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eloquent-vowel · 3 years

Note

I have had a few bucky x read fic ideas bouncing around in my head and i cant write! So here is one,

Sam find a person who stairs and doesnt talk a whole lot because they uses ✨telepathy ✨. So Sam think they would be a good fit for Bucky, but he doesn’t know they have that power he just thinks they are mute. Then there is a thing where the reader is telling Buck how it works and they if they have something to connect them together like an object *reader motions to dog tags* they can have an unbreakable mind link. Then they fall in love or something. This is dumb, thank you for coming to my TedTalk

Hey! Thank you so much for this request, it wasn't dumb at all. I really enjoyed writing this. I may have gotten a bit carried away, this may sit close to 4000 words but we vibe. I hope this is what you had in mind! Please enjoy! <3

Click here for my masterlist of other fics and check in my bio for requests if anyone wishes to ask!

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Bucky had been enjoying a moments peace, he loved working with Sam but sometimes all he wanted was to put his feet up, put on some vinyl and enjoy a good cup of coffee all while reading a brilliant book. He had been trying to get into Game of Thrones lately, on Sam’s insistence, and he had been enjoying it. With the crackles of Glenn Miller from the turntable he missed the clunky footsteps coming up the stairs.

The sight that greeted Sam needed to be photographed. Bucky was lounging back on his ‘old man armchair’ feet up, hair in a towel, in a bathrobe, coffee in hand and facemask on, this was definitely one for the family album.

At the sound of the phone shutter Bucky practically launched himself out of the chair.

“Oh, you are never gonna live this one down old boy, it’s going to haunt you.” Sam almost cackled evilly as he began to email the photo to himself- he had learnt the hard way that Bucky was very proficient at breaking phones.

“You better not upload that photo anywhere, Wilson, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Pfft, reputation, that’s funny.”

Bucky scoffed as he stood up, placing his book carefully on the side table, “Big scary super soldier, people hardly run-in fear from a guy in a bathrobe.”

“I disagree, a man in a bathrobe is definitely something you should run from. AH NOPE!” Sam jumped backwards, on top of a nearby chair, as Bucky lunged for the phone, towel turban falling off in the process. “You are not breaking this phone as well.”

“Fine. But you gotta promise not to post that anywhere.” Bucky huffed.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“As long as- “

“Oh no, I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Think of it as payment for the last phone you broke and insurance for this picture.”

There was silence for a moment as the two friends eyed each other up. Sam raised his eyebrows, Bucky’s eyes narrowed. It was an intense staring match between a guy in a bathrobe and a precariously balanced man. A clock ticked.

“Fine.” Bucky conceded. “What do you want?”

“For you to come to a meeting.”

“The families of Veterans ones?”

“Yeah.” Sam slowly started climbing down from the chair. “And before you get your old man pants in a twist, I’m not trying to force you to talk or anything, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Suspicion laced through Bucky’s voice.

“You know sign language, right?”

“Which kind?”

“American? I think?”

“Yeah, I know ASL, might be a bit rusty but I’m sure it still holds up. Why do you ask?”

Sam shifted slightly on his feet, “There’s this person, they come in every week and listen. I tried to talk to them, but they communicate through sign language, and I don’t have anyone there to talk with them.” He cast his eyes to the floor, “I feel bad. They were brave enough to come to the group only to basically be ignored ‘because we didn’t plan well enough.”

Bucky smiled, face mask crinkling around his smile lines, “You could have just asked me to Sam. You didn’t have to blackmail me into this, of course I’ll help. When’s the next meeting?”

“This evening. You gonna be ready or do you need some more ‘me’ time.”

Bucky simply chuckled at Sam’s teasing tone, patted his shoulder making sure to squeeze just a bit too hard before retreating to his room.

“I’ll be there, Wilson, and I will look so much younger than you!”

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It was frustrating to you, going along to these meetings and not being able to communicate. You could always speak into someone’s mind but all that usually accomplished was a very paranoid person. But just listening to other’s stories really helped the grief from losing someone so close to you. You related to most of the people there and even though they didn’t understand you a lot of the time, you were always made to feel welcome- with friendly pats on the back and the odd tissue thrown your way.

You bustled into the familiar building with a new sense of excitement as Sam had promised to bring a translator for you this week. It was finally time to say your thanks to some of the people there and finally let the group know about your brother, so that it wasn’t only you that remembered him.

You all but ran through the hallways until you caught sight of a familiar smiling man. Sam was facing you, talking animatedly to another man, the strangers back was to you. He was tall, broad shouldered and dressed in a vintage looking leather jacket and rather well fitted trousers. Now the debate was: does the tailoring make the ass, or does the ass make the tailoring. You were halfway through the arguments on either side when Sam shouting your name disrupted the intense debating in your mind. You blushed at being caught, then blushed some more when you caught sight of the stranger’s face. Twinkling blue eyes under a deep-set brow should have made him intimidating, but he was smiling, and his face was dazzling. There was an immediate fluttering in your stomach.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” Dear lord even his voice was nice, what made you smile even more was the fact that he signed as he spoke. Well, Sam certainly knew how to pick them well. “Sam introduced me; said you wanted an interpreter.”

You nodded as you signed back, “Nice to meet you, thank you for helping out.”

“No problem, Sam has told me a bit about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

“Okay I recognise my own name, you two better not be conspiring against me.” Sam piped up, to be honest you had forgotten about him for a moment.

Bucky laughed, and it sent a little thrill down you, he really was adorable.

“No worries, Wilson, just letting them know all your dirty little secrets.”

“Right, you two get in there, before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

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You and Bucky caught each other’s eye, his eyes were twinkling with mischief, and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you. You had a feeling that the two of you would get on just fine.

The meeting passed easily. Bucky translated your signs and you finally felt like you could actually take part in these meetings. Everyone listened intently when you spoke of your brother and when you had thanked the whole group for being so open to you a couple of people shed a tear. By the end of the meeting though you were tired and very accepting of Bucky’s offer to walk you home.

It was a lot of side glances and hidden smiles and you walked side by side. Drawn to each other under the moonlit sky, it was nice to just be in the presence of someone who had such a kind aura. You spent the walk trying to work up the confidence to sign something, anything but nothing came to mind and Bucky seemed quite content to just walk in comfortable silence.

You soon reached your home, you turned to Bucky with a smile on your face and signed,

“Thanks for today, Bucky. You were really helpful.”

“No problem.” He signed back,

You hesitated slightly before signing, “Would you be happy to have a coffee with me, tomorrow?”

Bucky went a little red in the face, and chuckled, “I would love to, I know a nice place, real cosy. I’ll text you the details.”

“You know how to text?”

“Hey! I get enough stick from Sam, don’t need you getting on my case too. I’ll have you know that I am very adaptable.”

“Sure, Sure.” You smiled at his flustered tone. “I’ll wait for your text then, have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The two of you stared slightly awkwardly at each other, neither wanting to be the first to turn around. You shuffled your feet away slowing, smiling awkwardly once more at Bucky before turning. You heard his footsteps start to fade away as you walked towards your home. You were but three steps to the door when a large figure in a hoodie slammed into you, you raised your arms instinctively to block them when you noticed your shoulder was lighter. The bastard had stolen your bag.

You immediately took chase, chasing around the corner you just walked down but they were fast, faster then you at least. As you rounded the corner you caught sight of Bucky walking ahead. The thief wouldn’t stand a change against him. Without a second thought you cast your thoughts towards Bucky,

“Bucky! Thief! My Bag! Behind you!”

You saw Bucky flinch slightly then turn bewildered, his eyes widening when he saw you hurting towards him, chasing the hooded figure. He caught on and launched after the thief as well, with barely any effort he knocked the thief to the ground, grabbed your bag and whipped out his phone to call the cops.

Well, that was hot.

You took your bag back, immediately checking that you brother’s lucky coin was in the zippy pocket, to your relief it was still there. You looked up to see Bucky staring at you with a very puzzled look on his face. You sighed before casting your thoughts to his head once more,

“I’ll explain later.”

Bucky let out a strange, decompressed noise of shock, it made you giggle. The two of you waited in silence until the police came and took the thief away. The police car had barely driven away when he turned to you.

“Did you just, talk in my head? Or did my conscious just suddenly get really loud.”

“I did. Hi. Sorry about that.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “Believe it or not, not the weirdest thing I’ve encountered.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So,” You started, resorting back to sign language, it felt less invasive, “Still down for coffee?”

Bucky smiled, “One hundred percent. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Bye Bucky. Thanks for getting my bag back.”

“No problem, see ya.”

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The coffee shop that Bucky invited you to, was tucked away, it was the kind of place that you would stumble over on accident. With a simple door and a big window out the front, that lead soft orange light filter out onto the alley. There was the faint sound of jazz leaking out of the building, you smirked. It was such an old fashioned place, of course this was where Bucky frequented.

The bell tinkled slightly as you entered the café, where you were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. You caught sight of Bucky’s broad shoulders sitting in the corner, and you made your way over to him, smiling at the barista as you passed.

As if sensing you, Bucky turned to smile and wave. He was dressed in casual clothes like last time, but this time his hair was loose around his shoulders. You smiled back before settling into the seat opposite him.

His hands moved hesitantly as he signed, “What would you like? I can recommend their hot chocolate, its very warming/”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you a million questions but to his credit he walked slowly to get the drinks, he even took his time carefully carrying the tray of drinks back to your table. He placed a delicious looking hot chocolate in front of you. You watched as he took a sip.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

“So,” Here we go, “What is it you can do, you can speak in peoples’ heads, can you,” He lowered his voice and leaned in, “Can you read people’s minds?”

You giggled slightly, his eyes were basically sparkling, he was definitely nerding out about this.

You set the hot chocolate down before casting your thoughts to his head, “I can speak in peoples heads relatively easily, it’s how I talk most of the time to people I know. I guess you could call it Telepathy.”

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, “So you can’t read thoughts, only… speak them?”

“I like to call it casting, makes me feel like a sorcerer. I can read thoughts, but it takes a lot of energy. I used to be able to talk with my brother from across the house. That usually requires some kind of connection.”

“Oh, so like a blood or family connection? Do you have to know the person very well?”

“That certainly helps but it’s not always necessary. If I have a personal object that belongs to that person, something I can hold and connect to them it isn’t hard to make a two-way connection. Especially if that person is willing to open their mind.”

Bucky seemed to be caught in thought for a second. “So, if I were to give you something of mine, we could both talk in our… heads?”

“Well yes, but Bucky we have only just met. Letting me into your head is a lot. I try not to pry but sometimes I’ve found that thoughts just burst through. Let’s get to know each other a before that happens.”

Bucky smiled at you before speaking and signing, “You’re right. Let’s get to know one another. I find you fascinating.”

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It happened on the fifth date. Bucky was just walking you home after a lovely dinner at a small Italian that he claimed he went to back in the 40s. Just outside your door, under the glow of a lamppost he turned to you and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I know this may be a lot, but I wanted to give you these.” He reached around his neck and pulled off something silver. You gasped slightly as he held out his dog tags, immaculately preserved after all these years.

“Are you sure, Bucky? This is a lot.”

“I know and if you aren’t comfortable with it then just let me know but I want to give them to you.”

“You know what this means Bucky?”

“Yeah, I know, I just figured that you’re already in my head all the time anyways, just can’t seem to get you out of it.”

“You cheeseball.” You smirked at him before taking the dog tags and placing them around your neck. You gripped the cold metal for a moment, concentrating on the man in front of you. Taking everything, you knew about him and stretching out a connection, like a hand reaching out to clasp another.

“Testing, Testing, Testing, one two, one two, can my Telepathic partner hear me?”

You laughed, “Yes I can Bucky, you big dork.”

Bucky whooped out loud before sweeping you up in a big hug. The two of you laughing under the lamp light. His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t fight the smile off your face.

“Oh, we are going to have so much fun messing with Sam.”

“You’re evil.”

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Of course, the two of you made a pact not to tell Sam until he worked it out, which wouldn’t be anytime soon according to Bucky. It led to some very memorable moments and Sam refusing to play any form of card or board game with either of you because you always managed to win, somehow. Not to mention all the times you had spoken in eery unison around him.

“I swear, its like you two can read each other’s minds sometimes.” Sam threw his hands up in frustration at another lost game of charades.

You smirked at Bucky across the room, “Should you tell him, or shall I?”

“I think he’s been through enough, I got it.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “We can.”

Sam whipped around to face Bucky, a look of sheer disbelief on his face, “Seriously Bucky-boy, if you think I believe that after all-

“Hello Sam.” You cast your thoughts to him, in the creepiest old lady voice you could muster.

Sam yelped, before turning accusingly at you, “You better be joking around with me right now, I am not dealing with any kind of ghosts in this house.”

“Sorry! Surprise I’m telepathic!”

“You’re serious.”

You nodded.

Sam put his head in his hands and sighed, “Not the weirdest thing ever. Wait, does this mean you have been cheating this entire time.”

You both looked guiltily at one another.

“You owe me. That poker night, void.”

You both laughed, “We’ll have a fair rematch this time Sam.”

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It had been close to a year since you had made it official with Bucky and you were now much more comfortable around one another. He no longer just dropped you off at the lamppost but cam inside with you. You had spent many lovely mornings together sharing glances over steaming cups of coffee. Fighting each other for who got to spread their legs out on the couch, there wasn’t really a loser though as it usually ended up in sofa cuddles for both of you, while watching a film.

Life was pretty great, you thought, as you smiled down at the sleeping Bucky beside you. Finally reaching over to turn off the lamp and put your book down, you were finally reading the hobbit at Bucky’s insistence. As you clicked off the light beside you and settled down you noticed the faster than usual breathing coming from beside you.

“Bucky?”

You reached out, thinking he was awake but instead as you opened up your connection you caught flashes of night terrors. You were falling indefinitely, snow all around you, and in the distance, there were cries of pain, people pleading for their lives, there was gunfire and explosions. You gasped and took off the dog tags. You only gave yourself a moment to breathe before trying to shake Bucky awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t stirring you steadied yourself and settled your hands on his temples. You didn’t care you tired this would make you, you just wanted Bucky to stop suffering. You focused, offering out that hand of connection again, this time picturing it in the shape of a fist and, although it wasn’t subtle, you tried to shake Bucky’s brain awake. You forced your way into his dreams, punching through the dark fog that clouded his thoughts and almost screamed at him.

“Bucky! Bucky wake up! You’re dreaming my dear!”

Bucky woke up with a start. Tears flowing down his face, he stared at you blue eyes shining. No one spoke as he pulled you into his arms. You just breathed together for a moment, counting the breaths and the spaces in between. When he finally pulled back, you saw his eyes flicker with concern before lifting a hand to gently wipe under your nose, it came back red with blood.

“You, okay?”

You smiled sadly, reaching out to put the dog tags back on.

“I should be asking you that.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Occupational hazard.” You tried to subtly get rid of any of the extra blood. “That was pretty intense. Wanna talk?”

Bucky looked down to the sheets and shook his head. You smiled at him, tilting his head to yours.

“That’s fine, want me to go? Or would you like to cuddle for a bit?”

Bucky didn’t talk again, just pulled you gently down to the bed once more. Snuggling himself under your chin, resting his head on your chest. You felt his arms draw tightly against your waist. You pressed your lips into his hair.

“May I help you go to sleep? Keep the bad thoughts at bay for at least one night.”

You felt Bucky nod and let out a little sleepy hum of agreement. You closed your eyes, focused on your connection setting up a golden wall against the dark fog at the corners of his mind and settled into a deep sleep.

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You woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the clinking of cups.

“Morning.” You opened your eyes at Bucky’s voice and took the offered cup greedily. Your mind still felt hazy from the energy you used last night.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Bucky sat and sipped at his cup as well, hair a bit of a mess from bed. He had evidently only just woken up as well.

He took a breath, “I had some pretty interesting dreams, sweetheart.”

You stiffened, “Good ones I hope.”

“Don’t worry, they were good. If a little strange.”

“Strange?”

“I was watching myself most of the time.”

You snorted into the coffee, “Sounds creepy”

There was a slight chuckle, “Nah, I was watching myself build a home, a family- “

“Oh God Bucky.” You snapped your eyes to his, you knew what had happened. “I am so sorry my dreams must have stuck in your head.”

“Those were your dreams?”

“Yeah, its only happened once before but when the connection between two people is very strong, it can happen- I call it bleeding. Perhaps we should- “

“If the next words out of your mouth are take a break, I will spill your coffee.” You clutched your cup closer to your chest, “Truthfully, those were some of the beset dreams I have every had. I really loved them.”

You looked back up at him, hesitantly “You did?”

“And I love you.”

“Huh

There was silence as you stared at him in shock. His face as nothing but adoration as the sunlight filtered over his face.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

Coffee cups were cast aside as you both collided. Giggling and joking, radiating happiness as the two of you shared the sweetest kiss. Your feelings merging together, amplifying one another until they shone brighter than the sun.

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fics-n-stuff · 3 years

Text

Home - Pt 2

For @glowstick-lesbian, request here

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: After Y/N finally gets out hiding, it's time to sit down with Kaz and talk through whatever it is that's going on between them.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Brief talk of Jordie and Kaz's trauma and touch aversion

A/N: Wow this ended up being longer than I intended! I'm so sorry it's taken so long, I was focused on The Bastard's Shadow and Affluenza pts1 + 2, and then I started picking up more shifts at work and got writers block at the same time. I really hope you like how it turned out!! ❤❤

Pt1 here

After the very enlightening visit from Kaz, the days seemed to drag on even slower than before. The next two months went by in a crawl, and no matter how much you buried yourself in work you couldn’t distract from the longing you felt to get out of your apartment.

When your messenger came to deliver the news that your pursuers were willing to come to a truce you had been so happy that you’d gone straight to pour yourself a glass of whisky to celebrate. From then, you counted down the days until the meeting that you set up, the result of which should mean that you were free to roam the city again.

Inej had shown you how to get out of the window and onto the roof months ago. It was your escape route in case of an emergency, but you had used it every now and then just to sit on the roof and enjoy a taste of the outside world. That night, you had climbed out with intention and dressed in your finest coat.

You travelled over the rooftops towards the Government district, where your meeting had been arranged to take place near the Stadhall. The presence of the stadwatch would serve to protect you in case the deal went south.

You had been jittery with a mix of anxiety and excitement when you descended to street level and wended your way through the streets to find three men waiting for you at the Stadhall, all of them tall, broad and commanding. Barrel businessmen that you had crossed one too many times, and no doubt they had been angered that forcing you into hiding hadn’t put a stop to your business.

You were too smart to have not found a way around it; you had to be to run the business that you did. You owned three boarding houses and two bars in the Barrel and two ships that brought in imports from Ravka and Novyi Zem, a squaller as a permanent fixture on the crew of each to whom you paid a fair salary. You’d had Kaz put them under the protection of the Dregs to keep them safe from slavers. On top of all of that, you used your contacts in Ravka, Novyi Zem and other parts of Kerch to help get kids out of the Barrel and into honest work elsewhere. You might operate from the criminal underbelly of Ketterdam, but you made a mostly honest living.

The meeting took longer than you had anticipated. The three men were eager to negotiate territories that you couldn’t conduct business in and items that they didn’t want you to import because it was cutting into their own business. You held firm, you knew what was fair and you would be damned if you let anyone bully you into submission.

In the end, you essentially just agreed not to get in their way, which was easy enough to do. You wouldn’t actively compete with them in the sale of imported goods, and you wouldn’t try to convince any of the lads that they used as runners and grunts to get out of the Barrel. As long as you kept your distance from them you’d be fine, since they were clearly tired of chasing after you.

“Alright then, the deal is the deal.” You said, holding out your hand. All three shook hands with you in turn, echoing the phrase as was customary. When the man in the middle – clearly the leader and the last to shake with you – took your hand, you tightened your grip and leaned forward. “If you try to cheat me after this deal, you will have Dirtyhands to answer to.” You said lowly. He tried not to show his reaction but the fear in his eyes betrayed him, and you released his hand. It wasn’t often that you involved Kaz and his reputation in your affairs, but sometimes it paid to be friends with the most ruthless man in Ketterdam.

You left the meeting with your head held high and took a gondel back to the Barrel. You were approached by a few people who stayed in one of your boarding houses or drank in one of your bars on your walk to the Crow Club, telling you that they had been curious or worried about having not seen you around for so long. You didn’t engage in any conversation beyond polite acknowledgment, too eager to get to the Crow Club.

Inej was the only one that knew that you were getting out tonight. You had told her when she had come to deliver your food for the week and she had promised to try and keep everyone corralled at the Crow Club so that you could make a big entrance, but the later it got the less likely it was that she could keep them all there without raising suspicion.

You practically ran down the last street towards the Crow Club, bursting through the open door and searching the crowd for your friends. Jesper caught sight of you at the same moment that you spotted them all at the bar, and you saw his jaw drop in shock. A huge grin spread on your face as he set his drink down, his sudden change in demeanor getting the attention of the rest of the group and causing them to turn to follow his gaze.

“Y/N?” Jesper called, prompting you into as much of a sprint as you could manage across the crowded floor of the gambling hall. You vaulted yourself into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his lanky frame. “You’re back! How?” He exclaimed, and you laughed as you felt him hug you back and sweep you off of your feet.

“I had a meeting to call a truce. As of tonight I am a free person!”

“We missed you so much!” Nina grinned, prying Jesper’s arms off of you so that she could pull into a hug herself. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were finally coming out of hiding?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You grinned, pulling away so that you could move to hug Wylan next. “I missed you guys so much too, you have no idea.” You caught sight of Kaz over Wylan’s shoulder, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. You pointed your smile at him and his lips twitched upwards before he cooled his expression and gave you a simple nod.

Your reunion was spirited to say the least, even Matthias couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you were back. You made them tell you about all of the most significant things that you had missed in the year that you had been trapped inside and update you on any power shifts between the Barrel gangs. Jesper wouldn’t shut up, Wylan was excited to tell you about all of the new explosives and weapons that he had developed, and Nina was making a list of places that she wanted to get lunch together to make up for lost time. It felt amazing to be with them all again.

“Okay! I want to play a few hands of Three Man Bramble before I go.” You announced, pushing your glass away from you after downing the last of its contents.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Jesper grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder and guiding you to a table.

It seemed apt that fortune seemed to be in your favour, winning so consistently that you continued to play even though you knew that you shouldn’t. It felt like every time that you looked up from the table you caught Kaz watching you, and his unashamed gaze made your heart flutter.

After a while you saw him give a slight nod towards the door, an action that meant that it was time to go, and you tucked you lip between you teeth as you gave a subtle nod back and turned your attention back to your cards.

“Unbelievable!” Jesper exclaimed upon seeing that you had won again. “I guess you’re catching up on a year’s worth of luck.”

“Perhaps, but I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.” You smiled, gathering up your winnings. “I need to go and breathe some more fresh air.” You pocketed half of your winnings and pushed the other half around the table to Jesper. “Not too much fun.”

“There’s no such thing as too much fun.” He beamed and pulled you to him so that he could plant a kiss on your cheek. “Good to have you back, Y/N.”

“Good to be back, Jes.” You winked before bounding back to the bar to say goodbye to the rest of your friends. Kaz had already disappeared, no doubt in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to the fact that you were leaving together.

“We’re going to get waffles tomorrow. I will break your door down if I have to.” Nina asserted, practically crushing your ribs in a hug. “Inej, you’re coming too.”

“What about me?” Wylan pouted, and you laughed.

“Everyone’s invited.” You replied, holding his face and turning it towards you so that you could press a soft kiss on his forehead before pulling him in for a hug. “I just got out, I want to spend time with you all!”

You kept your hug with Inej pretty short, considerate of the bad feelings that too much contact could stir up in her, and even managed to coax a hug from Matthias before you headed out. Kaz was waiting not far from the entrance and you smiled as you quickly made your way towards him

“Hey.” You chirped.

“You wanted it to be a surprise, huh?” He questioned, starting towards the Slat. You chuckled.

“I know you’re not a big fan of surprises, Kaz, but I thought this might be a fun one. Why? Were you offended that I told Inej and not you?”

“Did you have anyone go with you to your meeting?”

“No, I didn’t need any backup.”

“Things could have gone badly, and you didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Well things didn’t go badly.” You rebutted. “I’m here, I’m fine, and I surprised you all.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.” Kaz said flatly, ignoring your point, and you groaned loudly at his stubbornness.

“If it makes you feel better, I made sure to drop your name in to intimidate them. But I can handle my own business.”

You hopped along the cobblestones playfully, irrationally happy to be back out on the filthy and foul smelling streets of the Barrel, but even the stink couldn’t dampen your joy at finally being free. You were sure that you and Kaz probably looked like a bizarre pair walking together now, him with his stoic exterior and identifying limp next to your childlike joy, though you had taken after him fashion wise with your smart attire and well-fitted, black coat.

Walking back to the Slat with Kaz took you in the opposite direction to your home – now that you were out of hiding you could finally return to where you actually lived in a house on the boundary of East Stave and the Zelver District – but you wanted to talk to Kaz, and he wouldn’t have asked you to leave with him if he didn’t want to talk to you too. Nevertheless, you continued the rest of the walk in silence.

When you got to the Slat, Kaz continued straight up to his room while you lingered on the ground floor to say hello to some of the Dregs that you were more friendly with. The noise of the Slat was unfamiliar to you after so long, but you had kind of missed the rowdiness of it.

You followed upstairs shortly after. Kaz had left his door ajar for you and you could see him sat at his desk through the opening.

“Shut the door behind you.” He said as you slipped inside, and you heard the door click as you push it shut after yourself.

“You wanna talk to me?” You questioned, walking over to lean on the side of the desk casually. “Or did you just want some time to look at my gorgeous face?” He did look up at you then, his eyes darting around to take in the entirety of your face, and you felt your heart flutter.

“How did your meeting go? What deals did you make?” He asked. You sighed. It wasn’t new that Kaz was asking about your business, he liked to know about what you were doing the same way that he liked to know about literally everything else, but you had hoped that this conversation would be a little less mundane than that. You had hoped that he might express an iota of joy that you were back.

“I can’t dock my ships in 3rd Harbour anymore.” You shrugged. “So I’ll stick to 2nd for imports going into the morning market, mostly 5th for everything else. There’s a few streets that I need to keep my business off of, and obviously I can’t try and undermine their operations anymore. That doesn’t mean that I won’t, it just means that I’ll be smarter about not getting caught.”

“And what do you get from them?”

“They leave me alone. I don’t need more than that. I mean, their terms are hardly going to impede my business anyway.”

“And your insurance?”

“You.” You smiled sweetly. “Very few people are bold enough to cross someone that has Kaz Brekker on side.”

“I thought you prided yourself on running an honest business.”

“I do. My association with you doesn’t make my business any less legit. I’m more honest than most of the Merchant Council anyway.”

“That’s fair.” He conceded with a slight nod.

Kaz had visited you a few times since the night that you had both let on about how much you cared about each other, but you hadn’t talked about it. It felt like the tension between you had been building and building like an elastic band ready to snap. It was driving you crazy.

“Anything else that you want to talk about?” You hinted. Kaz let out a long breath, his eyes sliding away from you for a moment. You could tell that he wanted to talk about it but he was struggling to get it out. “Because you haven’t told me that you’re glad I’m back yet.”

“I am glad that you’re back.” He affirmed, then he took a hard swallow. “We all missed you.” You smiled brightly at that.

You could hear the crows moving around on the half-roof outside of Kaz’s window and crossed the room to perch on the windowsill. There hadn’t been anywhere for the birds to land in the apartment that you had been cooped up in.

“Can I stay here for a while? I don’t want to be alone again just yet.” You said softly, tucking one knee up against your chest as you watched the birds through the glass.

“Sure.” Kaz answered.

You sat in silence for a while after that, which wasn’t unusual for you two. Before you had gone into hiding, you had spent many evenings with Kaz in his office just like this. Tonight felt different though. Something had opened between the two of you and now you couldn’t close it. The feeling permeated every corner of the room until you felt like you might explode if you didn’t break this silence, but, to your surprise, Kaz spoke first.

“I’ve been thinking about that day that I saw you outside the Crow Club.”

“Why?” You asked, blinking in surprise. Kaz was still facing forward at his desk, back turned to you, but his pen had stilled over the page.

“I watched you for a while, deciding whether to chase you off or recruit you for the Dregs.” He continued, ignoring your question. You were used to that too. “You were good at pickpocketing – you could spot a good mark, distracted them by pretending to beg for pennies – but you stayed in one place for too long.”

“I know, you told me at the time.” You smiled amusedly.

“I was just planning on telling you exactly that, but after I got your attention and you looked at me I knew that I had seen you before. It was in your eyes.” He turned around to look at you then, his gaze finding yours immediately. “Your eyes never changed.”

Kaz’s eyes had. Maybe that was why you hadn’t recognised him. Kaz Rietveld had eyes full of wonder and warmth, that were curious about everything and shone when he was happy. Kaz Brekker's eyes were cold, they held secrets. The curiosity had become analytical, and the shine had turned into a devious glint. Kaz Rietveld didn’t exist anymore, the R tattoo on Kaz’s bicep was the only relic of him, and you were the only one left to remember him.

“Crows remember the faces of those that are kind.” He finished softly.

“And that’s why you took me in? Because I was kind?”

“Because we were friends. We are friends.”

