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dirtyoatmeall · 3 years

Text

Good for you

A/N: Wow sorry I've been gone!! I suddenly got back into reading and suddenly found myself in the middle of multiple series! anywayz, I finally listened to Olivia Rodrigo's new album so here is a songfic for good for u. I ended up going in a completely different direction than I had in mind. It's also long as fuck. I proof scanned it, but it's like 18 pages, as always sorry for the incorrect grammar, I do what I want. Call me Maybe will be getting one soon as well :)

Pairing: ex!Kageyama x reader, foreshadowed Atsumu x reader

Genre: angst? hurt/comfort? Its sad for pretty much most of it.

Word Count: 10.3k (im so sorry)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drinking, implied adult themes, all characters are 21+ !!, detailed breakup. 16+ only por favor

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily. You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks.

Your phone chimed, alerting you of a new text, you reached for it on the side table, pausing the movie you were watching. It was a message from Shoyo and an image: ‘I’m sorry, I figured it’d be better if I told you instead of finding out on Twitter.’ Your brow pinched, what could that mean? You unlocked your phone to open the text.

The pinch deepens as you zoom in on the picture, eyes beginning to prickle with tears. It was a photo- most likely taken by a fan or paparazzi- of Tobio, your boy-, ex-boyfriend. He was with a woman, she seemed slightly familiar, probably a model or something along those lines. Your face heated and shame burned in your chest, the embrace they were in looked so intimate; private, that it seemed wrong to look. You deleted the image and left Shoyo on read for now; you’d reply when you’re in a better headspace.

It had only been a couple of weeks and he had already moved on, meanwhile, you were just starting to not cry at the little reminders of him scattered about your apartment. He hadn’t even come to get his stuff. You sniffle and walk over to the wall to your left; the picture wall- and gently take one of the photos off, smiling faintly at the memory it brings to the surface.

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world?

The sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow around the room. Groaning, you squint at the brightness before rolling over. Your eyes find blue ones, startling you slightly. He chuckles softly, voice deep and gravelly with sleep; sending heat through your body. “you’re so jumpy in the morning.” he whispered in the otherwise empty apartment.

You roll your eyes and let him pull you into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his fingers traced lazy shapes into your hip. “Shut up, you know it takes me a day or two to adjust after you’ve been gone.”

You meant for the words to be light; not expecting the emotion you heard behind them. He sighs, arm winding tighter around your waist as he kisses the top of your head. You bring your head up to meet his gaze and shift in his arms, frown tugging on your lips. “’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

He sighs again, shaking his head softly. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, I should, for never being home, missing holidays and-“ You put a hand against his lips silencing him, brows drawn tightly together.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for either. I knew what I was getting into when we got together, it didn’t bother me in school and it doesn’t bother me now. I’d much rather you live out your dream than being stuck here with me all the time.” You feel his mouth open to object, but your hand stays firm. “I’m serious Tobio, I mean every word.” He nods against your hand and you release him. You flush slightly at the open emotion in his gaze. He pulls you into a kiss, murmuring against your lips. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you, I promise I’m gonna give you the world.”

And good for you, I guess that you've been workin' on yourself. I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped

A few days later you meet Shoyo for lunch, a new onigiri place where he apparently knows the owner. He sighs as he sets down his menu, your eyes snapping back your own, pretending like you’ve been mulling it over this whole time. “Alright, go ahead and ask.”

You look up from your menu, feigning innocence. “Hm? Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” He rolls his eyes and raises an eyebrow. You hold his gaze for a few moments before your shoulders sag in defeat. Your eyes fall to the table as you pick at the corner of the laminated menu. He gives you a minute to collect your thoughts before he places his hand atop yours, a sad smile gracing his features.

“(Y/N), it’s normal to want to know how he’s doing.” You chew your lip and mumble, “Well he’s obviously doing good since he already moved on.”

He continues as if you hadn’t spoken. “He started going to that therapist you recommended a day or so after,” he pauses, trying to gauge where your mind is. You’re meeting his gaze, and he can see you got what he was implying so he continued. “He’s been going consistently; says it’s really helped him.” You nod, blocking out his next words; too busy thinking about how you’re going to find a new therapist.

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl

As you eat, you think over his words. You swallow and take a deep breath, trying to instil confidence in yourself. “Are they… good together?” Your voice comes out softer than intended and you inwardly cringe. He smiles faintly and nods. “They are.” You nod in understanding and turn your focus back to your meal.

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me-If you ever cared to ask

You knew it was inevitable, your apartments aren’t that far apart, you just wished it wasn’t so soon.

You were grocery shopping for the week, trying to figure out how many oranges to get before settling on 4 with a sigh, you toss them into your cart, turning around to see blue eyes at the other end.

You inhale sharply, your gazes met and he was too close for you to run away, leaving only one option. You were suddenly glad you met Shoyo for breakfast this morning, you were dressed up a bit, but you weren’t so glad when you became queasy. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, letting it fall shut. You feel your face flush with heat and you duck your head, mumbling a soft “sorry!” and move to continue down the aisle, hoping he’d let you go.

Those hopes were crushed with the hand that gently captured your elbow, halting your escape as he turned you to face him. You were silent for a moment before he realized he was still gripping your elbow, dropping his hand to his side. You crossed your arms around your middle, trying to look- be smaller, small enough to get away. Though the rational side of you knew it wouldn’t happen, that you’ve known each other too long to simply stop. So you raised your gaze, uncurling your arms and bringing your shoulders back to at least look the part of an old friend caught by surprise, smiling as you spoke.

“Oh, Kageyama! I didn’t see you there, how are you?” He cringed ever so slightly at the use of his last name, filling you with a sick sense of pride that weighed uncomfortably in your chest. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a brunette coming up to him, not noticing you as she surveyed the list in her hand.

“Babe, did you find the oranges? Oh, remind me to pick up my birth control at the phar-“ Her eyes widened as she noticed you; cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. Unfazed, Kageyama snorted softly, wrapping an arm around her waist before turning back to you. “This is Yumi, babe, this is (Y-) uh, (L/N).” You smiled and waved, which she mirrored, going to speak but instead was interrupted by you, who had decided to spare all of you of the awkwardness of prolonging the conversation. “It’s nice meeting you Yumi, and it was nice seeing you Kageyama, but I gotta run.”

They nodded and waved in farewell as you continued down the aisle, letting out a deep breath before heading into the next aisle. You needed more alcohol.

Good for you. You're doin' great out there without me, baby. God, I wish that I could do that.

You saw them a few more times during your shopping trip. You had wanted to leave right away, but you had been putting off groceries for too long, and leaving your cabinets and fridge almost barren. Thankfully they were always far enough where if you accidentally made eye contact a smile in passing was warranted enough.

As you contemplated between mini pizzas or a large pizza, you heard a loud giggle from further down the aisle. Your head turned towards the noise instinctively and you saw them at the end, near the ice cream, which you hoped they moved soon because that was next on your list. They were laughing, her arms around his waist as she looked up at him, he had an arm around her, resting on her hip as he met her gaze and you felt your chest tighten and an emotion you definitely did not want to name and wanted to shove down, down far enough to forget it. They looked the part of smitten lovers, and you decided you didn’t need ice cream all that bad and grabbed the mini pizzas before heading to checkout, continuing to ignore the emotion swelling, weighing down your chest and moving up to your throat.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

You took a deep, shuddering breath that broke halfway into a gasping sob. The emotion was suffocating, burning in the back of your throat and pulsing against your skull as you hugged your knees to your chest, the cold press of the tub against your back doing nothing. You tried to take a breath again but your chest was too tight, it was constricting your lungs, pushing hot tears down your cheeks and pulsing harder as with the ringing in your ears.

You could faintly comprehend the door to the bathroom opening, but didn’t look up as someone wrapped their arms around you, pulling you to them; the feel of fabric twisting in your grasp somewhat grounding as they smoothed down your hair, their words muffled under the ringing. You couldn’t think about the tears and who knows what else dampened their shirt, couldn’t think of anything except the emotion weighing so heavy in your chest you were positive it was going to break your ribs, break through you and continue down, down, deep underground.

You have no clue how long you were there with them, not even sure how long before they arrived. They shifted their arms to pick you up, and you let them, not even moving your hands from their place on the shirt, you were sure they were glued there, the tears acting as an adhesive. Sobs still racked your frame as you were set down, tucked under the covers of your bed before the person laid next to you, resuming their soothing touches as the weight in your chest slowly lightened, gradually releasing its grip on your lungs as the ringing quieted, allowing you to hear the slew of soothing words softly coming from the person next to you.

But as the emotion lessened its grip on you, tiredness swiftly replaced it, the pounding at your temples only encouraging the darkness to weigh you down, until it settled over you like a blanket, your fingers laxing enough for them to fall back to your side. Your breathing slowed, the occasional hiccup breaking the silence as you slept.

But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it, but I guess good for you

Shoyo let out a deep breath as he gently shut the door to your bedroom behind him, shoulders slumping with exhaustion when he heard the latch click. He dragged a hand down his face, combing his fingers through his hair as he went to your kitchen to finish putting away your groceries, throwing away what was defrosted before collapsing on your couch, pulling out his phone, debating whether or not to text the person likely responsible for your tears. Turns out he didn’t even have to, they had already called him and left a message about an hour ago, a little after Shoyo first got to your apartment. He brought the phone up to his ear as he pressed play.

“Hey, I ran into (Y/N) at the store today, you know I thought you might be right; that our friendship ended with the breakup, but it was like nothing had changed! She even met Yumi though Yumi didn’t notice at first and started talking about her birth control,” a laugh, “I don’t know why you were so worried, she seems perfectly fine. I was thinking about having a little get together in a few weeks, Yumi really wants to meet everyone from Karauno, you both should come! Oh one sec, what? Okay! Sorry, I gotta go, Bye.”

Shoyo slid down the couch slightly, groaning as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Really? He was glad you stocked up on alcohol at the store because after hearing that, he needed a drink.

Well, good for you, I guess you're gettin' everything you want. You bought a new car and your career's really takin' off.

Two weeks later you sat on your couch, eyes focused on the match televised. You tell yourself you’re watching the tournament to see who Shoyo will end up going against; if you can give them any pointers, though a part of you knows it’s a lie.

At the end of the match, the Adlers, no, To- Kageyama, had scored the winning point, securing a spot in the semi-finals. You lifted the remote to change the channel, but you froze as the camera zoomed in on the edge of the court, where you watched Yumi jump into his arms, he threw his head back laughing as he spun her around before kissing her. You could hear the commentators discussing the game after making a cheeky comment but you tuned it out. You watched them walk off the court, snapping out of the trace as soon as the camera cut to the other team. You quickly turned it off. Taking a deep breath in your silent apartment.

You were going through your Instagram feed when you came across a post from Tobio. It was him and Yumi in front of a new car, kissing. You noticed it had multiple pictures, and swiped through, all of them of the couple. The last one was the most recent, earlier today, in fact, you recognized the jersey of the other team in the background. You part of the caption, deciding to scroll past before scrolling back up to read the long paragraph that was pretty much a love letter to Yumi. You bit your lip and liked it, cursing afterwards, you didn’t want him to know you still followed him. You debated unfollowing but decided against it, it’d only look weirder if you had liked a post and weren’t following him. You couldn’t get his expression out of your head, he looked so happy.

It's like we never even happened. Baby, what the fuck is up with that?

Over the next few days you received multiple texts from Kageyama, updates on his family; that they were asking about you, wanting you to visit, an invitation to a small gathering they were having next week, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi and Yachi were in town and he wanted to introduce Yumi to everyone. And several attempts to start a conversation.

You replied to all of them, thanking him for the update, politely declining the invitation; using work as an excuse, and you halfheartedly tried to keep up with the conversations until it got to be too much. It was like nothing happened, like he hadn’t suddenly broken up with you, after almost 7 years together. There were times you wanted to remind him, but decided against it. You didn’t want to be the bitter ex, you wanted to move on, like he had.

And good for you, it's like you never even met me

You think Shoyo had a talk with him.

After it all became too much, the media, the texts, the times he tried to call you, you told Shoyo. He was furious, ignoring your pleas to just leave it be as he left your apartment.

Later that night he came back, less angry and with takeout. When you had asked where he went he just smiled and told you not to worry about it. You watched movies the rest of the night. When you awoke the next morning there were no texts from Kageyama, and nothing on social media. Your nosiness got the best of you and you looked him up, only to furrow your brow as the results came up blank. You checked the other social media you had each other on and couldn’t find him anywhere. You didn’t dare text him, just in case, but it was obvious- he had blocked you, on everything.

There was an emotion curling in your chest, but you couldn’t quite name it. You didn’t know how to feel about it, so you stayed in bed for a few more hours before migrating to the couch. Shoyo didn’t come over that night, and you hated that you were slightly relieved.

Remember when you swore to God I was the only person who ever got you?

You sighed, still slightly out of breath and damp with sweat, snuggling into the body next to you regardless, smile stretching your lips. He tightened his arm around your waist, petting your hair as he shifted onto his side, bringing you closer and tangling your legs together. You wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, softly kissing his throat, right below his adam's apple before resting your face against his collarbone. He shuddered and drew you impossibly closer. “I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I love you (Y/N), so much. I swear sometimes I feel like you’re the only person in the world who understands me. Ugh, that sounded so cliché.” You snorted as he slightly shook with laughter. “I love you too Tobio.” You brought your head up for a tender kiss before the two of you settled into a peaceful slumber.

Well, screw that, and screw you. You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

You awoke the following morning with a hollow ache in your chest, your eyes burned but nothing came. You don’t know if it was good that the tears never came, but the hollowness settled heavily in you, it seemed to be all around you, weighing down the air equally. You were on autopilot the whole day, not fully there.

You blinked at the chime from your phone and raised your brows at the time, and your eyes widened at the name in your notifications. You quickly opened the text and looked at the image 2,3,5 times. It was a selfie, only the top part of Yumi’s face was visible, she must’ve been taking it, having to have it out enough to get Kageyama and all of his family in the frame, everyone smiling brightly. The typing bubble popped up for a few seconds before it disappeared and was replaced by a small message. You read it over and over before biting your lower lip. This is when the tears would normally come, when they’d be expected and yet they didn't. The burn was there, the lump in your throat but nothing else except the hollow pulsed in your chest. You didn’t think that was a good sign.

From Tobio:

We miss you! The kids keep asking when you’re going to come to play again. We love you, and you’re always welcome to visit. -Miwa~

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me if you ever cared to ask

You decided not to tell Shoyo about the picture, after all, it was his sister who sent it. He sent an apology the next day and you quickly dismissed it, asking him to tell her thanks and to tell everyone hello for you and that you hoped they had a great trip.

He unblocked you later that day. You assumed it was because of your text, he probably thought everything was fine now, that little bump in the road passed and things were back to normal again. And you tried, you tried so hard to go back to the person you were before. Fake it ‘till you make it was something you lived by, and you certainly were doing a great job faking it, but the ache in your chest told you that you hadn’t made it yet.

Good for you, You're doin' great out there without me, baby

You always kept up with the volleyball news and media, now for just Shoyo, but it was impossible to not see Adlers updates, and as MSBY’s rival you felt you needed to keep up. They were a force to be reckoned with, win after win; tournament after tournament they were at the top, MSBY one of the few to keep up. You sent him a congratulatory text after his last win, if he didn’t want to leave your friendship then you’ll try your hardest not to either, even if it hurts.

God, I wish that I could do that

Well, that lasted about 2 weeks. It’d been about 2 months since Kageyama broke up with you. You texted occasionally, most of them short conversations. They used to be longer, but you knew that to really get over him, you couldn’t be his best friend like before, you had to distance yourself. Shoyo wanted you to block him, even if just for a few more months, so you can move on quicker, but you disagreed. Your lives were so intertwined it wasn’t possible to not see him or hear about him at least once a week, usually in the form of sports journalism.

You laughed at Tsukishima’s joke, choking on the margarita you were in the middle of drinking, causing the others to laugh at you. Everyone was miraculously in town this week and demanded that you all hang out all week. Yachi stayed at Hinata's apartment since he had a roommate, and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi stayed at yours, though everyone decided to congregate at your apartment, the former two falling asleep on your couch and after the third night in a row, you convinced them to just stay. Hinata packed a bag and slept on your futon, Yachi slept in your bed with you, and the last two shared your guest bedroom.

While they all swore it was a mere coincidence everyone was in town, you had a strong theory that Hinata invited everyone down to stay with you, since in 3 days was what would’ve been your 7 year anniversary with Kageyama. They did their best to keep you distracted, going out to clubs, having movie marathons and game nights that lasted until dawn. You were filled with immense gratitude for that, and you made sure to let them know it. You were glad your little group was able to stick together, even if the shadow of the empty seat at the table grows with each passing day.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

You almost made it. Everyone stayed in today, keeping a careful eye on you all morning, until you got a call from your mother. Your parents lived in the countryside, they didn’t have great reception out there, even if they did they’d keep the single landline they have now. They called every so often, for holidays or updates on health and family members. The last time you talked to them was about 6 months ago. You head into your bedroom before you answer, a little worried about what might be going on, you knew your father’s health was declining, could something have happened? You took a deep breath and accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear. “Hello? Mom?”

It takes a second before she replies, probably trying to get your father to stand next to her. “(Y/N) sweetie, sorry it’s been so long, it’s been busy down here and since your father can’t do a whole lot anymore, it’s been taking longer to keep the farm in shape.” You can hear your father grumble something in the background and you can imagine your mother rolling her eyes.

“Nevermind that! We were calling to congratulate you and Tobio on your anniversary, that’s today right? 7 years, I hope you know how lucky you are dear, these days relationships just aren’t lasting like they used to, but I’ve always known you two would stick through, I still do. Hopefully one of these days I’ll get a call about a ring? Or maybe some grandbabies?” She giggled on the other end, going on to talk about her and your father’s relationship, not paying attention to if you’ve replied or not, and you haven’t, you’re- you’re- you jolt out of whatever trance you were in to find yourself on your bathroom floor, back against the tub, your mother still chattering away in your ear, though you can’t hear her.

She’s right. Today is- would’ve, been 7 years. A flurry of emotions roars to life in your chest and you feel the familiar burning and grip start to take hold. You clear your throat, interrupting her story.

“Uh mom, me and Tobio aren’t together anymore. I’m sorry, I meant to call earlier, but there’s a lot going on. I actually have to go, I promise I’ll call later okay? I might be able to get away from work in a few weeks to visit. Love you.”

You ended the call, guilt joining the mix, you had completely forgotten to tell your mother, her words stirring the pot of emotions and memories in your gut as they rose into your chest, filling your lungs, spilling into your throat into your nasal cavity, behind your eyes and into your skull. You slackened your hold on your phone, and it tumbled onto the tile. You choked against the burning in your throat, pressing your palms into your eyes, trying- uselessly- to stop the slideshow of memories.

He had been your best friend, your longest crush, your first- well, everything. You truly thought you would be spending the rest of your life with him, travelling the world as he plays volleyball, eventually settling down and buying a house somewhere, anywhere. Marriage, a cat, maybe a dog, and kids. You never once thought the father of your future children would be anyone but Kageyama Tobio. Apparently, he thought differently. Against your will, the night he ended everything played back in your vision.

You heard the door close as you finished up dinner, a smile stretching wide on your face as you imagined his reaction. You spent the week learning how to make this dish, an old family recipe from his grandmother that he apparently adored and ate every time he visited home without fail. After years of watching her make it, you’d think you would have a good idea of how but you were naïve to think so. You finish plating the dishes and setting up the table, brows pinched in confusion, he hadn’t come to greet you yet, which he always does. You shrug it off, he might’ve had a tiring practice, hopefully the food makes up for it.

You pad down the hallway, thinking he jumped straight in the shower. You stop in the doorway of your shared bedroom; He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as his elbows dig into his knees. Worry and confusion rose; what was wrong? Was practice that bad? You don’t try to mask your steps towards him, though he flinches all the same when you lay a hand on his shoulder, quickly withdrawing it. You sink to your knees in front of him, gingerly holding his wrists as you speak softly.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad practice? Why don’t you tell me about it over dinner, I got everything at the table.” He sighed deeply, sagging further, like the weight of the world weighed down on him. Your concern grew and you squeezed his wrists in a silent question. He took a deep breath and sat up, you let your hands fall away but he caught them, cradling them in his grasp, pity and guilt swirling in his glassy gaze as it met yours.

You sat up on your knees, why in the world would he look at you like that? “Tobio? What’s wrong, baby you have to tell me so I can help, you gotta let me in.” You were pleading at this point. He so rarely showed this much sadness, you were sick with worry, mind going to the worst-case scenario. He squeezes your hands, bringing them up to his lips. He keeps them there for a moment, his eyes shut, brow drawn tight.

He brings them back down to his lap and lets out another sigh, meeting your gaze again. You can see the conflict on his features bright as day. “(Y/N), I’ve been so lucky to have you in my life, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay back what you’ve given me. I’m truly, truly grateful and you've been one of my longest friends, one of my best friends. Which is why- why-“

He lets out a shuddering breath gaze dropping, tightening his grip around your hands. Your brow is pinched deeply, eyes searching his features for any sign of what could be going on. He takes a breath, trying to calm himself before continuing, and when he meets your gaze you no longer see the guilt, you see a wall you worked so hard to bring down. You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “You are one of the most important people in my life, which is why I have to do this. I can’t keep doing this, prolonging the inevitable only makes it more painful and the last thing I want to do is hurt you. But, (Y/N) I can't keep this up any longer, I thought- I thought it might pass, if I kept going along, pretending like everything is fine, when it’s not.” Your heart drops, no, it can’t be, what does he mean?.

“Everything is fine Tobio, what are you talking about? What are you saying, I-I don’t understand.” The emotion thickens your voice and his face falls as he sees the tears gather in your eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I loved you so, so much. I promise, I loved you more than anything, so much it hurt.” The tears are escaping both your eyes. You want to get out of his grasp but his hands only tighten around yours, like a lifeline. You suppress a sob bubbling up to speak, the world tumbling softly from your quivering lips. “Did?”

A hand touching your shoulder tears you from the memory. You’re aware of the hot tears streaming down your face, of the tight sobs wracking your frame, ripping from your throat against your will. You feel hollow, the ache grows and pulses until it’s all you feel, grief rising to meet it. You blink the tears away, to look around the room, you hadn’t recognized it right away, still disoriented from the memory. You see your friends, concern and in some cases, anger, in their gaze as they hover. You were surprised to find Tsukishima was the one at your side, the one who had pulled you from the memory turned nightmare. Your lip wobbles and he pulls you into his arms, embracing you as you cry into his sweatshirt, much like you had to Hinata weeks ago.

You’re vaguely aware of hushed voices around you, the rumble of Tsukishima’s voice oddly soothes you. You can hear Shoyo behind you, you think you hear him say your mother’s name, was she calling again? The thought slips from your mind as quickly as it came. You sat in your bathroom for who knows how long, crying in Tsukishima’s arms, surrounded by your friends.

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it but I guess good for you

Later that night, when everyone has finally passed out, you slip through your apartment door, pulling your hood up as you head towards the street. You have your phone, keys and pepper spray. You just wanted- no, needed to get out of there, the slight chill in the air rousing you. You take in the surroundings, letting your feet take you wherever they please.

You sigh as you take in the park in front of you. You used to come here a lot, whenever you needed to clear your head. It was a space for you to be truly alone to work out your emotions. Which is exactly what you needed now. You smile faintly as you reminisce, not paying attention as you head to the swings, only to stop in your tracks, still hidden in the shade as you watch on. What the fuck.

The creak of the swings is drowned out by laughter, two people sit on the swings, legs pumping to go higher and higher. Her hair whips in the wind and she closes her eyes, leaning back for a moment. You watch him slow down, eventually stopping and getting up to approach her flying form. Right when she is about to pass him, he moves, grabbing her and the swing, halting them mid-swing. She squeals, which quickly melts into laughter as she lets go of the chains, wrapping her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck. Her smile is a sun in the night, love radiating from the couple as they kiss. You look away and spot an open picnic basket, a bottle of wine poking through on a blanket rumpled from use.

You leave as silently as you came.

Maybe I'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt

The hollow ache starts to burn as you walk back to your apartment. You didn’t expect him to be as affected tonight as you were but you thought he’d- what did you think he’d feel? Mourning? Grief? Sadness? Why would he? He was the one who broke it off, who ‘fell out of love’ or at least that’s what he said when he broke your heart. And to bring her there?

Maybe I'm too emotional Or maybe you never cared at all

You shared that spot with him a year after you moved in together, he knew its significance to you, to your relationship. How long had he been bringing her there? What did he tell her about it? Did he use the words you said to him all those years ago? You wondered if he even remembered what today was. He said he had loved you, but was he truthful? He promised quite a few things during your relationship that were broken when he admitted it, when he confessed ‘what had been eating him up inside.’

Maybe I'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt

The hollow was slowly filling, bitter, anger, loss, and more flooded the space as you recalled his words that night.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You had never felt more dread than in that moment.

“I loved you so, so much.” You had wished the past tense was a mistake, but you knew it wasn’t.

“I don’t know when it happened, if it was slowly or quickly.” You could tell it was a lie.

“I-I just realized I loved you in a different way than you loved me.” A cute way of saying he no longer loved you.

“I thought that if I just stuck with it, that it might change, that it was just a slump.” Another way to say ‘leading you on because I was too afraid to tell you the truth.’

“I tried, I tried so hard to love you the way you wanted me to.” For how long? How many years did he lead you on, how long did he let you think everything was ok?

“You deserve more than I can offer.” You knew that was true, you did deserve more. You deserved a lot more than this, than an offer.

Maybe I'm too emotional Or maybe you never cared at all

You were crying by the time you got to your apartment building, but it was different. You didn’t feel the aching hollow as strongly as before. You felt anger, bitterness about what he said, you had a million things you wanted to say to him, to make him know what he did. But didn’t he already know? He was there, he saw what his words did, he saw the aftermath, at the very least he heard about it. And yet the night after he was pictured entering a popular high-end club. It was on your Twitter feed that morning, effectively pouring salt and lemon into the hole in your heart. You had thought it then, and you’re thinking it now.

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me If you ever cared to ask

The next morning, no one brought up last night, and you were thankful for it. You think they could sense the shift, from the aching despair to the brittle anger. So you all lounged on the couch, playing Mario Kart to help you channel it.

You were on the fourth stage of Grief according to Yamaguchi, who brought it up the following day over breakfast. He explained: Denial- which was during the breakup and right after, Depression- which came to fruition after you ran into them at the store, Bargaining- When you tried to go back to how it was before, trying to keep the friendship alive so you’d still have him around, Anger- which was now, when you realize that you wasted years of your life for someone who didn’t even love you and now they want to go back to friends, after they immediately get into a new relationship. The next step would be the final- Acceptance, when you would finally accept he was gone, when you could finally move on.

Good for you

After that night the change became more obvious. You weren’t hiding anymore, you would hold your head high and snap others off if they trod down the wrong path. You felt the hot anger slowly cool over time, as you continued to go out, to clubs, bars, parties Shoyo always invites you to but you always decline. You met his teammates, finally after too long.

He had dinner for you and the team at his apartment that he shares with one of the said teammates. You dressed up a little, enough for Shoyo to whistle when you showed him over facetime as you finished getting ready. You weren’t planning on going anywhere except your apartment after; there was just something about knowing you look good that does wonders to the confidence. You grin widely as he complains about not wanting to deal with his teammates crushing on you. You end the call when you get into your car, you were going to stop by the store to get something and then head over, despite his assurances no one else was bringing anything.

You purse your lips in thought as you surveyed the wine selection in front of you, bending slightly to read the label of one on a lower shelf. You didn’t realize you were taking up the aisle until someone cleared their throat behind you. You paid the little mind, murmuring an apology as you stepped to the side. You felt their presence next to you, and after a minute of them burning a hole through you with their gaze you turned towards them, lips pursed in annoyance rather than thought.

You're doin' great out there without me, baby, like a damn sociopath

The wide eyes of Kageyama Tobio meet yours as you study him for a moment before smiling. “Kageyama! Sorry, I didn’t realize I was taking up the whole aisle, you know me; always so indecisive.”

Your joke seems to snap him out of whatever train of thought he was in. He smiles and chuckles, turning to look at the wine in front of you. “What kind of an occasion is it?” He asks after a beat. “Oh Shoyo is introducing me to his teammates today, wine’s something people bring to dinners right?”

He smiles and nods before pointing out several bottles. “These would be appropriate, and Shoyo likes this brand.'' He plucks one from the shelf before presenting it to you. You smile and thank him, before parroting his question back to him. He turns back to the wine. “Uh, Yumi got a promotion and I’m surprising her with dinner with her coworkers.” You hum in thought before grabbing a wine off the shelf for him. “I think this would be a good one. It's white, so the stain won't be as bad and won’t stain her lips like a red would. It’s a dessert wine so even her younger colleagues should enjoy it. Oh, and tell her congrats for me.” He smiles and thanks you before you part.

You arrive right on time at Shoyo’s, the wine was well received and his teammates were great. They were everything he told you and more, you all got along great, especially you and Atsumu, he was Shoyos roommate and it was great to have another person to make fun of his horrible habits with, much to Shoyo’s dismay.

The dinner flies by, and eventually, you’re the last to leave. You wave to Atsumu before hugging Shoyo. “Thank’s Sho, for everything you’ve done for me these past 6 months. I love you.” He squeezes you tight, kissing the crown of your head before pulling away.“You don’t need to thank me (Y/N), I know you’d do the same. I love you too, drive safe.” You wave as you leave back to your apartment.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night. Cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

The next 6 months fly by, and you spend more and more time with Shoyo and his team. Bokuto dubs you an honorary Jackal and you celebrate drinking until dawn, as a true Jackal would. You spend time with them individually, the gym with Bokuto, reality TV with Sakusa, movie nights with Shoyo, and all of the above with Atsumu, in addition to annoying his brother Osamu at his restaurant.

It hits you out of the blue. You had felt a little off all day, but you had chalked it up to the takeout you had last night. You glance at the calendar as you walk past, only to backtrack and look again, with wide eyes. Today marked a year since the breakup. It had taken you a long time to move on, but you were finally starting to feel yourself again, so why did your heart ache all of a sudden? Why did the burning rise in your throat, prickling the back of your eyes as you began to breathe faster, feeling the despair rise out of the depths to rip a sob from you lips? You try to stop, taking deep breaths, count five things in the room, but none of it works. It’s not as bad as the other times, but you feel shame crawling up to join, you were finally turning things around, how could you let it all go to waste?

