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eddiemunsonw · 2 years ago

Text

Paint me red.

PART 4

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're one of Vickie's best friends. Her girlfriend, Robin, is in need of a distraction for her best friend, Steve Harrington, who you vaguely remember from school. Which is where you come in.

CW / Disclaimer: A bunch of cute stuff, just a nice feel good fic about our dear boy Steve.

Author’s note: It was time to write about Steve Harrington, so here it is. Four parts, can find them both on here and on my ao3: eddiemunsons. Enjoy!

Words: (of current chapter) 2783 / (complete fic) 13059

Steve’s POV

Steve had himself draped nearly flat over the counter, arms folded under his head as he watched Robin dart from left to right in front of him while she talked. He watched with mild amusement as she gestured wildly along with her words. In all fairness, he wasn’t exactly following what the point of her story was anymore as she had redirected the course of it about six times now, but he loved hearing her talk.

“… so. You’re coming to the fair with me.”

He frowned.

“Huh?”

Robin rolled her eyes affectionately and ruffled his hair, which immediately caused him to straighten his back to fix it.

“Have you even been listening?” she asked. Steve nodded, then shrugged, then shook his head.

“I… tried?” He provided a crooked smile.

“Vickie and Y/N are working at the fair. I’m gonna give Vickie a visit so you should come. They work at a food stall so… can have a nice chat and stuff.”

Steve thought back on the last time he had seen you and suppressed the smile that threatened to grow on his lips. He remembered how fun it had been during the paintball game, how you had painted a flower on his cheek and how he hadn’t wanted you to get out of his car in favor of talking to you for a little while longer.

“Won’t that be weird?” Steve questioned, considering that maybe you wouldn’t want to see him. It wasn’t like you had given him the idea that you were interested at all. Normally, girls would fawn over him before he even had to woo them. Except with Robin, but Robin was gay. Even Nancy had given obvious signs that she was interested. What if…

“Are you sure she’s into guys?”

“Uh, yeah? I think she’s definitely into guys. Why does that matter? Are you into her?”

Steve avoided her smug expression. Robin was having none of it and moved her head into his vision, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“She’s nice,” Steve mumbled.

“Nice.”

“Yeah! She’s nice. Can’t people be nice?”

“Just nice?”

Steve sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. Robin always did stuff like that. Asked questions in a way that made him want to defend his answers.

“She’s nice and… funny.”

Robin raised her brow.

“Fine, she’s also hot. Her eyes are really pretty. Nice hair too and… well, everything,” Steve admitted with a sigh. Robin could read him like a book, as usual. He just hoped he was only obvious to her. His crushes on people blossomed way too quickly. People could simply portray some basic human decency and he’d feel a subtle notion of butterflies. Not actual butterflies, but his brain could easily trick him into believing they were.

Robin’s subtle smile spread into a grin.

“I thought so. You like her. So. Fair? Yes? Can I tell Vickie we’ll be there?”

“Sure, yeah. Do that.”

Robin smirked and grabbed her pack of gum from the counter.

“Perfect. Want one?”

“Yes, thanks.”

The fair was bustling with people all around, visitors a mix of children to elderly, though teens and young adults were mostly prevalent. While Steve took in the various stalls and attractions they had, Robin was trying to make a beeline towards the stall you and Vickie were at. It was when Steve glanced up at a giant pink teddy bear, his footsteps faltering, that Robin sighed and hooked her arm through his.

“Don’t get any ideas, she might be one of the many girls that don’t like pink.”

“I was just looking,” Steve argued, turning his head to look at it one more time. “It’s just… massive, isn’t it? I never understood why anyone would want a big plushie like that.”

“To hug it, sit against it, I don’t know. I don’t like them either.”

“Don’t they have their partners for that?” Steve questioned out loud, to which Robin shrugged.

“Maybe it’s for when they miss them? Anyway, maybe plushies hug better than some people.” A beat and then: “Vickie gives the best hugs.”

Steve smiled softly at her and let her lead him towards the food stall. It was easy to spot Vickie in the distance, though he didn’t see you yet. Perhaps you were taking a break or something. Once they arrived at Vickie’s stall they were met with a bright smile and she quickly walked around it to hug them both.

“Hi guys!” She immediately eyed Steve apologetically. “Sorry, Y/N isn’t here.”

“Oh,” Steve said, unable to hide his disappointment all that well. “That’s— she’s not sick or anything, is she?”

“Oh, no! She’s just not here,” Vickie said, pointing to the ground. “She had to cover for someone at the haunted house.” Steve followed her gaze towards a creepy looking attraction where several people stormed out of every now and then. Fun.

“Oh okay, cool. I’ll see if I can spot her later, maybe.”

“You should go in! It’s really fun. And scary of course,” she said with a giggle. “I’ll be here when you get back,” she told Robin then with a bored roll of her eyes. “I’ll be here alllll night.”

Robin squeezed her hand sympathetically and smiled.

“Will you have time to walk around with me later? I saw a giant bear plushie that I want to win for you.”

Steve gaped at her and she shrugged as a smile tugged on her lips.

“So that’s why you were so damned to drag me away, huh? You wanted it all for yourself,” Steve concluded with narrowed eyes.

“She likes pink,” Robin said, as if that was enough of an explanation. Vickie beamed at her and nodded excitedly.

“Yeah! I’ll get off at ten so we will have two hours or so. Just promise me you won’t waste all your savings, please. Let’s agree on an amount.”

“Who says I’m not a professional at balloon popping?” Robin countered with a playful smile. Vickie batted her eyelashes at her and wrapped her arms around her neck before giving her a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Alright. Show me your best!”

After that, Steve and Robin headed to the ticket booth of the haunted house and he was surprised not to see you there either. For some reason that had seemed to be the most logical place to spot you next. It bugged him a little that disappointment swirled in his stomach. When did his desire to see you become so strong all of a sudden?

“Maybe she’s inside?” Robin offered, noticing his confused expression.

“To do what?”

“I don’t know, scare people?”

Steve shrugged and joined Robin in the row to the haunted house. Many screams were heard from both inside and at the exit and if he was honest, he was already dreading it. He wasn’t scared that easily, he liked to think (it was a lie), but haunted houses just gave him the type of fright that was hard to ignore, especially if someone ran after him unexpectedly. There was no way he was backing out though, he just hoped he’d see you somehow. Maybe they did some storytelling inside? He doubted you were a scare actor since they usually went all out for that with make up and costumes and what not. According to Vickie you had been called upon pretty last minute.

It was extremely dark inside and he fought the urge to grab Robin’s hand immediately. She’d never let him hear the end of it. Cautiously, they walked forward, the first room being filled with eerie sounds and cobwebs hanging low from the wall. They even added a giant spider on one, which creeped him out already. This was going to be hell. His eyes flickered over to the jail bars next to him as they entered the next room and he noticed actors were standing behind it, occasionally snaking a hand through the bars. Robin however hadn’t noticed, and when one of them lightly grazed her arm, she bolted with a scream.

“Oh, great,” Steve mumbled dryly, earning a giggle from an actor breaking character for a second. He hoped Robin was alright, as he didn’t find her in the next room, or the next. His eyes were so focused on finding the entrance to the following room that he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone. Out of nowhere, an actor jumped in front of him, arms wide open as if to grab him.

“AHH!”

As he jumped backwards he saw that they were smaller than him and wearing a mask and, he vaguely noticed through his own screaming, were calling him by his name.

“Steve! Steve, it’s me!”

Y/N’s pov

Steve relaxed cautiously as you put your hands on his shoulders after lifting the mask up to rest on top of your head.

“Steve.” A soft giggle escaped you. “It’s me, Y/N.” You gave his shoulders a quick squeeze and pulled him aside in case the next group would show up.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Steve sighed exasperatedly as his hands searched for a way to hold onto you. He settled for a brief brush of his hands against your shoulders before he dropped his arms again. “Ever thought of saying hi instead? I think I lost three years of my life just now.”

You couldn’t help but giggle some more and squeezed his shoulders lightly. Your hands traveled down his arms until it felt right to remove them and you shrugged.

“It is a haunted house after all. Wait, then I guess it was Robin who I saw running past just now then, huh? I was still processing that but then I saw you and I was certain it was you, so…”

“It’s me. Steve “The Deceased” Harrington. I might as well stay here forever now, become a corpse,” Steve said with a heavy hand gesture.

“You’re so dramatic, Steve.” You smiled. “Go on, before the others come. I don’t wanna keep you.” You urged him towards the next room but he shook his head.

“Wait— Uh… Do you also get off at ten? Like Vickie?”

“Yes…?” you asked, feeling there was more to that question.

“Do you want to hang out with me after? Vickie and Robin are going to and I don’t really want to be a third wheel and uhm… Well no it’s not just that, I also had fun with you last time, so. Yeah. Just a question. If you like.”

He ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck all in one motion and sighed, unsure what to do next. You smiled at him.

“I’d love to. We can meet at the food stall? I’ll for sure be hungry and I’ve promised myself some churros.”

Steve nodded.

“Alright, meet you there.” He glanced towards the next room. “I don’t trust this place after what you did to me just now.”

“You’ll be fine. Just be prepared for when the guy with the chainsaw comes running after you and don’t break a leg, please. ‘S gonna be hard to walk around the fair with me otherwise.”

“A guy with a— Okay, I’ll do my best,” Steve groaned. “Nice seeing you again, despite these circumstances,” he added with a soft smile. You nodded in agreement.

“Nice seeing you too, Steve “The Deceased” Harrington.”

Ten couldn’t come around soon enough. Luckily time passed faster in a haunted house than it did at a food stall, as the energy of people in an attraction was vastly different. You managed to scare quite a few people, though you didn’t jump in front of anyone like you had with Steve. That had been personal, for the sake of it. Other than that one time you spent your time walking through the room slowly, dragging a fake ax behind you on the ground. That was scary enough for most people. Being in a haunted house usually made them skittish for the mere fact that they were in it.

Aside from time passing by fast, you wished you had spent it at the food stall instead. It would have meant you didn’t smell like a stuffy mask and your hair would still be perfectly in place and Steve would probably— Hold on. You stopped your train of thought quickly. Since when were you focusing on appearance when it came to Steve? You shook your head, quickly shrugging it off. Nonsense, you just wanted to be presentable in general. That was all. A relieved sigh left your mouth which coincidentally startled a person who had just wandered into the room. Oops.

You left a little past ten as you waited for someone to replace you since you had only agreed to take over until that time. After handing the guy your mask and long, oversized coat you had been wearing to hide your clothes, you quickly made your exit towards the staff bathrooms to freshen up a little. Wearing a red t-shirt to match the food stall had all been fun until you didn’t spend most of the night there, as well as the red lipstick you had decided to wear. Your light blue washed jeans and black boots finished the look and to your relief you still looked presentable enough after a quick touch up.

You were only half surprised to just see Steve standing there and you couldn’t blame Robin and Vickie for wanting to get as much time together as they could. Seeing Steve all by himself did make you feel a little guilty though, considering it was already twenty minutes past the agreed time. Once you got closer, you realized he was wearing a paper cone with churros and your heart swelled a little. Vickie had already cleaned up the food stall, so getting them yourself would have been out of the question. He seemed to be lost in thought still when you halted next to him and decided to give him the lightest poke on his bicep.

“Don’t wanna scare you a second time,” you told him softly. Steve turned around, still a little startled, and you watched his face break out in a smile.

“Hey you,” he greeted you.

“Hi,” you quipped with a grin. He gave himself a moment to drink you in before he held out the churros.

“Here, for you. Told Vickie you wanted some.”

“You’re a hero, oh my god, thank you!” you groaned at the sight as you accepted it from his hand, fingers sliding past yours. “You want one too?”

Steve shook his head, his smile soft.

“I’m good, I had some just now. I uh… got you a drink too,” he said as he held it in view. “You wanna go for a walk around?”

You smiled at how considerate he was and nodded with your mouth full of your first churro bite. He took it as a yes and smirked as he nodded over to the right.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

There was a comfortable silence between you while you devoured your churros and gratefully accepted the drink he had gotten you on Vickie’s suggestion. You spotted her and Robin at the balloon popping stand and tugged Steve along by his arm when he wanted to make his way over.

“This is their date, let’s give them some privacy,” you told him softly as Steve willingly let himself be pulled along. As you passed a ring toss booth, your eyes flicked towards a cute plushie. It was a weird, purple little mushroom supposedly standing on a rock. Steve followed your gaze and lowered himself a little to catch the right one into view, his hands resting on his hips.

“Hmm… the dog?” he tried, pointing at an adorable dalmatian dog plushie.

“Nope, the purple mushroom.”

A giggle left his mouth, surprising himself it seemed as he clasped a hand over his mouth and he pulled his hands up defensively as you quirked a brow at him.

“No it’s— adorable! Really. Just didn’t expect it.”

“No? Well lucky me, I love being a little unpredictable.” You shrugged and Steve chuckled, pulling gently on your wrist as you set another step away from the booth.

“Oh you are, believe me,” Steve mumbled with a soft sigh. “Come on, let’s get you your weird little mushroom.”

“You’re gonna win it for me, huh?” you asked, eyeing him provocatively as if you didn’t believe he could.

“No,” he told you, lowering himself to your height. “We are going to win it.”

After a couple tries, you fought a smile at every failed attempt. Not because it was funny to see him fail, but because the soft little grunts he made were simply adorable. He tried not to show it, but he definitely started to get worse the moment he realized it wasn’t as easy as anticipated.

“Now I see why you said we were going to win it,” you teased, a grin almost permanent on your face now.

“Oh, shut up,” he mumbled, nudging you with his elbow. “If you’re so good, show me how it’s done then? Come on.”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly be as good as you. We stand no chance if we waste our tries on little ol’ me.” Acting like a damsel in distress had never been this funny to you. Steve rolled his eyes affectionately and put his hand on the small of your back to move you in front of him.

“Here, hold this. Swing it towards the red ones, they are worth the most.”

“He says as if I haven’t been paying attention,” you remarked dryly. “You didn’t think I was just staring at you, were you?”

“Wouldn’t mind if you were.”

It left his lips so naturally that your grip on the ring faltered for a second. You could feel him smiling. Oh, he was loving this.

“Well, too bad, Steve. I was too focused on watching you try.”

Steve whistled softly and pretended to clasp his heart, though you couldn’t really see it as your back was still facing his front. You definitely didn’t miss the sound of him slapping his own chest, though.

“You try it then,” he challenged.

“Hmm, not gonna show me how it works? That’s surprising.”

“All you have to do is ask.”

A chuckle left your lips. He was getting bolder and you found that you liked it. Kept his distance, yet hovered closely behind you. Gave you lingering looks but didn’t push for anything after them. It was a playful game.

“Oh, no need, I’m good. I just figured since you’re breathing down my neck a little, that you were gonna pull a move or something.”

Games aside though, you slightly cursed yourself at your need to bite back, wondering how long it would take before you crossed a line with him. It wasn’t as if you knew him that well. To your surprise, he laughed.

“I didn’t think you were the type that enjoys cliché moves like that.”

“So what type do you think I am?”

“Someone determined to win her own weird mushroom plushies, probably.”

You laughed at that and finally gave the ring a flick of your wrist, landing around a green stick which was thirty points.

“You make it sound so…” Unsure how to finish the sentence, you simply threw another ring, and another, not bothering to really try. After three more throws you had seventy points in total, which wasn’t a lot.

“You’re not even trying,” he remarked dryly as he nudged your shoulder gently.

“So rude,” you retorted, a playful smile on your lips as you turned around. “I guess you should show me how it’s done then,” you quipped with a shrug of your shoulder. Steve leaned closer, his front and your back nearly squeezing out the warmth that was gathering between you both as he picked up the remaining rings you had. Where you expected him to do the whole touchy feely thing, he did the opposite. Instead, he stood next to you and nudged your hip with his own to make room.

“Alright then,” he smirked and, oh. The bastard had the audacity to wink. Apparently your little back and forth had caused a surge in confidence within him though, because he managed to hit the five remaining rings all in either fifty or forty. With your points counted together you were just a few tens short, but with some convincing words from Steve you got it anyway. The man in the booth handed it to you and you squeezed it with delight before holding it up to Steve, nearly pushing it into his face.

“Look at it! Isn’t it cute?!”

Steve laughed and nodded at you, pushing the plushie down with his hand a bit to meet your eyes.

“Almost as cute as you are right now.”

Well damn. He did it again. A faint blush tainted your cheeks and you quickly lowered the plushie to hold it against your side. Steve cocked his head, amused at your reaction and tapped the back of your hand with his finger.

“Where to next?”

Since the ring throwing had basically been for you and your plushie, you decided that it was Steve’s time to pick. Without missing a beat he decided on the ferris wheel. Curiosity built up in your belly, wondering whether the ferris wheel held any other implications than admiring the view, which wouldn’t be too impressive at this time of night. The lights were nice, sure, but other than that you couldn’t really see far and wide like you would during the day. Though, that would be less romantic, you supposed. Not that you were hoping for it to be romantic, although…

Your eyes found Steve’s face again, as they had quite a bit tonight. You had promised yourself not to let yourself be tempted by him so easily. But what could you do? He was funny, kind, charming, a flirt in a fun way, handsome as hell and just… really sweet. Making sure you had your churros had been really thoughtful and it was nice how he wanted to win the plushie for you without being all alpha male about it.

“Something on my face?” Steve interrupted your thoughts. You blinked rapidly, turning your head away as you shrugged, trying to remain casual.

“Just your freckles. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but you have quite a few.”

Steve sighed and when he answered that he did in fact know, he actually sounded a bit self conscious, which was the last thing you wanted to achieve with that statement.

“I like them. They’re really pretty,” you stated.

Now it was Steve’s turn to look at you, eyebrows lifted in surprise, as if no one had ever told him how pretty his freckles were. As if. There was no way all those girls looked at that man and didn’t compliment him on it, right? From the looks of it, your words had an effect on him as he positively started blushing a deep crimson and mumbled something incoherently that mostly seemed to resemble ‘thanks’. Damn. Add cute to that list.

“Here we are,” you announced as if the giant ferris wheel in front of you wasn’t enough of a confirmation. “Ready to get high?”

Steve smirked. “Eddie would love that joke.” He frowned to himself, awkwardly gestured towards the sky and sighed. “The uh, high thing. He’s a friend.”

“I remember him,” you told him with a nod. “Wouldn’t have imagined you two together as friends though, somehow.”

“We both happened to hang out with this kid and— I’m making it weirder,” Steve sighed. “Dustin. Henderson? He lives near you.”

“Oh! Yeah I know him. He’s alright. Seems like an old man in a kid’s body sometimes, so I’m not surprised he keeps up with you two.”

“Uh… thanks?” Steve responded unsurely, though he seemed to understand exactly what you meant.

“Did you find it funny though?”

“What?”

“The high joke.”

“Oh! Yeah. I did.”

“Oof… no need to lie, Steve, that hurts…”

“I’m n— Y/N. You're making a fool of me again, huh?”

Just as you wanted to respond, the guy at the ticket booth interrupted you.

“Hey, lovebirds, are you gonna go in or not? We’re about to start the last round.”

“Jeez… already?” you mumbled to yourself. “Yeah, Frank. Two tickets please.”

“Oh just go in already,” Frank grumbled, but answered your smile as you gave him a grateful nod. Steve let you get in first and watched how you clutched the plushie between your thighs.

“Can’t risk losing it,” you explained. Steve nodded in understanding and settled next to you, making the cart wobble a bit as he did so. As soon as the cart started to move to the next spot, you felt how Steve put his arm behind your back, his hand wrapping around a part of the frame.

It was the first time the usual comfortable silence between the two of you actually felt a little awkward, especially when you felt his thigh press against yours. Steve seemed to be focused on the view although you could feel how he was drumming against the frame with his fingers since his arm flexed against your upper back. When you reached the top, Steve finally broke the silence.

“Can you point out where your home is?”

Startled by his sudden question, you looked around for things you recognized and narrowed your eyes.

“Hmm… I’m not good at this. Somewhere in that direction though, you said as you stretched out your arm to point.

“Almost,” Steve mumbled, lifting his own arm to circle his hand around your wrist and adjust it. “Right there.”

You smiled softly and turned your head to respond, but quickly found that his face was so close that it felt safer to just talk towards the darkness of the night.

“You could be pointing at the other side of town and I’d still believe you,” you mumbled. Steve chuckles softly and your current position made it easy to feel the vibration of his laugh, causing your cheeks to heat up again.

“Now that’s a little worrying, trusting me blindly.”

“I trust you won’t take advantage of that. And anyway, it’s not like I won’t know my way back after that.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” The atmosphere finally felt a little relaxed again. Your chest didn’t feel as tight anymore and words came more easily to you. At least until Steve let go of the frame and wrapped it around your shoulder instead.

“You need a ride home?”

“Yeah, that would be lovely, thank you,” you answered without thinking twice about whether you and Vickie would be going home together. All you could think about right now was his hand, that was currently grazing your arm gently with his blunt fingertips, giving the subtlest scratch.

“Okay.”

He felt so close. So goddamn close. You could feel his breath on your neck, the press on your thigh heavier and you closed your eyes for a moment, facing forward still.

“Would be a little cliché if we kissed now, huh?” he murmured softly, daring to use his hand to pull you against him a little.

“So cliché,” you agreed, your brain working hard to grasp at every word to give it some meaning.

“And you don’t like clichés.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No. Doesn’t matter though,” you responded weakly, unable to come up with a better retort.

“Because?”

“Who says I’ll let you kiss me?”

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. You were close to psychically groaning when yet again, he managed to surprise you with a soft laugh. How you had managed to not fuck this up yet with your responses was a miracle to you.

“Who says I was gonna make the first move?”

“Too cliché?” you asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just nervous. Come on.”

Without you realizing, you had arrived at the bottom again and it was time to get out. He held out his hand to help you out of the wobbly cart and didn’t let go once you were back on the grass, a few feet away from the ferris wheel exit. For a moment, you just stood there and watched as several booths turned off their lights until Steve squeezed your hand gently.

“To the car?” he suggested, his glance at you a slightly nervous one. He had been serious about feeling nervous, then. You nodded and gave him a soft smile and returned a squeeze to his hand. All the way to his car, your hands never let go and you even managed some casual conversation, such as Steve mentioning the pink bear he had spotted with Robin earlier that evening.

“Oh, Vickie would love that,” you said. “I hope they managed to get it.”

“Hope so too,” Steve agreed. “Still happy you went for your weird mushroom?”

“Absolutely. It’s the best combination of weird and cute. Plus, I like purple.”

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

Steve opened the passenger’s side for you first before joining you in the car behind the wheel. He drove off slowly as many people left the fair on foot and didn’t exactly pay attention to whether they were about to be hit by a car or not. You already missed his hand holding yours. Apart from listening to the tape Steve had put on, not much happened during the ride. You talked a bit about other funny encounters in the haunted house and he shook his head, remembering his own fright.

“Can’t believe you jumped in front of me.”

“Can’t believe I actually scared you.”

“That’s what jumpscares are supposed to do, isn’t it? You literally jumped and scared me,” he pointed out. You giggled, again reliving the moment and he groaned.

“You’re enjoying this so much.”

“Come on. It was funny.”

“If you’re evil maybe.”

“I’m evil now?”

“A little.”

“Hm. So what would make me a whole lot evil?”

Steve mulled it over for a moment, stopping the car in front of your home in the meantime. Eventually, he shrugged.

“I don’t know, man. I’ll let you know when you do, how about that?”

You chuckled.

“Alright.”

Glancing at your front porch, you sighed softly. Yet another night had come to its end and this time, you really didn’t feel like leaving the car. Steve leaned forward a little to block your view.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked curiously.

“Time.”

“Time?”

“Yup, time. Goes by too fast,” you sighed and he smiled and nodded to show he agreed with you.

“Sure does.” He rested his head against the headrest sideways so he could look at you, his index finger tapping the back of your hand gently like he had done earlier this evening.

“You looked really pretty tonight. Red suits you well.”

Oh how grateful you were for the dim light surrounding you, because you were definitely, definitely blushing now.

“Oh— thanks.”

A professional at taking in compliments, you were definitely not. Steve smiled and you watched how his eyes lowered to your lips for a moment as he wet his own with his tongue. You swallowed. You felt his hand trail upwards from yours all the way up to your shoulder, only to then cup your cheek gently.

“Would be cliché, huh,” he murmured softly.

“So cliché,” you agreed once more.

A smile crept onto his lips and he leaned back, leaving you a little confused. Yet, you didn’t dare say anything, not even when he drove off again and parked around the corner.

“Better,” he concluded. “Doubt you’ve ever had a guy nearly kiss you only to then drive his car around the corner to actually do it, and even explain the whole ordeal to you,” he added, fighting a grin that broke through regardless. You giggled and shook your head, gently biting down on your bottom lip.

“Never. Now kiss me,” you sighed impatiently, unbuckling your seatbelt as you did. Steve didn’t waste a second to cup your face again and smirked when he felt you undo his seatbelt as well.

“Thought you’d never ask. Or… demand, more like.”

“Steve.”

Another giggle, this time it was him.

“Okay, okay.”

His lips found yours easily, pressing closer the moment the first touch was initiated. Lips parted and tongues slipped past, earning you both a kiss you had longed for longer than either of you was willing to admit. A kiss that just felt right. A kiss where thoughts didn’t matter, overthinking didn’t exist and the feeling only grew stronger as you went on. The soft sounds escaping your lips were reciprocated by some of his as you both worked hard to be as close as possible with the nuisance of being in a car. He hummed pleasantly as your hand tugged gently on his hair as you combed through it, kissing you a bit more demanding. His hand rested on your waist now, thumb stroking your shirt gently wherever it could reach. When you finally parted, your dazed state soon turned into laughter when you realized your lipstick had traveled all across both your faces.

“Red suits you too,” you told him sweetly. Steve smiled and couldn’t resist another peck on your lips, which inadvertently resulted into another make out session. Maybe, just maybe, you liked Steve Harrington quite a bit after all. Lucky for you, he liked you too.

- FIN

Masterlist

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfics

149 notes · View notes

courfeyracs-swordcane · 2 years ago

Note

Teddy... after being mutuals w you for who knows how long I NEED to ask... what does robobs mean? I've been paying attention to the tags on my notifs for a bit and I think that's the one thing I still have no clue about ahdkshfjshfjd

OH BOY! You’ve activated my trap card!

Short version: tag for me and the gang ( @nosongunsung11 @coyotefang1987 @wildfandom @lemonade-comet @dogliker73 )’s transformers ocs. When I first made the spreadsheet I titled it ‘Robobs’ and it stuck. In March we made a 120 slide power point explaining the lore and we’ve made like 20 new guys since then

LONG VERSION: (and I’m only getting into blorbos from MY brain bc there’s like 85 of these mfers collectively)(Guys who come in several separate-but-linked subsets)

(edit: now with images! picrews linked here, here, here, and here and art by @orange-artist/@nosongunsung11)

THE OGS:

Packet and Pinch: (turn into biplanes) little guys who came after the war, them and their dad sometimes moonlight on a research vessel called Forte Spes where theoretically they’re archival assistants but mostly what that means is that Pinch holds the microphone during interviews because when Packet was allowed to do that he kept eating it. When they’re a little older Pinch gets a proper job on Forte Spes helping out and Packet joins the mafia/eventually winds up inheriting an organized crime unit and accidentally taking over a small city (think like JVJ’s Madeleine era except not on purpose)

Hot Shot: (turns into a diy dragrace car) himbo. former Autobot soldier turned drifter (technically looking for one of his war buddies who disappeared but he keeps getting sidetracked) turned preschool teaching assistant on the moon. Frontman of a very small emo band. Meter’s twin brother, Aileron’s best friend, (Sweets isn’t mine, but) Sweets’s self-invited roommate (weird gay thing)

Meter: (used to turn into a regular car, now functions as a speedometer)(also his name is actually Gauge, Aileron just started calling him Metermaid to make fun of him and it stuck) wildly normal little guy for being so fucked up. Got his face and hands and altmode taken by the government for being an anarchist in cop college. Spent the war on the world’s most legally questionable enemies to lovers roadtrip looking for his brother. Hot Shot’s twin, Aileron’s husband.

Aileron: (turns into a massive fucking jet) pointedly neutral freelance journalist. Extremely chill and wildly pessimistic. Can and will befriend anyone with an unfortunate heaping side of terminal Everyone He Really Cares About Keeps Fucking Disappearing Into Thin Air disease. Spent the road-trip causing problems on purpose bc it was funny and also bc he was pretty sure Hot Shot was dead and he didn’t know how to tell Meter so he was stalling. Meter’s husband, Hot Shot’s best friend.

