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harryskalechips · 3 years

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one and done Part 3

A/N Hey guys so sorry for a late update but here we are!!!! The last part of the series! I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you guys enjoyed as well! Let me know what you guys think please and also also also thank you for reading!🥰🥰🥰

Side note: I’ll come back and edit my brain hurts

Harry is engaged and having a baby but Y/N is just his best friend’s little sister.

Today’s warning: We are anticipating some heavy smut in this last part. Please prepare for a spitting, spanking, choking, and hair pulling kink, Male receives oral, unprotected sex and just shit like that y’know? I think there is begging in here too LOL OMG they almost had sex outside again but that’s just so inappropriate but yeah... I think that’s all. Oh yes, Y/N rides and just loves being a horny mess hehehe

Word Count: 11k // Masterlist // one and done PLAYLIST / Part 1 / Part 2

If there was one thing Y/N was excited about… it was her last summer of high school. As she reflected on her junior year, she was happy Harry and her were finally in a place where she could just reach out to him and be comfortable. Although they didn’t have labels, it was the last thing on their minds as they spent most of their free time together away from Ryan and any other nosy classmate of theirs. Harry also spoke about long roadtrips. Despite him staying home for college, he was excited to drive his girl to different campuses and check out new destination sites around the many different cities.

They were optimistic they would stay together in the summer yet here they are spending it apart.

Y/N was in her bedroom sitting on the floor wearing Harry’s sweater as she was staring at the pile of scattered clothes on the floor. It was July 6th and even after a month of grieving for her broken heart, she managed to still wear her ex’s sweater… only because it was the sole object that made her feel like what they had was real.

They were so on and off throughout the year and the one time they managed to stick together, it was all washed away. Too many signs telling them they were not meant to be.

But that’s the truth. Y/N thinks to herself as she wipes away a new coming tear falling down her face. Harry and her are not the cliché plot of dating your brother’s best friend. Their relationship was based on lust and ended with unrequited feelings. They are not soulmates. Y/N rests her head against the back of her bed. No matter how much you try to fight it, if you are not meant to be… that’s it.

“Are you okay?” Ryan stops by her doorway with a plate of late dinner. He was also blatantly oblivious to the fact his little sister was wearing a sweater of his best friend’s.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” She stares at him with an unamused expression on her face. Her room was a mess, her head was in places where it shouldn’t be and her heart just felt broken.

“You’ve been in a pissed off mood since last month.” he genuinely states as he walks into his little sister’s room. Maybe before he wouldn’t bother to ask Y/N how she was but the truth is, he is leaving soon and he’s a bit worried with the way Y/N has been taking care of herself.

“Is it that obvious?” Y/N sarcastically laughs as she throws some clothes away for Ryan to sit on her bed. He places his plate on her desk and takes her offer as he looks around the floor.

“You haven’t left the house nor have I seen Ness around.”

“I haven’t really been speaking to her.”

“Oh so you guys fought?��

“No, we didn’t. I just haven’t really been feeling social.”

“Y/N, you know you can talk to me right?”

“I know.” Y/N bites the inside of her cheek knowing full well that she’s lying.

“Will you be coming to the party tomorrow night?” Oh, that’s right. It’s Harry and Carla’s engagement party.

“That’s why I’m cleaning out my closet.” Ryan laughs a bit as he stands up and pats her head.

“You don’t have to impress anyone. You’re not the one getting married.” Y/N feels her throat tighten a bit as she watches him leave her room with his plate. She lets out a sigh before rubbing her face in frustration. If she had the choice, she wouldn’t go but that would also show Harry that she cares more than he thinks. It’s been a month and she had to prove that she was over him and over the deal.

After a couple hours of sulking on her bedroom floor, she finally stands up and takes off his sweater. In the corner of her room is a cardboard box of clothes that were to be packed away and stored in the attic. Without hesitation, she throws the piece of clothing and carries on with her night.

“Y/N, you look beautiful sweetheart.” Her mom waits for her at the bottom of the stairs. The sun was just about to set and it was also time for their family to drive to Carla’s home for the party everyone has been anticipating.

“Thank you.” Y/N musters a smile as she glances at herself in the mirror one more time before heading out to the car. Her mom was honestly surprised her daughter was all dressed up for the party tonight, there was something off about her but today, it felt like she had a piece of her daughter back again. Saying nothing out loud, she locks the front door and walks with the young girl towards the vehicle.

Truth be told last night before Y/N fell asleep, she knew today would be her biggest performance. All she knew is that she couldn’t wait for this day to end so she can go back and hide in her room.

“Hey mate.” Harry smirks as he offers a hug to Ryan. The party had just begun and Harry waited outside the house to wait for his best man to arrive. He was shitting his pants at the moment and the only thing that would make him feel a bit more comfortable at his own party is if Ryan was by his side -like the usual.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married, Haz.” Ryan tries to hide his disappointment in front of his family. Y/N and her parents stood behind him waiting for the duo to greet each other first. “I thought we would enjoy our bachelor era a bit you know… longer.” Harry tries to laugh as he makes eye contact with the pretty girl. Once the two pull away, he awkwardly laughs and greets Ryan’s parents.

“Carla is it for me man.” Harry tucks his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. “We’ve been together since grade school, I guess it’s time I tie her down to me forever.” Y/N’s mom laughs and pats his shoulder. The five began to walk to the backyard as she spoke up.

“Forget Ryan, I think you two make a lovely couple and are honest soulmates.” Harry glances at her and flashes a small smile. He thought having Ryan here would make him feel more comfortable but there was only one thought that was processing in his head as they walked the stoned pathway.

This engagement made him feel ten thousand times much worse knowing his in-law family wouldn’t be Ryan’s because the truth is there wouldn’t be anything much better than to have Y/N and Ryan’s parents as his too.

“Hi.” Carla approaches them with a warm smile on her face. The nude slim dress was impressive on her, especially as it made the diamond on her finger stand out more. She casually wraps her arm around Harry's waist as she takes a sip of the mango smoothie in her other hand. Although the smile on her face seemed genuine, Y/N wanted nothing more than to punch the girl’s face. If Harry was a jealous asshole, Y/N was much worse. Keep it together Y/N, please you don’t care. You don’t care.

That was the whole idea for the night anyway. Y/N has barely spoken a word since her father parked the car on the side of the road. She was even the last one to exit the vehicle because in all honesty, she didn’t want to unbuckle her seatbelt. Now, She stands beside her dad once again, shying away from the hosts of the party. Although her mom made her feel beautiful today, there was nothing more than to stand in front of the prettiest girl who has constantly been chosen over her.

“Thank you guys for coming. I’m so happy to meet you all.” Carla smiles as she turns her attention on Harry. She was happy and excited about their future. This whole night felt like a fever dream. Once more she looks at Ryan’s family and speaks up. “There’s a table for your family and dinner will be served out soon. I hope you guys enjoy” She rests her head on her fiancé but notices Y/N staring at her heels. “Are you okay Y/N? You seem a bit off.” And that statement was coming from a concerned person who was genuinely curious if the acquainted junior she got to know this year was alright. Y/N gulps as she makes eye contact with Carla. She was also very careful not to look at Harry.

“Ignore her. She’s been like that for a couple of weeks.” Ryan laughs as he turns around and glances at his sister. “This is your night but I still am wondering why you guys are getting married next month.”

Carla awkwardly smiles and waits for Harry to respond first yet she notices his eyes stay focused on his best friend’s little sister. “We just thought we should get the wedding out of the way before university starts.” Carla squeezes his palm for him to reply to.

“Don’t worry Ryan. I’m sure we’ll do everything we planned to do.” Harry smirks as he turns his back around to the music that just started to play. “Let’s walk you guys to your table, I believe the party is just about to actually begin.”

Throughout the night, Y/N did nothing more than fake a smile and applaud as speakers came to the mic and talked about Carla and Harry’s relationship. Blah blah blah. It was the same old thing really, and if she had the choice deep inside, she would wish she was the one sitting beside Harry talking about other things.

Dessert was finally available and due to the lack of activities and entertainment this party has brought to her, she waited until the line died down before she could carry her plate towards the table. She internally sighed as some of the choices were gone, leaving her to pick up a red velvet cupcake and two french macaroons on the side. Once she arrived back to her seat, her family that stayed back continued to talk about the two lovebirds. Her father and Ryan seemed to be having an amusing conversation as her mother made a new friend from the table beside them. Compliments after compliments was the only topic tonight, she really needed to take a walk around the unfamiliar neighbourhood after this.

“Guys, I’m just going inside to use the bathroom.” Her mom nods and acknowledges Y/N’s statement before turning her back once more to talk to another attendee of the party. Grabbing her purse, she excuses herself from the table and shyly walks around the party and towards the sliding door. Once she’s inside the home however, she ignores all the signs that gesture her towards the bathroom and instead makes her way to the front door. Carla’s home was pretty but not enough for her to stay.

“That’s not the washroom.” Harry speaks out as he walks down the staircase re-adjusting the sleeves of his polo. She realized the navy blue blazer he was wearing earlier today was now resting on the ottoman by the end of the railing.

“I was actually going to go on a walk.” She fixes her gaze on the painting in front of her instead of the boy casually making his way down.

“It’s a bit late, d-don’t you think.” He scratches his nose and picks up the article of clothing on the chair. He couldn’t help but stutter as his eyes followed the pink dress on the pretty girl.

“The neighbourhood seems really nice and I’m sure none of the rich families here are going to kidnap me and lock me in their basement.”

“Here.” She notices him walk towards her offering his blazer. “I would invite myself to walk with you but uh I think people would notice.” He rubs his palm against his neck and looks back at the door where the party is.

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head as she rejects his considerate offer. She continues to unlock the door before looking back at him. “I’ll be back soon. Ryan and my parents think I’m in the washroom. So if they ask, just say you don’t know. Congratulations, by the way.” She gives him a sad smile and walks out the door. He’s left speechless as he finally realizes this might be the last time things will be normal between them. “Fuck it.” He murmurs to himself as he rests the blazer behind his back and walks out the front door as well.

“Why are you following me?’ Y/N turns around carefully as she crosses her arms over her chest to keep herself warm. She was also trying very hard not to fall. Harry’s been distracting her all night, she didn’t realize she was wearing heels despite her goal to go on a night walk.

“Because I can’t let you walk around this neighbourhood by yourself!” Harry raises his voice as he tries to catch up with her. “God, I told you, you would need this.” He thoughtlessly puts the blazers over her shoulders as they walk down the slope.

“I promise you, I am not your responsibility anymore. You don’t have to be concerned about my whereabouts.” Y/N murmurs as she accepts the fabric and hugs it around her frame. Harry couldn’t help but look away from her as he heard that statement. Before everything went crumbling down, he used to pick her up and know every update from her. He used to watch out for her and just be there for her but even now, it was no longer okay.

“Who’s going to watch over you when I’m gone.” His voice is a bit more quieter now as they exit Carla’s neighbourhood.

“I don’t know. I always expected you were going to stay.” She glances at him before walking ahead of him.

“I know you’re mad and I’m sorry I had to put you through a lot.” He pulls her wrist to make her stop walking.

“How can I not be mad, Harry?” She closes her eyes, trying to not let the new formed tears in her eyes show. “You constantly choose Carla and the moment you finally break up with her. I get you and then you what… ghost me, break up with me? I don’t hear from you for 2 months only to find out you’re engaged! Fuck you.” She quickly wipes away a tear from her face. “God, I- You cheated on me! Didn’t you?”

“Y/N.” His heart beat drops as her voice raises. Never in his life has he seen Y/N this upset.

“No. It makes sense. Carla is barely even showing yet. It’s been three months and you…” She steps away from him and looks around. “I don’t know -you didn’t even have the audacity to tell me you don’t like me anymore.”

“I didn’t know how to react when you told me that.”

“Well you did.. You ignored my calls and continued to see Ryan.” She shrugs her shoulders and sarcastically laughs. “It’s fine. Now that I think about it, maybe I said it in the heat of the moment.”

“I know I messed up.” He bites his lip and runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I reacted like that. Carla has always been so familiar to me… and with you, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.”

“Like what?” The monotone question rolls off the tip of her tongue.

“The fear I guess. I’m scared of losing Ryan, your family and um, you.” He clears his throat. “It’s just there’s so much on the line when it comes to you and me. Maybe if I tried harder, we wouldn’t be here right now but we are.”

“Well if it makes you feel better,” She takes a pause and stares directly at him. “I didn’t really mean what I said that day. You freaked out on something that was a typical post orgasm statement.” She lies.

“Why are you lying?” He shakes his head in disappointment. “Why are you trying to hurt me? You think this hasn’t been difficult enough.”

“No, I’m not lying. It’s true.” She attempts to walk again but his hand grabs her immediately letting her know, their conversation is not over.

“So you’re saying you don’t love me.”

“No, I don’t love you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Harry, I don’t even owe you an explanation!” and sometimes when you force yourself to lie too much, you begin to cry. “Fuck.” He immediately hugs her as she cries on his shoulder. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“I could never leave you alone, you know that right?” He whispers in her ear as he wraps his arms tighter around her frame.

“You have to. We can’t do this.” Y/N repeats herself as she tries to pull away. His scent is just so fucking intoxicating. It was his scent that made her drastically attached to him and now she knew like from the start, it was time to go.

“If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.” He tries to keep her in his embrace. He was rambling at this point but he had no idea what his goal was. Is he trying to persuade her to stay or to let her go?

“You made your choices, Harry. All you have to do is lie in it.” She pulls away and wipes away her tears. “We’re just these high schoolers that found a loophole in our deal. Carla though, she has always been the one for you.”

“You’re right though. I- I guess I always choose her in the end.”

“Make her happy H.” She gives a sad smile and shrugs her shoulders. Despite wanting to punch her face, Y/N knew the look in her eyes as she watched Harry. Carla was always madly in love with him and forever will be.

Harry and Y/N were just a glitch in the system.

“I hope I see you again. Maybe Christmas huh?” He looks down at his shoes as the girl gives him back his blazer.

“Maybe Christmas.” And without a word, Y/N walks back to the house leaving Harry to walk around the neighbourhood himself.

Harry and Carla had just gotten married and on the night of their reception, they announced their pregnancy. Y/N was there. She witnessed the smile on Ryan’s face, on her parents’ face and on Harry’s. Everyone was happy except for her.

The night left her to play with the food on her plate as it was her only source of entertainment. Broccoli grouped with the carrots suddenly being grouped with the steak. How about we make a snowman? To be honest, moping a bit too much at the event left her clueless to the fact the groom has been watching her all night.

It wasn’t a choice for him. Of course, he looked at other guests and spoke to Carla throughout the night but for some reason as he mindlessly ate his food and restated his vows to his wife, Y/N was the only thing his eyes could focus on. He’s been looking for her face in every room for a year and to be exact, nothing about his feelings has changed -Except tonight was the last day, he would ever feel like this again.

There were only three rules Harry gave himself tonight.

Rule 1: Don’t try and make conversation with Y/N.

Rule 2: Don’t beat the guy who offers her a dance.

Last but not least, Rule 3: Don’t tell her you love her.

And it was a success because he watched her walk out with an unfamiliar guy and come back with a flushed neck and red cheeks. He knew she totally got fucked in the washroom and all he did was take a sip of his glass as the fist on his lap began to form once again.

It’s been a week since and her whole house is a mess. She has been currently helping her brother move his things to the moving truck they rented. Her little grieving process was cut short due to the fact, things around her started to change so quickly. Ryan was on his way out of here. Harry and Carla were probably on an island, trying to make another sub baby and Ness started to come by more often.

The thing about her best friend is that Nessa understands space but she won’t let Y/N peacefully sulk for more than a month. To successfully distract her, the duo have been taking road trips around the cities and visiting different campuses together. Although it was an old plan of her and Harry’s, Y/N couldn’t help but feel delighted to have Ness back once again.

She cleaned out her room and removed all her old soccer trophies because for some odd reason, they reminded her of Harry. She even went to the measures of blocking his number and deleting pictures from their past dates off her phone.

She knew she wasn’t ready to let him go but he was now married, living in a new city with his own family. There was no other choice but to forget this shit happened.

Senior year was just about to begin for Y/N and if there was one thing she needed, it was a fresh start. No love interests, no heartbreaks. Just fun experiences before she leaves this hell hole.

After all, if you never bleed, you’re never going to grow.

3 years later…

“You’re going to be fucking late.” Ness throws a pillow at her best friend as she enters the room. “You have that plane to catch.”

“Fuck, what time is it.” Y/N murmurs as she could feel some drool on her pillow case.

“10:30.”

“Fuck!” She sits up immediately and grabs her phone. Her flight is leaving in an hour and God knows the traffic in Seattle. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner!”

“Because your lazy ass wouldn’t wake up.” Ness walks out of the room and drinks her coffee. She was totally unfazed about her best friend panicking. “Relax.” Y/N gives her a death glare in return as she brushes her teeth in the kitchen. The two were very used to each other since they’ve not only been best friends for a long time but also roommates after moving to a new city.

“My brother’s wedding is in two days and I’m not even there yet.”

“Tell Ryan to choke for not inviting me, by the way.” Ness scrolls though the news feed on her phone as she casually bites into her bagel.

“Okay, I think I have everything.” Y/N walks out of her room in tights and an oversized sweater. “I really have to go.”

“You’re going to see him again, you know that right?” Ness really didn’t want to be the one to bring him up again but shit, Y/N looked like a dead zombie.

“It’s fine.” Y/N shrugs her shoulders. She couldn’t care less if she sees Harry again. “The last time I saw him, Carla and him were acting like total love birds at my mom and dad’s thanksgiving party.”

“That was like two years ago.” Ness tries to contain her laugh as she remembers their new pet names. Honey bunny and sweet treat. Oh to be in the honeymoon phase once again.

“Don’t think I forgot what you used to call Tom.” Y/N laughs as she rolls her luggage to the door.

“Shut up.” Nessa’s eyes widen as she throws a crumb at her. “That’s why I broke up with him.”

“Yeah, yeah. You better answer my call okay?”

“Yes babe, I know. I love you, take care!”

“Bye!”

And after the long haul of successfully boarding the plane, Y/N had five hours before she could finally see Ryan and his soon to be bride in Boston.

She was definitely nervous. The last wedding she attended was Harry’s and she knew full well how she badly coped with that. Not to mention how she calculated her schedule so she could “accidently” miss Ryan’s engagement party. Truth is, she doesn’t care about Harry but if there was any way she could try and dodge another awkward encounter...that’s what living in another city is for.

He also wasn’t really an ex but just a person in her life who managed to make her happy and sad at the same time. James had no idea who he was since she believed it was best to make that portion of her adolescence a secret. Just buried along with the other dreams she used to have.

After watching two movies and playing a random phone game, the plane finally landed. Y/N managed to brush her teeth and make herself look a bit more presentable after a heated run out of her apartment. Once she was at the pick up centre to grab her luggage, her heart beat began to increase signaling that she failed to neutralize her anxiety. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead as she walked past the crowd of people. There was a constant voice in her head screaming at her to tell Ryan her flight just got cancelled. Unfortunately, Ryan was on time as she could picture his figure right outside the window of the airport.

“Hey.” Ryan smiles as he gives his little sister a hug. He saw her a couple months ago but time still makes everything different. He’s happy his sister is finally here.

“Hi.” Y/N tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as the wind blows by them. “I see you got a nice haircut.”

“I did.” Ryan laughs as he carries his sister’s suitcase into his trunk.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married Ry! I swear to god, it was only yesterday you were complaining to Harry about his wedding.” Y/N squints her eyes due to the sun shining directly at her. She uses her hand to cover the side of her face as she lets out a joke,“Are you sure about her?”

“Meghan? Absolutely.” Ryan shuts the door as they stand there. “ I didn’t know what Haz was talking about when he told me he wanted to marry Carla but shit, when I met Meghan… I-”

“You’re whipped more than ever.” She smiles as she notices her brother’s cheeks flush. She tried to change the topic immediately after her brother said his name. “I knew Cassidy wasn’t the one.”

“Sure you did.” Ryan rolls his eyes as they sit in his car. “How about you? Any new updates?”

“No not really.” Y/N shrugs her shoulders as she puts on her seatbelt. “James and I have been together for a year now which is crazy-”

“I wish the guy could have come to the wedding, didn’t know how serious you guys were.”

“Honestly, if he didn’t have that internship at the hospital, I would’ve tried and persuaded him some more.”

“It’s okay.” Ryan laughs as he shakes his head. “Meghan found you a date already and I’m sure you’re going to be okay with it.” Y/N eyes widen.

“I was going to go stag.” She looks out the window in disbelief. It wasn’t her fault, her boyfriend was trying to get into medical school.

“Don’t worry sis. It’s a platonic date -that’s all it is going to be.” Ryan reassures her as he drives out of the parking lot.

“Let me tell James. Just in case, he might get jealous.” She pulls out her phone. “Who is this guy anyway?”

“I’m not telling you but who knows, James might fly over here just so you don’t go with a random guy.” Ryan smirks as he exits the highway.

“Who is he?”

“It’s a surprise.” Ryan tries to hide his laugh.

“Does he know you’re setting me up with him.”

“Please.” Her brother scoffs. “The guy is always too nice, he offered first.”

“Well, shit then.”

“You’ll get to know him before the wedding I promise. At least, you have company other than mom and dad.”

“So you’re going to let a random guy just sit at our table?”

“You have no idea.” And truth be told, Y/N wasn’t worried about the date Ryan and Meghan set up for her. Maybe it was one of Meghan’s family members who thought she was still single. It didn’t matter though because this event was for her brother and that’s all that was important.

“Oh my god!” Ryan and Y/N’s mother stood outside the house waiting at the driveway for them to arrive.

“Hi mom!” Y/N gives her a warm hug. “I missed you, where’s dad?”

“He’s inside with-”

“Y/N.” Y/N’s dad steps through the doorframe and meets Y/N at the steps for a hug as well. She knew her father couldn’t walk that much due to his recent hip surgery. What she didn't expect however, was for Harry to be following right behind him. “I missed you darling.”

“Hi dad I missed you more, I didn’t know Harry was here.” Y/N backs away and turns her back to look at Ryan. He didn’t seem surprised at all as he carried her luggage towards them.

“Hey.” Harry offers a small wave, seeming too quiet. He kept his hands behind his back as he observed the girl in front of him. It’s been two years and a lot has changed. Y/N thought he would still have his long hair yet it is very evident, he had a haircut as well. He also seemed much more muscular as well as the new addition of tattoos on his arm. While she stared at him, she didn’t realize Harry was noticing all the different features she had too. Her hair was longer and darker and she carried a different aura than before. She didn't look like the girl whose bedroom he used to sneak into.

“Hi Harry.” Y/N didn’t know how to start a conversation with him.

“I guess you met your date.” Ryan walks ahead of them and laughs as he continues to bring in the bags.

“Harry's my date?” Y/N asks in shock as she follows him behind. Her mom slaps her arm as Harry and their dad follow.

“Don’t act offended, You’ve known Harry since you were a kid.”

“Aren’t you married though.” Y/N turns her back and looks at Harry before facing the front again as she suddenly became distracted by the house’s decorations.

“I actually got divorced.” Harry bites his tongue right after.

“See, now look what you did. You embarrassed the young boy.” Y/N’s mom rubs his back as she murmurs to him. “I’m sorry, Haz.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” He shakes his head, trying to act as if the topic didn’t make him feel uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry too.” Y/N finally looks at him once more. “I had no idea.”

“It’s been a year. That’s what happens when you marry too young.” He laughed it off but everyone ignored that statement as they all knew there was a deeper cut in his heart.

When Carla was around 5 months, she had a miscarriage and although, they claimed they would try again… there was no new announcement after that.

“Y/N, this is your room.” Ryan tries to change the topic as he scratches his head.

“Thank you.” She steps inside for a bit of privacy after a long flight. Ryan and Harry along with her parents went back to the living room to go and continue their movie.

Today is Ryan’s wedding and the house was giving her many little flashbacks of Harry’s. The family was in this foreign home and was still running around getting ready. Her mother was screaming at her dad as he decided last minute to steam his suit. Ryan and Meghan were gone which left Harry and Y/N the only victims to her mother’s loudness. The two kept quiet as her mother ran around the house doing her hair and calling relatives for updates. Y/N managed to be ready on time so it let her sit on the couch looking at the photos in which mehgan has framed around the room.

“Your dad said I should drive you to the venue now. I think they’re definitely running late.” Harry speaks up after two days of ignoring her. The truth is last night when he went to the kitchen he saw Y/N sitting down on one of the counters and maybe if it was three years ago, he would’ve spoken to her but something about now told him to go back to his bedroom. He used to feel comfortable around her but now he’s walking around her as if he was on eggshells. He was so fucking nervous.

“Okay.” She agrees with him. Harry was the best man and she didn’t want him to be late because of her parents. Y/N puts her phone in the purse resting on her shoulder as she follows him out of the house. She would’ve been a bit more calm if she didn’t end her call with James midway through their fight.

“Um A-Are you okay?” He opens the door for her as he tries not to check her out. It was definitely difficult however as the way her long hair was styled and the pretty dress she wore. Luckily for Y/N, while Harry was doing some errands at home, she managed to “observe” him in his suit.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She lets out a small smile as she realizes Harry was still driving his car back from high school. You know the vehicle they had sex i-

“Alright.” The man breaks her out of the thought as he starts the car. “I promise tonight isn’t going to be weird around us.”

“Who said it was?”

“I don’t know I guess I just assumed.” He bites his cheek as he glances at her. That’s when the déjà vu hits and he feels like he’s eighteen years old again. She keeps her eyes on the road yet she had no idea that Harry was picturing her seventeen year old self sitting in the seat beside him. One of his favourite memories to be exact.

Flashback*

“So you’re kidnapping me to go camping in the woods.” Y/N smiles as she watches the unfamiliar road in front of them. Harry takes his shades off and passes it to the girl as he notices the sun is shining much more brighter than before.

“Hey, you got permission from your parents.” He smirks at her as he keeps his hand on the gear stick.

“They think I’m sleeping over at Nessa’s.” Y/N laughs as she puts on the shades and looks at him. His cheeks turn red as he catches the sight of the pretty girl wearing everything of his.

“Is little Y/N scared of the dark?” His hand smoothly travels to her thigh.

“I am not.” Y/N chokes on her breath. It was bad enough Harry looked so hot whilst he was driving.

“I think you are.” He notices her breathing becoming a bit more short. “You and me in a tent alone in the dark.” His hand goes a bit more south, gipping her inner thigh.

“I have a surprise for you.” She blurts out. She was also seconds close to making Harry pull over to the side of the road.

“And what is that?”

“I’ve been wearing a plug and I’m ready.” The speed of the car increases a bit as he mindlessly presses his foot to the sound of her voice. He looks at her one more time before taking over the car in front of them.

“Fuck then. My baby once again proves that she isn’t as innocent as I thought.”

End of flashback*

The venue was beautiful. Ryan and Meghan chose this beautiful garden that had tulips growing everywhere. The white gazebo was obviously where the wedding would take place as the reception was only a stoned pathway ahead. Since Harry was the best man and Y/N was his date, she managed to follow him around the place as he spoke to the event planner and the maid of honour. She had a whole tour of the location as Harry spoke about the party’s process to her. Not only that, but he was an amazing date -he kept his hand on her back and introduced her to people she didn’t know.

Currently, she was sitting on the bench watching Harry talk to some familiar faces. They seemed like a few boys Ryan and he would hang out with back in high school. She was mindlessly watching him laugh and smile throughout the conversation until she didn’t realize he was already staring at her. After excusing himself, he walked back towards her.

“I’m sorry, If I’m boring yeh.” Harry rubs his neck as he sits down beside her. The wedding was about to start in a couple of hours.

“No, you’re not.” Y/N laughs as she keeps her eyes on the lake behind him. She suddenly remembers their camping trip. She shakes her head at the thought and shrugs her shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“About the wedding?” He pulls down the sleeves of his dark grey suit. She nods her head and waits for him to continue. “I’m happy Ryan is marrying Meghan. It’s funny how he thought he would stay single for long.”

“I remember him telling you that when you were engaged.” She bites the inside of her cheek. She definitely just put her foot in her mouth again. She was definitely known for that but Harry didn’t seem fazed at all about her statement.

“I mean don’t get me wrong, Weddings are a bit difficult to attend at the moment just because I know mine didn’t end well but um…” He clears his throat and faces himself more towards her. “I also got married knowing I wasn’t really in love with the girl.” Y/N finally looks at him as she watches the familiar green eyes say the truth.

“I know.” She nods her head again. “Things are different now and I hope you do find the girl that you are 100% about.”

“Yeah.” He looks at the patch of flowers in front of them. He would tell her what he thinks but he knows she’s dating someone.

“Let’s go check out your brother.” Harry stands up and offers his hand out. “I’m sure he’s wondering where we are.”

And so the event continued. Y/N’s parents arrived and so did the other guests. The beautiful girl in her wedding dress walked down the aisle and Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off the girl sitting in the crowd.

It was simple for him, he knows he’s not over her but he wouldn’t tell her that.

Would he tell her that he started coming home more after Carla’s miscarriage in hope of seeing her? No.

He definitely can’t tell her that he was hurt. He would come over to their house only to find out she wasn’t home or when he found out she was moving to Seattle for college.

After the past two years, Ryan briefly mentions her and James and he felt like he no longer had a chance. At least with her.

So standing beside Ryan as his best man felt like a total shot in the heart because Harry knew he wasted his time and lost the girl as well.

Y/N catches his eyes watching her and just for a moment, she wished things were different too.

When the reception started, Harry and Y/N along with her parents sat at one of the tables close to the bride and groom

The hosts were right however, as Harry fit perfectly with the family. Throughout dinner, he made jokes and started conversing with her parents more than she thought. Although he gave her some attention, he didn’t fail to compliment her mother as well.

The two sat together eating dessert as he leaned over to whisper something in her ear. “I’ll let you have a bite out of my brownie if I can steal a bite from your cake.” Harry smirks as he takes a sip of his glass of tequila. He wasn’t trying to get drunk but a little strong (strong) alcohol should cause no harm. Y/N casually steals the glass from his hand and takes a sip as well.

The two were finally much more comfortable with each other after spending the day side by side. Harry laughs as he takes his fork and steals a bite of her cake. The red velvet flavour melting in his mouth as he watches the girl swallow the rest of his drink.

“Sorry, I’m a bit quenched.” Y/N laughs as she puts the glass down and stabs her fork back into her cake. His fork immediately swats hers away.

“I’m not done with my bite.” He teases her as he pulls the small plate towards him. Y/N mouth drops.

“You guys fight like children.” Her dad speaks up and smiles at the scene in front of them.

“He asked to steal a bite but he stole the whole plate.” She laughs as she watches him shove numerous tiny bites in his mouth. Y/N mom laughs as she smiles at the cheeky boy.

“I said you can have some of my brownie but you proceed to finish my drink.”

“You seem a little drunk anyway.” She lies as she leans forward to take the brownie from his plate.

“Want some shots.” Harry blurts out as he finishes the dessert. “You finished my drink so I’m heading back to the bar… you still might be a bit quenched.”

“Okay.” She laughs as the two excuse themselves from the table.

“Do you remember the scrunchie on my wrist and you called me out on it.” Harry slowly dances with Y/N as the night continues on. The event was almost over but all the attendees were on the dance floor dancing to Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran. As a proper stellar date, Harry didn’t hesitate to ask the girl for a dance as he knew last time he missed out.

“I know you stole it.” Y/N laughs as she unconsciously rests her head on his shoulder. The truth is when in doubt, Y/N always drinks a bit more than usual. It seems whenever Harry is around, she can’t help but be drunk.

“Oh really?” He pulls away and laughs. “I was going to tell you an old story but you already know.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she looks at the people surrounding them. Nobody was shocked to see how close they were dancing. Everyone was in their own little bubble and maybe if Y/N and Harry didn’t break the ice or drink a bit, they would definitely not be as bold as they are right now.

“No! You have to tell me now.” Her eyes widen as she readjusts her hands on her shoulders. Harry smirked at her anticipation as he willingly rests his hands back on her waist.

“It was the first night we made the deal.” He whispers quietly hoping no one would hear them. “It was on your vanity and I took it after you sleepily threw my clothes at me.” They both laugh at the old memory.

“I saw you wearing it during the game.”

“So did you always watch me back then? Probably just wanted to get into my pants.” Y/N cheeks flush as she hides her face away from him.

“You’re acting as if I never caught you staring right back at me.”

“True.” he twirls her around. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you after that deal you offered.” Y/N immediately pulls away after he hears the statement roll of his tongue.

“Harry, I know tonight has probably been the most normal conversation we had with each other but… We can’t go back there.” She walks off the dance floor, making him follow her without hesitation. Instead of going back to their table however, she makes a b line to the unlighted pathway of the garden.

“Hey, don’t go. I’m sorry I ruined the moment.” He unbuttons the top of his vest seeing his blazer was still on his chair. “I spoke about fight club-”

“You remember that?” Y/N slows down her speed and turns around. “It’s been three years and you still remember it?”

“Why don’t you?” Harry turns his back around to notice the bushes covering them from the rest of the party.

“Of course I do but you got married and moved away. I just thought that would slip your mind.”

“Well it didn’t.” He musters up a small smile and shrugs his shoulders. “Look, can we go back to the party and pretend I didn’t mess this up.”

“It’s not about you messing up H. It’s the fact that I still get flashbacks of you and I -and seeing you here again is making me feel like the past three years didn’t happen.”

“I didn’t see you during Christmas.” He blurts out as he watches her sigh. “Any holiday except thanksgiving to be exact.”

“Well, I moved to Seattle and couldn’t book a flight home every time of the year.”

“Carla is dating someone new.” Y/N nods her head. “And I’m still not able to get you out of my head.”

“You might just ghost me next time around.” She lets out a sarcastic laugh as she tries her best not to trip over herself as she walks a bit further into the pathway.

“I told you I regret doing that.” He continues to follow her. “It’s been three years and you’re still mad about it.”

“I’m not mad. I’m just saying whenever it’s you and I, you tend to ghost me and run back to Carla.”

“If it makes you feel better, I could give a fuck less what Ryan thinks of us. It’s why I asked him if I could be your date.”

“I have a boyfriend Harry! An actual boyfriend who waits for me after work everyday. A boyfriend who actually replies to my calls-”

“He hasn’t even met Ryan or your parents!”

“And-”

“Look Y/N, all I’m saying is I don’t care about this fucking guy!” Harry sternly walks towards her until he backs her up to a wall of vines.

“Then why are you trying to talk about our old memories and shit like that.”

“Because,” He pauses as he thoughtlessly rests his hands on either side of her head. “I fucking care about you. The moment Carla had a miscarriage and she needed me the most, I needed you! I didn’t realize I let you go the moment I went back to her.”

“Harry…”

“So it’s true, you didn’t love me.” He pulls away but Y/N brings her hands up to his face to keep his eyes on her.

“Of course, I did.” Y/N cries as she shakes her head in disbelief. “Why would you think that would be true? You called me out on it before.”

“I came back every couple of months hoping to see you at home with your parents. You were always gone.”

“Did you actually?”

“Fuck.” He pulls away and runs his hand through his short hair. He swore he would never tell her this. Is this how desperate he is now. “Yeah, of course I did. I knew you would leave for college but I wish I knew from you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not even your fault.” He laughs as he hugs her. “I want you back.” His arms wrap around her much more tightly than before. “Please.”

“James-”

“Do you love him?”

“Harry, don’t ask that?”

“No, I want to know.”

“Well I don’t know because after what you did-”

“Then you still love me.” He looks up at her in hope she would say yes. Just admit it, please.

“Okay and if I do -what do I do now? I like James and although it hasn’t been long I’m sure something will change.”

“Can’t you see?” He directs her back to the wall of vines. “You were always mine the same way, I was always yours.”

“The loophole of our deal.” She mumbles out loud as her hands mindlessly hold onto his forearms.

“The deal has always meant more to me than it should’ve.” He whispers as the sound of music and distant chatter is the only thing they can hear.

And I want to tell you everything

The words I never got to say the first time around

And I remember everything

From when we were the children playing in this fairground

Wish I was there with you now

If the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you

Drive highways and byways to be there with you

Over and over the only truth

Everything comes back to you

“Just kiss me already.” Y/N watches him as she lets out one more breath. Without hesitation he kisses her as the grip on her waist tightens. Y/N’s hands immediately play with the curls that reach the nape of his neck.

“Fuck, I missed you.” His soft lips rub on her left cheeks as he rubs himself on her. His hands begin to wonder in disbelief that she’s in his arms again. Her scent clouding his thoughts that they haven’t even noticed they’re still at a party.

“I want you.” Her hips raise itself on him as she rests her back on the cement behind her. “Harry, please.”

“We’re going home.” He bites his lip as his eyes darken. Without even thinking of what others would say, he mindlessly holds her hand as they walk out of the secluded space. The two didn’t bother telling anyone they were leaving the party as he basically dragged the poor girl to his car.

“Do you even know how to get inside Ryan’s house.” She giggles as she keeps herself close to his arm. He takes his blazer and rests it on her shoulders back like a few years ago.

“I have my ways.” He smirks as he helps her inside the vehicle.

This whole event felt like déjà vu. The wedding, the car ride, the quick secret escape from a party just to have sex. If there was one thing Y/N and Harry were good at, it’s probably how good they were at keeping themselves as a secret.

“I’ve missed you more than I thought.” Y/N bites her lip as she rests her head on the seat, watching Harry drive.

Him in his suit too focused on driving them home made her want to fuck his brains out. Truly.

Harry’s cheeks flush as he takes her hand into his. “I’m no longer that frat boy you used to know. I’m much nicer.”

“Oh really, in what ways?” she smirks as she eyes the growing bulge in his pants.

“I promise you won’t be able to leave my room tonight that’s for sure.”

“Then I’m happy.”

Moist air, dark night, and bodies clinging to each other as Harry struggled to open the front door. As the groom’s best friend, of course he had keys to his house. Y/N couldn’t help but keep her hands on his slim torso as there was something about just holding them that was driving her crazy.

“Fuck, your parents are going to wonder where we are.”

“I don’t fucking care.” Y/N licks the side of his neck before running inside. She’s trying to laugh quietly as she attempts to take off her heels. Harry being the responsible one, he texts Y/N’s dad they went home. Afterwards, he stops by Y/N’s room to lock it before he follows the girl into his room.

Once he locks the door, he realizes Y/N managed to take all her clothes off as she laid on his bed. “For fuck’s sake.” He mumbles to himself as he forgot how horny and crazy Y/N can be. He rubs the slight stubble on his chin as he watches the girl bite her lip and roll in his sheets. “You’re such a little devil aren’t you?”

“Like I said I missed you.” She fakes her confidence as Harry crawls up to meet her on the mattress. His finger takes the lip out between her teeth as his lips move forward to kiss her once again. His goal was to lay her down and kiss her naked body but it seemed like Y/N had other plans in mind. Her arms push him away as she kneels on the mattress. Keeping her eyes on him, she unbuttons the rest of his vest before spreading her palms over where his heart beat. Harry is speechless but the moment she began to unbuckle his belt he had to say something.

“Oh I see.” He smiles as his hand holds Y/N’s chin to his face. “I thought my girl really did miss me but it seems like she missed my dick a bit more huh? You want it?” He grips her face a bit harder as her hands maintain on his waistline. She nods shyly as she tries to continue her action.

“Fine, do what you want but I’m not done with you yet.” His voice softens as his hand immediately brushes the soft hair away from her face. His green eyes watch her drool over him as she unzips his pants. His hands on the flip side continued to remove the white long sleeve off his body. “Take it in your mouth. I know you’re dying too baby.” Y/N cheeks turn red as her tongue peaks out to kiss his hard cock. The funny thing is, she couldn’t keep her eyes off him despite being a horny mess. Sex was never the same if it wasn’t with harry and that was a fact because the moment she put him in her mouth, he pushed himself harder until he could feel the back of her throat.

The constant humming and gagging sounds wasn’t enough for him because the moment he pulled himself out of her little wet hole. He pulls her hair harder to keep her eyes on him. Without even hesitating, he spits in her mouth and puts his dick back in. From the way Y/N’s eyes rolled back, he knew full well that this was his girl and some things don’t change...especially the way she reacts to him.