“Just friends?” You murmured, a challenge in your eyes. It wasn’t a provoking challenge, more of an encouraging one. You wanted to know where he stood and you wanted him to be able to tell you. He was silent for a long stretch.

“Would we ever be able to be more?” He asked. You knew what he meant. Kaz had built up so many walls that he didn’t know how to let down, and he knew that about himself. It was how he had survived, but it was a way of being that wasn’t very conducive to relationships. He didn’t think that he could do it.

“That depends on you.” You answered with a soft smile. “Because I’m not looking anywhere else.” Kaz swallowed and looked away quickly, but you swore that you had seen a hint of a blush in his cheeks.

A knock came at the door, and you cursed whoever was on the other side in your head.

“What is it?” Kaz called.

“There’s a man downstairs says he has a job for you.” Specht’s voice came through the wood. “Won’t talk to no one else but you.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Kaz replied, then muttered something under his breath bitterly. You heard the creak of Specht's retreating footsteps and Kaz turned to you. “Will you wait until I get back?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You watched Kaz leave the room and let out a long sigh once the door had closed behind him. You were finally talking about whatever it was that was between the two of you and you just had to get interrupted.

You shed your coat, dropping it lazily on the floor next to you, and rolled up your shirt sleeves. Despite the pressure put on you from some members of the Dregs, you had never gotten the crow and cup tattoo on your forearm. You had known from the start that you didn’t want to belong to the gang, no matter how thankful you were for the help that Kaz had given you.

When you had realised who it really was that had approached you that night outside the Crow Club, you had been shocked. He knew your name when he spoke to you, though he had seemed unsure of it, and you had furrowed your brow and asked if you knew him.

“It’s Kaz.” He had said, and you had blinked.

“Kaz Rietveld?” You had whispered in disbelief. His jaw had clenched, his shoulders stiffened.

“That’s not my name anymore.” He snapped. “It’s Kaz Brekker now.”

When you asked him why he had changed his name he had simply told you that it was easier that way. When you asked him about why he was in Ketterdam he had answered that his father had died and they had sold the farm. When you asked about Jodie he didn’t answer.

He had walked you to the Slat, told you not to talk to anyone, and brought you up to this very room. You had trusted him enough to follow. Despite his proud presence in the Barrel, despite the fact that he was walking you into the den of a gang, despite the fact that he was almost unrecognisable from the Kaz that you knew as a child, you had trusted him. And in the years that followed, he had never broken that trust.

He had helped you pay for the first boarding house that you purchased, come with you to the bank when you took out the loan to buy your first ship, had come to the harbour to see you off the first time that you had gone to Ravka.

Kaz had once reminded you of something from your childhood while around the other Crows, and once it had slipped that you and Kaz had been friends when you were young, people were constantly asking you about what he had been like. He never told anybody anything about himself and people had been eager to find a source of information on him, but most people had quickly come to realise that you weren’t going to say anything either. Kaz had never thanked you for your discretion, but you knew that he was glad for it.

If you were honest with yourself, you had found yourself drawn to him ever since you got your first glimpse through his cold and uncaring exterior and saw his loyal and protective nature. The pull had only grown since.

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of the door opening, and you looked over to watch Kaz enter. The door clicked shut behind him and he moved to the wash basin directly across the room from the window that you were sat in, set down his cane and pulled off his gloves .

“A good job?” You asked. He shrugged.

“A job that I’ll do.” He answered and began unbuttoning his shirt. You tried not ogle as he pulled it off and picked up the washcloth from the basin, but you caught sight of a reddened stripe of raised skin across his side and furrowed your brows.

“When did that happen?”

“A few days ago.”

“How deep did it go?”

“Not too deep.”

“It doesn’t look like you stitched it up properly.”

“It’s fine.” He dismissed. You rolled your eyes and got up from the window ledge. Kaz never took proper care of himself but he was always too stubborn to admit it.

“Let me see.”

“I said it’s fine, Y/N-"

“Kaz.” You interrupted sternly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I said let me see.” He held your gaze for a moment before letting out a huff and raising his arm so that you could get a better view of the wound.

You kept your distance as you looked over the injury, but you could clearly see that the stitches were sloppy on the end of the gash towards his back; the side that he couldn’t reach easily himself.

“You’re keeping it clean?”

“I know how to treat a wound.” He grumbled.

“I know that you know how, that doesn’t mean that I actually trust you to do it. You didn’t even have it bandaged or anything, what if it gets infected?”

“It won’t, Y/N, stop worrying so much.”

“Well, if you’re not going to worry about yourself then somebody else has to.” You exasperated. “At least bandage it.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you crossed over to the cabinet where he kept his impressive stock of medical supplies and grabbed a roll of gauze. Kaz caught it grudgingly when you tossed it to him and set it to the side while he finished washing his torso.

“You worry too much.” He muttered.

“It’s good for you.” You smiled.

You watched him as he unrolled the gauze and wrapped it around his body, carefully laying it over the wound with pale fingers that you rarely saw. He was precise, but he couldn’t see his back and the bandage twisted as he moved it between his hands.

“It’s folded.” You told him softly, taking half a step towards him. “I can fix it... if you want.” There was a beat of silence before Kaz nodded slightly.

You moved towards him slowly and reached for him even slower, your eyes constantly flicking back to the mirror to gauge the reaction on Kaz’s face. Your fingertips barely brushed over his back as you unfolded the downturned piece of bandage and you immediately stepped away when you were done. It took no more than a few seconds, but you could hear Kaz’s short breaths and when you looked at him in the mirror you could see that he had paled.

You picked up the clean shirt that was laid on his bed and held it out to him at full arms length. His hand shook as he took it from you. He pulled it on quickly, making short work of the buttons, and pulled his gloves back on hastily.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, though you weren’t exactly sure what you were apologising for.

“It’s because of Jordie.” Kaz’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, his eyes trained on his shoes. “Why I can’t touch anyone. It’s because when he died...”

“You don’t have to tell me, Kaz.” You said softly when he trailed off. He shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds.

“When Jordie died, I was sick too. It was the Queen's Lady plague. One night, I fell asleep in an alley and woke up on the Reaper's Barge.” He swallowed thickly, wringing his hands together thoughtlessly, and you could see sweat forming on his brow. “When my fever broke, I had to swim back to the harbour, and Jordie... whenever someone touches me, all I can feel is those corpses.”

Silence hung between you as you tried to find the words to respond. It was a lot of information to take in, but suddenly things made sense. Now you understood why Kaz had become the way that he was; why he was prone to shutting people out, why the light behind his eyes had dimmed.

“Kaz, I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay.” He muttered. “I have work to do. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” He crossed the room to sit down at his desk, his movements tense. You watched him for a minute, unsure of what to do. It felt wrong to leave him alone right now, but you didn’t know if he would want you to stay.

“I’m sailing to Novyi Zem next week.” You said. It was the first topic that you could think of. “I’d really appreciate it if you could look over the rent ledgers while I’m gone.”

“Sure.” He replied flatly. Silence again.

“Will you come with us all to get waffles tomorrow?”

“I have work to do, and Nina didn’t invite me anyway.”

“Yeah, well, the celebration is for me and I’d really like for you to be there.” You smiled slightly. “She probably didn’t invite you because she knew you’d say no.”

“Smart of her.” Kaz responded, and you let out a frustrated huff.

“Don’t do that, Kaz. Don’t shut me out.” You complained. He didn’t answer at all. You folded your arms over your chest and went to stand beside his chair. “I don’t care that you can’t touch people, it doesn’t bother me. You went through trauma and that’s not your fault. What is bothering me is that you’re choosing to stay closed off to everyone. You can’t keep your walls up forever, you’ll kill yourself trying.”

“I can’t handle it, Y/N.” He snapped, his voice low. The gravel in his voice might have intimidated you into backing off if you weren’t so adamant on getting through to him.

“You’ll never be able to handle it if you don’t start trying.” You insisted. “Maybe if you’d just admit to yourself that you care about people it wouldn’t be so hard to see that we care about you too.”

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tightly, and released a long breath. You watched him, waiting for a response, not backing down. After a moment of silence, he glanced up at you.

“I can’t need anyone.” He said slowly. “Not after Jordie. I can’t let myself need anyone else.”

“You don’t have to need me, Kaz. You just have to want me.” You replied softly. His head snapped towards you and you actually saw his pupils dilate for the few seconds that he held your gaze before quickly turning away again. You hadn’t meant it like that, but you weren’t upset that he’d heard it that way.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered. You leaned against his desk, a sympathetic smile on your face even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“I’ve been around this long, I’m not going anywhere.” You promised. “There’s more to love about you than you think.”

Kaz tapped on his desk with a finger, a nervous action that he would usually suppress. Then, he took a sharp inhale and turned back to you.

“Okay.” He breathed. “I can try.” You bit down on your tongue in an attempt to suppress your grin, but you couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face.

“That’s all I ask.” You lilted. You stood up straight, pushing off of the desk and starting across the room to the window. You rolled your shirt sleeves down and snatched your coat up from the floor. “I’m going to head home. I expect to see you at my door promptly at eleven bells tomorrow morning, ready to get waffles.”

“Alright.” He nodded, breathing a single light laugh.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Here, Y/N, these are for you.” He said quickly, picking up and couple of envelopes from his desk and holding them up for you. “You’ll have to make sure to notify your business partners of your change in mailing address.” You chuckled, going to take the letters from him, and he gave a small smirk as he handed them over.

“Thank you.” You smiled, before turning and heading to the door. “Eleven bells, Brekker. I know you’re a punctual man.”

“I’ll be there.” He affirmed. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kaz.” You echoed softly before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind you, a fond smile on your lips.

#six of crows #six of crows fanfic #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #kaz brekker #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #crooked kingdom

148 notes · View notes

hqbbg · 3 years

Text

no regrets.

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader (ft. oikawa)

prompt: "I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now."

genre: smut with a sprinkle of angst

word count: 7.3K (i’m so sorry, this came out way longer than i intended)

warnings: 18+, slowburn like wow look at that word count, mentions of alcohol, some cheating, fingering, oral (f.receiving), unprotected s3x, aftercare

author’s note: here’s my monthly contribution to the Haikyuu!! Headquarters server collab! here’s the masterlist, so be sure to check everyone else’s works out too! hope you guys enjoy :)

The sunlight seeping in through your bedroom window feels warm on your face as you stir awake. Stretching your arms above your head, you sigh in contentment, satisfied with the quality of sleep you had. You roll over to check your phone, frowning as it fails to turn on, realizing that you’d forgotten to charge it after a call with your boyfriend who’s currently halfway across the world.

Suddenly, a thought strikes you and you scramble out of bed to check the wall clock you have hanging in your apartment’s living room. A loud gasp followed by a curse leaves your lips as you rush to the bathroom to get ready for work.

You’re running late. Again.

Dread spreads through your senses as you quickly go through your morning routine, thinking of all the possible excuses you can offer your boss that won’t result in the loss of your job. As you finish up in the bathroom, you practically run to your room and carelessly throw on a relatively clean white shirt and a pair of pants before rushing out the door. Despite your hectic morning, you’re out the door in record time, locking it behind you. You have half a thought to give yourself a pat on the back. Unfortunately, you just don’t have the time for that right now.

By the time you arrive at work, you’re breathless and visibly frazzled, only slightly annoyed when your coworkers give you suspicious and questioning looks. As you’d expected, your boss hardly greets you before demanding a reason as to why you’re late. You can already tell that today’s going to be a long day, the fact amplified when you realize you’d left your phone charger at home.

When you finally clock out after a particularly long shift, hardly sparing your coworkers a proper goodbye on your way out, you feel momentary relief knowing that you’ve gotten that out of the way. As you step outside, another groan leaves your lips as you look up at the thick and dark clouds overhead. With your phone being dead in combination with being late, you had no idea that rain was in the forecast for today. There were hardly any clouds this morning on your way to work, too! Well, maybe there were, you were just too preoccupied to notice.

You silently plead that the journey home is a dry one, but you should know better than to have hope on a bad day like this.

When you feel the first of many heavy raindrops, you curse under your breath and briefly scan the area to find some shelter, eyes landing on a nearby café. You walk as quickly as you can, avoiding others who either came prepared with their umbrellas or those who, much like you, are rushing to find a place to stay dry.

Pushing the door open, you’re finally able to catch your breath. However, the relief is short lived when someone else opens the door from behind you to get inside, shoving you into another person who was on their way out.

Just as you begin to think the day can’t get any worse, the world clearly has other ideas. You feel it before you see it: the cup of iced coffee spilling onto your shirt and practically freezing your skin as you let out a yelp.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?”

Your head whips up at the oddly familiar voice and you’re surprised to see Iwaizumi Hajime standing before you, looking around frantically to search for napkins to clean you up. If it weren’t for the icy and numbing sensation on your chest, you would’ve been happy to see him.

He takes a couple long strides to the nearest condiment bar and swipes a handful of napkins before rushing back to you. He still hasn’t realized that it’s you standing before him: his best friend’s girlfriend whom he hasn’t seen or spoken to in years.

Wordlessly taking the napkins from him, you peel the shirt away from you while pressing them into the fabric. Though your chin is tucked so you can look at your shirt, you can feel Iwaizumi’s eyes on you.

“Wait, Y/N?”

You lift your head and greet him with an awkward smile.

“Hey,” you lamely respond as you finally give up on your shirt. Your next best option is to get home quickly and throw it into the washer while you take a nice, long shower. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. The only issue now is finding a way home that doesn’t involve getting drenched by the storm raging outside.

“Wow, it’s been awhile,” says Iwaizumi as he lifts his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s good to see you, but sorry about your shirt.”

“It’s fine, my day’s been pretty bad to begin with,” you sigh. You immediately realize the implications of your statement and feel your eyes widen as you scramble to recover. “I mean, not to say you’ve ruined my day or anything! I just—it’s just been one of those days.”

Iwaizumi offers an apologetic and understanding smile. “I get it, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Thanks,” you reply gratefully. “I didn’t know you came back from the States.”

“Yeah, I graduated and came back for good a couple months ago,” he says casually. His eyes flicker for a brief moment to the stain on your chest and he quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere, clearing his throat. “Do you, uh, have a jacket or a change of clothes?”

“No, I was running late this morning and my phone’s been dead, so I didn’t get a chance to check the weather or anything,” you reply with a frown. “I’m clearly living my best life right now.”

You half meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, but the frown settling on your former classmate’s face tells you that it was not received that way.

“It doesn’t look like the storm is gonna let up anytime soon,” says Iwaizumi, sensing your concern as you turn your head ever so slightly to check the weather outside. “Do you live far?”

You shake your head, turning back to face him. “No, I’m just a couple more blocks away.”

“If you want, I can walk you home,” he generously offers. “My umbrella isn't that big, but it would get the job done.”

“Oh, you don’t have to!” You’re quick to shake your head, waving your hands out in front of you. “My shirt’s already done for and I can just make a run for it, so it’ll be faster.”

Iwaizumi seems to hesitate, giving you a quick once-over with his eyes. “Okay, well, the least I can do then is offer you my jacket. I did spill my coffee all over you, after all.”

You open your mouth to refuse his kindness, but he’s already shrugging out of the outerwear and holding it up in front of you.

“Take it,” he insists as he locks eyes with you. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You hesitate for a moment and glance down at your shirt to see if you really need it. Your eyes widen slightly when you’re able to see your bra through the damp fabric and the way it sticks to your skin, particularly the valley of your cleavage.

Muttering your gratitude, you’re quick to take it and put it on, feeling dwarfed instantly. You close the jacket and glance out the window again to see what you’re working with before looking back at him.

“Alright, well, I guess I’ll be going now,” you say, getting ready to turn and leave. “Oh, wait.”

You turn back around and Iwaizumi raises a brow.

“How do I get your jacket back to you?”

“Oh, right.” The thought seems to have slipped from Iwaizumi’s mind too. “Uh, here, give me your number. We can find another time and place for you to give it back to me.”

Iwaizumi shuffles and grabs his phone from his pocket, giving it a couple taps before holding it out to you. You thank him and quickly input your contact information, sending a quick text to yourself before handing the device back to him.

“Thanks, Hajime,” you say with a grateful smile. The look on his face is one of surprise and you realize it’s the first time you’ve called him by name today. Actually, since the last time you saw him back in high school. “This time, I’m going for real.”

Iwaizumi recovers quickly enough to give you a nod and a small wave. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna need it,” you say, sighing warily as you turn towards the door again. This time, you don’t look back, preparing yourself for the stormy commute that awaits you.

“Sounds like you had a rough day.”

“It was awful, Tooru,” you whine as you pad through your kitchen, trying to figure out what you want to eat for dinner with your phone propped up on one of the kitchen counters. You’re on a video call with Oikawa in your oversized t-shirt and hair wrapped up in a towel, having come freshly out of the shower before this. “Oh! But something interesting did happen earlier.”

You hear your boyfriend hum curiously, urging you to continue.

“I saw Hajime,” you say, inspecting some vegetables in your fridge that have been in there for a suspicious amount of time.

“Oh?” Oikawa sounds as equally surprised as you were earlier. “Wow, how long has it been since you saw him?”

“I haven’t seen him since high school,” you reply as you put the vegetables on the counter next to your phone, seeing Oikawa still laying in bed. “He let me borrow his jacket on my way home to avoid getting my shirt any wetter.”

“Oh, that’s nice of him,” Oikawa responds with less enthusiasm than you’d expected. You thought he’d be more excited to hear that his girlfriend and best friend interacted, but there’s something in his voice that doesn’t necessarily sound right. “He always had a soft spot for you back then, too.”

“Really?” You raise a brow as you return to your fridge. “How so?”

“Well, that’s irrelevant now,” Oikawa says, nonchalantly brushing off the subject. You don’t question things further, more concerned about what to eat for dinner.

You stay on call together for a little longer before Oikawa has to leave for practice, and eventually, you’re left alone in the comforts of your apartment. You still have yet to settle on dinner and migrate to your couch to see if anything looks appetizing on your local food delivery app.

As you mindlessly scroll, you hear your washing machine go off to alert you that your laundry is done. Setting your phone down on your coffee table, you stand and go to transfer the clean clothes into the dryer. As you pull out Iwaizumi’s jacket, you’re reminded that you need to return it soon; there’s no point in keeping it here for too long.

Walking back over to your couch, you plop back down and pick up your phone. This time, you navigate through it to locate Iwaizumi’s name and type up a quick text to ask him for his availability in the next couple of days. He doesn’t respond for several minutes and you return to your relentless search to find something to eat.

Deciding on one of the local fast food restaurants, you place your order and sprawl yourself out over your couch. With roughly twenty minutes before the food arrives, you try to busy yourself on your phone before dejectedly placing it down beside you.

Your phone buzzes with a notification and you lift the screen to see a banner with Iwaizumi’s name on it. Reading over his reply, you find that he’s available on your day off in the next few days. You type up a response to ask him if he’s willing to meet up so you can return his jacket, and this time, he responds quickly with a simple agreement.

After texting him a time and place, you set your phone back down beside you. It’s been so long since you last saw him, it feels strange. You can’t help but think back to your time in high school and the memories you had with him.

Back then, you weren’t the biggest fan of volleyball like the rest of your friends were, so you never really went to the games unless they dragged you along. You recognized some of the boys from your class, though you could hardly remember their names; they were never the ones your friends talked about—they weren’t Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime.

You actually met Iwaizumi before you’d met Oikawa, but that was because you’d bumped into him on your way to the bathroom during one of the games your friends had taken you to. Sure, he didn’t introduce himself or anything, simply muttering an apology before storming off somewhere, but it was still your first memorable interaction with him.

It was one of your friends that got you acquainted with Oikawa sometime later, and after the two of you officially started dating towards the end of your second year, you started seeing Iwaizumi more often. He was slightly intimidating at first, but after some time, you’d come to learn that he was a big softie on the inside—he just didn’t like to show that to other people.

Most of your friends were jealous that you were the lucky girl who somehow caught the popular captain’s eye, so when the two of you had gone on a break in the middle of your third year, no one was really around for you. Except Iwaizumi.

It was neither of your first choices to have him listen to you cry over the phone about Oikawa on a Friday night, but that’s where you’d both ended up. He was terrible at giving advice, but he was a good listener at the very least.

Ever since then, you were more comfortable with him and he seemed to feel the same way. When you got back together with Oikawa, he was less than thrilled to hear the news, but respected your relationship nonetheless. He stopped responding to your texts as much, stopped answering your calls, and by the time you graduated, he barely spoke to you when Oikawa wasn’t around.

To say that it didn’t upset you was a lie; you considered him to be a friend, after all. So, when you had to hear from Oikawa that Iwaizumi left for America for school instead of hearing it from him directly, you were a little hurt. Oikawa had assured you to not take it so personally, telling you “that’s just how he is”. Since then, you’ve moved on with your life and now you’re here.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone buzzes and you look to see that your food’s arrived. As you bring it inside, you settle back down on your couch and find something to watch before indulging in your meal. Finally, the day is over.

Thankfully, the rest of your week isn’t too bad. Your day off finally rolls around and you’re waiting patiently inside the café you’d bumped into Iwaizumi at, nursing a cup of hot coffee in your hands. You’d arrived several minutes early, so you’re surprised to see him walking in five minutes before your agreed upon time.

Calling out his name, you raise your arm to wave him over to the table you’re sitting at.

“Hey, you’re here early,” he says as he sits himself down across from you.

“So are you,” you remark, taking a slow sip from your cup.

“Ah, yeah, I was hoping to get some coffee before we met up,” he says, glancing towards the front counter.

“Sure, don’t let me stop you,” you say with a small smile on your face. He nods and excuses himself, leaving you alone at your table.

Your eyes follow his figure, trailing along the broad expanse of his shoulders and back, admiring the way it all tapers at his waist. He’s filled out a lot since high school, and you can tell he’s worked hard to get to where he is now.

When he comes back with his iced coffee in hand, he sits back down in his seat across from you.

“Here’s your jacket,” you say, lifting the paper bag you packed the borrowed clothing in. “Thanks for letting me use it.”

“No problem.” He takes it and there’s a moment of awkward silence.

You can feel his slight discomfort as he shifts a little in his seat, so you decide to break some of the ice. “So, how’ve you been?”

As the conversation progresses, you can feel him slowly opening up and getting more comfortable with you. You come to learn that he’s still in contact with Oikawa, which spurs a shared trip down memory lane.

By the time you start to wrap up your time together, you realize that it’s getting dark outside and check the time. Where had the time gone?

“Wow, we’ve been here awhile.”

Iwaizumi flicks his wrist to check the time and nods. “Yeah, we have. Do you wanna grab dinner?”

You hesitate for a moment. Typically, you call Oikawa around this time, but you figure it doesn’t hurt to not call today. He would understand, right? He knows that you were upset when Iwaizumi practically ghosted you, so he’d understand that you’d want to make up for some lost time, right? Iwaizumi’s his best friend, after all; what would be the harm in hanging out with him for just a little longer?

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

The two of you settle on a restaurant nearby where you proceed to spend a couple more hours just talking and enjoying each other’s company. You want to ask him why he stopped talking to you in the first place, but you figure that maybe tonight isn’t the best time nor is this the place.

Iwaizumi ends up walking you home, claiming it’s not safe for a girl to be out alone at this hour and that he’d be doing a disservice to you and Oikawa if he let you go off on your own.

“You know, I actually had a lot of fun today,” you say as the both of you stand in front of your door.

“Surprisingly, I did too,” he says with a playful smirk on his lips. He seems much more relaxed than he was several hours ago and part of you is excited to think that things might go back to how they used to be in high school with him.

“Let’s keep in touch more,” you suggest. “It’ll be like high school all over again.”

His lips falter a little, a detail you miss as you turn to unlock your door.

“Anyways, thanks for walking me home,” you say with a smile. “Have a good rest of your night.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” he replies with a nod before turning on his heels to leave. You also step into your apartment and lock the door behind you. Today’s been a good day.

Over the next several weeks, you end up seeing Iwaizumi more often. Whether it’s for a quick coffee or even running errands on your day off, he’s been there to keep you company. When you had told Oikawa about it at first, he was less than thrilled to hear the news, but you figured it was simply because he felt left out.

When you told him that Iwaizumi had come over once to help you carry groceries, he had gotten upset and it led to a small argument that led to the two of you refusing to speak to each other for three days. You didn’t see the harm in spending this much time with Iwaizumi—did Oikawa not trust either of you?

Needless to say, when you started talking again, you felt some tension and decided not to bring up Iwaizumi as much anymore. Part of you felt bad for not giving your boyfriend the whole truth, but he didn’t seem to trust you and you didn’t want to deal with another argument and the possibility that your long-term relationship would end over your friendship with another man.

You decided to keep this from Iwaizumi; you didn’t want him to feel bad in case he blamed himself if something were to go wrong with your relationship. Well, not that you’d think anything would go wrong. You’ve gotten this far in your relationship with Oikawa, and sure, there have been a couple bumps in the road along the way, but you’ve both made it work.

“Oi.” Iwaizumi’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn your head to look at him. You’re currently sitting on his couch in his apartment, having agreed to come over to watch movies.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you wanted something to drink,” he replies from his kitchen. The fridge door is propped open and you think it over for a moment.

“I’ll take anything,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. He returns with two beers in his hands, handing one to you before sitting himself down beside you on the couch.

“What are we watching?”

“I found this movie with one star,” you say as you pull it up on his tv. “It’s going to be terrible.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks for this.” You laugh lightheartedly as the movie begins playing.

The both of you don’t even make it halfway through before searching for another bad movie to make fun of. As Iwaizumi searches on his phone, he gets an alert that the food you two had ordered has arrived and you get up to grab it. When you return, you place the food on the table in front of you and plop down beside him.

You feel your leg brushing his and realize you’ve miscalculated your spacing, but he makes no effort to move away from you. Taking out the food, you hand him his meal and grab your own, settling back comfortably as he sets up another movie.

As the movie drones on and on, the two of you finish your dinners, engaging in your own conversation. You see his eyes on your mouth as you speak and suddenly feel a little self-conscious. Do you have something in your teeth?

“You have a little,” he lifts his finger to point at his own mouth, “something there.”

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, but apparently miss as Iwaizumi tells you the food is still there. You wipe at it again, but it seems to be stubborn and Iwaizumi eventually gets frustrated. He lifts his hand to your face and gently brushes the culprit away with his thumb, allowing his digit to trace your bottom lip for a moment.

He seems just as stunned as you are at the soft and intimate gesture, quickly pulling away and turning back to the movie, clearing his throat. You also slowly turn, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen in front of you.

The air feels awkward and heavy and the silence between the two of you is deafening, if not for the movie blabbering on its own. You watch from the side of your eye as Iwaizumi takes a long sip from his beer, knocking the whole thing back until there’s not a drop left. He sets it down and clears his throat.

“Uh, do you want to watch something else?” He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“This is fine,” you reply. “It’s not as bad as the first one, at least.”

You watch the corner of his lip quirk upwards a little. “Yeah, that one was pretty bad.”

The tension in the room seems to ease up a little and he leaves to grab a couple more drinks, taking the trash left from your dinner with him. When he comes back, he sets the bottles down on the table and sits down right where he was, though this time it feels more intentional with his placement by your side.

The movie, although terrible from the start, seems to get increasingly more boring, so you turn to him to start another conversation.

“I have a question,” you say, fidgeting your fingers in your lap. Iwaizumi turns to look at you with a raised brow, wordlessly urging you to continue. “So, you remember back in high school how we were friends and then we weren’t?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Iwaizumi says, nodding slowly. He seems to know where this is going.

“Why did that happen?”

You can practically see Iwaizumi’s thoughts being processed in real time as he weighs the different options he has depending on his response. He opens his mouth to say something, only to close it again.

“Fuck it,” he mutters under his breath before inhaling deeply. “I liked you. A lot.”

The way his eyes lock with yours nearly sends a shiver down your spine, but you chalk it up to the alcohol pulsing through your veins.

“I wanted to ask you out, thought that you might be into me too, but then I heard you got back with Oikawa, so I backed off,” he says. “I know it was a dick move on my end without telling you why, but I figured it was better that way.”

“Did Oikawa know about this?” You have a lot of questions you want to ask, but somehow, this is the one that slips through first.

“Of course he did; he’s my best friend.” Iwaizumi seems a little agitated as he fidgets in his seat.

You try to think of a way to respond. That would explain Oikawa’s attitude towards your renewed friendship with his best friend, though part of you feels conflicted. Could you have possibly harbored feelings for him in return back then? Maybe, but what does it matter now? You’re in a relationship with Oikawa, you shouldn’t even entertain the thought of what if…

“It doesn’t matter now,” says Iwaizumi, pulling you out of your thoughts. “That was the past.”

“If I hadn’t gotten back together with Oikawa, what would you have done?” Your voice is quiet and you know you’re treading dangerous waters right now. The alcohol is definitely not helping with your sense of judgment either.

“I probably would’ve asked you out,” he replies plainly as he shifts his attention to the fabric of his sweats. “If the feelings weren’t returned, well, I don’t see much being different from what ended up happening.”

“What if I said yes?”

Iwaizumi lifts his head and turns to look at you again. You know you should stop now, but now you want to know. To be honest, it’s not like you haven’t thought about dating him in the past; he’s a great guy, and honestly, anyone would be an idiot to turn him down without a really good excuse.

“Y/N, we shouldn’t,” he says slowly. You don’t even realize you’ve been leaning into him until your lips are nearly touching.