You curl into yourself on the couch, blindly calling Shoyo to ask for his company, maybe he’d know, he helped you get this far, maybe he can make sure you don’t fall too far. You listen to the rings until you hear the click of an answered call, not even letting him speak before crying into the phone, asking him to be with you, help you understand. Half your words are unintelligible as you ramble on, not really listening to the other end until you think you hear him say he’s on his way, but he sounded odd, different. Had you interrupted him? Was he too busy? No, he would’ve told you and sent someone else, probably Yachi since she was the closest.

You quickly tire of trying to hold everything back, and let it wash over you, all the feelings from this past year rise up, poised to drown you, and you allow it, letting it crash down and wash over you. You let the sobs free themselves, somehow knowing it was the right thing. You give yourself to the despair, the anger, the loneliness.

You don’t hear the knocking at the door, or the sound of the door opening, too absorbed untangling the knot of emotions in your heart; until you feel the cushion next to you you sink with the weight of another person, and a hand gently rubs your back soothingly.

You lean into him, letting him pull you to him like many times before. He pulls you into his lap, curling an arm around your waist while the other hand cradles the back of your head, letting you sob into his shirt. You take a deep breath, letting his familiar scent calm you- wait.

You freeze and your stomach drops. It’s not Shoyo. They're bigger, enough to cradle you against their chest. They’re whispering soothing words into your hair, and you hear a familiar accent, leaning back quickly enough to send a wave of dizziness through you and you sway for a moment.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Atsumu asks, moving his hands to your hip and back to steady you. Your wide eyes meet his and he tilts his head slightly in confusion. “(Y/N), hey sweetheart, you okay? Gave me quite the scare there earlier ya know?” You continue to stare at him until he waves a hand in front of your face, breaking whatever spell you were under.

You blink a few times, shaking your head slightly as the corner of his mouth quirked up. You look back at him, brows furrowed, cringing when you hear your voice, hoarse after however long of crying. “’Tsumu? What’re you doing here? Where’s Sho?” He raises an eyebrow at your question, lifting his hand to wipe a tear from your cheek.

“Whaddya mean? You called me cryin’ an’ askin’ me to come here to keep ya company. Speakin’ of, what in the world is wrong? What’s got you so sad sweetcheeks?” Your face heats at the nickname.

“Oh, ‘m sorry, I meant to call Sho, he knows; it’s- today is-” He embraces you as a fresh wave of tears springs from your eyes. You can hear the rumble of his chest as he speaks, breath fanning your ear. “It’s all ok, ya don’t haveta cry, I can call chibi if you want him instead of me, it's no prob-“ You shake your head, cutting him off.

“No, s’kay. Thanks for being here ‘Tsumu, sorry I pretty much threw myself into your lap when you sat down.” You rub an eye, feeling awfully close to a toddler. He chuckles and combs your hair back, tilting your chin up so you’re looking him in the eye. “No needta thank me doll, and I won’t object to a pretty thing like you throwing themselves into my lap, though I’d enjoy it more if you weren’t crying. Now, d’ya wanna tell me what made you cry a river in here. Or at least what I can do to help.”

You curl inward slightly, not sure how to explain your wants at this moment, the emotions tangling in your chest too raw to name. You use actions to express your needs as words continue to fail you. You shift in his lap, straddling him instead of the awkward side hug you were doing before. You break eye contact, looking anywhere but him, feeling awkward and exposed. He snorts softly and his hands run up your knees, palm flat against your thighs, up and over your hips to splay against your back, bringing you back to his chest. Your pals lay flat against his sides, sliding along his ribcage and then south, fisting the fabric against his lower back as you rested your cheek on his shoulder. You waited and waited but the tears didn’t come, you could feel the tear tracts cool on your cheeks, trying to put your feelings into words.

A shudder than through his body as he felt you sigh into his neck, arms wrapping tighter around you, pulling you closer, until you were flush against him. The minutes passed by as the two of you stayed wrapped around each other, you breathing the only sound in the apartment. You sighed again, pulling away from him slightly to lean back to look at him. He searched your face, taking in the emotions clouding your eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips soothingly. You gave him a weary smile and took a deep breath, looking down at your hands as you spoke.

“I don’t know if Sho told you about this, but about 6 months before I met you guys I got out of a pretty serious relationship, I mean it was my first relationship and the breakup hit me really hard. The day of the dinner was one of the first times I had truly felt myself again.

“We got together in our first year of high school. We had been friends years before that. God, I had a crush on him for so long, I can’t remember anyone before that.” Your voice is whispy, reminiscing on a better time. “I wasn't a manager that first year, though I was around often enough that I helped where I could. I was at almost every practice, which is how I got acquainted with the other first years. He was still guarded and grumpy then, so I was friends with everyone first, and we all slowly warmed up to each other.

“When he asked me out at the end of the year, after saying goodbye to the third years, it just- it felt so right, like this is supposed to happen. I was a manager our last two years and by graduation the six of us were close. We managed to stay in touch and visit each other whenever possible. Sho had gone to travel, Kei to Sendai for school, Hitoka and Tadashi stayed for school before she went to Tokyo and he stayed in Miyagi. Tobio was picked up by the national team immediately after graduation, to play in Rio. I was accepted into a university in Osaka, and he moved in with me when he got back.” You ignored the way Atsumu’s hands tightened their grip when you said his name.

“It was perfect, we- we were doing fine, or at least I thought we were.” Your voice cracked and you took a shuddering breath before continuing. “He traveled between Tokyo and Osaka a lot and of course for games but it never bothered me, I knew what I was getting into. Eventually, Sho came back, and joined your team, moving into an apartment not far from ours. I was so happy.” You whispered the last sentence, afraid if you said it too loud it’d sound like a lie.

“I hadn’t noticed any changes, he didn’t seem withdrawn or unaffectionate, he was like he always was, until he wasn’t. He came home one night and said he didn’t love me like that anymore, that he couldn’t love me the way I loved him. He- he said he tried to, he said he tried for a long time, in case it was a slump but it wasn’t. And all-all I could think about was the way he said it, like he had been thinking about this for a long time, he looked so tired like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he told me the last who knows how long was a lie.

“He left and stayed at a teammate's house until he could get an apartment. He moved close by, I still don’t know why he didn’t move to Tokyo. Sho came and stayed with me for a few days, until I kicked him out so he could focus on the tournament that was coming up. He kept in touch with Tobio, and would update me when I asked.

“That was a year ago, and I know I should be over him, and I am, or I thought I was until I realized what today was and- and everything, all the emotions I had pushed down came back up, no longer letting me ignore them. All the grief and anger and insecurity kept rising and rising until I thought I was gonna drown. Which is when I called Sho, or at least I thought I did.” The corner of your mouth twitched into a small smile as you met his gaze.

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

“I- I think it would’ve been easier if he hurt too, if I saw that it affected him even half as much, because that would mean he had felt something, he had loved me at one point. And I don’t know, maybe he came to terms with it before he ended it, but seeing him with someone else, not even 3 weeks later just rubbed salt too deep into the wound that just seeing them happy together sent me into tears. When I ran into them days after I found out, when I saw with my own eyes how good he was, how happy he was without me; I don’t know how long I cried, but it was suffocating, it had such a tight grip on me I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t even realize Sho was there until he was hugging me.” You watched your tears fall onto your hands, leaving droplets on his pants. You took in a shuddering breath, suddenly meeting his gaze.

“I just- I don’t know what wrong with me, why can’t I let myself be happy?” Your voice cracked, and you brought a hand to your face, embarrassment simmering low in your gut. Atsumu gently pried your hand away from your face, replacing it with his own as he cupped your cheek. He wiped the tears that fell from your lashes with his thumb. He brought you forward to kiss the crown of your head before returning his gaze to you.

“Doll, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you, ya hear? Your heart was broken, it ain’t gonna fix itself in a day. You will be happy, I promise. Whenever we lose someone we love, a piece of us goes with them. He was sucha huge part of your life, I’d be more worried if you weren’t sad. I can’t say when, but one day you’ll notice it hurts less and less until you barely notice it. Until then you have me and everyone else to help you, so don’t hesitate to lean on us when you need to, got it?”

Your bottom lip wobbled and your eyes were glassy with tears yet again, though this time for a different reason. You threw your arms around his neck and crushed him into you as you cried his name. “I didn’t know you were such a softie! I bet no ones gonna believe me when I tell ‘em.” He wrapped his arms around you again, you were so close you could feel his laughter in his chest. “Yeah, and I didn’t know ya were such a cry baby.” You snorted and pulled away, “That’s on you, I am a well-known cry baby.”

You matched his grin, feeling lighter. You pulled yourself off his lap, but he didn’t let you get very far, pulling you into his side, your legs thrown over his thighs as you turned on the TV. You ended up falling asleep on your couch together, your neck cramped and you found out you drool, but it was worth it.

But I guess good for you

The next few months went by relatively quickly. There were a few hiccups, mostly on holidays, but you listened to what Atsumu had told you and you leaned on your friends during those times. Speaking of Atsumu, while you two were close before, after that night you felt even closer. You found yourself at the apartment he shared with Shoyo more and more. You came to every MSBY game you could, usually helping Osamu run his booth.

When you weren’t with him, Atsumu would often find you helping his brother run orders at the restaurant; under the guise of an apology for annoying him so often, but both twins saw how happy you were when you were working. Eventually, Osamu just gave you a position there, because he didn’t want to get caught exploiting free labor, not because he liked you or anything, you were just as annoying as his brother- or so he says.

The blonde hadn’t noticed just how much time the two of you spent together until you went to visit Yachi in Tokyo for a week, and had odd chunks of time with nothing to do. It was confusing, and frankly off-putting how different it was when you weren’t around. Everyone noticed of course, and teased him for it, more the team than Osamu, because he couldn’t deny he missed you too.

Despite your protests that it was just a 2-hour train ride from Tokyo, and maybe another 10-minute ride to the stop near your apartment, Atsumu insisted on picking you up from the station during your call earlier. “ ‘M not taking no for an answer doll, I’m picking ya up.” You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and sighed. “Fine, but I’m venoming you for the gas, no ifs ands or buts about it.” You smiled at the sound of his groan from the other line, good thing you were just as stubborn.

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You were idly scrolling through your Instagram feed, about 10 minutes away from Osaka when you saw a glimpse of a ring, you scrolled back up and read the caption. ‘I’m the luckiest man in the world’ followed by a picture of what must’ve been Yumi’s hand, and adorned on her left ring finger was a large, and no doubt expensive, engagement ring. 6 months ago it would’ve summoned tears, but now you smile faintly, commenting your congratulations before scrolling past. Atsumu was right, eventually, it started to hurt less and less and now it was barely there.

You stood up when the announcement of your arrival in Osaka rang overhead, tucking your phone away and grabbing your bags to exit the train car. You immediately spotted your chauffeur, thanks mostly to the gaggle of young girls surrounding him as he laughed and signed autographs. You walked slowly, trying to buy time until they left but (un?)fortunately he spotted you. A wide grin stretched his features and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, lifting your hand in a small wave. He turned back to the girls and said something before breaking through, jogging towards you as you met him halfway.

You had an amused look on your face from his theatrics and the wide gazes of the girls he left behind. “Hey.” He said when he stopped in front of you. You snorted, “Hey.” He pouted at your tease, which only made it more funny, before rolling his eyes and taking some of your bags, giving you a pointed look when you tried to object. You huffed and walked next to him towards the exit.

You startled slightly when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you by your hip into his side. You looked up at him but he kept his gaze ahead, though you could see the slight flush to his cheeks and the slight twitch of a grin. You reciprocated, hooking your thumb through the belt loop by his hip as you kept your gaze ahead, his stare bringing a slight heat to your face.

He laughed lightly and you two continued out to his car where he tried to make you sit in the back seat because “ it’s not professional for a chauffeur to let their passenger sit up front.” You laughed before letting your face fall into a mock-serious stare and said “no.” in the best deadpan tone you could conjure up before climbing in.

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him when he didn’t start the car. His hands were on the steering wheel and he was looking ahead in thought. “Atsumu?” He looked at you, smiling softly, still not saying anything. “Uhh you okay? Do I really need to sit in the back for you to be able to drive because-“ He laughed, waving your concerns off. “No, no, I’ll allow it this once. Sorry for spacin’ out, I’m happy yer home.” You looked at him incredulously, “ I was 2 hours away ‘tsumu.” You see a faint flush creep up his neck and he clears his throat, turning back to the wheel and turning on the car. ‘I know, I just missed ya ‘s all.”

You were just able to make out his dejected mumble, quietly huffing in amusement as you glanced down briefly before turning to look forward, biting back the smile at his flinch when you grabbed his hand, bringing it to your lap as you intertwined your fingers. “I missed you too, ya big softie.” Smiling, he squeezes your palm before focusing on the road, and you feel something stir, a bud sprouting from the once hollow place in your chest. It hasn’t bloomed yet, but you have a feeling it will soon.

#my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #haikyuu atsumu

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qitwrites · 3 years

Text

a numbers game

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Kiribaku

(AO3)

Bakugou knows his personality and general rage-filled disposition towards everything, in general, isn’t winning him any favours, but the texts have made him contemplate just how shitty he must’ve been in a past life to deserve a fate like this.

Because no one - and Bakugou knows such assholes as Monoma - but no one deserves to be on the receiving end of unsolicited dick pics. From random numbers. At all times of the day. For the last 3ish months.

“I am going to throw my phone out the fucking window, I swear on all that is good and pure, fucking bull-“

“More dick pics?” Camie interrupts with a wide grin, plucking the phone out of Bakugou’s hand.

“What the fuck else?” Bakugou snaps, trying to pull his phone back in vain. Camie holds it just out of reach, eyeing the disgusting penis with a critical stare.

"Hmm,” she says, passing the phone back to him before taking a sip of her terrible grass juice that smells like a badly mowed golf course, “the lighting is bad and he hasn’t done like, any grooming at all. 3/10.”

“You’re being generous,” Bakugou huffs, deleting the picture immediately and swallowing the still raging urge to fling his phone at the nearest wall. “It’s unsolicited. And his fingernails are fucking filthy. -100/10.”

Camie rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic again Kitkat.”

Bakugou counts to 10 in his head, tries to find that last shred of patience he knows is somewhere deep in his dark pit of a soul and breathes out in a rush.

“I need to fucking figure this out before I actually lose it and track down one of these fuckers and choke the life out of them.”

Because here’s the thing- Bakugou has been receiving dick pics and dirty text messages like hi bby want sex? and imma dick you down gud boo – he’s positively swooning, what a lovely way to be wooed – and he has no idea how to stop it. Yes, he could cancel his number and get a new one, but all of his bank details are linked to this one. He’s had it since he first got a phone in middle school, and now all of his documents are attached to the damn thing. The very idea of going to the banks and the DMV and every other stupid establishment to get it changed makes him grimace hard enough that he decides to bear with it.

Except, every time he receives one of these horrible pictures, his urge to blow up the phone, nay, the entire world, simmers at dangerous levels.

“Cool it kitkat,” Camie croons, giving his forearm a squeeze, “you’re making your homicidal face. That cannot be good for wrinkles.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Bakugou grunts, flinging his phone away carelessly and watching it skitter around on the kitchen counter before halting dangerously close to the edge. “I just want it to stop.”

Camie puts her atrocity for a drink down and pulls the fridge open, rummaging around as she says, “I have a theory about all this.” She pulls out a jar of jalapenos and places it in front of Bakugou. The blonde yanks a fork out of the admittedly cute utensil bucket in the middle of their counter before snapping the lid off and spearing a good 3 pieces in one go. He chews on them slowly and directs a raised brow at Camie.

“Well,” she muses, picking her drink back up, “as a woman that receives a LOT of numbers from guys and gals and non-binary folks alike-“ Bakugou makes it a point to roll his eyes hard enough to knock his head back; Camie’s laughter is loud and boisterous “- I have a tactic for when I don’t know how to say no and don’t want to give my digits.”

Bakugou has another forkful of jalapenos in his mouth when he narrows his eyes at her.

Camie shrugs, “I usually change the very last digit of my number. Works like a charm. I never meet the person again, and they can’t contact me. Win-win.��

“Win-win my ass,” Bakugou seethes. “Do I look like I’m winning right now? I am this fucking close to killing someone, because of stupid tactics like yours.”

Camie finishes the last of her drink, and speaks around her straw, “You say that, but do you know how many people, and especially dudes, don’t take no for an answer? The only reason I give out any digits at all is when I can’t guarantee my safety. I know it’s not like, the perfect solution or anything, but I’m giving you facts right now.”

And Bakugou does, in fact, know that. He’s met those pushy assholes- people that don’t back down, people that don’t take no at face value, people that push and prod and get up in his space. It pisses him off to absolutely no end.

“Whatever,” he concedes. He spears another forkful of jalapenos before grumbling, “So, what the fuck do I do?”

Camie grins, minx like. “Why don’t you text the number one ahead and one behind your own and ask? I mean, in the best-case scenario you figure it out and get it all to stop, in the worst case, you get to yell at like random people. Isn’t that your second favourite pastime, right after yelling at that pigeon outside our balcony, the one with an agenda?”

“Don’t talk about that fucking pigeon,” Bakugou fumes, “fucking piece of shit bird and those dark, robotic eyes. Something is up with that; you can’t convince me otherwise.” He mulls over the rest of her suggestion before relenting, “Well, I guess I could spare a moment to yell at the fucking extras giving out my number to perverts with no manners and gross penises.”

“I find it so funny when you say the word manners,” Camie says as she walks to her room, “It’s almost like you know what it means!”

She isn’t even looking at him, but she manages to dodge the jalapeno that sails at her head. It hits the wall with a sick squelch, and when Bakugou hears Camie’s door shut, he drops his head on the counter with a loud, resounding thunk and muffles a scream into the marble.

He forgets to send out those texts, and when he receives yet another picture, not three days later, of someone holding their disgusting penis in their hand, like it’s an accomplishment or some shit, he sends out a text message to two different numbers typed with shaky, sweaty fingers.

>> xxx-xxx-xxx6 , xxx-xxx-xxx4

I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you don’t know me, but it’s possible that one of you assholes gives out my number to random people who, in turn, send me fucking dick pics. It’s been over 3 fucking months, so knock it the actual fuck off. And in case it isn’t you, fuck you anyway.

Bakugou wakes up from a restless sleep to sunlight sloping in through the blinds of his room, a dry mouth, and three new text messages from an unknown number.

Because his brain takes time to boot up in the mornings, he foregoes the phone entirely and makes his way to the kitchen in search of caffeine. Camie is always up before him, and he gratefully pours himself a mug of her insanely strong black coffee, the kind to palpitate your heart and make you vibrate in your seat. She calls it jet fuel, Inasa calls it death, Todoroki just blinks.

When he’s half a mug down, he finally retrieves his phone from his room and takes a seat in the balcony, surrounded by plants of all kinds. The sun is bright but not harsh, and he takes a second to enjoy it before opening his messages.

He doesn’t even recall sending the messages last night, and for a moment he’s enraged at the idea that someone sent him even more dick pics, but there’s no photos waiting for him, just three messages.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 omg omg OMG I didn’t think anyone actually used this number im sorry D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 no really im so so sorry holy shit I was just following this idea that my friend gave me cause im terrible at turning people down but I didn’t realize they were messaging an actual other person OMG

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ofc I wont be giving your number out anymore im just so sorry bro, god, this is so damn UNMANLY of me

At least the person has the decency to sound apologetic. Not that it tempers Bakugou in any way, shape or form, but he takes note of it somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind.

Bakugou you better not give it out anymore fuckmunch. I should sue your ass for putting me under so much psychological distress.

The guy replies startlingly quickly. Bakugou opens the message with a quirked brow.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 shit can you actually do that?

Bakugou has no idea, but the key to selling anything is confidence, and he’s got enough to spare.

Bakugou try me

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM REALLY REALLY SORRY OK TRULY D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and not just cuz you might sue me or anything, it was a terrible move on my part :’(

xxx-xxx-xxx4 can I make it up to you somehow??

Bakugou huffs, deflating a little. He’s angry yes, positively incensed for the most part, but the guy sounds genuinely sorry, and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at someone that’s just being so damn decent and taking full responsibility.

Bakugou I don’t fucking know.

Bakugou just stop giving out my no.

Bakugou I swear to god if I get ONE MORE NUDE

Bakugou I will find you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you don’t have to find me ill come to you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 cuz ill def deserve it at that point

xxx-xxx-xxx4 anyway, im sorry again. really ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get some sleep, so tell me later about how I can make it up to you!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 goodnight

Bakugou checks the clock at the top left corner of his phone screen. It reads 8:31am.

What the fuck does this guy do for work anyway? And does Bakugou care?

He decides no, he doesn’t, because he’s really too busy to care about anything, especially assholes that hand out his number to horny strangers because they’re too chickenshit to say no.

He nods at his own conclusion, downs the rest of his death-in-a-cup, and walks back inside, ready to start another long day of work. Bakugou gives himself an hour before he puts this all behind him, fully forgotten and finally taken care of.

Why the fuck haven’t I blocked this fucker yet, is the first thing Bakugou thinks when he gets more texts from them.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 heyyo!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 did you think of anything????? How can I make it up to you??

Bakugou stop texting me, that’ll be a great start

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I will as soon as u tell me how to make it up to you!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I was being so unmanly and cowardly, I need to fix it!!

Bakugou good for fucking you, leave me alone

xxx-xxx-xxx4 y don’t you keep thinking abt it and lemme know !!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 if it helps, I can hook u up with some free drinks!! I co-own and bartend at a place downtown!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just think abt it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get back to work, talk soon!

Bakugou stop texting me dammit

Bakugou isn’t a naïve person, but he somehow convinces himself that this will be the end of things.

It is, predictably, not the end of things.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I just realized I didn’t give u my name

xxx-xxx-xxx4 Kirishima eijirou!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and you are?

Bakugou blocking you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 aww come on man, don’t be like tht ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 wait, r u a man?????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE AT LEAST TELL ME THAT I DON’T WANT TO MISGENDER U OMG

Bakugou can you calm the fuck down holy shit

Bakugou yes I’m a dude, you’re fucking fine dumbass

xxx-xxx-xxx4 oh phew!!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ok my dude

xxx-xxx-xxx4 please come down to the bar??????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 do you actually drink though?? If you don’t we still have great mocktails

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and I can whip up some awesome protein shakes

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ohhh and our food is bomb,,, I promise

Bakugou do you ever just stop talking

xxx-xxx-xxx4 NOPE :D

Bakugou Not a compliment

xxx-xxx-xxx4 what can I say

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im an opportunist

Bakugou you’re telling me

Bakugou fucker

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM STILL SO SORRY

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE COME TO THE BAR LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU

xxx-xxx-xxx4 actions speak hella louder than words

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I must action you

Bakugou what the fuck

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you get what I mean!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 <location> this is the place

xxx-xxx-xxx4 its name is RIOT, u cant miss it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just lemme know when u can make it

Bakugou I haven’t agreed to shit asshole

Bakugou stop assuming things

xxx-xxx-xxx4 free food, free drinks, free live performance of whatever band’s performing

Bakugou …………………

Bakugou I’ll think about it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 HELL YEAH

xxx-xxx-xxx4 whats your name btw?

Bakugou like id tell you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I need it for the reservation!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so that I don’t accidentally serve the wrong gentleman all your free perks

Bakugou didn’t say im coming yet

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im super optimistic

Bakugou I can tell, you’re giving me a headache

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so………… name?

Bakugou no

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I’ll get it out of you eventually

Bakugou try me

Bakugou fucker

If Bakugou finds himself smiling at the end of the exchange, well, that’s his business.

“So, you finally figured out who was responsible for the penis pictures?” Todoroki deadpans around his cosmo.

“That’s wonderful Bakugou!” Inasa booms, slamming his beer down on the counter with gusto. Bakugou throws a spoon at him.

“Shut it Baldy,” he grunts, going back to chopping veggies. “And yes, I did, but now this fucker won’t stop texting me, insisting on making it up to me or some shit.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Todoroki summarizes slowly. Bakugou turns around in time to see him mouth why to Inasa before taking another generous sip of his drink. Inasa shrugs his stupidly large shoulders before asking, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Bakugou throws another spoon at him. “Because, I texted them so I could stop people from texting me. Now this person’s volunteering information to me about being a bartender and shit and constantly apologizing and it’s fucking annoying.”

“You know what’s interesting?” Camie muses, stirring her bloody mary with a long ass celery stick. “You’re getting all these text messages from this bartender, and you can like, so easily block this one number and be done with it, but you like, keeping responding. And keep, you know, not blocking.”

He can’t see it, but he knows Todoroki is nodding, the fucker.

“That is a good observation!” Inasa booms again, and Bakugou has to resist the urge to fling his entire cutlery set at the man’s thick skull. “Do you like this person Bakugou?”

“What’s there to like, I don’t even fucking know him!”

“Well,” Camie starts, takes a bite out of the celery stick, continues, “he’s well-mannered. Clearly good looking, because you got a LOT of penis pictures these past three months, and that also leads us to believe the business is doing really well, if so many patrons come in begging for a number. All good things, don’t you think?”

“I hate you,” Bakugou says, stirring the curry with barely repressed rage. “I hate all of you. I hate humanity. Fuck people.”

“Or fuck this person in specific,” Camie says gleefully. “You haven’t gotten laid in like 8 months boo, you need to get some.”

“You’re the actual fucking worst.”

“In all seriousness,” Todoroki interrupts, putting his empty glass down delicately, “why haven’t you blocked the number? It seems like an easy enough solution.” The asshole has the audacity to sound genuinely curious, if not slightly amused.

Bakugou hates everything.

“I don’t, I don’t fucking know, ok?” He finally admits through clenched teeth. The blonde kills the heat and places the curry on the counter while Camie brings out the rice and some pickled vegetables from the fridge. She pulls out a beer and twists the cap off before handing it to Bakugou, who snatches it away and takes a quick swig before continuing, “He’s actually kinda nice to me, I guess. And I like watching him be so sorry about all those penises. I may have also mentioned suing him for psychological distress.” Bakugou catches Todoroki’s gaze. “Can I do that?”

Todoroki hums, “You can try, but I don’t think you’ve got that solid a case. Plus, haven’t you deleted virtually all the evidence?”

Bakugou grips the neck of his beer bottle harder. “I fucking hate everything.”

bartender asshole <image attached>

Bakugou what the fuck

Bakugou why are you sending me cat pics?

Bakugou also that cat is stupidly cute

bartender asshole I know right?????

bartender asshole her name is ruby

bartender asshole and id die for her

bartender asshole i just figured ud be a cat person

Bakugou ………….

Bakugou I hate u

bartender asshole :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou Bakugou Katsuki

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

bartender asshole HI BAKUGOU SO NICE TO KNOW UR NAME

Bakugou I hate everything

bartender asshole except ruby. Its not allowed

Bakugou …………………………………

Bakugou except ruby

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

Kirishima, it turns out, is a ray of fucking sunshine. Bakugou has a distinct feeling that looking at him directly would be a blinding experience.

Not that he knows who to look for though; he has no idea what this guy looks like. He guesses that he’s buff, with all the times he tells Bakugou about the gym showers running out of hot water and beating his best weights doing bench presses, but he knows nothing else.

He does know that he’s sweet as fuck, making it impossible for Bakugou to stay mad at him. He doesn’t blink at Bakugou’s cussing, and he sends him cute pictures of Ruby.

There is a part of him, small but steadily growing, that wants to meet this stupidly nice bartender.

Bakugou hates everything.

dumbass bartender so what do you do???

Bakugou front-end development and web design

dumbass bartender oh damn!!!

dumbass bartender so youre like smart smart

Bakugou obviously

dumbass bartender have I seen your work anywhere??

Bakugou I recently redid the website of that protein powder company you don’t shut up about

dumbass bartender ????????????????????

dumbass bartender that’s amazing!!!!!!!!!

dumbass bartender I just revisited the website, it looks so cool

Bakugou duh

Bakugou im the best

dumbass bartender I don’t doubt that!!! :D :D

Bakugou don’t you have work?

dumbass bartender aww bakubro are you looking out for me <3 <3

Bakugou call me that again and I will fucking end you

dumbass bartender before the free drinks??? That you are yet to redeem? ?? at my wonderful establishment?????????? :D :D :D

Bakugou I hate everything.

dumbass bartender D:

Bakugou except RUBY DAMMIT

dumbass bartender :D

“Just to recap,” Kaminari says with an incredulous look in his eyes, “this guy cusses like a sailor, is constantly insulting you, never initiates conversation, and you still like him?”

Kirishima’s answering grin is bashful. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds not so great, but he’s really not that bad! He’s super funny and confident, and he LOVES Ruby. Plus, I don’t like him like that, I just think he’s cool.” Kirishima picks up another glass from the washer and starts carefully drying it with his dishcloth before saying, “And, you know, I did put him through a lot by giving out his number. His behaviour is kinda warranted if you ask me.”

“I mean, in the beginning maybe, but haven’t you guys been texting for over a week now?”

“Denki, are you forgetting that giving out another number was your idea?” Kirishima mutters, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

Kaminari suddenly seems to find the glass in his hand a lot more interesting. Kirishima’s laugh echoes around the empty bar.

‘What’s so funny?” Ashido muses, bringing a crate of bottled beer behind the counter.

“Kirishima is going gaga over angry dick pic man.”

“I’m not going gaga, what the heck-“

“I think it’s cute,” Ashido says with a big smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually be interested in somebody; it’s really cute!”

“I don’t like him like that,” Kirishima stresses, though his cheeks are a little warm. He can blame that on the lack of air conditioning, he thinks.

“We talking about angry dick pic man?” Sero asks with a shit-eating grin. “10 bucks say he’s actually a middle-aged guy with a cheese fetish.”

“That’s so random-“

“You’re on!” Ashido yells, slapping her hand into Sero’s. “I think he’ll be a hottie.”

“He hasn’t even said he’ll come,” Kirishima says, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come,” the three chorus, going about doing their tasks. Kirishima shakes his head fondly and finishes up with the glasses. Just as he’s put all the shot glasses away, he feels his phone vibrate.

Bakubro just finished a massive project

Bakubro could use a drink this weekend

Bakubro know any good spots?

Kirishima’s face breaks into the biggest smile as he rushes to answer.

Kirishima I know a bar that serves free drinks with your name on it!!!!

Kirishima amazing food, dope music, the bestest drinks

Kirishima ive heard the bartender is a great guy too

Bakubro way to toot your own fucking horn damn

Kirishima :DDDDD

Kirishima bt seriously

Kirishima please? ???? ??