“Are you going to let me fuck your mouth baby?” He moans quietly as he softly strokes her scalp. “How many times are you going to make me cum huh?” Y/N chokes a bit as he thrusts himself at a faster rate. “Always so pretty aren’t you dove?” He pulls himself out and slaps her tit. “What do you want me to do?” He whispers as kisses her lips once more. His mouth thoughtlessly kisses down the side of her neck as his hands press and grope on her tits.

“I want you everywhere.” His eyes watch her dilated ones as he slowly pushes her down the mattress.

“Hm, I don’t think you want to as much I thought?” He teases her as one of his fingers pops into his mouth and later into hers.

“You want me to beg?” Her tongue swirls around his digit as she lays helplessly on his pillows. “Never.”

“Never?” Harry laughs as his wet fingers pretended to walk down her body to her heated centre. “When did my baby become such a brat?” The devious smirk plays on his face as his tongue licks the side of his mouth.

“I’ve always been a brat.”

“Oh, so you don’t want me to fuck you is that what you’re saying?” His hands immediately stop teasing her as he begins to jerk himself off -slowly but surely.

“I do.” She tries to sit up but his hand pushes her back down immediately. “Harry, please?”

“Is that you begging me?” He laughs as his thumb wipes a bead of precum on his dick. “I would rate that three out of ten, Extra point because good girls say please.”

“Baby...” Y/N moans out as she tries to reach for him but Harry’s hands immediately grabs them and places them above her head.

“Just beg a bit better and maybe you wouldn’t have to work so hard, love. You said it before so show me you want me.”

“Daddy please fuck me.”

“Like music to my ears.” He spreads her legs open and pushes himself inside her. “Fuck.” It’s always the condom that gets to him.

“No, stay.” She whines as she holds onto his wait. “Please, I’m on birth control and James and I don’t really-”

“What?” His eyes widen as he bites the inside of his cheek. “What did you say?”

“He’s an intern at this hospital so he’s just always been busy.” She whispers in embarrassment. Don’t get her wrong, she has sex just not as much as she thought she should.

“Fucking hell.” He mumbles as he thrusts himself a bit harder into her. “No one has taken care of you in a while huh?” He bends down and kisses her again. The soft wet licks stay longer as he hears the beat of her heart. It was beating fast just like his.

“Mhm. Please Harry just fuck me.” She cries out as she takes his fingers back into her mouth. His thrusts become harder and harder as he watches her face cry in pleasure. “Oh daddy, fuck.”

“So fucking good. You’re such an angel oh shit.” His palm immediately chokes her. He couldn’t help but watch how her tits move up and down due to the force he’s putting into her.

“Let me ride you.” Her hips thrust up and meet him. Her mouth opens wide at the feeling.

“You sure about? Sure you can still take me?” His hand gives her a little slap to the cheek.

“Of course I can.” Y/N smirks. Harry immediately pulls himself off her as he lays down on the mattress himself. “You think I’m going to let you fuck me all night long. I’ve been wanting to fuck your brains out.”

“Y/N,” He smirks as he watches her straddle him. “You think you can fuck my brains out? You seem pretty fucking confident, baby.” He flicks her nipple which makes her press herself deeper onto his dick.

“I can.” She closes her eyes as Harry watches the moonlight shine on her face.

“Yeah, then show me.” He slaps the side of her thigh more harder than before. “Fuck me. Just use me then.”

“Just promise I’ll be a good girl, daddy.” her hands slide down to his waist.

“Promise.” He bites his lip and watches their wet desperate centres meet.

And in that moment, there was nothing but lust in their eyes as they fucked back and forth. Y/N moaning as Harry continued slapping her ass. He couldn’t help but thrust his hips as well due the fact there was nothing better than feeling Y/N’s desperate pussy clenching for more.

“Go on all fours.” He cries out after a few more rounds. Y/N wasn’t lying since she definitely fucked his brain out. There was nothing on their minds other than jumping each other’s bones over and over again.

Once she’s in position, he slaps her ass once again before putting himself back in.

“Oh god, shit baby.” Y/N bites the end of his pillowcase as she keeps her hands on the headboard. “You’re so big, I can’t anymore fuck.”

“I know you have one more in you, come on baby.” He pulls her hair and slaps her ass once more.

“Fuck!” She moans out as she feels his wet spit travel down her pussy. Harry immediately thrusts harder as the sweat on his neck begins to bother him. His thrusts were becoming sloppy but he needed Y/N to cum one more time.

“God, fuck me.” Harry moans out as Y/N finally cums one more time around him. Without even thinking, he releases himself inside of her and pulls her hair harder one more time. She immediately falls down as she can’t feel a thing. Harry felt her clench around him despite his need to pull himself off her.

“Baby, you have to let go.” He kisses the back of her shoulder and grips the side of her waist.

“Please don’t go.” She cries out and wipes her tears on the pillowcase. Harry slowly pulls himself off and lays on the bed beside her. He puts himself back in and wipes her tears away. His arm pulls her closer to him as he whispers one more thing into her ear.

“I love you.”

“Glad to see you two are awake.” Y/N’s mom waits in the kitchen as she makes pancakes on the stove. “Ryan and Meghan left last night right after the reception.” She suspiciously keeps her eyes on the two as they walk together to the breakfast table. “Harry, thank you for leaving the door unlocked. We came home around one last night.” Oh shit did they hear us? Y/N looks at Harry who seems bothered as he takes a sip of the coffee in his mug.

“I didn’t hear you two.” She brings the plate to the table. “If you’re wondering Y/N.”

“Mom, it’s not what-” Her cheeks flush in an embarrassment.

“Oh please, don’t bother lying. I already lied, Harry was the one who opened the door for us.” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “And Harry, don’t bother giving me an excuse. It makes sense.” She sits down with the two of them. “You always kept visiting us back home and the way your eyes watched her when she came here after her flight gave it all away.”

“Not to mention, you answering the door shirtless and Y/N not responding when we knocked on her door last night.” Y/N’s dad appears with a newspaper in hand.

“Does Ryan know?” Harry looks at Y/N and puts a pancake on her plate. Does her parents even know she’s wearing his clothes?

“Ryan saw you two leave together.” Y/N’s mom laughs. “Don’t worry, it was him and Meghan’s idea to also try and pair you guys together.”

“Wait so he’s okay with it.” Y/N speaks up after murmuring a thank you to Harry.

“Of course he is, Y/N. You guys are no longer teenagers right? So make your own choices for Christ’s sake.” Her mom states in disbelief.

“Did you know I’ve been seeing her back in high school?”

“Harry.” Y/N’s dad’s tone changed. Sounded a bit like disappointment.

“Oh god, there is more to the story?” Y/N’s mom rolls her eyes. “Alright, eat up everyone, you two have to tell us everything.”

“So this is it.” Y/N smiles as she sits in his car. The two were currently at the airport. “I had no idea, you relocated to Boston. It makes sense why you had so many things in your room back at Ryan’s house.”

“Yeah, I transferred last year. I’m hoping to finish here, graduate and then see what else I can do.”

“What do you think this means for us?” She puts her shades on as she pulls on the sleeves of her light sweater that she was wearing over her collared shirt.

“It means that this is when I ask you if you would please be my girlfriend.” Y/N’s cheeks flush and she hides her face in her hands.

“Are you for real?” She laughs.

“Yes.” He smirks as he keeps his hands on the steering wheel.

“I will be your girlfriend, Harry.”

“Good. You’re breaking up with James right.” Y/N rolls her eyes and nods.

“I’m ending it with him, the moment I land back in the city.”

“Make some space, I might move there.” He lightly jokes but there was some truth in it. Meghan and Ryan were married, there was no need for him to take up some space in their house.

“Sure, you’ll love Seattle and Ness is there too.”

“I like that. Will you introduce me to your ex?” Y/N laughs as she opens her door.

“No.” but right before she can get out, his hand pulls her back in for a kiss. Once their lips touch, he looks at her once again.

“I love you.” He genuinely states as he watches her eyes melt in happiness.

“I love you too.” She smiles and kisses him once more. “Bye, Harry.” She hugs him across the platform and kisses his cheek too. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more. Call me later tonight when you land yeh?”

“Okay.” She pouts. She had to catch a flight and be away from him for at least one more year.

“I love you okay, baby.” He kisses her forehead. “Bye.”

“Bye.” And with that, Y/N steps out of the car and watches him drive away. She has a plane to catch and he has some sheets to clean but that doesn't change the fact, they are finally together.

And everyone knows it.

Fini!

---------

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bratkook · 4 years

Text

like you used to. jjk

“So kill me like you used to...”

part two.

pairing. ex boyfriend!jungkook x reader genre. angst, mentions of smut, toxic exes warnings. very toxic depictions of relationships, hints at infidelity, drunken mistakes, they’re both very toxic for each other and just can’t stay away, brief mentions of smut word count. 2.9k note. this is just a lump of angst that my mind conjured at 1am last night, i just love angst and messy relationships that are destined to fail 😌(its not edited so if u see a typo no u dont)

It always started with a phone call.

Whether it was from you or him always changed. Sometimes he’d get the call at two in the morning, vision blurry as he brought the phone to his face and saw your name illuminated on the screen, that old goofy selfie you had together still set as your contact photo. He’d hesitate for a moment just to keep you on your toes before pressing accept, already getting up and putting pants on because he knew just what you were calling for.

Tonight was your turn to be on the receiving end, laying in bed comfortably as you scrolled through random posts to try to help you sleep, the flash of his face fills your phone, it’s a random close up photo of his eyes staring right into the camera, crinkled up in a smile. Even though his name is changed in your contacts, no longer having the cute bunny emoji tacked to the end, you know you’ll still pick up in a heartbeat. And you do.

The second you press accept you’re met with the familiar sound of his voice, slurred and thick as he speaks so jumbled up you would barely be able to understand him if you didn’t already know what he was saying. It was the same things he always said whenever he got like this, proclamations of love that only cut up your freshly scabbed over wounds, salt rubbing into them when he cries about how he misses you, promises to change.

They get cut off when the phone is yanked away from his grasp, the second familiar voice belonging to his buddy Yugyeom now speaking into the receiver. “You gotta pick him up Y/N.”

The annoyance is evident in his voice, the babbling of Jungkook still heard in the background along with the dull beat of whatever place they were outside of.

“He’s not my responsibility Yugyeom.”

He simply sighs into the phone, staring at his mess of a friend before rubbing his jaw, sore and aching from where he had just been socked after attempting to force him into an uber. “Yeah well he won’t let anyone else take him home, he’s drunk as fuck. I’ll send you the location.”

Not waiting for a response he hangs up and sends you a pin of where they’re at, thrusting the phone back into his friend’s hands before getting into that uber and leaving Jungkook alone while he whines against the dirty bar wall, crouching down onto the filthy sidewalk as the car drove off.

Yugyeom knew you would come to his rescue like you always did, never once saying no and letting Jungkook fend for himself because on the rare occasions where you’d call him drunk and crying he’d do the same.

Getting into the car still dressed in your pajamas, shoes thrown on without being laced up, hair still messy, it felt like routine now from how often it happened. Jungkook called you sober, text you while in a sane state of mind, but without fail at least once a month he’d get absolutely shit faced and call you, leaving you what he thought were heartfelt voicemails if by some chance you didn’t answer.

It was the same bar every time, a bar you used to frequent with him, knowing the location and all the small side streets to get you there without needing directions. Doing this felt like such a normal part of your life it almost made you forget that you and Jungkook weren’t together anymore. It’s been a year since you split and you still find yourself thinking if things could be different.

Would it have been best if you never confessed to each other, never admitted to the small inkling of a crush before it was able to fully blossom? It was hard not to wonder how different life would be now if you had walked away the first time things went south, if he had walked away after the first argument.

Whenever he called you, pulled you in with those drunken promises it was easy to convince yourself that your relationship was perfect, that it was worth all of the struggles. Your brain morphed each fight, each time you cried alone, twisted it around and molded it to make it easier to consume, easier to believe you were meant to be.

You thought you were soulmates, and maybe you were, two people destined to be together, meeting at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances. What was meant to be perfect puzzle pieces connected had slowly turned into jagged edges that no longer clicked regardless of how hard you tried to jam them together, foolishly thinking you could spill your love into the gaps to mend the spaces, making the pieces whole once more.

Love was never enough.

Love made you stupid, made you blind and gullible, smiling through lies to avoid arguments, going to bed angry until he was hovering over you, coaxing you into forgiveness with soft kisses and gentle touches. It always went this way, regardless of who’s fault it was without fail he’d end up slot between your legs, the only time the puzzle pieces connected perfectly, allowing him to fuck you as if he’d never see you again. Murmurs of love and adoration were passed between panting breaths, sloppy kisses, shared moans to mask the empty promises you made every time.

Staying away from each other was a hard habit to kick, the two of you stuck on an endless game of seesaw, neither of you having the guts to get off and move on. All it took was a simple drunk phone call for you to go his way, the slur of his voice as he cries into the receiver about how much he loved you, missed you, needed you next to him, wanted to try again. It reeled you in so easily, winding you up until you were hauling your sloppy ex boyfriend off the dirty floor and into your small car.

He remembers none of this, he never did, not fully anyways. Small tidbits of words he said flash in his mind as he comes to, drool on his cheek and neck sore from the unfortunate position he had slept in, groggy and unaware of his surroundings.

He knew your apartment too well, recognized the green wall he had helped you paint, now holding endless pictures of you and your friends. None of Jungkook anymore.

All of those photos were gone now, not burned or shredded in some ritual to get over him, simply tucked into a box and shoved so far into your closet you hoped you would forget it. You never did of course, the way the box laid dust free made it clear how often you pulled it out and sorted through the photos whenever you had too much wine, whenever you had off days where you just felt so alone and wished you could go back to the times you had convinced yourself were better. They weren’t, you knew they weren’t once you sobered up and balanced out your emotions.

Jungkook doesn’t feel bothered that not a trace of him remained visible in your home, he knew his presence lingered in the cracks, buried so deep in the crevices of your mind he knew you would always think of him.

He groans softly as his eyes roam the interior of your home, the throbbing in his temples making him stop and shut his lids, not needing to analyze the place he was at less than two weeks ago when you had called him over. Jungkook briefly wonders if he should sneak his way out, not used to waking up on the couch instead of in your bed right beside you, maybe he had said something last night that crossed the line and landed him on the couch as a punishment.

As you finally emerge from your room his plan of escape is put to a stop, his eyes gravitating towards your bedroom door, seeing the way you cautiously step out. Having heard Jungkook wake up since you had already been awake for the past hour, your body not allowing you to sleep while knowing he was in the other room, it took a few minutes of courage before you were able to face him.

Spotting him on your couch shows how much he doesn’t belong, the pinned leather jacket he wore looking so harsh against the light coloring of your furniture, his dark disheveled hair contrasting with the tidy way you organized your apartment. He senses it, the skin crawling sensation that spreads the longer you stare at him, how he felt so out of place somewhere he used to call home at one point.

“Thank you for picking me up.” He chooses to break the silence, voice raspy, his internal self screaming at him for always doing this. His eyes are sincere, genuinely meaning it, knowing just how messy he got when he had too much to drink, how his friends could never handle him when he crossed the line and began to call for you.

Like always his words were routine so he expects it when you huff and say, “You need better friends Jungkook.”

“I know.” Because he did, he knew his friends enabled him, riled him up and once he became too much they pushed him onto you, knowing Jungkook’s grip on you was still too strong for you to ever say no.

“What if I hadn’t picked you up? Would they have left you on the side of the bar to fend for yourself?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, from past experiences he knows very well they would have. His friends had dealt with Jungkook crying over you far too much, their patience fully stamped out, no longer able to tolerate him when he became like this.

Not even realizing when he begins to smile as he thought of the nights you didn’t pick up, how he had ended up in the most random locations because he refused to go home to a place you weren’t, he snaps out of it when you scoff. “It’s not funny Jungkook, you could have gotten hurt or something.”

There it was, the reason you were upset. Not because he had called you and spewed the same bullshit he always did, no that you could tolerate. You were upset, and worried, that you’d get a following call from someone stating he had injured himself while calling for you.

“I know.”

You pause to breathe, his short responses not irking you like it should, arms crossed over your chest as you observe your ex boyfriend still sitting on the couch, looking like a scolded child.

“You can’t call me anymore Jungkook.” How you have the nerve to say that to him is funny, acting as if ten days ago you weren’t the one doing this to him, telling him you missed him, securing your anchor around his foot and dragging him back under with you.

This is the checklist you needed to go down, a formality of the morning after so he doesn’t mind it. Instead he frowns at the way you continue to say his name, the way it rolls off your tongue makes him wince, missing the way you’d call him Kookie, playful pet names like Bunny, something he swore he hated but secretly loved. Jungkook wished he could hear you say it again, humor you with that damned bunny eared headband he’d wear to hear you laugh, squeal as he posed and dance for whatever silly video you recorded as you shouted out the ridiculous nickname.

The last time he heard those words spill out of your mouth had been too long ago.

“I’m sorry.” he admits, he knew he had to stop, couldn’t continue to hold onto the past, knowing how wrong you were for each other but he wasn’t the only one. Those were the same words you told him ten days ago, apologizing with guilty eyes for asking him to come over when you were lonely, needing a familiar body to occupy the space next to you, wanting his hands to soothe you, make you feel whole again just for a night.

Once the sun came up it was back to normal, the two of you having the repeat conversation you had every time, the exact one you were having now. A formality. Nothing more, just mindless words that you would both agree to just to move along, to make you both feel better, more secure with yourself until the next time the phone rang.

Your heart twists in your chest as you look at him, the same toxic love you had for him brewing in your heart, spilling over and burning you but you ignore the pain, convince yourself you don’t feel it as you breathe in. That same rope latches around Jungkook’s ankle as you avert your eyes for a brief second before looking back at him with a small sigh. “Do you want breakfast? I know how you get when you have a hangover.”

He smiles for the first time, charming as always, looking up at you through the subtle waves in his hair. “I probably shouldn’t.”

You know this. He definitely shouldn’t because breakfast will turn into words exchanged, civil at first, flirty the next, a coin flipped to decide if a petty argument would begin or if you’d reminisce about the good times. Regardless of the outcome, what always followed ended with you moaning out his name as he rocked into you, those same empty promises spilling through his lips that you swallowed with a kiss.

A brief moment of bliss, a small dose of the past that only serves to hurt you further but you crave it, loving the small rush that came with arguing, the roughness of his hands as he pushed you around before sliding home, burying his face into your neck as he broke you down all over again.

Normally you’d try to convince him further, but as your mouth opens to protest you get flashes of the night before, how you had carried Jungkook up your flight of stairs, hearing him ramble about nonsense so slurred together you paid it no mind. You would have had him sleep in your bed beside you like you always did but when you fish his phone out and begin to slide his jacket off it buzzes to life.

Always being nosey you type in his password, smiling when you realize it was still your old anniversary but when you unlock it and see a flood of messages from a girl named Natalie, calling him babe, asking where he was, the smile falls from your face as you start to snoop.

It doesn’t take much scrolling through their thread of messages to easily discover she was his girlfriend, blissfully unaware that he was shit faced and calling you, confessing to his love for you while she laid at home and wondered if he was having fun with his friends. She reminded you of yourself, of the way you used to be with him and it left a sour feeling on your tongue.

“Yeah you probably shouldn’t.”

He stands up now, following you slowly as you approach the door, heavy boots thumping on the hardwood as he reluctantly steps closer to the exit. He doesn’t want to leave, wants you to try to convince him to stay, not knowing that you knew the dirty secret he was hiding buried in his phone.

You don’t decide to tell him you know, it was pointless. That was just how Jungkook was wired, so much love to give he had to spread it out, give everyone a fair share of it, choosing to pretend he wasn’t being selfish. It was naive to believe it, to think all the love he held was strictly for you, it was why he was able to pull the hood over your eyes so easily.

Even when you pull the door open and give him a tightlipped smile he knows you’ll still call him, forget all about Natalie when you’re lonely once more. So when you look him in the eyes and sigh, “Goodbye Jungkook.” He knows it’s not for long, maybe a week or so, maybe less.

He simply smiles, stuffing his hands into his jeans as he shuffles out, turning to face you as he steps backwards. “See you later Y/N.” And his words sting in a way he doesn’t mean, knowing just how right he was.

Jungkook would never mind how heavy the anchor you hooked on his ankle was because he knew you would forever be a sucker for him.

As you shut the door behind you it feels like a small weight starts to hang from your shoulders, the same tug starting from your chest, guiding you into your room until you’re pulling out the cursed box and sorting through those damned photos. With stinging eyes you flip through them for a moment, focusing on all the laughs captured on film, blurry vision moving to your phone beside you, hands already itching to call him again.

It’s as if he knows, still inside your building, lingering in the lobby to give you a moment and it doesn’t take long. Once his phone starts to vibrate he smiles, staring at the photo of you as you call him like clockwork. With a clear of his throat he answers the phone, barely saying hello before he hears a small sniffle through the speaker.

“I miss you Kookie.”

Jungkook lets his eyes shut as he presses the elevator button, loving the feeling of being needed by you, already knowing to head back up because this was routine.

“I know you do baby, I’ll be right up.”

And just like that you’re once again desperately trying to make those stupid puzzle pieces fit together, hoping that maybe this time love would be enough.

#ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #heartsforbts #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts angst #jeon jungkook #new

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keisurou · 3 years

Note

Hi, can you do an angsty fic for kuroo x reader? Doesn’t have to be nsfw if you don’t want it to be, but if you’re okay with it, please do.

forget me not (edited + rewritten ver. here)

(ft. tetsurou kuroo)

synopsis: your love for kuroo is like a forget me not - always there, but constantly overlooked.

This is very short and somewhat angsty (my heart hurts but I’m sure everyone has different tolerances for angst. I’m just a big baby). Thank you so much anon for giving me my very first request!! It was so much fun to write this. I hope you enjoy it :)

When you first met him, you were insanely jealous of Tetsurou Kuroo. Being an overweight, chubby kid with your head always in books was hard enough. But it was worse when there was a smart and athletic kid as your neighbour, no less. You remember blatantly closing your front door in Kuroo’s face when he would stop by your house to invite you to play volleyball, right before muttering something about annoying know-it-alls who never gave up. You hated his idiotic face. Why couldn’t he understand that someone like you could never be friends with someone like him?

But he came by, every afternoon, the same dorky smile plastered on his face. And then on the eve of your twelfth birthday, you asked him to wait.

In middle school, it’s hard to be friends with both girls and boys. You realised this very early on when the girls would shun you for hanging out with Kuroo and Kenma. Of course, you weren’t that fazed because the solution was simple: you could just hang out with the boys instead.

But as you rushed to meet them at the cafeteria, you heard the snickers of rowdy boys as they pointed and teased. Kenma looks uncomfortable, and you can’t blame him. You know very well how mean people could be and why sometimes being alone was much better than being vulnerable with someone else. It was why you and him clicked so quickly within days of meeting each other.

Kuroo stood up and waved, beckoning you over, the same dorky smile you were used to since elementary school plastered on his face. You hesitated only for a moment before walking over, but Kuroo had noticed.

“Don’t pay them any attention. They’re just dumb,” he said this loudly, his voice easily heard by those sitting at nearby tables. “You’re always welcome here. We both want you here,” he nudged Kenma then who jolted his attention from his food to us and quickly nodded in agreement.

It had been raining on the way home that day and the chill had seeped into your bones, but Kuroo’s words from earlier had already instilled a seedling of warmth in your heart in the form of a four leaf clover.

It was in your first year of middle school, when you finally understood what it meant to have all the hope in the word.

In your first year of high school, you’re shocked at how many girls want to be your friend. You quickly find out it’s because of your close friendship with Kuroo.

“I didn’t expect you two to be so close! Can you introduce him to us? Pleaseee?”

It was always hard to say no, but Kuroo’s surprising popularity wasn’t what bugged you.

“Hey, Kenma,” you looked up from your book and stared at your friend as he tapped away at his game console. “Are people surprised when they see you’re close with Kuroo?”

“Huh?” He scrunched up his eyebrows and quickly glanced at you, almost as if to confirm he heard you correctly. “No. That’s stupid, why would it be surprising?”

Why, indeed.

It takes you almost a year to realise it’s because your personality doesn’t match his. Of course, you don’t come to this conclusion yourself. You had heard it amongst the many loud whispers that take place in the girls bathroom, and began to realize that it was true. You never really had understood the excitement that was associated with spreading gossip in the bathrooms, and you disliked it even more so when you heard your name being thrown around.

Girls like you aren’t meant for guys like Kuroo.

But who cares, right? That’s what you had told yourself then. After all, it was you, not them, who was close friends with him. And your silly little heart was content that way.

But in your final year of high school, Kuroo came to the rooftop of the school building where you and Kenma waited. It had been a tradition; every lunch, one of you would go buy bread for everyone. But that day, in the middle of spring, the cherry blossoms had bloomed, and Kuroo brought both bread and his new girlfriend to introduce to his two closest friends. You all exchanged pleasantries, you specifically avoiding eye contact with Kuroo, speaking mostly to his girlfriend, Akari, instead. You bonded quickly - it was hard to not like her when she was so open and honest and relatable. But even though you liked her as a person, your lips threatened to tremble when you and Kenma smiled at them both as you waved goodbye. The silence that follows their departure is deafening, because Kenma knows everything. He doesn’t say anything, because frankly, what’s there to be said? You don’t want to put him in an awkward position between you and Kuroo, so you take out your console and you both start playing together.

Soon, it’s the only thing you ever do during lunch breaks at school anymore.

The mirror stands there, and you slowly avoid it, wrapping a towel around you before you pass it.

It really is a terrible thing, pointing out and magnifying your flaws in such a way that it's burned into your brain so you can never forget it.

Today, you were meeting Kuroo and Kenma for brunch after your lecture this morning. It was the perfect opportunity to skip breakfast.

The restaurant chosen was one they had frequented often. Kuroo and Kenma were already there by the time you arrived.

“So, what do you think?” Kuroo stared down at the box he had placed on the table and pulled at his collar. He was nervous and distracted, you could tell with the way he traced the outlines and shapes of his phone, wallet, and the envelope.

You realise within a moment that he wants someone to believe in himself - to tell him that he’s okay, that he’s doing great. That he’s making her happy. “It’s wonderful,” you break the silence first, and you can’t keep the awe from lacing your words even if you tried. It was such a beautiful gesture, you wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. “Akari’s going to love it so much,”

Kenma follows suit and gives a nod. “It’s very much your style too. And your tastes match hers.”

There’s a light blush that dusts his cheeks and he clears his throat. Your chest tightens as you realize you haven’t seen this side of Kuroo in years. Since your high school graduation, probably. “Thanks guys. I’m so nervous,”

“Yeah, we can tell just by looking at you,” Kenma rolls his eyes and it lightens the entire mood of the table. It’s been a while since all three of you were able to joke and laugh like this. Like before - before Akari had come in and joined the group and all of a sudden, Kuroo had slowly begun to forget everything about you.

The waitress brings the menus around soon, and asks for your orders. Your stomach rumbles silently and you take a quick sip of your water. The thought of eating something and gaining weight makes you a little dizzy. You distinctly remember what happened the last time you stood naked in front of your mirror and you push the menu away. “Oh, I’m fine. I had a big breakfast,”

You let yourself forget about the reality of the here and now, and only for a moment, you imagine what you wished it was like instead.

You escape to a place where you’re finally enough for someone like Kuroo, and a small part of you jumps up to hold onto a slither of hope that dangles right above your fingertips. That one day, just maybe, it could be true.

It’s raining when you receive the news. It’s not the light rain that we hope for on days we don’t want to leave the house - it’s pouring outside with dark thunderclouds. The sound of the rain beating down on your glass windows and doors is deafening.

“She said yes!”

Kuroo bursts in, laughing, his hair slick from the rain, and for a brief moment in time, you think he’s talking about something else. You’re transported to an alternate universe where he’s coming home to you. But then Akari follows suit quickly, her eyes bright and sparkling as she holds up her hand.

There’s a ring on her finger.

Your mug slips from your hands, but you don’t hear the shatter of glass. Instead you let out a delirious laugh, your hands coming over to cover your mouth because you really cannot believe you didn’t see this coming - god, you were so stupid. But what did you expect, really? This was real life after all.

They mistake your laugh for one of ecstasy and you find some relief in the fact that one of your closest friends now knows so little about you. Kenma comes around, his eyes worried as he sits next to you on the sofa. You didn’t even realise his arrival and you apologise before heading to the kitchen to grab a bottle and some glasses. You needed to numb the pain. They needed to celebrate.

Akari has already started recounting the entire scenario by the time you get back to the group and you realize you’re glad that you missed most of it. The unwelcome thought makes you feel terrible.

Kuroi drowns his glass, the telltale sign of his eyes being glazed over a clear sign that you needed to cut him off now. “You know,” he begins, staring right at you, his finger intertwined loving with his fiancée’s. “Up until I met Akari, I always thought it’d be you,”

Your heart stops. You hear a sharp gasp, and realize it came from you but you can’t bring yourself to even look at him. He mistakes your gasp as one of indignation and lets out a genuine laugh.

But he doesn’t understand that it’s the final nail on the coffin.

Akari stirs in his arms, and he carries her up bridal style, everything else forgotten, and claims that it was time to go home. He bids both you and Kenma goodbye and jokes about keeping an eye out for the wedding invitations soon.

You force out a laugh, but you’re so exhausted from pretending that you can’t help but wonder what would happen if you just didn’t.

Kenma shuffles awkwardly at the door after Kuroo leaves and places a warm, comforting hand on your head. His voice is soft as usual but missing the undertones of nonchalance that had quickly become a signature of his. “I know Kuroo said what he did, but you have to understand.. Kuroo, he.. h-he doesn’t really…” he trails off, his voice getting quieter and quieter. You know he means well - he wants you to move on and be happy with someone who loves you like all your friends.

You can’t help but take pity on him, and quickly offer an escape from the impossibility of trying to sugarcoat the ugly truth that continuously returned to tear at your heartstrings. “I know, Kenma. I’m not silly,” you chuckle and you hope he can’t hear the hollowness in it. Your voice strains with the effort to keep it even, and when you swallow, you can feel sharp needles stabbing at your heart. “Men like Kuroo were never made for women like me,”

And this time, you believe it.

It’s 3am and I just finished writing this and my brain is an absolute mess. I’m half tempted to make a second part with a fluffy ending because I had to cut out so much stuff that I wanted to include, but I’m not sure yet. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical mistakes - this entire thing was written on my phone so I think there will be much more than usual but I will be going over to fix up all the mistakes tomorrow. Let me know what y’all think!! But for now, goodnight.

#kuroo tetsuro x you #tetsurou kuroo #kuroo x female reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo angst #hq angst #hq x reader #hq x female reader #hq kuroo #star.writes #haikyuu

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literaila · 4 years

Text

the truth is weightless

spencer reid x reader

part two to “four i love you’s, one goodbye”

you should probably read that first its important.

okay so i was looking through and editing and like an idiot i deleted the post. because i’m an idiot, so if you’ve already seen this... thats why i’m so so sorry... luckily enough i save all of my writing... and tried to remember as much as i could about the rest...

this was requested but theres spoilers so i’m not showing it mwahahahaha

warning: mentions of death, angst, my writing, and lots of crying, blood? i think? maybe?

The shock was palpable.

It lived in Spencer's brain, circling his head for hours a day, a constant nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

He refused to go to her funeral.

He refused to leave his house.

The pain was unbearable.

He spent every day, every day, alone in his small apartment, with all of her things. He lived surrounded by the memory of his best friend, his best friend who he was too late to save, his best friend who loved him with all her heart, his best friend who had died in his arms, died never knowing just how much Spencer loved her.

He couldn't even say the words aloud.

He lived in a constant regret, which swallowed him whole forcing him to live in its dark cave, to live in the bottomless pit, where he couldn't see anything, he was forced into regret with its cold aroma and dark secrets. He lived there, stuck with no way out.

He lived in the cave with the knowledge that he couldn't even admit the truth, the truth that he had so stupidly kept a secret, the truth which he worried might have saved his best friend. He fell deeper and deeper into despair, deeper and deeper down, with regret filling his body whole.

He still couldn't admit it.

He spent each day in his bed, each day surrounded by the boxes his friends had brought from her apartment, brought because he was the closest to her, brought because he was the one that was supposed to go through them and decide what was worth keeping. He spent his days surrounded by all of the things that she wrapped herself in, all the things she had put her heart into and bought, and he didn't even bother looking at them, nonetheless getting rid of what he- what she would never need again.

The others tried to coax him out. Tried to make him understand how worried they were, tried to get him to just get out of bed for one day, to just go outside, to just feel the light on his skin and the air in his lungs.

“Hey Pretty Boy, you know I’m here for you.”

“Come on Genius, we all miss you.”

“Spence, it's going to get better.”

“Reid. I know.”

“Kid, we’ve got a home waiting for you.”

Nothing worked.

The one voice he wanted to hear wouldn't come to the door.

Sometimes, he was almost sure he was forgetting about her, he almost couldn't feel her with him, couldn't hear her voice in his head, couldn't remember the way she looked when she smiled at him, he was almost sure she was disappearing out of thin air.

He knew he couldn't just forget her, knew that the memories of her would never actually go away, but some days, on the days when he needed her words to remind him, on those days he could never remember anything about her. On those days he cried because he didn't want her to leave. He didn't want her to be gone.

On those days it was harder to think about anything.

He refused to go to the funeral.

Her life was worth more than a million parties.

Her life was worth more than some tears, and a couple of speeches.

Her life was worth the world.

So he didn't go. No matter how much anyone begged him to. He never answered the door, never answered the pleas coming out of desperate voices, never answered the angry remarks, never thought about anything except the way he wished he could hear her laugh one more time, just once more.

There was no relief from any of it.

There was no ending to the pain in his heart, that sometimes he worried was killing him, there was no ending the regret that lived deep within his brain, that kept him locked inside of himself with no escape. There was no ending to the memories of her that liked to remind him of how much he had lost, that liked to rewind in his brain, that liked to be played over and over again.

The only ending was hers.

He wondered if she had been in this much pain when she died, he wondered if in some way they were connected by the things that hurt them the most. He wondered if that would be the last connection they ever had.

The consistent pain.

He tried not to remember the look on her face, the words on her lips, the way her chest contracted in pain as she laid there next to him. He tried to not remember her last moments, the only moments she had left, he tried not to remember how helpless she looked, and he tried not to think about the smile she gave him, the smile she always gave him, as a last reminder that she was still alive.

He didn't want to remember any of that.

He didn't want to get out of bed, or take a shower, or eat something, because what was it worth if there wasn't her voice on the other side of the door. What was it worth to even try if the one thing he wanted he would never get.

He still couldn't admit it out loud.

It was until the wellness check, the check that had been forced upon him and his home, it wasn't until then he decided to leave.

His friends, his family, they had forced him out.

Forced him away from the constant pit of loneliness and sorrow he lived in, the pit that he refused to leave no matter how much they tried to push him out of it.

It wasn't until Hotch reminded him, reminded him of what she would think

“She wouldn't want you to live like this Spencer, think about what she would do if she knew what you were doing to yourself.”

It wasn't until he remembered her stubbornness, and her temper, and her undeniable love for him, it wasn't until then he decided to get out of bed.

The rest of the team made themselves busy with cleaning his apartment, with moving the boxes somewhere Spencer wouldn't trip over them, with cleaning his kitchen and washing his clothes.

Spencer didn't have the energy to say thank you.

He sat on the couch and watched his friends take care of him, he stayed silent and tried just to power through the wave of exhaustion that ran through him.

He already wanted to be back in bed.

Staring at his friends, his friends who seemed perfectly fine, his friends who were not weighted down by the emotions they were feeling, staring at his friends who had to take care of him, who could take care of him because they were just fine, staring at them only made him feel pathetic.

It was Derek who stopped to sit with him, it was Derek who saw the dwindling light fading from his eyes, it was Derek who saw his friend starting to fall apart even more just when they all thought they might be able to put him back together.

It was Derek who sat next to him.

‘Hey Kid,' he said, as he sat down on Spencer's small couch.

Spencer didn't react to his voice.

“Spencer.” Derek tried again, this time his voice more firm.

Spencer looked over at him. His eyes looked dull, his cheeks drooped into his skin, his shirt was practically falling off his shoulders. He looked like he hadn't been alive in weeks.

“Kid it's going to be alright.”

Spencer blinked. Just blinked at his friend, just blinked, and thought about how he wanted to go back to bed.

“Spencer I promise. I promise it'll get better.”

Spencer only looked away, but this time, this time Derek saw something different. He saw a crack in the hard stone that made up Spencer, he saw the change in his eyes, the slight flinch in his face.

He tried again.

“Talk to me, Reid.”

It felt like the first time anyone had said anything to him, it felt like the first time he had heard words from anyone but the voices in his head for weeks, it felt like he was finally going to be done, that he was finally allowed to be done.

He looked over at Derek with tears in his eyes. His mouth was quivering, his hands were shaking.

He didn't want to say it, didn't want to admit the truth out loud, out loud where everyone could hear, he didn't want to admit how wrong he had been, he didn't want to say it just didn't want to say it.

He tried to hold it in, tried to keep himself up.

He tried so so hard.

He failed.

“I loved her so much,” he said brokenly, falling apart, all the pieces he had tried to keep together falling on the floor and into the ground, and deep somewhere inside him something broke.

He sobbed.

Derek pulled him in, pulled him closer so he could hug him, so he could remind Spencer that they were still there, that they weren't going anywhere no matter how broken Spencer felt. They would always be there for him.

“I know,” he whispered as Spencer sobbed.

As he sobbed into his shoulder, as he sobbed for his friend, for the girl he had always looked up to, for the person he had never gotten to tell how much he loved her.

He sobbed in the loss of the only person he had ever denied his love too.

He wished he hadn't admitted it.

***

Eventually, he had to get back to work.

The team was splitting up, and they needed as much help as possible.

Spencer had to drag himself out of bed.

Before leaving Hotch had said to take as much time as he needed, that he understood how hard it might be to come back, that he respected whatever decision Spencer made.

But it wasn't enough.

He had to go back, if not for himself, for her, for the people she would want him to save.

He had to do it.

So he worked, and he worked, and he avoided every memory and every ache of his heart. He ignored the constant reminders of her in his brain, and he pretended her picture on the wall of fallen agents, he pretended that picture didn't exist.

He didn't want to think about how she shouldn't have been up there at all.

He put all of his energy into working, into saving all the people he could because he knew that was what she would want, he knew that she would never ever want him to give up on something he had devoted her life to. He knew that if he kept working, if he just kept working, eventually, eventually the pain would fade.

It had for her at least.

He worked on cases, but he also worked on Ian Doyle.

The man had killed two of his friends, two of the most important people he had ever known, and as long as he kept it a secret, he would be fine.

He and Derek kept it as underground as possible, only involving Garcia when necessary.

He became obsessed with working on it.

His mind was constantly running over the different places Doyle might be, was constantly thinking about everything he knew about him, was constantly looking for new ways to find him. He couldn't get the man out of his head.

He pretended he wasn't thinking about the way he had killed her.

He pretended he wasn't thinking about her at all.

He pretended he didn't notice the looks JJ gave him when he was lost in thought when he was simply too tired to say anything, he pretended he didn't notice the way Penelope doted on him, the extra way she made sure he knew she was around. He pretended Derek didn't give him hard looks when he got too invested in a lead he had on Doyle.

He pretended that stupid picture wasn't hanging up where he walked past every day.

He pretended it all wasn't happening.

And he still lived in his constant cave, the only safe place he was familiar with, he lived deep in the dark where no one could see him, where no one could see the pain that was eating at his body, that was biting him to pieces when he didn't have anything other to think about than her. He lived in the darkest, coldest moments he could think of, and he didn't want to leave.

He had become so familiar, so used to the feeling of nothing, to the feeling of pain turning him to pieces, he thought that if it stopped if he felt better for even the littlest moment if it stopped than he would forget her.

He would forget all of the pain she was worth.

He was afraid he wouldn't remember how much she meant to him.

So he never got out, never left the open cave, never searched for the entrance, the little bit of light he thought he saw sometimes in the moments where he finally felt like laughing, he pretended that entrance didn't exist.

He was so cold.

It was like that for months. Just him, and the cave, and the people that kept trying to call out to him, and the voices he ignored.

And the memory of the person he hadn't been brave enough to talk to.

It was like that for months. Until, until there was a sign.

