#Got picked right up in strong friendly arms and got his brain wiped clear

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

Need a little help there, Neighbor?

[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (with a plot!) ➔Warnings: Sexual tension & Penetration. ➔Word count: 2,470

➔Summary: You haven't called your ex-boyfriend in two years, but he's the first person you call when you're in a bit of trouble. He comes when you call, thus sparking a night neither of you will be able to move on from.

Anon request #1: can I request an ex to lovers scenario with jeno where his ex and him decided to stay as friends and since always they had a huge tension and after 2 years they got really flirty or smth, thanks💖

Anon request #2: hi, I want to request a drabble about sex with jeno, thank you!!

Jeno looked at his buzzing cell phone and blinked lazily. He hadn't seen your number come up since you broke up with him, which had to have been two years ago. He had managed to stay friends with you over those two years, but you were never friendly enough to call each other at three in the morning. Still, Jeno picked up the call to hear static at the other end of the line, wondering if he would still feel the same when he heard the sound of your voice.

"Hello?"

There was more static. When he thought you might have pocket dialed him, and he was getting ready to hang up, he heard your voice. Time seemed to slow down in those moments.

"Jeno?" you said. "I don't have good service out here. I'm scared, Jeno."

Feeling his heart race, Jeno asked, "Where are you? What is going on?"

"Off the highway. My car broke down." you said. "Can you come get me?"

Jeno sprang out of bed immediately, tearing the covers from his naked body. He got dressed while keeping you on the phone with him, so that you weren't scared. He drove to where you were, pulling over to the side of the road. When you saw him, you got out of your car and stood awkwardly, wringing your hands together.

"I know I shouldn't have called you first," you started to say. "But i-"

"-It's okay." he said, meaning it.

Jeno was bone tired, but being in front of you made him more alert. Though you broke his heart, he was still so careful with yours. Jeno came over to your car to look at it, pulling up the hood like he had any idea what he was truly doing. You watched his muscles as he fiddled around with stuff, your eyes slightly glazing over.

"I don't know much about cars." he said, shutting the hood. "I'll call someone to come pick this up. Until then, I will drive you back home. It's too late for us to be waiting out here."

You nodded and followed him back to his car. He made the call quickly before setting his cell phone down in the cup holder. There was so much gratitude for him in the silence, but you couldn't seem to get any of your thoughts out. You were still thinking about his muscles, about how handsome he looked at nearly four in the morning.

"It's done," he said. "They'll pick your car up soon. You can figure out what to do about it tomorrow."

"Thank you." you said.

It had started to rain. A few droplets hit the front of his windshield before a whole sheet of rain came down, hitting the top of his roof as hard as rocks. He could barely see out of the windshield, so he decided to wait for the storm to pass. It was awkward inside of the car, and too quiet.

You cleared your throat. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Jeno looked over at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Seeing his expression, you realized what an invasive question it was. You tried backtracking, but you were sputtering your words enough to make Jeno laugh.

"Relax," he said. "I'm not seeing anyone."

You didn't know what you were thinking. Maybe you were too tired to think straight. Maybe it was the sound of the rain. Maybe it was the way he looked at you in the darkness of the car. You reached over and touched the hand that rested on the steering wheel until he looked you in your eyes.

"You got Lasik eye surgery." you said. "You used to look so cute in your glasses."

For Jeno, it was easy. There has always been sexual tension between you. Touching the top of your hand felt natural. He leaned over, grabbed your chin and kissed you. You made out, completely unaware that the rain had stopped. When everything slowed down, you were straddling Jeno in his seat, and his hands were on your ass. You parted, your eyes staying on his lips until he spoke.

"I should get you home." he said.

"You should come home with me." you said, surprising yourself more than him.

Jeno laughed and eased your body off of his. "I want that more than you know, but I don't think it's a good idea. I could never control myself around you. "

Jeno drove you home, the only sound in the car coming from the windshield wipers noisily wiping away droplets of rain. You followed the blades swiping left to right, your brain in a funk.

Breaking up with Jeno was one of your top ten mistakes. You weren't as wise as you are now. You didn't know what you had when you let it go. You had carried his hurt with you everywhere you went for two years. Though you remained as friends, there was always weird tension whenever you met up with each other. His group of friends didn't trust you, and your group of friends always took your side, even though each of them was in love with Jeno. Your shared friends didn't get into the middle of it, and you and Jeno spent 24 months skating around unspoken apologies.

"We never had a chance to talk alone." you said, finally getting the bravery to speak out. “There are a lot of things left unsaid.”

Jeno pulled up in front of your house. You weren't surprised he knew where you had moved to, because you had been dropping hints for months. You had always hoped Jeno would roll up one day and give you another chance you didn't quite think you deserved.

"We don't have to talk about it now. "It's early in the morning and we both could use some sleep," he said.

You hummed in agreement, looking out of the rain soaked window at your lonely, dark house. You looked up at the sky and wanted the sun to come up, to cast a pretty glow over you and soften the experience of sitting with your ex in his car.

"You're like my knight in shining armor." you said. "I owe you a lot."

You had your hand on the door handle. You wanted to lean over and kiss him the way he kissed you, but your bravery only went so far. Jeno seemed to be thinking a similar thing. His eyes fell to your lips. Before either of you could act, he unlocked his doors.

"Get some sleep." he said, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. "I'll check in tomorrow to see how you're doing. I don't want them overcharging you for their services. If you want, I can go with you to make sure they don't."

"Okay." was all you could say. You got out of the car, tapped on his window as a way to say thank you and walked up the pathway to your house. You touched your fingers to your lips and remembered the way he tasted.