Kirishima PLEASEEEEEEEEE??????????????????

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro fine.

Bakubro Friday night at 8

Kirishima looks up from the screen and calls out, “Denki!”

“Yeah?”

“Switch shifts with me, I’ll do Friday.”

“Um, ok, why though?”

Kirishima doesn’t respond, just goes back to texting, his heart thudding in his ribcage.

Kirishima YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Kirishima cant wait :D

Bakubro I’m bringing my stupid friends btw

Kirishima wait

Kirishima you have friends???????

Bakubro I am going to end you

Bakubro you know what? Fuck you im not coming

Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

Kirishima IM SORRY OFC U HAVE FRNDS

Kirishima please come

Kirishima how big a table should I reserve????

Bakubro don’t bother

Kirishima IM SORRRYYYYYYYYYY

Kirishima <image attached> <image attached> <image attached>

Bakubro bastard

Bakubro you playing dirty by sending me pics of Ruby

Kirishima need to weaken your guard somehow

Kirishima pls tell me it worked

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro ill be there

Bakubro reserve a table for 4

Bakubro your stupid bar better be worth it

Kirishima I promise it will be!!!!

Kirishima whoops in joy, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He looks up to see three sets of eyes looking at him with varying degrees of amusement.

“You get a really mushy look on your face when you’re texting him, it’s almost gross,” Sero points out with a laugh.

“Hush you,” Ashido admonishes, whipping her dishcloth at him. She walks over to Kirishima and gives him a big hug. “I think it’s very, very precious.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s coming this Friday!” Kirishima beams, holding Ashido closer against his side.

The three giggle.

“10 bucks say Kirishima messes up the drinks at least once.”

“HEY!”

Ashido squeezes around his middle. “Hon, I love you, but I’m not dumb enough to go against that.”

“HEY!”

They end up laughing and fibbing at each other for the rest of the prep time, and Kirishima feels his heart absolutely soar.

Friday brings with it crunch time, running lines and lines of code, having a mini-breakdown because the stupid text block keeps floating around on the webpage like it’s in outer fucking space, being forced into one of Camie’s ridiculous vlogs and having an existential crisis about what to wear on a non-date get-together with the guy that ruined Bakugou’s life for close to three months.

Camie spends most of the day laughing at him. Bakugou throws more condiments at her.

“Fucking help me at least, you useless wench,” Bakugou growls, shifting to clothes as he throws a pair of jeans at her. Camie dances out of the way and doubles over, laughing till she tears up from the force of it all.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” she wheezes. “Did you just say wench? What era are you from babe?”

“FUCK OFF,” he roars, leaping towards her. Camie shrieks and ducks away, making a beeline towards his closet.

“Ok, ok, let’s get you dressed! What kinda look are you trying for?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grouses, feeling oddly out of his depth. He wants to look good, but he has no idea for what.

That’s a lie, he knows why. He just won’t admit it.

“Well, why don’t we pick something simple but flattering? Plus, if it's in your style, you’re bound to be more comfy.” Camie pulls out a pair of black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a black fitted round-neck tee shirt, and some black boots. While he’s changing, Camie pulls out a silver chain, some bands for his wrists and a collection of rings.

“Do you want me to do your eyes?” she offers, holding up some mascara and an eye pencil. Bakugou shrugs and sits on the edge of his bed. Camie’s smile is soft as she stands between his thighs, gently but efficiently applying his make-up. When she’s done, he walks over to the mirror to look at himself, and he has to admit- he looks good. Always one to take care of his body and his figure, Bakugou is lean muscle packed into a 5’10” body. His blonde hair is as messy as ever, but the combination of his make-up, the accessories and his clothes give him an edgy look like no other. Camie throws a dark fitted jacket at him before sauntering over to her own room.

He continues to reply to some work emails when his phone buzzes.

dumbass cant wait to see you!!!

dumbass just ask for me at the bar

dumbass or I might be the one to greet you!! :D :D

Bakugou I know dumbass

Bakugou what, are you nervous or some shit?

dumbass I mean, kinda????

dumbass it’s our first time meeting afterall

dumbass I don’t even know wat you look like!!!!

Bakugou blonde wearing all black

dumbass redhead wearing a shirt with the riot logo!

Bakugou whatever

Bakugou ill be there at 8

Dumbass cant wait <33333

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou scoffs, his own nerves calming at the thought that he’s not the only one that’s a bit out of sorts. It’s nice to know that sunshine Kirishima is jittery about all this.

Also, interesting to know that he’s a redhead. Bakugou can’t quite imagine it, but in a few minutes, he won't need to.

His stomach roils with anticipation, and Bakugou hates every single thing.

Camie pops out of her room at half-past 7 in a maroon romper that cuts above her mid-thigh, hair done in a loose bun, makeup absolutely perfect. Her heels put her at a height taller than Bakugou, but he’s gotten used to being the shortest in their stupid posse. Doesn’t piss him off any less though.

She gets a phone call just as she pushes a tube of lip gloss into her purse.

“We are downstairs!” Inasa’s voice rings through her speaker, stupidly loud.

“Can it, baldy,” Bakugou grunts with a roll of his eyes, “we’ll be there in a sec.”

“See ya!”

Before Bakugou can usher Camie out the door, she pushes her clutch into his hands and walks over to the kitchen cabinet, pulling out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“Wha-“

“Liquid courage, my dude,” she says, pouring two generous shots and pushing one at Bakugou. She picks her own glass up and gives him a devilish smirk, “Bottoms up bitch!”

Bakugou picks the glass up with a resigned sigh but smirks back equally devilish. They cheers, smack the glasses against the counter and drain them smoothly. Camie puts the glasses in the sink, places a smacking kiss on Bakugou’s cheek and laughs brightly as she dances out of the way of his rage.

They finally load up in Inasa’s range rover, Todoroki plays classical Japanese music over the speakers and Bakugou regrets everything.

Riot is apparently something of a beloved establishment in its neighbourhood, and Bakugou growls when he sees how long the line leading to the bar is.

“Holy moly, that’s a lot of people!” Camie points out helpfully as she disembarks from the car.

Todoroki straightens his two-tone denim jacket and runs a hand through his hair as he says, “We have a reservation, so I think it’ll be fine?”

“Yes, I agree with you Todoroki,” Inasa beams, locking the car behind him as they walk towards the building. The outside is made of exposed brick and neon lights, and the RIOT sign is a deep red colour, eye-catching and beautiful.

They bypass the people in the line and walk up to the bouncer, who eyes them warily. He’s built like an absolute tank, broad and block-like, and his silver hair shines in the artificial light.

“Can I help you?”

“Bakugou, table for 4,” Camie says cheerily. The bouncer looks immediately enamoured with her before his eyes go wide.

“Wait, Eijirou’s Bakugou?”

Bakugou’s ears burn at that.

“I’m not fucking anybody’s!” he snaps. The bouncer immediately looks at him, and his face breaks into an even wider grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Can I see some ID real quick?”

Bakugou cusses colourfully under his breath but pulls out his license, and after a quick check, the bouncer, whose name is Tetsutetsu, steps aside to let them in.

“Have a good time!” he says happily, almost too happily. Bakugou feels his hackles rise.

“What the fuck?”

“It appears that Kirishima talks about you at least as much as you talk about him,” Todoroki observes, walking next to Bakugou.

“I don’t talk about him, fuck you!”

Todoroki’s delicately raised brow makes him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably both.

“Fuck you all,” he reiterates before stomping inside.

Now, Bakugou is a relatively creative soul – his job kinda demands it – so it’s not his fault that he’s actually quite captivated by the interiors of this stupidly popular bar co-owned by a stupidly nice person.

The inside has exposed brick as well, and most of the furniture seems to be retro. There are large pipes and barrels behind the bar, made of what seems to be pure copper. Black marble covers the bar tops, and the lights are a mix of neon and muted whites, bright enough to see but still bathing the room in an alluring aura. There’s music thumping through the speakers, loud enough to dispel any silence but still at a bearable volume.

“Swanky,” Camie whistles, taking it all in.

Bakugou nods begrudgingly before setting his eyes on the bar.

“I’ll go get us a fucking table,” he mutters before walking over, hands digging deep into his pant pockets. He sees a lanky black-haired guy and a girl with tan skin and pink hair behind the bar, talking animatedly with the patrons as they serve them drinks at a dizzying pace.

When he finally gets a spot at the counter, the pink-haired girl finishes up with a customer and bounds over to him.

“Hi,” she greets, smile wide and happy, “haven’t seen you around before! What can I get you?”

“Kirishima,” Bakugou says because apparently, his brain to mouth filter has decided to abandon him in his time of need. The girl tilts her head in confusion and Bakugou feels the life drain out of him.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m fuckin here because of dumbass Kirishima,” Bakugou barely grits out, fingers digging into his palms painfully. “The name is Bakugou, table for 4?”

He sees it all in slow-mo- the way her mouth goes slack, the way her eyes light up like firecrackers on New Year’s, and then the way her smile becomes positively blinding. He hates her already.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, “of course! So glad you’re here! Oye, Sero?”

“What?” the black-haired guy says without looking, topping up a perfectly poured glass of beer.

“You owe me 10 bucks.”

This gets his attention- he hands the drink off and looks at her, “Why would I-“

The girl just gestures at Bakugou and winks, “It’s him.”

Sero – or plain face, Bakugou’s brain helpfully supplies – immediately looks at him, his eyes widening. “Shit, seriously? Aw, man.” His smile becomes mischievous. “I’ll get Kirishima.” He opens the door behind the bar and disappears.

“What the fuck was that?” Bakugou snaps, beyond irritated to be so out of the loop.

“Nothing, nothing,” Pinky sings, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Kirishima will show your party to your table. Do you want anything in the meantime?”

“… a beer,” Bakugou concedes because he’s not dumb enough to not get a drink before he sees Kirishima if he can help it.

“Coming right up!”

He waits at the bar, watching as his group of dumbasses ooh and ahh at the place, looking delighted. A bottle of cold beer hits the counter with a satisfying thunk, bringing his attention back to the bartop.

“Enjoy!” Pinky still has a stupid smile on her face but before Bakugou can say anything, the door behind her is thrown open and plain face steps out.

“The restocking can wait, literally the only thing you’ve talked about for the last 3 days is finally happening.”

The guy following him is all tanned skin and thick muscles under a fitted deep red tee shirt. His hair is a bright unnatural red, pulled into a high pony with a few strands still framing his face. His eyes are a softer red than Bakugou’s own, his cheeks sharp and high, and when his eyes meet Bakugou’s, a zip of electricity races down his spine and along his limbs till he can feel it in his toes.

When the man makes his way over, Bakugou also notes how damn tall he is- easily around 6’4”. His smile is shy, and he smells like sandalwood.

“Bakugou, hi,” he breathes, hesitantly holding his hand out. Bakugou takes it in a daze, still amazed by just how stupidly beautiful this stupidly kind bar owner is.

“Heyyo, you disappeared fam, how’s it going?”

Bakugou hates everything.

He reluctantly slips his hand out of Kirishima’s warm, firm grip and turns to Camie with venomous eyes. “I literally just met him Cam, shut the fuck up.” He turns back to Kirishima, “Can you show us to our table?”

Kirishima shakes his head once before his smile turns blinding, and Bakugou finds himself fighting the urge to shield his eyes. “Of course,” he says in a voice that’s deep and warm and honey-like, “right this way!”

Bakugou snags his beer off the counter and takes a quick swig before Camie steals it and takes a few sips of her own. He growls at her but otherwise behaves, watching Kirishima’s back as he leads them through throngs of people engaged in cheerful conversation.

“Ok, well, he’s hot,” Cam says around the lip of the bottle. “Total beefcake. Whaddya think, boo?”

“I think you should fuck off,” Bakugou hisses, his face burning.

“If you wanted to go on a date, you probably shouldn’t have invited us,” Todoroki says, taking the offered bottle from Camie.

Before Bakugou can explode in their faces, Kirishima stops and turns around. “Here ya go!” He gestures to a table behind him, tucked into a more private corner of the bar. It’s large and cushy, and when Bakugou gets in after Camie, he’s surprised at how soft the material is.

“So?” Kirishima says, eyes trained on Bakugou.

“Fuckin what?” Bakugou snaps, voice lacking any heat.

Kirishima laughs, head thrown back to reveal a long, thick neck and Bakugou is so damn weak.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue before gesturing at each of them, “Camie, marketing expert by day, YouTube beauty vlogger by night, pain in my ass always. Todoroki, environmental lawyer and a soba obsessed weirdo. Inasa, physiotherapist and resident dumbass.”

Kirishima gives them all a wave before saying, “Kirishima, co-owner of Riot and the reason why Bakugou saw more unwarranted penises than strictly necessary in a lifetime.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbles, earning him another laugh and a bashful hand ruffling the back of Kirishima’s head.

“Still so sorry about that man,” Kirishima offers, “everything’s definitely on the house for you all! Speaking of ordering-“ Kirishima moves on to explain their ordering system-

“You can scan the code with your camera app,” the redhead says, pointing at the barcode on the centrepiece of their table, “and it pulls up our bar and food menu. Just enter your order and your table number,” he points at the large digits on the side that glows a bright 15 back at them.

Inasa pulls his phone out to order. Before he leaves, Kirishima says, “Can I get your drink order before I go?”

Camie asks for a LIIT, Inasa gets a Soju bomb and Todoroki starts off with his usual- a cosmo.

“You good on that beer?” Kirishima asks Bakugou warmly, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, sliding lower into his seat. “Maybe get me another, your choice?”

“Coming right up,” Kirishima beams before stepping away, and Bakugou’s heart splutters around his chest at the sight of sharp white teeth and cheek-aching grins.

“He’s so cute!” Camie squeals, stealing the last of his beer. “And he’s totes into you too.”

“I have to agree, he’s very attractive,” Todoroki says impassively.

“Certified hottie,” Inasa rounds up, flashing his own biceps for some reason.

Bakugou is so done, and they’ve been here all 5 minutes.

“Kirishim- Kirishima, the beer is overflowing,” Ashido says, pushing him away and taking over. “God, you’re so gone for him, it’s almost embarrassing.”

Kirishima snaps out of his stupor and moves to take the glass back. Ashido hip checks him away.

“You’re being a little stupid, go help Satou with plating and take the food to lover boy’s table.”

“He has a name, you know,” Kirishima mumbles, but Ashido simply laughs, and Kirishima feels his neck and ears go warm.

Because who let Bakugou walk into his bar looking like that? Looking so damn gorgeous in his all-black get up and his perfect eye make-up and that fierce scowl?

Kirishima’s heart had pretty much stopped at the sight of him, and it was yet to regain its usual rhythm.

The redhead rests his forehead against the wall and mumbles, “I’m so screwed.”

“We know buddy,” Sero says, patting his back sympathetically, “we know.”

For all that Bakugou hates outings and people and outings in places filled with people, he finds himself having a moderately good time.

Because the food is delicious if lacking a little heat, the alcohol is mixed perfectly and the music is fantastic, filtering through old rock classics with some alt stuff mixed in.

And then there’s Kirishima- tending the bar with ease, laughing along with his co-workers, and sending Bakugou wide, happy smiles that sets his entire face on fire.

“This place is awesome,” Camie whoops, banging another shot glass on the table before knocking it back with ease. Todoroki joins her, his impassive face not so much as twitching at the taste of strong tequila before he bites into a lime. Inasa is already beer drunk, cheeks dusky as he hums along to the music.

“Insufferable,” Bakugou mumbles around his 4th-ish beer. He likes to keep up his grumpy act till his last shred of dignity melts away cause of the alcohol, and he’s probably pretty hit already because he lets Camie pull him into her side with her arm around his shoulder, his nose suddenly privy to the scent of her mellow perfume.

“I love you guys,” Camie beams, picking up her beer and waving it in front of her. Todoroki and Inasa clink their drinks against it, and Bakugou silently waves his own bottle around before downing it.

“You guys good on- oh my god, are you Camie? THE Camie?”

It’s Pinky at their table and her eyes are so comically wide that Bakugou can’t help his snort of laughter. He feels Camie straighten up, but her arm around him stays, holding him close.

“Define THE Camie,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“The beauty blogger that I’ve only been following for the last 3 years, holy shit I love your videos.” And then suddenly, her eyes narrow on Bakugou before she snaps her fingers. “NO WONDER YOU LOOK FAMILIAR! You’re the angry blonde in all her videos!”

“Haan? You wanna go pinky?” Bakugou growls, moving to stand up. Camie keeps him firmly by her side, her laughter shaking them both.

“That’s us!” Camie says. Bakugou finally fights his way out of her grip and throws her a withering look, or his drunken attempt at one anyway. She winks, and he fake gags. “I don’t get recognized in public all that often LOL, this is fun.”

“Did you just say LOL in a verbal fucking conversation?”

“What do you mean you don’t get recognized; you literally have like 3.2million subscribers.”

Camie ignores Bakugou and shrugs at Pinky. “I guess my primary demographic aint here fam. Speaking of which,” she thrusts her hand out, “what’s your name?”

“Ashido Mina,” she says, taking her hand firmly. Camie introduces her to the others, and Bakugou looks back at the bar, disappointed to see that he can’t find Kirishima.

“Can I top you guys off?” Kirishima says, suddenly right next to their table, effectively startling the shit outta Bakugou.

Camie chirps an affirmative, Todoroki asks for a water and checks to see if Inasa’s breathing as the big olf continues to sleep, curled up in the corner of the booth.

“And you Bakubro?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bakugou frowns before adding, “I should probably stop, I’m already kinda tipsy.”

“Lightweight,” Camie teases.

Bakugou gives her the stink eye. “Woman, the one time I tried keeping up with you, I ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and you didn’t have so much as a hangover, so fuck off.”

“Seriously?” Kirishima says, eyes wide.

“That’s amazing,” Ashido murmurs, her smile crooked and dangerous.

Bakugou. Hates. Everything.

“He had no lasting liver damage, we’re all fine,” Camie reassures before diving into a conversation with Mina about beauty hacks and good mascara brands and global warming.

Kirishima leans close to Bakugou, bathing him in that warm sandalwood scent. “How about I get you some water and one last beer? A Hefeweizen?”

Bakugou turns to look at him, and his breath hitches in his throat when he notices how close they are, when he sees just how red Kirishima’s eyes are, how the heat seems to radiate off his skin. He exhales in a rush and looks away, answering with a jerky nod.

Kirishima gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze – he’s so warm, his hand is fucking huge – before walking to the bar and picking their stuff up.

When pinky finally meanders away from their table to serve other customers, Camie leans her head on Bakugou’s shoulder and says, “We’ll leave soon, ok?”

Bakugou nods again, leaning some of his weight back into her. Todoroki catches his eye and flashes him a warm, tipsy smile, and if he returns it with one of his own, well, he’s drunk out of his skull and has approximately no fucks to give.

Long after putting Bakugou and his posse in a cab, before which they insisted on paying pretty much the entire tab since they ate and drank a LOT, Kirishima and the rest are cleaning up when Ashido whips him with her cleaning rag.

Kirishima looks at her with betrayed eyes, “Wha-“

“Ei, you better text him again.”

“About what?” Kirishima says glumly. “I did what I said I would do, and I promised to leave him alone after that.”

“Boy please,” Ashido scoffs, roughly wiping down one of the tables, “ya’ll made such gooey eyes at each other all night, plus I’m pretty sure he paid the entire tab just so you could keep up whatever façade you guys have going on to cover up the fact that you have INSANE chemistry with one another.”

“Yeah, the tension was palpable bro,” Sero chimes in, throwing an arm around his waist. “I think you should text him too. He seemed really amusing, and his whole group was a riot.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes at the pun but smiles at them, feeling a new burst of energy in his limbs.

“You guys are absolutely right! Worst case, he blocks me. At least I won’t have any regrets.”

“Yeah boy, get it with that optimism.”

Bakugou wakes up to a slight headache, a mouth that tastes like ash, and a profound sadness that settles atop his sternum, weighing him down and pressing him into his mattress.

He sees the glass of water on his bedside table with ibuprofen placed neatly next to it and downs them both without so much as a second thought. As his brain slowly comes back online, he takes a moment to finally navigate his messy feelings and comes to a crushing realization-

Kirishima doesn’t have to text him anymore.

The redhead had said that he’d leave him alone after making it up to him, and yes, it was Bakugou’s standoffish nature that got them into that situation in the first place. And yes, Bakugou had paid the tab mostly because it was too high a bill to be footed by the bar and Bakugou made bank, but also because a small, minuscule part of him hoped that the gesture would make Kirishima insist on another outing or something to ‘make it up to him'.

The blonde doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that he forgave Kirishima almost two days into texting him.

He almost avoids his phone out of fear alone and makes it through a whole cup of coffee and 3 chapters into a novel recommended by Deku before finally picking up his phone to check for emails and notifications.

He expects none from Kirishima.

So, of course, there are 3 from the redhead.

Bakugou’s heart leaps to his throat and he can’t seem to unlock his phone quite fast enough.

fuck he’s cute hi Bakugou, thank you for coming last night!!!

fuck he’s cute it was actually really cool 2 finally meet you. U didn’t have to pay the tab tho :’D

fuck he’s cute bt since u did, I still owe u. can we figure it out later??? Also, what did you think of the place???

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou you’ve got a swanky place, I’ll give you that. Food was fucking good too. could be spicier.

Bakugou you got cam completely hooked

Bakugou and yeah, you better make it up to me later. Asshole.

Kirishima replies a few hours later, just as Bakugou finishes up a yoga routine that stretches out his back in the best way possible.

fuck he’s cute :D :D :D :D :D

fuck he’s cute can’t wait

fuck he’s cute <image attached>

fuck he’s cute ruby says hi

It’s a selfie this time, not a picture of just the kitty. Bakugou can appreciate how cute the mutt is, but for once, he has no attention to spare her. Not when Kirishima’s eyes are crinkling around the edges from how hard he smiles up at the camera, not when he’s wearing a tank top with relaxed arm holes, showing off bulging muscles and hints of ink, and not when just the mere thought of him makes Bakugou’s stomach flop around uncontrollably.

He barely manages to reply coherently.

Bakugou the only bright spot in this shitty world

He presses his phone to his forehead and quietly contemplates just how gay he is. Camie pets his head on the way to the kitchen.

It takes Bakugou some time to get used to waking up to Good Morning texts and a stream of random thoughts from Kirishima all day. The flutter in his stomach disappears a few weeks into talking to the redhead, instead replaced by a bone-deep warmth that always manages to make him feel a little better.

dumbass kirishima GOOOOOOOD MORNING :D

dumbass Kirishima someone threw up on my fave shoes last night

Bakugou HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Bakugou suffer

dumbass Kirishima y u so mean to me ☹ ☹

Bakugou cause its fuckin hilarious

dumbass Kirishima ☹

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou <image attached> [it’s a picture of Bakugou’s balcony, and all his plants look vibrant green as the sun hits them just right]

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima legit felt my serotonin just spike

dumbass Kirishima thxxxxxx

Bakugou whatever

Bakuguo dumbass

---

Bakugou if I plan a murder can I count on your stupid muscles to help me move the body

dumbass Kirishima D:

dumbass Kirishima at least take me out to dinner b4 involving me in your crimes

dumbass Kirishima what a lack of manners

Bakugou stfu

dumbass Kirishima :”D :”D

dumbass Kirishima youre joking right?

dumbass Kirishima right??

dumbass Kirishima RIGHT?????

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU THIS IS A BAD TIME TO LEAVE ME HANGING BRO DO NOT DO THIS

Bakugou don’t call me bro

dumbass Kirishima THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW

Bakugou lol I didn’t do shit dumbass don’t worry

Bakugou or did I?

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

---

dumbass Kirishima <image attached> [it’s a gym selfie; Kirishima is crouching in front of the mirror shirtless, hair pulled into a bun atop his head. He’s glistening with sweat, and he’s got a more serious look on his face. He’s not actively flexing any muscle, but the pose makes his thighs, calves and biceps bulge. One hand holds the phone, the other is resting on his bent knee]

dumbass Kirishima working on deez gainz

Bakugou what time do you usually workout

dumbass Kirishima depends on my schedule actually

dumbass Kirishima I prefer the morning, but when I take the late night shift I usually go be4 work the next day

Bakugou hmmm

Bakugou let me know

Bakugou maybe we can go together

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh I changed my mind

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima no takebacksies

Bakugou fucking fantastic

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

---

“So, let me get this straight- you guys gym together at least once a week, you talk every day, your stomach flutters at the mere thought of him and Cam swears he’s making googly eyes at you all the time, and you still haven’t asked each other out yet?”

Bakugou flips his phone off, “Fuck off Deku, don’t be a little shit.”

Midoriya’s face morphs into an amused smile on the other end of their facetime call, “Are you being bashful Kacchan? That’s adorable.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“NOOOOO,” Midoriya bemoans dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m missing all this.”

“Yeah, well, who the fuck told you to teach kids English halfway across the world dumbass?”

“I miss you too Kacchan,” Midoriya beams, making a heart with his hands.

“I truly loathe you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Midoriya puts a few papers away before sighing. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, are you going to make a move? How do you plan on doing it?”

“I don’t,” Bakugou ruffles his hair and ducks his head to hide his rapidly warming cheeks, “I’m not asking him out Deku, fuck that.”

“Why not?” the asshole whines, eyes wide and innocent. “You deserve happiness Kacchan. Plus, he seems like a really nice guy.” Midoriya leans forward and adds in a whisper, “I’ve heard he has a fantastic butt.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and flips him off again, “Fuck off, you can’t say that without actually meeting him.”

“I’ll be back before then. You guys better be dating already when I get there.”

“Stop telling me what to do, shitty Deku!”

“Never Kacchan, that’s what you do for the people you love.”

“Ugh, how are you so gross when you’re so far away, I hate you.”

Midoriya’s laugh sounds tinny over the phone speaker, lacking its usual body and warmth. Bakugou huffs again before picking his novel back up to read.

“Hi Zuku,” Camie calls out from over Bakugou’s shoulder. “You need to come back soon and help me with Kitkat, he refuses to make the first move!”

“Butt out of my fucking love life, you freaks!”

“Can’t butt out of something that doesn’t exist Kats,” Camie deadpans.

Bakugou feels extremely justified in flinging a stress ball right at her. The kitchen fills up with raucous laughter, from his phone and from the person standing in front of him, and Bakugou thinks that adding a deeper, warmer laugh to the mix, coming from a specific redhead might not be the worst thing in the world.

Kiri bakugouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Bakugou what?

Kiri just wanted to say hi <3

Bakugou wth

Kiri we still on fr the gym tomorrow?

Bakugou obviously you dumbass

Bakugou I need you to spot me

Bakugou im beating my personal best tomorrow or im going to die trying

Kiri so manly :O :O :O

Kiri I’ve got you bruh

Bakugou don’t call me that

Bakugou and I know you do

Kiri <3 <3

---

Bakugou <link>

Bakugou that playlist you were asking about

Kiri u da bomb katsuki

Bakugou katsuki huh?

Bakugou getting cocky I see

Kiri I mean, weve known each other for like 4 months now???

Kiri ur one of my closest pals

Kiri I don’t have to, I just thought ud like it more than bro

Bakugou I do like it more than bro

Bakugou eijirou

Bakugou I guess ur not terrible

Eijirou ????

Eijirou did you just?? pay me????? A compliment??

Eijirou who r u and wat have you done to katsuki?

Bakugou fuck you

Bakugou just fuck you

Eijirou <3 <3 <3

Bakugou wakes up one morning, approximately 5 months after meeting Kirishima for the first time, with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His work goes smoothly. The coffee tastes potent and fresh, his body feels fine, his plants are thriving, Camie is busy with her own deadlines and therefore not bugging him, even the sun is mellow and warm; the perfect weather.

The pit in his stomach worsens with every hour.

It doesn’t help that all of his messages to Kirishima have gone unanswered; he hasn’t even been online all day. In the months that they’ve communicated, he’s never gone a day without texting the man, and now it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth.

When it gets closer to 6 in the evening, Bakugou decides to call if Kirishima doesn’t get in touch himself. Because the pit in his stomach is making him nauseous, and he needs to know if the redhead is ok if only for the sake of his own damn health.

He gets a call from an unknown number at 5:20 in the evening. The pit in his stomach becomes a yawning chasm as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Bakugou, it’s Ashido, from the bar.”

Bakugou pulls in a deep breath. “Where is Kirishima?”

“Um, there was an incident last night, at Riot.” She sighs deeply before continuing, “Kiri got jumped in the alley outside by a bunch of really drunk homophobic assholes that saw him turn down some guy’s number. He actually fought them off for the most part, but he’s sustained a broken nose and some fractured ribs. We’re at the hospital right now.”

Bakugou sinks to the ground, his stomach plummeting with him. “Are you fucking serious right now? Fuck-“

“I’ll text you the hospital details, ok? I’m sorry we didn’t call sooner, between talking to his moms and the hospital folks, it slipped my mind.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou says, standing up on shaky feet and stumbling back to his room. “Just don’t leave him alone.”

“Never in a million years.”

They hang up and Bakugou changes, hails a cab, and gets to the hospital in a complete daze.

His affection for the redhead, brimming and spilling from every crevice, makes itself evident when he lays eyes on him in the hospital bed and feels a surge of protectiveness. He wants to kill the people that did this, he wants to gather Kirishima in his arms and hold him tight, he wants to crawl into bed with him and talk about stupid shit and see him smile again.

“He’s pretty high on pain meds right now,” Ashido says from somewhere behind him, pointing to his IV lines, “so he’s been saying really funny stuff. The doctors did a full evaluation and said he should recover completely in 5ish weeks.”

Bakugou nods and swallows thickly. Ashido squeezes his arm before leaving the hospital room, shutting the door behind her softly.

Kirishima hasn’t seen him yet, so Bakugou approaches his bed carefully before placing a hand on the guardrail. The noise pulls Kirishima’s attention towards him, and Bakugou’s gut tightens when those large, warm eyes go completely soft at the sight of him.

“Kassaki~” Kirishima slurs, his smile large and dopey.

“You absolute dumbass,” Bakugou chokes out, his hand moving from the rail to grip Kirishima’s tightly. Kirishima’s fingers twine with his own with practised ease and his smile turns gooey.

“Hi Kats, you look beautiful today.”

