neglecting your health

what a sweet man oml

probably an angel in human skin

listen, in moon, Virgo means a more intense version of the same things from the sun, but it also means he is low key NEEDING AFFECTION

he won’t ask you for it

probably will just try to reinforce the behavior with positive encouragement if you do it

“I love it when you sit in my lap”

“It’s nice when you cuddle with me”

things like that

but if you fall asleep on him watching a movie he will probably literally implode in an emotional breakdown

what if they are cold

should i ask someone for a blanket

they could get a neck cramp like this oh no

he is S T R E S S E D inside

Really protective really caring really concerned

someone take the load off this poor dude

mercury in Leo, so his communication is very persuasive

If he likes you

he is gonna FLIRT HIS ASS OFF

it may be in the very Vigo way,

but listen

compliments that might sound a little backhanded are likely his source

and if he realized it hurt your feelings he will be very upset and SMOTHER YOU in real ones

is very honest

is fine and he knows it

like will get dressed up and you’ll be like “Wow you look handsome”

and he is like yeah. i know. what a gift I am , to you rn

you’re welcome

Venus in Virgo

I wasn’t kidding about this earthy damn chart

listen Virgos seem cold at first

but they are hugely warm hearted and care more than they wanna admit

their love language is acts of service

his confidence is not what it seems about who he is though

Virgos already are hard on themselves but

Venus virgo means he is REALLY

going to doubt why you are with him

pls reassure him

he wants to make you floored enough to never leave

he will try so hard

His mars is Gemini which indicates a preference for physical activity

which makes sense since Virgos need an outlet for all that nervous energy

N node is Sagittarius so he tends to be really adventurous

fun dates

fun but still traditional

so maybe a picnic or a random beach day

he’ll have it perfectly planned but it’s a surprise for you

will probably not be the MOST physically affectionate in initiating contact especially not in public

but

if you initiate it , he will feel like he owns the whole world

but will probably tsundere it

“Oh i see, you just have to hold my hand cause you are scared right?”

“Did you miss me that much? I suppose you can cling to me for comfort if you have to.

Do not believe him you have already melted him inside

18+ the moment you are waiting for we know it we are all sluts down here

ooof big oof

Alright listen

scorpio rising means KINKY

he wants to try so many things

probably owns a restraint set

and maybe a plug set don’t at me

CONTROL

CONTROLING

DOM

okay

he has WAY too much Virgo to sub

maybe just maybe he will try it one time

and if it’s within parameters he feels okay with he will even be okay with it on occasion

but remember

Virgos are all acts of service and with Sun, Moon, Venus, and Jupiter in Virgo??

I am praying for your pelvis

GOOD LUCK

he has rules

he has no qualms with punishing you for breaking them

probably edges you until you are crying

he wants to please and he WILL but you are gonna get it on his time not yours

ORAL

recieving and giving are gonna be ah-mazing and OOF the grunts while he does it

facefucking he's praising you

both ways are gonna make you Only hotter

loves to tell you what to do

likes to see you weak for him

Wanna make him happy?

Beg.

on your knees

shit that’s hot

he will eat that shit up

and rewards will be bountiful

and he has it planned

Probably likes to watch you touch yourself

gets off on being fully clothed while you’re a mess

“Take that off too and spread your legs more”

Toys

Orgasm denial

“If you cum before I say to, you’re not allowed to cum for a week.

aftercare is A++

has there ever been anyone better at aftercare than a Virgo?

no?

don’t think so

he had everything laid out so clean up was a snap

and then rubbed all your sore muscles out with lotion and gentle hands

pulls you close and praises you for being so good

will feed you and give you water and probably has vitamins that are good for recovery

he wants you to be ready for the next few rounds

A/N I hope you enjoyed !!

again this is not really based off anything I know about him, but instead his chart itself.

I am working on your next request but today didn’t go as smoothly as I hoped, thank you for being patient!!!

Requests are open and my Ask box is always open for any rando one off questions you may have!

#Ace vav #jang wooyoung #vav #vav fanfiction #kpop astrology #kpop request #send me more guys!!!#kpop asks #ace vav fanfiction

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 5 years ago

Text

We Won’t Eat Our Words

For @newsies-strike-day I thought it only appropriate to do a Newsies centric fic in my crooked politician au since I did a les mis one for barricade day. You don’t have to read the rest of the series for this, it’s written as a standalone. Special thank you to @rum-on-fire who is definitely NOT part of the newsies fandom (though they have their green card to stay in the rabbit hole lol) and very helpfully betaed and edited this. Title, inspiration, and recommended listening: Monster by dodie w/ assit from 100 Bad Days by AJR. Rating: PG Words: 4,959 AO3

Katherine collapsed onto her bed still fully clothed, needing to work up the energy to even put her pajamas on. She’d spent the day setting up her new apartment – since she’d be needing one after next year anyway her parents had kindly agreed to foot the bill for a small studio near school until she graduated and would start paying the rent herself – and was thoroughly exhausted as a result.

Her mom had insisted on hiring movers for hauling her possessions from their uptown brownstone to the downtown apartment and for bringing up all the furniture. Katherine had insisted on actually putting everything away herself and so the two had spent the Saturday doing just that before her mom called a cab and they drove home. She was so tired she almost regretted just not spending the night, but she was waiting to start living there until after the cable guys came and set her wifi up on Monday.

Kath held her phone aloft in front of her, thumb hovering over the call button for a friend from D.C. She had just enough mental capacity to talk over final details for his visit the next weekend. Before Katherine could hit the button her bedroom door flung open, causing her to let her hand drop as she turned to see who it was.

Her father stood there, back straight and chin out, still in his pressed business suit at the time SNL would be showing the second performance of their musical guest had it not been the middle of July.

Kath swung her legs off the bed and used the momentum to push herself up into a seated position. She let her face fall into the cool neutral expression she reserved for interactions with her father, tilting her head and lifting her eyebrow incrementally to show her question at his barging in.

Joseph Pulitzer stepped exactly two paces into the raspberry walled room. Transferring his polished loafers from the dark burgundy of the hall rug to her cream carpeting. He pulled his tablet out from under his arm and with an economical flick of his wrist held the screen out to her.

“What’s this?” He demanded.

Forced to get up, Katherine crossed the short distance to meet him and take the tablet from his hands. She was confused at first, not understanding what he was referring to. Then she recognized the website that had been pulled up.

Thanks to the Newsies’ recognition for election coverage – which Katherine’s blog posts from D.C. had no small part in – the writing blog that she’d set up her junior year of high school had seen a flood of traffic. She’d decided to capitalize on it and turn the site into a writing portfolio. With the help of Elmer the web design wizard she’d managed to embed articles and videos from three different news sites. Specs and Davey had helped her to curate a sense of professionalism; balancing her more personal, opinionated blog posts with her news writing from the school paper, the more frivolous reviews from her time interning in the Arts section at The Sun, and the work she did as an intern for CNN in the fall. The site looked good.

Katherine looked up from the tablet to her father, a frown tightening the corners of her mouth and dragging her brows together. “It’s my portfolio. My writing portfolio.”

Snatching the tablet from her hands Joe scoffed. He swiped at the screen, scrolling to something before tapping with a controlled sort of violence.

“What?” Katherine demanded. Her blood was starting to boil and her earlier exhaustion had burned off as a result.

“You actually believe that this shows your skills? And don’t get me started on the complete lack of journalistic integrity.”

His sneer actually knocked her back, causing her to stumble.

“Excuse me?”

Joe flipped the tablet around again, showing the research articles that she’d put together for the Newsies. He sent the page scrolling.

“You actually think that you can be unbiased and yet remain in bed with your little activist group?”

Katherine’s lip curled at her father’s choice of words. Her hands had closed into fists and she only realized they had when she felt her chipped manicure biting into her palms.

“If you had been paying attention at all you would know that we have been praised for being non-partisan and unbiased. But that would mean you actually cared enough to pay attention to me,” she spat.

Her father’s expression turned stony. Any emotion that she might have been able to detect was shuttered behind judgmental eyes and a cruel mouth and harsh brows.

“You might think that you can skate by on talent and charm alone Katherine, in fact this little display proves you think exactly that, but no one is trawling the internet for hires,” he sniffed. “I certainly don’t. I would never hire you.”

For a second Katherine’s heart stopped. Her father’s words ringing in her ears. When it started again she drew herself up to her full height and met his gaze.

“Well it’s a good thing I never expected you to. You see the name at the top of the page? Katherine Plumber. Not Pulitzer, Plumber. Everything there I did myself and I didn’t even need you. I don’t need you to give me a job either. What you hold in your hand does more to prove that than any point you think you’re trying to make. I don’t need your name or your judgement and I certainly don’t need to stand here and listen to you insult me.”

Joe seemed stunned. Katherine used this to her advantage, already moving towards her bathroom and pulling her toothbrush, toothpaste, and birth control pills from the cabinet. She tossed them into the travel case she kept under the sink and then followed with her hairbrush and some makeup and bobby pins, hair ties and travel sized body wash, shampoo, and conditioner.

When Kath walked back out Joe still hadn’t moved. She tossed the case into her backpack. She moved to grab up her pajamas and they and her laptop and charger followed suit. She wouldn’t need the clothes she’d laid out for the next day but she pulled them off her desk chair anyway when she swept up her keys, wallet, and subway card. The subway card went into her pocket, the rest dumped into the backpack too. She could fish her keys out on the train.

He was still standing there as she pulled her shoes back on. By now he had the decency to look dumbstruck.

Katherine closed the bag and swung it onto her shoulders. Fuck not having wifi, she didn’t need it for twenty-some odd hours if it meant not dealing with Joseph Pulitzer. With his condescension. His contempt. His utter disinterest.

She shouldered past him and finally he did more than stare at her. “Where are you going?”

Narrowing her eyes, Katherine jutted out her chin. “Home.” And then she marched down the hall. Down the grand staircase and through the foyer. Right out the big front doors to the muggy night beyond. Katherine didn’t stop marching until she reached the subway platform that would take her downtown.

Here she paused, waiting for the train. She dug her keys out as she waited. They rested on the end of a lanyard she’d gotten from her old dance studio ages ago. The pink one with a purple crown marked the front door. The Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland the back. The shiny silver the apartment. The dull brass the building.

There was a keychain on the end of the lanyard too that held a trio of keys each decorated in a primary color. The keychain was a metal art deco design with “Medda Larkin” and the theater’s name and her office phone number. The yellow was for Jack and Charlie’s building. Blue for their apartment. Red a townhouse in Georgetown.

She could hear the train rumbling towards the station and Katherine made a decision. She ruthlessly twisted the princess and Cheshire Cat keys from her lanyard, shoving them deep into a pocket of her backpack. When she held up her lanyard again she saw the places she knew she would be welcomed.

Katherine closed her hand around the keys and stepped on the train.

After about twenty minutes in her apartment Katherine began to regret her choice to storm out rather than simply kick her father out of her room. Not because she felt any guilt about what was said. Not because she didn’t have wifi. Entirely because she and her mom had decided to save electricity and turned off the air-conditioning. In the short time that she’d been gone the humid New York night had crept in and she was dying.

She’d had the ac running full blast, but it wasn’t quite enough yet. Her frizzing hair had been wrangled into a bun on the top of her head. She’d found a pair of old soffe shorts a size too small that she hadn’t known she’d owned nevertheless packed when she rifled through the drawers her mom had filled for her while she had been setting up the kitchen. She’d been searching for the tank top she was currently sporting and the shorts had been in with her athletic wear.

Sitting in the dark on her new couch Katherine could hear the city humming around her. Now that her quest to beat the heat was done, she had nothing else to focus on but the fight.

She wouldn’t take back what she’d said and done. Katherine had defended herself, her future, her blog, and by extension, her friends. What her father had said though? That was echoing around her head. His “I would never hire you” just getting louder and louder in her imagination.

Katherine grabbed her phone off the coffee table and swiped it open. She went to her contacts’ favorites and hit call. The muffled ringing bled into the ringing of her father’s voice and Kath was struck by the hour and a fear he might be sleeping. Just as she was bracing herself for the possibility he picked up. Katherine let out his name on a sigh of relief. “Jack.”

“Hey Kath,” he sounded muffled, like his face was mashed into his pillow. “Is everything ok?”

“Not really,” she found herself saying in a small voice, suddenly feeling the beginning of tears. They made the words want to stick in the back of her throat. “I- I had a fight- and- and- I ran away. I’m at my apartment. I need a hug.”

Dammit. She was crying. Katherine didn’t cry and yet here she was. Her father had actually made her cry.

“I’ll be right there,” and now Jack sounded like he was sitting up.