THE ANCIENTS:

Catalyzer (Cat): (left)(turns into a shield except no he doesn’t anymore because he has daddy issues) fucked up old knight. Kind of a dick except with his knight partner and her spouse (the three of them come as a set do not separate <3) and with his little sister (150ft tall). Memory issues wildly exacerbated by the fact that he spent ten million years on the euthanasia planet. There’s a very good au in which he co-parents his nephew w his ex’s ex-wife.

Firefight (FF): (turns into a flamethrower except no he doesn’t bc what if he fucks up his paint) Bitchass little twink. Catalyzer’s shitty ex who lobotomized him. The god of transformation’s special little boy and he’s gonna make it everyone’s problem. After the god war (during which he helped work on a large-scale lobotomy project that made everyone forget the gods) he realized that if there’s not gods to hang around he can’t get special treatment for being god’s special little boy anymore so he fucked off to live in a cave for ten million years and only came out for Cat’s little sister’s funeral bc he figured everyone who would have known him would be dead by now except spoiler alert no they’re not and he immediately gets his ass beat. We don’t have time to get into his wife.

Moonshadow (Shades): (turns into a shuttle)(uses that to cause problems) Catalyzer’s nephew (she/her), troublemaking Weird Little Art Girl TM who’s constantly tagging along on any mission she can get herself into. Unfortunately that includes the mission that lands everyone on the euthanasia planet :(

Equalizer (EQ): (turns into. Maybe a grenade. I haven’t decided yet) Firefight’s ‘apprentice’/weird intense son he didn’t ask for and doesn’t want and also is lowkey terrified of. Functions entirely on looney toons logic. Theoretically xey’re supposed to be helping FF w his lobotomies but he’s scared xey’ll be better than him and take his job so mostly xyr job is knocking people out with the blunt end of xyr Massive Fucking Scythe for their nonconsensual government-assigned brain surgeries and being generally unsettling. Spends FF cave arc waiting outside where he told xem to which xey're not fucked up about but it does make xem very much more fucked up.

Legion: (turns into I don’t know yet probably an anvil or a lever): Little knight guy under the god of wisdom. Dumb as a box of rocks. Trying so fuxking hard all the time and not really getting anywhere with it but that’s okay. Loves his friends so goddamn much. Really fuckin stupid for a guy who kind of functions as the voice of reason in the polycule. Died on the euthanasia planet. :(

Endymion: (turns into a unicorn)(but like the goat kind) goldenboy blacksmith, built to help the main god make guys, conscientious objector to the god war so now he helps out in the armory. Haunted as hell (just kind of vibing with it). Missed the mission that landed everyone on the euthanasia planet and got locked out of the armory :(

DECEPTICON HR OFFICE/EXTENDED CONSTRUCTION UNIT:

Zephyr aka Dreadnought: (used to turn into a flashdrive, tried to do some sketchy ass back alley surgery to turn into something better and fucked it up so now he can’t turn into anything) edgy little goth twink lying wildly about almost everything abt himself. Former spy, current guy who sits in the corner of the office chainsmoking and giving off absolutely rancid vibes. He’s writing a memoir. (it’s bad.) Gets Fixed by the power of Carburetor going “wow, do you have any other slogans from like. Hot topic?” and is really confusingly normal at the postwar HR reunion/Hadron and his boyfriend’s impromptu wedding

Carburetor (CB): (used to turn into a pickup truck, got exploded) readymade soldier who wound up taking over as mostly-untrained medic when the actual medic was killed bc he had spent a lot of time in the medbay recently (due to the getting exploded incident) and kind of osmosed hopefully enough to go off of. Takes no shit but has terminal “I Can Fix Him” Disease (both romantically and medically) but really he’s the one getting fixed—he has a hobby now! 😊 (it’s Zephyr)

Hadron: (serial number ending in 0104)(turns into a crane) starry-eyed little science guy with a secondhand soul. Part of the construction unit and also working part time (illegally) in HR. Defected to the Autobots towards the end of the war and is now doing a goddamn lot of finding out for very little fucking around. Very easy to manipulate. Both has a missing boyfriend and is the missing boyfriend. Main character disease (affectionate but oh dear god at what cost)

Reefer: (0100)(take a wild guess) de-facto leader/union rep of the construction unit by virtue of being built first. Doing his goddamn best but he’s fundamentally just a sillyguy. Also has a secondhand soul but he doesn’t know about it. Would do anything for his little guys. Sneaks Hadron his science magazines. Hazard’s qpp, Hadron’s bestie, other side of Rico’s coin. Died during the great latewar Construction Unit Defection.

Hazard: (0101)(turns into a dump truck) absolutely fuckin massive very nice and kind SIC & emotional support of the construction unit. Also has a secondhand soul but it’s never really relevant. Guy who’s usually the one to talk to outsiders for the gang. Has never held a gun but almost got sent to the front lines of the war bc they’re Fucking Huge and hella shit was pulled to Stop That Happening (without them even knowing in the first place). Reefer’s qpp, Dyker (0102) isn’t mine and there’s a lot of lore but Dyker is their best friend (I think?). Dead. (Meter pushed them off one of the spires of Decepticon HQ bc they asked if he was okay and were a little too concerned)

Ricochet (Rico): (0103)(turns into a backhoe) oh she’s so fucked up. She’s so fucked up. Also has a secondhand soul and she’s not really aware of that but she’s not normal about it either. Hadron’s older sister figure (derogatory), other side of Reefer’s coin (Threefer), imprinted hard on Dyker and took the Shit That Got Pulled really REALLY badly. Blames Hadron for Reefer’s death to avoid blaming herself. Was briefly a neutral medic but went back to the Decepticons real quick and took the ending of the war also incredibly badly. (And by incredibly badly I mean she got a group to try and restart the war and recruited a bunch of guys to try and replace her family and it’s Not Working)

Chainlink: (turns into a tank)(attempt at replacing Hazard) Rico’s Fucking Massive SIC/de-facto bodyguard who’s really not jazzed about following someone else’s orders. Does it anyway out of… respect that she got there first (or something.) but makes it very very clear that Ze Would Kill Her (in a weird gay way) If Ze Got the Chance. (Ze is in fact given the chance and Doesn’t Take It. Neither of them are really sure how to cope with that). Died one time during the war but got better and is kind of an asshole about that. Mean sense of humor.

Sprocket: (turns into a handheld cannon)(Hadron but Rico likes him) literally just a little guy. Built on Earth approximately three days before the war ended and doesn’t actually know what that means for anything. Definitely getting a little bit gaslighted here. Finds out abt that and is so betrayed/hurt/doesn’t know what else to do that he turns them all in and fucks off to actually see the universe and the planet outside the war and also go to robot law school. Does tech/support/recon for the squad’s endeavors and missions from a secret third location

Roughhouse: (turns into a lifted ass Ford F150)(Reefer 2 smarter boogaloo) Sprocket’s bestie and everyone’s emotional support himbo and by emotional support himbo I mean this guy is treating this revolution like a kindergarten teacher. Guy who 100% tried to set up a sticker system to try and get Rico and Chainlink to be normal. He’s not even that invested in it he just thinks it’s funny to get Rico overly invested in things she’s Going to lose. Yes she’s his boss technically yes she forgets that sometimes (younger sister instinct). The fanciest and only prewar member of the gang. Former bouncer, early Decepticon recruit, current pacifist and backup guy.

THE SECRET OTHER OPTION:

Rudder: of Rudder and Oar fame. They don’t give a shit they’re just out there fishing. A lot of the time they wind up picking up body parts/people but that’s not what they’re fishing for so they just toss them in the back to sell to the mafia. Together they turn into a bigger boat.

#FINALLY #hello sorry this took so long it’s like 1.7k words #robobs

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lazysublimeengineer · 1 year ago

Text

what would you do if we never made a sound? - Chapter 1

Summary: Hiori wants to know more about Isagi’s metavision. Isagi teaches him in more ways than one.

Characters: Isagi Yoichi & Hiori Yo

(A/N: Inspired by the vault track of I Can See You from the Speak Now TV of Taylor Swift. Beware of tags and rating of this fic. I won’t be tolerating any complaints in the comments section if I had given sufficient warnings ahead of time. Read at your own risk. I don’t own anything from this franchise. Respective ownership belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura for this wonderful manga and Taylor Swift for this alluring song).

You brush past me in the hallway

And you don't think I, I, I can see ya, do ya?

I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it

The raucous cheers and laughter rang out at the other side of the field in the middle of the glaring heat from the sun.

It was summer in June when they held a soccer match at their school field in Kyoto.

The seats were filled with students and parents of the players around that time.

Although he could surmise that the only reason why his parents were there was to act as a surveillance camera on his skills and his performance at the match.

They neither cared about anything else if he performed well in front of the audience and in those matches.

He stared dully at the cheering crowd while sitting on the bench after the match was over with the towel slung on his back.

“Hiori! Ya gonna go home after this?” The familiar voice of Karasu cut through his wandering thoughts and faced him fully.

“Yep. My parents would hold a celebratory dinner later and they want me ta go home early.” Hiori answered.

“Oh right. Yer parents were expecting ya after this match. See ya at the school tomorrow I guess.” Karasu bid him a casual goodbye.

“Yeah. See ya tomorrow.” Hiori waved back idly and watched him go in silence until he was out of his sight.

It was a summer that was supposed to be filled with the normal pages of his youth around his friends.

But instead, it’s torn pages of the predicted future from his adulthood that he didn’t even hold in his grasp.

It’s held by his parents in a vice grip around his neck and never had the soccer ball looked like an anvil on his back, keeping him drowned on the ocean bed of misery and regret.

“Damn. Isagi getting fired up suddenly out there.” Igaguri’s voice jolted him out of his reveries and brought him back to the present.

Hiori wiped down the sweat from his forehead as he sat down on the available benches inside their locker room, heaving a deep breath.

It was an exhausting match but he could still feel the adrenaline rush inside of him and the way his heart pounded wildly inside his chest.

There was nothing going on inside his brain except for the usual static akin to an offline device when not in use.

“It’s Isagi. It’s not him if he’s not like that on ta field.” Hiori muttered absently before he took the bottle of water beside him and twisted off the cap from the lid and drank it heartily, his gaze following Isagi’s movements at the other side of the field.

Their eyes met.

Midnight blue eyes clashing against his aquamarine irises.

If he wasn’t used to it, Hiori would’ve spat out his drink and coughed repeatedly because of that sudden, intense gaze directed by the young striker to himself.

But Hiori knew what it was for.

He had seen those gaze several times that he had lost count.

No words were needed to be spoken out loud between the two of them since he knew what it was meant for.

It’s going to be a long night for them.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now?

What would you do if they never found us out?

What would you do if we never made a sound?

The loud sloshing sounds of water from the showerhead drowned out any vulgar noises that the two males made in one of the stalls which were covered heavily by a shower curtain.

Hiori was pinned against the wall as Isagi’s hungry mouth was kissing and nipping around the sensitive skin around his neck voraciously as he pounded him with vigor against the walls.

“Ngh… Ah…! ‘Sagi… slowdown will ya…!” Hiori moaned out lecherously as his body trembled like a leaf against him.

“Can’t… Even if I want to… Fuck! Hiori! Still goddamn tight no matter how many times we did this already!” Isagi growled lightly against his skin as one of his hands made its way towards his neglected cock and stroke it furiously, the pleasure and ecstasy doubled tenfold against Hiori’s body who could do nothing but to mewl and drool like a bitch in heat.

“Ah Isagi! Ya hafta to control your mouth against my neck…! Ngh… Don’t leave any marks please!” Hiori moaned out as his body quivered helplessly against him. With every hard thrust and voracious plow of his cock inside his velvety walls, it only brought Hiori closer to the edge and on the brink of satisfaction.

“I’m not going to… I just like tasting it…” Isagi mumbled hotly against his skin as his sinful mouth continued traipsing tempestuously on the sensitive portions of his neck while his hips snapped forward against him that had him arching against the other at the voracious impact of his cock hitting into the deepest part of him.

“Ah… F-fuck…! Isagi…” Hiori couldn’t help the curse falling from his lips as his mind and body went into an overdrive, reducing him into a messy, helpless kitten against him as Isagi continued to rail him wildly against the tiles of the bathroom, drooling and moaning wantonly.

One of Isagi’s hands snatched on his scalp and pulled his face closer to his and captured his lips in a wild and dirty kiss, swallowing every moan and mewl that left Hiori’s lips.

“Better keep quiet, won’t you? Someone might walk in and hear us.” He mumbled hotly against his lips to which Hiori could only moan out in response inside his mouth.

Hiori gripped his back firmly and wrapped his legs tightly around his hips for support and leverage as Isagi continued to fuck him into oblivion, panting and moaning against his mouth as he let the other’s tongue plundered the insides of his mouth and licked at the crevices beneath it.

With a few more thrusts and furious strokes on his aching cock, Hiori’s body trembled like a leaf against his arms and reached his peak, coating his hand and their chests with the hot splashes of his cum. He pulled away to let out a weak moan and light gasp as Isagi continued to chase his own release and railed him mercilessly.

“Damn it… Fuck…” Colorful words and expletives fell from Isagi’s lips as his body reached his limit and climax, painting his insides white with his cum and filled him up to his brim instantaneously.

“Shit… Yer much intense today… Too pent up after our match with ta Ubers…?” Hiori asked hoarsely as he still clung to him weakly, his legs were shaking from overexertion and overwhelming sensation of their carnal embrace earlier.

Isagi only grunted in response. He carefully lifted him up and helped him pull away from him, the cum flowing down between his legs.

Hiori winced slightly at the sight and the soreness that he felt around his hips and legs once he managed to stand alone on the ground.

“Fuck…” He breathed out. “Good thing we’re here so it’s less hassle to clean up…” He added with a shaky smile on his lips before he grabbed the bar of soap and started to rub it on his body.

“I can help you…” Isagi trailed off.

“Hm?” Hiori looked at him questioningly.

“I can help to clean you up… if you’re okay with that?” Isagi clarified, looking up at him hesitantly.

His eyes were no longer intense and a deep shade of blue. But instead, he was now looking at him with the usual expression of that familiar earnestness and sincere curiosity under those periwinkle orbs that it’s hard to imagine that he can be wild and reckless under the sheets.

It made Hiori chuckled softly under his breath. “Yer weird sometimes… We already did more than kissing and ya seen me naked countless times so I think it’s too late for ta shy guy act.” Hiori replied teasingly as he handed him the soap.

A small pout made its way towards Isagi’s lips as he took the soap from his hand and started running it around his shoulders.

“Shut up… It’s only right to ask you first before anything else…” He grumbled under his breath as he could feel the tips of his ears tinting a pinkish set of hues.

Silence enveloped them for a moment.

Hiori was content to hear the soft splash of water running down their bodies until a trite smile inched across his lips.

They can listen to the sounds of their bodies’ needs.

But the invisible thread of agony loomed around them and they didn’t make a sound about it.

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me

And I could see you up against the wall with me

And what would you do, baby, if you only knew?

That I can see you

His back oddly felt cool against the wall when he decided to rest on the ground after they were done practicing on the field.

Hiori’s eyes glanced dimly on the remaining players on the field who’re mainly stretching out and cooling down.

Most of their German team members already dispersed and the remaining members were mostly from Blue Lock. He could see Yukimiya already leaving the field with a towel slung casually around his shoulders. He could see Raichi’s usual scowl a mile away and bickering with Igaguri which was the usual familiar sight around their team. Then his eyes strayed past him…

…on a further distance…

Isagi was holding the soccer ball and staring at the net with an indecipherable look on his face.

There was an expression on his face that was shrouded by the shadows to which Hiori can’t get a read of.

Hiori had always remembered Isagi as a determined yet polite and friendly person in general upon first meeting him alongside with Nanase.

A curious and eager lad if he surmised especially in the field of soccer. His passion for the sport itself was evident on his gaze every time the topic of it came into their light discussion, spouting some soccer trivia and possible strategies and commentaries on a match that’re they watching with online.

Nevertheless…

…his gaze was unfathomable.

His countenance was akin to a vast ocean in the middle of nowhere: bottomless and surrounded by a brilliant darkness.

It was a time like this that Hiori’s thoughts would circle and wonder what would be hiding beneath those penetrating gaze of his.

Was he seeing what was in front of him or just staring straight ahead?

Hiori wondered how that would feel like…being subjected to that impenetrable gaze of his…

…. or even feeling Isagi’s passion for the sport itself.

Because when Hiori thought about it all he can see was a ball meant to be scored a goal inside the net just for the sake of the others…just for the sake of his parents…

The familiar dull feeling crawled inside of him afterwards.

It’s akin to a level inside of a game that he was not fond of playing into but continuously played around just for the sake of going to another higher plane of living.

He vaguely remembered the time on Isagi asking him his insight about some predicament involving soccer that he couldn’t seem to get past of.

It was evident on how his brows would knit in deep thought and analyzation, his lips morphed into a thin line and his ocean blue eyes staring intently at something as if it would hold the answers to his own quandary.

He couldn’t forget that certain look on Isagi’s face when he suggested on trying at another strategy and looking at the problem on another angle because it’s the same with playing at a game in a console or mobile and you’re trying to get past that level to rose higher at another level.

Those expressive, deep blue orbs blinking owlishly at him before a realization dawned on his face and he smiled up at him triumphantly.

He didn’t know why but that expression all alone directed to him as if he held all the answers to the universe lit something within him, dousing his entire being with a furnace that sparked a light inside his heart and made the gears in his head turned up like a cogwheel.

He was used to the daily events coursing through his life that nothing ever fazes him.

The calmness in his entire being was present because the events that he was seeing was like a game playing with routes in them depending on what your decision maybe.

It could be good and it could be bad. And if you’ve had enough common sense, you’ll chose a path where it’s less obstructive and problematic for you.

Hiori chose a path where he could be a glue to his parents.

Hiori chose a path that’s risk free and less problematic for him.

Nevertheless…

…. he chose a path where he became a stagnant ivy creeping pathetically on the greying walls and watch life passed him by as he was stuck on the level of the game that he despised of.

So, seeing Isagi looking at him like that stirred something within him.

An unknown emotion that he couldn’t identify nor parsed of.

Isagi was the opposite of him.

Despite his jovial and easygoing nature with everyone, he was brimming with life on the field.

He was fierce, reckless, unrelenting, cunning, and fiery on the field as evident on how he had managed to go toe on toe with Sae and Rin on the field back then and even managed to steal the ball from Rin and scored that goal which determined their fate and sealed their victory previously on the U-20 match.

He was intense and tenacious when it came to soccer that everything on his sight pales in comparison except for getting that ball inside that net to get that taste of victory and witnessed the soul crushing defeat of the enemy.

Isagi was like that.

An embodiment of the Blue Lock program itself and it’s ideals.

It’s no wonder that out of all the players in the program, he was the rising star and ace itself.

He was the ball of fire blazing ferociously on the path he traipsed on and he understood on why there were several people in the program and in their team were drawn to him like a moth to a flame because he was shining brighter than everyone else.

And Hiori was no exception to it at all.

That was why he was now involved with him in this weird situationship that he couldn’t even put a name on.

Were they lovers?

Certainly not.

Were they best friends?

He’d beg to differ because the cheerful yet talented guy with yellow highlights on his hair at the Barcha team seemed to fill that role for Isagi as evident on how they were close to each other.

Were they friends…?

…or should he put them into the category of acquaintances?

But acquaintances don’t have conversations where time seemed to elapse and hadn’t notice of.

They don’t get entangled into a night of searing passion and dark pleasure after a grueling day at a practice or at a match.

…

If he was going to categorized it, they were simply just friends…

…with benefits.

Or in simplest terms, fuck buddies.

They had neither talked explicitly about it.

It just happened one day.

Maybe it was inevitable.

When you’re around Isagi it was bound to happen one way or another.

The monochrome world of Hiori inside the soccer field burst into a multitude of colors ever since he witnessed the blazing passion and amazing technique of Isagi on the field one fateful day.

He couldn’t erase the sight of that manic grin and that glittering gaze he held on to that field, eyeing everyone on the match as if they were NPCs that he needed to simply passed by in order to score the goal himself.

Hiori’s mind started to drift off once again, dwelling on a certain event in the past which had led them to what they were now.

“Isagi, I want ya to teach me that.” He said to him in the middle of their practice one night on one on one.

Isagi held the ball under his heel with ease, looking at him in vague interest and curiosity.

“That thing you do on ta field… like when ya we’re in a zone or something… the way ya were able to predict everyone’s moves quickly and make a decision in a split second without any hesitations… I’d want that as well.” Hiori looked at him earnestly.

Isagi grew quiet for a moment, parsing his words inside his head until a flicker of realization sparkled around his eyes.

“Ah, you mean the metavision?”

“Metavision…? Is that what you called it?” Hiori asked curiously.

Isagi nodded. “It’s sort of an evolved vision of a player who got a high understanding of the field and what the intention of the players are. I can’t explain it to you in a simpler way but I guess it comes out when you’re in an intense situation inside a match.”

Hiori blinked a few times before he nodded in understanding. “So, it’s like a player unlocking a new skill of some sort which puts them at an advantage over everyone else while in the middle of a game.”

“Sort of. You’d much gain an understanding of it when I demonstrate it to you so c’mon Hiori steal the ball from me if you can.” It was a benign request but Hiori knew the challenging undertone beneath his casual voice and lax expression on his face.

And Hiori couldn’t help but to rise onto that challenge.

Isagi had possessed a deceptively copacetic demeanor which made his opponents underestimate him until it was too late.

It gnawed his insides in intrigue and excitement at the same time. The gamer spirit within him rose in curiosity to explore more of it.

The time passed out in a blur.

That’s what happens when one was enjoying with what they’re doing with someone else.

In Hiori’s case, he had never felt revitalized and energized enough in a soccer match until now.

He found himself going toe on toe with Isagi.

He knew that feral grin of his.

He came out to play and spare no mercy even if you’re a comrade of his.

His egotistical self was shining through on the field.

And he couldn’t help the delicious shiver ran down through his spine despite witnessing it a couple of times in the past.

But this is different.

Because Isagi’s dark, mesmerizing gaze and attention was focused solely on him.

A predator stalking its prey on the field.

But Hiori would be damn to be captured if he didn’t give some well needed fight against him.

Nevertheless, Hiori lost momentum and came crashing down on the ground with Isagi, his lips accidentally slotting against the others and feeling the warm and soft sensation of his mouth against his own. Their legs tangled together, hot breaths brushing along each other’s before Hiori seemed to gain his common sense and felt the mortification burned on his cheeks.

He quickly pulled his face away from his. “Ah, sorry Isagi! I didn’t mean to…! It was an accident and I—.”

His words died on his throat at Isagi’s next actions.

“Hiori feel free to punch if me if this is out of line for you.” Isagi whispered breathlessly against his ear before he removed any gap between the two of them and claimed his lips in a sudden kiss which earned a surprise moan from Hiori’s mouth at his unexpected actions and the immediate electrifying sensation that coursed through his veins at the instantaneous yet tantalizing embrace alone.

Hiori froze for a moment, the overwhelming sensation of Isagi’s lips moving sensually against his own bombarded his entire being. His mind grinded into a screeching halt. His nerves were skyrocketing inside his pulse.

And his heart thundering wildly inside his chest that he swore he could be deafened by it because of how loud it was.

Nevertheless, as each moment passed them by, Hiori found himself growing weaker against Isagi’s deep embrace. His defenses slowly crumbling down and his mouth started to reciprocate the other’s movements.

He was now returning his kiss deeply and his arms instinctively wrapped themselves around Isagi’s neck for support as the proximity of their bodies made him dizzy from the onslaught of pleasure alone.

Soon, Isagi grew bolder and rolled them away from the grass to switch their places: with Hiori now pinned beneath him, his hands were now on his waist while his lips continued to kiss him deeply and his tongue battling fiercely against Hiori’s.

Hiori’s mind and body were clouded in pleasure and want, reacting instinctively against Isagi’s ministrations and let his tongue tangled along with his in a sensual dance for domination, getting lost in the intoxicating embrace of his. He was slowly getting swept away from the whirlwind of passion flying around them when one of Isagi’s legs brushed along his thighs teasingly which made him moan against his mouth as the bolts of electricity shot right through his veins.

Isagi took the opportunity immediately and let his tongue plundered eagerly at the entrance of his mouth, licking and exploring the crevices beneath the sensitive seams of his mouth.

“Ah, Isagi…” He whined softly against his mouth, trembling like a leaf against his arms.

It was then that Isagi decided to pull away and looked at him intently, his eyes were a deep shade of indigo as the want and need swirled along his pupils.

Hiori could only stare back at him with half lidded eyes and breathed raggedly beneath him, his cheeks were flushed and a slight drool was starting to slip down on the underside of his lips.

“I did cause a slight predicament for you, haven’t I? Would you let me do the honors in taking care of it?” Isagi asked throatily as his gaze went down on the tent in his soccer shorts which made Hiori’s face burned out in mortification upon the realization of where Isagi’s eyes were staring at.

“I-I… There is no need—.” He stuttered out, his words stumbling out of his mouth before he was cut off midsentence with a husky laughter leaving Isagi’s lips.

“No need to be pressured. I’m just suggesting. We can stop here if you want. Although your body begs to differ.” Isagi stood up and offered his hand to him.

Hiori swallowed thickly before accepting his hand and helped him in standing up. He was unable to look at him in the eyes. The heat still flooded on his cheeks. Isagi offered. He refused.

It’s just simple right?

But Hiori knew that his body was not a liar unlike his mouth.

And it was screaming for Isagi’s touch and kiss which made him breathless and left a trail of fiery need on every fiber of his being.

The moment Hiori tugged on Isagi’s sleeve to get his attention while they went back to their rooms was the moment Hiori knew it was his imminent downfall to the treacherous yet sinful slope towards Isagi’s arms.

“I don’t mind if ya take care of it…” Hiori said in a hushed voice, his cheeks were coated in rosy hues as he said this.

Isagi paused and finally looked at him in silence, his gaze boring right into the depths of him which made his heart jumped out of his throat.

A small yet captivating smile broke out of Isagi’s lips and Hiori was a goner once his eyes settled on that mesmerizing sight alone.

“Glad to hear it… I knew you wouldn’t if it’s me anyway…” He whispered huskily before he took his hand and pulled him into their room which were still empty as it is the time of their scheduled dinner and everyone was in the cafeteria and were busy eating amongst themselves.

Soon the room was filled with their muffled moans and low groans, the cacophony of their restrained sinful voices silently rang out against the four walls of the room as he let him claim his body that night and let their union became one.

“Hey, hey. You, okay? I’m trying to call you earlier to eat at the cafeteria after this. You seem to be spacing out.” Kurona’s concerned voice washed over his senses and brought him back to the present.

Hiori blinked a few times at him before he smiled apologetically at him.

“Ah, sorry about that… Guess the exhaustion from today’s practice caught up with me. Meet ya at the cafeteria later?”

“Sure, sure. Isagi and I will be waiting at our usual spot. Be quick though. Seats are being occupied at a faster rate at this kind of time around.” Kurona replied before he bid him a quick goodbye and left.

Hiori’s smile remained on his face for a few minutes until it melted off his face when Kurona was finally out of his sight.

He glanced at the spot where Isagi had been standing a few minutes ago to which it was now empty and signified that the male had already left.

Outside of soccer, they treated each other as the same as before.

Congenial, lax and hanging around with each other alongside with Kurona and the others if they had free time.

They had treated each other as if they had never fucked several times before.

Or rather Isagi had treated him like a casual comrade of their team and a normal friend outside of it.

It would be fine to Hiori…

… because they don’t have a relationship, right?

It was a simple hook up to release some tension and pressure after the matches against the other teams.

Even for a gamer like him, it should be easy enough to understand.

Easy to understand that they don’t have any obligation towards each other outside of the bedroom.

They’re free to do whatever they want with their lives without interfering in it.

So, why the hell there’s a prickling sensation coursing through his veins every time Isagi would ignore him and pay more attention to his other friends especially Bachira when he spotted him the other day playing against each other in a practice match on that field?

Why was it that when he saw those genuine, sincere smiles directed at other people aside from him, he felt his chest tightening from an unknown reason?

…

But most of all why the hell would it bother him?

Hiori swallowed thickly. He knew that if ventured for an answer, he might not be ready for it despite the protestations of his own heart.

Hiori was the only who saw the other side of Isagi beneath the fracture of his erected walls within himself that separated the line between soccer and something else.

He knew that they only saw each other as relievers to each other’s stress and disappointments to their personal lives.

So why was it that he couldn’t see the boundary between their professional relationship and personal one?

Because Hiori knew deep inside of him that he was bewitched by those captivating smiles of his and those azure irises that bored right through his soul.

He had fallen without a parachute.

And he needed to pick up the pieces of his heart that have shattered down on the ground.