“I know,” is all you manage to say before your lips are pressing against his. You feel electrified and realize how touch-starved you’ve been all this time.

Iwaizumi tastes like beer and the musk of his cologne feels overwhelming to your senses. You can’t help but raise your hand to weave through his hair, hardly protesting as his tongue pushes into your mouth. You feel his hands rest on your waist and you slide onto his lap, unable to resist the small roll of your hips against his groin. He lets out a low groan and you can feel him twitch through his pants.

A million red flags and sirens are going off in your head, but you ignore them all, letting your hands slip down to rest on Iwaizumi’s broad and built chest. His own hands slide down the dip of your waist towards your hips and you feel him slowly guide them along the growing hardness between his legs.

Just as your hands begin to wander further, your phone begins to vibrate loudly on the table behind you. It’s as if a bucket of ice water is dumped on you and you pull away rather quickly. Iwaizumi’s hands drop from your side.

Your phone is still buzzing and you slide off of his lap to grab your phone, the weight of guilt beginning to settle in your stomach as Oikawa’s name and a picture of you two flash on the screen.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, standing abruptly, trying not to sway at the headrush.

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything as you practically run out of there, quickly answering Oikawa’s call before it goes to voicemail. You don’t see the way he buries his face in his hands as he leans forward on his knees.

“Hey, Tooru,” you greet a little breathlessly.

“Hey—are you okay?” His voice is laced with concern and you can only imagine what you sound like right now.

“Yeah, I’m just out right now,” you say. You chew your bottom lip as you begin your walk home, still able to taste Iwaizumi. “Can I actually call you back?”

“Sure, but is everything alright? You sound a little stressed,” he says, voice laced with concern. You feel the tears springing in your eyes as you inhale a shaky breath.

“Yeah, I’ll call you back when I get home, okay?”

Oikawa hesitates, but you’re already hanging up on him. By the time you get back to your apartment, you feel lightheaded. What just happened?

You went a solid three days before breaking under the pressure you’ve placed on yourself. Oikawa was beyond livid and you had cried yourself to sleep that night, telling yourself that he deserved better. You know he does.

He doesn’t answer your call for the rest of the week and you consider simply sending him a long message to express how sorry you are. As you’re about to do so, you receive a text from one of your friends, followed by an apology. With a frown, you open it and see that it’s a link to a gossip website in Argentina. Not really caring for the words, you scowl as you scroll through and see paparazzi photos of Oikawa with a beautiful woman draped on his arm. There are several different photos of the two together in different outfits to imply that they’ve been taken on different days.

It feels like you’ve been punched in the gut when you connect the pieces.

Without even thinking, you simply text Oikawa that your relationship is done and grab your jacket and keys, practically running out the door. You feel blinded with hurt and anger as your legs carry you all the way to a familiar doorstep you haven’t been to in awhile.

The door opens on your third knock and Iwaizumi looks surprised to see you standing there.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Oikawa and I are done,” you say. Hearing yourself say it out loud seems to solidify it as reality and you resist the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Y/N, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here like this,” he says, sighing warily, before muttering under his breath, "I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now."

“Hajime,” you say, hands and voice trembling as you pull out your phone, holding it in front of him. He hesitantly takes it from you and you can see his eyes widen for a moment as he scrolls, slowly handing the phone back to you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I just need a distraction right now.” You look up at him with watery eyes before he lets out a sigh, stepping aside so you can come in. Closing the door behind you, he follows you into the living room.

“So, what do you want me to—”

His sentence is cut short when you turn, leaning up to kiss him. Your hands fist his shirt, and you can feel him hesitantly move his lips against yours. You know your way around his apartment enough to begin pulling him into the direction of his bedroom, careful with your steps so you don’t trip or fall.

“Y/N,” Iwaizumi says, pulling away slightly as the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed. His voice is coarse and his half-lidded eyes are dark. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later.”

“I won’t regret this,” you say softly, looking up into his eyes. He can still see that you have tears in your eyes, but behind that is a sense of lust.

“If at any point you want to stop, tell me, okay?” Iwaizumi lifts a hand to brush your hair away from your face. Your grip on his shirt tightens as you nod.

“Thank you,” you say, before kissing him again. This time, he seems more willing to kiss you back, easing you down until you’re laying on your back on his bed. He hovers over you, kissing along your jaw to your neck. You let out a shaky sigh as his hands slowly stroke your sides. You can feel his hesitancy to touch you more, so you wrap your legs around his torso and grind against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath as one of his hands slip under your shirt. You watch as he leans up slightly to drag your shirt up to your neck, exposing your bra. You sit up just a little so he can help get the fabric completely off, tossing it aside before kissing down your chest to your clothed breasts. His hand comes up to squeeze one and a whimper leaves your lips.

Seriously, when was the last time anyone has touched you like this?

Iwaizumi reaches under you to unhook your bra with seemingly practiced ease and you arch your back up to give him easier access. Peeling the garment off of yourself, this time you’re the one to discard it somewhere on his bedroom floor.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he says before capturing a nipple between his lips. You sigh softly as his tongue flicks the hardening bud, the other being pinched between his thumb and index finger.

He alternates between your breasts for a few more moments before kissing his way down your abdomen. He sets on his knees on the floor, peering up at you.

“Y/N, you sure you wanna do this?”

You nod quickly, suddenly very aware of the heat pooling between your legs.

“I need you to use your words.”

“Yes, please,” you respond.

“Good girl,” he says, lips quirking upwards into the slightest smirk before his fingers hook the waistband of your pants. He easily tugs them down with your panties and you gently kick them off your legs. “Holy fuck.”

The way he eyes your glistening cunt has you blushing and suddenly very aware of your surroundings. Before you can even tell him to stop staring, he leans forward to lick a hot stripe between your slit. A loud gasp echoes around the room as you feel your body instantly react, lifting you head to watch as he leans forward again to bury his face between your legs.

His arms reach under and around your legs, allowing his fingers to hold your lower lips open to reveal your most sensitive bundle of nerves. He gives it a hard suck after flicking it with his tongue and your hand shoots to fist his hair. He groans lowly, allowing the vibrations to further stimulate you.

He dips down a little lower so he can properly taste you, humming in satisfaction with how wet you are. He brings one hand back down and around before pushing a thick finger inside. You let out a loud gasp at the sudden intrusion, though you aren’t complaining. He slowly thrusts it in and out, keeping his eyes on your face to see what you do and don’t like. When he finds that one particular spot within you, he inserts another finger and does his best to hit it again. As your back arches and eyes roll to the back of your head, Iwaizumi can’t help but smirk a little, satisfied with himself.

“Fuck, H-Hajime, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as he continues his relentless ministrations. Before you know it, your back is arching and toes curling as you finally hit your release.

He lets you ride out the rest of his orgasm on his tongue, relishing in the way your hips buck from the sensitivity. He pulls out his fingers, admiring the way they glisten before pulling away from you completely. You lock eyes with him as he licks his fingers clean and another whimper leaves your lips.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks as he moves to hover over you on the bed.

“More than okay,” you say, unable to resist the dopey smile on your face. Iwaizumi chuckles softly as he combs his dry fingers through your hair. As he does so, you realize that you’re completely naked while he’s fully clothed. With a frown, you sit up and look at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“You still have your clothes on,” you say, turning and climbing over him so you’re straddling his lap. He sits up with a small smile.

“We don’t have to go any further, Y/N,” he says, putting his hands on your hips.

“I want to,” you say as you grind your hips against him much like you had the first night you shared a kiss.

He can see how dark and clouded with lust your eyes are and the raging hard-on in his pants would never forgive him for turning you down.

“Okay,” he says simply. You flash a smile before tugging at the hem of his shirt. He easily pulls it over his head in one fluid motion and you can’t help but lick your lips as he gives you a full view of his toned chest and abdomen. “Like what you see?”

You can feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, not missing the arrogant grin on Iwaizumi’s face. You don’t say anything as you loosen the drawstring of his sweats and he helps pull them down. His cock practically springs out and slaps against his hard stomach and you all but drool at the sight. The angry tip is leaking with precum and you want to get a taste, but Iwaizumi stops you by pressing his lips to yours to capture you in a hungry kiss. You kiss him back and let his tongue push through your lips and you can taste hints of yourself still lingering on his tongue.

“‘M wanna taste you,” you mutter against his lips.

“Next time, baby.” You want to say something back, but his sturdy hands are lifting you by your waist so you’re sitting up on your knees over his lap.

Before you can say anything else, he’s reaching for his weeping cock and positioning it between your legs. You can’t help but whimper softly as you take it upon yourself to lower your hips on him. He feels so big, so thick, and you feel so full despite him not being entirely sheathed within you.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hisses as he keeps his gaze fixed where your bodies meet. Something about the way he’s disappearing inside of your warmth leaves him a little lightheaded.

“Mm, you’re so big,” you gasp as you finally seat yourself fully on top of him. Iwaizumi feels his chest and ego swell with pride as he looks back up at you. He admires the way your lips are parted, eyes glazed over with pleasure.

He doesn’t rush you as you adjust to the sheer size of him, kissing along your neck and shoulder until you’re ready to move. When you are, you slowly drag your hips up until he’s nearly out of you completely before you drop back down. A loud moan leaves both of your lips and you have to brace yourself on his shoulders as you repeat the process, eventually finding a steady rhythm to follow.

A string of curses mixed with praise leaves his lips as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, letting his hands roam and squeeze your ass. As you roll your hips in circular motions, another loud moan leaves him before he holds you and flips you over so you’re on your back.

“Fuck, I almost came too early,” he practically growls, placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth before sitting up.

You let out a soft giggle until he grabs one of your legs, tossing it over his shoulder. This new angle has him hitting a different spot inside of you and you feel your walls clench around him as he drags himself back out only to thrust right back in.

“Shit,” he hisses as he feels you flutter around him. “You look so pretty like this, fucked out on my cock.”

His thrusts are deep and precise as one hand presses against your lower abdomen while the other holds your leg. He presses a kiss to your ankle as you practically chant his name, feeling close to another orgasm. He seems to notice this too, losing some of his rhythm as the hand on your abdomen moves lower to rub harsh circles against your clit.

Just like that, it feels like the tightly wound coil in your belly snaps and your back arches off the bed as you reach your climax. Iwaizumi’s not far behind, pulling out and roughly jerking his throbbing cock until thick white ropes of cum decorate your chest and stomach.

The room fills with sounds of both of you breathing heavily and Iwaizumi flops onto his back next to you.

“Wow,” he says breathlessly, turning his head to look at you.

“Wow,” you parrot back, unable to resist the smile pulling at your lips. He tiredly smiles back for a moment before his eyes flit towards the mess he’s made all over you.

“Sorry for the mess.”

“It’s fine,” you tiredly shake your head. With the roller coaster you’ve been on these past several days and the physical exertion, you feel the exhaustion finally hitting you.

Your eyelids feel heavy and you barely see Iwaizumi get up from the bed and disappear for a moment. The sound of clothes shuffling and the sink running tells you that he’s cleaning up and in a few more moments, you feel a warm and damp towel wiping your body. You hum softly at the pleasant feeling, still riding the tail end of your orgasm as you open your eyes to see him wiping you of your sweat and his cum.

“I don’t regret anything,” you say as you feel Iwaizumi pull away.

“We can talk more in the morning,” he says softly as he places a kiss to the top of your head. You sleepily watch him as he disappears again and hear him running a bath.

He returns shortly after and easily scoops you up in his strong arms. You cling to him and let him slowly lower you into the warm water. He gestures for you to scoot forward a little bit so that he can slide in behind you, filling up the small space even more.

As you lean back and let him press soft kisses along your neck, your phone lays discarded on the floor, buzzing with another call from your now ex-boyfriend. That’ll just have to go on the list of things to figure out in the morning.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi smut #hrnybbg

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part VIII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~13.2k

Warnings: this one fucking hurts, pining, stupid decisions, miscommunications, explicit sexual content (it’s time for something we’ve been waiting for), yet another party, angst A/N: Read this, but before you murder me remember there’s one more after this. Also, this isn’t the big thing you’ve been waiting for, but I know it’s something a lot of people have wanted to see. Enjoy this ouchie.

Mike doesn’t feel human when he wakes up. He’s nearly positive he no longer is—body taken over by some creature of the bog with toxic breath. Jesus, what the fuck happened last night?

Blinking hurts. Shifting his leg hurts. His chest is fucking killing him, feels like he bruised his god damn sternum, and when he moves to sit up in a bed that is not his, overwhelming nausea has Mike groaning and covering his mouth with one hand.

“He has risen,” a vaguely familiar baritone voice rings through the air, loud enough to make Mike wave his other hand in an attempt to mute it. Erwin chuckles, paying him no attention apparently as he speaks again, “Good timing, too. I just came to drop this off.”

Mike tries to focus his bleary eyes on the nightstand where his friend sets down a bottle of water, a bigger bottle of Gatorade, and several liquid gel pills.

“Chill here for as long as you need. I’m just watching the pledges clean downstairs. Want me to bring the trash can over?” Erwin’s concern can’t entirely hide the amusement in his voice. It’s irritating, but also… Mike needs that trash can.

“Yeah,” he croaks through his palm. “Thanks.”

Erwin nods and grabs the little plastic bin, setting it down next to the bed. Mike considers just picking it up and sitting with it in his lap, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay upright for long enough.

“I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything, you’ll just have to yell because your phone is definitely sitting in a bag of rice in the kitchen right now.”

“What?” Mike frowns. How even…

“It got wet,” Erwin states, like that clarifies anything. “Probably in the shower.”

“Why was I—”

“We can talk about it when you’re less…” Erwin gestures to Mike’s face with one finger and grimaces as he finishes, “Green. You didn’t do anything too terrible, though, so you can rest easy.”

He leaves, and Mike chokes down the pills and a few gulps of water before gently laying back down. He has to retrace metaphorical footsteps to get to the last thing he remembers from the night before, and it’s body shots off some blonde clone. His order of events goes: hanging out with Rhi, talking with you and Erwin, Zeke showing up, catching Eren mid-roofie attempt and throwing him out, getting mad at Nile, and then just a lot of drinking. Too much. Of different kinds. That had been dumb.

He thinks he spent a little while in the bathroom. Erwin was there. And, Nile came and went. He thinks he may have heard your voice a few times but can’t be sure, and honestly, trying to recall anything from the period of time his brain was literally incapable of processing new memories is a pretty big waste of time.

Mike spends most of the day in Erwin’s room. He drifts in and out of restless sleep, waking up to drink his water and Gatorade. At some point, one of the kids, Jean, knocks on the door and drops a bowl of soup off, mumbles, “Erwin told me to bring this up here.” Mike hasn’t spent a ton of time around the current pledge class, but Erwin must like Jean if he trusted the kid enough to give him his room code.

The soup settles his stomach enough to move around a little more. His headache ebbs into a dull throb, and the sharp ache in his chest fades into that of a bruise. By around five o'clock, Mike is finally able to amble downstairs, give everyone a tired wave, mumble his thanks to Erwin, then drive himself to his apartment.

He's still trying to piece together what happened the night before, but he just ends up more confused than before, so he decides to put it behind him and move on. Everyone deserves a wild night every once in a while.

Thanksgiving nears. Mike has already made plans to go home to his parents which means he has to turn down the Pike house Friendsgiving offer that Erwin extends to him.

He tells Mike that Nile and Hitch will be there, but Marie might show her face, "So, that will be interesting."

Some of the brothers who can't make it home will attend. Erwin is bringing Maddie who Mike hasn't heard about in several months, but he's pretty sure that's just to throw him off the scent of whatever Erwin has going on with you. You, who will also be in attendance because apparently your mom opted to go on a girls trip instead of face the family. Mike can't blame her.

He thinks maybe he should reach out to you, to ask about the night he blacked out because he has a feeling you can give him some details that others can't, but Erwin assures Mike that you were only in the bathroom with him for a short time. "Just long enough to see you rip your shirt which she seemed a little too happy about."

Mike doesn't know what he'd say to you anyway. Even after learning that Zeke had blocked his number in your phone. He's still mad that you let the fucker get close enough to do that in the first place, that you had chosen him. It's a wound that just won't heal. Any time he sees you or hears your name, all Mike can think about is why he wasn't good enough.

So, he keeps distancing himself. It seems like the most appropriate thing he can do until he decides he'll be able to have a conversation with you without blowing up.

Mike's parents are happy to see him when he walks in the door. Scout jumps on him until he picks her up and holds her like the puppy she is not. He isn't surprised when his mom asks about you, if you and Mike sorted things out. The question hurts even if he was expecting it, seems like yesterday you were walking around the house like you'd always been a part of it.

Lying is the easiest path to take. He tells his parents that you had to go home for the break, that you couldn't split up your time between two families in just four days, and, of course, they buy it.

Thanksgiving day is nice enough. The family travels a couple cities over to Mike's aunt and uncle's house. It's much bigger, has room for the relatives that are able to make it. There are traditional Greek dishes as well as the usual turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. A few pictures here and there, entertaining his younger cousins—it's a good time.

Until Mike checks his various social media apps and sees the pictures from Friendsgiving.

They're tame, nothing wildly inappropriate, but they still make Mike scowl as he thumbs through them.

One of Nile cutting into the turkey, of Reiner ripping into a drumstick, Connie hoarding all of the cranberry sauce while his best friend, a girl named Sasha, does the same with the deviled eggs. Gelgar looks to be crying with a dot of potato salad in his hair. Marie is indeed there, glaring in the background of a photo where Nile and Hitch are tapping beer bottles together with silly smiles. She looks much happier in the shot of her and Maddie sitting together, laughing over glasses of wine.

Mike's heart stutters when he gets to a photo of you aiming to toss food into Reiner's mouth, then of you and Erwin both holding beers in one hand and pointing matching finger guns with the other.

Thick as fucking thieves. Two peas in a god damn pod. Mike wants to throw his phone out the window of his dad's suburban.

There are several more pictures that Mike doesn't bother to look at. He'd like to have a good time with his parents for the remainder of his break, and there's no way he'll be able to do that if he's pissed off.

So, he distracts himself. He goes on walks with Scout and plays with her for hours, watches old movies with his mom and dad, calls a couple relatives from overseas to catch up. But, those pictures are seared into the back of his mind, surfacing whenever he has down time.

He doesn't have any desire to go back to campus, not if he's gonna see you and Erwin together. His friend can deny it all he wants, but Mike knows something is going on between the two of you, and as he drives back to the college, he finally has the realization that… you might just be a shitty person.

Yeah, you have issues, but so does everyone. It doesn't excuse you from—from fucking toying with people, from using them as puppets whenever you need to. Mike wishes he'd never even tempted you to sleep with him that last time. It had felt too good and too right, but apparently you don't feel the same way. You went right back to Zeke once you'd gotten what you wanted, and Mike should have seen that coming. He should have been prepared for it. On some level he knew that's what you'd do, but that never stopped him from hoping that maybe… maybe it would have opened your eyes.

Plus, it ruined the entire Jurassic Park franchise for him, so that sucks.

He picks up where he left off both in his classes and in his social life. He stays away from PKA as much as he can but still attends meetings when necessary. The lacrosse season is coming to an end, so he tries to make the most of it. Rhi ends up in his bed again, both of them taking what they can from each other. Erwin jokes that he's gonna fall in love with her— "You know what happened the last time you tried to keep it casual," —and Mike nearly decks him in the face.

You don't try to talk to him, no texts or calls. When you see each other on campus, you don't spare him more than a sad glance as you pass him.

Mike is fine with it. He isn't about to be the one to make the move to talk things out. Honestly, he doesn't know if there's anything to talk out. You dated Zeke, and now you're dating Mike's best friend and trying to hide it.

He's mad at both of you, but it's easier to channel that blistering anger toward you rather than Erwin who he has to see on a regular basis. Besides, Erwin has always gotten around. Mike isn't especially surprised that he'd try his hand with you especially after what happened at the ranch house, but fuck, couldn't he have waited until after he and Mike graduated or something? Just disrespectful. That's what it is.

"Bro, I do not wanna go to another party," Mike's voice rises in frustration. "Consider me partied the fuck out, okay? I'm tired of 'em."

"It's not even a party," Erwin tells him. "It's more like a gathering of… like-minded individuals."

Mike snorts. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm not kidding! Like, twelve people at the most. All we're doing is hanging out at the ranch house."

"Will there be drinking?" Mike questions, moving his head back and forth in a mocking way.

Erwin shrugs his shoulders where he sits. "Of course there'll be drinking, but you don't have to partake. I just want you there to chill. Come on, man."

"Who's going?"

The blond lists off some of the Friendsgiving group, but he doesn't get to finish because once Erwin utters your name, Mike cuts him off with a loud, "Nope!"

"Duuuude," Erwin sounds like the frustrated one now, not that he has any right to be.

"Don't dude me! Why the fuck would you think I'd have any interest in watching you two giggle and cuddle n' shit."

"Mike," Erwin groans, rubbing his forehead. "How many times do I have to tell you…"

"You don't have to tell me anything. I already know what I need to know."

Standing up, Erwin seems like he's at his wit's end when he barks, "You don't know shit! You're seeing what you want to see without asking either of us! She misses you, dude. I'm just the next best thing."

"Nice to know your dick game isn't better than mine at least," Mike grumbles.

"Jesus Christ, you know what? I don't care. Come to the house, or don't come. Whatever."

Erwin takes long strides to get to Mike's front door, obviously ready to get away from him. He slams it hard enough to make Mike flinch.

He doesn't care how annoyed Erwin is with him. It's partially his fault that Mike doesn't want to go to the gathering, and he should know that. He'll come to understand eventually, and that thought makes it easier for Mike to make his decision. He's not gonna go. He refuses. There's no way. He won't—

Mike ends up going.

After powering through finals and visiting his parents for another few days. He has a mental debate the entire way to the ranch house, swearing to himself, going over the pros and cons. He comes close to turning around more than a few times, but after a couple hours, Mike finally pulls into the large circle drive right behind Levi's black Prius.

Erwin is extremely surprised to see him but keeps his mouth closed about it, just tells him, "Room upstairs on the far right is still open."

Mike drops his stuff off then greets the others—Nile, Gelgar, Reiner, Jean, Marco, and Levi.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here," the last states, focused on burning the loose string of his hoodie with a lighter. "Erwin told me you guys had some bullshit argument."

"Happens sometimes," Mike dismisses as he takes a place on the couch.

"I guess. This is why I don't have a lot of friends. Can't put up with stupid shit like that."

"Oh, is that why?" Mike rolls his eyes.

Levi snickers, shaking his head. "Aw man, he was right. You are in a bad mood, aren't ya'?

"Man, fuck off."

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Mike is bouncing his foot where it's thrown over his opposite leg—anxious or angry or some other negative emotion he needs to get rid of.

"Party's gonna be a fucking sausage fest," Levi mumbles.

Nile passes behind the couch just in time to hear and informs the smaller man, "Not entirely. Maddie, Marie, Hitch, and Mike's little heartbreaker should be getting here soon."

Mike groans internally but speaks out loud, "This was a mistake. I can't fucking be here if you guys keep talking about her."

"If you can't handle us talking about her, how're you gonna handle seeing her?" Levi scoffs.

Erwin has stocked the bar with craft beer and various wines. Mike considers going ahead and breaking a few bottles open, but he resists—doesn't want a repeat of the forgotten party.

They set up a horror video game upstairs and an animated adult series downstairs. Erwin wasn't lying about it being a more relaxed environment than usual, but that doesn't stop Mike's neck from prickling when you arrive with Hitch at around five. Maddie and Marie show up a couple hours later, and Mike can feel the tension that surrounds all four of you. Amusing as it can be, he really doesn't have the patience for cattiness tonight.

High quality Chinese food is provided courtesy of Erwin's father's credit card as well as dipped strawberries that Nile keeps feeding Hitch. It gets Marie very heated very quickly, and Maddie has to talk her down in another room.

It makes Mike wonder if you would ever let him feed you like that or if you would snort and bat his hand away. What the fuck do you think you're doing, Zacharias? That's couples shit.

It makes him sigh and slouch on the couch, thankful you're upstairs watching Connie play the most recent Resident Evil.

He knows you're not a fan of horror, so the only reason you'd be up there is to avoid Mike.

Good.

Erwin is the first to open the wine. Maddie won't leave his side, stuck to him like a magnet. The fact that he has to get a drink only furthers Mike's theory that Erwin didn't invite her as a real date.

He spends a fair amount of time shooting the shit with Levi. It isn't necessarily the most enjoyable conversation considering Levi's constant smartass comments, but it's better than trudging up to the second floor.

Nile fucks Hitch in the bathroom for everyone to hear. Marie starts crying and runs to the porch. This gathering is about as insufferable as Mike assumed it would be.

Eventually, you journey downstairs. It was inevitable. You spare Mike a glance and sigh as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a beer—you don't even like beer, so why—

"Hey, can you grab me one too?" Erwin calls out, and when you hand it to him, he gives you that hundred watt grin Mike knows brings girls to their knees, but while Maddie stares at him with that dreamy look in her eyes, you just snort and gently shove him.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like that, Smith."

Ah, the last name card, the one that you pull to act like you're all aloof when really you're just reeling them in.

"Like what?" Erwin asks before taking a sip, still smiling around the rim of the bottle.

"You know what."

Mike chooses then to go upstairs, knowing he steals your attention as he stomps like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Why did he even come here? Was it just to give himself more reason to brood? Solidify that he's valid in being angry?

Connie is trembling as his character makes his way through a decrepit house. Jean laughs every few minutes, but he also startles at every jump scare, leaving Reiner to call both of them pussies as he bites into strawberry after strawberry, throwing the stems into a little bowl in his lap. Mike supposes the first years are entertaining enough. He can see why Erwin invited them here.

It's close to nine o'clock. Mike is bored out of his mind, can't help venturing back downstairs mostly because he's tired of watching the pledges swear and shout at the video game (including Reiner now) but also out of morbid curiosity.

Marie has returned and is sitting in the kitchen with Maddie, both of whom are glaring into the den where you, Erwin, Nile, and Hitch share the couch. Hitch may as well be in Nile's lap, but you're sitting on the back ridge, feet planted on the cushions as you hunch forward and nurse a beer. Your knee is against Erwin's arm, but that's the only point of contact. Still, whenever something funny is said on the TV show, he looks up at you, as if to check that you're laughing, taking it in. Mike can't blame him. You have one of the cutest laughs he's ever heard.

Levi and Gelgar are both on plush loveseats on opposite sides of the room, either scrolling or typing on their phones.

Again, Mike has to think about how laid back the party is—even if he's a mess. It's so different from the raucous scenes he's used to—blasting music and keg stands and dancing on tables. This would be infinitely preferable if it weren't for the open pit in Mike's stomach.

If he could just chill the fuck out, pay absolutely no attention to you and Erwin and the way his fingers slowly wrap around your ankle when you won't stop bouncing your leg.

Not together his ass.

When Mike gets a text from Rhi, he basically sighs in relief—the perfect opportunity to forget about you for a while.

He doesn't bother asking to make sure it's okay with the host, just messages back, what are you doing rn? and immediately asks her to come over, knowing she only lives about an hour away.

Naturally, she agrees. One of the only great things about Rhi is that she’s always, always down to fuck. Mike doesn’t know if it has something to do with his size or if she just has a high sex drive. Either way, he’s glad for it..

He meets her on the porch after waiting for what feels like an eternity, just having to sit and watch you kick Erwin’s thigh whenever he says something dumb. He always retaliates by pulling on your little toes which makes you squeak and almost fall off the couch. It’s fucking maddening, makes Mike want to pull his hair out or throw something, just trash the fucking house because Erwin deserves it.

But, then Rhi arrives in all her Ugg boot glory, wearing the old, green hoodie that you had given back to Mike a few months ago.

They walk in, Mike’s hands on her shoulders like he’s pushing her over the threshold. You look up, take the other girl in, then very quickly step off the couch and prance into the kitchen without saying a word.

Erwin, however, makes up for your silence, wide eyed as he stares at Rhi and utters, “Fuck.”

* You didn’t want to be like Maddie and Marie, jogging to a private place to cry over a fucking boy, but god, you are definitely locked in the bathroom, hunched over the sink sobbing as quietly as you can. Your nose is running, and your eyes are burning, leaking god damn rivers

It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was just in her normal winter sorority get-up. But the hoodie? The one you wore for months on end, the one Mike would sniff whenever he would lay his head on your stomach, mumbling something about, “Smells good. Might have to take it back.” He didn’t have to say it out loud, but you knew he always felt a little jolt of pride when you’d wear it, like you were advertising how close you were to him.

So, to see another girl wearing it—to see Rhi wearing it—it fucking hurts. Your throat is sore from holding back those loud, pained cries. Your stomach is rolling like you ate something spoiled. Your fingers ache from digging into the fancy, granite sink. Everything hurts.

It makes you wonder if Mike felt like this when you first told him about Zeke, if he feels like this now that he thinks you’re with Erwin—stupid, stupid, stupid. You shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to him. You should have cleared things up right after the party. Now, it’s too late.

There’s a knock on the door that makes you sniff and wipe your nose, but you still tell whoever is on the other side (most likely Hitch or Erwin), “Go away.”

“It’s me.” Erwin. "Let me in."

"Literally what did I just say?"