Kath let out a shaky breath and swiped at her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It wasn’t long until the buzz of the intercom made her jump, pulling her out of her mental echo chamber. The apartment was still warm but most of the humidity had started to dissipate and the temperature was well on the way to comfortable. She buzzed open the door into the building and stayed leaning by her door, knowing it wouldn’t be long until there’d be a knock.

When it came Katherine opened the door to Jack but not just Jack but Charlie, David, and Sarah too.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked.

Jack engulfed her in a hug, moving her out of the doorway and letting the others in.

“Housewarming party,” Charlie said as though it were obvious.

This made Katherine acutely aware of the fact that she had absolutely no food. Another thing that she was waiting to actually start living there to acquire. The hour made her doubtful if the local bodega would even be open.

“Umm…” she said, still being hugged tightly by Jack.

“We brought snacks,” he whispered in her ear. She squeezed him tighter, a silent thanks for reading her mind.

“Damn girl, you live like this?” Charlie joked, staring around the dark studio.

Giving Jack one last hug and a kiss on the cheek she moved to close the door and flip the lights on. “Sorry, it was hot and I was afraid to blow out the ac.”

David snorted, he’d moved to the kitchen and set his backpack down on the counter. He started pulling out sodas and juice boxes. “Kath, and I say this with love, this place is nicer than where I grew up. I doubt you’ll blow a fuse for having a lamp and the air-conditioning on at the same time.”

Katherine rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. Her friends chuckled and she noticed that David hadn’t been the only one to bring a backpack and they all had set about taking over her kitchen. The noise started to drown out her father’s voice in her head.

“Ok,” Sarah said, peering into her desolate fridge, “either you invited Les over before us or you haven’t gone shopping yet.”

Giggling Kath came to grab glasses and plates out of the cabinets. “I don’t think I invited any Jacobs over and yet, here you are. And at this hour.”

“Yeah, I was on Ellen and we were just about to start talking about what it was like to be Robin to Robert Pattinson’s Batman. Then Jack woke me up,” Charlie gave his brother a dry look and the other boy held up his hands in defense, a bag of Doritos in each.

“Sorry man but we all know the Kath Signal supersedes the Bat Signal,” Jack said.

She tried, she really did, pressing her lips together into a tight line but she couldn’t help but grin. Her earlier tears were long forgotten in the face of her friends. It was obvious what had happened, Jack had roused Charlie and called David who’d brought Sarah and they all came to check on her. To distract her or reassure her, whatever she might need.

Katherine paused, hands resting on the counter, as she watched her friends unpacking the supplies they had brought. That just made her smile grow as she realized that Jack and Charlie had merely grabbed whatever was in their cupboard before coming over while the Jacobs must have woken their mother – whether accidentally or intentionally she wasn’t sure – if the tupperwares filled with cut fruit, veggies, and Kath’s favorite homemade hummus were any indication.

Moving around her they began to dole out the snacks. Kath finally forced herself into action again, grabbing a capri sun from the fridge before making herself a plate.

They all made their way to the living room, arguing over who would be forced to sit in the overlarge beanbag chair that had been a staple of Katherine’s dorm since freshman year. It was the same beanbag that Sarah had to eventually decree was not a suitable bed and thus not allowed to be used as an excuse to spend the night after the boys had discovered it and tried to use their room as an escape from whatever mischief they might have gotten into. While comfortable it was extremely hard to pull oneself out of.

Kath found herself maneuvered into the middle of the couch, Jack on one side and David on the other. Charlie had gotten the armchair and Sarah sank into the beanbag with a resigned sigh.

The ac was finally doing its job and she leaned onto Jack, swinging her legs up so that they draped over David’s knees. Both of them just gave her incredulous looks before accepting their fates. Katherine poked at her hummus with a baby carrot, lost in thought as a silence settled around her.

She felt Jack press a soft kiss to the top of her head and sat up to blink at him in confusion.

“You ok?” he asked in a low voice. That’s when she realized they’d all sat there waiting for her to answer a question she’d been too wrapped up in her own head to realize was asked.

Katherine felt herself blush as she nodded. “Yeah. Um, what’d you say?”

“I wanted to know how the move in went,” David said fondly.

She’d just taken a bite of her carrot, so Kath waited until she’d swallowed to speak. “It went really well. I mean you can kinda see that,” she rolled her eyes in self-deprecation, “but yeah, the movers got all the furniture set up and then my mom and I did the rest. Took the whole day but it’s done.”

Kath shrugged and took another bite before adding, “The cable guy comes Monday so I’m shit outta luck on entertainment until then. No tv, no internet. But I’ve got some dvds if you guys want? I think I know where my Cards Against Humanity got to.”

David groaned as Charlie punched the air. This then resulted in Charlie nudging David sharply in the side with one of his elbow crutches for the groan. And saying, “You’re a sore loser Davey, it’s time ya get over it.”

David rolled his eyes and Kath giggled.

“Don’t deny it Dave,” Jack said, smug. The way she was leaning on him meant Katherine could feel him move as he spoke. It was weird. And funny. Kinda relaxing too.

“We both know that Les got the bad habit of flipping the Monopoly board from you,” Sarah chimed in, putting the lid on any of her brother’s world-famous rebuttals.

David flung his hands up in defeat. “Monopoly is a stupid game anyway! Do you know how bad they are for consumers? And us striving to create our own is just propaganda.”

“You know,” Kath chimed in thoughtfully, remembering a fun fact she’d picked up from a friend, “it was originally created to show how detrimental to society capitalism was. So, you’re right about the propaganda angle, wrong about the original intention.”

Her friends were all giving her variations of the same look. A mixture of mild confusion and dumbfounded. Katherine decided to just turn her attention back to her hummus.

“Well ok then,” Jack finally said. “I think that means you’re feeling better?”

It was a question, she could tell it was, but thanks to the distraction presented by teasing David and bitching about Monopoly she’d totally forgotten her own shitty captain of industry father. Katherine deflated slightly at the reminder.

She nodded meekly, though it was more of head wobble than a nod that eventually just turned into a shrug against Jack’s side. She huffed out a breath and her friends, no, her family – the wonderful marvelous people that they were, who came into her empty apartment in the middle of the night whilst she was wallowing and turned it into a true home in a matter of minutes – waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts and make up her mind.

“It’s a mixed bag?” she tried. Katherine could admit to herself she was stalling as English escaped her. She was left with the memory of her father storming into her room looping in her head, juxtaposed with opening her door to find Jack, David, Charlie, and Sarah waiting for her. Also, the word Gummiente for some reason, it was German for rubber duck. All in all, not a very banner moment for the wannabe writer. Maybe her father was right.

Katherine squeezed her eyes shut. She did not want to think about that. The air caught slightly in her throat as she inhaled. Would not even give him the satisfaction in her own imagination.

Jack must have felt her still because the next thing Katherine knew he was draping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. Then she felt David shift, gently swinging her legs down so he could slide closer and hug her too. A weight rested on her knee, the unmistakable feel of the top of one of Charlie’s crutches and she knew that the only reason it wasn’t his hand was because the space between the couch and coffee table was too narrow for him to maneuver with the couch full. Distantly Katherine thought she’d have to remember to fix that as she felt Sarah squeezing her hand, having finally fought her way out of the beanbag.

Katherine took in another shuttering breath. Her shoulders shook slightly. No tears tried to slip out though as she found herself laughing in relief. Brought about by her friends around her. Happiness and love for these people.

In a rush Katherine’s words came back to her and soon were pouring out of her mouth. A habit of hers that her father hated and had on occasion gotten her into hot water but for the life of her Kath couldn’t see the point in silencing herself, even if sometimes her voice reacted before her brain.

“You guys are just the best,” Kath breathed out in a rush. “I mean really. I’m so so so glad to have you all in my life and so thankful that you just decided to show up here in the middle of the night. Like, I know you were all sleeping; and I know how much you need it, bunch of overworked and underpaid college kids who run a human rights campaign slash activist group on the side that you are. But you somehow decided that I was more important than some well deserved rest. For some fucking reason.

“Which I really appreciate,” Katherine paused slightly, catching her breath and steeling her nerves. “Like, really appreciate. So much. So so much. Because I- I ran away from home? No. That sounds dumb. Oh god, I feel like a fucking dork but like I don’t care, cause I need to tell you guys this: I have a home; you are my home. I ran away from my dad. He- he found my blog and I’d say he was just being a dick about it but really he was being himself cause he’s always a dick so like I shouldn’t be surprised but we wound up arguing – I know, I know, shocking – and well I don’t regret what I said, it may have been mean but it was true, and I don’t regret coming here but it still hurt. He…”

Katherine trailed off, opening her eyes to frown down at her lap with the plate of snacks still clutched in her one hand. Jack pressed a kiss to the side of her head in encouragement. She furrowed her brows, screwing her courage to the sticking place.

“He told me that he’d never hire me,” Katherine finally said.

It was met with a chorus of shock and outrage. Jack and Davey both squeezed her tighter while Sarah let go of her hand to throw her own up in the air in exasperation. Charlie was letting out a stream of expletives detailing exactly what he thought about Joseph Pulitzer as a father and businessman.

After a couple long seconds David started laughing. It snapped Katherine out of her sudden shame as she looked over to him, fearing hysterics. David just grinned widely back at her as she gave him a questioning look.

“Kath!” he exclaimed breathlessly between laughs. “You don’t need him to hire you! And probably never will!”

She blinked at him, not following. Jack apparently had though, and she figured it was thanks to the fact that their trains of thought tended to run on the same rail. “You’re right! And it’s his own fucking loss!”

The two boys laughed as Katherine tried to work out what they meant. She glanced to Sarah who looked just as lost as she was and then to Charlie. He was frowning slightly but nodding as though he was seeing the logic in his best friends’ nonsense.

David realized her confusion, grabbing the tops of her arms so that she would meet his eyes as he spoke. “Kath, you already have a job.”

She made a face. “I’ve got an internship,” Katherine corrected him.

“Yeah, with The New York Sun!” David shook her slightly in his growing excitement.

“Your second summer internship there,” Jack added with that same almost manic cheer. “And this time they don’t have you writing puff pieces on kids festivals.”

“No they don’t!” David tagged back in and great they were going to do the thing where they traded off sentences to create one long argument. It was an impressive and truly fantastic talent, but Katherine hated when they turned it on her. Especially when she had yet to see their point. “This time you’re working directly for Bryan Denton, the one and only!”

As if on cue Sarah cheered “Our man Denton!” Which, granted, was a pretty Pavlovian response from any newsie when Denton, News Editor at The New York Sun, was mentioned.

Kath just widened her eyes and raised her brows slightly, her expression clearly saying “And your point is…?”

Charlie huffed, leaning forward in the armchair. “Kath, do we have to spell it out for you? Denton loves you. He’s like the Batman to your Batgirl, more Cain than Gordon in this case though you’re more of a Babs than a Cass in general and that’s not just because of your hair…”

Kath raised an eyebrow.

“But I digress,” Charlie said sheepishly. “He’s taken you under his wing. He sent you the internship application in like, what, January? Like right after break? And hired you himself. He loved working with you on the big World protest freshman year and was the one who suggested you apply to The Sun for the summer after in the first place, and you did last summer once the Newsies accounts were solidly off the ground. This is your second summer there. In. A. Row. And you spent the fall in D.C. At frickin CNN. An internship that Denton also suggested you look into since he knew about it from contacts he had from his war correspondent days.”

Rolling her eyes, Katherine shook off David’s hands where they still gripped her arms. Judging by his expression he’d forgotten he’d still been holding on and she let a small smile slip out.

“Look,” Kath started, “I won’t deny that Denton has been helping me out and kinda mentoring me, but it doesn’t mean he’ll just magically give me a job after graduation. If they don’t need another reporter in his section he can’t hire me no matter how much he likes me or how good he might think I am.”

Jack and David exchanged a silent conversation in a single look over her head. Katherine sat back so she could glare at them both.

“Uh exactly?” Jack laughed. “You said it yourself, even if there’s not room in his section he’ll make sure you’re hired at The Sun somewhere until there is. Or he’ll help you get a job anywhere in New York.”

“Not that you need his help,” David added. He smirked at her, but it was quickly turning into that proud smile of his. The same one he gave Les any time his little brother showed up on campus to brag about an A on a test or someone else he’d talked into following the Newsies of New York accounts.

“Kath,” Sarah said, speaking for the first time in a while. She was shaking her head in fond exasperation. “Your resume could kick anyone’s resume’s ass: You’re the Editor-in-Chief for the school paper this year. You help run one of the most up-and-coming non-partisan political outreach groups in the Northeast. You’ve interned for two different sections at one of the city’s biggest papers. You helped cover the midterm elections for CNN. Your articles helped bring about a major change in policy for one of the biggest universities in New York, as a freshman. Like, these are the highlights and only cover the past three years.”