Until there was a picture of Doyle, the slightest glance of him until they finally knew where he was.

Spencer felt frozen staring at the man. Staring at the cause of the pain he felt tearing him apart.

Derek had to take care of it from there.

Spencer was sent to take care of Doyle’s son, and he wasn't sure if it was because Rossi needed his help, or if everyone was too worried, too scared of what he would do if he saw Doyle.

He wondered that himself.

He tried to breathe, to remind himself that it was almost over, that he had almost gotten the justice she deserved, the justice both of his friends deserved.

He sat back, he tried his very best to keep the straight head, to help out in any way he could, to remember everything he knew, to remember all the things that could help them, that could save a little boy.

He tried his very best to not fall apart at the thought of her, at the thought of her death, at the thought of the man that had caused her death, he tried to keep himself together, for her, her, for her.

Her.

He felt almost useless.

But his family was coming back, all of his family was going to be there, they were all looking for the same thing now, there was no more keeping secrets, or doing all the work with just Derek, now he had all of them.

When Hotch came back there was a moment of joy in his heart, just a moment of him feeling relieved that his boss was there, it was only a moment. The tiniest moment imaginable. But he felt terrible.

She died, she died because of him, she died because he wasn't fast enough, she died and he wasn't allowed to forget that.

He was really trying to not forget that.

He shouldn't be allowed to move out of his darkness, to leave the cave that surrounded him, she wasn't allowed to come back, and he shouldn't have been allowed to leave, he should have to feel the pain for the both of them.

Glue all the pieces together, for her.

Just figure it all out for her.

Avenge her.

Then, after that, feel the pain.

Back in the cave.

He just had to remember.

***

They all sat around the conference table. Hotch had told them he had important information, he had something that he had to tell all of them.

Spencer wondered when it would be over.

He wondered when he would finally be allowed to go back home, to go back and be alone, he wondered when he could finally turn his mind off, could finally stop remembering everything, could finally just go to sleep. He wondered when it was finally going to be done.

He hoped it would be soon.

He was exhausted.

But Hotch had something to tell them, he had something that Spencer needed to hear.

Spencer needed to be awake for that, he needed to listen as much as he could.

His body was sinking under him, practically shriveling away because of the sleep deprivation, and the malnutrition, and the pain the pain

He kept his eyes on Hotch.

“Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team…As you all know Emily and Y/N had lost a lot of blood after their fights with Doyle... But the Doctors were able to stabilize them.”

Spencer felt lost, felt his mind running over the memory of JJ telling them they hadn't made it, felt himself remembering the sound of his heart breaking, the feeling of all his blood rushing to his brain. He didn't understand, they were not stable, the doctors had not been able to save them.

His mind was connecting dots, and running over everything, and he refused.

He refused to believe he was right.

“Their identities were strictly ‘need to know’… And they stayed there until both of them were well enough to travel, they were reassigned to Paris together where they were both given several identities none of which we had access to, for their security”

No.

No, they died. Spencer remembered. He remembered.

He shook his head.

That was a lie, it was all a lie because they had both died, because she had stopped breathing in his arms, because she had said goodbye to him, because she had left, because he had locked himself away, because she was gone, because she was gone, she was gone she was gone

She was gone.

She wasn't walking through the doors, she wasn't there, she wasn't really in the room, this had to be a joke, had to be a dream had to be something that was meant to hurt Spencer, because it was working it was really working because the pain was there because he was being torn apart because this wasn't real this wasn't real

“Hi,” she said.

And it wasn't real, and it couldn’t have been real, Spencer was just hearing things, he was just stressed, just wrapped up in everything because she wasn't really there she wasn't really there she wasn't she wasn't.

He was still shaking his head.

And his eyes were stinging, and he felt like she was laughing at him, he felt like they were all laughing at him because this was a joke because this wasn't real because this wasn't happening.

“No.” He said, he said, so quick, and so insistently.

He had to be making this up because he wanted to see her because they wouldn't have lied because she wouldn't have left without telling him because this wasn't happening.

He walked past her, past all of them, past the girl who had been mourning for months, past the girl he was imagining.

He pretended he didn't feel the way his shoulder brushed against hers.

***

He was supposed to go to Hotch with any issues. He was supposed to blame him because he had called the order because she was alive she was alive she was still breathing.

He was supposed to go to Hotch with any problem he had.

She was alive.

Shock was keeping him a hostage everywhere he went.

She had tried to talk to him, had tried to explain to him, had tried to smile at him, to smile at him with the smile he thought he would never ever see again, with the smile he imagined so many times, for so many months.

He didn't even look at her.

He couldn't look at the person he thought he would never see again.

Shock was holding him back, keeping him from accepting the truth, keeping him from saying anything to anyone.

She was alive.

It wasn't real.

He was going to wake up, wake up anytime, and she was going to be gone, and the pain the pain he felt the pain he had forced himself to feel for months, he would go back to that, he was going to wake up and it would all go back to normal.

He thought that the pain from before, the heart breaking pain of never seeing her again, he thought that that pain was much better than the one he was feeling now, at least he had a reason for that pain, at least with that pain he didn't have to live with the overwhelming shock.

Doyle had been caught, the man that Spencer had tried his hardest to find- for her it was all for her -and that came with repercussions of its own.

The team was forced to go under trial, was forced to recount everything that happened, was forced to prove to the judge that they were worth keeping their jobs.

Spencer still wasn't talking to her, even when she tried to go up to him, even when she called him with the new phone he had gotten, even when the team pulled him away from work and took him out, even then he refused to talk to her.

He was so terrified.

He wanted it all to be real, wanted it all to be real, didn't want to have to wake up to the dream he was living.

He still wasn't sure if it was real at all.

It took weeks, weeks of putting her things back together, weeks of trying to get back to work, weeks of getting everything ready so she could get back to her life, weeks of overwhelming changes that came with being gone for half a year.

It took weeks for her to get Spencer alone.

She knew he didn't want to talk to her, she couldn't tell if it was because he was angry, angry that they lied, or if it was because he didn't want to talk to her, didn't want to learn about the persons she had become in the months they had been apart.

She didn't care.

She loved him, she still loved him so much, so much that he’d been the only reason she got better, the only reason she had stayed away from him for so long. Her love hadn't faded, hadn't removed itself from every inch of her body even a little bit, and he had to know.

He had to know how sorry she was.

It took weeks to get the chance to talk to him.

It was a celebratory party, one celebrating Emily and her, one celebrating the jobs that they were allowed to keep. It was a celebration.

And Spencer still felt dead on his feet, still felt like he wasn't allowed to talk, wasn't allowed to look at her.

He could barely stand to feel her body heat, to feel her presence from across the room.

So he found a balcony, one that was big enough for him to not feel as claustrophobic, one that looked up at the stars.

That's where she found him.

She just watched him for a moment, she appreciated the peaceful look on his face, the look she hadn't seen on him in months, she appreciated him just standing there. When he was standing there he reminded her a little bit more of the friend she had left behind.

She stared for a couple of minutes.

And then Spencer started to feel it.

He felt the change in the air, the shift in the mood, he felt the body language coming from her almost ten feet away, and he could practically smell the perfume he hoped she still used.

He turned around.

And he looked at her.

Accidentally.

And he felt his heart being torn apart.

She looked beautiful, she was smiling a soft smile, her eyes were alive and bright, her skin was glowing and Spencer could feel the warmth reflecting off of her onto him.

It was the first time he had looked at her since he’d found out.

And she was beautiful.

He felt his heart shattering into pieces at the realization of just how much he had missed her, at just how much his heart had longed for her to come back, at the feeling of the empty space she’d left behind being filled.

He had no idea how to deal with the feeling.

He was so overwhelmed.

“Hey, Spence.”

And he felt himself sob at the sound of her voice.

At the words, he had imagined her saying so many times, at the gentle vibration, at the gentle tone she always used with him, at the sound of the voice he had longed for, the voice he had kept hidden in his head for so long.

She was alive.

“Oh, Spencer.” She said as she walked over to him, as she grabbed his arm as she touched him for the first time in months.

He sobbed harder at her touch.

And he desperately grabbed onto her.

He desperately held her.

He relaxed in the feel of her arms around him, in the feel of her gentle curves, at the feeling of her just being there.

She was just there.

He held on to her tighter.

He was so afraid she was going to leave, that she was going to disappear out of thin air, that she was going to be gone, that she was going to leave just like she had before.

“Please don't leave.” he choked out, his voice breaking, his eyes terrified, his body falling to pieces in her hands, in the hands of the person he had missed for so long.

Tears fell from her eyes at his words.

“I’m not going to Spence. I’m not leaving you again,” she assured him, she said completely sure that it was the truth.

“Y/N” he sobbed again, his body shaking as he held her, as he said her name, as he said the one word he hadn't muttered in months.

She was actually there.

Y/N breathed him in, she held onto him, she tried to search for the words that would convince him, that would tell him that she was never going to leave, that she would never leave him again, that she couldn't stand to be apart from him.

They stood there, together, just together, for the first time in so long, they stood there and they held each other, held the pieces together.

She was alive.

Spencer tried to breathe, he tried to control himself, he pulled back so he could look at her again, so he could memorize everything about her, all the things he was worried he would forget, he looked at her and felt the air finally make it to his lungs as a sweet relief, he felt his entire body-calming, his darkness moving out of the way at just the sight of her face again.

“Y/N.” he said again, his voice less desperate, but his tone more final.

He was trying to convince himself of the truth again.

“Spencer,” she said back, she said quietly. And she smiled at him.

And he couldn't help but smile back, he couldn't help but appreciate the truth at that moment, he couldn't help but feel the cool relief rush through his burning body, rush through all of the things he was trying to keep calm.

“I love you,” she said.

And Spencer felt amazed.

It wasn't a goodbye, it wasn't like last time, she wasn't desperate, or scared, or in pain, she was right there in front of him, admitting the words, admitting the truth that he hadn't been brave enough to say, she was right in front of him and she was telling him she loved him, and she was alive she was alive and-

He loved her. He loved her so much, he loved her more than he loved anything else, he missed her more than anything, and he wasn't going to let her go. He wasn't going to ever let her go.

No, she wasn't saying goodbye this time.

She was,

“I love you.” he choked out, his words blocked by the bliss in his chest, the exhilaration in his body, his words hidden behind the tears he was letting run down his cheeks.

This wasn't a goodbye.

“I love you.”

It was

Hello.

my masterlist here

do you get it? goodbye? hello? dsfshds look at me connecting the dots i’m so funny thank you so much for reading

taglist: @fiftyshadesof-reid @gublerspublers @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @jamesdeerest

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg blurb #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds rp #criminal minds headcanons

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writing-gifts · 3 years

Text

both sides of the viewfinder ch. 2

adult film star!bruno x afab!reader (they are also gn)

18+ content

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

-----

A/N: okay so this story is actually 4 chapters long now, the 2nd chapter was way longer than i would have liked (and taking too long to edit all at once) so i split it in half

um ig that's it, there’s a cheating scenario porn being filmed this chapter, like its literally the beginning of this chapter so warning for that

other than that i hope you like the chapter!

-----

You hold back the laugh in your chest and try your best to keep a relaxed face. But you didn't have great control when it came to stuff like this and realized quickly in life that you probably wouldn't make it as an actor. However the director still thought it was fine to put you in as an extra with speaking parts.

He said your acting didn't need to be believable or good just that you need to say the lines. That was objectively true--it was porn--but if you cracked a smile people would definitely notice.

You were playing the oblivious person having a conversation with your "best friend". And said friend was getting railed in the shower by your boyfriend who was being played by Bruno. Why you were trying to have a serious conversation while she was showering was completely lost on you. But it didn't have to make sense.

You stare at yourself in the mirror above the sinks. The way the restroom was set up had the shower and toilet in its own separate, little room. So it wasn't completely easy to tell what your friend was really up to.

"My boyfriend's been acting strange recently," you say. You try to sound down but come off more inconvenienced.

"What do you mean?"

The door to the shower room was open so you could hear your friend well even with the water running. So of course you notice her voice wobble at the end. You can't tell if she added that intentionally or if Bruno found a particularly good spot. You ignore it though since you weren't actually supposed to notice anything just yet.

"He doesn't seem very interested in me anymore? Like he doesn't want to have sex with me. And it's kinda weird since he always wanted to before!"

"Ah--!"

“Huh?” you reply, genuinely confused. That wasn't on the script but you knew pretending you didn't hear it would be worse.

“Ahhh, maybe something has been upsetting him recently?” she suggests.

"Oh...perhaps you're right." You move to pull out your phone from your pocket. "It's been bothering me so much so maybe I'll call him right now--"

"D-Don't stop!"

You turn towards the shower room. "What? Are you good? You sound like you're exercising in there."

"Yes yES--I'm good! Just hot in here…"

That sounded so real and it has you wondering what the hell Bruno's doing.

You pause for a split second too long and almost forget to say your next line. "Uh so you...don't want me to call him?"

"No, don't call him. You should s-speak to him in person!" Your friend seemed to finally get her voice under control.

"Oh! That's definitely a better idea." You put your phone away. "I think I'll head home now actually and wait for him. Thanks for hearing me out!"

With that you exit the bathroom set and breathe a sigh of relief. Now all that was left to do was wait for filming to finish and then you could head home for the day.

You join the crew and from where you're standing you can easily watch the two actors go. It was actually kind of nice to watch.

While you stare, Bruno seems to glance in your direction. You raise a brow, wondering why he looked over here and turn around to look behind you, but there's nothing of note there.

-----

"You're not going home yet?"

You turn in your chair. Bruno stands at the door watching you with crossed arms.

"Nope. I'm finishing this up for one of the editors--they weren't feeling well--and I don't want to take it home with me."

"I see," he says. He then walks in the room and pulls up a chair next to you which catches you off guard.

"You don't have to stick around! I'm probably gonna be here up until midnight."

"That's okay. I don't want to leave you here all alone. What are you editing anyways?"

"Well I'm working on one of your porns. The one you did last week."

Bruno leans forward, getting in your space, to see the screen.

"Ah, the one with Leone! That one was really nice, but I always enjoy working with him."

"Yea the two of you have great chemistry."

Abbacchio was a grumpy bitch but somehow the two of them got along pretty well. Bruno seemed to get along with most people easily though.

The man places his elbow on the desk and rests his head in his hand.

"So did you like it?"

"Like what?" you ask.

"The film."

The look in his eye was one that was quite familiar but why it was there, you weren't completely sure.

You feel your heart skip a beat. "I mean...I did."

Bruno smiles and you immediately feel yourself getting hot.

"What did you like about it? If you don't mind me asking."

A small smile comes to your lips. "W-Well you're in it, that's one. I like when I can tell the actors are genuinely having a good time. And both you and Abbacchio are attractive. Your m-moans were pretty nice too."

"They sound better when they come naturally hm?"

"Can't disagree with that!"

You turn your attention back to the screen. As much as you'd like entertaining Bruno you still need to get this done.

"You seem less reserved in person compared to when we message on Twitter."

"Really? It's usually the opposite for people…" you say.

"I know that's why I find it interesting." The man pauses for a moment before talking again. "Remember when you said you watched some of my work?"

You nod.

"For fun?"

You raise a brow but still answer. "I like to judge the camerawork, but sometimes I do for fun.”

Even though you were kind of over porn, there were the few times that you used it to help get off. And when you did you usually found yourself seeking out media involving Bruno.

Bruno lets out a laugh. "That's good to know."

You purse your lips at his smug expression. The man is definitely trying to mess with you. Of course you didn't mind some teasing but being the only one receiving wasn't your forte. Also you didn't want to be here all night.

"I need to finish this. You can stay but you can't keep distracting me like that..."

"Of course."

You look at him warily before getting back to work. Even though Bruno didn't really seem it, he definitely had a mischievous side.

The man watches the screen (and sometimes you), keeping you company with more innocent chat while you work. It actually makes time pass by faster.

You end up finishing earlier than you expect and thank Bruno for staying with you. The man offers to drive you home but you decline and take the bus instead.

The moment you're in your bedroom, your body hits the bed--no night routine or clothes change. You'd just have to deal with it in the morning.

It barely feels like you've been asleep before you hear your alarm go off. You grab your phone and shut it off.

Sighing, you risk closing your eyes for a few more seconds. You weren't ready to go back to work but after a minute you force yourself out of bed and stretch.

You head straight to the bathroom to start your day by brushing your teeth and multi-task with your phone--checking your work email and replying to any missed messages that you didn't get to last night. Other than that your morning starts off pretty uneventful.

While you're eating breakfast you get a message on Twitter.

Bruno: Morning.

You reply with your own good morning. The message surprised you but it was a pleasant one.

Bruno: How are you feeling? Not too tired I hope.

You: i'm okay now that i've had some coffee

You: how's your day going so far?

Bruno: The usual. I'm walking over to a restaurant nearby to get something to eat.

You: ooo sounds yummy 😋

You: what ya gonna get?

Bruno: I'm not sure yet but I'll send a picture when I do.

you: noo i'll be jealous, i'm literally eating cereal right now. but also please do send it

Bruno: I can bring you a to-go box if you want.

Your spoon stops halfway to your mouth.

You: i mean it's still good cereal so you don't have to

Bruno: It's fine. I like feeding people, at least that's how one of my friends phrased it!

You: well…..okay 👉👈

You: thanks ❤

Bruno: You're welcome.

Bruno: ❤

-----

"Off day today?" you ask.

Bruno drags his fingers through his hair and sighs. Other than that, he doesn't show any frustration.

"I planned for today to be short, then I could head home but as you can see it's not really going as planned. And all these lights…." He looks at you. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you're tired too."

"No, no it's okay. It’s totally my fault! We can take a break if you want?"

The studio had been dabbling with more amateur work lately so the director had left you and Jocelyn to handle this, and Jocelyn had decided it would be fine if you were on your own for this film. You weren't sure why you agreed since you had only been here about a month at this point and didn't feel completely comfortable. But you did and it was proving to be very nerve wracking. It affected your work and dragged this out longer than necessary.

“And honestly, I should probably take one too," you add.

Bruno agrees and you grab the man's robe and place it on his shoulders. While He slips back on his briefs you turn to the small crew.

“Guys lets take a 15 minute break.”

Everyone gives their okays and most of the crew leaves the room while a few check the equipment or their phones.

You tell Bruno where you're going and head outside to get some fresh air.

You try to use the time to relax but instead end up walking back and forth, worrying about the film and Bruno. The man was still able to act the part but you stopping and going so often was definitely affecting his performance. And you really didn't want him to have to act out every motion.

You stop walking and lean against the wall of the building. While waiting for the break to end you see someone approaching from the parking lot. The editor you helped before when they weren't feeling well.

You push yourself off the walls and meet them part way with a greeting.

"Hey Eli."

"What's up ____...You good? You look kinda stressed."

"I guess I am. Sorry for asking so suddenly but could you do me a favor?"

"What type of favor?"

"I'm supposed to film this amateur video of Bruno masturbating, and I've been having a hard time for some reason. I don't want to keep Bruno trapped here all day for something like this. But I don't know if my shots are usable...Do you think you can check for me?"

They hum in thought. “____ I'm going to be honest with you. It sounds like you're overthinking this. I mean, it’s called amateur for a reason. It doesn't need to be super high quality or “perfect” shots! That's probably why they let you direct it on your own."

At that moment everything clicked.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way though!"

"No, you're right. Thanks!"

You leave before they can respond and head back to the set room. On your way there, you go find a different camera. Something smaller and less complicated that will still capture good quality shots--perfect for what you were about to do.

When everyone returns from their break you have most of the lights brought down and let the whole crew go.

"Bruno I know you do videos on your own. So we're pretty much gonna do it like that now. Except that I'm here...uh.” You laugh. “You know what I mean."

Bruno smiles at the camera in a way you could only describe as cute.

"I understand. I’m ready to go whenever you are."

You nod and give the signal.

Right away, his light smile transforms into something more alluring. He leans back on the multiple soft pillows set against the headboard and lets out a relaxed sigh.

You give Bruno a moment to prepare himself and when you see the outline of his cock already hardening through his briefs, you internally breathe a sigh of relief.

"It's been awhile since I've last done this."

He props a arm atop the pillows. "Now that it's happening, I just realized I've missed it."

You want to ask what he means but bite your lip instead. Maybe it was some type of roleplay.

He drags a hand up his thigh before stopping at the bulge between his legs, and you can't help the thought of running your own hands against those legs.

He hums. "You know, I have a hard time keeping you out of my mind at night."

Your stomach flips but you make sure to keep your breathing controlled.

His thumbs hook under the band of his briefs and you lean a bit forward without thinking, anticipating what you had seen many times before. But for the first time in a long time you feel yourself slipping from your work frame of mind. Maybe it was inappropriate but you were sure Bruno wouldn't mind.

After teasing you for way longer than you would like, the corners of Bruno's lips quirk upward and he finally pulls down the band to reveal himself.

Bruno's cock stands erect and his brow furrows. "Look what you're doing to me..." His head lolls to the side to rest against the pillows and his breath hitches when he begins to stroke himself.

You focus on his handsome face for a moment. His blue eyes are piercing and it feels like he's looking past the camera and straight at you at you.

Your fingers twitch on the camera. You'd never wanted to touch someone so bad in your life.

-----

Bruno: Can I get your advice on something?

You: yea, what is it?

Bruno: I want to post some photos on my OnlyFans but idk which one to use on Twitter though. Can you help me decide?

You: ooo of course!

He sends 3 pictures of him wearing different elaborate lingerie. They must have been new since you're sure you'd never seen them before. Anyways, you're a millimeter away from sending a photo of a cartoon character with their jaw on the floor.

You: idk if i can decide! any of them would be enough to get me on your onlyfans...

Bruno: Thank you but you still have to pick one.

You scroll back and forth looking through them. The pictures were teasing, hinting at what was to come and they were all very sexy. But after staring for too long you finally make a choice.

You: the third one!

Bruno: Why?

You: ….it shows your tiddies the most 💁

Bruno: I thought you were going to say something about the framing or lighting...

You: LOL

You: i can look at them again?

Bruno: No it's okay. I'll use the tiddy picture.

Bruno: Thank you.

You: no problem!

You: soooo when are you posting the full set?

Bruno: Trust me, I'll let you know right beforehand. 😏

You: 😳

-----

You walk down the hallway slightly annoyed. Jocelyn just informed you that you would be covering for one of your coworkers last minute. It was inconvenient but not that big of a deal. That is until you found out that Melone was one of the actors.

When you first met him, he seemed to keep to himself for the most part. But recently he had become fixated on you. Every break in filming he’d approach you.

At first it wasn't so bad and you thought he was trying to be friendly, but it didn't take long for you to start feeling uncomfortable. Some of the questions he asked made you feel weird--it wasn't anything you weren't used to but the way he asked them... And when you tried to steer the conversation into a different direction he didn't take the hint. On top of all this, you didn't see him do this with anybody else.

You walk into the breakroom and find Bruno snacking. He greets you but quickly realizes something's up.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

The leather couch that you hate creaks when you fall back on it.

“Well I have to unexpectedly help with more camera work today. And Melone's going to be there so he's definitely going to be talking my ear off.”

You try to sound indifferent about it but Bruno says something you don't expect.

"I can talk to Jocelyn and get you out of it."

"Huh? No, no you don't need to do that. That's a silly reason to try to skip out."

"Well, how about I say it like this? I'm done for today and I would like to take you out to eat with me."

You smile. "That does sound nice..."

"Okay, it's settled then. I'll go talk to her and then we can go."

Once Bruno comes back the both of you walk to his car.

"Eating mostly oatmeal and vegetables for the last 2 days hasn't been very satisfying," he says as he opens the passenger door for you.

You get in and wait for him to walk around to get in the driver side.

"It sucks but at least you can eat whatever now. Where are we eating by the way?"

"Bertolino's--it's nearby. I'm craving pizza. Or pasta."

You feel your stomach grumble pleased with the thought.

"You could do both, kinda like macaroni pizza."

Bruno glances at you. "That sounds...unpleasant."

"Oh so you've tried it?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

You watch him try to wrack his brain for a rebuttal and fail.

"...It still sounds bad though," he says.

"Try it first then we can talk."

You reach out and poke the man's cheek. He immediately shoos your hand away and throws a miffed look at you.

"Hey, I'm trying to drive."

You grin but leave him alone. This was the first time you'd get to spend time with Bruno outside of work so you were a little restless and couldn't help messing with him.

"This is probably the most excited I've seen you," he says.

"Yea--just happy to be outside of work!"

"Is Melone that much of a problem?"

"No...well he can be a lot but it's not really a big issue. I'm just happy to get to spend time with you is what I meant."

Bruno's doesn't respond right away and you wonder if you said something wrong.

"If he's bothering you I can handle it," he finally says.

You let out a laugh. "Are you going to beat him up?"

"If necessary."

You stop smiling when you realize he isn't joking and conclude that he doesn't like Melone. You wonder what the man could have done to get on Bruno's bad side though since he seemed to get along with everyone.

"I feel the same by the way," Bruno says.

"Huh?"

"About getting to spend time together."

You and Bruno spend the next hour and a half sharing a pizza and talking. And the two of you learn a few things about the other that didn't involve work. Like that he wears glasses to read and that he had a dyeing "accident" with his hair recently.

Afterwards you didn't really feel like going back to work so Bruno drives you home.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thanks for the meal and ride."

Bruno smiles. His mood seems better now that he's eaten. "You're welcome. We should do this again sometime."

"Yeah, I'd like that." And instead of saying goodbye and getting out of the car, you sit there expecting--expecting something.

The both of you stare at one another until Bruno leans towards you. His lips meet yours and for some reason his breath smells like mint.

Before you can worry about your own breath, Bruno's hand is on your thigh and sliding up. His tongue presses against your lips, coaxing you to part them.

The beating in your chest feels so hard and your hands clinch next to your thighs. You want to reach out for Bruno and make a mess out of him, but you feel like you're running out of breath way too quickly.

You pull away.

Bruno immediately moves his hand off your leg. "What's wrong?"

You weren't really sure yourself. You just knew something was bothering you. Or maybe that was just the food you ate trying to digest. Either way it was preventing you from fully enjoying this.

"I'm not sure but I think it's best if we stop for now."

He nods but you worry he might be a little disappointed.

"That's fine," he says.

"It's not because I'm not interested! It's just something's off. Please dont think I'm not attracted to you."

"I'm not upset ____." He smiles. "I want you to be comfortable."

"Whew, okay.."

"Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?" he asks.

"That's okay. Thanks though."

You brush a misplaced hair behind his ear and press a quick kiss to his lips. Once you pull back, you open the car door and step out.

"Stay safe," he says.

"You too. I'll message you later."

#i sure do love dragging things out!#im excited for the last chapter cause i wanna post something resort-y #like hell yea vacation!#ive never been to a resort in my life so we are going to pretend lmao #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno x reader #not sfw #n$fw

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH50

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

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-----

Chapter 50: Purgatory Reunion (II) {cw: misgendering}

Qi Leren slept for eight hours, and when he was woken up by the alarm clock, he roughly pressed it off, wishing to close his eyes and fall back into the darkness of sleep.

His head was still aching, and the blood vessels near his temples were throbbing, making Qi Leren wonder if they were going to burst open. As well, his body felt uncomfortable. It was like he had been curled up in a narrow box all night, and none of his parts were intact.

This shouldn't be. When he was training with Chen Baiqi before, he’d woken up alive and kicking. Why was he so tired this time?

Away from the borders of the Village of Dusk, the outside world changed between day and night. Now it was morning, and warm sunlight shone through the window pane. Qi Leren sat up and stretched, and his bones made a frightening crack sound, startling him.

"You up? Come and have breakfast, then," the Illusionist said with a dull tone from behind the curtain.

Qi Leren got up and took two pieces of bread coated with jam from the Illusionist: "How long before we can get to the Underground Ant City?"

"Landing in three hours, then walking into the Dragon Ant Queen’s sphere of influence. If it goes well, it will take two days," said the Illusionist lazily.

"It’ll take that long?" Qi Leren was in a hurry. Today was the 25th day since completing the Holy City task. In the game, Ning Zhou had been on the 29th day when...

Even if they crossed the desert smoothly, that would leave him with only two days!

In the huge Underground Ant City, amidst the vast crowd of people, this was too little time.

Fortunately... Fortunately, he wasn’t without any leads.

Qi Leren recalled the information gathered from the game and his dream. He knew where the flowing red magma was. It was a lake of fire in the depths of Purgatory. Legend had it that it was a projection in the human world of Hell’s own lake of fire. On the last day of Ning Zhou's life, he would be there...

Qi Leren couldn't think. When he thought about Ning Zhou, his mind would become blank from the uncontrollable fear. He didn't dare to think about what kind of mood Ning Zhou was in as he was gradually awakening to his demonic power. He didn’t dare to think about how whose death had led to this. He didn’t dare to think about whether he was full of disappointment and despondency with the world at the last moment of his life, and whether he... whether he remembered his dead lover?

Qi Leren tried to find a reason for why Ning Zhou still lingered in this world. He had suffered too much in his life: his only relative had died long ago, and his lover whom he had not yet had time to confess to was buried in the Holy City. His holy land had exiled him and no longer recognized his piety, and even his last faith could not be preserved—he became the devil he hated most.

Perhaps for the present Ning Zhou, death was a relief.

"Hey," the Illusionist suddenly called.

Qi Leren turned to look at him: "What is it?"

The Illusionist looked at him with a strange and slightly disgusted expression: "Your expression just now… I really can't stand it."

Saying this, he exaggeratedly rubbed his arms.

Qi Leren: ???

"I think being in love is too hard for you. It's better to be single than to chase after your husband to Purgatory." The Illusionist, dressed as a professional woman, pushed the women's glasses up the bridge of his nose as he spoke.

"It's good to be single, but what's the difference between being single and being widowed?" Qi Leren said. In the days before he’d met Ning Zhou, he had lived very well. If he hadn't met Ning Zhou, this kind of life could be regarded as happiness. But after meeting Ning Zhou, he missed him, and he couldn't let go for the rest of his life.

The Illusionist felt that he had been gloated to.

Qi Leren couldn't feel the Illusionist’s resentment. He continued to flip through the information about the Underground Ant City. When he saw something he questioned, he asked, "’The Dragon Ant Queen’s field.’ Is the Underground Ant City also a field?"

"Oh, yes, it's the same as the Village of Dusk... You don't know, do you?" The Illusionist gave him a disdainful oblique look.

In fact, Qi Leren, who had only learned about this during the last copy, could avoid making a fool of himself. He calmly asked, "I know, but why are the Village of Dusk and the Village of Dawn so similar? Is it because the original force of these two fields are both time?"

The Illusionist changed his expression and asked angrily, "You know too much. Who told you that? Chen Baiqi? She shouldn’t know this information."

"It wasn’t her." Qi Leren knew that Chen Baiqi didn't have this information. When she had learned that Su He came from the Village of Dawn, she’d respected him.

"Don't ask, this isn’t something you should know," the Illusionist said, glancing at him.

Qi Leren still has a lot of questions, but the Illusionist stated that he wouldn’t reveal any information to him, so he had to forget about it. The two people then talked about some things about the Underground Ant City: there was the Dragon Ant Queen's sphere of influence—although it was also a field, it was not a normal field. The dragon ant queen was not an individual person, but a name passed down from generation to generation.

Every Dragon Ant Queen would choose her successor after she grew old, and pass on the Underground Ant City’s field to the next one through a special means. This inherited field was different from other fields, and had natural defects inside it.

In the ancient legend, the original Underground Ant City was created by a group of queens who had led their people. In the giant cave deep within the Sea of Tranquility desert, there was a natural gap between the two worlds, which connected the underworld and the human world. However, the seal was still firm at that time, and most demons could not pass through this gap. Only the dragon ants gnawed through the gap with their own talents and were able to move between the two worlds.

The demon queens, who had been excluded by the underworld, were very satisfied with this underground cave which had accumulated water for millions of years. They led their people to settle here and decided to create the glory of dragon ants here.

The initial establishment was very difficult, but they soon gained a firm foothold. Once the external crisis was lifted, the queens began to fight cruelly for power. Finally, a powerful queen killed her competitors and became the Dragon Ant Queen.

After the first Dragon Ant Queen ascended to the throne, she led the dragon ant demons to expand wildly, and brought the Sea of Tranquility desert’s parish under the demons’ rule. This move angered the Holy See, which surrounded this group of unscrupulous demons. Finally, the Dragon Ant Queen decided to retreat back to the underground of the Sea of Tranquility desert—a huge underground cave with an underground network extending in all directions, just like ants' nests.

The wonderful thing was that the entrance to this nest was narrow and led straight down. The army couldn't enter here without having to parachute down at the mouth of the cave. This terrain blocked the Holy See and allowed this group of demons to thrive in this area.

After weighing the losses, the Holy See decided to give up the encirclement and suppression, and the two sides signed a peace treaty. The Dragon Ant Queen promised not to slaughter human beings, and to never leave the Underground Ant City’s sphere of influence, and ensured that all intelligent life such as human beings and demons would be treated equally in the Underground Ant City.

So this time, the small-scale conflict subsided. Before the death of the first Dragon Ant Queen, she passed on her field to her successor in a way that has not yet been declassified. Since then, the Dragon Ant Queens had passed on this ancient field in the same way. Until 22 years ago—when the first war of demons invading the human world had broken out, and the Destroyer led the demon army to break through the gap between the two worlds and come to the peaceful and rich human world...

"The Dragon Ant Queen is still alive?" Qi Leren asked, looking through the information.

"Yeah, but she's almost dead," the Illusionist said.

"Generally speaking, the Dragon Ant Queen represents the neutral force among demons, which is determined by her original force... But the Dragon Ant Queen has an obvious tendentiousness..." Qi Leren said. His eyes fell on a certain line of words in the data, and she looked at it for a long time.

"She’s a follower of the Lord of Destruction, but her own strength is contradictory to him. We also don’t know why she would follow a Devil King who was contrary to her own original force. Maybe the new Dragon Ant Queen will change her allegiance. After all, 'power' is the most worthy for 'order' to follow," said the Illusionist.

It was no secret that the Dragon Ant Queen’s original force was quite neutral, and could even be assumed to be on the side of the holy camp, because she represented "order".

However, even though this demon’s original force was order, she had followed the Destroyer without hesitation more than 20 years ago.

Qi Leren still knew little about "original force". Before he left, Chen Baiqi had given him an urgent remedial lesson, but couldn’t say too much because of the limited time. He only knew that the precondition for field condensation was to condense a half field, and before half field condensation, he had to find his own original force first.

Qi Leren was very lucky. Although he had had a narrow escape… No, he really had died once, but at the moment before his death, he had found his original force and received the law’s reward, which pulled him back from the edge of death.

This power was called "rebirth".

Thinking carefully, he had actually been reborn countless times. Every time he saved and loaded S/L Data, he was reborn. Otherwise, how could he explain the countless tombstones on the Undead Island? Those tombstones were born perhaps because every time, he really was "dead", but he was born again and returned to the moment he had saved.

In this regard, Chen Baiqi said to him: "The door to the new world has been opened to you. Take a peek at the magic of the other side from the gap. It’s great luck to see the wonder of that realm with your own eyes, because most people are too weak to push this unique door open."

Qi Leren could read a kind of faint loss and melancholy from her face. He couldn't help but wonder about Chen Baiqi's experience of condensing a half field only to break it. When she stepped up that step, how high-spirited was she? How painful had it been when she fell down? And Ning Zhou... His half field was also broken.

Was it different? Once upon a time, Qi Leren hadn't even thought about it.

He had always felt that he was a very ordinary person, with the advantages and disadvantages of ordinary people, and that human weakness and compromise are equally indispensable to him. He didn't have much initiative, and he didn't want to make a huge leap, but just wanted to live his life in an ordinary way.

If he had stayed in the real world, maybe this ordinary and mediocre ideal could be realized, but here…

It was doomed to be impossible.

"What if… What if I say I want to push this door open?" Qi Leren had suddenly asked.

Chen Baiqi paused for a cigarette, and the flame of the match shone a little light in her hand blocking the wind, which lit up her slender eyebrows. As if she had seen him for the first time, this woman carefully examined his expression. Qi Leren looked at her without shying away, eager to get an answer from her mouth.

"Oh, why?" Chen Baiqi asked.

Qi Leren laughed, firm, but shy, and his earnest eyes seemed to shine.

"Because I want to protect him."

-----

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uas-fics · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Title: How to Train A Champion and Keep Your Reputation Intact

Summary: Piers doesn’t want to coach Leon, but the last thing Piers needs is for everyone to know a cool punk like him used to perform in Pokemon Contests! If it means keeping his reputation intact, he’ll begrudgingly teach this ray of sunlight what he knows.

Fandom: Pokemon Sword and Shield

Ships: LeonxPiers | dnnz

Rating: T

Contest Warnings: N/A

Chapter 1: The Early Morning Visitor

----

Of the people Piers expected to be sitting across his kitchen table at eight in the morning, the former champion was not one of them. Leon wasn't even in the top ten, yet here he was, twiddling his thumbs behind a cup of tea with a peppy expression on his face.

Piers was barely a human being this early, yet Leon seemed to have the same energy as a particularly bushy-tailed skwovet.

"You have a nice kitchen," Leon commented, more to fill the silence than an actual compliment.

Piers glanced at the pile of take-out containers on the counter then the singular shoe that hadn't made it to his room with its partner the night before. His kitchen was nothing spectacular, and it didn't need to be. His home was a place to crash or bring a date, not some fancy townhouse. With only he and Marnie there, why should he bother fancying the place up?

"What do you want, Leon?" Piers took a sip of his tea.

Leon wrapped his fingers around his cup but didn't move to drink. If Leon would have preferred coffee, he could have said something before Piers poured him a cup. It'd be a waste to pour it down the drain.

"Well, it's a little silly, but I could use your help with something," Leon explained.

Piers narrowed his eyes.

Leon was the chairman of the Pokemon League. Piers gave his gym over to Marnie after the last Champion tournament. What could he want Piers to help with at this point? The only connection he had with the League was Marnie.

Unless...

"I swear if you're goin' to pull the same shit as Rose did and try to get me to make Marnie move the gym—"

"No, no, nothing like that!" Leon raised his hands, palms facing out. "It has nothing at all to do with Spikemuth or the gym."

"Then what does it have to do with?" Piers leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Uh, well, alright," Leon didn't meet his eyes, "it's about a rumor."

Piers' frown deepened. He always had rumors about him floating about. It came with his persona.

"I heard Piers beat a man to a pulp because he spilled his drink on him." or "I heard Piers took three girls back to his home and made them leave before the sun was even up." or he was a dealer of rare hallucinogenic flowers or that he used his pokemon to break into Rose's office and peed in a potted plant behind his desk.

There was rarely any truth to the rumors. He didn't care to squash them. He was a dark-type trainer, having everyone thinking he was a bigger badass than he already was could not hurt his reputation.

"C'mon, mate, aren't you a little old to be listenin' to rumors?" Piers cocked an eyebrow.

"It's not a bad rumor.”

"What's the rumor then?"

"Ah, well, I heard," He paused to clear his throat, "that you, ah, that you competed in pokemon contests when you were younger—and that you won."

Piers barely kept his face deadpan.

Where had Leon heard that? Those contests happened just before posting on the internet boomed, so it wasn't like the contests were live-streamed and archived. The only video that he knew existed of his contest days hid in a box in the back of a closet. Marnie captured it when she could barely see over the railings at the stadiums. Even then, the video quality was terrible and Marnie kept moving the camera around. He looked like a black and white blob in them.

He forced himself to calm down. He could easily deny this rumor. No one would believe he, Piers, former Spikemuth gym leader, head of Team Yell, the fierce trainer of powerful dark-types, would ever compete in a pokemon contest.

"Where did you hear that?" Piers reached for his tea just to have something in his hands.

What credibility did this rumor spreader have? Probably none. Denying this would be easy.

"Oh, I heard your sister mention it."

Piers nearly dropped his cup.

Shit.

He could not deny this, not without putting Marnie's credibility on the line. She was still a new gym leader. The last thing she needed was the chairman thinking she was a gossip.

He hissed out a breath. "Oh, did she?"

"Yeah, she was talking to Opal while Bede filled out some papers," Leon told him. "She said she remembered you used to be good at pokemon contests. That's why I'm here."

"So what?" Piers spat. "It isn't illegal, now is it?"