"If you don't unlock the door, I'll kick it in. It's my house, so I won't get in trouble for it."

"Oh my god," you grumble before turning the lock on the knob. "Spoiled fucking brat."

Erwin steps in and closes the door then takes a good look at your puffy face and red eyes. Sighing, he leans against the wall. "For the record, I didn't invite her. Mike must have—"

"That doesn't make me feel any better," you say, grabbing some toilet paper to blow your nose. "Actually, it makes me feel even worse."

"I just wanted to make sure you knew."

"What, d'you want brownie points or something?" You ask sarcastically, making sure the toilet lid is down before sitting on it, bracing your arms on your knees and looking up at Erwin to find him frowning. "Sorry. I'm being a bitch, I know."

He waves it off. "It's understandable. I'm not very happy with him either. The perpetual shitty mood is driving me crazy."

You don't know much about that other than it being entirely your fault, so you apologize, "Yeah, sorry about that."

"If you guys would have just talked it out like adults—"

"Well, we didn't, Erwin. And, it seems like it's not even an option any more, so…" you hold your hands out in a clueless fashion, like you're at a loss. "I don't know what you want me to do."

Your voice is thick, straining against the lump in your throat. Vision going blurry again, you shove your palms against your eyes, repeating, no more crying, no more crying, no more crying.

"I'm sorry he's doing this to you," Erwin says quietly.

You sniffle, almost laugh when you reply, "Not really different from what I did to him. Like," you have to blow your nose again so it doesn't start running, toss the toilet paper into the waste basket next to you. "I don't know if he's trying to get back at me or legitimately moving on, but I can't exactly hold it against him."

"Still," Erwin takes a couple steps toward you. "Pulling this kind of shit is fucked up. He had to have known it would hurt you on some level."

"You don't have to, like, take my side or whatever," you state. "I know we're friends and all, but you don't have to coddle me like this."

"I'm not trying to coddle you. I'm sympathizing. There's a difference."

"Whatever it is, it's unnecessary," you mumble.

"Yeah?" Another step closer so that he's right in front of you. "So, you weren't planning on crying in here for the rest of the night?"

"No," you're quick to deny, but your lips quirk upward when you correct, "I was gonna go up to my room and cry in there for the rest of the night."

Erwin shakes his head then pulls you into a strange embrace, pressing your face to his stomach with one hand while the other settles between your shoulder blades.

Your first instinct is to shove him away, but his shirt is soft and smells like detergent, and his stomach is firm and grounding against your cheek, and the knuckles rubbing up and down the top of your spine are warm and soothing.

So, you stay in the slightly awkward position, shutting your eyes and trying to relax, but all you can think about is Mike walking in with his hands on Rhi and the way she looked in his hoodie. Is she cuter than you? Does she smell better than you? Does she treat him better than you did?

Tears well up in your eyes once again, dampening Erwin's shirt as they slip over your waterline, and before you know it, you're clutching the material covering the small of his back and crying against him.

And, he lets you—just keeps stroking between your shoulders and shushing you with a quiet, "I know, I know. It'll be okay."

Erwin is cocky and bold, takes things a little too far sometimes, but, just as you thought last year after he stole that kiss, he is good. Even if he's broken too many hearts to count and completely disregarded people's feelings, he's a good guy. At the very least, he's good to you, and that's what you need at the moment.

"What time is it?" You speak into his shirt.

"About eleven thirty."

You hum and turn so that your forehead is resting just above his hips. It could be a suggestive position, but—

But nothing.

You blink a few times, weighing the situation, everything that unfolded tonight—everything that's unfolded over the past semester and… it would make sense. It's not like you've never thought about it before. You're worked up and need to unwind, need to clear your head, and besides, Mike already believes there's something between you and Erwin, so why not take advantage of that?

Sucking on your bottom lip, you go through a list of pros and cons. The biggest downside is that Mike will be upset with you. He already is, though, so there’s isn’t much to lose on that front. The upside is that you'll be able to forget about him for a while and possibly get an orgasm out of it.

"Hey, Erwin…" You're not entirely sure how to bring it up, but it turns out you don't have to.

"Don't fucking ask," he huffs. Perceptive bastard.

You push away from his stomach and look up at him. "Okay, why, though?"

His head is hanging back, gaze trained on the ceiling as he admits, "Because if you ask, I won't say no, and it'll only make things worse."

Something about that gives you butterflies. That's a good sign, means you might be invested enough to finally let your mind wander from Mike.

"Mike already thinks we're fucking, though, so unless you don't actually want to fuck me, I don't see why we shouldn't."

Erwin walks backward until he hits the cabinets. His full lips are pressed into a tight line, and his blue eyes look like a warning. Don't push me.

"Do you honestly think you won't walk away from that feeling guilty?" He questions. "We know we aren't sleeping together, that we aren't actually doing anything wrong even if Mike doesn't believe it. But, to actually go through with it?" Erwin lets out a little chuckle and crosses his arms over his chest. "I probably won't feel bad 'cause I'm kind of an asshole, but you? You will feel awful."

"I already feel awful," you remind him as you stand. "I already feel guilty. If you think I could feel any fucking worse than I already do, you might be overestimating my—my—I don't know—emotional capacity?"

Moving forward, you nudge Erwin out of the way to get to the sink, splashing cold water on your face to clean it of dried tears. You cup a hand under the faucet, then toss some water into your mouth, swishing, and spitting, and turning back around.

Erwin's gaze is dark and not at all subtle when he eyes you up and down.

"I might hurt you, you know," he states in a voice that's considerably deeper than before.

You raise your eyebrows, unconvinced. "You don't have to worry about me catching feelings, Smith. Relax."

Mouth tugging up on one side, Erwin smirks in a way that makes you squirm where you stand.

"That's not what I meant."

It takes you a moment to decipher what he's trying to say, but you breathe an, "Oh," when you realize, then another as it truly sinks in. "Oh."

That's okay, you want to tell him. I want to be hurt tonight. You only want it if it will hurt. If you confess to that desire, though, Erwin might back out—a disappointment considering the way you're starting to get a little excited.

"If I can handle Mike, I can handle you," you say, fully aware that he'll take it as a challenge. If there's one thing you know about men, it's that they thrive off competition.

Erwin is no different as he slides in front of you, hands finding your hips and pulling them to his. He's already half hard in his khakis, and you stand on your tip-toes, brushing against him as you do, to tilt your head back and hover just under his mouth as you tease, "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it before."

"You have no idea how often I've thought about it—how often I think about it."

You nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the way he licks it afterward. "Have you been holding back since we started hanging out—just the two of us?"

His fingers dig into your back, just above the curve of your ass, and you already know there will be small bruises left behind.

"Do you want me to paint a picture?" He rumbles, and you nod, pressing a kiss to his throat. "Any time I have you in my room I think about fucking you. On the bed. Over my desk. Up against a wall…" A little gasp makes its way out of him as you bite down on the skin you've been sucking on, and Erwin ruts against you a couple times before continuing, voice a little more strangled than before.

"Thought about fucking you downstairs on the couch for the whole frat to see, all spread out, moaning like a porn star. I know what you sound like," he whispers, catching you off guard when he suddenly lifts you to set you on the counter. "I've heard the way you scream for Mike."

There's a pang in your chest at the mention of him, but it's gone just as quickly.

"And, you'd like it, wouldn't you? Being watched." Erwin trails his lips from your temple to your ear, making you shiver when he speaks into it, "You can pretend all you want, but I know you liked it when I walked in on you and him. You liked being on display."

He isn't wrong. You replay that instance in your head a little more than you probably should.

Hearing the fact stated now, though, right to your face has your body heating, arousal flooding you and making warmth pool between your legs.

"You can admit it, it's okay. I've known for a while now."

One of his hands moves to the inside of your thigh then further up, fingers dancing over your covered pussy. It's your turn to gasp. You clutch his shoulders and spread your legs despite knowing there's no way you'll be satisfied with this, not when thick denim is separating you from his touch.

"Don't get too cocky, Smith." You try to sound confident, but it's hard to when your breath keeps hitching.

"Why?" He grazes his teeth over the sensitive space below your ear, and it makes you twitch in his grasp. "I have every reason to be."

He goes on to list every other place he's thought about fucking you—apparently just about every setting you've ever been in with him. Each and every Pike party, the locker room before or after a lacrosse game, his Mustang, Mike's Wrangler.

"That's fucked up," you somehow manage.

Erwin shrugs his shoulders, mumbles, "Can't help it," then slots his lips against yours for the first time (or, the first consensual time).

You're reminded of Zeke, the way all you did was compare him, only now with Erwin, you have two men who flash through your mind. He's softer than Zeke but just as bold as he cradles your head and slips his tongue into your mouth—tastes sweeter than Mike (probably from the strawberries), but it's not necessarily a good thing. It isn't bad either. It's just Erwin… Different.

His hair doesn't brush your cheeks like Mike's does. He doesn't have glasses to dig into your skin. Clean shaven, no coarse hairs to tickle against you, and he's smack in the middle in terms of height. You have to crane your neck more than you did with Zeke but less than you had to with Mike.

It's all a little jarring, but you feel this was always sort of an inevitability, at least once you started spending time with Erwin one on one. You never would have let this happen if you had stayed with Mike—if you had actually taken the next step with him—but that's why you started hanging out with Erwin in the first place.

You never noticed the way your back and forth was flirty, mostly just you giving him shit about one thing or another, but apparently others read further into it. And, you've had as good a time as you can. The heartache has put a damper on things, kept Erwin mostly off your radar save for the days you woke up frustrated and desperate, but that's what your vibrator is for.

Apparently, while you were busy making sure things stayed friendly between the two of you, Erwin's mind was getting away from him. Every god damn time you hung out, he told you, whether it was at the house or out to lunch, walking with you to classes or out to your car.

He did make it a habit of touching you, you can admit, but none of it was inappropriate—a nudge to knock you off balance that would result in you hitting him, a prod in the ribs that would result in you squeaking and hitting him. Sticking a foot out to trip you that would result in you…

Dude obviously likes to be slapped around.

There's also the hugs. Up in his room when you feel extra gloomy, he'd wrap his arms around you and sway back and forth. Sometimes he'd sit and pull you with him, turn on a movie and keep a tight hold around your shoulders. There were afternoons you'd walk into his room while he was studying and just pass out in his bed, up too late the night before from worrying and obsessing, in need of a nap before your evening lecture. He'd set an alarm for you, stay up for a while longer before allowing himself to take a break and crawl under the blankets beside to—

Oh, god, you've been dating Erwin Smith.

You have to break away from him to laugh, lightly hitting your head against his chest so that he chuckles and asks, "What?"

"I—" You look back up at him, shaking your head to yourself. "I can't believe I didn't fucking see it."

"See what?"

"You and me—"

"You and I," he corrects, and you shove him.

"You and I have just been doing what Mike and I were doing."

"Uh, excuse me," he holds a finger up. "We have not been having endless sex, thank you."

"That's not—" You roll your eyes. "I'm saying we've been dating without actually dating. Like, I get why everyone thinks we're a thing."

"Oh," Erwin nods, sucking his teeth for a second then adding, "Yeah, I was wondering when you would figure that out."

"Fucker. Did you do it on purpose? Like, just to prove you could?"

He frowns, looking genuinely offended. "Christ, what kind of person do you think I am?"

"Not twenty minutes ago you confessed to being an asshole."

His face softens when he snickers. "Okay, true. But, no. I'm not trying to manipulate Mike or you for that matter. You've been upset, and you've put up with a lot of shit over the last few months, and I just figured you could use a friend."

Staring up at him, you notice the way his face is turning a little red, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you smile knowingly.

"You caaare about meee."

He scoffs and looks away

"Heartbreaker Smith cares about a girl," you tease. "How embarrassing."

"Laugh it up. You would've been miserable without me."

"I mean, yeah, but still. What's it like having a platonic girlfriend?"

He tilts his head to the side then reaches forward to squeeze your thighs. "Is it really platonic if we're about to have sex?"

"Absolutely. Hundred percent."

"You're not even a little worried that it'll become a regular thing and you'll fall in love?" The arrogance is both astounding and amusing.

Cocking your head, you take a deep breath, expression one of false sympathy as you pat his stomach. "I'm positive. Unfortunately, my heart belongs to another."

Erwin clicks his tongue before moving forward and sliding his hands between the counter and your ass. "I'm a little hurt, honestly. I'm used to fucking a girl and having to hide out for a while afterward—always so clingy."

You squint, can't tell if he's being serious or overdramatizing to annoy you.

"You know what? Nevermind. I don't even want your little playboy ass anymore—"

Naturally, he turns the charm back on right then, getting too close to your face, blue eyes flicking to your lips before he breathes, "Don't lie," and presses a tiny peck to them. "The tough girl act is only believable for so long."

"Wow, fuck you."

"That's the idea," he smirks.

"Har fucking har. You're so funny."

Erwin pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and grinds his hips against yours then prompts, "Your room or mine?"

"Mine," you reply. "I'd rather you have to do the walk of shame later."

"Probably a good idea since you won't be able to once I'm finished with you."

You actually laugh out loud. It would have worked on you a few minutes ago, but all the joking has you a little giggly at this point.

Fuck, he is going to make a great distraction.

"Okay, calm down. Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Sounds like a challenge to me."

"Men," you sigh. "So predictable."

After minutes more of unnecessary banter, Erwin finally coaxes you out of the bathroom you've both spent far too much time in. Your face has cleared up, the urge to cry subsiding, though your heart still drops in your chest when you pass behind Mike and Rhi on the couch, green eyes tracking you as you walk up the stairs in front of Erwin.

This is not the right way to solve a problem, but it'll probably be fun for a while. It's already fun as Erwin kicks the door closed and walks you back to the bed. He isn't even touching you, just watching you with a hazy blue gaze. He isn't smiling, looks like a predator, and honestly, it's ridiculously attractive.

"Stop making that face."

"What face?"

"That—that—"

You run into the bed, wave your arms to keep your balance, but Erwin presses his fingertips to your chest and just barely pushes to knock you back.

"What face, hm?"

The hair on your arms and neck is standing on end, anticipation bubbling in your gut as you try to crawl higher on the mattress only for Erwin to grab you by the ankle and tug you back down.

Damn. He's good at this.

"Stay," he commands, straightening up to take his shirt off.

He's tan and toned, light blonde hair sprinkled over his chest and above the waistband of his pants.

You're reminded of the very first Pike party you went to, the first time you slept with Mike (and can't remember), walking downstairs the following morning to find Erwin in the kitchen wearing sweats and drinking his coffee and smirking at you like he could tell the future.

Maddening. He's maddening.

You rid yourself of your own top then shimmy out of your jeans. Erwin eyes you hungrily, causing your whole body to tingle. It simultaneously makes you want to cover yourself and spread yourself open for him.

"I have been waiting way too fucking long for this," Erwin mumbles, raking fingernails down your torso so that you take in a shuddering breath.

"It's been, like, a y-year and a half." Your back arches on its own volition, hips bucking as Erwin scratches over the bones before catching your thong and pulling it down. He kneels at the end of the bed, a familiar scene save for the head of shiny, golden hair.

"A year and a half of having to look but not touch."

"Poor little—" you gasp when he parts your folds with his thumbs, staring at your pussy then blowing a stream of air over it.

"Do you know how many times I've jacked off to the thought of you? How many times I've slept with other girls while imagining it was you?"

You want to make another smartass comment, tease him about being a pervert or in his feelings or something, but you can't find your voice as he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. You stare at the ceiling, not even blinking as too many signals fire in your brain all at once.

Erwin is good with his mouth. Like, stupid good. He has a teasing rhythm, flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue until your muscles are coiled then moves to trace the ring of your entrance, taking his time as you turn from human to puddle.

He’s better at this than Zeke who would purposely graze his teeth over your sensitive little bud a little too hard on purpose, would suck on it until it hurt. He liked when you whimpered for him, liked leaving raised welts on your ribs and back from where he’d scratched. The intermixed pain and pleasure never failed to make you come, but the climb up to that precipice was usually precarious for lack of a better term.

Then, there’s Mike (because of course there is). His mood usually determined how he would take you, hard and fast before a game or slow and lazy as you both relaxed in his room. One thing always stayed the same no matter his disposition, and it’s that he fucking worshiped your pussy—even said it on multiple occasions. He would eat you out like a starving man, lapping at your juices like it would quench his thirst. Some days he would overstimulate you to the point of tears, neverending licks lavished over your clit as he pumped thick fingers in and out of your cunt. Other days he would go down on you like it was a fucking hobby—turn on a movie, spread you out on the foot of his bed, and eat you out while only halfway paying attention to the TV. He could pull multiple orgasms from you that way, letting you come around a finger or two before returning to your pulsing clit. Fuck, you used to make such a mess. He’d spend minutes trying to lick you clean, but you always ended up in the shower afterward.

You shouldn’t be thinking of that right now, though. You should be thinking about Erwin’s clever tongue and the fingertips just barely brushing over sensitive skin. You want them inside of you, want something to clamp down on, but no matter how much you pull his hair or utter a breathy, “Please,” he keeps the same pace, only moving on when he feels like it.

He’s doing it on purpose, trying to break you before even getting to the point of fucking you, and if you’re being honest, it just might work. He’s gonna make you lose your god damn mind tonight. Exactly like you want to.

“Fuck, how much p-practice have you had with th-this?”

Erwin laughs, stilling your wriggling by curling his arms around your thighs. “Too much, probably.”

You whine when he continues, but when he starts softly sucking on your clit, you’re surprised at how close you suddenly feel, your legs naturally trying to spread further but remaining immobilized in Erwin’s grip. The threat of not being able to move only intensifies the building sensation in your gut, and soon you’re gasping his name, eyes rolling as you try in vain to buck further into his face.

You feel more than hear Erwin groan, a deep vibration that pours over your clit and makes you twitch. He gives you a few more long licks, then pulls back and stands, exposing the way his mouth and chin are covered in a glossy sheen.

“Feel better yet?” He smirks.

You wave a lazy hand, don’t want to fluff his ego too much, so you allow him to witness your borderline stoned state while still jeering, “I’ll feel better when I have your cock inside me.”

Erwin laughs to himself, mutters, “Eager,” then takes his pants off.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you give his cock a cursory glance and stop. “Hold on,” then slide off the bed and to your knees.

If you’re gonna fuck Erwin Smith, you’re at least gonna appreciate it.

He inhales sharply as you place your hands on his thighs, eyes traveling over his length. It’s pretty, above average in size, smooth, with a flared tip that’s currently flushing a dark pink.

“I really hate to admit this, but you could be, like, a dick model.”

He chokes on some kind of snort, and you swear his entire chest turns red. “I—thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” you tell him, promptly taking hold of his cock and guiding it into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck, fuck—”

His skin is soft against your tongue, warm as you take him deeper. His girth stretches your jaw, but you’re still pretty used to the feeling, had to get used to it with Mike because he’s a little bigger than—

That’s not important.

Erwin breathes through his teeth as he places a hand on the top of your head, and when you look up at him through your eyelashes, he lets out a disbelieving little laugh. That confident fucking tease is nowhere to be found as you swipe your tongue over the tiny hole leaking pre then surge forward, almost pressing your nose to his pelvis as you run the muscle back and forth under the base of his cock.

“Shit, let me—let me lean against the bed,” he says, pulling you off him and chuckling, “Gonna make my fucking knees buckle.”

You turn where you’re kneeling, waiting for him to get better stabilized before resuming your efforts to ruin this annoying, charming frat boy who is always put together. You suck and slurp and trigger your gag reflex a couple times. Erwin’s fingers scratch against your scalp like he’s looking for purchase. He’s careful not to be too brutal as he pushes you down on his cock, raising his hips to meet your rhythm. His head is thrown back, thighs tensing under your hands as his chest rises and falls with short breaths.

You have to work up to it, but once you feel loose enough, you press forward and let Erwin slip further into your throat. His voice sounds like honey when he groans a low, “Hoooly fuck,” letting his head hang down as he attempts to stare at you with unfocused eyes.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he huffs. “Keep going and we won’t get to the main event.”

You pull off of him with a lewd pop then raise to your feet. Your knees are a little sore, but it’s nothing some exercise won’t work out.

“Want me to wear a condom?”

“I don’t care. I’m clean and on birth control,” you tell him. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m clean, but I haven’t gotten my birth control prescription refilled in a wh—”

You flick his chest, and Erwin laughs as he bats you away.

“Alright. Up on the bed with you then,” he motions to the mattress. “Lay on the edge.”

You do as you're told, spreading your legs for Erwin to stand between, and you bite your lip when you feel him rub the head of his cock between your folds. You’re still wet with slick—probably dripped onto the carpet when you were giving him head—which makes the glide easier as he teases you.

“Ready?” He asks, wriggling thick eyebrows until you smile. He doesn’t wait for an actual answer before he starts pushing in, pressing your legs to your chest as he slowly seats himself in your cunt.

You’re making that face—eyebrows moving toward your hairline as if you’re worried, jaw dropping open as air is pushed from your lungs. Erwin looks focused, licking his lips as he gazes down at the way your pussy stretches around him.

He thrusts in and out at a tortuous pace, apparently waiting for you to start trembling around him before he deems you ready to take more. Every one of his movements is measured, slowly pulling out only to push in all at once. The ridge of his cock drags over your g-spot, pressing firmly against it and making you claw at his shoulders.

He feels good, satisfying, but he’s not quite as good as Mike who used to hit all your spots without even thinking about it—somehow making you beg like a whore and sing like a little girl in Sunday school all at the same time.

Still, you don’t have to lie when Erwin quickens his pace and pants, “Feel good?”

“Fuck—yes, yes, Jesus Christ—”

He’s pulling all manner of crude sounds from your pussy, wet and greedy as it sucks him back in with every rut of his hips. The angle is perfect—his height paired with the bed on stilts has him hitting your spot every time, and you feel the need to warn him, “If you keep—keep fucking me like this—god—m’gonna squirt.”

“Fuck yes,” he praises, wetting a thumb in his mouth before bringing it down to massage your clit. He only speeds up as your voice rises, body confused like your muscles don’t know if they should be flexed or relaxed.

You feel that tell-tale burning, that urge that only gets stronger the more Erwin abuses your g-spot and presses against your clit.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

Erwin groans when fluid starts to trickle from you, pushes more and more out of you while quickly swiping two fingers over your clit. The sense of relief is mind-numbing. You can’t even be upset that your sheets are gonna be damp whenever you decide to sleep.

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t lose his rhythm, just sticks his two wet fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean.

You see it now—the skill, the appeal, why the girls always come back to him. It makes sense. He’s devastatingly handsome, especially like this, all fucked out and flushed, hair out of place, lips red and swollen from biting them.

Yeah, Erwin is fucking hot.

But, that doesn’t mean he’s your type.

Pulling out, he flips you onto your stomach, and you have to stand on your tip-toes as you lean over the bed. The burn in your calves disappears almost entirely when he slides into you from behind, pelvis pressing against your ass as he curls over you, cupping your tits and tweaking your hardened nipples as he gifts you with a series of shallow thrusts. It makes you whimper and teeter forward, unable to balance and squirm at the same time. Face suddenly buried in the mattress, your cries are muffled by the blankets. Erwin’s hands travel back to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his slick cock. He’s getting a little rougher, pressing into you as deeply as he can, and the fact that you’ll be sore from this tomorrow gives you a strange sense of satisfaction.

Only way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, right? Or, underneath in your case. Being a little more in control wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, so…

“Erwin, Erwin, fuck—Lemme ride you.”

There is no hesitation. Erwin slips out of you and throws himself onto the bed, grinning crookedly as he watches you climb over him on unsteady limbs. His patience must have worn out some time ago, because he holds his cock with one hand, using the other to line you up with it, then guides you down his length.

You have to sit still for a second, or you would like to, but Erwin is still holding your hips, and he rocks you back and forth in his lap like he knows. He probably does. He’s probably fucked enough girls to notice exactly when their eyes pop open, when they shudder and break out in goosebumps because that pressure is hitting exactly where it needs to, and yeah, he knows.

Finding it in yourself to move again, you lean over Erwin, planting your hands on the pillows by his head, then start bouncing on his cock. He hisses in a dark, appreciative way, eyes and hands immediately drawn to your chest. He sits up enough to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and pinching then doing the same to the other.

He’s so good—feels so good, knows just where to touch, the exact place to bite on your neck that makes you melt, but how—how does he know that? It’s like he has a sixth sense or—

Or, he just paid attention to the bruises that Mike used to leave on the sides of your throat. That checks out.

Fuck, he used to mark you like he wanted everyone to see, especially that last night. It was almost animalistic, like he had been—marking his territory, Zeke’s voice plays in your head. It makes you frown, and you rid yourself of the thought only to replace it with the memory of Mike’s mouth on your skin, his calloused fingertips trailing down your torso, huge hands wrapping around your legs to pull you against him—

You whine, glad it sounds like a sound of desperation rather than frustration. You just want to stop thinking about him. Just an hour—if you could go a single fucking hour—

“Hey, look at me,” Erwin commands in a soft voice.

You open your eyes, still hovering over him, and expect him to say something, but instead he just reaches up to the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss.

He’s helping move you on top of him, forcing you to take his cock over and over, and like this, so close and breathing him in, you don’t even have the room to think about Mike.

Both of your bodies are damp with sweat, and Erwin’s hair is a mess, pushed from his flushed face. He bites down on your bottom lip and tugs, only letting go to ask, “Where do you want me?”

“I don’t care,” you groan, legs and arms and pussy growing sore. You’re not surprised; you’ve been going at it for a while now.

Erwin licks your lower lip as if to soothe it after biting it, tells you, “Oh, don’t give me that option. You know where I’ll pick.”

Smiling, you straighten up then move to fit your feet underneath you so you can bounce more freely. “You can come inside, dude. It feels good to me, too.”

“I really don’t know how to respond to being called ‘dude’ when I’m balls deep in a girl.”

You shrug, “Sorry not sorry,” then raise and drop yourself, feeling in charge for the first time tonight.

“Fuck—shit—”

That feeling is short lived as Erwin goes right back to using you the way he wants. You think for about half a second that he’s finally, really losing himself, but the accuracy of his finger on your clit proves that is not the case. He’s clearly having a good time, but he isn’t at that feral stage that Mike falls into sometimes.

Before you can dwell on it for too long, you hit your peak, moaning Erwin’s name, hips moving uncontrollably as you ride out your orgasm.

He’s speaking, mumbling praise or pleas or curses, you aren’t so sure, but after about another minute of fucking into you relentlessly, Erwin comes, shooting line after line inside of you until he’s spent and twitching.

With your two previous partners, this is usually when you’d fall forward and cuddle, catch your breath and enjoy the feeling of being all plugged up.

But, it’s Erwin, huffing and blinking up at the ceiling then finally stating, “That was a dumb idea.”

It makes you laugh for some reason, probably because you agree.

The sex was great. There is a reason girls talk about him on campus, about his sexual prowess or whatever, and if you weren’t too busy suffocating in your little pit of heartbreak, thinking about your best friend nonstop, you wouldn’t mind fucking Erwin again. And, again and again.

That’s not gonna happen, though. The heat of the moment is fading, every mental faculty returning to you, and despite the fact that you’re still seated on his cock, as you look down at him, you feel absolutely no spark.

He’s ridiculously attractive, pretty fucking brilliant but with a dumb sense of humor, and you love him. You really do. He’s done a lot for you over the last semester, made it at least somewhat bearable, but… This shouldn’t have happened.

Hopefully, it quelled his curiosity, though.

“I told you it would just make you feel shitty,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t look sad. Sympathetic more than anything, resigned that he’s probably going to have to pick up the pieces of another mess.

“Yeah,” you drawl. “You were right.” Your joints pop as you stand, towering over Erwin for once and leaking his fucking cum as you hop off the bed.

“It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he jokes absentmindedly, wiping a few drops of white off his stomach then reaching for the tissues on the nightstand.

You don’t feel awkward or out of place, but you have no idea what else to say. The only thing that comes to mind is, “I’m gonna take a shower,” as you walk toward the bathroom.

Erwin moves on the bed, stretching a little before grabbing his pants and leaving you to your devices, but you pause before stepping onto the tile, turn back and pace over to him.

“Hey,” you start, and Erwin glances up from the button of his khakis. “Thanks.”

He rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, and once he’s all zipped and buttoned up, he pulls you into a hug.

“I would say any time, but we probably shouldn’t do this again.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

You breathe into the space under his collarbone, humming as he gently scratches you back, then break away. “Alright, actually gonna shower now.”

Erwin nods, “You do that,” then slaps your ass as soon as you turn around.

You look at him over your shoulder with raised eyebrows, but he just winks and tells you, “I had to. Just once,” which is fair.

You run a hot shower, scrub the shit out of your skin, lather your hair with some fancy shampoo then rinse it off. Once you go through your full routine, you’re happy to change into pajamas and slip into the comfortable bed. You don’t even mind that the comforter is a little damp in various places.

* You don’t stir when the door opens and closes, but you do when the mattress dips. Shifting slightly, you assume it’s just Erwin, falling back into your usual routine by slipping under the covers with you.

As soon as he lays behind you, though, you know it isn’t Erwin. You recognize that weight, that warmth, that smell, and you are very awake very quickly.

“M-Mike?”

All he offers is a little, “Mm,” to confirm.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, confused and clueless as to what you’re supposed to do.

“Are you drunk again?”

“No. Little buzzed.”