Jeno stayed there idling while you put your lock into the door and turned the handle. Once you were safely inside, you didn't wait to see if he had driven away.

You walked into your home, not caring enough to flick lights on. You weren’t as tired as before. Making out with Jeno had felt like an IV of caffeine had slipped into your bloodstream. Your body felt swollen in places, your heart most of all. You walked through the rooms, taking off your bra underneath your t-shirt and flinging it across the back of your couch. Your foot was on the first step of your stairs when you heard a soft rapping sound on your front door. Backtracking, you walked back to the door and flung it open, crossing one of your arms against your chest to hide yourself.

“Hi,” Jeno said.

He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes darting frantically around your face. You had no time to greet him back before he stepped over the threshold and took your lips against his. You moved your arm and let him smash his hard chest against your free breasts. Your nipples were aroused and you knew he could feel them against the thin material of his t-shirt. You threw your arms around his neck and clung to him, savoring the taste and feel of him.

“I know I said no but....” he said, between kisses. “It was very hard to watch you walk away from me just now.”

You kissed him and bit down on his lip, pulling it lightly with your teeth before letting go. “Take me to bed.” you said. “Or the floor...the couch..i don’t care, Jeno, just take me.”

Jeno picked you up into his arms. He shut your front door and locked it behind him without ever taking himself away from your lips. He was strong enough to carry you upstairs without struggling, which made you even more aroused than you already felt.

“To the left.” you whispered against his mouth.

It was strange having him in your new bedroom, yet, there was something familiar about seeing him amongst your possessions. He felt like he belonged. Jeno set you down on your bed and let out a groan of approval when you wouldn’t let go of his neck. You tried to trap him with your thighs, but he had pinned your arms above your head, which made you release him. Your body relaxed, half hanging off of your bed. Your stomach was bare where your shirt had ridden up, so Jeno leaned down to kiss it. He pushed it all the way up to expose your bare breasts and take them in your mouth one at a time. He was really going at it, feeling them and teasing them, when you put a stop to things and slipped out from underneath him.

“Can you give me a moment?” you asked, your face growing hot. “ I just need a second.”

Jeno sighed but agreed. He sat on the edge of your bed and watched you slink into your bathroom. You tried your best to freshen up, to get the 5 a.m stink off of you. Your mind was frantic and thinking of a million things that could go wrong. You realized that you were extremely nervous. The door to the bathroom slowly opened to reveal Jeno standing there with his hands in his pockets, and all of those thoughts faded like ghosts into the foreground.

“What are you doing?” he asked, crooking his finger. “Get over here.”

It was much easier than you thought it would be. It was like two friends getting together after a long time, friends that knew each other’s bodies inside and out. You tore off your shirt, not caring whether your armpits were sweating anymore. He met your breasts and moaned in appreciation as his mouth got back to business. On the bed, he rolled on top of you, laying kisses all down your body. You lifted your head up and let him nip at your neck. You took your hands and placed them underneath his t-shirt to touch his abs.

“Well,” you breathed. “This has changed.”

Jeno could only laugh. He took off his shirt and let you admire his body, which had definitely changed since the last time you took him to bed. You touched the hardness of his chest, down to the smoothness of tummy leading down to his cock, which you remembered in every detail. You sidled underneath him and let your tongue taste the salt on his skin. You bit down on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

Your body had changed, too. You were softer in a lot of places, which Jeno loved. He wanted to touch and savor all of you. There was an overeagerness to him that stifled any remaining awkwardness there could have been. He bit down on your shoulder in response, scraping his teeth against your skin before he met your mouth. His tongue wound its way around yours for a few seconds, just relishing the feeling of them together.

Once all the clothes were removed, a desperation started to change the atmosphere. Things were no longer silly. He didn’t laugh. You didn’t go anywhere but in his arms. The rain on the window was quiet but present. The sun was seeping into your skin where you lay underneath him. There was a moment where he grabbed your face between his hands and held you there, his thumb brushing across your cheek. He kissed you sweetly, his lips full.

When Jeno entered you, it was like all the memories of your sex life came flooding back. You would always miss him inside of you when he wasn’t there, miss the full feeling that came when he penetrated you for the very first time. You had missed the sounds his throat made whenever he concentrated on pleasuring you. You hadn’t forgotten how skilled his fingers were at fondling you, or how each stroke never failed to make you lose all thought. He fucked your body like it meant something in the morning glow. He didn’t slow down for anything, not even when he felt your fingernails digging into his back.

He had let you take control. You moved on top of him and sank down onto his cock, holding onto his arms as you did. With your hands pressed against his chest, you moved. You rode Jeno wildly, bucking against his pelvis with abandon. He tugged on your hair when you tilted your chin towards the ceiling. He gripped your waist. He smacked your ass. He did everything in his power to bring you back to him every time you slipped away. Your eyes eventually found him again. You moved lower and rode him, your sweaty body gliding against his. He held you, his thick arm around your neck as he felt your walls contract, as you came around his cock.

You wanted to cry out, wanted to bring the room down around you. You kept fucking him, wanting to coax the cum from his cock, to feel the warmth moving downwards with gravity. You wanted to keep it going forever, but it wasn’t meant to be. It had been a long time since you two had made love, and your bodies were too excited to hold back.

You knew there would be a talk somewhere in the future, when he was ready. As Jeno screwed up his face in orgasm, as you felt the warmth of his cum, you were a little too happy to prolong that conversation. You wanted him in your life for a long time but, for now, you would take him any way you could get him.

[seijorhi]

Inescapable

Part 2 of Always - another soulmate au with extra angst!

Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Miya Atsumu x female reader

TW toxic relationships, implied abuse, blind reader

“Stay here,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek before you feel his warmth retreat.

