#then he lined up about half the crowd (no more than 20 people) onto an old choral riser set that looked really similar to the one that was

[st-peculiar]

I’m officially losing it

[skylermadness]

A Minute in March (Ricky Matsui TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: March 31, 2022)

Original Description:

Say hello to the very first Dimension 20 TF in the world (probably)! This is a very long story I wrote alongside a friend of mine and I am so happy to finally share this! Ricky is honestly such a great character and to bring forth TF into him is something I am proud to do, especially something that ended up being 16 pages long in the end. This was definitely meant to be a silly thing since Ricky is frequently called Mr. March in the series, so I thought why not write a TF into him in March! I spent the past three months watching Dimension 20 and honestly it has been one of the best experiences I've had in a while! It is SUCH a great series and I fully recommend others watch it! Special thanks to my best friend for all the help editing this! They spent a lot of time doing so and I thank them so much...

   New York City.

   The Big Apple.

   A massive, metropolitan cityscape, home to towering skyscrapers, landmarks and monuments of all kinds, and a bustling population of over 8 million people- a city that never, ever sleeps. 

   Though, if we were here to go over every single one of them and what their deal was, we’d be here all day, amirite?

   We zoom in and find ourselves deep underground- this subway station is a crowded one, choked with people on their morning commute to work, just the same as our target… there. 

   Aaron Pearce, a man in his early 30s, wearing a dress shirt and tie, only slightly stained slacks, and a pair of loafers. He had been living in New York City for roughly a month at this point, having been sent here on a business trip by his company. It was a bit… jarring, at first, especially after having lived in a suburb for most of his life on the other side of the country- getting used to a life in the city where he’d see more people in a single day than he’d seen in his entire life up to that point could be uncomfortable at best, and downright suffocating at worst when he took the time to think about it. 

   But he’d settled down, for the most part. Gotten used to it as the weeks went on. He didn’t have the time to dwell on it, anyway- and honestly, who did, in this city? He had work to do.

   Suitcase in one hand, half-eaten bacon egg and cheese bagel in another, and phone squashed precariously between his ear, chin, and shoulder, half wishing he had an extra hand to keep the darn thing from falling to the ground and cracking again. Aaron’s eyes wander listlessly across the crowd of New Yorkers sprawled out across the subway, waiting for one subway line or another. Just like he was. …And that meant he was a New Yorker himself, didn’t it?

   Well… he wished it felt that way, at least.

   Aaron hastily swallowed another bite of his bagel to promptly respond to the co-worker on the other end of the call, who had just posed a question with the natural expectation for an answer. 

   “Yeah, I’ve got everything ready for the presentation today.” He mentally ran through the list of what he had planned for said presentation at work, then while he’s at it, jumped to another project he was working on, also for work. A moment later between the call and more bites of his bagel, Aaron idly looked down at his watch, and sighed. “Do these trains ever come on time?” A soft chuckle escaped his chest as he asked. He already knew the answer.

   “Not a chance- it’s a miracle we barely even get to work on time at all!” his co-worker, Marshall- also in New York on the same trip- laughs from the other end of the line.

   “Yeah- though, I could swear it’s never too late, y’know? Honestly, it sort of has it’s charm like that- at least its inconvenience is consistent, right?”

   “Sure seems that way. Personally, I genuinely believe it’d take nothing short of a literal act of magic to get these things to work on time.”

   Aaron rolled his eyes, a smile finding its way onto his face. “Yeah, and your taxis are so much better.”

   “Hm, sounds like someone’s jealous they didn’t integrate well enough to figure out how to taxi like a normal person.”

   Aaron shoved the last bit of his bagel in his mouth when the conversation lulled, letting his gaze drift over to follow the subway tracks and across all the waiting people. He found his own thoughts slowing as he chewed- a short moment of respite. That did not come often in his new routine. 

   Even rarer, did it come, when there was only a single thought on his mind.

   Shuffling his items around his now partially free arms to hold his phone properly again, Aaron swallowed his bagel quickly and spoke up, breaking the call's silence.

   "You ever think about living here… permanently? Outside the business trip, I mean."

   There was a short pause on the other end of the line, before Marshall answered him.

   "A little, yeah. I won't lie, there's a lot in this city that beats home hands down, but the public transit really stinks. Can't stand it."

   "Really? That's your only problem with this place?" Aaron snorted. He wondered if Marshall counted taxis as part of that judgment.

   "...I mean, pretty much? Why?"

   "I just think-" Aaron broke off and sighed. "I don't know… this is just such a nice place. Maybe it's the atmosphere, or the different weather from home, but- I just wish we didn't have to leave at the end of March."

   "You sure the paycheck bump isn't starting to get to you?" Marshall joked. "Come on, you know how much of a chokehold the company's got on our work shit. No chance they're letting us stay any more than we have to so they can drop our salaries back down again."

   Aaron blustered out a frustrated sigh. He knew that…

   "Please, I'm being serious."

   "Fine, fine, alright. …I wouldn't mind if I could stay living here for a bit longer either, I'll be honest. The food's great here, and my place is only a block away from the mall. That's walking distance! Crazy, right?" There's a sigh on the other end of the line. "I still don't think it's likely at all that the company would let either of us stay for longer- but hey, if it were to happen anywhere, it'd be here in the city of dreams now, wouldn't it?"

   There was no inflection in the end of Marshall's sentence outside the humor of an intended joke, but something about it had a feeling rising in Aaron's stomach that he couldn't parse. He opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden rushing of air and pressure and people announced to Aaron that his train had arrived, and snapped him out of that slight daze.

   "Oh, the sub's here, gotta go."

   “Well, if you want to hang up that much…”

   People started walking past Aaron towards the open subway cars, and he hastily gathered his work supplies to follow. 

   “I’m not going to be on my phone in the middle of public transit, that’s basic public manners.” Aaron shook his head as he approached the train. “I’ll see you at work today, but do you wanna meet up for coffee sometime later too?”

   “Sure, sounds good to me. Work’s got me by the wringer, but I’ll let you know when I’d be good to go. See ya at work, Pearce.”

   Aaron’s phone hung up without fanfare, but it left him with a slight pause before he moved further.

   “The city of dreams, huh…” he whispered to himself, feeling the weight of something he somehow knew he could hardly understand settle on his tongue. The thought did not leave his mind as he boarded the train.

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

   The subway car was just as crowded as the station had been, as usual. People took their seats or stood when necessary, smooshed up next to each other or having others jutt into their personal space, but they all mostly kept to themselves, retreating into their own personal bubbles as best they could amidst the uncomfortable arrangements- more unspoken public transit manners. Aaron followed suit, hastily opening up his suitcase and laptop inside it to work. His eyes ran over a PowerPoint file he had open, that he had been working on for two weeks now- an important, critical asset, highly crucial for the growth of the company and the industry as a whole. 

   …Or so the daily emails asking about progress updates went on and on about, as if the mere assurance of the company’s benefit from all the work and polish Aaron put into this would make the process any less of a dull slog. It’d be over soon, though, he just had to check for edits one last time before he arrived at work.

   Aaron focused in on his laptop, too engrossed in his work to notice anything else that might have been happening, just as the rest of the passengers were. Not one of them noticed the near invisible wisps of something beginning to flicker through the air, trailing down the length of the subway car, gathering together with more and more wisps until they had become a swarm distorting the very air. Not a single passenger saw the little motes of motes of golden light, the same color as the sun shining through and between the city skyscrapers, floating past in the same direction, bobbing gently among the invisible current. 

   No one saw, and the movements of the passengers on the subway car began to slow, gently, gradually, before being left absolutely still. Aaron began to fall still in turn, his mind attributing the sensation of time passing strangely to one that occured whenever he was working hard on something, and his attention slipped off of it without a second thought. But before he could fall victim to this strange fate his fellow passengers seemed to have fallen into, however, a new feeling rose in his chest instead- his stomach jumped like he'd gone over a speed bump too fast. But wasn't he on the subway, not in a car? 

   The rising pressure in his chest blurred his vision, and he rubbed his eyes a little in reflex. His vision cleared just in time for another golden orb of light floating just past his eyes- that he could see.

   Aaron's eyes flew wide open with shock as his gaze shot around the subway car, taking in the glowing golden lights, the wispy distortions, even the almost absurd lack of reaction from the other passengers. 

   Aaron distractedly shut his suitcase and laptop, his excessively checked and double checked presentation the furthest thing from his mind. He stood up, and lurched a bit- the subway car was still moving, and he quickly adjusted himself before he lost balance. Looking around at the other passengers, Aaron realized- gradually, haltingly, as if he were in a dream- that the others were not moving at all, or even breathing… like they had been frozen in time.

   Aaron was not sure where the idea had come from, but it did made sense, in the moment. Something strange going on with time would certainly explain why a stop hadn't been called in so long.

   Aaron walked down the aisle hesitantly, yet firmly, the subway car once familiar, now liminal. He stood against the wispy current, feeling actual pressure pushing against him, like a particularly strong wind. 

   In response the sensation in his chest grew, then bubbled up, and he blinked and gasped aloud. Whatever dream-like state he had been in, and whether it had only began when he stepped onto the subway or it had lasted for his whole life up to this point, he was awake and aware and alive- there was fear, and trepidation, and apprehension, but carried anticipation among it all.

   He reached the head of the car and watched the motes of golden light with cautious eyes. By now the wispy current had caught enough golden light of the orbs in its wake and refracted it, scattering it around and almost seeming to bathe the car around him in a warm golden haze. His skin and work attire stood out among the gold, the lone figure moving in a frozen gold world. Just to check, he waved a hand in front of a passenger he was walking by, and did not receive an annoyed glare in return. 

   Aaron shuddered and let out a sigh. The liminality of the space was starting to get to him.

   “Keep it together, come on.” He clapped his hands on his face and looked back through the subway car one last time. His eyes ran over the golden haze, the very air rippling and distorting in consistent enough ways as the ocean tide would, the numerous passengers frozen to the spot mid-movement, and stepped through the door to the next car.

   Peering through the doorway, Aaron saw that this car was in much the same situation as the last, with time seeming to stand still for all but the tide and the subway cars themselves, still rushing through the dark. No one else experiencing the same phenomenon to talk with, as he'd silently hoped for. When asking himself what exactly had caused all of this, Aaron was truly at a loss. It could be all just a dream, that had been his first guess, or maybe some sort of work-stress induced hallucination, but it felt a bit all too real to be simply that, he knew he was just fooling himself trying to believe it wasn't… 

   But wasn't the only other alternative that this was all real?

   Aaron went cross eyed as something passed in his vision too close to his face, snapping him out of the train of thought. Another larger mote of light, among thousands of others the size of golden dust, gently carried by the invisible current down the line of subway cars. 

   "What… are you?" Aaron's voice was barely a whisper, as if he was worried he'd startle it away if he spoke too loud. The light only continued to bob in response, like some sort of drunken gnat.

   Whatever it was, Aaron was almost certain it was connected to the time stop. He didn't even know what they were, but curiosity was beginning to get the better of him. Aaron reached out, and closed his hand around it.

   In an instant, a scene so vivid and real he could have mistaken it for one of his own memories flashed before his eyes.

   The building was burning. Smoke choked the air and the flames snapped at him from all sides. A child was clinging to him as he bolted through the ember filled halls, the air laid thick with heat. He was forced to swerve and dodge as a charred beam of wood collapsed in front of him, but he stayed calm, he knew what he had to do. Something- what he had- he had to do to-

   Aaron gasped and stumbled back, a headache hitting him and forcing him to release his grip. The golden mote of light still hung there in the air, though almost seeming a bit more subdued, while Aaron reconfigured. "What… was that? It almost felt like…"

   He trailed off as his gaze caught on the orb of light again. His panic subsided as he gazed into the golden glow, and felt… compelled to touch it again. It wasn't finished yet, he somehow knew. Incomplete. 

   He took a few steps forward, and his heartrate quickened as he reached out a hand and grasped it once more.

   -He knew what he had to do to save the kid.

   How familiar the vision felt, how real the sensations of adrenaline and determination shooting through his veins while it played out, how foreign it should have felt but didn't even feel wrong that it had placed him in the first person perspective, it almost felt like…

   "…Like a memory…" Aaron breathed, letting it play out within his mind once more.

   His breathing quickened, and with each breath something began to settle within him. At first was the feeling of warmth- not scorching and ravaging, like the memory of fire had been- but a gentle warmth enveloping him, like someone bigger and stronger than him that he knew with a certainty would protect him no matter what was wrapping him up in a protective, caring hug. 

   Aaron somehow felt more comfortable and safe than he'd felt in the longest time- but his breathing didn't relax. His breaths instead began to deepen and strengthen, seeming to fill out his body as it began to grow. His frame expanded, shoulders broadening and shaped itself out into a sculpted, almost intoxicatingly masculine form. His shirt very quickly seemed to stretch taught under the pressure as his chest barreled out, and almost sent him doubling over. Pectorals inflated and solidified into thick slabs, together forming a massive shelf that hung over a set of hard abdominals pushing forward- all visible through his shirt, straining at the buttons.

   Still carefully drinking in everything the memory had to offer, Aaron absently reached up his free hand to loosen his tie, to the relief of his neck thickening to match the proportions of his new frame. The sleeves of his dress shirt began to tighten in turn, the delts and biceps and triceps swelling and further filling out the projected shape of masculinity his shoulders had established. His larger, stronger lungs began to find- not difficulty, but rather resistance, in the form of his dress shirt- now seeming almost comically small on his larger, powerful torso. 

   Aaron groaned and rubbed at a building headache, inadvertently releasing his grip on the mote of light and missing that it had completely disappeared from the space it had been in when he grasped it. He undid a button or two of his dress shirt- god, he could have sworn it felt fine this morning- and glanced around at the golden haze, even more of the bobbing golden motes of light drifted down the line, carried by the tide.

   "There's so many-" His throat went dry and closed up, he coughed a bit to clear it and tried again. "There's so many more of these little things, huh…" Wait- was that his voice? Did it sound different than before? It did sound different, didn't it- it was deeper, and there was an inflection in his voice that he couldn't place. 

   Aaron walked through the fog of gold and amidst more of those glowing golden lights, watching them closely. Part of him didn't want to bother with them further, they were most definitely related to what was happening to the other passengers. But that part was drowned out the more he thought about that memory, and how comfortable it had felt. It had been of an extremely dire situation, yes, but there had been an overwhelming sense of positivity and optimism emanating through the demeanor he held and the way he carried himself. Like he could save the day. Like everything was going to turn out alright. Like…

   "Nothing bad is ever going to happen to us…" Aaron whispered to himself, finishing the thought. In an instant, with reflexes he had not ever thought himself capable of before, he reached out his arm and his hand snapped shut around another mote of light floating lazily past him. His eyes widened at the sight of his new defined, muscled arm before he was swept up in another memory.

   Smoke. He could smell it on the wind, even just the faintest traces of it, miles and miles away from him and his jurisdiction. A series of scenes flashed soon thereafter, of dashing through the streets of New York, of diving into the freezing waters of the New York Bay, of swimming at what must have been nigh-superhuman speed- the ferry wasn't fast enough. All powered by that strong, ever present desire to help, and to save whoever was in danger, that simply permeated his everyday life. That sense of…

   Of…

   "…Civic duty…"

   Aaron's arms swelled further, bulkier and muscular, as the memory continued to play, accepting it as his own. The musculature of his arms was left rock solid and truly bulging out of the sleeves of his dress shirt. Strong enough for hugs, of course, and strong enough to protect. His hands followed suit shortly after, widening palms and thickening fingers to match his larger arms, and Aaron felt the power, his power, surge through them. The strength his upper body carried was very clearly not a brutish type- but rather, a kind one.

   More memories began to play- if Aaron could wrench his focus away from the visions playing in his mind, he'd see the motes of light gravitating towards him on their own, rather than aimlessly following the tide, bringing their own distinct memories- now his. As the lights began to coalesce, Aaron felt another feeling rise within him, like a light illuminating in his chest and coursing through his body, that shined the same gold as the dust around him. The light of warmth, comfort, civic responsibility and duty filled his body and mind, and he couldn’t help but relax as the light made its home in his mind. Had he been clenching his jaw so hard this whole time? Aaron rolled his broad shoulders and thick neck, smoothing out all the kinks that he’d been used to from hunching over a computer for work all day, and found his face slipping into a more relaxed grin. It was all of a sudden even harder to be worried about the “critical asset” that he needed to prepare for his work- he wanted to help people, more than anything, and the only thing the presentation would do would be helping the company. And the company wasn’t a person- so it just wasn’t as important to Aaron anymore, his priorities shifting with his demeanor as that civic light filled his mind. The train of thought made perfect sense to him.

   The memory of swimming through the New York Harbor returned, and in the memory… he reached the remains of a burnt down house, somewhere on an island that he’d smelled the smoke of miles away. Aaron recalled the details that came after- there were no casualties, thankfully, and the friend of his that had been living in the house had been safe elsewhere at the time of the fire-

   “Wait, I… no, that’s not right…” Aaron stepped back, laying a hand on his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut. The memories were foreign, of someone else’s life, the memories were his, they were real and he’d lived through them, the memories were changing his mind somehow, the memories were confirming who he was- thoughts swirling around in his mind almost made him dizzy. Rather unhelpfully, in that moment he registered that his body was largely different from before, to which all he could think to react with was slightly furrowing his brows and uttering, “That’s definitely not right either…”

   But something about it did feel right to him. All of his apprehension and fear when first approaching the lights had all but completely melted away, and he didn’t want to fear it either, anymore. He wanted to embrace it.

   He lifted up a hand, smiling a bit as he took note of just how big it was, and felt around his body a little- squeezing his wrist, then his arm, occasionally trailing a finger down the noticeable indents his arm muscles had carved into the sleeves of his poor dress shirt. His hand drew over to above his heart, where the warm feeling felt the strongest.

   Not because it was also where most of his massive pectorals were. Nor did he leave his hand resting on said pectorals for more than just a few moments. Nor did he play with them.

   Thankfully because of the spot Aaron left his hand, he felt his chest expanding further sooner than he would have otherwise, giving him enough time for his large hands to clumsily undo the rest of the dress shirt’s tiny buttons before disaster struck. And not a moment too soon- Aaron’s eyes widened in awe as his abdominal muscles chiseled out into a rippling 8-pack, and the shelf formed by his pectorals jutted out even further, reaching their peak- at least, the result of all the hard work and working out he’d taken to get there. He was almost tempted to flex, just to show off his gains- but given the state of his strained clothes, that likely wasn’t a good idea, for now. He took to tracing his fingers around more of his bodily muscles like he did with his arms, instead- and while it did feel a bit silly and self indulgent of Aaron, it also felt… fine. There was nothing wrong with showing off his body like this- even unprompted on the subway, though he himself did feel a bit guilty for it, this was New York- people have seen weirder. Hell, he’d seen weirder, even before he was inducted into the Unsleeping City. 

   But nonetheless, it was all starting to feel more right. It was starting to feel like him.

   It really was him.

   The conclusion seemed to unlock something within him, setting off another wave of changes- this time to his work attire rather than his body. The ever-faithful dress shirt still barely clinging to his body was finally allowed its rest, as it loosened and reached over his uncovered torso to hide it again- buttons disappearing and shirt halves joining together by themselves, shirt collar disappearing into a plain shirt neck, sleeves rolled up and turned to a clear blue hue while the torso of his shirt stayed a clean white- the new nice, casual t-shirt was still quite snug enough to be… pretty revealing.

   His tie undid itself and slithered down his shirt and through the belt loop holes of his slacks, though to his surprise it instead lost color and mass until it was nothing but a white string- the use of which became apparent as his pants changed next. Aaron’s nice slacks lightened from black to gray and the fabric softened to cottony material, becoming a comfortable, loose pair of sweatpants- with a white drawstring quickly tying itself into a knot at his waist. He found himself smiling softly as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his new sweatpants, reaching much deeper than the slacks could carry.

   The pair of loafers he wore were last to go- the slick, black cloth reshaping into something more useful, well-worn, comfortable. Aaron held out a foot to watch as the changes settled in, a roughness inlaid in the material, the laces tied messily, a tongue emerging from the top as they formed into a pair of black, yellow, and white sneakers, perfect for walking or running places easily, and safe for swim in water with. It’s good to be prepared, especially after an incident like last time.

   Aaron set his foot down and let out a content sigh. His pants and shoes felt a bit big, but he didn’t doubt that would be resolved soon. He glanced down the length of the subway car in both directions. Most of the little light orbs in this car were gone, having been attracted to the man almost magnetically and absorbed, but there were still some stragglers hanging back around toward the car he had come from. He nodded to himself, “Well, might as well finish cleaning up while I’m here.”

   The next few seconds could not pass quickly enough- he took step after step towards the door, and the motes of light began to draw closer to the man in return, eager to gather around him and be absorbed, in rapid succession than slow, one at a time, like they had before. 

   Memories played out again and again, but this time the man neither winced nor closed his eyes to think about them separately, consciously. Locations, people, contexts, so much was being given to him, the unfamiliar becoming natural, the strange suddenly making sense. It was a little headache inducing, but he wasn’t afraid. He knew he was going to like his new life… or rather, he liked his life, craziness and all. That was what he meant, right?

   While the floodgates were broken and memories poured in, the rest of his body made to fit the rest of what had already been changed. Each step he took, his leg muscles grew larger, thicker. Strong quads and hamstrings and bulging calves, perfect for running or bringing help to those who’d need him. His sweatpants seemed less and less loose as his legs grew- his glutes in particular growing to fill out his pants quite nicely. At the end of his legs his feet grew larger, filling out the sneakers properly with their size.

   One last sensation began to well up in the man’s large chest- one that he quickly recognized as his own magic aura of protection, emanating its calming presence as it always did- but for some reason, the man felt he could really feel its effects on himself, as if he hadn’t felt it for a while. He laid a hand on the door back to his old car, his eyes flicked back to the haze tinted gold. He didn’t need to activate his divine senses to recognize it as raw umbra bubbling up from the World of Dreaming again, like in the months leading up to Null’s attack on the city. But why was it here now…?

   Another deep breath, calm, warm. He could bring it up with the friend he was meeting up for tea with, if it struck the man as concerning enough. That’s where he was going that he decided to take the subway to travel to, right? It’d be nice to see them again, his friends’ names on the tip of his tongue.

   He let his eyes close and felt a bit of numbness run through his skull, as his facial structure reconstructed himself. His head grew a little larger and wider to fit the rest of his body proportions, jawline shifting into a handsome, masculine one. So many little touches, in his nose, his ears, his chin, preparing him for the man he was ready to become. His hair deepened to jet black, the style eagerly shifting from combed to short and messy, endearingly so.

   The signs of a lifelong New Yorker set deep into his face, his posture, his attitude. His old knowledge of the inner machinations of corporate enterprises faded into a network of important safety information. His suddenly renewed affinity for maintaining his personal fitness and helping others with their own brought a smile to his face as he pushed open the door.

   Ricky Matsui walked back into the subway car, back towards his seat.

   He couldn’t really remember why he’d gotten up in the first place, but those questions were pretty quickly dismissed when he saw the golden-tinted raw umbra still permeating the subway car, all the passengers still stuck in time. 

   …He wasn’t sure what to do about that, still. Whoops. Although- there was at least one noticeable difference that Ricky hadn’t noticed from before when he entered the car.

   Stumbling around down the aisle, knocking into time-frozen passengers and snarling at anyone they touched, was a werewolf. They had coarse, brown fur covering most of their body, and a thick mane of slightly more well groomed fur surrounding their head, though it had seen better days. Bits of fur poke out of holes from their denim jacket, undershirt, and severely torn up pants, though some may have been from intentional styling as such rather than accidents. They also seemed to be missing a shoe, revealing a large clawed paw.

   If the lack of reaction from any of the passengers were any indicator, the werewolf seemed pretty out of place. It could be another manifestation of anti-populi, which Ricky could dispatch here and now if that was the case… his eyes flicked over to his silver bat he’d left at the side of his seat. For one strange moment, the thought of swinging it like a club to attack someone almost seemed absurd and silly- before he blinked and remembered that’s how baseball bats were used in the first place. He shook away the strange thought and returned to the most pressing matter.

   It didn’t really seem likely that they had to do with anti-populi, though, since it seemed to be localized to just one person. Ricky sniffed the air with his enhanced sense of smell, and tasted the smell of alcohol coming from the creature’s muzzle. Poor guy must have been pretty drunk, and badly handling it- he might be the violent type, based on the way he was acting. But maybe if Ricky could just calm him down a little…

   Ricky cautiously trodded towards the seat the werewolf had collapsed into, and sat down in the open empty seat next to them, actually a few seats down from where he got up from. Throwing up Calm Emotions on top of his Aura of protection, he opened with a simple “Hey.”

   The creature’s eyes focused in on him from where they were darting around erratically. They growled for a moment, then sputtered in a guttural, yet vaguely Irish accent, “…hey.”

   “You, uh… doin’ alright?”

   They snarled instead of answering, and irritatedly scratched their arm, inadvertently adding a few more rips to their jacket.

   Ricky hummed. That was pretty stupid of him to ask. “What’s your name?”

   The werewolf practically scowled at him. “Jawbone. Jawbone O’Sss..” his speech slurred a little, “...ssh..shaughnessey.”

   “I’m Ricky Matsui,” Ricky reciprocated, giving his full name back, with a smile and a thumbs up. Something about the gesture tugged a bit of a smile on Jawbone’s muzzle, but he turned away and scratched himself some more, and harder. Ricky raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about what’s got you, uh, real bummed?”

   “‘m drunk on a train, fer one thing,” Jawbone glanced around at the subway car and its frozen passengers. “Wrong train, too. I tried to get off before it started moving, but too many people got in the way and nobody even looks at me when I ask for directions. Nobody ‘til you now, anyway…”

   “Yeah. I think something weird is going on, on top of all that? In like, the magic kind of weird, I mean. Uh, you’re really scratching yourself a lot, are you good-”

   “Allergies.” Jawbone snapped, growling at the other passengers again, who remained blissfully unaware. “Apparently these arseholes don’t seem to know it’s polite to conceal their silver in public spaces!” Jawbone raised his voice through the sentence and spat out the last part.

   Ricky’s thoughts immediately jumped to his magic silver baseball bat and winced. 

   “Uhh, hold on-” Ricky leaned back over to his seat and knocked over his bat, and rolling it under the seat it was leaning against. Thankfully, that was the only thing he had brought with him on the subway. “Sorry about that, realized it was at least partly my fault-” Ricky startled a bit when Jawbone just seemed to start crying at the gesture. “Hey, hey, it’s okay!’

   “It… it really ain’t,” the werewolf choked out between sniffles, “This entire day has been utter shite. First I forgot to take my meds before heading to work, hoped I wouldn’t get sensory overload, got sensory overload, you know how it is. Didn’t bring any backup medication on me either, so I had to improvise and tried snorting some drugs I had on me to help, but didn’t- turns out something I thought was cocaine was actually something else I’d never even heard of before, that I’m not even sure was drugs! No idea how I got to this place, I don’t know where the hell I am, and as best I can gather I’m not even on a train bound for out of the city!” Jawbone began pouring out, Ricky doing his best to support Jawbone physically before he collapsed from a stroke, or something.

   Ricky rubbed Jawbone’s shoulder, and when he didn’t resist, brought him closer into a consoling hug. “I’m sorry, that sounds really messed up.”

   “Ricky, you’re… the only person who’s actually noticed me and talked to me this… entire time,” Jawbone sniffled between hiccups.

   A soft, golden glow began to emanate from Ricky’s hand as he rubbed the werewolf’s shoulder. “Hey, I bet I could help you. I’ve lived in New York all my life, I’ve gotten the hang of the subways pretty well, I can help you get back on track, once we hit a stop and I, uh, know where we are at the moment.”

   The sniffling began to slow as not only Ricky’s calming, civic aura helped wash away Jawbone’s anxiety and fears, but even the mundane act of someone offering to help in his time of stress helped bring Jawbone back from the angry, hostile mess he’d been earlier. 

   “Yeah… yeah, I’d like that…” The werewolf looked up at Ricky’s face one more time, with a look in his eye that was likely meant to look different when not drunk and potentially high. “Gods, annyone ever tell ya yer hot as Ffffffffffffffuc-k?” Jawbone popped that last -k out loud in his mouth, then groaned to himself. “Uuuugh, ‘m usually way better at this, even when smashed, I swear…”

   Ricky laughed in spite of himself. “Sorry, I’ll have to ask my partner about it before we think of adding a third.” He’d give Jawbone the chance to make a better first impression than this encounter before he made any solid judgments himself, too. “But yeah, I do get recognized a lot as Mr. March from the Firefighters’ calendar. Or at least, the 2019 version…”

   The two of them sat there and talked for what felt like hours, Ricky talking about his friends, and Esther, and his time being a firefighter, and Jawbone told him about some wild and often drug filled escapades, rattling off lists of drugs so many drugs and the amazing partners he’d had in the past, surprising Ricky that Jawbone had apparently settled down and was a dad himself too- well, Ricky wasn’t one yet, but he would be one very soon- and gotten a job as a school guidance counselor. Jawbone hadn’t itched or scratched once, and Ricky’s aura seemed to really calm him down. He felt so calming, even talking to Ricky was a soothing experience.

   As time went on, or rather didn’t go on, it was a surprise for the both of them when the train sounded the soft ding that played before a stop was called. “Now arriving, Elmville Station.”

   Jawbone’s wolfish ears perked up. “Elmville… that should be my stop…”

   Ricky grinned and gave his shoulder a little shake. “Hey, that’s great! Maybe you weren’t on the wrong train after all.”

   “I uh… maybe.”

   Jawbone stood up, a little shakily, as the subway began to slow. The doors opened once fully stopped, and Jawbone made to walk over, but paused to give Ricky a wave of departure. Ricky beamed back at him and gave a wave back. With one last pang of warmth in his chest, Jawbone only slightly stumbled leaving the cars- onto a station platform that looked to have been built outdoors in the open air, that Ricky didn’t recognize. It almost looked more like a classic railway station than a subway stop.

   Ricky wasn’t given too much of a chance to dwell on it, though, as the doors closed and the subway began moving again. Ricky watched as the golden haze of raw umbra finally began to dissipate and the other passengers began to move again, continuing about their business as if nothing had ever happened. Ricky didn’t have any business to work on himself, he was just there for the ride to Pete’s tea shop-bookstore, but he was glad that everyone in the area was safe. 

   …There was a strange sense of finality that hung in the air, now that he was back in the waking world, but he couldn’t tell why or what for.

   He shrugged.

   “At least this would make a nice story to tell Cody.”

   As if on cue, the train dinged and Ricky’s stop was called. He didn’t know what that feeling meant, or what caused it, but somehow, he was almost certain it wasn’t a bad thing. A part of him that seemed to know better than he himself did seemed to prefer it, even. Whatever “it” was.

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

   “Dude, wait, so you’re telling me you saw a werewolf on the subway and he was just. Chill?”

   “Yep. I mean, no, he was pretty down on his luck, but he turned out alright when I helped him out.”

   “Dope… that’s got to be like, the coolest werewolf on a subway story I’ve ever heard. Even though I only knew of one other before this one.”

   Ricky was definitely right, Cody did end up hooked hearing about this experience of his.

   “Yeah, and he told me a lot of stories about doing crazy stuff while on a lot of drugs- some of which sounded made up, but like, I don't do drugs myself so I couldn't tell anyway."

   "That’s so cool, dude. So wait, like- if he was on the wrong line, you think he might've been from Jersey or something?"

   Ricky sighed. “Honestly, I hope not. I don’t think I could take Esther to go visit him if he was, even if I was sure I wanted to.” He shook his head. “But I dunno. Part of me was thinking it could have also been anti-populi, but it seemed a bit too localized for that. Maybe it’s just weird dream world stuff?”

   Their friend Pete arrived from nearby, pouring them refills of tea from his arcane focus teapot, which also served just delicious tea. “Might be- but I think it might have been part of something weird going on instead, I’ve been getting some weird vibes between the Waking and Dreaming worlds lately.”

   Cody looked at Pete in surprise. “Damn- you think it’s that serious?”

   Pete nodded. “I was gonna message the group about it earlier, but I was bit busy to do it until you reminded me just now, actually.” He pulled out his phone and started texting with one hand, preparing to close the shop with the other. “You guys up for checking it out today?”

   “Yeah, my shift at the Fairyland park ended an hour ago, so I’m good to go. You, Ricky?”

   “Yep, I’ll text Esther and let her know.”

   Even though they were only in the researching and planning stage, a glow of anticipation lit up in Ricky Matsui’s heart. The time to once again help and protect New York City from danger he could feel was fast approaching, and he could not wait to stand together with his fellow Heroes of New York to do so.

[fict1onallyobsessed]

I was wondering if I can make a request for Yelena. I was thinking of something along the lines of her meeting the reader (you decide how) and at first being really closed off and, not exactly rude but, just Yelena being Yelena y'know, not allowing anyone to be close to her. But reader ends up noticing how Yelena is always so alone and not enjoying life, so she decides to introduce her to little things she maybe never tried, like a certain ice cream or fun activity. And Yelena slowly starts to fall for her, like a lot, and she's scared because she's never felt like that and she thinks that her feelings are definitely not reciprocated, but they are. Could you make it emotional but also cute with Yelena also realizing just how touch starved she is, and how she misses the company when she's alone? Thanks you're amazing.

Introductions Matter

Yelena Belova x Reader

Ty for the request!

Natasha had introduced Yelena to the avengers all but three days ago. You were immediately told about her past and how far away she could seem, especially with not being around so many people at the same time.

You knew better than to violate her boundaries, but something in you told you to get to know her. There was a certain glimpse in her eyes when she made eye contact with you. An unsure expression you couldn’t quite place. Steve said he noticed it too.

Regardless, you took your time to even talk to her. Too scared about pushing her further away. In a way, you were told she was similar to Nat when you first joined the Avengers. She wasn’t exactly happy about new people joining, so becoming distant and cold was her way of finding out more about you.

Yelena however, didn’t seem threatening when she walked into the room. You could see she was tense, on guard but not a much as Nat used to be. She didn’t send frowns to people if they looked at her, but rather small smiles if she saw someone looking at her.

Overtime, you noticed the little things she’d do. If the compound became too crowded in one space, she’d leave. If someone started yelling, she’d leave. If someone made a remotely loud noise, she’d leave.

You took it upon yourself to make her comfortable, even though it would take a while. Natasha was doing her best but she was a regular on missions, so there wasn’t a time where she was fully focused on anything other than mission reports or mission themselves.

Walking into the kitchen, you took a note of the blondes presence leaning over the island. You needed to get a drink anyway before you left, so might as well see if she was up for a chat.

“Hey.” You greeted her, just like every single other time you saw her standing alone. She merely nodded, playing around with the cup in her hand not even close to finishing the water in it.

As you were filling your own drink, an idea popped into your head.

“I’m going out to the shops, do you want to come? I’ll show you around town if you’d like.”

She looked over her shoulder and thought about it for a bit. Even if she said no; Who were you not to try?

“Sure.” She stood straight, pouring the water down the sink before placing it down. You nodded, a smile threatening to etch onto your face. With a nod, you started walking towards the hallways, Yelena a foot behind.

You told her more and more about the town and historical information if she seemed interested. To your delight, she did, and about half an hour into your walk, she started asking questions herself.

Eventually it was becoming too dark to see, so as grown adults, you decide to head in for the night. Although Yelena didn’t seem for the idea.

“Oh, come on.” She whined playfully as you told her you should go back. “We’re literally Avengers. What’ll happen?”

You eyebrows rose, but a smile remained. She’s not been vocal with you since now, not this vocal anyway. You could barely get a hi in the corridors.

With a chuckle, you nodded.

“There’s an ice rink 20 minutes from here. If we run, they still might let us on.”

She looked at you confused. You laughed and reached down to grab her hand before pulling her in the direction of the ice rink.

She gasped when she saw it. A tree stood right new to the rink, colourfully dressed up in lights. It was a week before Christmas so the streets were bound to be lit up with brightly coloured lights and decorations.

You spend hours outside. After you both got into the rink, and failed horribly at keeping balance even with being Avengers, you ran around town looking for different things for Yelena to see. In all honesty, it was Yelena dragging you around now, excited to see what the new amazing looking thing was.

By the time you went back into the compound it was 2:03 am. Way past your bed time, if you like. Both of you were smiling and talking about how you almost fell on your face in the ice, then how you held into the sides for the rest of the time there.

“We should totally get ice cream tomorrow.” You said and she nodded happily, finally reaching the compound living room where you had to leave to your own rooms.

“Where have you been?” Natasha voice rang out. She leaned her body on the door frame, with that little smirk she does. “I thought you went missing.”

“We weren’t gone that long.” You resorted, looking at the clock. “Oh.”

Nat laughed, pushing herself off the frame so she could stand straight. You said your goodnights and went to your own rooms. Well, you did. Yelena was talking to Nat about everything you’d shown her today, which led her into staying in Natasha’s room for the night.

You smiled as you laid down on your bed. You’d got to knew her far more than you thought you would’ve. Far quicker too.

Maybe your plan worked.

It didn’t occur to you or to her that you’d touched her. Or how much it would affect her - in a positive way - or at least she hoped it was. She only noticed it when she was laying in Nat’s bed, the sudden need for your hand in hers again.

She was so confused at the feelings she was feeling. I mean, you met her a month ago and you know suddenly know everything about her family, as she did yours.

She felt a little embarrassed for just throwing information about herself at you, but then again relieved that she could talk to someone and not have a care in the world for a bit. She was always cautious, but with you it felt like she was free without the need of being on guard constantly.

For days, she’d ask you to go in a walk with her even if it was just to talk. Ever since she was separated from her ‘parents’ she’s not felt a single ounce of joy. But now with you by her side, it felt different. A better different.

You showed her the little things that she probably missed out as a child. You taught her how to ride a bike, since only Natasha knew how to do that. You volunteered to put up the Christmas tree this year, so you could have Yelena try. You took her to zoos, amusement parks, Disneyland. Anything that you thought would make her relive the childhood she was deprived of. You’d do anything to see the cute pout she does, always followed by a smile.

You also made sure to give her the little things, like hugs and reassurance. You doubted she got hugged regularly, and if she did you don’t think she remembered it. So, when you got comfortable enough, like barge into your room without knocking and not be bothered comfortable, you gave her little random hugs.

She appreciated them greatly, so much so that it annoyed Nat to have to listen to her rants about it everyday.

“What the fuck did you do to Yelena?” Natasha stormed into your room, immediately heading for your bed. She looked tired, and you rarely saw Natasha tired. She was the one to tell you to go to sleep at a sensible time, yet today seemed different.

“Excuse me?” You spun in your chair, watching as she climbed onto your bed. Her eyes were already closed, an exhale leaving her mouth. You wanted to laugh, but you didn’t want to mess with a grouchy Natasha.

“She won’t shut the fuck about you.”

“Why are you in my bed, then?”

“Because she spoke all night about you, and how kind you are, and how you do this and that. It’s your fault I couldn’t sleep, so I’m in your bed.” There was a long pause. “And I need to get away from her talking.”

This time you laughed a smile etching into your face and you’d pin back in your chair and got back to your mission reports. Nat was sleeping by the time you finished, so you let her nap as you left to deliver the reports to Maria.

Unknowing of the time for your new mission, you sat in the living room, watching whatever was on the TV until FRIDAY called you to the plane hanger.

Yelena walked in and sat next to you, close enough so your things were touching. You didn’t mind, even though there was three other sofas for her to sit on. You smiled at her as she got comfy next to you before looking back at the TV.

She was far too interested at the screen to notice your staring at her. You replayed Natasha’s words in your mind as you watched her eyebrows furrow in confused at whatever the TV was playing. Eventually, she yawned and she heard you chuckle.

At his point she was leaning on you, your hand over the back of the sofa as her body pressed up against your side. You liked the warmth, clearly so did she.

Looking over at you, she rolled her eyes as she yawned again.

“Didn’t sleep?” You chuckled.

She shook her head, looking around nervously. “Nat kept me up.”

Another laugh threatened to escape your lips but you kept quite, trying to buy into her awful lie. Of course Natasha didn’t, it was her to keep Nat awake.

She looked up at you, catching your gaze as you continued to stare at her. Silence enveloped the room, even though the TV was still playing, all you could focus on were her eyes.

Nothing was said. Nothing really needed to be said as you leaned down and pressed your lips against hers. She didn’t kiss back immediately, too stunned to even breathe. Finding no sigh of refusal, you cupped her face with in of your hands to bring her closer.

That’s when she came back down to earth. All she could focus on was your soft lips against hers, something she didn’t know she needed until now.

You pulled away, keeping your face close to her, looking for a reaction. When you got nothing but heavy breaths and a cheek-pink Yelena, you smiled.

Seeing her flustered wasn’t something you thought you’d never witness, so you looked over her features, collecting every little detail you could find before her cheeks went back to their natural colour.

“You owe me 20 bucks.” Sam said from the door frame. Steve signed, digging in his pocket for the money he was about to lose.

THE END

Taglist: @emily0013 \\ @xxromanoffxx \\ @emilyprentisslittlewhore

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

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

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

What You're Looking For (myg)

Summary: Yoongi's definitely falling in love with you, but he's hesitant to tell you because as an idol, he can't give you what you're looking for.