And we kept everything professional

But something's changed, it's somethin' I, I like

They keep watchful eyes on us

So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet

You won't believe half the things I see inside my head

Wait 'til you see half the things that haven't happened yet

(A/N: Reviews are amusing. Let me hear them from you).

#blue lock #fanfiction #spoilers #smut #character study #relationship study #angst #introspection #complicated relationships #dark isagi #hiori having an internal crisis about himself and towards isagi #depression #unhealthy coping mechanisms #isagi yoichi #hiori yo #hiosagi

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10moonymhrivertam · 1 year ago

Note

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

😎 What fics do you prefer on a scale of canon compliant to wildly original?

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

Y'know what, I think I do actually have a standing answer to this! Although now I don't know whether to be concerned or not cuz it's an old line XD But I posted an unfinished (as in, bracketed author's notes still in the text kind of unfinished) fic specifically so as not to lose the line, so I shall slap it in here.

Ah. Turns out it works best as a set of lines, but it was still the first thing that popped into my head, so here goes:

CW: Non-Graphic Animal Death

Carlos was counting the lab mice, suspicious that the bonsai they lived next to may have picked up some carnivorous tendencies. [...] Carlos lost count of his mice. His hands hovered over the cage, frozen. What had Cecil just said? Miss Frizzle? Aunt Valerie ? It refused to process. Carlos turned away from the cage to grab his phone, missing as the bonsai unfurled a branch and snagged a mouse by its tail and dragged it, shrieking, into its thick leaves.

END CW

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Oh, gosh, there are a few contenders. I could say the first one I remembered making, because I got to hand it to Mary Pope Osbourne before I knew giving authors fic was Bad. And I really don't remember much about the contents of it, just that it was handwritten and I did a little cover for it.

Of my modern fic, I think I'll pick two, due to them being the fics I've shown the most commitment to.

Face to Unfamiliar Face, recursive fic of @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors's Love and Other Fairy Tales. I think about it a lot because I'd like to do more work on it. Alas, every time I go into it thinking that this time I will post it to AO3, I start sketching out major structural edits and get scared of the workload and let the poor thing keep languishing. I should just carry it over directly and then redux it later, just for the purpose of archiving it. Maybe I'll do that today. (Thank you in advance if so, Willow 💜)

And The Princess's Son (Ba, Ba), a Witcher fic where Jaskier is Renfri's kid. It haunts me constantly. I think as-posted, it's finished and satisfying from a reader's perspective, but from my Author's Vision it's unfinished, so the haunting continues. Alas, the redux keeps stalling out in the first few chapters. And then I don't want to just skip forward to get it started with because I feel like I can better build up the Lilit stuff so it's not such a Deus Ex Machina, even if I don't think I've changed all that much about the mechanics of her whole Thing. 😭

😎 What fics do you prefer on a scale of canon compliant to wildly original?

I think solidly in the middle as a reader? I know I lightly avoid 'modern AU' tags in AtLA and Witcher and stuff, but not strenuously. I like plenty of Sanders Sides fic where they're proper people and not just figments in the mindscape. But I think I also prefer to read when it's not super rooted in canon, either? Fleshed out side characters and Everybody Lives, Nobody Dies for the win, baby!!!

Now as a writer...

One of my provided filter-able tags is canon divergence XD I still like to keep things pretty rooted in canon, though. I like having a scaffolding to build around. Going too far into original territory tends to make everything feel a little too wobbly.

I think the most original I get is smashing together fandoms that don't necessarily make sense based on tiny details. (Or details that aren't there. Ben Wishaw and Colin Morgan are just. Connected in my brain for some reason and so I have Once And Future...Spy?!)

#ask games #welcome to night vale #magic school bus #sanders sides #love and other fairytales #recursive fic #the witcher #james bond #bbc merlin #as of right this second i'm actually working on my hazbin fic #but I will do my very bestest to finally transfer ftuf over #cuz i remember seeing someone ask after it in the discord or violet's ask box once #which was very flattering but left me quite guilty XD #thanks willow!#gonna open a tab to hopefully remind me to send you one when i'm not working on fic

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raggaraddy · 4 years ago

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Intruders.

Request from @dramaclub-thin: Mafia BTS where the reader is shot for/because of them.

A/N: Another long one. This one doesn't have so much of the worried reaction, cause I wrote it to fit the Mafia! Jungkook character. It's still fun though ^-^ Thanks again for the request. 💜💜💜

If anyone else wants to request, you can here.

Other parts:

Namjoon

Yoongi

Jimin

Taehyung

Summary: When a loose end breaks into Jungkooks house with guns drawn, you get a first-hand lesson that maybe Jungkook isn't as invulnerable as you had thought.

Trigger Warnings: Graphic violence, gun usage, blood, murder.

Jungkook

Mafia! Jungkook

Fighting to get free, you're kicking your legs. Squirming. Squealing as you shove your hands against Jungkook's chest, pushing him back as hard as you can. Tears starting to fill your eye line.

"Stop, stop, stop," you shout, with no effect. Struggling harder.

"Admit it!" He yells back, a smile on his face.

"Never," You scream. Not able to hold it back anymore. Your screech morphs into forceful laughter as Jungkook continues to tickle you. Your cheeks aching from how widely you're smiling. Your sides hurting as you keep thrashing for release.

"Admit I could beat up the Hulk, and I'll let you go." He insists again, pressing you down with a massive grin.

"Okay, okay!" You squeal, finally conceding. Groaning in relief, when his fingers stop tickling your stomach. Your limbs dropping down to rest. "You could totally kick the Hulk's ass." You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

"Damn right I could!" He bursts into laughter also. Easing back with a sigh now that he no longer has to hold you still. Neither of you phased by the movie that started the debate still blaring in the background.

Roughly you punch your fist into his chest, intentionally knocking the air out of him. Taking advantage while he is caught off guard to push him flat onto the carpet beside you. Straddling his lap, you lean over him pinning his arms to the floor before he has a chance to argue. Not that you think he would. The fun-filled smile doesn't leave his face for a moment. Completely amused by you, while you try your best to put on an intimidating act. Trying to stop yourself from smiling again.

"Jeon Jungkook. You cheated." You playfully scold, "And if you can't have a grown-up discussion, then you can't do other grown-up things either." You accentuate your point by grinding down. Feeling his hips push up as you tease him. Lifting up right away, shaking your head as you remove the contact. "Nah uh. Cheaters don't get that." You smirk.

"Don't be mean just cause I won." He runs his tongue inside his cheek. His gaze showing desire and a want for you to continue. But you're not done toying with him.

"You didn't win." You poke your tongue out, rocking your hips a single time more, "Confessions under duress are not admissible anyway."

"No, but it's good leverage to have." He answers a little too honestly and without thinking. Not entirely talking about your play fight anymore.

Chuckling awkwardly, you shake off the train of thought that wants to evaluate what he just said. Not wanting to let your mind remember that part of him right now. Trying instead, to return to your spirited banter. But he gets in before you.

"Nope," He easily breaks out and overpowers your hold wrapping his arm around your waist, carrying you as he stands up. "you admitted I'm stronger than the Hulk, and I'm never gonna let that go." Bending down, he throws you over his shoulder, slapping your ass to tease you back.

His shoulder digging into your gut stops you from taking a full breath or making a snippy comeback. So you slap his ass in retaliation instead.

"Come on Kitten, you have to give me a prize for winning." He purs suggestively, carrying you out of the living room into the foyer.

He's going to take you upstairs, but you don't make it to them before both of your heads snap towards the entrance. A flurry of gunshots exploding just beyond the front door. The commotion silencing as quickly as it started.

Jungkook slings you off his shoulder. Becoming another person in an instant. Purely focused. Opening the coat closet, he pulls a Glock from his jacket.

"Get upstairs, now." He barks.

You don't have to be asked twice, running to the stairs. Gasping as the garage door next to the steps opens, two hooded men storming in with guns drawn. Jungkook reacts quickly, firing past you. Shooting one of them, missing the second who ducks instead of firing back.

At the same time, blowing open to the left of you, the front door is kicked in. Swinging wide, four more masked men rush the house. Firing rapidly and wildly. Scarcely missing Jungkook who is moving preemptively and is 3 steps ahead. Running forward he shoots the second man in front of you. Grabbing your arm, dragging you over their dead bodies into the garage with him.

Shutting you in just as bullets explode through the wood door at your back.

Jungkook forces you to keep up, throwing you behind the car. The automatic shots continuing to decimate. The four-wheel-drive being the only thing that keeps either of you from getting shot.

Panting and on the verge of tears, you're crouched beside Jungkook. Watching him, waiting to react to anything he says. Knowing he is all that stands between you and death. But also knowing that with him in this mindset he could do just as much damage to you as one of those other men might.

The gunfire stops. Distorted voices shouting behind the door's remains. Jungkook cautiously raises up, leaning over the hood. He lines up a shot as the door opens warily, taking down another of them. Slouching behind the car as a new wave of bullets comes in response.

In front of you, the shelves covered in storage boxes and the workbench full of tools is ripped to shreds. Things erupting in every direction. Covering you in debris.

Pulling his phone from his pocket he shoves it in your lap.

"Call the first number!"

Your brain is stalling, your hands are shaking, but you follow the order as best as you can. The way your fingers are vibrating making it so much harder.

"What's up Boss?" You can hear the faint sound of his first lieutenant, as the firing ceasing again. Jungkook snatches the phone, speaking lowly and calmly.

"My house is breached and we're under fire. At least 3 guys. Semi-autos. We're held up in the garage and I've got maybe 15 rounds left." He passes the information over precisely. Remaining organized and in control.

"We're 10 out," the first confirms back, yelling orders to people on his end of the phone.

Your head jolts towards the garage door as it heavily clunks, starting to lift along the tracks. Exposing you on two sides.

"Fuck," Jungkook exclaims. "We don't have 10 minutes."

He stands, staying low. Opening the car door, tossing the phone in, followed by you. Your limbs hitting everything as you try to keep up with his pace. Making it onto the seat in an awkward heap.

"Stay down," he growls, slamming it, sealing you in. You're ahead of him this time, already kneeling under the steering wheel. Pressing your chest and head into the seat as flat as possible.

Inside the car, you can only hear the sounds of blasts for a few moments. Heavy things being thrown in every direction amid tense silences.

Outside the car, Jungkook fires off 3 shots, aiming for the legs he sees as the garage opens. The angle is wrong, and he doesn't hit them. Having to retreat back. Throwing the workbench down, using it as a meagre form of barricade. Blocking himself into the corner, hunched behind it. It's barely wide enough to protect him at the front and on the side. The height of the desk only just covering his head. He aims over the bench, hoping to keep the front two from coming in with suppression fire.

However, his attempt is unsuccessful. As he raises up, a bullet wings his right arm. Involuntarily dropping his gun, he shouts in pain. The Glock falling on the wrong side of the table.

It only takes him a second to compose himself, lunging over to pick up the weapon. But it's a second too late.

One of the men charges from inside the house. Booting the table into Jungkook, throwing him off balance. Holding him at gunpoint as he hits the floor.

Briefly, you see the other two men through the window as they pass the car. You're too terrified to move. Your hand cupped over your mouth, muffling the panicked breathes and whimpers that you can't hold in.

Working as a unit, one of the men clears the table out of the way, another picks up Jungkook's gun, while the third ushers him out of the corner and onto his feet, keeping the sights tightly fixed on him.

Getting in his face, the lead man removes his balaclava. Seething hate filling his expression. "You remember me?"

While he isn't going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, Jungkook is certainly perturbed by the reveal.

It was nearly 5 months ago that he had ordered this man and his family killed. It drew far too much attention when he refused a deal Jungkook made him. So an example has to be set. The man's wife, two children and his visiting brother were murdered in the gruesome display. And Jungkook was told that the man standing in front of him now was also killed. But it seems the men charged with the hit got complacent. They didn't confirm the kill.

Mentally, Jungkook was already recalling the four men on task. If he made it out of this they were going to suffer greatly for their mistake.

Seeming infuriated by Jungkook's lack of fear and stoic glowering, the unmasked man slams his fist into the Mafia King's face. Shouting as he does.

Methodically, the three intruders begin to tear Jungkook apart. He put's up a fight as best as he can, but the men are trained and three against one isn't fair odds in this situation. Knocking him between them, they strike with their knees, fists, feet, hurting him in any way they can manage. Beating him into the ground. Pulling him back onto his knees whenever he drops back or falls forward.

Biting your palm you're trying to stop yourself from crying out as you sob into your hand. You can hear the hits. The thumps from him being tossed around. His groans of pain. The slough of abuse they spit at him while they work him over. Cursing him. Mocking him.

Suddenly, the car door jerks open. One of the masked men dragging you out by your hair. Making you produce an ear-shattering scream. One he silences with a fist to the face. Your body collapsing, slapping into the concrete.

Groaning in pain, your sobs can no longer be restrained. Loudly bawling, tear stream your face, hardly able to breathe as you panic.

Your heart aching as you see Jungkook across from you. Hunched over on his knees, he's gushing blood. It's running down his face. Matting his hair to his forehead with the sheer volume of it. He's splitting it up, his mouth dripping with it. His shirt soaked in it. Flowing down his arm from the bullet wound also.

You'd never have thought you would see your Boyfriend in such a state. You've witnessed first-hand the power he has when he's the one responsible for this kind of damage. In your mind, you saw him as invincible. Unbeatable. A cruel monster driven by hubris that could never be stopped.

The times you'd seen him beat people like this, the times he hit you like this, you had privately desired for him to suffer the same fate one day. For karma to return everything he had dished out.

But now that he was, now that he was the one being treated without mercy, even with it being justified, you can't feel anything but fear and sadness. Regretting ever having wished this upon him.

"Jungkook," you gently call.

He's disoriented. Too many headshots having made him dizzy and unfocused. But your soft voice cuts through all of that. Looking up from the ground to you, his eyes go wide seeing you in harm's way again.

"Y/-" he starts to get up, only to be interrupted and held down. The unmasked man's hand coming down on his shoulder. The barrel of Jungkook's own gun being aimed at his chest as the man hovers over him.

"You know, your guys didn't kill my wife right away." He digs the gun tip into the bullet wound on his arm. Twisting and stabbing into the raw flesh making him grit his teeth to bear the pain. "They shot her where he knew it wouldn't kill her. Then they let her bleed out. While I could only watch. While my kids watched." The pure rage in the man's voice is finally softened. Instead, sounding horribly grieved and agonized over the memory. "Someone like you, you're probably not capable of love," he spits, pushing off Jungkook to stand straight. "But whether you love her or not, I still want you to watch her die."

The words register, but you can't absorb them. You can't react.

"Wait. Wait!" Jungkook yells after him.

Your body is throbbing in terror. Watching him advance on you. Watching him raise the gun at you.

The shot hits you in the stomach.

"No!" Jungkook howls. The two men punting him back down as he climbs to his feet. Extending the barrage of hits to impress upon him that he shouldn't try to get up again.

In shock, you delicately dab at the hole in your side. Blood pulsing out of you. The pain is more than you could have imagined. You can't pull in a full breath. Short gasps are all you can manage. Doubling over onto your hands and knees, you weakly shriek unable to deliver a solid scream.

They drag you by your arm, hurling you at Jungkook, your torso landing in his lap. He clings to you, drawing you in tight. His face twisted in anger.

"Y/n." He growls. "Don't you dare-" he can't bring himself to finish that thought.

"Don't worry darling. It won't take long." The leader says above you, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "You though," he redirects, snarling at Jungkook. "you're gonna die slow."

Not able to breathe and the blood loss is making your head light. The room feels like it's spinning. Your eyes rolling back as they close. The reprieve of rest calling you into unconsciousness. And you can't resist.

With his hand held to your heart and his chest tight, Jungkook feels for a beat. The irregular rhythm assuring him you're still alive at least.

"I hope you really did love her. Like how I loved my girl and my boy. My wife. I hope you can feel that type of pain."

Jungkook is shaking. Unfiltered loathing ravaging his thoughts. A murderous expression concealing his heartache as he feels your pulse gradually start to slow.

Moving begrudgingly like it's his duty, the leader pulls one of the few remaining tools from its place on the wall. Wringing the handle of a large Philips Head screwdriver.

Working together, the three of them rip your unconscious body apart from Jungkook. His efforts to keep you close having little impact. Numerous injuries having sapped his strength.

Stretching him out, holding him down, they pin him with their weight. One of them securing his legs. Another holding his arm and torso, the majority of his heft used to force Jungkook's face into the cement. The leader kneeling all of his weight on his left arm to keep it flat.

As the tip of the screwdriver is pressed into his palm, Jungkook grapples to keep his hand closed to no avail. The shank piercing the meat of his palm. Screaming as the length is stabbed in and yanked out. Hissing through his teeth while the sharp point trails up. Reaching about halfway up his forearm it digs into the muscle. The blade slowly forcing its way into the skin, causing him to roar again.

All at once, a shot rings out. One of the intruders taking a bullet in the back. An assault of gunfire spreading across the height of the garage, sending the other two into a panic. Scrambling for their guns. Releasing Jungkook in the frenzy, who cradles his wounded hand for a moment before jumping on the attack. Finally having sufficient reinforcement to fight back.

Picking up the screwdriver with his good hand, he lunges at the surviving masked man. Dragging him off balance. Straddling his side. Stabbing down and around to drive the tool into his chest over and over. Burying the metal in the man's throat as a final strike. His damaged hand slamming down on the top of the screwdriver, forcing it through the other side of the man's neck.

Some of Jungkook's rage having been vented, he falls away panting watching the man, satisfied as he quickly bleeds to death.

The leader of the assailants, the source of all of this woe, is completely unmatched by the dozen men who suddenly surround him. They don't grant him the opportunity to even raise his weapon, shooting him in the shoulder, knocking him down. Incapacitating him and restraining him swiftly as he tries desperately to get loose.

There are a few seconds when the dust settles, where everything is quiet again. Only the sounds of wheezed breathing and footsteps taking any space.

Apart from the few men busy with securing the house and the area, all of them are at attention looking to assist their battered leader. Wanting to help. Waiting on an order.

"Her," he signals in your direction. "Get her to a hospital."

"You too, Boss." His second lieutenant leans down, helping Jungkook stand. Getting him to solid footing.

"I'm not dying in the next 20 minutes. Let's wrap this shit up first." He dismisses the gesture. Shirking off the pain at risk of appearing weak.

"And this one?" His first aims a gun at the intruders head.

"Patch him up. He's gonna die slowly," Jungkook's voice deepens as he repeats the man's own threat back at him.

His eyes following as he gets picked up and thrown into the trunk of one of the cars. The Mafia leader in him already, concocting ruthless plans in specific detail over all the ways he is going to torture him. And how he's going to silence any doubts about his strength that this attack may have caused.

Carried in another man's arms, you're taken to the back seat of a car. The movement string you awake. The pain keeping you immobilized and dazed.

Jungkook limping slightly follows after you. He presses his hand to your chest again, relieved as he feels your heart still beating, as he sees your eyes fluttering.

Your head laying on the seat, he leans over resting his forehead upside down on yours. "I'm so sorry baby." He whispers. His hands bunch tightly around your arms, pulling at your skin. The war of both sides of him crashing together. His eyes going cold, his breath becoming ragged.

Struggling to remain conscious, your eyes close again. Jungkook's bloody hand slapping down on your face, shocking your eyes back open. Tears instantly returning to your cheeks.

"Don't you dare die!" He hisses. His hand curls around your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "I'm not going to let other people think they can come at me. Take my things. Try to hurt me." He growls, speaking just loud enough for only you and him. "So you're gonna keep living Y/n. Cause until I give you permission, you don't have the right to die."

#bts fan fiction #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts jung jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #mafia jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #yandere #jungkook

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mylkys · 4 years ago

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ʜɪɢʜ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ

nanami kento x f!reader

warnings: 18+ smut. pwp. daddy kink. fingering.

word count: 1,667

“relax, princess. i’ve got you.”

you shivered as nanami littered kisses upon your nude body, your nipple pebbling under his wandering fingertips. he suckled small marks along your torso as he slithered down towards your splayed out legs. nanami sat on his knees as he explored with his lips, his hands now massaging the tender meat of your thighs.

“‘nami,” you whimpered. nanami cooed quietly at you, his thin lips perched in a small smile as he gazed up your body.

“hush, little one. daddy’s going to take care of you.”

you whined at the pet name, and your body obviously approved as more slick seeped out of your sensitive pussy. you watched as nanami took in the sight of your leaking sex, his forearms flexing as he adjusted his grip on your thighs. his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped.

“my little sweetheart is so wet, isn’t she? tell me what you want, darling,” he groaned. his thumbs moved to your cunt, and pulled apart the folds of your outer labia. nanami sighed as the cool air of the room chilled your hot flesh, your little hole fluttering with the need to be filled. “answer me, love.”

“i want-“ you shivered as nanami devoured your flush cunt with hungry eyes. “i want your mouth.”

“is that how you ask daddy, little one? try again.”

you whimpered at his reprimand, your thighs quivering besides his hips. “please daddy, please use your mouth.”

“good girl,” nanami groaned, and you blushed at his praise. his hands slipped to the back of your knees, and pushed them to your chest. “be a good darling and hold these for me.”

your eyes watered as you obeyed, your shaky hands replacing his. his eyes were hot as they committed your curled body to memory. his cock pressed heavily against the fabric of his pants, but he ignored it as he descended between your thighs.

nanami’s scorching breath fanned over your tingling lips, and his thumbs returned, spreading your labia wide for his wandering eyes. his pupils expanded as he took in the sight of your throbbing little clit.

“your little cunt is so pretty, sweetheart.” nanami dipped down and flicked his tongue over your tiny entrance, tasting both the flesh of your cunt and the sweetness of your juices. you whimpered at the stimulus.

“fuck, princess,” nanami growled, “your pussy tastes divine.”

nanami didn’t hesitate to dive into your pussy. he licked a long wet stripe from your perineum to your clit, drinking your slick as he mouth at your cunny.

“daddy!” you squealed, a burning heat enveloping your lower half.

nanami’s soft tongue poked and fluttered your engorged button. he suckled the little bud into his mouth and suckled, milking the over sensitive nerves with his lips. he released your clit with a pop, and licked another long strip over your pulsing cunt.

you gasped as his tongue lathered your pussy in a layer of saliva, and felt some of the slick drip down over your little pucker, chilling the sensitive rim. nanami was making a mess of your cunt.

“i could eat your little cunt all day, little one,” nanami murmured against your cunt, the vibrations going straight to your clit.

you warbled beautifully as he suckled your nub between his lips, his hands reaching up and grabbing at your tits. he tweaked your tight nipples with his fingertips, pulling and tugging the hard peaks with each moan you unleashed.

it became increasingly difficult to hold your knees as your hands shook. you whimpered as your finger slipped and one of your knees jerked.

nanami looked up from his meal, brows furrowed as he observed you. “are you okay, sweetheart?”

your lip quivered at his gentle voice, and you could feel little tears gather at the corners of your eyes. nanami cooed at your pathetic state. he massaged with soft flesh of your tummy soothingly, and let you catch your breath. you were always so easy to overwhelm when you were this deep in.

“i need you to answer me, darling. can you do that?” he questioned slowly. his lithe fingers helped ground you a bit, bringing you back from the haze just enough for you to answer.

“my-my legs. i-i can’t-!”

it was near impossible to form coherent sentences, but nanami being the good daddy he was, understood you completely.

“shh, little one. daddy’s got you. you can let go.”

your hands abandoned your legs in favor of grasping nanami’s hair, effectively ruining the impeccable style. he didn’t say anything, just offered you a reassuring smile, and wrapped his arms around your thighs. he pinned you down by his large hand folded over your stomach, and stroke the soft skin.

“don’t cum until i say.”

that was all the warning nanami gave you before diving night back where he left off. he sucked down the juices that accumulated at your entrance, and slipped inside.

you screamed as his tongue pumped inside your walls, feeling his pliable tongue thrusting in and out of your pulpy cunt. the loud schlick of his tongue fucking your pussy encased the bedroom, filling it with the sounds of your soaking sex.

“daddy!” you wailed as you yanked at his hair. he groaned at the pain, and his efforts increased. one of his hands smoothed down over your mons, and firmly stroked the pad of his thumb over your swollen clit. he circled his thumb over your clit, pressing it firmly against your public bone.

nanami groaned against your pussy as you screamed, the vibrations of his voice reverberating throughout your whole cunny. white hot pleasure began to cloak your body as his tongue continued to thrash between your swollen walls.

he panted heavily against your pussy, his hot breath washed over your cunt as he gulped you down. a knot in your pussy began to tighten as your orgasm built deeper into your core.

“daddy-“ you gasped. you were overwhelmed by the heat gathering in your tummy. his tongue pulled from your pussy, and you whined as he sat above you. his flicking thumb slowed but didn’t stop.

“are you close, sweetheart?” nanami asked sweetly, also condensing. his other hand moved from your tummy to your cunt, and he plunged his fingers inside. your walls were well lubricated with your slick and his spit, and your hole sucked them in easily.

you tossed your head back and cried as his finger delved deep inside your pussy, your hands grabbing at the sheets with a white-knuckle grip.

“answer me, little one. are. you. close?” nanami seethed in your ear.

you gasped out a weak mhm, and bobbed your head uselessly. it was hard to think, the only thing in your mind was the need for your daddy to make you cum.

“hold on,” he grunted. nanami waited for your weak hands to grab his shoulders, and when you did, he’ll broke loose.

nanami held no mercy for your pussy as he pistoned his fingers into your walls. you screamed as his finger curled harshly against your g-spot, hips bucking wildly at the influx of pleasure.

nanami growled at your wiggling hips, and pressed the hand near your clit firmly against your lower tummy, pinning you down. his fingers curled and uncurled against that fleshy spot in your pussy, practically vibrating with how fast he moved.

“da-addy!” you sobbed. the sensation was too much, you were so close. one of your hands abandoned his shoulders and dipped between you thighs, rubbing harshly against the clit he stopped stimulating.

normally nanami would scold you for touching your pussy without his permission, but he could feel just how tightly you were clenching around his fingers. you were on the brink of climax, and he’d do anything of it meant you’d get there.

“c’mon, little one. cum for daddy,” he encouraged, voice raspy and harsh, as if he’d been the one crying in pleasure all night.

your body heeded his command, and as you began to release, the sensation suddenly spiked. your orgasm was different, deeper, stronger, and seconds later, you shrieked as your cum splash over his hand and forearm, drenching his torso with ejaculate.

you shakes violently as your orgasm took over, the milk white cum squirting out of your over sensitive cunt and all over nanami. he’s desperate encouragements and pleas for you to keep cumming, keep cumming, don’t you fucking stop echoing through your hazy brain. his fingers never stalled, and when he noticed your hand was too shaky to keep up with flicking your clit, he slapped it away and took over.

you cried as another way over cum sprayed over him, drenching him with your release. your pussy burned as the sensation became too much, your orgasm now faded and finished, and you attempted to close your legs.

nanami quickly removed his fingers from deep within your cunt, and made you whimpered at the sudden empty feeling. he sucked his fingers clean shucked off his soaked shirt before gathering you in his arms, cradling you gently to his make chest.

“shh, sweetheart. you did so good for daddy. such a good sweetheart for me,” nanami mumbled into your hair as he pressed kisses against your face. he waited patiently for you to come back down.

a few moments passed before enough of your brain fog melted away for you to think, and you noticed his heavily swollen cock pressing firmly against your hip. you gulped as you looked up at his lust-blown pupils.

“daddy,” you whispered shakily. he smiled softly at you, tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear.

“yes, love?”

you broke from his gaze to look back at his large bulge, and shyly cupped him in your hand. he groaned and bucked lightly into your palm.

“i want your cock, daddy,” you whimpered, looking back up at him with wide and wet eyes. he inhaled sharply and pinned you to the bed.

“don’t worry, little one. it’s all yours.”

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fic #drabble #reader insert

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nolpat0 · 3 years ago

Text

too late | t. jost

summary: he left her, but he realizes it was a mistake too late

wc: 1,724

warnings: break up, angst

Cold, numb fingers curled around the steaming hot paper of coffee cup, gripping the fresh beverage with new desperation, the owner trying to will the heat into his frozen bones by sheer force of thought. Tyson huffed softly, his breath clouding thickly in the frigid, winter air, a shiver snaking down his spine despite the thick, wool layers he wrapped himself in that morning. Muttering a soft curse as he remembers just why he should've grabbed the thick, fuzzy gloves that were currently sitting on his entry side table, Tyson moves from the busy, buzzing street corner and quickly strides across the crosswalk. As if he can merely outwalk the cold threatening to petrify his bones; and Tyson was pretty damn sure it was a real possibility. Finally searching his surroundings, Tyson's dark eyes scan the scenery of the cold, wintery lense of Colorado's capital, trying to pick out his car from the rest of the masses in the over-stuffed parking lot. His dark eyes land on a couple, laughing loudly in the cold air, as free and in love as they could be, paying no mind to the freezing temperatures or the snow littering the ground in various, black slush clumps. A bell of familiarity rings in his mind at the sound of the girl's silvery laughter, but Tyson is unable to place the exact memory begging to be released to the surface of his consciousness. A tiny, confused frown tugs at the edges of his pink, chapped lips as his heavy, boot-clad feet shuffle closer. He knows the laughter.