It’s an effort to quell the fleeting panic that rises in his absence. Japan is your home – was your home – but Tokyo… You’re not supposed to be in the village. Only the athletes, trainers and the support crew for the national team were supposed to stay there. It kept out distractions, made it easier for security, gave the athletes the space to focus on what they’re there for; to compete. To win. 

You don’t know how he did it, what strings he had to pull, but somehow he’d managed.

A room for the two of you. Just the two of you.

“You’re staying with me,” he’d told you when you’d brought up the possibility of going home to Miyagi to visit your family, or even spend a few days with Makki and Mattsun. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The words had been whispered, a soft, teasing purr as lips curled into a smirk at your neck, but you know what he’s like when he’s competing. The focus and obsession he’ll throw himself into. 

Especially when you both know who he’ll be competing against. 

Nevertheless, you’re here. Alone now, standing in a sea of strangers talking too loud in a cacophony of foreign tongues while Tooru left to go find his team–

Strong, familiar arms encircle your waist, a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

– but only for a moment.

“C’mon, cutie. Let’s get going – Coach gave us twenty before he wants us at the gym.”

—

You know one or two of the players on the national team from San Juan. They’re friendly enough, and they’ll stop and chat with you on the odd nights you venture out into the cafeterias dotted around the village for dinner. But for the most part they’re focused on other things and Tooru–

Tooru’s possessive enough of your attention at the best of times. 

Which means that you’re either with him, tucked carefully under his arm as he guides you around the village, or you’re stuck in the room, bored out of your mind waiting for him to come home to you. And for lack of anything better to do, you have the games playing on the TV.

Just for the sound of your mother tongue filling the room around you. Just so you won’t be alone with your thoughts for too long.

It’s different, back home in San Juan. But you understand it – why he brought you. 

“Where I go, you go, always.”

“Always.”

And the loneliness is worth it, you think, when he sinks down into the mattress beside you after a long day’s training and pulls you close, nuzzling into your side. This is better than being left behind. You’re here to support the man you love. Your soulmate, the name on your arm be damned. 

His good luck charm, he hums, kissing you in the early hours of the morning before slipping away. 

But even you can’t just sit around the apartment all day long. It’s good to stretch your legs, even when you’re in strange, unfamiliar territory. You tell yourself that what Tooru doesn’t know won’t hurt him, forgetting just for one blissful moment that your soulmate and his team are not the only ones who might catch you wandering. 

Of course, that realisation doesn’t sink in until broad shoulders suddenly barrel past you, knocking you off your feet. And you would have fallen, awkwardly probably, had a pair of strong, lean arms not caught at your waist, steadying you.

“Jeeze, Bokkun! Watch where yer goin’, wouldja!”

The first voice, the thick, drawling Kansai dialect isn’t familiar, but the voice that follows is impossible to misplace.

“Thought I told you two–”

It cuts off abruptly, and in some distant part of your brain you register that the stranger’s still holding you, the warmth of his hand still braced on your hip, but all you can really focus on is the owner of that second voice.

“Iwa?”

Tooru had told you he’d be here, Hinata too and Kageyama. And of course Ushijima, but you’d assumed that – at least up until they played against one another or team Japan got knocked out of the running – they’d be busy and you wouldn’t cross paths.

There’s a surprised intake of air from your left – ‘Bokkun’, you imagine – and he asks, “Wait, you know her, dude?”

And still, the warm body holding you doesn’t move an inch. Not until a familiar, irritated huff sounds, “Get your hands off her, dumbass.”

The body behind you tenses for a split second before obeying, hands ripping themselves away from you as if he’d been scalded. “Shit, sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you murmur with what you hope is a polite smile, only half paying attention because you can hear Iwa striding towards you. In one breath, he’s knocking back your saviour and pulling you into a one armed hug.

“Shittykawa said he’d be bringing you,” he says quietly as you squeeze him back. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been face to face with him. Tooru calls him to catch up most weeks, more often than putting him on speaker so that you can say hi, but it’s not the same. “Didn’t think he meant to the actual village, though.”

You’ve missed him, you realise. Him and Makki and Mattsun, and suddenly there’s a lump in your throat, emotions welling that you can’t name. There’s so much you want to say to him, things he knows but should be said anyway, but–

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your pretty friend, Iwa?”

Your cheeks heat as the two of you part, yet it’s Iwa who answers for the both of you.

“No. You two need to get your asses moving,” he says. “Back to the gym, now. Unless you wanna stay back after everyone else finishes up to run extra drills?”

It’s a clear dismissal, and the two only pause for a heartbeat before grumbling their assent – and one sheepish apology – and heading off to continue their run.

“Let me walk you back.”

Some things never change, you suppose. “Iwa, you have an Olympic team to train,” you tell him with a wry grin. ”I’m not going to risk being accused of sabotaging the Japanese national volleyball team just because you feel the need to be gentlemanly.”

It’s clearly meant as a tease, but instead of the good-natured huff you’re expecting, he sighs. “C’mon. You almost got knocked on your ass, let me walk you back.”

It’s not a suggestion, and as he takes you by the hand and starts leading you back the way you came you’re reminded of high school - he used to do exactly same thing any timeTooru wasn’t around. There’s a slight flicker of irritation at your first breath of fresh air without Oikawa’s overprotective hovering being snatched away, but you know he means well.

He always does.

So you shove those feelings down and offer him a smile. “You know I’m stupidly proud of you, right?” you tell him. “Both of you.”

And something in Iwa relaxes and he laughs, “Yeah well I’m just glad you’re gonna be here to witness me wipe the floor with Shittykawa’s ass.”