Bakugou half-laughs, half-sobs and rubs his eyes fiercely. Kirishima’s face is a bit bruised, and there’s a huge bandage on his nose, but he doesn’t look nearly as bad as Bakugou had first feared. The pit in his stomach finally calms, slowly loosening until he can breathe normally again.

“Shut up Eiji,” Bakugou grumbles, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He leaves his hand in Kirishima’s.

“Ok,” Kirishima agrees easily. It takes 10 seconds for him to break the silence again.

“Hey Kats?”

“What?”

“Are we dating?”

Bakugou startles at that, eyes snapping over to Kirishima’s. He doesn’t look accusatory or hurt or weirded out or anything- merely curious.

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh.” Kirishima frowns, “Why not?”

Bakugou huffs out a small laugh, “Because we’re both idiots.”

“Oh,” the redhead says, then nods. “That kinda tracks.”

“HEY!”

Kirishima’s smile becomes dopey again, eyes crinkling in the most endearing way.

“I really like you Kats. You’re so smart and funny and you always smell like fabric softener, and you’re just like. Really pretty.”

Bakugou feels his face heat up completely, his grip on Kirishima’s hand tightening.

“Just rest, you dumbass,” Bakugou says weakly, his entire body too hot for comfort. He watches Kirishima’s smile become something warm and loving in a way that hits his heart, and he doesn’t let go of the redhead’s hand, right up until the end of visiting hours.

When he exits the hospital alongside Ashido, he feels the last of his energy drain.

“I cant believe we didn’t get to him sooner,” Ashido mumbles, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. “The bar was noisy, and he just wanted to dump out some trash. Hanta noticed he was gone a while before we went out back and found him punching the last dude.”

Bakugou purses his lips. Truth be told, he cant believe Kirishima had gotten so badly hurt so close to his own bar, and he’s pissed as fuck that the idiot brigade had even let it happen, but the sincerity in Ashido’s voice tugs at his chest painfully.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Bakugou laughs humorlessly. “He’ll probably say there’s nothing to forgive in the first place.”

Ashido’s laugh is hollow, “That’s our Eijirou.” She looks at Bakugou again. “You coming tomorrow?”

He flashes her his best sneer. “You best believe I’m going to come by every single fucking day till he’s discharged.”

Ashido’s smile becomes a little more genuine, a little more well-rounded.

“I’m really glad he has you.” Her voice goes all soft and gross as she continues, “You mean a LOT to him, in case you didn’t already know.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou mumbles, before waving her off and walking away.

Because he does know.

He also knows he’s falling madly in love with him, and that he’s completely and utterly screwed.

And he finds that he really doesn’t mind all that much. Some people, he rationalizes, are worth the horrible butterflies and the too hot too cold feelings down the back of his spine.

Some people, he realizes, are worth loving with everything you’ve got.

It takes Kirishima five weeks of house arrest to recover completely. Bakugou spends every weekday and a few of the weekends with him, staying over more often than not. He fusses over the redhead, forces him to take his medication on time, and cooks him everything under the sun.

“You’re spoiling me,” the redhead whines when Bakugou serves him what smells like the best mapo tofu he’s ever going to have.

The blonde grins triumphantly, “You’re damn right I am.”

They bicker and banter constantly, but they also curl up and marathon old bond movies at night. Kirishima goes over the bar’s paperwork while Bakugou works off his couch, and they take turns making the coffee. Ruby falls in love with Bakugou and curls up on his chest every chance she gets, and Bakugou laughs at Kirishima’s look of betrayal. The redhead’s couch is ridiculously comfortable, and he leaves his memory foam pillow with the blonde.

“You refuse to take my bed,” he grumbles, “so you damn well better accept my stupid pillow.”

Bakugou’s neck thanks the redhead profusely.

It’s new and weird, living with someone for the first time. Kirishima’s posse are in and out through the day, and Camie comes by just as often, bringing a change of clothes and gossip with her. Todoroki drops in with some high-quality tequila sometimes and Inasa brings his infectious energy, and through all of this, Kirishima remains in high spirits, even if he goes a little stir crazy sometimes.

It’s new and it’s weird, going from casual touches to more loving ones, more comforting ones. It becomes commonplace for Bakugou to rest his head between Kirishima’s shoulder blades on the days that he has a bad time at work. It’s normal for Kirishima to place his head on Bakugou’s lap while they watch shark documentaries. It’s easy for them to bump knees and press their calves together while enjoying their morning coffee.

It’s new and it’s weird and it’s amazing.

Because Bakugou finds himself falling in love with the little things. The way Kirishima sticks his tongue out when he’s smashing the PS5 controller during an especially intense game of Mario party, the way he makes the coffee with a sleepy smile on his face, the way he hums off-key to a song that’s stuck in his head, the way he can understand Bakugou- can differentiate between his frustrated fuck, his bashful fuck, his angry fuck, his sleepy fuck.

And how he accepts it all without so much as a hitch in his step.

Bakugou watches himself fall in love, slowly, and then all at once.

“How is it that he lived with you for almost 5 weeks and you STILL didn’t ask him out? Or kiss him stupid? Or something?”

Sero has a finger pinching the bridge of his nose, the other flexing loosely in front of his chest as he tries to fathom the stupidity of two people that could not be more into each other if they tried.

“I, I uh-“ Kirishima hangs his head, “I have no excuse.” He sighs deeply. “I was scared he’d give me a pity answer cause I was injured and everything.”

Ashido looks over her shoulder with incredulous eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Eiji, I know you love us so like, if any of us were hurt like this you’d take care of us till we were better too. But do you think someone like BAKUGOU would practically move into someone’s house to make sure they were ok if he wasn’t nuts about them? Really?”

Kirishima’s face flushes, and he waves her away. “I don’t want to read into it. He’s just a really, really, really good guy. And what we have is good, it’s great! We’re bros. Pals. Friends. It’s all good.”

Ashido continues to stare at him for another moment before throwing her hands up and yelling, “BOYS!” She stomps into the kitchen to help Satou with prep for the day.

They continue to stock up the bar, Kirishima assigned to prepping limes and the ice machine, when the door opens and someone steps in.

“Sorry, we’re not op- Bakugou?”

And there stands the blonde with the biggest bouquet of flowers – chrysanthemums and sunflowers – that Kirishima has ever seen. The redhead distantly hears the sound of a door close behind him, and suddenly they’re alone, the tension positively stifling.

“Bakugo-“

“Go on a date with me.”

Kirishima sucks in a startled breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go on a date. With me,” Bakugou repeats, his neck and ears tinging the loveliest shade of red. “The romantic kind. Where we dress up and get food and drinks and fight over the bill and walk each other to the door and get super awkward before we kiss. All that shit.”

Kirishima isn’t sure how it happens- one moment he’s on this side of the bar, the next, he’s jumping across and gathering Bakugou into a tight embrace, mindful of his newly healed ribs but still unwilling to release the blonde until Bakugou returns his hug, burying his face into Kirishima’s chest.

“Is that a yes?” Bakugou mumbles when they finally pull away, his hands fisted in Kirishima’s shirt.

“In every possible language out there,” Kirishima answers, ducking down to softly kiss Bakugou on the cheek. He laughs as the blonde cusses and shoves him away and laughs even harder when Bakugou’s own smile covers his entire face, bright and open and oh so breathtaking.

That smile is Kirishima’s and Kirishima’s alone.

Eiji hiiiiiiiiiiii

Bakugou I swear to god Ei

Bakugou if you’re late for our first date I will find you

Eiji and give me a kiss? :*

Bakugou I don’t kiss people that don’t have good time management

Bakugou so fuck off

Eiji still so mean to me ☹

Eiji I want that kiss tho

Eiji so ill be ready

Eiji promise

Bakugou good

Eiji <3

Bakugou <3

Eiji :D :D :D :D :D :D

Eiji YOU LIKE ME ENOUGH TO SEND EMOJIS HU H <3333

Bakugou it will never happen again

Bakugou so fuck right off

Eiji :”D

Bakugou im outside

Eiji be right there

Eiji <3

#bnha #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #flustered #boku no hero #mha #they're idiots your honor #giving out the wrong number au???#if that's a thing??????#this one's a monster y'all

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ttttaehyungie · 3 years

Text

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 5

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sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, smut, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 5.2k

chapter rating | 18+

warnings | angst, smut (but it’s angsty smut lksjdflk help), nipple play, dry humping, alcohol consumption, someee intense jealousy

a/n | FIRST OF ALL im so sorry this is so incredibly late lskjdflkjs life has been extremely busy for me 😪 but it’s here!!!! thank you to everybuddy who’s been waiting patiently for this 🤧🤧 but i think this is one of the most angsty chapters of the series soooo 🙃

Namjoon’s an expert at avoiding uncomfortable topics, even if they’re massively serious. It’s something you absolutely hated and it was the cause of many arguments in your previous relationship, and perhaps was even the ultimate cause of your breakup.

But right now, you’re really beginning to understand the appeal.

The first time he swung by the museum for lunch after his birthday celebration - a paper bag in hand filled with bagels still warm and toasty from the store on the corner that you adore - you were caught entirely off guard.

Your mind jumps to the unread messages sitting in your texts and you regret ignoring them. Not because the guilt had hit you, but because maybe if you had been contactable, you would have received a heads-up that he was coming by.

Some might call it selfish, but you prefer to call it self-preservation.

To be fair, it’s not like you were going to leave them unanswered forever. You just needed space to collect your thoughts and make sense of your confusing emotions first, lest you begin the conversation prematurely and drag Namjoon down into the dizzying depths of your current state. As it is right now, your thoughts are like nodes floating in a decontextualized void, the web still unformed because you haven’t had the time to grapple with everything yet.

But here he is, inspecting the cross-section of each bagel Soo-eun pulls out of the bag, trying to identify which is which. Yeri’s at his side, gushing about how great the bagels from this place are. The three of them are crowded around the paper bag that sits on the wooden bench, the paint peeling from the way it’s been bleached by the sun in the museum’s outdoor area. Here he is at your workplace. With your friends. You can’t ignore him now, not without rousing your friends’ suspicion.

But what you can ignore is the issue.

It’s not the time nor the place to talk about this anyway. The atmosphere is warm and light, carrying traces of last night’s celebratory mood. The lunch treat is Namjoon’s way of appreciating the surprise you guys organized for him last night. And there’s a bagel stuffed full of salty sweet ham and sticky melty cheese waiting for you to sink your teeth into. Really not the time for serious conversations at all.

So when Namjoon’s eyes search yours, all wide and probing, as you step in to grab your share, you simply smile and thank him, before slinking away to join Soo-eun on the next bench. Not too far - barely five steps away - but far enough that it gives you space to breathe. Even if Namjoon notices your attempts at escaping, he doesn’t have time to call you out on it. Not when you slyly shoot Yeri a wink. Seamlessly, she catches the cue and sits herself down on the bench, tugging at his arm. For once, you welcome Yeri flirting with Namjoon.

“Let’s eat! I’m starving,” she says.

You don’t miss the way Namjoon’s gaze flickers between you and Yeri, but you ignore it and take a generous bite of the bagel in your hands.

“Mm, so good,” you say, and turn to Soo-eun. “Don’t you miss the days before this place got really popular?”

“No, because you and Yeri insisted on going there every day. I can only ingest so many bagels a week.”

“____ hasn’t changed one bit.” Namjoon chuckles. “This time in middle school, she ate tater tots every single day for three weeks straight. She had to be banned for a week.”

“Are you weaponizing my middle school past against me?” you ask amidst your friends’ laughter. “Too bad. I don’t regret it for a second. Tater tots are too delicious to regret.”

Lunch falls back into the easy rhythm of lighthearted jibes, the kitchen debacle receding for now.

Procrastination is a real bitch of a habit to kick. As soon as one reason to put it off expires, your brain churns out another two in its place like a modern-day Hydra.

As for Namjoon? Well, you’re not surprised when he makes no moves to initiate the difficult conversation. After all, you’re adopting his bad habit.

Eventually it gets to the point where you might as well not talk about it at all. Everything’s going fine so far without it. Or as fine as it can be with this beast looming in the backdrop.

You know you need to just get this damn conversation over with. But you can’t. Not till you figure out what exactly is going on with your emotions. Without it, there’s no way you can cauterize the wounds and invalidate your excuses for what they are -- excuses.

It’s not that you haven’t tried. But it’s presenting itself as a real Herculean effort. Mulling it over has you tossing and turning in bed, only leaving you with a headache and a steadily growing desperation. It’s desperation enough that you leave the comfortable warmth of your bed to sit at your desk, shivering as you pen the familiar words once again.

Dear Namjoon,

The words flow in their usual, unrestricted manner. Before, it had been like a dam breaking, the tight restraint that was normally kept on your emotions finally released and the wave of emotions gushing out till it reached a peaceful equilibrium. But now, your emotions are just a whirlpool and your words you pen mimic its spiralling, chasing your thoughts in endless loops.

You’re not over him. But so what? It’s not like getting together is an option. Not when he hasn’t grown out of one of the major things that caused the end of your previous relationship. And not when you haven’t even talked that out, if you ever will.

So what can you do now? Kicking him out of your life will mean having to deal with the loss that his absence will bring again. Going back to pretending the other doesn’t exist will mean dancing around each other again every time you bump into each other in this too small city. And with the way your social circles are intertwined now, that would mean a bunch of explaining to do.

But having him close yet holding him at arm’s length? Walking the narrow margin that is being friends with your ex? A misstep in either direction would be torturous but inevitable - too close and it’s alarming, but too far and it’s a painful reminder that he’s not yours.

Far from the illuminating effect you were hoping it would have, your letter to Namjoon only leaves you deeper in confusion. You throw your pen down. Giving up, you fold the paper up. Sealing the letter in an envelope doesn’t bring the same sense of relief it did before. The Hydra remains unslain.

And so the problem gets shoved away - the same treatment the letter gets as it’s roughly tossed into the desk drawer - into the same corner of the recesses of your mind that your breakup resides in.

You know that Namjoon’s confused. Heck, you are too. It’s a strange dance the two of you are involved in, caught between the compulsion to continue yet knowing the risks it bears. Neither of you are bold enough to take the lead. And so this strange stasis drags on as it has for weeks now.

It’s as if the kiss unearthed something in him. Actually no, it’s unearthed something in both of you. And the tension - the fucking tension - is unreal. The tells are so obvious that you wonder how neither Yeri nor Soo-eun have said anything about it yet. There’s certainly no subtlety in the way his eyes linger on your lips in the middle of conversations that you wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it.

And when it’s just the two of you? It’s infinitely worse.

It’s hard to blame him. Touch has always been your love language and Namjoon knows it. Physical touch wasn’t just a thing of your previous two-year relationship. It was a thing of your decades of friendship too, the little touches so casual and almost subconscious. Rekindling your friendship without them had taken intentional effort.

You’re not sure who started it. Maybe both of you just fell back into it, the casual little touches slipping their way back in. But what’s not casual at all is the way your heartbeat goes erratic at the most simple of gestures. The way he blithely sweeps the crumbs from your lunch off your lap. The slightly too long side-hug he holds you in, the warmth of his arm around you permeating through the layers you wear and has you simultaneously freezing up while also turning your insides to goo. But it isn’t overtly romantic either.

At least, that’s the excuse you give yourself when the comfort of his touch gets too tempting and you end up succumbing to it. The familiarity of it all makes you feel like you’ve finally arrived home. As if you’ve been on this long, arduous journey and you’re finally here. You get to drop the heavy backpack and rest now.

But the voice of rationality in you tells you this wrong wrong wrong. You’ve got to get out of here.

And that’s how you end up here. White-knuckled grip tight on the edges of the sink as you stare yourself dead in the eyes in the bathroom mirror. The music outside thumps away albeit muted through the door to the ladies’. But the way your heart thumps has nothing to do with that.

Even without shifting your gaze, you can tell that your cheeks are slightly reddened and warm. You can feel it tingling. No, you don’t shift your gaze. It stays fixed on the intense stare that your reflection throws back at you like a challenge, the ferocity of it enhanced by the sharp eyeliner you’re wearing tonight, an uncharacteristic look for you.

Heck, this whole night is uncharacteristic.

You could take the easy route and blame it on Yeri. God knows she can be real persuasive - it’s why she’s excellent at her job. So getting you all out to the club on a Friday night to celebrate nothing other than the simple joy that - c’mon guys, we’re all young and alive and free and tell me that’s not worth celebrating and I’ll fucking fistfight you right here and now even with my freshly manicured nails - is no feat for her.

Still, no one really expected your simple reply, tone nonchalant and eyes still glued to your work screen, “Yeah, I could use a night out.”

Soo-eun had remained silent but you could feel her stiffen slightly beside you. Yeri had been surprised too but more elated that she didn’t have to get through your usual ten solid minutes of whining and half-baked attempts at slithering your way out of it.

But back to the present. Your bodycon dress - one of the rare pieces that survived not just your college partying days but also the wardrobe purge that occurred when you had to downsize everything to fit into the tiny apartment that’s quintessential to city-living - expands with your chest as you take a deep breath. Gripping the hem where it sits mid-thigh, you yank it down slightly. It’s been a while since you’ve worn this dress. And while the younger, more risque version of you that was your college self had been enthralled by the daringness of the dress, your current self has to dig deep to muster up that same boldness.

Relenting as you realize that this is the limit to how much you can stretch the length of your dress, you let go and your fingertips unintentionally brush your thigh as it falls back to your side. It elicits a shudder, the sensation of your own fingers too close to the electrifying feeling of someone’s thumb skimming across it. It was electrifying enough that your brain finally powered up again, voice of rationality sending you skedaddling away, out of reach of his touch, and pathetically seeking refuge in the washroom.

You roll your shoulders back and shake your head, dispelling the thoughts. Standing upright, you look yourself in the eye again. You can do this. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to have a good time with your friends. You’re going to have a good time with Namjoon. With a nod of affirmation, you turn and saunter your way back to the club with a confidence that has your chin firmly tipped upwards.

You push the door open and look for your friends. The sight that greets you immediately punctures your confidence and your steady posture falls limp.

It’s hard to miss her silvery dress - the dress you knew she would wear and the dress that your very own was meant to counter. It catches the light and grabs attention. And at this moment, it grabs your attention so you can witness Yeri standing between Namjoon’s manspread thighs as he’s perched on the barstool, her hands all over him.

Whatever puffed up confidence you’d had is knocked out of you with that sucker punch of a sight. You turn away, needing to look anywhere but at them.

And that’s when your line of sight falls on a curly-haired man, oddly familiar, and apparently someone you know since he’s waving to you.

“____, hey!” he yells over the music.

“Dong-In?”

He nods and smiles at you. “It’s been a while.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “I was supposed to get back to you on brunch, wasn’t I?” Damn. You’ve been so wrapped up with Namjoon that you totally forgot about Dong-In. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been really caught up with things.”

“It’s no biggie.” He shrugs boyishly. “The exhibition, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sure, the exhibition. Let’s go with that.

“And nothing to do with…” he directs his gaze - and yours along with it - to none other than Namjoon who’s now drinking with Yeri.

Your gaze snaps back to Dong-In and his cheshire grin.

“Nah,” you feign a laugh. “He’s just a friend.”

“The hand he had on you sure didn’t look like just friends.”

“I said we’re just friends,” you snap, then gasp, taken aback by your own outburst. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I should be the one apologizing. I hit a nerve there, didn’t I. D’you wanna talk about it?” His voice is warm and mellow and oh so inviting. And you very nearly give in.

But you can’t pull him into your problems. It’s not his burden to bear.

“Not really. But thanks, Dong-In.”

“That’s cool.” He nods, and relief fills you. This is what you’ve always liked about Dong-In. He’s chill. “Well since we’re here, wanna get buzzed?”

You laugh. “I won’t say no to that.”

The bar isn’t too far from where you are, and it doesn’t take long before the burn of alcohol is sliding down your throat. Picking up the conversation again, you have to admit, you’d forgotten how easy it is to talk to Dong-In. He’s got that effortless charisma and an easy sense of humor that you can vibe with. Things are simple with him. There’s no line to be tiptoed. Flirting - now that you’re no longer obtuse and you’re finally aware that he is indeed flirting with you - isn’t accompanied by guilt or fear.

And after weeks of this complicated situation with Namjoon, simplicity is what you crave.

“Hey, do you wanna dance?” you ask suddenly. Surprise colors his features for a moment but he laughs it off.

“Is the conversation boring you? You could have just told me to shut up if you wanted me to,” he jokes.

“No!” You laugh. “There’s just a good beat going and-”

“I’m just kidding. I’d love to.” He smiles and grabs your hand.

The two of you weave your way through the mass of gyrating bodies. Lightly buzzed, the fog and the strobe lights blurring everything around you other than your dance partner, you finally find the courage you’ve been searching for this whole time. Dong-In hasn’t been very subtle about checking you out all night, and it gives you that extra boost of confidence that’s finally quelled the antsy thoughts and calmed the fidgety adjustments to your dress’s hemline.

So when his hands find your waist, you step in a little closer and run your hands through your hair, shaking it out and finally letting loose as your hips rock to the pounding beat. Dancing with Dong-In is much like conversing with him- easy and simple fun with just the slightest tinge of excitement. As your hips sway together in languid synchrony, you catch a whiff of the slightly intoxicating combination of his cologne and the undertones of his own natural scent. You give in to the giddying sensation of his hands running lightly over your body and press in closer, eyes fluttering shut, and just feeling. It’s thrilling. It’s risque. It’s-

A solid grip on your wrist yanks you forward and stumbling into a hard chest.

His voice is gruff as he bites out his words, “Get your hands off her.”

“Namjoon?” you gape.

“We’re leaving.” His eyes fix on yours, steely and piercing. A shiver runs down your spine - in all your years of knowing him, you’ve never seen him like this. He tugs on your wrist once more. “Now.”

Dazed by this brand new persona, you don’t even get to say goodbye to Dong-In, just pulled along by the force that is a quietly fuming Namjoon. Everything happens so quickly that it’s all a blur until you’re in the Uber with him, silently clutching onto your purse as an anchor in this sudden whirlwind of events. The anger emanates off of him even in the dimly lit backseat.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, but the shock diminishes the level of conviction in your voice.

He turns to you, the same hardness still in his gaze. “I should be the one asking that.”

“What?!” you snap. In your peripheral vision, you see the Uber driver jump slightly. Lowering your tone, you hiss, “What gives you the right?”

“What gives me the right?” he echoes incredulously, scoffing and turning away from you to face forward instead as he rolls his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

The car slows to a stop and you recognize your apartment building. You scramble to get away from him. But it seems your confrontation is far from over. Namjoon unbuckles his own seatbelt to follow you.

Terse silence sits between you, the aggravated stomping of your feet as you climb the stairs the only thing that fills the sound.

You turn sharply round the corner, stalking off to your apartment door. “You don’t have to escort me y’know, I’m perfectly capable of getting home by myself.”

“Really?” He folds his arms and leans on the wall next to your door. “It’s hard to trust you when you go off getting drunk and throwing yourself at a random stranger in the club.”

“Is that what the problem is?” You finally ram the key in, and the click as it unlocks is as harsh as your tone. “Sorry to break it to you, but I have a life apart from you. He’s no stranger. His name is Dong-In, he’s Yeri’s friend, and he’s a great guy.”

You shove the door open. Your heels get kicked off and left haphazardly at the entryway, shoe cabinet ignored.

“Wow, some great guy he is,” Namjoon slams the door shut and his shoes get discarded off his feet in the same fashion, “drunkenly feeling you up in a club.”

“Fuck!” You turn, wringing your hands in your hair. Your glares rival each other. “You say it as if I was strung along by him. Well I wasn’t. I initiated it.”

His glare flickers for a moment. He stays silent.

“Just admit that you’re jealous,” you whisper. You unsling your purse and dump it on top of the shoe cabinet, never breaking eye contact.

“Fine.” Namjoon’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I am.”

He skulks forward and traps you between him and the cabinet, gaze holding yours. Namjoon’s always towered over you, but at the moment it isn’t his height that makes you feel tiny.

“Watching his hands all over you like this,” Namjoon’s hands slowly skim the back of your thighs and up your sides and you bite back a whimper, “makes me jealous.”

“And watching you respond like this?” He continues as a firm hand presses the small of your back to close the gap between your torsos. “Glued to him like this? It makes me jealous.”

“You don’t own me,” you whisper but it only elicits a sardonic laugh from him.

“You say that, but you know damn well that’s not the truth. Tell me. Are you jealous?”

“What would I-”

“Yeri.” Damn. Straight through the bullshit. With an eyebrow cocked, it’s obvious he knows the answer and he’s not budging, not even an inch.

“Yes,” you admit quietly. “I’m jealous.”

“Silly girl.” He traces the hemline of your dress. “I only want you.”

A soft keening noise spills out of you. “I’m so sick of holding back.” You tug on his dress shirt, and the feel of his plush lips finally, finally meeting yours snips the final frayed cords of self-restraint you possessed.

Namjoon is quick to reciprocate, and you moan as his tongue licks at your bottom lip. Hooking your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, needing nothing else but to have him close after all this time of distance. He hoists you up, and your legs circle his waist to aid him. The world around you sets into motion as he walks you to your bed, and you anchor yourself by pressing kisses to his neck.

With how tiny your apartment is, it takes no time for him to carry you from the entryway to your bedroom. The cool sensation of your unmade sheets envelops you as he lowers you down onto the bed. He barely gets a moment to appreciate the sight of you, hair mussed and lipstick smudged, lounging on the bed and waiting for him. Desperate for his touch and running out of patience, you gesture to the zip on the side of your dress. Hurrying, he pulls the zipper down as you tug your arms out of the thin straps of the garment. You sit up and let the torso of the dress fall to bunch up at your waist, revealing your bare chest to him.

The quiet gasp that escapes him as he beholds you is infinitely flattering. It’s but a momentary pause. He dives forward into action again. An arm looped around your back to support you as your chest arches upwards, he crouches over you to take one perked-up tit into the heat of his mouth, his free hand coming up to toy with the other. His tongue laves over your nipple in a slippery flick. The other gets pinched and rolled, leaving you gasping at the delicious sensations.

“Namjoon,” you moan out breathily, and it only eggs him on. You whimper as he begins sucking on the bud and wetness pools between your thighs. Your fingernails rake down his back, muted through the layer of his dress shirt.

“M-more,” you plead. He releases your breast and moves his mouth upwards, trailing gentle pecks till he kisses along the length of your collarbone.

“Come here,” he commands, his words breathy and hot as they puff against the thin skin of your clavicle. He scoots back to lean against the headboard, and you follow hastily.

You clamber on top of him, knees bent and straddling his lap as he helps you hike the skirt of your dress up. But before you seat yourself atop the prominent bulge in the lightwash denim of his jeans, he holds you still with a firm grasp on your hip.

His thumb trails the lace detail of your panties, the patterns snaking across your hip bone, baby pink like your dress.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbles. His fingers wander to your clothed core, the material slightly sheer from the damp spot of your arousal. He strokes it tenderly with the pad of his finger, so light that it has you quivering as you hover above him.

His fingernail grazes your slit through the wet material and a gasp catches in your throat. You clench around nothing as carnal desire throbs through your core.

“Namjoon, please,” you whine.

Finally, he gives in to you and pulls you down. Your laced core meets his rough denim-clad one. The stiff material of his jeans pokes through the delicate fabric of your underwear, the friction rough as he drags you over his clothed bulge. The burn is delicious. His hands on you set a slow but steady rhythm that you follow easily, canting your hips in time. It’s enrapturing to watch the way you grind on one another, your clit rubbing up on the apex of his bulge in mutual pleasure.

A finger tips your chin up from the sight you were fixated on.

“Eyes on me.”

It’s difficult. Pleasure has your eyes drooping shut. But the intensity of his gaze compellingly holds yours and you manage, even if barely. His expression is stoic, and it’s only the twitch of his dick that betrays how affected he is. You, on the other hand, are completely abandoned to pleasure. Hands scrabbling across his upper back and up until they settle themselves as fists gripping tufts of his hair, teeth clamped on your bottom lip as moans spill out of you at increasing frequency as your pleasure climbs and climbs and climbs until-

Burrowing your face into the side of his neck, you pant as you cross the peak. Hips now stilled, your climax has you throbbing against his hardened member. You cling onto him with your arms around his neck as you free-fall in the subsiding pleasure. Bare chest brushing against the smooth material of his dress shirt, you catch your breath and yield to the moment.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit.” Louder this time. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The regret in his words yank you out of the heady fog of lust. There’s no time to bask in the afterglow. Reality comes crashing down hard and mercilessly.

Suddenly, you feel so small and so exposed. You read his regret as rejection. Your nudity and previous salacious actions make you feel stupid.

Namjoon attempts to extricate your arms from around him, but shame has you clutching to him tighter, hiding your face in his neck. You can still feel him under you, but it’s now an uncomfortable reminder of the act you just committed.

“Hey,” his voice is gentle now, pleading, “look at me? Please?”

You refuse. It’s impossible to look him in the eye right now.

“Fuck.” Even whispered, the panic laced in his tone is blatant. Gently, he maneuvers both of you to turn over. Feeling the mattress underneath you as you’re laid on your back, you release your hold on him and swiftly turn and tug your blanket up to hide away from him.

“____.” He tries. You grip the sheets even tighter as you feel him trying to pull it away from your face. “Please.”

Embarrassment. Guilt. Mortification. They overtake you and you curl in on yourself. You just want to disappear.

“____,” he tries again, hand stroking your head. But you don’t allow yourself to succumb to its comfort. “Talk to me. Please.”

Oh, now he wants to talk.

Why couldn’t you have just talked things out earlier? Why only now when things have fallen apart? Why now when you’ve just done something so stupid and so reckless?

Why now when it’s too late? What can talking possibly do to fix this now?

His pleas are met with silence.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says resignedly.

More silence. He sighs. You feel the mattress shift as he gets up. From where you’re still hiding in the stuffy darkness underneath your blanket, you hear his footsteps return and the muted thud of the glass getting placed on your bedside table.

The silence returns, but you can feel his presence. You imagine he’s staring at your blanket lump on the bed.

Finally, the heavy quietness is broken with a deep breath, and you hear him say softly, “Get a good night’s rest, okay? Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

The light clicks off and you’re plunged into lonely pitch-black darkness. In the distance, you hear the heavy opening and closing of your front door as Namjoon leaves.

Unearthing yourself to the coolness of the night, your dress an uncomfortable lump around your waist, your breasts slightly sore from his previous ministrations, you stare up at the ceiling as hot tears leak out.