Katherine started laughing at that. A mildly deranged sound that started bubbling out of her throat before settling into something normal. All snorts and gasps as her friends joined her. It was ridiculous only because it was true. And she had flung it right back into her father’s face before making a grand exit.

“Well I’ve always been overdramatic in my rebellion,” she managed to gasp out between laughs.

That only made her friends laugh harder. Sarah snorted before saying “I know” and clearly flashing back to Katherine blasting alt-rock in their tiny dorm freshman year.

Katherine shook her head. “But the melodrama was definitely an inherited trait.”

“Well,” Jack said when the laughter started to quiet, “you definitely outdid him on this one. Points for that.”

“Honey,” Kath made her voice sickly sweet as she teased him, a sure sign that she was feeling more like herself. “Don’t you know this is like Whose Line Is It Anyway? The rules are made up and the points don’t matter.”

“But just like Whose Line there’s still a winner,” David added quickly. “It’s pretty clear tonight it’s you.”

Katherine beamed. With a living room – her living room – filled with the people she loved there was no doubt in Katherine’s mind that she had indeed won. Even though she wasn’t quite ready to verbalize it. Not tonight at least. After a night’s sleep she knew she’d be able to go back and face her father, head held high with the confidence that no matter what Joe said or did she was untouchable. That in a few years screaming matches and steel sharp words would dull into memories, all that would matter about tonight would be that she finally realized exactly how lucky she was.

#newsies #strikestrikestrikeday #katherine pulitzer #katherine plumber #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #crutchie morris #sarah jacobs #joseph pulitzer #crooked politician au #my fic #writing #own writing

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in-madhouses · 5 years ago

Note

i dont mean to bother you but can you link me to the epilogue of your fic ‘they’ll hang us in the louvre” i absolutely have adored reading and im happy i stumbled across your blogs and fics and i cant wait to read more!

HELLO! NO BOTHER AT ALL. Life has just gotten in the way a little and I’ve been absolutely trash about updating. But here’s the epilogue for louvre for those who are actually still out there reading things I post 😭😭😭

“So what can you tell us about the Marauders film coming out in a couple of weeks?” The excited host asks with a little glint in his eye, as though he’s asking something he already knows the answer to.

“I.. I can tell you what I don’t know, which is everything,” Aahna deflects instead with a bit of a blush staining her cheeks.

Niall forces to keep a straight face at the sight of her on the screen, slightly squirmish but totally acing it.

Despite being high key in the interview spotlight (on and off) for well over two years by now, he can never get over the fact that Aahna confident to the point of arrogance Deakins doesn’t do very well with interviews.

For all intents and purposes, she does just fine. She carries her confidence like a shield and her charm simply radiates onto the screen. But after being intimately acquainted with her and her idiosyncrasies for a better part of a year, her slight awkwardness is evident. Especially when it’s on red couches and with interviewers that she binge watches on a regular.

“You have to know something!” Graham presses on.

“They didn’t exactly… I mean, at this point I know more about how nuclear reactors work than I do about the Marauders movie,” Aahna says casually.

“Are you saying you haven’t watched it or that you’re surprisingly well educated about nuclear reactors?”

“Both?” She laughs.

And Niall knows she’s not lying, she’d looked it up the week before and spent her night explaining to him it how it worked in detail.

The flamboyant host presses on, “Do you even know if you’re in it at all?”

“I don’t… I… I’m not sure,” she stutters a little before chuckling.

The petite host all but practically screeches at that, “You’re not sure?”

“Is it because they don’t trust you to keep things off social media?”

“Pretty much,” Aahna nods, her grin wide and bashful at the same time, “I wasn’t exactly given a script. Everyone on the principal cast knew what was going on, they literally jumped straight into filming after the last season but I was only given the scenes that I was in, and mid-way through production, so I could be a ghost, a memory, a spell-induced hallucination, I’m possibly not even in the movie at all.”

Niall smiles to no one in particular, somewhat proud how well she’s fending despite the multitude of complicated factors surrounding the interview;

a) the possibility of letting too much about the movie slip and therefore violating her NDA, his NDA, and everyone’s NDA basically because she only knows as much as she knows because they’d told her,

b) the possibility of not talking about the movie enough which would cause the audience to be less excited about the boys being on the show in the following week,

c) the fact that she’s not actually on The Graham Norton Show to promote the Marauders movie but the new season of her own show, and of course,

d) the possibility of deflecting everything far too much and then having to maneuver questions about their relationship status which was a newly hot topic of much speculation.

Despite them not even trying to be sneaky about things after the completion of Marauders: The Final Chapter, the internet stayed unsuspectingly calm.

Apart from that one grainy low quality images of them having dinner surfacing on a fan blog, they’ve actually managed to evade the full force of rumours and speculation with Aahna busy with season two of her show and Niall preoccupied piecing together the parts for his own expansion of title from just ‘actor’ to ‘actor slash screenwriter slash director.’

It only unexpectedly comes to a head when Aahna tweets one of the March Madness bracket charts comparing the fictional men on television by replacing every name with Remus Lupin.

Twitter, as it does, promptly loses its shit over it.

@itsAahna

Fixed the chart for you 🙃 @BBCOne

@BBCOne

Wow what were even doing before you came along? @itsAahna

@itsAahna

Sleeping on Remus Lupin, clearly @BBCOne

@drowningg-in-deniall

can @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial just get together already i want peace 😭

@mishchiefnmayhem

OTPOTPOTPOTPOTP #drowningindeniall

@moooony

I WILL REVOLT #wandsattheready #drowningindeniall @MaraudersMovie

@padsnprongs

I mean we all know #jily is endgame in the movie but i want to see @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial IRL #drowningindeniall

@NikkiSwiftCeleb

If this doesn’t change your opinion on the “friendship” between @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial nothing will.

@PerezHilton

Can we say we called it first? @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial

@EW

@MaraudersMovie exclusive. The cast weigh in on the new fave will they won’t they couple and THAT tweet >> bit.ly/Jh8e3rd4

Niall was back in Ireland when it happens, but his Twitter blows up with fans asking if they really are dating. Oddly, none of the guys or any of the Marauders’ cast members pester him about it. Probably because they think that Aahna’s contractually obligated to keep the conversation on the upcoming Marauders movie, but keeping their sexual relationship turned actual relationship a secret for months on end is surprisingly easy when your friends aren’t being complete nosy fucks.

The only person who truly suspected anything had Caroline, and even then, she’d only thought they were having hate sex to fix all their problems. (Not like she was wrong.) But when they decided to come clean when they wrapped filming with a round of drinks, they find out that there’d been a betting pool going on in regards to their relationship instead.

“I had a tenner riding on this,” Louis says, swaying a little after his umpteenth shot, “I still can’t believe the two of you didn’t get together before the movie wrapped!”

Niall and Aahna share a look at that, but before either of them can let the cat out of the bag, Louis then goes off on how no one but Harry expected them all to become friends and how this lead to them all losing money to Harry and they telepathically decide against telling their friends. (Seems only fair, since their friends were all proving to be complete pricks.)

Which only brings things to their current conundrum of having to promote a movie whilst making use of their fan favourite characters’ practically non-existent romance while some fans were emotionally invested in the actors’ very secret but very real romance.

He smiles at the thought. Because he likes to tell people that he was in love once, back in Ireland. But he didn’t really fall in love, fall in love. Not really. It was more of a familiarity. Like one day something that was there all along that just… became love. And it’s entirely the opposite of what happened with Aahna. Before he was even fully aware of what was happening, she was just… all over his life. Everywhere. Like someone poured her over every inch of him and she just seeped into the very fabric of his life and he can’t wash her out no matter how much bleach he used.

The on screen conversation shifts to the other guests for a bit focusing on the projects they qere involved in, but when the host with the big red couch says he has some tweets to pull out circling back to her, Niall could see the subtle signs of panic creep in on her face.

“Lips were obviously sealed quite tightly when you got cast for the backdoor pilot on Marauders, but an incident got leaked to the press didn’t it?”

“Wait, is this the video?” Aahna asks realisation dawned upon her.

“These were the tweets following that video that most people seem to have forgotten about.”

“Something that you won’t let happen, obviously,” Aahna comments good humouredly, mentally bracing herself for whatever the Graham Norton team has managed to dig up on the interwebs.

“Obviously,” the host announces as they move their attention to the screen on set, “Now these tweets are, I believe, the immediate aftermath of the video hitting the internet.”

@NiallOfficial

4 yrs on a top rated tv show only to end up sharing scentime with someone who got famous lookng gd in thr underwear

@NiallOfficial

that’s not me throwing shade at modesl that’s me throwing shade at @itsAahna

@NiallOfficial

it’s really not my fault that @itsAahna finds memorising lines harder than slupring tequila off her girlfriend’s belly button

@itsAahna

are YOU slurping tequila off of your girlfriend’s belly button right now? @NiallOfficial

@itsAahna

lol kidding (what girlfriend) 😂 @NiallOfficial

@NiallOfficial

at least i’m not about to send in a sex tape to @DailyMirror to distract people from how i cant act atall

@itsAahna

if you wanted to make a sex tape all you had to do was ask @NiallOfficial

“And this went on for like a whole hour at 3 in the morning,” Graham titters excitedly as he continues scrolling through the seemingly endless barrage of tweets.

“They do say that the best relationships start from heated online arguments,” Aahna shrugs, a smile dangling coyly on the edge of her lips.

Niall’s heart skips a whole beat at that.

But luckily, no one on the red couch seemed to have given it as much thought and they glide by the whole topic unsuspectingly.

“I mean, at one point you weren’t even typing words!” The host exclaims, still scrolling through tweets.

“No, you have to say it really fast, it’s… it’s a joke on the Irish accent, I was making fun of his accent,” Aahna admits, looking a little pink in the cheeks in embarrassment and nerves.

She then does an (in his opinion, piss poor) impression of his Irish accent.

Niall can’t help it though, his smile is still so wide, he’s at risk of his face splitting in half.

“You might as well have insulted potatoes,” Graham responds, rather aghast at her impersonation.

“Or Guinness, the Irishman is rather fond of his Guinness,” Ines chimes in.

The rest of the interview goes on with attention bouncing back and forth between the guests and before he notices it, the musical guest comes on and the credits are rolling. He does his best to pretend to be upset when she breezes into his apartment like it’s hers the next day (although to be honest, it’s all hers really; his apartment, his mind, his soul, his heart).

“That’s your best impersonation of me?” He tuts, faking being insulted so hard he wonders how he was ever employed as an actor.

She, in turn, does a very poor job of not smiling as she sets down boxes of takeaway in his kitchen, “Seeing as that was the dumbest I’ve ever looked on telly, I think it was pretty on.”

He grins, “You were great.”

“I can see why you need glasses,” she raises a brow at his direction.

Niall merely shakes his head at that. It’s a quarter past four and the gang should be at his place in about an hour because everyone unanimously decided that he needed to host a party to celebrate his script selling and the studio wanting him to direct and she’s doing the dishes because ‘only losers eat out of takeaway boxes at a party’ and he can’t stop staring.

She looks up and finds him sort of looking at her weird.

“What?”

You, he thinks, I’m looking at you. I’m always looking at you.

“You know this is probably what Sierra meant,” he points out, a little breathless over absolutely nothing, “About distractions.”

She links her hands behind his neck, feigning ignorance, “No idea what you mean.”

And then he’s kissing her against the overflowing sink and she’s laughing, and he thinks it tastes better than anything in his whole atmosphere.

And honestly, Niall is pretty sure he could live off of that feeling for the rest of his life.

@Harry_Styles

I don’t mean to alarm anyone but I think @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial are legitimately dating.

@AinsWills

BETRAYAL!! DECEPTION!! OUTRAGE!! @itsAahna @NiallOfficial

@LeeyumPain

Pics or it didn’t happen @Harry_Styles

@itsAahna

DELETE. NOW. @Harry_Styles

@Louis_Tomlinson

SSSADFGDSASDFGDSADFSF

@Louis_Tomlinson

#DROWNINGINDENIALL @itsAahna @NiallOfficial

@Louis_Tomlinson

#AAHNAANDNIALLERSITTINGONATREE @itsAahna @NiallOfficial

@itsAahna

Stop yelling or I s2g I’m coming over there and choking you @Louis_Tomlinson

@Louis_Tomlinson

Kinky. I take it @NiallOfficial likes it rough?

@NiallOfficial

@Louis_Tomlinson keep your kinks to yourself. yes this is me kinkshaming you

@itsAahna

There are children on the interwebs!! @Louis_Tomlinson @NiallOfficial

@Louis_Tomlinson

Kinkshaming is my kink @NiallOfficial 😉

@Louis_Tomlinson

Kids, kinkshaming is bad

@NiallOfficial

jokes on you kinkshaming kinkshames is my kink @Louis_Tomlinson

@AinsWills

Caaaaan we bring it back to the betrayal bit @NiallOfficial

@C_Davies

Yes. In case you’re all wondering, the @MaraudersMovie cast has a betting pool on @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial

@C_Davies

And I want my money back @Harry_Styles

@itsAahna

Et tu @C_Davies? Et tu??