—

It’s late, and Tooru isn’t back yet. 

And it wouldn’t bother you except that lunch had been hours ago, and your stomach is starting to growl, hunger settling in. 

Tooru works hard, he pushes himself and stays late when he should be home resting, you know that, but even if you did want to go and find him, pull him back so that he won’t push past his limits days out from competing, you wouldn’t have a clue where to find him – not in this sprawling maze of a complex.

What else can you do but wait, as fifteen minutes turns into half an hour, then an hour, and suddenly it’s almost nine. 

He won’t be happy that you’ve left without him, but either he’ll meet you at the cafeteria, or you’ll get home before he’s back and you’ll have dinner waiting for him. At this time of the night it’s likely to be empty anyway, it’s not like you’re running off in the middle of the dinner rush.

Most of the athletes’ll be back in their rooms, you’re not gonna get knocked around in the mad scramble for food, nobody’s going to pay you any mind.

But once again, you’re proven wrong. 

It’s not quite the roaring din that you’ve come to associate with the dining hall, but you can hear a few quiet conversations scattered throughout the room. At least none of them pay you any heed as you slowly wander the buffet, shyly asking one of the servers to help you pick out something for you and Tooru both.

It’s not until you move to take a seat, hoping that Tooru will get there before you have to try and cart his dinner back to the room that you hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair being dragged back beside you.

“Ya know, Iwaizumi never did end up telling us yer name,” a familiar voice states, settling down into the seat. “He did end up making me ‘n Bokuto run extra laps as punishment for knockin’ into ya, though.”

Out of habit, your fingers fiddle with the sleeve of your jacket – Tooru’s actually – warmth flooding your cheeks. He doesn’t sound pissed off by the fact, and you suppose he probably wouldn’t have sat down beside you if all he wanted was to pick a fight. 

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” It comes out sounding more like a question than anything else. 

He laughs at that, the sound surprisingly warm and pleasant. “Nah, not your fault. Iwa’s a hardass at the best of times.”

“Sounds like he hasn’t changed much since high school,” you muse.

Oikawa might’ve been Captain back then, but that never stopped Iwa from slapping him upside of the head whenever he did something particularly stupid. He was a hard ass, but he was also incredible at keeping the rest of the team in line and motivated, and he kept Tooru grounded. He kept you grounded. Aggressive, tough love was simply a part of that. 

You wonder distantly if his new team realizes just how lucky they are to have somebody like him in their corner.

“High school? Ya knew him back then?” he prods.

He’s a stranger. Not just a competitor, but ‘The Enemy’ just like Kageyama and Ushiwaka. Out of all the teams that Tooru might go up against during the games, you know that they’re the ones he’s most determined to defeat. And you don’t necessarily buy into the whole ‘destined rivals’ thing – Kageyama was never anything but polite to you, but you know you’re supposed to back your soulmate up on this. You know he’d be pissed to find you casually chatting away with any one of them, except maybe Hinata. 

Maybe.

But it’s nice just to indulge in a conversation – even meaningless small talk – with somebody who doesn’t know you as Tooru’s. You can’t help but relax a little, the tension easing from your shoulders, a small smile creeping across your face. 

“I’ve known Iwa since I was six years old. He’s one of my best friends.”

The man hums a little, his chair creaking as he leans back, “Really? He’s never mentioned ya.”

And it’s clear from the sharp intake of his breath that he regrets the words the moment they’re said, but instead of feeling offended, you simply laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. 

“It’s fine,” you say when he tries to backtrack. “Do you often have deep and meaningful’s with Iwa about his childhood friends?”

He snorts, “Yeah, point taken, I guess. So how come yer here then? Didn’t think they allowed cheerleaders in the village, even the cute ones.”

Something flutters in your stomach at his tone; it’s warm like honey, just a hint of teasing. He’s flirting, you realise, and in an instant you know you should shut it down. Harmless small talk is one thing, but you’re–

You have your soulmate. 

“What makes you think I’m not staff?” you ask instead.

“No uniform,” he counters, and you can’t argue with that. It’s not your fault that you can’t see what everybody’s wandering around wearing. “And you don’t really strike me as the ‘athlete’ type, no offense.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just shrug somewhat self consciously. He’s not wrong; you don’t really belong here, but you find yourself reluctant to tell him the truth.

The only reason you’re here is because Tooru cheated the system, because he couldn’t bear to be without you.

Or maybe because he knows how much of a mess you are without him. Blind and helpless without him to guide you, even here, back in the country you’d both left behind all those years ago.

“I’m here to support my soulmate,” you tell him instead, and it’s not entirely a lie. No matter what, you’ll always support Oikawa – here, back home, to whatever ends. That was the promise you’d made to each other long before you’d ever left Japan.

There’s a short pause, and you take the opportunity to turn back to the plate of food in front of you – you’d forgotten about it entirely. You half expect that he’ll take it as the perfect opportunity to politely bow out of the conversation. 

You might’ve been blind, but you’re not naive; you know exactly what athletes get up to after the sun goes down in the village. There’s a reason that your welcome packs were stuffed full of free condoms. 

And you’re not interested in that. You have Tooru and he has you. If that’s all that this guy is after; some quick, meaningless fuck, then–

“Volleyball?” he asks, and you almost roll your eyes.

He’s not wrong, of course he’s not, and you suppose considering your connection with Iwa it makes sense that he’d make that leap, but still. One track mind, all of them.

“If I tell you, you might not like me very much,” you say in lieu of an answer.

He leans closer, the chair creaking once more. “So I’m right.” He sounds so smug about it, you almost wanna tell him he’s wrong just to mess with him a little. “What position does he play?”