Why is he here, then? You want to ask—What is he doing? Why isn’t he with Rhi?

You start to turn to face him but you're stopped when Mike sets a hand on your back. It's oddly firm, keeping you in place as he grunts, "No, don't."

"What?"

"Don't turn around." His voice is hushed and choppy, like he's gritting out every syllable.

"Mike?"

"I have shit I wanna say to you, and I won't be able to if you're lookin' at me."

You have no idea how to respond to that, don't know if this is going to be a positive one-sided conversation where Mike confesses deep feelings while actually sober, or if he'll just unload all the baggage you've given him. Either way, you wish you could see his face. Something about having him laying behind you, close enough to feel his body heat, has you feeling very uneasy.

But, you nod, "Okay," trying to put on a brave face that he refuses to look at.

For a while, he just breathes. You assume it’s because he’s gathering his thoughts or maybe working up the courage to say something, but the suspense is making you shiver under your blankets. You have that terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, the mix of anticipation and regret you get on the way up to the first drop of a rollercoaster.

“Why have you been lying to me?”

And, there’s that drop.

You swallow. “I haven’t been.”

“Bullshit.”

“Mike, I haven’t been!” You try to turn again, but his large hand is still right in the middle of your back.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” His fingers close around the material of your shirt. You feel it tighten at your chest, making it hard to breathe—harder to breathe. “How are you gonna tell me that right after sleeping with him?”

You open your mouth to argue, realize you can’t make a case for yourself, and when you snap your jaw shut again, the sound of your teeth clacking seems to echo in your head.

Yesterday, you would have been able to talk to him about this and be honest when telling him you weren’t fucking his best friend. Now, though…

God, that had been such a bad decision. Why hadn’t you just listened to Erwin? Why can’t you fucking listen to anyone?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike mutters. His grip loosens, but you can still feel a light tug at your shirt, the movement of fingers, and you think he might be rubbing over the material he’s still holding. “Pretty sure all of us could hear you guys goin’ at it, so… Thanks for that.”

You take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut because it sinks in that this is not going to be nice conversation. This isn’t going to result in the two of you apologizing and making love confessions to each other.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Now, you’re grateful for not being able to see his face. You wouldn’t be able to stand looking at him right now, not when you know his expression will be grim—probably angry.

“I can’t really do anything with sorry,” Mike sighs. His hand drops from your back, but you make no move to turn over.

Your heart is like a hummingbird’s, beating frantically in your chest as that ache rises inside of you again, making your throat constrict and your eyes burn.

“Why’d you invite Rhi tonight?” You ask, hoping your sniffle isn’t too noticeable.

“Why does it matter?”

You suppose it doesn’t, but you still want to know, “Is it to get back at me, or is it because you’re actually into her?”

Mike scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but do you think I’d be in your room at three in the fucking morning if I was into her?”

It’s probably the closest he’ll get to admitting it, but it’s all you need to hear. He’s been going out of his way to hurt you. At least any pain you’ve caused him wasn’t intentional. Until tonight, that is, and even then, you didn’t fuck Erwin to hurt him; you did it to help yourself.

Pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, you hold back tears and mumble a thick, “Just wanted to know.”

“Want to make sure I’m still interested? That I’ll keep waiting for you to fucking realize—”

“I have—” You turn over roughly, pinning Mike’s hand under your ribs as you glare at him, but he manages to put more distance between the two of you when he yanks his arm back and sits up.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he tells you, and you think you hear his voice waver for a second.

The orange light pouring in from the bathroom is the only way you can tell his eyes are wide—worried—and it chills all the blood in your body.

“Wh-what d’you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t fucking do this anymore,” he repeats a little louder, drawing it out like it’ll help you understand. “I cannot deal with you anymore. I can’t keep feeling this way, okay?”

“Mike…”

“No,” he stops you, acts like he has something else lined up but bites his tongue and sighs. He sits cross-legged on the bed now, hangs his head as he speaks calmly, “This semester has fucking sucked. I am angry all the time. I can’t focus in class, and I can’t play lacrosse without getting in trouble, and I can’t fuck anyone else without feeling bad—I can’t fucking do anything without thinking of you, and I’m—” he looks at the wall and shakes his head. “I’m exhausted.”

“I am too,” you tell him, voice cracking as that lump in your throat grows and bubbles, pushing hot tears from your eyes that you quickly wipe away. “Mike, I am too, so can we just—”

“No,” he cuts you off again. “Whatever it is you’re about to say—move on, pretend it didn’t happen, pick up where we left off, whatever… the answer is no.”

He seems like he already has his mind made up, came into the room with a plan, and he isn’t gonna let you talk him out of it.

So, you stay as silent as you can, sniffing and swallowing and letting the comforter catch every teardrop.

“I have been… Right in front of you this whole time. I made myself completely available for a year—was at your beck and fucking call. I was—I mean—I was good to you, right?” He sounds incredulous, like he can barely believe he’s asking.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah, you were.”

“Then, why…? Zeke? And, now Erwin?”

“Do you want me to try to explain, or do you just wanna rant for a while?”

Mike glances at you, looks surprised that you’d give him the option.

“Honestly, I don’t really wanna hear it. You’ve more than proved your point.”

Indignation swirls in your stomach alongside your nausea, and you press, “My point being?”

“That I’m not good enough.”

Oh, god. No, no, no. You could understand him being angry. You’re okay with him being angry, it’s fine. But, this—this feeling of inferiority? That is so much worse. It makes you sick. This is the last thing you’d ever want Mike to feel. It’s the last thing he should feel because it’s false. He has no reason—he’s too good and too kind and too warm. He’s like… He’s fucking sunshine. He can light up a room, and he doesn’t even know it.

“Mike, n-no,” your voice breaks, making you sound like a wounded animal. “You are so, so good. You are more than enough, I promise.”

He snorts in a self-deprecating manner. “Then, why—”

“Because I’m not good enough. I fucked this up. This is my fault, and I can own that as long as you know that there is absolutely no—nothing wrong with you,” the last part comes out as a squeak as you try not to hyperventilate and cry the way your body is urging you to. Not yet.

Mike nods a few times. You can see his mouth moving from the side like he’s biting his lip or sucking his teeth until he agrees, “Yeah,” then adds a quiet, “Whatever you say, babe,” that makes you want to throw up.

Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and stands. You assume he’s about to leave, let you be alone with your thoughts, so when he rounds the corner to get to your side, you sit up a little straighter.

Half of his face is illuminated, casting shadows under his eyes, highlighting the bruise on his neck that Rhi probably left, but your gaze is trained on his as he leans down to you. A finger hooks under your chin, and Mike tilts your face at an angle, kissing you so softly that it’s painful.

His lips are warm and familiar, everything you’ve been craving as they cover yours. There’s no tongue, no force, just light pressure as he inhales through his nose.

You know what this is, what he’s doing, but you can’t prepare yourself because there’s still that tiny string of hope you’re grappling for. He just needs a break. You just need to give him space. That’s all—

“I love you,” Mike murmurs. His voice is low and honest and slices you open. “I love you so fucking much it hurts, and I just—” He brushes a thumb over your lower lip as he pulls away, and it takes everything in you not to grab his hand and beg him to stay. “It’s like I hate you too.”

You pull away to wipe your face with the blanket. There’s so much you want to say but have no idea how to articulate it, so all you can do is stare at Mike with wide, watery eyes. He… hates you. He hates you.

Straightening, Mike’s expression is suddenly nonchalant, like he just flipped a switch in his brain. “I’m not exactly the social butterfly I used to be, but I wanna have fun my last semester of undergrad—make up for the time I lost fucking brooding over you, so—”

“I’ll stop going to the Pike house,” you tell him quietly. It’s easier to make the decision yourself rather than have to hear it from his mouth: Don’t come around anymore. I don’t want to see you.

“Cool. And, if you, like, see me on campus or anything—”

You cough, maybe gag, you can’t really tell at this point because wow, this just keeps getting worse.

“I won’t bother you.”

“Cool.” He bends to press another much more patronizing kiss to the crown of your head, then starts walking toward the door. “I’m just gonna try to move on, you know? Start fresh. And, you should do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

You don’t watch him leave, just listen for the door to click shut behind him before you crawl out of bed, turn the lights on, and start packing your things.

You and Hitch drove together, but you have no doubt that she'll be able to get a ride with Nile, and with that thought, you’re out of the ranch house and on the road just as the first rays of the morning sun start shining over the horizon.

It’s surprisingly easy for Mike to slip back into his old, obnoxious persona, and the remainder of the school year is spent partying, fucking, and cramming for tests he should have studied for weeks in advance.

But, life is short, and he’s done beating himself up over stupid shit.

Most of his PKA brothers are happy to have him “back”, and the pledges get the chance to see this of him, but there are times when Mike catches Erwin or Nile shaking their heads at him. He doesn’t mind much. They can both go fuck themselves for all he cares.

True to your word, you don’t show your face around the house. There were a few weeks after the holiday get-together where Erwin would disappear for a few hours at a time and come back either tired or angry, sometimes a combination of the two.

He attempted to bring you up in a conversation a total of one time, right in the middle of a party where Mike had been eyeing up a sorority girl. He brushed his friend off, easily telling Erwin, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me about her,” through the crooked grin he was flashing at the little blond across the room.

Erwin didn’t bother after that, obviously deeming Mike a lost cause.

Mike knows better, though. He isn’t lost anymore. In fact, he’s found himself all over again.

Every once in a while, he’ll catch a glimpse of you on campus, but whenever that happens, he just turns around and takes a different route to wherever he’s going. He doesn’t want to give you any reason to think you can talk to him—doesn’t want to give you the chance.

He’s spent too much of his time hung up on you, too much time pining and hurting, and that hasn’t disappeared entirely. Mike can still clearly remember the way you looked at him the last night the two of you spoke, the way your tears twinkled in the dim light. He remembers how strangled you sounded while speaking, remembers the way your shoulders shook as you fought your emotions, remembers the way your lips trembled against his.

It wasn’t very satisfying. Mike left the ranch house the following morning sporting a few bruises on the outside thanks to Rhi as well as a few bruises on the inside thanks to you.

That entire night had been a clusterfuck—between Maddie and Marie storming off to cry then the little stunt he pulled by inviting Rhi, it had been much too dramatic for a gathering of that size. Mike experienced a wide variety of emotions that night, but the one that stands out the most is the searing rage that threatened to burn him from the inside, the red the clouded his vision as soon as he heard you moan Erwin’s name through the wall.

Mike had already been toying with the idea of severing all ties with you, but that’s what pushed him over the edge, watching you put on your little show when Rhi walked in only to turn around and have a grand fucking time with his best friend.

It needed to happen. Mike needed to free himself of you. It feels good. Mostly. There are still some days he comes close to giving in, just picking up his phone and calling you, but he resists, and he’s better for it.

He gets through his classes, does well on his finals after actually putting in the time to prepare for them, and by the time Mike graduates, he’s already been accepted to the graduate program of his choice and has an internship lined up. The tension between him and Erwin has faded for the most part, which is great since he’s going to grad school in the same area up north. Things look… promising—something he didn’t think possible without you by his side, something he didn’t want to be possible without you by his side.

But, now, here he is, unpacking his new apartment with the help of Scout who insists on sniffing absolutely everything. He’s halfway across the country from his parents, away from all he’s ever known, and Mike couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

He can go full days without sparing you a thought now, and he hopes—he prays—that one day he’ll think of you for the last time in his life.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

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todoscript · 4 years

Note

prompt 100, todoroki, smut? first time/confession?

Always You.

Prompt | “All I know is that if you don’t tell me to stop I’m going to kiss you.”

Genre | SMUT. Fluff.

Pairing | Todoroki Shouto x Fem!Reader

Words | 5.2K+

Warnings | 18+. Smut. Oral. Penetration. Semi-public sex. Body worship. Characters are aged up. Feelings Revealed. Cuddling.

Summary | Hearing your troubled thoughts about the daunting future ahead of you, Shouto finally realizes what you meant to him all this time.

A/N | I’ve been wanting to dabble with smut, so thank you Anon for this request (also I’m assuming you requested the prompt based on this list from my past drabble event). This is my first time posting e/xplicit content so beware of all the warnings. Other than that, please let me know your thoughts!

Big thank you to @sadistiks and @shoutogepi for beta reading! I really appreciate it! <3

For the longest time, since the very first year of his high school journey to becoming a hero, Todoroki Shouto knew that you were special to him. But he didn’t realize what these emotions meant.

At first, the feelings bombarded his thoughts like a haze—a screen of smoke he couldn’t see past. He initially discerned it as an affliction down his path, blocking his sight from the light at the end of his heroic odyssey. Yet even when he waved the murk away, he felt your spirit was still somehow manifested within him.

The darkness of the dim first floor greeted him when he arrived down from the elevator, the agony of no sleep pestering mind. The light shuddered back inside as he stepped out, a ding echoing throughout the quiet atmosphere that was the dead of the night. He trekked down the halls, past the kitchen, and into the common space where only a single flicker of candlelight met his vision.

However, when he approached closer, he noticed the fire wasn’t alone. There you were, sat on the couch with warm, soothing tea nestled in your hands.

“Y/n,” he called out, and you heard his voice quickly in the silence. You turned around, knowing well it was Shouto from the distinct husk in his tone and not your teacher Aizawa coming to reproach you for still being up so late.

“Oh Shouto, couldn’t sleep either?” you asked. He replied with a nod, which compelled you to pat the cushions on the couch. He took your offer and established himself into the light, sitting next to you.

For a moment, a gentle lull instilled itself into the atmosphere. You didn’t say anything to each other, but your presences were enough to soothe the strain in your bodies and release any disturbing thoughts plaguing your minds. It was an unspoken form of affirmation between you two that Shouto was oddly fond of. When you perched your cup of tea onto the coffee table, you finally cut the silence.

“I’ve been… thinking…” Your words drifted off, and Shouto removed his sight from the candle’s dancing fire to turn to you.

“About?” He poked the remark further.

“Our class. Our journey to becoming heroes,” you answered, folding your legs into you on the couch with your chin propped against your knees. “Soon, it’ll all be over.”

Your words lingered with distraught at the thought that within a few months left in your third year, the next step in your path will open forward, leaving a curtain to draw close on the current one you’ve walked upon for nearly three years now. It was unsettling. Realizing the habits you’ve established, and the faces you’ve been accustomed to throughout each day, will suddenly vanish within the instant you approached life after high school. It scared you as much as it did the boy by your side, which to him was strange.

It shouldn’t bother him as much. He’s worked himself up since he was a child, grinding sweat and rigor through his bones to achieve this goal. He’s known across his entire life that he’d eventually end up at this point and move further toward that dream of becoming a Pro Hero. Yet when you addressed the troubling notions out loud, he grew conflicted.

“That’s right. We’ll be walking on our different paths after,” Shouto said. It was then he realized the weight amassed in that single statement. That once the year is over, you won’t be ingrained into each other’s lives anymore. He wouldn’t get to see your smiling face greeting him every morning or engage in the compelling conversations you enacted between classes. His life would be different from then on out, and the idea of the emptiness carved into it after your departure left an ache in him, making him hollow.

“A-Are you ready for it? To move on and leave everything behind?” you stuttered as if anxious to receive his answer. Deep down, you wanted to believe the boy still desired to hang onto the present and the relationships woven into this fabric of time, rather than cut them off and start a new seam. However, you could not forget about his achievements and hard work, forged through sheer will and determination. He was amongst the top in your entire year, and you couldn’t neglect that he was destined for bigger and better things after. It would be selfish of you to anchor him down with these chilling notions of yours.

Yet as Shouto thought over the questions, he envisioned his trudge down this long winding road, and then remembered everything. He remembered all the times his eyes lingered on you, and the silent, reassuring exchanges you sent each other between infinitesimal moments. He remembered all the words you spoke to him when his spirits were down, recalling whenever he willingly sought out your presence just to be near you—next to you. And he remembered the heat on his body and the confliction he dealt with whenever he craved your touch as every thought of you ignited a blaze he wished you could douse out, lest his sense of reason be incinerated.

It’s when he reached the end of this path, and the light peaked in its brightest form that he ultimately realized. The light was you. It was always you from the beginning. You were never the haze obscuring his journey, but the luminosity that guided his way, showing him to who he truly was and helping him experience all the joys on this path.

Shouto snuck a glance over to you while your eyes still lined downward at the quivering reflection of the cup of chamomile tea next to the candle. The single light source illuminated every crest beautified on your face, and he beheld the vulnerability within the moment as if you were the only thing on this earth. You made him happy and filled that void in his existence that plagued him before he arrived at U.A., like the missing piece of an incomplete puzzle. He could not fathom the world around him without you.

Shouto breathed a heavy sigh from his lips. Despite your doubt and suspense, his answer felt all too obvious to him.

“No, I don’t think I’m ready to move on just yet,” he conclusively admitted. When you perceived his answer, you loosened your legs clutched to your chest, and met his eyes with an astonished expression.

“Shouto, what are you saying?” You tried to urge him to rethink his words again, understand what they meant. Shouto, out of the majority of everyone in your year, should be more than prepared for the future to come. You’ve known the boy so closely throughout your three years together, but you couldn’t discern whatever could be troubling his mind for him to be afraid of taking that leap forward.

“There’s… something in this life that I’m not willing to let go of yet,” he cast his gaze to the small flit of the candle before shifting it to the glow of your irises. His hands reached out and entwined with yours, and the comforting touch of your warm skin gave him the fortitude to continue.

“You. I don’t think I’m ready to leave you yet, Y/n,” he told you, and in the quiet, the words nearly echo through your mind. Initially, you’re speechless at the confession, but you don’t pull away. In fact, you gripped his hands tighter, like maybe the Shouto in front of you was a mirage conjured by your lack of sleep. However, he’s real. The unwavering stare, the altering sensations clasped against his calloused palms, the resolute composure on his handsome features. They were all real.

“Sh-Shouto… I—”

“I realized what you meant to me. You’re always on my mind because you’re the one thing in this life I can’t go without, the one person I won’t and can’t move on from.” Though a man of few words, he mustered the strength to utter this unyielding declaration.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n,” he imparted the words he’s been meaning to tell you—the words that finally answered the confusion he felt all this time and lifted the veil that clouded him.

Your eyes shimmered, hearing the heart behind his affirmation. Your face shifted from a mien of confliction to one of acceptance, allowing yourself to wholeheartedly welcome the emotions he finally unshackled from the depths of his soul.

“Shouto, I… I love you. I think deep down, I’ve always felt the same, I just never knew if it was right for us to be together,” you said, and it obliged him to return an enlightened look while he slowly inched closer.

“But… What does this mean from here on out?” you tried to ask through a whisper, but the ceasing proximity between you two blanks your mind to only the attention of Shouto’s face drawing near, his cold breath tickling your lips.

“I don’t know. All I know is that if you don’t tell me to stop, I’m going to kiss you,” he warned yet didn’t stop to pause as his eager lips finally met yours in a searing sensation of emotions. Your mind adjusted to the caress of his lips, soon melding perfectly into his with a simple tilt of your head.

Shouto brought a hand up to hold your jaw while his other gripped underneath your thigh to adjust your position, now straddling him on the couch to allow your bodies to press together intimately. Naturally, your arms found their way around his neck while you continued mingling your lips for kiss after kiss in the empty common space, tongues dancing together. He palmed at every inch of your skin, traveling from the expanse of your naked legs to your ass, and then up to your clothed breasts. Through these motions, you grounded yourself against him and felt the growing shape beneath his sweatpants form against your covered cunt.

Your lips detached for a second. You stared into the evident lustful haze fogged in his fraternal twin irises, a playful grin on your swollen lips. “Are you sure all you want to do is kiss?”

He mirrored your smirk, hands lightly grazing your thighs teasingly. “Not even close, love.”

Hearing the endearing name caused a heat to pool in your lower-half, which continued to grow desperately hot while he embarked his mouth on a journey across the expanse of your neck. You winced at the array of fervent kisses left in his wake and noticed his hands busied themselves by rubbing circles against your torso to your hips underneath your sleeping clothes. He brushed up against your breasts, unrestricted due to an absence of a bra. His touch felt like fire, and sent you into dizzying desire. It wasn’t long until he finally tugged on the hem of your shirt. Taking the hint, you moved your arms up to allow him to pull the article of clothing off.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he muttered and wasted no time in admiring your bare upper body, tossing your shirt to the side. Though he only spoke of beautifying praises, he noticed your hesitance when you hovered your arms in front of him, cheeks growing vividly hot. At this, he took your hands in his and moved them away from obscuring the beautiful sight before his adamant, loving gaze.

“I mean it. You’re the prettiest thing on this earth, Y/n,” he assured, planting a kiss against each of your palms then settling them on his shoulders.

“And I’m going to make sure—” His words paused as his mouth attached to your skin once more.

“That your beautiful body—” He molded his lips against the underside of one mound, traveling upward.

“Knows all the things—” it eventually made its way to your nip that shivered and hardened through the exposure to the cold air, “I’ll be doing to it.”

Hearing those sensual words leave the mouth of a man usually so composed and calm made your mind scatter in a hazy daze that drenched you from your panties to the thin material of your shorts, undoubtedly wetting his sweatpants in the process.

“Mm… Ahh…” you breathed out a sigh of moans next to his ear thanks to his methodical movements, which sounded like a melody he would repeat over and over in his head for years to come. One of his large hands slipped behind you down your shorts to grip your ass, ignoring the clothing, and the other wandered to your breast that wasn’t occupied by the heated presses of his mouth. You tried to keep yourself anchored to reality and not drift off in the hot air of lust by gripping behind his head and weaving your fingers in his dual-colored tresses. Unknowingly, you pressed him further into you, and he gladly continued to indulge in his simulations.

Eventually, he parted from your body to sit back and admire his handy work, which were the marks adorned on your skin and the needy look on your face left in his wake. The glimmer of the candlelight behind you accentuated the outline of your figure, and he wanted to ingrain this pretty image into his head so badly.

“Sh-Shouto…” you whined, and his eyes perked up.

“What is it, love?” he asked, though his hands continued caressing your waist and thighs almost tauntingly, discerning the desire in your voice.

“I want…”

“Want what?” he pried on.

“You know what I want...” You bashfully eyed down his lap, fingers tracing below his shirt to the waistband of his pants, tugging.

“Hm, do I?” he jeered, and you cursed at how he dragged out your desires while falling further into his mischief from the way he resumed stroking the fever of your skin.

“Yes, you do,” you ground against his erection once more, hoping to spark a reaction. And in the end, you received one in the form of his hands gripping your hips to still your movements.

“Fuck…” His brows narrowed tightly together from the shift that caused blood to spike through his cock. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want, love—what you need,” he finally assured, softly touching your cheek with the back of his hand before planting a peck.

“But first, I want a taste. Hands on the couch,” he ordered in the husky timbre of his voice, and you didn’t disobey, lest he draw out your pleasure toward a nerve-wracking pace your body couldn’t handle anymore. You moved off his lap and crawled to the furthest end to perch yourself against the couch’s arm, knees on the cushions, and bottoms faced toward Shouto.

He awarded your immediate compliance with his hands, dragging themselves down the skin of your back and descending toward the waistband of your shorts. However, to your chagrin, he only pulled off the first layer.

His eyes beheld the color of red while he jerked the clothing down your thighs, now met and widened at the sight of your rose-hued panties. He watched as you slowly turned your head to catch his amorous expression, the man kneeled behind you from the view of your ass emphasized by the flimsy, lace fabric. He admired how you glowed from the candle, and how the moonlight filtered through the windows of the common room, cascaded on the expanse of skin the firelight couldn’t reach, while your body was arched, ready, and willing for his and his eyes only. If you were a goddess, he’d worship you and visit your shrine for the rest of his life. No, scratch that, in Shouto’s eyes, no goddess or deity could ever compare to you.

“God, how is everything about you so perfect…” he breathed out, tone laced in utter affection. Your face blossomed crimson from his praises.

The candle at his side still offered him enough light to see the evident damp spot on the crotch of your panties. When he pulled them down, your slick strung from the lacey material to your lower glistening lips, which made him release a strained groan. You helped him remove the tainted articles of clothing by lifting your knees as he slid them down your legs, letting them pile in a heap on the floor.

“Even your pussy’s pretty…” he spoke the obscene words like they were second nature, but you couldn’t conjure anything in reply except a whimper when he dragged his fingers across your sex. He smeared your wetness on his fingertips, not even offering their full length into your heat.

“F-Fuck… please,” you begged, fidgeting in your spot to usher him to do anything more to stop the ache in your body.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, leaning over you and tossing your hair to the side to smother kisses on the nape of your neck. He then trailed his mouth down your back at an agonizing pace while his fingers continued to toy with your wet cunt using touches that could never climb you to the peak of your high. Soon his lips arrived at your asscheek, melding the smooches against your flesh while he dipped toward his desired destination.

Shouto leveled his gaze to your ass, grasping it firmly in his hands and spreading you open. The scent of your arousal invaded his senses. Your exposure to his intimate eyes made your cunt twitch in front of him, slick gathering and sticking to your thighs.

“Mm, so so pretty...”

However, as much as he wanted to dive right in and drink all your nectar, your cute whimpers drove him to tease you once more, only granting you the sensations of his breath fanned on your dripping sex.

“Baby, what do you want?” You couldn’t believe he had the nerve to ask. Still, you played along, albeit not nearly as patient as the man behind you.

“Y-Your mouth,” you answered, and you felt the thin smirk on his lips when he kissed your ass one last time.

“A nice answer,” is all he muttered before his tongue finally reached your aching entrance. He licked around you, his hold on your flesh tightened to bare your pussy to his entering appendage. At the feeling of his muscle along your silky walls, your nails started digging into the arm of the green couch, voice singing out unhinged.

“Careful, love, everyone’s still sleeping. We wouldn’t want them to hear now, would we?” he warned when he detached from your sex, yet was quick to dive in again. Clasping your hand over your mouth to mute the airy noises emitting from your lips, you remembered where you were—in an open and publicly used space. It especially became very apparent when the squelch of his mouth against you reverberated in the vast, empty area due to Shouto becoming a man unshackled by his passionate desires for the woman he loved. The last thing you wanted was for the boys on the second floor to wake up. Or worse, accidentally alert Mr. Aizawa.

As Shouto continued tasting your cunt, the heat coursing through your body was slowly boiling and longing to burst, your mewls edging to heavy moans past your hand. When your pussy started grappling around his tongue, he realized you inched closer and closer to release.

“Are you going to cum for me? Soak my tongue with everything you got?”

You hissed a squeal of a yes, along with a speedy succession of nods that was enough of a response for Shouto to help you reach your high. His motions transcended faster, and he added to the revelry by inserting a long finger into you, easily touching the particular spongy area inside that made you quiver. The overflowing sensations hollowed the sounds in your throat to mere hoarse throes of pleasure. His bind on your flesh grew firmer, like his feast on your cunt was the ambrosia he needed to revitalize his body.

“Ah, f-fuck Shouto, I’m— I’m—”

“Do it, baby. Cum all over my face.”

The weighty lust in his words was the last fuel you needed to attain your peak. At last, your sex clenched across Shouto’s tongue, covering his mouth in your juices as your screams were suppressed against the couch arm you buried your face into, knowing your hand was too weak of a barrier to contain your loud, wanton cries. With you soon becoming limp due to the mind-blowing orgasm that coursed your body, you braced yourself on the couch’s arm. Turning your head, you observed the glistened sheen covering the lower half of Shouto’s face that he earnestly licked and then rubbed against his forearm. The heady sight resulted in your body growing hot and bothered all over again.

“Mm, you taste so delicious, love,” he told you before he eased forward across your form and captured your mouth for another searing kiss that allowed you to taste your flavor on his tongue. Shouto’s arms readily wove around your naked body, positioning you to lay comfortably flat beneath him on the couch while never leaving the fervid lip-lock. You hung an arm over his back, and a hand settled into his hair.

“Ah.. wait,” you managed to voice between the wistful union of your tongues, letting Shouto lean his forehead against yours to peer into your eyes.

“What is it?”

“You’ve been doing all the work tonight. The least I should do to repay you is give you some pleasure, right?” you said, attempting to reach lower toward the bulge keen on his sweats. Yet Shouto halted you with a quick hand on your wrist.

“It’s alright, Y/n. I want to use this night to appreciate and love you,” he stated, bringing your hand to his lips as his gaze never moved from yours. “And besides, we can do that next time.”

Next time? You wordlessly repeated the phrase, mind trying to fathom what this passionate night would spark in the aftermath for you two.

Even with everything ahead of him, he still desired to be with you—to love and cherish you. Now that you’ve both admitted to the feelings concealed within yourselves for so long, there wasn’t any way Shouto could just let you go. One way or another, he’d carve another path down his odyssey where you two would walk together, and he could forever bask in your light.

But for now, he needed to tend to you and satiate his lust that has thoroughly built up throughout the heaty progression of the night, his cock painfully taut in the bounds of his clothing. At last, he granted his body the small bit of freedom it craved by removing his shirt and sweatpants, leaving his skin bare to the air like yours. Raking your eyes over his form scrupulously, you bit into your lower lip at the expanse of firm muscle lining every inch of his frame. The light beside you seemed only to enhance every marbled crest delved across his features. Those three years of fierce hero training committed wonders on his body, and you were eager to put your hands all over him.