It’s well into the afternoon by the time you drag yourself out of bed the next day. Sleep came intermittently and was far from restful, but waking up meant facing the nightmarish reality of what had transpired. So you hid under the covers for as long as you could. But you know you can’t stay there forever.

The buzzing notifications of your phone had woken you up on more than one occasion in the night. But you ignore it and leave your phone next to the glass of water - still untouched - in favor of washing up. It’s more pressing anyway, you surmise. You can feel your make-up, now icky and caked on your face. It’s awful. Your skin is probably revolting against you now and you don’t even want to think about the mess it probably left on your pillowcase. But last night, you were simply paralyzed by the weight of what you’d done, crying till sleep finally came for you.

You take your time going through an extensive skincare routine, even busting out the clay mask you had impulsively bought together with Yeri when it was on discount. You’re doing it because your skin needs the pampering and definitely not because you’re procrastinating getting to your phone.

But there’s only so many steps you can do with the limited skincare products in your apartment. And you know your friends are probably worried about your abrupt disappearance last night. Getting to those messages first, you quickly assure Soo-eun and Yeri that you’re safe at home. Looking at the remaining notifications, you sigh.

Missed calls Namjoon (8)

7 unread messages from 2 chats Namjoon: are you still sleeping? Namjoon: hey, you still asleep? Namjoon: text me when you’re up please? Namjoon: are you awake?

Dong-In: hey! Dong-In: not sure what exactly happened at the end there haha, but it was rly great seeing u again. Dong-In: i’m still waiting on that brunch reschedule, by the way.

Memories from last night come back to you. Dong-In runs his hands through his curls, an easy grin on his face as he leans in to listen to you over the loud music of the club. Things are simple with Dong-In. And, standing on the precipice of a mental spiral whenever you think of Namjoon, the same craving for simplicity from last night returns.

[2:06pm] ____: well it’s a little late for brunch right now

[2:06pm] ____: but you still up to grab a bite?

230 notes · View notes

mikwrites-archive · 4 years

Text

danger

➳ requested by @croctears: im gon go ahead a req a badboy seungcheol bc im a huge mf simp for him 0:

➳ pairing: choi seungcheol x reader ➳ warnings: mentions of blood, insecurity ➳ genre: bad boy but secretly soft seungcheol, v slight angst ➳ wc: 1.7k

➳ a/n: idk if this classifies as bad boy cheol but i hope you like it !! ♡ i tried something new w this au/trope and pushing this out while suffering from writers block was not v fun WHJBSDJFH

“Anyone catching your eye lately?”

“You ask this every week ‘Kwannie.” You sigh, and he huffs while Joshua snorts.

“A week can change a lot! You can’t tell me you don’t see someone at least once a day that you’re interested in.”

“I mean, if I had to choose, I guess...” You mutter the name lowly, partly hoping they wouldn’t catch it, but you knew them better.

“Choi Seungcheol?”

“Keep your voice down!” You hiss, swatting Seungkwan with the book in your hand, and being utterly stunned with your confession, he doesn’t react.

“I didn’t say I had a crush on him or anything, I just think he’s...”

“Hot?” Joshua offers knowingly, and you’re grateful you’re all sitting on the floor at the reception desk while sorting through returns.

“No! Well, yes, but he’s also...“

Dangerous.

“Just forget it.” You dismiss, and they both frown.

“He’s literally the resident bad boy of our school. And you’re like, the goody two shoes. I don’t think we can just forget it.”

“Okay, Mr. I watched Grease once and think it can apply to real life.”

“I’d like to see you and Seungcheol try singing ‘You’re The One That I Want’ like John Travolta and Olivia Newton John.” Seungkwan scoffs.

“Excuse me?”

The three of you bolt up at the sound of an all too recognizable voice, and you’re the first to act, scrambling to sit on the chair, clearing your throat.

“Yes?”

Seungcheol leans against the counter, fitted leather jacket creasing, handing a piece of paper over, and you fight the urge to cry out as Seungkwan pinches your arm, hard.

“One of my friends is looking for this book, but doesn’t know if we have it.”

You can palpably feel their disappointment at the contents of the note behind you, and you take the paper, recognizing the title easily.

“We do, I put it back just this morning so it should still be there.”

“Lead the way.” Seungcheol gestures, and you glance back pleadingly to Seungkwan and Vernon who are suddenly invested in the stack of books you left.

Seeing as you had no other choice, you proceed through the aisles silently, and when you reach the destined one, you scan the titles quickly, Seungcheol observing your actions relaxedly. When you find it, you slide it out of its place carefully, handing it to him lightly.

“Thanks.” He smiles roguishly at you, adding on as he examines the cover, flipping it between his hands. “By the way, ‘Summer Nights’ is more of my taste.”

“You heard that?” You squeak as the words settle in your realization, covering your face with one hand, and Seungcheol grins. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He shrugs, and his nonchalance is a contrast to the fidget in your limbs. “It was cute.”

“That’s... good.”

You want nothing more than the library floors to crack open and swallow you whole, but he laughs, walking backwards out of the aisle, and it’s the kind that draws a hesitant smile onto your own face.

“Thanks again for the book. We should hang out sometime. You’re fun.”

The headache that he leaves you with, accompanying the final words, is no match to Seungkwan and Joshua’s screeches that escape in the quiet library when you tell them what occurred.

“Can I use your phone? Mine died.” Joshua asks expectantly during one of your study sessions, and you hand it over reluctantly, much to Joshua’s gratitude and Seungkwan’s amusement.

“She’s talking to her boyfriend, Joshua, quit interrupting.” Seungkwan drawls the last word teasingly, and you huff.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You call him Cheol?” Joshua gapes, the text notification popping up, and you snatch it back immediately. “Hey, I wasn’t done using that!”

“Use Seungkwan’s then!”

“So have you guys been talking often?” Joshua inquires curiously, after silence befalls the table, and you shrug.

“I guess? We’ve hung out at school a little and he’s asked me to go for boba a few times, but-”

“Don’t tell me you said no.”

“I said no.”

“Why?” Seungkwan wails. “I thought you liked him! He certainly seems to like you!”

“I never said that!” You ignore his other comment.

“You didn’t have to!”

“He’s... he’s really nice. He really is. But I don’t want to have to deal with the whole... reputation thing. Remember last month when he was literally all everyone talked about because he got a new tattoo? Or crashed his motorcycle in the parking lot? Or all the fights he’s gotten into?”

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.” Joshua snorts. “If you like him then who cares what everyone else talks about?”

“I’ll think about it.” You sigh, and you don’t catch the knowing looks they send one another.

But you don’t get a chance to think about it for long, the next day Seungkwan bursts into the classroom you usually all eat lunch together in, bent over and out of breath.

“Your boyfriend. In a fight. Cafeteria.” He manages to wheeze out.

You don’t have the time to refute the title Seungkwan put on Seungcheol, grabbing your bag and bolting out of the room.

You reach the front ring throughout the crowd just as Seungcheol delivers a punch, sending the other boy staggering into a side mass of people.

His mouth is bloody, spitting red to the side, cheek bruised purple and knuckles scraped. He braces for another throw, and you call out in the yells and cheers.

“Seungcheol!”

You’re not sure if he hears you, the crowd surging as staff appears and attempts to break the conflict apart, no one wanting to be caught as an instigator.

You wait agitatedly in the nurse’s office after lunch is over, grateful to the coincidence that you happened to volunteer during this day.

“I thought you worked in the library.” Seungcheol halts at the doorway, looking entirely distressed at your presence, and you keep your expression flat.

“I do. But I also work in the nurse’s office.” You gesture for him to sit down on the cot, and he does slowly.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I was in that fight?” He pipes up after a few moments of silence.

“I’m not your mom, Seungcheol.” You respond with little interest.

“You look like her when she’s mad at me. Are you mad?”

“Why do you care?” It comes out harsher than intended.

“I can’t care?” He retorts, and you place down your supplies with a strong exhale.

“No, it’s just that I’m not a close friend of yours, we’re not dating, so I don’t know why you expect me to have an opinion on something that doesn’t apply to me.”

“Maybe I want you to care.” He murmurs, and you swallow, chucking the bloodied gauze into the trashcan. Before you can respond, mulling over the appropriate words to utter, he stands, exiting the room. His last words are a low mutter before the door slams shut.

“Sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He doesn’t talk to you for a week after that.

You’re not sure if it’s because he’s suspended for most of it, or the looks that Seungkwan and Joshua send him whenever they’re with you and he comes near, but you don’t seek him out either.

It’s not until you see him walk out after school, busying yourself with your book as you see him approach, waiting on a bench in the parking lot for your late ride. Scuffed black boots enter your vision and you look up.

“Hey. Shouldn’t you have gone home already?”

“I’m waiting for my ride. They’re late.” You reply plainly, and Seungcheol scoffs. He’s still bandaged, but you can tell they’re healing well.

“I’ll take you home.”

“But... don’t you come to school on your motorcycle?”

He only raises an eyebrow at you in response, walking towards said bike, helmet under his arm, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you contemplate whether you should follow.

The text message that pings your phone answers for you, telling you they wouldn’t be there for another hour, and you scramble after Seungcheol.

“Here. I’ve ridden this enough to not need it this time.”

“Are you sure? I can always just walk home or something.” Your gaze lowers to the ground the more you progress in your sentence, scuffing the toe of your sneaker against the asphalt. “You did just get into a fight not too long ago.”

He’s wholly amused at your suggestion as he tilts your chin up with two fingers.

“You’re too cute.”

He’s still holding the helmet out, and you take it hurriedly, shoving it on to cover your flushed features.

“Hold tight.” He advises as you climb awkwardly onto the bike behind him, and you immediately cling to him like plastic wrap after you tell him your address.

“You okay?” He leans the bike on his kickstand, and you nod, hopping off the seat and tugging the helmet off.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs in response, and you gnaw at your bottom lip.

“Do... do you want to come inside?” You offer, turning back and holding the gate open for him. “My parents aren’t home, not that that means anything, but I thought...”

It’s an olive branch, extended as a true desire to fully reconcile, and after a moment’s hesitation, he takes it, stepping past the gate.

“Do you want anything to eat? Drink?” Seungcheol hasn’t uttered a word as he sits in your kitchen, toying with the edge of the tablecloth as you sit across from him awkwardly.

“No thanks.”

“Cheol.” He looks up at you, expression unreadable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I...” you hesitate. “I just really like you. And I care about you. Too much I think considering we’ve only known each other for a few weeks. And I know I shouldn’t care about what others think if we get together, but I’m scared.”

“I’m sorry too.” He takes your hand gently, resting on the table. “I like you a lot. I just didn’t tell you, and that’s nothing you should beat yourself up over sweetheart. Please don’t be scared.” He smooths circles along the back of your hand comfortingly, smiling at you toothily.

“We’ll get through it together if we care about one another, and if it ever stops, let’s make the most of it.”

➳ taglist: @writeiolite @soranihimawari @peachy-yabbay

#caratwritersclub #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol imagines #scoups x reader #scoups imagines #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol imagines #svt imagines #svt x you #svt x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader

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sunnomnoms · 4 years

Note

How would Todoroki comfort an emotionally burned out S/O? (I really love how you write Shoto because just reading about him makes me so relaxed, like drinking tea)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO AAAAAAAAAAA

I had a bit of an emotional burn out myself recently I guess, hence the unannounced hiatus. But I’m back, and I have ur Todo content!!!! I wrote this as headcanons, I hope you don’t mind!! Also, I’m glad you like how I portray him, i do my best to be accurate but also realistic to his character!!

TW: mentions of animal and child neglect. I guess I’m in a bit of a morbid mood? I felt giving some details would make this feel more real, I’m sorry if it’s too much!

It had been after a tough mission that you two happened to be on together. It was an emotionally exhausting mission. It wasn’t one of epic proportion, it didn’t have any super heroic battles, no villainous empire to tear down, no evil overlord to stop.

Instead, the two of you had been working along side police force. Of course, you were recognized and respected as heroes, the two of you were doing work studies and were recognized as legitimate heroes. But the mission wasn’t a huge one.

Or so you thought

To bring things long story short, what you expected to be a quick wellness check turned out to be a horrifying sight of child and animal neglect. Owners of the house seemed to have skipped town, and completely abandon their pets and children. The neglect seemed to be long term, the owners skipping town seemed to be out of fear due to police suspicion.

It didn’t help that you were the one who initially discovered the neglected children. If Shoto hadn’t been there with you, you would have hit the ground when you fainted at the sight.

The next few days after the incident, you seemed to keep to yourself.

Shoto didn’t like this. It wasn’t that you weren’t giving him attention that bothered him, no, he didn’t mind when you wanted alone time. But this was abnormal. This wasn’t right, something was wrong. No text message telling him you were okay and just needed some time alone, no good morning or good night text (you always did those, no matter if you were distant or not), nothing.

He was worried. No, beyond worried. You were his significant other, you meant a whole lot to him. Sure he didn’t know exactly how to express that all the time, but he did everything he could to get it across that he was there for you. And you always seemed to know and appreciate that. Why is it any different now? Is it something he did? What happened?

It struck Shoto then that you and him had just been on a... harrowing mission. He had to mull over it a few times before it kind of hit him how awful that situation actually was. Shoto had kind of... disconnected himself from the situation despite everything so he could just kind of do what he had to. He learned to do this a good bit throughout his life, to disconnect and disregard emotions at certain times so he could get to the point and work.

But you? You had always been a companionate person. It’s one of the many things he loved about you.

He should have realized sooner. Of course you’re upset. Of course you couldn’t disconnect. He shouldn’t have expected you to.

It didn’t take long for him to make his way over to your dorm. He would have sprinted there, but given the hour of night it was he didn’t want to gain any suspicion. He stopped in front of your door, knocking oh-so gently.

“[Y/N].” Shoto called for you softly. A small rustle was heard within your room, then silence. He knocked again. “[Y/N], please let me in. I’m worried about you...” At first there was nothing, until he heard soft shuffling towards the door. A small click was heard, as well as some more shuffling. Shoto grabbed the nob gently, twisting it and entering your dorm slowly.

It was a bit of a mess, sure, but he wasn’t really worried about that. Instead, he made his way to your laying form on your bed. He sat on the bed gently, sitting near the foot of the bed as you back faced away from him. He looked over at you, unsure as what to do.

“Hey.” He started, hoping his greeting would get you to carry on the conversation. But you were silent. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, so instead, he just spoke.

“You don’t have to move or get up. You don’t have to even speak. It’s okay. I don’t mind. I know you’re struggling from that mission, I should have known you would. I know that kind of stuff gets to you. I was too busy disconnecting myself from it all that I didn’t even think about how you felt. I’m sorry.” Shoto speaks softly, his head slightly hanging. He truly did feel bad, he should have realized you didn’t feel okay. It just never striked him as an issue until now.

“Please don’t apologize.” You croaked back to him, your throat sounding slightly raw.

Shoto sighed, crawling into your bed and at your side, before laying on his back to stare at the ceiling.

“You did amazing on that mission. She’s gonna be okay because of you, you know that, right?” Shoto offered. You curled up a bit more. Shoot, maybe not the right thing to say.

“I’m proud of you. And... I’m also here for you. I know things are rough, but... I want to share the weight. I know it’s not easy to open up all the time, but... Please try to talk to me. I want to help you.” He spoke softly, barely above a whisper. Again, he wasn’t the best with words, but... he was trying. It was all a shot in the dark for him.

With some more shuffling, he felt you huddle up into his side. He wrapped his arms around you gently as you rested your face in the crook of his neck.

The truth was, you cried all of your tears and threw all of your fits over the situation. You were tired, and you had barely anything left to give emotionally. Shoto knew how this felt to an extent, his internal emotional battery would occasionally run out of power here and there as well. This on the other hand was different. You weren’t the stoic type, so it didn’t go unnoticed.

It lasted a few days really, but within those few days, Shoto hardly left your side. He wasn’t annoying you, no, he was a bit of a reminder that you truly weren’t alone. He also reminded you to eat, shower, and so what and so on.

Shoto would tell you gentle stories of sweeter points in his childhood. some of the happy stories and good memories. You knew the background Shoto came from, so it was delightful to hear that an occasional ray of light came through the darkness for him.

Shoto would just... be in your presence. He didn’t want to leave you alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you or anything, no, but he just wanted to be able to feel you around him. For those handful of bad days you had, he’d do his homework and even sleep in your room just to keep an eye on you.

He wasn’t just lying around or anything, no. He was helpful, too. Knowing how mentally burnt out you were, he helped with your homework and even would fetch things for you, wether it be across the room or in the common room. His main thing just seemed to be keeping an eye on you and coaxing you out of sulking completely all day and actually eating and caring for yourself. He probably would have been willing to bathe you too if you would have let him.

Shoto spent probably half of his time trying to talk to you at least a little, always giving you some loving words of support. If you weren’t much for talking with him, he’d just sit in comfortable silence with you as he did other things. Neither of you minded this, it was nice to just... exist around one another for awhile. Nothing about it was unfulfilling or boring about it, it was nice to just have him around.

After you had gotten yourself in orders and back to your normal self, Shoto was a bit more attentive to your emotions.

It’s never been easy for him to process emotions, much less other people’s emotions. But he’s willing to learn for your sake. Just give him some time.

He often would ask how you are, and if you weren’t feeling well he’d ask if you wanted him around or not. He never took offense if you wanted some alone time, even if it made him worry a bit. But if you wanted him around, he’d usually be quiet and just exist in your presence. If he spoke he spoke quietly, and if he touched you he’d warn you first. He did most anything to keep you comfortable when you weren’t feeling well.

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marcos-scorpion · 5 years

Text

hello? (steve harrington x reader) part two of three

hiiiii! im sososososo sorry ive been gone. a lot has happened since i posted part one, and i have decided to make this a three-part (or maybe more) series, on a suggestion of my friend in sixth form. So, here is part two of hello? although its not the part two you were hoping for ;)

part one-- hello? part one

part three-- hello? part three

requested- technically I always planned on writing it, but people have requested it

warnings- anGST, tears, asshole s1!steve, swearing, smoking

word count- 1067

}{}{}{

Grinning as he rambled on about today’s drama with Tommy and Carol, Steve was thankful for the girl across the street. She never judged him and didn’t expect him to be anything but honest. And he loved her for it. It had taken him months to admit it to himself, and he could never admit it to anyone else, let alone her. She was everything he wanted, everything he needed.

But he couldn’t have her.

She was too perfect. Too smart, too pretty, too kind, and he couldn’t come into her life and ruin that. She was smeared ink and vanilla perfume, and he was bruised knuckles and strong cologne. They were too different. Worlds away, and yet so close.

Realising she hadn’t responded in a while, he decided to startle her out of her daydream with a chuckle.

“Fuck, Y/N, am I really that boring?” a laugh following his statement. “C’mon darlin’, are you there?” His voice cracked slightly at the pet name. How much he wished you were his.

Her reply came back, crackly through the phone, but he could still hear the gentle, joking, tone of your voice.

“I’m here, I’m here, just enjoying the show.”

Running to the window, he faked a look of disgust, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Don’t go all modest on me now, Harrington. The show was just getting good.” She let out a with a giggle.

Ugh, he hated when you said his name in that teasing tone, it made him want to make you moan his name instead.

Looking at her through the widows, shorts and massive t-shirt on her frame, he decided if he didn’t go to bed now, he’d say something he’d regret.

“It’s getting late, Y/L/N. Night, weirdo.”

“Night Steve.”

}{}{}{

He watched her dive into the front seat of Freakshow Byers’ car, watched them drive off with gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

Fuckin’ Byers. You were supposed to be his girl, not that freakshow’s. How Byers got a girl like her it was beyond Steve. But all he knew was that she was his soulmate, and he had to have her.

But he couldn’t. She cared for Byers. And he couldn’t hurt you. Because sometimes, you have to hurt yourself to make the one you love happy. And for Steve, poor, oblivious Steve, it was killing him.

}{}{}{

Steve watched (Y/N)leave Jonathan’s car, watched her reach out to hold his hand. Why were they so late to school? Probably stopped to take fucking pictures.

Steve never had trouble getting the girl before. But (Y/N), oh (Y/N), she was special. You wrote poetry and always had a smile for him. And he decided she were so perfect he hated her. For not being his, for being Jonathan fucking Byers’, for being kind and eloquent and so goddamn beautiful it hurt.

At school, he would normally at least sneak you small smiles, and gentle touches in crowded corridors. But today, he was all hard looks and cold eyes. He could barely touch you without screaming, barely look at you without tears in his eyes.

So, yeah, he decided he fucking hated you.

}{}{}{

When Steve went to open his locker at the end of the day, a piece of pale-yellow paper fluttered to the ground. In her messy scrawl it read, ‘How am I supposed to stay away, when you made me everything I am?’. Doodles of little droopy daisies filled the rest of the paper, a small heart drawn in smudged ink at the end of the message.

Suddenly filled by both an intense anger and sadness, he ripped the note to shreds, throwing it to the floor, before stomping out of the school, just before he began to cry.

Sat shaking in his car, Steve wondered how the fuck he let himself get this fucked up over a girl. Over a fucking girl! He was King Steve, and he had a trail of broken hearts in his wake to prove it! He didn’t cry over any girl, especially not Freakshow Byers’ weird poet girlfriend. He was supposed to be the one making a girl cry, not the other way ‘round.

But here he fucking was.

So, he must take matters into his own hands.

Steve Harrington has to break (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s heart, before she breaks his.

}{}{}{

He hadn’t called you. And it was killing him. But he couldn’t face you. Couldn’t face what he’d say when he spoke to you. What he was going to do.

While the boy was mulling over how to deal with her, his phone wrung.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice crackled through the phone. “Hello?”

“Steve,” she murmured, “Are you ok?”

Absently answering, he almost choked when he heard her voice.

And with that, Steve Harrington broke down.

“You know what Y/N, I’m not! I’m not o-fucking-kay because you won’t leave me alone! I thought I’d pity you, maybe try and be nicer to a weirdo, but I finally realised I made a shitty mistake. You’re dull, and annoying, and your fucking voice drives me up the fucking wall Y/N! It was fun talking to you, messing around, treating you like a fucking friend, when in reality, it was all fucking bullshit. You’re fucking bullshit. I hate you Y/L/N, but I seem to be fucking stuck with you. I phone you once, ONCE, and suddenly you’re on my back all the time. So, would you kindly fuck off, so I can live my life, and you can go back to shagging freakshow Byers.”

His heart broke with every word, every fucking syllable.

And when she let out a sob, he had to restrain himself from crying out. But he forced himself to the window, forced a fake cruel expression on his features. And when he met your eyes, forced himself to close the curtains.

And he fell to the floor, breaking down.

}{}{}{

The next morning, Steve watched her cry into Byers’ shirt.

He spent all day watching her broken form walk around the school, watched her smoke cigarette after cigarette.

And he realised what a terrible mistake he had made.

}{}{}{

He couldn’t fucking believe he was calling her, but he was. Oh god, he needed to talk to her, needed to apologise, make her understand.

He didn’t even know if she’d answer.

“Jonathan, I told you I’m fin-” Her voice was gravelly

“Hello?”

#steve #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #angst #harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female #steve h #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #st #Stranger Things S1 #stranger things season 1 #stranger things season one #part two of three

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bleepblopbloop56 · 5 years

Text

The Murder in the Dressing Room

Chapter 7: liar liar

Warnings: blood, death, emotional and physical abuse, implied past domestic abuse

Also on ao3

Special thanks to @pathos-logical who still, despite everything shes done, wont be listed as a co-writer 🦀 (the writing was done months ago, and shes been doing EVERYTHING since)

The sound of Logan's phone ringing shook him out of the daze he'd been in for hours, sitting on Remy's couch, staring at the yellow walls, and trying to think about anything that wasn't Virgil. He considered ignoring it, letting it ring until the caller gave up and left him to sulk alone, but he decided to at least look at the contact. Maybe if they were important enough he'd think about calling them back later.

But when he saw Roman's contact, his earlier numbness was replaced with urgency like a lightning strike. He picked up before he could think twice.

"Hello?" he rushed out, but even that was immediately cut off. At first all Logan could make out was near-hysterical rambling- but then the words sank in, and so did the horror.

"He did it- Logan, Dee killed them, it was him!" Roman was shaking so badly it was a challenge to keep the phone in his hands. "Dee, he- he sent me a picture of- of the two of us together, he didn't want me to leave him- Logan… I don't know what to do," he hiccupped, voice cracking on Logan's name. Logan's previous grief-induced apathy had fled as soon as he had heard the call, but now heart was pounding, a lump caught in his chest like he was going to either puke or scream.

"Roman, where. Are. You." Logan had always been a serious type, but never like this. Despite how often his line of work put him in danger, the life-or-death part of it had never hit quite this close to home. If his entire world was flooding, Roman was the only one with a lifeboat.

"God, I don't even know…" Roman muttered to himself, pausing to glance around him and even his breathing. "Some shitty Holiday Inn? I'm not too far from the police station."

Logan had jumped into action the second he heard Roman’s voice, frantically pulling on his shoes and throwing on one of Remy's jackets that was hanging by the door as he stormed out of the house. "Roman, I need you to meet me at the station." He heard Roman sniffle and whisper a soft agreement, followed by the sound of movement. "And Ro?" The shuffling stopped.

"I love you… and we're going to get through this, okay?" It was easier to lie to Roman than it was to lie to himself. And it was easier to tell Roman the truth about loving him than it was to pretend that he was over him. Things were just easier with Roman… Everything was easier with Roman.

"I love you too," Roman whispered, but it came out choked and broken, like it was all he could do not to cry. "I never stopped loving you, I'm sorry I ever left, if I just stayed with you then none of this would've happened- god, this is all my fault- "

Logan hushed him, starting his car and pulling out of the driveway without looking. "Everything's going to be alright, okay?” Keeping his voice steady was a challenge, but he needed to be strong, if only for Roman. “I'll see you soon."

--------

Roman wouldn't make it to the station. Hell, he barely made it out of his hotel room before a hand pushed him in again.

And even if he did, he wouldn't have wanted to.

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

Logan went straight to his office when he reached the station, not bothering to greet the few people mulling around. Remy had been promoted to head detective on the case after Logan had dropped out, and Logan knew he’d been working late nights since. He must’ve been in Logan's office for hours now.

"Remy, I have the answer!" Logan began, swinging open the door with the kind of energy more typically associated with his partner than him. Remy didn't react, facing the board Logan had set up for the case. In the back of Logan's mind, it registered as odd that his head was lolling forward instead of leaned back to look up at it.

But that wasn't what made Logan stop dead in his tracks. No, that would be the blood that was absolutely everywhere- splattered across the walls, pooling at Remy’s feet-

Remy.

Logan rushed over to look at him, only sparing the briefest glance at the sunglasses on the floor. But suddenly he'd never missed their absence more keenly on Remy's face than the moment when he saw Remy slumped in Logan's chair, quintessential glasses replaced by an all-too familiar mask frowning up at him.

Through blurring vision and rising nausea, Logan took in the rest of the scene. The board, now covered in red from more than just yarn. The cold air coming in through the open window. Remy's torn baseball tee, so drenched in dark blood that not a speck of the original white and black fabric remained visible. The coffee cup, contents long gone cold, that somehow lay untouched on his desk. The missing picture of him and Patton on the desk, creased down the middle and scribbled on.

In red marker were two crudely drawn masks covering Logan's and Patton's faces.

Logan felt his whole world come crashing down. He had been holding on to Remy's stability through all of this, and now that was gone. Remy was gone…

Remy Murphy was dead.

Remy Murphy was dead

Remy Murphy was dead.

And Logan screamed.

------

"Hello, Roman~" Ethan sing-songed. "Where do you think you're going?" He smiled, sweet as poisoned honey, walking forward and forcing Roman to back up until his legs hit the bed. Roman scrambled away from his touch until he was against the headrest, but Dee simply leaned over him. "How are you, baby? It's been far too long since we've chatted."

"Dee," Roman choked out. "Please don't do this." He let out a violent sob when Dee grabbed his chin and pulled it forward, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Someone's been a little tattletale huh?" Dee smiled. It wasn't anything like his old smile. He'd used to smile like he owned the world. This smile said he was about to destroy it.

"Gone off telling your little boyfriend about me, huh?" Roman shook his head, gasping and swallowing his sobs in an attempt to keep quiet.

"LIAR!" Dee shouted, shoving Roman's head into the wall. Ignoring Roman's cry of pain, he continued, "Why is everyone such a dirty fucking liar?! Do you think I'm an idiot?" Roman was openly sobbing now. Dee's face softened, and he pulled Roman into a hug he was too afraid to pull away from.

"I'm sorry, baby, you know I didn't mean it" he cooed, petting Roman's hair right where his head had hit the wall. "Do you forgive me?" On instinct Roman nodded, hands balled into fists in the sheets.

Dee pulled back and kissed Roman's forehead, putting on a fake pout when Roman flinched away. "We're gonna go home now, alright? And we're not gonna run, or yell, or get upset, okay baby?"

"Or what?" Roman dared to ask, but the question came out too breathless to have any real bite to it. "Or you'll kill me? Do it. End all of this, Dee. I give up. Kill me if you want, just stop this," he begged. "Kill me. And let them find me with that fucking mask on just like everyone else, but never fucking touch another one of my friends or family again."

Dee stared at him for a moment, and Roman couldn't tell if he was confused or if he was contemplating if it would be worth it.

"Oh no no no, baby." Ethan ran his hands over Roman’s cheeks, gently wiping away his tears. "I love you, that's why I'm doing all this! I just want you to be with me."

"Then what'll you do?" He clenched his fists tighter. He wanted to pretend it was to put on a show of bravery, but in reality he was trying to keep from shaking too hard, afraid Dee might notice and get angry.

"Then I'll kill your little love bird! You're such a cheating whore sometimes, baby," Dee crooned, cradling Roman's tear-streaked face, "but you've had your fun now! And now we're going home!"

Roman tried to think back to the first time he met Dee, to remember if there were any signs to any of this when he had let himself get swept away by those initial promises and gifts. Nothing in his memory held any clues to how he would end up here, with three people dead and his soulmate's life on the cutting board.

"Did you bring anything with you, sweetheart?" Dee’s soft hands petting over Roman’s face contradicted his eyes, alight with something more than poison behind them. Roman shook his head no- all he had on him was his wallet and phone. "Good boy. Now let's go. One hand on me at all times, alright baby?"

Roman nodded, and held out his hand, trying to ignore the way Dee gripped down too hard, the opposite of Logan's gentle hands leading him to the car after the restaurant only a few days ago.

"One more thing." Dee stopped him as he was getting in the car. "Give me your phone. You don't deserve it anymore."