Why couldn't this have been about Malamar scaring passers-by on Route 7 when he was bored? Why could this have been about the rave Piers helped throw in an abandoned mine last month? Why could it have been about pissing in the potted plant? Why couldn't this have been about anything else?!

Leon frowned. "Of course not—"

"Then why are you askin' me about it?"

"Because I wanted your help to win one."

Piers' mouth gaped. Did he hear that right? Leon, the former champion, one of the strongest pokemon trainers in all of Galar, wanted to enter a pokemon contest.

He stuck a finger in his ear and twisted it.

"Sorry, say that again. I must have somethin' in my ear. I didn't just hear you ask for help in a pokemon contest."

"That is what I asked." Leon beamed. "There is one in Ballonlea in two weeks and I want to enter, but I don't know the first thing about them. If you know, you could help me—if you want to, that is."

"Why?" Piers held back from pinching himself. How was this not a dream? Maybe he was messing with hallucinogenic flowers after all.

Reaching into his pocket, Leon took out a folded piece of lavender paper. He laid it flat on the table, smoothing it with the side of his hand, before pushing it over. The faint scent of roses wafted from it.

"All are invited to the first Bellonlea Pokemon Contest!" It read in a flowing, elegant font. "Coordinators of all ages and skill levels are invited to the Bellonlea Stadium to participate in a Pokemon Contest. Please contact the Bellonlean Ladies' Society for more details and how to enter."

"Was this ‘ppose to explain somethin'?" Piers pushed the flyer back. "Why do you want to win a contest?"

"That prize, of course!" Leon took his phone from his pocket. He scrolled a moment then turned the screen to Piers.

A picture of a red and white hat with a black logo stared back. It honestly looked like something an overly-excited ten-year-old would win from a cereal box drawing.

"It's a hat." Piers peered over the top of the phone to look at the hat Leon already had on.

"It's not just a hat. It's a limited edition!" Leon pulled his phone back. "I had one when I was a little kid, but I lost it to an angry corvisquire. The first place in the beginner contest wins it."

"And you can't just, you know, buy one for yourself?" He rolled his hand. "I know you have sponsorships out your ass." Piers looked down pointedly at his Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce shirt for emphasis.

Leon shrugged. "What fun is that?"

Piers downed half his drink in one go. The burn on his throat reassured him he wasn't dreaming.

"Piers?" Leon leaned over the table, his face alight with a smile. "Can't I talk you into helping me out? Please? I promise to owe you one after this."

Piers groaned. What choice did he have? He couldn't deny it without hurting Marnie's reputation. Their reputation used to be the only valuable he and Marnie had to their names, besides each other. Lying to Leon to save his own skin was not an option.

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Piers raised his hands in defeat. "Fine. I'll do it, but," he held a finger up in Leon's face, "you have to swear on your life that you won't tell a soul about it. I don't need anyone thinkin’ I ever put any of my pokemon in a frilly suit or made them dance around like pretty ballerinas or some shit."

Leon nearly jumped across the table. He put his hands on Piers' shoulders and squeezed a little too hard.

"Thanks a million for this!" He hopped up. "Where should we train? I think I understand the rules, but maybe we should go over the rules first? Or outfit—"

"Tomorrow." Piers cut him off. "We'll start tomorrow."

Leon's face fell like a growlithe that just had his bone taken from him. Piers held his sad gaze. Marnie's morpoko did the same pout when she wanted something, and Piers knew better than to give in.

If Leon still wanted to learn how to be a coordinator, he had to prove himself first. A day would be enough time for Piers to think up obstacles to make Leon forget about the silly notion. Contests, despite the stereotype, were hard work. While beginner contests weren't all that complicated, Piers didn't mind sprinkling in some of the more difficult to grasp bits from the higher tiers. With any luck that would confuse Leon right out of the idea and out of Piers' life.

Leon took a breath. He pulled his hands from Piers and squared his shoulders.

"I'll meet you back here at eight sharp tomorrow and then we can get started."

"No. You'll meet me outside Spikemuth at noon."

"Oh, well, alright. It'll be a champ—" Leon caught himself from using his old catchphrase. "It'll be a fun time."

"That's one way to think of it," Piers muttered, feeling less and less enthused at the arrangement by the second.

----

True to his word, Leon stood outside the front gate of Spikemuth at noon on the dot. He perked up when he saw Piers and jumped in front of him.

"Good afternoon, Teacher Piers."

He winked.

Piers wrinkled his nose.

"Call me that again, and I'm callin' this off."

Leon laughed nervously. "Sorry." He whistled. "Sooooo, what should I learn first? How to use music? Or pose? I'm already pretty good at that."

"How about the rules?"

Piers waved him to follow down the road towards the Spikemuth Tunnel. People were less likely to eavesdrop on them if they walked.

"Alright, rules. I know there are two rounds, and each trainer uses only one pokemon."

"Coordinator," Piers corrected sharply.

He promised to teach, but he didn't promise to be entirely pleasant while doing it.

"Yeah. There are two rounds. The first round is the Performance Stage. You show off your pokemon's appeal with a choreographed set of moves. The judges will assign points based on how well the performance fits into particular categories."

Piers began to ramble on about the different move categories as if the contest in Bellonlea would be so complicated. Beginner contests weren't judged by the five categories individually like higher-ranked contests.

Back when Galar still had a contest circuit, the people in beginner contests were kids with weak pokemon that might only know two or three moves. A performance with a cool move first and a cute move next wouldn't be judged as harshly as the first rank contest would.

However, Leon didn't need to know that. If he thought that the category system was complicated and—in Piers' humble opinion—limited and stupid, maybe he would back out.

"And that's all there is to the appeals rules." Piers looked at Leon, expecting him to be confused and dejected at the long-winded explanation, but instead found him holding onto every word.

"Well, that doesn't seem too hard." He nodded. "It's just putting on a show in a time limit with your partner. Easy."

"We'll see how easy you think it is when you're doing it." Piers stood under a shade tree. "The next round is the harder one. It's the battle round."

"Battle? I thought contests were for show, not for fighting."

Piers cackled at the genuine confusion on Leon's face. Of course, he would think that. That silly stereotype about contests never seemed to die, did it? Coordinators didn't just train their pokemon to teach them new moves. Their partner had to be strong to last the battles against one another. Even though Piers was a gym leader when he did contests, he still struggled against the stronger opponents.

He idly grabbed a lower branch and bent it down. If he didn’t slouch, Piers was tall enough that he could just about reach into the pokemon nest a few branches up with relative ease.

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" He opened his hand.

The branch whipped up and hit the branch the nest was on. The skwovet in the nest jumped with a squeak. Its sudden movement knocked a sitrus berry over the side.

"In the second round, two coordinators battle to remove points from the opponent, usin' moves that fall into the contest categories." He snatched the sitrus berry out of the air.

The skwovet glared at Piers. Piers smirked at it before wiping the berry on his shirt. The pokemon chattered and hurried higher into the tree.

Leon frowned at Piers' interaction with the skwovet. Piers met his gaze, daring him to comment on it.

Leon cleared his throat. "That wasn't necessary."

"It was an accident."

Leon pursed his lips in doubt but didn't argue. Instead, he said, "So it's a battle, but it's an entertaining battle. I can do that."

Around a bite of berry, Piers shrugged, "It's a five-minute battle, but the point of the battle isn't to knock out your opponent with the first move. No one needs to faint. It's to show that your pokemon is better than theirs."

Piers half-expected Leon to go on about how no pokemon was better than another, instead, Leon stroked his chin in thought. Maybe Leon realized that a contest wouldn't be as fun as he thought and wanted to give up on the idea.

The branches above shook and the skwovet chattered. A leppa berry slammed into the ground near Piers' boot. The skwovet, arm loaded with unripe leppa berries, held up another. It threw it. Piers took a step to the side.

"Nice try," he mocked. The skwovet's fur bristled. It tossed down the rest of its armful and missed every time. With a huff, it stomped back towards its nest to rustle through its hoard.

"Alright. I think I can handle this," Leon said, moving into Piers' personal space and lifting his arm over Piers' head, "with your help."

Grinning, he stepped back then opened his fist to present an oran berry. The skwovet cried out in frustration. Piers rubbed the top of his head. He glanced up at the wild pokemon once more before walking away from the tree, with Leon in tow. It was best not to test his luck anymore. The skwovet might use a move on him and the last thing he wanted was to spend the night picking slobbery bullet seeds out of his hair.

The skwovet angrily chattered but seemed to give up. It hurried down the tree to gather its berries. Leon crouched to roll the oran berry over. The skwovet eyed him but snatched the berry up to shove into its cheeks anyway.

Piers raised an eyebrow. Maybe this training wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

----

The training area outside Spikemuth wasn't much, just a patch of barren earth that trainers from Spikemuth would come to battle when they didn't feel like using the gym. Currently, the only souls there were Piers and Leon. Since Marnie took over as gym leader, the younger trainers of the city moved their training back to the gym.

"They didn't want to come when you were the gym leader. They think you're scary," Marnie had explained. "Dunno why though. You're about as scary as a teddisuara."

Piers crossed his arms. "Do you know which pokemon you're goin' use? These are Hoenn rules, so you can only use one."

Leon tapped the pokeballs at his belt. "I'm not sure. I didn't think I could go in with Charizard, so I didn't bring him with me."

"Why not Charizard?"

"Everyone knows what my Charizard looks like," Leon explained. "And I don't think I can pretend not to be me if I use him."

Piers' brows furrowed. What in the world was he talking about?

Upon seeing Piers' expression, Leon chuckled to himself.

"I guess I forgot to tell you." He put his hands on his hips and set his feet a shoulder-width apart. "I'm going to do this contest in disguise."

The hope Piers just acquired vanished.

"You're what?"

"I'm going in disguise," He repeated. "I was the champion, and now I'm chairman. That would give me an unfair advantage, don't you think?"

Piers pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, Leon would want to win on a level playing field. The Bellonean Ladies' Society would probably just give him the stupid hat if he promised to simply show up and bring more attention to the event. If he did that, Piers could have stayed at home and lazed about, but, noooo, Leon had to win his silly hat fair and square.

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Well, I hoped you could help me with that, too." Leon pointed to his face. "I've seen your stage makeup, and you're talented. I bet you could make me look like a different person."

Piers hated that he couldn't argue with that. Not long after he decided to follow his dream of being a punk star, one of the gym trainers offered to teach him the basics of cosmetics. Once he had the basics down, it only took a year of using his pokemon, friends, and Marnie as test subjects for him to perfect his art.

He could easily make Leon's face look different enough: soften his cheekbones, maybe a few freckles, pull his bangs back, color contacts, and glasses...Leon would look good in glasses, even if it meant hiding his natural eye color...

Piers shook his head. He hadn't agreed to anything but training for the contest. He was not giving Leon a makeover like they were preteens at a slumber party.

Leon pursed his lips. "It would be pointless if I won because of who I am. That wouldn't be fair to the other train—coordinators."

"No. Figure that out yourself."

Leon sighed, his shoulders slumped. He muttered under his breath, something Piers couldn't make out. Finally, he straightened and shrugged.

"You know, I have to approve the budgets for each gym provided by the league," he lifted one finger and wagged it as he continued, "and wouldn't it be nice if Spikemuth got a little extra in their budget so their new gym leader could fix up her gym stadium? I know the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce can't always give too much to the gym, and it needs a few repairs."

Piers' mouth fell a gape. Did Leon just try to bribe him through his sister? He had to admit, he was impressed. It wasn't the best bribery offer he'd ever been given, but considering whom the offer came from and what Marnie would get in return, he decided to give in.

"Make sure the gym gets enough to replace the crumplin’ stadium walls, and I'll do it." Piers stuck out his hand.

Leon took the offered hand in his and shook once. "I knew you'd have a change of heart."

Piers yanked his hand back. "Change of heart my ass. Just send out your pokemon."

With a nod, Leon let out each of his pokemon in turn: Aegislash, Haxorus, Dragapult, Mr. Rime, Seismatoad, then Rhyperior. True to his word, he hadn't brought his ace pokemon with him. Like a well-oiled machine, they quickly lined up and turned their full attention to their trainer.

Pride rolled off Leon as he gazed at his team. Up until last year, this team was undefeated. Leon kept them at their best and even Piers could call that admirable.

"Alright everyone, listen here." Leon clapped his hands as if any of them didn't have their eyes on him. "Remember how I said we were going to enter a contest? Well, only one of you can enter it with me."

Leon's Mr. Rime leaned on his cane and Aegislash shifted his shield, though the other pokemon didn't react one way or another to the news.

"Contests aren't like normal battling. They're a performance." Leon gestured to Piers. "Piers is going to help pick the best one of you for the contest."

Piers snorted. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm not assessin' your team."

Leon's hand dropped to his side. He tilted his head.

"You're not?"

"No."

Piers took out the only pokeball he had on him. With a flick of the wrist, he released his own contest partner. The stench of rotten eggs filled the air. Everyone but Piers jerked back to cover their noses.

Skuntank shook himself out. He stretched his front paws forward then pulled the rest of his body up like a cat in a sunbeam. Piers crouched down and patted his partner between the ears.

"Skuntank here won nearly every contest he entered," Piers explained. "He knows more about them than even I do, I'd say. Even keeps track of the Sinnoh contests online. If anyone can give this team a proper assessment, it'll be him."

Skuntank lifted his head proudly then stomped forward. He stalked up, down, and around the line, eyeing each pokemon. He stopped in front of Haxorus, narrowed his eyes, and rumbled. Haxorus shuffled nervously. She looked to her team members then back at Skuntank. Siesmatoad shrugged, and Dragapult looked away.

Satisfied, Skuntank trotted back to Piers. He took a breath and stated something to the pokemon, loud and clear.

The other pokemon were taken aback. They muttered amongst themselves, all except Mr. Rime and Aegislash. With his chest puffed out, Mr. Rime strode forward. A moment later, Aegislash floated next to him. The rest of the team remained still.

"That's the two to choose from," Piers said. To the other members of Leon's team, he continued, "You can go over there. Take a rest why don't you?" He jabbed his thumb towards the grass at the side of the training area.

Without missing a beat, Dragapult floated away, soon followed by Siesmatoad, Haxorus, and Rhyperior.

Leon gasped. "That's amazing. How does Skuntank know?"

It wasn't as if Skuntank could smell contest talent on Mr. Rime and Aegislash. It just so happened that when Skuntank asked, Mr. Rime and Aegislash wanted to enter a contest. The rest weren't interested.

Ignoring Leon's question, Piers asked, "How do you want to decide between these two."

Leon blinked. "Isn't that what Skuntank is here for?"

With a thump, Skuntank flopped to the ground, paws under his chin, and shut his eyes.

"He's filled his quota." Piers said. "This is your job, Mr. Chairman."

Leon stroked his chin. He crouched down between his pokemon. Mr. Rime tapped his feet and spun his cane. Leon lifted his eyebrows at the impromptu performance. Not to be outdone, Aegislash held his shield up and spun it on the end of his arm. He tossed the shield then expertly caught it.

Mr. Rime danced backward. He spun in a circle, holding his cane up to the sky. From the tip of the cane, snow flurried around him, glittering like tiny diamonds.

Aegislash, upon seeing Leon's dazzled expression at Mr. Rime's performance, clanged his shield and blade together. With his trainer's attention back on him, Aegislash whipped his arm out. The shield rolled out on its side into the middle of the battle area. In the blink of an eye, Aegislash descended into his shadow. Using shadow sleek, he hurried in front of the shield.

Aegislash burst from the ground, large and dark. He whipped the shield up. the sun glinted off the polished metal. Contrasted against Aegislash's dark form, the shining shield appeared like a bright star in the night sky.

Leon's mouth fell a gape. "Wow, I didn't know you could do that, Aegislash."

Aegislash returned to his normal appearance and smugly shurgged. Mr. Rime stomped his foot in frustration. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled for Leon to look at him. Once again, his cane spun. Around him, aurous panes of light screen appeared then frosted over. Mr. Rime stopped and raised his arms. The light screen panes shot up and burst like fireworks.

Aegislash bristled. His grip on his shield tightened and his single eye narrowed. Mr. Rime sneered at him as Leon carefully picked up the frozen light screen fragments to examine.

Piers clapped his hands once. "Don't you lot make this a battle." To Leon, he ordered, "You need to pick one."

Leon stood. "But they're both really talented."

From behind them, Skuntank snorted. Aegislash and Mr. Rime turned their glares from each other to the dark-type.

Piers agreed with Leon, even if his pokemon didn't, but leaving those two to keep one-upping each other wouldn't end well. Leon had to pick a partner for the contest, even if it would hurt someone's feelings.

Leon thought on his choice then slumped forward with a sigh. He rummaged in his pocket and held up a coin.

"I can't decide," he admitted. "Heads for Mr. Rime and tails for Aegislash."

He flicked the coin into the air. Like the oran berry before, he caught it from the air. With a hard smack that made the top of Pier's hand hurt, Leon slapped it on the top of his hand. Aegislash and Mr. Rime stood tense as Leon slowly lifted his hand.

"Heads."

Mr. Rime jumped up with joy. Aegislash dropped his shield to the ground with a thud. Leon reached out to comfort him, but Aegislash waved him away. Dragging his shield through the dirt, he trudged towards the other pokemon.

Skuntank lumbered back to his feet. He intercepted Aegislash. Skuntank rumbled at Aegislash. He silently mulled over what Skuntank said then lifted his shield from the ground.

In a voice like clashing metal, Aegislash yelled at Mr. Rime. Mr. Rime stumbled in his tap dancing, looking shocked at what his teammate said. Skuntank cackled, slapping the ground with his paw. With his mood improved considerably, Aegislash led Skuntank away to join the other pokemon.

----

Mr. Rime was a showman. Even with the occasional heckle from Skuntank, he and Leon managed to cobble together the start of an alright appeal round. After Piers finally admitted that the move categories meant shit all for the beginner contests, Leon decided to make use of what Mr. Rime already presented: sparkling snow and unique uses of psychic power.

Piers, for his part, offered critique when he saw a move that might be too showy or too dull, but mostly left Leon to his own devices. After all, Leon was the one entering, not him.

A thunderbolt tore through an icy column, shattering it. A glow of psychic power protected some of the ice from the heat. When the mist cleared, what remained was the carving of the Champion's logo.

Leon pumped his fist. "There we go!"

Skuntank muttered something to Aegislash, who replied in agreement. Though he hadn't been as loud in his criticism as Skuntank, Aegislash made snide remarks for every misstep.

Piers had more fun watching Skuntank and Aegislash than Leon and Mr. Rime, honestly.

As the heat both from the thunderbolts and the day wore on, Piers was thankful he choose to sit under the shade instead of directly interact with Leon.

Though on the field, he would have had a better view.

Every time Leon raised his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, Piers turned his attention towards him. Rehain once mentioned Leon weight trained and exercised to stay as fit as his team, and Piers could tell. He stared at the well-formed muscles usually hidden under Leon’s shirt several times before finally being caught.

“Is something wrong? Is this too much?” Leon gestured to Mr. Rime’s newest ice sculpture.

Piers made up a suggestion to save himself the embarrassment.

“It’s fine, but you’re rushin’. Slow down, if you know how to do that,” Piers replied, turning his head to hide his pink cheeks against his shoulder.

“Oh, alright.” Leon nodded. “Mr. Rime, take a few more seconds before calling down the thunderbolt!”

Stuntank chuckled and Piers sent him a glare.

“Shut up,” he hissed, earning another laugh from Stuntank.

Something pulled at Piers' sleeve. One of Dragapult's dreepy chewed on his jacket. When Piers acknowledged it, it flew in a circle trying to get him to play with it. It went to nip at the end of one of his ponytails.

Dragapult sighed and wrapped his tail around the dreepy to pull it back. He gave Piers an apologetic look.

The rest of Leon's team wasn't doing much better. They were bored out of their minds.

Siesmatoad ripped a clump of grass from the ground and tossed it in her mouth. Rhyperior and Haxorus took turns stabbing leaves through their horns or tusks, seeing who could make the biggest hole without tearing the leaf in half.

Before Leon and Mr. Rime could start again, Piers called, "That's enough for today."

He stood and put his hands on his lower back to stretch. Skuntank grumbled but got to his paws.

"Well, if you say so." Leon came over to the crowd of pokemon with Mr. Rime. "Everyone ready?"

Seismatoad spat out the grass clump, nearly hitting Rhyperior's foot. Dragapult cooed and the rest of his dreepy hoard hurried out of the tall grass. Aegislash refused to look at Mr. Rime, instead of staying close to Stuntank. Haxorus bent forward and pressed the button on her pokeball with her mouth scythe, returning herself.

When Leon took out Aegislash's ball, Piers put a hand on his wrist.

"Before you return him, can I ask you a favor?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Aegislash and Skuntank seem to be havin' fun together. Do you think Aegislash could come back with me for tonight?" Piers asked. Skuntank stamped a foot and wheezed in approval.

Leon lowered Aegislash's pokeball. He bent down so he looked Aegislash in his singular eye.

"Do you want to have a slumber party with Skuntank at Spikemuth?" He spoke like a parent to a child. Mr. Rime snickered. Stuntank kicked sand at him with a short growl.

Piers pulled the bill of Leon's hat down over his eyes.

"Aegislash is probably older than both of us combined," he reminded. "Don't call it a slumber party."

Leon pushed his hat up and wrinkled his brow. Realization crossed his face.

"Ah." He asked Aegislash, "Do you want to have a date with Skuntank at Spikemuth?"

Piers went to pull Leon's hat clean off, but Aegislash took hold of the bill and pulled until it completely covered Leon's face with the bill touching his chin. He rolled his eye and shrugged towards Skuntank. Skuntank snickered and shook his head back in reply.

Leon laughed, taking the hat into his lap. "I'm joking. I'm joking. Sorry." He put a hand on Aegislash's shoulder. "Really, if you want to hang out with Skuntank for the night, you can." He smiled sincerely.

Aegislash paused, eyed his trainer, then seemed to sigh. He took the hat from Leon's hands and set it on his head. He patted his head, like a parent pacifying a child. Aegislash floated by him towards Skuntank.

-----

“Listen up.”

Piers whistled to the crowd of dark-type pokemon around the Spikemuth stadium. All heads turned towards him and the two pokemon by his side.

“This is Aegislash. He’s part of Chairman Leon’s team.” Piers nodded to Aegislash. “He’s visitin' for the night, so don’t be an asshole.”

He sent a pointed look at Malamar, who crossed his tentacles. Malamar only recently got out of trouble for scaring people around Spikemuth. Neither he nor Marnie needed Aegislash going back to Leon traumatized from Malamar's pranks.

The gym pokemon muttered and mumbled to themselves, eyeing Aegislash suspiciously.

Going well so far.

No one jumped to attack or called out an obscenity towards the new pokemon. Already it was going better when Raihan brought his pokemon over to play while he and Piers visited. Not one sucker punch to the back.

Marnie’s Grimsnarl picked up the toy ball and held it protectively. Both scrafty scooted to shield their tower of cards. Obstagoon took his nose out of a bag of crisps for a moment before shoving it right back in. Liepard yawned, purposely exposing her fangs, before laying her head on Toxicroak’s lap. Toxitricity peeked an eye open from his corner then continued strumming his chest. Morpeko jumped off the stage and scurried over to Aegislash and Skuntank.

She greeted them. Skuntank wheezed to her as Aegislash lifted his shield in a hello. Morpeko spoke with Aegislash a moment before turning to the rest of the pokemon. She took a deep breath and shouted to them her approval.

Malamar snorted but uncrossed his tentacles. Grimsnarl slowly took the ball back out. Neither scrafty moved from their hard work. Toxitricity waved idly. Liepard and Toxicroak and Obstagoon didn’t acknowledge the announcement, the former two napping and the latter still stuffing his maw.

Skuntank jerked his head towards Toxitricity's corner of the gym. Aegislash and Morpeko followed after. Grimsnarl and Malamar watched them closely.

Marnie took a bite of her hamburger. Around it, she asked, “Is that really Leon’s aegislash?”

Piers open the bag from Bob’s Your Uncle to dig out his order. “He is. He and Leon’s Mr. Rime got into a fight, and Aegislash wanted to be away.”

“So Leon asked you?” She swallowed.

Piers thought on his feet. “Dark and ghost types are pretty close when you get down to it. Born of night and the deepness of the soul and all that.”

“Shouldn’t he have asked Allister?”

Piers took a bite of his burger and slowly chewed. He swallowed and said, “Kid must have been busy. He’s still got school to go— just like you.” Piers smirked, leaning over. “And how’s that school work going, little sis?”

Marnie blushed. She huffed, snatched the bag from Piers, then marched to the stage at the other end of the stadium.

Even being a gym leader, Marnie still had to go to school like every other kid her age. Since she was still learning to juggle gym leader duties and school, Marnie fell behind in her classes and had to take extra lessons.

Piers had been the same when he took over the gym, but he usually skipped after-school lessons. She complained about the lessons often, and Piers offered an understanding ear.

He wasn’t above using this information against her, though.

With long strides, he followed his sister. He overtook her quickly. Holding his burger between his teeth, Piers hopped onto the stage and sat, his toes brushing the ground. Marnie walked up the steps to sit near him. She purposefully set the bag with their food on the side farthest away from Piers. He leaned across her to fish his chips out of the bag.

They sat in companionable silence, watching the pokemon as they ate their fast food.

When Marnie’s scrafty turned to open another pack of cards for their tower, Malamar raised a tentacle glowing in psychic power. With both scrafty backs to it, a card from the middle of the tower pulled itself out.

Piers’ scrafty gasped and tried to hold the wobbling tower together, but only managed to save the top two cards from falling. As the scrafty started to argue, Grimsnarl went to the wooden crate next to the stage. She sat her ball inside and began to dig through the pokemon toys until she found another ball. This ball was worn and patched up. She wandered over to Malamar to talk.

Skuntank, Toxtricity, and Aegislash lounged against one of the crumbling stadium walls as Morpeko chewed on a berry. They made friendly conversation until Grimsnarl and Malamar came over. Grimsnarl raised her ball.

Skuntank shrugged and spoke to Aegislash. Malamar sneered at Aegislash. Aegislash rolled his eye and pushed himself up. Skuntank slowly lumbered to his feet. Toxtricity shook his head. Morpeko tossed her berry up and caught it in her mouth before standing as well.

Piers nudged Marnie and pointed at the pokemon as they walked to the middle of the stadium.

Grimsnarl tossed the ball and hit it to Skuntank. Skuntank bopped it with his head. The ball dropped towards Aegislash. Aegislash raised an arm to hit it, but Malamar’s tentacle shot out and smacked the ball up. Aegislash snapped something at Malamar, who ignored him.

Piers chuckled to himself as the game of hot potato continued. Every time the ball neared Aegislash, Malamar or Grimsnarl made sure to hit it before he could. Of course, they were testing him. Being on the former champion’s team wasn’t enough to prove Aegislash worthy, even with Stuntank and Morpeko's approval.

Soon Aegislash had enough. When Malamar went to hit the ball for himself, Aegislash shadow sleeked behind him. He burst from the ground and slapped the ball towards Grimsnarl. The attack on her friend took Grimsnarl by surprise. She stumbled back trying to hit the ball but missed. For the first time since the game started, the ball bounced against the floor.

Skuntank cackled. Morpeko chased after the ball. Malamar stared at Aegislash, who held his ground.

Marnie started to push off the stage to break up the fight, but Piers put a hand out to stop her.

After a few tense heartbeats, Malamar coughed a laugh. He covered his beak and shook his head. Grimsnarl took the ball back from Morpeko. Seeing the newfound respect for Aegislash from Malamar, she went back over to the box to switch the worn, old ball, for a nicer ball with a pink and cream polka-dot pattern.

Marnie let out a breath. Piers tossed a chip in his mouth.

He knew things would work out well. Like his trainer, Aegislash was endearing in his determination.

He wondered what Leon was doing while the Spikemuth pokemon played. As late as it was, he was probably home, or maybe he was training with Mr. Rime for the contest. Piers could almost see him now working with Mr. Rime to pose in time with some pop song.

Leon worked hard for what he wanted. It's no wonder he became champ so young and held the title for nearly a decade. If Piers had that kind of drive, he wouldn’t have left Spikemuth fall into disrepair as he did.

He bet he could ask Leon to help him fix up Spikemuth, and not just the gym. The outside walls needed the myriad of penises and breasts painted over. He could do it, but it would be better with some company, particularly with company that had the energy of a sugar-high puppy. Enjoying the outside air, just talking and working—That would be fun. Piers would be willing to wake up early for that.

Piers reached into his chip container absentmindedly but found nothing but salt. He jerked out of his thoughts to see his last two chips disappear—one into Morpeko’s mouth and one into Marnie’s.

“The hell?” He held his hands out towards the empty container.

“Do you have a new girlfriend?” She asked bluntly.

Piers choked on his tongue. “What?” He shook his head. “No! Why would you think that?”

“A boyfriend? A non-binary friend?”

“No,” Piers assured. “I don’t have anyone.”

“Huh.” Marnie scratched Morpeko behind the ears. “You had that look on your face.”

“Look?” Piers’ stomach clenched as he asked, “What look?”

“That look.” Marnie pulled her pokemon to her lap. “The one you get before Morpeko and me find some gushy love song folded up on the living room floor. It happens every time.”

Piers’ ears grew hot. Twice, Marnie found his secret love songs twice. For that reason, he didn’t even write them on scrap paper anymore but in a nondescript notebook in his dresser drawer—which he hadn’t pulled out since he broke up with an ex gym trainer more than a year ago.

Morpeko stuck her tongue out in disgust at finding another love song. She clambered over Marnie’s arms to the chips container. Morpeko licked her paw, dabbed it in the leftover salt, and cleaned her paw before hopping off the stage to rejoin the game.

“I don’t have a look like that.”

“Yes, you do,” Marnie replied in a sing-song voice. “You get this far away look on your face and a little, tiny smile like you’re thinkin' of somethin’ soft. I only see it when you’re datin’ someone or,” her eyes widen in realization, “you gotta crush.”

Piers’ stomach unclenched and fell to his boots.

“You’ve got a crush, dotcha?” His little sister pried. “Who is it? Do they like you back? Can they like you back? Are they a trainer? What’s their pokemon team? Do you see them often?”

Piers' head spun, blurring the rest of Marnie’s inquiries.

No way. He was too old for crushes, for one thing. For two, if Marnie’s theory held any water, then his ‘crush’ would be Leon.

That wasn’t possible.

Sure, he admired Leon’s strength and his determination. His kindness towards pokemon and others was sweet if a little goody-two-shoes. He was much more clever than he first appeared. His athletic frame stole Piers' attention and he wouldn't mind leaning up against that strength-trained chest.

Oh. Arceus. No.

Piers’ face reddened as he cataloged his thoughts. He did have a crush. He had a crush on Leon. Leon was the Chairman of the League. Not only that, he was and still is the poster child for preppy, sporty trainers everywhere. Leon was the goal children were taught to chase if they wanted to compete.

Only the trainers from Team Yell ever wanted to be anything like Piers, a badass who sang to his own song, not the one society dictated.

Sponsors flocked to Leon like mothim to a flame for his perfect public persona.

Only the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce ever sponsored Piers, and that’s only because they always sponsored the gym leader.

Leon was the light that the world idolized.

He was the darkness that fought back to prove to those that the shadows were protective and safe for people like him. He was a fierce dark-type trainer. He sang punk rock. He had a band of miscreants who would follow his every order.

He could not have a crush on Leon.

Yet, he did.

What if people found out? Arceus, if news got around he wanted some of Leon’s finely toned ass—

“Piers?” Marnie poked his cheek.

He jumped, losing his balance and tumbling off the stage.

At the thud of his fall, the pokemon stopped their game. Obstagoon tossed his crisps bag aside to barrel towards his trainer. He skidded to his knees, dramatically throwing his claws up and crying out as if Piers fell off a ten-story building.

Marnie hopped down. Crouching, she asked, “Did you break your face?”

Piers groaned loudly. “Dark void, open up and swallow me. I no longer want to live in this cruel world that would play my heart like a harp string and snap it with its sick, twisted irony.”

Once Piers went on with his dramatic monologue, the pokemon returned to their games, confident Piers was fine. Obstagoon patted the back of Piers’ head reassuringly.

Marnie crouched next to him. “Is the person you have a crush on that bad? Are they married or,” she lowered her voice, “old?”

“We’re the same age.” Piers didn’t lift his head from the ground. “He’s single as far as I know.”

Marnie poked his cheek. “So what’s the matter? Are you too scared to ask him out?”

“No. It’s worse than that.” Piers crawled into Obstagoon’s lap and leaned his back against the warm, somewhat smelly, fur. Obstagoon wrapped him in a hug. He’d seen his trainer confused and in a pansexual punk panic before. Piers needed all the comfort Obstagoon could give him.

Marnie tucked her legs under her and waited expectantly for Piers to clarify.

He sighed, slumping farther down Obstagoon’s lap. Obstagoon’s arm fur tickled his nose as he buried his face in it.

“I can’t ask him out,” Piers muttered. “He’s my opposite.”

“Opposite?” Marnie echoed.

“Opposite,” Piers repeated. He paused, then said, “I’m punk. He does ballet. What more can I say?”

Her brows furrowed. She opened her mouth, then shut it, opened, shut, then tilted her head with one eyebrow raised.

"He dances?”

Piers rolled his head away. “You kids have no culture.” He sighed. “He’s the kind of person every kid wants to be like. I’m the kind of person kids stop comin’ to community gyms to train because of.”

Marnie hit her fist into her palm. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want to drag down his rep ‘cause people think you’re a lazy delinquent.”

“Hey!” Piers bolted up, right into Obstagoon’s hanging tongue. He wiped the slobber off his forehead with his forearm. He jabbed a finger at Marnie.

“It’s the other way around. He’d pull mine up from a mysterious, cool rebel rocker.”

He cringed at himself. Out loud it sounded childish. What was he, a schoolboy?

Piers flopped back against Obstagoon, grabbed Obstagoon’s arm, and dropped it over his face.

“Suffocate me. Please. I need to die to escape this torment.”

With a humph, Marnie wrapped her arms around Obstagoon’s thick forearm and lifted. She looked down at her brother with a frown.

“That’s it?” She shook her head. “That’s sad.”

“You’re a kid. You don’t understand.” Piers countered, trying to pull Obstagoon’s arm back over his face.

Marnie wrinkled her nose and tugged against Piers’ attempts.

“I am not.” She dug her feet into the ground. “It is sad. If you’re a ‘mysterious, cool, rebel rocker,’ why should you care what anyone thinks?”

Piers dropped his hands to his lap.

Without the opposing force against her, Marnie fell backward, still clinging to Obstagoon’s arm. Instead of letting her fall, Obstagoon lifted his arm, leaving her hanging off the ground. He carefully lowered her, but she kept his arm pressed against her chest.

Piers pushed himself up to his feet. He patted the back of his shirt, throwing black and white fur into the air. Without a word, he headed to the stage and picked up the trash from their food.

“Piers?” Marnie hugged Obstagoon’s arm to her chest. “Are you ok? I didn’t break you, did I?”

Piers turned. “Yeah. Just fine.” He walked back, bag in hand. A smile spread across his face as he reached up and ruffled her hair.

“You’re right. I was being the opposite of cool.” He admitted, prying her hands off Obstagoon's arm. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Marnie was right. He was the cool, fierce master of dark-type pokemon. He became one of the strongest trainers in all of Galar without resorting to Dynamax in a pinch.

Why the hell should he give a flying ratata’s ass about what other people think about who he wants to make out with?

He still didn’t want people knowing about his contest days. The stereotype of elitist snob coordinators still hung too closely to contests. The attraction could excuse Leon, but he didn't have a good enough excuse for dressing skuntank in a tophat and glittery, purple bow tie when he was still a stunky yet. Maybe if the contest scene grew a little, he could try again, but until then best keeping that particular secret under wraps.

Marnie shrugged, aloof. “It’s whatever. Someone needs to help you keep your head spun the right way around. I'm the only one qualified for it.”

“What would I do without you?” Piers chuckled.

“Die, probably,” Marnie replied. “So can you ask this guy out? Does he like you at all?”

Piers shrugged.

He didn’t know if Leon liked men. As far as he could remember, Leon never dated anyone of any gender. Leon had always been laser-focused on training and being the strongest trainer in Galar.

But if he did like men, would he be interested in Piers? He didn't know, but given how much time they’d be spending together training for the contest, maybe he could figure it out.

Marnie, her ponytails somewhat righted, asked, “If you need help, Gloria and me could—”

“I’d rather step on a pincurchin,” Piers cut her off, crushed the paper bag into a ball, and tossed it to the side. It bounced and went right through Scrafty's new card tower.

"Sorry," he apologized.

Scrarfy sobbed and slumped back. Marnie’s scrafty looked towards him then sighed. She walked around and helped him pick up the cards, their friendship restored.

“I’ll tell you if I find out anything.” He pointed at the hot potato game still ongoing with his thumb. “Right now, though, you and me don’t need boys when we can play with the best pokemon in the Galar region, though.” To Grimsnarl, he shouted, "Oi, toss it to me!"

Marnie giggled as Piers took her wrist and led her towards the game.

----

AN: Shout out to my friend Sara for the help with this! You da best!!! ^-^)/ Next chapter should be next week? I'll probably post to A03 first though if you want less of a wait.

Also feel free to follow my art blog @uas-art if you enjoyed the chapter art.

#fanfiction #dnnz #gym leader piers #Champion Leon #piersxleon #multi chapter

16 notes · View notes

parvuls · 3 years

Text

fic: at certain times

word count: 12k

tags: year 2 canon-divergence, getting together, first kiss

summary: The Swallow's Samwell Awards issue of '15 crowns Jack and Bitty as Samwell's cutest couple. It is somewhat unfortunate, then, that they're not actually a couple at all.

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The kitchen smells like something burnt, a smoky tang that clings to the walls and floors, stings inside Bitty’s nose. April should smell like hot cross buns and zucchini bread, he thinks wistfully, but it turns out that some Aprils poor ovens are pushed to their last legs prematurely, leaving his kitchen smelling like Ransom forgot his frozen pizza in the microwave again.

Dex has been tending to Betsy on her deathbed all month, spending most of his free hours at the Haus. Bitty called him again after class, while he was standing in Superberry with Jack, and promised to pay for his services with froyo. Said froyo -- which Jack insisted on paying for, bless him -- is still on the table, untouched, yogurt melting over the rim of the paper cup and dripping onto the wood. Dex has been kneeling in the same strip of sunlight on the floor since he arrived with his toolbox. Bitty isn’t sure what exactly he’s been doing, but he seems to be too busy waving a screwdriver in the air and ranting to remember his abandoned bribe.

“So we finally got over the fucking Samwell Republican sticker thing,” Dex says, his face red and his brow furrowed. He’s been disgruntled all day because of an email he’d received, which he claims Nursey will never let him live down. "And Bitty, I know this is Massachusetts, okay? But I haven’t even actually voted yet! Fucking Swallow. How can I be Best Republican?"

Bitty hunches over in his chair, palms clasped together on his knees like a prayer. He’s anxiously following the motions of Dex’s screwdriver with his eyes while listening with only half an ear, deeply confused by the conversation subject. “The Swallow does pieces on politics? I can’t even imagine what an article like that’d look like, honestly.”

Dex grumbles quietly, shoving a hand under his backwards snapback to scratch at his hair. “No, it’s like -- their Samwell Awards thing? I don’t know, I just got an email about it this morning. I guess it’s like that 50 Most Beautiful shit they do.”

Bitty’s never heard of it, but then again, Bitty carefully sidesteps most articles of The Swallow whenever he comes across them. Those guys write about their team an uncomfortable amount for a university with almost ten thousand students. As long as Holster or Ransom aren’t reading it aloud at team breakfast, Bitty’s not eager to find out what The Swallow has to say.

He asks, though, because Dex seems to be upset about this and his frogs need to be handled with care. “Like in high school yearbooks?” Heather Barron was his class’ Best Laugh back home, and she made everyone who signed her yearbook tell her a joke so she could laugh for them.

“I guess,” Dex says distractedly. He bends down low to reach something close to the floor. “This girl from my Intro to CompSci class got the same email about it -- she won Best Dressed. I mean, who even judges these things? That’s a matter of taste.”