Warnings: public sex, some possessive behavior, vaginal fingering, little bit of degradation

Word Count: 3633

A/n: A Yoongi commission, hope you enjoy!

Being an idol isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, the money is nice, he doesn’t have to worry about bus fare or how he’s going to eat each week. He can write songs anytime he wants to, has use of all this impressive equipment that his pre-debut self would have lost his mind over. The fame, on the other hand, is something that Yoongi struggles with.

He can’t exactly leave his apartment and go to the store for ramen and beer anymore. He can’t exactly walk to the bus station and go down to the park, feed the birds like he used to. He also can’t take anyone out on a date, which pre-debut Yoongi would have never dreamed of doing, anyway.

But now he’s on the wrong side of his 20’s and actually dating is something he wants to do and can’t, not just because of his fame but also because of contracts. It isn’t as if their manager had sat them down and said absolutely no dating, but it’s certainly implied. Their schedules are tight enough that there’s only a few hours of free time per week, and that’s not on accident, Yoongi knows.

Pre-debut Yoongi had been so focused on music, so focused on making it that now, once he’s made it, he longs for something more simple. Writing lyrics on bar napkins while chatting up a girl, for one. Taking someone out on a dinner date to that diner he likes by his apartment. He imagines that he might take her hand while they walk there, swing it back and forth, make her smile.

He does, in fact, meet you while he’s scribbling song lyrics on a bar napkin, but instead of taking you out on a date, he has to sneak you back to his apartment in a black car, pulling his cap over his face. You know who he is, he knows that much by the blush on your cheeks, but you keep insisting you don’t know much about kpop and he believes you.

Yoongi blames the soju for how he kisses you in the elevator, aggressively, backing you up against the door, but you lean into him, make this little sound into his mouth and the next thing he knows he’s waking up with your bare arm across his waist and he’s panicking because he’s got practice in less than an hour.

“Fuck,” he curses softly when he extricates himself, because you look so pretty and peaceful and he’s got to wake you up and usher you out like some kind of dirty little secret and it makes his heart clench in his chest.

He calls your name, softly, and when you stretch he can see that tattoo on your stomach, the one he'd traced with his fingers last night, and then his tongue.

Yoongi knows he's blushing, can feel the heat in his face, so he turns his face away.

"Um," he starts, and then he hears the sheets shuffle.

"Oh! Sorry, I should go." Your voice sounds husky from sleep and Yoongi almost reaches out to grab your wrist as you pick up your dress from the floor.

He doesn't, and you go with an awkward peck on his cheekbone that he swears he can feel on his skin for days.

Things go on like that, for the weeks he's on break and after, through texts and Facetime calls, for months. It's always rushed and sexy and he always has to go before he wants to, and he hates it.

He finds that the girl he'd thought about taking on dates and holding hands with seems to now have your face, after a while. All his fantasies, sexual and otherwise, start to involve your smile.

Pre-debut Yoongi only fantasized about music, about standing on a stage belting out his truths, cutting pieces of himself to bleed onto paper so that someone would see him, finally, so that someone would know him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have scoffed at him for wanting only one person to know him, one person to see him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have called him an idiot, for falling in love.

You never imagined yourself in a situationship with an internationally famous rapper, despite the fact that you weren't overly familiar with his work when you'd met.

You certainly can't call it dating, since it culminates in having a few drinks and hooking up at his apartment or, during one particularly hazy night, in the backseat of a hired Escalade.

He's often out of the country, and on occasion he'll call you in the middle of the day, which is the middle of the night for him, ask you how you are, and eventually, what you're wearing.

You're trying not to look too far into it, not read into how soft his voice sounds when you Facetime and he tells you how beautiful you look, not think there might be something more in the way he wraps you in his arms after sex, plants soft kisses on the back of your neck.

It's fun, it's casual, and there's no reason to need more.

There are other guys that you've had similar situations with, and this is no different.

Maybe it's Yoongi's face that floats in front of your eyes when you're just about to fall asleep, but he doesn't have to know that.

You find yourself stopping yourself from texting him first, and you tell yourself it’s because he’s so busy but you know it’s because you feel too much.

You know his schedule, he emails it to you once a month, and while that seems like a good sign it isn’t as if after months of hooking up, you’ve ever had a conversation about where your relationship stands.

So, one Friday night, you know he’s in town and you know he’s free and when he doesn’t text or call, it feels like bees are buzzing under your skin.

Instead of staring at your phone in an effort to will it to ring, you call a friend and plan a girl’s night out. That’s what you need, anyway, a night where you can drink with your friends and flirt with men you’ll never see again.

You don’t need Yoongi’s low mumble in your ear, making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world.

Yoongi tells himself he doesn’t spend every moment of his free time with you, but he definitely does spend the majority of it at least thinking about you. The way your skin feels under his hands, the slow tilt of your crooked smile. The way sometimes you snort when you laugh too hard and you’re not even ashamed about it.

He babbles all of this out to Jimin and the younger just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hyung, you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi feels his face flushing. “N-no. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Hm. Okay, hyung.” Jimin says dryly, and Yoongi shoves him playfully with the heel of his hand.

“You going out tonight?” Yoongi asks, suddenly, and immediately regrets it when Jimin’s eyes light up.

“Are you gonna come with me this time?” Jimin bounces on the couch excitedly and Yoongi groans.

So that’s how, between the need to stop sitting at home and daydreaming about you and Yoongi’s inability to say no to Park Jimin’s pout, Yoongi ends up at a club.

A loud club. A crowded club.

He orders a whiskey at the bar, people shouldering up against him to order as well and God why did he do this, anyway?

Jimin disappears somewhere within half an hour and he’s stuck looking around the bar for him awkwardly.

Yoongi recognizes you by the line of your jaw, and it’s a rush, the pleasure that shoots through him, the butterflies in his stomach, better than the glass of whiskey he’s been sipping.

You don’t see him, and he wonders if he should go up behind you, plant a kiss on your shoulder, but in the end he doesn’t wade through the sea of people, just watches you sway to the beat, talking and laughing with your friends. It’s interesting, seeing you out and about like this, somewhere he doesn’t have to hide you, and longing spears through him because as much as he hates clubs, he’d like to take you to one, see the way your body moves to the music, how your eyes light up when you laugh.

As he’s watching, entranced, a man puts his hand on your hip, stands from the bar, and Yoongi’s hands grasp the bar hard enough to whiten his knuckles. He’d never considered himself a jealous person, had never been so in past relationships, but there’s this little ball of something vile in his stomach and it isn’t just the whiskey.

He knocks the rest of his drink back, orders another, tries to focus on the bartender but he can see you in his peripheral vision and when you move he turns his head to follow you as the man leads you out onto the dance floor.

It occurs to him that he’d never had a conversation with you about exclusivity. He hasn’t seen anyone else since he’d met you, but he’d been gone more than he’d been with you and maybe you were seeing someone else. Maybe it was this guy, with his hand on your hip so familiar.

Yoongi doesn’t feel angry, exactly, but there’s a rock in his gut and his throat seems to have closed to a pinhole when he takes a gulp of his new drink, watching you dance.

You sway your hips slow, as if moving to a beat in your head instead of the music, and Yoongi would smile if he felt physically able to do so, watching the man behind you with both hands on your hips now, fingers splayed out.

Yoongi has this awful image, wonders if you’d let him put his hands on your hips like that somewhere more private, and he finishes his second drink too quickly, slams it down on the bar. The bartender blinks at him and Yoongi mutters out an apology, orders another.

Three drinks were his usual limit in crowded places like this, throughout the night, and now that he’s downed them within a couple of hours, things are a bit fuzzy around the edges. He tells himself he should stay seated, wait for the alcohol to hit his system, but he’s up and walking toward you on the dance floor before he can talk himself into staying on the bar stool. He’s only unsteady for a moment, a lifetime of enjoying alcohol has given him a good tolerance that he’s grateful for tonight.

Your eyes widen when you see him, a ghost of a smile playing along your lips.

“Can I cut in?” Yoongi asks, and it seems like a stupid, formal thing to say at a club that was blasting hip hop, but it makes you smile wider.

Yoongi doesn’t even look at the man, doesn’t hear his mumbled response, just replaces his hands on your hip with his own.

“That your boyfriend?” He knows he sounds like a petulant child but you laugh and it lessens the tightness in his throat.

“Mm, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You answer, coyly, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying to the music.

“That so?” Yoongi leans down, presses his mouth to your collarbone. He wants to suck a mark there but he resists. “Do you want one?” He mumbles it against your skin and you make a sound in the back of your throat.

He can’t hear your response, can’t touch you like he wants so he takes your hand and you follow him without a word.

When he pushes the door to the men’s room you tug on his arm, though.

He looks back at you and you scrunch your nose and pull him into the women's bathroom instead.

"There's an etiquette to hooking up at a club, Yoongi."

He laughs and finally that knot in his stomach loosens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. The women's room is cleaner."

You beckon him into a stall, locking the door before backing him against it, kissing him hard, nipping at his bottom lip.

He moans into your mouth, it's been weeks since he'd been able to kiss you, touch you, and he's enjoying it until a flash of memory of that other guy's hands on your hips, fingers splayed, pops into his mind.

He calls your name, softly, and you pull away to look at him, this little pout on your mouth that he has to resist kissing.

"Are you seeing anyone else?"

You'd been fiddling with the buttons on his shirt but you freeze at his question.

"Not really," you reply, and the air feels thin suddenly and Yoongi trails the fingers of his right hand along your spine.

“That’s not really an answer,” Yoongi retorts, and his ears feel hot.

You only smirk, unbutton part of his shirt so that you can slide your hand inside to feel his skin.

“You jealous, Yoongi?”

He scoffs, and then his breath hitches when you place your palm on his bare chest. He pulls you closer by your waist and you lean into him.

“You’re jealous,” you say confidently, moving your hands to unbutton his slacks, and Yoongi’s mouth goes dry.

“I am,” he admits, feeling flushed all over.

“Why’s that? Territorial?”

Yoongi thinks it’s unfair of you to be asking things like this when he’s tipsy and horny, half hard from your kisses and your hands on his skin, but he puffs out his cheeks and lets out a breath through his nostrils and answers anyway.

“No,” he manages, it’s a croak because you’ve slipped your hand into his slacks and underwear, pressing your palm against his cock.

“Hmm. Well in that case, I got asked out tonight, think I should give him a call?”

“No,” he says again, empathically, taking your wrists and moving his body to pin you against the side of the stall instead of allowing you to pin him.

Your breath catches, your eyes dark with lust when you look at him.

“Why not?”

You want him to say it, Yoongi knows you well enough for that, has spent months learning all about who you are, he knows that much, but it’s hard to spit it out, especially like this, in a club bathroom stall with music booming overhead, muffled slightly by the bathroom walls.

Instead, he kisses you, hard, moves his hips against yours, shows you how hard you’ve made him and you whine into his mouth, clutch at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Want you,” he murmurs, and it isn’t an answer but it’s closer than silence and it’s as close as he can get right now.

“I know you want me,” you breathe, something exasperated in your tone.

Yoongi doesn’t have a condom, had no plans on coming out to meet anyone, and bemoans as much to you.

When you rummage around in your purse and pull one out, smirking, then he is mad, even though he’s not sure he has any right to be upset.

“So you came out to get laid tonight?” His voice is calmer than he’d expected with how his heart is pounding.

You shrug. “So what if I did?”

“You’re lucky I was here,” Yoongi says darkly, and your smirk only widens.

You don’t move a muscle, just tilt your chin up at him. “Why is that?”

Yoongi bunches your dress around your hips, roughly pushes your thong aside so that he can cup your pussy. He slides two fingers inside when you spread your thighs, moaning loudly.

He doesn’t respond to your question, kissing along the side of your throat and nipping at your earlobe instead.

“You’re lucky,” he murmurs, “because no one can fuck you like I do.”

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin, and he kisses your throat again, sucking and biting there to make a mark. You’re loud, rocking your hips against his hand.

“I bet everyone can hear you moaning like a whore for me,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.

“Yoongi,” you rasp, trembling.

“Hmm?”

He can’t deny it’s a rush, the way you’re shaking, desperate for him, all but begging him to fuck you. He always feels so out of control with you, the way you make him feel, the longing in the pit of his stomach, the way he’d follow you to hell if you’d asked him. He knows how easily you could break him, and he’s afraid of it but he keeps chasing you anyway. It’s nice to see that he can have some manner of control over you, too.

“Please,” you plead, and he pulls away from your throat, wonders about the logistics of fucking in a bathroom stall. It certainly wasn’t his normal scene, but he figures it out, wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting your ass to press you against the wall. Applying the condom is the awkward part but you’re panting, clutching at his shirt, kissing along his neck and he manages.

Your hands move between you, guiding his cock into you and he groans so low in his throat that it almost hurts.

“Always so wet for me,” he says into your ear, and you buck your hips, almost unseating yourself until he rights you with his hands on your hips.

“Fuck,” you curse almost mournfully and he can’t help but chuckle as he starts to roll his hips up into you, the angle making him spear into you deeper than he ever had before. All of your hookups had been quick but none against the wall. Yoongi thinks he likes it, loves the way you look with your dress bunched up, your tits heaving against his chest, makeup sweating off.

“Look at you,” he groans. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you agree in a short breath. “Yes, yes, please make me come, Yoongi.”

Your dirty talk makes his balls draw up and he thinks it might be over before you do but that’s okay, he’s good with his hands and his fingers.

Then you tug on his hair, your teeth gritted. “Harder,” you demand, and Yoongi’s eyes widen.

It’s quick after that, he’s fucking you hard and fast against the door, your ass sliding up and down with a squeaking sound.

He’s close and he lets his mouth run away with him, your cunt clenching around him.

“I want you to be mine,” he gasps. “Not just your body.”

“Yoongi, I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t stop,” you whine, and he isn’t sure you’re listening. Part of him hopes you aren’t, because if you don’t feel the same way he doesn’t want to know, at least not yet.

And then, just as he spills inside you, it comes bursting out of him like a dam has crumbled.

“Y/n, I’m falling in love with you.”

You kiss him, then, taking his face in your hands, your tongue sliding against his and he keeps rolling his hips into yours as you pulse around him.

It’s thirty seconds before he starts to come down, and a full minute before the horror of what he’s said starts to descend upon him.

Lowering you to the ground is more awkward than it should be since he has to pull out of you first, but you giggle when he puts you down on the floor, stumbling a little on shaky legs.

After you each adjust your clothes, you open your mouth to speak. “Yoongi-”

“Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t say anything.”

You frown, little wrinkles appearing between your eyes. He wants to kiss them.

“But-”

“Jagiya, please,” he all but begs, and he’s never called you a pet name but it slips out and he wants to disappear through the floor.

“Yoongi.” You say, fiercely. “Stop it.”

Yoongi groans, covering his face with his hands.

“I want to be yours, too.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers, his face flushed.

“You do?”

“I do.” You’re smiling, widely, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen you smile like that. It makes his heart soar.

“What about that guy?” He knows he’s pouting so he doesn’t fully uncover his face.

You laugh. “What guy? He just asked me to dance.”

Yoongi drops his hands from his face. “You...you made me think…”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted from me. I had no idea you had feelings for me.”

“I’m in love with you,” Yoongi says incredulously. “I’m crazy about you. I’ve been crazy about you forever.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” You insist.

Yoongi laughs, loud and open, his heart feeling lighter, but it’s a short reprieve. His face falls.

“I’m just...I’m gone so often. I can’t give you what you want, what you’re looking for-”

You silence him by kissing him, just a peck on the lips. “Yoongi, you’re what I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

That rush is back, the fluttering in his chest and his stomach that he’s come to associate with you.

“Yeah?” It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing he can think of to say, looking down into your eyes and he’s sure he’s got the goofiest grin on his face.

But you grin back and it makes him feel better.

“Yeah.”

He still doesn’t get as much time with you as he likes and sometimes he still worries that you might meet someone else while he’s away, but you call him every night that you can, facetime him, and he keeps the butterflies, keeps the rush that reminds him of you, even when he’s busy making music or onstage.

You're always happy to reassure him that you've found what you're looking for, and you don't need anything more.

[bokutoslittlebird]

Your Place

Akaashi x sister!reader

Author’s Note : This was originally gonna just be a short drabble but like.. I’ve thought of this before. So I changed it into a full fledged fic; Fukurōdani has a girls’ volleyball club ; Love hotels in Japan are pretty popular, especially in Tokyo, and happen to have kiosks to keep up the anonymity, while also offering options of staying overnight or for a few hours (generally 2-4). The rooms offer lots of options, including room service (including food and toys), such as jacuzzi, showers, massage chairs, King-sized bed, as well as a box of free condoms ; okay I don’t know if a butt plug can actually plug up a vagina and if it is even safe (it should be) so don’t take my words as fact! Please!

Warnings : Incest, noncon/dubcon, gaslighting, naïve and innocent reader, manipulation, alcohol, underaged drinking [legal age in Japan is 20], love hotels, Keiji wants lil sis to be his housewife, mating press, pussyjob, orgasm denial, overstimulation, sex toys [butt/anal plug, egg vibrator, hitachi wand vibrator], lots of Nii-sans used, breeding kink, no actual pregnancy (yet), fingering (f. receiving)

The roars of the crowd enters your ears as the ball bounces against the floor of the large stadium, the opposing players diving to receive the ball only to fail. Your team screams and cheers, everyone running to envelope the ace of your team, Akari, as she hugs everyone back. Screaming hurts your ears, yet you’re still doing it. Adrenaline rushes through you as the announcer claims your team with the victory and the announcement that you’ll be moving onto the next round, the finals of Nationals.

Your team lines up, shaking hands with the opposing team as congrats is shared between members. Once that is done, you all face the seats on both sides, bowing and thanking them for cheering you all on. When your eyes look into the stadium seats, they immediately catch the lidded eyes of Keiji, his hands clasped together as he smiles. The simple motion has your chest puffing with pride, tears sliding down your cheeks as you know you made him proud. With your position on the team, he’s the one who trained you to be the best setter the Fukurōdani girls’ volleyball club has ever had these last three years.

Once the moment is over, everyone is back at the hotel room and either on their laptops, phones, television, or asleep. When you exit the bathroom, your hair has been brushed and styled with a nice dress, accompanying the leggings and boots Keiji gifted you to wear. Akari whistles, her arm over your shoulder as she talks to you.

“Who you lookin’ so good for?” She pries, eyes tracing the lip gloss you put on.

“My brother. He requested me to wear something nice. He’s taking me to dinner,” a bit of heat is in your voice as you say that. Keiji’s always pampering you, he loves seeing you dolled up. It’s been like that since you were playing dress-up when he was 10 and you were 5. Akari’s gaze takes on a confused look, pursed lips as she processes your words.

“He’s always taking you somewhere nice after a good game, it feels like. Why don’t you ever invite us?” She finally says. Your head snaps up, looking in the mirror at yourself compared to Akari who is also looking at your face and outfit. It wasn’t glamorous in your eyes, but it suddenly dawns on you that it’s more than a brother should expect. The twist in your gut is ignored, your head shaking as you clear your head.

“He doesn’t know any of you guys. Plus, he’s an alumni. He’s always at our games,” your response isn’t what she was expecting, you’re sure of it. But the truth is, you don’t know why Keiji takes you out to nice restaurants or just on nice walks after games. It’s the few times he has off, always requesting off to be with you, cheering you on, his full support as your brother. Occasionally, he even brings along Bokuto, his best friend, who always congratulates you and asks to have you visit his own team someday. It’s a request that you always turn down, Keiji’s eyes taking on a dark glint that sends shivers down your spine at just the mere memory of them.

Akari leaves you alone after that, your time to get ready slowly coming to an end as your phone rings. It’s Keiji, of course, asking if you’re ready yet. “Almost, nii-san! I just need to get my coat and then I’ll head down.”

He’s at the lobby of the hotel, lounging in a chair as he swipes on his phone. He’s dressed as nicely as you are, black slacks with a nice white dress shirt, all under a large coat to keep out the cold. You bounce up to him, excited for the dinner. “You look beautiful, [Y/N],”

“Thank you! You know me so well, so it’s really all your doing,” you giggle, linking your hand in his offered elbow. It felt so right, being beside as you had been these past few years. Walking towards the restaurant, you didn’t even feel the ache in your ankles and balls of your feet from the heels nor the unmistakeable tension between the two of you. It just felt familiar and right to be in this position, sitting across from Keiji as he lets you gush about all the stuff going through your head during the match or even when you happened to be getting ready for the dinner. A shadow seems to settle over his face as you refer to it as such, just a dinner. You almost referred to it as a date, but quickly corrected yourself.

Tension hangs between you two, you having to force it away by breaking the silence Keiji brings. He’s usually much more talkative, praising you as he talks about what you did right and correcting you on things you did wrong, but never criticizing you too hard. Dinner ends, with Keiji paying the full bill without ever letting you know, saying that he simply cannot let a woman pay, regardless of situation. The champagne and wine he let you have a taste of lingers in your mouth, a burn in your throat from the bitter taste of alcohol. It’s not enough to get you drunk, but you do find yourself clinging to Keiji tighter, feet unstable and legs unreliable as he brings you back to the hotel.

He stops and even in your bubbly and hazy state, you can tell the hotel isn’t the same. “Come on, you need to rest,” he says, lips next to you ear as he ushers you inside. Upon entering the room, the lobby, you know it’s not the same. You panic, the alcohol making you less restrained in your actions as you go to tug on Keiji’s arm.

“Nii—”

“Ah, ah, Keiji, dear. Until we get back to your room,”

His usage of ‘your room’ has your nerves calming down, even as he uses his card to pay the kiosk and tap on the screen, buying something. A metal jingle comes from the bottom of the electronic, Keiji picking up the key to a room. Urging you along, you follow him to the elevator. The lack of people seems to enter your mind, confusing you as you glance around the spotlessly clean black elevator. A small voice enters your mind, telling you that the hotel’s elevators are supposed to be silver, shimmering in the light that shines down.

Keiji has to practically drag you into a room, the door shutting and clicking behind you as it locks. The room is spacious, a large tub in the corner of the room as the king-sized bed offers comfort and relaxation. Yet, you falter— unmoving, your voice seems to barely get out as you question your brother. “Where... where are we?”

“My room for the night, dear. You’re drunk, you need to rest,” his comforting words have you slowly shuffling towards the bed. The chair beside the bed seems too fancy for something in a normal hotel room, more adrenaline entering your veins as you panic from unfamiliarity.

“Nii-san, I don’t like this. Take me back to my room. Akari and Hana and-”

“Shut up, you little slut,” the venom in his words has you squeaking, your much smaller frame easily being pinned to the bed by Keiji’s much broader frame. “I’ve been generous this entire evening and all you’ve blabbered about is your team and your friends. What about me, huh? You haven’t even asked how I was doing the entire date,”

“Nii-san, stop!”

“Do I not hold the most importance in your life anymore? You used to be all over me, my sweet little sister that absolutely enjoyed being around me. Now you’re prancing around as if you have not a care in the world. That boy from the boys’ volleyball club seemed awfully close for comfort, don’t you think?”

“He-,” you once more falter, the brief images from after the game when the captain of the boys’ team congratulated all of you on the win. He wasn’t close to you, you were sure of it, but why would Keiji have been there? “He’s barely a friend, nii-san,”

“Not only that, but you always have that giggle and tendency to twirl your hair as you talk to Bokuto-san, your body moving closer to him as he would walk beside you. You barely acknowledge my existence anymore. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” the tears spill down your cheeks, a hiccup as he continues to say mean things. “I’m sorry,”

“You’ll be graduating soon and then you’re going to live with me. You’re going to live with me and be my little housewife. I’m going to make you completely mine, inside and out,” his breath is hot as it fans over your face, his grip strong as he continues to squeeze and hold your face. You’re unable to do anything, the fear from his words and actions has you frozen beneath him. As his words settle in, ice crawls through your veins as you realize your gut feeling, the tension between you two, everything you ignored for the past hour and a half had a reason for being there. His entire plan was to bring you here, but you’re unable to do much of anything against him — he’s always been stronger than you. When you were young, it was comforting, his arms holding you after a nightmare or even when your first friend moved to America, but now it just served to bring more tears to you eyes, your body forced to let him do what he wants to you.

Keiji’s quick to undress you, your coat being shed as he pushes your fancy dress up, the leggings, shoes, and panties being pulled off and left to fall on the floor. Tears continue to fall, chest heaving as you’re powerless to do anything. Even if you could find the energy to move and attempt get him off of you, it wouldn’t bring anything to fruition. “You’re so dry, are you not enjoying this?”

“No, nii-san. I’m not,” you’re honest with him, yet he doesn’t stop. Sitting back on his heels, he lets his eyes trail over your form. Before a thought can enter your mind to move, he’s pushing his weight on top of you as he grabs something the table beside him, a long metal rod emerging from the miniature dresser. He keeps you pinned, moving the rubber head down to your clit, pressing a button as it begins to vibrate. “Ah! Nii-san,” your muddled voice comes out, the sensation sending an unfamiliar tingling up your spine.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m going to make you feel even better. All you gotta do is relax, pretty girl,”

“I’m- I’m still- y-your—” your words die on your tongue, your gut twisting into a knot as the sensation turns pleasurable. You’ve never touched yourself, always being told by Keiji that only bad girls touched themselves, that whores and sluts did. Keiji-nii doesn’t like those kinds of girls, so you never dared to go against his wishes.

“Of course you are, baby. You’ll always be my pretty girl, even if I have to remind you exactly where you belong. I’ll remind you of your place,” his words stop there, but in your head his words continue. Silently, the words of ‘if you’ll let me’ enter, an unspoken question that asks for your consent. Yet, you don’t give him anything else. Your moans and mewls are all he gets, a hand grasping at the unbuttoned dress shirt still on him. A small smile paints along his lips, your vision going black as you roll your eyes. Before the knot can release, the vibrations are removed from your clit and you whine, aftershocks coursing through you.

Keiji’s voice is barely a whisper, under his breath, “I’ll give you something much better, don’t worry.” The vibrator is forgotten and discarded, his hands fumbling with his slacks as he pulls them down, along with the dark grey underwear. His cock springs free, hard and thick and long, you unconsciously scoot away as he strokes himself. “Don’t move away,”

“But it’s scary, nii-san,” you whimper, arms close to your chest as your head bumps against the headboard. He doesn’t say anything, using his hand to rub his cock’s tip against your folds. Contrary to earlier, you’re dripping wet as the wet smacks of his appendage against your skin has you clenching around nothing, more juices dripping out. Moving his hips back and forth, he adds another sensation on your clit as he thrusts in between your folds. His tip catches onto the hood of your folds, brushing against the overly sensitive nerves as you whine and mewl at each move he makes.

“You’re so nice and slick for me, it won’t hurt. It just seems scary, look,” he forces you to do just that, hand gripping your hair as he forces you to look at his cock. The underside of it is glistening with your slick, absolutely dripping with you as it slides down to his base and over his balls. “It’s just in your mind, it won’t hurt. Don’t you trust me?”

“But nii-san, I don’t want this,” it’s not what he wants to hear, you’re sure of it. Yet he says nothing. A sigh finally breaks the silent tension as he rubs his finger against your cunt, two fingers slipping in until they can’t anymore. You’re tight, you know you are, clenching around only two of his fingers.

“If you didn’t want this, you would still be dry. You wouldn’t be squeezing my fingers so snugly. This is your body saying it wants this, don’t you remember what I said?”

Of course you don’t, he says a lot to you, so you shake your head. Another sigh.

“You need to listen to your body. It knows you better than you know yourself. I know you better than you do, you know,” his words ring true, his fingers continuing to pump themselves into you as he talks. Eventually, the feeling is no longer unfamiliar, the sensation pleasing as you moan. He smiles at that, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead as his fingers retract themselves. Using the slick on them, he rubs them against his cock to use as lube.

Pushing his tip into you is scary, but it’s not painful. As he sinks further into you, it becomes much more painful. The room must be soundproof, since Keiji keeps pushing in without trying to make you stop your screaming. He does, however, lean down to press his lips to your tear-stained cheeks as you squeeze him. He groans, his hips rutting against you. “You’re fine, stop screaming. Stop being so pathetic,”

His harsh words have your screams silencing, tears and sniffles as your walls flutter around him. It still hurts, it burns, it stings, it’s more painful than anything you’ve ever dealt with before. Before you can manage to get adjusted, Keiji is pushing your legs up to your chest, somehow making himself feel deeper than he actually is. The feeling of being crushed is back once more, his hips rearing back only to come back down against your skin. The scream from your throat is more of a moan, nails digging into the back of Keiji’s neck and teasing the small hairs as he pistons his cock into your cunt.

It’s a tight fit, the way you’re sucking him in and squeezing him with every thrust. Keiji’s balls slap against your slick ass, cunt squelching with each pump of his cock into you as more juices are forced out. His own moans and grunts of pleasure are drowning in the wave of mewls, squeals, and moans spilling from your lips. The feeling from before is back, the knot in your tummy as he rubs his cock against the inside of your walls and instead of being denied once more, the knot finally snaps as you cream all around his cock, accompanying a squeal of his name.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock, let me know how good you feel,” he chuckles, picking up his pace as you continue to suck him in. A garbled call of ‘nii-san!’ leaves your lips, the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against you and his thick cock against your fluttering walls has you creaming around him once more. A sound akin to a growl comes from his throat, leaning even further forwards as he gets himself as deep as he can go, the hair at the base of his cock rutting against your sensitive clit. “I’m going to fill you with my seed and you’re going to have my babies, okay?”

“No, nii-san, I don’t want that!” You cries are ignored, your body continuing to clamp around his cock as he shoots his load into you. The feeling of being full and so warm inside has your eyes rolling, drool spilling from your open mouth as you gush around him, clear liquid splashing against his abdomen.

Once the high has passed, he removes his cock from you, keeping you in that position. You don’t dare speak, unsure you’ll be able to as your throat burns from all the screaming and cries. A metal object briefly enters your vision, the object being inserted into your pussy that drips with your brother’s seed, milky white and thick.

“If you keep it all inside, I’ll give you another treat, okay? You wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, but he does take out another object. “You need to keep having an orgasm, I’ll make sure you feel real good, okay?” A medium-sized egg-shaped object enters your ass, another stinging pain from the insertion. Another round of vibrations start, your legs shaking as you mewl, head thrown back as you feel another orgasm quickly coming on. “You’ll be a good little housewife for me, won’t you? Swollen with my child and your pussy will be all for me, you know this, don’t you?”

Of course you do, regardless whether your mind agrees with you or not. He’s your nii-san and he knows best.

[watevermelon]

Quiet Sort of Love | Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

✧ Summary: Manager to the Fukurōdani volleyball club, there was no doubt that Itachiyama’s Sakusa Kiyoomi was a strong ace. He brought your team to their knees on multiple occasions, but what you were not expecting was getting to know the nationally acclaimed spiker beyond just the titles and labels.

✧ Warnings: Implicating language and slight spoilers toward the end (you will be warned beforehand :)) 

✧ Notes: Buckle up boys cause this is a LONG one LMAO -> lots of fluff, angst, slight BokuAka, character development, mutual pining at one point, and just me being sentimental over one of my favorite teams  -> #SummerWrites for these! I tended to write fluffier stories

✧  Masterlist 

If someone asked you for the full story, there was no way you could explain it. One moment, you were in junior high, relatively enjoying your time on the track team. The next, you were attending Fukurōdani Academy without a clue to which club you wanted to commit to. 

While you could have rejoined the track team, you were not especially good at sprints and had only done so for your friends at the time. Now, there was a much more daunting pressure about what you were going to be committing your time to. Akaashi has suggested you take-up the open managerial role for the volleyball club, since you were unsure you wanted to truly dedicate yourself to any sport. And, somehow within a couple days of that conversation, with the eccentric introductions of second-years Yukie and Kaori, the current managers, you were attending their volleyball practice on a trial session.

Fast-forward a few weeks and it was already the best decision you had made in your first-year of being a Fukurōdani Academy student.

They were dedicated to their sport, their passion easily radiating off of them and to onlookers watching a simple set. It was what entranced you to begin with - their strong zeal that easily drew others into their bubble. Yes, you were a powerhouse school with a long history of being winners. But it was the people that encompassed the team that drew it closer to your heart.

From the confident yet silly second-year Bokuto, to the mother hen Akaashi, you made fast friends with the team and the other managers.

There were times that you had to remind yourself that Bokuto, the same Vice Captain and nationally rising spiker to gain acclaim, was the same Bokuto who had accidentally locked himself out of his dorm room only to find his lanyard in his back pocket.

And, while reminding yourself of Bokuto, you remembered the text you received from the team group-chat early that morning. You had gone home for the weekend to pick-up some stuff from your family home, the place of residence sitting outside Shibuya and a good thirty-minutes by train away from the inner city. 

But, it was a short-lived trip since the next morning you had to return back to the dorms for a practice match set with your school’s supposed long-term rivals: Itachiyama. GC: Hoot Hoot ⊹⋛⋋(◐⊝◑)⋌⋚⊹

6:15 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)         oh no

6:15 Kaori _へ__(‾◡◝ )>         (L/N)-chan pls tell me your awake

6:15 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)         (F/N)-chan you are our only hope

6:20 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)         @Y/N !!!!

6:23 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)         I’m awake!!

6:23 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)         Please tell me you can pick-up some Dorayaki on your way to the school

6:23 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)         ah yes, the patented bokuto revival snacc?

6:24 haaaruki !         thnk u mom

6:24 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)          >.>

6:24 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)         Thank you, (L/N)-san. 💓

And true to your word, or text rather, you stopped for the snack on your way back to the school. However, with the surprisingly crowded trains on this unfortunate weekend, you were near sprinting down the street once you got some open space. You wanted to still be on time, reasoning regardless, and with the pace of the crowd you were going to be way later than you expected. You rushed between trains, hopping onto the right transfer and letting your foot tap away in impatience as the train pushed onward.

Nearing the school, you were in a dead-sprint toward the entrance and only inwardly sighed at seeing the large school bus, from what you assumed was the rival school, covering the main gateway. You approached from the back of the bus, students filing out from the opposite end of where you were running. You did not want to glance down at your watch, afraid of the time you would see, and instead tried to inwardly navigate a way inside and around your obstacles. 

Athletic bags and groups of the students littered the area as they unloaded, forcing you to jump over their stuff if you did not want to break your speed. You were so dead-set in your sprint, you failed to notice the number of eyes on the bus following you in your run.

Just as you turned around the pillar, your speed and momentum came to a stop as you crashed into an unsuspecting student. His hands were in his pockets, a mask covering most of his face, but even you saw the surprised look as his hands shot out to steady the both of you.

Immediately, the dark-haired athlete was chastising you, “Watch where you are going.” The young man immediately pushed you off of him, not in an unkindly way but moreso he wanted his safe distance instantly.

You bowed and muttered out an, “I’m sorry!”

The glare of annoyance was obvious, but it only dropped down when he turned to look at his upturned palms, no longer hidden in his pockets but instead being stared at in a mortified way.

I mean, it’s not like you were dirty? You complained inwardly at his expression, but sucked it up anyway. You were the one who crashed into him and owed the apology anyway and so you could do your duty and then bid the supposed germaphobe goodbye.

Team Mom instincts already kicking in, you reached into your side-bag and took out a small pack of wet-wipes. You opened the container, and not one to incense him further, held it out for him to grab himself.

“An extension of my apology.” You stated at seeing his apprehension, before he took two and wiped his hands clean of your grime. 

It was hard to fight down the inward grimace at seeing this utter stranger be so offended at having even touched and breathed the same air as you.

“Komori, nice to meet you.” Another student came up to the two of you, having emerged from the pack of Itachiyama students. “Sorry for my friend here.”

“It was my mistake.” You stated.

“No worries. Nice to meet you, you on the track team?”

You shook your head before glancing down at your watch, losing more precious minutes that you could not afford to waste on a conversation like this. “Sorry, I’m running late. See you around!”

Bidding farewell to the group, who you were sure to see in just a few minutes, you bounded through the school and toward the back gymnasium. The net was already set-up, Akaashi standing toward the center as he warmed-up the spikers, matching up with their heights before the other team made their appearance.

You waved at him as you entered, holding up a bag containing half a dozen of Bokuto’s snacks, before placing it in the careful hands of Kaori. Akaashi thanked you genuinely, only to be surprised when you handed him an iced-latte in a cold glass from the store as well. He smiled, before putting it in the cooler for his undoubted headache later. Yukie looked at you with a curious smile, to which you threw two capri-suns at her - the drink secretly one of her favorites.

They thanked you before rushing back to positions and responsibilities, either continuing to warm-up or simply prep the gym for the other’s arrival. You did as you were told, then lined up to attention when the doors opened to greet your rival school.

While it was only a practice match, the team had already filled you in on the reason behind the unending tension between the two schools. Bokuto spun a tale of wild rivalry spanning generations while Akaashi stated plainly that they had not yet won against Itachiyama in recent years.

Seeing the germaphobe from earlier in the line-up, you stood quiet while the volleyball members silently introduced themselves. Your third-year captain, in his ever so passive-aggressive ire, tightly gripped the hand of the other Itachiyama captain. You fought the urge to roll your eyes and instead let your vision scan the line-up.

The tension was only more palpable during the game. Fukurōdani had practice matches before, but none so eerily… quiet.

Yes, there was intra-team communication and words of encouragement between teammates…  but nothing else.

During the practice match with Shinzen, your third-year teammates acted like old friends with some of those students. They even offered some pointers regarding serves between the two schools. And that school was categorized as a rival to your own as well. Shinzen was in the Fukurōdani group after all - they were your close rivals if anything.

But it seemed that the rivalry between Itachiyama and Fukurōdani ran even deeper than that.

Bokuto’s excitement, while usually cute and endearing, definitely contributed to the current atmosphere as well. Bokuto was naturally loud and with every point he scored, there was a chorus right after from yours truly. But, without an audience to drown out his cheers and the Fukurōdani third-years looking seriously quiet, the tiny Bokuto celebration grated on the nerves of the other team.

You watched the young man from earlier, mask gone from his face now and instead replaced with his own brand of quiet determination, as he ran up and smoothly spiked the ball. The action seemed so natural, it was only when the resounding slap signified again how loud and powerful he truly was, the ball smashing into the ground and landing somewhere behind the upper-risers.

That was incredible strength, you thought inwardly, feeling a similar awe you felt the first time you saw the true power behind Bokuto’s spike.

The awed expression on your face quickly squashed down to grimace, remembering this was the guy you had awkwardly crashed into earlier.

“What’s with that face?” Yukie asked, spying you from the corner of her eye. She stood parallel to you, both of you manning the standing scoreboard. Kaori was sitting with the coach, pen in hand as she took notes on the game.

You put back on your neutral visage as you flipped the score number, “That guy who just spiked, he was the one that I bumped into on the way here.”

“Sakusa-san?”

“Yeah...” You affirmed, trying to subtly point in his direction with your gaze alone.

She looked at you with an amused expression, patting you on the back in pity.

Fukurōdani lost the practice match.

And while a part of you was inwardly hissing, there was no doubt that both schools gave their all and the better ended up on top. The third-years commended the team, they were still in the process of finding their rhythm. After all, the points were not that far apart to being with. Having lost 2:1, you noted that the points were relatively close in all three sets.

Bokuto’s displeasure was obvious, complaining loudly that he should have worked on his jump-serve more, but still shaking everyone’s hands at the call of the game.

With both teams working to clean the gymnasium, you walked over to the net to help loosen it and fold the poles. Some of the team members of either side were lightly mingling, commending each other on certain skills while introducing themselves.

You spotted Sakusa in the corner, having helped put away the mats already and retreating to the spot furthest from the crowd. Fighting the urge to bemusedly chuckle at the action, your attention snapped to Komori approaching you, a water-bottle in hand.

“From your running earlier - thought you were a member of the track team.”

You smiled in a friendly manner, “Nope, just a manager of the volleyball club.”

He shot a smile back, “I see. I missed your name earlier...?”

Sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck, embarrassed over forgetting your introduction to your senior, “(L/N) (F/N), nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you, too!” He repeated back your words before adding, “How cute.”

You angled your head in question, surprised at his boldness and flabbergasted from replying.

He continued, “So, are you -”

“Yes, this is all good and well.” An arm swung across your shoulders as the owner cut him off, “But we better help our team out.”

Yukie shot a wink over her shoulder, whisking you to the other end of the room as someone else took over helping breakdown the net. You shot her a curious look, before your attention was grabbed back to the corner Sakusa was inhabiting.

It seemed Bokuto had found him, issuing a direct challenge to the other wing-spiker for their next match. Seeing your teammate, boisterous and loud, next to the quiet and narrow-eyed Sakusa was such a direct contrast; you had to remind yourself that they played the same role on their teams.

Bokuto grumbled the rest of the night, which only continued into the weekdays at school. You formed a study group for a particularly painful math class. And currently, said group had some vbc members crowded around a round table in the library. Most occupants preferred to spill the tea - Yukie and Konoha always had something regarding their second-year class. 

Which ironically left the younger two to herd the group. You tended to go with the flow. Which left Akaashi, the ever so smarty-pants honors student, to often lead the charge. (He also grumbled that you teased him about this fact, but you were also in the same honors classes yourself.)