@Harry_Styles

None of that 👆 was a ‘yes, we’re dating’ @C_Davies

@itsAahna

I’m blocking all of yous. @Harry_Styles @Louis_Tomlinson @LeeyumPain @C_Davies @AinsWills

@NiallOfficial

Yes, we’re dating 🙃

@itsAahna

BLOCKEDDDD @NiallOfficial 😡😡😡

@zaynmalik retweeted @AinsWils

BETRAYAL!! DECEPTION!! OUTRAGE!! @itsAahna @NiallOfficial

@itsAahna

Okay internet (and former friends) You win this one.

@Louis_Tomlinson

I want my tenner back @Harry_Styles

#anon #answered #fic: louvre #this one's shtty and rushed and i'm sorry #but that you for having an interest in my little fics nonnie #💖💖💖

13 notes · View notes

chut-je-dors · 5 years ago

Text

5TL ask masterpost

Hi!!! Since there are SO many. SO SO many asks about 5TL in my inbox right now, I thought of (instead of working on a crucial uni deadline I have coming up) putting them all here and writing one long-arse post (so that people’s dashes won’t be..... overwhelmed with asks. Also less tagging). So here we go - Hopefully you get your answers here! Consider it as a fic........... it’s that long. Starting from the oldest!

Anonymous said: 5 thomas lane is definitely, without a doubt, my favourite ever fic. Its bloody brilliant!! I just wanted to ask, we know dave got people being rude about john and paul, and then the incident in the supermarket, but do vera and chuck ever get any shit at school about their dads? Or do other parents ever have a go at paul and john? Love the fic, honestly its my favourite thing. Its absolutely wonderful 💞💞💞

Thank you!! That is always such a lovely thing to hear! <3

Vera and Chuck have been thankfully mostly protected from any kind of homophobia. Chuck’s friends are too young to really care about it, they just go ‘ok’ when Chuck tells that he has two dads instead of one, and as for Vera only her close friends know. It’s not that she would’ve been treating it as a secret, but usually children at that age don’t really talk about their parents openly in class. At least I wouldn’t have been able to tell if some of my classmates had two mums, since you’d spend time in small groups instead of one bigger one, and then interact with the other people in the class only for school work. So since only her good friends know (and they don’t care) she hasn’t had to face any prejudice either.

As for Paul and John, at school events they receive a stink eye at most, since the other parents can’t possibly put up a scene in front of the kids and the teachers etc. Most of them don’t care, but there are always some who will kinda, steer their kid the other way. Paul and John fortunately are aces at dealing with the hurt feelings it causes, and Vera and Chuck are yet to notice that kind of behaviour. Dave is a little bit more perseptive, but then again he’s the oldest and unfortunately remembers some of the early encounters the family had when the world’s - and Liverpool’s - view on gay people wasn’t yet as open as it is now.

Anonymous said: 5tl question!! When j and p DO fight, who apologises first? Who sulks more? (Love this bloody fic)

Both are awful stubborn mules!! It’s terrible. But at the same time they go over the fight in their head and feel sorry about it, and then eventually one of them decides not to be an idiot anymore. But I feel that overall Paul would be less inclined to apologise first if he feels he’s right, and John will come trudging over ‘cos he can’t stand it when they fight for a long time. Then again, if John absolutely feels he’s correct, he’ll hold onto his opinion with tooth and nail, and Will Sulk. John in general sulks more I think, but half of it is tongue in cheek, since they so rarely have actual fights (more like, small-ish disputes)

Anonymous said: Okay I have a 5tl question: when it comes to the kids, which parent is each the most similar to personality-wise? Like for me, I’ve always thought Dave is like a mini Paul whereas Vera just SCREAMS John to me, what’s your opinion on this? Is this something you considered when writing the kids? <333

Oh god this is such a difficult question,, after a 20-minute discussion with @thefrogchorus, (since this was such a difficult question and I needed her blessed input to sort out my thoughts) we came to the conclusion that they’re kind of a mix of both John and Paul without any definitive traits coming from their parents (Chuck is a mini-John, but that’s also because of y’kno, being his actual biological son). They’re very much their own people in my head, but especially their manners come from John and Paul, whether it be how to win an argument, or how to deal with sadness, etc.

I actually feel like Vera takes after Paul, in a way that when she puts her foot down, she’ll go through fucking stone if needs be, and Paul is very similar to that. Their sense of humour comes from both Paul and John, but I feel like they appreciate the sort of “silliness” John seems to cultivate a bit more.

Anonymous said: Can you tell us more about George and Ringo from 5TL? How did they end up together and what kinda dynamic does their relationship have? :)

George and Ringo met when Paul inherited the cottage from his grandparents back in 1998. George would come along to help rebuilding the cottage which was in a complete shambles. For the first two years Paul, John and George would sleep in a guest room at the farm since the cottage was inhabitable. In the mornings the four of them, since they quickly started getting along with Ringo, skipped over the field that separates the farm and the cottage and they’d work on the cottage all day long.

As was said in chp. 5, “The four of them got along swimmingly right from the first moment, and the very nice lad’s good-natured, calm farm-boy attitude completed the group in a strangely perfect way.“ “George started helping at the cottage very often, as well.”

So George and Ringo really got to know each other and fell in love during that time. There’s gonna be a chapter eventually that goes over these events, so I’m not going to delve too deep into it now, and some details might change over time, so that’s what you’re gonna have to do with for now :)

As for the dynamic between the two... George embodies this wonderful dry wit that matches perfectly with Ringo’s more good-natured and gentle teasing. Their relationship is easy and fun, very very soft and warm. It’s really quite relaxed, considering both of them do lot of repetitive work that takes a lot of time, and they’re like that together as well, patient and calm.

Anonymous said: Have any of the 5tl kids been lost/ran away at any point and given John and Paul a fright?

I think, in grocery shop, at most. They’ve always been quite adept at keeping the kids under their watchful eye, and the kids haven’t had any urges to run away (because while Dave has teenage angst, he has no urges to like, y’know, leave the family he loves?). Of course even when you lose your kid into a grocery shop it’s a bit of a scare, at least for the Mother Hens Paul And John, (in the early years, not so much anymore since their skin is so tough), but everything’s always worked out fine in the end.

Anonymous said: I have a questionnn: has 5tl John had issues with his weight/ insecurity in the same way that actual John did? Idk I just love getting insights into this universe

I don’t think so, not to the same extent. Probably when he was a teenager he would’ve worried a little over his figure (like all teenagers do) but in this universe he’s always stayed in a relatively good shape, body mass wise (he still can’t lift heavy things but, hey. he’s a scrawny artist cut him some slack) and as such he doesn’t have any insecurities over it. I think, if he ever grows a little bit of belly when he’s older, it’ll be received with good humour and loving taps from Paul :) <3

Anonymous said: is paul always the big spoon in 5tl or do they switch? (WHY do i only think of these questions when im going to sleep jrbhrnsfjsj) 🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔

Bless this question honestly aaahhhh <3333, Paul indeed is NOT always the big spoon, they switch, and BOTH love being the little spoon cos it makes them feels so nice. When they first started dating John might’ve taken the role of the big spoon a little more since Paul was still SMALL (bbbless,,,) but they evened it out. Sappy beings,, <33

Anonymous said: How did Martha join the 5TL family?

In the most traditional way possible: First kids wanted a dog, then Paul wanted a dog, and John grudgingly said “okay, I guess” and then suddenly there was fur everywhere and he had to go outside for long walks everyday no matter the weather and he had to keep a puppy from eating every possible furniture while Paul was at work. Poor John. (But he secretly loves Martha so it’s okay. He gets a little weak in the knees when Paul babbles to her.)

Anonymous said: How old were 5Thomas L. J+P when they started talking about kids/ did poor oleJohn hit the roof and freak out when Paul first suggested it since we know he’s not a fan of kids (except his own ofc)!

I think the discussion took place quite early in the relationship. Paul has always known he’d want kids, and as for John, and I quote the very first sentence of the whole fic,

“Having children had never been a requirement for John to live happily ever after. He would, however, be completely fine with one or two if his future partner wanted them, and he would love the kids with all his heart (if they weren’t absolutely terrible).“

So John has never hated the thought of kids, but for him the thought of them was more along the lines of “yeah I’ll be fine even if I never had them but if some where to come I wouldn’t object to it at all” so when Paul brought the subject up (like “hey how do you feel about kids? I mean ‘cos I kinda love them and I definitely wanna be a dad someday, but ofc not if it meant breaking up with you, ‘cos I’ll much more prefer a life with you ‘cos you’re like the only person I’ve ever loved and wanted to have sex with xoxo :) in fact let’s have sex right now”) John would’ve been like “yeah, cool, if it’s any possible any day i’m game even though i‘ll probably suck at being a dad because DADDY ISSUES” (the key to john’s character in any universe,,)

Remember that when John proposed Paul literally answered with “yeah i’ll marry you ONLY IF I GET TO BE THE POP”, so at that point Paul’s desires were very well known for John, and John knew what he was getting into. And as we know, John adores his kids :) So they’ve pretty much always had the agreement that one day there will be kids if it’s just possible. Only when it became the reality that they CAN adopt Dave, John started becoming nervous with the possibility of fucking up terribly, and even then he wanted to have a kid SO bad, as you can read from Chapter 12: the Bath Scene (which gives me the FEELS). That scene and chapter explain John’s stance on this pretty well! :)

Anonymous said: How tall are the 5tl kids? Just wondering <3 I love this fic

Hahah, thank you! Out of all the asks I’ve got over this fic, this is maybe one of the strangest ones - but it’s not a bad thing! Hahah I love how it got me thinking.

The average 15 year old boy in the UK would be around 5″7, but since Dave is originally from France he’s a little shorter, I’d say 5″4. Vera is 4″6, and Chuck is 3″8 :)

Anonymous said: I can imagine John getting absolutely TURNT around Rasputin by Boney M in the 5TL verse for some reason and it makes me laugh a lot

You are absolutely RIGHT this is the absolute TRUTH and it’s CANON NOW I SAID IT. John loves Boney M if only because they hit him right to where it itches. He loves singing along to Daddy Cool and Paul kinda hates it because Paul likes the Ramones and Nirvana and Rock’n Roll, baby, and then there’s John waving this disco propaganda at his head, but they work around it.

(Occasionally Paul might be caught humming Ma Baker) (Mma-mma-mma-mma-mmmaah)

Anonymous said: Do you have any more 5tl headcannons? The wait is killing me lol

Hahaha so many of them are actual spoilers but have a small list of ones that I can share with you! (Also... this whole post kinda is based on my headcanons so.... ) :D

Dave creates memes about his sucker family and sends them over in the family whatsapp group

(Credit @sunbeatle <3)

This also includes the Pepe. John loves the Pepe. He sends Paul Pepe memes all day long. Paul wants to know who this lizard is.

Chuck loves Pepe. He draws Paul a Pepe drawing. John puts it on the wall above their bed.

“John please stop. i'm not having sex in front of the lizard”

John blindfolds Paul so that Paul doesn't have to look at Pepe

“John I am going to divorce you over that lizard.”

Dave: "oh my god pop. it's a fucking frog." Paul: "wHAt part of that LIZARD looks like a FROG to you????"

Plot twist: Paul actually loves Pepe and knows it's a frog but he loves seeing how amused John gets over Paul's loathing; Anything For The Husband

(Pepe idea: Credit for Maria and Daisy. made us all howl with laughter)

John uses a ton emojis, always the wrong and the weird ones. He is VERY aware of it. Chaotic Evil.

Paul used to have the same kind of sunglasses as Kurt Cobain in the 90′s. He actually used them. They looked like this:

Terrible.

Paul sometimes writes poems, mostly humorous ones with a tongue-in-cheek about his life; it’s a nice creative outlet. He also might write poems specifically directed at the kids, so a children’s story but in poem form, and then he reads them to Chuck (or has John read them dramatically, which really fun for all of them)

There you go people! Hopefully this satisfied your bottomless thirst for more 5TL for some time! Don’t be afraid to hit me with new asks and your own headcanons, I love discussing this fic! Cheerio! <3

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ktrsss1fics · 7 years ago

Text

Cake By The Ocean: One

The employees of the law offices of Corningstone & Wallace are given two weeks paid vacation every year. The magic of last year’s trip had erased the memory of any other vacation from Georgina Ferguson’s mind. Roaming Aruban beaches with pineapples full of rum and making out with a cute Irish boy had ignited a spark that she had never felt before. From that moment on, she was a changed woman. She could parallel park on the busy street where her favorite ice cream shop was located. She was eating more leafy green vegetables. She could bake a Dutch apple pie from scratch. She even bought a new bike for the beach. However, the biggest change to Georgina’s life was the fact that she was head over heels in love with Niall Horan.