Dex wipes a dusty hand across his forehead and Bitty momentarily forgets to care about The Swallow in favor of looking on worriedly. Betsy is unplugged from the wall with her back side facing the room, surrounded by loose cables and scattered bolts. She looks old and frail. Bitty kind of feels like he’s watching an open-heart surgery occurring right in front of him.

“Can you save her?” Bitty presses a hand over his heart, dreading the reply. Dex wrinkles his forehead even further and doesn’t meet Bitty’s eyes.

It is then that their ordinary afternoon is interrupted by three emphatic knocks on the front door of the Haus.

"Did someone just knock on our door?" Shitty yells from somewhere down the hall. Bitty assumes he’s still curled up on the couch of sins in a t-shirt and flimsy underwear, mourning his grandparents’ affirmative RSVP response to graduation.

His tone sounds downright shocked at the sound, but that’s probably reasonable. Bitty’s been living in the Haus for over nine months now and he’s never once heard anyone knock on that door. It’s always unlocked, anyway; it’s actually nothing short of a miracle that they’ve never been burglarized. Not that there’d be anything to steal, of course, other than Holster’s collector's edition Simpsons DVD box set, or maybe one of Jack’s used jerseys to be sold to the highest bidder on ebay.

"Well, whaddaya know,” Ransom appears in the hallway outside the kitchen doorframe, likely summoned downstairs by the abnormal noise. His eyebrows are high on his forehead as he stares down the hall at the door. “It didn't collapse. I told you it’s sturdier than it looks."

Neither of the boys makes a move to actually open the door. There’s a second set of knocks, this one slightly louder than the first, and Bitty huffs as he gets off his chair. He casts one last hopeful look over his shoulder. Maybe, he wishes silently, Betsy has performance issues and would be magically fixed once she’s not under his constant scrutiny. Or maybe Dex does, and would magically fix her. “Y’all, when someone knocks on a door, they generally expect you to open it for them.”

He shoulder-checks Ransom on the way to yanking the door open, and is presented with some guy Bitty’s never seen before standing on their front steps. He’s wearing an atrociously ugly plaid vest and an awfully wide smile, which only grows wider when he sees that it’s Bitty who’s opening the door.

“Eric Bittle!”

“Yes?” Bitty agrees, eyebrows drawing together. He’s usually pretty good with faces, but he doesn’t think he’s seen this guy in any of his classes. Maybe a hockey fan. Still -- Bitty’s mother brought him up right, and he’s resolved to stick to his manners even if he now lives in a frat house. Someone with malicious intentions, he rationalizes to himself, wouldn't knock before entering. “Hi. Wouldya like to come in? I’m afraid our oven’s down, so I don’t have much to offer in terms of baked goods --”

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary!” The man dismisses quickly, his smile not waning any; it’s hard not to eye it suspiciously. Absently, Bitty can make out the sound of feet shuffling, which presumably means the boys are crowding together behind him to peer curiously at the stranger on their doorstep. “I’m from The Swallow, I’m here to deliver a message for you. And Jack Zimmermann, but I’m sure you can pass it on. Our annual Samwell Awards issue is coming out early next month, as you know --”

“Sure,” Bitty confirms politely, although he’s never heard of the thing until about two minutes ago. There’s no sense in getting the man down.

“-- and we wanted your response on the win. We do that for the real popular categories. If you want to draft a short statement, you can reply to the email we sent you two --”

“I’m sorry,” Bitty cuts him off, maintaining a carefully polite tone. He hasn’t checked his email since the previous night, too preoccupied with avoiding his American Publics essay and fretting over Betsy. Somewhere behind him there are more heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and one of the boys whispers excitedly, Bitty won a Samwell Award!, though he’s not sure which. “What win? Who’s you two?”

“Oh,” the Swallow guy blinks, obviously taken aback. His smile doesn’t completely disappear but thankfully thins a little bit, at last stretching over less than two thirds of his face. He looks marginally less maniacal like this, Bitty thinks uncharitably. “You and Jack Zimmermann?”

There’s another shuffle of feet. Bitty turns his head to catch Jack pushing Shitty aside, coming to stand a step behind Bitty’s right shoulder. Bitty hasn’t seen him since they got back from Superberry and Jack headed upstairs to study, chirping Bitty for not doing the same all the while. He’s taken his thin fleece jacket off since, and the soft V-neck he’s had underneath clings to his biceps, to the shape of his pecs. His hair is messy, the smell of his aftershave hasn’t faded yet, and his palm rests lightly between Bitty’s shoulder blades to keep his balance in the narrow, crammed doorway. Bitty’s stomach jumps at the sight of him and he can feel a reflexive smile tugging at his lips. It’s an uncontrollable reaction to Jack’s presence, no matter how many times Bitty’s seen him that day. Good gracious, but it’s plumb pathetic.

Jack is oblivious to Bitty’s eyes on him, too busy frowning at the Swallow guy from above Bitty’s head. “What is this about?”

The guy’s expression is clearly confused, despite the upturned mouth in his creasing face. His eyes survey the huddled group in front of him searchingly, as if waiting for them to catch up. When no one adds anything his smile drops entirely and he says: “You guys won Cutest Couple!”

Time seems to slow down while Bitty’s mind stomps on an emergency break and short-circuits completely. He knows things are happening in the backdrop, can hear someone behind him, probably Holster, choking really loudly on their spit, but none of it truly registers.

The Swallow guy is frowning now, looking completely baffled as to why they’re not enthused at the news. “Seriously, did you not get the email?”

“We. What?” is the only thing Bitty manages weakly. Whatever smile was on his face is thoroughly wiped off now. His heartbeat begins pounding in his ears, drowning out any further background noise under its heavy thrumming. From the brief glance he braves, Jack is not coping much better. His mouth is opening and closing silently.

"Yeah!” The guy recovers, apparently blind to the catastrophe he’s inadvertently causing. “I mean, I’ll be honest, some of the staff was like, ‘enough with the fucking hockey team’, and Khalil and Sara who did that awesome Halloween costume, they came really close -- but I was totally on your side. Anyway, the draft should be in your inboxes. We’d like to have your response in the next couple of days so we can start running it. The more romantic and gooey the better, of course. Thank you!"

He smiles and then skips down the stairs before Bitty’s brain fully catches up with what has just occurred on his front porch. He can barely grasp at tail ends of thoughts before they slip away from him, disappearing in a cloudy daze of absolute horror. His pulse is still racing and his fingers, wrapped around the door handle, are trembling.

Behind him, Ransom makes a slow wheezy sound and then descends into hysterical laughter. Bitty’s feeling rather hysterical himself, actually, but he’s not in the mood for laughing at all.

“Can’t believe it’s another year we didn’t win Best Party,” Holster mopes back in the kitchen, sprawled out spread-legged in a chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s because of Alpha Sigma Phi and their fucking tropical Christmas party, I know it, Rans, I can feel it in my booze bones. Like, okay, they served drinks in real coconuts while bare-ass naked in twenty degrees, so what."

Ransom reaches out to give him a consolatory clap on the back. "We've always got next year, bro. Our names will appear on the holy Swallow pages, I promise."

“You’re right,” Holster sighs rather dramatically, sagging down a few extra inches in the chair. “We mustn’t despair. I’ve already bookmarked some ideas -- think we can keep live parrots in the Haus? Only for a few hours!”

“What I would like to know,” Shitty muses, stroking his mustache between two fingers while looking from Jack to Bitty’s flaming face and back again, “is who the fuck is their source. I mean, no offence, Bits, but if anybody is going to be Jackie’s fake-ass boytoy I call double fucking dibs and I’m willing to fight you on it.” He then considers it for a split second longer and says, “Or negotiate with food, honestly, I’m amendable.”

“Cooking is a touchy subject right now,” Dex mumbles from his perch by the counter, away from the cluster of boys that’s spread out at the table.

Dex looks like Bitty feels, actually: like he’s seriously regretting being present in this instance, and is looking for any excuse to make a quick escape. Or -- maybe only partially how Bitty feels, anyway. There’s another whole side of Bitty that’s feeling like there’s a vacuum in his chest, a ringing in his ears, a voice in his mind whispering, they know, they all know, Jack knows and he hates you for it.

Bitty has been studiously avoiding Jack’s face since they all withdrew from the door. He’s convinced that his feelings are written all over his face, pining daydreams altering his features and sappy midnight fantasies painting his cheeks bright red. He’s sure that one look in his eyes would give away every guilty thought he’s had since November, so he determinedly keeps his head down. Only, then Jack clears his throat and Bitty can’t help but spring his eyes up to look at him -- like a moth drawn to the flame that’d inevitably scorch it.

"Well, whatever is the misunderstanding, obviously they can't actually run that, Bittle. I mean, because. Hockey, and." His eyebrows do something complicated that Bitty cannot bring himself to study too closely.

The words hit like a two-hundred pound flour bag dropped on Bitty’s chest, weighing him down into the floor. Bitty tries to swallow, fails, tries again. His throat still grates like it’s made of raw sandpaper when he speaks.

"Right, no, of course," there’s this horrible sinking in his gut, a phantom sensation of freefalling that tastes like acid when it reaches the back of his tongue. "Of course, Jack. I know that. The last thing you need right now is --" he finally swallows past the lump in his throat, drops his eyes to watch his toes curl inside his shoes and dent the fabric upwards. “-- rumors about the gay kid on your team.”

Shitty says, “Bitty,” with a sharp edge in his tone, and when Bitty looks up Jack looks like he’s been struck.

"Hold on, Bittle, that's --"

“It’s okay, Jack!” Bitty makes a valiant effort to smile reassuringly. His chest is growing tighter and tighter, and he really can’t handle hearing Jack’s explanation right now. He feels like he’s shaking all over, like more and more words are being rattled out of his mouth without his permission. “I mean, it’s utterly ridiculous, but that’s The Swallow for you, I ‘spose. We’ll tell them it’s nonsense before anyone in the league catches wind of it. I’m sorry I even put your career at risk like that, honestly.”

“Bittle,” Jack says again, more firmly. He looks almost angry.

Holster’s stunned look is flickering between the two of them, and Bitty can feel the humiliation crawling up the back of his neck. He thinks that if he stays sitting in the kitchen any longer the boys might actually hear the splintering sounds his heart is making in his chest. Or he might start crying, whichever comes first.

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Bitty forces himself out of his chair, squeezes Jack’s elbow in passing for good measure, even though bringing his hands anywhere near Jack feels like torture. He doesn’t want Jack to feel guilty about this -- it’s not his fault. “It’s fine. I gotta go, I’m meeting Prof. Atley, but we’ll talk about it later, okay?”

He bolts out of the kitchen and rushes down the hall. The last thing he hears is Ransom saying, “Dude, I’m pretty sure his meeting with her was like, four hours ago,” before the Haus door slams shut behind him.

The worst part is, Bitty knows Jack is straight.

Jack dates 50 Most girls from the tennis team, he takes ladies in tall heels to Screw, he brings puck bunnies to his room during kegsters. Or -- that turned out, actually, to be not all that true after all -- but.

Jack is straight. Bitty knew this all along. Bitty knew this and still let his foolish, stubborn heart say, maybe. Bitty saw Jack laughing at his weak chirps, and looking at him sometimes when Bitty was turned away, and there was that party, with Parse, and Bitty’s blood was rushing in his ears and he tried so hard not to listen, but they almost looked like they -- and Bitty thought, maybe --

But Jack wasn’t. Of course not. And Bitty knows it’s so unfair and so unjustified that he’s allowing himself to be mad about Jack’s words. Because these boys accept Bitty for who he is, have never shied away from him, have always been comfortable with his presence in their lives and their house and their locker room, and that’s not something to be taken for granted. It’s not their fault that they’re straight and that’s easier, not their fault that Jack’s straight and Bitty can’t bring himself to let go. Besides, something like this, it could wreck Jack's career even if it were true, and it isn't, so of course Jack would want it gone. It's not personal, Bitty knows. He has no reason to be so hurt.

Except maybe it stings a little, how untrue it really is. Maybe it burns a little inside to know that other people see what he sees, what he wishes were true, and still know that he can never have that for real. And maybe it hurts, that Jack can so easily make the article go away and never deal with those rumors again, because it's simply not true about him, but it will always be true about Bitty. Maybe he’s tired of how he will always have to fight for his place while people like Jack Zimmermann can walk right in.

Maybe.

But none of it is Jack's fault. Because Jack is straight, and Bitty isn’t, and he’s gone and fallen in love with him anyway.

Breakfast with only Lardo and Jack is a quiet affair the next morning. Habit has them settled down at the team’s usual long table, but they take up significantly less space just the three of them. Bitty is surprised by the two empty seats remaining to each side of them despite the crowded dining hall, but considers that maybe the Samwell population knows whose seats are available and aren't willing to risk it.

Lardo is chewing her toast silently by Bitty's side, oversized hoodie draped over most of her face. Jack is sitting across from them, peeling the shells off a pile of hard-boiled eggs. His body is curved in a stiff line over his plate and his elbows are tucked in close to his sides. He keeps sneaking glances at Bitty every few minutes, looking torn; Bitty busies himself with spooning exactly three banana slices in every dip into his oatmeal bowl, keeps hurriedly shoving them into his mouth every time Jack looks like maybe he’s going to actually say something.

Bitty spent the majority of the previous night hiding out in a quiet corner of Norris library, binging episodes of The Great British Bake Off on his phone. When he ultimately found the courage to come back to the Haus, he power-walked straight into his room and didn’t venture out for anything more than brushing his teeth. The walls in the Haus are thin, however, and he could still hear Jack in his own room through the closed doors, speaking on the phone with his father in brisk French. They didn't exactly sound angry, but Bitty had unintentionally overheard enough of Jack’s phone conversations to recognize Jack’s business tone easily.

Jack’s lawyer had sent The Swallow a sternly phrased email first thing that morning -- for formality, Jack informed Bitty when the two of them left the Haus for breakfast with Lardo. His hands were tucked deep in his pockets and his eyes were hidden beneath the bill of his Habs cap. He kept his body angled away from Bitty, maintaining a careful six feet between them, and Bitty’s whole body ached like he’d spent the night playing consecutive shifts instead of tossing and turning in his bed. It was the only time they’ve acknowledged the Swallow article since the previous afternoon. Bitty changed the subject immediately after, and prattled meaninglessly the whole way to Commons.

The three of them separate after breakfast, Lardo heading for the studio and Jack and Bitty for their respective classes. Bitty spends most of his spare noon hours trying to do work in the kitchen, but he steals longing glimpses at Betsy more often than he does the reading for US Intellectual HIST or the darn American Publics essay he still hasn’t started.

This day needs an assist, he justifies when he eventually deserts his open notes on the table in favor of hunting down a clean towel. Polishing dishes is a more effective way to escape his blues. Maybe he’ll make some jam -- that doesn’t require a working oven, and it’d be a longer-term distraction from the mess he’s landed in.

Jack’s lawyer's actions in mind, the knock on the Haus door doesn’t really surprise Bitty. He can’t help the way his body tenses at the sound, though; the blood rushing through his body is too much like the terrible lightheadedness he experiences when checked.

Jack comes down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and grinds to a halt when he sees Bitty leaning against the wall at the entrance to the kitchen and staring at the door.

“It’s probably the Swallow rep,” Jack states the obvious, voice completely monotonous and face blank.

Bitty's gut lurches. He tries his very best, but he’s certain that his smile looks even more put-on than it was the day before.

“We should probably go get it, then,” he says. He keeps his hands wrapped in the dish towel as they move to open the door, to have something to do with them and to cover up the way they’re shaking.

The guy standing on the bottom of their stairs is the same one from yesterday. His loose printed shirt is somehow even uglier than the plaid vest, but this time no smile is taking up the majority of his face. In fact, he isn’t smiling at all; he kind of looks like he’s been sent to the gallows and couldn't beg out of his sentence.

“We've been informed that a mistake was made,” the guy says promptly, glancing between the two of them. Everything about his face and his body language appears cautious.

“Yes,” Jack confirms firmly. The guy blinks in sync with Bitty, both of them waiting to see if Jack has any intention to follow that statement with an explanation, but none seems imminent.

“We understand that it’s an honest mistake and we just want it scrapped," Bitty says instead, trying to keep his voice from betraying any emotion, even when his vocal cords are wound tight. "We can't be the cutest couple if we're not -- if we're not."

“You talked to your lawyer,” the guy says faintly. Bitty's not sure that he actually heard a word of what was said. He keeps eyeing Jack’s rigid posture and bulging muscles like he’s afraid that he’s going to be dragged into a fist fight right there on the lawn.

“It’s a legal matter,” Jack replies curtly, frowning.

“No one ever sent his lawyer after us,” the guy says, fainter still. “It’s just The Swallow, man.”

Jack's frown deepens. He’s wearing his hockey face, mouth pinched and eye narrowed, every angle of his face turning sharper. He looks serious, assertive, like he’s getting ready to step out on the ice for the puck drop. Bitty’s heart hurts so badly looking at him that he has to turn away. His eyes, mid-movement, catch on three faces eavesdropping from behind the living room’s doorway. He just barely suppresses a heavy sigh.

"-- you’d be spreading misinformation with unwelcome consequences,” Jack is talking, apparently, and Bitty tuned out most of it. “So you understand why we need you to retract that immediately and delete all further copies."

"Yes," the guy nods tentatively, eyes jerking in Bitty’s direction and then immediately back to Jack. "I'm -- sorry? We really thought you were --"

"Well we ain't," Bitty says, wringing the towel in his hands to hinder an uncommon urge to break something with them.

"Yes, I -- I understand," the guy seems as spooked by Bitty now, contemplating him and the towel as warily as he did Jack. "But we --"

"And I've got a date!" Bitty blurts, before he can hold his tongue from making his situation worse. Shitty whispers, the fuck, brah?, loud enough to carry all the way to the front door. "A date! With. Someone else, obviously, who is very much not Jack Zimmermann, so if you could -- make it go away -- good heavens this could be embarrassing for my date --"

"Of course,” the guy is nodding more vigorously now, head bouncing much like a dashboard bobblehead. He takes a cautious step back. “We're, uh, sorry. We’ll take care of it."

The guy retreats from the porch, glancing back every few steps as he hastens down the sidewalk.

Jack shuts the door behind them when they step back inside, and has to move closer to Bitty to allow the door to close. It brings his arm flush with Bitty’s back, solid and warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Bitty’s breath catches. His look flits sideways to watch Jack’s face twist into something Bitty hasn’t seen since the playoffs last year. He really felt like Jack and him were getting steadily closer throughout the year, considers Jack one of his closest friends, but he doesn’t think he’s imagining the distance between them in the last twenty-four hours. It’s more painful than the verbal confirmation that Jack will never like him back was. It’s painful that Bitty’s been shoving his feelings so far down to avoid this very outcome, only to have it blow up in his face through no fault of his own.

"What's that now!” Holster’s booming voice snaps Bitty out of his brooding, and he jerks his eyes up to see that Ransom, Shitty and Holster have crawled out of their eavesdropping spot and are blocking the hallway. “You've got a what and didn't tell us!"

“It’s not a big deal, y’all,” Bitty mumbles, mortified at how much he’s really not lying at all. He slinks away from Jack’s touch, tries to at least be subtle about it. Jack's expression is shuttering further with every moment that passes and Bitty is feeling irrationally miserable about it.

“Is too, Bits!” Ransom claps him on the shoulder excitedly, shaking his entire frame. "You know you gotta tell us all about it, we get veto rights! Is he hot? What's his name? Is he going to be your shoulders for Spring C?"

Bitty’s lousy day has only been getting progressively worse, which he thinks validates the way he bristles and knocks Ransom's hand off his shoulder. "I am average height, Justin Oluransi!"

So it's not -- really a date.

Anthony from his Eating Practices Since the 19th Century course, who sits two seats away from Bitty and always forgets to bring a pen, caught up with him after class and offered to study together. Bitty’s doing alright in that course, but Anthony is smart and friendly and it’s a good incentive to actually get some work done before finals, so Bitty smiled and said yes. He didn’t think a few days later he’d be lying about it to his friends.

They meet outside Annie’s because Anthony preferred it to Founder’s, which Bitty didn’t mind. He was a little embarrassed about how the librarians might react to the sight of his face. They, unlike some others, don’t have a problem believing he’s a member of the Men’s Hockey Team, and the treatment earned by his teammates’ behavior extends to him.

Ransom wouldn’t let him leave the Haus until his outfit has been appraised, which means he’s maybe a little overdressed for a platonic study date -- but Anthony is in nice jeans and wearing neither a team logo shirt nor a marijuana crop top, so he’s already setting the bar higher than Bitty’s usual company.

"After you," Anthony beams, opening the door for Bitty. It’s awfully nice of him. Maybe Bitty should consider running cotillion classes for his boys before graduation.

It’s easier to revert to his sunny nature in the company of someone new. Anthony keeps up chatter about the last subjects they covered in class, relates to Bitty’s chronic procrastination tendencies, and even insists on paying for both of their drinks. Bitty tries to refuse, instantly dejected by the stark reminder of coffee runs with Jack, but Anthony argues that they’d probably refill several times and Bitty can get the next one. His winning smile is so convincing that Bitty can’t find it in himself to say no.

It happens again when Bitty begins leading them to a larger table in the middle of the café where they’ll have more room to spread out. Anthony points at a table by the windows instead, says, “There, it’ll be quieter,” and Bitty instinctively thinks, those are the windows Jack and I always sit by. He then thinks, good Lord, ERB, get a hold of yourself, and agrees. There’s not much point in attending a study date if he’ll be constantly thinking about Jack Zimmermann.

They spread out all their notes and laptops and books, settling on both sides of the small, round table. Anthony drinks his coffee extra hot and the steam fogs up his glasses, which causes Bitty to laugh and Anthony to grin sheepishly. It sets a good mood for their joint studying.

They work decently well together. Anthony's been more diligent with his schoolwork but Bitty is a faster reader than him, so they catch up with each other fairly quickly and proceed from there. Bitty finds it fun, partnering with someone who doesn’t consider violent food breaks an essential part of studying, and enjoys having somebody to complain about the professor with. The two of them are just starting on technological advances at the end of the century when Bitty’s shoulders fully loosen for the first time in three days and he thinks: this is going well, this is nice, maybe we can do this more often.

This is also the exact point he looks up to tell Anthony about Louis Pasteur and catches Holster and Ransom spying on him from outside Annie’s front window.

His knee-jerk response is uncontainable: he groans out loud. Anthony seems alarmed, twisting in his chair to look over his shoulder and detect what Bitty’s glaring at. Ransom, who clearly knows they’ve been caught, looks directly at Anthony with a deliberately threatening face, pointing two fingers at his eyes, then at Anthony, and back at his eyes.

Anthony makes a confused face into his mug and says, "Um."

"Gosh, I am so sorry," Bitty drops his face into his palms, trying to smother the waves of heat rushing to his cheeks. "It's my teammates -- they have no boundaries and they -- gracious, they think this is a date --"

Anthony swallows a mouthful of coffee too quickly before he sets his mug on the table. "Oh, uh. Do you… not think this is a date?"

Bitty lets his hands fall into his lap. His eyes dart to where Holster and Ransom are waving their thumbs up in the air as they mercifully walk away from the window and then back to Anthony, whose face is unmoving. "...What?"

The top of Anthony's cheeks pink, and he adjusts the glasses on his nose with a knuckle. "I... totally asked you meaning this to be a date."

"Oh," Bitty exhales numbly. Oh, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, he thinks, and then opens his mouth to say something to Anthony -- anything at all, because the poor boy is starting to squirm in his chair -- but all his words seem to get stubbornly stuck behind his teeth.

Because Anthony is perfectly nice. He’s mild-mannered, has a pleasant smile, and he's made Bitty laugh in class a few times when the professor wasn't looking. He's sitting across from Bitty with his hands twitching on top of the table, like Bitty's answer on the matter of their date is important to him. Like he would actually really like it to be one, so he found the courage to ask.

"Oh boy, I really didn't realize," Bitty confesses, finally, clutching his coffee tightly between his fingers. He's never thought he'd be this bad at this, but apparently he's just completely and entirely blind to anyone's affections as long as anyone isn't Jack Zimmermann. And now he made this difficult for both Anthony and himself.

"That's okay," Anthony says, clearing his throat. His lips quirk up in some intimation of a smile, which is, while still very pleasant to look at, much less genuine than his usual smile. "No, really, it's cool. My fault for not being clearer. We can -- I can go and order a refill for this coffee, and when I'm back we'll forget about it? We still have work left to do." He drags his legs out from beneath the table, turning sideways in his seat, before he risks another look at Bitty. "Unless you --? I mean, now that you -- realize -- would you want it to be…?"

The answer to that, Bitty thinks regretfully, is too complex for an acquaintance. Because how does one say, you're very nice and I imagine liking you could be very easy, but I've never dated in my life and right as I thought maybe I'd give it a try, I went and fell head over heels for a grumpy, kind-hearted, heterosexual Canadian?

One doesn't, Bitty reckons, but one also cannot keep waiting forever for something that will never, ever come. So he straightens his back and says, with his best Georgia smile, "Well, how about we carry on studyin’, and maybe we'll see how things go?"

It's a little more strained after that, but that's more Bitty's fault than anything. Anthony is still as perfectly polite as he was before, as focused on the reading. It's just that now every time Anthony smiles at him Bitty freezes, and then feels guilty for freezing, and gets mad at himself for not giving this a fighting chance, and by then he's not smiling back for so long that Anthony's smile shrinks, and Bitty feels even guiltier --

"Look," Anthony tells him after they packed everything back into their bags and walked companionably outside. "This hasn't been ideal, but I still had a good time. I'd like to maybe -- do it again?" Anthony smiles genuinely this time, and his smile is so pleasant, and he tilts his head the slightest bit closer to say, "As an official date this time?", and --

This is the second time Bitty freaks out about a very nice boy leaning in to possibly kiss him at Annie's, and it's exactly as mortifying as the first.

Bitty jumps back painfully obviously, as startled himself by his physical reaction as Anthony clearly is. He's blushing fiercely when he stammers, "Oh -- I -- I don't think it'll work out, I'm so -- I'm so sorry --" turns around, almost breaking into a run, and calls out, "I'll bake you a pie!"

The corners of Bitty’s eyes begin to burn, indicating the impending shameful tears. He’s terribly upset with himself for his reaction, but he’d be even more upset if he allowed himself to cry over it, so he makes the effort to blink furiously the entire way home.

The team gathers to eat dinner together that night. Bitty’s still a little vulnerable in the aftermath of his failed study date, but he does his best to hide it, pushing himself to be cheerful and revel in quality time with his boys. It’s easier when Ransom spends most of the walk to the dining hall engaging him in a conversation about wild alien conspiracies. It’s harder when Shitty and Holster join forces to cajole him into giving deets, and don’t take his, “Oh good Lord, there’s nothing to talk about!” as an acceptable answer. Telling them the truth is not an option -- they’re his best friends, but they would absolutely, no question about it, chirp him to death, and he’s really not in the right mood to take it good-naturedly.

Bitty’s surprised when it’s Jack who eventually tells them to knock it off, shoving Holster’s shoulder to force his way into sitting between him and Bitty at the table. Holster topples sideways into Nursey, and Jack seizes the vacated space and grants Bitty a miniature triumphant smile.

Jack’s dour mood had persisted through yesterday and during their walk over, but Bitty’s been watching him gradually thaw ever since they arrived at Commons; this smile is the first true, earnest one in days, and it melts Bitty on the inside. He’s immensely relieved that at least their friendship isn’t ruined, that the past few days have only been an unfortunate bump in an otherwise smooth road. Bitty tries to cling on to that, use it to move forward from the raincloud lingering over him since his afternoon with Anthony.

A baby-faced freshman approaches their table while Chowder is telling them about a text conversation with his sister. Bitty has his phone out before anyone else even reacts -- the nervous look in the kid’s face is enough warning, and he’s not disappointed; the kid zeroes in on Jack and asks for a signature on his Samwell jersey. There is absolute silence at the table while Jack surrenders to his inescapable fate and pulls out a pen. He then ducks his head and hangs on to that pen once the kid is out of earshot and the boys begin chirping him ruthlessly, yelling loudly enough to rattle the cutlery.

Bitty’s hiccupping laughter comes as a surprise to himself, but it’s the welcome sort. He directs his smile at his phone while he tweets -- true friends don't care that you're a professional hockey player; true friends ask you to sign their mashed potatoes during dinner -- and when he raises his head Jack is peeking at his screen and grinning at him.

“Not a professional player yet, eh? You can’t go lying to the Twitter.”

Jack is so obviously pleased with himself, white teeth gleaming in his mischievous grin. Bitty's heart soars and then swiftly sinks to the bottom of his stomach. He tries to hang on to the gratitude for what he has, but something in Jack’s voice triggers the memory of it stating, obviously they can't actually run that, and then, consecutively, the memory of Anthony's dumbfounded look when Bitty fled away from him.

Not even Jack's benign chirps or his concerned glances can restore Bitty's uplifted mood after that.

Can’t make it to Founder’s tonight. Sorry! :( :( Raincheck?

The reading room is quieter than the rest of the Haus at night. It's dark out, gray shingles lit only by the lamp inside Bitty's bedroom and the faint glow of the streetlights down the road. Bitty lets his legs dangle from the edge of the roof, cradling a can of Twisted Tea and watching his shoes swing twelve feet above the shadowy green of the lawn.

There's the sound of a creaky window sash sliding up behind him. “Hey, Bittle.”

Bitty turns around. Jack is sitting on the ledge of his windowsill, holding a folded blanket in his lap. It takes a few seconds to blink away the disorientation caused by rumination and beer. “Jack! What’re you doing?”

Jack shrugs. “You said you’re not coming with me to Founder’s, and then you didn’t answer your phone. I wanted to check in.” He holds out the blanket with a modest smile. “Here -- so you won't get cold. Spring is pretty rough on you Southerners, eh?”

Bitty snorts inelegantly at the chirp, but stretches his arm to accept the blanket. He twists back to watch the twinkling Christmas lights on the LAX frat house across the road. They never take those down, and never add any new ones during the holidays. It’s as good a reason as any to hate the lacrosse team.

Jack clears his throat, an obtrusive sound in the relative silence. “Can I -- do you want me to stay? I mean, I can leave if you need some quiet.”

Bitty looks at him from over his shoulder, chin digging into his collarbone. Jack’s face is gentler than Bitty’s seen it in a while, mellowed out by the orange tint of the streetlights, and it’s so unfair. Even when Bitty’s upset about Jack he wants Jack near him, wants to hear Jack’s opinion, wants his straightforward, pragmatic type of advice. He wonders what Jack’s face would look like if Bitty was brave enough to tell him the truth about what’s bothering him. A sardonic laugh almost escapes him at that visual.

“No, you can stay,” Bitty says instead, and then makes a herculean effort to brighten up. “As long as you promise not to prattle on, you chatterbox, you know I like silences.”

The chirp falls flat when Bitty’s cheery façade cracks. Jack swings both legs out the window and slides down to sit by Bitty while Bitty takes another swig out of the can. There’s a lot of space on the roof, two empty lawn chairs on Bitty’s end, but Jack sits right next to him. Bitty’s shoulder knocks into Jack’s bicep and Jack’s thick thigh brushes against his, but Jack doesn’t take any action to inch away.

Bitty collects his knees close to his chest, leans his chin on top of them and continues watching the span of street visible from their roof. Beneath their feet, some couple probably returning from the bars by the river stumble together on the sidewalk, the echo of their giggles drifting up to the reading room. Bitty can’t quite cover his grimace in time to hide it from Jack.

"You're upset," Jack jabs Bitty’s elbow with his own, brow furrowing.

"No!" Bitty objects quickly, hoping his voice is only a lick squeaky. He's not drunk by any means, but the Twisted Tea makes everything a bit fuzzy, softens the world at its fringes. "I'm not upset. It's -- finals are coming up in two weeks, and I've got this essay I haven’t started, and -- you know, Betsy hasn’t been well and what am I gonna do, if I can’t bake to distract myself before the tests --"

"Bittle," Jack cuts him off quietly. Bitty lifts his head off his knees just enough to enable a quick glance; Jack is looking at him, those intense eyes trained on Bitty’s face, making his cheeks flush self-consciously. Jack’s expression is his distinct blend of uncomfortable but determined. "You're upset. Are you -- is it -- your date was this afternoon…?"

Bitty’s blush deepens, and he lays his cheek down to avoid eye contact. "So?"

"So," Jack begins, clumsily, and then shifts his arm so it nudges Bitty’s, fingers curled loosely into his palm. "Did he -- I mean."

It takes Bitty a moment to decipher Jack’s faltering sentence, but -- "Gosh, no," Bitty denies with profound embarrassment once he follows Jack's train of thought. Jack, unable to shake off the role of captain, is assuming some boy hurt him. Bitty doesn’t know how to tell him that he couldn't even get through the date to get hurt how normal people do. "He was a gentleman. If anything, it was me who was on my worst behavior."

Jack doesn’t look convinced. He bumps the back of his curled fingers against Bitty’s thigh. "But you're upset."

Bitty loosens his grip on his knees, keeps the hand not holding the can busy by fiddling with the hem of Jack’s blanket. Jack is both the last and the only person he wants to talk to about this. Bitty’s original plan was to get tipsy enough to fall asleep without thinking his emotions through, and then spend the next day compartmentalizing it away -- but Jack’s presence brings everything to the forefront of his mind, plucks at the tangle in his chest until it unravels.

"Well, because --” he sighs, and the expansion of his lungs must fracture some dam, because the words begin spilling out in long strings of nonsense. “I just -- I came here from Georgia because I thought it’d be different, y’know? I couldn't fit in there, and I know -- you said yourself -- I know it’s not any different here, not really, not in hockey, but outside of hockey it’s Samwell, so at least I could be me, right? But apparently I can't even be that, because I can't manage a simple thing like a date with a cute boy," he stops to take a deep breath, buries his face in the nook between his knees. "And, goodness, I can't believe I'm -- none of this is on you, I'm sorry --"

"Bittle," Jack touches his knee, inches away from his cheek, causing Bitty to look up. Jack doesn’t move his fingers from Bitty’s bare leg after Bitty lifts his head. "Don’t be sorry. It's okay."

Bitty searches Jack’s face. He doesn’t know how to read it, what the tiny microexpressions currently mean, but Jack’s fingers are splayed in the valleys of his joints and there’s something grounding in it. He takes another big breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

"I guess," Bitty whispers, but the turmoil in his chest doesn’t settle, not after he started letting it all out. He can almost picture it surging in him, clawing its way up to his mouth. "But -- is it? Okay? I'm just." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself, both for feeling so much and for being unable to articulate feelings with the proper words. "I feel like I can't just be me. Because who I am isn't good enough at home, and isn't good enough for hockey, and who I am likes boys but apparently I'm no good at liking them right, or -- the right ones --"

He restrains himself from saying anything incriminating, biting his lip hard enough to taste the metallic flavor of blood.

"You are good enough for hockey," Jack says, stilted. His hand tightens on Bitty’s knee and belatedly pulls away. "You're a strong player, and you did a great job this season. I know we lost, but you still did good. You'll be even better next year."

Bitty exhales sharply, rubs his eyes. He knows Jack; he knows he chose to latch onto hockey because that's something he’s capable of expressing. Telling Bitty he's a good player is something Jack can find words for. Bitty didn’t expect Jack to be the right person to talk through an identity crisis, but it’d be an easier evasion to accept if he wasn’t wrong.

"Jack, no offense, but that's a load of horseshit." Jack is clearly caught off guard, seems to be gearing himself up for retaliation, but Bitty talks right over him. "It is! It is, because I might do alright now -- here -- but if I wanted to go into real hockey, into the league, you think they'd be alright with who I am? You've heard what some guys’ve got to say on the ice, and this isn’t even professional hockey."

"You want to play professionally?" The familiar glint in Jack’s eyes indicates that he’s losing track of the grand scheme of the conversation.

"No! But that's not the point!" Bitty swallows, because it isn't, but getting to the point might as well be impossible with Jack. He can't exactly tell him that he's heartbroken and disappointed in himself and everything looks more bleak from this perspective. He's no better than Jack right now; they’re both afraid to dip their toes into the murky waters of everything Bitty said that isn’t about the game. "I couldn't if I wanted to because of who I am."

"You could," Jack says, looking away, his shoulders tight. The conviction in his voice gets Bitty's attention. Jack really isn’t the most emotive of guys, and it takes a lot to get his voice to change pitch. "The league isn't a very welcoming place, but it's hockey. The whole point is hockey. And if you're good at hockey, they'll just have to accept that -- at some point. It might be hard, but if hockey is what you want, then --" he looks up, catches Bitty's eyes. Jack’s are unfocused, like somehow he forgot Bitty was even there. "I mean -- you said it isn't, but if it was -- all I'm saying is --"

"Sure," Bitty brings the can up to his mouth for another swig, skeptical even in the face of Jack’s unanticipated speech. "I get it. You can play, and all."

"Yes,” Jack insists, turning his upper body towards Bitty. Their knees press together and Jack’s face is suddenly a lot closer than it was before. Bitty has to blink a few times until he can get his pulse under control. “You can. Because you are good enough, Bittle."

They stare at each other, time stretching between them, caught up in the unforeseen gravity of the situation. Bitty can’t really wrap his head around hearing Jack defending him with such vigor, but he knows there’s nothing he can say to argue. That’s Jack’s opinion. He’s never been guilty of handing out compliments he doesn’t believe in.

"Thanks, Jack." Bitty whispers. "'m sorry. It's been a rough day. Sometimes --” He sighs again, bows his head, and musters the last shreds of his courage to be at least a little honest. “I guess sometimes it can get lonely. And it sucked to realize that it's my own fault I'm alone in the first place."

Jack subdues gradually, his shoulders folding inward and the fire in his eyes dying out, leaving room for something much more empathetic than Bitty expected.

"I'm sorry, Bittle." He reaches out to grasp the ball of Bity’s shoulder in his large palm, squeezing it tightly. It’s a friendly gesture of comfort, one the boys in the team offer each other all the time, but Jack’s thumb is absently rubbing small circles on the base of Bitty’s neck and it spreads tingles through his skin.

“It’s alright,” Bitty moves away, smiling, but the words are like dust in his mouth and it isn’t really alright at all. They settle back into sitting side by side, and Bitty notices Jack's fixed eyes on the side of his face, but he doesn’t turn to look.

Friday evening finds Bitty scrambling to complete last-minute assignments before Spring C the next day. He shuts himself away in his room and turns off his phone, tries to make his eyes focus on long lines of text instead of on any creaking noises in the Haus that might provide a distraction. This tactic has failed him more often than not, but for once the Haus is completely empty and any creaking Bitty might hear could only be chalked up to Ransom’s ghosts. Lardo and Shitty are out buying booze for Spring C, Holster is with the frogs, Ransom is at his weekend study group, and Jack has been in Providence with his mother all day, looking at potential apartments, and will be returning later to have dinner with her and her former Department Chair.

Studying is easier when Bitty’s using it to avoid thinking about other things. Lately, since his oven has been acting up, it’s been easy using studying as a distraction from thinking about Jack -- about Jack moving to Providence, about Jack taking the first steps in his adult life away from Bitty and the team. It isn’t a better distraction than watching Say Yes To The Dress with Holster or listening to music with Lardo, but in the absence of all other options, it’s good enough to push Bitty to make his deadlines, even if it’s at the last minute.

Bitty’s laptop emits a sharp ping that alerts him to a new incoming email, and Bitty scrambles up from the floor, almost tripping over two piles of reading material on his way. His room is an absolute mess; papers covering the bedspread and the desk, textbooks spilling from inside his bag onto the floor, pens scattered haphazardly. He’s been reviewing for the HIST test while emailing back and forth with the TA for his American Publics course -- the last three lectures of which he honestly cannot remember, but is somehow expected to write two thousand words for anyway.

The new email in his inbox isn’t from his TA, however. It reads, RE: RE: Your Nomination in the 2015 Samwell Awards, and only contains one line of text, visible in the thread’s preview without Bitty clicking it open. Attached is a confirmation for the removal and termination of the aforementioned article.

Bitty pauses, his essay forgotten, and goes over the subject lines four more times.

Bitty hasn’t read the article. Bitty didn't want to read the article, had convinced himself that he was indifferent and was more interested in putting the whole ludicrous affair behind them. But now he’s incapable of dragging his cursor away from the email’s subject line. He can’t help but want to know what they have to say -- want to know why anyone would mirror his misguided feelings for a close friend.