You got in five pages worth of outlining before the conversation shifted. Focus on the class was easily torn as Haruki brought out a monthly volleyball magazine.

“Check it out, an entire profile on Sakusa Kiyoomi.” The libero stated, opening up the magazine as Konoha leaned over to look.

“Wow, lots of eyes are already on him.” Kaori stated.

“Anyone who saw him play during junior high would know he’s one to watch during Interhigh.” Haruki voiced.

“Well, I’m in the top four.” Bokuto muttered, arms crossed as he read along the magazine.

Akaashi sighed, putting down his pencil as his curiosity grabbed his attention, eyes straying to the article as well. Besides, Sakusa was a first-year just like the two of you, if he was this much of a threat it would be good to soak up any useful information on him

“The photograph looks a little far, don’t you think?” Yukie said with an unsure smile, pointing to the stiff Sakusa standing at least ten feet away from the photographer. “They couldn’t have zoomed in at all?”

“Maybe this is zoomed?” Konoha asked with a brow raised. 

You took a look and fought the urge to grimace aloud, you could barely tell it was him either. The action shot on one page was good, but for their interview photo he was covered completely with a mask and hat, just his eyes visible and still relatively far away from the photographer.

“Well, I don’t expect anything less from a germaphobe like him.” You commented, before turning back to your notebook. 

You saw multiple occupants’ expressions reel back in surprise before curiously looking toward you.

Kaori voiced their curiosity with a raised brow, “And how do you know that?”

“I - I bumped into him before the game!” You cursed your weak resolve, hands coming up in defense. 

“WHA?!” Bokuto asked, making you realize you only told Yukie about the prior encounter. The librarian shushed your group with a disapproving stare, before walking away. “You knew his weakness this whole time?”

Konoha laughed, “What are you going to do with that information? Sneeze on him during the next match?”

You shot eye contact with Yukie, the brunette simply shooting you teasing smirk as she leaned back in her chair. She was your older-senpai, but damn was the eccentric manager so ruthlessly teasing! Her love of food was the only clear read you could get off of her. Otherwise, it seemed like Yukie just loved to sow mischief.

“Wait. Weren’t you talking to their libero after the game? Was it Komori?” Haruki recalled, asking more out of curiosity then of seriousness.

“Um. Yes, well he introduced himself after I almost knocked over Sakusa-san.” You explained, nearly sweating buckets at some of the second-years’ gazes.

“Wait, knocked him over?” Konoha asked, glancing back down at his textbook to place a pen in it, then close it entirely.

“Well, I was running and didn’t see him when I turned the corner!” You continued to explain.

“Sure, sure.” Yukie waved off, sitting up and then sipping from her water bottle.

“I was rushing to bring the snacks - come on guys, you know this!” You defended, a sheepish smile on your face now as the other occupants varied from teasing to surprised.

“(L/N)-san, didn’t the teacher ask us to get something for her?” Akaashi cut in, already in the process of putting some of his study materials away.

You breathed a silent sigh in relief, agreeing and mimicking his actions as you readied to leave the sudden hot library. Yukie’s teasing was enough, but once Konoha and the rest started rolling it was all over from there.

“Yes, let’s get going.” You accepted immediately as you organized your school things, “See you all after class.”

Somehow, Akaashi was already up from the table and waiting for you at the door. You followed behind him quickly, going in the direction of your next class. Entering it, there were a few lingering students - some on their phone, others listening to music - but otherwise the two of you were alone.

You felt a small vibration from the pocket of your skirt, checking the messages from the infamous instigators of your group.

GC: Hoot Hoot ⊹⋛⋋(◐⊝◑)⋌⋚⊹

12:15 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           Nice receive, Akaashi

12:15 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

12:15 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           cmon ahkaaashi; don’t you want to spend time with me? :C

12:15 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)            Enjoy your alone time ;)

12:15 haaaruki !           yah “studying” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Akaashi had a dead-panned expression back on his face, undoubtedly reading the same messages you had just skimmed through. The young man was so smart and quiet, and yet so silently sassy, you really cherished having him as your friend. Akaashi was the mother-hen of the group, undoubtedly, but you wondered how blessed your team was so to have such a patient and thoughtful setter in your ranks.

The two of you relished the silence of the room, sitting next to each other for this class, and resuming the earlier studying that you were interrupted from before. 

Life after this moved very quickly - thoughts of Itachiyama and the target named Sakusa was pushed in the back of your mind. Suddenly, your powerhouse of a volleyball club was having non-stop practice matches with others within the Fukurōdani Academy Group. Shinzen, known for their style of combination attacks, and Ubugawa, known for their serves, were two schools in Tokyo you often saw.

But, with them, came the introduction of Nekoma High School.

You almost felt bad for Akaashi after the first training camp with all three schools. Yes, you were familiar and friendly with the other schools, but with the introduction of middle-blocker Kuroo Tetsuro and his friend Kenma, it brought all sorts of adventures for your little group. He was certainly a sly cat, wielding the art of provocation like it was his second-skin. Fukurōdani had many practice matches with Nekoma throughout the spring semester, it was almost mentally jarring how quickly the Interhigh prelims crawled up on you.

Being friends with the other schools made the preliminary matches all the more intense - near screaming in support from the stands. You were friends with people in these other schools - managers whom you shared watermelon with in the scorching sun; and, forgetting volleyball, just teenagers whom you had seen at high school house parties throughout the semester - it was entirely personal during the prelims.

And while your school fell second to Itachiyama - you were excited to see your first ever nationals tournament.

To keep the teams organized in one spot, you were all staying in a swanky hotel not far from the sports center. It seemed to be a popular spot for other teams, since you had spotted familiar red and black athletic gear in the lobby when you entered. Nekoma was standing to the side by the chairs, Itachiyama littering the opposite area of the lobby.

Bokuto immediately bounded over to Kuroo and Kenma, Akaashi following behind begrudgingly, citing he did not want the spiker to wander off and get lost. Your eyes followed them, waving a hand at the Nekoma duo as you mentally weighed joining their conversation. Scanning the rest of the room, your eyes landed on Sakusa in the nearby corner with Komori hovering nearby.

Just as you made eye-contact with the libero, he waved you over with a friendly smile.

“Hey - good to see you, (L/N)-san.” Komori greeted, you waved back and made the small walk over.

“Hey to you too.” You replied, looking at both boys.

“Hi, (L/N)-san.” Sakusa stated back, as curt as ever. He was leaned against the wall, hands hidden in his pockets again. His eyes skipped over you quickly before looking away and scanning the room - you fought the urge to inwardly laugh at how easy he was to read at the moment.

For someone so collected and intimidating on the court, there was something so amusing at seeing him so on edge at the moment.

You were about to say something when someone called your name from behind. Waving a quick goodbye, you skipped back over to your team, seeing it was Akaashi who was herding you back to the group. 

It was only when you got in the elevator that you realized something - Sakusa remembered your last name.

Biting your lip in confusion, you thought to the last time you talked to either boy. You only gave your name to Komori during that first initial practice match - maybe Sakusa overhead and just had a good memory? Whatever the case may be, it was not the time to be looking into things. You shook your head, focusing on the present as you turned back to whatever Bokuto was talking about.

The coaches gave you time to organize yourselves before warming up in the nearby gym. With three managers for your team, it was agreed beforehand that you would fight on equal ground for the beds. Whoever won would get the bed to themselves while the other two would share. And yesterday, Kaori claimed herself the victor and you were sharing with Yukie.

Plopping your stuff down, you all got down to business as you organized the room quickly, heading out for auxiliary practice, and then herding the group at dinner.

After dinner, you were still bursting with energy. Excitement, anticipation - all of that was coursing through your veins for the events tomorrow. It seemed that the other managers were facing something similar, since neither had taken a bath yet and gotten ready for bed. Instead, Yukie was still in her outdoor clothes while Kaori was on her phone, scrolling through her social media feed.

Yukie turned to you with a mischievous smile, her brown eyes reflecting nothing but trouble when she finally asked, “So, seen any cute boys yet?”

You sputtered at the randomness of the question, “What?”

Kaori laughed, but then admitted. “Well, we are in the area with some of the best volleyball players in high school. Can’t deny some of them are handsome.”

You could not help the giggle in response, as Yukie added. “Hmm, you right. Some of them are looking so gooood.”

“Oh my god.” There were no words you had prepared for this moment.

Yukie looked at you before incling her head, “Come on, even Bokuto is looking mighty fine when he’s in the zone.”

“I -- “ You stuttered, was she looking for a response? 

“Don’t you think Bokuto has such a fine ass?” Yukie asked, “Like damn boy you looking thicc!”

Uhhhhh.

“Lay off.” Kaori came to your defense, or so you thought. “She’s more into the Akaashi-type, right?”

“Strong, but silent?” Yukie asked, “Quiet, but could easily snap your neck with his thighs?”

You blanched at the idea of your reserved friend doing any of the sort.

“No way! He’s just a friend.” You countered immediately.

“Hmmm, sure.” Yukie responded, “When Kuroo shuts his mouth, it makes me want to put it somewhere else.”

“Bruh.” You voiced as you laughed, slapping your reddening cheeks. 

Was this something they usually talked about during nationals? The conversation seemed so natural to the both of them - neither blushing or phased at talking about the other attractive men within your prefecture. Just thinking about any of them in a romantic light had you blushing, how on earth could they talk about this so naturally?

“True, but have you seen Sakusa?” Kaori countered, the conversation carrying on.

“Sakusa would be hotter if he allowed anyone within ten feet of him.” Yukie waved off before turning to you with a wink. “Well, I saw you talking to him today.”

You thought back to the interaction with a grimace, “More like a hello before he shut-down the conversation.”

“Think he’s cute?” Kaori asked, this time.

You thought back to him during the practice match, strong and confident when on the court and mask hidden away. But then again, you thought back to all your actual interactions, and grimaced.

You answered candidly, “I mean, I’m not blind. He’s attractive, but I barely know him.”

Yukie giggled, “I’m not saying you have to marry him!”

Kaori giggled and you felt your cheeks flame-up. You felt your embarrassment creep up your throat and blurted out, “Okay, he’s hella attractive and when he spikes it sets me on fire! Like ok - can he smack my ass like a drum??”

Yukie slapped you on the shoulder in jest as Kaori’s laughter got louder. Yukie replied, “Damn girl - I didn’t know you were into that sort of stuff.”

You were redder than Nekoma’s colors at this point, embarrassment at an all time high at having admitted something that even you were not aware of. Kaori and Yukie were so easy to talk to, so funny to be around, they really took away your one brain-cell sometimes.

“But I totally agree - when he snaps his wrist against the ball… well.” She ended the sentence with raised brows, both of you catching onto her mischievous face.

Kaori giggled and you could not help but laugh aloud at this point - you loved the other managers so much, they made wild conversations like this so easy. 

You started braiding your hair, conversation shifting to the boys in class at Fukurōdani. And while you admitted it was rather small-minded of you to say, you honestly could not remember a lot of the other student body outside of the volleyball club. You spent almost every free minute of your time on the club - many of the faces outside your class blurring to the side as your priorities lay elsewhere.

Just as you finished your hair, a small sound broke out in the room, Yukie picking up her phone as it vibrated against the bed. The brunette took one look at the caller ID, got up and winked at the two of you, before leaving the hotel room entirely. You turned to Kaori with a curious look, who simply shrugged and said it was probably some cute boy she was talking to.

You accepted it casually, before getting up yourself and putting on your outdoor shoes. You still had all this pent-up, enthused energy - maybe a run would do you good to calm your mind. Voicing this to the other manager, she agreed before laying back down on her bed.

The lobby areas were still littered with other volleyball club members in their casual clothes, some from other schools and some from your own. Some of the third-years were mingling, undoubtedly high-energy for this being one of the last few tournaments they would be participating in.

Putting headphones in, you started your run toward areas you personally knew and were relatively populated at this time of night. Certain areas of Tokyo were always bustling, and so you stuck to roads nearby the main one. Your mind, which was reeling only a few minutes before, was surprising blank during your run. Your focus was on the path ahead of you and the music surrounding you - it felt that simple somehow.

No team entered tournaments to lose - that was obvious. Everyone on this level of the competition had a hug leg over the average team - geniuses, prodigies, top spikers in the entire nation - they were all gathering here for the next few days.

Your team were the protagonists of the world - that was what you repeated in your head like a mantra for the past few days.

Fukurōdani were going to do more than just compete in nationals - they were going to win, you were confident.

“Pour all your soul into each ball.” You repeated, remembering the official banner for your powerhouse of a school.

The confidence in your team was overflowing, any lingering nerves flowing away as you continued on your focused run. And so when a crack of thunder was louder than your music - you reeled back in surprise and turned your attention upward at the sky.

Groaning, you ran over to the side of a building to huddle under a pagoda awning, other people doing the same as you and crowding the area. The weather quickly upturned from a calm night to a sudden downpour. There was nothing about rain in the forecast and this afternoon the sky was a pretty blue - had you just not noticed before?

Cursing your lack of foresight, you took out your headphones and stored them in the fanny pack across your chest. Recognizing the shops around this area, you were only ten minutes from the hotel by run. But, dodging the rain and ducking under pagoda’s would probably make it about a half hour. You considered briefly waiting out the rain, but also did not want to get stuck out late in the case that it did not let-up soon. 

Already decided, you were planning out your trek back to the hotel when you scanned everyone else around you. Turning to the other people taking refuge, you could not help the surprise on your face at seeming a familiar person huddled all the way in the back corner.

Sakusa, in all his might, was emanating serious waves of discomfort only a few feet away from you.

What were the odds of this happening? Was this some sort of karmic energy from the universe, due to the conversation you had earlier?

You walked over the spiker, waving a hello and receiving a nod in greeting.

“Looks like we had the same idea, Sakusa-san.” You started, receiving nothing from the conversation but a blank stare.

Boy was he hard to talk to.

Not to be deterred, you continued. “I know the area pretty well. Feel free to come with me, so you’re not waiting out the rain too late?”

Sakusa nodded again silently, and when you turned your head in confusion on instinct, he voiced himself this time. “Thanks.”

You felt a smile crawl up your face as you turned, dodging between some of the street shops’ canopies and awnings in your quick pace. He followed you closely, not wanting to get any of the accursed rain on his bodice, you guessed. Still, it was hard to keep track of someone right behind you. 

This situation was altogether so strange - who would have thought that this would be the way you would be ending your day??

Not used to the silence - after all, your usual company was always bouncing with energy - you joked as you turned to him, “I guess this is where I should insert some proclamation of rivalry here?”

The only thing that signified he heard you was by the quirk of a smirk at the corner of his lip - was that amusement?? you wondered.

Stopping at the corner of the street, you had to run the crosswalk and make your way to the cafe’s awning across the way. You voiced this as you both waited for the stoplight to switch over.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” You questioned, filling in the dead air.

“No.”

“Ah, what was I thinking - a nationally ranked spiker like you…” You drew out sheepishly.

“No, as in my team does not play until the day after.” Sakusa explained, making you groan. You forgot - Itachiyama was seeded after all. 

“Oh, my bad.” You stated, losing all your earlier confidence to try to speak to him. 

Whatever expression was on your face must have made him feel bad, you assumed, since Sakusa turned to you and continued. “But I am looking forward to fighting Wakatoshi-kun.”

The inward book in your mind flipped open, recognizing the name and attempting to find the correct team it was associated with. “Ah, that nationally ranked spiker from Shiratorizawa Academy.”

“Yes, he is… a good benchmark to play against.” Sakusa explained, making you nod in agreement. “But our priority will be watching Fukurōdani’s match tomorrow morning.”

“Oh?”

“You took a set from us during the Representative Playoffs. We won’t let it happen again.”

You smiled at his words - just Itachiyama and Sakusa himself as a whole felt like a goal. The team was the only one ranked above yours in the prefecture. It was your goal to beat his team and him especially. Maybe it was the fact that Bokuto and him were competing on ranking that made it that much more intimate, but it was easy to look at Sakusa as a target more than just who he was: a human.

And so hearing his small admission that Fukurōdani was a strong rival, after dominating your school for so long, you could not help but smile at his candor.

“We’re there to win nationals.”

He raised a brow at your words, and while you wondered if you had overstepped your boundaries for a second, a smirk grew on Sakusa's face as he simply responded. “Ah.”

You watched the countdown timer to the other side of the street, signifying it was soon time for the both of you to break out in a spring to the other side. Both of you readied yourselves just as a car squealed past the corner, trying to beat the clock and make it before it turned red. 

It all happened so quickly, eyes darting around the area to see if there was anything you could duck behind. Chairs and tables, the usually bustling Tokyo was already wrapped up in plastic and stowed away. There was no getting away from the large splash of water on the both of you - drenching you and Sakusa instantly.

The groan from the spiker was loud above the city bustle, and if not for your mutual distress, it would have made you laugh in amusement. Sakusa was inspecting his clothes, obvious disdain and surprise on his visage. Figuring it was whatever at this point, you grabbed his upturned palm and led him to a cafe area nearby. It was closed at this point, but there was a wide awning area that would be empty by now.

You led him to one of the empty garden chairs and sat him down, uncaring if he was annoyed at you pushing him around. It was your team mom instincts kicking in at this point.

Reaching into your fanny pack, you took out some of the emergency wipes and offered the pack to him. He took it readily, taking out a few and going at his hands immediately. With your on-hand handkerchief, you patted him down at the shoulders, not noticing how close the two of you were at this point.

Sakusa said nothing to your actions, not even when you moved from his shoulders to the exposed skin of his neck, wiping off the dirty street water. The initial mother adrenaline was quickly wearing off as you stood over him, surprised that he was letting you do this after all. The rosy tinge on your cheeks was growing with every second of that lingering thought.

“Nervous?” Sakusa called you out, making you stiffen up your posture. Thankfully, he did not push the subject and instead said, “I don’t understand you. Your team hates me. Shouldn’t you just be letting me get sick?

“I wouldn’t do that, especially not even to you.” You waved off the thought, smiling as you did so. “We’re going to beat you with our own skill.”

He looked up at you from his spot, initially saying nothing to your words as you moved to take out another wet-wipe from the pack. Sakusa stopped your action, putting a hand over yours and starting, “You should be using some for yourself.”

You lightly pushed it aside, not unkindly. “It’s fine; I don’t care much. Besides, this matters more to you.”

He said nothing, letting go of your wrist, but not moving away out of your range. You took that as Sakusa’s silent acceptance, moving the wipe back to his neck area and even patting him down on the cheek. His eyes never left yours, making you wonder what could possibly be going on in that head of his.

The moment was so strangely intimate, you were silently proud of your usually easy-to-tease demeanor staying calm. Once you were done, you debated taking the seat next to him when he finally looked away. Taking a look at the world around you, the sudden downpour had actually let-up to a slight drizzle. 

You voiced your observation, recommending that you make your way back to the hotel before it possibly got worse. He nodded silently in agreement, breaking out into a light sprint toward your destination side-by-side.

By the time you arrived it was already late night, most of the lobby thankfully empty. You were not sure what you would say if Bokuto saw you walk in with his rival completely drenched. The squelch of your sneakers was obvious against the granite floor, making you wince at how others probably saw the two of you right now.

Sakusa bid you farewell with a small word and wave, heading toward an elevator at the other end of the hall. You did the same, before feeling the niggling feeling that someone had their eyes on you. Heading to the elevators, you turned to your peripheral and saw Yukie, sitting at one of the lobby tables with some random guy across from her.

Her face was alight with obvious mischief, her smirk alone was enough sign that she was going to be questioning you about this situation immediately. You winced at her expression, turning toward the elevator doors and waiting for the ding! to signify you were free from her eyes.

A thorough bath later, you were surprised the next day to see that Yukie had not questioned you at all. Instead, all energy was focused on nationals and the upcoming teams you were going to have to play against. 

Fukurōdani Academy was a powerhouse in itself and hearing the loud cheers surrounding your side of the court was enough to lift the entire team's spirits. Your audience section was fit to the nine’s - including a marching band, a specific fan cheering area, and even cheerleaders.  The team played through their games proudly, passion radiating from the team as you made it to the quarter-final on the third day.

You never got to play Itachiyama.

The third-years were retiring.

The silence on the bus was mentally jarring - no one expected your nationals journey to end this soon. Even Yukie, who was always quick on her feet when it came to comforting the other members, was eerily silent the way back to the hotel.

The only person who was still remarkably confident, was signified by the strong words Bokuto uttered when they first left the court.

“Nothing here was a mistake.” Bokuto started, mind in his thoughts as his back faced the team. You were in the middle of handing a spare hand-towel toward Haruki when you turned to the ace. “Your tosses were incredible under the pressure.”

The entirety of the team turned to the usual mood maker, one who was so easily swayed on the court over simple things, now voicing his introspective words.

Bokuto turned to the rest of you, “We will come back here next year and carve the rest of the way.”

Akaashi nodded from beside you, other second-years agreeing with their newly determined ace. The third-year captain, now sporting an anguished smile, walked over to Bokuto to place a hand on his shoulder. The other older members followed suit, proud of their young owl growing up right before their eyes.

After the game, you split up at the hotel to return to your rooms and shower. Getting ready for the night ahead of you, the third-years stated that they were going to take the team out for dinner after the strong season.

Yukie hopped in the shower first as Kaori and you packed up some of your room. The team was still going to stay at the hotel until the end of the tournament, but your long notebooks and team journals were of no use now. Combination attacks and details on the third-years were now a thing of the past. 

You had to fight the sob in your throat when you closed the folder on your captain one last time.

The silent hotel room, which was filled with giggles and teasing only hours before, was palpable against you and Kaori’s attempts to stay calm. She was affected moreso than you, having spent the last two years with the current team.

You were so occupied in your thoughts, you almost missed the silent vibration in your pocket, a notification dinging from your social media platform on Instabook.

Hey. Are you back in the hotel?

What was Sakusa doing, messaging you now of all times? 

Waving the thought away, you typed: Yeah. What’s up?

I have something for you - where are you?

The tendril of suspicion shot through you, but Sakusa was definitely not the type to kick you while you were down. You messaged him back your room details, earning back a simple ok omw and nothing else to signify just why he was coming here.

Yukie was still in the shower when you stepped out. Sakusa really was before you, in all his silent glory. Sporting his usual face mask, he took something out of his pocket and thrust it toward you.

“It’s only fair, (L/N)-san.” Sakusa stated, a familiar pack of wet-wipes in his hand outstretched toward you. 

You felt your smile grow, your earlier saddened disposition breaking at the strange sight. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Just take it.” Sakusa said as he grabbed your sleeve and placed it in your empty hand. 

“Well, okay.” You said with a slight chuckle in your voice.

“I meant to give it to you at the complex, but..”

“Yeah.” You finished for him, the conversation coming to a silence. “Thank you, Sakusa-san.”

He looked at you with an unwavering gaze, “Sakusa is just fine.”

“Then just (L/N) is fine too.” You added, finally feeling that you were coming to terms to some sort of odd friendship with the spiker. Holding up your phone, you motioned to it without voicing your question. “So we don’t have to rely on random appearances?”

“Ah.” He agreed, taking out his phone as you exchanged chat-ID’s.

That was the end of the conversation, him waving goodbye once it was over and walking down the hall to the stairwell. A part of you watched him go, almost smiling when you realized that of course the athlete would opt for the stairs when you were on the tenth floor.

You tried to silently enter back into the room, Kaori in the shower this time as Yukie was packing up her things. Leaning your back against the door, you tried to placate your undoubtedly rosy blush - you did not need a mirror to know that you were adorned with one now.

“Look at you - you think you’re slick?” The smirk on her face was enough warning that you were in danger, “I saw you two from the peephole.”

“He was just dropping off a gift.” You state, as if that would sate her curiosity at all. Instead, she stood up at attention.

She had one eye narrowed at you, “Right, of course. What else was I thinking - other than the totally normal gift-giving for two platonic members of rival volleyball teams.”

“Yup.” You nodded with a reserved smile, before making your way further into the room.

Yukie pushed the conversation as she got on the bed, “Are you secretly dating Sakusa?”

You flushed immediately, “It’s not like that!”

“And what is it like?”

“We’re just… friends?” You bit out, the lack of confidence even obvious to your own ears. Was that a question or a statement?

The relationship you had with the young man was strange. Were you friends? It was more like mutual acquaintances who happened to have a totally-but-also-not intimate moment. You could never really tell what he was thinking - being of very few words. 

“And suddenly you’ve convinced me.” Yukie teased, before going silent as Kaori entered the room. You took this as your escape, readying your stuff quickly and entering the shower area before she could continue.

Thankfully, Yukie dropped the subject while you were around others. Your previous, almost giddy expression, came back to a silently gloomy one as you went for your last dinner with the Fukurōdani third-years.

Any previously unshed tears slammed to the forefront when seated around your peers. Even while sad and crying, your team was loud and scorching down food in the small ramen bar. The third-years thanked you all for your efforts, for the growth you had since the start of the school year, and sent you off for the new year.

April swung around quicker than you would like. You were a newly minted second-year, priorities quickly changing almost as quickly. The questions from guidance counselors and coaches were unending: asking you about your future, what you wanted to do, what electives classes were you going to take. It was all preparation before your final year - it was almost mentally jarring against the happy and almost innocent vibe from your initial year of a high school.

Sakusa’s phone number untouched since the day outside your hotel room. 

Bokuto rising to the role of captain in his third-year was no question. But seeing Akaashi, now a second-year Vice-captain, it set all your “uwu’s on fire,” as Yukie dubbed it. He earned the role, without a doubt, but seeing the two together was so strangely heart-warming.

Bokuto and Akaashi were a strange pair, but they got along together so well, it was hard to imagine anyone else on your team with these roles. Akaashi mother hen’ed you all, but there were times that it seemed the young setter could almost read Bokuto’s mind. 

They were a perfect match, you often teased. 

Akaashi would often stare at you blankly when you reiterated this, but Bokuto would only fuel the fire. The duo were almost always in immediate distance to one another, oftentimes your captain would swing his arm across Akaashi’s shoulders or just initiate some time of close distance. After all, they were roommates now in the dorms, that was not just because they were captain and vice, you had a feeling.

It made you wonder what else was there beyond the surface.

But, you still had your own job to do as manager. By the end of the year, Fukurōdani would be losing two of its precious managers. And so, here you were, on the hunt for a first-year to take on the role and get used to the responsibilities of being manager to a powerhouse school.

Your team was focused on finding their rhythm, endless individual practices to get the first-years up to speed with the Fukurōdani standard. The regular line-up was still mostly comprised of third and second years, but first-year Wataru Onaga showed lots of promise. Standing at 191 centimetres, he earned his way to starting middle blocker on the team.

On occasion, you would be found in the library with other members of the volleyball team, studying for classes and researching upcoming teams in the preliminary matches.

You noticed how Sakusa earned himself a formal ranking among the top three aces of the country - Itachiyama now a heavy favorite to win in nationals. He was growing in regard very quickly, attention on him was a far cry from the initial rumors surrounding his first-year. Now he was on the cover of Volleyball monthly, pages dedicated to an expose of his career.

Would he even remember you?

Thoughts of the spiker were pushed away again with the onslaught of practice matches with other schools within the Fukurōdani Academy Group. Captain Kuroo was no better than regular Kuroo when it came to being the instigator. If anything, it seemed like the cat hung around your group of friends even more now.

He was often seen at group hangouts, whether just going to the mall or the local arcade. It was interesting, to say the least, the combination of your loud owl and the conniving cat, their two silent wards in tow.

You had a practice match with Itachiyama around the corner. And while you told yourself that you were not disappointed in your waning friendship(?) with Sakusa, you could not help the lightened feeling in your heart when he took the time to greet you before the match. Komori waved at you as well, before stretching and getting ready.

You watched the sets with careful eyes, Yukie taking notes alongside you. Almost everything was documented - how many times Bokuto was blocked, how many successful jump serves, service aces - and this was for both sides of the court. You could not help the way your eyes were drawn to Sakusa, his flexible wrist combined with his power making a combination the bane of your middle blockers.

Yukie caught you a few times, saying nothing but wagging her eyebrows at you in a wavy motion.

Losing three to two sets, you sighed and moved to help clean-up the gymnasium. Wheeling the scoreboard to the storage room with Yukie, all volleyball members were moving about the gym to make sure it was properly organized. You stepped out to check the hammock cart holding the volleyballs, counting them to ensure that none of them belonged to the rival school. 

Should you say something more to Sakusa?

You paused, looking up from the volleyballs and frowning at yourself.

Wait… Why did it even matter? Why did you even want to talk to him? Yes, you were on friendly terms with the ace. But why did you seek him out so much? You were friends with Kuroo, so did not feel the same draw to the middle blocker as you did now? 

Why was your mind so intent on just something with the ace?

Mind reeling with these questions, it was to your surprise when he approached you.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You replied in a much smaller voice, attempting to put a smile back on your face, as if you needed to hide your earlier train of thought.

“Are you available this weekend?”

“Uh, wait what?” You could not help the incredulous words coming out of your mouth. 

Seriously what??? How do you go from weeks of not talking to this??

Yukie was a few paces away from you, opting to walk away from your conversation to give some privacy, after all the two of you were standing in a gymnasium filled with two bustling volleyball teams. But she undoubtedly heard that last question since her head whipped around back in your direction.

Seeing that Sakusa was actually waiting for a response, you thought back to your plans with Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kenma group to play the usual Mario Kart at the latter’s house.

“No, I’m free.” You responded.

Yukie laughed, before walking away entirely, as to not give away her eavesdropping.

“Ok. I’ll text you the details for this weekend.”

Not able to hide your surprise, you let out a sound of uncertainty as you raised your palms. “Wait, for what?”

“Hang-out.” Sakusa stated, as if it was such a natural event. “Komori suggested inviting you so I did.”

You dropped your hands, letting them fall to the sides and letting out a small, “Huh.”

He waved you off, saying he was going to text you the details tomorrow, before joining back with his team. Yukie’s face was indescribable and Haruki sported a similar expression only a few paces away.

Their questioning gazes were only pocketed for later, passed the time the coaches had given pointers and tips to members of the team. Eventually, when the other school had all packed up and left, the third-years were quick to bombard you with questions.

“HAAAA! (L/N), how could you hide this from us?!” 

“You two have been close, this whole time?”

“Not dating, my ass.” Yukie teased as she crossed her arms.

Akaashi placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm voice cutting above the rest. “What was that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” You answered candidly.

Bokuto and Haruki turned their heads in confusion while Yukie looked at you with a face asking you, really?

“Yeah, we haven’t actually spoken to each other since nationals.”

“Wait, really? That long ago?” Yukie asked this time, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. That invite really feels… out of nowhere.” You explained, your own confusion evident on your visage and reflecting back on the other volleyball team members.

“Eh, it’s probably nothing.” Bokuto shrugged as he walked away, “We hangout with other schools all the time.”

Yukie held a flat-expression toward the ace’s retreating back, Haruki following behind him with a shrugging expression. Akaashi and the brunette manager turned back to you, the female grabbing your hand as she did.

“Okay, really?” 

Akaashi sighed, grabbing your attention. “Text me if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Wow, look at you Mr. Chivalrous.” Yukie commented, making Akaashi roll his eyes before turning to you seriously. You nodded in affirmation, to which he accepted and walked away.

You waved goodbye to the other members as they closed up the gymnasium, walking with the other managers back to the female dorms. 

Yukie was not letting it go at all, repeating her question from earlier. “Okay, really?”

You smiled this time, voice mocking as you responded. “Yeah, really.”

“What happened?” Kaori asked.

“Sakusa-san asked her out on a date.” Yukie spun the tale.

“It’s not a date.” You cut in.

“Oh yeah, then why are you smiling so giddy?” Yukie asked with wide, accusatory eyes.

“Because it’s… Shut up.” You stated between nervous laughter, “He asked me to hangout with a group - it includes their libero Komori-san.”

“Maybe he likes you.” Kaori commented, to which Yukie agreed vigorously.

“Do not put these assumptions in my head.” You stated with a loud sigh, head angled toward the sky at their words.

Yukie sighed back, “Don’t deny the possibility.”

You shrugged it off, knowing that there was no ending to their teasing at this point. You repeated the truth in your head like a mantra: he was nothing more than a friend. It was not worth looking into every single interaction you had with the young man - after all, he was rather strange when it came to social interactions to begin with. 

Ironically, you had to think that the others did not know him like you did. He was straight-up with his words, not fully understanding the meaning of it or how it affected others. If Sakusa wanted to do something or felt something, he would lay it out straight - that’s just the type of person he was.

And you would not be looking into the words between the lines.

But it was increasingly hard to do this when both Yukie and Kaori invaded your room Saturday morning, stating that your usual plain clothes would just not do for a day like this. Two hours later, your hair was in beachy waves and your planned “plain” outfit was replaced with a casual, knee-length springy dress over a white shirt.

What if this really was nothing but a casual encounter for him? Would your outfit be more forward then you intended?

Any of your self-conscious questions were too late, since before you knew it you were already on a train to the destination by Kichijoji. You had a few more stops to your destination, the packed train-car as busy as ever. Distracting yourself from those previous thoughts, you whipped out your phone to check the messages that had been pouring in since early morning.

GC: Hoot Hoot ⊹⋛⋋(◐⊝◑)⋌⋚⊹

11:11 Kaori _へ__(‾◡◝ )>           Look at how cute (F/N)-chan looks           Attached: cutie.jpg

11:11 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)          She should dress like this every day!! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

11:11 haaaruki !           WOAH :O 11:11 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           Hey hey hey 

11:11 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           look at you ;)

11:12 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)           That would seem difficult considering (F/N)-san’s sleep schedule and the amount of time it takes for her to get ready. 11:13 Konoha(gakure) (•́ᴗ•́๑)           damn girl u look so pretty!!

11:13 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           I still can’t believe she abandoned us for saks >:(

11:13 Kaori _へ__(‾◡◝ )>           you can’t stop her from dating dad

11:13 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           well you know what they say bro’s before hoes

11:13 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           eye-

11:13 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)           But otherwise, (F/N) looks beautiful today.

11:13 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           >>:C

You skipped to the end, scrolling through at least a few dozen more messages that ranged the topic from the picture of you getting ready to the supposed Mario Kart tournament that you were now missing out on. Typing in your response:

12:35 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)           Sorry boys, had to look cute for today only ;)

12:35 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           IT’S A DATE!!! I KNEW IT!

12:35 Konoha(gakure) (•́ᴗ•́๑)           BO YOU OWE US YAKISOBA BREAD

12:35 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           ITS A DATE??

12:35 haaaruki !!           be safe mom!!

12:36 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)           it’s NOT a date  (・-・)

12:36 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           HA

12:36 Konoha(gakure) (•́ᴗ•́๑)           bruh 

12:36 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           JUST YOU WAIT

12:36 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)           Text me the moment you need an out.

You rolled your eyes as you pocketed your phone into your side-bag, leaning into the halting train as it crawled to a stop on the Keiou Inokashira Line. Walking out and looking for any telltale signs of your friend, you scanned the train station with wandering eyes as you walked out.

But, it was not necessary, since Komori’s light brown hair was an easy pick in the crowd. However, next to him was a volleyball player that you could easily pick from the bustling station. While Japanese men were generally around 170 centimetres, seeing Sakusa’s curly mop of hair high above the crowd was enough for you to follow.

It seemed they saw you immediately as well, Komori waving at you to come over while Sakusa merely kept his eyes trained on you. With them were a handful of other members of the Itachiyama volleyball club, from the players to their female manager, you recognized them from practice matches.

They invited you into the group of teenagers quickly, as if nothing was strange at all, waving at you with smiles before shooting looks at both Komori and Sakusa. 

What the hell was happening?

You had a feeling in the back of your mind that something was happening around you, that they all knew something that you did not know.

You walked along with the group into the popular neighborhood of Kichijoji - the group traveling from food stand to souvenir stand. Their female manager was so friendly, unlike how seriously quiet she was when visiting. She even asked to touch your hair at one point, saying it looked so bouncy and pretty today.

“The tracksuits don’t do any of us justice.” She complained, “But you look so nice today, (L/N)-san!”

You smiled at her words, “Thanks. We had an off-day today too. So I figured why not.”

“Well, it looks great. Don’t you think so too, Kiyoomi?”

The sudden question had you reeling back in surprise, turning to the black-haired teen. Why was he suddenly being brought into this? What were they trying to do?

But the thousands of questions in your brain came to a halt when Sakusa turned to you and simply said. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” You replied, more out of reflex than truly getting his words. So in your head, you failed to notice the teasing smile she shot her ace, before turning away back to the rest of the group.

They gathered around the menu of a popular crepe stand, you left standing there in surprise as the group continued on without you. Sakusa stayed beside you, before taking a step and inclined his head toward the rest.

Shaking your head away from the niggling feeling in the back of your mind, you lightly jogged to catch up with the rest, finding a pace between Sakusa and Komori. 

The brunette turned to during your walk, “You’re probably really surprised to be here.”

“Yeah…”

Komori chuckled, a hand on his neck as he lightly muttered beneath his breath. “Honestly, I’m surprised he did it.”

“Did what?” You asked with a raised brow.

“Nothing important.” He waved off, “I’m just glad you were able to join our group today.”

Deciding not to push it, you instead said. “Well, thanks for the invite.”

The group’s conversation ranged from the food stalls, to your long awaited destination at the billiards club. The building had, true to its name, billiards tables and other vintage arcade machines. 

You were unsure where to place yourself within this group, obvious inside jokes that you would not understand between some of the other members. Thankfully, Komori and their female manager were very quick to try to get you to weigh in on the conversation.

“Well, I think Shrek is funnier in Japanese.” She stated it clear as day, as if a fact. You had to stop yourself from chuckling, one hand on the pool cue since it was your turn to go.

“But it’s not funnier than Cars.” Another countered.

“Have you heard Mater in the original movie?” You replied after hitting the ball, watching it not follow the path you had intended to hit it in at all. “That’s the one English dub I’ll accept.”

She smiled before arguing, “As if a cowboy accent is funnier than Shrek with a Jojo’s voice?”

You attempted to dead-pan your face, Sakusa stepping up to the billiards table after you. “We’re Japanese. We all have Jojo’s voice.”

“Alright Pikachu, calm down.”

You held a mock-offended hand to your chest, not able to hide the laughter at her jest. Despite being a beginner at billiards, and getting absolutely wrecked by everyone else playing, you were having fun with the random group.

This was not just the Itachiyama volleyball club - a fan favorite to win nationals.

These were high school teenagers, enjoying their free day off.

It was like a wide-awakening of your perspective. After all, you went to a powerhouse school yourself. When people saw Bokuto, saw Fukurōdani as a whole - how many times were people intimidated at Prelims just because of your team’s reputation? Taking Itachiyama off its pedestal was the same and it was hard to remind yourself of this fact.

But finally putting names to faces, personalities to people, you let it sink in that they were not that unlike you and your team.

After billiards, you continued with the group to a hot-pot restaurant a few blocks away. Komori hung especially around you, you noted inwardly. Was it to keep you from feeling left out of the group? But why were you even with this group to begin with?

Wait.

Didn’t Komori call you cute during your first encounter?

You felt something inside you inwardly swell and then sag. Were you here because Komori wanted you to be here? Even though your direct invitation came from Sakusa, the ace reasoned that it was at Komori’s suggestion. Were you invited here to get closer to the libero?

Despite being surrounded by the loud vbc members, their eagerness to eat bustling in both action and conversation, you felt yourself sag at the realization.

They were trying to get you closer to Komori?

You inwardly slapped yourself on the head for being so closed-minded. Not that he was a bad guy - he was the best libero in the entire country after all. Volleyball skills aside, Komori was trying his best to make you comfortable in the group. He was naturally outgoing, friendly, and had been the reason behind your invite in the first place.

But another part of your mind, the part that you had been trying to close off for so long, could not help but glance over to Sakusa and hoped that he had been the reason.

The silent ace caught your gaze, making you turn away immediately and flush at being caught.

It was… disappointing.

But you failed to notice how Sakusa kept his gaze on you, the female manager watching this interaction entirely with amused eyes.

You were still trapped in your thoughts. You had gotten your hopes up after all, despite saying to all the other members that it truly was not that way between the two of you.

And now it was fully true.

Entering the restaurant, the female manager, having the foresight to call ahead to reserve for your large group, you deliberated where you wanted to sit at the table. You went to take a seat next to the manager, to which she motioned to Komori in a none-too-subtle way, to instead take the seat before you could finish your question.

That left a single seat left on this side - the corner one that was only next to Komori.

Of course they were trying to set you up with him, why else did you think otherwise?? You almost slapped yourself on the head for how tunnel-minded you were before this.

You took the seat, shooting a smile toward Komori that did not quite reach your eyes. But, to your surprise, the brunette muttered a small excuse of having to go to the bathroom or something, you could not catch it exactly since it was so quick. And instead, the ace that had been plaguing your thoughts for the last few minutes, had plopped down into the spot.

You snapped your head forward, grabbing at the menu and stating that it all looked good. The female manager smiled at you, more like smirked, before joining in the conversation of what she wanted to order.

As per your team mom instinct™, you took out your hand sanitizer and offered it to the other table members. 