And then it hits him: her.

All the icy breath trapped in his pink lungs rushes out, leaving him breathless and stunned, a sharp shard of aching pain slanting through his chest and cutting against the muscle of his wild heart. Tyson blinks, his hazel eyes shuttering in bitter surprise as he watches her with the unknown man. His heart goes tumbling to his stomach, burning away into nothing but ash when he sees her fingers curl around the upper arm of his jacket, her familiar, toothy smile tugging at her pretty face. She's laughing, a high and pretty sound that dislodges a horde of repressed memories from the back of his mind, bringing them forth and sparking a wave of stinging tears to prick the backs of his eyes. But she's not with him or holding on to Tyson, she's with him. At first, Tyson is unable to place him, his brain too overloaded with the endless stream of merry moments of the past two years with her to try and problem solve why the unfamiliar man is vaguely intriguing. And then he realizes why the sharp cut of his low voice is familiar: it’s Zach. Her college from work that Tyson always thought was too flirty and willing to touch her and brush his fingers against her arm when she said something funny.

She was now with Zach. The realization and reality of the statement hit Tyson like a freight train, barreling into him without remorse and at full speed, knocking the breath from his lungs once again. Tyson vaguely felt his white-knuckled grip on his scalding coffee loosen, shock waves of pain and regret rippling through him.

She looked up, crinkled eyes full of mirth and laughter flickering up to catch Tyson’s dark eyes, feet accidentally stalling against the snow-clogged gravel as they locked eyes. Tyson, for the life of him, was unable to turn away and continue the seemingly futile hunt for his car. And she was too stricken with shock to register that she’d been staring. Old, familiar feelings clawed at Tyson’s throat as he regarded her, begging to be released. But he held them back, determined to hide his regret from her and her all-knowing eyes. She dipped her chin, the barest form of a nod as the edges of her lips curled into a soft, melancholy smile. Her feet continued their previous path and she mumbled a quick, halfhearted apology to Zach before allowing her gloved hand to fall into his naturally, tugging him away from the scene of her broken heart before either boy noticed. Tyson was still watching the sidewalk she disappeared down long after her figure faded from sight.

———

Standing in the cramped, messy confines of Zach’s hallway bathroom, she pressed her fingers against the worn door in an illusion of more privacy as she dropped to the tile floor. Her eyes roam over her illuminated phone screen, rapt on the single notification that alerted her during dinner.

Tyson Jost: Voicemail

With shaking, uncertain hands, she unlocked her phone, eyes catching the photo of her pressing her lips against Zach’s cheek. The background was a familiar pose, one she and Tyson would make thousands of times in selfies in a mockery of the pose, grinning like fools every time the camera snapped and captured them in their happiness. Memories flitted across her eyelids, stacks of them as they played their heartbreaking adoration back to her. She pressed her fingers against the call app, playing Tyson’s voicemail.

Hi.

Tyson’s gravelly, unsure voice filled the small bathroom, reigniting a familiar ache in her chest, reminding her just how much she missed the familiar lilt of his calming, smile-lined voice.

I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I- I felt like- I don't know. I feel like I should say something.

With baited, frozen breath she curls around the device clutched in her palm, hanging on to every crackling syllable that hums from the speakers as if she can picture Tyson pacing, in the small, tiled room of his cramped kitchen as he hesitates with every breathed word. She's almost grateful for the conversational, thought-like cadence of his playing message, if only for the fact she can better picture him, imagine the scene of him talking to her under the warm glow of his kitchen light.

It isn't fair for me to say this. I know that, but Jesus, I gotta get this off my chest, baby.

Her heart stutters wildly in her chest at the achingly familiar pet name, the quiet murmur of her breath cutting off rapidly as a renewed wave of pain crashes through her body, burning every nerve. The subconsciousness of the saccharine saying has her head-first tumbling into every moment of Tyson's second nature actions of his love; the brush of his thumb against the soft back of her hand whenever she clung to him, the press of his lips into the layers of her hair when she laced her arms around his neck, the tug of her legs onto his lap whenever they lay on the couch together with his eyes still trained on the TV.

Letting you go was the worst decision I ever made- in my life. My mom and Kacey let me know that- like all the time. I kinda hate them for it, but I know they're right.

Fuck. I don't know what to do- but I- seeing you today nearly fucking destroyed me, okay? Like I couldn't breathe for like a minute and I thought I was sort of moving on, but now I know I just forgot how much I still love you.

Red-rimmed eyes going wide at the rashly truthful confession, she hiccups, throat catching on the breath as a quiver over sakes the tips of her fingers. She never thought she'd hear the confession again; hear the rough syllables of his voice etch out the words she imprinted on her traitorous heart.

———

She remembers the first time he finally confessed the words to her; after she'd confessed them a week prior.

Tyson's long fingers had run through his head of dark-honey curls enough to brush them out significantly, and she knew he was on edge from the glint in his eyes as he looked at her. She'd hesitantly laughed softly, eyebrows furrowed as she slowly surveyed him,

"Tyson? Why are you so nervous?"

"Right?" he cried in sudden protest, a choked laugh falling from his lips. "You already said it, and I know you love me, but I'm still nervous as fuck to say it back."

Her eyes crinkled gently at the fumbled words falling from his lips, a grin tugging at her lips s she reached for him, smoothing over the collar of his shirt as she giggled lightly. "You don't have to say it, you know."

"No, I want to." Tyson shakes his head softly, dark eyes intent on hers as his calloused palms slide against hers and his fingers curl atop hers. "Because I love you. So much."

———

A soft, grief-stricken sob escapes the boundaries of her shut lips, echoing off the pale tiles of the small bathroom as she places shaking fingers against her chapped lips to silence herself; saving herself from the inevitably embarrassing moment Zach finds her sobbing over a long, fumbling voicemail from her ex on the dirty floor of his bathroom, still as devastatingly in love with said ex as the day she confessed it.

Leaning her head against the wall of the room, she pushes a shaking, broken breath past her lips, trying to reel herself in, scooping up her shattered pieces into some semblance of herself so she can wrap her head around what his message means and what it means for her.

"Damn you, Tyson," she breathes with gentle conviction, squeezing her eyes shut as she wishes for the millionth time she just deleted the message instead of sneaking away to listen to it. Or, if she really got all three wishes: Tyson never let go of her smaller hand and let the shining glass of her fragile heart slip from his fingers as he tried to ease the blow with his calming, sorrowful words.

Shattered into thousands of tiny, beautifully glittering pieces on the floor of her boyfriend's bathroom, she accepts the one thing roaring wildly in her head in an endless, unrelenting loop that won't let her go. She might not understand how she'll continue on, or what this means for the clueless current boyfriend settled on his couch, or for the curly-haired boy with words capable enough to break her. But she understands one thing with distressing clarity.

She is in love with Tyson, and she'll never stop.

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bwbatta · 4 years ago

Text

two - persuasion

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship, right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: some swears but that’s all!

Word count: 2623

A/N: let’s go for part 2 then?! Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! Everyone who has asked to be on the taglist has been added and if you would like to be on the list, just send me a message! Dividers are by the super talented @firefly-graphics 🤩

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 3

The plan was set.

Draco and you had talked some more about what being ‘in a relationship’ entailed, whilst at the same time avidly avoiding Pansy in your free time. In fact, you were surprised with how little you’d have to change the dynamic between the two of you.

The first point was friendship, which was easy enough you thought. There’s no point in starting a fake relationship if you don’t get on well in the first place.

Second, communication. You agreed to be open and honest with each other, this whole plan wouldn’t work if you weren’t telling each other everything.

And finally third, intimacy.

This one was obvious enough and it was more than just hand holding or sharing the odd kiss or two, you knew that. It was about selling your relationship to be believable to everyone else around you, including your closest friends.

One of which was Hermione.

The plan on paper was simple, you both said you’d start off small and work your way into being a couple, so why did you feel this pit of anxiety in your stomach?

Nerves? Sure, you chalked it down to that.

So when you entered the Great Hall the next morning, late and in desperate need of caffeine, you somehow didn’t expect your ‘boyfriend’ to approach you with a steaming mug of coffee.

You completely missed the blonde boy too as you took your normal seat with a frantic expression on your face. Your roommates didn’t wake you up like they usually did so when you woke and found no one there, you almost screamed when you checked the time.

“Coffee coffee coffee” the mantra on your tongue “where the hell is the coffee?!”

Hermione looked amused as she packed up the book she was previously reading into her bag.

“Ron finished it moments ago, there’s no more”

“What?!” You blanched “there’s none?”

Hermione shook her head, the answer a definite no.

With energy lacking and spirit deflated, you grabbed a couple slices of toast and buttered them quickly, at least trying to put some food in your stomach even if it wasn’t your usual caffeine shot.

However when Hermione froze slightly, eyes narrowly following something behind you with a glare, you frowned at her confused. That was until Draco perched on the seat next to you, holding a mug of coffee between his hands.

“Granger” he greeted in a civil manner causing the witch to freeze in shock, half expecting an offhand snide comment about her blood status. He then turned to you and offered the coffee, “thought you might need this”

“But I thought there was none left!”

“I saved you it”

“You saved me a coffee?”

“Kept it warm too”

You could’ve cried when you took the mug from him and immediately the drink warmed your hands. Eagerly taking a sip, you found the coffee itself was exactly to your liking.

You went to point it out but before a word could leave your lips, Draco rolled his eyes at you with a smile.

“What? You thought I didn’t know how you took your coffee?”

The question was rhetorical, not that you cared. Exhaustion was the only thing you felt that morning up until then, quickly being replaced with utter fondness for the Malfoy boy next to you.

“Thank you” you told him as he grinned back at you

“Don’t mention it”

Draco raised his hand and swiped away a lock of hair which had fallen out of your two second attempt to pin it back this morning in your rush.

Your breath hitched slightly as his eyes found yours and he leaned in towards your ear.

“How am I doing?”

Your brain stalled.

Right.

Of course.

He was acting like he cared about you in front of Hermione.

To convince Hermione.

Who of course, confirmed with a quick glance, was looking between the two of you with suspicion in her eyes.

Quickly painting a smile across your face like he’d said something sweet, you pulled back and shot him a dazzling smile.

“Alright, I guess” you said, vague enough so Hermione wouldn’t clock onto what he really said.

“Good” he grinned back at you before standing from the seat. “I’ll see you after class later, yeah?”

You nodded at him, and with a fond smile at you and a courteous nod to Hermione, he left the two of you be, heading to his first class.

With the thought in the back of your mind that you should probably also get to class, you were stopped by a substantially confused Hermione who looked at you like you’d grown another head.

“Was I just in some parallel universe?”

“What?”

“‘What?’ Seriously, that’s how you’re going to answer that question?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you shrugged your shoulders before standing and picking up your bag and the mug of coffee from Draco.

“What aren’t you telling me?” The Granger girl continued to interrogate you as she too stood, though with a lot more vigor.

“There’s a lot of things I’m not telling you Hermione, but if it’s anything to do with Draco, I don’t know what you mean”

Striding out the Great Hall, she quickly followed you, pestering for more information which you avoided expertly until you got to your first class you shared.

“Why did Malfoy get you coffee?”

“Because it was a nice thing to do”

“Why was he civil with me?”

“Maybe he’s seen the light”

“(Y/N)! Tell me! I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight otherwise and you know it!”

With a sigh you turned to face her.

Putting on a performance like it was tough for you to keep a secret, you ‘umm’d and ‘ahh’d under her questioning until you really had had enough of the interrogation.

“Okay, fine, we may or may not be dating” you said like it wasn’t a big deal

“What?!”

“Miss Granger!” Professor McGonagall’s voice snapped “if you’re so done with your conversation, perhaps you could start writing your essay?”

“Yes, Professor. Sorry, Professor”

With a glare shot your way, meaning she’d grill you later for information, the bookworm turned back to her work and started writing furiously.

It was later that day that you found out that Lavender Brown had overheard your conversation with Hermione and so naturally, the gossip that you and Draco were dating was spread across the entire school.

Some believed the rumour, others didn’t so much. This of course included Blaise, the Weasley twins, and of course, the ever stubborn Pansy.

When the boys finally cornered each respective friend, they of course had some questions that needed to be addressed.

Blaise cornered Draco first at Lunch.

The Malfoy boy had just started to tuck into his food when a book slammed down on the table next to him, startling the boy.

Blaise pinned him with a hard look.

“Is it true you’re dating (Y/N)?”

“How’d you hear that?!”

“Word gets around fast... so, is it true?”

“Yes it’s true” Draco rolled his eyes at his friend

He was honestly shocked at how quickly the rumour had gone round the castle, though he suspected some of the Gryffindor girls were behind it. They always seemed like they pounced on any gossip going.

This also meant, Pansy had probably heard it by now.

Draco’s interest peaked.

“Who’d you hear it from?” The blonde asked his friend

“Bulstrode of all people” Blaise rolled his eyes “thought I might’ve found out from my friend himself but apparently not”

“Sorry man, it only really happened yesterday”

Blaise waved his apology off

“So tell me, is this for real? It’s not a prank or anything, she knows you think you’re going out with her right?”

“Yes, (Y/N) knows we’re going out” Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation “she’s also not being forced or blackmailed into going out with me if that puts your mind at rest”

This wasn’t technically true and Draco fought the urge to cringe slightly as he remembered the deal he had made with you.

Despite the other copious Christmas presents he had to get you, being civil to Granger wasn’t so bad he remarked. They only shared a few classes, all of which were with you present, so all he really had to do was ignore the fact the muggleborn witch existed and he’d keep his side of the deal up.

“Good” Blaise huffed, finally sitting down next to him “can I ask you something though?”

“You just did”

“Smart arse” Blaise rolled his eyes but continued on “what made you ask her out?”

Draco paused.

You hadn’t actually discussed this so there wasn’t a definite plan on what response to give. The boy trusted himself to come up with a decent answer though so instead of panicking, he said the first thing that popped into his head.

“I’ve been in love with her for years”

Well... he didn’t expect that to be his response.

“You have?” Blaise asked also taken aback

“Umm, yeah, sure, she’s the one for me you know?”

Draco kicked himself once again

Why couldn’t he think straight?!

“She’s just... she’s so funny, you know? One of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Her laugh, man, is enough to make me laugh even harder because have you heard it?! It’s hilarious!”

Unconsciously, Draco began to smile at the thought of you.

“Also, she’s super talented at anything she does, which would be wildly annoying if she wasn’t so modest about it. She’s also the most sarcastic person I’ve ever met, yet also the kindest. She’s got so many good qualities it’s hard to even think about anything bad about her.”

Draco stopped, breaking out of his train of thought.

Now that... that, he really hasn’t expect to be his response.

“I’m glad you’re happy then, Draco” the Zabini boy smiled at him “seems like you really like her”

“Yeah... I do”

You were pounced upon by both the Weasley twins not much later on, both demanding answers.

“You’re dating Malfoy?!”

“As in Draco Malfoy? The ferret?”

“He’s not a ferret!” You rolled your eyes at the pair. “And yes I am. Why? Do you not believe the castle gossip?”

“We heard it-“ Fred began

“Still working on believing it” George finished

You rolled your eyes and continued on to the library, your original destination before you got jumped by the identical redheads.

“Believe what you want” you shrugged trying to play it off.

“See (Y/N), here’s the thing, I don’t know if I believe you’re actually going out with him” Fred stated causing you to frown.

“What do you mean?”

“Freddie here believes you guys are faking it for some reason” George chucked an arm round your shoulders as they continued to walk with you.

“Why would we be faking it?!” You laughed like the idea was ridiculous.

“I just know you wouldn’t go for him” Fred shrugged “your standards are too high.”

“My standards are too high?!”

You were mildly offended at the suggestion, no matter how correct Fred was about the two of you faking your relationship.

Reaching the library quickly, you turned to the boys who had halted at the sight of the only room in the castle they adamantly wouldn’t enter.

“Well, unless your plan is to follow me into the forbidden room of books, I’ll see you guys later?”

Not waiting for an answer you swung open the door, mind now focused on studying for that test you had coming up in Herbology later that week.

“I still don’t believe you!” Fred shouted after you before the door closed shut behind you

All you could do was roll your eyes.

It was dinner later that evening when you saw your ‘boyfriend’ again since breakfast when he’d given you the coffee.

By now, you two were the talk of the castle which is why you weren’t surprised to see a fuming brunette strut up to you. The Slytherin girl looked as if she should have smoke coming out her ears you thought, not that you’d tell her that and anger her even more.

“(Y/N)” Pansy sniffed almost impatiently as she reached you.

“Pansy” you replied innocently which seen fo infuriate her more.

“I heard you’re supposedly dating my boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t help but phrase the question like you really didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Draco!”

“...Draco?”

“Draco Malfoy!” She practically growled at you

“Ohh, Draco as in my boyfriend?”

“Yes! Wait no-“

You snorted at her slip up and ignored her as you sidestepped and entered the Great Hall spying the familiar mop of platinum blonde hair, sending him a smile,

Before you could make your way over to him though, a hand grabbed your arm with nails roughly digging into your skin.

“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you” Pansy seethed

“Well I was done talking to you” you shrugged truely bored with the girl “I’d appreciate it now though if you let go of my arm.”

“No, I’m not finishe-“

“Yes you are” Draco cut her off this time

Pansy’s expression looked like her brain had short circuited for a moment before she gathered herself and smiled flirtily at the boy.

“Hey Drakey baby”

“Firstly, for the millionth time, don’t call me that” Draco narrowed his eyes at her into a glare. “Secondly, (Y/N) also asked you to let go of her arm so I suggest you do so.”

At once, like your arm was on fire, Pansy dropped her grip which she had forgotten about as soon as the Malfoy had entered the conversation.

You rubbed your arm as you pulled it to your chest. Pansy’s nails had dug deep and actually split the skin on your arm slightly by the force she had held you by.

“And finally, I’d appreciate it if you’d fuck off and didn’t harass my girlfriend, especially about lies that we’re somehow involved.”

With that being said, Draco wrapped his arm around your waist and escorted you over to the spot he was originally sitting at, letting you take his seat while he forced Crabbe to move down a space so he could sit next to you.

“Thanks for that” you sent him a smile “though I can handle Pansy”

“I know” he replied with a grin of his own “I just needed to get that off my chest. Let me see your arm.”

“It’s nothing-“

“(Y/N)”

With a sigh you reluctantly held out your arm so he could see the damage Pansy had done. Spotting the crescent shaped breaks in your skin, his jaw clenched in anger.

“Psychotic bitch” he mumbled under his breath barely loud enough for you to hear, “episkey”.

The wounds sewed themselves back together in no time and you send him a grateful smile.

“Heard you got cornered by Blaise earlier”.

“Heard the same about you with the Weasley twins”.

“Mmm” you shrugged “there was bound to be a few that didn’t just automatically believe we’re dating. Some might need a little more persuasion, especially Pansy. Also it is still only the first day since the gossip broke though, it might just be that we wait for the news to settle.”

“I guess” he rolled his eyes playing with the pasta on his plate with his fork, before pausing slightly, setting it down and turning to you.

His eyes glanced round the hall quickly before snapping back to you with a grin. Leaning towards you, he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you slightly closer to him as his lips became level with your ear.

You fought the urge to shiver.

“Or... it just means we’ll have to make it all the more believable, Sweetheart.”

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@weasleytwinswheezes @azkabanlexi @streetfighterrichie @queen-of-the-coven @gdee703 @thatguppienamedbae @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @savcks @remmyswritings @thescarletknight2014 @w0nderr @heyiheardyouwereawildone36 @moonlightorbit @ceeellewrites @nicole-prz @depressedchilipepper @swiftlymoniquesblog

#draco malfoy series #dating draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter #harry potter series #draco x y/n #draco imagine

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writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

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the solution is outsourcing // fred weasley

Summary: the reader is awkward… really awkward, but quite brilliant, really. Maybe that’s why Fred’s so interested

Request: hi lovely, love your writing! can i req a fluffy fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader please? maybe the reader knows something that’ll help him with a prank or something?

A/N: I had such a hard time writing this if not purely because I fell down a hunger games rabbit hole and felt like I was 12 again BUT ALSO halfway through this I was creasing because I kept having to tell myself that I absolutely could not name this ‘the highs and lows of high school quidditch’

Reader: Ravenclaw

Warnings: 1 swear word maybe?

Hogwarts, as you discovered pretty early on, was not at as boring as most schools in the area. First of all, there weren’t any other schools in the area due to it being a castle nestled just within the Scottish Highlands and all. Secondly, being a school for wizards, it had its fair share of perks that came with the territory: from learning about thestrals to broomsticks to sleeping draughts and everything in between, life at Hogwarts had a certain je ne sais quoi that most schools just weren’t cut out for.

After the second time Harry Potter, a boy in the year below, was almost killed, you figured that Hogwarts’ flair came less from its magical subjects and more from the drama of constant near-death experiences. Regardless, though, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Amidst the chaos, it was easy to forget sometimes that Hogwarts was still a school. A school full of teenagers. A school full of incredibly gifted and incredibly impressionable teenagers.

Not only were you extremely blessed to be learning all that you were but you were also fairly bright, and so you were often very dedicated to your studies, making sure to soak up all the knowledge you could from every possible source. But even you weren’t immune to the consequences of a high school social hierarchy; a fact that would probably explain why your mouth was drying up faster than the Sahara Desert watching Fred Weasley across the room.

He always had this look in his eye like he knew something everyone else didn’t, you thought, your attention divided somewhat unequally between him and your History of Magic textbook. He also always managed to look attractive. You hummed as he turned, starting to approach your table. Wait, what? Your table?

Undeniably, Fred was one of the most popular boys in school.

Both handsome and hilarious, he and his twin brother George were infamous for their pranks and notorious for their quidditch playing. Everybody knew who they were and if they didn’t, they would soon enough.

Your friends, usually so engrossed in their own discussions, grew silent and your hands stilled on your textbook, your fingers pinching at the old pages. It’s not like you often watched Fred Weasley across the courtyard… or classrooms… or the Great Hall.

Well.

To your defence, though, you were usually a lot less obvious and he was usually a lot less heading in your direction.

Why was he coming over to your bench? He probably wasn’t, you thought. It was probably just a detour. Or a prank. You swallowed, unable to tear your eyes off of him. The courtyard was loud with chatter, but you’d wager your heartbeat was louder. Why was he still heading your way?

“Hi,” he said leisurely, crossing his arms over one another as he stood next to your bench. His lean muscles strained under his jumper and though your perspective was warped by your goo-goo eyes and the fact you were sat down, it was still fairly obvious that he was tall. He had the aura of someone tall, you decided, and if his crooked grin was anything to go by, he was apparently completely aware of the effect he had on you and everyone else, for that matter.

You looked behind you, your confusion growing when you found only air and realised that he was, in fact, talking to you.

You frowned, your lips puckering as you tried to form a word, any word.

“What?”

Maybe not that word. In fact, maybe any other word would have been better.

“Uh,” he said, leaning backwards and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Hi?”

You cursed yourself under your breath.

“Hello?” you replied, your tone unsure.

“I’m Fred,” he said, his uneasy expression replaced quickly with the same charming smile.

Before your brain could catch up with your mouth, you scoffed. “I know.”

“Merlin,” you muttered under your breath, blinking and swallowing back the dryness in your throat. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

The amused smirk playing on his lips almost definitely blew a fuse in your brain.

“I’ve been looking for you actually,” he said, placing his hand on your table and leaning over.

If his words weren’t enough to send you over the edge, his proximity plummeted your brain into some alternate reality where it was unavoidable to say awkward things to attractive strangers.

“Well, it’s your lucky day!” you chimed, your cheerful grin dying on your lips as you heard your own words. Why you couldn’t just behave normally was beside you.

Fred didn’t seem to mind nor notice how painfully awkward you felt.

“Isn’t it just?” he said, his surprised expression relaxing into a smirk. He turned to one of your friends opposite you and pointed to the empty space next to him. “D’you mind if I sit here, mate?”

“’Course not,” your friend said, shooting you an entertained smile and sliding up so Fred could sit facing you. His knees touched yours as he clambered over the bench.

“Now,” Fred said, his tone serious as a decidedly playful glint flickered in his eyes. “I need your help.”

You opened your mouth, probably sucking all of the air out of the quad in the process as your eyebrows knitted together. You didn’t think Fred Weasley even knew who you were. Thankfully, he didn’t wait for your brain-cells to cooperate to form a reply.

“My sister says you’re a genius. I’ll assume that’s true; I’ve never seen anyone actually read this,” he gestured towards your textbook with a lopsided smirk. “So, are you actually a mastermind or are you just fooling the rest of us?”

His eyes were so bright as he spoke, so expectant as well. Expectant? Oh, a question.

You let your gaze trail down his face slowly. His eyes were warmer up close, you thought, and he had lots of tiny freckles.

“Hello?” he said, waving his hand in front of you with a half-smile and an amused frown.

“Um,” you stalled, swallowing. “Your sister. Oh, yes, Ginny. Your sister. Ginny Weasley.”

You nodded, letting your mind catch up to the conversation and avoiding any glances towards his smiling features. “I tutored her last year. Can’t see why: she didn’t need my help. She’s rather sharp herself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred rushed, already bored of the topic of his sister as he dismissed you and leant in closer. “She said that you were brilliant, though. Especially at Charms.”

Your face warmed at his words and Fred watched rather curiously as you looked away, placing your hands into your lap and fiddling with your quill under the table.

“I’m pretty good,” you said, mulling it over. “I think Flitwick just likes me.”

“Yeah, right, anyway,” he snorted disbelievingly. He pursed his lips before leaning forward on his elbows. “I need your help with a charm for a prank.”

“A prank?”

“A prank, indeed.”

You looked to your left, watching your friends pretend not to listen to your conversation. Your brain hadn’t fully caught on to idea yet that you were sat even in close proximity to Fred Weasley, let alone that you were talking to him. And now he wanted you to help him? You couldn’t decide whether stranger things had happened.

“Please?” he said, tilting his head to the side and widening his eyes. Before he sat down at your table, you didn’t know Fred Weasley; you only knew of Fred Weasley and so, what you didn’t know was that he was born with a gift. A gift that involved possessing a pair of the world’s greatest puppy dog eyes. He watched smugly as your indecision faltered and you cracked a smile at his silly expression. Something stirred in his chest at the sight of you.

“What’s the prank?” you asked, keeping up the façade of reservation. Fred knew, though: he’d got you hooked.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, waving your hands around wildly. Your friends had long since disappeared from the courtyard, off to their classes or to study elsewhere. “How are you going to give him the hair dye?”

“Ah,” Fred sighed animatedly, stretching his back from his hunched-over position. “That’s for me to know, isn’t it?”

You smiled, pursing your lips together as you shared a conspiratorial look.

Being around Fred, it seemed, was much easier than first anticipated. When you got over the initial shock of him a) knowing you exist and b) talking to you, you found yourself falling into a comfortable rhythm, a light banter of ideas. Every so often, though, you were struck by the slope of his nose or the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were lucky, you realised, that you had such a good excuse to distract you from just staring at him the whole time.

“Alright,” you said tightly, frowning at the parchment you had ripped out to scribble notes on. Fred’s eyes followed your face. “I think I can do it.”

“Really?”

His face lit up and your stomach dropped at how cute he looked, butterflies fluttering in its wake.

“How?”

Your brows drew together and you bit your lip, fingers drumming lightly on the paper.

“Let me-“ you said, standing up abruptly and circling around the otherwise empty bench, slotting yourself beside him without a second thought.

“Right, so I think that if you take a simple transfiguration charm and then layer it-“ You paused as a deep crease imprinted on Fred’s forehead. “Look,” you insisted, leaning closer to him and pushing your notes around, using your finger to point at your words. “All you have to do really is layer the charms to make them harder to undo and then…”

Fred didn’t listen to the rest. He couldn’t, really. Not when he could feel your warmth next to him, your shoulder pressed against his and your breath fanning against his cheek every time you looked up. He couldn’t figure out how he never noticed you before. Gruffly, he swallowed, forcing himself to pay attention.