It can lead to nothing but trouble. Bitty still opens the article file for the first time since the whole mess began on Monday, because he won't have the guts otherwise, but for some masochistic reason he just has to know.

The Samwell Swallow

Vol. 26, Issue 31 | May 2015 | Special Edition | The Samwell Awards

CUTEST COUPLE AWARD: ICE HOCKEY AS A LOVE LANGUAGE

Our most dedicated readers will know that the title of Samwell’s Cutest Couple is highly coveted. Perhaps only second to Dream Date or Biggest Gossip in prestige, this award is one of the greatest honors young Wellie lovebirds can strive for. This year, we’re proud to elect JACK ZIMMERMANN ‘15 and ERIC BITTLE ‘17. We know: enough with the fucking hockey bros. But hear us out.

These unlikely candidates were initially nominated by Zimmermann’s fellow photography class students with an exclusive scoop. Bittle was the subject of Zimmermann’s midterm project! (Awe.) Such a grand romantic gesture could not go overlooked, and we set out to investigate. Copies of Zimmermann’s photos are brought to you here, courtesy of the Department of Visual Art.

[Images: a collage containing a dozen semi-professional photographs, all depicting BITTLE. His character is consistently linked to themes of warmth and light, and is obviously portrayed with great affection.]

We were delighted by what we learned. Observant Wellies report that the two are often seen taking long romantic walks around campus, with Zimmermann’s lens sometimes pointed at the scenery, but more often at his boyfriend. Sources at Annie’s, the local café, tell The Swallow that, “Yeah, they’ve been like, coming here at least two or three times a week this year? There’s their table [points at a secluded window table in the corner]. The tall guy always pays -- what? No, they’re almost always alone. Except this one time that they were here with this other couple? I don’t know, man, I see lots of people on dates, but these guys kinda stand out. They’re always giggling with each other, it’s ridiculous. And loud.”

Our research yielded clear results: service staff at Samwell’s Jerry’s, Superberry and Stop&Shop have gone on record with similar statements; students who shared a class with the two disclose that their constant whispering and flirting have been impossible to ignore; even the janitor at Faber Memorial Rink reports that current team captain and fellow liney spend every weekend skating alone as they watch the sun rise, while no practice is scheduled! It’s official - Bittle and Zimmermann are, indeed, 2015’s Cutest Couple.

[Image: BITTLE and ZIMMERMANN at the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team’s #Epickegster this winter. The two are standing very close in the midst of what appears to be an intimate conversation, leaning towards each other under a bag of free condoms. Text under image reads: Our staffers report that the two then disappeared upstairs while the party was still in full swing. Get it, boys!]

Bitty spends a long, breathless moment staring at the screen with unseeing eyes.

It’s like an out of body experience. Bitty can’t feel the tips of his fingers, can’t feel his toes. He can’t lift his hand to ram the laptop lid shut so his eyes are still glued to the block of text, words blurring together into a solid sheet of gray. His mind keeps losing footing, coherent thoughts cutting off before they can run their course, parts of sentences jamming into one long sequence -- grand romantic gesture, long walks, whispering and flirting -- that plays over and over. Distantly, he’s aware that there are stray tears in the corner of his eyes, but he’s too disconnected from his limbs to do something about it.

People look, he thinks, brain stuttering over the realization, pushing itself out of its shock, people look and see -- people look at the two of us and what they see is --

A loud noise behind his back scares the living daylight out of him, enough to send him spinning on the chair. The door to his bedroom swings open, nearly banging against the wall with the strength of its motion. Behind it is Jack, standing in the doorway with his eyes blown wide and his face pale, looking like he's seen a ghost; panting for breath like he ran a marathon to get there.

Bitty nearly collapses out of his chair, stumbling over the papers on the floor to step closer, arms reaching out automatically. “Jack -- what --? Is everything alright? Aren’t you supposed to be with your mom --?”

“Bitty,” Jack breathes out, unsteady, and then tumbles further into the room. His hair is disheveled and his buttoned shirt is smeared with stains of sweat, and Bitty’s brain is still coming back online but he’s suddenly overcome with how handsome Jack still is, even like this.

And then Jack takes a lengthy step forward right into Bitty’s space, his body enveloping Bitty’s and his broad palms cupping Bitty’s burning cheeks, and tips Bitty’s mouth into his.

Bitty’s eyes remain wide open for one paralyzed split second, taking in the sight of Jack’s dark eyelashes and sculpted brow bone from extreme up close, and then Jack’s lips move and Bitty’s eyelids flutter closed, melting into the unfamiliar action.

Jack's mouth is as soft as Bitty imagined, as hot, velvety lips sliding against Bitty's and catching on the dip of his cupid’s bow. Bitty’s mind keeps up a remote chant of oh my god, Jack is kissing me, oh god, what is happening, before that too is silenced by the thrill of Jack’s mouth parting against his, deepening the kiss, and then everything goes blessedly silent.

An undetermined amount of time later, Jack’s phone begins buzzing insistently; Bitty can feel the vibrations from where his hip is aligned with Jack’s. Jack ignores it, separating their lips to angle his head in the other direction and suck Bitty’s bottom lip into his mouth, tongue wet and tentative. His phone buzzes again, though, and subsequently two times more, and then Jack finally sighs into Bitty’s mouth.

“That’s my mom,” he says quietly, breaking their mouths barely far enough apart to speak. His lower lip is shining with spit and Bitty feels faint, needs to sit down before he falls over, needs to step back before he sinks his teeth into it impulsively. “She’s waiting for me...”

“Oh,” Bitty says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. He has so many things he wants to say -- what the hell, and what does this mean, and but aren’t you, and stay, stay, don’t go -- yet the only sounds his mouth can apparently make are, “Uh. Okay.”

“We have this… dinner…” Jack continues, and his eyes are so blue and his lips are so red and his cheeks are so pink, and Bitty thinks that maybe this is a very vivid stress-induced hallucination, and also thinks that he wouldn’t mind hallucinating a little longer. “I gotta go, but I’ll -- I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Bitty says again, even though he’s not sure it is. He’s pretty sure, actually, that once Jack exits the door of his bedroom this spell will break like at Cinderella’s midnight clock strike, and Jack will return from dinner with his mother still painfully perfect, and still painfully straight, and still so, so far out of Bitty’s reach.

Jack backs up towards the door, eyes lingering on Bitty as his hands drift down Bitty’s arms. “I’ll be back,” he repeats, although Bitty’s not any more convinced, and then he takes his hands away and fumbles blindly for the doorknob, slips out into the hallway from whence he came.

Bitty hears his breaths shallow into nothing more than gasps of air, and promptly crumples backwards onto his chair.

Bitty spends the entire time Jack is absent slowly going out of his mind.

Once the shock passes and the fogginess clouding his thoughts clears, all he can do is think: think about Jack kissing him, and the lovely shape of his mouth, and the bewitched look on his face; wonder how the hell it happened, and why, and what it even means. He conjures a dozen, a hundred versions of what transpired to bring Jack to his door, and even more of what would happen if he does indeed come back.

Bitty paces back and forth across his room, unable to focus or hold onto any one scenario for more than a few seconds. His heart beats so fast for so long that it develops into nausea; he continues pacing while clutching his stomach and praying that he won’t throw up, because he doesn’t think he’d survive that kind of embarrassing memory.

Shitty and Lardo come back at some point, stoned and bearing three bags of sour worms. They squint at his messy room but don't comment on the condition of his hair or his shaky limbs, kindly offer him some sour worms and the opportunity for contact-high in Shitty’s room. They back off and close the door as soon as they see the look on his face. Bitty runs his hand through his hair one more time when he tries to imagine what his face must look like to successfully scare them away.

A long while later there are footsteps in the hallway outside his door. Bitty braces himself to tell Holster or Ransom or, god, Chowder that he’s busy right now. He tries to remind himself that he loves them even when he's in a state, and sits down on the bed to tell them that he isn’t feeling well -- except then the door opens, and it’s Jack standing in the doorway.

Bitty’s heart jumps, somersaults, and plummets all in the space of one millisecond, as he stands up abruptly from the bed and stares, openmouthed.

Jack doesn’t look as rumpled as he did earlier. His collar is adjusted neatly and the tails of his shirt are tucked and smoothed into his pants, but his face is a rich shade of pink and he’s clenching and unclenching his fists by his side. He seems so awkward, standing there, that Bitty’s continuous state of panic morphs into a different chaotic mess of confusion and affection, all while Jack does nothing but stare at him.

“How was dinner?” Bitty squeaks out, eventually, when it’s clear that Jack’s not going to speak anytime soon.

Jack looks like Bitty has veered off script unexpectedly. His eyes widen and he clenches his fists and then releases them again, compulsively. “Eh -- good, good.” Bitty nods. There’s a long stretch of silence neither of them fills. Jack inhales and says, right when Bitty is sure that his heart is sincerely going to beat out of his darn chest, “I. Bittle. About earlier.”

The color in his face deepens further but Bitty can’t tell what that means, if he’s already regretting what he’s done or if he’s just tripping over his own emotions like Bitty is. “You should -- the door,” he stutters, because whether he’s going to be kissed again or be let down gently, he’d rather do it without an audience. Jack looks at him like he spoke in a cryptic foreign language, so Bitty forces out, blushing to the roots of his hair, “Come in and shut the door, Zimmermann.”

“Oh -- shit, ouais,” Jack jostles into action, stepping away from the threshold and kicking the door shut after him. It’s the first time Bitty has seen him move with anything other than practiced poise.

Bitty’s room isn’t very large, and with the door closed the atmosphere in it quickly shifts. There’s an inherent intimacy in the short gap between their bodies that heightens in a small, enclosed space, and Bitty can feel his body heat rise and spread to his palms and his face as a result of it.

It’s unsettling, and Bitty suspects that he could grow to crave it, but not as long as he has no idea what is going on. “Jack --”

Jack interrupts him, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Wait, Bittle, listen. I -- it’s really important that you know that you shouldn't feel obligated.”

There are maybe a hundred thousand things that could’ve come out of Jack’s mouth after Bittle, listen, and Bitty spent two and a half hours imagining a good deal of them. Telling Bitty that he shouldn’t feel obligated is so perplexing that Bitty’s too wrongfooted to protest, and Jack carries on speaking. “I know as team captain I have a certain amount of authority and I didn’t even -- think about that, before, which is really wrong --”

Bitty squints, slowly gaining a renewed grasp on this bizarre situation. The only thing he manages to think with clarity, through the storm brewing in his chest, is, You doofus, what on earth are you talking about. “Jack. The season is over."

"Right," Jack shoves his hands in his pockets, squares his shoulders. "But -- still. Technically we kept up with a.m. practices even after the playoffs, so."

Because you are an insane person, Bitty thinks to himself, coming to terms with the fact that the tone of his thoughts is on a scale ranging between neurotic and cloyingly smitten. He opens his mouth, not sure what’s going to come out of it, but Jack keeps talking without pause.

"Anyway, the NCAA allows intra-team dating but doesn't say anything about involvement with captains. I checked."

This bowls Bitty over, a new wave of warmth rushing to his cheeks. "You checked?"

There's a sheen of what can only be nervous sweat above Jack's upper lip that shines under the glaring ceiling light. “It’s only thirty pages.”

Bitty feels lightheaded again, as he allows himself to consider for the first time that evening, with some measure of possibility, that Jack Zimmermann in fact came into his room and kissed the right sense out of him with the intention to date him. It’s almost too much to consider, making him weak at the knees. He grabs the edge of his desk to be on the safe side.

“You -- I -- dear god, what is even happening? What brought this on?” Because they’ve been spending -- well, they’ve spent almost every waking moment together this semester, excluding this odd week since the damned Swallow article. Jack had plenty of opportunity to confess his feelings had he possessed any, and the best time certainly wasn’t while his mother was waiting for him downstairs to go to a formal dinner.

“Well, I,” Jack stammers, dropping his chin to his chest. His ears are bright red, dark enough to be seen from a few feet away, and Bitty is enchanted by it. “I didn’t know, but. I read the stupid thing in the car because I couldn’t -- my mom said -- I kept thinking about you in every kitchen that we looked at, and I…”

Bitty can feel his eyes widen, his organs flipping over inside him. "You… did?"

Jack lifts his head, and when the two of them finally make eye contact it zings through Bitty’s body. "Yes. I mean, I guess it’s hard not to. If you're not on ice, you're baking, Bittle. Or tweeting. Or baking and tweeting."

He winces as soon the words are out of his mouth, and Bitty can’t help it: he bursts out in laughter, high-pitched and giddy. This boy, Bitty marvels, and euphoria spreads like thick cotton candy in his chest, making it hard to speak; to breathe.

Jack’s face still looks vaguely horrified, like he’s regretting ever opening his mouth. "Crisse, sorry, it's not -- I wasn't trying to --" he blows out air, starting over. "It's fine that you do. I mean, more than fine. I thought about you in the kitchens because I like it. I like you."

His voice is unmistakably uncomfortable, and beads of sweat are glinting on his temples. Bitty’s so overwhelmed by hearing Jack speak candidly about his feelings that he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. "You like me? But you're -- I mean, I thought you --"

Jack’s eyebrows draw down and his mouth thins. He looks irritated, but Bitty knows it’s the shape his face takes when he’s distressed. "I know last year it didn't seem like -- but I thought this year you knew things changed --"

"-- were straight," Bitty exhales, chest heaving. God. This is real. "I thought… you were straight."

Jack squints, stopping himself in the middle of his sentence. He seems honestly, genuinely confused, the big lug. With a more functioning part of his mind Bitty recognizes that this is probably the most facial expressions he’s seen Jack make since meeting him.

"But I kissed you."

"Yeah," Bitty swallows, cheeks probably glowing bright red. Somehow it’s so much more jarring hearing the words out loud than it was to have Jack’s mouth on his. Like something that’s not supposed to be discussed out in the open. A secret lifted right out of Bitty's subconscious, manifested by sheer will. "Uh. Sure did. Thus my confusion."

"Your -- confusion…?" Jack trails off. His flushed face begins shifting by degrees, a smile spreading slowly but steadily and creating the smallest, sweetest crinkle at his eyes. He wipes his shiny brow with the back of one forearm and then crosses the distance between them in a few short strides, sweeping in to kiss Bitty.

It’s not any less mind-blowing the second time around. Jack's fingers slot under Bitty's jaw, titling his head up, his other palm sliding from Bitty’s neck to his shoulder and down his back in a tantalizing stroke. Bitty grows hot all over, bending his body into Jack's to press their chests together, his hands hesitatingly finding their way to Jack's hips. He hooks them over the sharp curves of Jack's hip bones, feels the strength in Jack’s obliques through his clothes.

Their mouths create a soft slick sound when they glide against one another, lips meeting and parting smoothly. Bitty gathers the confidence to attempt parting his own lips, applies the slightest pressure of tongue to Jack's bottom lip, and is rewarded by Jack's shudder and the tightening of his hand on the small of Bitty's back.

Jack pulls his face back slowly enough for Bitty to blink his eyelashes open and catch Jack licking his lips, exhaling shakily.

"I like you, Bitty," Jack leans their foreheads together. His eyes are staring right into Bitty’s, drooping and soft and so clearly fond that Bitty feels the tremor flow in his body all the way to his toes.

"Me too," Bitty whispers. His heart is still beating irregularly, vainly trying to catch up with the emotional upheaval of the last few minutes. “Jack --. I like you, too.”

Jack smiles at him, and it’s more honest, more tender than Bitty's ever seen it. It makes Bitty so happy that he wants to burst into giggles, wants to hide his beam in Jack's chest until butterflies stop fluttering in his ribcage.

Jack runs his fingers into Bitty's hair, gently brushes through it. He's bashful, both of them avoiding prolonged eye contact, and it's so absurd that they're shy after kissing like that, but Bitty can't help it. Jack tips his head to kiss Bitty's chin, his temple, makes Bitty actually giggle when he kisses his ear and then settles his lips in Bitty's hair, tugging him closer into the crooks of Jack's body.

"Hey, Jack?" Bitty says quietly, leaning his cheek on the curve of Jack's shoulder and wrapping his arms around Jack's waist, hands linking at the arch of his spine.

"Yeah?" Jack mumbles into Bitty's hair, mouth moving against the crown of his head.

Bitty presses his lips briefly to the closest patch of Jack's skin he can reach, which is the dip in his clavicle. It's barely a kiss, but his entire body shivers with the knowledge that he’s allowed. "Wanna be my date to Spring C tomorrow?"

Jack draws back far enough to be able to look down, tilting his chin into his neck and catching Bitty's eyes with his. His face is pink and his lips are swollen and Bitty's so unbelievably in love with him, but it's the furthest thing from pathetic now. It seems funny that it was ever something shameful at all.

"It'd be my pleasure," Jack smiles, and leans in for another kiss.

#omgcp #zimbits #zimbits fic #omgcheckplease #pavfics #ooof. finally done. i'm sure i'll edit again in the morning BUT

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not-playable-character · 3 years

Text

Edit: new link https://archiveofourown.org/works/32099263

ITS DONE!!!! Finally, the RE8 meets RE7 fic is finished and posted! so for everyone wondering and if you didn't figure it out already. The image I posted earlier is the seating arrangement of the gang as they play the game. As always its posted on AO3 and under the cut. I hope you enjoy @ibest14 I never actually played RE7 but I watched a walkthrough to write this.

It was a normal Saturday afternoon when the Winters family got a very strange package. It was addressed to the whole family and had no return address.

“What the heck is this?” Rose wondered aloud carrying the small package inside, “Hey mom! Did you order something online?”

“Not that I remember, why?” Mia asked curious why her daughter was asking about the mail, “Who is it addressed to? Maybe your dad ordered something.” She went and stood next to Rose to look at the package.

“Hmm, I think we should wait for dad to get home to open it, I mean it is addressed to all of us.” Mia agreed with her daughter and went to continue making dinner.

Ethan got home a few hours later and was greeted by his daughter with a warm hug, “Haha, hey there kid how was your day?” He asked returning the hug and picking Rose up.

“It was good! We got a weird package in the mail, mom and I decided to wait for you before opening it.” Rose said leading him into the kitchen after he put her down.

“Welcome home, Hon! How was work?” Mia asked kissing Ethan on the cheek.

“Ugh, Williams was an absolute pain again. He somehow unplugged all of his equipment and disconnected his computer from the ethernet cable again.” Ethan complained sitting down at the dinner table next to Rose. “Chris somehow changed his computer to Arabic and Sal’s computer was changed to have wingdings as the default language and it bricked the whole thing, he said it was an accident, but I think it was one of the dicks that keep harassing him. I told Chris and he’s looking into it.” Ethan picked up the package and looked at the outside.

“Ugh why can’t these douchebags see that Sal is way better than them. Probably just jealous of him.” Rose said frustrated at the harassment her uncle was receiving.

“We should invite him over for dinner sometime, lift his spirits some!” Mia suggested placing a glass of juice down for Ethan. He agreed and thanked her for the juice.

Ethan handed the package back to Rose who tore into the packaging. Inside was a video game box, “Resident Evil? Isn’t that a game from the nineties?” Rose asked confused.

Ethan leaned over to get a better look, “Yeah it is, I played almost all of them, but I’ve never seen that one. It looks like its supposed to be the seventh one, but they only made six that I know of.” Ethan became confused taking the box from Rose studying it, it strangely didn’t have a back cover.

“Weird, maybe they are rebooting the series, but why wouldn’t there be a lot of news about it?” Rose asked. Ethan’s face lit up at the possibility of a reboot of his favorite childhood series.

“Man, I hope so, I always loved Craig Bluemarsh and Leo C. Harrison. They were the best! The whole M.O.O.N.S squad from Badger City. Special Ops turned paranormal investigators was the twist of the decade! And the whole thing with Egbert Walberk and how he possessed himself with countless demons to become basically a god.” Ethan sighs as he reminisces.

“You clearly have bad taste honey because Julie Easter was the best character in the series. The ace of the M.O.O.N.S squad, the one that Walberk kidnapped to force demons into her with a mind control amulet. Oh, and don’t forget Chloe Bluemarsh, college kid turned aid worker for those affected by the demons.” Mia added as she chopped vegetables for dinner.

“Ahh yes, how could I forget! Anyway, this looks like a cheap bootleg or fake. Probably just a prank from Dani or Angie.” Ethan said tossing the case further on the table looking upset.

“Aw man…. That’s lame dad.” Rose says dramatically throwing herself over the back of the chair. “I’m keeping it anyway; the box looks cool.”

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A month after the whole package incident, Rose bursts into the house beaming. “Dad, Uncle Chris just told me that we are having a meeting with the whole gang! We should totally bring that janky game we got and show it off!”

“Whoa, slow down Rose! You’re gonna hurt yourself running around like that.” Ethan says watching his daughter bounce in place. “Why do you think we should bring that thing anyway? I doubt there will be anytime to just sit around and play a game, if it’s even real.” Rose rolls her eyes at him.

“Dad, I’m sure Uncle Chris can pull some strings so we can have a little get together. We never get to see each other all at once!” Rose states, putting on her best puppy dog eyes, “Don’t you want to see the gang, Dad. It would be so much fun. You know how much I miss them all.” She begs.

Ethan can physically feel his resolve crumbling at his begging daughter, always caving into her once she pulls out the puppy eyes, “Fine, I’ll talk with Chris and we can bring the game with us, but you are responsible for the PlayStation and if it gets damaged or broken you have to buy the new one.” He says in his dad voice, trying to be stern. Rose squeals and jumps into his arms hugging him.

“You’re the best dad ever!” She says running off to prepare for their long weekend at Blue Umbrella.

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“Ok, is everyone comfy, I’m about to start the game!” Rose said excitedly setting up the PS4 in the Blue Umbrella lounge room. Everyone was present, Rose even convinced Miranda and Elena to join them after Milena was put to bed.

“I am unsure of what we are even doing sweet thing.” Alcina said settling into her chair near Donna.

“Well, I’m gonna play this weird game I got, maybe Dani can take over if I get tired. We are just gonna check it out, if its good, Great! If not, we can make fun of how bad it is!” Rose explained sitting down on the couch wedged between Daniela, Angie, and Heisenberg with Bela and Cassandra on the floor in front of them. Alcina wasn’t convinced that it would be fun, but she couldn’t deny Rose’s request considering how excited she looked. She sighed and pulled out her reading glasses seeing the small text on the screen.

“Psh, what are you a grandma?” Heisenberg teased. Alcina growled at him.

“Oh, please grow up you child.” She replied trying to de-escalate the situation knowing Rose and her daughters hated when they argued.

“I see making your head bigger didn’t help your eyesight.” He continued to tease sensing her anger.

“I grew proportionally you ignoramus, becoming larger would not fix my farsightedness.” She growled out becoming angrier.

“Guys….” Rose said sadly at the two arguing. Heisenberg immediately stopped his next sentence and turned to give Rose a side hug.

“Sorry kiddo, I forgot you hate it when we fight. I’ll stop, I promise.” He says sincerely as Alcina nods looking guilty, Rose smiles accepting their apologies.

“No more sappiness get to the action I’m getting bored!” Angie cried out from Daniela’s lap. Rose rolls her eyes at the doll’s bratty attitude and begins the game.

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The game begins with a very familiar video to Ethan and Mia and the sight of Mia recording her warning message on the ship.

“What the…. How is this happening? It showed the recording from my eyes, but I never recorded that…” Mia says stunned.

The next scene starts with the sound of a phone ringing and the overhead video of a car driving down a highway. Ethan begins to speak to and unknown man in the voice over explaining how he was contacted by Mia and that she wants him to come and get her.

“This has to be a sick prank! How did these people get that phone call!” Ethan shouts getting more and more upset as the clip plays. Mia places a hand on his arm to comfort him.

“Maybe there will be an explanation later. There has to be….” Mia says trying to calm Ethan.

Rose pauses the game as it shifts to Ethan’s perspective in the car, “We don’t have to keep playing if this is making you guys uncomfortable.” She says to her parents.

Ethan takes a deep breath, “No, no… it’s fine, you were really excited for this. I was just shocked. I’m okay to keep going, as long as you are okay too Mia.” She nods in agreement with her husband clearly rattled but pushing through. Rose nods continuing the game as she walks Ethan through the thick Louisiana swamp towards the Baker house.

The first obstacle they encounter is a locked gate. She moves him down a path leading to a trashed car with camera equipment scattered around it. Looking in they find a scrip proposal for Sewer Gators Ep. 17.

They then come across a broken gate with a sign that says, “Accept Her Gift”, “Oh yeah definitely just walk through that incredibly ominous gate into the disgusting swamp.” Heisenberg says gesturing towards the screen, “I’d just say, ‘sorry lady I’m not that desperate for a wife’ and dip.”

“He has a point dad, I mean really its been three years. Just move on.” Rose says to her father.

Ethan blushes, “Hey you can’t judge a man in love. I had to know what happened.”

“Nah man, just accept the death bro. Totally not worth it.” Daniela says interjecting.

“I’m right her you know.” Mia says scolding them. Rose giggles and continues on. They come across the remains of a fire with Mia’s purse laying there. They then enter the Guest house finding it to be disgusting and in disrepair.

“God, I forgot how gross this place was.” Ethan says wrinkling his nose.

Rose looks around the living room area, finding a hidden chain that opens a hidden room they go through. Exploring further leads them into a flooded basement they are forced to crawl through.

“Oh, please Ethan, I know you are insanely stubborn but the corpse in the flooded basement should have been an indicator to leave immediately.” Alcina says as the dead body floats up in front of them.

“Ok, Ok I get it I’m a crazy person for going on, but can we please stop commenting on it. I’m aware of the insanity.” Ethan replies as Rose comes up into a basement room with a jail cell containing Mia as well as other information on people who were listed as turned or dead. They pick up the bolt cutters and break open Mia’s cell. While they are being reunited Mia acts strangely warning him of the dangers and of Daddy.

“Pft, seriously? Daddy?” Dani snickers at Mia.

“Don’t start. I was possessed by a child obsessed with family.” Mia says glaring at Dani.

Rose follows Mia through the basement where she and Ethan stop to talk about the last three years.

“Come on! This is a life or death situation, get a move on!” Cassandra yells out at the screen.

Rose continues to creep through the basement following Mia as Ethan learning more about her capture as they walk. They come across a living room type area where Mia starts to act strangely, talking about family and when Ethan leaves, they hear her crash through the wall revealing a staircase to the house. They move through the house looking for Mia. They hear crashing coming from the stairs they came from and return to find Mia on all fours crawling up the stairs. She attacks Ethan looking monstrous as she throws him back up with superhuman strength. She then attacks him with a knife stabbing him through the hand. After a struggle she regains control rambling about a strange her as she slams her head against the wall.

“Jesus man, that is hard core…” Heisenberg says in awe. Mia grimaces at the memory. Rose continues on wandering before they are attacked by Mia once again. They fight her off with an axe. “Ethan, my friend, you always have to double check that your enemy is dead. She is definitely gonna get up again, classic horror trope.” Heisenberg says wisely.

“Karl, this actually happened. I wasn’t thinking about ‘horror tropes’. I was focusing on surviving.” Ethan says to him.

“Also, of course I’m going to get up, I’m sitting right here. I’m clearly not dead.” Mia says exasperated.

Rose moves on with the game ignoring them and answers the phone that had begun to ring. “Dad why did you answer the phone? Just leave.” She says as Zoe gives her warning to Ethan. “Oh yeah let’s listen to the random phone lady and not just break a window.” She says rolling her eyes.

They move on solving the puzzle for the stairs catching a glimpse of the not at all dead Mia. Replacing the fuse, they are jumped by Mia again who attacks him with a screwdriver pinning him to the wall before chopping his had off with a chainsaw.

“My god man! How did you keep going!” Sal exclaims looking at Ethan who just shrugs.

They find a pistol in one of the rooms and use it to take care of the attacking Mia as she rants crazily. Finally taking her down, they are ambushed by Jack Baker who punches him in the face.

“See I told you that you should have moved faster, now ‘Daddy’ caught you.” Cass says as Ethan falls over and is stomped on by Jack. They see him being dragged and Mia being carried by Jack, the scene changes to Ethan strapped to a chair with Zoe staples his hand back on. He finally fully awakes to a disgusting family dinner with the whole Baker family.

“Ugh, I miss Momma’s cooking so much.” Mia says reminiscing happily. Everyone stares at her as they see the disgusting meal on the table in game. She blushes, “Before she went fully crazy, she was an amazing cook. Her gumbo was to die for, oh and Daddy’s fried chicken, mmm.” She explains to them. No one seems convinced as the scene continues with Lucas throwing food at him and Marguerite tries to get Ethan to eat, and Jack cuts off Lucas’ hand. Jack comes over and forces the rancid food into Ethan’s face as Marguerite rants and leaves angrily, Jack then cuts Ethan’s face before being interrupted by the doorbell. They escape and flee through the house trying to find an exit. They find a key and are chased by Jack before escaping to the crawlspace.

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They explore the house before a police officer tries to ask Ethan questions.

“Man, that officer is kind of a dick…” Heisenberg says realizing how rude and unprofessional the officer is.

“He was a massive dick.” Ethan says frustrated at the memory of their interactions. They make the way to the garage to meet the rude officer who refuses to take the situation seriously which leads to his death and Ethan’s continued entrapment. “See, massive dick, we could have escaped, but noooo.” He says.

Rose nods in agreement as she avoids Jack in the garage and tries to defeat him with the car. The car crashes and catches fire revealing an on fire Jack who is knocked down by the resulting explosion. They collect the items in the room before climbing up the revealed ladder. Jack stops Ethan and shoots himself in the head with Ethan’s gun.

“I’ll say it again, he ain’t dead. He’s coming back sooner or later.” Heisenberg says again.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. This game’s been full of tropes so far.” Cassandra responds to him rolling her eyes.

Rose continues on solving puzzles and making their way through the labyrinthine house avoiding the obviously not dead Jack and the molded that are scattered around the house. They see Jack mumbling to himself about being “her” and talking about how he is going to kill Ethan.

“God he’s so cool.” Dani says as he leaves the room getting looks from the others, “What? He’s a cool villain.”

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The fight with Jack was a bit of a struggle for Rose, but she made it through with Heisenberg, Dani, and Cass cheering her on.

When he finally exploded, both Heisenberg and Dani called out in joy, “Now that’s how you kill a villain!” Heisenberg shouted out with a laugh and high fived Dani over Rose’s head. As they make their way through the house again completing puzzles and finding Grandma in random places.

“She is the one who caused all this.” Alcina says pointing at Grandma. Ethan and Mia looks shocked.

“How did you know that?” Mia asks. Alcina scoffs as if it is obvious.

“She hasn’t had the focus at all, yet she appears at random seemingly following Ethan, who we know is the next victim in mind. She is clearly Eveline.” She says smugly to everyone’s shocked faces.

Rose moved on ignoring the gloating. She came across a trailer in the yard, exploring it revealed that it was Zoe’s home containing some useful items that she ignored moving to leave as the phone rang. Zoe explained about the mold and how to progress.

“Why are you so trusting of this woman, you don’t know her, and she has admitted that she is a part of the family trying to kill you?” Bela asked turning to face Ethan. He opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out, he paused thinking and shrugged. Bela rolled her eyes at him, “Typical man thing.” She mumbled out returning to her original position.

They move on to the old house and Marguerite just as Zoe instructed. Coming across baby dolls strung up from the rafters of the bridge. “Whoever made those should be killed.” Donna said quietly. Everyone looked at her confused. “The look like such poor quality dolls, anyone who cares would never let them fall apart so easily. Cheap plastic is the worst fate a doll can experience.” She explains confident.

“You aren’t upset at the fact that they are strung up, just that they suck?” Rose asks her.

“Of course, you can do what you like with them, but the craft must be respected. These cheap factory made ones are a disgrace.” Donna explains upset at the virtual dolls. Rose mumbles an ok before moving on into the bug infested old house. They make their way through the house avoiding mutant bugs and solving puzzles.

“Gotta say girls, these things really remind me of you three.” Heisenberg says as Rose burns her way through the nests of bugs.

“How dare you compare my girls to these disgusting things! They are clearly superior in every way.” Alcina says angrily defending her girls.

“Thank you, mother, but he has a bit of a point.” Bela says to her mother with Cassandra nodding in agreement.

“Momma has a point though too! We are better than those things!” Dani says beaming at her mother. Cass mumbles suck up under her breath and is smacked by Dani.

Soon after they find Mia in game again, she explains her amnesia and is taken away by Lucas. Not being able to help they continue on through the house again. Eventually they are found by Marguerite who begins to stalk them through the house attacking them with her swarm of insects, insane rants, and vulgar obscenities.

“This lady is something else…” Heisenberg says cringing at Marguerite.

“For once we agree on something Karl.” Alcina agrees cringing as well. The others nod in agreement with them.

They make their way through a secret passageway revealed by the spider shadow puzzle. The wall space was infested which had everyone cringing at the writhing masses of centipedes. They collect the crank and the crow key and try to enter Marguerite’s room before she throws him down the stairs and through the floor. After a short encounter, she falls into the hole and melts into black goo. They collect information on the D series pieces and Zoe calls again, and she mentions they only need the arm piece as she has the D series head. They return to the hole to see the goo gone and a long spindly arm take the lantern needed to progress. They follow the monstrosity to well in front of the old house returning to Zoe’s trailer. They return to a new section of the old house where they are attacked by a mutated spider like Marguerite.

They run around the house, avoiding her swarms and attacks while burning her with the flamethrower and peppering her with shotgun shots to the disgusting nest on her lower half.

“I take it back; you girls are way more similar to the bug lady.” Heisenberg says once she finally dies. Alcina slaps the back of his head and growls at him.

“Momma can we mutate like that too!” Dani says excitedly as Bela and Cass cringe.

“Absolutely not. Do not even think about trying.” Alcina scolds while Heisenberg and Rose chuckle at them.

“Why would anyone want to have a gross bug vagina?” Cassandra turns around asking her sister.

Dani shrugs, “I don’t know, I just think it would be neat.” Rose shoves the controller into Dani’s hands and takes Angie from her.

“No more bug talk, you play, I’m getting tired.” Rose says stretching.

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They find their way into Eveline’s secret room and collect the arm. They go to meet Zoe in her trailer only to find that no one is there. They answer a call from Lucas where he tells Ethan that he has both Zoe and Mia, and that Ethan needs to play his game to save them and get the head. They make their way back to the main house’s dissection room where they pull the snake key out of the dead deputy’s neck hole. Lucas’ voice come out through a speaker explaining they need to find two keycards so they can meet.

“Ohhh, I love this guy! I’m getting so many ideas for new games, hehehe!” Angie says excitedly bouncing in Rose’s lap. Donna glares at the doll chastising her through their mental link. Angie pouts at the scolding.

They make their way through the increasingly molded main house solving Lucas’ puzzles and dodging the molded shambling around. They find the blue keycard and make their way down into a secret room containing the red keycard. Lucas calls again at the phone in the main hall, leading Ethan to a party in the barn.

They enter the barn to thumping music and glowing paint under a black light. They come across a room with a television showing Lucas ranting and waving the D series head around, ranting about how he doesn’t want to give up his gift and that they can only get the serum from him before the television explodes. They make their way through the barn avoiding trip mines and coming up to a locked gate with a passcode. Lucas makes an appearance taunting Ethan and giving him incorrect passwords before a trap springs and a secret door opens up.

They wind through the barn avoiding the traps and taking out the molded arriving at Lucas’ arena where they fight off a giant molded. After the fight they find the correct passcode to enter the birthday room. They solve his puzzles and escape through the hole created by the dynamite. They see a television with Zoe and Mia, Zoe explains where they are before Lucas cuts the camera to himself ranting about nothing. They collect the D series head and leave the barn making their way to Zoe and Mia. They release Zoe and Mia before collecting the completed serum. Just after they are ambushed by a fully mutated Jack.

“Wait he isn’t dead?! I can’t believe I didn’t call it!” Heisenberg calls out as Dani fights Jack.

After a long grueling fight, taking out Jacks many swollen eyes and using one of the two serums to calcify him at Zoe’s request. Walking down the pier they are faced with a choice to cure either Zoe or Mia.

“Well clearly we are supposed to cure mom. Its what dad did in real life.” Rose says.

“True, I did. I did feel bad though, Chris ended up saving Zoe and her uncle, so it all ended up good.” Ethan says.

“Yeah, sure choosing Mia is what really happened but what if we chose Zoe?” Dani asks hovering over Zoe in game.

“No! We can do it later right now we are choosing mom.” Rose says sternly.

“Fiiiiinnnnnee.” Dani whines out giving Mia the serum. They take the raft down the river listening to Ethan and Mia talk about the situation before they come across the wrecked boat Mia and Eveline arrived on. They are attacked by the mold, and they switch to Mia’s perspective as they hear Eveline speak to her through their mental connection.

“Well, this is going to be interesting, I’ve never seen this before.” Ethan says as they move into the ship. They find an unconscious Ethan who is taken by the mold deeper into the ship. They move through the mold infested ship as Mia, getting flashbacks as they move on. They follow the phantom Eveline to a room containing a television where they watch a video tape that blends into them playing through the situation leading to the crash of the ship and the infection of the Baker family.

They see Mia’s partner Alan who explains he is the reason Eveline escaped he explains that she needs to fix his mess and they begin to track Eveline through the ship. They finally come across Eveline in the engine room before she runs off again. They find Alan again in the room next to the one where they started the video tape. As he explains that Eveline is deteriorating, he insults her, and she overtakes him with the mold. The mold then spreads to Mia infecting her. They then see Mia recording the warning video from the beginning of the game. The section ends with Mia being blown off the ship and floating unconscious in the water, before returning to the present with Mia and the Phantom Eveline talking. Making their way to the bridge they use the surveillance cameras to find Ethan trapped in mold in the engine room. On the way there they are impeded by the phantom Eveline and the remaining molded.

As Mia finds Ethan, the perspective swaps back to Ethan’s mind as he speaks to a sane Jack. He explains that Eveline is the cause of all the murders and kidnappings. He says that they were infected when He rescued her from the crashed tanker. Jack also explains that stopping Eveline will stop the mold. Before Ethan awakens to Eveline and Mia arguing. Mia rips him free from the mold prison and gives him the tissue sample before locking him out of the engine room urging him to kill Eveline. They continue through the bayou to a salt mine near the Baker house. They hear a military broadcast explaining a team was sent in to take down Eveline. They traverse the salt mines finding an underground lab with information on Eveline and the E series mold. They use Eveline’s tissue samples to make the E- Necrotoxin that is used to kill her permanently. As they exit the mine, Ethan sees flashes of Eveline as she sends the molded to kill him. They exit the mine into the original room Ethan found Mia in where he has a vision of Mia panicking. He continues to see visions of Mia’s attack on him and Eveline controlling her. They stab Eveline with the serum, and she reveals her true form as Grandma before melting away and mutating into a large monstrosity.

As Dani fights the massive face of Eveline, Miranda mumbles to herself, “Absolutely fascinating. How she responds to different stimuli and the delayed injection of the Necrotoxin.” Rose and Dani scream forgetting that Miranda was sitting behind them.

“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you! You scared the living hell out of us!” Rose yells at her turning to face Miranda who has a notebook open in her lap. “What are you even doing?”

Miranda blushes at being caught, “I was taking notes on how E-001 reacted and how the family responded to the infection. It is incredibly fascinating that the whole Baker family mutated without becoming one of the shambling molded.”

“Trust me she was about to run off and work more before I stopped her.” Elena interjects into Miranda’s rambling. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her work on the Eveline project outside of simply watching videos.” Miranda’s blush deepens and she looks embarrassed at being called out by her lab assistant.

“Good, no more mind control children allowed.” Dani says rudely turning back to the screen continuing the final fight.

Ethan is thrown from the house and sees helicopters arriving at the house as he is attacked by Eveline. He uses an unknown gun to shoot Eveline calcifying and crumbling her finally. After the battle, Ethan and Mia are rescued by Chris. The final shots of the game are Ethan speaking over clips of marshlands and the reveal of the Blue Umbrella helicopter.

“Well that certainly was something….” Ethan says as the credits roll. Mia wide eyed and shocked nods in agreement.

“So, all that actually happened?” Rose asks her parents, they both nod. “Ok well that doesn’t explain how the heck this got made or why we were sent it or by who!” Rose rants.

“Who cares, it was awesome!” Dani exclaims high fiving Angie who cheers with her.