“Thank you, (L/N)-chan!” She replied, taking the small container and using some. You offered it to the rest and let it pass around. “You even beat Sakusa offering it to us.”

Komori took the seat across from you when he returned, adding to the conversation quickly. “That’s (L/N)-chan’s?”

“Yeah. Otherwise, it would’ve been paired with a lecture from our dear ace here.” The female added. “It’s almost like you complete each other.”

Wait, what?

You smiled awkwardly, eyes landing on the silent Sakusa who had yet to say anything.

“Ah. I have the same brand.” He said when the bottle made its way back.

Okay, not what you were expecting at all. You took it from his hands, a small grin still on your face, using it before storing it away.

A few minutes in and it was clear that members of the table were breaking out into their smaller conversations. To your left was a wall and so that left the silent Sakusa or Komori across from you, who was trying hard to converse with only the person next to him.

“I saw the article about you in volleyball monthly.” You started. “Congrats on officially being one of the top spikers in the country.”

Sakusa turned to you when you first spoke, replying. “Thanks, but it’s brought a lot of annoying attention.”

He was actually talking to you? Stop. He’s human too.

“I could imagine - scouts, fangirls - it’s never ending.” You responded. “A lot of girls like to hang around and watch practice matches for Bokuto, I’d assume it’s the same.”

“It’s annoying.” He stated curtly, “They’re dirtying up the gym with their outdoor shoes every time.”

Of all things… you thought inwardly with an amused grin.

“Being so popular now, there’s probably tons of people who approach you based solely on reputation. I hope you don’t think that of me.” You stated.

“I don’t.” He said back just as quickly.

You smiled, before continuing the conversation. “Even if their energy is misplaced, I can’t help but agree that you’ve accumulated a lot of earned attention.”

“Oh?”

“Well, yeah.” Your smile widened unconsciously, “I mean, you’re more than just the title. You were a good spiker before any labels told anyone that.”

Sakusa looked at you, in what looked like a flat expression. 

What you did not know was how thoroughly he was scanning your face, just to gauge how genuine your words were. You went to rival schools? Other schools in the prefecture were so quick to antagonize him and his team. After all, Bokuto made his feelings obvious during the last practice match. And yet you were willing to just hangout, of all things, with people you hardly knew? So willing to compliment the ace with the largest target on his back??

Your actions confused a realist like him.

Why even bother to be nice to him way back then? Why try to keep in touch? Why be here today?

And even more so, why did he want to know the answer to these questions so badly?

“(L/N)-chan, what would you usually be doing on your off days?” The manager broke you out of your thoughts.

“Well, today was supposed to be a Mario Kart tournament with some of the Nekoma kids.” You thought back to your earlier plans. “As crazy as it is, we tend to just lounge around and play video games with Kuroo and Kenma.”

“Ah, that’s right. Nekoma is in the Fukurōdani Academy Group as well.” She stated, her voice lowering toward the end.

“Yeah, but we’re pretty close to Kuroo and rest beyond volleyball. I don’t know how, but our captains all get along like frat bro’s.” You reminisced to the last interaction, “But at least with all the managers together, we have five mother hen’s, six including Akaashi, to guide the group.”

She laughed, before biting her lip.

You noticed the action and questioned, “Something wrong?”

“No.” She tried to wave off, “Well. I don’t know. I’m kind of jealous.”

You let out an incredulous snort before leaning forward. “Why?”

“You get along really well with the other schools in the prefecture. Enough so that I see you guys,” she motioned to you in a circular motion, you took this to signify the Fukurōdani team as a whole, “Like everywhere on social media.”

“Oh?”

“Parties, weekends, you name it. Even Masaki-san, who is infamous for being so angry looking, posted you and the rest out swimming last summer break.” You thought back to the event, the name of the now captain of the Ubugawa High volleyball team jumping out at you.

House parties… Wasn’t that a regular high school thing to do? And while you were all responsible teenagers with a lot to lose, the team did indulge in various friendly gatherings that did include teens across multiple schools in the prefecture.

You hadn’t said anything yet, so she continued. “Meanwhile, our coach has us play against college teams since he insists it’s better practice. We don’t really play with anyone else in the prefecture other than you guys - and you hate us.”

“That’s not true.” You cut in immediately, to which she raised a brow. “Believe me. The only outspoken one would be Bokuto and none of that is beyond surface level - he’s a really nice guy and would never actually hate anyone.”

You continued, “It may just seem that way since we’re immediate rivals. But I honestly had no idea that it made you guys feel so isolated.”

“Yeah…” She admitted, her voice trailing off at the end.

“It doesn't have to stay this way. After all, you were nice enough to invite me out now.” You replied, a bright smile back on your face. “Why don’t we exchange numbers?”

She radiated a smile reflecting your own, taking out her phone and quickly inputting your digits in. “Wow, you’re so friendly.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You replied.

She held her smile for a few more seconds, before her eyes slid over to the silent ace between you two. 

“I’m so glad Sakusa wanted to invite you with us today.”

You looked toward him as well, Sakusa meeting your eyes before turning away.  “Uh, I was glad I was able to join.” 

“Yeah, well. It’s no wonder he…”

Her voice came to a halt when the ace looked straight at her, the waves of warning enough for even you to feel, without having to see his expression.

Sakusa wanted you to be here?

“He…?” You questioned, to which she smiled and shrugged, not completing her previous thought.

The rest of the dinner went without any special events - even holding light conversation with Itachiyama’s ace next to you. Conversation with Sakusa was curt, but he meant no harm. If you had to describe it, he was dense in the way of conversation, similar to Bokuto and yet for the opposite reasons. 

Bokuto was so extroverted that he got along with people so easily. But, it often led to him mistakenly leading on girls for how friendly he was. Meanwhile, on the other side of the spectrum, introverted Sakusa kept to himself because that was where he was comfortable, not because he thought others beneath him.

You felt your heart swell at having learned a little bit more about the ace.

After dinner, the nightsky reflected back at you as you went to part ways with the group. Dorms in opposite directions, you were surprised when Sakusa offered to walk with you to the train station. 

And while your heart swelled at the implications, Sakusa reasoned it was only fair since he was the one that invited you out. Now that it was late, it may not be safe for you to be out late and it would be on his head if something happened.

His manager laughed, while Komori just sighed, muttering that he was hopeless.

She bid you farewell with a tight hug, saying you should text her when you get home. The rest waved at you amicably before walking off in the opposite direction. 

Whatever the reasoning may be, there was no logical reason as to why a germaphobe like him would sit directly next to you on the train back home. Your shoulders were even touching, but neither of you voiced this fact. 

“Today was actually really fun.” You started, turning to him on your right. There were only a few other people taking this line and they were mostly crowded around the opposite end of your train-car. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“You don’t have to say thanks so many times.”

“Did I?” You asked with a sheepish smile, “I honestly didn’t notice, but I do mean it.”

“Good.” His eyes bore into your own so seriously, “Because I’m glad you did.”

Unsure what to even say, you just kept on smiling. “Thank-

“What did I say?” Despite his normally cold visage, the tilt in his voice was enough to signify to you that he was teasing you.

You inclined your head toward him, “Fine. I’m… really happy, that we’re friends.”

He looked at you fully, not saying anything and making you question if you overstepped, before Sakusa stated, “Kiyoomi.”

“What?”

“Call me Kiyoomi.”

“Oh.” You smiled, “(F/N) is fine too.”

The rest of the train ride had such a lighthearted atmosphere. The only other person you could sit in comfortable silence with was Akaashi, but even then he was so silently sassy that it was nothing like Sakusa’s energy. And yet, at that moment, you felt so comfortable in his presence.

Sakusa did as he said he would, walking you all the way to the school-gates before finally bidding you farewell.

“See you around, (F/N).”

You reiterated it back to him, only walking off when he disappeared from sight. The smile on your face stayed etched there all the way back to your dorm room - where Yukie and Kaori were eagerly waiting on your lower bunk-bed, your roommate nowhere to be seen.

“Details, (F/N)-chan!” Yukie yelled out immediately, an enthused Kaori not too far behind her. 

And you did just so for the entirety of the hangout - from the billiards club, the manager’s desire to be closer to other teams, to your conversation with Sakusa on the train. They nodded along as you explained, having brought snacks with them as well, it was clear they were waiting for a while. How they got in your dorm room - that was a question for another time.

They chuckled at you for thinking Komori was the reason and nodded in understanding about the female manager. It was only at the end when they really questioned you and Sakusa.

“So… not dating, huh?” Yukie asked with a raised brow.

“Not yet.” Kaori answered.

“Damn, that means I owe Bokuto Yakisoba bread.”

You chuckled at the girls’ words, but felt that you could no longer honestly deny their teasing. The two of you were nothing more than friends, but there was no denying that you wouldn’t mind the possibility of being more than that…

Fuck it, you liked him.

No longer doing mental somersaults in your brain, it was surprisingly easy to accept the fact that you had a crush on the Itachiyama ace.

And your relationship only seemed to grow as the school year went on. During the next practice match, you formally introduced Yukie and Kaori to the other manager. The four of you were quick buds and she was invited to your dorm room on occasion. Other members of the team greeted you warmly, Sakusa even calling you by your first name, confirming that your last conversation was not just a fever dream you had one day.

Your heart only squeezed in on itself more when you felt your lingering looks become mutual. Sakusa had always garnered your attention during practice matches. But between plays and matches, you would just be looking at him when suddenly, he would be looking at you too. 

No matter how many times it happened, Yukie always made sure to tease you when she caught you.

You would text him memes and would receive a dry lol in return. There were times that he would spin the conversation and ask if you had eaten yet. 

Was he really trying to mother hen the Fukurōdani manager? You thought with a smile.

Your small texts and conversations were tantamount to much more when it came to Sakusa. His actions meant much more than it did to the average person. He did not waste movements, nor did he waste his own time. These were more than just dry texts - Sakusa could easily not reply at all. 

You learned that he disliked oranges due to its messiness. He actually liked the colors of his school tracksuit, even though they were bright against the soft hues of the Tokyo landscape. He was not a fan of the interviews, but knew it was a small sacrifice if he wanted to go pro. He loved his team and wanted to go far with them.

These little details made you like him even more - there was so much more to him than just volleyball.

When you finally voiced your feelings to Yukie, she gave you a soft smile and a pat on the shoulder. “I have eyes, you know. We all do, actually. But I’m glad you finally caught up.”

You laughed at her words then - maybe you really were a late bloomer when it came to your feelings?

Your frequent texts became frequent calls. Those became frequent late night video chat’s and soon enough, even your coach was teasing you over your close relationship. 

“The next practice match with your boyfriend’s team is scheduled for next Friday.” They stated with a straight face to the entire volleyball team, making the third-years chuckle and Bokuto even nudge you with his elbow.

“Not saying you’re just friends anymore?” Yukie asked with a smirk one time.

You shrugged, to which Akaashi sighed before ruffling your hair.

And so, when the managers were hanging out in their hotel room at the next Interhigh National Tournament in the fall, neither Yukie nor Kaori nor the Itachiyama manager, who was chilling with you guys, batted an eyelash when Sakusa texted you to hang-out that night.

You texted back, trying to convey a teasing tone over the words. “Wouldn’t it be weird if I was having dinner with the rival team of mine at Nationals?”

His response was immediate:

Not team; just me.

You blush only increased and Yukie teased you further, “Woah, what could he possibly be sending you for you to get that red?”

“I’m willing to bet Yakisoba bread that they’ll be official before the next nationals.” The other manager stated, outstretching a hand toward Kaori and Yukie.

“Whaaaat?” The former drew out, “I’m thinking by tonight.”

“Shut up.” You stated as you blushed, putting on your outdoor shoes and a jacket.

Going down to the lobby, you scanned the room to see Akaashi and Bokuto at one of the tables. The two had such a… trusting relationship, you learned. Yes, Akaashi played the suffering card almost every day. But the setter loved to watch Bokuto play so passionately, you could see it in his eyes every time they were on the court.

Whatever was going on there, you supported it.

Turning away, you made your way over to the door where Sakusa was waiting. He looked so out of place, as per usual, hands in pockets and looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

As you approached, Sakusa nodded to you in greeting and - to your eternal surprise - took your hand in his own before guiding you out the door. He had on winter gloves, so none of your germs would be touching his skin, but the action itself was so surprising. Yes, you talked and smiled and pined after him - but premarital holding hands?? Were you both ready for this??

He led the way over to a small cafe, walking in mutual silence and only releasing your hand when the host seated you across from each other. You eagerly soaked up the menu, eyes scanning the sweets while he deliberated over something.

Sakusa had yet to say anything to you, not grabbing at the menu either, which worried you in a way. What was it that was on his mind?

“Something wrong, Yoomi?” The nickname slipped off the tongue easily, having used it in your last night talks on the phone with one another.

“I want you to know my intentions in our relationship.”

You swallowed at his words, sure that he heard your nervous tick as well.

“I want to get to know you.”

The teasing smile was quick on your face, “Me too. I mean, that’s what we’ve been doing all along?”

“No.” He cut in instantly, tugging the face mask he had on down and off. “As in get to know you with the intention of being more than friends.”

“Oh?”

“You confuse me endlessly.” He admitted, “Your initial kindness made no logical sense - why extend it to your rival that you barely know? Why humanize me, get to know my team after all this time?”

“Because I wanted to be kind, even way back then.” You thought aloud your reasoning.

“I know you now. And what I see… That’s what I like about you.”

“Wait. You like me?”

Your humility was cute and such a rare trait in your shared interest; the small question made Sakusa smile inwardly. 

“Yes. And you like me too.” He responded with a smirk, to which you could not even deny.

“Well, yeah!” You laughed as you affirmed his statement.

He tilted his head at your outburst - god help him you were so cute. His smirk morphed into one of an endearing expression, before he took a breath and calmed himself.

“I do have to be honest with you.” He started, “I want to get closer to you, more than before. But my priorities right now are volleyball.”

Your bright smile fell to a neutral grin, not really from his words, since you truly did understand his situation. He was in his third-year, college scouts and grades were on the line at every turn for him. Even tomorrow, at the Fall National tournament, his performance could very well carve out the future he was working so hard for this whole time.

Your silence must have been a telling sign for Sakusa, since he started to pour out questions in a way that usually occurred when he fixated on something.

“Stop, you don’t need to explain it to me. I understand fully. There’s too much on the line right now to get distracted.” Your smile was back on your face as you reached over to grab at his hand this time, “But I want to get to know you too.”

“Good.”

The hand under your’s squeezed back lightly, before upturning the positions so yours rested in his larger one. It was a silent moment, sharing eye contact that felt so intimate, and yet similar to the one you shared at the last tournament. His smile, rarer than the times Bokuto fell silent, was small and for you alone at this moment. 

What he was asking for was not an outright relationship - nothing about this was normal, but you wouldn’t have preferred it to be.

--------

(continue; BUT SPOILER WARNING TO CHAPTER 392!! :O)

You sat in the stands on the Black Jackals side, cheering on the team of your boyfriend of three years. Adorned on your shoulders was Sakusa’s sports jacket, his last name shown proudly on your back. Next to you, Akaashi and Yukie were loudly cheering for the team’s victory.

Seeing both Bokuto and Sakusa on the same team was no longer a strange sight. And, instead,  always elicited a pang of pride surging through you every time you watched their games.

The two of you never confirmed your relationship throughout the rest of high school. And while this made many of your then teammates groan at your ambiguous relationship, especially since many kept betting Yakisoba bread to no avail, you would not have it any other way.

After a few months from your conversation in the cafe, Sakusa would kiss your cheek in goodbye, no matter who was around you. When walking around Shibuya, with either yours or his or even with Nekoma’s team around, he would hover shoulder-to-shoulder with you.

And when Itachiyama, the favored team to win Nationals as a whole, lost to Inubushi East High - you held him in your embrace the entire night in the comfort of his hotel room. He did not cry then, but his disposition was enough for you to know that he was not okay.

And when Fukurōdani made it all the way to the finals of the National Spring Interhigh, only to get eliminated, Sakusa held you close despite your loud crying the next day.

You knew how much Sakusa cherished you, that was all that mattered. And so when he kissed you for the first time, even without a label to your relationship, none of that mattered. Your feelings to each other only grew with time and what happened in the private recess of your relationship was for you two alone.

Watching the pro team win the game 3:2, with your boyfriend getting the first service ace of the game, you almost cried in joy at how far he progressed in achieving his dream. This was a far cry from his first pro-game, but seeing him on the court, surrounded by your Fukurōdani friends, brought so much nostalgic feelings to your heart.

Even as the rest of the audience cleared the stadium, you and the two others lingered. Bokuto made sure to wave at Akaashi, his significant other since the day you lost at the Spring Nationals.

You waited together until you received a text from Sakusa, then headed down toward the entrance of the changing rooms as a group. Some of the members of the Black Jackals were already waiting for you three by the time you made it through the crowd and down.

Hinata greeted you excitedly while Bokuto ran, with not a hint of hesitation, toward Akaashi. Lifting the previous setter off the ground, he placed a light butterfly kiss on his nose, careful not to hit his glasses.

“Kōtarō, please.” Akaashi attempted to chastise the volleyball player for ignoring the rest of the group and stop him from getting any deeper in his public display of affection, but the smile on his face took off the weight of his words.

“I love you.” Bokuto said, forehead to forehead with your close friend to this day, before receiving the words in kind from the previous setter.

You smiled warmly at the two - to think that they were dancing around their feelings also in high school. Having teased them a lot before, it only warmed your heart to know that they found their eternal happiness in each other.

Yukie was also smiling behind you, before Bokuto took the both of you in his arms for a long awaited hug. Your high school best-friend offered him a Yakisoba bread after, it was not a silent tradition after all the lost bets she participated in. Bokuto took it with a smile, putting the bread in his pack before encasing Akaashi’s hand in his own.

Atsumu was next to leave the changing room, shamelessly flirting with both you and Yukie the moment he laid eyes on you.

You laughed at the setter’s attempts, “Come on blondie, give it up.”

“You know, I think you’d make a great manager for our team.” He ended it with a wink.

“(F/N)-chan used to be my manager before!” Bokuto cut in, sticking his tongue out in jest at the end.

You felt strong arms wrap around your midsection from behind, Sakusa having quietly exited the changing room, before feeling his lips against the side of your head. “Sorry for making you wait. I had to wait for them to sanitize the showers again after Atsumu used it before me.”

The setter sputtered in reaction, after being implied as dirty, but was honestly used to it by now. 

Only when Bokuto inclined his head toward the exits did Sakusa let go of you. But only for a second, grabbing your hand in his own as you headed out. The group had agreed earlier about going somewhere for the victory dinner - probably the usually ramen place you haunted in Shibuya.

Facing you fully now -  Sakusa held your cheeks in his hands, the coarse skin affected by the endless hours of enduring volleyball. You leaned into the motion as he lowered his height closer to you. Familiar with each other’s nuances by now, you angled your head to side as your hands comfortably wrapped around his neck. Nudging your nose slightly with his own, he rested his forehead against yours before the velvet skin of his lips matched your own.

You felt one of his hands move to curve around your waist, bringing you closer to him as he deepened your act of affection. Greedy to just feel more of him, you leaned into Sakusa again, lips meeting twice, three times, before you pulled away.

His loud groan was palpable to the now silent hallway.

Sakusa was only ever so affectionate when you were in private. And so for him to be this forward while the possibility of getting caught still hung in the balance was a rare thing - not that you were complaining.

“Come on, we should go catch-up with the rest of your team.” You said almost breathlessly, still sharing the same breath in your close embrace.

You felt one of his hands travel behind your head slowly, grazing the back of your neck softly as he went. You leaned into him at the feeling, sensitive to the touch. The smirk on his face was obvious, the jackass - teasing you in public of all places. 

“Do we have to?”

Was he trying to tempt you to just go straight home to your shared apartment?

Not one to be easily swayed, you gave him a small peck on the lips before backing out of his embrace entirely. 

His hands dropped down to yours as you went, “Yes, we have to.”

Pulling you back to him, and chastely kissing your forehead this time, Sakusa replied. “Okay, but only for you.”

Your smile only widened then, at his affection words meant only for you. 

Your relationship was never easy, busy with your respective college degrees, and the attention that came with being a professional athlete gaining world-renown. Like every other couple, you fought, and cried, and loved each other so much in your own little ways.

The two of you had a quiet sort of romance. You were not the sort who would flaunt your relationship in public, nor would you so eagerily utter the words I love you as other couples, but you knew that what you had was real.

What started as a chance encounter became the best partner you could ever ask for.

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

Author’s notes:

The only reason I’m thinking Fukurōdani has dorms is just an educated guess:

All the schools that have “Academy” in the name seem to be the ‘higher’ or more prestigious schools. Karasuno High, Nekoma High, Shinzen High - none of these places have dorms. But Shiratorizawa Academy; Fukurōdani Academy; Itachiyama Academy -> since Shiratorizawa is confirmed to have dorms i figured ayyy let's roll with it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ A loooot of my assumptions are going to be based off Shiratorizawa - like the fact that they feel they’re the best and practice with colleges instead of other hs cause they’re not good enough lmao

IT ALMOST KILLS ME that we know only TWO people on the Itachiyama team and then timeskip hits and its like ?? LOL ok ?? hype them up for so long and JUST NOW we see Sakusa play ok ok ok 

✧  Masterlist

[crybabykiko]

Hot Fuss, Full Panic

Pink Lips: Semi Eita x f!Reader

Warnings: this banner being bad, alcohol/drinking, sex under the influence but really it’s like maybe 2 shots for liquid courage- idk of lipstick counts as marking but fuck it we ball, unprotected sex, sex outside... in an alleyway, orgasm denial on his end, semi calls reader ‘toots’ yay sleazy musicians

Wc: 2.7k... well 2698 to be exact but we round up in this house

A/N: yes this is named after both a killers album and a lipstick. For the lovely Two in the Pink, One in the Kink Collab by the Sewer. I loved writing this it’s been done for weeks now and I’m so excited to see everyone else’s! Check the mlist here and support all the other creators, bc it’s v sexy! ~squeak squeak~ 💕

“You all alone tonight?”

“I’m alone every night, Sem,” you chuckled, continuing to clamor through empty glasses, wiping the sticky, rum-coated bar clean. Knowing him by name, you quickly poured up his usual gently sliding it his way. Jameson & Ginger Ale, for nights when he performs- any other time he’d get through the night on a few Dark n’ Stormys, saving at least 2 Kamikazes for you throughout the night until he stumbled back into whatever sewer hot pseudo-troubled musicians came from- probably one downtown, not too far from you.

“Well yeah, but no one’s bought you a shot tonight…”

He raised the glass to his lips, slowly knocking back down the stiff one you poured. He grimaced, clearing his throat and pushing the glass back toward you, blowing out a whistle as he cleared his throat.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t think anyone would like it if their date bought the bartender a shot.”

He pointed to the silver bottle of Milagro on the top shelf, sending you a wink. Taking the hint, you let out a half laugh- grabbing two double shot glasses and tiny slivers of lime, pouring both glasses to the rim.

“To a day just like any other,” you sighed, leveling yourself with him. Your disdain for February 14th was just as palpable as the months of innuendo laced conversation and shared shots with the local band’s d-list ‘celebrity’ frontman- the mutual desire pulling ahead by just a hair.

“To a wallet full of tips and a bar full of people getting lucky,” he shot back, tapping his glass with yours. The tequila was smooth, but being your first shot of the night, the burn was present and crisp as it went down, sending a shiver up your back. You slapped the shot down, pink lipstick stain imprinting the glass as you harshly sucked down your lime. Semi slid a $20 across the bar to you. As you neatly tucked it in your bra and took the glasses, he stood up to adjust his shirt and get his bearings.

“Have a good set!” you called after him. But he was already in the crowd. A sliver of light expanded and disappeared as you watched him slip into the backstage opening.

“Here ya go boys- on the house.”

The small tray you carried into the bar’s makeshift green room was filled with glasses of pink drinks, each adorned with a little lime slice and sugared rim.

“Pink Whitney… how original,” one of his bandmates remarked, knocking back the glass and setting it on top of a rusted filing cabinet.

“Be grateful,” you scoffed. “It’s the only thing I could manage to sneak past here for free.”

A chorus of sighs and clinking glasses resounded in the room, reassuring you the band would be happy regardless of what drew alcohol you bought them for the night. As long as the guys had an ounce of liquid courage before their set, you knew it’d go off without a hitch. You noticed one of the glasses still full on your tray- and Semi was nowhere in sight.

“Hey where’s-“ you started to ask, not really expecting an answer.

“Probably out back smoking,” a voice answered before you could even get his name past your lips. Picking up the small offering, you had half the mind to guzzle the glass down on your own- after all, it was already starting to water itself down. You poked your head up against the tiny door window, peering out slightly before sticking your head out to find the musician in the middle of his usual pre-show activities.

“There you are.” You spotted him.

He was leaning against the wall of the brick paved alleyway, cigarettes pursed between his lips.

“You shouldn’t be smoking those y’know,” you teased, bounding over to him. Finishing his drag, his smoke plumed into the crisp night air. His eyebrow cocked toward you as he placed it back to his lips. Gingerly, your own fingers scissored around the white tube, pulling it from his mouth and bringing it to your own lips with a soft smile, taking a deep inhale.

“They’re bad for your voice,” you exhaled away from his face and into the night. The mouthpiece was now coated in the same rosy markings as your shot glass. You stamped it out, much to his dismay.

“You got something better?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

With a pursed-lipped smile, you pushed the pink concoction to his lips, the sweat from the ice causing the sugar to run down the rim and over your hands. As Semi sucked the drink down, the glass was ripped from his lips and replaced by two of your saccharine coated digits. His tongue suckled your fingers as you pulled them out with a wet smack, neatly tucking them into your own mouth, then trailing the hand down your body to dry at the hem of your skirt. Your eyes fell just in front of his, glossed over in a heavily lecherous gaze. His lips found yours suddenly, hungrily- the fading flavor of pink lemonade and sugar on both your tongues as his body caged yours into the wall. Your face felt hot and your head was barely swimming from the rush of the shots you’d taken prior, but the surprise of the contact had knocked enough air out of you that you were gasping into the kiss, clawing at the back of his dip-dyed head of hair. The small glass in your hand slipped through your fingers, shattering and sending shards scattering against the asphalt beneath you.

The back door swung open, a head peeking out just enough behind the frame.

“Yo, Semi!” It was one of his bandmates, sticking his head out of the door. “Hurry it up we’re on in 10!”

He clamped a head over your mouth, sticking his head back to yell unintelligibly- or at least you couldn’t hear with the blood rushing to your ears and heartbeat pounding in your head. The loud thud of the heavy door tore through your spine, snapping you back into this present moment: the one in which you’d basically just made out in a cold, damp alleyway with Eita Semi- on Valentine’s Day. Of all days, you just had to do something about the months of mounting sexual tension between you two… on Valentine’s Day.

He moved his hand, freeing your lips as he checked to see how clear the coast was before turning back to you.

“I think I can get you there in 8,” the way he whispered reverberated in your chest and core almost simultaneously. His lips connected to your neck, slowly tracing upward, stopping to nip at your earlobe.

“Whaddaya say?”

He was telling you more than asking at this point, closing the finite space between you and already starting to slowly hike up your skirt with his fingertips. His eyes had become tenfold darker than originally, and the head rush you were feeling left you little to no time to oblige, not that you didn’t want to anyway. Your head began to loll to the side as it flew back, allowing him more access to your neck, his tongue gliding against the exposed skin while his calloused fingers began toying at your already exposed, and already slick pussy. You were putty in his hands at that point- no matter if you never wore underwear in the first place.

“Fuck,” Semi hissed against your collarbones. “No panties and you’re already nice and wet for me, hm? What a nasty little thing… good girl.”

He traced the pad of his index finger up and down your slit, collecting your essence as you shuddered yet again under his tough, a soft whine spilling from your throat. He couldn’t hold back a laugh, teasing you gently while grinding his bulging cock into the soft flesh of your exposed thighs. Your hands balled at the fabric of his shirt as you lifted it just enough to find his belt buckle, fidgeting with it and having absolutely no care for the heavy metal pieces rapping against your knuckles- if anything the small twinges of pain only added to the euphoria you were already starting to drown in.

“Hurry it up Y/N, we only got 7 minutes left…”

Obeying his command you unzipped his jeans, immediately hooking your thumb between the waistband of his boxers and the skin of his lower abs. You started to sink to your knees as you freed his cock from the confines that held him, mouth already watering. Just as you parted your lips, though, a harsh tug of your hair pulled you back onto your feet, spinning you and pressing your face against the cold brick. Your skirt was now pulled completely up and at your hips as Semi pushed your back down, arching you at his perfect level and holding your arm behind your back.

“Ah-ah,” he reprimanded with a smirk, sending two rough slaps to the meat of your ass. “Not enough time for that toots- maybe after the show.”

He lined himself up with your now glistening hole, teasing it with the tip for a few swipes before beginning to prod at your pretty pink insides. The stretch was slow and searing, but you were so wet that your walls immediately sucked him in, offering barely to no resistance. Your face pushed impossibly further into the wall in front of you as he started to build up an even pace, the head of his cock just barely grazing against the spot inside of that would render you absolutely and irrevocably cockdrunk.

“S-sem-ah-fuck!” Just as you started to speak he pulled out completely, arching your back even more as he buried himself deep in your aching pussy. Your back arched like that of a cat’s- leaning into the sensation with a wild, lewd mewl. He was speeding up now, groaning as he watched you coat his cock with a milky white sheen.

“That’s it,” he spanked you several more times, coaxing you to fuck yourself on his length as he spread your ass apart for a better view. “You think you can get yourself off on my cock in 5 minutes? C’mon, you can do it- go ahead, it’s all yours…”

You felt yourself growing even slicker at his words, his voice was like velvet and he wasn’t even singing. You started working your hips so fervently, so earnestly against him that the pace you were going had you white knuckling the railing next to you for stability as he continued to pull you down onto him with the hand behind your back. The smacking of skin against skin filled the air of the dark, damp alley, echoing out into the street as you could see the hazy lights of cars passing by though your eyelashes. His hands found your hair, pulling you up and back into him, matching the speed of his own thrusts to yours.

You could barely get out anything other than choked out moans and gasps. As you got closer and closer to your high, you started to feel dizzier and dizzier. You could feel your insides slowly starting to flutter as your conquest slipped from where you needed him, the displeased moan was halfhearted as he flipped you back around, closely holding your head into his chest.

Semi hoisted your leg up, holding it up at the knee, pushing the head of his cock just past your gleaming lips, walls greedily pulling him in with a slick smacking sound made by your wetness.

“Please, I’m so close- ‘mso fucking close,” you sobbed, rubbing your face against his chest. He smelled like cigarettes, cardamom and sweat. Combined with the carnal scent of sex wafting through the outside air, you gritted your teeth as your walls started to spasm and clench around him.

“Good girl, ngh- good fucking girl.” His praise had you spilling over, gushing over his cock with a shrill cry of his name into the night. He didn’t ease up, fucking you though the high, clutching you closer as your body went limp on your comedown.

“Time’s up, toots- but I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

Your breath was shaky and haggard as he pulled out of you, neatly trying to tuck his still hard cock into his pants. You were too hazy to make a point at how he hadn’t cum, but he helped you into your feet and up the stairs leading back to the green room. He picked up his guitar, swinging open the door and letting you go through first, leaving you sprinting on wobbly legs to your post at the bar.

“Y/N!” He called after you. You whipped your head back, mouth still ajar and eyes glossed over as your thighs continued to tremble.

“Stick around after we finish the set- I’ve still got to get what I want,” he said, flashing you a smile dripping with self- righteousness.

You still nodded though.

Creeping back behind the bar, you stopped just in time to not be noticed by the other 2 girls working with you that night, falling right into the chaos and clamor of everyone getting a drink before the house lights started to dim.

The lights on staged tuned a neon pink as Semi and his band took the stage, the chorus of screaming fans and adoring groupies filled the small space so much so that it felt like a stadium show, so much for the feeling of being a small town secret.

“Hey everyone, we are Hot Fuss”, he said into the mic, the cheers once again following as he set up with his guitar, the strap resting softly against the three undone buttons of his shirt- the shirt covered in the soft pink that previously adorned your lips. It was Everywhere, perfect little smeared kiss-marks, ever present reminders of how he had you bent over in an alleyway not even five minutes earlier, fucking you within an inch of your sanity. He shifted the guitar to rest behind him, exposing his chest, and the perfect imprint of your lips adorned his soft skin, the light giving it a glow almost, another round of mostly feminine squeals pierced the air again as someone whistled at the sight of Semi’s tousled physique.

“What’d you get up to Tonight, Semi-Semi?” His drummer teased, egging on the crowd. Your cheeks were so hot you felt like you’d melt. Semi just laughed, taking a soft strum while tuning his guitar onstage, leaning into the microphone and sending a look toward the back of the bar.

“I’m just dressed for the theme,” he joked, winking at several girls in the crowd. He strummed a couple more notes, pushing up against the microphone stand- and showing of his still present bulge, thick as the mic handle in his hand.

“We’re very grateful that all of you chose to be here tonight instead of getting laid,” he began, keeping the banter engaging while the rest of the band continued to set up.

“The night is young though, I guess.  And hey, the bar’s still open,” he looked back again, this time seeming to scan for you. You could feel him on your skin still, his touch was feather light, yet lingered on your skin so heavily.

“Ask your bartenders to help you get lucky!” The crowd laughed again, this time earning a lot of raunchy cheers from the men in the audience.

“All right enough shooting the shit though, you all came here for music, right?”

Loud applause filled the bar again as you stopped to watch him, propping your elbow up and onto the bar, fixating your eyes to see him in the shades of pink across a sea of heads.

“Well then let’s do it. Our first song for the night is very fitting…”

He found you. Your eyes locked on one another and stayed still. You could feel your heart freeze as you ran cold. He winked at you.

“Sing along if you know this one… it’s called Valentine.”

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

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

On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear. 

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there. 

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself. 

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games. 

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...” 

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”  

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work." 

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

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church. 

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family. 

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee. 

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road. 

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat. 

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it. 

She was also deadly serious. 

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

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

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations. 

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep. 

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes. 

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair. 

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking. 

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either." 

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

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

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs. 

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides. 

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill. 

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?" 

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?" 

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk. 

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?" 

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone;  the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!". 

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that. 

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away," 

He regretted it as soon as it came out. 

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip. 

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything? 

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

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

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way. 

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too. 

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion. 

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from. 

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

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

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[sleepless-stories]

A Shot In The Storm

Summary: A world where People are given scores rating the strength of their powers. There are myths of assassins who kill and target people who have no powers or have a large amount of power and who they deem too powerful. Logan and Virgil were in a happy relationship. Then Logan goes to get tested and it results in a score higher than anyone would've thought. This score leading to Logan's demise. Following Logan's death, caught up in grief Virgil begins to hunt those he believes to be responsible, and starts to kill them. 

Ships: Analogical

Warnings: Major Character Death, Killing/Murder, Kidnapping, Blood/Gore, Violence, Weapons (Knives, Guns), Torture, Threats, Governmental Conspiracy, Angst (Little to no comfort), Panic Attacks, Oxygen Deprivation, Grief/Mourning

As a Part of the @sandersidesbigbang Art for fic by @lickoutyourbrains  (Here) Beta Read by @5-falsehoods-phonated

Read On Ao3

__________________________

Virgil walked through the city, hood over his head as he walked. Passing the signs and billboards, advertising to get your power test rating, as he walked down the sidewalk. 

Go get tested today! Get your results Find your strength 

The tests were required by the state to be taken every year. If you were recorded not taking a test in a single year, you’d be brought to one by the city’s security, maybe even put in jail for a few hours. 

Every year Virgil had taken the test he just constantly scored in the low 20s, which wasn’t bad. Nobody ever scored over 40 afterall. Even with the score ratings going up to 150, not a single person scored that high ever, it was practically impossible. It wasn’t known why or how nobody scored that anywhere near 150, maybe powers declined in strength over the years. Some said that those who scored high had too much power, that they burned out, dying from all that power, or even went mad with power and tried to attack people and the city. Then those few rumored people who did end up scoring high, disappeared. They didn’t really exist. There were rumors… theories, that they did exist, and were taken out. That the city had contracted assassins to eliminate those who scored high, they were deemed too powerful, too dangerous to exist. Nobody really ever confirmed anything, they couldn’t… everything was rumored or conspiracies. 

Virgil shook his head, ignoring the billboards, and  pulled his hood more over his face, crossing his arms as cold breezes passed by him. The air felt heavy, humid, like it was going to rain in the next coming days, or hours, the darkened clouds just confirmed that.

Virgil walked through the crowds going to his boyfriend's apartment. He walked into the building getting into an empty elevator. Virgil looked at the button panel and pressed to go to the 5th floor. He stood silently as the elevator slowly took him up, making a humming noise as it ascended floors. Gladly the elevator went up, not stopping on any other floors. It dinged as it got to the floor, the doors slowly sliding open. 

Virgil sighed relieved, running a hand through his hair as he walked out then down the grey hallway lined with apartment doors. Virgil finally got to Logan’s apartment door, lightly knocking at it waiting for an answer. 

Logan opened the door in surprise, “Good morning, what are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to stop by, say hello… You don’t have work today, do you?” Virgil asked, he didn’t think Logan did… but he didn’t want to interrupt him and be in the way. 

Logan shook his head, stepping out of the way, “No, today is my day off. I’m just surprised at seeing you. I didn’t expect you to be coming.” 

“Sorry, I should’ve texted.” Virgil sighed walking in. 

Logan shook his head, shutting the door softly, “No need, you do have a key. You’re welcome over whenever you please.” 

Virgil smiled and stepped closer pulling Logan into a hug. 

Logan wrapped his arms around him hugging back. “It’s quite good to see you, though a nice surprise too.” 

Virgil laughed softly, pulling away, “So what were you doing today?”

“Ah, I was going to get a test in a few hours, got a letter in the mail summoning me to go.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “I hate testing. Takes forever.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” Logan laughed. 

Virgil walked through the apartment towards the balcony and went out onto it. 

Logan followed him out and leaned on the railing. 

“When is it going to rain?” Virgil asked, looking into Logan’s stormy blue eyes. 

“Today, Evening maybe… tomorrow too,” Logan said softly, looking up at the sky. 

Virgil nodded, “Anything else to report, Mr Weatherman?”

Logan laughed, shaking his head, “Hmm, there will be clear skies. The rain storm might have thunder and lightning but it’ll pass quickly. After that there will be cloudless clear skies.” Logan smiled looking up at the clouds as he talked, “Bring an umbrella… though I know you already do that. Prepare for a heavy but short lived storm. After the storm there might be a rainbow. But everything will be bright and clear… the perfect weather.” Logan sighed and looked at Virgil. 

Virgil stood there smiling, staring at Logan, just amazed. “Thanks, I’ll make sure to remember that.” 

“You better, or else you might go out and for once not bring an umbrella.”

Virgil laughed, shaking his head, “if I forget an umbrella I’ll just think of a more creative way to stay dry.” He raised his hand up a bit, making a dome of air around them. He dropped it after a moment and just watched Logan. 

“Yeah… but just remember, umbrella.” Logan shrugged, pushing himself off the railing, walking back indoors. Logan walked into the kitchen with Virgil following behind him, “Tea?”

Virgil nodded softly, “Yes, thank you.”

Logan nodded and grabbed the kettle, he had one hand under it and the other resting on the side as he turned on the sink, carefully Logan took the hand off the side of the kettle manipulating the water to go into it. He started heating the bottom of the kettle as he grabbed mugs and tea bags, setting everything up as he waited for the tea to be done. 

Virgil sat down on the kitchen island as he watched Logan make the tea, “You’re just showing off,” he teased. 

Logan looked up, shaking head, “Yeah whatever, this is the quickest way though.”

Virgil shrugged softly, “Whatever you say.”

Logan laughed and looked at the kettle when it started whistling. He carefully put it down on the stovetop, so as to not burn any surfaces. He picked it up by the handle lightly pouring water into each mug then adding a teabag. “Want any sugar or anything?”

“Nah, I’ll just have it black… as always.” Virgil shrugged, getting the counters before going over to take his mug. 

Logan picked up his own mug smiling softly. “Alright,” he nodded. 

Virgil flicked his wrist, having a bit of air blow on the hot liquid cooling it off a bit. He smirked when it was a bit cooler, the steam no longer coming off of the top of the liquid. Virgil sipped it, leaning back against the counters. 

Logan stood leaning against the opposite counter staring at Virgil for a few moments just grinning with his own mug in his hands. 

Virgil glanced up, looking at Logan, “What’s up?”

“You’re just… Breathtaking.” Logan said and laughed.

Virgil blushed brightly looking at his tea. 

Logan looked at the time and sipped his tea. “I should get ready and go. Better to get the test sooner rather than have to go out and do it later on...” 

Virgil nodded, “I’d rather you not forget about it all together. It’d be better if you went now… I’ll just hang out around here while you’re out.``

“Oh are you?”

“Yes, I am…”

“And what will you be doing while I’m out?”

“...cleaning,” Virgil mumbled, though the whole apartment was absolutely spotless. 

“Mhmmm yes, cleaning. Well, you have fun ‘cleaning’ my apartment.” Logan laughed softly putting down his half full mug. 