“You top it all off with a pre-emptive counter charm and the hair dye will last a while,” you nodded, pleased with your work. “His hair will probably grow out sooner than he can fix the colour.”

Turning to Fred, only slightly surprised that he was already looking at you, you grinned as he let out a deep throaty chuckle.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he muttered, shaking his head with his tongue poking out between his lips. “You are bloody brilliant.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he snatched up the piece of parchment, swung his legs over the bench and raced off, his cheerful demeanour almost making up for the way your heart sank at him leaving. You watched him disappear down the corridor and sighed, letting your head loll backwards. The idea that things would just go back to how they were plagued your mind as you packed away your books, resting your knees on the bench.

He’d always be Fred Weasley, the most popular boy in school, and you’d just be you. Back to normal.

“Oh,” Fred said breathlessly as he appeared behind you. You couldn’t help the smile that lifted your cheeks as you raised your eyebrow.

Your smile dropped, though, when he leant closer and pressed his lips ever so delicately to your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact and you could feel the rush of blood to your face.

“I’ll find a way to thank you for your help,” he said, beaming at your surprised expression. “Promise.”

It took a week for them to finalise the prank, it seemed. You wondered whether you’d just missed the outcome until one morning, Draco Malfoy stormed into the Great Hall with a scowl and bright orange hair. His entrance was met with whistles and cheers and as you looked over at the Gryffindor table, your eyes widened as they met Fred’s. Whilst his brother and their friends laughed and jeered, he just grinned at you. With a small burst of courage, you waved. He pursed his lips in amusement before he lifted up a paper aeroplane in his hand, gesturing to throw it.

Your eyebrows creased at the idea, but you watched with your heart beating in your chest as the aeroplane soared over to you, dropping gently onto your empty plate. Looking up at Fred, you frowned, unable to keep the smile off of your face. He urged you to open it, making faces as if to say ‘what are you waiting for?’.

You chuckled; the paper rough on your fingertips as you unfolded it. Written in rather jaunty handwriting, was a simple question signed off with a simple ‘-F’.

You, me, Hogsmeade, this weekend?

You could’ve got whiplash from how quickly your head shot up. Even from so far away, the nervousness and anticipation on Fred’s face were beyond evident and painfully endearing. You nodded, biting your lip to suppress your smile. You’d have thought it was infectious given his own shit-eating grin. He shot you a wink and turned back to his friends and you found yourself working out exactly how long you had until your date with nonother than Fred Weasley.

harry potter tag list: (added later bc braincells - some didnt work)

@creator-appreciator @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness @xinyourdreamsx @brainlesspasta @hariosborn @staringmoony @rexorangecouny @alittletoomanyobsessions @peachesandpinks @yuptha-tsme @obsessedwithrandomthings @dreamer821 @iprobablyshipit91 @in-slytherin-we-trust @haphazardhufflepuff @princesof-theuniverse @whovianayesha @msmimimerton @extra-trash77 @potterverseimagine @my-own-mindpalace @sxrensxngwrites @damonwhitlock @susceptible-but-siriusexual @answer-the-sirens @thisismysketchbook @ickle-ronniekins @harrysweasleys

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter #imagine #writing

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scathecraw · 4 years ago

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BBRae Week 2021 - Day 1: Unconventional Kiss

Raven had been dancing around the issue for weeks now, and both she and Gar knew it. There had been a few near misses after a date gone well, a few breathless close calls during training, and one precipitous moment in the kitchen that fell apart when the smoke detector signaled their distraction.

They had been good dates. Very good dates, to be quite honest. Raven had expected that they would go nearly that well, and that had been why she had held off for so long. With all the emotional vulnerability and insightful talks and fantastic company and so many other things that came with dating someone you had been attracted to for years, she knew that the other shoe would drop, and she would have to just plunge in headfirst. And Gar had been patient – he wasn’t one to rush, especially with her. But he wanted it. And, god help her, she wanted it, too.

A perfect first kiss. The First Kiss, for both of them, hung up on each other for so long that they had never made any real attempts to find anyone else. Kori’s magazines had promised that the first kiss was always awkward and had to be refined by, hrm,repeated practice, but that was only a small part of the fear that gripped Raven when she thought of actually, really putting lips to lips.

It wasn’t Gar. She fully expected him to be just as bad as she was for a while (and likely longer given how quick she could pick things up). It wasn’t even what might… come after. Not as such. It was just… just… it was Important. Capital “I” Important – that things go well. Despite the promise of a bad first kiss by seemingly everyone who had ever kissed, it had to go right. Too wet or too dry, wrong head tilt, wrong duration, whatever – but she wanted to kiss him and do it over and over again and what if he didn’t want to or what if there was no chemistry or what if she sneezed or got so nervous she vomited or any number of things that would, according to all her latest nightmares, put him off wanting her the way she wanted him.

And he seemed so damn blithe about it. Like he couldn’t be less worried, even though she had felt his pulse race and could practically hear his internal monologue turning into a full blown soliloquy. He had that placid smile and those sparkling eyes and smelled like warmth and pine and it was so stupid how he wouldn’t just admit how nervous he was so they could be nervous together.

No, she had to be the mature one and feel all the butterflies for them both. She could practically hear his corny joke about never getting butterflies because he was vegetarian. Stupid Gar and stupid kissing.

It would happen. She would make it happen. And it wouldn’t be perfect, or probably even a very good kiss, but it would be right. Eventually.

____

There was an awful lot of noise and fleeing civilians for an evening out, even at the pier.

Nightwing sighed from atop his favorite ride at the boardwalk, the Ferris Wheel, as he retrieved his communicator and alerted the team. “Titans, we’ve got work to do. Something big is causing trouble at the east entrance. Star and I are on our way and will meet you there.” With that, he stood up in the precariously rocking carriage and Starfire lifted him by the arms, taking off in the direction of the disturbance. Cyborg, heretofore incognito on a date, immediately excused himself and waded through the crowds, shedding his holo-disguise. He was alerted to his passing teammates by a green blur, and called out to Raven as she passed, asking for a ride on one of her ink-black levitating discs. She obliged and they took off after Changeling’s racing avian form.

Gar was the fastest one to respond in these situations. Superhuman reactions and mobility got him to the trouble faster than any of his teammates, and he was proud of it. It meant that he was the first one to engage the enemy, which was a dangerous gambit when he didn’t know what the enemy was, but someone had to be first on the line when every second was a danger to innocent people. In this case, it was more an annoyance than any real threat. Kitten was throwing a very public and destructive temper tantrum, as she tended to do within a few weeks of release/escape.

Her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Fang, was nearby and suffering the brunt of the auditory assault while a swarm of mutated grubs ate their way through stalls and prizes alike. Kitten was waving the control device as she gesticulated wildly, and the chance to end the whole debacle in one fell swoop was too tempting.

Without waiting for backup or giving away his presence, Changeling darted forward as a seagull, beak agape as he neared the remote. He had timed it perfectly, if not for Fang’s suddenly outstretched spiderleg. The blow sent him tumbling into a pile of cheap stuffed animals and he transformed back into himself. The arguing couple immediately turned their ire on him without ever stopping their argument.

“And now look what you’ve done! Your stupidity got this idiot involved! Why couldn’t you just win me a stupid teddy bear like a normal boyfriend?” Kitten raged as she hammered at the controller, causing the grubs to turn their attention towards the dazed and prone Changeling. Fang launched webbing at him, working at cross purposes as the grubs and giving Changeling just enough time to roll out of the way.

“This is not my fault. You know these games are rigged! Why would I give the money I stole to these scam artists?”

“Because you are supposed to! It’s what boyfriends do! They do stupid stuff because I want you TO!” Kitten screamed and threw her remote onto the ground where it cracked and fizzled. Instead of the expected de-metamorphosis from vicious gnawing grubs to harmless caterpillars, there was a rumbling from deep inside the snack stall and a mass exodus of larvae from the vicinity. Gar had just gotten to his feet when a much larger, toothier, and more armored wriggler burst from the shoddy wooden confines, writhing and shrieking even more shrilly than Kitten, and headed directly towards her and Fang in a headlong charge.

Apparently Kitten’s shouting was enough to distract both of them from their imminent death by squirming tank, and Changeling had to make a tough split-second decision – let them suffer the consequences of their own stupidity, or put himself in harm’s way to save them.

It wasn’t much of a choice. Leaping forward, he transformed into a rhino, a fast moving locomotive of heavy armor and muscle and slammed headfirst into the tank sized larva, diverting it and being whipped aside by the unexpected followthrough of the tail end of the grub.

Raven’s disk touched down just in time to see his head collide with a thick support post that held up the boardwalk, and the sounds of argument fell silent as Kitten and Fang wordlessly assessed the situation and fled. Cyborg called out “Get B. I’ll get the worm,” and launched after the creature.

Raven raced to Garfield’s side, seeing the heavy gash and road rash from sliding across the wood. She assessed him as quickly as possible, noting the broken ribs, bleeding, and, most concerning, the lack of breathing. She channeled her power, reaching her soulself into the unmoving shapeshifter on the ground, and urgently repaired his most vital injuries.

The head wound would wait, they always bled more and looked worse than they were. First the broken ribs, eased out and stabilized enough to hold for a little while. Then the badly punctured lung. As the trapped air was removed and the hole patched, she expected him to cough, sit up, and make a dumb joke. Instead he just lay there, silent. His pulse was fine, and there was no reason for him to be so still.

She did all the steps that the Titans’ first aid training laid out for her, making sure his airway was clear, no pressure preventing his breathing or hidden wounds that would cause more damage, then started mouth to mouth.

It only took a few breaths, as if his body had simply not realized for some seconds that he was able to breathe normally again, before the first unassisted rasps began. Raven let out a sob of relief, feeling like his breath resuming was directly connected to her own oxygen. She continued healing him, clearing his head of blood and strengthening the broken ribs before his eyes opened with a groan.

“Did ya get the license of that truck that hit me?” he said, weakly.

Raven nearly hit him. “That was by far the stupidest thing I have ever seen you do. What were you thinking, charging in like that?”

“Aww c’mon, Rae. I had ta’. And I’m sure you’ve seen me do stupider things.”

“None of them had you puncture a lung and stop breathing, you fool. You didn’t need emergency resuscitation when you tried to do a standing backflip.” A jolt of power zapped him with an icicle of cold to the chest, and he coughed.

“At least I stuck the landing this time, heh. I think I can sit up. Thanks for fixing me up, Doctor Rae.”

She glared, and kept glaring as Nightwing checked in. Fang and Kitten had been apprehended almost peacefully by him and Starfire, and Cyborg had incapacitated the grub easily. She reported the situation, not once taking her eyes off her idiot of a boyfriend.

He rolled to his feet, only a little gingerly, and retrieved the broken pieces of the remote control for Cyborg to repair and reverse the changes to the swarm.

As he stooped down to pick up the last pieces, he stopped, and a look of realization dawned on him.

“Wait, you gave me CPR? Like, mouth-to-mouth?”

“Of course. You weren’t breathing and you needed oxygen before any working brain cells died.”

“Y’know,” he said, sitting back down beside her, “I think that counts as our first kiss.”

Raven went still. It couldn’t. It wasn’t even a kiss, it was legitimate medical treatment. But then again, it wasn’t very good, it was at a weird angle, and there was even the terrible fear that she’d vomit out of worry. It checked all the boxes for the perfect terrible first kiss.

He interrupted her musing, “Too bad I don’t remember it. Maybe we could see if trying again might jog some memories.” He reached his arm across her shoulders, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shut up,” she said, and pulled him in for a completely butterfly-free second first kiss.

AO3 FF.net

#bbraeweek21 #bbrae #day 1 #fic

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fan-written · 4 years ago

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I couldn't get this bio dad Riddler au by @maribat-writing-and-prompts out of my head, so my brain came up with this! You can find the original post here:

Puzzler! Marinette

Superboy landed silently next to Red Robin, smirking at the slight skip he heard in his heart beat. It had been a year since they started dating and the smaller boy still had the same reaction that originally caught his notice. But that wasn't why he returned to his side as quickly and quietly as possible.

They had split up when Red noticed online activity in a nearby, supposedly empty, corporate building and SB had heard a mugging in progress a few blocks over. The thieves had been easy to take down and Red didn't seem too concerned when he found the cause of the activity. No, Superboy wasn't in a rush until he heard Red Robin sigh the name Puzzler.

For the last two years he'd listened to Tim rant and rage about the Riddler's tiny assistant. He couldn't seem to get her out of his head since the moment she verbally tore apart his costume as Robin. Sometimes Kon wondered if Tim was just having Bi panic with how often he talked about her.

The problem was, as much as he'd learned from Tim about her, they'd never met.

She was only in Gotham during the summers and never seemed to be working the same cases he did. Puzzler wasn't a vigilante so she didn't follow crime the same way, but he had hoped they would have crossed paths by now. So when Red Robin identified her he booked it over.

Red Robin barely glanced up at his boyfriend before returning to glower at the small girl sitting in the giant office chair. And she was small. Tim said she was their age, a few months younger at most, but looking down at the top of her head he wondered how accurate that was.

He also might be starting to understand why Tim was such a Bi disaster whenever she came up. Puzzler was cute. The pastel pink domino mask matched the overall skirt she wore and Kon tried very hard not to stare at the pale green harnesses on her thighs than matched her sleeveless shirt. He was a little confused why she had a yo-yo attached to one and a bag with cookies on the other, but who knows. Maybe PI assistants got bored and hungry while on the job. To top it off she had plum purple fingerless gloves, elbow and knee pads, combat boots, and question mark buttons. For an assistant she looked every bit ready to kick ass and Kon was beginning to think he'd let her.

"Puzzler," Red Robin said again, rubbing his forehead, exhaustion bleeding into the tone. "Please tell me why you broke into a building just to use a computer. I know you have access to a better one at your father's office."

She grinned at the screen but didn't look up or stop her typing as she answered him. "Because," Kon absently noticed she had the cutest accent, "Piège Mortel, I needed direct access to this terminal."

Red groaned under his breath about how it was one of those days. "And what do you need from this terminal?"

Her smile grew and Superboy felt a vague sense of deja vu. "What force and strength cannot get through, I with a gentle touch can do. And many in the street would stand, were I not a friend at hand. What am I?" Ah, that would explain it. That was the look Riddler always had before doling out his riddles.

"A key," Red Robin said after a few minutes of silence. Puzzler nodded but continued tapping away at the keyboard.

"And what exactly is this key for?"

"Your heart!"

Superboy couldn't help but snort as he watched adrenaline rush through Tim's body, making his heart beat faster and his cheeks flush. It had the added bonus of making Puzzler's gaze jerk from screen to himself.

Everything froze, from Red Robin blushing, Superboy smirking, and Puzzler looking between the two heroes in front of her. Then Puzzler let out the quietest whine.

"Piège Mortel! You could have warned me your boyfriend was here." She blushed darker than her mask and Kon's lips spread wider. Puzzler whimpered and quickly turned back to the computer to avoid looking at them.

Superboy chuckled and leaned closer to Red Robin as if to whisper in his ear. "I knew she had to be cute with how often you talked about her, but I didn't think she'd be this adorable."

Red Robin stuttered, trying to get out a denial, until he looked back at Puzzler. It was as if her brain had flatlined at the compliment and she couldn't reboot fast enough. It was also the first time he'd seen it happen to her. Usually she was the one being flirty to throw him off, but oh how the tables had turned. Red knew he flustered her occasionally, but never enough to stall her.

He wondered if it was because of Kon, even if his gut twisted with the idea. His boyfriend was attractive so he wouldn't be too surprised. But she'd reacted to him before. Maybe it was the two of them? Together? That would be very interesting.

Superboy watched as Red Robin schemed and Puzzler finally restarted. She must have forgotten that he had super hearing because she started mumbling under her breath and it was frankly adorable.

"Stop looking. Stop looking. Come on, stop looking at me. Of course they both have to be here. I mean avoiding Superboy could only last so long. Oh Kwami, they are way too hot to be in the same building, let alone dating each other." She whined almost inaudibly again. "Two minutes. I just have to last two minutes and then I can go."

Superboy chuckled and she squeaked. "Oh crap. Superboy, clone of Superman with matching abilities including super hearing. Kwami, how could I forget! Because he's hot and so is Robin and he can still hear me and I need to shut up now." His chuckle grew into a short laugh until he could control it enough to whisper everything she said into Red Robin's ear. Kon felt his own rush of adrenaline as he watched Tim's grin become slightly feral. It was one he wore when he had a plan that usually had a dose of revenge added.

Tim took a step forward and Puzzler tensed but tried to ignore them. This was long overdue if everything Tim told him was true. Kon happily followed a half step behind, content to watch his boyfriend play with the little mouse of a PI. Tim tilted his head to one side of the chair as he went to the other and leaned closer to Puzzler.

"You wouldn't be trying to steal this key would you?" Red Robin said lowly, one hand against the back of the chair, the other on the desk, blocking her in on that side. "If you were, Superboy and I would have to take you in, and we wouldn't want that, would we."

She shuddered and Superboy grinned at the way her heartbeat matched her stutter as she tried to answer. "N-n-no. No stealing. Just, just making a copy." She leaned further away from Red Robin, but bumped against his leg on the other side.

"A copy. Really." He said as he leaned over too. He glanced up at Red Robin to see him smirking at the two of them and Kon felt the need to wipe it off his face. "The thing is, I'm the only one with a key to Red's heart and I haven't heard you ask for it yet." Red's smirk shifted into a frown, but SB continued to watch the small girl between them. "And I doubt you could do that when you've been avoiding me."

"W-w-what! Avoi-avoiding you? Who, who said th-"

"Or is that not the key you're looking for."

She was so flustered and Kon desperately wanted to know what she looked like under the mask. Another glance at Tim told him he felt the same.

A sudden chime from the computer startled them out of the bubble they'd created. Puzzler leaned forward and tapped at the keys quickly. A few seconds later she shut it down and pushed the chair back. The two boys moved with it, but didn't step out of her way.

"Well! That's it. No stealing happening here." She grinned wildly at them and stood up to try and leave. "Now if you boys would excuse me, I'm sure my dad is waiting up on me."

Even standing she was tiny and SB could easily look over her head at Red. Red Robin barely shook his head and Superboy knew he wasn't done playing. So instead of stepping out of the way, he crossed his arms and leaned back.

"I don't know Red. Should we excuse her?" Puzzler gaped at him and then at Red Robin when he spoke.

"Probably not SB. We still don't know what that key is for. It is the middle of the night and we both know it's the best time to steal things." Red leaned in even more to force her closer to Superboy.

"If you keep this up you two will be the ones stealing..." She murmured, moaning in frustration when Superboy chuckled. She turned around and pointed a finger at his chest. "You, you are so lucky you're practically indestructible. I still have half a mind to shove one of those stupidly attractive shoulder spikes in your ear because you keep laughing and it's distracting." This time Red Robin choked on a laugh and she whirled around to him.

"And you! You keep showing up with the hair and now the belts. Seriously, you two need to stop with the belts. I can't think when you're around. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go."

Instead of trying to move either of them she simply jumped over the back of the chair and ran towards the open window at full speed. With his enhanced vision Kon could tell her face was cherry red and he could hear her heart race. He took a step to follow but stopped at the hand on his arm. Tim was blushing, but had a shit eating grin. He just got the best leverage against Puzzler, and he didn't even have to search for it.

The two boys watched as she grabbed her yo-yo and tossed it out the window. They both ran to it as they watched her fall out, only to see her swing away.

Kon listened to the familiar zip of wire for a moment more before turning to his boyfriend.

"So, have we ever talked about a third?" Tim shook his head. "We should talk about a third."

Tim nodded this time. "Agreed."

#maribat #KonTimMari #TimKonMari #bio dad Riddler au #Puzzler!Marinette #Co's one shot works

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quazartranslates · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH46

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 46: Star Death Reality Show (XXIX)

All of the blood in Qi Leren’s body had solidified, and every cell was screaming silently, "No, don't, don't be it"! But this useless prayer could not help their current dangerous situation.

The sound from the vent became clearer and clearer, and it came out through the metal shutters. Qi Leren suddenly woke up from the stiffness that was like being thrown into a freezer, pointed to the door, and shouted, "Open the door! Fast!"

Dr. Lu was closest to the door, and rushed to open it. As a result, as soon as he raised his leg, his left foot stumbled over his right foot, and he fell hard on his face. Du Yue reacted quickly and rushed to the door to unlock it urgently. However, Leviathan had opened the metal shutter in the vent, and its tentacles wrapped in tinfoil stretched out from the black tunnel.

Qi Leren fired three shots at the tentacles. Two shots missed and one shot hit, but like last time, with an ordinary gun’s offensive power, it was impossible to break through the octopus’s shell.

The monster fell down from above like a pool of mud and expanded to a size larger than before. Its mass had exceeded that of a human, and after it fell, those branching tentacles spread across the ground like dead roots, motionless.

Qi Leren retreated slowly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the door. Dr. Lu was struggling to get up from the ground while Du Yue was sweating as he struggled to unlock the door, because it had been Qi Leren who had locked the door just now, and Du Yue was unfamiliar with this type of lock.

No, I can't get out yet. I have to stall for time... But it would be difficult to stall by fighting. The best way is...

Qi Leren shouted: "Du Yue, use your skill!"

By the time the two rookies reacted, Qi Leren had been chased by the octopus and didn’t hesitate to jump into the vent!

"Stop, don’t move! There’s a kind of charge up!" Du Yue quickly launched this bug-like skill card [Protagonist Halo]!

[Protagonist Halo: When you use this skill card, you instantly become the center of attention, the protagonist of the story, and the fearless saviour! You, with the frightening aura of a king, can easily move people’s hearts, but you can always keep your last breath when you are beaten by a powerful enemy, because the enemy can’t help but explain his motives and modus operandi to you (although there may not be enough time). This skill lasts for one minute, with a cooldown time of three hours. During the start of the skill, persuasiveness increases by 20% and some people’s IQ decreases by 20%. You will not die if attacked. After all, you are the protagonist of this one minute.]

With He Yi’s brain, Leviathan was like any boss who had been faced with the lead character. It had forgotten who it was, where it was, and what it was going to do. It just stood there and listened to this guy who was 1.9 meters tall and 18 years old and could barely act as the teen protagonist. He shouted at it with a cracking voice, and sincerely advised it to abide by human laws and surrender itself quickly.

Ah, there was an invisible and intangible mysterious aura on this human being, which made everyone who saw him believe that this was the legendary protagonist! Although it was very angry, it still had to listen to the protagonist's words!

If it wasn't for its lack of vocal cords, it would probably explain its criminal motives and criminal record. Qi Leren took this opportunity to rush to the door, grabbing Dr. Lu with one hand and unlocking it nervously with the other.

This lock should be like this, wrong, so like this, wrong, how is it unlocked?

Under the Protagonist Halo, Qi Leren, whose IQ had plummeted by 20%, went crazy. It took half a minute to unlock the door and kick Dr. Lu out: "Run!"

Dr. Lu clutched his kicked ass and ran away in three steps.

The most delicious one had escaped the danger. Now there were less than 20 seconds left. Qi Leren shouldered the rocket launcher up off the ground and grabbed Du Yue to drag him out. Watching the "protagonist" run away, the monster finally woke up from the unexplained state of wonder, and the huge mouthparts hidden beneath its tentacles let out a sharp cry, rushing to catch up!

This speed was too fast! Qi Leren kicked Du Yue out with another foot, braced himself against the door, and aimed the rocket launcher at Leviathan, but it was too late. The monster had already jumped in front of him, and its tentacles suddenly stretched. He was dragged to the ground by his feet!

As soon as Qi Leren's hands loosened, the rocket launcher on his shoulder immediately smashed down and landed on his instep, causing a tingle of pain, and his left arm was swallowed by Leviathan's sharp-toothed maw!

"Qianbei!" Du Yue cried, looking back to pull Qi Leren out.

At this time, it was too late to save, and even if he loaded the file, he couldn't go back to the time before his left hand was injured. However, Qi Leren still saved. He felt the pain as if his arm was stuck in a meat grinder, everything below his elbow being ground by countless tiny teeth.

But this was also an opportunity. Qi Leren, who almost fainted in pain, used his quick wits, and a miniature bomb from his item bar appeared directly in his left hand—that is, in the belly of the octopus. Only six minutes were left before his privacy time ran out!

This explosion was even more devastating because it happened directly in Leviathan's body! This terrible explosion made the inside of its body turn inside out, and the brain hidden in it was more fragile than any internal organs. After the explosion, the human brain was useless.

Qi Leren's situation was not much better. The heat and impact of the explosion came out of Leviathan's mouthparts towards him, slamming him against the wall and breaking his neck. He died on the spot and was resurrected at the save point.

Du Yue, who witnessed the death of his senior, was still dumbfounded. Qi Leren had already judged the current situation—he couldn't continue to play! To say nothing of his left hand that was basically wasted, he would die in a few minutes if he didn’t stop the bleeding. Leviathan, though badly hurt, obviously did not lose its fighting power, and even became more violent!

At the moment when Qi Leren resurrected, it had already become like a giant spinning top, spinning wildly on the ground and rushing towards them!

Qi Leren, who suffered from the pain, relied entirely on willpower and kicked Du Yue out the door with one foot. After he slipped out of the door, he threw it closed. The sound of heavy objects hitting the door sounded behind him. Leviathan's bloated and heavy body hit the door directly, but it didn't open the door.

Because its brain had been destroyed in the explosion just now.

One destroyed hand, but he lowered the enemy’s IQ. This round was not a loss!

Damn, you shouldn't have forgotten to shoot He Yi's head before, otherwise, how could you play so badly?!

Because of the severe pain from the intense trauma just now, Qi Leren's right hand covered the elbow of his left arm. The part below the elbow has landed in Leviathan's stomach. The blood was spraying out like a broken faucet, reaching half a metre away. The ground was as horrible as a murder scene!

Du Yue looked at Qi Leren at a loss: "Qianbei, your hand is gone! What should we do! It's bleeding!"

Qi Leren glanced at his privacy time of only five minutes. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay awake. If he passed out now, with Du Yue's rookie first aid knowledge, he might really fall to the fate of bleeding to death. At this crucial moment, I have to rely on myself. Qi Leren took out the first-aid supplies that Chen Baiqi had once enthusiastically recommended from his item bar, and gritted his teeth: "Help me hold it."

Du Yue held his arm and listened to the thumping sound behind him. He helped Qi Leren to tie the rubber hose with trepidation. Qi Leren pulled hard and tied it around the middle position of his upper arm. The wound finally stopped bleeding crazily, but it still couldn't be stopped altogether.

Qi Leren remembered that Chen Baiqi had once said that if no measures were taken within three minutes, this kind of limb injury was basically equivalent to signing a death certificate. If there is no teammate who can treat it, take a soldering iron or flamethrower and burn it against the wound. Only when the blood vessels cauterize to necrosis would it stop the massive bleeding.

"Go, Dr. Lu certainly didn't go far, and time is running out," Qi Leren said, suffering from dizziness and severe pain, and hurried in the direction Dr. Lu had run away. Along the way, he was still thinking. He had had a fight with the big boss, and was injured and dying. He also ran away with the protagonist. It was like a life mentor of the leading role who was going to croak.

Bah, it's so unlucky!

Before running far, Qi Leren heard Dr. Lu’s voice: "You ran too far!"

Qi Leren and Du Yue stopped, looked intently, and Dr. Lu, who had opened the [Free WIFI] skill card, was squatted in the corner without any presence, shouting at them. Looking at Qi Leren's injury, he was shocked: "What's wrong with you, don't move, don't move, I'll give you quick first aid! Oh come on, this injury is too heavy!"

"There’s still four minutes left," Qi Leren reported the time, in too much pain to speak.

Dr. Lu immediately used "Doctor’s Orders". In the milky light, the continuously bleeding wound miraculously stopped. Although the amputated limb could not grow back, the wound healed quickly and new skin covered it. It was completely healed.

Dr. Lu was also shocked: "This effect is too good... Am I so powerful? Am I really a genius nurse?"

Du Yue said faintly on the side: "You’ve never had such a good effect in treating my injuries..."

"No, no, no, this must be because your IQ is not enough to affect the performance of 'Doctor’s Orders'. The skill card says that the more impressive the patient is, the better!" Dr. Lu said convincingly.

"But your treatment for others isn’t this good," Du Yue refused to accept it and refused to admit it was an IQ problem.

"Right, why is that?" Dr. Lu was also confused.

Just then, the pain that made him feel close to blacking out finally faded away. Qi Leren untied the rubber hose which left a bruise on his arm. He stared at the healed amputated limb on his elbow for more than ten seconds, and then he came back from the state of high tension just now.

Although he had died before, thanks to S/L Data, he has always completed the tasks with intact hands and feet every time, and this was the first time that he has lost a hand directly. He thought he would be disgracefully frightened, but because of these two rookies, he looked much calmer.