However, your mind was blanketed into a haze when he pulled down his briefs—soiled by a blotch of his precum—allotting you with an unhindered view of his cock standing to attention. Shouto lowly chuckled, noticing the speechless expression taking over your face. His hand wholly stroked his stout manhood.

“Like what you see, baby?”

Your response is reduced to a quick nod, still dumbstruck by the length of his dick and generous girth when knowing he was soon to be inside you in mere moments. Shouto took his position in front of you again. He spread you out with as much room as the green couch of the common room could offer you two. You kept resonating out whimpers from your lips, and he reveled in those sounds while preparing to align himself to your entrance, his eyes fogged with unrivaled yearning for you. To say he’s dreamt of this day—where you’re hot, needy, and naked in the wake of his lustful desires—would be an understatement. No kind of imagination could beat the real thing, with the genuine noises you produced and the way your slick felt against the head of cock as he slowly pushed himself forward. Watching each inch of his dick gradually slide inside and experiencing the tightness of him and his love coming together did many things to him. The sensation was beyond incredible.

“Mm! Fuck!” you cried out in a whisper of a yell, immediately anchoring yourself by wrapping your arms around him when he lowered his upper-body to you. The stretch of his girth induced a pleasurable burn in your stomach that threatened to seize your entire being.

“Argh… Love, I’m right here— Fuck, you’re so tight—” he cursed at your warmth firmly enveloping his cock, struggling not to let the heat of the moment devour his reasoning and just plow away at your body. No, he needed to go slow and not hurt you, let you adjust to his size. Thankfully the wetness simulated when he ate you out aided the process, and soon his entire length was sheathed inside you.

You laid there trembling over the deep sensation, but the pain managed to diffuse quickly. “I-It’s OK… I’m alright now,” you murmured to him, the circles he rubbed into your skin soothing a bit of the tension harrowed in your body. You tilted your head so your lips were sheer centimeters from his ear, whispering out in a soft, heady tone that was breaking his rationale.

“Please fuck me.”

That was all he needed to begin his hard succession of thrusts. His cock felt along all the crevices of your walls. He grunted out praises and affections for you in between each drive into your core. Fuck, every part of you was like heaven and he wanted—no—needed to indulge in all you could give him. You struggled to find your words, voice hoarse and diminished to frail moans that he heard every trace of from the proximity between you, practically instilling the harmonies into his mind.

“I love you, Y/n, fuck I love you so much.” His bewitching utterances spilled from his lips without a second thought for all he’s thinking about is you.

“You were always the light that— ah— guided me... Always the one I could come to…” His thrusts continued relentlessly even as he bent toward your neck to meld his mouth on it for a second. “You were always the one, Y/n. It was always you.”

At all his love rained down upon you, your grip on his body grew tighter while you attempted to muster out some coherent words, despite each deep impulse of his cock making you envision stars.

“Mm, ah, l-love you too— Mmph—” You cut off with a scream that was luckily muted by Shouto joining his mouth to yours the moment he reached your pleasurable spongy area again. He continued his onslaught in that spot, knowing it was the erogenous zone in your body that made you writhe and shriek for him. White began to shroud your sight every time he pounded there. It wouldn’t be long until the simmer you built to a boil would be ready to burst again, your pussy starting to clench around his length desperately.

“Shouto, I’m gonna c-cum..!”

“Fuck, me too,” he replied to your frantic pleas and savored the sting of your nails raked down his back, tightening his hold on your spread legs. “Together, baby. Cum with me.”

With you both teetered toward the edge of release, he began pistoning his hips forward at an unbridled pace, the smack of your skins echoing so vividly in the space. Spit gathered in the back of your throat as Shouto did his very best to snatch every mewl and moan resounding from your lips. The noises vibrated across his tongue while he groaned back, thrusting forward in each succession. Eventually, the final scream tore from your throat, ripping into his mouth. Your body convulsed in a fit of overwhelming pleasure across every nerve and your intense orgasm was the catalyst he needed to cum.

In a single deep, quick thrust following your peak, his climax surged through him, and he came undone. A low grunt reverberated in him as he buried himself in you and coated your walls in hot spurts of white, the lip-lock remaining fervent throughout his orgasm and his hand seeking yours at the last minute to twine together in love and passion.

Through the whirlwind of your fucking, the candle on the coffee table eventually blew itself out while you both came down from your highs with ragged breaths and sweaty bodies. Shouto lovingly kissed your temple, caressing down your sides in calming motions. You returned the gesture by pecking his chest and rubbing the muscles of his broad back. The two of you simply laid there, tangled together, basked in the glow from the intensity, with nothing but the glimmering moonlight descending your naked bodies.

“Mm, Shouto?” your voice is only a hushed murmur in the tranquil atmosphere.

“What is it, love?” His caring touch did not cease when he whispered a question back, eyes pinpointing your own despite the darkness.

“As much as I just want to lay here and cuddle with you, we can’t stay here mister,” you admonished, thankful that you recalled where you were before you ended up drifting off into sleep on this couch. It would be an absolute nightmare had you awoke the next morning from the screams of your classmates at the sight of you both naked.

He let out a deep chuckle, likely conjuring the same thought as you though not acting nearly as frantic as he should be. He lifted his upper body off the cushions. “Shall we go to my room then?”

You nodded. At that you both gathered your clothes that were thrown carelessly in heaps on the floor and got dressed. You made sure no suspicious traces of you remained, then silently took to the elevators to ascend to the fifth floor.

It’s in the confines of Shouto’s room that you reunited your bodies again underneath the comfortable blankets of his futon. His left side provided just the right amount of warmth to lull your nerves. You relished in his particular musky scent with him so close and being surrounded by all his familiarities, cuddling into him.

Perceiving the rhythm of your even breaths against him imbued Shouto with a sense of peace. He couldn’t help but pull you toward him to softly kiss your forehead. At the tickling sensation, you giggled and exchanged a delicate kiss of your own on his jawline. For a brief period of time, that calming silence you two were far too familiar with enveloped the mood as you wordlessly traded placid touches across each other’s arms and backs. Ultimately, the quiet is interrupted when you speak up.

“Are you.. still scared about the future?” You brought back the query that set off the steamy chain of events. Shouto didn’t speak for a moment, inhaling a breath until you indicated his resolution through his hold on you growing stronger.

“No. No, I’m not scared,” he told you, continuing without a single hint of uncertainty in his voice, “Because even when we move onto the future, we’ll find each other again. You’re my light, Y/n, and I’ll always come back to you.”

At his conviction, you finally let the weight of those harrowing notions lift themselves from your body that night, letting you sleep soundlessly in the arms of the man you loved.

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kookicat · 3 years

Text

A Gift of Telling & Trust

Nate's words fade away and for a moment, they're all quiet, absorbing the story. There's a sheen in Sophie's eyes that looks suspiciously like tears, and Parker has curled into Hardison's side, resting her head on his shoulder. He's got one arm around her, thumb rubbing absent circles on her side.

Eliot clears his throat, feeling just a little self conscious, and downs the last of his long neck before he speaks. "Before… Before my Mom died," he starts, voice soft, reflective, because it's been a while since he dug up the memories, and he's not sure how they're going to make him feel. "I was twelve, Erin was ten. Mom had been wanting a puppy for a couple of years, and one of my friend's farm dogs was having a litter." He smiles at the memory and glances up, seeing everyone's eyes on him. He's not sure why, but it feels comfortable, and he feels the smile get a bit bigger. "They were seven weeks old on Christmas eve, all bitty black and white things. Only one girl, and we picked her and snuck her in the house. We'd saved up our allowance to buy food and such. She slept on my bed, and we put a bow on her and took her downstairs at the crack of dawn." He pauses, accepting a fresh bottle from Hardison, giving the label a quick check to make sure the other man isn't slipping him one of his weird brews. He's not sure he'll ever cleanse his senses of the last one- pumpkin spice and mint, for christsakes, but the bottle is one of his favourites and he twists the top off.

"What happened?" Parker asks, because she's an instant gratification sorta girl, but they're all still watching him, waiting for the end of the story.

"Well Mom fell instantly in love," he says, lip quirking into a smile, "Dad took some convincing, threatened to take the belt to me but I'm pretty sure he was smitten too."

The end of the story isn't so happy, and he's not sure he wants to tell it and break the spell. "They were inseparable. Mom named her Dodie."

"101 Dalmatians? I loved that book." Sophie asks, and he glances at her, nodding.

"What happened to her?" Parker leans forward to poke him and he bats her hand away, gently.

Part of him wants to lie and tell them a happy ending, but life doesn't work that way. "She was in the truck with my Mom when a drunk driver ran them off the road. They hit a tree. Both killed instantly," he says, and his voice only cracks a little.

It's a hard memory, but he's mostly made his peace with it. It's nice, too, to be able to remember his family and share that with his new one.

Sophie presses her hand against his arm. "I'm sorry, Eliot. I had no idea."

He covers her hand with his own, for a beat. "It's okay. Thank you."

Another memory sneaks in, one he'd all but forgotten about and he laughs, earning startled looks from the others that only make him laugh harder. It takes him a second to get control and he's pretty sure they think it's the start of a hysterical breakdown.

"I'm fine," he says, and waves his hand. "Just remembered something. My fourteenth birthday, Dad decided I was finally old enough to learn how to use the grill. Bought a big rack of ribs. Damn dog stole them from the counter. We spent half an hour chasing her around the yard but every time we got close, she'd manage to escape. I'd never seen my Dad so mad." He laughs again, then takes a swig of his beer, content to settle back into silence and just enjoy the memory.

They spend an agreeable hour, just trading bullshit stories about past jobs before they decide to call it a night.

He wakes up the next morning, more hungover than he'd ever admit, to find a black and white puppy staring at him from the other side of his bed. "What the hell?" he says and blinks, rubbing his eyes, convinced he's seeing things until a wet nose unerringly finds this side of his neck. He rolls out of bed, scooping the puppy up and heading to his living room, trying to ignore the soft brown eyes staring at him.

Just as he suspected, Parker is sleeping on his couch. The bigger surprise is that Hardison is curled up in the recliner in the corner, one arm draped over his face to block out the mid morning light. He's pretty sure it was Hardison's idea to break out the tequila. He's also pretty sure that they killed the bottle between them.

"Parker," Eliot says, trying to sound serious. It's a lot harder to do with a puppy trying to lick his face. "Parker!"

She jerks awake, and he blinks, feeling a little bad about that. "What?" she mutters, shoving her hair out of her face and stretching like a cat, all liquid grace.

"What's this?" Eliot asks, with what he feels is commendable patience, especially considering the marching band that's doing laps of his brain.

"That's a puppy," Parker says, like he's being slow.

"Yes, I know that," Eliot says through his teeth. "Why was she in my bed?" The puppy lays her head on his chest and sighs and he knows that if this gets out, he's going to have to blow up an orphanage or something to maintain his reputation.

"Because she wouldn't stay on the couch," Parker says and throws a cushion at Hardison.

The hacker jerks awake, flailing and the puppy barks. "I don't think she liked that," Hardison mutters.

"Why do I have a puppy?" Eliot asks, absently stroking the dog's head, surprised by how soft and fine her fur is. It's like silk against his skin and it feels nice. He's always liked dogs, but with the life he's lived, he's never had the chance to own one.

"Because they were going to kill her at the pound because no one had adopted her!" Parker says, just as Hardison blurts "Parker made me do it!"

Eliot rubs his face with his free hand. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know the full story. He's also pretty sure he can't keep the puppy, no matter how darn cute she is. "Please tell me you didn't steal the puppy," he mutters and turns towards the kitchen, needing coffee and food.

He sets the puppy down, watching her as she sniffs her way around his kitchen, clearly looking for something. "You hungry, pup?" he says, and opens the fridge, pulling out a bit of roast chicken and almost losing his fingers to sharp puppy teeth. "Guess that's a yes."

He takes out the rest of the chicken, chopping it into smaller chunks before dumping it into a dish- though not one of his good ones, thank you very much-- and putting it on the floor with a bowl of water.

"We're sorry," Parker says, leaning on the door frame. "A puppy is a huge commitment and we should have checked first."

Eliot pulls the eggs from the fridge. "Have you been talking to Sophie?" he asks and sets a frying pan on to heat.

"Yes." Parker stoops, picking the puppy up and stroking her. "She did say a dog would be good for you."

Hardison joins Parker, reaching over to fuss the puppy. "I found a rescue that'll take her and make sure she gets a good home. We can drop her off later today."

The thought of handing the puppy over to someone else sends an unexpected pang through him. "You checked them properly?" Eliot asks, adding pre chopped peppers to the eggs.

"Have you met me?" Hardison says, voice full of only mostly faked offence. "Excuse you. Of course I checked them properly."

"Make some damn coffee," Eliot grouses at the other man. He's pretty sure they all know the damn puppy isn't going to any rescue. He has to admit, some nights it would be nice to come home to some non judgemental company.

"She's so cute," Parker says, sneaking a look at Eliot under her lashes. "Maybe I'll keep her."

Parker is proficient at many things, including keeping Parker alive but he's seen what she does to house plants and the thought of her being responsible for a living creature sends a stab of alarm through Eliot. Hardison is sharing the same thought, if the look in his face is any indication.

"Fine," Eliot snaps and portions the eggs with more force than strictly necessary. "She can stay here!"

He knows he's been caught neatly in a trap when Parker turns to Hardison, grinning. "Told you," she says and ducks when Eliot throws a dish towel at her head.

#leverage #eliot spencer #fanfic #parker #fanfiction #alec hardison #eliot gets a puppy

94 notes · View notes

spencerspecifics · 3 years

Note

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

———————————————————————

Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

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thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness · 3 years

Text

『朧』Commemorative release event 【Toshiya】 2021.7.25

Translation&Notes Part-1

Notes before reading: This is 1st part of the translation/notes of the Toshiya solo online event for the release of “Oboro” streamed on 25th July. This part is aprox the first 18-20 min of the 45 min total of the talk.

Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes or any confusing parts. Links or credits to this post when the content is reposted or captured in other SNS is appreciated ------

Part 1

Higuchi Yasuyuki : Hello everyone, this is Toshiya’s Oboro Release Commemorative Event….thank you for watching us….I’m Higuchi Yasuyuki *to Toshiya* Thank you for being here….

Toshiya: Thank you for having me….

H: How is it going?

Toshiya: It’s hot, isn’t it?

H: It is….for real….I want to drink a beer….

Toshiya: That’s right…something very cold and light,right?….

H. says that comments are already appearing on the screen so, they are going to proceed with the talk little by little (he means people are already watching, as they are already commenting)

H: I met you last year in person because of an article for a magazine *Toshiya nods* We took several pictures and so…. T: Yes, it was for [PHY], right? *Toshiya’s interview featured in PHY【ファイ】VOL.14, you can read it here* H: Yes, that’s it. After that, unexpectedly, Corona happened and I have interviewed you several times remotely. T: That’s right. H: Are you doing well? T: Yes, I’m doing well…. H: Did something change about your physical condition/health? T: My physical condition…. somehow…. I’d say I lost some weight…. H: Did you lose weight? How? T: I did nothing at all, it was naturally… H: Naturally? Losing weight naturally…. I’m jealous…. T: Well…. somehow…. due to the state of emergency declaration…. I couldn’t go to the gym…. I guess I lost some weight because of that…. H: Because you are losing muscle mass…. T: Maybe I lost some…. Like, somehow, I became a mere shadow of myself *laughs* H: You are burning out…but usually if you don't go to the gym, you will naturally gain weight, right? T: Well, somehow because of the muscle mass loss, I lost weight…. H: I’m jealous of your physical constitution… T: If I don’t go to the gym, I will lose weight…. H: I’m still jealous though…. that’s it….so, this event will be like a talk event, just like the one we had more or less a year ago… T: Yes, at that place…. H: At Minatomirai…. T: In Yokohama…. H: The five of you were men in black*…. *This might be a reference to “ Detective Conan“, a Japanese manga series, in which the primary antagonists of the series is a crime syndicate called the Black Organization. T: It was like it was the first time that the five of us were in a situation like that... talking on the spot face to face…..*smiles* H: *sighs* It was hell…. T: *laughs* Wasn’t it? H: You were really nervous…. T: Dir en grey can’t talk when the five of us get together….

H: Since when does it feel that way? T: I wonder since when…. I don’t know that… H: But it wasn’t like that from the beginning…. T: But I don’t feel we were that talkative either…. more like…. it’s moments of “who is going to talk first”, “no one is talking now” going on…. H: It’s like you are probing each other…. like” you, talk!”, the atmosphere/mood is amazing…. *laughs* T: *Laughs* It’s like that…. H: Like you don’t answer anything unless you are addressed by your name…. T: It’s like that, it’s like that…. it’s true…. H: I wonder if these five people have meetings in the same way…. T: When it comes to who is going to talk or not, I’m just like “no” …..I feel like relying on others for that…. H: But it’s a band that has been around for a long time, still you all are like “who is going to talk first”…. T: That’s true…it’s like, if someone wants to talk, I’m sure they are going to talk if they want to….those who want to talk, will talk….

H: Is there any occasion with the members in which you have talked face to face for a long time? More or less recent…. T: I have no memory of that….*laughs* Higuchi burst into laugh. T: I have no memory of that…. H: That’s amazing… T: That’s right…. it’s amazing…. H: It would be troublesome if suddenly, you are forcibly in such a situation…. T: It would be….it would be troublesome…like…that’s impossible…. H: Impossible *laughs* T: That’s right….I can’t see it happening… H: You can’t…..someday, I would like to do something like that…. T: No way… H: *Laughs* It’s been a year since that event, it’s been already a year but, what kind of things you have been doing? Do you remember? What were you doing? T: Now I’m solely making songs…I did preproduction stuff….what else?....when there was a live….or more like, when a live was scheduled we did rehearsals….the lives couldn’t be held but we did rehearsals for them… H: Then, it’s like you were preparing yourself for those activities….. T: It was like “let’s put my efforts into something” all the time…. H: It doesn’t seem like it was hard for you to keep being motivated…. T: Until we did the recording of the Rock-May-Kan GIG, nothing changed in me. I was so surprised/shocked because of that…. H: At the time of the Rock-May-Kan GIG…. T: At that time, I feel for the first time a sense of crisis…. that if it keeps going like this, I will not be able to express the things I wanted to. H: It was like a growth/revelation…. T: That’s it…. H: You got a different perspective… T: That’s it…for me….of course I was playing a live….it’s like the mental image of working in bringing together all the feelings into that environment but…. then, among that, as there are also parts in which I’m rather a person that expresses themselves than a bassist, in my mind, I’m holding an instrument called “bass”, it’s a bass but I have to play without being trapped by it….

H: You mean not being limited by it…. T: I’m very conscious of that…. that’s right….Both of my hands are blocked/occupied but there (at a live), a way of expression is created by myself. I wonder myself if it is this way. For example, people who attended lives told me they had their eyes drawn towards something. I wonder if it is really like that. Like, an atmosphere that it’s created when I’m playing bass. I wonder if they can perceive that because I can express those things…. That kind of power of expression. Even if I did it (at Rock-May-Kan GIG) as nothing changed, I didn’t feel that….somehow, it’s natural that it feels this way, I thought at the moment “this is bad/problematic) H: However, it was good that you could do a live (with audience) after that…. T: Of course, of course…that’s right, but isn’t being able to do lives something common/natural? Shouldn’t it be the norm? H: Last year around this time, it was the event at Minatomirai, you looked happy with the idea of staying at home…. T: Even now I’m comfortable with that idea…. *they both laugh* I’m pleased with being at home… H: Are you basically mostly at home? Do you like that? T: No, that’s not the case. Somehow, I wonder if I prefer to be at home and have a fun private life….I wonder if I like being at home to have that fun private life…. H: I’m not sure of what the fans think about this but for me, among the five members, the person whose private life is the most mysterious is yours. Things like “in what position does he watch television?” …. T: *Laughs* I see… H: Or “What kind of clothes does he wear when he goes to sleep?”….I can imagine that about the other members but I don’t feel that your daily life is the one I can’t imagine the most.... T: Well, it’s a normal one, just that…..if you all are interested…. H: I’m interested! T: Things I did or say are quite uninteresting but there are many….that are easy to be used to make conversation…. H: I want to make conversation…. T: It’s ok, I’m grateful *laughs* H: Then it’s not like you don’t go out so much…. T: Of course, I have a very normal daily life…. H: Especially now because of Corona…. T: But I go often want to go out for a walk…. H: *surprised* Eh? for a walk? Do you go for a walk like this?*points at him* T: *drinks water* Mmm, well I go for a walk…. H: Don’t you stand out? T: No, not much. Like no one speaks to me… H: Relatively, you don’t have the feeling of that (of standing out) …. T: *Laughs* There is no sign of that…. H: What are you saying? *laughs* … You don’t feel like that at all….you go on a normal walk… T: I do….

H: Do you have any specific timing in which you feel like walking? T: When it’s still cold in the morning…. recently in the evening… ---- H: I see…. It seems that you spent a lot of time working in a room but with that feeling, I think we should talk about the release we are commemorating today. This song was one of the many you were doing at that time, right? For you, this song looked as it was going to be selected as a single for sure, you said it yourself… T: That’s right. It's a bit ballad-like and I thought that kind of song hasn’t been released as a single recently. In that sense, it felt really nice to listen and after all, we got asked by the company to make a song that was easy to listen to….it seemed like even if it didn’t become single, it would be a song that would be included in the album… H: You were thinking about this song as a part of the next album…. T: When we decided to make a single of this song….of course I thought there was no problem at all with it being a single but, still saving it for the album would had been a nice “hook” for the album…. H: Maybe the direction of the next album would still be more unclear if this song were kept for it? T: Still, I think it would be ok to just change if we needed to. Nowadays we still don’t know about the direction of the next album though.

#dir en grey #toshiya #oboro event #translation #toshiyatranslations

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hxseok-honee · 3 years

Text

atlas heart || part 37

a/n : uhm,,, so this was 20 pages long,,,, whoops -- hope you enjoy the pain!

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“Jimin… psst-- Jimin, wake up--”

“Wake up, motherfucker!” Jimin’s eyes fly open right before he’s shutting them again, unable to cover his face in time to block the throw pillow that’s being launched at him. It falls to his lap when he sits up, and Jungkook chuckles in the doorway.

“Y/n’s been in here for fifteen minutes, trying to be nice and soft about waking you up, but you sleep like the dead. We’re gonna miss our ride at this rate.” Jimin blinks the sleep from his eyes as he focuses in on the girl that’s kneeling next to him on the bed. She’s nodding along as Jungkook speaks, and even in his half-awake state, Jimin finds her insufferably cute. He also notices that she’s fully dressed and seemingly ready to leave, her backpack by the door.

“What time is it?” His voice is groggy, but the yell he lets out when Hoseok appears suddenly at the door, disheveled and angry, is crystal clear. It looks like the Slytherin’s also just woken up, which is bad news for someone who’s yet to see Hoseok’s infamous ‘morning temper’.

“It’s almost 4:30 in the fucking morning, that’s what time it is. Our ride gets here at 5 -- I’m leaving whether you’re ready or not.” He disappears then, dragging a fearful Jungkook with him back to their room to pack their bags. Y/n turns from the doorway, settling back on her heels as she chuckles awkwardly.

“He’s just really excited to see Yoongi…”

When a minivan fit for a soccer mom with 4 kids screeches to a halt in front of the house, Jimin has to rub at his eyes to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. At the wheel sits Jin, an alarming amount of excitement in his eyes as he chugs coffee from what’s less of a cup and more of a vase with a lid. In the passenger’s seat is Namjoon, clinging to his seatbelt for dear life, and behind him are Taehyung and Yoongi, the Slytherin scooting into the middle so Jungkook can pull the end seat down and squeeze into the back row.

He waves Y/n in, and she pulls a stunned Jimin into the back with them. When the end seat locks back into place, Hoseok is throwing himself into it, wrapping himself around Yoongi once the door is closed. His boyfriend smiles with contentment, and even half-asleep, Jimin can appreciate the quiet happiness they share.

Jin slams his concerningly large coffee cup, now empty, down into the middle console and lets out a roar of energy.

“Next stop, Quidditch World Cup!” Pressing down on the gas hard enough that Y/n actually feels the tires squeal against the pavement before starting to turn, Jin takes off, rounding the rest of the massive courtyard before flying back down the winding driveway. Her hand reaches for Jimin’s on instinct, and if she wasn’t squeezing so hard, he might have blushed.

“What’re the chances of us dying before we even get there?” Jimin chuckles at her question, cutting himself short when the car slides into traffic much too recklessly, so he just hums.

“Probably much higher than you want me to admit--”

“Hey, who has my road snacks? I’ve got such a hankering for one of those cinnamon roll thingies--” Jin reaches blindly back into the middle row, searching for the bag of food on Taehyung’s lap.

“Both hands on the wheel!” It seems the entire car’s in agreement, because Jin just returns to his previous position, a small whine leaving him.

“Alright, alright, you big babies. Namjoon -- feed me, buddy.” The Ravenclaw groans loudly, and for a moment Jimin can’t believe he’d missed all these idiots while he was away.

When Jin pulls into the campground for the World Cup, they’re all gasping as they take in the scene around them. The arena’s unbelievably massive, towering over them in the distance. The sea of people is endless, crowded beyond belief with spectators and traveling merchants preparing for tomorrow’s match. Following Yoongi’s directions until they manage to find the plot of land his parents had reserved for them, Jin pulls off into the treeline and puts the car in park.

The group stumbles from the vehicle, groaning and stretching, shaking off the anxiety of entrusting Jin with their lives for hours. It’s a little past 11am, enough time for them to set up before lunch. Y/n follows Jimin into the spacious area, admiring the excited chaos of the enormous campground around them. She can hear Jin mumbling a spell under his breath to shrink the car and put it in his pocket, followed almost immediately by Jungkook excitedly asking if he can 'do that with a house -- or Hogwarts!'

Jimin takes her hand, and for a second, she thinks that maybe he’s making a move on her, something that leaves her embarrassingly hopeful. But all he does is pull her close to him, pointing at Yoongi with his other hand. The Slytherin is pulling a tiny tent out of his own pocket and setting it on the ground in the middle of their plot of land. Y/n doesn’t even see Yoongi utter a spell before the tent is growing to full size, and she can only imagine that the inside has been bewitched to fit all 8 of them -- something else that Yoongi’s done without speaking.

“Nonverbal magic?” It slips out without her thinking, and Yoongi hears it, glancing at her and becoming visibly shy under her curious gaze. He nods, pointing back at Hoseok, whose attention is caught trying to convince Jungkook not to try shrinking himself with Jin’s spell.

“We both know it -- most Slytherins do, actually… should I call it a defense mechanism? We don’t like to let people know what we’re thinking.”

“It’s pretty fascinating, if you think about it.” It comes from Namjoon, where he and Tae are unpacking not too far away. “Even in class, Yoongi would always practice nonverbally -- he’d get in trouble for it, too.” The Slytherin shrugs as if performing nonverbal magic isn’t difficult for most people unless the caster is under incredible distress.

“What can I say? A habit’s a habit. I haven’t used verbal magic in years -- it’s just more comfortable this way.” He ducks into the tent then, poking his head out and waving them in once he’s checked the quality of his adjustments to their living space for the next couple days.

They all head inside, Y/n looking around in awe when she sees just how big it is. There’s a section of bunk beds on the far side of the room, and the rest is filled with endlessly cozy spaces -- couches and cushions, corners piled high with blankets and pillows. There’s a small kitchenette in the corner, which Jin makes a beeline for in order to 'preserve his perishables'. Jimin shakes his head at the scene, always amused by the depth of the Hufflepuff’s stomach.

Jungkook pulls Y/n to one of the couches, where they collapse on it in a sibling pile that Jimin’s gotten used to seeing over the last 24 hours. It doesn’t stop the rest of the group (sans Hoseok, of course) from gawking at the pair, everyone unused to seeing the dynamic that’s been essentially nonexistent at Hogwarts. They don’t even notice, Y/n looking up at Jungkook with emotional eyes.

“I can’t believe I have friends to share this with.” She doesn’t realize the group is listening, and they all feel simultaneously touched and saddened by her words. Jungkook only ruffles her hair fondly.

“Get used to it, kid -- things are looking up for us.” It’s then that Jungkook happens to glance up, catching Taehyung’s gaze and seeing glossy tears in the boy’s eyes. Looking around, he notes that everyone’s got a similar expression, and he wonders what they must think of Y/n -- of the girl they don’t know enough about to understand her sentiments. He also wonders why they seem so moved by her words.

The awkward moment’s cut short by Namjoon clearing his throat. He points toward Jin, who’s standing by the fridge.

“We have enough food in there to feed us for a week, but Jin said it’s all ‘snacks’, so it looks like we have to go buy lunch.” Everyone nods, accepting that Jin would probably bite them before letting them into the kitchenette, and they start heading back out into the campground.

By the time night’s fallen, they’re all exhausted and a bit giddy. It’s almost 10, the effects of waking up at 4am weighing down on the group as they sit together in front of their tent. Hoseok and Yoongi had set up a small fire for them to gather around, Jimin playing music quietly from the small speaker Tae had packed as they talk amongst themselves.