Virgil put down his own, stepping forward hugging Logan. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be back in an hour.” Logan nodded, grabbing his wallet, phone, and jacket. “Lock the door.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll lock it the moment you step out the door,” Virgil said as he picked up Logan’s mug, placing it in the microwave to preserve some of the heat of the tea. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Logan walked over giving him a quick hug. 

Virgil kissed his cheek before pulling away. “Now go,” Virgil told him, laughing.

Logan rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. It’s not like I’m always on time for everything.” Logan nodded, going to the door. 

“I’ll see you later.”

Logan waved before walking out the door. 

Virgil walked over, locking it behind Logan before looking around. He picked up some things, not doing much cleaning. Instead he decided to start making lunch for when Logan got back. 

__________

It had been over an hour now, Virgil sat on Logan’s couch, watching some tv while the lunch was in the oven. He jumped slightly when he heard knocks at the front door. Virgil walked over and checked through the little hole in the top of the door, smiling when seeing it was Logan. “Hey! You’re ba-” he paused when Logan stared at him with an expression one could only describe as horror. “Lo?”

Logan avoided looking at Virgil and walked inside, he sent a gust of air at the door slamming it shut, ripping the handle from Virgil’s hands. “I…”

Virgil winched when the door slammed but just locked it before turning to Logan and pulling him into a hug, “L… what’s wrong? How was the test?”

Logan shook his head softly, “one seventy.” he mumbled. 

Virgil looked at Logan confused, “What? What are you talking about?”

“My… my score… It's one seventy.” He said, looking at Virgil fully, and… afraid. 

“You got a hundred seventy? How… How is that even possible? The highest you could get is a hundred fif-”

“Two hundred… the highest score is… two hundred.” Logan replied. 

“How? But… you only scored a thirty seven last year… no. no. This isn’t possible. They said your score was wrong. Maybe you just got a seventy one.”

Logan shook his head as he pulled out a paper from his pocket with his test evaluation. On the paper in big red ink was written one seven zero.

Virgil took the paper shaking his head as he looked at it. “This doesn’t make sense… no. How? You should be tearing yourself apart right now from that much power.”

“I’m not sure… it doesn’t make sense, but I feel fine.” Logan told him, looking scared. 

Virgil took a deep breath, hugging him tight. “You’ll be alright.”

“But what about the as-”

“They’re just conspiracy theories… just theories. Nothing to be worried about.” Virgil pulled Logan to the couch and sat him down. He went to the kitchen, heating up the remaining tea before going back over to Logan and handing him the mug. “Just relax. Everything is going to be alright. Maybe their computers were malfunctioning, and they’re just going to call you back tomorrow to redo the test.”

“Virgil… This is my score, they don’t make mistakes.” Logan told him, his voice unwavering as he spoke. He sipped the tea looking down. 

Virgil shook his head holding his boyfriend. “Well it doesn’t matter, you’re safe.” he told him, taking a deep breath. 

Logan nodded, “Yeah, it’s ok. It’s just a score, it’s not bad. It’s high but not bad at all.`` Logan nodded. 

Both Logan and Virgil froze when there was a knock at the door. 

Virgil carefully got up walking to the door, he grabbed a large vase on his way to the door. 

There was silence. 

Virgil slowly opened the door, nobody was there, all that remained was a small card. Virgil kneeled down picking it up. He took a deep breath seeing the words. 

24 hours, your time is up

Virgil glanced back at Logan. 

“Virgil? What is it?” Logan asked softly, walking over to Virgil. 

“Um… Logan… everything isn’t going to be ok,” He whispered looking at Logan handing him the card as he stood. 

Logan glanced over the card, panic rising in his chest. “I….”

Virgil stared at him and stepped closer. 

Logan took a step back, “No! Wait… Virgil, go.”

“Lo, I can’t just leave you.”

“I said go!”

Virgil took a deep breath, “Logan, maybe it’s some prank.”

“Virgil, I have some time to get everything in order, maybe a chance to run. Go now.” Logan glared, “Or I’ll make you go, I can’t have you getting hurt at all.”

Virgil nodded, walking backwards to the door, “I’ll come back for you in a few hours,” Virgil told him as he stood in the doorway. 

Logan didn’t respond as he flicked his wrist slamming the door shut. 

Virgil took a step back quickly as the door came flying shut. He stood there staring at the closed door for several minutes before walking away down the halls and to the elevator, reluctantly heading home.

__________________

Virgil grabbed an umbrella before running back to Logan’s a few hours later. He arrived at Logan’s apartment quickly, using his key to open the door. 

Logan stood inside tossing things in a bag, his apartment a mess. 

Virgil shut the door, putting his umbrella down, “Lo?”

Logan turned around quickly, “Oh… you’re back. Um… I’m leaving.”

Virgil ran over and hugged him, “You’re running away?”

“I wouldn’t say it like that, but yeah.” Logan nodded, hugging back. “I love you.”

“I love you too… But you’re not going alone.” Virgil glared, stepping back. 

Logan nodded, taking a deep breath, “Fine… You could come with me, as far as seeing me off.”

Virgil nodded softly and hugged himself looking down, “Thank you…” 

Logan kissed his forehead before grabbing his bag and an umbrella, walking to the door. 

Virgil looked up and followed behind him, grabbing his umbrella before following him out of the apartment. 

They took the elevator down to the ground floor in silence, the air somber and heavy around them. Neither saying anything to one another. 

Virgil paused at the threshold of the building, the exit to outside. “It’s raining.” He mumbled looking out the glass then looking back at Logan. 

Logan nodded, “As predicted…” 

Virgil took Logan's hand as they walked out of the building, he opened the umbrella as they stepped out so they wouldn’t be soaked. 

Logan held his own umbrella over his head as he led Virgil towards the park, walking down the path of the park towards the other entrance. 

Virgil’s pace slowed as they walked closer to the other side of the park, his hand tightening in Logan’s. 

Logan looked down softly at Virgil and nodded, “It’ll be alright. I promise, my dark star.”

Virgil just nodded silently looking down towards the ground.

Logan slowed, stopping when they got to the park’s second entrance, their exit. 

Virgil looked up at Logan, staying by the park’s archway entrance. He stood holding the umbrella.

Logan smiled, waving before walking towards the street.

Virgil watched reluctantly as Logan crossed the street, watching him walk away through the rain. He stood there watching his boyfriend just leave... 

“Logan! Wait!” Virgil yelled, dropping his umbrella, running to Logan. 

Logan turned when he heard Virgil yell. He put an arm around him when Virgil practically collided with him.

“Please, don’t go.” Virgil whispered, wrapping his arms around Logan.

Logan shook his head holding his umbrella over them both, “I’ll be safe.” He replied softly.

Virgil nodded then leaned up, kissing him.

Logan held Virgil closer as he kissed back. 

Suddenly there was a bang. Virgil couldn’t react fast enough, he didn’t even realize what had happened before he pulled away from Logan, seeing pain in his eyes. Virgil ran one of his hands across Logan’s back and looked at it. His hand was stained red by blood. 

Logan stared at Virgil, his eyes tearing up as he mouthed that he was sorry. The umbrella he had been holding fell to the ground as he collapsed.

Virgil made sure to catch Logan before the other fell to the ground, practically lifeless. “Logan, no… please, you… you can’t die.” He pleaded, “Logan just keep breathing. Don’t you dare leave me.” 

Logan shook his head softly, “they’re real… I should’ve listened to you… all your conspiracy theories.” He whispered weakly.

Virgil shook his head, “stop that! This isn’t a fucking ‘I told you so’ moment!” He pulled out his phone, hands shaking as he called emergency services.

Logan looked up at the sky, rain falling on his face as he looked at the dark clouds. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil shook his head wiping away tears, “you’re not dying, not now.” He replied. He took one of Logan’s hands, squeezing it, “stay with me.” Virgil sighed softly when the dispatcher answered. Virgil quickly told them what was happening, only half making sense in his panic. Though he already knew it was too late, they wouldn’t arrive in time… professionals don’t miss, and Logan was dying.

Virgil finished his call and dropped his phone just holding Logan’s hands on his own. “I love you,” Virgil whispered as he squeezed Logan's hands.

Logan smiled weakly, “I love you too… but this won’t be the end…” He whispered. Tears slipped down his face, disguised by the rain pouring down on them. He knew he was bleeding out quickly, it was the end… a slow, painful demise. 

Virgil held Logan’s hands tight. He leaned down resting his forehead on Logan’s chest just listening to his heart, to the slowing beats. 

It was too late by the time the ambulance arrived, Logan died. The pavement stained with his blood as Virgil kneeled beside him refusing to go.

________________

He looked at his phone smiling, target acquired, scored 170. He packed his things quickly, grabbing his bag. He put his gear on, and slipped on his hood over the mask before picking up the bag. He got on his motorcycle to the location of the target. 

“Target on the move.” came over his communicator. 

He glanced at the GPS directing to the location of the target’s home, seeing the park right near it. He knew where the target would go, and would try escaping to. He drove quickly, stopping outside the park’s south entrance before driving around the back of one of the buildings. He grabbed his bag looking at the building’s back entrance. 

He went in starting to climb the stairs, getting to higher ground. He reached the 5th level of the building, walking down the hall. He paused at one door, breaking it in, and walked to the first window he saw once inside. “Perfect.” He whispered. 

He put his bag down pushing open the window before opening his bag. Inside was a large, dark red silenced sniper rifle with a small gold sword decal on the side. He simply took out the gun, setting it up, then pointing it out the window towards the park. 

Then… he waited. 

“Target spotted.” he said into his communicator after a few moments. 

He took aim, whistling quietly causing soundwaves to move in the direction of the target. He kept whistling as he fired. Watching the target and a civilian kissing before the target was on the ground. Hit dead in the back. 

He smirked, packing up the gun as he watched the civilian morn. Though the target was dangerous, if not now they would have been in the future. The target was too powerful, if they ever had a breakdown they probably could take out the city. He was just protecting it. 

“Base to Prince, Report.” a voice came from the communicator. 

“Target down, waiting for confirmation of death.” 

“Stay at location till confirmation, EMS on the way.”

“Copy,” Prince replied, finishing putting away the weapon and just sat back against the wall listening to the rain fall outside the window.

Sirens blared down the road after minutes, driving closer before stopping. Paramedics got out checking on the target. They spoke before picking up the target onto a gurney, they placed a blanket over the body covering the face putting the target into the truck as one paramedic tried to help the civilian out of shock. 

“Target cold.” a voice came through. 

Prince smiled, “I’ll make the report.”

The red and blue lights continued flashing outside reflecting off the wet pavement as Prince left the room and exited the building through the back, returning to base. 

__________ 

Virgil stayed seated by the pool of blood, long since soaked into the pavement. The body and paramedics, gone. He just sat there in sickening silence, covered in Logan’s blood. 

A car drove up beside him and stopped. Someone got out walking over to him slowly before dropping to kneel next to him.

“Virgil, the hospital called me… I heard what happened.” A voice said softly.

Virgil took a deep breath before looking at the other, a man with half his face covered in green snake scales, brown hair, an amber and yellow snake eye wearing head to toe black. Rage and mournful sorrow in his eyes. “He was shot…” he growled.

The man, Janus nodded and opened his arms to offer a hug.

Virgil simply shook his head pushing himself up to stand. “He was murdered… Everyone thinks it’s just a conspiracy, that these assassins don’t exist, but they do! They really do!” He yelled out into the empty night air. Taking a breath he shook his head, “I can’t let them take Lo from me that easily.”

Janus smirked slightly, standing. “Well I’m here to assist you as needed, I’m quite good at acquiring information. Plus, I could offer you a ride,” He told him as he took off his cloak, putting it over the rain soaked Virgil.

Virgil nodded, “Thank you.”

“But you’re not going hunting tonight, Spider, you’re going to rest and mourn.” Janus stepped forward pulling the other into a hug. 

Virgil hugged back starting to cry again. He was led into the passenger seat and buckled up. 

Everything was a blur, getting home to Janus’ house, going to bed in the guest room, waking up. 

Virgil was just now sitting at the kitchen table, feeling out of reality. The sun up and the clock reading 7:30AM. 

Janus walked over, putting cereal in front of Virgil, “Here, eat.”

Virgil nodded and took a deep breath and started to eat. “I… how am I going to hunt a myth?”

Janus smirked sitting across from Virgil, “I know someone, he’s a bit… out of it. But you might be able to get some information from him. He’s all about all those conspiracies and myths, just nobody believes him.”

Virgil nodded softly, “alright, where could I meet him?”

“Hmm well there are two potential places you could find him.” 

“And are you going to tell me then?”

“Well you’re not going to like it.”

“Janus, I don’t like anything right now…. My boyfriend literally got killed last night in my arms last night! I don’t really care much where I have to go.”

“Dark market, or The Underground.”

“Hmm so an illegal black market, or an underground nightclub of criminals.”

“Exactly, that’s why I was saying you wouldn’t like it-“

“I’ll go… could you bring me home though for right now? I need to get changed.”

“Fine… though I didn’t even expect you to agree. Do you want me to come with you? Or would you rather go alone?”

“I’ll go in alone, just tell me how to find him, and give me a ride.”

Janus nodded, “first, eat.” 

Virgil ate before Janus took him to the car and let him bring him home. 

Virgil got out of the car at his apartment and went inside. He went to his apartment quickly getting changed into a black leather jacket and dark jeans with combat boots that had purple laces. He hid his grey half heart necklace that he had shared with Logan, under his shirt before looking in the mirror staring at himself. He hoped this was good enough. He looked around and paused when he saw across the room on his chair was one of Logan's ties. 

Virgil held on to his chest as he went over picking up the tie, carefully tying it to one of his belt loops on his pants before heading to the door. 

Janus had gotten bored of sitting in the car, just waiting, and waiting… well it wasn't that long he probably waited like 3 minutes before he grew bored. Janus walked into the building and went to Virgil’s apartment. He got to the door grabbing for the handle, it seems someone forgot to lock the door behind himself. He shook his head sighing before walking inside.

Virgil jumped a bit when he saw Janus standing there in the doorway, “Hey.”

“Hmm hello, you look great. Though you’re missing something.”

“What? What am I missing?” Virgil asked, confused. 

 Janus guided him back into the bedroom and into the bathroom, pushing the grieving emo to sit on the toilet seat. “Makeup, we’re concealing your identity after all.”

“Why does my-”

“So nobody knows who you are, everyone conceals theirs. It’s so nobody will recognize you if they know you. Nobody who goes to The Dark Market or The Underground ever means good, and it's especially not good to be recognized.”

“Then I’ll wear a mask.” Virgil rolled his eyes. 

“Fine you can, with makeup too, and I have an idea.” Janus smiled, grabbing out Virgil’s makeup. He smiled looking at everything in the box. He pulled out a pair of bright violet contact lenses and gave them to Virgil, “Put them in.”

“Fine.” Virgil nodded, taking them. He stood up looking in the mirror as he put the contacts in. 

Janus pushed Virgil to sit down as soon as the contacts were in. He started adding some eyeshadow below Virgil’s eyes and some slightly above. After he took some eyeliner and made drips down from his eyes, like tear streaks. 

“Are you almost done?” Virgil asked impatiently. 

“Just shush. Just a few more things to add.” Janus smiled, taking some neon purple eyeliner and drawing some spiderwebs on Virgil’s face, “All done. You’re a new person.” 

“Yeah sure I am.” Virgil rolled his eyes, getting up. He looked in the mirror smiling, “Looks good, you didn’t do bad. So how do I find this guy?” He asked, finding a black mask and putting it over the lower half of his face.

Janus put away all the makeup before guiding Virgil out and back out to the car, “Well I’ll explain in the car, how does that sound.”

“Fine, as long as you think he could help me.”

“Well… help is questionable, he could just push you in the right direction.” 

Virgil nodded softly, “Alright.”

Janus got outside to the car and got in.

Virgil got in after looking over at him, “So… talk to me.”

Janus pulled out a box and handed it to him, “Well put this earpiece in, so I could talk to you as you're in there.”

“Alright, fine.” Virgil nodded, taking it out putting it in his ear. 

“But basically, I think our first destination should be The Dark Market, he's most likely to be there. He only visits The Underground at night, but that is never certain. If you’re lucky he’ll approach you… but that would also mean you could be in trouble. Just be smart, Spider.”

Virgil nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright, but you’ll be right here, waiting in the car?”

“Yeah, of course. Now he looks a bit crazy, but I promise he's.. Relatively safe. He has rainbow hair, a choker with an octopus, and his eyes are lime green.”

“Alright, thanks for the description.” Virgil nodded. 

Janus nodded and parked, “Be safe, Spider.” he said and pulled out a knife, handing it to Virgil with the handle facing him. 

Virgil took it, putting it in his pocket before getting out of the car and walking inside. He walked into the dark building and descended the stairs. 

At the base of the stairs there was a large door and a man standing at it, “Business?”

“I’m searching for someone, someone crazy.” 

The man nodded, opening the door letting Virgil in, the door shutting behind him. 

Virgil glanced at the door before he looked around. He was surprised there were actually many people down here, there were booths and tables selling things, people walking around. Small rooms off to the side for some businesses. 

He took a deep breath and started walking through the crowds, the blacklights lighting up him and all around him. 

“Alright you inside?” Janus’ voice came from the earpiece. 

“Yes, I am. Where could I find him?”

“Left side walk down the aisle till you see a room with flags of octopuses and one that looks like blood splatter, above the door will be some green light.” 

“Alright.” Virgil followed the directions walking around. He saw the door and paused before walking up to it. He grabbed the handle but before he could open the door it opened for him. 

“Hello! Do you require my services?” A guy asked, grinning widely.

The guy looked exactly how Janus had described him, messy dyed rainbow hair, lime green eyes, an octopus choker; he looked a bit more normal than he would’ve believed if he hadn’t seen him. 

“Yes, a Serpent sent me, said you could... Assist me,” Virgil said, taking a step forward. 

The guy stepped out of the way nodding, “I’m Kraken, and you are?” he held out a hand to shake Virgil’s.

“Spider.” He greeted, shaking his hand. 

Kraken smiled, shutting the door behind Virgil then sitting down on a chair across the room, “So what do you require? Most don’t normally come to me for help, everyone sees me as some insane conspiracy theorist.”

“Well I believe your conspiracy to be true, after a myth killed my boyfriend.” Virgil replied taking a seat, he avoided eye contact with Remus, just looking around the room. 

The walls were littered with newspapers and images, with some sticky notes. There was a desk and a soft rug, the room actually seemed quite comfortable. The overhead lights were dim, some unlit candles sat in holders on the walls, and some rainbow LED lights lined the base of the wall. 

Remus raised an eyebrow in interest. “A myth killed your boyfriend? How’s that? Tell me everything!” Remus told him like this was some new gossip. He grabbed his notebook and a pen quickly to get ready to write everything down, he was intrigued. Nobody had ever come to him with information for his cause, to prove all the legends of the assassins and myths were real. So he was going to write down everything. 

Virgil told him everything, Logan’s score, the note, how they left, and how he had gotten shot dead in the street. He told him that he wanted information so he could go after the assassins, and find out who killed his boyfriend. 

Remus wrote everything down then went through his notes telling Virgil everything he could. He wrote things down, giving him copies of his notes. He fully wished to support Virgil. He had been wanting to find out if these assassins were real for years; he had dedicated his life to it and other conspiracies. Remus didn’t care that Virgil wished to kill them; he wished some of them would die himself, as long as Virgil proved their existence for Remus and gave him evidence that they were real. He had been after them for years since the day people showed up and took his brother, leaving without a word.

___

Janus had brought Virgil home and he went to his room looking over all the information Remus had given him instantly. It had seemed that Remus was able to identify a few people who might’ve been involved, one guy in particular was connected to the testing and another organization that Remus had suspected was the one that was in charge of the assassins. Virgil looked over at the time and decided now was as good of time as ever, he wanted his information, he wanted to avenge Logan.  He read the name and the address before leaving his house.

Virgil walked to the address and looked up at the house, it had been across town in a more suburban area. He walked into the yard and smiled seeing a light on, his target lived alone so the light could only mean that that was where they were. Virgil still wore his makeup from earlier with the mask he was wearing over the lower half of his face. 

He went over to the side of the house and grabbed onto the top of a window pulling himself up quickly, he almost felt weightless in the air as he pulled himself up and smashed the second story window getting into the room. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” Virgil growled seeing a guy sitting at a piano. 

The guy got up instantly startled and put his hands up, “Please! What do you want? I could pay you!” He responded quickly. 

Virgil walked over to him and pulled out the knife Janus had given him earlier, putting it to the guy’s neck. “I need information about who you work for.” He glared. 

The guy started in fear and relaxed almost noticeably for a moment, he quickly moved his arm and touched the knife before Virgil could fight back. The blade suddenly became dull and bendy, he had manipulated the structure of the knife. 

Virgil jumped back, dropping the knife when it became dull. 

The guy lunged forward reaching for Virgil’s neck. 

Without thinking Virgil suddenly pulled the air from the room, pulling it all around himself.

The guy gasped, falling to the ground in an instant, trying and failing to breathe. 

Virgil watched in surprise, his eyes wide. He let go of the air in the room, returning it to normal. 

The guy looked up at Virgil stunned, “You shouldn’t be able to-”

Virgil kneeled glaring, “If you don’t tell me what I need, I’ll cut off your oxygen. I’ll make you gasp for the air that isn’t there, and die. Now tell me!” 

The guy stared at him, looking in Virgil’s eyes to see if he was bluffing, but all he could see was pain and anger in Virgil’s eyes. “I’ll tell you… I’ll tell you,” he relented. 

Virgil smiled under his mask, “Good, I need information on the assassins, and the scores of the power testing.”

“I… No… I couldn't possibly-”

“Would you like to continue breathing?” Virgil threatened and pulled the air from the other’s lungs for a moment before letting him breathe again. “You will tell me.” 

The guy looked down in defeat before nodding, “Alright… ok… I will. What specific things do you need to know on the scores and the assassins.”

“Are the scores rigged, and how are they determined, and how are the assassins contacted?” 

The guy nodded, “Ok… I can’t tell you but I could give you paperwork on it.” He replied pleadingly. 

“I’ll accept that, and also tell me who is in charge of calling the assassins, who is in charge of the assassins, and who is in charge of the test scores.”

“I… I can’t… I can’t tell you.” The guy shook his head frantically, quickly printing out dozens of pages of paper off of his computer, “Here… that’s all the information you need!”

Virgil sighed and ripped the oxygen from the other’s lunges as soon as the papers were printed. 

The body dropped down to the floor, completely lifeless. 

Virgil let go of the air, the guy not needing it anyway. The dead don’t breathe afterall. 

Virgil walked over to the computer and printed out a second set of the papers from the computer before shutting it down. He grabbed all the papers packing them away before he left the room. Going back to his apartment in silence. 

Virgil got through his door before dropping everything, falling to the floor with his items. He pulled his knees to his chest, ripping off the mask, tossing it to the other side of the room. He… he had killed someone. 

He was a murderer…

That guy, he killed him. 

Virgil took deep breaths trying to calm down, trying to figure everything out. But it had all been so fast. He was just freaking out. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t think. 

What had he done?

This… this was all for Logan, he was doing this for Logan. He just wanted Logan back, something that would never be able to happen. 

One thing pulled the fog from Virgil, for just a moment for him to get back to reality. 

Virgil’s phone rang. 

Virgil crawled to it, picking it up, “Hey…” He said weakly. 

“Virgil?” Janus’ voice came through, “Is everything ok?”

“I… I don’t think so. I… Killed someone.”

There was silence, sickening, dead, silence. Then Janus finally spoke, “Everything will be alright, I’m going to come over. We could talk about this. It’ll be ok.” Janus tried assuring Virgil, though it seemed to have no effects. 

Virgil just quietly made a noise of affirmation before hanging up. Virgil got up, going to the bathroom and taking a shower, cleaning himself up. Trying to relax in the scalding hot water, trying not to think.

By time Janus arrived Virgil was laying on the couch cuddled up under several blankets. He looked exhausted and scared. 

Janus walked over to Virgil; he sat down pulling Virgil into a hug in silence, not asking any questions. He just held him close and relaxed with him. Just to let him know, he wasn’t alone, he wasn’t going to be alone. 

Virgil cried in Janus’ arms letting himself be held and relaxing as much as he could. 

__________

Virgil got up the next day and went back out to The Dark Market, after getting ready and applying makeup. He walked in and to Kraken’s office. He went in sitting down, waiting. 

Remus came in after a few minutes, “Hello…”

“I have some information for you, and my next target.” Virgil said quietly. 

Remus grinned jumping up and down, “Yes!” he quickly plopped down in a chair near Spider, “Give!” 

Virgil sighed giving him the copies of the papers, “Next guy I’m after seems to coordinate the assassins. I’m getting closer…” 

“Hmm you work fast,” Remus smiled looking up at Spider from the papers. 

“Yeah I guess…” Virgil shrugged. 

Remus skimmed the papers a bit before putting them down, “do you want payment for this information?”

“No, this was my payment for the info you got me before, though the rest will cost you…” 

Remus nodded, “That’s perfectly fine, oh! And could I give you a flashdrive to get information for me next time. You could just download all the files from the next guy.” He suggested. Remus lunged across the room to his desk. He pulled out a flashdrive from a drawer then tossed it over to Spider. “Thanks!”

 Virgil watched him and nodded, “You’re… welcome.” He said and stood. 

“Could we be partners?” Remus burst out. 

“Um… What?” Virgil looked confused taking a second to process what he had just been asked. 

“Could we be business partners? You get the information, I pay you for it and look through it for you.”

“Hm fine… as long as you tell me what you see in the files.” 

“Of course!” Remus nodded enthusiastically. 

Virgil nodded and sighed leaving the room. He looked down at the flashdrive in his hand quietly as he left. 

Virgil had driven here himself today, Janus not with him. Though it was probably better… He didn’t want to have to use Janus as basically a taxi all the time. Virgil got into his car driving home. He’d go out tonight, for his next target. Everything was moving so fast, but he also felt so close, he was so close to catching the assassin who killed his boyfriend, or who sent the assassin to kill Logan. He was so close, and everything was happening so fast. But… what would he do when he found the person responsible? Would he kill them? Would he question them? Or… would he just let them go? What would he even do after? He didn’t have many plans. 

Virgil shook his head taking a deep breath as he parked. Looking up Virgil saw he was… he had gone to Logan’s apartment building. Where he’d never see Logan again. 

Virgil paused a moment before getting out of his car going into the building and up to Logan’s… what had been Logan’s apartment. He should be getting ready to go out again but, he was just... here.

The elevator dinged as it got to the floor. 

Virgil walked down the hall and to the apartment, somberly unlocking the door to the dead silent apartment. Everything was exactly like how it had been when they had left. It was just calm and quiet. 

Virgil walked through looking at everything, he should pack up everything… he couldn’t just let the landlord throw it all out. He’d get boxes… he’d get boxes and pack everything up. Just pack it up for Logan. 

Taking another deep breath he went into Logan’s bedroom. He walked around in the room looking at everything. He opened a box on the dresser smiling at the collection of ties adorned in the box. He placed it back down then sighed going over to the bed and laying down, relaxing.

He laid there for a little while before he sat up opening up the bedside drawer, inside was a book and… a box. 

Virgil tilted his head picking up the box and opening it. Inside the box was a black ring. Virgil gasped, dropping the box, letting it fall to the floor. 

Logan…. Logan was…. Going to propose? 

Virgil covered his mouth gasping, tears threatening to fall. 

Virgil quickly got up and left, he locked the apartment door before he raced down the stairs to his car outside, driving home. He didn’t know what he was going to do… but he’d figure it out. 

Virgil got to his apartment and started getting ready, ready to go to meet his next victim. 

He had left the ring box on the floor of what used to be Logan’s bedroom when he left. 

___

Virgil got out of his car down the street, walking over to the address. There was a car in the driveway… that was good. 

Virgil went to the side of the house and climbed up to the second story, he checked the window smiling when it opened up with ease automatically. He slipped into the building, hitting the floor silently. Looking around nobody was in the room, it was completely vacant. Virgil walked out of the room, going downstairs. There a man was sitting on a couch laughing at some mind numbing tv show with a near constant laugh track. Virgil went up behind him, pulling out his dagger and resting it on the man’s neck, “Good evening.” Virgil whispered. 

The guy went still, frozen in place, “Who are you? What do you want?” 

“Information, and for you to log into your computer.”

“My… my computer, why? You wouldn’t find anything there.” The guy said, his voice peaking in nervousness. 

“I believe I’ll find exactly what I need there.” 

The guy nodded softly, “My computer is in my office,” he said, not resisting.

“Lead the way.” Virgil pulled the knife away, putting it in its sheath. “Just know I don’t need a knife or any weapon to get rid of you, just your breath.” 

The man stood timidly as he walked down a hall, he pulled open a seemingly hidden door and walked into the secret room with Virgil trailing right behind him. 

Virgil  looked around curiously, this man had a hidden office… interesting. 

The man sat down at his desk turning on his computer then logging in. He logged in again to a screen that popped up after his desktop loaded up. 

Virgil grinned, “Thank you.” He said pushing the desk chair to the side and put in the flashdrive. He pulled up the computer files, pulling all the files from the computer onto the flashdrive.

The guy looked at Virgil in surprise, “I… you don’t want some specific ones? I… I could find them for you.”

Virgil smirked under his mask looking at the guy, “Why? Is something wrong? Are you worried about something? Is there something I shouldn’t see on here?”

“I.. um… no, of course not. Everything is alright.” The man replied looking a bit more anxious than before, “It’ll take you a long time to go through all those files.”

“It’s ok, I have someone going through them for me.” Virgil replied looking back at the computer, he opened up a browser checking before going into the guy’s emails and downloading all of them. “It’s ok, I’ll make it quick for you, nothing for you to worry about. I’ll end you quickly and… somewhat painlessly, it’ll all be fine in the end.”

“I… no ple-” the man spoke before he started choking on… air? No, it was a lack of air, as if all his oxygen suddenly left his lungs. He put his hands to his neck gasping only for nothing to be breathed in. His lungs left starving. 

Virgil stared at him as he stole the man’s breath away. He watched as the other fell over, turning purple from the lack of oxygen. It was as quick as he could make it.

He looked away after a few moments, turning back to the computer as he waited for everything to finish downloading onto the flashdrive, he hoped this information would get him… somewhere. 

As he waited, Virgil took the man’s wallet and found his phone too. This would hopefully all be enough to get everything he needed. 

The computer dinged when everything had finally finished downloading onto the flashdrive; he got everything. 

Virgil safely pulled out the flashdrive before he put everything in his bag escaping the house. He got into his car driving to The Dark Market, he would give everything to the Kraken now. He wasn’t going to wait.

When Virgil arrived he got out of the car, going to the doors of the market. He was let in easily, nobody around stopping him from having passage indoors. He walked directly to Kraken’s shop, knocking at the door. 

Remus stepped out yawning, “Oh! Spider~ What do you have for me?” Remus asked not hiding his excitement.

“Everything I could get from the guy’s computer. I also took his phone if that helps at all…” Virgil replied, holding out the flashdrive and phone. “Payment will be you telling me everything you find on those.”

Remus nodded, taking them happily, “Well I definitely will be able to pay. Hmm come to me here tomorrow night, I’ll get you something… Probably not everything though.” 

Virgil nodded, “Sounds good.” He said, stepping back. 

“You’re leaving already?” Remus asked softly. 

Virgil looked back at him, “Yeah… I’ll be back tomorrow, I need to try to sleep.” 

Remus nodded, “I know this is revenge, but don’t wear yourself out.”

Virgil nodded and walked away, going home. 

Remus sat at his desk, only a small lamp on, illuminating his desk and giving just enough light to see his keyboard. He wrote quick notes in a notebook about what he saw as he read through file after file of the documents on the flashdrive. 

He yawned as he opened a file named Associates, there were many codenames in the file. Curiously Remus clicked on one, Prince. Remus opened a document skimming through it, it had some normal information, name, age, birthday, record, history…. Name. Remus shook his head, slapping his cheek to wake himself up a bit. The name, it was Roman Royalentie… Roman. Remus quickly clicked out of the document, opening up some more documents in the folder, there was a list of past assignments, some reports made by Roman… and pictures. Roman looked… he looked older. Of course he fucking looked older, Remus hadn’t seen Roman since he was taken when they were children. Taking a deep breath Remus wrote down as much information as he could. He read through a document trying to find out where Roman was. On one document it listed where Roman was currently stationed, it was some high-rise in the middle of the city, if he could convince Spider to go there for him… maybe he could kidnap Roman or something. He needed to see Roman. 

Remus continued looking at the files about Roman for hours before he ended up passing out. 

______________

Virgil woke up the next day in the afternoon. He got up deciding… Maybe Kraken would have some information now? Though he was told to come back tonight… It was still daytime. He took a deep breath getting up and dressed, he would go now, if there was nothing… he’d just go back later. 

Virgil sat down in his bathroom putting on his makeup and mask before he left, going out to The Dark Market. To check with Kraken. 

Virgil arrived going inside the market he was let in and started walking to Kraken’s shop but paused. He went over to a stall tapping on a man’s shoulder. 

Said man turned around, his snake scales glinting off the dim light above them, “Spider…”

Virgil nodded, “Serpent.”

“Good to see you, are you… feeling any better?”

“Still too soon… but Kraken might have more information, I’m on my way now.”

Janus nodded, “I’ll accompany you.” 

“Alright.” Virgil nodded, walking, now mostly by memory, to Remus’ room. 

They both got to the door looking at each other for a moment before Virgil reached forward knocking on the door. 

No response. 

Janus looked a bit concerned and confused when there was no response, no crashing of objects inside, no yells of incomprehensible words, nothing… silence. Janus wouldn’t completely admit it but he… was concerned for the disaster that was behind the door. 

Janus pushed Virgil to the side before pulling a key out and unlocking the door in their path. He walked inside the room, relaxing a bit seeing that Remus was simply just sleeping at his desk. Papers scattered everywhere around him. Janus walked over tapping on Remus’ shoulder. “Kraken, wakey wakey.”

Remus jumped, opening his eyes looking around startled before relaxing. “Oh, hello there… Serpent ~ What are you doing here in my humble abode.”

Virgil stepped into the room shutting the door behind himself. 

Remus nodded, “Ah… only business I guess… it’s always business with you both, never any pleasure.” He flicked his hand at the candles around the room, they lit on fire with water that burned and illuminated like a flame. 

Janus shrugged walking to the far wall looking at the pictures and strings mapping together theories. 

Virgil sat down near Remus’ desk, “Any information?”

“Is it night-time?”

“I… I’m sorry, I know I came early, but I-”

“No… like I was genuinely curious, I wasn’t sure if it was night yet.”

“Oh… no it’s afternoon.”

“Ok… well I have some information, but I also have a request for you.”

“What is it?” Virgil asked suspiciously. 

“I… my brother.”

“Your missing, kidnapped, brother.”

“You… technically found him for me.”

“I... what?”

“The files… there was one marked Prince… My brother is alive, he’s one of the assassins. They took him, to use him to work for them… I… I want you to find him, and kidnap him. I need to see him.”

Virgil thought for a few moments before nodding, “Fine… where could I find him?” 

Remus quickly handed Virgil a notecard with an address and a picture he had printed out. “Thank you, I really, really owe you for this.” 

“Yeah, I’ll take you up on that… where should I take him when I get him?” Virgil asked, looking at the notecard. 

“Hmmm…” Remus sat back looking at the ceiling as he thought. 

“The Underground.” Janus replied, still looking at the wall of Remus’ evidence of conspiracies. 

“The Underground? The nightclub?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah, they have private rooms. Plus it’ll be easier to bring someone kidnapped into there, than getting past the security here.” 

“Fine.” Virgil nodded. 

Remus nodded thinking, “I could head over there soon and get a room, Serpent, will you be able to let them in the side entrance of the building?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Janus nodded to the Kraken, finally turning around. 

Virgil nodded, getting up, “I’ll go out now…” 

Remus nodded, thinking momentarily before pulling out a bottle from a drawer of his desk, “Here take this.” He said holding it out. Then looked in his drawer again. 

“What is this?”

“Sedatives… so he doesn’t fight you.” Remus replied then gave him a syringe. 

Virgil nodded slowly, putting both objects in his bag. “Um… thanks.” He said slowly. “I’ll meet you at The Underground. Serpent, I'll text you when I’m on my way over.” 

Janus nodded and waved to him watching Virgil leave before he looked at Kraken. 

Virgil drove across town, the skyscraper, to the address. 

Virgil arrived at the building getting out of his car, he sighed looking up at the building, he needed a way in. He looked around before deciding to go to the side of the building looking for another way. 

There it was. 

Virgil smiled walking to the service entrance, he blew open the lock using air before pulling open the door and going inside. He was cautious as he walked in, it was quiet. He pulled out his notepad looking at it, Roman should be near the 10th floor. Virgil looked up at the stairs taking a deep breath before beginning his climb.

Around the 3rd floor Virgil paused, there had to be an easier way up, this would take forever. He looked around before smiling. He could try jumping floors… Virgil took a deep breath and ran up some stairs before jumping, using the air to boost him and push him up. He practically flew to the next floor. He kept ascending the stairs quickly from there. 

Virgil finally stopped when he got to the 10th, he pulled up his mask before opening the door out of the stairwell and walking down the hall. He walked checking the note for whatever door he should find Roman down… well if Roman was here. Virgil ignored that thought. He finally got to a room smiling at the number, well if Roman is here… this is the place. 

Virgil walked into the room, taking the air away as he stepped in shutting the door. 

There was some choking to the side of the room.

Virgil quickly released the air going over to where the choking had been, on the floor there was a small guy, blue hair, glasses, weird patches of skin that seemed to be like a clearish blue green with yellow spots. This wasn’t Roman. Virgil kneeled down next to the guy. 

The other looked at Virgil, staring into his neon purple eyes. “Hello… I’m Patton.” He said, sounding slightly intimidated. 

“Where is Roman?” Virgil demanded quietly. 

Patton flinched slightly at the tone, “I don’t know who you are but I’m sorry. Roman isn’t around currently. He went out over an hour ago, I don’t know when he’s coming back.” 

Virgil sighed, annoyed looking at Patton, “Fine…” He shook his head thinking. Well… he could take this guy, if he’s lucky Roman will come for him, they were in roman’s room after all. “You’re coming with me then.”

“Sorry… but stranger danger?”

“I will take your breath away, and that is a threat.”

Patton stared at him before standing up, “Fine, but you really should be nicer.”

“Sorry being nice isn’t on my priority list this week.” Virgil rolled his eyes, he grabbed Patton’s arm pulling him out of the room. “Don’t run.” He whispered as he pulled him into the stairwell. 

Patton followed silently, not fighting his kidnapper. “I don’t plan to…”

“Don’t scream either.” Virgil replied as he picked Patton up going over to a railing. He held onto Patton tight as he jumped over the railing falling 9 stories before slowing himself down with the air around them to make them land softly on the first floor. 

Patton held on for his life, he didn’t even realize he was holding his breath till they landed. He was quite shaken from falling practically 10 stories. 

Virgil looked at Patton and decided that the guy probably wasn’t going to be able to walk on his own for a bit so he just carried him out of the building and back to his car parked near the side of the building. He put Patton into the car before he drove off to The Underground. 

Patton sat in the car and took deep breaths, trying to articulate his thoughts. Everything was ok… he was… relatively ok… He  was being kidnapped…but Roman would come, maybe… this might be a trap for him though, this guy did ask for Roman… who even was this guy? Where were they even going? “Excuse me… but who exactly are you?” Patton asked, breaking the silence. 

Virgil looked over at the guy confused, “Um… well you could call me Spider.” 

“Ok, Spider, could I ask you some questions?”

“No… I’d rather you not.”

“Ok, so where are you bringing me?”

“I… I literally just said no questions.” Virgil sighed, shaking his head. 

Patton sighed, pouting a bit as he looked out the window. He quietly sat there trying to braid his bangs as they drove. 

Virgil was amazed and grateful for the silence, he texted Janus as he got closer to the club. They arrived at the club quickly, parking in the back alley. He got out helping out Patton before he went over to a back door and knocked. 

Patton stood there looking around scared and anxious. He wasn’t sure what was going on, he had just been kidnapped… they had wanted Roman but took him… Patton snapped out of it when the door to the building opened up. There stood a guy with dark hair, snake scales running down half his face, the other half covered by a black mask, and a dark outfit. 

Virgil nodded to Janus smiling under his mask before he walked inside. His makeup began to glow in the black light, and neon, lit club. He looked over at Patton gesturing for him to come in too. 

Patton hesitated for a minute before walking inside the door, it shut behind him. He hugged himself looking around the room. He heard loud blasting music everywhere. It sounded like there were tons of people. The place was dimly lit even with the weird colored lights. He took a deep breath looking down then gasping when he saw patches of himself glowing blue from the blacklights, it was the patches of frog skin he had, they just were… glowing. He smiled slightly at that. 

Virgil looked at Janus, “Lead the way.”

“Who is this?” Janus glared, “Spider… this isn’t Roman.”

“I know this isn’t Roman, but he wasn’t around… this guy was in Roman’s room, so he came with me instead.”