Roman’s breath seized. Dee had always let him have his phone. No matter the scolding and yelling about who he was talking to, the constant searches through Roman’s steadily dwindling messages, the deletion of social media and surrender of passwords, he was still allowed to have it. Part of him wanted to protest, to cling to his one link to the outside world- to Logan- but he was in no place to make demands.

With shaking fingers reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone, a cheap sparkling case barely protecting the shattered screen, the result of being chucked against the wall one too many times in one of Dee's fits of rage. Dee snatched it out of his hands and stuffed it in his pocket before starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot.

There were a million thoughts whirling through Roman's head as Dee drove them to wherever he had been hiding, but for some reason his mind kept circling back to his phone. So small, in the grand scheme of things, but he couldn't help but feel he'd given up more than just that when he'd handed it over.

The murder in the dressing room taglist:

@cataclysm-al @theteenagetrickster @intrurality-fusion @katie-the-noble-fangirl @whizzie72 @grayson-22 @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @winterwonderland7669 @missieluvsmurder @sign-from-god-complex @dragonindigo245 @angryfanboyscreaming @ninja-wizard101 @sombraookami @crystalistrappedintheinternet @imtooaromanticforthis @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @dragon-hair @satanblessi @spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence @skruffy901 @selectivereality @nonbeenary-enbee @imbasicallyshakespear @cats-vetal-miking-vomit @incoherentfangirl @oofmood @nonbianary-pineapple @royalnerd829 @unicornlogansanders @magma-llama

#thomas sanders #sander sides #roman sanders #deceit sanders #tw deceit #abusive deceit #manipulative deceit #past roceit #rociet #logince

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kackmack · 5 years

Text

Fake Smile

Rowan x Aelin

Chapter 9

“WHAT THE FUCK? YOUR DATING HER” Fenrys roared barging into Rowans office. Rowan didn’t shift his face from his computer. “WHITETHORN”

“What?” Rowan answered flatly finally looking up.

“Aelin! You asshole!” Fenrys barked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rowan tried not to smirk but as the weekend’s events flashed over his eyes he couldn’t help it. Aelin and Rowan spent the whole weekend cooped up in his apartment, not even venturing out for food, having delivery and movies on his tv in the background as he couldn’t even keep his hands off her, kept them both in bliss until the hard hit of Monday morning had him leaving her in his bed so he could go to work. He desperately wanted to stay, but with the deadline coming up he just couldn’t risk a setback.

“Don’t play dumb! She was here!” Fenrys clutched his hands on his sides nearly shaking. Rowans face fell as he realized Fenrys normal goofiness was replaced by rage.

“How do you know that?”

“Your assistant was blabbing off about a cute blonde waiting in your office. What the hell Rowan! You were the one telling me not to go after her.”

Rowan knew he was truly fucked and couldn’t act like he didn’t know what Fen was talking about. “You need to calm down, you had like two conversations with her.”

“Yeah! And I liked her. You dick. The one girl you date. REALLY?” Fenrys snapped back. Rowan knew Fenrys was mad but he really didn’t have to be this loud or aggressive. Rowan didn’t owe him an explanation so he just kept his face blank.

“We’re not dating.” Rowan truly didn’t know what he was doing with Aelin. Every day Rowan felt more, cared more. It hadn’t hit him that they hadn’t labeled it.

Dating? He hasn’t even taken her out.

Together? No he hasn’t had that conversation with her.

Just fucking? Nope he knew he had feelings for her. Deeper than lust.

“Oh? You’re just fucking her? Fuck you dude. You could have anyone. You could have your damn assistant!” Rowan clutched the papers on his desk to keep from throwing something at Fenrys.

Rowan calmed his nerves and set the papers down as he calmly said “Aren’t you hooking up with the girl from Human Resources? You have like four girls you like at once. Go find someone else. Don’t come at me like that because Aelin didn’t want you.”

“And what? She wants you?” Fenrys scoffed and Rowans blood started to boil. “She’s like half your age. You’re an old brute. All you’re going to do is hold her back and waste her time. You just want her because she’s a new shiny toy. You’ll drop her as soon as you get bored.” Fenrys had already slammed the door behind when Rowan threw his stapler.

Hours later, Rowan still couldn’t focus, barely able to do his work as his mind kept going back to the words Fenrys spat at him.

“You’ll hold her back.” “Waste her time.” Rowan tried not to think about how she truly was much more than he thought. She’s witty, wicked smart, kind, and she opened up to him. Rowan hasn’t had many people open up to him much less him to others. His appearance, his hight, his bulkiness, his tattoos, his ever so firm resting angry face scared people away. He liked it that way. Seeing people avoid him in the streets, avoid his eye contact as he spoke, or people down right being intimidated fed his ego.

But she was never intimidated by him, everything that drove people away from him just lured her in. Aelin was some kind of light, a fire and he couldn’t bring himself to realize he’ll be the one to snuff out her spark.

Rowan knew he had to let her go. Let her be happy with someone near her age, that could share the life experiences that will shape her into a beautiful woman. Rowan didn’t want to admit it but he knew Fenrys was right.

Rowan finally had the inkling to call her as he left his office. He had avoided all her calls and text as he mulled over the words from Fen. Didn’t even want to read the messages she left him as he dialed her number.

“Hey baby.” Aelins voice was light and airy as if she’d been waiting for his call all day. Rowan clenched his jaw as his heart strained.

“Aelin.” Rowan couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

“Rowan, what’s wrong?” As if just the sound of his voice gave him away. As if she knew the change of his voice by heart.

“We can’t do this anymore. Aelin we can’t see each other.” Rowan was trying to keep still as he sat in his car, still parked at his office.

For a moment Aelin remained silent. Like she was letting his words settle into her, letting the words enter her heart slowly.

“Why?” She finally spoke, almost a whisper.

“You deserve so much more than me. Aelin I’m too old for you. I’ve lived already and you haven’t.” Rowan let out a deep breath as he spoke.

“You’re only seven years older than me what are you talking about?”

“Aelin don’t make this harder than it needs to be, we’ve only known each other for a month now.”

“You know what Rowan fuck you! I fell for you!” Aelin snapped. Rowan couldn’t believe what he just heard. As those word hit him like a brick in the face.

“I know you have feelings for me Rowan. I know you do. Don’t lie to me.” He couldn’t lie to her he couldn’t tell her he had not felt anything for her. “I know my age. I know yours. I have no problem with it. It seems like you do.” Its more than that. “Rowan don’t act like youre doing this for me. You’re doing it to keep you’re piece of mind. I get it. But im tired of this game Rowan. I’m tired of wanting you and you running away. Pushing me away and pulling me back in. Rowan choose to have me or not to. Choose me or don’t. Figure your shit out!” he heard the click as she hung up.

Rowan couldn’t help but punch his steering wheel enraged.

….

Aelin threw her phone clear across the locker room when she hung up. What the hell was that? Why do this?

Aelin was just about to start training when Rowan called. She couldn’t help her big smile when she saw his name on her phone, her butterflies crept up as she answered and it was quickly ruined.

After a bit of training.

“Ow what was that for?” Aelin spat as Dorian smacked her on the face with his training glove.

“You’re not here Aelin.”

“What the fuck Dorian? Obviously I’m here.”

“No Aelin your mind is somewhere else. I told you when you step into this gym, when you train with me. You keep your problems at the door and train.” Dorian said as he smacked her again.

“Fine!” And before Dorian could block, Aelins gloved fist came flying to his face. Ignoring the training glove completely.

“Okay not to my face but yes please focus.” So Aelin gave it her all.

After about thirty minutes of fighting, Aelin had finally stopped for a brake.

“Dorian I need you to come to Aedion’s and Lysandras wedding with me”

“Are you asking me to be your date?” Aelin rolled her eyes as he smirked.

“Uh I guess”

“Aw I’m sorry. I was invited and I already asked Mannon…. Aelin don’t make that face.” Aelin didn’t realize she scrunched up her nose at the mention of her old opponent.

“She acutely likes you, you know. Aelin give her a chance. It wasn’t her that beat you up in the alley, it was her damn following.”

Aelin had asked Rowan to the wedding a few days ago and he surprisingly said yes, even offering to go with her to the rehearsal dinner, it made her heart flutter how he wanted to be there for her.

Seems like plans changed so she’ll be going to both alone.

…

When Rowan finally got home, he actually went straight to bed. It seemed like today had been a little to exasperating so he made his way to his bed as soon as he was showered.

As he laid back he noticed his senses riling up, her sent was woven into his comforters. They had spent most of the weekend in his bed so he shouldn’t be surprised to smell her on it, he just didn’t think it would hit him so hard.

Rowan clutched the sheets to his face as he remembered her lips on his. Remembered his hands all over her, his tongue all over her. Remembered her moans, her saying his name so breathlessly.

Rowan picked up his phone and noticed he had three text messages and one voicemail from Aelin waiting for him.

TEXT: Hey baby good morning, I hope you have a good day!

TEXT: I saw this silver Hawk stuffed animal and thought about you.

(Picture attached)

TEXT: I know you’re busy, I hope you’re not stressed call me after work?

Voicemail: “Hey I know you probably won’t listen to this till later today but Im at lunch and I just wanted to say I want to see again Rowan.”

Rowan read the text and heard the voicemail at least hundred times before falling asleep. He tried, he really tried to tell himself what he did was for the best.

…

Aelins limbs were trembling as she took off her clothes in the locker room. She had gone harder than she had in months in the ring today. Telling Dorian “Again” after every break they had. They had been sparing for at least three hours before Dorian had grunted “ Enough”. She couldn’t help it. She needed to get all her stress out, her favorite outlet to let it all go. But tonight it had done nothing but make her arms and legs burn.

Aelin hated showering at the gym, the water was always freezing, Dorians father was so tight with his money he didn’t even buy a water heater. “it’s the best for my fighters” No hes just cheap.

Tonight though the freezing water hitting her bare skin was honestly a welcomed pain. Let all her limbs soak so the fire could ease. Aelin just stayed in the shower for an ungodly amount of time until she was shaking to the bone.

Authors Note: To my coworker that found my fanfiction… please don’t hate me

xxx

Tag list: @flowersinvegas @shadowstar2313 @heir2chaos@heymichelle360@aelinchocolatelover @captain-timetraveldreamer@rowaelinforeverworld

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #fenrys #tog fanfic #tog #throneofglass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin au #tog au #aelin ashryver #fenrys moonbeam

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eagesoldartblog · 5 years

Text

HELLO EVERYONE!!! Im a bit late today- oops! But here is day 5 of Whumptober!!!

Now, this must be said now, this prompt has a few references to suicide and self harm toward the end. Nothing graphic, but characters clearly speaking about it. Stay safe!!

Gunpoint

The evening had grown uncharacteristically cold that night. The frigidness enough to shoo any wandering animal or person into their shelter of choice. Some cats made a habit of resting on their back porch, curled up under the vents Duet always had on.

After they saw the first kitten cuddled under the sheet they set out, Duet started to make a habit of leaving the back door ajar.

Hearing the scratch of small critters roaming their halls, scratching up the curtains and making a nest in Duets many covers and rugs.

What Duet never suspected to hear- not without panic following their thoughts- was to hear a voice, and heavy steps falling on the back porch.

Sitting up, Duet softly yawns, stretching their limbs and draping a cloak around their neck, obscuring every part of them, before approaching the trespasser. Quickly after, Duet handles their staff, a crystal lining it’s top, a perfect weapon and a light wrapped into one.

Perhaps one of the homeless saw the light and decided to stop inside...?

Duet ponders, humming wistfully as they step out.

A smaller kitten- a calico- jumps in surprise when Duets bedroom door opens, peering up and promptly meowing a greeting. Duet paid them no mind, and kept walking, following the paintings and hung messages along their walls, before reaching the pantry.

If this was someone of no harm, would they scurry away?

Duet had no idea. Lacing their fingers around the clean door knob and cracking it open.

Someone flinches. The brisk chill of the wind attempting to bypass the insulated cloak.

The staff glows, and Duets eyes widen in surprise.

What Duet did not expect, was a man seemingly larger than his door frame leaning in, a hand pressed to one of the cats sides and petting them gingerly. Puffs of white air marking each shaky breath.

“Lewis, what on earth are you doing?”

Lewis- Vivi’s friend, a gentle giant who lingers around her every step- shakes and jerks back, vanishing past the door, “hold on, is everything alright?”

The steps creak loudly, crescendoing into a haphazard whine mixed with Lewis’s gasp. Duet pushes through the door, crossing the steps in a few short steps and peering out.

“Hold it.”

Lewis freezes, hunched over himself and turning to meekly stare at Duet in a moment of silent paralysis. At a loss of what to do, what to say to explain away his sudden appearance.

Lacking shoes, and a coat,

Duet thinks to themselves, recalling how “uptight” Vivi once said Lewis was about proper weather wear- forcing her to come into work with several coats. This sort of appearance on a night like this was far from natural.

Something else was wrong.

“I-.. I’m sorry, Duet. I never should have come here or-“ Lewis’s voice interrupt their thoughts and brought Duet back to the fact that Lewis must have been freezing.

Lifting their hand, Duet quickly silenced him.

“First, Lewis, no need to explain yourself. Please, come in, you’ll get frostbite,”

As if he wasn’t even aware of his own predicament, Lewis’s head snapped down to his own body and feet.

“Ah- are you sure..?”

“Positive. Come in,”

Lewis hesitantly followed their instruction, flinching at the bitter cold of the railing and forcing himself to walk up the steps.

“My dearest apologies, Duet. I didn’t mean to disturb you-“

“There is no need for apology, I would be devastated if I had left you out there.” Unclasping their cloak, Duet takes it off and holds out the feathery material, shaking it lightly when Lewis simply stares at it, “Be a dear and accept this gift, for tonight. I’ll prepare some tea for you. Please take a seat anywhere.”

Lewis blinks down at it, gingerly taking it with shaky hands, confused.

“Where... is your living room?”

“Down the hall, once you get to the end, turn and there will be a couch and television set.”

Before vanishing out of sight, Duet reaches over and opens a spare closet, quickly pulling out a pair of slippers, the biggest ones he had, “Wear these, I can’t imagine how cold you are.”

Steam rose gently from each glass Duet poured, allowing Lewis a chance to stop the flow when he felt necessary. But upon not hearing a word from him, Duet simply capped it off halfway.

“Would you like to talk, Lewis?”

The larger man stifles a breath, chest rising and falling calmer than it had before, and Lewis nodded his head.

“Yes, I wanted to ask why you let me in.”

Duet quirks an eyebrow, taking a small sip, “Is there a need for a reason?”

Handling his own cup gingerly, Lewis mimicked them, “... Yes.”

“Aha, you’re a funny man, I’ll tell you that.” Duet sets down their cup and smiled calmly, “You appeared at my doorstep without proper protection, in the middle of a freezing night, and presumably without prior knowledge I lived here. One can’t help but be concerned.”

“I could have been a thief.”

“Alas, that’s a risk I have been willing to take. Although, most thieves are easily subdued.”

Lewis furrows his eyebrows, “How..?”

“Offering a meal, a place to stay, a direction to a proper life. Or, if needed, I use one of my canes.” Duet explains, leaning over and gesturing toward their collection. And Duet turns to him again, “However, I’m also familiar with you.”

Lewis swallows back more tea, pointedly looking away from Duet now, murmuring how he still didn’t have the right to simply show up. Regardless of what he said, Duet simply shrugs.

“But, I do have a question for you Lewis. Why did you come here like that.”

Pursing his lips, Lewis nervously turns his attention to his hands.

“I had an anxiety attack.”

“So you ran?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

Lewis’s face twists, expression and lips tightening and growing intense, “I had a scary nightmare, and I woke up panicked, and I ran.”

Nodding, Duet leans forward, watching Lewis pointedly, “And?”

“... and..?”

“What was it about? You were very frightened earlier, so perhaps there is something I can do to quell your anxieties.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I’m sure!” The burst of frustration died down instantly, hand flying up to his mouth, a look of shock and shame spreads over his face, “..Im sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“Heh, you’re quite alright.” Duet says, tilting their head to the side and watching the light bounce off Lewis’s shoulders. The moonlight seemed to flutter against him, highlighting the slight gaunt in his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. A swarm of negativity lingered around him, similar to his much smaller friend.

“Has everything been alright, Lewis? As of late.”

“... what do you mean?”

There’s a shift, a hint of defensiveness returning, Duet can feel the truth getting closer.

“Inside your own head. I’m not one to beat around the bush, so let me put it this way; how has your thoughts changed these past few days? Is it harder for you? Easier? Does it feel like the demons of your life have gotten the better of you?”

Silence grows between them, Duet keeping their gaze still and calm, all while Lewis’s face is tight and- a tad too panicked. Similar to how Chloe appears when Duet catches her in the middle of her schemes.

“Lewis?”

His face cracks, and after a tense moment, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Things are bad, Duet. Nothing is wrong at home, or with work... or my friends.. nothing really is wrong,” he pauses, “but nothing's right either. I sleep so much now and I’m - unbelievably tired. I think I may just be anxious.” Lewis rambles, releasing a deep breath and looking everywhere besides Duets face. They couldn't help but laugh.

"You've been sleeping a lot." Duet repeats, mulling over the words a few seconds longer, "I don't suppose this bount of rest your getting is the culprit for these dreams? Possibly feeling like you've done too little to be satisfied?"

Twiddling his thumbs, Lewis bites his lip and nods, "I suppose you can say that... Its been.. a bit more than that."

"Oh..?"

"Well! A- well not a lot but- nothing has been going on in my head- in general and I've been just a tad bit stressed and-!" Lewis splutters, the words spilling out of him like a waterfall, and it becomes painfully apparent just how much he's been holding all of it back. Unable to keep up, Duet instead keeps in mind the small details that Lewis kept emphasizing- A sense of misery, tiredness, and an over abundant amount of paralyzing stress, and on top of all of that, how little Lewis feels he can talk about these feelings.

"And how long did this occur?"

"About- well.. i've been noticing it for the past few months, and I can't help but think its getting worse! It's- its even affecting my dreams now. I- ..." His breath hitches, caught on the next details that would surely send anyone into a panic.

According to Lewis, that was. His gaze returning to his cup, and despite it now having gone cold, he snatches the cup and downs all of it in an instant. Drawing back with a gasp and sorrow painting his face, "Duet- s.. I-.. thank you very much for your kindness, and listening to my rambling, but I- I need to get home and-" Lewis is rising from his place, shrugging off the feathery cape and hastily folding it.

"Would you like me to drive you?"

Flabbergasted, Lewis chokes on his breath, straightening up, "I- im sorry?"

"It's far too cold out for you right now. I fear you may catch frostbite, and that will cost you a lot more. In fact, you may want to sleep more, wouldn't you?"

His mouth hangs open, about to respond and reject the notion. If it wasn't for the fact that Duet knew what they were talking about. Stilted, and now considering a whole lot more, Lewis resembled more of a startled puppy than the werewolf Duet compared him to when they first met.

"... I mean.. you're right but- its so late!"

"And your parents will be much happier knowing their son returned home safe and sound, don't you think?" Suggesting that, Duet watches Lewis's eyebrows furrow with concern, and stands up themself, "I can always explain what had occurred to them if they fret, but it would be far safer than you traversing Tempo on your own.”

".... Perhaps... I can always call my friend for a ride..?"

"But its like you said, it's far too early." Duet points out, but tilts their head, "However, I would be far more comfortable being driven home than you being by yourself. Do you have your phone, by any chance?"

By instinct, Lewis pats his side, his pocket, not breaking eye contact before he's digging around for it.

"I- I thought I had it-! But-!"

He freezes, eyes locked on the small and outdated phone held out to him. Duet- smiling- seemed to produce it from nowhere.

"I have Vivi's number already programed in, but if you have someone else in mind, by all means."

"... Are you sure..?"

"Positively."

For once, Lewis didn't hesitate, and he carefully took the phone and began to dial, murmuring to himself about Arthur being awake..

No answer. Lewis gruffs, dialing again.

This time, he lifted the phone to his ear and whispers, "Vivi...? Yes, its me... I know, I know, I'm sorry to call to late but-... Im at your boss's place, can you come pick me up? ... I'll explain in a little bit... Okay... okay... thank you Vivi... I love you, too.... goodbye." Lewis huffs, hanging up and holding the phone back out to Duet, "she's on her way. Thank you Duet, for everything. I'll wait outside-"

"Hm, I understand. Then I hope you realize, I am going to watch over you until I know you've been safely picked up."

"Are you sure?"

"It's my responsibility to ensure all of my guests are safe, so yes."

Conflicted, Lewis taps his fingers against his side anxiously, before nodding, "May I wait outside..?"

"If that helps you feel comfortable, yes. But you must keep the cloak."

Lewis doesn’t object, not this time.

The porch was far colder than even Duet expected, a chill shaking them both to their cores. And it seemed even with the cloak, Lewis still shivered. No words spoke between them. Leaving them both in a comfortable and calm silence. Until Lewis's chest rags a little heavier than before, and he turns to him.

"Duet, may I- share something with you? Its... a little frightening."

"Your in luck, frightening and mystery is my middle name."

"Heh- didn't realize you and Vivi shared a middle name."

"I try to keep a theme in my book shop, you see? Now, what is on your mind, Lewis?"

Lewis tenses, pulling the cloak tighter around him, "My dream... what- what made me so panicked.. I... I had a gun."

It comes out with a sigh, and Duet tilts their head, urging Lewis onward.

"I was about to shoot myself."

"Ah, I see. Is this related to your recent struggles?"

"... It is. I keep thinking about- ways to... to hurt myself. I can barely move half the time because of it."

"... Do you experience a need to take your life?"

"Not always," The puffs of air surround his face, lighting up how disappointed he was in himself for saying it, "but a lot of the time."

"Is that so?" Two headlights shine down the street, growing closer, "have you spoken to your parents about it?"

"You're the only one who knows." The car is pulling up, a door opening, Vivi opening the door and squinting up at that, dressed in only a tank top and some shorts, unaffected by the brisk chill- much to Duets own amusement.

"Do you plan to tell anyone else?"

Lewis doesn't answer, waving back at Vivi and about to head down the stairs to her, before he finally pauses and turns to them, "Yes."

#whumptober2019 #no.5 #mystery skulls animated #msa #lewis pepper #Msa duet #vivi yukino #VERY BRIEF VIVI #Lewvi #KINDAAA #suicide #depression #tw: suicide #tw: self half #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #lowkey- vent writing #AH

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lumosinlove · 5 years

Text

Solntse

part ii

Remus sits in Lily and James’ tiny living room and tries to ignore the subtly laid out pillow and blankets set on the corner of the couch. Lily doesn’t let him.

“Your apartment has flees.”

Remus sets his glass down, “That was one bug and it was a beetle.”

Lily twists her hair over one shoulder, unrelenting, “Remus. Please.” She nods towards the pillow, “Just—I’m worried. We’re worried.”

Remus looks away so he doesn’t have to see the way James nods, they way they’re both looking at him like he’s already a lost cause. He wishes for a moment he’d never told them what he does other than serve pizza and take the early shifts at the gas station around the block, but then he’d be all alone in it. And they were his best friends, that was why he had told them. Just in case one day all of James’ fears came true and some guy murdered Remus in a hotel room. Or something.

James sighs, “Mate, we’re not ganging up on you.”

“No, I know.” Remus nods down at his mug of tea, “I know. I just…I don’t want to be that friend you can’t get rid of. Like. That would be awful.”

“Re, you’re never going to become that.” Lily puts a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing, “That’s not how we think about it at all. We just want to know your safe.”

James raises his mug to his mouth, “As safe as you can be…”

“James.” Lily snips, then her face turns soft again for Remus, “Will you stay here?”

“Lils, really, my apartment is fine.” He curls his feet further beneath him, “I’ll finish my tea and go. Don’t worry.”

He thinks back to his two night hotel escapade and shakes his head more firmly at Lily. He already feels enough like a charity case as it is. Even if he did get good money for it. Sirius had pushed an extra eighty dollars into his hand at the door and closed it before Remus could protest. He had pressed a chapped kiss to his cheek too. Remus was still mulling that over.

When he finally does make it out of the apartment he pulls his ratty coat tightly over his shoulders and ducks his head against the wind. He could probably buy a new one if Sirius called again. He did ask for two nights in a row, and it went great so, maybe. But he didn’t want to be flashy about any new money. His landlord had already raised his eyebrows when Remus had handed over two months rent in advanced.

His apartment wasn’t flea infested although it did give off that sort of look. He had a cheep futon bed frame, just to keep his mattress off the floor so it didn’t mold, and a dresser from IKEA. His kitchen consisted of a stove and a sink. The gas was usually pretty iffy and his sink ran mostly cold, like his shower, but…he had a roof and food. It’s fine. He has James and Lily if he was really, really in trouble but he doesn’t want it to come to that. He’ll never want it to come to that.

He throws his keys down on the dresser and goes to check the leak under the sink. It hasn’t gotten worse but he empties out what water is in the bucket just while he’s there. He re-tapes the crack in the window and makes a note to ask his landlord about that. Again. He’s just sitting down on his bed when his phone rings. He groans and closes his eyes when he pulls it out, hoping it isn’t one of his less polite customers. He sighs in relief when he sees the name.

“Frank, hi.” Frank almost never wants sex. He likes to talk. He’s lonely. Remus can relate. He’s the son of two wealth-soaked parents who don’t pay him a lick of attention. Remus can half relate. “How are you, mate?”

“Oh. Hi, Remus. Wasn’t sure I’d get you, um. I’m fine. I—um. Was wondering…” He trails off.

“Sure, when were you thinking? I’ve got something Tuesday and Sunday and you know when I work, so…”

“Actually, I was thinking now?” His voice is up an entire octave with nerves, “I just…Family problems right now. Was hoping to just talk a bit.”

Remus runs a hand over his face but tries not to pause too long. He doesn’t want Frank to think he doesn’t want to, “Sounds great! Should I meet you at the—“

“I couldn’t get the usual room. It’s 207 tonight. Same hotel though, the Pierre.”

Remus nods, tries to keep a smile in his voice, “Great. See you soon.”

He’s barely hung up when another name flashes up at him. He’s almost embarrassed by how fast he answers, “Sirius. Hi.” That didn’t come out anywhere close to how he wanted it to.

“Remus! Life is good?”

Remus laughs lightly, still caught off guard but warmed by Sirius’ simple honesty, “Uh, yeah, life is good. How are you?”

“Good. Busy. Always busy, you know? I’m at airport now, going to be in town on Wednesday. You want see together? Or, ah, not together.”

“Each other.” Remus supplies.

“Yes, perfect. You always know. What you think, Remus?”

Remus half wishes Sirius would stop saying his name like that and half wishes he’ll never stop saying his name like that, “Yeah, that works for me. What time were you thinking?”

“Seven? I get us dinner in room, so don’t eat. I’m, ah…” Sirius lets out a soft laugh and Remus presses the speaker closer to his ear, “I’m think about you a lot.”

Remus swallows over a suddenly dry throat, “Yeah?”

“Hm.” There’s a loud speaker in the background and Sirius says something low in Russian, “Flight calling me. Wednesday okay, yes?”

“Yes. Have a good flight.”

“You too. Or—“ They both laugh, “Okay, I’m go now. Bye, Remus.”

The line goes dead and Remus lets the phone fall to the bed. He breathes in deeply and looks down. He’s half hard in his pants now and he really doesn’t know why. He’s suppose to be on his way to Frank’s, he tips well, he honestly needs Remus a little bit and…fuck. He splashes some freezing water on his face from the sink and yanks his door shut as he leaves.

Frank’s is fine. The hotel room is nice and Remus ends up sucking him off—twice. He doesn’t get hard either time but Frank seems either completely fine with that or he doesn’t notice. What does get him going is the ping he gets on his phone while he’s walking home from the tube. It’s a picture. Of Sirius. A selfie. He’s grinning in front of a beautiful sunset outside a plane window. There’s no message except a few sideways parentheses that Remus takes as smiles. Looking at the grin triggers thinking about Sirius’ large, warm hands on his hips and back. That leads to thinking about the way Sirius had carefully pushed his fingers inside of Remus, then the hot slide of his cock to replace them, his weight covering Remus’ back—

By the time Remus is walking up the stairs to his apartment again he’s more or less waddling around his tented trousers. By the time he’s throwing his keys on his dresser all he can do is lean back against his door and shove his hand into his boxers. They’re already damp with pre-come so what’s the point anyway? He smears his thumb over his head and squeezes the base, letting out a breath. It’s not as good as Sirius and his fucking huge palms. Now that he’s got a hand wrapped around himself he can really feel the difference. He pushes his pants down around his knees so he can get two hands around himself instead, twisting around the head and keeping a tight grip around the shaft. It barely takes a dozen pulls before he’s shooting into his fist with a harsh sound, Sirius’ name almost on his lips. Almost. He makes the mistake of thinking about the way Sirius had trailed his fingertips over his sensitive cock after he’d made Remus come in his mouth, keeping the pleasurable nerves alight, and takes a cold shower so he doesn’t have to go again. The shower only makes him think about how, next time, maybe Sirius won’t come untouched. Maybe Remus will get to return the favor. He doesn’t even know how much of Sirius he could fit in his mouth but fuck if he doesn’t want to try. He groans and wraps a hand around himself again. He’s too sensitive but he doesn’t care. He works himself fast and hard until his cock is a flushed red and he comes weakly against the shower wall, panting into the cool spray.

He looks at his phone as he towels off his hair. It’s Saturday, and it’s going to be a long couple days.

There’s a different woman at the front desk this time and Remus is glad. Not that he thinks the other one would remember him but, still. He stares at the twelve on the door for a moment, trying to calm his heart rate, before he knocks.

The door doesn’t open immediately so he knocks again, feeling more awkward by the second.

This time there’s a muffled shout and a few seconds later the door is yanked open by Sirius—dripping wet and a towel hastily wrapped around his waist.

“Sorry!” He gasps, “Sorry, flight late, felt kind of like plane—plane all over me? Thought I be fast, sorry.”

“Okay.” Remus meant to say it’s okay but, well, Sirius’ towel is slipping sort of low.

“Come in, come in, I’m be ready in minute.”

Ready for what? Remus wants to ask.

He goes to sit on one of the couches and strokes his hands over a soft pillows while Sirius pads back to the shower, dropping his towel without closing the door. For a second, Remus debates on whether he can consider that as an invitation or not. He stands up twice and sits back down before the water shuts off and he sits again. Sirius emerges a second later, grabbing the towel from the floor to wrap around his waist and another for his hair. He rubs at his hair until the waves fluff around his ears and into his eyes. He smiles over at Remus somewhat guiltily.