"Don't worry, there are people in the Twilight Township who can do limb regeneration. I know them. If you go back and pay a few survival days, you can grow it back." When Dr. Lu saw Qi Leren staring at the amputated hand, he thought he was sad, so he comforted him.

"Is it expensive?" As a poor player who has consumed a lot of survival days in the process of competing with Su He, this was what Qi Leren is most concerned about.

"It's okay, I remember it was just over a hundred days," Dr. Lu said.

Qi Leren, who had only seventeen days to live, didn't want to speak.

Du Yue was not rich either. He said gloomily, "That’s a lot, I only have thirty days..."

There was no harm without comparison, and Qi Leren suddenly felt that he was impoverished...

"It’s nothing, if you don’t have enough, I’ll pay for you. I usually charge for treating others. Healers are quite scarce, so I’ve earned a lot. Right now I have about two hundred survival days!" Dr. Lu said generously.

More than two hundred days… More than two hundred days… More than two hundred days…

Du Yue would be silent when hearing this number, and Qi Leren would cry when hearing it.

-----

Editor’s Notes: For anyone (me) who has forgotten the exact details, here’s the description for Doctor’s Orders:

[Doctor’s Orders] (Non-Binding Skill Card): The ability to work miracles comes with a price – a price for your patients. There will be no mercy given to those who do not deserve. Allows the holder to heal all who meet the following requirements: attractive, not a Virgo and an IQ over 100. The number of requirements met will determine the effectiveness of the treatment. Skill cooldown: 2 hours. (translated by Sigma)

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

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The sky of the sky (of the tree called life)

Pairing: Suga x reader

AO3 Link Here:

Summary: She doesn’t take much notice of him at first, not when he’s one of thirty nine faces that greet her with varying degrees of interest when their teacher introduces her to the class.But then he hits her in the face with his friendship and she starts to get to know him - through the smallest things, in the littlest ways.

Author’s Notes: This is the first fic I wrote and initially posted as a lone (AO3 link (was still getting the hang of Tumblr lol). Lifted the title from ‘I carry your heart’ by E.E. Cummings. Anyways - this is my humble attempt at a fic, my love letter to one Sugawara Koushi.

Ume doesn’t take much notice of him at first, not when he’s one of thirty nine faces that greet her with varying degrees of interest when their teacher introduces her to the class. She doesn’t take much notice of anyone really, not when her mind is consumed with thoughts of college prep and exams and chores, so he remains a stranger, even after weeks of sitting next to him in class.

Still, he greets her every morning with a pleasant ‘Ohayo’, and doesn’t take offense when she merely responds with a small smile. He offers up his notes without comment when she asks to check her English notes against his, and even occasionally slips her a banana from the stash he always seems to be carting around. His grades are decent and his homework is always submitted on time so he’s popular with their teachers, even though he seems to spend most of his break time sketching what looks like volleyball plays or buried in heated discussions with Sawamura.

Overall, he seems like a nice boy - if a little obsessed with volleyball.

She looks at her lunch box in dismay. There should be food in it, rice and tamago and fish that she most definitely packed last night, but her lunch box sits on her desk, clean and empty. She groans, glancing at the clock. Five minutes after the lunch bell. She ponders on whether to wait until dinner or be jostled to death by a thousand teenagers, but then her stomach growls, loud enough for Yuna-san in the front row to turn and stare at her, so she supposes there isn’t much of a choice.

As she approaches the canteen, she can hear the usual bustle and sound of too many students trying to feed themselves in too small a space - but then she hears a shrill shout - ‘cream buns for sale’, and the immediate cacophony of excited shouts that follow makes her think that her chances of getting food in the next half hour plummet to precisely zero.

Her assessment is right, but that doesn’t stop her mouth from dropping in horror as the canteen practically descends into a warzone, her schoolmates collectively losing their minds. The girls’ tennis team looks like they’re leading a charge through the left, but they’re being resisted by the concert band. The volleyball boys’ team seems like they’re causing plenty of chaos down the centre. Sawamura-san, engaged in a vigorous shoving match with the basketball captain, and Azumane-san - the large, quiet boy she shares home economics class with, cowering while trying to swim through the crowd with a feral looking boy perched on his back.

She apologises silently to her stomach and turns to head back to class.

‘Imai-san!’ Sugawara waves at her from the back of the crowd. ‘I’ll help you get some buns! What do you want!’

‘Oh – two buns, any flavour?” she calls back, a little dazed. He answers with a cheerful thumbs up.

She watches bemusedly as he expertly weaves his way through the crowd to Azumane-san, gesturing wildly to the little boy on her back, before combining forces with a bald boy to shove Azumane-san bodily through the crowd to the front of the queue. The boys grab armfuls of buns each, elbowing the displeased soccer team in the face.

Sugawara spins around, and there’s a glint in his eye that she can recognise from far away (courtesy of being an older sister to two troublesome younger brothers), but her legs don’t move despite her mind hollering at her danger, danger, Imai Ume, even as he raises his arm to toss the buns to her.

One bun lands neatly in her hands. The other smacks her right between her eyes.

She yelps, hands clapping over her face, checking to ensure her glasses are still in one piece. A curry bun may be relatively light and fluffy, but it still hurts when used as a flying projectile.

She hears footsteps clatter towards her. ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry - please don’t cry!” Sugawara says, his voice high pitched in worry, hovering next to her awkwardly. “Daichi will never let me get over it if I make a girl cry.’

She snorts despite the sting between her eyes. “It’s fine, Sugawara-san. Thank you for helping get some food’.

‘Are you sure? Maybe we should go to the nurse’s office just in case!’ he fusses, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other nervously, ‘I’m such an idiot, I can’t believe I missed that toss, I should just resign from the volleyball team already - ‘

‘Eh eh eh? Suga - what’s this talk about resigning from volleyball!’ The small, feral boy from earlier leaps onto Sugawara’s back.

‘How can you resign? This is the year we’re making it to Nationals!’ the bald boy rounds up the rear, yelling at Sugawara indignantly.

‘I missed a toss at my classmate, I’m no longer qualified to be a setter.’ Sugawara wails, unfazed by the weight of his two juniors on his back. ‘I should just die now’

‘YOU THINK YOU’RE ASAHI NOW EH, DRAMA QUEEN!’

She takes advantage of their chaos to slip back to class. They don’t get a chance to speak to each other again for the rest of the day, kept busy with classes on calculus and chemistry for the rest of the afternoon. But the next morning he crows a loud ‘Ohayo’ at her, and she smiles at him, wider than she did before.

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

Spring passes into summer surprisingly quickly, and Ume slowly, but surely, gets used to hearing the song of the cicadas in evenings instead of the rumble of cars in the streets, to the uphill bike commute she takes to ferry both herself and Yuji to school and kindergarten respectively.

Becoming accustomed to something doesn’t mean liking it though. She remembers her mother saying that things would be easier when they move to Karasuno from the city. That living with family in a close knit community like Karasuno means more hands on deck to keep their family afloat. For the most part, Ume supposes her mother’s right. Her grandparents are sweet and try their best to help out, if a little too old to chase Yuji around the house or fetch him up and down the mountain to preschool every day. Their neighbours always offer them too much food, and their grandchildren provide Yuji with enough entertainment most evenings for Ume to catch up with schoolwork and revision.

But sometimes, after she’s corralled an unruly Yuji to bed, and shooed a sullen Keiji to sleep, and she herself can’t fall asleep because the cicadas are too damn loud, Ume wonders if her mother uprooted them to Karasuno so she could run away from the fact that she’s stuck raising three children alone, disappearing off on such long business trips that Yuji doesn’t even ask her anymore if their mama’s coming home.

Thankfully, Yuji, with the short memory of a six year old, finds living in the countryside a joy. He joins the neighbour’s children in catching cicadas, and when she tells him that it’s cruel to catch animals for sport – even ones as annoying as cicadas, he laughs and promises that he always lets them go.

Keiji, though, remains quiet and withdrawn, hiding in the bedroom whenever he’s home from school. She tries chatting with him at the dinner table but her efforts are usually met with the surly silence of a thirteen year old. So she doesn’t push him too much, too fast - she already asks too much of him as it is, sharing most of the chores and supervising Yuji so they don’t become a burden to their grandparents.

So it’s a surprise when Keiji asks if they can head to the park for a picnic on a clear summer’s day, but she agrees immediately, swallowing her shock, making sure to pack onigiri and fruit and strapping Yuji to her bike. It’s strange when Keiji drags them all over the park looking for the perfect picnic spot. It’s even stranger when he decides that the playground, full of shrieking children, should be the appropriate spot for a picnic. But there’s a tree for shade and it’s convenient enough for her to watch Yuji while he runs loose in the playground, so she holds her tongue and spreads their picnic mat on the floor.

‘Can I get us some ice cream?’ Keiji asks.

She’s about to tell him to wait til he has proper food in his stomach before moving on to dessert, but catches sight of Keiji staring at the ice cream stand intently, hands in pockets, cheeks flushed pink. She follows his gaze. The ice cream stall looks fairly old, run by an oba-chan and a young girl with short hair and a cheerful smile. Oh.

‘Why don’t you go get an ice cream for yourself? Yuji and I can get some later’, Ume replies, busying herself with the picnic basket to hide her smile.

She settles on the mat, back against the tree, setting her textbook on her lap. The summer air is crisp and cool, and the sunlight shining through the leaves dances on her skin.

‘Hey Imai!’ Suga stops to greet her, hand raised in a friendly wave.

‘Hello!’ she waves back. ‘No volleyball practice today?’

‘No - we have a mandated break on Saturday afternoons’, he walks over to her. ‘Despite what my unruly kouhai think, overtraining causes injuries. Besides, we need time for summer homework’.

She nods, noticing the stack of books under his arm, and before her brain processes her sudden impulse fully, she asks ‘Do you want to join me? We can share the mat’.

He blinks at her, and she cringes internally, expecting him to politely decline. He may chatter at her absentmindedly about his team, and she may share her notes with him when she notices he’s distracted, but it’s not as if they’re friends outside of school. To her surprise though, he agrees easily, kicking off his shoes to join her on the mat. They sit together in silence, absorbed in their respective work. The sun is warm but the breeze is cool and crisp, so it’s comfortable and altogether pleasant.

‘Onee-chan’, Keiji calls, running back over. He raises an eyebrow when he notices Suga and drops into a slight bow before turning to his sister. ‘Can I have my onigiri? I want to pass it to my friend.’

She opens her mouth to nag him to make sure that he has lunch, but promptly shuts it. Instead, she tosses him two onigiris - hers, and his. ‘Make sure you eat, Keiji’, she calls, and he’s off, running with the wind.

‘Hey, Imai, I packed too much food. Share some of it with me?’ Suga offers mildly. She’s about to say no, thank you politely, but her stomach growls - traitor, and he just chuckles at her, snapping his lunchbox open and pressing half his sandwich into her hands. She thanks him, taking a bite and has to stop herself from moaning in delight because it’s full of egg mayo and chicken katsu and it’s so, so good.

‘It’s delicious, right?’ he says, grinning around a mouthful of his half of the sandwich. ‘You can’t study on an empty stomach, that’s against the law’.

She laughs at that and splits her stash of strawberries and watermelon with him.

Later, she shocks herself again when she tells him as he’s about to leave that she’ll probably be at the park again next Saturday - and he’s welcome to join her if he pleases. She wonders if he can see the uncertainty in her eyes, but he shoots her another smile and agrees.

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

She packs two extra onigiris next Saturday, and the Saturday after that. She also starts including peaches from her grandparents’ farm because she learns that he has a weakness for them.

Keiji ignores Suga for the most part, leaving for the ice cream stand as soon as they arrive in the park. Yuji, on the other hand, soon learns he can get Suga to do whatever he wants if he pouts long enough. Suga, for his part, does not help, often buying the little boy far too much mochi and ice cream.

‘Stop it Yuji.’ Ume says wearily. ‘Suga needs to study and you’re distracting him’.

‘But he’s the only one I know who can push me hard enough on the swings’, Yuji whines, scruffing his shoes into the ground.

‘It’s fine, I’ll take it as my break’, Suga says, smiling kindly down at the little boy. ‘Shall we see how high you can fly, Yuji-chan?’

She watches, shaking her head as Yuji cheers, dragging Suga off in the direction of the playground.

‘You seem good with kids’, she remarks when he returns - thankfully after a short while since Yuji, with the typical attention span of a six year old, is quickly distracted by the other kids playing a game of tag.

‘You think so?’ Sugawara responds, turning back to his books. ‘That’s good to know. I’m planning on going to college to train to be a teacher.’

The image of him dressed in a rumpled shirt and tie greeting his class with a cheerful ‘Ohayo’ every morning flashes in her mind. She imagines him smiling wide and indulgent at his student’s pranks, listening patiently to his students’ questions and problems, diligently pouring over his students’ assignments late into the night.

For some reason, her heart clenches. She doesn't know why.

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

‘Tohoku Medical school?’, he asks, eyeing the flyer sticking out of her bag.

‘Mm.’ she mumbles, distracted by the peach juice running down her hands. Then she realises what he’s just said and wrinkles her nose. ‘The entrance exam is hard though. Not a lot of people pass.’

‘Ugh, stop that, your grades are so good- negativity begone!’ He nudges her teasingly with his elbow. She rolls her eyes at him in response.

‘Why, though?’ he asks, before quickly adding. ‘If you don’t mind saying’.

She’s about to rattle off her prepared answer of heeding the noble calling of saving lives and making a difference one person at a time, but for some reason, she doesn’t.

Instead, she jerkily answers - ‘My dad was a doctor’.

She can feel him raise his eyebrows at her use of past tense (and not present tense) and suddenly the peach in her hand doesn’t seem as appetising as it was before.

‘Cancer’, she finds herself saying. ‘Last year’. She looks down at her feet, refusing to see what she expects will be pity in his gaze.

But he doesn’t say anything. He leans his shoulder against hers, and they stay that way for a while.

She doesn’t protest this time when he comes back from the ice cream stall with far too much ice cream, and the tightness in her chest dissipates as she watches him let Yuji flit between his chocolate and vanilla cones like a honeybee, even though she knows she’s going to have a hard time putting the little boy to bed tonight.

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

'I like Suga-san very much.' Yuji declares later as she tucks him into bed.

'So do I', Ume says. So do I’.

The call of the cicadas don’t seem as loud, and she falls asleep easily that night.

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

‘You should be studying’, she reminds him, playfully rapping on his knuckles with her pen.

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, looking up from his sketches on volleyball plays. ‘A couple more minutes and I’ll get back to work’.

She shakes her head indulgently at him. ‘You spend far too much time on volleyball as it is’.

‘I suppose I do’, he hums, busy drawing indecipherable pictures in what she’s termed his volleyball notebook.

She’s suddenly reminded of Yamada and Takashi, the two basketball idiots in her class, goading Suga about ‘being a loser for losing his starting position to a first year’. Sawamura usually erupts in anger when he hears them as he’s wont to do whenever he encounters the basketball club, but Suga, for his part, only responds with a serene smile.

‘Is it worth it?’ she asks, before she can stop herself. ‘Sorry’ she says frantically, as her brain catches up with her mouth. ‘That was rude of me’.

He breathes a rueful laugh through his nose. ‘It’s fine, I’m not offended’. But he stops his scribbling, and his mouth slants downward in a way that Ume doesn’t quite like.

‘It’s worth it’, he then says, voice quiet but full of conviction. ‘It’s worth it to play with my team. I want us to keep getting stronger, I want us to keep playing together, and I want us to go to Nationals and win’. He gazes into the distance and smiles, bittersweet. ‘And everything else doesn’t matter’.

It’s her turn to lean into him with her shoulder.

‘I’ll bring Yuji to watch you at the finals’, she says. ‘And we’ll watch you at Nationals on our TV’.

He laughs and she smiles, wide and bold and bright.

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

Sugawara spends their lunch breaks talking about his team’s latest exploits all the time. She laughs when he tells her about the hijinks that the team constantly gets up to, from setting fire to the Vice Principal’s very obvious toupee, to an all out prank war with the basketball team featuring copious amounts of dead fish and paint bombs. She particularly enjoys Suga’s impression of Nishinoya’s ‘rolling thunder’ war cry, and rather suspects the whole team is intent on driving Sawamura into an early grave.

Despite having a tendency to smile indulgently at his team’s penchant for chaos and hellfire, it’s clear that Suga cares deeply for each and every one of his teammates. He broods about Tsukkishima’s lack of ambition and desire to bond with the team, Yamaguichi’s lack of confidence, Kageyama’s and Hinata’s inability to communicate like regular human beings. Even when he jokes about Ennoshita’s latest attempt to evade Sawamura’s talks about ‘passing on the captainship’, she can sense the undercurrent of worry and concern.

Perhaps that’s why she volunteers to give tutoring Tanaka and Nishinoya a go, after he explains that they’ll end up missing the Tokyo Training Camp that Takeda-sensei went through so much trouble to arrange. She also tells herself that the reason she’s doing it is because Second year Math is covered in the university entrance exams - and absolutely not because Suga practically lights up with relief when she waves his thanks away.

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

Tanaka and Nishinoya remind her of Yuji and even Keiji (well, before), rowdy and loud and full of boyish mischief. They fall out of their chairs when they notice Kiyoko-san walk by the classroom deep in conversation with some boy, and she has to rap them on their knuckles with a pen to get them to focus on solving question number two - please and thank you - before they settle back down.

Still, they’re surprisingly attentive and almost respectful even when she’s trying to impress upon them the dryer points of Math, so it’s easy to become fond of them. They get through vectors after she likens the trajectory of vectors to the movement of a volleyball. Statistics were a struggle, but fortunately, volleyball statistics save the day. Calculus seems to be the biggest hurdle, but she’s hopeful they’ll get it, once she finds a way to relate it to volleyball or better yet, convince them that differentiation and integration are very, very manly pursuits.

That said, it doesn’t help that the basketballers in her class seem to have a deep rooted grudge against the volleyball team - though from Suga’s stories, the animosity is probably mutual. Yamada in particular seems to take special pleasure in taunting the two boys.

‘Eh, Baldy! Y’all lose another game yet? I saw you guys crying the other day after school’.

‘They’d probably win more games if chibi-chan here grew a few inches’, Takashi, his fellow basketballer sniggers.

‘Ignore them’, she tells the two growling boys firmly. ‘You don’t need to get kicked out of your team for starting a fight with these guys’.

‘Awww… are you two kouhai hiding behind your female senpai? ’ Yamadai jeers, leering at them. ‘What losers, just like your Suga-senpai. Heard he got turfed out of his starting position by a first year’.

At that, Tanaka and Nishinoya practically levitate out of their seats as one, snarling ‘Huh?!!! You fucking -’

‘Bit rich of you to pick on them, eh Yamada?’ Ume interrupts. ‘I heard Ono-senpai say last week that if you fail your tests one more time, you’re going to get kicked out of the basketball team. Who’s the loser now?’

‘Bitch!’ Yamada growls, hands slapping his desk.

‘Maybe you’d have a better shot at passing your exams if you spent your time studying instead of disturbing others - who unlike you are actually working hard,’ she adds, smiling at him sweetly.

Thankfully, Takashi has some sense of self-preservation and drags Yamada kicking and screaming out of the door. Tanaka and Noya swivel their heads towards her, twin expressions of shock on their faces.

‘Holy shit, that was so manly?!’

‘Imai-senpai, you’re almost as cool as Kiyoko-senpai!’

‘Yeah - almost as good as the time she ignored us when we asked her to marry us.’

‘No - better, but not as good as the time she slapped me’

‘Thank you’, she responds dryly. ‘Can we get back to differentiation, please?

‘Yes, Imai-senpai!’ They snap into a salute.

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

‘I hear from Tanaka and Noya that you’re very manly’. His eyes twinkle at her.

‘Psh’, she says airily. ‘They exaggerate’.

But she laughs when he slips her half his sandwich as thanks.

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

Noya and Tanaka pass their exams (by some miracle, thank god), and they graduate from her tutoring sessions.

She passes her exams too, tops her cohort even.

Her classmates start to take more notice of her, requesting for copies of her notes and tutoring sessions on topics they don’t really grasp. It's not really that much of a problem to just have an extra set of notes for her classmates to copy (she learnt her lesson when Takashi spills juice all over her precious biology notes - an accident, of course), and extra tutoring sessions are a good way for her to revise what she previously learnt - so she doesn’t really mind.

Of course she knows they think they're picking her brains and hard work, but it's not as if she minds. They're reasonably polite when they approach her, and she can pretend she doesn’t hear them gossip about her behind her back (that her parents are rich enough to send her to not one, but two cram schools, that they must know the principal who leaked the exam topics to her somehow).

Still, she can’t help but feel a spike of irritation when Yamada manages to corner her alone in class one day after school.

‘Oi, Ikai. Can you give me a copy of your math notes? I hear they're pretty good.'

She blinks innocently at him. ‘My notes cover whatever sensei taught in class if you were listening’. Which he probably wasn't, considering he seems to spend most of his time tossing spitballs or bouncing a basketball obnoxiously against the wall.

‘Tch.’ He leans towards her. ‘Come on, don’t be a stingy bitch. Just lend them to me for a bit.’

She narrows her eyes at the audacity of this bugger. 'No.' she says simply.

'Eh?' Yamada glares down at her.

'Did a basketball hit you too hard in the head yesterday? I said no.' She turns her back on him, packing her school bag, keeping her sharpest pencil in her hand, just in case.

He takes a step closer towards her, both hands heavy on her desk. 'But you share your notes with everyone else!’

‘Well, yes - but that’s because they're tolerably polite when they ask, and unlike you, they actually get my name right.’

He slaps her table hard with his hands. ‘Stop being a bitch, just give me your notes already'.

She should just give him what he's asking for or placate him with the promise that she'll give him a copy tomorrow - but she suddenly feels so sick and tired of giving more and more of herself - to her mother, her brothers, her classmates, and now this rude asshole - and she's so done, goddamnit.

'No.' She snaps, lifting her chin defiantly at him. 'What are you going to do about it?'

He snarls, grabbing hold of her wrist. 'Stubborn bitch, just give me the notes already!'

'Let go, pig!', she shouts, trying to wrench her wrist away, mind whirring to calculate the force and speed needed to shove her pencil into his face. His grip tightens, and he digs his nails into the thin skin of her wrist.

He smirks down at her. She tries not to flinch.

'Hey, Imai. Got worried about you when you didn’t turn up at the library.' Suga calls out, loud and clear from the door. Ume exhales a breath she didn’t even know she was holding as he walks deliberately towards them.

‘Yamada-san. I always knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t know you stooped so low you’d bully a girl’.

Yamada takes a half step back, but does not release her hand. 'Piss off, Suga. It’s none of your business'.

‘Perhaps’, he responds, humming diffidently. ‘But I thought I should remind you that if you get just one more strike on your disciplinary record, you’re off the basketball team’. His mouth stretches into a semi feral smile. ‘For good.’

Yamada coils back, looking as if he’d like nothing better than to strike Suga in the face, but then, seemingly thinking the better of it, he drops Ume’s wrist and smirks again. ‘We were just having a friendly discussion, eh Imai?’

‘Remind your thick skull to keep it that way.’ Suga says, meeting Yamada’s glare with an even gaze of his own.

Yamada looks away. 'Tch. I can't be bothered with you dumbasses', he sneers, stalking out of the class.

‘Are you ok?’ Suga asks her immediately, glancing at her once over, stopping short when he spots the red welts ringed around her wrist. ‘Did he do that to you?’ he asks, voice dangerous.

‘I’m fine.’ She follows his gaze and yanks her sleeve down, hiding the marks from view. ‘It’s nothing.’

He opens his mouth, about to insist that it is very much not fine, but she cut him off quickly. ‘Really! It’s my fault he got annoyed with me. He wanted a copy of my notes and I was very rude and didn’t want to give them to him,’ she laughs awkwardly. ‘Besides, it’s a good thing you stepped in when you did, or I’d have gotten into more trouble - because I was about to stab him with my pencil’.

Suga’s mouth drops open. ‘With your what?’

She unfurls her palm to show him her pencil, pink and sharp but altogether unconvincing.

He bursts into cackles, wheezing. ‘Maybe Tanaka should’ve taken his time to get me. I would’ve liked to see you try to fight Yamada with that’.

She snorts. ‘I’m just glad Tanaka showed some self-restraint and didn’t jump Yamada himself.’

‘Well, I’m pretty sure that’s because Ennoshita was there to stop him.’ Suga says wryly. He drops his gaze back to her wrist. ‘But seriously, if I’d known he hurt you, I’d have jumped him too’.

She looks at him sharply. ‘Suga… If any one of you get suspended, you can’t play in the Inter High Preliminaries.’

‘Not if we don’t get caught for it’. He gives her a zen smile as she splutters in shock. ‘Anyway, don’t you usually leave school to pick Yuji-chan up by now?’

‘Oh no, Yuji’s probably waiting for me!’ She cries out in alarm, dashing across the classroom.

At the doorway, she comes to a pause and turns around. ‘Suga!’

‘Mm?’ He tilts his head at her.

She smiles shyly. ‘Thanks’.

He smiles back.

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

She ends up preparing a copy of her notes for Yamada anyway. He’s stubborn and stupid, and she figures that Suga’s interference, while welcome in the moment, is only likely to spur him on to pester her again. But when she walked into class the next morning, Yamada is nowhere to be found.

‘Did you hear Yamada-kun got caught with the vice principal’s burnt wig in his locker?’ she hears Yuna whisper to Mizuki before the bell rings.

‘Oh no! Is he in a lot of trouble?’ Mizuki gasps.

‘I don’t know, but I heard from Takashi that he’s been suspended from the basketball team indefinitely!’

‘No! Don’t they have a game next week?’

Ume looks over her shoulder at Suga, sitting with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

‘I may have mentioned to Noya what happened with Yamada-san. Tanaka, of course, was very happy to help out’, he says simply when she corners him after school.

Yamada does return to class eventually, but he refuses to even look in her direction for the next month. She figures she’d much rather not press for answers she suspects she wouldn’t like. Instead, she spends the night cutting out twelve crow charms from black felt with the help of a very eager Yuji, hand stitching each member’s number in white thread and leaving them in Suga’s bag for him to find.

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

She sneaks Yuji with her when the school buses students in for Karasuno’s match with Shiratorizawa.

They all watch with tears in their eyes when the final whistle blows and the boys win.

‘Congratulations, Suga’, she tells him the next day and adds. ‘I think Yuji’s found a new way to fly’.

He grins at her, his eyes burning proud and bright.

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

Fall fades into winter. The days start looping, one after another.

Wake up. Get Yuji to kindergarten. School. Homework. Pick Yuji up. Make dinner. Pack leftovers for lunch. Do laundry. Revision. Tuck Yuji into bed. More Revision. Sleep.

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

She curses when the cock crows every morning, and falls asleep before her head hits the pillow every night, so she wonders how he manages to survive with practices lasting daily into the night. Or maybe he doesn’t, she thinks to herself, watching the shadows beneath his eyes grow, grey and dark.

‘Is it worth it?’ she asks. (Do you ever regret it, she implies.)

‘Yes.’ he says. (At least I hope I don’t, he sighs.)

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

She notices immediately when his seat is empty. Sawamura tells her it’s to be expected, Suga always catches a cold in winter.

‘I don’t mind helping to bring his homework to him’, she volunteers. ‘You’re going to be staying late in school for practice anyway’. She avoids Sawamura’s knowing look as she writes Suga’s address down, his homework tucked safely into her bag.

His mother beams, surprised and delighted when she appears at their door. She’s promptly shooed upstairs, and Yuji is lured into the kitchen with promises of mochi and ice cream. She knocks on the open door. He’s crouched on the bed, watching a replay of Karasuno’s finals match against Shiratorizawa.

‘Hey. I brought your homework.’ She frowns, noting the paleness of his face despite the redness of his cheeks. ‘Shouldn’t you be resting?’

‘I’m watching the match to fall asleep!’ he says defensively.

‘The match is at least two hours long! If you’re well enough to watch the match, you’re well enough to do your homework’.

‘Give me a break’. He groans, sneezing into the crook of his elbow. ‘I’m dying here’.

‘I’m pretty sure you can’t die from a common cold’ she says dryly.

‘Says the one who wants to be a doctor’, he playfully responds.

She rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t argue with me. Get some rest. You don’t have much time before you head off to Tokyo for Nationals, and the Center Shinken* is just after that’.

His smile drops, and he suddenly looks troubled. ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’

(For chasing too many dreams?)