Janus groaned running a hand down his face before putting his hands up in defeat, “Fine, fine. I’ll let Kraken deal with it. At least you have someone… lets just go down, now.” He said open up a door that led down some stairs. 

Virgil nodded and grabbed Patton’s arm, “Come on, let’s go.” 

Patton jumped slightly when he was grabbed, just a bit startled. “Oh… ok.” He nodded then started following Virgil down the dark stairwell. He was a bit scared of what was going to happen. It wasn’t like he had much combat training, he was just a medic afterall.

Virgil just followed Janus and held onto Patton, He couldn’t really see in the dimly lit basement that well, his eyes not adjusting yet. 

“In here.” Janus spoke up, opening up another door to a room that seemed to have some lights on inside. 

Virgil nodded, pulling Patton in front of himself then pushing him inside the room. Kraken had been sitting in a chair in the room, he instantly stood when the door opened, he was excited to see his brother. His face fell when he saw some other guy with Spider. “Who is that?” He asked, annoyed.

“This… is Patton… I couldn’t find Roman, but he was in his room. So I assumed Roman would come here to find Patton.” Virgil explained guiding Patton to another chair. 

Remus nodded softly, staring at Patton, glaring a bit at him. 

Patton wasn’t going to lie… he was intimidated. Also the weird green glaring guy looked quite like Roman. He waved a bit at him. 

Virgil sighed, taking a deep breath just relaxing a bit. 

Janus came over putting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “Everything ok?” He asked quietly so nobody would hear. 

“I… Yeah… I think I’m going to ask Patton some questions.”

Janus nodded, “That’s a good idea.”

Virgil walked over to Patton pulling up a chair next to him, “I have a few questions for you.”

Patton nodded looking up at Virgil, “Um… I could try answering them.”

“How is it chosen who you kill… How is it chosen how people are scored?” Virgil asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering. 

“I… We… I’m only a medic, I only know we score people based off of how their powers present. Hmm you must be at least a 50. But… I don’t know anything about how they chose who are taken out and how they are planned.”

“I’m a 15... thanks for no help.” Virgil sighed getting up. 

Patton looked confused, a fifteen? That seemed way lower than this guy should have… and this guy seemed so distraught that Patton couldn’t help him. “What’s wrong?” He asked after a moment. He recognized how the guy felt, darn empathy Roman would always say when he caught him crying, but this guy was clearly sad and maybe grieving. 

Virgil looked at him, “You all killed my boyfriend… as corny as it sounds, you killed the love of my life.” He said before he left the room. 

Patton sat there, what… his boyfriend… well he must’ve done something wrong right? He was probably a threat. Patton moved to get up when the scaled guy came over pushing him back to sit down. 

“You stay.” Janus told him. 

Patton nodded, not defying him. 

Janus looked over at Remus, “Get Spider.”

“Will do, boss.” Remus replied winking and saluted him before walking out of the room. 

Janus looked at Patton, “you look quite interesting.” he commented running two fingers down one of the spots of Patton’s skin.

“Frog.” Patton replied blurting it out before blushing in embarrassment “I… I’m a frog… You’re a snake, right?”

“I am… Good eye.”

Patton snickered a bit, “Like you have one snake eye.” He said quietly. 

Janus stood there looking unamused, though internally he was laughing. “Um… yes…” He nodded, stepping away. 

Remus came in with Virgil after a few moments, if Virgil’s makeup was a mess it was hard to tell with how dim the room was. 

Virgil came over sitting next to Patton. 

Janus went over to Remus, “Kraken, would you like to go stand guard with me by the door, wait for when Roman arrives.”

Remus instantly nodding eagerly, “Yes, definitely.” He smiled and waved at Patton. 

Patton waved back watching the snake guy and Kraken leave the room. Patton looked at Spider, “So you are looking for Roman? Is it because he is one of the assassins?”

Virgil looked over at Patton, “I… yes, and no.”

Patton nodded, “We call them the guardians, taking out those who are dangerous or hostile…”

Virgil tilted his head, “Guardians? But… what classifies them as those?”

“Well… I’m not exactly sure. Last guy Roman told me he took out he was out in the road, apparently he was about to go out and take someone out. Roman caught up to him when he was about to cross the road to his car. The guy was apparently kissing someone before Ro shot them. The other person was probably devastated, but the guy was really dangerous.”

_____________

Roman got back to his room a half hour later, he was humming softly as he walked in. Patton should be here by now. He had the alert that Patton came in. Roman looked at his computer pausing, the alarm went off 3 times? Someone came in after Patton then someone left. He quickly connected to security cams. 

Someone had left taking Patton with them.

Roman grabbed his jacket and knives. He checked the other cameras watching the guy jump down the stairs and go to a car. He had to find them, maybe he was lucky and Patton had his phone… though that would be a hilarious if the kidnappers let Patton keep his pho- 

Patton had his phone on him, and it was tracking him to some building across town. 

Roman laughed and shrugged he left the room taking the elevator to the ground floor then got into his car to drive to the building

Roman stopped, parking in some parking lot. The building seemed to be some random abandoned factory. He walked to what seemed to be the main entrance of the building, he opened the door pausing when he saw nicely painted black walls and lights. He saw a guard standing at the door right ahead… What was this place?

Roman cautiously walked forward, “I’d like to get in.”

The guard looked Roman over, “Password?” He smirked.

Roman stepped back surprised, a password… he didn’t know a password. He pulled out his knife putting it to the other’s neck, “I’d like to get in, my friend was abducted and taken here. So if you could, open the door.”

The guard looked at Roman and smiled, “Hmm you didn’t seem like you belong, but I see it now. Step back so I could open up the door.” 

Roman put his knife away taking a step back. 

The guard unlocked the door, opening it, “Go on in.” 

As soon as the door was opened the blasting music could be heard from inside, along with the sound of many voices. 

Roman took a breath before walking through the door, he became tense as it shut behind him. He shook his head and kept walking into the place. He looked around once he emerged from the hall, there were so many people. The blacklight lit up his clothing as he stood in the club. He looked over the crowd of people in the dimly lit, colored neon room. How would he find Patton here? Patton was… small. He ran a hand through his hair walking around the perimeter of the room. Patton had to be close. He turned smiling when he saw that instead of a wall there was a curtain, of course. Why would the kidnappers keep Patton in the main room when they could hide him elsewhere in the building. He walked through the curtains looking around, the area still had the same neon and black lights, but it was a small area. There was a door to outside, an alley, then two small doors to the sides of him, one was labeled stairs. Roman went and opened the unmarked door first, a storage and janitor closet. He sighed turning to the stairs, pulling out a knife he opened the door descending the stairs. At the bottom there was another door, he opened it up only to see two people standing there, each leaning against a wall of the hallway ahead. Roman stepped into the hall and held out his knife. “I’m here for someone, I do believe you have him.” He growled. 

Remus was the first to look up. “Roman!?” He asked, looking at Roman. 

“I… how do you know my name?”

“Do you not… you don’t recognize me?” Remus asked, a bit broken.

“No? Should I know you-”

“Remus! It’s me Remus! Your brother! Please Roro.” 

Roman paused, “Remus?” Roman paused before his eyes went wide, “Remus!” He dropped his knife to the floor before he ran over pulling Remus into a hug.

Remus hugged back tightly.

“Seems the whole family is huggers.” Janus mumbled, nodding softly as he walked away to let them have their catch up time. He went back into the room only to see Virgil extremely distraught.

Virgil stood near Patton taking deep breaths, his hands tangled in his own hair, he stood there kinda pacing a bit. 

Janus walked over looking at Patton skeptically before looking at Virgil, he placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder comfortingly, “Spider?” he whispered. 

Virgil looked up at Janus, focusing on him, “I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Roman… he was the assassin who killed Logan.” Virgil whispered trying to keep himself calm. “He was the one who took Logan from me!”

Janus squeezed his shoulder slightly, “Virgil, take a deep breath.”

“How? How do I know what to do now? I… I-”

“Virgil, Roman is not your target.”

“Who is then!”

“Who contracts the assassins and picks the targets?”

Virgil paused, taking slow deep breaths, “You’re right… you’re right.”

“Don’t kill Roman, for Kraken at least.”

Virgil nodded, dropping his hands to his sides, putting them in his pockets. He looked to the side, biting the inside of his cheek as Janus talked, not wanting to look in his eyes. 

“Roman isn’t your target, if you kill him it’ll just mean yet another person to kill. The person who decided that Logan was to be killed is your target, not the assassin ordered to make the kill, he was doing as he was told.” Janus whispered. 

Virgil nodded softly listening to Janus, not saying anything. 

The door opened then, everyone looking over to see Roman and Remus walking into the room together. 

Roman saw Patton and ran over to him, He kneeled by his chair looking over him, “Are you alright? Is everything ok? Did they hurt you?”

Patton just smiled at seeing Roman, “No, I’m alright… I’m ok.” 

Roman nodded, smiling back at Patton. 

Janus got behind Virgil and wrapped his arms around Virgil hugging him and holding him back. “Everything is ok.” he whispered softly. 

Virgil nodded softly just staring at Roman not moving. 

Roman turned around and saw Virgil, recognizing him from the security footage. He stalked over glaring, “Why did you kidnap him?!”

Virgil looked away before looking at Roman glaring, “Why did you murder my boyfriend?!”

The room went dead silent. 

“I haven’t murdered anyone, I’m saving people by taking out threats-”

“He wasn’t a threat! He just got tested only to later get a note that he had 24 hours. He tried to leave! You shot him dead on the street! He died in my arms! He… he just wanted to get away… He wouldn’t hurt anyone…” Virgil sighed looking down, taking a deep breath. 

Janus’ arms tightened around Virgil to comfort him. He glared daggers at Roman as he stood holding the defeated Virgil. 

Roman stepped back in shock, “I… no… no. He had to have been bad, I wouldn't have… I wouldn’t have had to go after him otherwise.`` Roman started rambling. He ran a hand through his hair trying to think. No, he wasn’t a bad guy… he was doing good… right? He was protecting people and being a guardian of the city against those who posed a threat and/or were hostile. He wasn’t a murderer… He… he did kill people… but he was told it was to save people. He was saving people! His boss gave him orders and targets, but those targets they scored high… they couldn’t control themselves… they were a threat. They… they would have hurt people. He had always been taught that if someone scored over 60 then they were going to lose control, they would hurt people, they couldn’t control themselves and would end up hurting anyone and everyone around them. The guy this kidnapper was talking about scored 170… he probably was just hanging on right? He was going to lose control and probably would end up destroying half the city. 

Remus walked over, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. 

Roman flinched then looked at Remus, “I’m saving people… right?”

“You’re being played… lied to. I’ve researched plenty, recent information acquired in… ways. The only threat the people pose is to the organization and the city’s government. You’re sent to kill them because your bosses are afraid that these people will go against them, they fear revolt.”

Roman stared at him, “No… that can’t.” He shook his head and looked at Patton.

Patton looked back at Roman, “I don’t know… it… it makes sense. I don’t know...” He sighed looking down. 

Roman took a deep breath, anger overtaking his shock. “Fine…” He looked around the room, “Then… we are going after the man in charge. The true villain here.”

Virgil pulled himself away from Janus, walking towards Roman, “I’d love to, though I get to be the one to kill him.”

Roman stared at Virgil for a few moments, and glanced away, before he nodded “Sure.”

Janus sighed, “I’ll join you both. Who knows how emotional you both are right now. I might as well make sure you’re not doing anything completely stupid.” 

Remus started jumping up and down, “Ooooh! I want to come! I want to come!”

Roman looked at Remus, “No, I just got to see you again… I’m not losing you if something goes wrong.”

“Well same here Ro-Bro. I’m not losing you again, so I’m coming with!” Remus replied cheerfully. 

Roman went to argue Remus coming and tell him he couldn’t when Janus stopped him. 

Janus looked at Remus, “Fine, you could come.” He said then walked over to Patton, “Will you be coming with us, froggy?”

Patton looked around at everyone, “I don’t know… I’m not exactly someone who fights. I’m a medic and I-”

“We could always need a medic, in case someone gets hurt.” Janus encouraged.

Patton thought before nodding softly, “Alright… I’ll help.”

“Let’s go!” Roman growled and went to the door. 

“Where the hell are you going? Do you have a plan?” Janus asked immediately. 

“I… No, I don’t” Roman sounded a bit defeated as he responded. 

“That’s what I thought. Now how about we all sit down and chat, come up with a plan. Order drinks maybe?” Janus asked then looked around the room only to be met by all serious expressions and… and Remus. “Alright, no drinks then.”

Everyone found a chair and sat down, coming and sitting close by. 

Janus nodded looking at them, “Now come up with a plan.” 

____

Thunder erupted in the sky as Roman stood in front of the building with Patton; he nodded softly before walking inside with Patton. He scanned his ID walking in without any suspicions. 

Remus waited on the side of the building with Janus. 

Virgil stood on the roof of a building next door, his hood over his head as he looked up at the sky, dark clouds forming and coming overhead… a storm was coming.

Their plan was in action. 

Roman had Patton go to the side door as he went into the security office. He quickly knocked out the one guard in the room before turning off all the security cameras. Everything was going well so far… He took a deep breath before leaving the room. He went to the custodial closet grabbing some coveralls before going to the side door to meet Patton. 

Patton had the door open, Remus and Janus standing by him. 

“Here you both go, the top fashion of this building.” Roman smiled and bowed as he gave them the coveralls. 

Remus instantly started stripping right there to put on the new clothes. 

Roman turned around, heck no he wasn’t going to see that. 

Patton blushed brightly before covering his eyes. 

Janus rolled his eyes only taking off his cape before pulling the coveralls over his current clothes of a black shirt and black close fitting jeans. 

Patton uncovered his eyes after a moment, relieved to see Remus had his clothes on. 

Remus grinned and gave them all a thumbs up, “Alright!”

Roman turned back around and nodded, “Well… now we have to go upstairs, You both take the stairs, I’ll be taking the elevator.”

“Oh I’ll go with them!” Patton smiled.

Roman grabbed Patton’s arm, “It’s better if you come with me, we’re seen often here and it might seem odd for you to take the stairs when you never do.”

“But they don’t know where they’re going.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Roman replied. 

Patton nodded, sighing and waved at Janus and Remus before going with Roman to the elevator.

Janus nodded to Remus and started quickly climbing the stairs. They were all going to meet up without Virgil, on the 15th floor. 

Roman got on the elevator with Patton, going to the 10th floor. They got off when the doors opened, Roman went straight to his room. 

Patton followed looking around making sure nothing bad was happening. 

Roman went into his room with Patton. As soon as the door was shut he opened a closet full of weapons and began pulling some out, tossing them in a bag. “Alright, let's go,” he said when he had filled the bag with a decent amount of weapons. He put the bag over his shoulder and went to the stairs with Patton following close. He sat down on a stair waiting for Remus and Janus to get there. 

Remus and Janus appeared minutes later arriving at the 10th floor. Surprisingly both were rather athletic. 

Roman stood up, “There you both are.” He nodded, opening the bag and showing them all the weapons, “Take what you want.”

Janus smiled looking into the bag. He took out some daggers and a bottle that seemed to contain poison, “I believe these will be perfect for me.”

Remus nodded, pulling out a whip and a few throwing knives, “These will be good for me.” 

Roman nodded, “Alright so 15th floor… it’s going to be hard to get inside, we need to get past some security.”

“That’s where I come in perfectly, were those people at the front desk allowed up to the 15th floor?”

“Umm yeah why?”

Janus smiled as his form changed into one of the secretaries at the building’s front desk. “Let's go.” He said ascending the stairs once more.

Patton looked at Remus giving him a reassuring smile before beginning to climb the stairs. 

They finally reached the top and opened the door, Remus staying behind in the stairwell waiting.

Roman went through the door with Patton and Janus, walking down the hall and to the second door. All of them stayed silent, tense with anxiety of being caught. 

Patton motioned for Remus to follow. 

Roman took a deep breath before walking through the door he smiled nodding at the security guards of the room. “Hello good men… good looking… sorry, sorry.” Roman said and sighed smiling. “I would like to go to the boss's office. 

The guards looked at Roman, one of them blushing slightly. One stepped forward, “Sorry, can’t let you in. Entitled Prince.” He glared. 

Roman rolled his eyes pulling a large glass marble out of his pocket, tossing it up and catching it a few times, “want to see a magic trick then?” He asked looking behind him to make sure the door was shut and everyone was behind it. 

“Fine, what is it? You going to pull a rabbit out of your ass or something? I don’t see a hat.”

“No, I would never abuse a rabbit by having it face you, it would die of fright. No, I was thinking of another trick.” Roman smirked. He cleared his throat and hummed a few notes on a scale before he bowed to the security guards, “Now, enjoy the show.” He smiled. He tossed up the glass marble then started singing. The room shook as he sang. 

The glass ball shattered, the glass flying at the security guards. 

Roman smiled, singing a bit higher, manipulating his soundwaves as he sang. The windows all around the room suddenly shattered. 

Remus came out the door smirking as he had wind that resembled fire swept through the room, no heat or burn coming with it.

Virgil saw the fire and the windows shatter, their signal. He turned around going to the opposite edge of the roof before running forward. He jumped at the edge of the roof using the air and wind to boost him and make him practically fly. Rain drops and wind hitting his face as he flew.  He dove through a shattered window, pushing himself past all the broken glass on the floor before he touched the ground. The room lit up with lightning seconds after he crashed in. Virgil stood up and smiled, nodding to Roman and Remus, “Let’s go.”

The door opened and Patton came out with Janus. “Alright, everyone be careful.”

Janus nodded looking at Patton as he shifted back to himself, “I’ll be making sure these idiots don’t get hurt, you didn’t bring medical supplies anyway.”

“I… I don’t use supplies… but thank you.” Patton smiled before walking across the room to the next door. 

Roma bent down taking the ID off one of the guards. He walked over scanning it on the door before opening it up. He nodded looking at everyone, “They’ll know we’re already here, no turning back.” He said before walking up.

Remus and Virgil walked behind Roman, Patton and Janus trailing a bit behind as they all went up the last set of stairs. 

The beginning of the end. 

When they got to the top of the stairs there was only one person sitting in the room. The room was large with white marble floors and grey walls. Most walls were completely covered in windows looking out to the city, rain hit against them rhythmically. Only one man sat in the room though, smiling at them from behind his desk, the boss, the contractor of the assassins.

“Good Evening.”

Roman stood in front of the group as everyone came into the room from the stairwell. 

Virgil glared and pushed Roman out of the way and pulled out a dagger, “You! Ruined my life!” He growled. 

The guy sighed resting his head on his hand, bored, “Hm what a shame. Killed someone you know? Well I’ll let you in on a secret, you’re not the first to come after me. But you won’t be the last, you’re as weak as the rest, why else would you be alive. You’re weak-”

Virgil glared, pulling all the oxygen from the room.

Patton made bubbles around everyone but Virgil to trap some air around them.

Virgil glanced back before looking at the man and walking closer, “You’re weak.” He got behind him and put the dagger to the guy’s throat. He released the air letting it flood back into the man’s lungs as he slit his throat slowly and painfully. 

But he was slow. 

The moment the man dropped his head on his desk dead, still bleeding out of the artery in his neck.

Then thunder boomed, a shot rang out through the room following the thunder. 

Virgil gasped in pain falling to the floor. 

Nobody knew what happened. 

Patton created a bubble around the room before running over to Virgil. 

Roman looked out the window seeing another assassin on the roof of a different building, they had taken their shot… and they hit their target. 

Remus slammed a hand down on the floor and water began to rise up along all the walls. 

Roman looked confused and walked over touching a wall only to not feel anything wet… instead it felt hard, like cement. He looked back at Remus confused before looking over to Virgil. 

Janus kneeled with Patton next to Virgil. He held Virgil’s hand tightly, “Hey, you can’t die!” He glared. 

Patton let go of the bubble around the room and took Virgil’s other hand, “I… I could help you.” He said softly, nodding as tears filled his eyes practically blurring his vision. 

Virgil shook his head, “I’m sorry… you can’t.”

“Serpent! Computer!” Remus called out. 

Janus sighed softly, pushing back Virgil’s hair, “Hold on.” He said.

Virgil nodded softly, “let everyone know what's been happening.” He whispered pained.

Janus got up going over to Remus looking at the computer. “I’m releasing everything.” He quickly opened up the files and the email of the computer. He signed in with an anonymous email as he put in all the major news media companies around them as the recipients. “Alright” he nodded, looking over at Roman who stood in front of the desk staring at the dead corpse in silence. Janus shook his head looking back at the computer as he started to fill the email with files. 

Patton pulled open Virgil's shirt to see the damage… he had a shot wound through and through, right near his heart it was a bit diagonal… it went through Virgil’s lungs and part of his heart… Patton took a deep breath holding Virgil’s hand, “I can’t save you… But I could make this painless… I’ll help you.”

Virgil shook his head, “No… No you don’t” tears rolled constantly down his cheeks, pain filling him. “Don’t… just stay here with me.”

Patton shook his head, he couldn’t stand seeing Virgil in so much pain… the least he could do was make his death painless. Patton took a deep breath holding Virgil’s hand tighter as he took on all Virgil’s pain, absorbing it into himself. He cried out in pain as he took it all, sobs coming from him. 

Virgil held onto Patton’s hand watching him sit in pain as the world began fading out all around him.

Virgil looked out a window watching the rain pour down, and lightning light up the sky, he watched the sky cry as his life faded away. 

____

Patton didn’t remember how they got to wherever they were, he felt out of it the whole time. He opened his eyes to see Janus sitting by him. He looked around, he was in a bed in a dark bedroom. The comforter was black… the room was kinda a gothic theme. “Where-”

Janus smiled softly, “It’s good you’re finally aware… awake. You’re at my home. I temporarily kicked out Roman and… Remus as his name appears to be.”

“Ok…” Patton nodded softly, taking a deep breath. “What happened?” 

“Well after Virgil.. Passed. You were in immense pain. We managed to escape, but it was hard. I decided we’d come here. Roman wouldn’t explain what was wrong, but he was quite distressed, I couldn’t let him come in and potentially distress you more. But I would like you to explain what you did… what happened?”

“I… I couldn’t stand seeing… Virgil? In pain. So… I took it away. It was so much all at once… I… I’ve never felt so much pain. Not just physical, but emotional. I could take away people’s injuries, and their pain. I would’ve died taking on his injury… so I took the pain on.” Patton whispered looking away, “I’m so sorry.”

Janus shook his head taking Patton’s hand, “Relax, it’s ok. You just went through all the pain of dying, relax. You were out of it for two days.”

Patton instantly moved to sit up when Janus’ hand rested on his chest holding him down, “I… two days! What… What happened? During the days I missed, what happened?”

“Well Roman is in hiding with Remus currently, I’ll call them back here soon. The testing sites have closed, the media is spreading select files from the ones I had sent them. Everyone is scared and confused. Nobody is exactly sure what is going to happen from here.” Janus explained softly, “I’ve kept you here at my home while you rested.”

Patton nodded softly, “Alright…”

“Sorry, this must be so much to take in.”

“A little…” 

Janus nodded, he was about to say more when a high pitched whistling. “Oh… That's the tea, would you like some?” He asked getting up. 

“Um sure, thank you.” Patton nodded, smiling.

“Alright, you stay there,” Janus told him. He left the room going into the kitchen, he pulled the kettle off the stove pouring the water into two tea cups with tea bags. He then picked them up walking back to the bedroom. When he came back in, Patton was sitting there just spaced out a bit. “Are you with me, Froggy?”

Patton flinched and looked up at Janus, “sorry, sorry.” He sighed.

“It’s ok, I didn’t expect you to wake up and be perfect.” Janus sat down next to Patton giving him a cup of tea, “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Patton blew softly on the tea before sipping on it. 

Janus nodded, “You’re welcome, are you hungry at all?”

“Yeah… a bit.”

“That’s perfectly fine, I’ll go get you something to eat, anything specific?”

“Cookies?”

“Sorry, but that is a dessert not a meal.” Janus smiled as he left the room. 

______

Remus sat on his table watching Roman who was silently lost in thought, he hadn’t moved in 3 hours, 3 hours! Remus moved like every minute, no, every few seconds. But here his brother was, still like the dead for 3 hours. Remus was afraid, and intrigued. 

Roman was silent, his mind racing, thoughts coming and going. What was he going to do now? Was he really a bad guy? He was never a hero was he? What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know anyone… His whole life was a lie! The thoughts repeated over and over in his head, a constant spiral with no end, just an infinite loop. 

Yeah… Remus was bored of this, “Roman!” He called at him. 

Roman flinched looking at Remus, “I… uh… sorry I wasn’t listening, what’s wrong?”

“Um you’re what’s wrong… Are you ok? Relatively?”

“Well… No. But, I’m fine.”

“Ro… I’m too dumb to decrypt what you just said, so yes or no, you good?”

“Not exactly, no… Lots of thoughts.”

“Hmm well in that case I’d like to ask you questions, to fill my own empty brain with thoughts.”

“Uh ok?”

Remus smiled hopping up and down on his desk, he pulled out a notebook and a highlighter. “Ok! Question one, Is there a secret tunnel system under the city that the assassins used to get around?”

“What no?-”

“Next question!” Remus nodded. 

It went on for hours, Remus asking several questions, all related to conspiracies and theories that he thought of or supported. Roman sitting answering them in confusion. 

That was until Remus’ phone went off. 

Remus jumped up grabbing his phone and reading the text before breaking out in a grin, a grin in these grim times. 

Roman raised an eyebrow staring, “Is there something amusing?”

“Patton woke up!”

“He woke up?!”

“Yeah!”

“Could we go?” 

“Yep!” Remus jumped up grabbing his jacket and keys, “Let’s go.”

“Wait… do you own a car?”

“I own a unicycle…”

“How am I supposed to come with you if you only have a unicycle?”

“Now… Did I say that I only owned a unicycle? No, no I didn’t. I’m not crazy, I also own a motorcycle with one of those side carts. You could ride in that.”

“No… I’m not riding in that.”

Roman sat in the cramped motorcycle side cart glaring up at Remus from under the stupid helmet, because safety first. 

Remus smiled watching the road as he drove to Janus’ home, as he now knew his name to be. He happily parked in Janus’ driveway before getting off the bike, “Alright! Let’s go inside.” 

Roman grumbled as he got out of the cart and stretched out. He waited till they walked into the house before taking off the helmet. 

Janus stood at the door looking amused as he opened it, “You didn’t take the unicycle.”

“Why does everyone assume that is my only mode of transportation?!” Remus exclaimed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. 

“Because you’re insane.” Roman replied, crossing his arms. 

“You can’t call me that! You’re my brother! We’re related! So you’re insane too then.”

“Well… I was an assassin, by your logic you are too because we’re related. But I don’t see you killing anybody.”

“Mmmm, fine.” Remus glared and pouted. “So how is Patton!”

Patton came out of the bedroom, “I’m ok… Just feeling better.” Patton smiled softly. 

Remus nodded, smiling. 

Roman waved slightly, “I’m glad you’re alright.” He said with a nod. 

Janus nodded softly, “He will be alright.”

“What do you-”

“He went through all the pain of death, he will be traumatized…” Janus replied, nodding to him. 

Roman nodded softly. 

Remus went over to Patton and sat down with him talking. 

Roman looked over at the two sitting, “I’m leaving… You’ll take care of Patton… Right? He’s my only friend.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure… I just need to get away.”

“Are you sure?”

“I need to… I’ll come back… But I don’t know when. I’m just confused, I’ve spent my whole life thinking I was doing good and being a hero. Now I don’t know what to think.” Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I… I just need to go.” 

Janus nodded softly, “I understand. Could you wait a week? We’re holding a small funeral, could you wait and leave after that?”

“I could wait till then,” Roman nodded, agreeing.

“Thank you.” Janus flashed him a smile before walking away and going back over to where Remus and Logan were sitting. 

Roman stood there staring at the three before coming over after a few moments. He sat down listening to Remus and Patton talking. 

___________

It was raining, thunder cracking in the air. 

Janus stood with Remus, Roman, and Patton. Two coffins in front of them. All holding black umbrellas as they stared at the coffins and the holes they were to be buried in. 

Janus stepped forward sighing lightly placing a black rose on one of them, “Goodbye.” He whispered then glanced at the other coffin, “Thank you for being there for him.” 

Patton went over and placed a hand on Janus’ shoulder, he lightly put a yellow rose on the coffin and looked at the second. “The other is…”

“Logan… His boyfriend.” Janus said softly. 

Roman heard and slightly took a step back from everyone and looked at the ground. 

Patton nodded, “At least… they’re together. I know how much Virgil missed him.”

“You felt his grief?” Janus asked, looking at him surprised. 

“I felt all his pain, even emotional.” Patton nodded before stepping back. 

Remus stepped closer putting a daisy on the casket, roots, dirt, and all. 

Roman waited a moment before stepping forward he leaned over placing two white roses, one on each casket before stepping back. 

Janus lingered next to the coffins before looking at the cemetery attendant and nodded before stepping back. 

Remus stepped closer to Janus, “Ready to go?”

Janus took a deep breath, “Yeah…” He glanced back and nodded, “Let’s go.” 

Remus nodded and led the way to Janus’ car. 

Patton stayed next to Janus as he walked back. 

They all got to the car and Roman stepped away, “Thank you… all of you.”

Patton tilted his head, “What?”

“I’m sorry Patton, I’m leaving.” 

“Why?”

“I just… I have to, just for a while, I’ll try to come back.” Roman sighed. 

Patton ran forward into Roman, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you again Patt…” 

Remus walked over pulling Roman into a hug as soon as Patton let go, “I can’t believe I’m losing you as soon as I found you again.”

“I know… I hope to get to know you. But you know I have to do this.”

“Yeah… I get it. Figure everything out, then come back, we’ll be here.”

Roman nodded letting go of Remus, “Thanks for the motorcycle, But I took off the sidecar.” He smiled walking over to the motorcycle. 

“Yeah, whatever. I better get it back safe!” Remus called at him.

“Remus, it’s alright, if your unicycle tire pops I could always let you ride in my car.” Janus said getting into his car with Patton getting in the back seat. 

Remus sighed, “Alright, b- I’ll see you again.”

“See ya again.” Roman nodded. He put on the helmet driving away. 

Remus got into the car with Janus and Patton.

Janus took another glance at the cemetery as he pulled away and drove home. He was silent during the ride just watching the road. Everything was changing and different, it had taken only a week and he lost his best friend and gained new… friends… 

Logan and Virgil were buried. 

Roman left to figure out what he was doing and to take a step back from where he was lied to his whole life. 

Patton was staying with Janus. Remus had finished his life’s work of finding his brother. 

Now from here everything was ambiguous. As much as Janus didn’t like it, he didn’t have any plans anymore. 

Patton looked out the window during the drive, the signs of getting your powers tested torn down, testing sites boarded up. He was tense looking at everything he had always aided in not knowing what he was helping. 

Remus reached over taking Patton’s hand, “Just breathe… Everything's ok.” He whispered, smiling. 

Patton nodded, “Everything will get better?”

“By time Roman is back everything will have a new normal.” 

Patton nodded, “That’s good.” 

They arrived at the house. 

Janus got out then opened Patton’s door helping him and Remus out. “Let’s go inside, I'd rather not be soaked by the rain. 

Patton nodded and ran with Remus to the door. Remus picking the lock and running in. 

Janus took a deep breath looking up at the sky and closing his eyes for a moment before walking inside the house.  _______________________

Notes: Written using this short Fic Idea ________________ General Tag List @crazy-multifandomfangirl @aceawkwardunicorn @mistythegenderqueermess

[beinmybonnet]

29th June 1613 - London, England

   “Remind me again why we’re doing this?

“He went to the trouble to have a draft carried all the way to Brandenburg for me, the least I can do is attend the opening night.”

Andromache rolls her shoulders into her partlet. “The least you can do maybe. Why am I doing this?”

“Because you missed me. And because you cried when we saw Othello.” Yusuf replies, looking sideways at her. Curbing the inevitable objection, Quynh squeezes Nicolò’s arm and strides forwards to overtake them. He lets himself be dragged after her, taking care not to tread on her skirts.

“I love the theatre. Plus, we’ve spent the last week sleeping in a shack in the Dales. This,” Quynh waves her free arm over the bridge rail, “is a nice change of scenery.”

London Bridge is teeming with people, the warmth of the bustle settling like cinders into his skin. The city writhes in its haste. Against the far bank of the Thames tall buildings strike against the horizon, the old Southwark Priory still reaching high in spent pride. Buildings are painted pale with dark beams striking bold across them. It is beautiful in its own way, Nicolò thinks. Inelegant, but unique.

“It wasn’t that bad. I still think we should have stayed a little longer, at least until-

“Andromache we’ve slept in nicer caves.”

Quynh glances back over her shoulder meaningfully, brow rising. Andromache shrugs. A smile, although few would recognise it. They step down onto the riverbank as one, turning east.

Nicolò nudges his shoulder into Yusuf as they pass the gardens. “You fail to mention you sent that script back with corrections.”

“Revisions. Small ones.” Yusuf’s voice is low, his expression impish. “Barely noticeable.”

                                                         *

“Ah, here we are.” Yusuf waves Andromache forward into their usual first-floor booth and steps back to allow Quynh to pass. Nicolò pauses, peering up the stairwell.

“Full house.”

“First performance. Trust me, this will be one to remember.” Yusuf is bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, and it makes Nicolò want to tuck his chin over a bobbing shoulder.

“You’d think the city would be a bit more subdued,” Andromache settles herself on the bench tucking thick plum skirts around her calves. She happily accepts a bag of roasted hazelnuts from Yusuf as he passes her to stand at the balcony. “They’ve only just recovered from their last bout of plague.”

“Exactly! This is the power of art.” Yusuf beams, arm sweeping wide. “Look at these people.” All around them the crowd is seething with anticipation, the noise growing as the wait goes on. Children scramble in the lower level of the yard for better vantage points, clawing their way up the beams supporting the lower galleries. People are shouting and laughing and drinking, the sound cocooned tight within the impressive structure. A man swings a laughing boy up over the mass, and a small group of women pressed against the stage begin shouting a suspicious sounding rhyme, pointing across the pit. Before they can finish a man in the gallery beneath them roars his response across the yard.

Nicolò’s brow furrows. “Clot-pole? I don’t…”

“She’s calling him an idiot,” Andromache supplies, “and insulting his hat.”

“It is a bit much.” Quynh’s leaning over the balcony to get a better look. “I think she’s accusing him of, err – short-changing her. Last night.”

Still grinning, Yusuf peers over beside her. “Oh, she’s quite angry. Here we go.” He sounds delighted. What looks like a parsnip sails over the head of the crowd. “A pity, she’ll want those for the third act.”

Quynh’s now bent almost double over the bannister and Andromache reaches to steady her without looking. “Isn’t this sort of thing that made the man move half of the troupe over to Blackfriars?”

Yusuf shakes his head in fond exasperation. “Ah, William has become far too prudish in his success. The engagement of the audience is the nature of theatre.”

“Engagement?” Nicolò smirks as something below meets its mark with a splat and a shout.

“Well, you cannot deny their enthusiasm-”

Quynh reappears with a whoop of triumph clutching her prize; a browning cabbage intercepted in the air. She rotates the rotten vegetable in careful examination. “Excellent.”

Yusuf raises his hand in hopeless protest as Nicolò leans back in his seat, eyeing Quynh. “10 crowns says you can’t hit the stage from here.”

She snorts derisively.

“20 if you can take King Henry off his feet.” Andromache counters, rising slightly to gauge the distance. Done, Quynh agrees happily, settling beside her and tucking her cabbage under the bench. Yusuf mutters an exasperated appeal for help to the heavens and Nicolò quickly tugs him down into the remaining space with a hand over his knee.

The parting of the stage curtain prompts the dropping of remaining projectiles and an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. The herald clears his throat, steps to the edge of the stage and spreads his arms.

The first and happiest hearers of the town,

I come no more to make you laugh; things now,

That bear a weighty and a serious brow,

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,

We now present. Those that can pity, here

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;

Be sad, as we would make ye

“Oh, so a comedy?” Quynh says brightly and Yusuf shushes her.

The first actors emerge from the wings in their velvets and the tale takes flight.

                                                                                                                                                                    *

In all this noble bevy, has brought with her

One care abroad; he would have all as merry

As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,

Can make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy:

Yusuf is mouthing the words soundlessly, engrossed.

There are many things Nicolò has enjoyed about visiting theatres over the years. He will readily admit this performance is an enjoyable one - the young man playing Buckingham is particularly charismatic, the audience viscerally immersed in his indignation. The actors proudly deliver their lines and their story to an increasingly hypnotised audience.  

But the play itself has never been what really draws Nicolò to this place. He glances sideways again and immediately, expectedly, loses the thread of the plot. In this moment the talent on the stage could never hope to hold his interest as he sits beside this man. Yusuf has lost himself entirely to the unfolding tale, gaze flitting from figure to figure calling below. Passion alight in his eyes. The arts do this to him in a way Nicolò has seen nothing else in all their time together. They have walked familiar paths in gallery halls for hours on end, Yusuf’s eyes roving walls of painted expression. They’ve sat in houses of the dying and listened to children bringing comfort with songs of naivety. Literature, dance, poetry, music; in all their changing forms they have always arrested Yusuf in his entirety.

These things give people freedom Nicolò, true freedom, he had once said. Free of limitation and expectation, in art people reveal their true selves. It is beautiful.

For Nicolò, that beauty is reflected blindingly in Yusuf’s own experience. To watch him like this for the rest of his given days would see him depart this earth achingly grateful to his God.

But Yusuf feels his distraction and leans toward him. “You’re missing it,” he murmurs, smile pulling impossibly wider. Unbridled delight is etched at the edges of his eyes, and Nicolò wants to trace his fingertips over the creases. He only realises he has reached out and done so when Yusuf captures and kisses his palm. “Watch the play.”

“It is a story still within living memory, I know how it ends,” Nicolò whispers.

Yusuf will not have it, nodding towards the actors. “Watch them tell it.”

Anne Boleyn is drifting across the stage, hand at her chest and Nicolò turns dutifully back to the performance.

Was he mad, sir?

O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:

But he would bite none; just as I do now,

He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

This time it’s Yusuf’s eyes that flicker back towards him and Nicolò hears silent words in the curl of his lip. Twenty kisses in a single breath. A risky venture, no?

Nicolò hums, his thoughts mirrored beside him. We shall see.

                                                                                                                      *

Good lord chamberlain,

Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;

And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em

Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty

Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.

A good digestion to you all: and once more

I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all!

King Henry VIII emerges from the curtains with a flourish, the actor clearly taking great pains not to stumble in breeches that billow around his knees. The theatre bursts into applause as a round of trumpets sound, and they shout their approval at the blast of a canon from the rafters. The actors move to their marks to begin the scene in earnest, and Andromache leans forward with interest for the first time.

“See, I told you! With the funding now available, they’ve really spared no expense,” Yusuf is still clapping. Andromache hums noncommittally sitting back, but her eyes are suddenly bright with curiosity.

“Quynh, if you’re going to win your money, I suggest you do it now.”

“Why? I was going to wait until the trial scene,” she replies, confused.

From his place beside her Nicolò can see clearly that Andromache is struggling to suppress a smirk. “Well, there won’t be much left by then.”

“What?” Quynh looks down the bench at him. He shrugs. Andromache sighs around her growing amusement.

Seconds pass before she speaks again.

“They’ve set the roof on fire.”

He doesn’t need long to piece together what’s happened. There’s a thin plume of smoke rising from the inner curve of the roof and within, a flicker of light no bigger than that from a candle waving gently in the rafters. The canon. They wadded the canon, he realises. The little flame wafts higher in the breeze. The crowd is oblivious, too focused on the stage to be looking upwards. He taps Yusuf’s thigh.

It does take a moment. “Oh dear.” Yusuf looks back and forth between the roof and the stage, face falling. “Well maybe-

There’s a loud pop as the flame meets eager fuel. It dances up into the thatch lining the hooped roof and flares wide and greedy. Whip fast, it licks across the reeds consuming them in crunches and cracks that have people now looking skywards and shouting. Those in the highest galleries rear back as the fire completes its rapid circuit of the roof. By the time the actors have abandoned their attempts at continuing and stand dumbstruck on the stage, the theatre is ringed in an ominous halo of flame.

“Yusuf, unless your intention is a repeat of ’54…” Quynh trails off sadly, holding her cabbage.

Clumps of lit thatch are beginning to drift into the standing audience and the pushing and shoving follows in earnest. One man charges through the crowd braying, his breeches alight. Andromache stands looking decidedly more cheerful. “Come on, we’ll help them clear the pit.”

Nicolò follows suit, a hand falling to Yusuf’s shoulder. He has to work to quell an absurd urge to laugh; Yusuf is glaring at the roof with all the stubbornness of a chastised child. He squeezes gently, sympathy winning out. “I’m sorry.”

“Canons, who on earth thought canons in a wooden building was…” Yusuf trails off, glancing up. “Nothing to be done I suppose.” He holds out his other hand. “Shall we?”

Drawing Yusuf up behind him, Nicolò moves out into the stairwell twisting up into the higher galleries where people are starting to pile down in haste. An older man stumbles in the rush and he reaches out to steady him. “Careful, sir. Head out towards the river.”