The love she received was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Growing up, she had read plenty of stories where men showcased their love. Paris’ love caused a war. Orpheus’ took him to hell and back. Alcyone’s went to his head. Zeus’ created a trail of broken hearts.

But this wasn’t a mythological tale, this was real life. Niall’s love was different. His love was real. It was warm and kind and invigorating. His love made her believe in the future for the first time. His love made her realize she wasn’t broken. She was able to love. His love was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

But as of lately, that love had been neglected. He had been busy touring the globe. She had been busy saving the firm. Their phone calls were short. Their text messages were even shorter. She had been counting down the hours until she got to see him again.

Lucky for her, the countdown had made it’s way down to seven. In seven whole hours, she’d get to see the smiling face of her loving boyfriend. In seven whole hours, she’d get to hear his laugh and watch him reconnect with the rest of their friends. In seven whole hours, she’d have to pretend the boy she was in love with was just a boy that she could tolerate. In seven hours, she’d get to see him but only as a friend.

Why was that?

No one knew they were together. They had successfully kept it a secret for the past seven months. The only way they were able to last so long was the fact that he was gone for most of it. The two week trip to Greece they were about to embark on was going to put their relationship to the test. It would prove whether or not they were made to last. Having to share a house with eight of their closest friends while being in a secret relationship was going to be the ultimate test.

Their relationship status had caused plenty of arguments in the past couple weeks. From the moment he left for tour, they had gone back and forth. She didn’t want to tell anyone because she was worried she wasn’t ready to be someone’s girlfriend. Yes, they were official but Niall was the only one who knew. She was safe in this bubble, where outside eyes couldn’t harm her. What if their friends found out and things fizzled out? She’d never forgive herself. It took a few months of being on her own for her to realize that she was being ridiculous. She loved Niall and he loved her. Nothing was going to happen to them – no matter who found out. Just as fate would have it, the moment she switched teams, Niall switched too. He didn’t want anyone to know. He never told her why but he was adamant about keeping what they had a secret. He said she wouldn’t understand and that they needed to talk in person.

In seven hours, she was going to have that talk.

In the meantime, Georgina Ferguson sat on a sidewalk in the middle of a neighborhood in Mykonos while Jenna rambled on about the date she went on the night before with Stephen. She hadn’t been paying attention though. Her eyes were glued to her phone. It had been blowing up with reassuring texts from Niall since she got off the plane. Preflight jitters had gotten the best of her when she dropped Scout off at Keith’s cousin’s place so he had taken it upon himself to calm her down. For the most part, it had worked.

Another thing that helped cure her nerves was the blonde haired woman sitting beside her. Brittany knew something was bothering her but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she made sure that every preflight ritual was completed and that Georgina was given the seat by the window. She got them to the house in one piece. She put Georgina in charge of keeping an eye on the boys. They were picking up the keys to the house, the car Keith had rented, and something for the group to eat.

Brittany nudged Georgina’s leg, “Dave text back yet?”

“Should be here in fifteen minutes.” Georgina looked up. “Keith’s driving.”

“So it’ll be more like a half hour.” Jenna said making the others laugh.

Mags stretched out, leaning against her luggage. “Might as well work on our tans, ladies.”

“I hope this house is nice.” Jenna said rolling up the sleeves of her shirt.

“Neighborhood looks nice enough.” Brittany said looking around. “I think Keith did alright.”

“When are Ash and Marco getting in?” Mags asked looking up towards the sky.

“In a forty-five minutes, I think.” Georgina said.

“D’ya think they’ll actually want to spend time with us this trip?” Brittany asked.

“I’m surprised they were even invited.” Jenna said. “We never see them anymore.”

“I think the boys just wanted to be nice.” Mags shrugged.

“They’ll probably go out with us once and then stay in to shag for the rest of the trip.” Georgina said.

“You know what? That doesn’t sound half bad Ferguson. Maybe Jamie and I will do it.” Mags smirked glancing over at the blonde.

“Just keep him quiet.” Georgina fired back.

“It’s not him we have to worry about.” Jenna sniggered.

“So Jenna tell the girls how you gave Steve a blowie before he left yesterday.” Mags shot back.

“What the fuck!” Georgina squealed wide-eyed.

“Jenna! Skimping out on the details, are we?” Brittany teased.

“You bitch.” Jenna mumbled glaring at the older woman beside her.

“I’m not the one who had a stranger’s penis in my mouth less than twenty-four hours ago!” Mags said throwing her hands up dramatically.

“Margaret Fairchild! I swear to fucking God.” Jenna whined. “Stop picking on me.”

“Jens, I didn’t think you liked doing oral?” Georgina smirked. “Makes ya feel like a slag.”

“She was all about it last night.” Mags mumbled making Brittany laugh.

“Pick on Fergie instead!” Jenna said crossing her arms over her chest.

“Her time will come, my friend. Don’t worry.” Mags smiled.

“Looking forward to it, Margaret.” Georgina replied before focusing back on her phone.

“Can you check the group message to see when Ni’s getting in?” Brittany asked.

“Yeah,” Georgina said pretending to scan her inbox. She already had it memorized. “Uh says six.”

“Just in time for dinner.” Mags nodded. “Are we gonna go out tonight?”

“I’m up for it.” Jenna said.

“Want another stranger’s penis in your mouth?” Brittany joked making Mags snort.

Jenna’s entire body flushed red. “You three are such bitches.”

“You love us.” Mags said blowing her a kiss.

“So JenJen, you must be really feeling Steve then. You only do that when you are serious about someone.” Georgina said trying to salvage the conversation.

“Yeah well I was just uh reciprocating the love so to speak.” Jenna blushed.

“Oh yeah? Was he good at that?” Brittany asked.

“Better than the last one.” Jenna said.

“You lot have always been too hard on the Lizard King.” Georgina said making Brittany giggle. “At least he tried. That’s worth something.”

“Oh my god, Fergie!” Jenna squealed. “You didn’t experience it so you don’t know how fucking weird it was. No woman should ever go through that.”

“Marcus was always terrible at it so I wouldn’t know anything different.” Fergie shrugged.

“Dave’s decent. We save that stuff for special occasions though.” Brittany sighed.

“Doesn’t get a blowjob every day like our boy Chief Keef?” Jenna said dryly. “You know, I think Keith’s penis is the one penis I would never want in me mouth ever.”

The other three woman nodded in agreement.

“It’s got to be big, yeah? Or he’s got to be ace in the sack or something because the birds he pulls are way out of his league.” Georgina said putting her phone away.

“Let’s be real, I think the fact he resembles Ni helps him most days.” Jenna said.

“And there is no way he gets one every single day unless he is suckin’ himself off.” Mags said making the other girls cackle loudly.

“Every day is too much. David gets one on his birthday and our anniversary.” Brittany said. “That’s it.”

“And whenever Chelsea wins.” Georgina added.

“Jamie is the same. Birthday, Christmas, and our anniversary.” Mags explained.

“And whenever Chelsea beats Arsenal.” Georgina added.

“How do you know this?” Jenna asked confused.

“The fellas think I’m one of them.” Georgina shrugged. “They are a lot more open with each other than I thought they would be.”

“Do they talk about everything?” Mags asked sliding her sunnies down the bridge of her nose.

“Not when I’m around.” Georgina shook her head. “Your fiIthy little secrets are safe Margaret.”

“Good.” Mags winked before putting her glasses back into place.

“Ferg, we need to find you a Greek boy toy for the next two weeks.” Jenna said smugly. “Someone to have fun with.”

“Ehh, I’ll pass. Brought me vibrator. I’m set.” Georgina replied emotionless.

“Do you know what’s sad? I can never climax with one of those. I’ve got to sit through sex with James when I need to get off.” Mags admitted. “It’s dreadful sometimes — no offense to him.”

“This one’s the exact opposite.” Brittany said nodding towards her best friend.

“What!” Jenna and Mags said in unison.

Heat rushed to Georgina’s cheeks. “Never had one.”

“Marcus never—“ Mags trailed off.

“Always faked it.” Georgina sighed. “He really was a piece of shit at everything.”

“But you are twenty seven…” Jenna said wide-eyed. “A man’s never made you orgasm, really?”

Georgina shook her head trying not to act bothered by it. She knew it was a lie. Niall had proven that plenty of times before he left for tour.

“Georgina, that’s unacceptable.” Mags shook her head disappointed. “This has to change.”

“New goal of the trip: find someone to take Fergie to O-Town.” Jenna chimed in.

“Jens! I know the perfect person.” Mags smirked.

Jenna’s face lit up reading the older woman’s mind. “Oh I think I know who it is.”

“If Niall Horan’s name comes out of either of your mouths, I will suffocate you both in your sleep tonight.” Georgina glared playfully.

“Whoa! Cool the jets Fergie Ferg.” Jenna laughed.

“Babes, all we need to do is get a little bit of sangria into you and some whiskey into him, lock you in a room, and not let you out until you climax at least twice.” Mags said enthusiastically. “I’m sure Ni would be more than happy to help.”

“I reckon it wouldn’t take him long.” Jenna added. “I mean he’d be so into it he wouldn’t stop until you were able to finish more than once.”

“Exactly. Kid’s a perfectionist.” Mags nodded.

”Never quits. Be like a marathon shag session. You’d be taken care of, love.” Jenna chirped as Brittany linked her fingers with her best friend.

“You two are the worst.” Georgina blushed.

Brittany squeezed Fergie’s hand trying to show solidarity. Georgina appreciated the gesture.

“If you would have just made out with him in Vegas like we wanted, we would have moved on from this,” Mags said examining her nail beds.

“No you wouldn’t.” Georgina laughed loudly.

“Okay so maybe you’re right.” The older woman giggled. “I just can’t help it. You two would be perfect together.”

“Oh stop. We wouldn’t work out. We are both too stubborn and workaholics. And besides he doesn’t even like me like that.” Georgina blushed trying to find a way out of this conversation.

“That’s not what our group chat says.” Jenna replied smugly.

“Kid’s basically in love with ya, Ferg.” Mags smiled.

“He’d be a fool not to be.” Brittany said as she sat up. She focused on a car heading in their direction, “Looks like the boys are here.”

The group of women stood up and started putting their things together. As Keith pulled into the driveway, Georgina looked at her phone.

Only six hours and twenty-five minutes to go.

Six hours and twenty-five minutes.

She couldn’t wait.

The house Keith had picked was actually decent. It looked like it should be in a Bond film. The rooms were massive, the appliances were new, and a salt water pool took up most of the backyard. The best part was the view from the backyard. A group of bougainvillea trees framed the fence , which showcased a perfect view of the Mediterranean Sea. It was the prettiest sight she had seen since they landed.

Georgina’s room was on the first floor of the multi-tiered house. Niall’s room was a few doors down. Much like in Aruba, all the single members of the group were placed in one section of the house while the couples stayed in another. As unfair as it was, this time it worked in Georgina’s advantage. It would make her life a lot easier knowing that her best friend wouldn’t be snooping around.

As she unpacked her bag, she started to think of a way for her and Niall to spend time together. She knew it would either have to be after everyone went to sleep or before everyone woke up. There were two beds in each room so if they were careful a sleepover could take place. A nervous energy filled the pit of her stomach just thinking about it. She didn’t know if they could do this. She didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore.

Just when she was about to send a series of panicked texts in her boyfriend’s direction, a female with an American accent called out her name. Confused, the young Brit turned towards the door. Standing in the doorway in a low cut form-fitting sundress was a woman she had never seen before. Her hair was dark, her breasts were fake, and a different kind of smile was plastered across her face. She couldn’t quite tell what it meant but Georgina knew she didn’t trust it.

“Are you Fergie?” The woman said stepping inside the room.

“Ye-yeah.” Georgina stammered.

“Oh good! I’m Mar — short for Marlene. Keith said we were sharing a room.” The American giggled as she headed for the other bed in the room.

“What?” Georgina asked confused by her comment about Keith.

“Yeah, Keith said I was going to share a room with a girl named Fergie.” Mar explained sitting down on the bed. “Fergie. What’s that short for?”

Georgina tried to put the pieces together but she couldn’t. She didn’t know if it was nerves or lack of sleep but she didn’t get what was going on.

She closed her eyes. “Okay, wait so Keith said what now? What’s happening?”

The American laughed. “Oh my god! British people are so cute. I’m Mar short for Marlene. Ash and I work together. Keith invited me here.”

“He said the blonde named Jenna won’t share a room but the blonde named Fergie will.” Mar explained. “You’re the one who works a lot right? You probably just missed the message he sent.”