She blinks, confused by his change in mood. She glances at the Miyagi University of Education pamphlet pinned to his wall - only one in three applicants get in. She furrows her brow, thinking about him spending every lunch break, every afternoon and night in their rundown school gym, even as everyone else is spending their days buried in schoolwork and revision.

But then she hears the echo of his words - It’s worth it. I want to play with my team, the cries from the huddle of boys, the memory of him holding a trophy under bright lights and her face softens.

‘Where’s all this self-doubt coming from?’ she says lightly. ‘You already achieved your dream of going to Nationals with your team. Now all you have to do is pass one exam.’

‘As if it’s so easy!’

‘Well, it’d be easier if you rest up so you can get back to work faster!’

‘Ugh, spoilsport’, he pouts at her.

‘Onee-chan’, Yuji pipes up, poking his head into the bedroom. 'Obaa-san said it's time for Suga-san to eat his medicine and take a nap.'

‘Hello, Yuji-chan!’ Suga waves at Yuji, who gives him a gap toothed grin in response.

‘You should tuck him in and tell him a bedtime story’. Yuji tells his sister seriously. She chokes and thinks she should have taken the chance to dump him under a bridge when he was a baby.

Suga laughs so hard he wheezes. 'I won't mind a bedtime story' he chokes out.

Both boys turn to look at her expectantly. 'Fine.' she says, relenting. 'I’ll tell you a bedtime story if you promise you'll try your best to go to sleep'.

They grin and settle down, Yuji on his sister’s lap, Suga laying against his nest of pillows.

She begins telling them a story she’s told Yuji many, many times these past months - about a kind-hearted Prince in a kingdom troubled by a yearly winter plague, who set out to find the cure for this illness, flowers that bloom on the highest of mountains in the deepest, darkest winter days. A Prince who tries to scale the mountain to find the cure, year after year, but is thwarted by blizzards and avalanches and snow monsters.

A small smile grows on his lips as she describes the Prince’s companions - the stalwart captain of his guards, the burly woodcutter with a heart of glass, and he stifles a laugh when she recounts how the Prince manages to trick his frosty hearted little brother to join them along the way. His breath evens out when she reaches the end of her tale, when the Prince and his companions scale the mountain and look down on a field of flowers, green and gold.

'And they lived happily ever after?' Suga murmurs, half asleep.

'And they lived happily ever after' Ume agrees.

She pulls his blanket up under his chin as he slips into sleep, hesitating as warmth furls and unfurls in her chest, before brushing her hand tenderly against his cheek.

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

Third years are released from school for self-study.

She works alone at home. The winter days grow long and dark and hard.

(Her heart clenches. It starts to ache.)

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

They graduate on a spring day, a shower of pink and white petals blessing their way. He catches up to her in the hallway after the graduation ceremony, hand at her sleeve.

‘Congrats on Tohoku’, he tells her, bright eyed. ‘I knew you could do it’.

‘Congrats on MUE’, she responds with a laugh. ‘See - you weren’t crazy after all’.

‘I suppose I’ll be seeing you around Sendai City? Your campus isn’t too far from mine.’

She opens her mouth to tell him not to be silly - Sendai City is nothing like Karasuno town, a million people within its bounds, and the probability of them meeting randomly on the streets is very, very small, but her throat suddenly becomes dry.

‘Suga’ she begins, balling her hands into fists.

‘Mm?’ he beams at her, brighter than the sun, and it’s all she can do to not to look away.

‘Thank you’, she says quietly. ‘For bringing some light into my life’.

‘I should be thanking you’, he replies earnestly. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me this past year. I don’t think I’d have passed my exams without you’.

“No, Suga,’ she says. ‘I mean - I like you’.

‘Oh.’ he breathes. ‘Oh’.

‘I like you’, she repeats, her voice growing stronger. ‘Because you were kind to me when there was no reason to. You bought bread for me, even if you ended up throwing it in my face. You stole and burnt a wig for me, just to put Yamada in his place. You spent your summer days buying Yuji too much ice cream, swinging him so high he thought he could touch the sky.’

‘I like you, Suga,’ she says finally. ‘Not just as a friend - but as a girl likes a boy.’

He stares at her, eyes wide. A few beats of silence pass.

‘I’m sorry’. He grimaces. ‘I don’t know what to say’.

‘It’s fine’, she finds herself saying. ‘It’s ok’.

(Her heart clenches. She wills it not to break.)

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

Ume does not look back. Her bag is packed, and she leaves for Sendai City that week.

Her apartment is small, but she shares it with a few other girls. At night, she re-acquaints herself with the sound of cars rumbling on the street. The song of the cicadas haunts her in her sleep.

(Her heart clenches. She does not break.)

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

Suga prides himself on being relatively observant and good with things like subtlety and tact and feelings - things that volleyball obsessed idiots like Daichi wouldn’t even notice if it hit him in the face.

He observes people and notices things, the way Kiyoko isn’t as indifferent to Tanaka as she seems, the way Yamaguchi’s serve suddenly improves when Yachi shouts ‘Gambatte’, the way Yui’s vocabulary immediately regresses whenever she’s talking to Daichi - though to be fair, he’s certain the only person in their level to not know about Yui’s crush on Daichi himself, so maybe that doesn’t count.

(‘I like you, Suga,’ he hears her say. ‘Not just as a friend - but as a girl likes a boy.’)

But then his brain short circuits and stutters to a stop, and it’s all he can do to watch dumbly as Ume turns on her heel and walks off, head high, back straight, he wonders if he’s not much better than the rest of them after all.

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

‘Imai Ume said she likes me’. He finds himself telling Daichi, as they walk home from school, pork buns in hand, for the very last time.

Daichi grunts something unintelligible through a mouthful of pork bun.

‘Use your words, Daichi’. Suga can’t help but snark. Daichi grumbles and swallows.

‘Yes. I knew that already’. Daichi says simply. He starts on his second pork bun.

‘What?’ Suga retorts. ‘What do you mean you know? How did you know?’

This time, Daichi chews and swallows before he responds. ‘It was obvious to me.’ He turns to look at Suga squarely. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

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

(‘I’m Sugawara Koushi! But everyone just calls me Suga’. // ‘Imai Ume. It’s nice to meet you.’)

To be honest, he didn't think much of her at first when she joined their class. She had a habit of keeping to herself, never lingering in class before or after lessons, eating lunch alone at her desk, nose buried in a book, but he was brought up with good manners - so he kept greeting her every morning until her small nods turn into quiet smiles.

Of course, he just had to embarrass himself by hitting her in the face with a curry bun (Noya and Tanaka will never let him live it down), but in hindsight that probably kickstarted their friendship. And he’s very grateful for it. She's always passing him copies of her notes for lessons he’s missed or summaries of exam topics she thinks might come in useful, all painstakingly handwritten and colour coded - and even gives him the go-ahead to share it with Daichi. She volunteers to tutor Noya and Tanaka, and he’s sure that it’s in no small part due to her effort that they pass and get to attend training camp.

Yet he’s never considered her more than a friend. Right?

Right?

If he analyses the case of how he feels about one Imai Ume carefully, sifting through the puzzle pieces one at a time, he realises that he's not quite right.

There are little things that come to mind. Like his heart skipping a beat when he hears her laugh for the first time. The flush of his cheeks when he finds out she actually brought Yuji to watch their games. The rush of pride and joy when she tells him ‘I think he’s found a new way to fly’.

And maybe there are bigger things. Like the burst of blind panic in his chest when he hears Tanaka shout for him. The burning urge to break Yamada’s jaw and wipe that smirk off his ugly face when he sees red marks marring her skin. The cold satisfaction in his chest when he (and half the volleyball team) strike that bastard exactly where it hurts.

He remembers the sunshine dancing on her skin, the warmth of her shoulder pressed against his. The touch of her hand ghosting against his cheek. The faint memory of a fairytale about a Prince who gave his all and finds everything he set out to seek.

('And they lived happily ever after?' he asks // 'And they lived happily ever after' she agrees.)

The puzzle pieces fit. It finally clicks.

‘Shit,’ he swears, dialing Daichi’s number.

‘It’s midnight’, Daichi mumbles, voice rough with sleep. ‘What could you possibly want from me?’

‘I like Ume’, Suga says - and just saying it feels right. ‘I like her, Daichi’.

He hears an almighty yawn - and then he can almost see Daichi smile.

‘So what are you going to do about it?’

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

What is he going to do about it?

Get hold of one Imai Ume and tell her that his mouth moved faster than his brain (and heart), of course.

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

But what can he do about it?

Not very much, as it turns out.

For starters, he realises they’ve never exchanged numbers. He never felt the need to, they were classmates, no, seatmates, so she was always there, like the sun and stars in the sky.

He tries to find where she lives by asking around but soon meets a dead end. Karasuno Town isn’t large by any measure, the main shopping street fanning out into a smattering of small rural neighbourhoods. But he knows for a fact that Ume stays with her maternal grandparents, and she’s never once mentioned their surname, so he’s left with little to go on.

‘At least I know she’s moving to Sendai City’, he mopes to Daichi over a steaming bowl of ramen.

Daichi, probably tired of the number of times he’s heard him repeat this, just slurps his noodles noisily.

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

He and Daichi rent a flat from a little old lady who pats their chests and pinches their cheeks. It’s halfway between their schools, five minutes from the convenience store, and the rent is pretty cheap.

They soon settle into the rhythm of university life. They cycle to school in the mornings for lectures, struggle with tutorials, and fight over chores. Their social life isn’t too shabby either - they both make plenty of friends and even join volleyball teams.

Still, Suga can’t help feeling like something’s missing. ‘Someone, not something, you dolt’, his inner voice tells him, sounding suspiciously like Daichi.

He starts seeing the ghost of her everywhere.

He stares when he sees the slant of her shoulders in his classmate in the front seat. He crashes into Daichi when he thinks he hears the birdsong of her laughter float down the street. He picks up a habit of doing a double take at almost every girl he meets.

‘Stop it’, Daichi tells him crossly. ‘People are going to think you’re some kind of freak or pervert.’

He tries, he really does. But then months pass, and he starts to think that maybe Sendai City, with its million residents and a million more trees, might have hidden her out of his reach.

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

Summer arrives, and he returns home to Karasuno. He and Daichi and Asahi find themselves back in the school gym often, and he finds himself being dragged into practice match after practice match with his unruly kouhai. It’s a good way to spend his holidays, but he can’t help thinking if there isn’t a route he hasn’t explored yet.

‘No, Sugawara-kun, I can’t give you the contact details of our alumni, even if they’re your old classmates’, Takada-sensei says indignantly. ‘And don’t even think about breaking into the staff room at night!’

Eh. At least that was worth a try.

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

Tashiro senpai means well, he really does. But Daichi lets it slip that he’s been moping over some girl (‘For months!’, he roars), so on a Friday night, Suga finds himself thrust head first into a party at Tashiro’s apartment, surrounded by way too many people and not enough food. Daichi’s chatting with Yui (Go, Yui!), and he doesn’t know anyone else, so he doesn’t say no when Tashiro pushes cans of beer and cups of cheap spirits into his hands.

He’s a few months short of being able to legally drink, and it’s the first time he’s drinking outside his family home - but well, what Daichi doesn’t know won’t kill him. Soon though, the living room feels far too warm and the music is far too loud, so he figures he may as well seek fresh air and whatever refuge he can get on the cramped balcony beyond the kitchen.

He leans his forehead against the bannister. Gah. His head hurts. His stomach churns.

A raindrop splatters on to the back of his neck, then another, and soon he can hear the gentle patter of rain against the roof. He rights himself with a groan, and begins to head back inside. As he slides the glass door open, he turns and sees the silhouette of a girl emerge into the balcony, two apartments down, clearing her clothes from the laundry rack.

He stops. He can almost hear Daichi roaring at him at the back of his mind, but Suga can’t help but stare and think ‘there’s something awfully familiar about that girl’, but then - hasn’t he thought that about almost every girl he’s bumped into these past few months?

She takes a step forward and her face is lit by cheap fluorescent lights. He can see her clearly now, recognises the tilt of her chin, the curve of her cheeks and - by god, it’s her. His legs move and he lurches to the edge of the balcony, shouting her name like a loon.

Their eyes meet.

She yelps. And promptly drops her laundry basket, scrambling back inside.

He dashes back into Tashiro’s living room and trips into the corridor, ignoring Daichi’s shouts as he slams his fists into her front door. Her door remains stubbornly closed, and he keeps yelling, keeps beating her door. He can hear Daichi follow him, and he’s certain he’s going to get a bollocking tomorrow morning, but he doesn’t care, he’s finally found her in the midst of a million people and a million more trees and nothing else really matters.

The door swings open, and Imai Ume stands in the doorway looking livid. ‘My roommate is this close to calling the police,’ she hisses.

Daichi yanks him back with his shirt and snaps into a low bow. ‘Sorry for the trouble caused’, he says, and adds - that sly dog, ‘He may have drank a bit too much Umeshu’.

‘For God’s sake, Sawamura’, he faintly hears her squawk. ‘Can’t you take care of him a little better? He looks like absolute shit’.

Suga stares at her glassy-eyed. All he wants to do is to take her hand and tell her all the things he’s dreamt of saying these past few months (starting with I’m sorry I was an idiot- and ending with I missed you) - but his mind is suddenly foggy and his ears are ringing and his stomach keeps bloody churning and he suspects his body might have just given up on him completely.

‘I told you’, he manages to say. ‘I told you we’d see each other again’.

He pukes at her feet and promptly passes out.

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

When he wakes up, the sun is high in the sky, and he knows because he’s pretty sure it’s trying to stab him between the eyes. He flops over to his side.

What happened last night?

He cracks an eye open. He’s pretty sure he isn’t wearing his own pyjamas. The sweatshirt he has on is a touch too snug, the pants a touch too short - so definitely not Daichi’s either. He can’t be in Tashiro-senpai’s room either, because one, he’s pretty certain floral bedsheets aren’t his thing, and two, if he squints, he can see a pile of medical textbooks in the corner that definitely does not belong to him.

He groans, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, groping bleary eyed for his phone.

- You have 7 messages! -

[Daichi, 12.48am]: You are a very lucky man [Daichi, 12.48am]: Imai didn’t call the police on you [Daichi, 12.49am]: I had to clean up your puke [Daichi, 12.49am]: Wanted to lug you home but you’re heavier than you look [Daichi, 12.49am]: So she said to leave you and walk Michimiya home [Daichi, 12.50am]: Figure you’ll thank me anyway [Daichi, 12.51am]: Stay safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

‘You have got to be kidding me’, he moans. Fuck. His head still hurts.

Ume pokes her head into the room. ‘Oh, you’re awake. Feeling better?’

He snaps his head up and immediately regrets it. ‘Ow’, he whines, dropping his head in his hands.

‘I guess not’, she says. ‘Here’, she pokes him in the side. ‘Spare toothbrush. Wash up, and I’ll get breakfast ready so you can eat some meds’. She tugs him to his feet and pushes him into the bathroom.

This isn’t how he imagined meeting Ume again would be like. Getting piss drunk, puking at her door, and passing out in her bed? He’d take getting arrested over this any day, he thinks, moping to himself. Not to mention Daichi's probably going to kill him when he gets back. He shudders, then winces as he splashes cold water into his face.

Ume waves him into the kitchen. ‘Sit’, she says, and so he does. She sets a bowl of rice and fish and miso soup in front of him. ‘Eat’ she says, sliding a bottle of aspirin and a cup of hot tea at him. His stomach still hurts, but he's not about to let her effort go to waste.

‘Ittakimasu’, he says, putting his hands together, inclining his head slightly. Ume nods and sits across him, sipping her tea.

‘Thank you’, he says contritely. 'I'm sorry for the trouble I caused last night'.

‘It’s no problem. I managed to convince my roommates you were just a drunk ex-classmate, not some rapist or serial killer so they let you in', she hums, amused.

He groans. ‘I’m so sorry’.

'It's fine', she says, waving him away. 'I think Sawamura was a lot more mad than my roommates, since he had to clear your mess and then wrangle you into clean clothes’.

‘Well I think Daichi got to walk Michimiya home last night, so I don’t think he’ll be too mad’, he says drolly. She laughs at that, turning to clear the dishes into the sink.

‘Hey, Imai’. He takes a gulp of his tea, his throat suddenly dry.

‘Mm?’

‘'I - I missed you - you know, as a friend', he stammers at his hands. 'And I’d like to see you again. Maybe we could catch up over dinner sometime this weekend?'

She stills for a few seconds. 'I don't think it’d be a good idea to do that', she finally says.

His heart clenches. He wonders if he’s too late - if the distance that Sendai city with its million people and a million more trees has put between them is too great, if she no longer remembers their shared smiles and golden summer days. But then he sees the stack of blankets tucked into the corner of the couch, sees the food she must have woken up early to make, and wonders how his past self could have been so blind.

‘Imai’, he says. She keeps her eyes resolutely on the dish sponge in her hands. He exhales, and tells himself that it’s his turn to be brave. He takes a step towards her.

‘Ume’, he repeats, taking her hands into his. ‘Look at me’.

‘Stop it Suga! My hands are soapy’, she cries.

‘Nevermind that’, he says stubbornly. ‘Listen - I’m an idiot - and a coward. I meant it when I said I missed you, but I didn’t mean it as a friend’.

‘Wha-’, she begins to say but he cuts her off.

‘I like you, Imai Ume’, he breathes, bringing her hands close to his face. ‘I really like you - as a boy likes a girl. I want to keep holding your hands. I want to see you again - see you everyday, if you’ll let me'.

Her eyes widen, then she blinks slowly - once, twice, thrice.

‘Do you mean it?’ she asks, her eyes meeting his, and he’s struck by the thought that the stars in her eyes are so bright they can light up the night sky.

‘Why would I lie?’ he answers. ‘I’ve been looking over my shoulder every day for the past six months, hoping desperately to see you again.’

‘Oh', she breathes. ‘Oh’.

She gives him a look so full of affection and warmth - like sunlight breaking through the rain - that he knows he was right to be brave, knows that the past six months of searching and dreaming and longing hadn’t been a waste.

‘So… I take it you want to see me again?’ he asks cheekily.

‘Maybe’, she says, but her voice is teasing and she leans on to her toes to press her lips gently against his cheek.

‘I - I take that as a yes?’ he stutters and hates himself for flushing a bright pink, but refuses to release her hands.

‘Let me wash my hands first. Then - yes’, and she laughs, wide and bold and bright.

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

Coda

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

He opens the door and smiles at what has become a very familiar sight these past few weeks - Ume fast asleep at the kitchen table next to a half empty pot of tea, head pillowed against her textbooks. Usually, he’d just scoop her up and put her to bed, but they’ve not had much time together this week, what with him running all over the prefecture with his fledgling team for practice matches, and she with work and exams, so he decides to be a little selfish.

‘Ume’, he calls, shaking her shoulder gently. ‘Dearest. Wake Up.’

‘Mmph. Five more minutes. Go away.’ She mumbles, pushing his hand away.

‘Ume. Ummmeee,’ He drags out her name, finding extra syllables where there were previously none until she stirs, grumbling incoherently and he has to stifle a laugh when she swipes her hand across her mouth.

‘Oh! It’s you. Welcome home’, she folds herself upright, rubbing her eyes slowly. ‘Where’s Yuji? How was the match?’

‘Of course it’s me – who else would it be?’ he chuckles. ‘I dropped Yuji off at Kei-kun’s place for a sleepover with the team, they promised not to stay up all night eating junk and watching crappy movies but I don’t believe them. The match was great - we won! Yuji-chan did really well, he earned quite a few points and saved a few balls. You would’ve been proud of him. I know I was.’

‘That’s good, I’m sure he’ll tell me all about it tomorrow when he’s back.’ She nods towards the fridge. ‘I made mapo tofu for dinner – not too spicy though, your stomach will thank me after that long bus ride back.’

He hums a thanks, sliding the plate into the microwave, narrating a play by play of their match today, stopping only when he hears a loud yawn.

‘Go to bed, Ume’, he frowns at the lines of exhaustion on her face. ‘I shouldn’t be keeping you up, you have a morning shift tomorrow.’

‘Mm – I will, later. Was waiting for you. Mm’ not that tired,’ she protests, but then yawns again so widely he’s pretty sure he hears her jaw crack.

‘Bedtime, sleepyhead’, he says teasingly, lifting her into his chest.

It’s a testament to how tired she is when she doesn’t try to swat at him as she usually does, choosing instead to wrap her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. His breath hitches, and he wants nothing more than to hold her close and hide in bed preferably forever, but reminds himself that they’re adults now (with awful things like jobs and responsibilities and worse, bills to pay), so he settles her onto their bed, tucking the pillow beneath her head, the sheets under her chin.

‘Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll catch up properly on the weekend’, he whispers, pressing a kiss into her dark hair.

‘Mmph, love you’, she mumbles, half asleep.

‘Love you too’, he shuts the door with a click, a soft smile on his face.

He’s mentioned off-hand to her before that they’re lucky to be this happy.

‘It’s not all luck’, he remembers her replying. ‘Happiness isn’t easy to come by. It’s a choice. It takes effort and hard work to earn that choice, and you need to take the time to build it up, brick by brick, piece by piece.’

He used to wonder what she meant by that - but six years in, and he thinks he finally understands what she means.

She’s meticulous in the way she makes him happy - the way she catalogues his quirks and deals patiently with his follies. How she knows to always leave food in the fridge for him after work so he won’t get cranky. How she tries her best to stay up and listen to him complain about his frustrations with pushy parents or irresponsible kids, how she tries to watch every one of his (and Yuji’s) games should time permit. He can see it even in the way she smiles indulgently when she sends him off with Daichi and Tanaka for izakaya and drinks.

For his part - he wonders if he does enough. He wakes up early most mornings to hitch a ride with her to work so they get a chance to chat about their day. He buys flowers from the florist down the street for her every week, and slips sandwiches and post-it notes in her work bag when he knows she’s had a long shift. He holds her close when she collapses on the couch, boneless and exhausted from a hard day.

He thinks about the life they share - weeknights spent sitting together, him sketching lesson plans and volleyball plays and she reading up for exams and work cases, weekends spent in grocery stores and parks and volleyball games. Six years together - they’re happy, and they show it in the quietest of ways.

They’re driving back to Karasuno this weekend - ostensibly to celebrate Keiji’s birthday and meet a couple of friends. But he’s conspired with Keiji and Yuji so he can sneak her away to the park for a picnic under the tree where they share memories of long, quiet talks and golden summer days. He’s hidden her ring in a picnic box full of homemade onigiri and sandwiches, strawberries and peaches.

He plans to go down on one knee and ask if she’d like to continue working on being happy with him forever.

He hopes she’ll say yes.

(She does.)

#haikyuu #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyu x reader #sugawara #sugawara fic #sugawara headcanon #sugamama #haikyuu fluff #karasuno #haikyuu fic #sugawara x reader #suga

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justkeeptrekkin · 6 years ago

Note

Prompt: Crowely tells Az he loves him by accident while going on a big long rant about (dealers choice) Az catches right away and just smiles and waits as Crowely comes to the realization of what he said

Anon. Anon. I love you for this.

***

“See, thing is-”

Crowley’s words elude him- as they have a habit of doing, the sneaky buggers. He watches the white lines in the middle of the road streak by, feels the tarmac roaring beneath the car. It’s a rainy evening and they’re driving home from a restaurant north of Watford that Aziraphale has been banging on about for months. Since the world had ended- and then promptly not ended- the angel’s zest for food hasn’t lessened in the slightest. In fact, it’s only gotten bloody zestier, as if their near-apocalypse experience has made Aziraphale realise that life is too short. Even an immortal life such as his.

Crowley loses his track of his thought entirely. “Thing is…”

“You were talking about-”

“KINDLES!” Crowley exclaims, taking his hands off the wheel to celebrate this eureka moment. Aziraphale straightens out beside him nervously and grabs a fistful of his corduroy trousers. Crowley slaps the leather of the steering wheel enthusiastically as he continues, “Kindles. Are not. Demonic! We didn’t come up with them- that was all you, I’m certain!”

“Why on earth would I invent the Kindle, dear boy? Do you even know me at all?”

“You-plural, not you-singular. Angels you, Heaven you.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t sanction it.”

“Alright but- listen- what’s the problem with kindles? Why’re- what’s the problem? I mean really, it’s a book, isn’t it. Just a book on a screen. What’s the problem?”

“The problem-” Aziraphale begins confidently, bordering aggressively. Then the wind appears to be knocked out of his sails. “Well,” he tries again, a little weakly. “The problem, the problem lies therein. In that. Well-”

“See! See, it’s clearly a good thing, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about- all these people going ‘oh, ho-ho, oh dear, books aren’t physical anymore, what a travesty! Let’s all- grab our pitchforks! And lament the loss of our children’s education’.” He adds a mocking, whinging voice to this last bit.

Aziraphale tuts, stretches his legs out in front and crosses them.

“No, you’re wildly misinterpreting the argument, Crowley.”

“You know it’s true, don’t deny it! People are only against them because humans don’t like change- they get all squirmy and anxious about it. As if, you know, as if the transition from a physical book to a little screen is the end of the world- and! Now that they’ve actually had a taste of the apocalypse, they really haven’t gained any more perspective, have they? I mean, you’d think they’d start worrying about global warming properly, but instead they’re just sad about kindles and- oh! That’s another thing, kindles aren’t paper! Less deforestation! Clearly- listen, come on, that’s got to be angelic work.”

Aziraphale pouts and averts his gaze, brows slightly raised in indignance.

Crowley snorts. He notices the lines of the road streak by a little slower, presses down on the accelerator.

“Aha!”

Crowley flicks his gaze over to Aziraphale, who’s turned his whole body towards him in his seat eagerly. A smug finger pointed in his face.

“What? No,” Crowley shakes his head. “You- don’t try and argue with me on this, I’m absolutely certain-”

“Amazon! Kindles are owned by Amazon, notoriously corrupt!”

Crowley scowls, rolls his head wearily. “No, angel, they weren’t always bad, we only got to them a couple of years ago. You can’t argue that-”

“Amazon. Invented. Kindles! Thereby, kindles are evil. The end, full stop. Fin.”

“That’s just- you’ve been around long enough to know that’s not how it works.”

“And you can’t honestly argue that books are bad just because they’re made of paper. Books are knowledge! Books are the weapons against the armies of ignorance! Righteous tools-”

“Righteous tools,” Crowley snorts.

“Against the dark forces of evil!”

“Not this bollocks again. Look, books are fine, books are all well and good, but not everyone’s into them, are they? Times are changing, angel, you can watch things like Netflix or whatever it’s called and, listen to podcasts and- the way people share knowledge is different now. Listen, I love knowledge, love the stuff. You know I do, I was the one who got Eve to eat the apple after all, but even then, even then I’ve never really read books, unless I really have to, the only reason I read Pride and Prejudice is because I love you, and admittedly, yes, it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever put myself through- actually, I think trying to read A Tale of Two Cities was what really did it for me, Charles Dickens- Christ alive, did you ever run into Dickens, angel? Miserable sod.”

Crowley drums his fingers against the steering wheel expectantly. The road side lights cast an orange glow in the car- brightening and darkening, brightening and darkening as they drive past one after another. Aziraphale is silent.

And it’s only then that Crowley realises his mistake.

It dawns on him the way a glass fills up slowly with water in the washing up bowl and sinks to the bottom. Slowly, then a sinking feeling. And then hitting rock bottom.

He keeps his eyes on the road. His fingers tight on the steering wheel.

“You…”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t. Just don’t. Alright?”

“But Crowley-”

“I said don’t.”

Quiet fills the car. There isn’t even the sound of Freddie Mercury to assuage the nauseating pain in his stomach, the feeling of his throat closing like he’s having an allergic reaction. He wants to cry. He wants to cry for the first time in a very, very long time. He blinks away the feeling, and holds himself together with pure will power, just like he held together this car a few weeks back.

Only, he’s been holding himself together for roughly six thousand years. It’s getting close to too much. His metaphorical knees are buckling. Atlas only wishes he were as resilient as Crowley.

Aziraphale exhales- a long, shaky breath. Crowley doesn’t turn to look, can’t bear it.

Besides, he’s known him- loved him long enough that he can see him in his mind’s eye easily. Eyes sometimes dreamy, brows sometimes pulled together in concern. Lips sometimes twisted in disapproval, sometimes beaming with so much unreserved joy that Crowley has to tease him. Just so he doesn’t end up gazing, bathing in the brightness of that smile.

And then Aziraphale huffs to himself- a determined little noise that sets Crowley on edge. And he’s already too close to the edge to handle. He’s only just got a hold of himself as it is, hands shaking on the wheels and knee bouncing. The threat of tears still there, threatening to make him choke on his breath- it gets stuck in his throat.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says. So gently.