Not what team, what position. That, more than anything else, mattered to him – and again, you understood it. The pride players took in their position within the machine.

 “You first,” you shoot back instead, because you feel like you have a sneaking suspicion. 

And with a little huffing laugh, he confirms it, “Setter.”

Of course.

And the smile on your face tugs wider, a strange trill running through you, “Ah, and here I thought Kageyama,” you draw the name out, “was Japan’s starting setter.”

He scoffs, dragged in by your teasing jab, “Yer kiddin’, right? Tobio’s talented an’ all, but he ain’t half the setter I am.”

Cocky and smug. You wonder if he has the skills to back it up. Yet just as you open your mouth to pry further, you’re interrupted by a voice.

Several actually. 

“Talking shit again, Miya?”

“Who’s she?”

“Oh hey – Iwa’s friend!”

And your heart skips a beat, your body tensing as those voices close in, more chairs being pulled out, trays of food dumped on the table as his teammates settle down around you. It’s just a name, one name. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t–

“Atsumu, why don’t you shut– oh. Y/N, hey. Didn’t realise you'd be here. Isn’t the village restricted to athletes only?”

Kageyama’s blunt greeting isn’t intended to be antagonistic, but it washes over you regardless. You’re frozen, heart pounding, a sick, twisting feeling settling into your gut.

Atsumu, he’d said.

Miya Atsumu. 

Two words, and your world stops spinning. 

You’d promised him – Tooru – years ago that the name on your arm didn’t mean anything. It was all just a cruel cosmic mistake because from the moment you met him, you were his, and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

And you’d told yourself that, repeated it like a mantra until you started to believe it yourself. Because Tooru loved you, you were his soulmate and what kind of horrible fucking person would you be to take that gift, that bond and shove it back in his face.

Tooru isn’t perfect, and he’d freaked out and lied to you, but he’s your soulmate. 

The name on your arm didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know whose it was, because you had Tooru. It should have been his.

And you told yourself that for six months, until some blowout fight had Tooru storming out, you following in his footsteps. 

It was a stranger, some random passerby in the street. You can’t remember what prompted you to stop her and ask, why it suddenly mattered when Tooru had all but convinced you that it didn’t, but you had.

Miya Atsumu. The pronunciation had been unsure, her tongue clunky over the foreign syllables, but in that moment when you’d heard his name every lie you’d convinced yourself of had fallen apart.

It was like you’d been drowning without ever realising it, and the second you’d heard that name a hand was dragging you up to the surface and suddenly air was flooding your lungs.

Miya Atsumu.

There are voices surrounding you, somebody laughing uproariously, but it’s all just white noise. 

“Y/N,” a choked, hoarse whisper that shouldn’t have been heard, but it pierces you like a knife, cutting through everything else. It’s too much. 

On shaking legs you stand, knocking your chair back as you grab for your cane. 

The name hadn’t mattered, until you’d heard it. He hadn’t mattered, until he was standing right there in front of you.

“I– I have to go,” you mutter, not entirely sure if they heard you, or if they even cared. You leave your food untouched on the table, stumbling as you step back.

And again, you hear that whisper of your name. There’s a hand that reaches for you – his or somebody else’s you don’t know, you shrug it off regardless. “I have to go.”

Nobody stops you as you skitter back towards the entrance, but for once the cafeteria is silent. The moment you burst out through the double doors, the brisk, summer night air hits you like a slap, and you don't realise that your cheeks are wet with tears until the breeze cuts through, the damp skin prickling uncomfortably. 

And the sob that follows rips through your chest like a knife.

This isn’t what you wanted. 

If there’s a god out there, he must have a cruel sense of humour, because your name is being called again, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek brushing at your tears, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Cutie, what’s wrong?”

The scent of him, all citrus and summer, invades your nose as you clutch at him tighter. You can’t speak, can’t find the words to tell him, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and burrow into him. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeats, not asking this time. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to go home,” you whisper, clutching at his jersey. “I wanna go home, Tooru.”

A kiss brushes against the crown of your head, and you almost miss the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind you – at least until the interloper speaks.

“You–” Atsumu breaks off, his breath ragged and raw, and you don’t miss the way that Oikawa stiffens, his grip tightening, fingers digging in. “Yer my soulmate.”

Three simple words, and everything, everything just falls apart.

Tooru snarls, taking a step back and dragging you with him. “She’s not your anything, Miya. Fuck off.”

“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”

It hurts, the grip he has on you. He’s trembling, from rage or fear you honestly don’t know, but you can feel his heart pounding a vicious beat as his arms lock around you like a cage.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s my goddamn name on her arm. Let ‘er go, yer hurting her,” he snaps. 

“She’s my soulmate, so mind your own business and run off back home.”

You can’t breathe.

“Not when yer hurting her.”

It’s like the floor’s suddenly disappeared from beneath you, and you’re in free fall, hurtling back towards god knows what. Your head’s spinning, your legs feel like jelly, and if Tooru wasn’t holding you up against him, you’re not sure you’d still be standing. 

You can’t breathe. 

“Leave, right now,” he hisses. “She’s mine. She always has been, and always will be mine!”

You’d promised him that much, hadn’t you?

“Ya don’t scare me, and I don’t give a flying fuck if yer wearing her name on your arm. That’s my soulmate, and you’ll take yer fucking hands off ‘a her.”

You can’t breathe, not as the shouting gets louder and Tooru’s grip gets tighter. 

He takes another step back, pulling you with him, and another hiccuping sob catches in your throat. You try to speak, to stop this before it gets any worse, but the words won’t come–

“You’re hurting her!”

“I LOVE HER!” he screams. “I would never, ever hurt her!”