The man nods and quickly hurries on pressing his handkerchief to his mouth. The next woman through the door snatches her arm up to her chest before he can move to offer any assistance. Dirty papist  she spits as she veers away. Yusuf tenses, a hard line pressed at his back. Nicolò just dips his head.

“Please hurry.”

By the time the flow of people has ebbed the flames are beginning to consume the ornate stage pillars. The curtains masking backstage catch like parchment and blaze furiously. “We should make sure the galleries are clear,” he says, “you take the east, I the west?”

Yusuf eyes the roof timbers warily. “Five minutes. No more.”

In the end it only takes Nicolò four minutes to usher the last stubborn gamblers from the gentleman’s room. The fact that the smoke has now crept down to waist level speeds this along nicely, and they hurry to the stairwell hunched and coughing. Nicolò stays low, following them down the last steep flight when his foot catches on something in the darkness, almost putting his hand through the adjacent wall in an attempt to steady himself. There’s a man slouched in the corner, limbs sprawled wide and snoring. An empty bladder clutched to his chest. The strength of the brandy fumes punch through the dense smoke to further sting at his eyes and his irritation almost threatens to outweigh his conscience. Almost.

By the time he staggers out into clear air dragging his oblivious charge Nicolò know he’s been much longer than five minutes. Behind him there’s a crash which sounds very much like the galleries have finally given in and collapsed. Sounds like, because his eyes are clenched shut, burning and watering. Pressing his hands to his knees, he tries not to gag on the tar in his throat.

A hand settles on the back of his neck whilst another cups a palmful of water to his face. Nicolò winces.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, “He’s heavier than he looks.”

He can hear Yusuf grinding his teeth but his response is surprisingly placid. “Rinse your eyes.”

Yusuf presses a water skin into his hands and moves away. When Nicolò’s vision has cleared he spots him back near the eastern entrance, patiently shepherding two enraptured boys further from the fire as they gape at the sky. Even for one who has seen much, Nicolò must admit, it is quite a sight.

The playhouse’s cylindrical shape has moulded the fire into a twirling steeple of flame inside the structure, now reaching twenty feet clear of the building itself. The Globe resembles an enormous cauldron struggling to hold its roiling contents. It belches clouds of thick black smoke as its rim splinters and cracks under the pressure and heat. What’s left of the thatch continues to feed the furnace, keeping the flames bright and fierce.

Quynh appears, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow to steer him away. She leads him to a grassy curve of the riverbank where people are congregating in groups and beginning to resettle on the ground. From one muse to another, the audience remain eager spectators, gasping and whooping as the bones of the building begin to break, sending up showers of sparks. Yusuf and Andromache join them just as the walls start to keel inwards.

“You were right, definitely one of his more memorable works,” Andromache announces as they sit. “Perhaps my favourite.”

“Yes, I’m so very glad you enjoyed yourself.” Yusuf’s tone is flat, but his eyes roll indulgently.

Quynh settles herself back against Andromache’s bent knees, facing the playhouse. “We can still make a night of it. We get a bottle of wine, some pastries. Watch the sunset.” Her voices softens slightly and she levels her gaze at them. “You really must go so soon?”

He looks to Yusuf, who nods. “We have passage on a ship to Antwerp. She leaves on the tide tomorrow morning.”

Quynh’s sigh is dejected. “You won’t consider staying just a little longer? We’re moving on to…” she trails off, peering up at Andromache – Devon, she supplies, “We could use your help relocating these women. The trials are becoming barbaric.”

Yusuf shakes his head, surveying the crowd. “I’d prefer not to tempt fate. London is not at its most welcoming for us presently.

Nicolò quirks his lip. “You mean for me.” Ah, he sees now. The woman from earlier is stood just a little further up the bank, clutching at well-dressed man and pointing at them. Yusuf stares back unflinchingly. Nicolò feels him shift to further block her line of sight to him.

Then he turns back to meet Nicolò’s eye and speaks firmly. “For us. If a place does not welcome you, it does not welcome me.” 

Quynh has watched the exchange carefully and suddenly sits up. She clears her throat and calls out loudly enough for those nearest to turn. “Thou art a boil, madam, a plague sore!”

Andromache snorts and the woman raises her fan to her face appalled, tugging on her husband’s arm. It has the intended effect on Yusuf though and his grin returns to its proper place. Nicolò feels a familiar rush of affection for Quynh and her unfailing ability to put people at ease.

“King Lear,” Yusuf says proudly. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“Of course she was,” Andromache interjects, “It’s a magnum opus of insults.”

Quynh grins up at her. “Oh, you worsted-stockinged knave.”

The retort is instant. “Brazen-faced varlet.”

“Ancient ruffian.”

Andromache shrugs. “Accurate.”

Their laughter comes in easy unison and Yusuf’s expression is unbearably soft as he watches them. “It won’t be for long,” he promises.

Quynh pulls her eyes from Andromache and nods. “Probably a sensible choice at the moment. You do look violently Venetian Nicolò.

He wrinkles his nose, affronted. “I do not-”

Yusuf is reaching for his face, so he pauses his protest for the gentle pass of a thumb over the bridge of his nose. “It’s your profile my love.” Yusuf’s tongue darts out over the pad of his thumb before it returns to rub more firmly at his nose. “Which currently is very sooty.”

With his hands still upon Nicolò’s face he murmurs.  “Oh but what a piece of work is this man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel,” Yusuf blinks, his sincerity blinding, “in apprehension how like a god.”

It’s all Nicolò can do not to rub his flushed cheeks into Yusuf’s palms like an alley cat.

Andromache arches a refined brow at Quynh. “Nicolò gets a Hamletian ode to his soul, and I get ‘ruffian’?”

Quynh rocks onto her elbow in the grass without missing a beat. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Mayhap a smouldering playhouse, ablaze in righteous flame?

“Likened to a smoking wreckage, how romantic.”

Nicolò would laugh but Yusuf is still holding his gaze and his face, everything else muting around him. He does this; bestows his love in soft declarations that leave Nicolò stunned, and then holds him steady until the words perfuse. Nicolò loves him so much he feels he might combust, with all the ferocity of the fire at his back.

Centuries before, he had allowed his disbelief to ask a question once, and only once. The intensity frightening him. Could a gift such as this truly be his eternal?

Nicolò smiles at his world and whispers.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and gives life to thee.

 held in the embers on ao3 at theexistentialteapot

 part one of this series can be found here

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of August. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Move Out | Explicit | 1525 words

Harry and Louis are moving in together, so they might as well make the most of Harry's apartment.

2) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it.

Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

3) So Good, It's Making Me Drool | Explicit | 3364 words

He kept his back turned to Harry, whispering the few words he knew that would make Harry go absolutely wild. “If I’m only yours, maybe you should take me to bed and teach me who I belong to.”

4) What I Like | Explicit | 4245 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Harry gets tired of the "older women" jokes and the incessant teasing from Louis.

5) ll Belong To Your Creation | General Audiences | 4349words

Louis had always thought it was impossible to do so. Thankfully, upon doing research he learned that he still can as long as there are no complications throughout the whole pregnancy. He also stumble upon a birth vlog where a mum was able to give birth naturally even after going through c-section with her first and second pregnancy.

6) An Axolotl and the Fake Date | Explicit | 5976 words

Harry runs a stall at a farmers market every weekend and Louis comes by one day with an odd request.

7) Feels So Right | Explicit | 8804 words

The one where Louis is Troy, Harry is Gabriella, and we find out what really happened after karaoke at that ski resort...

8) Giallo! | Mature | 9776 words

Louis was a mess. A stuttery mess of weak knees and grass stains on his fresh linen clothes, his cheeks blooming a natural pink that matched his sunburnt nose. Upon his return from University, his family abandon the bustling city of London to bask in the comfort of their summer villa. With such a property came maintenance, Louis' father hired a strapping young fellow with tanned skin littered with ink and a charming smile aided by dimples in both his cheeks. Between reading, baking and painting, Louis stares at Harry, he couldn't help it. They grow close under the sun of Greece in 1989.

9) Interlude: One Night in March | Explicit | 10671 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Harry let his hands roam over Louis’s bare back, his muscles rippling with that same frenetic energy he always had, swirling just beneath the skin, just beneath Harry’s fingers. “May come a time I’ll have to carry you again.”

Cupping the back of his head and burying his fingers in Louis’s hair, he pulled Louis back into another deep kiss, moaned a bit when Louis squeezed his chest again, harder this time, like he wanted the shirt off. But instead he drew his hand down Harry’s side and tugged at the hem, as though to say best keep this on, before he licked into Harry’s mouth, drew Harry’s tongue out to play only to pull back enough to speak.

“May come a time I’ll actually fucking let you.”

10) Hate To Smoke (Without Me) | Mature | 12164 words

Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

11) Call You Mine | Explicit | 12755 words

“I have a request.”

That’s what Louis Tomlinson says to Harry when he opens the front door a bit too aggressively. The latter feels justified after a round of annoyingly incessant knocking that was much too loud in the drowsy sludge of early Saturday morning.

“Zayn’s asleep,” is Harry’s tired, hoarse reply, irritation prickling at his skin. Less than a minute ago he was in bed, feeling perfectly content sprawled out on the mattress with the chilled air from the fan cool against his bare skin. And now he’s leaning up against the wooden door frame in nothing but his briefs because Zayn’s best mate decided that showing up unannounced at seven in the fucking morning was a brilliant idea.

“I’m not here for him,” says Louis curtly.

12) A Vivid And Wistful Melody | Explicit | 13128 words

"Slowly, he takes his violin out of its case, listens for a few more minutes to Louis’ flute, before joining him as best as he could. The flute stops for a few seconds, and Harry imagines Louis blinking cutely, taken aback, before huffing with a smile, and starting to play again, on a suddenly far happier tune. Harry closes his eyes as he twirls around the living room, violin in hand and music filling the air. He pictures Louis doing the same in his own flat while being careful as to not step on his cat.

Somehow, even with heavy eyes and tired limbs, this is the happiest Harry has ever felt in years."

In which they are neighbours stuck at home and they happen to start talking through a wall with a piano, a violin, and a flute. They end up writing the soundtrack of their own love story.

13) Until This Blood Runs Cold | Explicit | 13685 words

In a town as small as Louis’, everybody knows everybody and gossip spreads faster than the wildfires that rage on just outside their backdoors in the sweltering heat of summer. When something happens here everyone knows about it within seconds. Neighbors call neighbors and notes are left on doorsteps, old telephone lines ringing until there isn’t a single person who is left in the unknown.

So it’s definitely hot gossip when a vampire moves in across the street from him, the very same one who’s just become Louis’ boss.

14) A Road To Hope | Explicit | 18280 words

Note: There is no explicit smut but its implied BL.

“We’re far from the people and their issues, don’t hold back. Please.”

It’s true. They are far away from anything that could stop them, the middle of nowhere being the safest place on Earth for them to fall in love. The sacred land where sacred love is created. However, Louis is certain that even if they weren’t safe, he wouldn’t resist the sight of Harry, his pleading eyes, his warm skin beneath his touch.

15) Your Eyes Of Blue, Your Kisses Too | Explicit | 21785 words

When they get out onto the streets away from the crowds Niall turns to walk backwards, “So did you get any leads?”

“Well- uh.”

Niall shakes his head, “Too busy kissing that pretty boy onstage, I see. Gonna blow the whole case for a piece of ass?”

16) Thinking About Peaches | Explicit | 23724 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #18 on this list.

Eight smutty drabbles following the events of bruise you like a peach.

17) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds | Mature | 38065 words

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

18) Bruise You Like A Peach | Explicit | 40694 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #16 on this list. 

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

19) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

Or could Grimshaw be looking for a new face?

20) Secretly Dating | Mature | 43615 words

Lottie groaned, looming over Louis with a glare. “If we’re late, Mum and Dad will never let Harry see me – ie. see you.”

It was the first time they openly addressed the fact that Harry saw more of Louis than Lottie on their supposed ‘dates.’ He supposed he knew as much, but it still startled him. “You’ve been setting us up!”

Lottie snorted, cocking out her hip and brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Honestly, Harry. You’re so dense. To be fair, it was at Louis’ request.”

Louis’ mouth gaped like a fish as he jumped to standing position, wobbling only slightly. “Don’t sell me out!”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Come on lovebirds.”

21) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) | Mature | 95417 words

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

22) The Healing Song | Mature | 111851 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old.

Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything.

Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

Bruises.

request: “hi there lovely! I've just came across your blog and would love to give you a request!! maybe something along the lines of the reader being a family friend if the weasleys for years and they've taken her under their wing at school and she gets into a physical fight with some other person that was making fun of the w.fam for their money situation and she gets detention with umbridge. when she comes out thought george kisses her and thanks for? ty lovie?!!” 

word count: 2.278 

warnings: mild violence, not really proofread

A/N: listen, I just want to say that obviously not all Slytherins are mean bullies, we all know that by now, right? for the sake of the plot these particular ones are bad xxx 

Sound was erupting from everywhere around you as Gryffindor won against Slytherin. Mostly you could hear the yells of dismay and catcalls from Slytherin mixing with the roar from the Gryffindor stand. down on the pitch you saw the teams land on the ground, the Gryffindor team looking only somewhat happy amidst the chaos, all of them landing around Harry to check on him after being hit by a bludger in the last second of the game, though their concern quickly turned into annoyance as Malfoy swooped down in front of the group, saying something to them, though the crowd and the distance made it impossible for you to make out what that something was. Instinctively you found the two redheaded twins you called your best friends and going on the stiff looks on their faces, whatever Malfoy was saying wasn’t very sportsmanlike. 

“This isn’t going to be pretty,” You say to yourself as you hurry down to the pitch, quickly  dodging between disappointed Gryffindors and breaking into a sprint when you reach the grass of the playing field. 

You’re too slow though, in the seconds it takes you to reach the team, Harry lets go of George and the two take on Malfoy, both of them quickly overpowering him until he’s lying on the ground, you can’t do anything other than help Angelina, Katie and Alicia hold Fred, who’s still struggling to break free and get to Malfoy, and yell out for George and Harry to stop, not because you have much pity for Malfoy, knowing he probably deserved every hit that he got judging by the boy’s harsh reaction, but rather because you fear Umbridge’s tyranny, and the punishment she’ll give Harry and George. If speaking out of turn got you the blood quill, as it had been named by your fellow students, then you didn’t want to imagine what outright violence got you, let alone two against one. You held onto Fred for what felt like an eternity before a blast from Madam Hooch’s wand knocked down George and Harry who both landed with heavy ‘thump’s on the grass. 

“I’ve never seen such behavior before! Up to the castle, straight to your heads of house’s office, both of you immediately! Go on!” Madam Hooch screamed at the two boys, who picked themselves up and took off, in the meantime, Fred seemed to calm down, all you still holding onto his clothes for good measure while you headed towards the changing rooms, 

“I-I’d better go back up to the castle,” you say, “I’ll see you all in the common room, alright?” 

The group bids you goodbye and you turn to join the stream of students walking up towards the castle. 

As you walk, the whole episode plays over and over again in your head. You’d never seen the twins so angry before, let alone had you never seen them being physically violent in that way. You’d known them since you were about eight, your parents were good friends of the Weasley’s and one summer, whilst your own house was having some construction done, the Weasley’s had offered to let your family stay with them. You’d been shy and had mostly kept to yourself until the twins beckoned you into their room to see their newest fireworks they’d gotten from Romania as a gift from Charlie. It had been incredibly easy to befriend the twins and years later you’d still consider them your best friends and you knew them to be some of the most easy going and happy people at Hogwarts so seeing George beat up Malfoy was new. You felt a pang of worry at the thought of George and the twisted devices Umbridge had surely set up to use on him as punishment, Malfoy was a favorite of hers after all, surely she wouldn’t treat this like any of the twin’s other antics. You’d developed a crush on George over the past year or so and just like befriending him, you’d found that falling in love with him had been more than easy,  it was hard not to, really. You’d first realised you’d loved him when you’d had a really terrible couple of days, your essays had come back with bad marks despite you really having tried to understand the subject, hoping to get use the n.e.w.t to get your dream job, though at that moment it had seemed impossible with the ‘Poor’ marked on the parchment, then you’d received some harsh criticism from Snape, not that you’d normally care but in midst of your crisis with your essays, you’d let it get to you, and George had noticed, of course he had, he had a knack of reading you better than Fred - or anyone else - could. He’d sneaked you out after the sun had gone down, and together you went to Hogsmeade, walking the wet cobblestones together for what seemed like ages. He bought you sweets and sat with you in the three broomsticks until well after midnight, just talking and watching the various customers come and go. 

“Why’d you take me here? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it, I just-” you halted, your breathing never worked quite right when he looked you in the eye, “-why are you doing all this for me?” you ask, swallowing hard when his lips form a smile that honestly makes your heart stop. He thinks for a minute, allowing you to breathe again when his eyes move away to glance out over the three broomstick’s interior, the hag half asleep over her fifth scotch, the shifty cardplayers in the very back, sluggishly teasing each other earning them a warning from madam Rosmerta when their ale spills over, then back to you with your red nose and cheeks from the cold, your hair slightly frizzy from the wind, 

“to get away from everything, I think,” He says, “sometimes it’s nice to just leave everything you know behind for a bit, you know?” He looks at you and when you don’t answer he continues, 

“Sometimes, when I’m back home, it can get a bit too much, with my family and everything. Especially if you’re upset, it’s tough when you don’t even have a room you can shut yourself up in, except for maybe the bathroom,” he lets out a stout chuckle, then his expression softens again, “so, sometimes when I’m upset, I sneak out, and just walk through the fields until I can see the city in the distance, and I just sit, like we are, and it helps to be away, just for a little bit, and then when I feel better, I go back home and the strange thing is, that when I come back, Fred is always up and waiting for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful to have a twin…” He falters, and realises he’s rambling, “I don’t know, I just thought you’d like to get some fresh air,” he adds, his ears turning red but you don’t say anything. You just stare at him whilst your heart hammers away at your ribs because for the first time you’ve realised how much he means to you. 

You’d never told him any of that, though. That night you’d walked back to the castle together as if everything was the same, though you could never focus again whenever he’d put his arm around you and your heart still stopped in its tracks when his eyes met yours. 

“If you ask me, then this just proves Malfoy’s point,” a voice says behind you, you turn and look and see a group of Slytherin girls walking together, “I mean attacking him like that just because he’d been giving them some slander, if that doesn’t scream “I was raised in a pigsty” then I don’t know what does,” the girl says, her friends letting out barks of laughter, “honestly what did Draco expect, haven’t you seen their pranks? they’re practically barbaric. Probably fight over scraps of food the poor things,” 

“Shut up!” You spun around to face the three girls, neither of whom looked threatened by your outburst, 

“What gives you the right to speak about them like that? As far as I’m aware none of you even know them,” you sneer, earning belittling giggles from the three of them,

“I think we’ve seen enough to know what type of people they are, after all they hang out with little Potty and that Granger girl, it figures,” 

“what figures,” 

“That they clearly struggle to comprehend what wizards are worth spending time with, though who can blame them? with those parents I’m surprised they even know their ABC’s- OOF!” 

You hadn’t realised your hand was flying upwards until it hit the girl’s face knocking her backwards a few steps while she cupped her nose, blood beginning to trickle out between her fingers, staring at you with a shocked expression for a few seconds before her friend shoved you, yelling something you couldn’t hear over the pulse banging on your eardrums, in your rage you didn’t hesitate to lash out after her friend who swiped quickly at you and hit you square on the cheekbone, though you managed to land a punch in her eye before you, too, were knocked backwards by a spell. 

“MISS L/N!” Snape’s voice echoed across the grounds, Sprout and Flitwick at his heels, “what on earth do you think you’re doing?!” his voice boomed, making you wince as the pain from your cheekbone begins to register, “Your housemates displaying the worst of your houses wasn’t enough for us, was it? Thought we’d join in on the fun? Fifty points from Gryffindor and 20 from Slytherin for good measure! L/n you’re heading straight to professor McGonagall’s office! and you three go to the hospital wing at once!” Snape scolds as you pull yourself to your feet and begin walking towards McGonagall's office, dreading having to look your head of house in the eye. You’d felt sick with guilt when you’d had to explain being late to one of her lessons, the thought of having to explain why you were turning up with a bruised face after she’d already had to berate George and Harry made you want to hurl. 

You were surprised to see that her office was empty except for professor Umbridge when McGonagall opened the door with a slightly surprised expression. 

“Miss L/n, what on earth are you doing here?” she asked, 

“Erh, professor Snape sent me,” you said sheepishly, her eyes landed on your cheekbone and her expression stiffened,

“Come in.” Umbridge's saccharine voice says behind her, “Mr Weasley and Mr Potter have just left, but I’m sure that we can fit in another detention, if you’ll leave us professor McGonagall, I’ll take it from here.”

***

 “-So I’ll see you next Monday for your next of many detentions, miss L/n, other than that you’re free to go back to your common room now.” Umbridge says finally, taking the blood quill from you with the same revolting smile she always wears. You don’t know what to say so you resort to nodding and leaving without a word, carefully closing the door behind you and turning to go. You start when you’re met with the face of George, who’s sitting on the windowsill across the hallway, his lip swollen and bruised.

“George!” you say, holding a hand to your chest, “you scared the living hell out of me!” you exclaim as he stands up and crosses the hallway, 

“Sorry, Y/n,” he says with a grin before his eyes travel to your cheek and soon after you feel his cold fingers touching your bruise gingerly while he eyes you with furrowed brows, 

“You’re hurt,” he says in hushed tone so unlike his usual self that it makes your stomach churn, hating to see him this worried, 

“you should see the other girls,” you attempt to joke earning a chuckle from George, “besides I can hardly feel it with my hand,” you lift up your hand, showing off the bright red letters etched into it, 

I will not resort to violence.

“so it’s true then,” he says, his hand still on your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over the bruise, his eyes staring into your own, “that you beat up those Slytherins?” Now it’s you who’s chuckling, “You could say that, yeah,” you answer, “they deserved it though, they were talking about you, your family” suddenly, you find it hard to look George in the eye, you stare at your feet, the edges of your vision blurring with tears, you feel his hand tilt your head up by your chin, 

“I- I don’t know what happened, George, I just heard them say those awful things about you and I just couldn’t take it, I just-” 

His lips cut you off from your ramblings, his hands finding their way down to your waist, holding you gently as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss just a little, stepping closer to you, your own hands travel up to his neck, his hair, your fingers get lost in tufts of ginger hair. You can feel the bruise on his lip, and it implores you to kiss him as softly as possible, though you want nothing more than to continue deepening it, to make it last longer. He breaks away, resting his forehead on yours,

“Thank you, Y/n,” he breathes with a smile, “for standing up for me.” he leans in and pecks you on the lips, 

“though, in fairness, I’d prefer if you refrain from violence from now on, I’d hate to see you get hurt.” he says, taking you by the hand and beginning to walk, you gently nudge him, 

“And that’s coming from you,” you smirk, 

“touché.” 

[marvelsswansong]

Peach Lipgloss

Summary: He’s a sophmore at MIT who has hung up his superhero suit for university. She’s a well known killer with the power to seduce and manipulate anyone she pleases. Of course the universe would make them soulmates.  

Words: 6.1K

Tags: soulmate au (soulmates can’t hurt each other), forbidden love (kinda), college!Peter, femmefatale!reader. Violence, heavy sexual themes, proceed with caution.

a/n: REPOST since first one didn’t show up in tags :( sorry to those who already read this 4 hours ago 

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

Massachusetts, USA

Quickly shoving his crinkled notes into his bag, Peter was the first person to be out of the classroom the moment Theoretical Physics was done and over with. Reaching for the zipper as he made his way out the marbled doors, he paused at the sight of the crumpled red and black fabric in his bag.

He didn’t know why he still carried his spiderman suit with him, considering the vow he’d made to pack it away along with his hero life the moment he arrived at MIT. But the lingering sense of danger and doubt never left him so he could never quite part with it, so he always kept the suit and extra shooters in a concealed compartment in his backpack.

He never knew when he’d need it, he reasoned.

Crossing the large green lawn, he breathed in the earthy air, staring up at the clear blue sky. Fall was starting to roll into the state of Massachusetts, the trees lining the sidewalk were orange and red, and the lawn of daffodils under the library building had begun to bloom. He greeted a group of people he recognized from his engineering class as he crossed over to the south-side of the campus, passing by a row of cluttered dorms. He checked his wristwatch- the one May had gifted him before he left for university- still 10 minutes left until class started.

He slipped into the empty classroom and sat on the first row of chairs when his cellphone started ringing. Peter frowned, his mind failing to think of who would need to speak to him during school hours. He unlocked it to see Tony’s name appear on the screen, a sight only reserved for emergencies.

“We’ll only call you if we can’t do it without you.” his mentor had said, the day before Peter had left for MIT.

“Hello?” Peter answered quietly, as a few students began to fill into the room.

“How quickly can you come to Santorini?”

Tony sounded exhausted on the other side of the phone. Peter nervously chewed on his lip, not liking where this conversation was going.

“With all due respect, Mr.Stark, I can’t just drop everything right now and fly to Greece. I have-”

“Nuclear Science and Engineering right now, I know. I also know you have finals in a month but that’s nothing I can’t call in a favour for. I happen to be good friends with the Dean and the Provost of MIT.”

More people began filling the room as the professor walked in, forcing Peter to cover his phone with his hand and whisper, turning away from the crowd.

“I get that, but, I’m taking a break from the whole hero business. I want to focus on university and having a life without risking it every few days,  you know?”

“And I agree that you should have all those things. Come on, Peter. I haven’t called you for a mission for the first year and a half of your university. I meant what I said when I told you we’d only call you if we literally couldn’t do it without you. I’m begging you, kid.”

Peter could imagine Tony pinching the bridge of his nose, pacing around the room in frustration while trying to convince Peter. He was reluctant, but the desperation in Tony’s voice didn’t go unnoticed and his hands were moving faster than his brain. Packing his things back up, he quietly exited the classroom and sighed into the phone.

“Okay, I’ll come.”

“Great. Don’t worry about your classes or your exams, I’ll make sure it’s handled. Pack enough for two weeks. I’m sending you a private jet to your nearest airport in two hours. See you then.”

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

Santorini, Greece

Peter felt like he was melting under the hot Grecian sun, the sticky humid air mixing with the ocean breeze blowing in from the southwest. He adjusted his sunglasses, the sweat causing it to slide down the bridge of his nose repeatedly, his skin smelling of an odd combination of aftershave and sunscreen. It felt strange, to say the least, to go from spending months in grey sweatpants and thick burgundy hoodies in the freezing cold weather of Cambridge to now being dressed down in a red Hawaii shirt and grey khakis in the sunny island of Santorini.

“You okay, Peter?” Steve called out from behind him, wearing a not so obvious disguise of a baseball cap paired with white rimmed sunglasses. That said, they needed to ‘blend in’, as Tony put in, and Peter had to admit- among the crowds, they just looked like a group of innocent American tourists. And not a band of superheroes, trying to catch a super-villain in her acts.

“I’m fine, just… thirsty.”  he replied, swallowing thickly.

“I’ll get you some water.”

Steve told Peter to stay put and disappeared into a nearby path lined with shops, leaving the young boy in the middle of the cobblestone street. The rest of the team were scattered across the island in an attempt to catch her, an infamous killer with no name, no trace. Just a pretty face and a signature carving of a heart on her victim’s bodies. He’d gotten the information dump on the plane ride here, in which Maria drilled the information into his head.

“This is all the information we’ve gathered on her so far.” her tone was somber as she flicked over a thin manila folder to him, which he opened with a flick of his thumb before holding up the piece of paper.

“It’s one page.”

She bit her lip, frustrated.

“We’ve been unsuccessful in gathering much information about her. What we have on her is ambiguous at best, except a few things: she’s about 20, she’s a master seductress, able to seduce anyone into carrying out her commands. She kills her prey and carves a heart onto their bodies. And the only way to avoid her powers is to avoid looking into her eyes.”

“Is there even a photo of what she looks like?” he questioned, his curiosity piqued.

“A few we’ve managed to piece together from some security cameras.”

She tossed him a few pictures onto his lap, each varying in quality. From the set, however, he could make out that she had (h/c) hair, a light/dark/middle skin-tone, and  was of a short/regular/tall stature. It looked like she was wearing a sparkly silver dress in the first photo, which was taken on the side of a street in Milan, then a pink checkered tank top and matching skirt in the second one, taken in Paris, and an over-sized black hoodie with black heels on a bridge in London.

The photos were either too dark or taken too far away to really catch her face, but just by looking at these photos he could tell- she was beautiful. Stunning, even. Even without powers he was sure she could seduce anyone she liked.

“Thing is, she always gets away right before we can catch her. SHIELD has been onto her for a while but no matter who we send, no matter how discreet, low level or which gender… they end up dead or return back dazed with no memory of what happened.”

Peter raised his eyebrow.

“Is that a part of it?”

Maria sighed..

“Depends. Sometimes she doesn’t kill the people she uses her powers on and the victims just end of having a dazed, hazy feeling for a few hours. They then have a hard time remembering what exactly happened, making our job infinitely harder.”

An uneasy silence filled the air, as Peter shifted in his seat. This sounded like the hardest mission yet.

“So why am I needed?”

“Your supernatural senses allow you to sense any immediate danger or harm nearby you, regardless of sight, right? So we’re hoping that you’re able to fight and capture her without ever being under her influence, by closing your eyes and relying on your ‘spidey senses’ instead. Do you still have your web shooters on you?”

He nodded.

“If you find her, web her to her surroundings, turn around so you’re not looking into her eyes, then call us over. She can’t influence all of us at once, so that’d give us an advantage and plenty of time to sedate her and bring her over.”

The web shooter concealed underneath his wrist watch was starting to itch, breaking the somewhat vacational bliss he was feeling from sitting on the edge of the white wall and watching the waves go by. Checking the time with a flick of his wrist, it dawned on him that Steve had disappeared to get him some water for a bit too long. Fifteen minutes to be exact.

What was going on?

He slipped into the alleyway where Steve disappeared, wandering straightforward rather aimlessly until he caught sight of the familiar blonde hair a few feet away. Except, his back was turned towards Peter as he lounged on a chair on the outskirts of a cafe, and he was talking to someone he didn’t recognize. Adrenaline kicked in, forcing Peter to duck behind a nearby corner before his eyes fell on the woman Steve was talking to.

It was her.

The woman in the photos.

And fuck, you were stunning. You weren’t wearing anything particularly fancy, just a white lacy sundress and pink pastel flats, but every crevice of the fabric clung to your skin glowing in the caramel sunlight, making the modest piece somehow sensual and teasing. Sitting with one leg crossed over the other he felt as if you were teasing any wandering gaze to land upon your skin, calling out with the same lull as a siren’s. Your lips were painted glossy pink and Peter realized that your eyes were glowing the same shade, a glittery candy floss pink that reflected in Steve’s previously blue orbs.

“So what brings you here, soldier?” you questioned, toying with the soldier.

Your voice dripped like sweet honey and wrapped around your surroundings like a vice.

“On a mission to bring you in.” Peter noted that Steve’s voice was suddenly robotic and eerily not like him.

You pursed your lips, crossing your arms.

“So SHIELD is still after me, huh? You know, even HYDRA was less insisting.”

Wrapping your hand around Steve’s arm, you brought him closer towards you as you felt the cold steel surface of your knife shift underneath your dress, the blade itching to dig into fresh skin.

“I should kill you, you know. You and the Avengers just keep on coming after me and I’m getting tired of playing around…” you drawled, quiet for no one else to hear you except for Peter with his superhero senses.

Peter could feel his heart pound in his chest, as Steve stood motionless while you took out the large sharp blade and started trailing it down Steve’s leg, hidden from plain sight, with not enough pressure to break the skin just yet. Peter quickly took out his phone and alerted Tony of his current location,  as you paid for the meal and led Steve towards a dark alleyway, surely to dispose of the super soldier.

Tony’s reply was immediate.

‘Got it. Stay put. Don’t interfere unless you have to.’

Crouching back down, Peter quickly took off his backpack and changed into his suit, before slowly trailing behind you.

The flat side of the blade was now underneath Steve’s throat, right where it could slice through the jugular veins and kill him. His pink hooded eyes were still looking at you as you smiled, leaning in and leaving a soft kiss on his lips.

“Sad… you were one of my favorites.”  

You raised your blade in the air, ready to slash his throat, when a flash of white passed by and knocked the blade out of your hand. Peter quickly ran out, one hand over his eyes and the other outstretched to pull Steve backwards and out of harm’s way.

“S-stay back.” he muttered, the lack of vision plus the adrenaline adding to his anxiety. Your eyes widened upon seeing the red and black hero standing in front of you, in Greece, of all places.

This was certainly an interesting development.

“Now why would I do that?” you asked, pulling a gun out of your thigh holster and aiming it towards him.

“Because the rest are coming.” he replied, thankful that is voice was no longer shaking.

Your eyes widened at the response before you pouted, trailing your bottom lip dangerously with your tongue.

“In that case… Captain-”

Steve stood right up straight at the sound of your voice, pushing Peter backwards.

“Take him out for me, would you?”

And before Peter could do or say anything, Steve swung his fist in his direction, forcing Peter to open his eyes and jump back. By the time he looked at where you were standing before you were gone, the realization sticking in his mind for a brief moment before Steve tried to knock him back down again.

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

Tokyo, Japan

A few days after the disaster in Santorini (Steve still wouldn’t look him in the eye after he snapped out of his violent trance three hours later when the effect wore off), the team had gotten word that she was spotted out and about in Japan. And that led Peter here, standing in the middle of a busy street crossing, surrounded by big flashing billboards and tall glass skyscrapers. He adjusted his light rimmed glasses- they had a tiny microscopic camera attached to the lens that could record everything- as he shoved through the busy crowd, the address written in the note inside his coat pocket replaying in his head.

After a few unsuccessful conversations with locals who were passing by, he was lucky enough to run into someone who spoke moderate English. She gave him an odd look when he handed over the piece of paper and she typed in the address onto her phone, but nonetheless pointed him in the right direction. He thanked her before walking east, the loud noise of scurrying feet and the whirring of cars driving by blocking his thoughts.

“Peter? Can you hear me?” Tony’s voice rang out through his earpiece, causing Peter to discreetly adjust it. After the not so successful attempt last time to capture her, the team had advised a new plan- Peter would go in alone without his suit but with just his web shooters, pretending to be just another patron at the club, and talk to her discreetly before trapping her with his web before the others could take her in.

He was just lucky his face was concealed the first time they met.

“Yes. I’m almost at the address you gave me. It’s a club, right?”

There was a momentary pause.

“Yeah, it’s a club. Point is, be careful. We’ll be watching your every move and we can hear everything that’s going on, so don’t worry.”

“I’ll be cautious.”

The building that matched the address was a modestly sized glass building with steel doors and a menacing looking bodyguard outside, who asked him for his ID in perfect English. After giving the man his school ID he was let inside where a skimpily clad woman asked him for his coat, the little blue bikini number leaving little to the imagination. His face felt hot and his throat tightened when he hastily took off his coat and gave it away to the woman, as the realization settled in.

He wasn’t in just any club.

He was in a stripclub.

Swallowing his embarrassment the best he could, he quietly went through the next set of glass doors, which led out to a dim hallway lit up by bright pink LED lights. A slew of men and a couple of women sat around the bar and near the light up stages, where several girls in tight dresses twirled around the pole set to a sensual song. It was hard to make out the faces under the dim blue lighting, so he opted to blend in by walking to the bar in the middle and ordering a drink. He tried to look anywhere but where the scantily clad women were and stared at a nearby TV screen instead, when a familiar voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Strawberry Daiquiri, please.”

You were facing straight forward, thus allowing Peter to catch a quick glance at you. You sensed a set of eyes on your figure and looked back, only to see Peter blushing and looking down at his lap to avert his gaze. Sliding over a few seats, you leaned against the bar table, the slit on your mini skirt exposing your upper thigh.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” you commented slyly, drinking in the sight of him. He was younger than most of your prey- you preferred to go for men who were older than you- but he looked just as good as the others. Tousled brown curls, defined muscles flexing underneath his white polo shirt, a shy demeanor… He was adorable.

“S-sorry.” he murmured, still not looking into your eyes. You figured he was nervous and chuckled, taking a slow slip of your sugary drink.

“It’s alright… you’re not a part of this usual crowd, are you?”

“Good. Keep on talking to her to distract her. We’re on our way.” Tony spoke in Peter’s ear. He regained his confidence to look up for a brief moment to snatch his drink off the table, the strong taste of whiskey burning his throat.

“What makes you say that?” he asked quietly, swirling his drink with his straw. You leaned closer, the sweet draft of your vanilla and honeycomb lotion drifting over him as you smirked.

“Well, for starters, you’re not looking at any of the strippers here. And two, you’re not even looking at me.”

He needed an excuse, so he blurted out the first thing that came into his mind.

“Sorry, I just, uh, I have a hard time looking at pretty girls.”

You were caught off guard by that comment, and it showed for a brief moment on your face. You were used to men calling you a slew of names, but calling you pretty? In such a sincere way? While blushing? This was new. A new urge surged through your veins as you placed your hand on his lap, rubbing his thigh.

“Then what’d you say we go somewhere more private? Like the VIP Lounge? You can look at me all you want then.”

He nodded shyly and allowed you to drag him to the back area of the club, where you slipped a security guard five hundred dollars to let you pass the velvet rope with him behind you. There was no one else in sight, just the two of them and the soft cushiony sofa lining the walls. His throat felt dry as you pushed him down onto the seat, your body straddling his as you climbed onto his lap.

“So-”

A sharp ringing noise cried out in his ear, causing Peter to yelp in pain and rip out the earpiece in reflex. You quickly put two and two together before ripping off his glasses and grabbing his chin to force him to look at you, the brief moment of shock and confusion on his face enough time for you to put him under your trance. The tension left his body as his eyes turned pastel pink, allowing you to crawl off his lap and crush the earpiece under your heels. You did the same to the glasses, just for good measure, before taking out the wallet from his jeans.

You examined the cards inside, starting with the ID cards. Name: Peter Parker. Sophomore at MIT. A Stark Tower entry pass?

You scowled, tossing the wallet to the side. That probably meant they were on their way right now. Taking out a four inch blade from your bra, you decided you needed to send them a message. Pushing his head to the side, you were ready to slice his throat, the tip of your blade against his skin, and-

Nothing.

Your hand stayed frozen mid-air, your brain screaming at your body to carry on with the action but your body remained frozen. Bringing your hand back down, you tried again, this time a stab to the heart. But you physically couldn’t harm him, no matter the angle at which you tried.

“Fuck.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you dropped the blade in horror and stepped backwards, the realization settling in your gut. If you couldn’t kill him, that meant…

The thought horrified you to no end, the kind of immediate horror that made you want to throw up onto the floor, the previously loud pounding of the music drowned to the background as the walls began to close in on you. Blinking away your tears, you commanded Peter to stay sitting in his room before grabbing your coat and exiting the room, being able to find a nearby window that you could jump down from. Your feet met the ground as you wrapped the coat closer to your body, your heels clicked against the pavement as you quickly hired a cab back to your mansion.

This was bad.

So, so bad.

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

New York, USA

When Peter awoke from his trance he was lying down on a soft bed with a weighted blanket in what seemed like the hospital wing of Stark Tower, with streaks of sunlight streaming in through the gaps in the window. His memory felt foggy, the last thing he remembered was being terrified when the earpiece malfunctioned and your eyes turned bright pink with anger. His thoughts were interrupted when Bruce walked into the room, a soft smile on his face.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, handing over a glass of water. Peter accepted it, muttering a quiet thank you.

“Strange… What happened?”

The doctor sighed, biting his lower lip.

“We’re not sure. She crushed the glasses we gave you right after she found out you had an earpiece in, but when we entered the room, you were left unharmed, just sitting on the sofa.”

“Unharmed? I thought she liked to kill all her prey. Or at the very least, hurt them in some way.”

Bruce nodded, scribbling something onto his notepad.

“That’s the thing. We have no clue why you were the odd exception. Director Fury has been wracking his brain for the past seven hours trying to figure out why she spared you.”

A momentary silence passed by, as Peter looked up at the man with an unsure gaze.

“What now?” he asked, the thoughts of MIT and returning to Cambridge still in his mind.

“We’re going to try to monitor her route for a little longer and devise a new plan. I know Tony said you only needed two weeks off but Fury insists that you’re the key to capturing her and wants you to stay on for at least another week.”

Peter sighed, giving in.

“I guess that’s fine. I mean, what choice do I really have?”

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

Milan, Italy

It’d been a solid week since you last killed a man.

A whole seven days.

You were sure the Avengers were noticing your absence, trying to understand just why you’d spared one of their precious heroes and then went dark for a whole week afterwards. Just thinking back on that night made your stomach turn, the way adrenaline pumped through your veins as you were prepared to kill your soulmate.

For the first time in a while, you were disgusted with yourself. You had almost killed your soulmate, and in another universe where you could harm him, he would’ve been dead at your hands. It was getting harder and harder to remember why you’d started this life as you lounged in a private pool in Milan, the mansion overlooking a dark green forest.