That’s almost what does it- it’s almost what makes Crowley lose control, teeth grinding painfully and eyes stinging. The motorway stretching out in front of them, empty. Time stretching out even further.

Then the angel speaks again. “You can go faster, Crowley.”

The words trickle through his brain slowly, like drops of water building at the rim of a tap. Then- drip. Understanding. Crowley’s throat clicks as he swallows, painfully.

“That is- of course, only if you want to,” Aziraphale rushes, waves his hands desperately, “You can- drive- go- uh, you can go as slowly as you like, only, don’t feel obliged to go slowly on my account. Anymore.”

The angel clears his throat. And Crowley turns to look.

He’s smiling. He looks absolutely bloody terrified, eyes a little wide and watery just like that day-

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

-except now he’s smiling. A quiet, wobbly smile to himself as he stares out of the rain streaked window. Crowley watches the way the orange street light passes through his silver hair, making it appear more like brass. He watches him bite his lip, then continue.

“We could. Oh, I don’t know. We could do that picnic we talked about. Or, perhaps a walk through Wimbledon Common. Together. Or.” He pauses. “Or, if you wanted to, you could drop me off and come in for a night cap. I have some rather nice port hiding somewhere in my office.”

Aziraphale turns to meet his eyes. A look filled with welcome and kindness and understanding. Light catching his face like a Vermeer painting. And Crowley lets himself stare.

“Eyes on the road, my dear.”

He only realises that his mouth is hanging open when he tries to forumlate his next words. He shuts it, then says, “What?”

“Eyes on the road, Crowley. Before we both get discorporated.”

It takes another moment to register. But then his head snaps forwards and he looks ahead again, the road continuing into the dark towards London. He can feel all the air rush out of him like a balloon. And then something else replaces it- something lighter than air, something that makes his mind feel like it’s drifting to another plane. Something weightless.

“Picnic,” Crowley eventually says, nodding to himself. He scratches his chin nervously. “Picnic then walk. Or, walk then picnic.”

Because- and Crowley can’t quite believe himself for this- he thinks a night cap might be a bit too fast for him.

“Lovely,” Aziraphale says. The word comes out in a whisper. “You can pick me up at midday tomorrow. If that’s-”

“That’s.” Crowley stalls. Nods his head compulsively like a nodding car-toy. “That’s. Yeah. Midday’s good. Midday it is.”

“Crowley?”

“Angel,” he replies seriously, business-like.

There’s a moment of hesitation. Aziraphale breathes deeply beside him, like a man stepping off the train from London to Cornwall, taking in the countryside air for the first time in years.

“I do love you. An awful lot.”

Crowley continues to nod. But he can feel the facade slip. He can sense his bottom lip wobble, so he clamps his jaw tight shut. To no avail. He continues to drive them down the M25, although at this point he could be in St James’ Park, or in the middle of a desert, or on another planet- his mind is entirely elsewhere.

It’s not a conscious decision to stretch out his hand over the gear stick towards Aziraphale. It’s something desperate in him, something needy and disbelieving. He feels Aziraphale take it without pause, his clasp warm in his own.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #anon #my writing #prompts #fic prompt

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series, Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 5600

Summary: Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

You knew for a fact that it was a load of BS. The truth is that words can break your heart. And that realization hits you full force the day you have your last exam to earn your bachelor degree.

If you pass, it will be a cause for great celebration. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the series. Will be in two (or three) parts. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: I did something in here which I’m usually trying to avoid at any cost; in this story, I used Y/N Y/L/N. Does that count as a warning?

Warnings II: name calling, humiliation, panic attack!, bad poetry, mentions of vomiting and alcohol, the briefest mention of self-harm, angst, swearing, threats of violence

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You released the breath you had been holding, all your willpower put into not sinking into the chair in relief as Professor Phillips announced your grade – one that meant that you hadn’t failed.

In fact, you had just passed your last exam of your bachelor program so you were entirely in the right. In your head, an overexcited monkey started playing cymbals and you didn’t mind the noise despite how sleep-deprived you were from the past few days. A barely contained mad smile fought its way to your lips instead.

Mind you, as you thanked Professor Phillips and rose to your feet – your knees almost giving out, because HOLY SHIT YOU JUST GOT YOUR BACHELOR’S – you would swear you saw a brief smile on the professor’s face too as if he was amused at your antics.

But who cared if he was having fun at your expense?! You PASSED! You had been losing sleep, terrified of this exam, because everyone knew Phillips was a hard-ass – a fair one, but still a hard-ass – and you just passed his examination!

Time to pop the fucking champagne! The one Penny had been saving at the dorm from yesterday when she had finished her own degree; she insisted that she would wait for you, because you were in this together.

You couldn’t leave her waiting any longer and you didn’t have any intention to do so.

Leaving the room and walking into the empty hallway – because of course you came the last as if to prolong your torture – you breathed in and out and deliberately let the grin finally spread on your face fully.

You were free, you were ready to take on the world despite not being ready at all and you had Steve, who you suspected would be proud as hell and would celebrate with you tomorrow, graciously letting you and your roomie do it first-- and gosh, life was beautiful.

Making your way down the corridor, with a grin ever-present, a leaflet that hadn’t been there before caught your attention. It appeared a handwritten note, styled in a regular column – a poem perhaps.

Still smiling, the curiosity took the best of you and you walked to it, peripherally noticing that along the walls, there was even more.

You froze in your step when your gaze fell on the first line; your very own name was staring back at you and it confused you at first, a brief surge of excitement lighting up your body, a naïve belief that perhaps Steve somehow decided to surprise you.

But Steve’s last name came next, which you found strange.

And then came the word ‘whore’ and your heart stopped, your gaze automatically flickering all over the page.

Your stomach made a painful somersault, your mind turning blank.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of that nightmare materializing in front of you, reading and re-reading the poem that almost resembled a twisted nursery rhyme over and over.

Y/N Y/L/N Rogers’ whore Bet she’ll get The highest score For sucking dick Having fucked her ass Let’s hope she’ll soon Be eating grass

Darkness battled to cut off your vision, the world swaying off of its place. Involuntarily, your trembling hand reached out and touched the paper, smooth under your fingertips, your frantically beating heart and the vertigo threating to overpower your sense of balance tying you to the reality, screaming at you that this wasn’t just a really fucked-up dream.

You tore the paper down, lump growing in your throat as you looked around for watchful eyes in sudden paranoia of being followed, only to find the hallway deserted aside from you.

Just you and many papers hanging on the walls.

As if you were just a puppet to a spiteful master, your feet carried you to the next leaflet, tears filling your eyes as you found the very same words written on it; a precise copy.

Your breathing picked up a furious pace, your chest crushed under a weight of an invisible elephant stomping on it. The corridor swam in the dampness of your eyes, your mind too quiet and yet screaming with millions of question marks and exclamation points, panic squeezing your lungs, nausea attacking your stomach.

What the hell was happening? Who would do that? Why? What was the goal? Was it just to ruin your triumph?

Because if that was the goal, it was a roaring success; the thousands of questions swirling in your head and the unexpected sting in your heart turned the fact that you had passed an exam into a faint memory.

All you saw was the words.

Rogers’s whore

Was that what you were? Was that how people who knew about the relationship saw you? Was that how Steve saw you?

The highest score for sucking dick

Was that what you were doing? Using Steve’s position to your advantage? Was that how you got through every exam including the one today, even if unwittingly? Was that what Phillips’ little smile had been about?

Hope she’ll soon be eating grass.

Was that a threat? Was someone wishing that happened to you or were they actually about to hurt you? Why?!

Hearing your own wheezing and feeling your fingertips prickling, your foggy mind did the only reasonable thing it could come up with; it led your steps into the nearest bathroom at lightning speed with no regard for how shaky were your feet.

You stumbled into the open stall, smashing the door shut and leaning onto them with your suddenly damp forehead, feeling the cold beads of sweat gather in your hairline, your cheeks drenching in tears.

When did you start crying so hard?

When did the trembling in your limbs begin?

What the fuck was happening?

What-how--why-but-

Your palms rested on the door as you desperately tried and failed to ground yourself and take control of your breathing. Your temples were pounding irritatingly, your gut painfully clenching--- and exactly in that moment that could have lasted a second or an hour, your fingers brushed over a piece of paper stuck on the door.

Darkness curled around your brain like a treacherous friend, another wave of nausea twisting your stomach.

It took you one blurry glance at the paper and you knew precisely what it was, choking on your sob, ripping the offensive poem off and tearing it to pieces which you blindly threw to the toilet, the flushing sound deafening to your ears.

Your shaky legs finally gave out, knees buckling, your body sliding down the stall wall, fingers pulling at your hair as you felt the dizziness engulfing your head, a bitter taste in your mouth.

You gripped tighter, hoping that the pain on the surface would overpower the pain and gaping hole inside, as another violent sob erupted from your throat.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

An eternity later, you felt your whole being float.

Your breathing was still frantic and interrupted with sobs, but a sensation resembling serenity spread in your very core—or perhaps it was just numbness?

You couldn’t seem to be able to tell the difference anymore.

The creak of a door made you cover your mouth to muffle the noises still escaping your lips for the fear of being caught – either being found in this state in general or found as in found by the person who wrote---that – being stronger than the subdued power of your previous breakdown.

It was probably too late for the newcomer to miss your presence, but over the slowly fading ringing in your ears, you could hear a few steps that came to a halt and then they sounded a bit quicker as the woman left.

Thank FUCK. You couldn’t do human interaction of any kind right now.

You removed your hand and breathed out shakily, blinking away the tears.

Shaking your head wildly, you gritted your teeth in a feeble attempt at bolster yourself. You had to get up off your ass and leave before there would be no longer way of avoiding a confrontation – god forbid a confrontation with Steve, who was probably still in a class, testing his own students.

You climbed to your feet, wiping the remains of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand and went to fix your ruined make-up, hopefully enough to look little less suspicious when walking through the campus.

It was probably a vain effort, because you were a walking epitome of a mess.

Rogers’s whore, sounded in your ears and you shook your head again, inhaling sharply through your mouth.

It was time to run and then break down again at the dorms. With Penny preferably--or did she think you were a whore too? You were fucking a professor after all-

Stop that!

Penny wasn’t like that. She understood. She’d be willing to listen all about this outrageous act of terror and would sympathize. Right?

Yeah, you’d talk about it with Penny, your amazing friend, who needed a celebration and a very generous amount of alcohol, which happened to be exactly what you needed too.

Yep, that sounded pretty good.

With one last determined glance on your horrible reflection in the mirror, you headed out.

The door nearly hit you in the face on its way back as you threw it open and froze in the doorway.

You did not expect to see someone so soon after leaving your improvised safe space… let alone him.

“Prof-professor Wilson,” you choked out, clearing your scratchy throat as he stood there, unmistakably waiting for you.

Because that was what you needed at the moment. The university counsellor and professor of psychology in one person.

Fuck.

He said you name in a mild tone, almost as if trying to tame a wild animal, but not quite – all his voice made you feel was shame at getting caught. And a bit of anger at the whole fucking world, because why couldn’t you have a tiny piece of peace after seeing that? Just a little shred of luck, huh?!

Oh, right, you were a whore who were only using Professor Rogers, paying for it in sexual favours.

“Mind if we talk in my office for a bit?”

“Not like I really have a choice…” you mumbled automatically, the realization of how rude it sounded dawning to you oh too slowly, your brain too tangled up in a web of self-pity and self-loathing. “Sorry. Of course. Lead the way.”

“Good. Thank you,” he replied, appearing unoffended. “And for the record, you do have a choice.”

Hadn’t you been a wreck with burning tear-stained cheeks, your face might have felt hotter at the kind remark.

At the slowest pace possible, you followed Professor Wilson to his office, dread and exhaustion filling every fibre of your being.

You noticed however that the walls that had been lined with odes about you, put up for everyone to see, had disappeared; possibly Wilson’s own work.

Somehow, it didn’t make you feel much better, the image of the previous addition to the corridors’ decor stuck in your brain. But hey, it was supposed to be the thought that counted, right?

And Professor Wilson was a nice guy. He offered you a drink – sadly a non-alcoholic one – attempted a joke saying that no, it was no trouble getting you one, which was the reason he offered.

Generally, he treated you as if he wanted to provide you with a safe space.

And then he kindly told you that he knew about the poem, because his cousin who’s in her first year here at the uni, texted him what the heck was the e-mail she received on her uni account about.

In other word, he gently broke to you that whoever had done this possibly sent it to every student in the database too.

You nearly threw up hearing that; the pit you had climbed up from and of which edge you were balancing, deepened. But you didn’t fall back there.

Yet.

It was probably because you were still too shocked at the information.

“I hate asking that question, but do you have any idea who did this?” Wilson asked quietly and you had nothing but a helpless shake of a head for a reply. You felt your vision blurring, dizziness fogging your brain again. “Can you think of anyone who holds a grudge against you for some reason?”

A scoff escaped your lips, cynical as you found the answer obvious from the verses.

“Besides dating Steve, you mean?” you noted sarcastically. Wilson waited for more, his eyebrows twitching in surprise and expectation before he got it under control. “Sorry, I meant Professor Rog-“

“Hey, you can call him Steve,” he assured you, so damn sweet and diligent. “I met him, you know, I’d go as far as calling him a friend. And right here, right now, he is not your professor, but your boyfriend. I’m talking to you as a counsellor so feel free to call me Sam if you’re comfortable. And to answer your question, I assume that it is as good motive as any, but the fact that the two of you are dating is practically a public knowledge at this point, so it doesn’t really narrow our field of suspects.”

Despite his openness and kind approach, you once again could only shrug, growing desperate by the minute. The urge to leave – because suddenly it made even more sense, him taking you here, he was friends with Steve, he was stalling – became unbearable.

You didn’t have the strength to see Steve now. You couldn’t. You would question every gesture, analyse everything and perhaps came to the conclusion that he agreed with the author of the poem and you desperately didn’t want that. You needed to forget about this, preferably with an unhealthy amount of alcohol, you needed to cry some more, you needed ice-cream and a hug and to bitch about everything and you needed a fucking nap that would last at least a week.

“I don’t know who hates me that much, I swear. Can I please go now?”

Sam cocked his head to side, a minute frown creasing his brows. “Is that what you want?”

Do you really want to leave before Steve gets a chance to get here?

You should probably feel guilty. You wanted to feel guilty, because that was you being a coward and it was downright mean to Steve, who would no doubt learn about this very soon and from someone else, but you didn’t have the capacity to think about anything at all besides feeling like you were going to explode any second.

“Yes. Thanks for being nice and all, but I—I’d rather go.”

“You have a roommate? A friend you live with and who’s in?” he fussed, voice gravely, amiable chocolate eyes observing you with worry. Did he think you were about to hurt yourself? Did you look like the type? Were you? You mentally shook your head. Jesus.

“Yeah,” you creaked, already rising to your feet, endlessly grateful that he was letting you go. “Penny. We— uhm, we were supposed to go celebrating.”

You nearly choked on the last word, feeling like everything but going out tonight. The idea of going out and facing all the stares cause by the widely-spread e-mail made your stomach clench.

You kinda lost the appetite to celebrate anything to begin with; all the relief and joy, which had filled every last bit of your being post-learning your grade, vanished and was replaced by a dark sticky substance filling your lungs, your gut, your veins, muffling the outside world.

Perhaps Penny would agree to a loud night in?

“You can still do that, that’s up to you. But please, get some sleep and don’t be alone. Here,” he stood up as well, handing you a card. “My number, even if you just need to talk to a sort-of outsider and word-vomit all over someone, okay?”

You couldn’t argue with his offer – you had a feeling you’d vomit soon, either verbally or literally. Still, you charmed a shaky smile that probably turned out a grimace.

“K. Thanks… Sam.”

“Any time.”

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Of course, Wilson’s unspoken question about moving quick to avoid an encounter with certain professor was painfully on point.

You bailed on Steve whom you were supposed to wait for even if just for a hug and congratulations, practically running to the dorm, your unsteady feet and tears still clouding your vision be damned.

You ignored the ringing of your phone, assuming it was Steve himself; bile rose to your throat at the idea of hearing his voice at that moment. He tried twice before you smashed the power button and threw the phone back to your purse, breathing out in relief and wanting to puke at the same time.

You truly couldn’t find the capacity to deal with him momentarily – you needed to be alone and safe from any prying eyes, preferably in the comfort of your shared dorm with Penny. You cried harder when you finally reached it, your feet hurting from attempting to run in heels.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Penny somehow already knew, probably from the e-mail – it was written all over her face. And hadn’t her expression been enough, instead of a celebratory champagne she handed you a shot of a transparent liquid the moment you opened the door.

You turned it bottoms up without questioning it and asked for another. Penny grabbed the bottle of vodka waiting on the shoe rack and poured one for you and one for herself. You didn’t bother clinking the glasses.

Though the burn in your throat felt pleasant, it did nothing to sooth the burn in your eyes and heart. Penny’s embrace made it a bit better.

So did the third shot of vodka.

You didn’t switch on your phone that day again – and when it was nearing midnight, after a four-hour nap, you convinced Penny to go celebrate to the Freddy’s as you had originally planned to do. You pretended that no one stared at you and instead you danced and drank until your mind was swimming enough for the sorrow and anger to drown.

You were one lucky bitch to have Penny walk you home.

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Steve was sitting at his desk at the faculty office he shared with Bucky and was working hard at what he excelled at for these past days despite his genuine efforts at not doing so; getting absolutely nothing done at all.

His hands had grown somewhat unsteady, a reflection of how he was feeling, how torn and absurdly broken he had become. He was spilling drinks on a regular basis, items kept falling from his flimsy hold. His brain felt foggy these days as well, most likely a consequence of the shitty sleep he was getting.

His bed felt too big despite his rather large frame and too cold despite his body temperature usually running almost too high; the sheets smelled strange and foreign despite being his own and the bed screamed with emptiness on a volume that kept interrupting his already deficient sleep.

Four days.

Four days since one stupid poem knocked his world out of its orbit and everything that mattered crashed down. Well, perhaps not everything, Steve happened to like his job too and he still had it, but such detail seemed insignificant; it certainly did in comparison to the fact that he had been attempting and had failed to reach you.

Calls.

Texts.

Few e-mails when he felt particularly helpless and frustrated.

His messed up sleeping and eating schedule and the irregularity that came with the exam period would make a perfect case of him losing any notion of time – yet Steve knew about every second without you, practically counting them.

He could still see Sam Wilson standing outside the classroom he had been testing students’ knowledge in as if it happened yesterday. He could recall with painfully stark clarity the unreadable expression on his face and the ominous “Steve, man… we need to talk.”

Steve still remembered Tony Stark waltzing in the next day with a baby in some sort of a front backpack, agitated that someone had gotten into the database, let alone to send all the hate-emails, and how he announced he found the culprit and their accomplices in an hour, which apparently happened to be too long to his liking.

Steve would smile at the memory of the technical genius’ antics, but the gaping hole in his chest caused by the deafening silence from you prevented it. Hell, not even the vivid picture of Carol Danvers from the faculty of law, moonlighting like a member of the legal department of the university, made the corners of his lips rise.

And hadn’t it been quite a show, a downright uplifting experience.

Steve was watching the screen with a frown, a stone-solid clench to his jaw and a firm clench to his fists.

It was almost amusing really; Bucky kept going about Fury being a creep and not a spy, but despite the lack of a one-way glass, the space Carol and the girl was in – just like two other rooms, each with one man – resembled an interrogation room. Steve never had been more grateful for audio and video feed in his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t laughing in delight at being proved right.

In fact, it had been taking all of his willpower not to burst into those rooms and give a piece of his mind to every single person guilty of being involved in hurting you. In causing his life to collapse on itself.

Steve couldn’t quite recall the brunet Carol was roasting, but he suspected he had seen her in one of the classes he was teaching. She didn’t stand out from the crowd of students and he didn’t see anything special about her worth remembering; then again, he tended to forget to take notice of other pretty faces ever since he had laid his eyes on yours.

And right now, all he saw was a face of a vicious bitch who forced you into pushing him away and a single look at her had his blood boiling.

Steve truly wanted to punch the living daylights of her and that said something, because he prided himself in having moral objection to hitting women, especially from sheer anger.

However, the desire was growing with each piece of information he learned. Because Yvonne Whatever-Is-Her-Name was a piece of work for fucking certain.

She talked a guy number one, whom she was attending Introduction to Social Studies 101 and who had a very apparent teenage-like crush on her, into reaching out to his friend, guy number two, whom he often played some online video game with, into hacking the database, sending the e-mails and finding out when and where exactly your exam was, just so Yvonne herself could redecorate the corridors and bathroom and make sure you wouldn’t miss her work of art.

Carol was alternating between visiting each of the ‘suspects’ and man, did they sing like birds.

Steve wanted to strangle them all, but fuck, the hatred for Yvonne Burton specifically was already consuming him and gnawing at his very soul; yes, he found out her last name just so he knew his mortal enemy. He was going to burn her to the ground, one way or the other… not that Carol hadn’t been doing a fine job so far.

That damn brunet had tears running down her face, sobbing occasionally, but still rarely sassing back. Somehow, seeing her like that wasn’t half as satisfying as Steve hoped, because his mind kept wandering to you and wondering if you looked about the same and every time such picture formed in his head, he hated Ms.Burton a fraction more.

She had used a guy who liked her, which Carol blatantly pointed out. The lawyer didn’t seem to hold back her own snark if the question about how the culprits met – via some forum for bruised ego, was it? – was anything to go by.

“I might be a lawyer, but I’m begging for every art professor and author I know – stay away from poetry. What you wrote is a child’s rhyme really, but like every writing, it says a lot about who you are. And it gives me a plenty of ammunition. We have two names, one full, one last name pointing out a specific person from the context. If I play my cards right, we have defamation on our hands, libel to be precise. Congratulation,” Carol remarked in a surprisingly calm voice. The other woman visibly paled. Good. “And what about the last line? Is that… is that a threat of violence? I can make it harassment, but if I try hard enough, perhaps we can consider it something more serious…?”

“You don’t get to threaten me! You’re lying! I’ve done nothing wrong and so serious!” the girl – and really, in Steve’s eyes, she was nothing but a stupid girl who somehow managed to kick his life in its balls – exploded, jumping to her feet.

Carol levelled her with a glare and an irritated hiss. “Sit down.” Burton did, clammy hands curled up in trembling fists. “And you’ve done more than enough.”

“You don’t understand!”

“Oh don’t I? Be my guest then. Explain it. Your motivation, the legal side, anything. I’m all ears.”

“I love him!” the girl exclaimed and Steve grinded his teeth as a surge of rage shooting through his veins.

Like fucking hell she did. He didn’t remember even talking to her if he ever had to start with and she loved him?!

Was that really what this was about? This girl somewhat liked him and got obsessed? Decided to wreck his girlfriend? To what end? To drive the two of you apart? To make you hate him so he would run to her? To simply ruin your future? What the fuck was wrong with her?! She was a damn kid with hurt pride and zero efforts put in so far, because he couldn’t even remember her-

“Oh you really don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have done this,” Carol responded with a cold edge to her voice, apparently agreeing with Steve’s thoughts and being equally unimpressed with Ms.Burton dramatic confession.

“I’m fighting for him! Ain’t nothing wrong-”

Oh Steve would argue with that so hard. He could feel Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, but neither of them said anything as Steve gripped the edge of the table the monitors were on.

He was sure he was going to be sick, the edge of his vision doing something he only read about; as if truly turning red, crimson with hunger for blood. He never ever craved tearing someone in half, not a single one of the guys who bullied him in school, not the girls that laughed at him when he said he liked them; and make no mistake, he had always felt mad enough.

But right now, he tasted undiluted rage and it tasted like acid with a bitter aftertaste of iron and copper, searing hot on his tongue and spreading through his body, turning it heavy and nauseatingly light at the same time.

“No, you’re ruining his life,” Carol emphasized, leaning onto the table and glaring murder at the girl. “If this is your idea of fighting for someone, it’s pretty twisted. You could have done literally anything to make him notice you, hell, pick you, but leave if he still said no, because that’s a sensible thing to do. But instead, you hurt someone he cared about. And that means you hurt him too – not to mention that his name is in there, possibly putting a scrap on his reputation. If you did love him, you’d want him to be happy.”

Steve gulped and looked away, unable to bear the weight of Carol’s words, feeling the jab on his own person. Because he was familiar with being accused of ruining someone’s life and future despite seemingly loving them. God knew that on a rainy day, he wondered about his own ‘love’ and its purity too – and now, it was fucking pouring and Steve had been forced to question everything he knew.

Was this little brunet Satan a godsend in fact? Was she supposed to tell him to stop lying to himself about not being your doom? Just what kind of a mess this stunt would have made had you been working a steady job and this got to your employer?

A gentle hand reached for his shoulder, a silent support, and Steve found himself torn between irritated, grateful and deeply ashamed.

No matter how much he hated it, he should be on the list to get punched for hurting you too.

“So, sorry to break it to you, but you don’t love him,” Carol continued and with Sam’s palm on his shoulder, Steve forced himself to watch the scene, the grand finale. “You’re just a little girl with attitude issues, a crush that got out of hand, and a ton of luck for knowing a guy willing to help you. Guess what – you just ran out of that luck.”

Heavy silence fell on the interrogation room and Steve’s eyes slid shut, hearing Carol and Yvonne’s parting words.

“And just so you know, she didn’t get the highest score. She got a B.”

Steve didn’t even know that and despite all the shit they were in, he felt a surge of pride for his g- hopefully still his girl.

At the same time, the fact that he learned it from Carol and not from you as he still couldn’t reach you, felt like a punch to his solar plexus.

Carol entered the monitoring room with a discontent expression on her face, wordlessly telling Steve and Sam that the conversation, no matter how harsh, wasn’t satisfying enough.

Still, Steve glanced at her and nodded with severity.

“Thank you, Carol,” he rasped, surprised by how hoarse his own voice sounded; for the burn of rage in his stomach and the tension in his muscles, he almost forgot about the lump gradually growing in his throat with each hour of silence from you.

“My damn pleasure,” Carol huffed with slight irritation, one clearly not aimed at Steve. She subtly raised her eyebrows. “I kinda want to punch her, but I guess I’m not the only one, huh?”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, his hands almost shaking with the said need. Still, it was surprisingly relieving to be called out on that and to learn that he wasn’t the only one. And when he opened his eyes again, the look on Carol’s face told him that she wasn’t blaming him one bit.

“You have no fucking idea, I- Jesus, I never wanted to—to-- so much in my life.“

The rise of one corner of her lips was sympathetic. “We’ll handle this, Steve. I know it’s hard to hear, but you can’t really help us here. Go home. Rest.”

The lump in Steve’s throat grew nearly suffocating at the idea of going to the empty apartment, where his uselessness became even more evident. Steve eyed Sam, searching with hope for any sign of a better advice, but the counsellor only nodded to second Carol’s thought.

“Go home and try to call your girl. She’ll pick up eventually.”

At that time Steve had done exactly that – however, the result had remained identical to those with his previous attempts. You hadn’t picked up and he had left a voicemail and a pathetic text that somehow seemed to be reflecting all of his insecurities and doubts about your relationship and it hadn’t turned out at all as he had planned – and then it had been too late to take it back.

He had sent another and another, almost hour after hour and he was gradually realizing that he was forgoing all hope and his faith in what you two had and what it could become in the future; and god, did he want the future so badly.

But he couldn’t always get what he wanted, could he? He thought that a miracle had happened when he had first met you and later heard your yes to the date. But here you were.

Four days from that terrible incident.

Did Steve even believe that you two were supposed to be together? He didn’t even know anymore. Perhaps it was an intervention from some higher power and you two breaking apart was meant to be, saving you a heartbreak and disillusions which were about to come later.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought and the sensation that felt like a punch to his gut, his insides cramping.

That was not true. You two loved each other. You had found something truly amazing in each other and you were about to reach out to him any minute so you could continue to your brighter future together.

…right?

Except a minute passed by and nothing happened, the phone Steve was toying with remaining silent.

No received text or e-mail.

No incoming call.

Another minute and then another ten, the phone still spinning in his hand in almost a reflex at that point and still not lighting up.

The knot in Steve’s gut turned tighter and tighter, the tension in his shoulders and jaw growing, his mantra of you surely contacting him gradually falling silent.

Finally, he came to the decision that only fools kept doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.

He was supposed to do that a long long time ago, the moment he had convinced himself that coming knocking on your dorm could be considered harassment… and would break his heart in case you’d shut the door to his face telling him you were done with him.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve swept through his contacts and dialled your best friend and roommate in one person.

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Part 2

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Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you thought! I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ doing something with randomly timed shots to a series, so… you know. I’m a bit nervous. And I guess that this is very different from what this series was so far too, so I hope it’s okay. Thank you :-*

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