“T–Tooru, please…” you beg. It’s little more than a whisper, and neither one of them seems to hear it.

But somebody else does. 

“Hey, hey! What the fuck are you dumbasses doing?!” 

Iwa, always your second protector, your best and oldest friend, wastes no time in getting between the two of them, shoving Miya back.

“What is wrong with you both?!” he snaps, grabbing you by the wrist and ripping you from Oikawa. And you don’t fight it when he tugs you towards him, a protective arm wrapping around your waist. 

You cling to him, like a scared child with tears streaming down your face. 

“Iwa–”

“No, shut up. I don’t wanna hear a single word out of either one of you! Not a goddamn word!”

He doesn’t bother berating them in front of you, though you know that’ll come later. He doesn’t say anything to you either, but his hand doesn’t leave yours all the way back to his apartment. Not the one in the village, but the one just outside of the city.

“You knew, didn’t you?” you ask quietly when he drops his keys on the counter.

There’s a beat of silence, and he sighs. “Yeah, I knew.”

It’s hanging in the air between you, like a dark, stormy cloud about to unleash. “Iwa,” you whisper, your bottom lip trembling once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, as honestly as he can. “But you’re gonna stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call Makki and Mattsun and they’ll come and take you back to Sendai for a little while if that’s what you want. You don’t have to see either one of those assholes, not until…” 

Not until you figure out how you’re supposed to make this impossible choice. 

He squeezes your shoulder as you sniffle. “It’s gonna be alright, whatever you decide to do.”

Neither one of you truly believes that, but what’s left to say?

He hugs you again before he leaves, makes you promise to call if you need him, but you both know you won’t.

Not tonight, not when he has other priorities. 

And then you’re alone, sitting on his couch surrounded by blankets with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands. You know you should try to get some sleep, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, but every time you close your eyes, you can’t stop thinking about it.

About the way Tooru’s voice had shook, how you’d smiled for Atsumu, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest when the two of you talked and you’d teased him.

And you remember how it was the day Tooru first told you that he loved you, the butterflies in your stomach the first time he’d kissed you, spinning you around and laughing as his lips met yours again and again and again. 

How he’d yelled and screamed and fallen apart in your arms that night, begging you not to leave him. 

You love him, for better or for worse, you love him. 

A loud knock echoes through the apartment, shaking you from your thoughts.

It’s almost 2am, and nobody but Iwa knows you’re here. Nobody should be knocking, and so you sit, frozen in the dark listening as your heart hammers uneasily.

One beat, then two, and then–

“I know you’re in there, just– just please. I need… I need–” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, and there’s a low thud, like his head’s fallen against the door. “Please,” he begs, quieter this time. 

There’s another thud.

“I need ya. Don’t lock me out, I’m beggin’.”

[thepremedthatwrites]

Isolated

request: You had married Peter as an arrangement.  There was no love involved.  At least that’s what you thought but things can change.  While you may have been unsure of your feelings for the High King, you were certain of one thing: your loneliness.

warning: slight smut in the beginning 

part 2 | part 3

Peter’s warm breath tickled my neck as he moaned into my ear.  I could feel him spill into me, my back arching in response.  We stayed in place for a moment, both of us panting, until he climbed off of me.  Peter slowly climbed out of bed, his back muscles flexing as he bent down to grab his clothes.  I watched motionless as he put on his clothes.  “Are you going to get dressed?” he asked, his voice void of any emotion.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice hoarse causing me to clear my throat.  “In a minute.”  He nodded, quickly fixing his clothes before leaving the room.  I let out a sigh, staring at the ceiling.  My heart rate had returned to normal as I rolled out of bed.  I quickly dressed, fixing my hair before leaving the room.  

I toyed with the ring that rested on my ring finger as I made my way down the hall.  I opened the large doors to reveal a nursery.  I smiled as I picked up the child from the crib.  “Hello Ollie,” I said, rocking the baby back and forth in my arms.  He had his father’s bright blue eyes which were wide with bewilderment as he reached out to grab a strand of my hair that hung over him.  I chuckled, gently removing the hair from his grasp.  “That’s mommy’s hair silly,” I said softly.  

“I still don’t get why you married her,” a voice on the other side of the door said.  

“Susan, we’ve been over this,” another voice replied calmly.  It was Peter’s.  “It was the best way to calm the tension between our nation and Calormen.”

“It’s stupid is what it is,” Susan replied.  “You were in a perfectly happy relationship with Maria.”

“I know,” Peter sighed.  “But I have to put my nation before my feelings.”

“Well, what about Maria’s feelings?  Don’t you think hers are important too?”  Peter stayed silent.  “I guess Narnia is more important than her too.”  The sound of heels could be heard getting gradually softer before being completely inaudible.  I could hear Peter sigh before the door to the room slowly started to open.  

I immediately turned my head to Ollie who had already started to suck on my breast.  “I didn’t know you were in here.”  I turned to Peter.

“I always feed Ollie at this time,” I stated before turning my attention back to my baby.  I could feel Peter linger near the door.  I turned to see him looking around the room.  “I’ll be done soon.  Then you can be with him.”  Peter nodded at this, putting his hands behind his back and walking around the room, inspecting the decorations.  

“You didn’t hear anything before, did you?”

“Hear what?” I lied, suddenly glad that Ollie had decided that he was full.  

“Nothing,” Peter said as I put Ollie back in his crib and adjusted my dress to cover myself.  I inhaled sharply as I felt Peter make his way to the crib, his body only inches from mine.  “He has your nose,” Peter pointed out.  

“And your eyes,” I replied.  I hoped that my heartbeat wasn’t as loud as I thought it was as Peter smiled down at Ollie.