Namjoon leans against a decently sized pile of rocks, reading quietly with the light from the fire. Y/n suspects he’s not actually reading, having caught his smile every time someone had cracked a lame joke, but she doesn’t call him on it. He looks peaceful there, in his quiet corner. Yoongi and Hoseok sit together on one side of the fire, whispering to each other and smiling about things only they know. Jungkook, Tae, and Jin are huddled, having a small argument about some of the merchandise being sold by the traveling shops that are set up around the campground.

Y/n sits with Jimin, watching the group and jokingly judging Jimin’s music taste as he scrolls through his phone. They’re sitting awfully close together, and Jimin thinks in the back of his mind that they must look about as cozy as Yoongi and Hoseok do -- that thought brings him much more joy than it should.

Despite the endless chatter and liveliness of the campground, the night starts to wind down, the sky clouding over in a way that makes it seem darker than it already is. It’s a perfectly good time for everyone to head to bed, but the chaotic trio has apparently decided to escalate their quarrel, the three of them jumping up at the same time.

“We’re going to check out some stuff -- it’s important!” Jungkook calls out to the rest of the group right before disappearing into the crowd with Jin and Tae. Namjoon promptly shuts his book, standing with a groan and heading in the direction they’d just gone. He offers them a shrug as an explanation.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on them.” He’s gone soon, leaving Jimin and Y/n to make awkward eye contact with Hoseok and Yoongi. Y/n locks eyes with Hoseok, and Jimin gets the strange feeling, from the way Hoseok’s eyes widen and then narrow suspiciously, that they’re communicating telepathically. The Slytherin shakes his head subtly, and then again a little more forcefully, before sighing heavily and rising to his feet. Holding his hand out, he helps Yoongi -- who looks as confused as Jimin feels -- to his feet before pointing noncommittally in the same direction their friends had gone.

“Apparently, I’m hungry enough to go searching for a snack, even though we have snacks in the tent.” Yoongi smirks at the clear annoyance in Hoseok’s voice, tugging him toward the crowd.

“Come on -- let’s go find a tree to make out under.” Immediately, Hoseok’s gaze becomes one of mischievous excitement, and he practically skips after the shorter boy into the distance. Jimin makes a noise of disgust, mirrored by Y/n’s expression.

Jimin only properly registers that they’re alone when his phone automatically starts playing a slower song -- rather, he properly registers that Y/n had asked Hoseok to leave them alone. Turning to her suddenly as if for an explanation, he finds that she’s staring into the fire with the intensity of someone who’s very socially awkward. He can’t help the breath of laughter that leaves him, one that becomes real laughter when she glares at him.

“You look like you just realized the consequences of your actions.” Her jaw drops, and she pushes at his shoulder, affronted.

“Sue me for wanting to spend time alone with you!” Immediately, she’s hiding her face in her hands, groaning. She wonders if maybe -- if she wishes for it enough -- the ground will just open up around her and swallow her whole. Her ears feel like they’re being set on fire when she hears Jimin’s laughter ringing through the air, and she hates that she loves the sound anyway.

“When are you just going to admit that you’re in love with me, Y/n? I promise I won’t laugh.” She mumbles something into her hands, and it sounds suspiciously like ‘you’re already laughing’. Jimin tugs at her wrist, dragging her out from her hiding spot and forcing her to look at him.

“How about we make a deal?” Y/n sends him another glare, but it’s her pout that catches his attention and drives him to the brink of insanity. “We can say it together -- count to three and admit how crazy we are about each other at the same time.” Y/n rolls her eyes and snatches her wrist from his hold, turning back to the fire, which has basically died down completely by now.

“Stop messing around, you big dork.” Jimin holds his hand to his chest and gasps.

“I have never been so serious about something in my life as I am about this.” He keeps talking, a dramatic monologue about his integrity, but something triggers the alarm bells in the back of her head -- the same alarm bells that have kept her alive up to this point -- and she’s immediately distracted.

Glancing around, she finds that nothing’s changed in their surroundings -- families and groups of friends still celebrate the start of the World Cup, the chaos of thousands of people in one place never-ending. But there’s something in the air, something that sets her nerves on edge. Looking up, she realizes that it’s gotten exceptionally dark, the clouds concentrating into one dense curtain in the sky, removing any sign that the stars had been there in the first place.

“Jimin, wait… this doesn’t feel right.” Realizing, based on the pained expression that fills Jimin’s face when she interrupts his secretly heartfelt rant, that she’s said the wrong thing at the wrong time, Y/n shakes her head quickly, motioning out into the distance. “I’m talking about this -- something’s off.” She ignores Jimin’s lingering eyes on her when she stands from her spot on the ground, looking to the treeline and taking in their surroundings. He joins her when he gets a clear look at her face and sees how urgent her gaze is.

The breeze is gone, leaving her with the taste of stale smoke in her lungs, the air still foggy from the bonfire. It seems the sense of freedom had left with the boys, since all she can feel is an invisible weight coming down on her chest -- something coming for her.

And come it does, in Jimin’s frozen form and horrified gaze, staring straight over Y/n’s shoulder into the sky behind her. Whipping around, terrified about what she might find, she’s stepping backwards and colliding with Jimin’s chest before she can even register what she’s seeing. The clouds have darkened considerably and are moving of their own accord, twisting and turning as they take shape in the sky. Jimin begins to shake uncontrollably as the storm clouds become one, revealing the skull with the open jaw, a massive snake emerging from within and wrapping itself cleanly around the top.

“That’s-”

“Guys!”

“Jimin, Y/n-”

“We’re so fucked!” The rest of the group comes crashing into the space in panicked chaos, tearing through their campsite with thinly veiled terror. Taehyung and Namjoon make a beeline for their tent as the sounds of pained screams start to filter in, replacing the comfortable memories of the bonfire with something much darker. Yoongi stands near the fire pit, turning in circles and pulling at his hair desperately as he realizes where they are.

“This isn’t -- this tent, it’s in the middle of --” He stops, breathing hard, hands still buried in his hair as the thought finally hits. “My parents put us in the middle of Slytherin territory.”

Jin comes in behind everyone else, firing curses over his shoulder as he calls out to the group, scanning their faces and doing a mental headcount.

“We need to get out of here -- the muggleborns should go first.” He locks eyes with Namjoon as the older Ravenclaw exits the tent carrying a bag. Namjoon nods, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist and moving toward Y/n, who hasn’t left Jimin’s side.

“I grabbed everything important, so let’s just go.” He reaches for Y/n’s arm, triggering Jimin’s protectiveness. Jimin pulls her closer on instinct, and Namjoon sighs as he releases Taehyung in order to grab both of them. “We need to go.” He addresses Y/n under his breath. “You’re not safe here, either.” They keep eye contact for just a moment, but it’s enough that Y/n is left with the feeling of ice in her blood even after Namjoon’s turned back to the group.

How much… does he know?

Before she can question Jimin about Namjoon’s suspicious behavior, Jimin’s tugging her toward his friends as they move toward the edge of the forest. Pulling back and forcing Jimin to a stop, Y/n points at Jungkook, who has now flanked Jin and is defending one part of their campsite from the oncoming hoard of Slytherins.

“I’m not leaving without him.” The conflicted look that crosses Jimin’s face tears at Y/n’s heart, but she stands her ground, motioning back toward Jungkook. “I have to stay-”

“What? No, you have to go!” The call comes from behind her, and it’s only a matter of moments before Jungkook is by her side, shoving her into Jimin’s arms. “Take her with you! Don’t you ever let her out of your sight-”

“Jungkook, watch out-”

Taehyung yells out to him, just a moment too late. Y/n watches in horror as a red light appears just over Jungkook’s shoulder. It grows bigger and bigger as it flies toward them, accompanied by the disgusted shriek of “Blood Traitor!”, and all she can do is hug Jungkook to her as she waits for the curse to strike him in between his shoulder blades.

Pulling him close, she barely manages to catch the flash of silver that appears, encompassing them as another body slides into view and blocks out everything else. The shield charm is cast wordlessly and so powerfully that it knocks the Slytherin who’d attacked them clean off his feet. Thrown back at least ten feet, he’s left bewildered and sore.

Hoseok stands between Jungkook and the army of Slytherins, breathing heavily as the shield dissipates around them. He holds his head high as he stares down the group, resigning himself to the fact that, after years of hiding his true self from his housemates, his loyalties have been clearly defined in that moment.

The silence that follows is only broken by the soft fwip of a wand being slipped out of a pocket, and it’s as Hoseok is whipping his head around that another red light appears, its caster completely silent. The curse burns through the air, almost as if in slow motion, cutting through the space right under Hoseok’s ear with the sharp precision of a skilled marksman and meeting its target on the other side, searing the ends of Hoseok’s hair as it goes. The Slytherin who’d been poised to attack from the treeline is hurled backwards, disappearing into the forest as everyone watches him go, Yoongi’s wand still trained on the spot where he’d stood.

The cold fury that fills Yoongi’s eyes is replaced with concern as he lowers his wand and rushes to Hoseok’s side, giving him a once over before turning to face the growing crowd of Death Eaters in-training, aligning his loyalties just the same as Hoseok had. Y/n allows herself the small smile that arises when she sees the gaze that Hoseok casts upon Yoongi, filled with the kind of love she could only hope to have in her own life. The moment doesn’t last long.

The group of friends, realizing almost simultaneously that they’re being surrounded, forms a huddle facing outward, wands steady as they prepare for the attack.

“If we make it out of this shit alive, I’m going to throw the biggest fit of my life when I get home.” The mention of the Dark Lord’s most loyal Min family sets off the first wave of curses, their traitorous son the target.

One by one, the group takes down their attackers, tiring out but never giving up. Minimal injuries are sustained on their end, their will to survive too strong to forgive even the slightest mistake. Jimin keeps one hand on Y/n at all times, unwilling to lose track of her for even a moment, as if she’s not been stuck to his side all night.

Curses rain down on them from all sides, the Dark Mark in the sky peeking through the shower of red lights as they fight for their lives. Jimin feels Y/n stagger beside him, but she seems to be unharmed when he looks her over. Glancing in alarm at the moon, barely visible amongst all the smoke and mayhem, Jimin curses under his breath as he remembers the date -- and more importantly, that she hadn’t yet taken her dose for the night. He pours all his energy into his attacks from that moment on, everything suddenly becoming much more urgent.

Time passes so slowly that none of them are quite sure how long they’ve been there, fighting in a war they’d never asked for. Just when Y/n thinks they might be losing -- that they might be forced to pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord, or even killed where they stand -- there’s a loud pop and a gush of wind passes over all of them.

From within their circle comes the angered cry of Sirius Black, who manages to deflect a rather mean curse headed straight for Jin’s chest. He’s followed by James and Remus, the three of them throwing themselves into the mix so carelessly that it catches the Slytherins by surprise. James takes advantage of the delay, surging out of the circle toward the largest density of Slytherins and pointing his wand at the ground closest to them.

“Confringo!” The earth beneath their feet shudders under James’ command, collapsing in on itself before exploding outward, sending no less than 10 people flying through the air and creating a chaos too intense for the rest to handle. The world around them becomes fuzzy and confusing, and Y/n feels nothing except the hands that pull at her and urge her forward into the forest.

They all manage to stumble far enough away from the mess to gather their bearings, but the shouts of their enemies are not far off. As soon as they confirm that they’re all alive and relatively unscathed, Remus takes Y/n by the elbow and pulls her gently to him. Jimin is reluctant to let her go.

“I need to talk to you -- we have to go somewhere safe.” Sirius is collecting the rest of the group and giving them the location of a safe place to meet, a small cottage in the countryside where he and Remus had been living.

“You guys head there first, we’ll meet you.” He hands the keys to Jungkook, who nods in understanding as he sees that Remus has no intention to rejoin the group. Jimin starts to reach for Y/n, unhappy with their separation, but Hoseok speaks up from the back. He’s being half-carried by Yoongi, his leg having suffered a bit of damage from James’ blasting curse, but not so much that he couldn’t walk. Y/n bites back a smirk, suspecting that Hoseok had just been looking for an excuse to need Yoongi, who is absolute garbage at hiding how pleased he is.

“Make sure you come back soon. I trust you guys, and I know you need to talk in private, but I don’t like not having Y/n close in times like this.” Remus nods, acknowledging Jungkook as well, before leading Y/n away. The boys start to apparate away, James helping Hoseok and Yoongi get to the house safely before returning to join his friends. Remus has led Y/n a safe enough distance away that the Slytherins would have a hard time finding them and is explaining the gravity of the situation to her.

“-- to infiltrate a pack of werewolves living in the mountains. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Y/n.” Y/n examines Remus’ face, noting the new scars and the exhaustion that lies heavy in his eyes. He looks nothing like the bright school boy from just a few months ago, and she knows he’s seen unimaginable things in the short time that he’s been working under Dumbledore. They all look drained and, frankly, terrified. The lives they’d been promised from a young age were fading away into this dreary nothingness, this thankless job where nothing is more uncertain than the future.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you? Just tell me you’ll be careful -- all of you.” Remus looks taken aback by her words, and Sirius can’t suppress the soft chuckle that escapes him, amazed at this girl standing before him, not nearly as reserved as they’d all thought her to be.

“Of course we’ll be careful, love. Don’t you trust us?” Y/n shakes her head, smiling despite her scoff.

“Trust you guys? I didn’t realize you were an aspiring comedian, Sirius.” They laugh openly now, thankful for even just this moment of reprieve from the hell they live in. Remus leans over, patting her adoringly on her head, as if they weren’t damn near the same age.

“Good, that’s good. Don’t trust anyone, Y/n, you hear me? Don’t trust anyone you wouldn’t die for. Can you do that for me?” Y/n nods, the picture of those boys in that cottage in the countryside coming to mind so easily.

“I know who my people are. There’s no one else besides them -- and you guys. So try your best not to get yourselves killed?” James salutes her once as Sirius nods. Remus moves to agree, but the sound of leaves crunching not too far away triggers an immediate response in him. Lunging forward and taking her into his arms, he throws Y/n over his shoulder and takes off running, knowing better than anyone else what it would mean if she were caught. Y/n watches with horror as two Death Eaters appear out of what looks like thin air, sending James and Sirius into action. She can do nothing but watch as they deflect curses while maintaining their ground.

Remus sets her down a long distance away, trying to warn her again, but her attention is on the action they’d just managed to escape. She tries to push past him to go help James and Sirius, but he grabs her by the shoulders quickly and forces her to look at him, shaking her roughly in the process.

“Listen to me, Y/n- listen to me!” She meets his eyes, alarmed by the frustration in his voice. “The public knows. They know now just to what extent the werewolf population is siding with Voldemort. Everything before this summer was just speculation -- of course the evil magical beasts should side with the Dark Lord, right? Well, the Minister of Magic just released a statement this morning. Everyone knows now. And it won’t matter how much we cry and beg and plead for our lives -- if they catch us, we’re dead. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Y/n can do no more than stare into Remus’ eyes, wishing this all away -- wishing that they could just be back in school, a bunch of kids with no worries about the war. But the longer she stares into his eyes, the longer she realizes that they don’t just have to worry about the war now. They’re part of it. Two werewolves with way too many people keeping their secret. James, Sirius, Peter, Jungkook, Hoseok, and now Jimin? And --

Does Namjoon know, too? Just who the hell else has to be put into danger because of what I am?

Y/n steps through the front gate of the cottage, having been dropped off by Remus -- she’s not of age yet to apparate alone -- before he disappeared again, presumably to help his friends escape. She’s barely within ten feet of the front door when it’s flying open, Jimin appearing before her with wild eyes. He rushes at her, taking her into his arms with a desperation he didn’t even know he felt. She pats at his back, unsure of what to say, still dazed from everything Remus had told her.

“I was only gone a few minutes…” Jimin pulls back, looking at her as if she’s insane.

“I don’t care. Those were the worst few minutes of my life. I hated not knowing if you were okay.” He looks her over, patting at her arms gently. “You are okay, right?” When she nods he sighs before glancing around them urgently as if realizing they’re out in the open. He tugs her inside, shutting the door tightly behind them. He’s about to motion her down the hallway into the living room, where the rest of their friends are regrouping, but she stops him. The look she gives him is suspicious, and he’s unsure why.

“Jimin, you told me you would never breathe a word of what I am to anyone…” He looks at her with alarm, shaking his head.

“I didn’t tell anyone anything -- why? What happened?” She examines him for a moment, seeing that Jimin’s as confused as she is. She proceeds with caution, realizing that if Jimin really hadn’t said anything, then this conversation is about to be very uncomfortable.

“I think… Namjoon might know something…” Jimin feels like he can’t breathe then, the air stopping short in his chest as his heart drops out from under him. He swears without thinking, the word slipping out as he processes what she’s saying.

“Fuck… shit… fuck…” Y/n squints at him, unsure of where his mind’s just gone. Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, another swear falling from his lips as guilt overcomes him. He opens his mouth to explain, but he can’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.

“Before I figured out… everything, I would talk to Joon about things that confused me… about you.” He opens his eyes just enough to glance at her before looking away, but he’s surprised that she isn’t fuming with anger. She’s only thinking carefully about his words.

“So, he probably put it together on his own.” She comes to the conclusion as she ponders, offering the reason for Namjoon’s comment to her earlier. Jimin lurches forward, taking her hand in both of his, eyes pleading.

“I swear to you, Y/n, I didn’t say a word of this to him after I figured it out. I completely dropped it, and when he asked me why, I just told him I was respecting your privacy by minding my own business -- I promise, I never said anything--”

“Jimin!” His name cuts through the air, and his mouth snaps shut immediately to give her room to talk. “I’m not mad at you. I’m more worried than anything… I wonder who else knows…”

“Uhm, actually--” The new voice has them both turning to look to the end of the hallway, where Tae’s standing awkwardly in the doorway to the living room. He’s flanked by Jin and Yoongi, Namjoon standing with Jungkook and Hoseok just inside the room.

“--I think we all know…” The blood drains from both Y/n and Jimin’s faces as Jungkook and Hoseok look to each other in alarm. Jin nods, Yoongi smiling awkwardly to confirm what Tae’s saying. The air in the house is cold, no one willing to break the tense silence while Y/n processes what she’s just heard. She meets Jungkook’s eyes then, his gaze betraying the immense fear that he’s feeling, much like the ice running through her veins.

None of them even notice the front door opening behind Jimin, the three Marauders stumbling into the house, disheveled but generally unscathed. They stop short at the scene before them, glancing amongst themselves before James is breaking the silence himself.

“Are we… interrupting something…?”

“Okay, someone start talking before I go insane.” They’re all crowded into the living room meant only for a few people, Y/n and Remus sitting together on a couch in the middle of the room, everyone else taking up the extra seats and floor space. It looks like a club meeting gone horribly wrong, if the discomfort in everyone’s eyes is anything to go by. Y/n looks around after demanding an explanation, finally looking to Namjoon, as he’s the only one she’d been aware of until a few minutes ago. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“After Jimin suddenly stopped all the obsessive theorizing and curiosities, I got suspicious… I had a feeling he’d put everything together, and I was worried that he was getting himself into some kind of trouble because that’s just the kind of nosy Ravenclaw he is. I just put it together myself so I could help him if I needed to…” Jimin grimaces at Namjoon’s words, knowing them to be true but disliking the description all the same.

The glare of irritation Jungkook’s been shooting him doesn’t help, but Hoseok pulls the Gryffindor’s attention away with a bump of his knee against Jungkook’s thigh. When Jungkook drags his burning gaze away from Jimin to look at Hoseok, Jimin’s shocked to see that Hoseok’s simply shaking his head at the Jeon heir, silently telling him to back off. Jimin’s eyes widen then, never having experienced such a sense of stunned relief as he feels in this moment with Hoseok’s quiet support.

Jungkook turns his annoyed gaze over to the spot where Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi sit. He locks eyes with his roommate of six years.

“Tae?” The boy in question looks down at his hands sheepishly, glancing at Y/n in a way that seems almost apologetic. When he lifts his head, he speaks directly to her, feeling that his explanation should be for her and her alone.

“Jimin’s my best friend… it would be weird if I wasn’t worried about him with him acting so strange. I didn’t really figure it out until the beginning of the summer, when I started spending more time with you -- I noticed how sick you’d get around the same time each month, and you’d always look so tired afterwards. I know we don’t know each other as well as Jimin knows you, but I was worried about you, so I… did my own digging and put the pieces together. It also explained a lot about all the times Jungkook would run out of our room in a panic in the middle of the night. There were just… a lot of things that made sense once I’d started to think about it.” Y/n keeps her eyes on him, trying to process the guilt in his eyes and wondering why he sounds so upset. “I know that you’re probably terrified of us knowing, but I promise I was just worried about you. I’m sorry I was snooping in your life…”

Y/n sees then that Taehyung feels the same kind of responsibility that Jimin had always carried in his eyes -- one of fear that his actions would bring her harm. He’d been sitting with that for the whole summer, quietly trying his best to keep her safe by pretending he knew nothing at all. She opens her mouth to tell him that he has nothing to feel bad about, but Jin’s clearing his throat.

“I, uh-- we--” He gestures to the space between himself and Yoongi, whose gaze is one of cautious observation as the conversation goes on around him. “We… were on our way back to Yoongi’s room and overheard you and Hoseok talking -- something about Jimin finding out… Hoseok was really upset, and he was kind of yelling. We didn’t mean to eavesdrop -- it’s just that we were right outside, and you were trying to calm him down, and he was just saying a lot of stuff that was confusing and weird, but it was obvious what was going on.” Jin glances over at Yoongi as if to confirm his story, and the Slytherin only nods. He turns back to Y/n, finishing his explanation. “We found out together--”

“Actually--” Everyone’s attention turns to Yoongi, who shifts uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes. He clears his throat, scratching at his neck while he finds his words. “Actually… I already knew by then. I think, based on what everyone’s been saying, that I probably knew before any of them…” He trails off, leaving the group to devolve into strained chaos.

“Wait, you knew?”

“How long have you known?!”

“When did you find out?” Ignoring the barrage of questions, Yoongi only looks to Hoseok, whose eyes tell how shocked he is. Flicking his gaze to Y/n, Yoongi continues.

“Do you remember when we first met? That night in the Hospital Wing -- it was before winter break.” Y/n’s jaw drops as her memories fly all the way back to December -- almost a year prior. “I went to visit you, originally because Hobi had mentioned something about going to visit a friend and I was looking for an excuse to see him.” Hoseok laughs under his breath, still stunned into disbelief about the situation, but Yoongi hasn’t stopped talking, almost rambling now.

“I had just found out that you guys were even friends -- it was really weird for me to think about, you know? Until then, he’d only ever been friends with Slytherins, and even then he seemed hesitant about getting close to them. I mean, I get it, that’s how I was, too. But to find out that my roommate since first year had a secret friend group with people that made no sense for him to know -- I was curious about you. I wanted to see what you were like. Especially because Jimin was, like, obsessed with you -- sorry, Jimin.” The Ravenclaw grimaces again, hating that he’s been described only as obsessive but knowing that that’s exactly what he’d been like.

“So… what does that have to do with finding out about me? How did you know?” Y/n leans forward, elbows on her knees as she looks intently at Yoongi. He sighs in response.

“Look. My entire life, I’ve been trying to separate myself from my name. My parents are objectively fucking insane, and I want nothing to do with them, especially now that they pulled that bullshit with the World Cup reservation. I can’t be like them, okay? I would rather die fighting on the right side of this war than ever pledge my allegiance to that nose-less freak. But that doesn’t change the fact that I still live at the Min Estate. And the Min Estate -- it’s like a beacon for the wicked and evil. I’ve seen every kind of creature walk through the doors of my house whenever my parents hold their Death Eater meetings. It’s like a monthly book club, but for murder. So I know what werewolves are like. I know the signs and the symptoms, and I know how cruel and vicious they can be.”

Y/n breaks her gaze then, staring down at her feet as he confirms every fear that she’s ever felt -- that she would be seen as a monster, an evil beast with only the instinct to kill. All the same, it hurts to hear him say it out loud.

“And that’s why I knew you were nothing like them.” Y/n’s head whips up, and she sees that Yoongi’s focused on conveying to her with his eyes that he means what he’s said. He doesn’t see the affection that fills Hoseok’s gaze, replacing the icy fear he’d been feeling the entire time Yoongi’s been talking.

“You’re nothing like them, Y/n. You’re kind and considerate, and you’re so shy around new people that even I’m in pain just watching you struggle to talk. You’re really fucking weird, and your sense of humor has been shaped by growing up with a crazy ass Gryffindor brother and this sarcastic asshole--” He points then to his boyfriend, finally feeling confident enough to look Hoseok in the eye as he cracks the joke before returning his attention to Y/n.

“So, yes, you’re a werewolf. But you’ve got nothing to worry about with me. Or any of us, to be honest.” The rest of the group nods then, and Y/n feels the air returning to her lungs after so long of holding her breath. It’s only when she looks to Remus, who still seems unsure, that she remembers how complicated their situation is.

“I appreciate that, I really do. You guys have no idea how scared I was that you’d find out… but it’s not as simple as you think -- not that any of this has been simple to begin with. It’s just… more complicated--”

“So, are we talking about Remus, or something else?” Taehyung speaks up, looking genuinely confused about what she’s alluding to. James and Sirius tense where they sit on either side of Remus, whose gaze has just become very guarded.

“I’m not sure what you mean--”

“The ‘you being a werewolf’ thing? Yeah, that wasn’t hard to figure out once I knew what to look for in Y/n.” It’s Jin who cuts him off, Yoongi and Namjoon nodding along. Jungkook throws his hands in the air, flopping back against the couch with an exasperated sigh.

“Just how bad are we at keeping things a secret around here?!” Remus groans in response, but James and Sirius seem to be taking the news in stride.

“Look on the bright side, Moony -- now we have an army of hooligans to keep you guys safe!” Remus rolls his eyes in irritation before looking to Y/n for help. She stares down at her hands, feeling more exhausted than she’s ever felt in her life -- and she experiences monthly painful transformations that leave her bedridden for days after.

“This isn’t a joke, James.” The Potter boy snaps his mouth shut when, for the first time since meeting her, Y/n’s voice carries an edge when she addresses him. “The number of people that are in danger now because of what we are has just doubled. And now there are muggleborns involved -- what’s going to happen if anyone gets wind that they know something about us? With what the Ministry’s just released… it’s too much. This is all too much.” Namjoon hums then, pulling Y/n out of the dangerously dark mental dive she was just about to take.

“I mean, we’re involved in this war whether we know about you guys or not. We’re already fighting for our lives -- what difference does it make if we know what you are? If anything, it gives us a reason to fight harder.” He gestures among all of them, all eleven of them in that room.

“We’re all we have left in this war -- why wouldn’t we do everything it takes to keep each other safe?”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jimin x reader #park jimin

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Whoever Broke Your Heart

Angel Reyes x Reader

Song request from @bishopslosawife: the song is Whoever Broke Your Heart by Murphy Elmore. When I do song fics I tend to just write a story based around the song, I don’t usually include lyrics or anything. Hope that’s okay!

Warnings: language, mentions of past toxic relationships, a good old bar fight, protective Angel comin’ in hot

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: When I listened to the song and the prompt, I definitely pictured Angel a little more than any of the other guys. Love seeing him get a little hot-headed and protective. Hope y’all enjoy!

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter

You laughed as Angel wrapped his arms around your waist. He was standing behind your bar stool, pressing playful kisses against your neck and cheek. You reached behind you and gently rested your hand on the side of his face, reveling in the feeling of his hands on your hips.

It was one of the rare nights when the two of you went out with your friends. Normally you hung out with him and the guys at the clubhouse, and that was fine, but if you really wanted to go out and dance, you could usually convince Angel to come with you and your little crew. He’d never been good at saying no to you. Plus, you could tell that he liked being around when all of you went out because he kept his eye out for any creeps trying to make moves on any of you. Angel might’ve been your boyfriend, but he’d gone to bat for nearly every one of your friends at one point or another, defending them from belligerent drunks and shitty exes. Sometimes you worried that he’d get tired of it, but he always told you it was nice to feel purposeful, especially when he was one of the only guys in the group.

“I’m gonna step out for a smoke, querida,” he kissed your cheek, “Come with me?”

You nodded, hopping down off the barstool, “Of course.”

You were walking in front of him, giggling to yourself as you felt his hands reach out and slap your ass lightly. You turned around to him quickly, flashing him a smile before slipping out the door of the club. The air felt cold and fresh, and you took a deep breath before leaning back against the side of the building the two of you had just come out of. Angel pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his kutte. You shook your head no when he offered you one, content to just be with him away from the noise for a few minutes before you dove back into it.

Angel was looking at you, a smile plastered on his face as he let out a puff of smoke. You felt your face get hot for a moment, “What?”

“Nothin’. You’re beautiful.”

You smiled, shaking your head with a laugh, “You’re beautiful.”

He rested one hand onto your hip, “Nah, I mean it. I could look at you all day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.”

You felt your heart swell inside your chest as you looked at him. Angel had never hesitated on telling you everything that came to his mind, and it was one of the things that you loved the most about him. He wasn’t afraid to be a little sappy with you and it went a long way after what your past relationships had put your through.

He saw the wheels turning in your mind and smiled, “Wanna bail and go home?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “No, no. I’m good, I promise. I just…it’s nice to hear that stuff sometimes.”

He snubbed his cigarette out on the ground before stepping in closer to you, cupping your face in his hands, “I’ll make sure you hear it every day.”