Georgina couldn’t believe what had come out of Mar’s mouth. Keith knew he would have had to get approval from the entire group before inviting a complete stranger. He knew that. Mags and Britt created that rule ages ago. Everyone was overprotective of Niall and wanted him to have the chance at a normal life — especially on vacation. The fact that he had done it anyways blew Georgina’s mind.

“So you work with Ashlee and Keith invited you. Got it.” Georgina faked a smile.

“He said everyone was excited for me to join.” Mar said—the smile from earlier appeared. “Uh so Fergs, when’s the blonde one showing up?”

“Who?” Georgina asked confused. The group was made up of a handful of blondes. She could have been referring to anybody.

“Oh yeah, I guess he’s not blonde anymore. He was the last time we were together.” Mar said correcting herself.

Georgina’s face fell. That smile. That’s what it meant. This girl wasn’t here to be another one of Keith’s conquests; she was here to be one of Niall’s. The thought of this girl flying across the world to try to hook up with her best friend because he was famous made her blood boil.

“So is he still single?” Mar asked, a hopeful tone to her voice.

“Um Ash can fill you in.” Georgina said before heading for the door. “I need to go take care of something.”

With that, the blonde haired woman was gone. Her fingers were flying across the screen of her phone as she sent a message to Ni trying to explain what was happening but the rage building inside her was making her thoughts incoherent.

She knew this trip was going to be frustrating for her but she didn’t expect it to start this early. She made her way through the house looking for one specific man. She found him drinking a beer in the kitchen with David and Jamie.

“Oi! Miller!” Georgina called out from across the room.

“Hey Ferg.” Keith said raising his bottle towards her.

The other two men studied her face as she drew near. It was obvious that she was less than pleased. Jamie took a step away from Keith knowing something was about to go down.

“Mate.” Dave sighed. “What’d you do now?”

“Honestly don’t know.” Keith mumbled. “But I reckon I’m about to find out.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Georgina said once she made it over to the group of men.

“Um, Keith Miller?” He replied somewhat unsure of his answer.

“First of all, you can’t just invite people without asking the entire group if it’s okay.” She said crossing her arms over her chest. “And second, you can’t just give people’s rooms away. That’s bull shit.”

“Georgie, what’s going on?” Dave asked.

“Keith is more concerned with getting his dick wet than he is about anyone else this trip.” Georgina grumbled.

“Babes, it’s not like that.” Keith said moving towards her. “I promise.”

“Don’t.” She replied causing him to move back to his spot.

“Ferg, I promise that’s not what is going on.” Keith said trying to convincing.

“That’s not what fake tits over there is saying.” Georgina glared. “Apparently everyone is excited for her to be here and I must I missed the messages where she got invited because I work too much. Sound familiar?”

“Who ya talking about Ferg?” Dave asked placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Me, probably.” Mar’s American accent called out from behind them.

Their attention was now focused on the black haired woman standing near the doorway.

“Who the fuck is that?” Jamie whispered to Georgina.

“Mar. Short for Marlene. Works with Ash and was invited by this prick.” Georgina rattled off. “Oh I almost forgot, she’s apparently my roommate for the duration of this trip.”

“Mate.” Jamie sighed shaking his head at Keith.

“Honestly thought it would be a good idea.” Keith said sheepishly. “I should have planned this better.”

“I’m not sharing a room with her.” Georgina said defiantly.

“Okay well we’ll figure something out.” Dave said rubbing her back. “Don’t worry G.”

“There aren’t any rooms left.” Jamie said. “Are there?”

“I can take this one’s room and he can sleep on the couch.” Georgina nodded at Keith.

“But what if I pull? I need a room. Can’t shag someone on a couch.” Keith said — a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I mean Mar’s got an extra bed for ya in her room. You want to shag her there?” Georgina said dryly.

“Funny.” Keith said with a fake laugh.

“Honestly, that’s what should happen.” Jamie said. “Either she stays with Keith or the couch.”

“She can’t have the couch.” Dave said quietly.

Georgina shot the boy a funny look. She had her reasons for not wanting this stranger to sleep on the couch but she didn’t know why David would.

He cleared his throat, “Keith fucked up. He should be the one to suffer.”

Georgina agreed with Dave’s statement but sensed he was hiding something.

“She knows Ash. She could stay with her.” Georgina suggested.

“Ash and Marco are staying together. I’d prefer to stay away from that.” Mar stated.

Georgina rolled her eyes making Jamie laugh.

“Is she paying for a room?” Dave asked nodding to Mar.

“Well — you see…” Keith started to say.

“You were doing so well, brother.” Jamie said patting Keith on the back. “But you fucked up major with this one.”

“So you are telling me you invited this woman without proper approval, decided sticking her in with me was the best option when she didn’t want to sleep with you, and you aren’t making her pay for any of it?” Georgina asked with an incredulous look on her face. “How fucking magical is that fanny of hers?”

Jamie and Dave tried their best to keep a straight face but the pure disgust in Georgina’s voice sent them into a fit of laughter.

“You’re a legend.” Dave said squeezing her shoulder.

“Thanks.” She smiled before focusing her attention back to Keith. “How are we going to fix this mess?”

“I don’t know. Jenna won’t share. I’m not interested in sharing. So either someone sleeps on the couch or you share.” Keith said trying to think of another way he could make up for his mistake.

“Ferg can stay with Niall. He’s got two beds in his room and I’m sure he won’t mind.” Dave suggested.

Georgina’s skin grew warm. Her eyes focused on Dave’s face but he wouldn’t look at her. She knew exactly what he was trying to do but didn’t know why.

“She’d strangle him in his sleep.” Keith laughed.

“Not true, they’ve been playing nice lately.” Dave said sticking up for his best friends.

“And honestly, if we want to keep the peace those two are our ticket.” Jamie said thinking about it logically.

“I don’t want to share with Ni.” Georgina sighed. “If I’m paying for my room, I shouldn’t have to share. He shouldn’t either.”

“If it’s an option, I’ll share with Niall.” Mar chirped happily.

Georgina felt a wave of anger wash over her. This was not happening. The woman who flew all the way across the ocean to sleep with her boyfriend did not just suggest sharing the same room with him. She needed to keep her cool but didn’t know how. Dave’s grip on her shoulder grew a little tighter. As much as she wanted to keep her eyes focused on the floor, she couldn’t.

When she looked up at Dave, he gave her a sympathetic look. He didn’t know they were together but he had a feeling they were something. His girlfriend may have told him not to meddle but he couldn’t help it. He’d damned if a random woman was going to come in and steal Georgina Ferguson’s thunder. He knew she needed this – now more than ever.

Dave pulled his eyes off of Georgina and placed them on the stranger across the room, “Yeah that’s not happening.”

“It’s either Ferg or no one, sorry.” Jamie said feigning sympathy.

“I think the group should decide if it’s okay for them to share.” Keith said softly. “Right?”

Georgina rolled her eyes. “So me sharing a room with Ni deserves a meeting but you inviting a stranger doesn’t. Sounds real fair.”

“Fergs, I—“ Keith started to say but the frustrated young woman cut him off.

“If I wanted to deal with dumb shit, I would have stayed home. This is why you’re never in charge of things, Keith.” Georgina grumbled before pulling away from Dave and leaving the kitchen.

She repacked her bags and placed them in the hallway before making her way outside. Jenna and the girls were sitting around a table looking out into the horizon. A quiet conversation about a trip to a winery was being held as Georgina plopped down in the empty seat beside Brittany.

“For fucks sake Georgina, we’ve only been here five minutes. Cheer up.” Mags teased noticing the young woman’s sour mood.

“I’m going back home.” Georgina replied annoyed.

“Hey, I was only joking.” Mags said realizing something serious was going on.

“What’s wrong?” Brittany asked.

“Don’t have a room.” Georgina mumbled as she noticed Mar heading their way.

“Yes you do. We made sure there was enough.” Jenna said confused. “I watched Keith book it.”

“Didn’t take into account that Keith’s a fucking idiot that does whatever the hell he wants.” Georgina mumbled.

“Okay Ferg, I know you like being mysterious and all but like what the hell are you on about?” Jenna asked worried by her friends mood.

“Ferg!” Mar called out for sliding into the last empty seat around the table.

“Who’s that?” Jenna whispered to Mags.

“Where’s Ash?” Georgina asked quietly.

“On the phone with her brother.” Mar said. “I hope you don’t mind me hanging around.”

Georgina didn’t get a chance to respond. A devilish smirk formed on the American woman’s face before two simple sentences escaped her lips.

“You know I totally don’t get why you don’t want to share a room with Niall. I mean, yeah, he might snore a bit too much when he’s drunk but you know that’s just Niall.” Mar stated.

Jenna looked over to Mags and Brittany trying to see if they were just as confused as she was. The woman didn’t look familiar but she acted like she was.

“How long have you girls known him?” Mar asked leaning back in her chair.

“Hi, um who are you again?” Jenna asked looking the woman up and down.

“Oi Mel! Err I mean Mar.” Dave called out walking towards the group of women with glasses of wine in his hands. “Ash is lookin for ya. Something about needing help with an outfit or something.”

“Probably a bikini question.” Mar smiled before getting up. “I’ll have to catch up with you girls later.”

“Great.” Georgina replied dryly as she watched the American walk away.

When Dave reached the table, Jenna eagerly grabbed a glass and took a long sip.

“Okay, what the fuck was that about?” Mags asked turning her attention towards Georgina.

“David, just bring us the bottle.” Brittany said taking one of the glasses from him. “We are going to need it.”

“Okay babe.” Dave said before heading back inside.

“She fucked Niall.” Georgina said slowly putting the pieces together. “Or at least that’s what she wants us to think. I don’t know.”

“That makes sense. I mean, how else would she know he snores when he’s drunk?” Brittany said.

“Yeah I guess that’s true.” Jenna asked.

“He’s grown up in the spotlight so I’m sure a lot of people feel like they know him.” Mags pointed out. “He was plastered on every form of media since he was sixteen. It’s hard to miss him.”

Georgina shook her head, “She seemed like she wanted it known that she knows him on a more personal level.”

“How personal can it really be? I’ve never seen her before and we’ve been friends with him for years.” Jenna said.

“So, who is she then?” Brittany asked.

“She works with Ash. Keith invited her thinking she’d be down to be his little vacation fling.” Georgina explained. “But he didn’t take into account that Ni was going to be here and she knows him somehow.”

“Why would Keith invite someone without checking with the group first?” Mags asked.

“Because he wanted to get laid.” Georgina sighed.

“Is she the reason you don’t have a room?” Brittany asked sounding annoyed.

“He thought I’d be fine with sharing with her.” Georgina said taking a hold of the glass Dave had set down. “Didn’t ask if it was okay. Just did it.”

“That’s bullshit.” Mags said before taking drink of her wineglass. “Absolute bullshit.”

“I know.” Georgina sighed before taking a drink.

“We’ll get it sorted.” Britt smiled weakly. “Don’t worry G.”

“But first, let’s see who this girl is.” Jenna said pulling out her phone.

The next few hours were spent scouring the internet for anything they could find on the dark-haired stranger. Georgina Ferguson was nearly 100% certain that at one point in time Mar slept with Niall. The others weren’t too sure. They had been around Niall long enough to know that his fame attracted the wrong type of women. Those type of women would do anything for their fifteen minutes of fame. Mar seemed the type.

Brittany wanted it to be a lie for her best friend’s benefit. She knew Georgina had some sort of feelings for the man she once hated. She was hoping that this trip to Greece would help push her realize that being with Niall was the right direction – much like their time in Aruba had started to do. She didn’t like the idea of some random woman coming in and trying to ruin that. She knew she needed to find a way to keep Mar away from Niall for Georgina’s sake.

Brittany just didn’t know how she was going to accomplish that.

When asked if he was sad tour was coming to an end, Niall Horan would nod and formulate the perfect soundbite about wanting to continue touring for the rest of the year to give all of his fans a chance to see him perform. His dedication would be commended and another person would sing their praise about what a great artist he was.

But deep down, he knew he was lying.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle on the couch with his dog. He wanted to go to the pub with his mates and act like an idiot. Most of all, he wanted to be with his girlfriend.

The past three weeks had been the toughest three weeks he’d experienced in his solo career. The shows weren’t grueling. The interviews weren’t demanding. He just missed Georgina that much. The moment they shared in London during the holidays hung heavy on his heart. She was in love with him. She was in love with a whiskey drinking foul mouthed workaholic who spent more time on the road than in his actual house and he couldn’t believe it. She was in love with someone who couldn’t give her a proper relationship. He could count on one hand the amount of times they saw each other while he was away. She deserved so much better.

If anyone close to him asked if he was ready for tour to end, he’d say yes. He was ready to sleep in until noon and golf whenever he pleased. He was ready to not have something scheduled every second of his day. He was ready to relax. In fact, he had been counting down the hours until that flight to Greece.