“Can we leave now? My back is beginning to hurt.” Bela complains standing up and stretching.

Rose boos her, “Fine be boring. What did everyone else think?” She asks everyone left in the room.

“Amazing! Fantastic! Ten out of ten!” Dani exclaims clinging onto Rose.

“It was interesting, very cinematic. A bit tropey at times but it works in its favor. Especially since this technically happened. The villains were enjoyable and empathetic at the same time.” Heisenberg critiques.

“Yeah, whatever it was fine.” Cass says getting up and leaving the room.

“I had quite a nice time, I’m glad you suggested this, Rose.” Alcina says picking up the sleeping Donna. “I’m sure Donna will apologize for falling asleep tomorrow morning. Have a good night.” She kisses the top of Rose and Dani’s heads and leave the room.

“It was quite informative, thank you for inviting me, Rose. I truly appreciate it. Now I must go and review my notes.” Miranda says looking at her notebook as she slowly leaves the room.

“We are actually going to bed, but thanks for inviting us, Rose. We’ll have to do it again soon!” Elena says grabbing Miranda’s arm and taking her notebook.

“I think your mom and I have some talking to do, but you guys have a good night sweetie.” Ethan says getting up before kissing Rose on the head.

“Yeah, outside of the horrifying content of this ‘game’ it was fun. Have a good night honey.” Mia says following her husband to their room.

“Alright seems like the party is dying down and someone has to get Sal to his room. Seems like he and Donna can’t stay up late like us cool kids.” Heisenberg laughs out shaking Sal awake. Sal stands up groggily and leans ion Heisenberg as they leave to their respective rooms.

“Lame everyone left. You want to stay up or are you hitting the sack too?” Dani asks Rose.

“I think I’m going to bed too. I have a lot to think about.” Rose says hugging Dani, “See you in the morning Dan.” Dani decides to follow Rose and they head to bed.

In his assigned quarters, the Duke watches the group scatter to their rooms for bed, “I’m glad they enjoyed my little gift. Hopefully, it answers some questions for them.” The Duke says to himself chuckling.

29 notes · View notes

bffsoobin · 4 years

Text

Never Not

↳life in the entertainment industry is grueling. You and your friends with benefits, Soobin, know this better than almost anyone. When you seek comfort in one another, it’s easy to forget the faults in the system. How long can you trust Soobin with your heart?

➤ idol!soobin x trainee!reader, smut, angst, some fluff

Word Count: 5,004

Requested?: yes

Warnings: this includes mature content! Please do not read past the illustrated line divider (not the keep reading) in the story if you are under 18 years old or uncomfortable. There is no happy ending to this story, so keep that in mind. Use of some mature language, my awful attempt at coming up with believable Korean names. Smut warnings include: fingering (female receiving), riding, multiple orgasms, mentions of overstimulation, unprotected sex (please use protection, y’all), some dirty talk, praise kink.

A/N: This fic got away from me and came out way longer than I planned and I’m lowkey insecure about it. Also my normal notes that I didn’t proofread or edit (laziness) and that I suck at titles obviously apply!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Your bathroom was not nearly private enough. The lock on the door had long been broken, so you and the other girls you’d lived with for close to a year had agreed on a rule of mutual respect and trust. A rule that Minjee was currently abandoning. She busted into the bathroom as you brushed your teeth, nearly knocking you over with her force. Her petite features were soaked in panic.

“What’s wrong?” your toothbrush hung loosely in your mouth, forgotten as you worried over your younger friend.

“Your phone has been ringing off the hook since you got in the shower. And you didn’t answer, so now he’s here!”

“He? Who are you-” a smooth and unforgettable voice sounded from the hallway just outside. Soobin. Your eyes widened. Soobin? Your hair was still dripping, your face red and splotchy from the heat of the shower. Not to mention the toothbrush still dangling precariously. You heard him talk again, muffled like he had moved to the kitchen and you noted that Sooyoung probably ushered him into the small dining space to let you gather your thoughts. You thanked whoever was listening for your thoughtful friend as you cleaned out your mouth, toweled down you hair and did your best to soothe the heat in your cheeks. At least you were fully dressed.

Minjee still looked like a deer caught in headlights, and you shot her what you hoped was a reassuring smile as you left the bathroom. It was hard to miss Soobin’s presence as you turned into the kitchen. He towered over all of your friends, a slightly awkward smile on his face as he waved off offers for snacks left and right.

“Soobin?” you questioned, and all other conversation stopped. He whirled around to see you and you shrunk under his gaze. He was intimidating in every way, yet you found him oddly charming.

“Hey! I wanted to talk to you and you weren’t answering your phone. And I knew you were here so,” he shrugged.

“Let’s talk somewhere else, okay?” you turned without seeing his agreement and led him toward your room. You knew your roommates were all huddled in the common areas of the house, whispering about Soobin. Thankfully, the lock on that door wasn’t busted.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed as he dwarfed your bed under his body.

“Missed you. Do you wanna go get something to eat?” he picked at your sheets mindlessly. You raised an eyebrow and began to tap your foot.

“That sounds a hell of a lot like a date, Soobin.” you accused, already planning an outfit in your head. You could never say no to the handsome boy in front of you.

“It’s not a date, Y/N. We’re just friends. We can erase and add back on the “with benefits” whenever we want, remember?” you scowled at him in place of admitting that he was right.

“Get out. I have to change.” you glanced down at your lounging attire pointedly.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen, princess,” his eyes sparked at his own teasing before you picked up one of Sooyoung’s beloved plushies and flung it at his infuriatingly charming face.

“Get. Out.”

With Soobin standing guard outside the door, you quickly changed into a better outfit and tried to make some semblance of your face before slipping back out. Your friends eyed you questioningly, but you waved them off with promises of being back in no time.

The blanket of night made Soobin bold. He wrapped his arm around your waist, guiding you down the street with a confidence you only see when- a thought cropped up in your mind. “We aren’t going to dinner, are we?” you questioned although you already knew the answer.

“We are going to dinner! Just, in the dorm. In my room.” You were already in front of the familiar building when he finally owned up. You could have backed out, could have told him you were mad at him for lying, but you followed him up to his room anyway. He did have food, as he promised. A pizza box was situated at the foot of his bed when you walked in and settled onto the mattress. Soobin sat up against his pillow and motioned for you to sit on his lap. You brought the warm pizza box with you and laid against his broad chest. You two ate in relative silence and you couldn’t help but notice the lack of...boys.

“Where are they?” Soobin didn’t answer your question and instead went to work running a hand up your leg.

“Does it matter?” his voice ghosted over your ear as you pondered for a minute and then supposed it didn’t. Unlike your groupmates, Soobin’s were all privy to your relationship and exactly what it entailed.

“I just missed you,” he mumbled into your skin, biting at the soft flesh under your ear. Soobin made a point to move the half empty pizza box to the ground as he continued his work on your neck. You melted into his hold, helpless to his sweet whispers and gentle touches in all the right places. For the rest of the night, all that mattered was the way Choi Soobin could work you up and bring you back down so gently.

It had been almost two months since your fake dinner date with Soobin. He became busy with a comeback, and you became busy with general training duties. It was natural, you supposed. You both chose a hectic lifestyle and a relationship that required no actual commitment. While you missed seeing him, you understood that you chose this. That didn’t stop you from being upset, though. Sooyoung, your ever observant roommate noticed your sulking behavior and lack of interest in group activities.

Having had enough of your change in attitude, she cornered you in the kitchen one day while the rest of the girls were still training.

“What’s up with you? I know we’ve been busy. But you’ve just been miserable. You know you can talk to me, right?” You just nodded and crossed your arms. She sighed at your stance and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Seriously. Why don’t you at least try to hang out with someone, or leave the house? I know Soobin is busy, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a visit?” The sound of his name made your insides burn. Too many confusing thoughts circled your being when you thought of him. Deciding to humor Sooyoung, you announced that she was right; and that you were going to get ready and treat yourself to a donut and coffee at the little cafe down the block.

The smell of blueberry muffins and coffee invaded your senses as you ordered a large iced coffee and a sprinkled donut to sulk over as you thought about Soobin. Sitting at a hightop table, your legs swung in the air as you debated over calling Soobin to check up on him or simply letting him go until he contacted you. You weren’t dating Soobin, but would it be so wrong for a friend to reach out? Did you just miss having someone to fool around with? The longer you thought, the more you had to forcefully push down the thought that you really had feelings for Soobin. Maybe his goofy smile and clumsy compliments had really hatched in your brain and created- you shuddered at the thought- love. There was no way he would ever feel the same, you convinced yourself. It is much easier to believe that the famous and loved Choi Soobin would never like you the way you have started to like him.

The donut tasted bland in your mouth and your coffee had certainly been watered down in your thinking, but you finished them both. You wiped your hands on your jeans and made way to get down from your elevated seat until a cheerful voice called your name. Looking around, you spotted the form of a girl you couldn’t quite remember the name of. She had been a trainee in the very early stages, but she had to leave due to family troubles and you hadn’t thought of her since. The back of your neck burned with embarrassment as you waved to the girl you didn't remember. The uncertainty must not have shown on your face as the mystery girl propped herself right next to you and grabbed your arm.

“I just had to talk to you when I saw you! I still talk to Sooyoung every once in a while, and she told me you’re friends with Soobin,” you nodded but felt suspicion creep into the corners of your mind. “Anywho, since I ran into you and you’re friends with him I was wondering if you could confirm something for me.” She plopped a phone onto the table in front of you and hit play on a dark, shaky video. It looked like a club of some sort and you squinted at the screen wondering what this had to do with Soobin. You were about to voice your confusion when someone's phone flashlight illuminated the form you knew all too well crowding a girl against the wall, kissing her neck and pressing the length of his body into her. You body heated at the knowledge that you knew exactly how that felt. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as the video ended and the unknown girl slid her phone back into her bag.

“I don’t know her,” you mumbled, hurrying to find your purse hung on the back of the chair. “And I haven’t talked to Soobin lately, he’s been busy and-” she snorted as you got down from the chair.

“Yeah, he’s definitely been busy,” she wiggled her eyebrows in a joking manner, but the gesture only broke your heart even more. Nodding tightly, you made up excuses for your sudden absence and walked back to your dorm with tears dripping down your cheeks. Everyone noticed your change in behavior when you returned; especially Sooyoung who was hoping to see you come back much happier. It was only about 4pm when you got home so you bargained with Jihyun to let you shower although she was already getting ready to do so. You tried to convince yourself that she agreed because of your persuasion skills and not because of the tear tracks on your face. The hot water didn’t do much to curb your upset. You ate dinner in silence and crawled into bed before the sun even started to set.

Being a trainee means pushing a lot of things aside. You had to forget about Soobin. Monthly evaluations started in about a week, and you had to worry about nursing a wrist you had accidentally hurt during practice. During the day, you put on a mask for your members and the staff, laughing along at jokes and throwing yourself into your work in a way they all seemed to admire. Not a single night passed where you didn’t think about the shaky video of Soobin and the mystery girl. Not a single night passed where your heart didn’t ache in two ways. One, for the love you harborded so dangerously, and the other for the fact that you knew you could never trust Soobin. That even if he liked you back, his reckless show of public affection when he was already in the eye of the media would make a real relationship impossible. It was too risky for either of you.

News of their comeback traveled extremely fast. You had even seen Taehyun in the halls of the building and offered him a quick congratulations on their success. With every day that passed, you knew you were closer to the impending argument with Soobin; but you tried your best to push that to the back of your mind. Until you got a text from him. Seeing his name pop up on the screen after so long roused a lot of emotions you weren’t expecting. The message was nothing too remarkable, but you made plans to meet him the next day at his dorm.

When you arrived at his door, you felt nerves you hadn’t since the very first time you visited. You laid two hard knocks on the door and stood aside; hoping that Soobin had heard you. The door swung open gently to reveal Soobin’s towering frame. Your stomach rolled in an odd mix of happiness and anxiety upon seeing him for the first time in weeks. He ushered you in, giving you no more time to process your whirling thoughts.

“I like your hair,” your voice sounded odd even to your own ears, but you hoped Soobin would be distracted by the complement of his purple locks.

“Thank you!” he was beaming as he rubbed a chunk of hair between his fingers lovingly. His eyes shifted up and down your body as if examining every detail to find something new about you to compliment back. He remained quiet. The corners of your eyes began to burn under his scrutiny, and you felt something deep inside of you snap.

“Soobin,” you looked around the dorm, finding it surprisingly empty. He must have kicked all of the boys out for a few hours to have you over. “I wanted to talk to you about some stuff.” The leather of his couch squeaked underneath you as you sat and waited for him to do the same. He settled right next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his side into yours. For a fleeting moment you contemplated saying nothing and letting yourself fall back into your normal pattern; but you knew you would regret it.

Sighing, you tried to ignore the way worry permeated every corner of Soobin’s face. “I saw a video of you uh,” a long pause “with another girl. Which is fine!” Your words became rushed as his face turned bright red. “It’s fine. I know we aren’t serious but the problem is,” your voice was starting to shake in a dangerous way. “The problem is that...I started to have real feelings for you. And when I saw that video I kind of lost it. I know it’s dumb but I just can’t keep pretending.” You had run this scenario so many times in your mind. You had imagined Soobin staying totally silent until you slipped out of the dorm alone. You imagined that he might argue with you, telling you that you were reckless for forming feelings over a friends with benefits relationship. What you never imagined was for him to lean over and attach his lips to yours in a fervor you had never felt from him. The rest of the world slowed as you kissed him. Really kissed him for the first time since the two of you started to hook up.

You could taste toothpaste on his tongue, and if your insides weren’t fighting with emotion you would have smiled into the kiss. When you finally pulled apart, Soobin pressed his forehead into yours and shut his eyes. You could feel his eyelashes flutter along your skin.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was the smallest you had ever heard it. “I’m sorry about the girl, the video, I just missed you and I was being stupid. I have feelings for you too.” What should have been a moment of celebration became a catalyst for war in your mind. You had prepared yourself for this possibility- repeating in a mantra that the relationship would only end badly for your public images.

But all those times you ran this scenario in your head, you didn’t account for the weight of his body against yours. You didn’t account for the way his voice shook, or the feeling of his skin resting so intimately against your own. You didn’t account for how raw and vulnerable this moment would be.

So you made a real life choice that theoretical you never would have been so weak as to consider. You wrapped your hands around the back of Soobin’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss. His surprise was evident at your move as he gasped against your lips. Every feeling you had toward him felt like it was bubbling over into a mess inside your brain. Fuzzy happiness was winning over until Soobin separated you from himself to cup your jaw in his hands. Taking the time to survey his face this closely made your heart break all over again. His face seemed to mirror back a similar sentiment as his fingers traced over your cheekbones.

“Soobin,” you whispered his name weakly; trying to ignore the tears beginning to leak from the corners of your eyes. His face crumpled at the sight and he rushed to shush you.

“Don’t cry,” he wiped the wetness away from your cheeks, “please don’t cry, why are you so upset?” His breath ghosted over your skin in a way that would haunt you for weeks to come.

“Because,” you hiccuped in a breath, “because we can’t do this. We can’t date, and we can’t keep doing this. There’s too much on the line either way.” Soobin stayed silent as you worked through your thoughts. “I just want to be with you one last time.”

In a movement you almost missed, the boy nodded solemnly. With the knowledge of your last goodbye weighing heavily on your minds, Soobin guided you into his bedroom. While the lighting in the room didn’t offer much clarity, you still knew your way around. Soobin made short work of undressing you, making sure to pay attention- in the form of kisses or loving caresses- to every newly exposed strip of skin. His mouth traveled down your neck, leaving the most possessive marks he had ever left on your collarbones. You could do nothing but whine under him at the thought of bright purple bruises spotting your skin tomorrow. Most nights you would have whined at him for taking too long, but the air was different this time. The last time.

You stood completely bare in front of him as he took a seat on his bed. He was still fully clothed although you could see a sliver of his smooth stomach where his shirt had ridden up. You could see the beginning of a bulge in his sweatpants and bittersweet excitement brewed within you.

“You are so so fucking pretty, come here,” he pulled you into his lap forcefully so that you could feel him directly against your core. The praises falling from his mouth made you weak at the knees and pliable to any of his wishes. A needy whine left your throat as you ground down on him instinctively. Both of his hands flew to your waist and grabbed at the flesh there as you let yourself get lost in the feeling of him slowly hardening. He made a particularly hard squeeze on your waist and you took that as a message to stop.

“Wanna finger you, baby,” Soobins usual shy and clumsy demeanor flew out of the window in a second. As you scrambled to lay down on your back, he finally stripped himself of his clothing. You openly stared at his body for much longer than normal and he let you, returning the gaze just as long. Memorizing. His cock stood proudly, as perfect as you always remembered it as your thighs rubbed together at the sight. Soobin tutted at you and pushed your legs apart forcefully.

“Not yet, love. You know you can’t take my cock without me stretching you open first.” You knew he was right but you whined at him anyway as a new wave of arousal rolled through you. “God,” Soobin grunted at the sight of you laid out beneath him. His deft fingers danced down your stomach, causing your hips to jump up toward his approaching hand. A small chuckle fell from him lips and you would have complained had he not chosen that exact moment to run his thumb around your clit in slow circles. You cried out at the touch. Having gone weeks without release made you extremely sensitive, and Soobin was using that to his advantage.

The slow circles sped up and then slowed down in an erratic pattern until you were so fed up with him you wanted to cry. “Soobin please, please stop teasing me, I need more!” You knew you were being loud but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, baby. Just use your words,” his voice was velvety smooth, pitched deeper with lust.

“Your fingers!” The request was clumsy as it came out of your mouth but you couldn’t have cared less because he finally sunk one long finger inside of you. You wanted to thank him, but your tongue felt too heavy in your mouth so you settled for clenching your inner muscles around his digit. He groaned to himself as he pumped the single finger in and out before finally adding a second alongside it. The stretch burned a bit but you welcomed the gush of wetness that had Soobin swearing under his breath.

“Look at you. I was busy for a few weeks and suddenly your pussy can barely fit two fingers inside.” He began scissoring his fingers to widen your entrance. A string of pleas and curses fell from your lips constantly as he finally found your g-spot and continuously crooked his fingers over it. Your teeth sunk harshly into your bottom lip as you tried your best to keep it together but it was no use. Soobin had learned every tip and trick to getting you to cum. There was no eloquence left in your voice as you begged him for more and got just what you asked for. His second hand, which had been keeping pressure on your hips, played with your clit in circles and figure eight shapes in various speeds. It only took a few more seconds under his movements for you to announce your release and gush around his fingers. Despite your obvious orgasm, Soobin kept working his hands against you until the overstimulation became way too much. Your mind was so fuzzy afterwards that you could barely hear his praise.

“So good,” you vaguely made out as you came back to Earth to see his face hovering right over your own. He pressed kisses on every corner of your face until you were finally coherent enough to talk again.

“Soobs,” you didn’t miss the way he flinched at the nickname. “Please fuck me.” The words were blunt, you knew. But there was no need to beat around the bush anymore. Soobin groaned loudly, unabashedly palming at his own cock as he sat back on his heels. His positioning gave you an idea that had heat rushing through your veins anew. “Lemme ride you,” you rushed the words out, unsure if he had even heard them until he cursed loudly and drew his hand away from himself.

“That’s my girl. So good for me.” Soobin used your love for praise to his advantage as he settled at the head of his bed and waited for you to straddle his hips. His eyes were glazed with arousal as you held yourself over his cock and gave it a few experimental strokes. Soobin’s eyes fluttered shut and his reddened lips fell open in a sigh. In one swift movement, you began to sink down on him slowly. Your hands found support on his smooth stomach as you felt your knees buckle at the intrusion. Both of you whined loudly at the initial stretch. Fire coiled in your stomach as you worked yourself onto him in small increments. He was trying his best to let you take time to adjust, but his control was slipping more and more with every second.

A growl emitted from the back of Soobin’s throat as he tightened a hand on your left thigh as a not so subtle hint to get moving faster. You already felt so full that the idea of taking his entire length felt impossible. Your head fell, hair creating a curtain around your face in the exact second that Soobin’s strong hand pushed you all the way down his cock. A burning mix of pain and pleasure flooded your veins and made your inner walls clench around him. Soobin’s cock twitched inside you and the feeling drove you wild.

With the leverage your arms on his chest offered, you lifted your hips slowly before slamming them back down to connect your bodies. Pitchy whines escaped from your mouth with every single move you made. Soobin’s hands roamed all over, one traveling up to pinch at your nipples and another keeping a bruising grip on the flesh of your hip.

“God, you’re so pretty,” Soobin’s grunted praises peppered between moans only heightened your pleasure to a point where you could no longer keep your thoughts straight. Every sensation he was providing you became so overwhelming that you could barely continue a steady rhythm on his cock. He seemed to catch on to your slipping as his face softened. Chest heaving, you leaned forward to lay yourself on top of him. Your head fit perfectly into his shoulder and for a second you missed being able to see his face until he took the initiative to thrust up into you. He wrapped his arms around you so there was no escape from the pleasure of him filling you up. Soobin worked magic on your body, rolling his hips expertly to hit every spot inside of you while he whispered dirty praise to you.

“You feel so good, baby. So tight,” you clenched at his words and a breathy moan escaped his lips in a rush. Your clit ground against his pelvic bone; not enough to make you cum but enough to create more sparks in your core. Between his words and his hard and consistent thrusts you could feel your pleasure mounting to an intense high. The strong hold he had on you slipped away and he guided you to sit up once again. Seeing his flushed face drew out a desperate whine and buck of your hips.

“Look at me,” Soobin’s voice was oddly calm and collected as you obeyed the request. He thrusted up into you even faster and you had to fight to keep your eyes on his.

“Soobs, I’m gonna cum,” your voice was strung out and breathy but it only pushed Soobin further. Without your realization, Soobin circled a thumb around your clit and you were soon hurdling off the edge of your orgasm, vision going blank with the pleasure. Although you were lost in a haze of pleasure, you could hear Soobin’s grunts growing louder and more frequent before he released inside of you; warmth flooding your insides as he came.

Neither of you moved for several minutes. Your breathing gradually slowed to a normal rate and Soobin’s cock softened inside of you; but you stayed still on top of him anyway. No words were exchanged until he lifted your chin with two fingers.

“You have to know that I really do like you. I’ve liked you since the first time we met.” The words sent a dagger through your heart and you would have looked away from him if it weren’t for the strong grip he had on your jaw. His breath hitched as he spoke again; “but I can understand why you don’t think I’m worth it.”

The way he worded it broke a dam of emotions inside of you and suddenly you were sobbing, struggling to even catch your breath. Soobin panicked a little, rubbing your sides and softly pulling out of you. Both of you ignored the stickiness the move created in favor of laying your back down on the sheets. He shushed you, producing some tissues out of nowhere to deal with the mess between your sensitive thighs. When the crying stopped, all that was left behind was cold emptiness. You redressed in stunning silence, hyper aware of Soobin’s eyes on you. You didn’t know what else to say to him.

“I wish I had met you in another life,” you sniffled, “I’m going to miss you.” The words were supercharged and you clenched your teeth to refrain from crying again. Soobin reached out for your hand and you reluctantly let him lace his fingers through yours.

“I’ll miss you too. You know that-” he swallowed audibly “You can come back here, back to me...whenever you want. I have a place for you,” he guided your clasped hands to hover right over his heart, “right here.”

Leaving was the hardest part. Both of you stalled in every possible way. You pretended you lost your phone even though you knew it was in your bag. Soobin offered to let you take a shower before you went back to your own dorm. Eventually, it was time for the both of you to face the truth. At the front door, where the light was much brighter, you could see shiny tear tracks decorating Soobin’s puffy cheeks in a way you never wanted to see again. You felt like you could puke just at the thought of having caused him that pain. With one hand on the doorknob, you steadied yourself to say goodbye to him, goodbye to this one last time.

“I’ll um, see you around? At work.” You didn’t even bother to smile at him. He simply nodded and fixed his gaze on the ground. He didn’t want to watch you leave. The door squealed as you pulled it open, shattering the quiet atmosphere into messy, anxious pieces. You rushed out of his dorm without another word and began your walk home. It was a clear night, so you stopped briefly to stare up at the stars. You would never not think about Soobin.

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

BNHA: something sad (Grief)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him. A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ AU.

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS: Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst. destructive behaviour.

(Additional part here)

(Grief- Katsuki self reflects and visits Izuku’s grave)

Katsuki knows he has a volatile personality, probably inherited it from his mum, and enough attitude that he has steamrolled his way through life without much difficulty. Things annoyed him easily and he got irritable at the drop of a hat. He has enough self-awareness to recognise that as a flaw, even if he had never seen it as much of a problem.

There was a difference between irritation and anger. Deku had always made him angry, inducing a burning hot sensation that ate at his insides. Now Deku was gone and he couldn't turn any of it off. It was like the world was suck behind a filthy pane of glass that he couldn’t smash through no matter how hard he tried.

Katsuki watches the head of his Kamui Woods figurine bend at an odd angle as the plastic began to superheat, having been exposed to a string of minor blasts. He had been slowly working his way through his figurine collection as both quirk training and to take the edge off his anger. Melting this figurine was particularly cathartic.

“Perhaps we should look into getting you some new hobbies.”

Katsuki shifts his focus to glare at his father who stands at his bedroom door, an expression of worry pulling at his features. No surprises there, worry was his father’s default response to anything Katsuki did these days.

“Not interested.”

“Something to get you out of the apartment,” his father continues to which Katsuki narrows his eyes. He wouldn’t be in the apartment if he had any say in it. Both his parents know this.

“Some physical activity where you’ll be able to let loose without having to worry about property damage. I have a colleague whose brother runs a kickboxing studio. I can make arrangements for you to spend time…”

“I said, I’m not interested,” he grumbles, returning to his current distraction.

“Well, I want you to think about it,” his dad instructs, “It would do you a lot of good and it’s something you’re passionate about….”

The figurine Katsuki is holding begins to blacken, colours melting away under his tiny, controlled bursts. There is an unhappy sigh from his father and the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall. He growls and the figurine explodes with a small Bang. Melted plastic is flung across his walls and floor.

He knows what his dad is trying to do…

How many times had he begged his parents for better training opportunities, for karate or boxing lessons, only to be denied due to money restraints? Outside of a few judo lessons he had received as a birthday gift from Inko one year, any combat training he did he had been self-taught.

Now he’s no longer interested, his parents are practically threatening him with extracurricular activities.

It’s fucking annoying is what it is.

He reaches for another figurine only to find that he has none left aside from his limited edition All Might collection. He lets out an angry breath, trying to rid himself of his restless irritation. It doesn’t work, and he ends up standing so he can pace back and forth, listening to the pop, pop, focusing on his tingling skin as sparks run up and down his arms. It keeps him distracted for all of two seconds.

Usually, he would be at the library studying, or going on long runs and working on his physical conditioning. Sometimes, he would meet up with a few of the loser-extras from school and they would visit an arcade. Recently, he had taken to wandering through the streets around his neighbourhood, waiting for something to piss him off enough that his mind would white-out in pure rage and could forget reality for a few seconds. Obviously, that had become a lot harder after several run-ins with the local police had had him all but permanently grounded outside of school hours.

This is what he wanted… he remains himself. His plan to piss people off enough that he received some iota of punishment was working like a charm so, of course, it sucked. He hated it, but then, he hated all the alternatives as well so what did any of it matter.

Katsuki ends up with his ear pressed against the door, listening for activity in the living room, waiting for an opportunity to make a break for it. He needs to be careful because Aunt Inko is visiting and the last thing he wants is to see her stupid, sympathetic smile.

When it sounds like the coast is clear, he creeps out, stealing down the hall. Muffled voices from the kitchen are all the encouragement he needs to beeline for the door and slip out before anyone can spot him. He’ll be in trouble for this later. He’s counting on it.

The hot summer air is a welcome change from the chill of air conditioning. There is the loud buzz of cicadas, chirping away in the sticky heat. He picks a direction and walks, not caring that he is wearing the sweatpants and the black singlet he had slept in. If someone has a problem with his presentation, he is more than willing to throw down.

Unfortunately, the relief being out of the apartment brings is short-lived. Today, a feeling of discomfort follows after him which has nothing to do with the heat. A bubbling frustration that bites at his heels as he stalks the streets. It is that feeling he has come to associate with times when all his rage burns away, leaving him numb.

He doesn’t plan to stop at the florists, he just sort of does.

He turns suddenly into the store before he can properly process what he is doing. The chime on the glass door rings and the sickly-sweet smell of the store has his nose wrinkling. Before he can chicken out and retreat, he walks to the counter.

“How much?” He snaps at the older lady in overalls manning the register, pointing at the nearest bunch of white flowers. He has no idea what type they are but that wasn’t the point wasn't it?

“Ah,” The woman squints at him, taken back “That depends how many you want?”

“I don’t care” He smacks the few yen he has on the counter, “However many that’ll get me. Don’t rip me off.”

The woman nods slowly, “Do you just want these specifically? You don’t want to add some more colour to the bouquet? White is a bit of a dower colour.”

“Whatever is cheapest…just make it quick.” He is already regretting coming in.

The woman hums, pulling out a roll of paper, beginning to place and wrap the flowers Katsuki had pointed to.

“Who are they for if I may ask?”

“No.”

“Oh? A special friend maybe,” She begins to tease.

“He’s dead,” he snaps abruptly, “and he’s not my friend. Just give me the damn flowers.” Why did people always make this shit more difficult than it needed to be?

The old hag is silent after that, awkwardly finalising his purchase which ends up being an assortment of white flowers with a few smaller yellow and red ones scattered between. It almost looks pretty and it is sickly-sweet smelling, just like the store.

He tries no to think about his destination as he walks with renewed deliberation. He doesn’t think about it right up until he is practically walking into the low stone wall nearest the gate. The shock of seeing the place has him freezing in place, breath catching. The last time he had been here had been during the funeral.

There are lines of thin, tightly packed, gave markers, rising horizontally on sets on uneven steps. There is barely room for people to pass between them on the narrow, flagstone path. Trees are scattered throughout the space, providing patches of uneven shade. The noise of the cicadas is louder here, almost oppressive in its throbbing hum. For a moment, all he wants to do is walk up to the nearest stone and blow it all sky high. Then he would be sure to flatten every marker in the place until the land was a barren waste. That would get him arrested for sure. The thought passes quickly, and his eyes slide away from the cemetery to his flowers. They don’t look nearly as nice now he has almost strangled them with an unintentionally tight grip.

He breaths out, resisting the urge to set something on fire. Slowly, he walks up the steps, passing the small temple at the entrance. Deku is buried further in, his stone modest in size when compared to the others.

“Deku…” He grows out a greeting when he arrives and it gets caught in his throat. The stone, obviously, does not respond.

Before he can accidentally blow them up, he carefully places the flowers next to the small pile already adorning the small stone. There are more offerings than he expects to be there. He recognises a few of the names from school. One larger bunch looks especially expensive and elaborate, monopolising most of the limited surface space.

‘From Yagi Toshinori’ the card attached reads. Katsuki doesn’t recognise the name.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, he didn’t know shit about Deku other than their shared ambition to be a hero.

“Deku…” Why the fuck is he having trouble talking, “You’re...” He stops.

“You’re a fucking moron,” he manages to spit.

“I didn’t need you to save me.” The anger is burning so hot that its almost unbearable. Pop, pop, his hands fizzle. “I didn’t want your help.”

BANG! He makes sure the explosion is directed away from the stone and up into the sky. The small shock wave it produces rustles the flowers and nearby trees. All the cicadas stop chirping at once, plunging the area into an eerie quiet. His legs feel shaky and he is practically vibrating with anger.

“What did you think a quirkless idiot could have done!”

Save his pathetic life while the real Heroes watch him suffocate from the side-lines? His brain supplies an answer. It was all a big joke wasn’t it? The bastards had all watched Deku die. That was what a Hero did apparently, wait for backup while someone died because it was safer for them. Safer for the Hero.

His legs give way and he falls to his knees, curling his hands into fists, jaw locking up. Finally, the haze of anger falls away and his mind quietens. Everything was painfully clear now. People didn’t care when Katsuki yelled, swore, and hurt other kids, because his quirk was amazing, making him amazing. What a joke. If he hadn’t had his quirk, then the Slime Bastard would have had nothing to work with, and Deku might still be alive.

“I’m…I’m fucking sorry okay." He had always treated Deku like shit and he doesn’t think, if their positions had been reversed…he doesn’t think that he would have even thought about saving someone like himself.

The truth stings. He slams his fist into the flagstone next to him and he watches it crack.

"I’m sorry…”

He was lucky…that’s all he was… He wasn’t special… he was just an average human with a good work ethic and a garbage personality who just happened to have a powerful quirk.

He wasn’t a hero…well, not one like Deku had tried to be…like Deku had been…

He didn’t even want to be a hero...not anymore...He doesn’t know what he wants.

“Damnit…” the words have no heat behind them. The explosive rage that had been burning continuously in his chest for the last week simmers, snuffing out like a candle. There is a hole where his anger had eaten away at something fundamentally him, leaving empty space.

Katsuki leans forward, letting his head thump against the stone.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #boku no academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugō #major character death #Sludge Villain incident gone wrong #angst #all the angst #coarse language #swearing #anger and grief #visiting graves #katuski has a sad time #something sad au #fanfiction

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wreckofawriter · 4 years

Text

Jelly Slugs

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Word Count: 2,278

Warnings: Swearing, a little angsty, still plenty of fluff

Song to Set the Vibe: broken ~ lovelytheband

Request: @mcluuvin666 hi could i request a harry potterxreader in which the reader & harry always seem to find each other in the hospital wing at the end of each year because of harry’s adventures & somehow she always ends up hurt in a funny/ironic way even though it wasn’t her intention to get caught in their messes if that makes sense? either way harry & the reader get really close throughout years of ending up in the hospital wing w the reader being frustrated w the trio bc they’re the “reason” why she’s hurt and she’s just kinda like “you lot are going to be the death of me” but harry and reader end up going out anyway. lots of fluff and maybe angst if you can? thank you so much!!

A/n: Once agian so sorry this took so long! It may not be completely edited, excuse typos, I wrote litteratly all of it tonight. I'm trying to burn through my requets, if u sent one I got it I'm just waiting to get to it

At eleven years old you had already had far too many near-death experiences, for you that meant one. You hadn’t meant to do anything at all, well except grab some snacks from the kitchen after hours, but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before. On your way back your ears had picked up a sweet symphony and you had grown curious.

Turning a few unfamiliar corners you found the room, its heavy door ajar. You pushed it all the way open, a pastry still stuffed in your mouth preventing you from screaming. A large three-headed beast lay in front of you snoring loudly. Before you could turn and run your eyes found a small wooden trap door at its feet. The phrase your mother often scolded you with echoed in your head, Curiosity killed the cat. You about turned on your heel but then the ending of the saying learned from an equally mischievous classmate came to you, But satisfaction brought it back.

You dropped the food in your hands and walked hesitantly towards the large dog. You then quietly opened the door, cringing as its hinges squeaked and peered inside being met with complete darkness. You were going to close the door retrieve your treats then head back to your dorm but as you turned you met a pair of brilliantly green eyes and you let out a yelp before stumbling backward and plunging into the hole with a scream. You were soon followed by three of your classmates almost as confused as you were.

You ended up getting your arm broken by a giant chess piece on your way to retrieve something you didn’t fully understand and what you believed to be a curse began.

You sat up in a cold sweat the image of a white stone queen drawing her sword waking you with a start. You rubbed your eyes only to find your left arm in a sling and aching a bit.

“Oh, good you’re awake.”

You turned to your right to see a little boy in round glasses smiling at you. “What happened last night?” you asked eyes wide.

“It’s a long story, but I suppose we have time.” He shrugged, “Jelly slug?” he offered holding out a colorfully wrapped package.

“Yes please.”

Second year began as normal as it should have but it was soon strange and dangerous, pearlized classmates and strict rules making the school feel less and less like a home. Of course, your luck being about as bad as it got, you where the last victim of the basilisk.

You had been polishing trophies to serve detention which you got for supposedly bad-mouthing Snape although it wasn’t your fault Draco was a filthy snitch. You then saw a large pair of yellow eyes in the shining metal and everything went dark.

You woke up four days later body aching eyes feeling extremely dry as you blinked vigorously. You had a strange sense of deja vu as the hospital wing soon came into view. Head once again thumping as you tried to recall your memories.

“Oh right, you're here.”

You turned your head to the right to see a wide smile, green eyes hidden behind round glasses as cuts riddled the boy’s face.

“Merlin Harry, what happened to you?” You gasped taking in his battered form.

He shrugged, “I fought Voldemort.”

You cringed at the name but said nothing of it to him, “Again?”

He laughed, “Yeah, this time it hurt more though.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You grinned at him.

His cheeks reddened a bit, “Yeah, I’m glad you’re okay too.”

You fell into an uncomfortable silence before Harry reached to his bedside table and offered you a tissue-wrapped box, “Jelly Slug?”

You nodded taking it from him

Third-year had been downright dreadful for you. You were finally a teenager which basically meant everything that had been easy and quick now seemed to take hours and far too much thought. Every little thing you did you were sure would be scrutinized, it didn’t help when a close friend of yours spread a nasty rumor about you and you found yourself skipping classes and opting to stay in bed. A serial killer being on the loose certainly didn’t help.

The only sort of decent thing that happened was your friendship with Harry, after two times of healing in the hospital wing together you decided to be at least acquaintances. You held study sessions with the boy and occasionally his two best friends although all they did was bicker.

You also happened to be outside reading when a rat lept on you and dove down your shirt leading to you being dragged into a tree by a dog who turned out to be a serial killer who turned out to be Harry’s godfather. But to be honest you didn’t really care.

You were absolutely livid, your leg was torn apart and for the third time in a row you had somehow been shoved into an adventure you most certainly didn’t want to take part in and you were bleeding heavily because of it.

Oh yes, how could you forget? You were also almost killed by your professor, who had turned into a werewolf just in time to almost kill you again.

When you woke up in the hospital wing with the golden trio surrounding you, you weren’t so pleasant.

A string of foul curse words, pointing fingers and yelling was shot at the three teens who apologized profusely insisting they did not mean to get you caught up in their business.

You eventually calmed down and found out it wasn’t all that bad considering you got to see the suddenly very attractive dark-haired boy who made a point to spend all of his free time in the hospital wing with you as your leg healed. You shared a large amount of jelly slugs as you read muggle books and did your best to stay on top of studies.

Fourth year was much better than the last. You and Harry spent more and more time together and you felt a large crush on the boy who lived growing. Hermione knew about it instantly and Ron seemed adamant to tease both of you just for the joy of watching your faces flush. But good things never lasted.

You had a heart attack when Harry’s name came out of the goblet and found yourself taking his side in a sudden war between him and Ron. The bitch of a journalist Rita Skita also plastered you and Harry’s face all over the daily prophet when she caught you hugging him before his first task. You went with Harry to the ball although to both of your disappointment only as friends. And you ended up comforting Hermione in the hallway anyway.

You also were almost drowned by your sorry excuse for teachers in the second task. Never one to back down from a fight you yelled directly at Dumbledor and Karkaroff saying how if your name wasn’t pulled out of that idiotic goblet than you shouldn’t have to almost die for the even more idiotic tournament. Of course, you did this with a very colorful vocabulary that landed you three weeks of detention.

When Harry pulled Cedric from the maze you had cheered clapping along with the band until suddenly you heard the boy wail like a wounded animal. You raced down to meet him and helped pull him off of the elder boy’s body.

He was shaking the entire time and when you finally managed to drag him away he buried his head into your neck and sobbed.

Harry was then dragged away by Mad-Eye and you were quick to follow, bursting in on the two just as Moody no longer became Moody.

“Harry!” You yelled diving at the quickly transforming man who was holding him at wand point.

Your body suddenly erupted in such harsh pain you thought you might throw up.

“Y/n!” Harry’s yells fell on deaf ears as the unforgivable curse took all of your attention.

By the time Harry was able to disarm the man, you had passed out from the pain.

You woke up in the hospital wing three days later a disheveled Harry seated in a chair next to you his arms folded on your bed his head resting on them.

When you tapped his shoulder lightly he jolted awake immediately engulfing you in his embrace sobbing out apologies as you pushed yourself closer into his chest.

“I’m so so sorry y/n, I never meant for you to be caught up in any of this.” He choked out pulling away from you and cupping your face in his hands.