“Sorry again. You want look at menu?” Sirius flips open a sleek looking suitcase and starts rifling through it, “Starving. Airplane food most bad, you know?”

Remus doesn’t but he’s not about to start that conversation. Instead he reaches for the leather-bound hotel book, “Where did you come from?”

“Sydney, ah…Hard for me to say.”

“Australia.”

Sirius laughs and pulls a loose fitting pair of sweatpants on—bare, “Yes, right.” A white long sleeve shirt follows and—to Remus’ surprised delight—a black snapback. It sits snugly on his damp hair, pushing the front part back out of his eyes while the rest wings out above his ears. Remus can see the shape of his ring necklace through his shirt. He swallows. Sirius looks good.

He pulls some warm looking socks on and Remus glances briefly at the hole in the heel on his own left foot. The couch bounces a little as Sirius settles next to him, leaning in close to look at the menu, “Good food? What you like?”

Remus tries to read the menu, he really does, but Sirius’ arm is thrown over the back of the couch and his fingertips are brushing over where he sweater gives way to skin. He holds the menu out to Sirius, “You decide. I’ll eat anything.”

Sirius gives him a teasingly disapproving look but takes the menu and reaches towards the side table for the phone. He orders too much. A steak, fries, a plate of brisket ravioli, a cheese board, a salad, calamari, and two slices of chocolate cake. Remus doesn’t know where they’re going to put it all, but he hopes maybe he can take some of it home.

“We do tea later,” Sirius reaches out and fans one of Remus’ curls between his fingers. “After.” He amends, “They say thirty minutes.” Then his fingers are lightly brushing Remus’ hip, just beneath his sweater, “We stay busy while wait. Is okay?”

“Yeah.” Remus breathes, because what Sirius doesn’t know is that he got off to the mere memories of what they did last time every night leading up to now. Sometimes twice. Of course it’s okay. He’s never had a job this fucking okay, and he’ll damn sure make the most of it until Sirius moves on. They always do. Remus usually feels more grateful when they do, but he has a feeling Sirius will be different.

Sirius flashes him a grin and tugs him right into his lap. His lips are warm and chapped against Remus’, but the rough texture is nice. Remus feels like it keeps him there, in Sirius’ arms. He runs his tongue across Sirius’ bottom lip just to feel it and is rewarded with a soft sound and a palm to the small of his back. Sirius, who seems to be able to take Remus aback in almost everything he does, is holding Remus close, chest to chest. Not by the hips, not by the shoulders. Remus has never had any problems with abuse and he’s lucky in that way but Sirius, Sirius isn’t holding him like he’s there for sex at all. He’s cradling Remus in his lap, hands running lazily up and down his back. He’s licking into his mouth like they have all the time in the world, like they’ve been kissing forever and they’ll do it tomorrow, and tomorrow.

Remus’ palms cup his jaw and he runs his fingers along the edge of the snapback.

“You want off?” Sirius’ voice sounds like he’s just woken up.

Remus shakes his head and his eyes slip closed as Sirius’ mouth moves to his jaw, “No.”

Sirius’ warm breath against his neck as he laughs softly almost feels better than the wet kisses he’s leaving there. Almost.

They stay like that until the knock on the door makes Remus blink his eyes open blearily, suddenly aware of how warm he is.

Sirius shifts him to the side gently, kneeling on the couch for one last peck, “I’m get food, relax here.”

Remus blinks at him, licks his kiss-swollen lips, and honestly just wants to ask Sirius why he is like this. He rests his head back on the couch and listens to Sirius’ bright voice chatting away to the bell boy who brought their food. He’s thanking him, telling him how good it all looks, and Remus thinks maybe he’s just this nice to everyone he meets. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“Hey,” Sirius head pokes back through the door, cart trailing him, “Food.”

Remus isn’t going to say no to that.

The spread of food looks even bigger when laid out and Remus can’t help but laugh as Sirus sits down next to him again, “Sirius, this is…a lot.”

Sirius shrugs one shoulder, “We don’t finish, you take home.”

Remus isn’t going to say no to that, either. He has a brief moment of wondering whether ordering this much was purposeful on Sirius’ part, but pushes it aside. That’s ridiculous. Sirius doesn’t even know him, much less anything about his financial situation. Well. He might know a little given who they are to each other.

Remus spends most of the meal listening to Sirius try to explain some funny story that happened on his trip, and anticipating the occasional moments of being fed bits of steak and such by Sirius, who barely breaks in talking despite how it takes Remus’ breath for a moment.

“I spend lot of time in hotel, you know?” Sirius’ voice breaks into Remus’ thoughts, mid story. He wished he’d been listening fully to know how to respond.

“I, ah, lonely?”

Sirius shrugs, but shoves a large scoop of pasta in his mouth. Remus takes that as a yes.

“How did you…” Remus searches for the right word before trying, “find me?”

Sirius actually pinks a little at that, “Ah. Friend. You know him. Recommend. Say you very sweet.”

Remus nods and respects the anonymity even if he’s dying to know who, “Sweet, huh?”

Sirius smiles a little, “I’m think so, too.”

They move onto the cake and the hotel had sent up an two extra desserts, seemingly just because Sirius is Sirius.

“I’m stay here lot, they know me.”

“Probably because you order the entire menu anyway.” Remus jokes.

It makes Sirius’ entire face light up, spreading his hands, “Hey, why not? Hungry after long day of flying.” He knocks his ankle against Remus’, “Good food, best company.”

Remus rolls his eyes a little and Sirius snorts. That shouldn’t be attractive, but it is.

“You live here always?” Sirius asks through a bite of cheesecake, “London?”

“Yeah, always.”

“Born here?”

Remus nods, “Yeah. I live a few streets over from my parent’s flat.”

“Must be so nice.” Sirius is smiling, but his eyes are down at his plate and he looks a little mournful. His fingertips not holding his fork are twisting the ring around his neck, “Be near family always.”

Remus takes a bite instead of answering. It had been nice. For a while.

“Not…Not nice?” Sirius says softly, “Sorry, not want to bring up bad things, Remus—“

“No. No, it’s okay. It’s fine, I just…yeah, I don’t really talk to my parents much these days.”

Sirius places a warm hand on his thigh, thumb rubbing on the inside slowly. But it isn’t sexual. It isn’t even verging on sexual. It’s soothing and warm, and it makes Remus want to keep talking.

“Not since I came out.” He finally manages, “To them. They weren’t…” But it turns out that’s all he can say on the matter.

“Make you feel better…” Sirius wets his lips, “Parents not know. Mine, I’m saying. Scared to tell, not good thing in Russia.” He gives Remus’ thigh a little squeeze, “I understand. Remus, it’s—it’s most brave.”

Remus blinks hard, “Yeah.” He doesn’t know why he’s sitting here having this semi-melt down with Sirius. Sirius definitely isn’t paying for this. He’s probably annoyed with him under all his kind words and so Remus snuffles and digs his palms into his eyes, trying to wipe the tears away and the redness that’s probably there both. There’s nothing really to do to make this not an awkward transition. How do you go from tears to sex? And with a stranger? “I’m sorry.” He begins, “Fuck, this—was not what I had planned.”

“Remus, it’s not apology—no, okay?” He’s suddenly pushing the food table away and tucking his legs beneath himself, sitting on his socked-heels and taking both of Remus’ hands, thumbs rubbing gently against the vulnerable insides of Remus’ wrists, “I’m not mind, really. Really.”

“I’ll take this out of your pay. Honestly, Sirius, this isn’t what you brought me here for, I just want you to know that I know that.” Remus can’t help it though, and despite his words curls his fingers around Sirius’, “Sorry."

“Please stop saying, Remus.” Sirius tone is firm, “Please, you—not an apology.” Even the word ‘apology’ sounds nice in Sirius’ mouth.

“I…make okay? A bit?” Sirius tugs very lightly on Remus’ hands but when Remus shakes his head he—he lets go. Which Remus can’t decide how he feels about that.

“Sorry.” He says again, then at Sirius’ face, he pushes a hand through his hair, “Fuck, sorry—Sor—“

And then Sirius is kissing him. His thumbs are stroking slowly along his cheeks and he’s sucking Remus’ bottom lip slowly into his mouth, brushing his tongue along it with the same amount of leisure. Remus sighs into it, fingers digging into his own thighs for a moment before he’s leaning forward and pressing his palms flat on Sirius’.

“Only if want.” Sirius says against his mouth, “Remus.” He pulls away just enough to look at Remus’ glassy eyes, “You not want a second ago, I’m just want no more sorry. No, ah, not need to do anything, okay?” He curls his fingers back around Remus’ ears, around the curls there, “карамель, can just put movie on. Have more cake.”

Remus sniffles a little, blinking hard at Sirius, “Did—Did you just call me caramel?” He remembers the soft word from last time.

Sirius smiles, a bit, and lifts one shoulder, “It’s good, no? It’s…not sure how to say…small names important in Russia. Mean two people are close.”

Is that really what we are? Remus wants to ask. He sort of wants to yell it because, as great as this is, he sees nothing but a darker end. For himself, anyway.

“Oh.” Is all he says out loud and falls sideways a little on the couch into the cushions. He’s suddenly so tired. Sirius doesn’t seem to mind, though, and mirrors his position, their knees knocking together. His soft smile is still aimed right at Remus. “What’s yours then?”

Sirius’ smile grows, “Mama give to me when little.” He raises his eyebrows, “Little bit funny, not laugh.”

Remus feels a smile of his own start up and he uses his sleeve to wipe his nose, sitting up a little more, “I won’t laugh.”

“Sivushka.” It rolls nicely off of Sirius’ tongue, and his cheeks pink a little but he looks pleased, “Sort of…for family? Friends. Not so much lover, too…small?”

“Casual?” Remus offers, “Like, it means a different feeling.”

Sirius’ smile is soft, “So good with english. So helpful.”

“Sivushka.” Remus tries it out, but it doesn’t sound half as good. Then, he can’t help it, heart in his throat when he asks, “What’s…what’s more than friends? Like, not—just, I’m curious what that would be.”

“Lover? Sirusya, maybe.” Then he smiles, eyes crinkling warmly, “You like? You call me?”

“Surely someone already calls you that.” Remus tries to keep his voice light. I mean, look at you. He wants to add.

Sirius sits up at that a little, eyes going hard, hand—that had been rubbing idly against Remus’ knee—going still, “No. No one call me.”

Remus swallows, “I—I didn’t mean—“

“I’m not—изменя́ть.” He huffs in frustration, “изменя́ть—I’m not know, not know, okay?”

Remus’s chest goes cold, “Okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

“Not be here if with—someone else.” Sirius shakes his head, “Not like that, Remus. I’m not.” The phrase is followed by a disgruntled spell of Russian that Remus does his best to follow through tone alone.

“I know.” Remus finally says, “I know you aren’t.” Because he’s only met Sirius twice but he can honestly say he does know this about him, “I’m sorry.”

“Not apology, карамель.” Sirius rubs his hands over his face, “Too much action, sorry.”

Remus looks on in confusion, “What?”

“Me, me,” Sirius gestures aggressively towards himself, “Me. Too much action. Not right.”

Overreaction, Remus thinks and nods, “No, I understand.”

“I’m know…what guys you probably see doing…this.” Sirius doesn’t look at him as he acknowledges exactly why Remus is there for what feels like the first time other than money exchanges, “Not wrong for you to think. But no.”

“Sirius, it’s okay.” But that feels wrong somehow and so he says instead, “I mean, we’ve done this three times.”

Sirius is quiet for a long moment this time. “It’s true.” Then, after running his fingers over his necklace a few times, “You have other small name?”

The topic change pings a little, “Um. Not anything big. Re, mostly, if anything.”

“Re.” It sounds like a lovely mess of vowel in Sirius’ mouth, “That’s all?”

Remus nods, “Nothing like Russia, huh?”

Sirius runs a hand over his face one more time but when he moves it there’s a trace of his usual smile, “I’m find you one, not worry.” Then, eyes down and voice quiet but questioning, “You have…small name…for lover?”

Remus swallows. His throat is so dry all of a sudden so he just shakes his head, then realizes Sirius isn’t looking at him so he croaks out, “No.”

Sirius nods back, “Oh.” Then he grabs the remote and pushes it into Remus’ hand, “Find something. I’m call for tea and get money before forget. Be back.”

It seems like the end of the conversation, but the conversation doesn’t feel over. Remus choses a movie, but he couldn’t say what it was about. When its over Sirius has to tuck the money into Remus’ back pocket himself. He presses another kiss to Remus’ cheek. Then Remus doesn’t hear from him for two weeks.

566 notes · View notes

arsyeong · 5 years

Text

[4] thief | ijb.

o n e / t w o / t h r e e / f i v e / s i x / s e v e n / e i g h t

summary: the thief leaves yet another warning. word count: 1,275

a/n: well this took some time HAHAHAHAHA :D and he is psychometric ended yesterday ,, this is a tribute. ive also strayed from the original character of skye because im not good with words lol. n e ways i hope u enjoy hehe :3

Even you don't know how you're still alive.

Work had been especially hard these days. You were everywhere - helping the farmers harvest their crops before winter, moving crates of produce from one place to another, writing to the seniors' families to invite them for at least Thanksgiving, feeding the farm animals and so much more.

Your friends have been checking on you often, aware of your workload. They try to help as much as they can - heck, even Bambam (who was known to be lazy) did you a few favors - but it never seemed enough. Besides, they had their own lives too. You can't just take away their own time from them.

Today was another busy day.

You give your best smile to the old woman by the pond. "The mayor of their town dropped by yesterday and said he'd be the one to give it to them," you tell her while softly stroking her hand, "I'll ask him again when I see him next. He comes here often anyway."

The lady barely manages to croak out her thanks, but you do see it on her face and in her smile. With a final nod, you let go of her hand and walk away to your next destination.

You've never really been fond of the mines, but you were very friendly with the people working there.

"Jinyoung! Yeeun!" you call out. "I'm here!"

The two turn to you, and you know from their troubled faces that something was wrong. You hurry up the hill to them. "Did something happen?"

"The dig has been going well," says Jinyoung seriously before Yeeun hands you a piece of paper, "but this happened."

At midnight, I shall help myself to the valuables in your tent. Thank you for your efforts. JB.

"If that scoundrel takes even one artifact, we'll be set back for days!" cries Yeeun. "All that hard work will be put to waste!"

Jinyoung pulls her into his arms. He pats her gently as she vents out her frustration through tears and muffled death threats for the thief.

You, however, were silently rereading the note. Unlike the two beside you, the part that had caught your eye the most was the last one. JB.

You hadn't seen him for weeks.

Before he left you after the storytelling by the lake, he had informed you he visits the town at night. "In case you want to see me again," he had said cheekily, "or if you feel like turning me in. You know where to find me."

You used the information for the former.

The remaining days of summer were spent on working in the day and relaxing with him at night. You discovered more things about him, and it was the same for him to you. Jaebeom's image of a thief quickly turned to that of a friend; you even recall the first time you acknowledged it out loud.

"I really do miss my friends back home," he had mused with a faraway look, "Youngjae, Jackson, Yugyeom ... all of them."

Your ears perked up at the first name. "If we're thinking about the same Youngjae, he's running a summer shop here. You could go visit him!"

"I can't risk it," he said, "A thief out and about during the day? I might go to jail before I could even see Youngjae."

You fell back on the grass, defeated, and he sighed. There was silence for a moment, and then you said, "I'm your friend."

Had you seen his face then, you would have seen his eyes widen and his cheeks flush red in surprise. "I know," he had told you as casually as he could, but he was panicking internally.

"Until you could see your friends back home again," you continued, "I'm your friend."

"And when I finally see them again?" he asked, facing you enough for you to see his side smile.

"I'll still be your friend," you told him with a shrug. He had snorted lightly at that, and you remember how his smile widened to reveal his top teeth. He shook his head and looked back out onto the spring. You hadn't needed to see him then to know he was also smiling.

"So?"

Jinyoung's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up to see him and Yeeun looking at you with a hopeful gleam in their eyes. "Will you help or not?"

"Of course," you tell them, and you hope the agreement was on catching the thief. Friendly as you were with them, the idea of mining until dawn in hopes of finding something wasn't quite appealing to you.

It's Jinyoung who shakes your hand and thanks you as his partner enters their tent to prepare for tonight. Walking to your other duties, you can't help but wish preparing yourself was just as easy.

"Thank you for coming," Jinyoung greets with yet another firm handshake. Yeeun rushes to you and envelops you in a hug. She takes a second longer than the usual, and that was enough for you to tell how anxious she is for tonight.

"Do you want to sit down?" she asks softly. She looks around then smiles at you awkwardly when she's reminded they don't have chairs in the tent.

"I'd love to," you say sheepishly. "Would it be alright?"

She gestures to a red sleeping bag on your right, "You must be working a lot these days."

You seat with crossed legs on what you assume to be her sleeping bag and nod. "I am," you admit, "but I'm used to it. People are always the busiest during autumn, then workloads are reduced greatly come winter."

"Just hang in there," she beams at you encouragingly, "A few more days and you'll finally get to rest," she pauses for a while before asking, "Are you hungry? We still have some food left here."

"I ate the sandwich," confesses Jinyoung, stopping her as soon as she turns around. He looks to you with apologetic eyes, but his smile says otherwise. "Sorry."

"It's okay," you chuckle, a little heart formed by his fingers appearing when you didn't follow up on your hunger.

The three of you spend the next few minutes in silence. Still seated, you watch Yeeun pace around the limited space while Jinyoung occasionally peeks outside.

Disappointment fills you more and more with every second that passes by without any announcement of him. Nervous as you were to face him after not meeting him for some time, you had still been excited to do so. The thought of seeing him again, even under this kind of circumstance, had been your motivation to get through the day and stay up for the night.

But it doesn't seem like he's coming.

You pull your knees closer to your chest and sigh as soon as Yeeun says, "Maybe he forgot he sent a note to us."

"Or," Jinyoung starts slowly, turning to both of you, "Or he could be stealing from the dig site this very moment!"

The two of them lock eyes briefly before wordlessly rushing out of the tent, heading to the mines. You get up to zip the tent shut, but you realize they weren't the only shadows outside.

A third one was nearing you.

In your tired state, even squinting didn't allow you a good look at the figure. It was probably seven steps to you when your fingers freeze on the zipper in recognition.

JB.

“Don’t close up just yet!” He jogs to you and places his hand over yours before you could zip it up completely. He rests his head on his hand and greets, "Hey."

You take in the way his eyes sparkle as he looks up at you, and you resist the urge to smile back at him. "Aren't you going to greet me back?"

"I would if you didn't send my friends a warning note," you answer coldly, narrowing your eyes at him and trying to make him feel guilty. He just laughs.

"Ah," he says, "I see you've got my message."

"Correction: I wasn't the recipient of your message."

"Yes you were," he insists, chuckling once more at the confusion that bloomed after that. "Well, I intended for you to hear it via them."

"You aren't making sense."

"Of course I don't," he says lightly. He then lifts his head back to normal and looks around.

"They're probably still checking around the mines," you tell him, "This dig really means a lot to them, you know."

"I know."

Your surprise from his soft tone at that increases when his hand slithers under yours and takes hold of it. "Jaebeom," you gasp.

He simply laughs at you again. "Come with me."

A minute later, he was leading you downhill and away from the tent. "Are you taking advantage of my trust and bringing me somewhere for you to murder without leaving a trace?" you can't help but ask, releasing your fear all in one breath.

He glances back at you with an expression of disbelief. "Why would you think that?"

"It can happen."

"I'd never hurt you," he says softly, looking away, "Not again."

The remainder of your walk was spent in silence as you mull over his words. You're only snapped back to attention at the sound of waves crashing onto the shore.

"The ocean is especially beautiful tonight," he says once you're close enough to the waves. He tilts his head and looks at you with a small smile. "Maybe it's because you're here with me, (Y/N)."

"And here I thought you don't say things like that to your friends," you mutter.

He points at your cheeks, "But you're blushing."

"Oh, am I?" You start to pat your cheeks though you know he's telling the truth. "Really?"

In the next second, he had pushed your hands away from your face and replaced them with his own. He squishes your cheeks together and leans in, "See?"

"More like feel," you say. There's a brief silence as both of you slowly realize how close your faces were. The two of you pull away at the same time.

"Have I told you I liked cooking?" he asks suddenly.

"No," you reply, "I don't think so."

"Well, I do," he continues, "and I pride myself most on my stew."

You hum and nod along to this. "I like making other things - my second best is curry, actually - but I just like stew the best. Kimchi stew, to be exact, but my other stews are great too. It's quite easy to make, but I pride myself on that the most," he pauses then turns to you again, "I hope you get to try my stew one day."

"It must taste amazing if you talk about it like that," you say before meeting his eyes, "I'd love to."

"One day," he sighs, looking back out to the ocean.

Staring at him, you suddenly wonder, What if he gets caught?

Being friends with him may have changed your perspective of him, but it doesn't change the fact that he's a thief and that he had stolen countless times before. Kind and forgiving as the townsfolk may be, they were all about justice and safety. They'd let him rot in prison for as long as they could.

"Why do you come back here at night?" you find yourself asking.

"I rob people?" he answers, confused and sounding like it should have been obvious.

"No," you shake your head and focus on him, "I mean the nights you aren't stealing from people," and, in a whisper, you add, "The nights you spend with me."

He takes a deep breath and sticks his hands in his pockets, "Let's go back. Jinyoung and Yeeun must be worried about you."

He starts to walk away, but you take his arm and stop him. "You haven't answered my question."

"Just tell them you saw me, you ran off to catch me," he turns to you and winks, "but you failed."

"You aren't answering me," you push on, jogging until you're walking beside him.

"Don't walk beside me like that!" he whisper-yells with a playful grin on his face, "A lovely lady like you shouldn't be seen with a thief like me."

"Shut up and answer my question, Jaebeom." You were serious. You grab his arm again and pull him back to a stop. There's a fire in his eyes when he looks at you once more, but you don't back down.

"Let go."

"Tell me."

His hand was on yours, and it wasn't as gentle as it was earlier. However, it just stays there. "Why do you want to know?" he asks in a low tone.

"Why don't you want to tell me?" you shoot back.

The tension is broken by his laugh, amusement taking over his features while confusion does for yours. "Well, well," he says with a hint of pride, "That was a good answer."

Jaebeom applauds you for some seconds before he registers how serious you were. "Okay!" he breathes out, holding his hands up as if to surrender, "You answer my question then I'll answer yours. Deal?"

Sensing he wouldn't have it any other way, you simply nod and let go of him. You wait for him quietly and glare at him when he doesn't say anything. "What happened to the deal?"

"I told you to answer my question first before I answer yours," he explains, crossing his arms over his chest, "You're the one who isn't doing your part."

He smiles when you sigh, knowing he'd defeated you. Looking down, you admit, "I want to know why you come here leisurely when you know you could get caught at any moment."

"Is this your way of telling me not to come here anymore?"

You deny it so fast that he laughs yet again.

"Hey," he calls out softly. When you see his shoes on the ground you were looking at, your head shoots up in surprise. You're even more shocked when you realize how close he was standing to you. He grins at your reaction and leans in, holding you gently by your sides. "What do I do here when I'm not stealing?"

"You hang out with me," you whisper back, hoping he wouldn't notice how nervous you were at being so close to him.

He chuckles in your ear, "Exactly."

There's a pause where you could feel him breathing by you, and you weren't sure what to feel. All you were sure about was that your heart was beating faster with every moment you stay in that position.

"I come here, take risks and do all that," he finally says, voice low, "because of you."

Stunned, it takes you some time to process his words and form more questions.

But he was already gone.

"You're okay!" Yeeun says happily, pulling you into a quick hug. "You didn't come back last night, and we were worried sick about you."

"We thought that thief had done something to you," says Jinyoung, "I would never have forgiven myself if that happened. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm okay," you assure them with a genuine smile, "I just got tired chasing him."

"At least you're alive," Yeeun says, "Catching him is a problem for the future."

You eat the breakfast they've brought you and exchange stories about the night before. Even if you've just woken up, you made sure to follow what JB said the night before. It was a feeble attempt in trying to make yourself believe the real events were just a dream.

A very confusing dream.

p r e v i o u s / n e x t

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

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The Wrath of Mercury

anonymous said: Freddie x Trekkie!Reader (ask the Star Trek fandom if you need help, we’re nice)

(a/n: it’s been a HOT MINUTE since i’ve seen wrath of khan - which, btw, if you haven’t, WATCH IT. best ST movie imo - so excuse me if i got anything off hehe. this is kind of a short imagine for me, but i didnt want to bore anyone w the details of star trek in case they’re not a fan!!! and im tired af from work so this is the best i could do. also, gif credits to @imladrs tysm ily)

Freddie had never been known to let anyone deter him when he had his mind made up on something. He was stubborn, to a fault, and you appreciated him for that. It was a good quality to have in his line of work, which was cutthroat at best.

But sometimes, it really pissed you off.

“Freddie, please just watch the movie with me!” you begged, tugging on his hand as he tried to rise off the couch. He sighed and stood still, waiting for you to stop pulling on his arm.

You’d tricked him into having a movie night with you instead of going out, and you didn’t tell him that you’d be watching The Wrath of Khan until you’d already started the movie. You hadn’t seen it because you’d been on tour with him when it had been released, so you’d managed to snag a copy of it and now here you were, pleading with him to just sit down and watch it with you.

“I don’t want to watch it, Y/N, you know how much the one a few years ago bored me,” he reminded you, his eyebrow raising as you pouted at him and gave him the saddest puppy dog eyes you could manage. His cigarette hung out of his other hand loosely, almost threatening to fall as he furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Don’t give me that look, you litt-“

“Fred! Just a couple hours, that’s all I’m asking.”

He toyed with the idea, knowing that he’d never hear the end of it if he said no, but also really not wanting to watch another uninteresting movie about living spaceships and William Shatner. It was Brian’s territory, all this space stuff, and he wasn’t a fan. “Let me think about it,” he murmured, mulling over the idea as he took another drag.

But, you ended up making up his mind for him when you kissed his knuckles and then rested your head against his hand. “Fred, please,” you whined softly, pressing your cheek against the back of his hand and looking up at him through your lashes.

“Damn you,” he muttered, trying not to smile as he plopped back down on the couch and put out his cigarette in the ashtray. You were fatally adorable when you gave him that look, and you knew it. As annoyed as he was trying to act, he still wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close when you snuggled up to his side, and he rested his head on yours. “Now, is this going to be as terrible as the last one?” he asked, making you giggle.

“I don’t know, Fred,” you quickly replied, wrapping your arms around his torso and staring intently at the screen.

“Because if it is, I’m leaving, I’m just saying that now. Star Trek is Brian’s favorite, not mine,” he continued, huffing softly and appearing slightly irritated that he was actually watching this right now. “God, I bet I hate this. You really like this?”

“My friends said it was the best movie they’d seen in a while. Brian raved about it. Now hush, Fred.” Kirk was leading some trainees in a battle simulation, and you were interested to see where this movie was headed. You hadn’t heard anything about what it was like besides some friends telling you it was incredible, so you were excited to watch and hoped that Freddie would keep his mouth shut. He did, at least for a while – after a certain point, he was bound to be curious.

“Who’s that, darling?” Freddie asked when Khan appeared on screen, and you rolled your eyes and didn’t answer. As if on cue, two seconds later, Chekov said his name, and Freddie made a noise of acknowledgement as he played with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly. He hated to admit it, but this movie was already loads better than the 1979 one, and he was way more entertained than he’d expected to be.

The questions did stay to a minimum, and you didn’t say it out loud, but you knew Freddie’s feigned apathetic stance towards the movie was getting harder and harder for him to pull off. He was actually invested, and you knew it, which made you grin as you watched. His grip on your shirt got tighter as Khan fired at the Enterprise, and remained tight throughout the entirety of that scene.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he breathed out once the Reliant retreated, looking at you. “What’s going to happen?”

You laughed and reached up to pat his cheek gently, shrugging before looking back at the screen. “I told you love, I haven’t seen this movie yet! I’m as clueless as you. Now, hush.”

He whined, clinging onto your shirt as he scooted closer. “I tell you what, stop telling me to hush. I’m a grown man.”

“And you’re talking like a child in a movie theater, dear,” you reminded him, making it his turn to pout. You laughed at the insulted look on his face, and quickly kissed him on the cheek, then turned your eyes back to the screen again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. You’re not like a child.”

But your words fell on deaf ears, for he was already focused on the movie again, his eyes glazed over. And now he was so into it, that he didn’t speak again until you neared the end of the Mutara Nebula battle.

“What in the bloody hell was that?!” he exclaimed, sitting upright whenever Spock nerve pinched McCoy and entered the engine room.

“Freddie, you’re spoiling it!” you laughed, pulling him back down to your level and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, then placing your hand over his mouth. “I’m going to have to pinch you like that if you don’t shut it!”

Freddie replied, but it was incoherent and muffled against your hand, so you ignored him as you both watched Spock bring the power back to function. Freddie didn’t realize just how serious that was until he realized Kirk was talking to a dying Spock, and you couldn’t help but tear up a bit at the scene. Leonard Nimoy’s character always held a special place in your heart, so logical, so cool, that you were somewhat devastated by this happening.

And you didn’t realize Freddie was too, until one of his tears hit the top of your hand during Spock’s funeral, and you looked up to see he was full on crying, just as Saavik was. “Fred,” you gasped, letting go of his mouth and staring in disbelief as he sniffled and wiped away his tears quickly, refusing to look at you.

“What? Leave me alone,” he quickly muttered, watching the screen and holding back further tears as he pretended to be unbothered. You saw the reflection of Spock’s coffin in Freddie’s watery eyes, and you smiled widely as you saw him shed another tear as it landed on Genesis. “Oh, fuck me,” he finally whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and laying face down in your lap as you laughed in pure happiness.

“You liked it!” you cheered, running your hand over his hair and petting it gently as he laid on your lap, unmoving. “You liked it, you liked it, you bloody liked it!”

He groaned in agony as you cheered, knowing you’d been right all along, and refused to sit up as you grinned ear to ear. “Ugh, stop, fuck off and die,” was all you could get in response, and that just made you laugh harder because you knew he meant it in the most affectionate way. He pressed a quick peck of a kiss to the top of your thigh right after, confirming your assumption as his mustache scratched against your skin.