“He does, doesn't he.”  I nodded, clearing my throat and sliding away from Peter who had slowly made his way closer to me.  “He’s all yours,” I said quickly, already making my way towards the door.  

“Thank you,” Peter replied.  I turned to him, giving a quick nod before leaving the room.  I felt my face burn up as I made my way to the library.  My brain replayed the feeling of Peter’s body so close to mine.  The doors slammed behind me as I made my way to a secluded corner, not wanting anyone to see me in such a state.  Why was I freaking out over something so small?  Surely Peter and I had been in much more intimate situations.  But the way we were standing so close, looking down at the child we had both created.  It was like we were a true family filled with love and admiration.  No.  That was stupid.  

Our relationship was not one of love but one of power.  This thought only turned my attention to the conversation I had overheard.  I could already feel the tears burning my eyes as a loud sob escaped me causing me to cover my mouth with my hands as I sat on the floor.  I had been in Narnia for almost a year now and I felt just as much of a stranger as when I had arrived.

I missed Calormen.  I missed the familiarity of my castle, the servants who always gave me friendly smiles, and my brothers who would turn boring days of study into fun adventures.  I missed feeling at home.  The sound of the library doors opening caused me to silence myself.  I quickly wiped away any remaining tears as laughter rang throughout the room.  I got up from my seat on the floor, smoothing out my dress, before walking through the shelves of books.  

I glanced around the corner to see Lucy and Edmund at a table, a chessboard between them.  “You’re cheating,” Edmund complained, causing Lucy to deny the accusation.  I shifted my weight causing the floorboard beneath me to creak.  I winced as the two turned towards the noise.  I revealed myself to them.  The smiles that had been on both of their faces slowly disappeared.  

“Sorry,” I muttered.  “I was just looking at the books.”  I quickly grabbed a random book from the shelf before turning around and walking to the door.  I could hear them whisper behind me as I left the room.  I let out a sigh, mentally cursing myself for being so careless before making my way to my bedroom.  Peter was most likely in a meeting which meant the room would be empty.  

I threw the book onto my nightstand before flinging myself onto the bed.  Almost immediately, tears started to stream down my face.  I was not wanted in Narnia and Narnia had made it very clear to me.  My body shook as I continued to cry until my body could produce no more tears, leaving my body to only shake as pure exhaustion overtook me.  I felt myself start to drift off, wishing to be in my bed in Calormen instead of the bed of loneliness that I laid in.  

“I’m pregnant,” I announced as Peter started to undress.

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.”  I watched as he put on a pair of pants before climbing into bed with me.  

“I’ll alert the others tomorrow.”  I nodded.  A year had passed since I overheard Peter and Susan’s conversation and though I would never admit it, I was hoping that being able to produce another child for Peter - for Narnia - would prove my worth to everyone.  We both laid in silence.  Soon enough, the sound of light snoring could be heard from Peter.  My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I studied the man lying next to me.  I wondered what it would be like if we were actually in love with each other.  Would Peter respond with great excitement when I informed him of my pregnancy?  Would we cuddle together to stay warm during the cold winter nights?  I wondered what it would be like to have his strong arms wrapped around me.  

I turned around, now staring at the dark room around us.  Why was I thinking of this?  Was it because I was lonely or because I actually had feelings for Peter?  Maybe it was a mixture of both.

The next morning, I entered the dining room to see the other royals sitting around the table.  “Peter told us you’re expecting,” Susan stated.  Although there was a smile on her face, it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Yes, I am,” I replied, taking my seat next to Peter.

“Congratulations,” Lucy said.  Her smile seemed to be a bit more genuine.  Of all the royals, Lucy had been the kindest when I had arrived although I could still sense a slight feeling of disdain from her.  Though I wasn’t sure if the disdain was for me or the arranged marriage I was in.  

“Thank you.”  I could feel Maria staring at me, her brother Caspian sitting next to her.  I focused my attention on my breakfast, feeling the guilt build within me.  I barely ate anything as I felt the intense stare of Maria the entire time.  Instead, I pushed the food around my plate before excusing myself after an acceptable amount of time had passed.  

Meals seemed to occur the same way for the next month.  Maria’s eyes seemed to be looking right into my soul, judging every sin that I had ever committed.  My guilt would eat away at me, inhibiting me from eating anything on my plate.  

I closed the door behind me after another horrendous dinner where Maria had reminisced of the times Peter and she used to have.  I couldn’t bear the reminder that I had stripped Maria of her lover.  I was too exhausted to worry about table manners as I excused myself almost immediately after she had started speaking.  I now laid down in bed, almost too tired to even keep my eyes open.

“(Y/n)?”  I opened my eyes to see Peter walking into the room.

“I’m sorry for leaving like that,” I said, my voice weak.  “I just couldn’t handle it anymore.”  

“(Y/n) I’m worried,” he said, making his way to me.  “If you continue to not eat, you could lose the baby.”  I could feel the tears forming at his words.  

“Don’t you think I know that?” I said, my voice a bit louder than before.  “I’m trying Peter.  I’m really trying but it’s hard when I’m not even wanted here.”  I could hear my voice break at the end of the sentence causing me to wince.  Peter seemed to freeze in place as tears streamed down my face.  “Goddammit!” I sobbed, burying my face into my hands.  I hated this.  I hated feeling so alone.  I hated that I could feel my health deteriorating.  I hated that I was crying.  And I especially hated that I was crying in front of Peter.  I could feel Peter watching me in silence as I broke down in front of him.