“It’s okay Harry, I’m okay.” You spoke smiling weakly feeling extremely exhausted.

“But he used an unforgivable cu-”

“I don’t care, I’m just happy you’re okay.” You interrupted leaning into the soft circles his thumb was drawing on your cheek.

Harry’s eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion and suddenly his lips were on your own.

The second they connected he backed away blushing so heavily you were sure he was hot to the touch.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I don’t know what I was thinking and I-”

You only shook your head and wrapped your hands around his neck bringing his lips back to yours. His hands ended up on either side of you as you leaned back down on the bed bringing him with you. He hovered over you, your tongue slipping into his mouth as you played with the ends of his hair. He tasted overly sugary with a hint of fruit, just like a jelly slug.

You were interrupted by a cough followed by a low chuckle and Harry immediately pulled away from you and you turned to see not only your headmaster but Professor McGonagal and Madame Pomfrey all staring at you.

Your eyes went wide and you felt so hot you thought you might catch the sheets on fire. You stole a glance at Harry who had paled dramatically, looking sick.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better y/n.” Dumbledore chortled.

You hissed in at the pain that shot through your ankle. Your head had also begun to pound causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and attempt to relieve the pressure by pressing onto your temples. Fuck Umbridge. You hopped that bitch was dead, as your eyes began to adjust to the sudden brightness of your surroundings you saw an all to a familiar sight. The hospital wing had become your home away from home and now in fifth year you, it made sense you ended up there once again.

When your psychotic headmaster dragged you, your boyfriend and your two best friends out to the forbidden forest as she was attacked by a giant she managed to hit you with some sort of spell which effectively left you in your current state. Harry who was seated beside you wrapped his arms around your waist and placed a kiss on your neck.

“You okay?” He asked he seemed stressed, then again when wasn’t he?

“I’m fine.” You lied with a smile pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“I think you should stay here y/n/n, I can’t have you getting hurt.” He frowned. You then took notice of the group of teenagers was behind him. They were clearly about to leave.

“I think history has proven that kind of unavoidable at this point.” You sighed standing up and drinking whatever was on your nightstand, it turned out to be a pain medicine that tasted the equivalent of dragon piss.

“Y/n...” Harry spoke hesitantly.

You turned to look at your boyfriend, your face set in stone. “If you don’t take me with you I will find another way to that building.”

Harry sighed biting down on his lip, “Fine. Alright, guys, let’s go.”

Your lips twitched into a smile just as you were about to leave the room you noticed a small half-empty bag on the table next to your bed, you stuffed it into your pocket and ran after the group you had fallen behind.

You sat silently eyelids feeling so heavy you thought they might close at any moment. Your entire body ached, your headache coming back stronger than ever, but you didn't let onto your pain.

Harry had his head buried into your stomach as you combed through his messy hair, his sobs were the only sound in the massive black room. Sand was scattered around you as you clung to your boyfriend your back up against a black glass wall as you stared blankly ahead of you. Dumbledore stood a few feet away, seeming almost as lost as you were. Part of you hated him for putting Harry through everything he had just been through, but you knew it wasn’t his fault.

Harry adjusted himself so his head was buried into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. The movement caused something in your pocket to crinkle, catching your attention.

You reached into your robe and removed a half-empty bag of candy. You smiled in spite of yourself.

You tapped Harry on the shoulder whispering his name. He looked up at you his eyes rimmed in red, his face blotchy, the sight made your heart throb.

“Jelly Slug?” You asked your voice cracking.

The boy let out a mix between a laugh and a sob before lightly placing his lips onto your own. He tastes salty and bitter, like tears and blood. You found yourself wishing you were elven again when everything was simple, wishing that Harry still tasted like jelly slugs.

Taglist:

(Realizing I forgot this last fic I posted, my bad)

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

Masterlist

#harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter au #harry potter ships #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry potter x oc #hermione granger #ronald weasley #fanfic #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine

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everybodyscupoftea · 3 years

Text

rockin around the christmas tree

pike jj x reader

you and jj decorate your first apartment together

this is in the future when you and jj are in nashville :)

(warnings: cursing, implied drinking, very very little editing)

At the words, “I’ve never really decorated a tree before,” you knew immediately that you were going to go all out for JJ. You knew his childhood wasn’t great and that he didn’t really experience it in college either with living in the dorm and then the frat house, but you didn’t consider that meant he’d never really done the tree and lights shebang.

Over the month of November you started gathering up random decorations, here and there, that you thought could fit in your apartment without being a nuisance. One afternoon you convinced your mom to drive over from your hometown with some of your favorite ornaments and decorations from childhood.

She loved JJ and was plenty happy to part with them for his sake. You made sure all the bags and boxes were put away in the second bedroom and made a promise with yourself to not tell him until after Thanksgiving.

Then you got slammed with paper after paper and quiz after quiz which led you to truly forget about everything until you went in there to make sure things were all clean for guests and tripped over a box full of lights.

“Ow, fuck!” you yelped, looking down to see what you’d hit, stomach dropping when you saw it all and heard JJ coming to see what was wrong. Before he could quite get to the door, you waved him away, “All good, just stubbed my toe.”

He backed away, hesitantly, toward the kitchen where he’d been cutting the turkey for dinner. Cody and Tyler were coming into town, and you were doubly excited that they were staying the night so that you could rope them into putting up the once forgotten decorations.

Just as you finished pushing everything out of the way and clearing off the bed, there was a knock at the door. JJ called from the kitchen, “Can you grab that, sweetheart, I’m almost done with the turkey?”

“Got it,” you yelled back, practically skipping to throw the door open for your friends you hadn’t seen outside of FaceTime in months. As soon as you threw the door open, Cody, who was closest, was pulling you into a tight hug, face pressed firmly into your hair. He sighed, “Damn, smell the same, kinda nice.”

You snorted, squeezing back, “That was soft.”

“Forgive me,” he answered sarcastically, “I just missed you is all.”

“Move,” Tyler interrupted before you could respond, elbowing Cody out of the way to hug you. You hugged back just as tight before grabbing both of them by the arms to pull them inside.

“JJ is finishing up the food, so I’ll give you guys a tour real quick and you can drop your stuff in the guest bedroom.”

“Sweet,” Cody nodded, “though I’m not sure how I feel about JJ being in control of the food.”

“Let him have it, I need to tell you guys something.”

They followed you around the whole place and ended in the second bedroom where you shut the door, Tyler smirked, “Getting us alone to pitch a foursome?”

You blinked, not prepared at all, “I-” after a few seconds gathered your thoughts, “no, I just wanted to know if you guys needed to be anywhere early tomorrow or if you could help us decorate for Christmas. JJ never has before, so I thought it could be a fun family activity.”

Before you even finished, Cody, who loved Christmas and decorating for it was nodding eagerly, “Oh fuck yeah. I’m so down. Is that why this room is so messy? Christmas decorations.”

You snorted, “Please, I haven’t forgotten how messy y’all are, I spent so much time in that disaster of a dorm room.”

Tyler waved you off, “We’re much better now.”

“I’m sure,” you answered sarcastically.

“I am, my girlfriend whipped me into shape,” Cody told you, “our apartment looks so dope.”

“Yeah, because your girlfriend has her shit together and a Pinterest board.”

Tyler snorted, “True, you have no eye for interior design.”

Cody rolled his eyes as JJ yelled for everyone to come eat. The four of you sat around the small table you and JJ found on sale with plates heaped full of food. Before anyone could take a bite, you cleared your throat, “Okay, everyone share their lists.”

A tradition the four of you started in college was to share at least three things each person was thankful for before eating whatever you’d managed to put together for dinner, usually takeout because no one was thankful for cafeteria food and the shitty dorm kitchen.

“I’ll go first,” Tyler started, “I’m thankful for the Sixers finally playing well, my girlfriend for getting me a new job, and for you guys having a nice enough apartment to play host.”

“Wait wait wait,” JJ held his hand up, “your girlfriend got you a job?”

Tyler shrugged, “I figure if I play my cards right and don’t fuck anything up, when she finishes law school and has a nice job, I can become a trophy husband. I’ll be supportive as fuck and the best arm candy on the planet.”

You snorted and said, “Okay, poor Emma first of all. It’s my turn though. I’m thankful for my therapist, she’s really done a lot of heavy lifting this fall, I’m thankful for JJ not burning the building down while cooking, and I’m thankful for you guys driving to see us because my separation anxiety was getting pretty bad and my poor therapist needs a break.”

Cody gave you a thumbs up, “Live to serve. My turn, I’m thankful for Liverpool sucking ass this season, I’m thankful that my girlfriend is good at everything I’m bad at because I’m pretty sure I’d have died by this point, and I’m thankful that you guys live somewhere interesting enough that I want to come visit.”

“Okay, me last,” JJ started, “I’m thankful for you guys being here even though it was kind of an inconvenient trip, I’m thankful for my boss for giving me a holiday bonus, and I’m thankful to finally get to spend a holiday in my own space. A safe space.”

Cody and Tyler, both great with emotion, held out fists for him to bump and then started eating.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands, startling JJ awake the next morning, “it’s noon, we’ve slept off most of the hangover, and now we have shit to do.”

“What?” he asked, voice cracking, as he rubbed his eyes.

“It’s Christmas season, we have to decorate.”

JJ groaned, “Shopping? While I feel like this? No.”

“No need to shop, I have it all. Now get up, get dressed, and let’s do this.”

Tyler was already up when you walked out of the bedroom, and he waved, “I ordered breakfast but couldn’t find your coffee pot. Cody is sorting through the decorations, did you have a tree?”

“Yeah, I have one in the closet, we always did a real tree at home, but I figured we should start small and see how it goes.”

“Good plan. I think Cody has a Christmas playlist ready. He’s so excited, could barely sleep.”

He followed you to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame while you made coffee. You chuckled, “Yeah, I know how much he loves Christmas. I’m honestly kind of surprised we never did a group decorating thing like this before.”

“Well,” Tyler crossed his arms, “we did the small trees in the dorm, but JJ didn’t want to buy one for himself so it didn’t really count. And then decorating the frat house was just not worth the effort.”

You passed him a mug and he took a sip while you answered, “JJ never really seemed super interested either. I mean I was going to keep it chill this year too but he brought it up.”

“Cody said you had a whole bunch of homemade stuff.”

“Yeah, my mom brought it to me. I was thinking of making JJ do some of the ornaments to make it even but I’m not sure he’d go for that.”

Tyler snorted, “Man’s a simp, he’d do it for you.”

“Who’s a simp?” Cody asked, walking into the kitchen to take the second mug.

“All three of you,” you told him, grabbing the creamer out of the fridge for him.

He took a sip and shrugged, “Yeah, true. But who are we discussing in particular now?”

“JJ. Whether he’d made homemade ornaments,” Tyler responded.

“He definitely would,” Cody nodded, “I would too. Is that on today’s agenda?”

“It is not. But I mean, if you guys want to make us some in the future and mail them, I’ll gladly hang them on the tree.”

“Deal.”

“What’s the deal?” JJ asked, finally joining the rest of you.

“Nothing, drink some coffee and we’ll decorate.”

After the food arrived and everyone ate, Cody did in fact have a Christmas playlist queued, and he hooked it up to the speaker to blast in the living room. Tyler strung lights around, and JJ told you, “We should just keep these up after Christmas.”

By the time the two of you had struggled to get the tree put together and in a good spot, you added, “Maybe we don’t take the tree down either. We can just decorate it for every holiday.”

Tyler laughed, “Don’t be those guys.”

“We will,” JJ vowed, “we will absolutely be those guys. I just broke a sweat.”

“I will come back for New Years and start a riot if the tree is still up. You laugh like I’m joking, but I will,” Tyler told the two of you.

Cody was barely paying attention, reaching up to put an ornament on the tree when you stopped him, “JJ has to put the first one up.”

JJ gave you a weird look, “What? Why?”

“Bro,” Tyler told you, “lowkey this is a foursome.”

“No, it’s so not.”

“But, it kinda is. We’re taking JJ’s Christmas tree decorating virginity.”

“That’s so-” JJ paused, “okay the logic works a little but I don’t like it.”

“I hate you all,” you groaned, handing JJ an ornament and gently shoving him toward the tree.

“You don’t,” Cody singsonged from his spot across the room.

When everything was done, Cody turned all the lights off in the room and JJ plugged the tree in. Tyler flipped all the lights he’d put out on and the four of you stood in the doorway to take it all in.

JJ sighed, “Kinda love it. It’s going to be such a pain to take down, but it feels good.”

“A good family decorating day,” Cody added, “next year we’ll make ornaments.”

You laughed, “Sure.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, JJ hummed, “Gonna miss our Christmas this year.”

Tyler looked a little teary eyed, “Yeah, we can FaceTime though.”

“Are you crying?” Cody asked incredulously.

“It’s the hangover,” Tyler denied, wiping his eyes.

Cody rolled his eyes, “Sure it is. I’m gonna miss you guys too.”

“Group hug,” you said, holding your arms out. For the first time in a while and the last time for an even longer while, you hugged your boys close. You sniffled, pulling back, “Bring your girlfriends next time. They’re always welcome too.”

They nodded and left after one more hug. JJ and you sat on the couch, soaking in the sudden silence. You leaned into his side and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Movie, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you answered, “Home Alone.”

day four of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: decorating the tree

#pike!jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #outer banks #outer banks fic #obxmermaidholiday #frat!jj

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troubatrain · 4 years

Text

sober - m. barzal (pt. two)

a/n: part two every body give it up for reposting part two!!

One - Three

The sounds of skates on the ice at the Rangers practice facility were becoming almost therapeutic at this point, you close your eyes basking in it for a moment while you edited a video from a charity event the team hosted the week before. You had a makeshift desk in the hallway that led to the locker, trying to get as much work as you could none so you could try and wipe your memory of everything that had to do with Mat Barzal. You knew you shouldn’t have let him win, because men that smug don’t need an ego boost, but you did. Mika’s voice on the other side of that bathroom door was the wake up call you desperately needed. Mat Barzal was a gigantic mistake, and you had to just forget he ever existed. But, his contact was burning in your phone, Mat with a blue and orange heart just to piss you off a little bit more.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” Chris huffs out, his large frame towering over you and leaning on your desk. His eyebrows were furrowed, he’d seen right through, something was off.

“Nothing Kreids,” You roll your eyes, trying to cover up the fact that you were thinking about Mat’s mouth on your pussy in that bar bathroom, “Seriously, I’ll get over it.”

“This is about a guy isn’t it?” Chris questions, grabbing the chair across from you and sitting in it, “Spill.”

“I’m not diving into my dating life with you,” You snap back, catching yourself before your tone gets too harsh. It wasn’t that Chris wasn’t your friend, because he was, it was that you didn’t want to get caught gossiping when you were supposed to be working. Charlotte would have your head on a stick, and everything you’d been working for since you got the job would just be for nothing, “I’m fine seriously, I have a date tonight.”

You did. The night after you last saw Mat, you’d gotten bored enough to open up Tinder on your phone. A couple of swipes later, you had a date with some finance bro from Murray Hill you weren’t going to call the next day. If you wanted to get over somebody, you were just going to have to get under somebody else. Plus, in a city this big, the odds you’d ever run into Mat again were probably slim.

“Like a real date or a rebound date?” Chris asks, a humorous tone to his voice. Chris was a romantic, but you knew Chris Kreider’s were few and far between. So while you were young, you decided that it didn’t matter if you fell in love, you could do that later. For now, you were going to work hard and play harder.

“A rebound date,” You smirk, watching Chris roll his eyes at you, “Don’t slut shame me Chris or I will-”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Chris defends throwing his hands up before you really got into it, “Just call me if he’s a creep or something, please.”

“Okay dad,” You snort, laughing and directing your attention back to the video you were supposed to be editing.

***

Maybe you should have listened to Chris. The man sitting in front of you did nothing besides talk about himself, his job, and he was unbelievably rude to your waiter. You should expect this, as if some random dude you met off Tinder would be some sort of gentleman but you thought maybe, just maybe, you’d be wrong. Unfortunately for you, you were just reminded of one thing - men are trash.

“So what do you do?” Chad asks, which could very possibly actually be his name but you’d forgotten while you were trying to block this entire night from your memory.

“Oh, I work for the Rangers,” You shrug, it wasn’t that you weren’t proud of your job. But the questions that came after were always the same, and if you were right, Chad would have the same answer.

“They must love having a pretty little thing like you around,” The words were sleazy, and they left the same icky feeling in your stomach that they always did. You didn’t want to be some pretty little thing that was around for someone’s amusement. You were an adult who had a pretty important job and you liked to be respected and in the little bubble you lived in at MSG, you were. But, no one outside of 8th and 33rd seemed to agree.

That was the moment when you realized someone’s eyes had been on you the whole time, stopping you from chewing out your date in the middle of the restaurant. Mat Barzal was seated across the restaurant, a girl who looked like a supermodel in front of him. You roll at your eyes at his cocky smile, the girl paying no mind that he wasn’t even listening to her. You pull your phone, letting Chad ramble on about how nice your gig with the Rangers must be.

stop staring at me barz

i can’t when you look like that angel

pretty sure the girl in front of you should keep you busy

pretty sure the guy in front of you is a douche, sneak out of here in 5?

in your dreams

i’ve had dreams about you, they’re pretty fucking filthy though

You stop, rubbing your thighs together subconsciously. You were on this date to forget Mat ever existed and going home with him would be an enormous mistake. One more time couldn’t hurt? Right?

call the uber loser

You watched Mat’s face light up, practically slamming cash down and saying goodbye to his date, before he skipped out of the restaurant. You shake your head at his obviousness, excusing yourself to go use the restroom and thanking whatever higher power that it was close to the exit. The second you stepped out, you could feel an arm wrap itself around you - pulling you into a broad chest.

“I like this little game we’re playing,” Mat smirks, pecking your lips while you wait for a car to pull up. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for an explanation, “You know, where you pretend to hate me because we’re supposed to but in reality you can’t stay away - you know how these movies end.”

“I can go back inside,” You threaten, pointing to your date who is still sitting at the table.

“Why? So you can hang out with some dude who you know can’t get you off like I can,” Mat scoffs, his ego getting bigger by the second.

“Maybe I’ll just steal your date,” You smirk, taking notice of the way Mat’s face lit up, “You’re a pig.”

“You’re not a ray of fucking sunshine either you know,” Mat scoffs.

“Your ego’s huge, I’m just keeping you humble,” You tease, pushing his arm off of you, he didn’t get to claim you like that.

“It’s not going to humble me when you’re at my apartment screaming my name,” Mat smirks, and you roll your eyes.

***

Mat’s apartment was a vague memory from the night you had spent. But, you remembered enough to point out every reason why you hated it. It was a bachelor’s apartment, filled with overpriced dark furniture that you know someone else picked out - or even worse, it came with the apartment. The view was immaculate, the floor to ceiling windows lived in the dreams of your own ideal place. The decor was typical, a few jerseys framed on the walls that you most definitely should have noticed when you left his place.

“You can say you hate it,” Mat chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist while you continued to take in the apartment, “I’m sure it’s not up to your standards.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, biting your lip to suppress the moan that was trying to escape with Mat was nibbling at your ear lightly.

“It means you know you’re better than me,” Mat whispers, “But I know there’s one thing I’m better at than you and that’s why you’re here. I can fucking ruin you.”

“Mat,” You sigh, elbowing him in the stomach while he smirked against your neck, “I’ll ruin you first.”

Mat let out a dramatic groan, “You’re such a brat.”

Before you could defend yourself and chirp him back, Mat had his large hands on your thighs while he carried you into his bedroom, dropping you on the bed. His mouth was sucking at your neck, and you knew you were going to have to invest in a new concealer if you kept this up. Well, at least he finally shut up-

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Mat whispers, his hands exploring your body, “You going to remember it this time?”

“Shut up,” You whimper, trying to let out how good Mat’s hands under your shirt actually felt. They were huge, and the rough skin against yours made your pussy flutter. Mat unclasped your bra, smirking to himself when he got it on the first try, “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice.”

“I have that’s why I know I’m good,” Mat smirks, climbing down your body while you shed your clothes. Mat slips his finger under your jeans, pulling your panties off in one swift motion, “Fuck, I think you know it too. Are you this wet for little old me?”

You didn’t have words for his stupidity, instead you kicked his back with the heel of your foot. You heard Mat’s laugh while he pressed open mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs, “You’d be a lot cuter if you were nicer.”

“You’d be a lot cuter if you didn’t laugh like a hyena but here we are,” You chirped, sighing when you feel Mat’s finger slid up your folds.

Mat Barzal’s oral game was, in all honesty, immaculate. Were you going to let him know that? Absolutely not. Were you going to let him milk for every orgasm you had left? You might.

“Mat, fuck,” You let out a breathy moan, a real one trying to escape you. Mat had made you cum twice already, and his mouth was well on his way to a third before his dick even touched you.

“Let me hear you Y/N,” Mat halts his movements, curling his fingers to see if he could just get it out of you.

“Faster,” You moan out, your hips lifting to try and get his fingers to start moving again. Mat smirks, finally satisfied before his tongue swirled your clit to send you over the edge. Mat finally pulled away, wiping the sides of his mouth that were glistening from you.

“Ready for me?” Mat asks, a smug smile on his face. You nod, watching while he reached over into his nightstand to grab a condom.

“That box is awfully big,” You joke, not able to stop yourself from making fun of Mat. In reality, he probably wasn’t any better than you were, but that didn’t mean for a second you didn’t think he needed to be knocked down a few pegs.

Now, it was Mat’s turn to roll his eyes, “Because you’re such an angel.”

“I’m not, I’m the devil,” You smile, biting your lip while you watched Mat roll the condom over his cock. This part you may have remembered vaguely, but you didn’t remember how big it really was.

“Tell me if I’m being too rough,” Mat groans, entering you slowly so you could adjust to him. At least he isn’t a total douche.

“I thought you were going to ruin me Barz,” You tease, “I’m sure you know better than to talk a big game and not deliver.”

Mat’s eyes went a shade darker, a smirk on his face while he snapped his hips back and slammed back into you, causing you to let out a moan that was so loud you were positive his neighbors heard. His pace kept up, the sounds of his skin slapping against yours filled the room. You grab into any skin you could find while Mat continued to pound into you, your legs practically shaking from the feeling. Your nails dug into his skin, only boosting Mat’s confidence that he was good.

Mat gave you one more orgasm before he finally let himself go, his hips stuttering and a string of curse escaping his mouth. He stayed for a minute, trying to let you both bring yourselves down before he finally slipped out of you.

“You can stay if you can’t walk,” Mat jokes, his nude frame walking back into his room with a warm towel to clean you up. You didn’t peg him as much of an aftercare guy, especially for someone who probably got laid more than the average person.

“I’ll crawl back to Manhattan before I sleep in this bed with you,” You say while you pull yourself up from the bed. You gather your clothes, getting dressed while Mat watches you from his bed.

“So…” Mat starts, his hands behind his head in a way that was just so masculine you didn’t know if you wanted to go another round or punch him square in the face, “Did I make the team?”

“We can’t do this again,” You say, trying your hardest to keep your cool. If you were being honest, you probably would have done it again.

“We can,” Mat suggests wiggling his eyebrows, “It’ll be our dirty little secret, that’s hot.”

“Barz...”

“Y/N...”

“I’ll call you.”

“So I made the cut?”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #my writing

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hold-my-hand-kuroo · 4 years

Text

now that my notifs are back, take this word vomit. i’m not really sure what this is. also i’ve stopped being a bitch and have learned how to put things under a cut-

pairing: kuroo x reader

Your first meeting with Kuroo isn’t exactly the ideal. Initially, you knew him as the tall guy in your first-year class with the terrible bedhead and the loud, cackle-like laugh. People called him the volleyball nerd, and you could understand it well. When he wasn’t fighting with his shorter friend, all you ever heard him talking about was volleyball this, volleyball that. It wasn’t that you were eavesdropping; he just happened to be your seat mate, and anybody that loud could be heard from the next room over.

By your first meeting, though, you knew him mostly as the pest.

“Please, Yaku,” you hear the tall boy croon with a roll of his eyes. “Dogs are where it’s at. They actually react when you’re around.”

“The sheer silence and peace from cats are superior to whatever a dog can give you,” the shorter boy replies. So that’s Yaku, you think.

“Now, that’s where you’re wrong,” Kuroo cackles, too focused on the conversation to realize that another student was walking toward him.

Before he was able to even take a look at the area around him, the said student bumps into his arm, shaking the drink that he was holding with a loose hand. The next thing you know, you’re drenched in what smelled and seemed to be canned coffee. You hear both Kuroo and Yaku cuss, but you’re way too preoccupied with figuring out how to get the stain out. Leaving your desk immediately, you rush to the bathroom, taking off the wet jacket you were wearing and fruitlessly wringing it.

You spend nearly half an hour in the bathroom, and you’re definitely late to first period. Today sucked, and so did Kuroo. Walking out of the bathroom, fuming, you’re internally bracing yourself for the humiliation as to why you have a giant coffee stain on the shoulder of your white uniform shirt. It’s not subtle at all, and you didn’t even bring your gym clothes today, seeing that your gym periods were only on Thursdays and Fridays.

Awkwardly opening the door to your classroom, you’re hunched over, walking quietly toward your desk; however, two things surprise you. The first is that your math teacher doesn’t chew you out like he usually does to late students. The second is the Nekoma jersey and note resting on your desk. Eyeing your seat mate, Kuroo gives you an apologetic smile and wave and points to the note on your desk.

“I’m really sorry about this morning. Take my jersey to cover up. It’s still clean. Also, don’t worry about the old man. I already explained it to him, and he really gave me an earful.”

Looking back and forth between him and the note, you feel a small smile creep up on your face. The jersey has sleeves long enough to cover your hands completely, so you have to do some folding, but it’s warm and smells uncharacteristically fruity for a guy like him. You almost want to write a note back and ask about the detergent his household uses.

When lunch break starts, both him and Yaku give you a formal apology and a juice box. You start to think that the spilt coffee was worth it; you’ve made two new friends and have come to the realization that you maybe don’t hate Kuroo.

II.

Second year is when things get wild for you once Kuroo introduces you to his “favorite best friend” Kenma Kozume. Within your friend group consisting of Yaku, Kuroo himself, and Kai (one of the newer editions), you thought that it’d be good to get closer to Kenma as well, seeing that he was already closer to the other three because of volleyball.

Talking about games was easy; you weren’t much of a gamer, but Kenma, although usually silent, talked most about strategy. Once you understood most of the mechanics, discussing grinding methods or ways to increase avoidance rates was no problem for you. You hadn’t thought it was strange when Kenma decided to talk to you more, though. Wasn’t it natural for someone to open up once they found a common ground?

Kuroo, on the other hand, was beyond shocked. Ecstatic even.

“You have to be our manager!” he pleads for almost a month straight before you actually agree on the account that he treated you to ice cream after every practice. Then it’d be a fair deal.

Being the Nekoma manager was tough work, especially considering the fact that there hadn’t been a manager before you. Sure, the third years tell you what to do from time to time, but you find them a little intimidating with their intensity and strictness. Nekomata and the second years helped you get started the most, and after a few weeks at the job, you have it down to a T. You’ve heard from some of the players that their time in the gym is a lot easier thanks to you and your attention to detail, but really, you’re only focused on you’re favorites.

Of course, that included you and your second year buddies, but you also have a soft spot for Kenma. He always seemed tired, and you’ve heard that he did consider quitting, but you think Kuroo would be devastated if that actually happened. It was such a shame to see him so miserable at practice, mostly at the cause of the third years; you figured that Kenma’s sharp game sense would give him praises, but it only brings him criticism for him to do even better.

It only motivates you to do better at your job; washing uniforms, keeping track of plays, and consistently refilling water bottles, you did your best so that you could support the others. Training camps were always hectic with the schedules you had to prepare. You even find yourself going to school earlier before practice started to help tutor those who needed it; exams were always important, and passing them was the only way to keep the team intact.

“You know, Y/N, I’m really glad you’re our manager,” Kuroo muses one day after practice. He walks over to the usual freezer where your preferred brand of ice cream sits and turns around in search of a Pocari sweat.

“You’re just saying that because you didn’t want to wash the sweaty jerseys anymore,” you quip dryly. “Oh, don’t forget an apple pie for Kenma.”

“How lucky of him to be spoiled by you,” Kuroo chuckles, glancing outside of the store window to look at Kenma sitting on a nearby bench while playing a game. “You should spoil me more. It’s not fair.”

“Why should I spoil you when you’re the one who got the both of us into this mess?” You roll your eyes and take your ice cream from him. He holds the store door open for you, following closely behind.

“Don’t say that when I know you’re having fun. Sometimes,” he laughs, sipping his drink. “But seriously, I’m glad you became our manager.”

“What’s with you getting sappy with me today?” you question, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. “What did you do-“

“I’m just saying. It’s been fun with you around. Kai and Yaku think so, too. And.” He pauses, looking at his childhood friend. “I think Kenma would’ve quit a long time ago if you weren’t around.”

“I’m sure he would’ve stayed for you,” you respond, thwacking Kuroo gently on the back. “Snap out of it. You’re gonna make me puke.”

And yet, you run those words through your head late at night, unable to sleep. Yeah, you think. It has been pretty fun.

III.

The third years graduate, and Kuroo steps up to be the team captain with Kai by his side as vice. You think it’s fitting and even laugh at the idea of the new second years calling Yaku the mother of the team. You’re still the manager all by your lonesome, but with a solid year of experience under your belt, you think you’ll be able to handle the work just fine.

That is, until Lev Haiba in his 6’ 5” glory comes bolting in. He’s a good kid, you think, but he’s quite the handful. Loud and always freaking Kenma out, Kuroo already has a hard enough time dealing with this new wannabe ace. You think he’s fun, though, since it used to be rare when Kuroo would snap. You suppose it’s what happens when you’re given new responsibility, and even people like Kuroo can be serious.

“It’s funny,” you comment, sitting next to the captain as you’re rewatching plays of your next opponent. It’s late, and the only people still in the gym are Kai, who’s cleaning up dutifully, and Kenma, gaming a few feet away. “To think that you’d finally snap. Now you get to have a taste of your own medicine.”

“There’s no way I was that annoying,” Kuroo groans, running a hand through his hair. “And anyways, I’m starting to see a pattern of you preferring all the underclassmen over me.”

“It’s not that hard,” you joke, taking down notes. “You’re super annoying. Right, Kenma?”

Without looking up from his game, Kenma makes a noise of agreement, causing Kuroo to scoff. You two put your attention back to the video playing in front of you, but you don’t notice how close he is until your shoulders brush. You almost flinch, but try your hardest to keep your cool. There’s no way that you’re going to let Kuroo make fun of you for that, so you wait for him to move instead.

Except he doesn’t. Rather than shifting away, the captain continues leaning on you, and you find his head resting peacefully on your shoulder. You don’t dare move, but instead choose to keep taking notes. Focus on writing, focus on the clip, but don’t focus on Kuroo, you think. He smells fruity, just like his jacket from two years ago and even after all the sweat from practice. The scent is so calming and nostalgic, and you almost catching yourself relaxing, but you don’t. You can’t.

“Can we go now?” Kenma says suddenly, breaking you out of your internal panic. “It’s almost eight, and Kai already left.”

“Sure thing,” Kuroo replies, shutting off the clip and getting up. He holds out a hand toward you. “Let’s clean up and get you that ice cream I owe you.”

“And an apple pie,” Kenma adds, walking away, but not before sparing you and Kuroo a glance. He shrugs it off. “I’ll wait outside.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking Kuroo’s hand. It’s calloused, yet warm and comforting, much like his scent. “I can’t believe we stayed so late. I still have a lab report to finish tonight-“

“That’s my bad, so FaceTime tonight again?” he offers, laughing.

“Kuroo, we FaceTime every night.”

“Yeah, but this time, I’ll help you finish your paper, since it’s my fault for keeping you here,” he chuckles, finally letting go of your hand after what seemed to be an unusually long time. “And you can help me with literature-“

“I knew you needed something,” you tease, walking to get your belongings. Your skin feels all tingly, and you swear that the temperature has risen. “But, yeah, whatever. I don’t really care if you call or not, seeing that I won’t be sleeping early anyways.”

You hear him cackle before following you outside the two doors, and when you’re out in the open air, you finally feel as if you’re breathing easily again. Oh no, you think. It’s your third year and things have changed. Or rather, things have been changing.

IV.

None of you talk about university.

It’s the elephant in the room that no one dares to address, not until after you guys make it to Spring Nationals. Sure, the third years had group study sessions for college entrance exams every Saturday, and sure, you and Kuroo always studied late into the night through video call, but nobody wants to think about what happens after separation. Not yet, at least. It’s too distracting, and frankly, you think Yaku might cry if you bring it up.

During winter break, you, Kuroo, Yaku, and Kai all go to the shrine and pray for good luck. It’s meant for the upcoming tournament, but secretly, you know it’s about exams too. Sometimes, Yamamoto will ask about future plans, and all the answers are vague, “Oh, just going to university,” or, “Not sure, yet,” but the air becomes tense, and you hate it. There’s an unspoken pack between the four of you to leave details out, but you desperately want to know exactly how far your friends are going and for how long and what you’ll do without them.

January rolls by, and the four of you head to your respective exams on your own. Even after they’re done, and results have been posted, nobody says anything about being accepted or rejected. There’s no celebration party, no consolations. Not when the spring is coming right around the corner.

Even though every day seemed more stressful, more tiring, it also seemed shorter. Sometimes you’d find practice over in the blink of an eye. The match against Nohebi had you on the edge of your seat, practically making you pull out your hair, but even that one ends in a quick victory. Time was quickly running out.

And then, Nekoma loses to Karasuno at nationals. You were so sure that you had the match, so sure that the determination and dedication your team had put in would pay off, but even in the end, you’re not sure how to feel about it. When Kuroo had first mentioned the Battle at the Garbage Dump to you during your first year, you had laughed and called it a dumb name. You weren’t a manager then, but even though you’re a manager now, you still think the name is dumb. Dumb, but a big deal for Kuroo and Nekoma, and therefore, a big deal to you.

There’s some crying on the bus ride home, but Kuroo sits next to you, uncharacteristically silent. When everyone gets off the bus, you see the captain struggle to show enthusiasm for one last motivational speech. It takes his entire will and more not to cry in front his teammates, the ones he had placed all his hopes in. He, like the rest of them, had wanted to go further.

You find him crying in the storage room once everyone’s gone, sitting in the ball against the wall in complete darkness. Not wanting to turn on the lights, you opt to leave the door open instead so that light flows in, illuminating the space around you. Shuffling over to his quivering position, you take a seat next to him, rubbing circles on his back.

“You look terrible,” you laugh bitterly. “So much for the tough guy act you put up ten minutes ago. Almost had me fooled.”

“I saw you tearing up on the bus,” he responds, voice raspy from the shouting. “I’ll keep your secret, and you’ll keep mine?”

“I think Yaku and Kai already knew that you were going to cry, but sure,” you respond. You take a minute to think. “What are you thinking right now?”

“I’m thinking about all the blocks I missed,” he murmurs, quietly sobbing. “All the spikes I could’ve gotten, all the balls I could’ve saved-”

“Mhm,” you murmur, stroking the mess that was his hair. “That’s what I thought you would be thinking. But in the end, you got what you’ve been asking for since three years now, right? The trash can battle or something?”

“The Battle at the Garbage Dump,” he corrects, letting out a light chuckle. You hear some sniffling and offer him the tissues you brought, knowing well that he wasn’t going to take the loss in any other way. “It…It was everything I thought it’d be.”

“Satisfied?” you ask, lifting up his chin to dab away tears.

“I should be,” he grumbles, looking at the floor. “After pushing everyone this much, I know I should be. But-“

“You wanted to go farther, right?” you answer knowingly. “I think we all feel the same.”

And like that, he grabs you straight into his arms, sobbing heavily into your shoulder. You almost wish it were like the other times that he has gotten close to you, the heart fluttering, skin tingling, heat inducing giddiness you felt whenever he leaned close to whisper in your ear or look at your answers for the homework.

But it’s not. It’s heart-wrenching, it’s heavy, it’s something that can’t be done over. Neither of you have a next year to start all over from scratch, to welcome new underclassmen one more time, to try at nationals again one more time. There’s nothing left for you or Kuroo to do except to move on. It’s a little scary, you think.

The next morning, he calls you, and you almost think about making fun of him for having to walk him home the night before, but he asks to meet you. He’s actually already outside your door with Yaku and Kai, and when you tell them that you’re not dressed to meet people, they don’t seem to care and keep ringing your doorbell. Your mother is more than happy to let them in, much to your dismay.

“Nationals are over,” Kuroo says slowly, solemnly, “so I think…we need to talk.”

The four of you talk about college, and like you had expected, Yaku’s the first to cry, followed by you.

Graduation comes at a quick and unrelenting pace. Before you know it, you’re on stage receiving your diploma. There are people crying, but you’ve already done your share weeks ago. You can’t afford to get your eyes puffy and wet, not when you were supposed to be taking pictures with all your friends and family.

“Hey, Y/N!” a familiar, loud voice calls. You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.

“Yes, Tetsu?” you call, feigning annoyance. “Even though I’m not a manager anymore, I feel like you keep calling me over.”

“It’s picture time,” he grins, pulling Yaku and Kai toward you. “Let’s make this a good one!”

Going between Kuroo and Yaku, you smile for the camera and quickly thank Yaku’s parents. After taking pictures, Yaku and Kai head off with their families to celebrate; the four of you would meet in a few days for a quick senior trip. Rather than heading back home with your own parents, however, you see them off first. Kuroo had asked for you to take a walk with home, and you didn’t need your family teasing you about it.

“So,” he says, waiting for you at the steps of Nekoma. He puts his hands in his pockets and stares pointedly at the pavement. “Uh, hey.”

“Yeah, hey,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You’d miss doing that. “Did you have something important to say or did you just want me to walk home?”

“Both,” he laughs. He throws his head back in amusement, and you realize that you’d miss that too. “But preferably with me.”

You don’t know how to answer. In the past, he also said playful, flirtatious lines that made your heart go crazy, but you never took them seriously. They were just jokes, and you’d laugh along. You don’t laugh along this time, because it doesn’t sound like a joke. He looks at you nervously.

“I mean, if that’s okay with you,” he continues, scratching his head.

“We usually walk home together, so-“

“Well, not like usually,” he quickly interrupts. Then, he groans. “I mean like…we could hold hands while we do it this time.”

Cue stunned silence. You almost can’t believe he’s doing this in such a roundabout way. Sure you’re relieved, but you’re just so exhausted with him beating around the bush.

“Tetsu, just say it to me directly,” you say, chuckling slightly. At the sound of your laughter, confidence practically surges through the boy, and his shoulders straighten a little bit.

“Oh? I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” he teases, looking smug suddenly. You laugh again at the change in mood.Two could play at that game.

“You hate me never want to see me again after high school,” you mock. He gasps in feigned surprise. The two of you laugh for a while, exchanging jokes. It’s been a while since the mood has been so relaxed, and it’s only another thing that you realize that you’d miss.

“In all seriousness, how does a long-distance relationship sound?” he asks and winces slightly at his words. “I mean, if you don’t want to-“

“No, I do,” you reassure, looking at Kuroo straight in the eye. Taking his hands in yours, you take a deep breath. “It’ll be hard, but I want to try.”

“Yeah?” he mumbles and is slightly amused at himself for having it come out as a question. “I mean, yeah. That’s cool. And in reality, you’re only two hours away.”

“Only?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’d travel two hours back and forth to see you whenever you’re feeling lonely,” Kuroo chuckles. Oh, you hated how smooth he was and how lovely he looked when he was happy and blushing. “Just give me a call, and I’ll be there before you know it. Hey, hey, hey, are you crying?”

“I’m not,” you sniffle and wipe away your tears. Leaning toward your face, Kuroo stares at you for a moment, silently asking for consent. When you nod, he presses a kiss on your cheek and gently wipes away a stray tear with his thumb.

“Right, you sure aren’t,” he murmurs closely to your ear.

“Remember to text and call me a lot,” you manage to add, struggling between sobs. He struggles to find a handkerchief for you and opts to use his sleeve instead.

“Of course,” is his answer. He’s glad you’re crying and covering your face, because honestly, he’d hate for you to see him tearing up too.

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