There was a brief moment when you wanted to tell him that you changed your mind and were totally okay with bailing and going home, but you stopped yourself. You hadn’t gone out with your friends in a while and you didn’t want to bail on them just because you were feeling extra lovey over your boyfriend. The two of you took a couple more minutes to stay outside of the chaos, and finally Angel tugged you along back inside to rejoin everyone.

He didn’t particularly like dancing—he’d told you that on more than one occasion. But he’d let you drag him out onto the dancefloor when you went to the club because he knew how much you enjoyed it. He also knew that whoever you had been with before kept you on an impossibly tight leash and you hadn’t been allowed to do much without your ex looking over your shoulder waiting for you to slip up. You hadn’t mentioned it to him at first, so when you would get upset and defensive over things, he didn’t quite understand it. But one day you broke down, not able to try and push it down anymore. From that point on Angel started going a little extra out of his way to be reassuring, and to let you know that you never had to defend yourself to him. He never wanted you to be nervous to talk to him about anything, but especially not things as simple as wanting to go out with your girlfriends for the night.

He was pressed right up against you, hands on your hips as the two of you danced to the music. Despite the music and the noise, you could still hear him clear as day when he leaned down next to your ear, “I love you.”

You smiled up at him, “I love you too.”

“Would a beautiful woman like you let me buy her a drink?”

You laughed, nodding, “I suppose, since you seem like such a gentleman.”

The two of you made your way back to the bar. You kept your fingers lightly entwined with Angel’s so that you wouldn’t lose him in the busyness of the club. He managed to find you a free barstool to sit on and you gladly took it, happy to be off your feet for a few minutes.

Angel stepped away to flag down the bartender. You watched him, a smile spreading across your face. You were too busy gazing at him to notice who else had shown up and was now standing in front of you, waiting to gain your attention.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he finally said. Chills shot down your spine and you turned your head. He smiled at you and it almost seemed genuine, “Long time since I’ve seen you. How’ve you been?”

Every fiber of your being was telling you to get the hell out of the club. No good would come of talking to him. Your answer was short, your tone cold, “Fine.”

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“Someone already is,” you were angry but you still felt a lump forming in the back of your throat. You thought you had outrun these demons.

He cocked one eyebrow, “Really? I doubt that.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You had no idea what exactly it was about him that made him able to make you question everything about yourself, and your life, but you hated it. You hated him. Your mind raced to try and find the right words to say to get yourself out of the situation, to make him go away, but you couldn’t.

Angel reappeared, a beer bottle in one hand and a drink for you in the other. He saw the look on your face and his smile instantly dropped. He looked at the man standing in front of you, knowing that he was the reason for your expression but not quite knowing why.

He set your drink down on the surface of the bar and stood next to you, facing your ex, “Who the fuck are you?”

The man stepped back slightly, taking in the intimidating image that Angel easily put off, “I should be asking you that question.”

Angel scoffed, stepped completely in front of you and blocked you from the sightline of your ex, “I’m her fucking boyfriend.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Figures,” he peered around Angel to look at you, “let go of me and your standards, huh?”

The realization of who he was hit Angel like a freight train. He shoved the man backwards, “Get the fuck away from her.”

He laughed, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Before Angel could do anything too stupid you reached forward and grabbed the beer bottle out of his hands. Starting a brawl was bad enough but the last thing you needed was him cracking someone’s skull with a glass bottle.

It didn’t do enough to defuse the situation. Angel got up in his face, towering over him, “I don’t give a fuck who you think you are. Get out of here now before you regret it.”

“You’re gonna make me regret it, biker boy?” he eyed Angel’s kutte.

Angel was too protective and hot-headed to back down. He shoved the man again, and when he tried to step back to him, Angel caught him on the jaw with a clean right hook. You gasped, although you couldn’t say that the reaction surprised you all the much. Your ex stumbled backwards, hand coming up to nurse his jaw.

Angel was ready to swing again when the bouncer showed up and got in between them. He leaned in close to Angel, “You can’t do this in here. Take this shit outside, Angel. I don’t want to have to kick you out of here.”

Angel nodded, still not taking his eyes off of your ex, “Yea, got it,” he stepped around the bouncer and pushed your ex towards the door, “Let’s fucking go,” he looked back at you, “Stay here, Y/N.”

“Angel, don’t—”

He cut you off, “Stay here.”

You were gnawing at the inside of your lip as you watched the two of them head towards the door of the club. Your ex might’ve been able to intimidate you, but Angel was an entirely different story. You’ve never seen him back down from anything and you had a feeling that he wasn’t going to start tonight.

Angel pushed him out the door of the club onto the sidewalk, “Stay the fuck away from her.”

He chuckled, “What’re you gonna do about it? Send your gang to come and get me?”

“I don’t need anyone else to handle this, believe me,” he grabbed the collar of the man’s shirt, “Don’t even think about looking at her or talking to her ever again.”

“You can’t tell me what to fucking do.”

Angel shook his head slowly. He released the grip on the man’s shirt, and as soon as his hands were free he cocked his arm back and punched him again, slicing the man’s lip open. He dropped to the ground and within seconds Angel was on top of him. Your ex tried to shell up and protect his face, but it didn’t do him much good.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk, instantly running over when you saw what was going on. You grabbed Angel’s shoulders and tried to pull him back, “Angel! Angel, stop!” you pulled back as hard as you could, “He’s not worth it!”

He allowed you to pull him back, leaving your ex in a heap on the sidewalk. You pulled his face so that he was looking at you, “What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m thinkin’ that that fuckin—” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he shook his head and glared at the man who was slowly rising from the pile Angel had left him in, “He broke your heart, Y/N. He hurt you. He doesn’t get to get away with that.”

You cupped one side of his face in your hand, knowing that all he could think about was all the lasting damage that that man had caused you, all the pain you had to work through to be able to trust someone again. You sighed as you traced your fingers down through his beard, “He’s a piece of shit, for sure, but he’s not worth getting arrested over. Let him go.”

Angel turned back to your ex, who was trying to wipe away the blood trickling out of the cuts on his face, “I don’t ever wanna fuckin’ see you again,” he gave him one last shove, “Get outta my sight.”

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as your ex stumbled away and Angel walked back over to you. You looked over his face, smiling at the fact that he got out of all of that unscathed.

You sighed, “Feel better?”

“He’s a fuckin’ idiot, Y/N.”

You laughed, “Yea, that’s why I don’t want you going to jail over him. You’re on thin ice as it is, Reyes,” you smiled as you shook your head.

“No, I mean, he’s an idiot for doing what he did to you,” he pulled you closer by the beltloops of your shorts, “I’ll never understand how he didn’t see the amazing woman that’s standing in front of me right now,” he cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

You placed your hands on his, feeling that his knuckles were still damp with blood, “I love you too.”

“It’s never gonna be like that again, you know that, right?” he waited for you to meet his eyes, “I’m never gonna be like that.”

You nodded, “I know.”

He leaned down, kissing you softly on the lips, “Good,” he paused, a smile passing over his lips, “Now do you wanna bail and go home?”

You laughed, “Yea, let’s go. Before you bust up someone else’s face.”

He chuckled as he pulled you against his side, “Yea, yea,” he kissed the top of your head, “I’d do it again, you know.”

You smiled, leaning into him, “Yea, I know.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #my writing #drabblesmc #fanfiction

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nethandrake · 3 years

Text

keep me as your finish line.

stevetony. avengers assemble. rated t. fake/pretend relationship. 4.9k words.

for the fall backwards: an avengers assemble flash exchange hosted by @cap-ironman and @ishipallthings

also on ao3.

*****

Like most shenanigans of this sort, it happens on a Tuesday.

“—was saying! But Sam told me— Hey, what’s that?”

Tony follows Steve’s line of sight, pointed towards a small glimmer coming out from the cracks on the sidewalk. Steve edges closer, getting down on one knee to pick it up.

“What is it? A dime?”

“Nope,” Steve replies, holding his hand up. “Not even close.”

It’s a ring. It’s a pretty thing, a band of silver with a small diamond nestled in the middle.

“Why, Steven,” Tony begins teasingly, “you’re going to propose to me in the middle of a sidewalk?”

Steve’s grin widens. “Carpe diem.”

“How romantic.”

Tony’s about to drag Steve up to his feet when a flash of light stills him.

There’s a crowd gathered around them, holding out their phones and they grin manically.

“Say yes!” someone calls.

“Say what?” Tony asks.

“Say yes,” Steve replies, infuriatingly calm. “They want you to marry me.”

Tony freezes. The noise around them grows louder.

“Well, Shellhead?” Steve murmurs, his grin plastered back on. “Marry me?”

Tony should say no. He should haul Steve to his feet and tell everyone to scram, tell them that this is all a misunderstanding. He should toss the ring far, far away and make a run for it.

“Yes,” he whispers instead.

*****

Tony breaks the silence halfway through the elevator ride.

“Well, that was something.”

Steve chuckles. “I’m never picking a ring up ever again.”

Tony lets out a hollow laugh of his own. “The board’s going kill me.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Yes, they will,” Tony insists. “Me a part of a fake public proposal? The stocks are going to plunge, the board will be on me even more than usual, and the media—”

The media. The public.

Steve.

Oh god.

“Steve,” Tony begins, “I—”

The elevator doors open. They step into the common area.

There’s a banner that’s stuck to the ceiling with arrows that says, ‘CONGRATULATIONS ON THE ENGAGEMENT’, in block letters. Heart-shaped balloons hang from every corner of the room. Cupcakes with icing in Captain America and Iron Man colors are stacked high in the middle of the dining table.

“Surprise!” Sam cries out.

Clint whoops. Thor blows on his party horn.

Oh god. The team.

How could he forget?

“We are not telling them,” Steve murmurs.

“Yes, we will,” Tony hisses back.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Tony would’ve argued back if Hulk hadn’t gathered them both into his arms, squeezing them with his massive, massive arms.

“‘Bout time you got together,” he says cheerfully before mashing Steve and Tony’s faces together.

That’s how Steve and Tony have their first kiss.

*****

They don’t end up telling them.

Tony doesn’t know why they don’t. It’d make sense to. They’re all friends. They’d understand how stupid the whole thing is, even if Tony has to suffer at the hands of their teasing.

But then Thor claps Tony on the back and regales the team with every instant Steve and Tony would wax poetic about each other and Sam shoves congratulatory cookies into his face and Bruce shows up to offer his congratulations and Tony just can’t bring himself to say anything. At least not yet.

Steve is perfectly content with keeping up with the charade, sticking by Tony’s side and openly holding his hand and nuzzling his cheek and looking at Tony as if he’s his whole world.

It doesn’t make sense. Steve’s the paragon of righteousness and truth. He never lies. Why he would start doing it now, over something dumb like this? It’s beyond Tony.

“About time you kids came out with it,” Clint says between mouthfuls of cake. “Felt like you kids were taking forever to tell us.��

“Which you didn’t,” Natasha points out, arching an eyebrow.

Steve rolls his eyes, wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. “We figured you guys would just hound us about it.”

“Hey, I can behave.”

“Sure you can,” Steve says before brushing his lips against Tony’s cheek.

Clint makes a retching sound. “You know what? I’m glad you guys kept it on the down-low. Don’t think I could take any form of PDA from either of you.”

God, if he only knew. If all of them only knew.

*****

The thing about being fake engaged while living with friends is that they have to share the same living space.

Which means sharing the same bed.

“I can take the floor,” Tony says as he exits his bathroom. “I’ve slept on worse.”

Steve’s gaze falls on him. He’s already dressed down in a tank top and shorts. Tony does his best to avert his gaze.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s big enough for the both of us.”

Tony glances at his king-sized bed with doubt.

Steve rolls his eyes and beckons him over.

Like a moth to a flame, Tony follows.

*****

The next morning is total chaos.

Tony’s phone is overwhelmed with messages and missed calls. His inbox is full of lengthy emails. The press is divided. So is the board.

Fury asks to see him, to see them.

The team has gathered in the communal kitchen when Steve and Tony head down in rumpled clothes and bed hair. The grins they send them are wolfish.

“Good night?” Clint begins, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve beams, draping his arm around Tony’s shoulder. “Very good night.”

And it’s too much. Too sudden. Too everything.

So like any sane person would in this kind of situation, Tony hides.

*****

Steve forces his way into the workshop on the fourth day.

“You can’t hide from me forever,” he says. “The team’s worried about you. I’m worried about you.”

Tony ignores him, fixating on the hundredth tabloid headline about him and Steve on the screen in front of him instead.

Steve closes the news with a wave of the hand. “Hey,” he says softly, “you alright?”

Tony doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “It’s a mess. The whole thing’s a mess. Imagine when everyone finds out that this is all fake. They’ll kill us.”

“Not if we stay engaged.”

Tony whips around to face Steve. “You can’t be serious.”

Steve nods, solemn. “Oh, I’m serious.”

“JARVIS, run a—”

“I’m not a Skrull,” Steve huffs. “Or an LMD. Or under the influence of magic. Or mind-controlled. I genuinely do think we should stay engaged. At least, for now.”

Tony stares at him in disbelief. “God, do you hear yourself right now? Does it make sense to—”

“Yes.” Steve pulls up the holograms again, scrolling through. “Look. Everyone’s happy—”

“Not everyone.”

“The team’s happy for us. Fury isn’t pissed for once. The stocks have been soaring since the news. If you haven’t been reading trashy tabloids and right-winged articles, you would know that a lot of people are supportive. In fact,” Steve opens a new article, “a lot of people in the LGBTQ+ community are excited. The announcement’s helped a lot of people come out, or at least be more accepting of their own identities. It’s good for the people.”

Tony exhales heavily. “I’m not saying it isn’t. God knows that everyone needs all the support they can get. It’s just that we shouldn’t. It’s not right. I may be pan but you’re—”

“I’m bi.”

Tony blinks. “You’re—”

“Bisexual,” Steve affirms.

Tony files that information away for later. He’s one step closer to having a mental breakdown and processing the revelation that Steve’s bisexual wouldn’t help matters.

“Regardless, this isn’t a life or death situation. I can deal with the company and the press and—”

“You’re my friend. I can help.”

“What if you find someone you—”

“I don’t think I will,” Steve says firmly.

“Steve, I—” Tony sighs, wiping his face with his hand. “What about the team? Shouldn’t they know?”

“The fewer people that know, the better.”

Tony blinks. “Are you crazy?”

Steve grins. “Nope.”

“Well, jury’s out on that.” Tony groans, slumping in his seat. “God, we should’ve told them it was all a misunderstanding.”

Steve smiles, squeezing Tony’s shoulder in reassurance. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

Tony highly doubts that.

“You’re not going to wear someone else’s ring.”

“You can make me a new one.”

“I figured you’d say that. So, you know.” Tony climbs up to his feet, pulling one of his desk drawers open and reaching inside. “I didn’t lock myself up for no reason. Here. It’s not vibranium but uh, hope you like it.”

Steve takes the ring out from the velvet box gingerly, as if he’s afraid it’ll break. “You’ve always had my heart,” he murmurs as he examines the inscription on the silver band. “Wow.”

Tony’s breath catches at the reverence in Steve’s tone. “Figured you’ll like that kind of sappy thing.”

“I do,” Steve says and god he sounds so happy, so touched, so— “Here’s yours.”

It’s a simple gold ring, with a familiar scrawl engraved on the inside.

You’ve given me a home.

Tony almost breaks down.

*****

read the rest of ao3.

#fallbackwardsexchange2021 #capimuniversemedley #stevetony #stony #superhusbands #avengers assemble #steve rogers #tony stark #universe medley fest #*fic

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bokettochild · 3 years

Note

Hi! I really like the fics you write, and for the requests I was thinking some Wild and Legend bonding? I’m a big angst fan, but fluff always makes me happy :)

Okay, so, this was partially inspired by this, but also this.

I'm not really sorry, this has been brewing since the last update and I finally wrote it. That and I broke my writers bloc and figured out how to write Legend again!

Suffer 🙂

Sunset Comforts

Twilight was dead.

That was the thought flashing through his mind as he called the younger heroes to order. The worry that stung in his heart as Hyrule and Four charged towards the enemy that had downed their friend with ease.

A gleaming axe had struck the wolf form of their brother mid spring, and the pained and breathless whimper of the canine mixing with the wet squelch of the blade pulling free echoed in his mind.

Legend’s stomach rolled, the need to turn to the side and be sick growing as the battle continued on around him.

He didn’t know how he took command, simply let his emotions fall to the back burner, pressing down the need to vomit along with memories of a dark sewer, a gleaming blade, a wizard's cackle and wet and wheezing breaths. He focused his gaze on the enemy and called out orders, forcing the hero’s spirit to take the reins while a young hero fell to the background, eyes wide and full of tears as sobs built up in a throat that words had not poured from in years.

Blades sang a death dirge as monsters had fallen; enemies laid low by the weapons of the heroes still standing. There were no words to the song as an eerie silence hung over the field, only the sounds of battle and the occasional cry filling air that felt thick and muddled as they fought. And when at last the final monster had fallen from Wild’s blade, and the shadow had long since faded back away from where it had come, leaving the heroes bloody and breathless, Time and Wild had sprung to the rancher’s side.

Legend stood to the side, hands gripping his blade, ignoring the blood that trailed over his clothes and skin, eyes wide as they’d watched Time firmly press Warriors’ scarf to the gaping wound in -the now hylian- Twilight’s chest.

White and red clashed beneath blackening green, and Legend’s stomach revolted again at the sight, one hand pressing to his lips as he’d been forced to turn away, the sight to much for him. Bloods stench was heavy on the air, death and destruction smelling of gaping wounds and foul flesh, and it made his stomach roll. There was no task he could complete as he stood to the side and allowed the others to fuss and heal, and the mere smell of the blood on his hands made him wince back nausea.

He was covered in the stuff, it coated his body and overwhelmed his senses, and as the other’s fussed over far more pressing matters than blood; a wound, gaping and black with shining bones exposed to the air and torn flesh and-

Legend keeled over, heaving and wheezing for breath as the contents of his stomach found a new home in the carcass of a slain bokoblin.

The camp that night was plagued by the eerie heaviness in the air that had lain over the battle-field.

Warriors leaned back against Sky’s side, hands shaking from having laid the final stitches, eyes bleary as the Skyloftian gently pressed a potion to the captain’s lips. Not far from the two, Hyrule’s glimmering hands worked over Twilight’s chest weakly, shoulders drooping and hands shaking until Four had gently pulled him away with his one good hand, the other wrapped and hung in a sling from his neck as he gently ushered the traveler towards his bed roll to sleep.

Time, to no one’s surprise, sat at Twilight’s side, the ranchers hand clasped tightly in his own as worry creased already heavy brows, a single eye dark in the fading light as a song, bitter and almost tearful rings through the air. There are no words, but Warriors’ voice, heavy and weary, joins in, and though Twilight’s body lies still and the rancher hasn’t opened his eyes, there’s a flicker of his lids as his breath evens slightly, the faintest of hums sounding wet and broken from blood-stained lips.

Legend turns his gaze away.

None of the others had seen his shameful reaction earlier, and as much as he wants to be of aid, he knows that the blood that coats the bandages wrapped around Twilight’s chest and spatters over his clothing will only made him ill again, which will be in no ways helpful.

Violet eyes drift over leaves and stone before coming to rest on the form of the Champion, curled around himself at the furthest edges of the camp, fingers digging into his arms as his eyes remain fixed on his mentor. The vet blinks in surprise as his gaze trails from Twilight’s broken form to the huddled form of the man’s protégé, hiding on the edges of the camp and making no moves to approach him.

Does Wild have trouble with the blood too?

A closer look reveals that the champion’s face is red, eyes puffy and tear tracks rolling down his face, but the gaze on the champion’s face is hard, and Legend finds himself shaking off shivers from the intensity of cornflower hues as they stare across the camp, resolute and dark.

He’s useless to the healers, and the sight of Twilight’s blood streaked across all the surfaces around camp, red and wet and warm and full of life that should be staying inside him and not bleeding out because he needs to live, he needs to live, he needs to stay alive! Link can’t live without him he can’t it’s just not possible please-

The vet forces himself to breathe, shaking his head and blinking back his own tears as he moved towards his fallen friend’s protégé. He can’t offer any help to the others, but at the very least he can knock Wild out of his own head.

Twilight would want that.

As feet pick across the camp, bare because he can’t stand the ooze that coats his boots, he wonders when he began to wonder what the rancher would want or do.

Wild’s fingers are digging into his arms, blood springing up beneath his nails as they grip tighter, and Legend has to fight the urge to flinch away at the sight. It’s shameful, his aversion. He’s a hero and he’s killed more enemies than he’s seen seasons. Yet, he still flinches back at pooling red, and the droplets that roll down the champion’s arms to drip onto the ground are enough to make his stomach lurch again.

“Quit it.” He scolds, positioning himself in the way of the kid’s line of sight, blocking off the sight of the rancher as cornflower blue flicks up towards him.

His stomach rolls again at the ethereal glare that’s cast his way, eyes too old and a soul too shattered for the young body they’re set in. Still, he’s fought a corrupted goddess, he can meet the gaze of the champion, but it’s hard, and he hates it, but he forces himself regardless. Violet and blue clash, trails of gold set in each as both boys glare at each other, both disapproving in their own way before Legend shakes his head, reaches down and pulls the champion’s hands free of his arms. “None of that now. You don’t need more scars, kid.”

Wild’s eyes blink slowly, but there’s no recognition in them, and Legend finds panic flooding through hm as he realizes that Wild may or may not even be fully aware at the moment.

Great Seven, what would Twilight do?

Wild is stiff as a board and silent as death itself as Legend kneels before him, the kid’s gaze unmoving as he glares over Legend’s head, right between his ears, to where Twilight lays in his mentor’s hold. Pain leeches into the silent cold of ethereal blue, and something inside the vet shatters, his chest burning lightly at the pain and hopelessness that crosses over the kids face for a brief second before it returns to stony coldness.

Ah.

“It’s not your fault.” He breathes, crossing his legs underneath himself as he gazes up at eyes that won’t meet his own. “Wild! You can’t blame yourself; you hear me?” His own gaze hardens as he focused on the kid. “Twilight chose to chase the Shadow. It was his choice-” Glowing blue turns to him with a ferocity that nearly steals his breath, but Legend presses forwards, golden tinging at his own irises as his voice rumbles low and firm, blessedly free of its usual squeaks and breaks. “Twilight chose to fight. I’m not saying this is his fault, but it isn’t yours either.”

The champion’s gaze is stony and silent.

“You had no way of stopping this.” Legend repeats, hand clasping the kid’s arms just below the shoulders and gaze heavy as it meets the flickering blue before him. “You were on the other side of the battlefield, your arrows would have only made things worse and you had no way, on Din’s green earth, to reach him before the shadow struck.”

Wild’s eyes flicker up to Twilight’s broken form again, but the vet catches the kids face in his hands, eyes firm and glimmering slightly in faded light of the sunset. “Do you understand?”

“I failed.” The kid croaks out, broken and stiff and every word labored as if it is a weight that holds down the kid’s tongue. Each weight falls hard and heavy on Legend’s shoulders, pain dancing through his chest at the broken soul that cracks through the stone gaze. “I couldn’t save him.”

“No one could.” Legend presses, voice catching in his throat.

“I should have.”

The words are simple, but they bear a weight that nearly fells the veteran hero right then and there, and he watches in horror as tears pool behind Wild’s eyes as they turn to gaze at the dirt at his feet.

“I’m supposed to be the Hylia forsaken Hero.” The kid curses softly. “And I can’t even save my best friend.”

“You can’t save everyone.” He murmurs in reply, his own gaze struggling to stay on the kid before him and to not follow it to the ground.

Red hair and a bubbling laugh ring in his memory alongside a booming laugh that is weakened by blood that trails from an open wound, hidden in the sewers below the castle. Hands that held his own, laughter that rang with his and voices that carried joy and wonder on tehri lips as they filled his heart and breathed life into his soul.

Both of them are gone. He couldn’t save them. He’ll never have another chance to try.

“But Twilight is still alive. He’s still breathing and...” A wet laugh stutters up in his chest, broken and wrong, but impossible to hold back. “He’s still trying to sing on key.”

Wild’s eyes freeze the breath in his throat, hard and shattered and angry as they bore into him. “Twilight is still alive because Warriors and Time saved him.” The kid hisses. “He’s alive because everyone else banded together and staved off the monsters. He’s alive because you all are heroes enough, that while I was pulling my sorry ass off the top of a wall, you were all down there protecting him!”

The kid’s voice rises and those behind them turn to stare, but Legend isn’t cowed. He’s heard many a worse speech from his own shattered soul ringing in his mind again and again over the years. The kid’s broken voice and aching soul aren’t enough to bring him to tears and reassurance.

Twilight might treat the kid with care and grace that one would a wounded child, which Wild needs. But the kid also needs the sense slapped into him, and Legend’s very good at that.

“You all protect everyone!” Tears spill down the kid’s cheeks as he glares at Legend. “All I ever can do is sit by while everyone else struggles, and I can’t even offer help!”

“Wild-”

“My whole world died while I was sleeping!” Wild’s voice breaks, blue eyes sparking with lights that aren’t natural or Hylian.

“And I killed mine!” Legend shoots back, gaze and voice both dark as he meets the kid’s stare. “You’re not the only one of us to have ever failed!”

The champion blinks at him in shock, and Legend takes the moment to catch his breath, eyes blinking open again to meet the kid’s. “I destroyed a whole world. People, places, families and homes. Just blotted them out of existence.” His voice is firm but tears prick at his eyes as he glares down the taller hero. “You aren’t the only one who messed up.

“What matters though, is that when you were given a second chance, you took it. You stood to your feet, after being killed in battle you came back. And you walked right up to Ganon and drop-kicked his ass back into whatever hell it came from.” Violet and gold swirl in the vet’s gaze as it bores into Wild’s, the kid’s expression fading just left of wonder as he stares back. “You are still living your second chance. You are going to make new mistakes. You are going to get hurt. Other people are going to get hurt. What matters is that you don’t spend all your time crying over what you aren’t, and instead use it to become what you can be.”

The vet’s gaze softens. “You’re a good kid, Wild. And a great hero. Don’t ruin that by worrying about the past. You don’t live there, so you don’t belong there. Get your ass in gear and start worrying about the now.”

Wild opens his mouth to protest but is cut off by Legend. “And I don’t mean fussing about a battle that’s already lost. I mean by getting over there and hugging the stuffing out of your grand-mentor or whatever the shit Time is to you, because the guy is on the verge of tears and none of the rest of us can help.” The vet cracks a weak and strained smile. “Twilight’s strong. He’ll pull through. Don’t make me have to explain that you’re depressed because you can’t accept what he sees in you.”

He’s not fast enough to pull away before Wild’s arms are wrapping around him in a tearful hug, sniffles and sobs escaping the kid as he whispers thanks into Legend’s blood matted hair, and Legend can’t even bring himself to pull away. Instead, he gently rubs the kids back, grumbling back fondly until Wild pulls away, rubbing at his eyes and nose he offers Legend a wobbly smile, before standing and making his way back into the center of the camp.

Time’s face when Wild comes over and wraps his arms around the man is priceless, the tune on his lips fading out as the man folds Wild into his arms with a quiet sob, and Legend fights back a twitch of his lips as the two hold tight to each other.

Night falls as the others fade off into sleep.

Legend had finally pulled himself back into the camp once the lights had dimmed enough that the blood across their faces and clothes could be mistaken for dirt and shadow, and while the others cling to each other in their sleep, his eyes are fixed on the rancher.

Twilight’s breaths are sharp and strained, chest stuttering and stopping agonizingly often as the night continues on. Each time it stutters, Legend has to hold his hand above the rancher’s mouth and nose, waiting for warm air to caress his palm. Each time it comes late, panic blossoms inside of him, and Legend has to hold his own breath as he waits for it to eventually puff out again.

Time sleeps not far off, Wild’s curled in his arms where the two had dozed off after their nerve-wracking evening, and Sky is settled not far from them, Hyrule pressed to one side and Wind to the other, and Four lying across the lot of them while they sleep.

Warriors sits at the edge of the camp, hands working over the blades of his brothers, cleaning away blood and dirt and sweat with practiced movements as his gaze flickers from the forest to the fallen hero, concern in the royal blue gaze as it turns every so often to Legend.

He knows the captain wants to tell him to sleep, wants to tell him to rest, but seeing as the man himself doesn’t seem able to do it either, neither presses the other to sleep. Grim understanding flashes across the camp when their eyes chance to meet, and Warrior’s turns his attention back to Legend’s sword where it lays across his lap, hands working over it while its owner sits beside Twilight.

He doesn’t know when he’s taken Twilight’s hand in his own. Doesn’t know when his fingers start trailing over worn scars and calluses, taking comfort in the warmth that they find there as he holds it close to his chest, breaths deep and stuttering as his eyes flicker over Twilight’s pale face.

“You better be okay.” He whispers, voice breaking slightly as tear prick at his eyes. “I told the kid you will be, but it you make that a lie I’ll-” A sob breaks the silence, one that Warrior’s politely ignores as Legend drops his gaze, clinging to the still hand. “You’ve got to make it through this, Twi. Please! Please!”

Scarred and calloused fingers twitch softly, clasping Legend’s own weakly as another sob shatters the silence.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #fluffics #lu wild #lu twilight #lu legend #lu time #lu warriors #hurt/comfort #i'm not sorry #linked universe fic requests #angst #wild angst #legend angst

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