“Freddieeeee,” you drawled out in a singsong voice, crawling off the couch and kneeling in front of it. He laid there limply, his flushed face squished against the couch and dark eyes bloodshot from the crying, and the sight was enough to make your heart soften as you reached up to cup his cheek gently. “Was it good, love?” you asked, your voice softer now that you’d gotten the gloating out of your system.

“Yeah,” he croaked out, sniffling again and rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, it was really good. I quite liked it.”

The same grin reappeared on your face, and Freddie rolled his eyes as he realized you were about to cheer again. Laying on the floor next to the couch, you threw your arms up in the air in triumph. “Woo! What a rush.”

“Oh, you’re such a gracious winner, love,” Freddie grumbled, crawling off the couch to lay next to you. You scooted over, letting the gracious winner in you make space for the poor man who’d just lost face in front of you. But there was a ghost of a smile playing at Freddie’s lips, and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before pinning you down and tickling you, laughing as you squealed and wriggled around, making futile attempts to escape his wrath. “But guess what? I’m a sore loser!

taglist - @crosmopolitan @just-ladyme @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz @shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @fruityfreddie @poachedhazontoast@strawberryfields-forever @imladrs

message me or reply to this to be added to the permanent taglist!

#freddie mercury imagine #freddie mercury #freddie mercury x reader #queen imagine

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the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers · 6 years

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I Miss You (Inktober Day 2 - Tranquil)

Title: I Miss You

Word Count: 2,183

Warnings: Okay so this is my first actual angst story when it comes to selfshipping! So this time the warnings are legit! So there are mention/implications of death and a second of self-deprecation. But other than that I believe we’re good! AND THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING!!! (Message me if you’d like anything else tagged)

Ship: ((CAN YOU GUESS??)) The Storyteller and her Shield (Gladio x Myself)

Summary: (So I’m participating in Inktober and today’s prompt is Tranquil and what’s more tranquil than peace of mind!) So it’s been about a month since my unexpected and unknown passing. Though since I haven’t been laid to rest I decide to check in on someone I hold dear. I’m honestly surprised by what I find.

Smoky charcoal clouds passed through the sky covering any stray ray of moonlight that tried to shine down on the streets below. The lack of light would have been a problem for the single soul who dared to be out this late, had it not been for the flood of flickering orange street lamps that were littered throughout the neighborhood. If anyone else was insane enough to be out this late, the sight of the one hooded figure with their back to the street would have been eerie enough. It truly appeared like a scene from any modern day horror movie. But this was the real world, and surely demons and nighttime monsters didn't exist. The figure covered by the washed-one-too-many-times hoodie was just someone who had trouble getting to sleep and thought a little nature might help. But if someone were to stumble upon this sleepless soul, they wouldn't be able to help but wonder what the other was looking at so intently in the pitch black. That is until they listened to the sound of rushing water that came from the flooded stream beneath them. The sound of the burbling brook seemed to have the power of putting anyone at ease, which made it one of the hidden gems of the neighborhood.

Tranquility finally set itself into the aching hole of the blue hooded figure, a hum of content filling the otherwise silent air. Though quiet is something that rarely remains in the town that this silhouette called home and soon enough tiny patters of water droplets diving from the sky and onto anything in the world below filled this silence. The sounds of rain crashing into several surfaces of the sidewalk, stream, street lights, and leaves were almost like a melody to the figure. But as much as the lone soul loved any form of song, the hatred of being soaked outweighed it in every regard. So much so that they felt the need to vocalize their disdain to the sleeping world,

"Oh come on, can't one day go by where it doesn't rain?" Anyone could practically hear the eye-roll the figure was making as they continued, looking to the sky. "I guess that's your way of telling me to get my butt to bed, huh Mother Nature?"

As the figure continued to send glares to the heavens above, the hood fell off the figure's head, revealing a messy strawberry pink ponytail and a pale face, that of a young woman. At this she groaned once more, rubbing her cheeks before beginning to fumble with the difficult behaving hood. When the hood covered her head once more, it now only covered the back side of her head since it had caught on their ponytail leaving her face easy to see. Knowing that this was the best she was going to get, hands of ivory dropped to her sides before slamming themselves into the hoodie's pockets, trying to get dry and warm. Beginning the journey in the opposite direction of the place they now called home, the sleepless soul made her way towards the home of her partner, Gladio.

Surely he won't mind if I spend the night. It's so much warmer at his house than it is at mine! As she thought of where she'd soon be, a sad laugh drowned out the drowning rain. He probably won't even notice I'm there. Though I do wanna make sure that he at least got to sleep, it has been rough on them this past month... The teal hood nearly fell off her head once again when she shook it in an attempt to get rid of the thought. She knew thinking like that would only confuse her and be of no help to anyone, so it was best not to mull it over.

Rounding various corners and trudging through the orange lights that flickered when the girl who was getting damper by the second approached, she listened the quiet of the night. Another pit settled inside her as they thought back to the noticeable thumping that her boots usually made, so she began trying to listen for that over all the other quiet ambiance. Yet no matter how hard she tried, all she heard was the pittering of the rain. It was unsettling in a way, but she'd get used to it all soon. She had to since it seemed like the situation they were in wasn't going to change any time soon. So again, it was better not to think about it.

The rest of the walk was almost like the girl had set herself on autopilot, focusing on nothing but the movement of her feet and ground under them. Tired eyes only lighting up when the roof of the oh-so-familiar home was in sight. The scarlet hue of the street lamps making the ebony color of her eyes that much brighter. Grounded footsteps picking up their pace to a light sprint, which only halted when they stood on the expansive oak porch and in front of a sliding glass door.

The girl turned her head both ways, scanning for any other potential intruder. Once they were sure no one else was around, she bent down and picked up an inconspicuous grey rock that laid beside the outer frame of the door. Flipping it over into their other hand dark eyes scanned over the crudely etched "G + R" along with a small doodle of a heart next to the letters on the bottom of the rock. The drawing was so small that if she hadn't been the one who had drawn it, she wondered if she would have even noticed it. When she questioned it, she began to question what her partner thought of it, if he noticed it at all. Nevertheless, the small sketch made her lips curve upwards while she continued to think. The girl was only pulled from her thoughts when a particularly large raindrop fell on her head. Her nose scrunched before she stepped closer to the door to step out of the rain. She then twisted the bottom of the rock, revealing the key to the back door

“Ah, the special key to my special entrance.” She held back a giggle while reflecting on the memory of when Gladio had shown her this key. How he told her that she could use it whenever she needed to, even when he wasn’t there. It was such a sweet gesture, one that helped the girl in more ways than she could ever express. For a moment one question came to mind, but it vanished quickly since there was no point in questioning something that couldn’t be changed.

Fitting the key into the lock after a few misses, the girl unlocked the door and stepped inside. The everlasting chill was lightened ever so slightly when the door closed behind her. She wandered inside, placing the secret key in its container and on to a nearby bookshelf. Although the house was darker than it was outside due to the lack of light, the girl made her way around just fine thanks to her prior knowledge.

This is just a quick check-in and then maybe I can get some shut-eye as well. Remember that! The girl reminded herself repeatedly since the last thing she wanted was to disturb her partner and any company he may be keeping.

The floorboards seemed to creak with every few steps she took, making her recoil back in her own horror. They had never done this before, but all the girl could say to justify it was that times were different now. Although, that didn’t stop her from at least wincing with every sudden noise. After failing miserably at her self-given mission of being stealthy, the girl finally made it to her destination, Gladio’s room.

She twisted the door open, expecting to see a fully occupied bed, but what she saw broke her heart even more. Gladio laid in his bed, alone. Clutching for dear life, a bear that the girl recognized as her favorite that she used to own. Looking closer she took notice that his cheeks were... tearstained? Bringing a hand up to her lips and clasping it over her mouth, she held back her own tears. There was no way that he could still be this upset after this much time. Not because of her. No one should be. In her own eyes, she wasn’t worth it. Yet here was the cold hard truth laid before her. She wanted to go to his side and wipe away the tears, comfort him! But she couldn’t, she’d cause more harm than good, right? She just used both hands to hold back her cries and shook her head, trying to avert her gaze. But any resistance the girl had broke when Gladio called out her name. Something that the young lady nearly didn’t recognize from not hearing for so long.

The young woman hurriedly made her way to her partner’s side, sitting on the edge of the bed to wipe away his tears. She never wanted her partner to suffer, not because of her. Not knowing whether or not he would be able to even hear her, she placed her hand over his lightly grasping it.

“It’s okay sweetie, I’m here,” She tried to soothe, rubbing her thumb along the side of his hand. “I’m here.”

She saw Gladio reach out for her, and the young lady had to shut her eyes so hard that her head started to hurt. All so she wouldn’t break down crying.

“I miss... you,” Gladio confessed, his voice a mix between a mutter and sleepy groan.

Another quiet wince left the girl’s lips. “I miss you too, hon. So, so much. But hey, I’m no longer in pain, so that’s a positive.” The girl whispered, mustering up a positive attitude. “But I am so sorry if I caused you any pain! I never thought that I...” She paused trying to keep her composure, “That I meant that much to you. I do know that you’re really strong and you’ll make it through this. And even if I can’t do much, I’ll do my best to help you! You’re going to be just fine, I know you will. But still take all the time you need, that’s what’s important.” A glance at the clock that sat on the nightstand reminded her of the time, 4:47 in the morning. She should be going soon, after all, it would be rude if she wasn’t prepared for her final big day.

Letting go of Gladio’s hand, the young lady let it fall to the bed as she stood from the bed. She turned around, leaning against the bed to place a butterfly kiss on her partner’s forehead. “I don’t know if you’re even hearing any of my thoughts but I just really want you to know that I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused but I love you more than I can ever say.” She then leaned back, taking one last look at the sleeping brunet who she had held so dear. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Gladio woke up just moments later with chills running through his upper body. Despite the intensity, they were oddly soothing, though, by the time he could realize where he was or what they might be, the strawberry-haired lady had already vanished. Even though the dark sky held such devastation the night before, as amber eyes gazed out towards it now, for some reason Gladio felt as though things would begin to feel okay...

"And that's the ending!" The young lady beamed while closing the document she was reading from. Ebony eyes looked around at their audience expectant for any responses. "Well, what do ya' think? It's not my magnum opus or anything, but I did just spend ten hours straight writing this, so please give me some credit." The young lady was about to crash her head into the table mat below, but mere centimeters away she felt a hand tug at the back of her collar. "Thanks, babe."

Gladio gave a content hum of acknowledgment while lowering his girlfriend onto the table to where she rested her head.

"I kept tellin' ya when you kept askin' me for opinions, you did good. But I think you broke Prompto."

The lady author lifted her head to see where her usually upbeat friend sat quietly. "You're not gonna die, are you?" He asked, with his voice being only a whimper.

Gladio tried to hold back a snort as he watched his girlfriend practically leap out of her chair and begin freaking out in an attempt to calm down her friend.

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING!" The bright strawberry shot at her boyfriend, who just stood marveling at her actions...

#ship: the storyteller and her shield #gladio x myself #self shipping #selfshipdom #self insert #selfship community #self indulgent stuff #romantic #real world au #platonic #selfship #ghost #ghosting #inktober #haunted #death #hurt #comfort

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gryffnwing-blog · 6 years

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State of the Blog/ Channel

I've been blogging since 2016. I had started off with a review on a model kit; went silent, only to talk about gaming. In October of 2016, my Blog went almost exclusively to Magic the Gathering content. These days, the blog has largely been ignored for my Twitch Channel. As of recent I've been told that, "I didn't know you streamed", or "How long have you been streaming?" Which is a bit bothersome, since I started streaming at most 6 months after blogging.So today I'm going to make sure that you, my amazing followers, know what the actual fuck is going on. Welcome to the State of the Channel. A Guide of What the Fuck I'll be Talking About. -State of the Blog -State of the Twitch -Goals for the rest of the year -The Return of the Commander Challenge -Name Change? -I did not have relations with that General -A Question to you all -Thank you -End -Tags State of the Blog I mean, it's been kinda dead. While I'm using this as a personal/political/hodgepodge of a Blog. I want to change that. I'm not going to comb through this blog and delete stuff. No, I don't have the time or patience for that. I'm going to start organizing things. More meaningful tags. #mtg and #MagictheGathering (which I already do, but it's an example). Next, I won't just be focusing on Magic the Gathering; might be counterproductive since a large majority of you follow me for that. I like other things, like you all do. For example, I like doing crafts. Namely I paint miniatures and I have a ton of model kits I need to build. I'll be posting more about those. I talked about reviewing anime. Starting June I should have a Crunchy Roll account, so I'll have access to legally distributed anime. Except first episode reactions and other such writings. I've ignored this Blog long enough, and that's going to change. By doing so, I hope to improve my writing style, and connect with you all more. State of the Twitch. Holy fuck, this has been a fun roller coaster. Something needs to be said though. I've been streaming for nearly a year now (A year sometime this month, but Twitch says it's later? Dunno, it's been about a year). I stream, and only now are so many of you finding out. While I have you here, you should totally follow me here at www.twitch.tv/gryffnwing. I haven't found my footing yet, but if you like Horror games/ League of Legends/ Metroidvania/ and the odd Visual Novel/ Dating Sim, well I play them. Oh, and side scrollers~ While I know it can be intimidating to be in a chat, please know that my chat is pretty chill. Tell us about your day, and stay for the rage against some shitty games...have you played Resident Evil 5 on PC? Sorry...raging still. Still, I love chatting with you all, and it's much easier to get my attention there (Because I forget that Tumblr Messenger is a thing and sometimes I "see" messages and never even know it. Goals for the rest of the year. Well, I summed some of them up before. - Review anime -Talk about other hobbies - Post more consistently - Play games that you'd like to see. - Be more active in the MTG scene (again?) Return of the Commander Challenge?

Man, I burned myself out on this. Weekly decks with weekly polls that I had to update daily. Damn, I consider this one of my greatest successes and failures. I think my deck crafting and writing improved with the Commander Challenge. My failure was not being able to keep up with it. On top of this, while the polls saw tremendous numbers, it failed to garner that same result with the actual article. This has a lot to do with how Tumblr is. I am not calling when I'm bring the Commander Challenge back, but I will say this. I'm changing the formula for good. Perhaps a set price for decks and just have the voting be on the general. Dunno yet. It will make its return. Name Change? When I started under the name Gryffnwing, I had gone through well over 20+ names. Many of you don't know this, but it's a play on my name. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm no Birb fanatic. I've been mulling around with ideas for some new names. Maybe I'll make a poll and have you all vote on it. I don't know just yet, but I wanted to give ya heads up on this.

A question to you all. Why did you follow me? What brings you back to blog, and why do you stay? I'll also follow up with this, what content do you want to see? Many of you are into many hobbies and games, would you to see me talk about them? I'll be keeping my inbox open (That I see more often than the Tumblr IM). So drop a message, and I'll react to it as quickly as I can. Thank you. I want to thank all of you. Many of you I've gotten to enjoy some conversations with, and it's always a blast. I'd like to thank @wolvenmonarch, @iamthezubatman, for always stopping by my Twitch, and to @eyesoftirnoch & @thegreateyebrows for the great questions. Thank you to all of you, for supporting me, and for just being awesome peeps. Without you guys, I'd probably wouldn't be doing many things. So thank you. There are so many people to tag...you’ll see - End This is the end of the State of the Blog/ Twitch. Follow me here on Twitch at www.twitch.tv/gryffnwing It's over, The End. Tags

@magikrobotdinosaur @thebleedingbananacult @commandtower-solring-go @midnight-entourage @flavoracle @kayaswife @pidgemidge @cinderclaw @katargeo-avaritia @golgari-thot-farm @elvish-memesmith @lotus-path-to-exile @gaptoothwifeofbath @dewberrypanda @ezurad @mayaels-petting-zoo @gatewatch-hq @anxiety-cannon @someonesomewhat @etheriumsculptor @geckomaster25852 @indefinite-free-pizza @captainsqueak @kami-jakira @simic-initiate @tamiyos-pokedex @pyromancererika @morbidlyqueerious @esper-etherium @pontious99 @blogging-phelddagrif @misteryada @ojutai @glissa-the-traitor @follower-of-liliana @mtg-realm @sylvhem @planeswalkerwithtardis @iamafireplace @circlesmadeofglass @mtg-lynx @manafested @fresh-prince-of-beleren @jolly-ob-saint-nixilis @albino-black-man @livingguildpact @lili-the-last-hope @zilnas @somewhatstrangr42 @fatesealer-mage @tarniyo @elspethsunschampion @eloneth @eugene-thespiritdragon @theotherunicron4000 @counter-target-gender @hazoretspartyfavors @syndog17 @horusiswatching @theinsanemindblog @mox-hedron @monsieursneaks @tempus-vulpes @rashmi-eternities-crafter @magicsmite @it-that-memes @the-nerdy-necromancer @arcane-ethereality @izzetvisions @borosarrowman @vens3r @sekkuar-swagkeeper @thescorpiongod @sultaiascendancy @qrimsin @magic-noob @imperialseal For those of you I didn’t tag, I’m sorry @.@ Tried to keep it organized.

#personal #mtg #Magic the Gathering #streaming #gaming #state of the channel #twitch #blog #Commander #CommanderChallange #EDH #elder dragon highlander

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marvelmando · 6 years

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let there be light - pt. 2

summary: y/n has been living with tony stark since she was three, after a lab accident killed her parents, and left her with the ability to create and manipulate light. since then, she battles as an avenger, and eventually, as a babysitter for a certain new hero. she doesn’t mind it though, because she’s always wanted to live a normal teenage life… and possibly also because peter’s cute.

contains: swearing, angst, fluff

notes: what the actual fuck the last chapter literally blew up i don’t think i can say thank you enough????? i appreciate every single message, reply, note, and reblog, and im sorry if i don’t respond, or upload frequently. i just had major back surgery and im now back at school so im literally drowning in make-up work. but ill try my very very best!!! also: please send me an ask if you’d like to be in my taglist! if you only reply i can’t promise i will see it :) but thank you all sososososo much!!

part 1

For the following two months, Tony you prepare to go undercover at Midtown School of Science and Technology as yourself, Y/N Stark.

Now, you weren’t really the biological child of Tony’s, but his adoptive daughter. For reasons you didn’t know, you’d been sent to live with Tony when you were three, after an accident had killed your parents. Or, at least, you pretended not to know. The real reasons were strictly confidential, and only a handful of people knew besides Tony, Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, and the highest ranks in government.

Keeping secrets was second nature to you by now, which made you ideal for an undercover mission. Also, Natasha had taught you a few things after your heroic debut in the Battle of New York, wherein after you became a full-fledged Avenger despite only being 11 years old.

The world had not yet known that Tony Stark had a daughter, whether biological or not, which made you unsure. However, Tony made the point that you were going to grow up into an adult one day, and he hoped that you would keep his surname. Of course, as a slightly anxiety-ridden girl, you worried that would cause a lot of unwanted attention towards you. But Tony was right. Besides, what other surname could you use?

Now, you weren’t really going undercover at Midtown. You didn’t have a fake name or a fake backstory, like you usually would. You were just... you. But you were going undercover to Peter, as Artemis. You would watch over him, guide him as a fellow superhero by night, and a friendly girl by day.

Luckily, and not surprisingly, Tony had already thought ahead.

Now that he didn’t have much to worry about Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, he put most of his effort into this spider kid. Sometimes you wouldn’t see Tony for days, as he holed himself away in his workshop, only briefly scampering to the kitchen for water and food.

You were concerned about Tony. You knew about his nightmares, and vaguely about something called Thanos, but every time you tried to confront him, Tony would shut you down.

“Hey, Kiddo, ready for your first day of school?” A brown paper bag plopped on the counter in front of you.

Looking up, you saw Tony across from you, sporting a tight smile. The corner of your lips twitched as you snatched the bag. “Ready as ever.”

Tony drove you to school in his Audi R8, obviously the most conservative car he owned. The drive was long and silent, as you mulled over everything that could possibly go wrong.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Tony awkwardly reached over the console and patted your hand, which was rested on your knee. “You’re gonna do fine, Light-bulb. After all, you are a Stark.”

This made you smile genuinely, as you thanked him with your eyes. For the past twelve years you’ve lived with Tony, as much as he was caring, you never felt like you belonged there. As much as you had the last name, you weren’t sure that you could be a Stark.

Pulling into the school, you could see heads turning as you passed, through the tinted windows. You instinctively shrunk in your seat, feeling as if bugs were crawling over your skin.

The car in front of you, a silver convertible, honked its horn twice, as a lanky figure dodged it as he crossed the street. Almost immediately, you recognized the boy as Peter. He hurried up the stairs of the school, and you had Tony stop the car.

You stumbled out of the car, giving Tony a quick goodbye. You barely noticed the whispers and the glances as you hurried your pace to catch up with the boy.

“Peter!” You whisper-yelled, although you weren’t sure why. It’s not like you were trying to keep your interactions a secret.

After months of doing research on his powers, you knew he had heightened senses. However, if he heard you, he didn’t act like it. You figured he hadn’t, due to the earbuds in his ears, and the loud chattering of the students.

You pushed your way through the crowd, watching as Peter slipped in the front doors. You kept him in your sight, weaving through the conglomerates of social groups clogging up the hallways.

At one point, something had tugged on your hair, hard. Apparently, one of the students had a drone of some sort, and was struggling to control the thing. It got caught in your hair as you passed, and the boy holding the control squeaked as the drone continued to malfunction. Trying not to break the device, you took hold of it.

You untangled your strands from the metal, and handed it back to the kid. He was younger than you, skinny, with dark skin and glasses too large for his face. He took his drone with shaky hands, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He stuttered out an apology, and you gave him a warm smile.

“Try fixing the circuit board, one of the motor hinges is loose.” You said as you walked away from him. The kid’s jaw dropped. You laughed to yourself.

Once again looking for a sign of the curly-haired boy, you made your way down the hall. You noticed a group of cheerleaders, who had suddenly taken an interest in you. They whispered among themselves, looking you up and down as you passed. You gripped the strap of your backpack tighter.

You almost hadn’t seen it, but there Peter was, at a locker behind the cheerleaders.

“Peter!” You sighed in relief, and hurried towards him. “Thank god I found you, I almost—”

You stopped shortly when you noticed the larger boy across from Peter, mouth open mid-sentence, and holding a small Lego figure. “Is that Emperor Palpatine?”

Both boys’ eyes widened.

“Um, hey, Y/N, ri—right? What—uh, what are you doing here?” Peter laughed awkwardly, folding his arms. “And—you know who Emperor Palpatine is?”

You shrugged, clutching your backpack. “I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. But um, yeah, I kind of go here now?”

The chubby boy looked back and forth between you and Peter, obviously confused.

“Oh! Um, Y/N this is Ned, my best friend. Ned, this is Y/N—”

“Hi,” You held your hand out so he could shake it. He seemed hesitant, still perplexed at how you and Peter knew each other. “I, um, work for Tony Stark. That’s how we know each other.”

“Right!” Peter cried, realizing now what your angle was. “The internship.”

Ned seemed satisfied at this answer, the shy expression from earlier gone and replaced with a bright grin. “Well, you like Star Wars! Right? Because I got this sick Death Star Lego set, and it has 3,803 pieces!”

“That’s insane!”

“Wow, that sounds rad.” You chuckled, and you heard the group of cheerleaders snicker, as one of them didn’t even attempt to hide their distaste as the said, “so lame”. You looked down at your feet, hiding your face as you tried to contain your embarrassment.

“I know right! So I was wondering if you wanted to build it tonight?” The three of you began to walk down the halls, and you walked beside Peter, Ned on his other side. “You can come too, Y/N!”

Before you could respond, Peter stepped in. “No, I can’t tonight, I’ve got the Stark—”

“Stark internship. Always about that internship.” Peter scratched his neck. “What about you, then, Y/N, or do you have the internship too?”

“No, um, I’m free tonight.” You smiled across at Ned. You were looking forward to go home so you could read or work of Spider-Man’s AI system, but you reminded yourself that this was good—normal. Hanging out with other teens after school. Right?

Peter shot you a look but you avoided his gaze.

The two friends began to discuss jobs, but you watched your feet, clutching your class schedule from your pocket.

While Ned talked on about the Death Star, Peter’s focus drifted. His footsteps faltered, and his eyes pinched in the corners so it looked like they were smiling. Curious as to what caught Peter’s attention, you followed his gaze.

Whoever this girl was, she was beautiful. Her skin was tan and smooth, and even though she was only in a sweater and a skirt, she still managed to look like a model. Her lips were full and her eyes were warm, and you couldn't help but shiver. You looked down at yourself, noting the dull skin color and frizzy hair, paired with jeans and your old band t-shirt, and wondered if anyone would ever look at you like that.

Glancing at your schedule with a heavy heart and an aching feeling behind your nose, you realized that class started in just five minutes and you still had no idea where you were going.

“Hey, um, do either of you have AP Physics with Mrs. Warren?” You asked.

Ned nodded. “Yeah, Peter does. He could take you there.”

Peter smiled to himself, although it appeared as though he wasn’t even listening to you. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

At that moment, a sharp ringing noise sounded. You cringed at the horrible sound. “That’s the warning bell.” Ned told you.

“I’m gonna be late, shit.” You glanced up at Peter. You grabbed his clothed arm gently, drawing him out of his trance. Looking down at you, you took in the warmth of his dark eyes. “You ready?”

He nodded, head turning to catch the pretty, dark-skinned girl disappear behind a wall of lockers.

As it turned out, you shared all of your classes with Peter Parker. You were grateful to have someone you knew in all of your classes, but you were annoyed at the great probability that Tony had meddled in your scheduling. You had to remind yourself, however, that you were not just here for the hell of it, but you were actually supposed to be “babysitting” the new hero.

But as much as you tried to tell yourself that this was only a mission, you couldn’t help but feel like this was going to turn into something much more.

At the moment, Peter sat next to you with his head buried in the screen of his laptop, as he diligently watched a video of Spider-Man stopping a car from smashing into the side of a bus. You rolled your eyes at his lack of subtly. How did everyone not know his secret by now?

“Okay, so how do we calculate linear acceleration between points A and B?” The teacher pointed to the board, and then to a kid that sat in the row in front of you. “Flash.”

“It’s the product of sine of the angle and gravity divided by mass.” He answered confidently. You snickered, knowing he got it wrong.

“Nope.” Mrs. Warren said. “Peter. You still with us?”

Peter’s head snapped up, only taking a second to look at the board before answering. “Uh, yeah, yeah.” He shut his laptop carefully. “Uh... Mass cancels out, so it’s just gravity times sine.”

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you were impressed at how easily Peter managed to get everything correct, despite the distractions.

The teacher also seemed impressed, but not surprised. “Right. See, Flash, being the fastest isn’t always the best if you are wrong.”

As the class snickered, Flash turned in his seat to Peter and whispered, “You’re dead.”

You narrowed your eyes at the boy. You wanted to reach over and smack him upside the head, but you promised to behave. For some reason, Peter had been glancing back at the clock hanging up on the wall every couple of minutes.

The next period, Peter had used the opportunity to mix some of his web fluid right in the middle of class. You were close to screaming at that point. This kid was definitely going to get caught. You made sure to warn him with a harsh whisper whenever the chemistry teacher neared.

After that was lunch. You sat across Ned and Peter, and glanced down the nearly empty table, save for the girl immersed in a book a couple of seats down. Digging into your school-bought lunch, you noticed Peter’s glazed over eyes as his head rested on his propped up arm.

You turned, realizing he was staring at the same pretty girl from earlier, who stood on a ladder, hanging up a paper sign that had “Homecoming Is Almost Here! Are You Ready” in painted cursive. You turned back around, stabbing your steamed broccoli angrily with your fork.

You weren’t sure why exactly you were mad, you barely knew Peter. Perhaps it was the adoring and endearing look in Peter’s expression that made your stomach twist itself into knots.

“Did Liz get a new top?” Peter said absentmindedly. You glanced up, but he was still transfixed on the girl, Liz. Even her name was beautiful.

No. We’ve seen that before, but never with that skirt.” Ned answered.

“We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy.” Peter mentioned, but it seemed like he wasn’t planning on stopping any time soon.

“Too late.” The girl a couple of seats piped up, startling you. You faintly noticed a purple section in her ponytail. “You guys are losers.” She turned back to her novel.

“And absolutely ludicrous.” You quipped, and met eyes with the girl, who gave you a small, amused smirk in return.

“Well, then why do you sit with us?” Ned pointed out.

“Because I don’t have any friends.” The girl responded, effectively ending the conversation.

Somehow, Tony managed to get you into the Academic Decathlon team with little dispute, which is where you went next.

You sat on the sidelines, observing the team, as Liz quizzed them. The members were funny and eccentric, and you liked most of them, except for Flash, who was on the team somehow.

You watched Peter as he talked to the team’s sponsor, Mr. Harrington. “Peter, it’s Nationals. Is there no way you can take one weekend off?”

“I can’t go to Washington because if Mr. Stark needs me, I have to make sure I’m here.” Peter said, clearly exasperated. You watched him intently, wanting to say something about how Tony would most likely not call on him for another mission again anytime soon, but feared his response in case he grew suspicious.

“You’ve never even been in the same room as Tony Stark.” Flash shouted.

“Wait, what’s happening?” One girl asked.

“Peter’s not going to Washington.” Said another girl, lying on the floor on her stomach next to them.

Cries of protest came from Peter’s teammates, as one kid, who you knew was Abraham, dinged the bell to ask, “Why not?”

“Really?” Liz asked, genuinely concerned but too sweetly for your liking. “Right before Nationals?”

“He already quit marching band and robotics club.” The girl from lunch, Michelle, Peter told you, mentioned. As heads turned to look curiously at her, she simply shrugged. “I’m not obsessed with him; I’m just very observant.”

“Flash, you’re in for Peter.” Liz announced.

“Oof, I don’t know.” Flash said. “I gotta check my calendar first. I got a hot date with Artemis coming up.”

Before you could stop yourself, you snorted loudly. “As if.” You scoffed, before realizing what you had said. Everyone looked at you, and you hid your face behind your hair again.

The rest of the school day, Peter grew increasingly restless. By the time the final bell rung, Peter shot out of his seat and bolted for the door.

You could have easily caught up to him if you were allowed to use your powers, and you were practically itching to release the contained energy. But you couldn’t, so you didn’t.

“Peter!” You called out to him, crashing through the doors after him. You saw him jump the extremely tall fence, and cursed at him silently.

Knowing already what you needed to do, you met Happy in the car waiting for you the next street down.

“Happy, take me home, and make it quick. I gotta change.”

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