When he woke up that morning, he had received a series of texts from Georgina. She was nervous. She was nervous about leaving Scout, getting on the plane, and that they wouldn’t be able to keep their relationship a secret once they were with their friends.

He had to admit he was nervous too. He was nervous about seeing her again. He was nervous that things wouldn’t be the same. He was nervous that his time apart caused their spark to fizzle out. He was nervous for the trip because it was their first trip as a couple and he didn’t know what to expect. He knew that he was being ridiculous. He knew the moment saw her face all his worries would go away. He knew he just needed to get on that flight. At the end of it, s bottle of beer and a kiss from a pretty girl had his name written all over it.

It was half past seven when Niall landed in Mykonos. His connecting flight had been delayed. Niall attempted to call Georgina when he found out the news but when he reached for his phone it was dead. He knew she’d be annoyed with him but once he told her that he had drained the battery watching all the videos of her and Scout he had saved on his phone, he figured he’d be met with heart eyes instead of one’s filled with anger.

By the time he got to the house, his nerves had completely disappeared. He was ready to relax for the next two weeks with some of closest friends. When he walked inside, he was met by the smell of David’s infamous fajitas and an old Bruce Springsteen track. He dropped his luggage by the door and headed for the kitchen.

“Nialler!” Jamie cheered from the stove top as he noticed the Irishman from across the room. He was making a pot of Spanish rice.

“Aren’t makin’ that too spicy, are ya Jim Jam?” Niall asked walking over to give his friend a hug.

“Fuck your reflux.” Jamie rolled his eyes dramatically. Niall laughed as his friend continued to speak, “Fergs already made ya some bland boring ass rice.”

Niall didn’t get a chance to respond. A damp kitchen towel whipped across the back of his neck. The Irishman turned around cautiously. Standing with a beer in hand was his best friend. Niall’s smile grew in size as the tall Brit pulled him into a hug. Dave handed over a drink before leaning against the fridge.

“Thanks for checking in you twat.” Dave said dryly.

“Me phone died.” Niall said pulling his keys out to open his beer.

David leaned in close, “There’s trouble in the Hen House.”

Niall’s brow furrowed, “What happened?”

Before Dave got the chance to explain, someone interrupted. A hand patted Dave’s stomach as they tried to get into the fridge but he couldn’t move. The kitchen was too small.

“Davey, get me a beer please.” Georgina said softly.

The sound of her voice sent shock waves through his body. Niall couldn’t believe it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. He didn’t think it was possible but the smile on his face grew even bigger. He turned around to find irritation chiseled into the features of his girlfriend.

“Hey Ferg!” Niall said sweetly.

Georgina faked a smile as she grabbed the bottle of beer from Dave’s hand. She took a quick swig before looking between the boys.

“Did Davey tell you that Keith brought ya a toy to play with?” Georgina asked with a hint of disgust in her voice.

Niall looked up at David completely confused. When he turned to ask Georgina what she meant, she wasn’t there. She was making her way for the backyard. Without a second thought, he chased after her.

Georgina stopped a few feet from the door and waited for him.

“Babe, what’s going on?” He asked keeping his voice low.

She sighed, “Well—“

An ear-piercing shriek sounded from across the yard catching the couple’s attention. Ashlee was sitting on a pool lounger with another woman. Her face looked familiar. He had seen her around but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh my god, Ni!” The woman squealed, popping up from her spot. “You’re finally here.”

Their eyes locked. He knew exactly who she was. Marlene. Niall’s body stiffened as she made her way around the pool towards him.

“Fuck.” He sighed. He placed his hands on his hips and turned towards Georgina.

The young blonde just shook her head. Her face had said everything. She was upset.

“Ferg.” He whispered.

“I’m gonna go get ready for dinner.” Georgina mumbled. She watched Mar grow near. She nodded over to the dark haired woman. “Have fun with that.”

“Babe.” Niall said reaching out to keep his girlfriend from leaving but she had already slipped past him.

“Niall!” Mar said with an irreplaceable grin. “How have you been?”

“Hey Mar.” He replied with a clenched jaw.

Mar rubbed up against before forcing him into her embrace. “It’s been ages. Congrats on the solo stuff.”

“Thanks.” Niall laughed nervously as he patted her on the back.

Mar’s arms lingered on his body as he tried to pull away. Her touch was aggressive and deliberate. He didn’t like it. Once he was released from her grip, Niall stepped away putting some space in between them. She ruffled her hair before adjusting her dress.

“When Keith first asked me to come, I was a bit hesitant.” Mar said looking up at him. Her index finger poked his stomach playfully. “But then I found you’d be here and I just had to come.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall said pressing his beer bottle to his lips. “How do you know Keith?”

“Same way I know you.” She winked.

A shiver ran down his spine. The thought of him sleeping with the same woman as Keith made him cringe. He took long sip of his drink trying to find a way out of his conversation.

“I didn’t know that you knew Ashlee and Marco too.” She said ruffling her hair once more. “They don’t mention you that much.”

“We’ve been friends for a few years now.” Niall said with a polite smile.

“Ash and I work together. That’s how I met Keith.” Mar explained. “But enough about me, let’s talk about you. How are Harry and the boys? Still keep in touch with them?”

Niall nodded, “They are all doing good. Just uh enjoying life and being solo. Nothing really new.”

“Good, good.” Mar said. “Hey quick question, is that uh Fergie girl a bit you know — not all there?”

Niall looked surprised. “What? Why?”

“Well Keith said she and I were sharing a room and I had to like explain it to her a couple times.” Mar laughed. “And she hasn’t talked much since she’s been here.”

Niall just nodded. Georgina’s mood was slowly starting to make sense. He didn’t quite understand what Mar’s comment meant but he knew David would. He needed to find him.

“She’s probably just still in work mode.” Niall replied before clearing his throat. “Mar, it’s been great seeing you but I promised Dave I’d help him season his meat. I’ll see you later.”

“Oh okay.” Mar smiled. “I’ll see you in there then.”

When Niall stepped back inside, he headed straight for the kitchen. He needed answers. The man he came to see was standing in front of the stove with a towel draped across his shoulder. He was tending to a large pan that was filled with sizzling peppers and onions.

Niall leaned against the counter. He finished off his beer in two long gulps. He set the bottle on the counter before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Am I living in a fucking alternate universe, Watson?” Niall asked.

“Tried to warn ya, Sherlock.” Dave laughed.

“Fuck, dude.” Niall sighed.

“I know.” Dave said glancing at him. “It sucks but it’s gonna be okay.”

“Fergie’s pissed.” Niall said running a hand through his hair.

“They all are.” Dave said stirring the vegetables in his pan. “But it’s not at you, it’s more at Keith and Mar.”

“No. Fergie’s mad at me. I saw it on her face.” Niall sighed.

“Well, can you see why she’d be a bit upset?” Dave asked focusing on his food. “I mean Mar’s been running her mouth about ya since she got here.”

Niall’s eye shut tight as a sigh escaped from deep within. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Really?”

“Something along the lines of braggin’ about sleepin’ with ya.” Dave replied.

“Shit.” Niall groaned.

“It’s going to be okay. I was around during the Marcus days. I know how to fix it.” Dave said calmly. “When she found out the rumors were true, she had a complete meltdown. Tried to change everything about herself to compete with the other women.”

“Is that why she’s in this mood? Because she thinks she has to compete with Mar.” Niall said lowly.

“Don’t know mate but what I do know is that you just need to remind her that you are interested in her and only her.” Dave said.

“You think so?” Niall asked.

Dave nodded, “Women need reassurance sometimes.”

“Okay.” Niall mumbled dryly. “Should be easy enough except for the fact she won’t talk to me.”

“That won’t last long.” Dave laughed as he turned off the burner. “Hand me that dish.”

Niall handed him an empty bowl, “Why’s that?”

“You two are sharing a room.” Dave smirked as he drained the contents of the pan into the bowl.

“What!” The Irishman said in disbelief.

“You’re welcome.” Dave winked as he started to cut up the meat he had grilled.

“How’d that work out?” Niall asked.

“Keith gave her room away so I figured if anyone is gonna share it should be the two of you.” Dave shrugged.

Niall just nodded. He figured that Keith’s decision played a tiny part in Georgina’s mood. Sharing a room was sure to remedy that real quick. He started to think of a way to fix things.

“Look Ni, I don’t know what’s going on between ya but you both are actually happy and I’m happy to see it.” Dave said with a genuine smile. “If you ever need me to sub in and help out, I’m game.”

“I appreciate it brother.” Niall smiled as he patted David on the back.

“Now since you were late, you have dish duty when we are finished.” Dave said as Niall opened the fridge.

“That’s just fine with me.” He said grabbing two bottles of beer.

Dinner came and went. The entire meal was spent planning out the next day’s activities. After much debate, they decided on sightseeing. An old church was brought up as well as a few sites that held ancient ruins. Niall didn’t care what they did. He was too busy trying to think of a way to get his girlfriend to talk to him. He cracked a few jokes, addressed her directly, and even took to staring at her for five minutes straight but she never gave in. Georgina Ferguson was one stubborn woman. He knew he was in for a hell of a night.

After they ate, Niall washed the dishes while the rest of the group retreated to different parts of the house. A few people headed out to the pool. A couple others popped in a film. A certain woman headed straight to bed. Once the dishes were dried, he knew exactly where he needed to be.

When he got to their room, it was quiet. He closed the door behind him mentally rehearsing the apology he had planned. But once he saw her, his mind went blank. He found her in the bathroom drying her hair. He leaned against the door frame waiting for her to finish.

He had missed this. He had missed watching her get ready for work in the morning. He missed making dinner for her when she got home. He missed lounging on the couch as they caught up on the tv shows she liked to watch.

He missed just being with her.

The dryer turned off snapping him out of his dream. A faint smile formed on Niall’s face as he watched her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes looked sad.

“What’s wrong?” He asked gently.

Georgina spun around quickly. Her eyes grew colder as a frown formed across her lips. “You fucked her.”

Niall sighed. “Babe—“

She pressed her index finger into his chest. “You fucked her. All the others kept saying she was lying and that it wasn’t true but I could tell. I could tell because she had that little twinkle in her eye.”

“Baby.” He said stepping towards her.

“And Brittany has told me about all the other women you’ve been with and they all look like her and none of them look like me.” She rambled nervously. “Is that what you like? Is that what turns you on? Because if so, I don’t know why we are still together.”

Niall reached out and cupped her face with his hands. “Georgina, breathe.”

She attempted to continue her anxious ramble but he stopped her. His thumb stroked her cheek as he looked deep into her eyes.

“I love you. I want to be with you. I don’t want or need anybody else.” He said calmly. “I want you.”

“But she—“ Georgina mumbled.

“Fuck what she said.” Niall said annoyed. “I slept with her one time when I was drunk and I’ve regretted it to this day.”

“Harry’s friend invited us to this party in Malibu. I didn’t want to go so I invited Davey to come along and we got absolutely obliterated.” He explained. “I woke up the next morning in some random girl’s bed. I felt horrible for it. I’m not that person.”

Georgina placed her hands on her hips. “Okay.”

Niall removed his hands and placed them on top of hers. “Don’t sound too convinced there Ferguson.”

“She just made it seem like you had some raunchy sexual relationship.” Georgina explained.

“That’s just how she is.” Niall sighed. “I asked her how she knew Keith and you know what she said?”

She shook her head.

“She said verbatim,” he said before putting on an American accent, “Same way I know you.”

Georgina cringed. “Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.”

He rubbed her hips with his thumbs. “Exactly.”

“I don’t want to picture them having sex.” She said closing her eyes making him laugh.

“See, Baby? That’s just her. She is all about shock value.” He smiled. “You— you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah I do.” She said quietly.

“What do you have to worry about Georgina?” He asked pulling her towards him.

She opened her eyes as tears began to form. “I can’t hold your hand in public. I can’t sit on your lap when I’m tired or too drunk. I can’t tell my best friends that I’m having the best sex I’ve ever had in me entire life and that I’ve actually had an orgasm.”

“Best sex you ever had?” He asked surprised.

The blonde haired woman nodded with a shy smile.

Niall looked impressed with himself. “I’ll take that.”

“Here she is running around telling everyone how she’s slept with the Niall Horan and I’ve just got to sit tight and bare it.” She said. “It’s just too much.”

“Baby, I promise we will tell them soon.” Niall said softly. “I just need more time.”

“But for what though?” She asked — sounding hurt. “How much more time do you need?”

“It’s just—“ He said before letting out a frustrated groan. “If we tell one person then eventually the entire world will find out and I’m not ready for that. We’re not ready for that. Everything will change.”

“Our friends wouldn’t do that to us.” Georgina said.

“Most of them wouldn’t.” Niall corrected.