It was in a dimly lit facility, a few hundred miles from here, that had turned you into this force of nature. Having lost your parents to a car accident at a young age, you were starved and anxious for any sort of money when you overheard that a scientist was offering hundreds of thousands of dollars to a woman who was willing to be his test subject. He was seductive, older, and richer. You fell for his promises and signed your life away at the age of 15.

Five months of torture later, you awoke to see that your eyes were glowing pink. When you made eye contact with a security guard nearby he wordlessly opened the prison door for you, and shot the scientist who experimented on you right on the spot. Grabbing the keys from the man’s lab coat, you pulled out the file filled with the names of the investors from all over the world who’d donated to help this man corrupt and abuse you.

And apparently, you weren’t his first test subject.

You grabbed his wallet on the way out and hopped into a car parked on the sidewalk of a gas station, and never looked back since then. You were young and scared, but hungry for revenge. You’d make sure those men would pay, and any other man who would try to take advantage of young girls, for that matter.

Killing was the only option.

Perhaps you’d lost your morality along the way, you reasoned. If you had any, in the first place. What started out as a semi-respectable revenge killing spree had somehow morphed into an exhilarating repeated cycle of seduction, murder and money. A disgusting sensation was settling in- perhaps guilt- as you huffed and threw away your sunglasses to the side.

No, you were doing the right thing. You knew the things that the Avengers believed above you- dangerous, homicidal, killer of innocent men. You laughed at that notion- as if most of your victims weren’t assholes in some ways, or didn’t treat you like an animal to be hunted down and ravaged. Sharpening your knife on the kitchen counter, you breathed in and out slowly, calming yourself down. This whole soulmate business was really messing with your head.

You needed a fresh new kill to settle your mind.

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

London, UK

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tony asked Peter for what felt like the thousandth time of that night, anxiety gnawing in his gut. In reality, there wasn’t much left to be discussed- Fury had insisted Peter stay on this project till the moment of your capture, even though at this point Tony had had enough of keeping Peter away from his education and was actually fighting for Peter’s right to return to university. But Peter felt a sort of curiosity and a pull to you that he couldn’t explain, so he found himself insisting on going on this mission.

They’d been able to finally find a link amongst the men you would target- well, at least a somewhat common link. A large majority of them happened to be investors in an Italian company that specialized in biochemical engineering, and it so happened that a handful of them were meeting in an exclusive rooftop party in London- making the chances of your appearance higher than ever.

“Remember, this time, don’t even hesitate. The moment you see her, shoot the tranquilizer in her direction so we can subdue her.” Steve repeated, handing over the tranquilizer gun to him. Peter nodded, slipping it into the waistband of his pants so that it wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone nearby. “The rest of us will be in disguise around the party, right by your side, just in case anything goes wrong.”

“Sounds good.”

It was hard to keep the nerves off of his voice, when he himself felt on edge about the whole thing. There’d been countless of times, even before he was called in, when they were so close to capturing you. But you’d always managed to slip past their fingers at a moment’s notice, disappearing without a trance before popping up with a new victim on the other side of the world.

The party was in full swing when Peter strolled in, and his eyes immediately began to search for a woman of your stature. Gently pushing through the crowd of drunk dancers, he passed by the champagne bar when he saw someone who looked a lot like you from the back sitting by the balcony, chatting with another woman whom he did not recognize. Knowing it was too early to strike, Peter treated himself to a glass of wine, keeping one eye on you at all times. When the other woman got up to use the bathroom, Peter took out his gun from his waistband and positioned it perfectly, his finger on the trigger-

He couldn’t shoot.

He swore, checking to make sure the gun was fully loaded before trying again, but nothing.

Frustrated, he placed the glass aggressively on a nearby table and marched out onto the balcony, the gun still aimed at you. But no matter the mental gymnastics he put himself through, he just couldn’t fucking shoot.

“Peter?”

Your voice wrapped around him, soft and sweet, as Peter edged forward, the gun in his hand beginning to shake with all the effort he was putting into shooting. Then in his adrenaline clouded mind it finally clicked- the longing, the pull, the inability to harm you…

“Y-you’re my soulmate.” he stuttered, the last word hanging in the air. You looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes, as he stood motionless in his spot. He should be alerting the rest of the group. He should, at the very least, be tugging you into the party to be captured. But he can’t move, his feet stuck to the floor as the weight of gravity on his back seems to increase. He’s speechless as you lowly speak, your eyes fixated on the floor.

“Listen… you can’t hurt me, I can’t hurt you. Just let me go.”

“I can’t do that.” he says firmly, his consciousness slowly starting to seep back in.

She’s beautiful, he thinks, as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him, her doe eyes wet from the salty tears beginning to form.

“Why not? It’s not like we can even be together.”

He slowly walks over and places his hands on you, expecting you to push him away. But you don’t, gaze still on the floor and unmoving. He doesn’t quite know what to say, the emotions overwhelming but the words not able to move past his tongue.

“Are you here with the other Avengers?”

He nods, swallowing thickly.

“Then I should get going.” you respond, starting to pull up the hems of your dress. But he stops you, grabbing you wrist, and stopping you mid-way.

“W-wait. Don’t go.”

You laugh halfheartedly.

“Then go where?”

He waits for a moment, but then he drops the question.

“Do you trust me?” he decides to ask, pulling your chin upwards. “Please don’t use your powers on me, just tell me. Do you trust me?”

There’s a slight hesitation on your end but you nod.

“Then come with me to New York.”

That elicits a violent reaction from you as you push him off, your eyes wide with anger and shock.

“Are you fucking serious? You want me to turn myself in?” you yell, not caring about who hears you. He clenches his jaw at your response.

“All I’m saying is I want my soulmate to be with me, and safe.”

You let out a bitter laugh at that statement.

“With you? Peter, you don’t even know my real name. You don’t even know me, as a person. You’re an MIT educated superhero. I’m wanted in 72 countries and have killed men in the triple digits. Do you really think I’d be welcomed with open arms?”

His eyes darken at the mention of your death as he clenches his fist, his gaze unnerving.

“I won’t let them harm you.”

His stubbornness is infuriating.

“That’s the thing, Parker! You don’t get to decide whether or not I get harmed.”

“Why won’t you just trust me?” his tone is low but still soft as he marches towards you and grabs your wrist. You try to pull away but can’t, the sudden strength catching you off guard.

“Because apparently, you don’t care about me enough to see that it’s a fucking death sentence if I go back with you to New York-”

Your rant is cut off with a swift kiss to your lips, you can taste the underlying tones of his half-drunken cherry wine and your peach lipgloss mixing together. His teeth tug at your bottom lip as his hand grips your waist, shoving you against the marble column overlooking the balcony. All the anger and fear that’s been running through your mind the past few hours melts away and you swear he’s putting a trance on you, and not the other way around. When he finally pulls back, his gaze is determined and his lips are swollen, his calloused hand rubbing up against your soft skin.

“You’re wrong. I care. I care so fucking much about you that I don’t want you to run anymore. Aren’t you tired, angel? Of running. Of never being able to make allies. Of always being alone, never being able to settle down?”

You’re silent as he sighs, wishing he could read your mind.

“Angel-”

“(Y/n). My name is (Y/n).”

He softens at the mention of your name.

“(Y/n)... please, come with me.”

There’s a million different things you want to say, but all you can think about is that he smells like fresh laundry and lavender, and his skin is right against yours. You want to say yes.

“I need a night to think about it.” you mutter. To your surprise (and somewhat dismay) he wholeheartedly agrees, and pleads with you to allow him to follow you back to your house to spend the night. You can’t find the way to say “no” when he’s looking at you like that, the type of gaze that has you slammed against the wall of your bedroom an hour later with his jacket and cellphone tossed hazardously in the corner of your room.

“Is this okay?” he’s asking as he’s already pinning you down onto the mattress, layers being shedded faster than he’s speaking. You nod, bringing him back down for another kiss.

“One night to think about it, yeah?” he whispers against your lips, and the guilt starts settling in. But it’s replaced by a fire when his hands start wandering lower and you nod.

“Right. One night.”

Any sort of remorse or doubt you have dissipates into thin air, lost in ecstasy.

.

“Peter.”

After disabling his tracker and disappearing from any communications with the team for a whole 24 hours, Peter suddenly shows up back at Stark Tower, his eyes glazed over in a sickly pink hue as he stares down at Tony.  It takes Sam dousing a cold bucket of water over Peter’s head to get him to snap out of his trance, his irises returning to their original hazel colour as he stands up straight, caught off guard by the sudden cold.

“Peter, you okay? Where were you?” Steve interrogates, concerned.

“I…” he tries to tell them, but his memory is a pleasant blank. He remembers arriving to the party and having a drink, but that’s about it.

“Did she hurt you?” Bruce asks, gently examining Peter’s head for any injuries.

“Who?”

They all look at him as if he’s crazy.

“You know? The killer? The one who seduces men with her eyes, the same person we’ve been trying to catch the past three weeks?”

Peter’s confusion just doubles and this elicits a quiet argument between the group, but one that Peter can’t force himself to listen to as he feels a strange sensation in his chest. There’s an odd ache in his chest that he can’t quite place, a type of dread that’s similar to the feeling of forgetting something important, but he can’t remember why. He shifts uncomfortably in his place before licking his lips as a reflex, tasting the remnants of last night.

His lips tasted sweet. Frowning, he dabs his lips with his finger, feeling the sticky residue.

Huh.

There’s something missing but he can’t find it in his mind, no matter how hard he’s forcing himself to think back.

All he tastes is peaches.

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

a/n: :( :( I KNOW I KNOW the ending isn’t happy but to me it felt like the best way to end it. Please take a few seconds to like/reblog/comment/inbox me if you enjoyed it! It’ll mean so much to me.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 1/8

read on ao3

The sun is just rising when he gets to the rink, the early morning light streaming in through the high windows, making the ice glow. He’s the first one there, just like he planned, so he gets to take his time getting ready. He stretches a bit in the locker room before lacing up his skates and heading to the ice. Placing his guards on the boards, he takes a minute to just look, relishing in the stillness, the quiet, the smooth surface of the untouched ice. He takes one step, two, and he’s off, gliding through the mirrored surface, carving his path as he goes.

Buck can’t remember a time when skating wasn’t his entire life. He first put on skates at four, wobbling on the side of the rink while Maddie was in lessons. He started lessons of his own at six, and after that, he never stopped thinking about being on the ice. And he was good, too — by eight he was competing in the regional circuit, already landing a handful of clean triples when most kids were still struggling with doubles. He qualified for his first nationals at 10, won gold in Juniors at 11, and by the time he qualified for Junior Grand Prix at 13, people already knew his name. They knew his “modern artistry” as they called it, his powerful jumps, and talked about him like he was someone worth watching out for once he made it to the senior level.

It helped that by then, Buck was already addicted to competition. He loved skating on its own — the power he felt when he jumped and flew across the ice, the beauty of well-executed spirals and step sequences — but nothing made him feel more alive than doing it in front of a crowd and a panel of judges. Landing each element perfectly sent a thrill through him that he never wanted to stop feeling, and seeing his scores, usually much higher than others, was something that never got boring. He wanted to be the best, was on his way to being the best, and those hazy dreams of an Olympic gold medal didn’t feel quite as hazy anymore.

For a while, at least. Until he showed up.

But Buck doesn’t want to think about him right now, he just wants to enjoy the peace and quiet while he can. He’s not skating to anything in particular, just the music in his head taking him wherever feels right. He’s so lost in it, trying to nail the bit of choreo he just made up, that he doesn’t even notice Bobby until he hears him clapping from the benches. 

“Looks good, Buck. Talk to Hen, I think that would work in your new short.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Buck says, making his way to the boards. Bobby hands him his guards and his water bottle, heading back towards the locker room.

“Come on, we’re just about to get started.”

Bobby and Athena have had this beginning of the season meeting for as long as Buck has been at their club. They go over assignments for Grand Prix and the Challenger series, figure out general training schedules, and do a “goal setting session” for what they want to accomplish this season. 

Bobby calls it a “family meeting”, which is cute but also annoying. Skating isn’t a team sport. Families don’t win medals. And that’s all Buck wants to accomplish every season until he retires: he wants to win.

He sits down on a bench next to Maddie, who’s deep in conversation with Athena about her and Chimney’s programs, he’s sure. She’s been planning them since Worlds, so they’re probably fully choreographed and ready for competition. The Buckleys are nothing if not overachievers.

Bobby clears his throat, standing in front of the roll-away white board, and gets started. Buck’s half paying attention — it’s the fifth time he’s heard the “athletes aren’t born, they’re made” speech, he gets the point — letting his eyes wander over the small crowd of skaters. Chim’s on Athena’s other side, nodding along with Bobby. May and Hen are standing along the lockers, whispering quietly. The Juniors kids are sitting on the floor, in awe of their coach as he talks about hard work and victory. Buck gets it, he’s still a little in awe of Bobby himself, but not so much of his recycled speeches.

There’s one face, though, that he doesn’t see, and for a minute, he’s hopeful. He’s gone, he moved, he went to work with Rafael in Lakewood or something, so I’ll only have to see him maybe four times a year instead of every goddamn day thank god—

The doors to the locker room burst open, and fuck. 

Because, nope, he’s still here. Windswept and out of breath and 15 minutes late, yet somehow still oozing confidence and jackassery.

Eddie Diaz. Olympic Bronze Medalist. Two time reigning World Champion. And the absolute bane of Buck’s existence.

Bobby doesn’t even say anything, just waves him in and keeps talking. If Buck had been that late, even if it was for a good reason, he would have had his ass handed to him in front of everyone and would’ve had to run laps or something after his ice time. But of course, Eddie gets a pass.

Whatever.

Buck doesn’t pay much attention to the rest of the meeting, too busy trying to keep himself from glaring at Eddie every 20 seconds. He tunes in enough to hear that they’ll both be going to Skate America and NHK because of course they are and spends the rest of the meeting trying to keep his blood pressure down. When it’s finally over, he makes his way through the crowd to get back to the ice for his first session with Bobby. He’s scrolling through his phone, trying to find his music, when he feels someone walk over and join him on the bench. He looks over, and lo and behold— 

“Eddie,” he says with what he hopes is a low level of contempt.

“Buck,” Eddie responds, looking over and nodding as he laces up his skates. “Good summer?”

“Fine.”

“Ready for the season?”

“Always am.”

Eddie smiles, easy and charming, and Buck hates his fucking guts. He nods at him again as he heads onto the ice, and Buck gives into the temptation to thump his head against boards a few times.

It’s going to be a very long year.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck has hated Eddie since they were 16 years old.

Okay, maybe “hate” is a little strong, but whatever emotion it is when just looking at a person makes you feel like smoke is coming out of your ears, that’s how he feels. 

It was his first season in Seniors, and he had been doing better than he expected in the first half — a silver and a bronze at his Grand Prixs, and fifth at the Grand Prix Final. Nowhere near perfect or the best in the world, but he was the best US men’s skater and poised to win gold at Nationals. He hadn’t even heard the name “Eddie Diaz” until he got to Nats, and even then it was just whispers — some small town kid from Texas who was landing clean quadruple jumps at a time when some of the highest ranked skaters couldn’t. Buck was working on them — his coach kept harping on how important they’d be to the sport one day — but he’d hit a growth spurt just before the beginning of the season, so he was still getting used to his new center of gravity. 

But the rumors were true, Buck saw it with his own eyes at a practice session. He remembers the mix of awe and dread as he watched Eddie jump — the thoughts of damn I want to be as good as this kid and he’s about to take everything from me.

Eddie won Nats by about 30 points. Buck came in second. The US only had one spot at both Four Continents and Worlds, and Eddie got picked for both. Something about having “a better chance with his abilities and consistency in the international field” or some other bullshit. 

He didn’t podium at either. Buck felt shamelessly vindicated.

Over the next three years, they became perfect foils of each other — Buck with good jumps but better artistic expression and connection to the music, Eddie a little stiff but a blur of height and speed in the air. They flip-flopped at competitions — Buck got silver, Eddie got gold. Buck got gold, Eddie got bronze. Nats turned into a yearly showdown, the media always highlighting their “friendly rivalry”. Buck must have been a better actor than he thought if he was coming across as “friendly”.

He won Nats right before the Olympics, pretty much guaranteeing his chances of getting named to the Olympic Team. Two days before the announcement, he broke his leg on a bad landing and felt his dreams shatter along with the bone. 

Eddie went instead. He placed third, higher than any US man had placed in 12 years. 

Buck watched it all from his couch, unsure if he’d ever be able to skate again.

Fast forward three seasons, and while Buck is still struggling to get his consistent jumps back, Eddie keeps skyrocketing. He hasn’t lost a major competition in two years and is the overwhelming favorite to win the gold medal in Beijing. It was bad enough to hear about it from other skaters or see at competitions, but then Eddie moved to Bobby and Athena’s club a year ago, so now Buck gets to suffer through first hand observation.

It simultaneously pushes him harder and makes him want to die.

Which is the exact feeling he has right now as he watches Eddie land a perfect quad toe triple toe combo. He tried the same combo yesterday and landed flat on his ass, so now he just wants to practice it over and over until it’s perfect and he can rub it in Eddie’s smug face. See, you’re not the only one who can do it. You’re not that special.

“You better watch how hard you’re frowning, Buckaroo, you’re gonna get wrinkles,” Hen says as she walks over to him. She follows his line of sight, and her expression turns from vaguely worried to exasperated. “Staring that hard at Eddie isn’t gonna make him fall.”

“It could,” he says. “Maybe I have untapped psychic powers that are just waiting to come out.”

She gives him a flat look. “Sure, and I’m the long lost crown princess of a small European country. Can we go over your free instead of fantasizing about stupid things, please?”

“Fine, fine,” Buck says, finally turning away from Eddie as he steps on the ice.

He loves his programs this season — he usually doesn’t get used to them for a few months, but this time around, he already feels connected. His short is more modern, melancholic and gritty, while his free is more classic, hopeful, makes him feel like he’s floating rather than skating. He’s always been good at choreography — either taking it and making it his own or creating steps himself — and he feels like both really highlight his talents. Plus Hen, being the amazing choreographer and friend that she is, let him have a lot more input this time around, so it all feels more authentic. He likes to think that no matter what happens, he’ll be proud of whatever he puts out with these pieces.

They work on his free for an hour, and he stays an extra two to work on his short and his jumps on his own. By the time he leaves, the sun has set, his legs are already sore, and he has a lovely bruise blossoming on his right thigh from falling on his quad flip three times in a row.

It’s all worth it, though. Because as much as he wants to be happy with his programs no matter what, he knows he won’t be unless they get him to the top of that podium, hearing the national anthem play with a gold medal around his neck.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s floating away in his dream, higher and higher like a runaway helium balloon. He can see the whole world below him, spread out and endless, rolling hills and forests and oceans. He wonders if he’ll ever come back down, or if he’ll just keep moving up and up, into the atmosphere, into space, into a different universe. He thinks that might not be so bad.

Suddenly, he’s falling, plummeting back down to Earth like an asteroid. He’s racing and racing towards the ground, bracing for impact, for everything in his body to break, he’s falling and falling faster and faster—

He wakes with a yell, covered in sweat, his leg twinging. He takes a few minutes to breathe and get his heart rate back down, but even then, he’s still shaking.

He looks at the clock. 4:30am. He could go back to sleep — he doesn’t have practice until noon. 

Except his mind is churning now with the phantom memory of breaking. The feeling of going from standing to not being able to move, pain radiating from his leg into every other part of his body. The panic, not just for his body, but for his whole life and what it could turn into. What he could lose.

He lays there for another half an hour, but the memories just keep burning. So, he does what he always does when he needs to shut his mind off.

He goes to the rink.

First practice isn’t until 8am, so he uses his keys to unlock the back door. Chuck, the janitor, was sick of waiting two extra hours to lock up after him, so he gave him his own set after his first season. Buck gives him a giant cookie bouquet for Christmas every year in return.

He feels better after just a few laps around the ice. The chill that bites as he speeds up his pace, the white noise of his blades in the ice, it all settles him like nothing else. He speeds up still, setting up for a triple Salchow — easy, almost second nature, a jump he could do in his sleep. He pushes off, but as soon as he’s airborne, something jolts through him, makes his stomach turn over. He pops the jump to a single and lands on the wrong edge, losing his balance and sprawling across the ice on his back. He stays there, staring up at the lights, letting the cold leech in through his sweatshirt. 

Almost four years later, and this is still happening. He scares himself out of jumps like he expects each one to end badly, even though he knows — logically, statistically knows — that it’s unlikely. 

And yet. Here he is. On his back. After another failure.

He’s too tired to feel pissed or frustrated like he usually does, so he’s just resigned. Today is not the day for jumps. That’s just how it is.

He gets up finally and skates over to his bag, digs his headphones out and queues up his short program music. He works through the step sequences, over and over, making little tweaks as necessary, thinking through where the judges could take off points until it’s perfect. The repetition quiets the last of his racing thoughts, and he finally feels like himself again. 

He’s moving into his last spin when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He slows down enough to recognize Eddie, inching towards the locker room like he’s trying not to be seen.

Buck stops, staring Eddie down. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Eddie freezes eyes wide, looking suspiciously guilty. He walks forward, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I have an 8am and wanted to beat traffic on my way in. The back door was open when I got here, and I saw the lights on, so I—” he swallows, looking anywhere but Buck’s face. There’s a blush crawling up his neck, and he looks nervous.

Nervous like he just got caught somewhere he shouldn’t be, Buck thinks. He narrows his eyes as he checks his watch — it’s 7:00. He gets wanting to beat traffic, but a whole hour?

He quickly makes his way off the ice, grabbing his bag from the bench. “Well, I’m done for now, it’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says quietly. Buck’s just about through the door when he hears his name. He turns back to Eddie, his blush now all the way up to his hairline.

“You looked good out there. Can’t wait to see it in competition.”

Buck freezes, processing the compliment. A compliment. From Eddie. They hardly talk unless they have to, and even then it’s never friendly. Cordial, sure, but not friendly.

So why is he being so nice now?

Buck just narrows his eyes again before stalking off to the lockers.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Mads, I really think he’s gonna pull a Tonya Harding on me.”

She looks at him over her wine glass, unimpressed. “Yeah, because that worked out so well for Tonya the first time.”

“I’m serious!” he says, taking a sip from his own glass. Neither of them drink during the season, so they’re taking full advantage of their weekly wine nights while they can. Buck’s not a lightweight by any means, but two glasses in and he is starting to feel a little fuzzy. And a little crazy, trying to figure out what Eddie was up to this morning. “You haven’t seen any weird guys lurking around have you? You’d tell me if you did, right?”

Maddie rolls her eyes. “You sound insane.”

“I’m not insane if I’m right. Why else would he be watching me?”

“We all watch each other, Buck! He was watching Chim and me yesterday too while he was on break. He even said our twizzles were really in sync.”

“You better watch your back too, maybe he’s trying to take the whole club out.”

“Oh my god,” she says, pouring another, very full glass.

“He’s just so— he’s—”

“Annoyingly perfect? Obnoxiously talented? I know, Buck, you only bring it up every 15 minutes.”

Buck deflates at that. “I don’t— it’s not that often.” Sure, he rants about how clean Eddie’s edges are and how good his quad flip is, but that’s because it’s so irritating. Buck works just as hard as Eddie, and he knows he’s not flawless. But somehow, Eddie is. Stupidly flawless and perfect and— 

“I’m just saying,” she says, squeezing his hand across the table and bringing him back to the conversation. She pours him another generous glass, too. “This energy is great, but it would probably be better to put more of it into practice and less of it into worrying about one of your competitors. I know you’re nervous about this season, but you can’t let that turn into this weird paranoia. Don’t let it take your head out of the game.”

He sits back and sighs. She’s right, of course. She always is.

He doesn’t tell her that, though. Just takes a gulp of wine and tries not to think about Eddie’s annoyingly perfect anything. 

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a news truck parked outside the rink when he gets in the next morning, and he spends about 15 minutes contemplating just going home and telling Bobby he’s sick. 

The lead reporter — Taylor, he thinks — claims they’re here to do a profile on the club and how they’re preparing for the Olympics, but he knows they’re mostly here for Eddie. They want any and all sound bites they can get from him to use over and over and over in coverage leading up to Beijing. Quotes about hard work and following his dreams that they can play over footage of him skating and smiling after winning again. Buck’s already annoyed at the prospect of seeing them on NBC Sports for the next six months.

To their credit, they do film everyone practicing at some point. They get Maddie and Chim doing their new rotational lift, May landing her triple lutz that she’s been working on for months, and Buck’s nearly perfect (if he does say so himself) flying camel spin. So at least they have good footage of him, not just random shots in the background of Eddie’s. Maybe he’ll even get his own little promo. 

Bobby calls him into his office after lunch, where the news crew has set up an interview space. He wasn’t expecting to talk to anyone — maybe a quick question at the boards, but nothing this fancy. He sits in one of the chairs as someone puts powder on his face and tries to do something with his hair. Taylor sits down across from him, a 1000-watt smile turned on as the cameras start rolling.

“So, Evan. Or do you prefer Buck?”

“Evan’s fine.” As much as he hates his first name, it’s how the general public knows him. Buck is reserved for friends and family.

And Eddie, an annoying voice reminds him. Fine, friends and family and...competitors.

“You came in second at Nationals and Four Continents last year, and fourth at Worlds. How do you feel about the momentum going into this Olympic season?”

“Every season is different,” he says as diplomatically as possible. These reporters always want drama, someone slipping up and bragging about themselves when they have no right to. He’s not wrong — every season is different. No matter who’s expected to win or who has the most medals, you never know how everything will play out. “We haven’t had a men’s field this strong in a while, so it’ll be interesting to see what happens. But I’m as prepared as I can be at this point.”

“You were injured right before the last Olympics. Do you see this year as a bit of redemption for yourself?”

He feels his smile go tight. “It’s every kid’s dream to go to the Games. It’s certainly still mine. I’m ready to do whatever I can to make that dream come true.”

“Eddie Diaz has been with your club for just over a year now. What’s it like training with him?”

There it is, he thinks. He’s surprised she asked so many questions about him before getting to Eddie. The first responses he thinks of are all variations of he sucks and I can’t stand the sight of him, but he knows any petty answers will be worse for him personally than anyone else. So, as much as it pains him, he settles on the nicest version of the truth he can muster.

“Eddie’s an amazing skater,” he says, surprising himself at how genuine he sounds. “He’s been paving new paths in the sport, and he’s pushed everyone to be better to try and get on his level, myself included. He definitely brings that same energy to the club.”

“Do you think you can beat him this year?”

Wow, she’s not holding any punches.

He shrugs, smiling through the sudden burst of anxiety in his veins. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite his less than fiery interview, Taylor asks him what he’s doing after practice right before they leave. It’s easy enough to turn her down — he’s got an early PT appointment in the morning, plus the way she’s been looking at him all day is making him itchy. He can tell she only sees him as an object — as a means to get her name on a lead story or a body to keep her bed warm or both — and that’s just not something he’s interested in. Maybe a few years ago, when sex was a way for him to forget about the potential end of his career, but not now.

As nonchalant as he was in the interview, this season really could make or break him. 

He can’t afford any distractions.

[bedlamsbard]

Some new concept writing! There’s backstory for this one, but I’m not sure how much will get written because it’s relatively different from most of my extant concept writing and/or canon.  The short version is that the Clone Wars ended, but not with Order 66; the Purge and fall of the Republic happened about 8-10 years later than in canon.  (Caleb and Hera would have been in their light teens/early 20s at the time, so about the same time as AND in canon.)  My worldbuilding brain is clicking over the differences and repercussions, but, uh, we’ll see if there’s more. (If I went forward, there would be some characters I haven’t written in five or six years turning up.)

About 3K below the break.  Please note that I don’t warn.

***

Parasites, Hera Syndulla thought, but kept her face pleasantly bland.  The description was unfair to only a small handful of her fellow senators, but as far as she was concerned was more than accurate in regards to the remainder. She sipped her wine and tilted her head a little to make it look like she was listening to Senator An’s description of the opera he had attended two nights previous, wondering if it was too early in the evening for her to go back to her apartment and scream into a pillow.

The occasion was a gathering to welcome freshman senators who might be inclined to the opposition party, which meant that a number of loyalist senators were here just to find out which of the freshmen were actually considering it.  In Hera’s experience the opposition mostly just made noise before agreeing to whatever legislation the Emperor wanted to pass, but the numbers mattered and a show of disapproval was better than nothing.  She wasn’t a freshman anymore, but her absence at the party would have been noticed by both sides; Ryloth didn’t hold much political sway but it was well-known.

A break in Senator An’s storytelling let her step away, gesturing vaguely at her now-empty wineglass as an excuse.  There were serving droids roaming the room so she was able to deposit it with one of them; she was trying to decide whether to stay longer or leave when she noticed an eddy in the crowd, people stepping aside and trying not to seem like they were doing so.  Riyo Chuchi was suddenly at her side, the older woman’s face drawn.

“What is it?” Hera asked her, low-voiced.

“The Emperor’s Inquisitor is making his rounds,” Riyo said, equally soft. She snagged two glasses from a passing serving droids and handed one to Hera.

She took it, tasted it, and then looked sharply at Riyo. “His?”

For the past two years, as long as Hera had been serving in the Senate, the Inquisitor assigned to Coruscant had been a woman, a huge Dowutin who delighted in terrifying the senators of both parties, as well as anyone else she came in contact with.

“I saw him in the other room,” Riyo said; the party spilled through half a dozen rented rooms and onto the balconies of each.  “He’s human, young.  I think I’ve seen him before, but I can’t think where.”

Hera raised her gaze as the movement in the room reached them.  She felt Riyo draw back, but Hera stood frozen, her heart in her throat.

The Inquisitor was a tall human male, amber-skinned and dark-haired, with a fading bruise visible on his face.  Despite that, and the scars that cut across his cheek, he was handsome; if he hadn’t been an Inquisitor Hera knew a dozen senators, female and otherwise, who would have been throwing themselves at him.  His pale gaze moved across the crowd without seeming to see anyone in it, as if he did so only to make sure they knew he was there.  If he saw Hera, he didn’t show it, just kept walking with steadied patience toward the balcony.

Hera put the glass back into Riyo’s hand and followed him before the Pantoran had a chance to protest her departure.

By the time she had reached the balcony, most of its occupants had fled back inside, though there were a dozen senators and their aides still standing by the refreshment cart there, trying not to watch the Inquisitor.  He had retreated to the far end of the balcony and was standing with his gaze fixed on the cityscape beyond.

He must have sensed her approach, but he didn’t show any sign of acknowledgment until she stepped up beside him and said quietly, “Caleb?”

He turned towards her, his eyes widening.

He had, Hera knew immediately, been very badly hurt.  There was something mad in his gaze, something more like a wounded animal than a sentient being; the scars that cut across his face had the look of something done deliberately rather than being incidental to combat injuries.  For an instant his mouth worked silently, then he looked over her shoulder at the other guests still on the balcony.  Hera turned in time to see all of them flee back into the room, leaving the two of them alone.

Hera had intended to be more circumspect about it, but since now everyone inside knew they were out here alone together she reached out and put her hand over his.  He looked at it as if he had never seen anything like it before, but didn’t pull away.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice was rougher than it had been five years ago, something that sounded like an injury rather than a reaction to her presence.

“I’m the senator for Ryloth,” Hera told him.  She wanted to take him into her arms, but didn’t dare, not when they were somewhere as public as this, not even with everyone else inside.  Instead, she squeezed his fingers and asked, “Can you come home with me?  I’ve got an apartment twenty stories down in the connecting building.”

He nodded.  She could feel him starting to shake, the shock from her unexpected appearance beginning to set in. “You go first,” he said, low-voiced. “I’ll follow.”

Hera nodded, hesitating briefly before she released his hand.  She wanted to kiss him, but couldn’t, not here, and not when she didn’t know how he would react to that.  She licked her lips and told him her apartment number, then stepped away and went inside without looking back at him.

People stepped away from her as she came in, as though she had been contaminated by her interaction with the Inquisitor.  Only Bail Organa and Riyo Chuchi came up to her, with Mon Mothma following them.

“Are you all right?” Bail asked her immediately. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Hera assured them. “I know him.”

“How?” Mon Mothma asked, startled.

Hera hesitated, then said, “I need to talk to him first, somewhere that isn’t here.  Alone,” she added, seeing Bail open his mouth. “He won’t hurt me.”

From their expressions, she suspected that they guessed “I know him” meant “I had an affair with him before the Republic fell and everything went to blazes in a handbasket,” but none of them said anything along those lines, for which Hera was profoundly grateful. Instead, she said, “I have to go.”

None of them tried to stop her.  Bail said, “Be careful,” and Riyo squeezed her arm, her expression worried.

Hera smiled at them, then started to make her way out of the suite of rooms.  As crowded as they were, it took her some time until she could get her cloak and leave; most of the guests hadn’t heard about her tête-à-tête with the Inquisitor and get out of her way as a result, the way people had done with anyone who encountered the previous Inquisitor assigned to Coruscant.  By the time she had finally managed to leave, Hera was out of breath and irritated, and the effects of the wine she had been drinking earlier had worn off.  The walk back to her own junior senator’s apartments gave her time to calm down and think over what Caleb Dume’s appearance might mean.

He had been a Jedi. He had been a Jedi, and he had believed in it so profoundly that it had sometimes made Hera feel a little ashamed of herself.  Not for sleeping with him, which she knew his master had been aware of and somewhat amused by, but because she had never believed in anything that much in her life. She couldn’t believe that he had fallen in with the Emperor after the near-genocide of the Jedi, not willingly.

The look in his eyes hadn’t been entirely sane.

Hera went into the kitchen to start water boiling for tea, then into her bedroom to change out of her evening gown for something more comfortable.  She was just pouring hot water into the teapot when her door chime sounded.

She set the pot down on the kitchen table and went to get the door.  Caleb didn’t say anything as he came in, just waited for her to shut and lock the door behind him.  Hera opened her mouth, but he put a hand up to stop her, then went prowling nervously through the apartment.  Hera guessed that he was looking for listening devices and went back to the kitchen to finish making tea.

He came in a few minutes later.  Hera went over to him, hesitated, then took him in her arms.  For an instant he was stiff, then he returned her embrace.  He was shaking badly, his skin fever-hot when Hera reached up touch his scarred face.  He flinched when her fingers accidentally brushed the bruise around his left eye, but didn’t pull away.

“Can I kiss you?” Hera asked him.

Caleb nodded, bending his head to hers.  Hera kissed him slowly and carefully; he kissed her back with desperation.  When they stopped, breathing hard, he tipped his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.

“Tell me,” Hera whispered.

“He killed her,” Caleb said, his voice so soft that the words were almost a thought rather than spoken. “He killed Depa.  Then he – he – he’d bargained with the Emperor for me.  He killed her, and he – he –”  He was shaking again, so badly that his teeth were rattling together. “It took a long time, what he did to me,” he said eventually.  “Then he had me, and so did the Inquisition.”

“Come and sit down,” Hera said.  She got him into a chair and a cup of tea into his hand, then pulled another chair over so that she could sit next to him, close enough to touch.

He drank his tea slowly, his eyes narrowed in concentration as if it was the only thing he was capable of focusing on.  This close to him, Hera could see the scars barely hidden under the high collar of his black tunic, the same kinds of scars she had seen on freed slaves – left behind by a metal collar worn for too long.

Hera remembered the day the Purge had started.  It was burned into her memory, coming down to join her family at dinner and finding them all watching the HoloNews coverage of the Jedi Temple burning.  It had been barely a month after Depa Billaba and Caleb Dume had left, after Caleb had kissed her goodbye and promised that he would return after he had his knighthood, which he expected to attain within the year.  She had stood there, sick to her stomach, and known that he was dead.  He had been in her bed recently enough that she still had blankets that smelled like him and he was dead.

Except he hadn’t been dead.

“Who is he?” she asked him once he had finished the tea.  Hera poured more, but he just played with the cut-glass cup, running his gloved fingers over the silver holder. “The person who hurt you?”

“My master.”  His voice was utterly without inflection, but Hera could guess he wasn’t talking about Depa Billaba.  He pushed the cup away as his hands started to shake. “He’s – he was a Jedi, a Temple Guard.  He’d wanted me for a padawan years ago, but I didn’t know, and Master Billaba didn’t – but he was angry about it.  When the Emperor – he bargained with him for me.  We were still at the Temple.  He killed Depa, and he – he hurt me.”  He looked down at his hands as if he had never seen them before.  “I heard them killing the others,” he added eventually. “He and the others who betrayed the Order.  The other Inquisitors.”

“They’re Jedi?” Hera said, stunned. “They’re all Jedi?”

He nodded.  “After he did – what he did – it was a – a stopgap, almost, you could call it – he left me in that room with Master Billaba while he went to the rest of the…of the killing.  And when the others were all dead, he came back and did it again, to make sure it had taken, before he took me to the Inquisition headquarters on Mustafar to finish it.  The Emperor had been planning this for a long time,” he added, his voice very soft.

Hera swallowed back nausea. She didn’t think Caleb meant by that what anyone else would have meant, but she wasn’t entirely certain that he didn’t, either.  She was trying to decide how to ask when he said, very quietly, “There’s a way to force a master-apprentice bond, if the apprentice’s first master is dead.  The Jedi won’t do it unless there’s no other choice because it’s so dangerous; it’s better to let the bond develop naturally, even if it’s weak.  But – he –”

“It sounds like psychic rape,” Hera said hesitantly when he didn’t go on.  She couldn’t shake the mental image of Caleb locked in some room with Master Billaba’s body, probably injured himself, as the rest of the Jedi fought and died outside the door.

He nodded without looking at her.

“Is he here?”

Caleb shook his head. “Five years is long enough that he can let me out of his sight without worrying that I’m going to run away.  Or fall on my lightsaber,” he added, his voice a little distant.  He licked his lips, a nervous gesture, then raised his gaze to her. “I’m glad to see you.”

Hera leaned forward, slowly enough that he could pull away if he needed to, and kissed him gently. He put one hand up to curve the backs of his knuckles against her face, kissing her back. “You can stay with me as long as you’re here, if you like,” she said. “I have a spare room.”

He nodded a little, kissed her again, and then sat back in his chair.  After a moment of silence, he admitted, “That might not be a good idea. If anyone finds out, it won’t be safe for you –”

“Will anyone in the Empire challenge an Inquisitor if he wants to keep a mistress?” Hera asked. When he blinked, she said, “I don’t mean – you don’t have to sleep with me.  But it’s what people in the Senate and the HoloNews will think.”

“My master would,” Caleb said quietly. “And he’s the only one I can’t beat in a fight, if it comes to it.”

“I have friends too,” Hera told him. “I know the Senate is pretty useless in the Empire, but it isn’t without meaning, even now.”  She hesitated, on the verge of telling him that there were other Jedi who had survived, people who might be able to help him, but finally held back.  Even if he had been forced into it, he was still an Inquisitor, and Hera didn’t know him well enough anymore to be able to gamble anyone else’s life on what would he would do.

“What happened to your face?” she asked instead.

He touched a finger to his scarred cheek. “I tried to run away and my master caught me.  I’ve got others.”

“I meant the bruise,” Hera said, feeling a little sick.

“Oh.  I was in a fight.”  He hesitated, then reached out to take one of her hands, running his thumb over her knuckles. “How long have you been a senator?”

“Two years,” Hera said. “I ran against Orn Free Taa in the last election.”

“You’re smarter,” he said. “And prettier.”

“Right on both counts,” Hera said. “And I don’t take bribes.  And my father’s a war hero.  That helped.” She winced a little, but Cham Syndulla’s record was still better than Orn Free Taa’s, especially since Palpatine had removed his backing from the previous senator.  She suspected that the Emperor thought that a pretty young female senator, especially a nonhuman one, would be more or less harmless; Orn Free Taa’s decades in the Senate had given him allies in both main parties and most of the smaller ones, even if he himself was mostly ineffectual.  Hera had connections, but not the kind that would make her a serious threat, inasmuch as any single senator could be these days.  “How long are you here for?”

He shrugged. “Until I get reassigned.  They wanted someone as different as possible from the Hammer – the Inquisitor assigned here before me – as they could get, and I guess that was me.”

“Did you want to be assigned here?” Hera asked cautiously.  She wanted to ask how he felt about the Inquisition, if he was a true believer – from what he had said she suspected not – but couldn’t come out and ask it, not yet.

Caleb shrugged again. “I didn’t have a choice.  But my master’s not here, and that’s always a relief.”  He smiled shyly at her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She leaned forward and kissed him again.  He had relaxed as they talked, and he kissed her back with less desperation now than he had before.

“Do you want to go to bed with me?” she asked him.

Caleb raised his eyes to hers. “Yes,” he said. “If you want to.”

Hera smiled and kissed him again, then got to her feet, drawing him with her.  She could have and probably should have waited until she knew how firmly he believed in the Inquisition and the Empire, if he had, as the Jedi she knew put it, gone over to the dark side, but he was here now, and she had been so certain he was dead.  For all the brevity of their affair, she had loved him very much, and she had known he had loved her – enough to know that even though they had never talked about it, the idea of leaving the Jedi Order had crossed his mind.

“Come on,” she told him. “If everyone’s going to think we’re having an affair anyway, we might as well have one.”