“Fucking Keith.” She rolled her eyes.

“I just — I know what will happen if the public finds out. I’ve seen Tommo go through it. I’ve seen Liam go through it.” He said softly. He rested his forehead against hers, “I just need to protect you. For a little bit longer.”

“Fine.” She sighed dramatically.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” He mumbled playfully.

“Says the man who let his phone die when he’s traveling to another country.” She mumbled back.

“I’m sorry!” He said lifting his head back. “It was a good reason for it to die.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Georgina asked with a bit of sass.

“I was too busy watching videos of me girls because I’ve missed them too fucking much.” He said in a matter of fact tone.

Her skin grew warm as a smile formed. “You missed me?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He sighed.

“I know.” She said draping her arms over his shoulders.

“How do you know?” He asked confused.

“Gerry texted me.” She explained. “He originally asked me if I could send Scoutie girl to you because he knew you were sad. But I told him I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to send pets through the post.”

Niall laughed. “He’s such an idiot.”

“Wait, it gets better. Then he asked if I’d send ya a pic of my tits because he knew that would cheer you up.” She smirked. “Pretty sure he just wanted to see my tits.”

“That’s our Gerry.” Niall shook his head. “I should’ve known better than to give him your number. He said he had a legal question.”

“He just cares about ya.” Georgina smiled. “Gotta look out for the boss man.”

Niall tried to fight the blush from forming but he couldn’t. It was refreshing to know how many people genuinely cared about his well being. After nearly a decade of chaos, he was finally in a good place. A good portion of that was due to the woman standing in front of him.

“I love you.” She whispered making his heart skip a beat. “A lot. And I’m sorry for being mean.”

“It’s understandable. I mean when I saw Marcus, I didn’t handle it too well.” He said.

“I was two seconds away from going McGregor on her.” Georgina admitted.

Niall laughed, “Why’s that?”

Georgina looked annoyed, “She kept going on about how ‘Slow Hands’ is about her!”

This made the young man laugh even harder. “No way in hell it’s about her. It’s about you.”

“How is it about me? We never–” She said not understanding what he meant.

“Do you know how many times I’ve pictured that scenario? Then last year when you made the joke I laughed it off but I can’t lie deep down I wished it would have happened.” He admitted.

“Well it almost did.” She blushed remembering that night in Aruba.

Niall pressed his hips against hers. He brought his hands up to face once more.

“I’m gonna kiss you now, okay? It’s been the only thing I’ve wanted to do since I got off the plane.” He whispered.

Without another word, the couple’s lips connected and every ounce of anxiety left the room. They were finally back together and it felt so good.

#one direction fan fiction #niall horan fanfiction #1dff #cbto #fergie and niall #niall fluff

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captainwhogotthecanary · 7 years ago

Note

For the prompt thing Captain Canary + Star City + fluff + cards

Okay, so this is a multi-purpose ficlet. I set out to write adrabble for @ficcingcaptaincanary, and it ended up also being a (very verylate, but they will all get finished) prompt fill, as well as loosely inspiredby a drawing by @pintosketches. Set at some vague point in time that I won’tstop hoping will eventually exist.

She doesn't mean to keep him. Sara isn't really a cat person, andthe bedraggled kitten who wandered aboard the Waverider is a scrappy littlething, hissing and swiping at anyone who tries to touch him.

Except for Sara. When Sara is nominated to remove the cat (she'sgot the best chance at avoiding claws, and besides, she's the captain), thetiny creature gives a lonely little meow and then purrs much more loudly thanseems possible, pressing itself firmly into Sara's touch. She ignores thesnickers from the crew as she starts cooing to it and brings it to the med bay.

Gideon is able to clean up the stray without any trauma, revealinga gorgeous shade of gray under all the dirt. “The stowaway is male, approximately8 weeks old, a breed known as Russian Blue.” There's a pause as Sara continuespetting the happily rumbling feline. “While I don't officially recommend weadopt him, ship’s cats are known to be good luck, and this one seems entirelyunbothered by the stresses of time travel.”

Sara still doesn't mean to keep him. She figures at least one ofthe crew will object and be an annoyance, or maybe someone will be allergic,but everyone seems to find the kitten adorable (when he’s around her, anyway;they give him a wide berth when he's on his own), and Gideon is easily able tocounteract the allergens. She's not planning to keep him, though, she's reallynot.

But then she finds him curled around a deck of cards, the ones sheused with Leonard, the ones tucked away in a drawer in her room. She finds himthere anytime he sneaks off for a nap, and it results in a name: Ace.

And, well, she's named the cat and he obviously likes her (and herdeck of cards), so she can't very well evict him. He becomes something of amascot, greeting the crew every time they board, saving his affection for thecaptain. When others board, he treats them with regal disdain as long as theydon't try to pet him.

(There's a chorus of helpful don’ts from the crew the firsttime Felicity reaches for him, but it's too late. Luckily, he rewards her witha warning swat and doesn't draw blood.)

And then they stop in Star City for a break instead of a mission,and her father asks her to work anyway. He's got this person, see, who hearrested. Doesn't come up in the system, but Quentin knows he's seen the guybefore, and he found some old paperwork that supports his hunch.

“Guy's name is Leonard Snart,” he explains, and Sara comes to astop in the hallway leading to the holding cell. Quentin turns to look at her,concern and curiosity on his face. “Heard of him?” When she nods but doesn'telaborate, Quentin starts walking again. “Must be a big deal if you've heard ofhim on that ship of yours.”

Her throat is too tight to speak, so she just follows. It's beenso long, and he's dead. It can't really be him, can it? It's animposter, or a case of mistaken identity, or…

The cell comes into sight, its occupant sprawled out on the benchlike he owns the place. Any notion of his being anyone but who he appears to beflies out of Sara’s mind as his eyes meet hers, flashing with recognition andrelief before he adopts a casual smirk.

“Sara,” he says, and shit, he says it just like he used to, andshe sees her dad glance at her, trying to put together the pieces. Leonardstands, watching her, and Sara crosses her arms, looking him over in asdetached a way as she can.

He’s wearing the same thing he was at the Oculus, and he looksgood. Healthy and decidedly not dead.

“How are you here?” Sara asks, proud of the fact that her voiceremains steady.

“Well,” Leonard drawls, nodding at Quentin without breaking eyecontact, “Detective Lance here was kind enough to offer me a place to stay forthe night. I thought it would be impolite to refuse.”

Her dad huffs, and Sara turns to look at him. “He tried to rob abank,” he explains, clearly exasperated. “My bank. While I was there.”

“Weapon wasn’t even loaded,” Leonard says, voice dripping withmock sincerity. When Sara meets his eyes again, a bit of his armor drops. “Ihad to get your attention somehow.”

“Why didn’t you go to Team Flash?” she asks. “They know how to getahold of the Waverider.”

“I didn’t know what they knew,” he says. “Besides, there’s toomuch baggage there.”

His look reveals that he’s aware of the irony of his statement;there’s not exactly a lack of baggage between him and Sara, not at the moment.She watches him silently for a minute, and he quietly returns her look. With asigh, Sara breaks eye contact and looks at her father.

“Can you release him?” Sara asks. “He’s one of my crew.” She canalmost feel the interest radiating from Leonard at the casual statement. Itmatches the interest from her father at the entire interaction. For a fewseconds, she’s worried Quentin will decline until he’s heard the whole story(maybe even after he’s heard the whole story), and she’s so used to pushingaway the memories that she’s not entirely sure she’d manage it.

Instead, tension drains from her when he sighs and reaches for hiskeys.

Sara and Leonard are silent on the walk back to the Waverider. Sheneeds some answers, both as captain and as herself, but she wants to do it in theprivacy of the ship. Everyone else is gone, visiting family or friends. As sheand Leonard board, they’re greeted by a dignified mew, the little kittenpatiently awaiting her return. Sara bends to pet him automatically, thenstraightens. Leonard is watching her again.

“New crew member?”

“Captain’s cat,” she explains, which does nothing to diminish hiscuriosity. “His name is Ace.”

“Hmm.” Leonard crouches, and Sara’s customary warnings catch inher throat as she watches Leonard reach out, fingers curled back, posturenon-threatening, stopping an inch or so from making contact. Ace sniffsdelicately, then leans into Leonard’s hand. Leonard’s lips twitch as hecommences petting and scratching as the kitten demands.

Sara can’t even muster up any surprise. Leonard appears to be backfrom the dead; why shouldn’t her kitten who hates everybody like him?

Leonard winces as the cat climbs his arm, perching on hisshoulders and looking at him as if to ask why he isn’t getting on with it.Leonard chuckles softly (and no, Sara isn’t going to pay attention to howappealing that sound is) and stands, careful not to dislodge his passenger, wholooks perfectly at ease. Sara shakes her head, giving in to a smile, then leadsthe way.

Habit, she thinks, is what takes her to the bottom of the storagebay’s stairs. She doesn’t have their cards with her, but they’ve got Ace. WhenSara and Leonard sit, facing each other, Ace jumps down, trotting happily backand forth beside their legs before settling down, a little ball of gray fluffproviding warmth where he’s curled up against her calf, nestled happily betweenher and Leonard’s left legs.

Once the kitten is asleep, no longer actively providing adistraction, Sara looks up at Leonard, who’s already watching her.

“You died,” she says, not sure where else to start.

“So did you,” he says easily enough. “Some people are a little toostubborn to stay that way.”

“You know I need more than that, right?”

Leonard’s jaw works before he speaks. “I know. Don’t have muchmore than that, though. I remember being at the Oculus. I remember that kiss.”How the hell does he get so much heat into what should be a simple gaze? Saracan’t help the phantom sensations of her lips pressed desperately against his.“I remember seeing those Time Bastards realize they were done for. Then I wokeup in Star City. When I realized how much time had passed, I figured I shouldtry to track you down. Wasn’t sure who else might be safe.”

“So you went through my dad.” It feels like she should saysomething else, but what is there?

He nods, still watching her. Long seconds pass. “So, you’recaptain now?”

Oh, she could probably explain that. “Rip left. I took over.”Simplified some, sure, but she’s not ready to rehash everything in detail, andLeonard seems to accept that.

“And the cat?”

Sara smiles fondly at her pet, leaning forward to scratch underAce’s ear, and she’s rewarded with a loud purr, even though he doesn’t botheropening his eyes. “I didn’t mean to keep him, but he came on board and I didn’thave the heart to tell him to leave.” She swallows, feeling Leonard’s eyesstill on her.

“And what about me?” he asks. “Do I need to leave?” She looks athim, and he pulls up his virtual shield, eyes losing some of their intensity ashe shrugs. “I’m sure Barry would have me, either as teammate or annoyance. Notsure which I’d prefer.”

“You can stay, too,” she says, and there’s that intensity again,and she looks back down at the cat. He’s much safer to look at. “Ace approves,”she adds, “and he doesn’t approve of anybody. He’d probably never forgive me ifI kicked you out.”

They sit in comfortable silence until the crew starts returning,their peace disturbed by exclamations of surprise.

It’s a toss-up whether they’re more surprised at Leonard’s returnor at Ace’s adoration of him.

Only Mick stays silent, staring hard at Leonard before pulling himinto a tight hug, which Leonard returns. Ace objects, hissing at Rory, and Sarauses her amusement at the feisty little animal to ignore the stinging in hereyes.

Things on the ship settle into a new normal. Sara and Leonard goback to how they were before the Oculus, challenging and supporting each other,depending on what’s needed at the time. They don’t address the kiss, but theheat that’s always been between them remains.

Ace goes from “the captain’s cat” to “the captains’ cat” after Raypoints out that he follows Captain Lance and Captain Cold everywhere he can.The kitten alternates nights, looking put out when they separate to retire toindividual quarters, then stalking behind whomever belongs to him that night.Sara assumes that he curls up on top of Leonard’s feet every other night, justlike he does hers.

And then a mission goes south, almost irrevocably so, and shebarely makes it to the privacy of her quarters before she crashes her lips toLeonard’s. It’s desperate, just like the first time, full of the same need toconvey what she can’t with words.

Unlike the first time, Leonard’s hands are free, and he isn’tabout to die. He responds instantly, pulling her close, deepening the kiss andbacking them toward her bed.

Ace is pretty damned satisfied that night, but not as satisfied asSara.

Anyway, Sara doesn’t mean to keep him, not in her life oron her ship or in her bed, but she keeps him anyway. And as they fall asleepeach night, Ace purring happily atop their intertwined legs (because CaptainCold, it turns out, is a cuddler once he lets his walls down), she thinks thatadopting a stray is probably the best thing she’s ever done.

#captain canary #fluff #kitten #ship's cat #fixit #my fic #prompt fill #sorry for how late the last few prompt fills are #and thank you so much #and I hope you like this!#badassnyssa

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