I felt the bed bend underneath the weight of another body.  I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, hands rubbing my back soothingly as I sobbed into Peter’s chest.  “I’m so sorry,” Peter said softly, repeating the phrase over and over again as I continued to sob.  Eventually, my sobs turned into whimpers before turning into silence.  My entire body felt heavy as I continued to lean into him, his arms remaining where they were.  We both sat there in deafening silence. 

That night, my question of what it would be like to cuddle with Peter was answered.  His strong arms made me feel protected as I fell asleep in them, our legs tangled together like vines.  Our relationship was not perfect.  In fact, it was far from it.  But we had each other and maybe that was enough.

[bokebelle]

just like the stories - armin arlert

WARNINGS: none, just a ton of armin fluff. 

PAIRINGS: armin arlert x gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

a/n: this is my first time writing something this long and i’m very open to feedback and suggestions as to how i can improve! 

requests: OPEN

Armin was 18 when he first started falling for you. It was all innocent at first. He loved the way you smile was brighter than the sun, and how your eyes shone brighter than any star in the sky. But as time went on and he grew older, the love he felt for you ran deeper than any ocean he could read about.

He fell harder for your bright smile, knowing that there were days when you just didn’t feel like smiling. He fell deeper for the spark in your eyes, remembering the days he wiped the tears that threatened to douse their light. You made him feel like he was on cloud nine, but kept him grounded with your gentle words and soothing touch.

That's why 2 years later, Armin was where he was now: sitting on a bench, with you beside him, reading out loud a book he had carefully picked, hoping you would read between the lines and figure out he was in love with you.

“And it was in that moment her heart had felt the thrill of being in love.” he couldn't stop himself from looking at you. He couldn’t help admiring how you leaned your head back and closed your eyes, taking in every word that came from his mouth.

"It was intoxicating, almost addicting. She allowed herself to drown in the scent of her lover, she simply couldn’t get enough. She wasn’t afraid to be burned by the fire that bloomed in her heart when their lips were locked in heated moments of passion. Despite the pain, she wasn’t afraid if one day, her lover decided to seek shelter in the arms of another, for the love she felt was enough to make her feel alive for a lifetime and a day. She wasn’t afraid to love.

She realized that through it all, love was the thrill that made her feel alive. It was the promise of a love that made life more beautiful that made her hope and dedicate her heart no matter how many times it broke. 

In her beloved she saw the farthest of galaxies and the deepest of oceans. In their promises of love, she learned the truths of life and the secrets of the universe. As she locked eyes with the one that held her heart, she saw that the beauty in it all, in the good and the bad, was knowing that at the end of the day, she was loved and that she was in love.” Armin concluded. “The end.”

“That was such a sappy ending” you say, finally opening your eyes to look at blue eyed boy before you.

Armin was always cute, with his button nose, ocean blue eyes, golden fluffy hair, and optimism that made you think he was like the sun. The more time passed, the more you realized the word “cute” didn’t fit him anymore. He was kind and friendly, with a sharp mind and quick wit. You started to think maybe he wasn’t like the sun, maybe he was brighter than the sun itself. But the more you got to know him, the more you understood even the sun bowed to the darkness of the night.

 Armin was insecure about never being the obvious choice. He was smart, yes, but he was worried about never being as funny as Connie, or as charismatic as Jean, or as strong as Mikasa. You always assured him that he didn’t have to be like them. He didn’t need to be like his friends to be enough. To you, Armin was always enough. You were always too scared to tell him how you really felt. You were afraid he would push you away, thinking he wouldn’t be enough for you, thinking you’d ruin everything if he didn’t give you, or himself, a chance. And so you kept quiet for both your sake and his and kept your feelings hidden in the deepest corners of your heart. But despite wanting to shout the truth into the world, you felt okay keeping it a secret if it meant having him by your side a day longer. He was your bright sun that shone in the summer sky, and even in his dark moments, he shone like the moon on a clear night.

You always found Armin cute, but when you learned about the ugly things he had a hard time loving, the parts that you loved for the both of you, you started to think differently. And in this moment, as the light caught in his blond hair making him glow before you, you can’t help but think how beautiful Armin is.

“Well, I liked it.” he said, closing the book and setting it on his lap

"I’m not saying I didn’t like it. It was just sappy. And besides, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic so maybe that's why you liked it.” you tease him with a smile.

‘Hopeless, maybe’ he thought. He took a deep breath and hoped he had it in him to be romantic.

“to be loved and to be in love sounds nice though, doesn’t it?” his heart drums in his ears, a faint blush painting the apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “To feel so strongly about someone and knowing they feel the same way about you.” 

You simply smile at him, and he takes this as a cue to continue. “Imagine finding someone who makes the world make sense. Someone who makes you feel safe, and welcome. Someone who makes you feel like home wherever you go.”

“That would be nice.” you agree as you entertain his train of thought, ignoring your own thoughts of what it would be like to hold his hand, or kiss his cheeks. “But they’re works of fiction for a reason. I’m not trying to be a downer but not everyone finds love and gets it in return. Sometimes you just have to be happy watching from the sidelines.” 

Armin felt a twinge of doubt in his heart. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he should be happy watching you from the sidelines. However, he managed to stop himself before he let his negative thoughts take over. 

‘Better to have love and lost than never to have loved at all’ right? He took a deep breath and shook his doubt away. He would never know if he had a chance of winning the game if he always resigned himself to watching from the sidelines. 

“It may be fiction but it’s possible.” He counters. “It’s possible to find someone has all your words and promises but leaves you speechless. To know someone like the back of your hand, but they keep you guessing every time. Someone who makes life exciting but makes you feel at peace at the same time”

“And how do you know it’s possible, Mr. Romance expert? You in love with someone?” you manage to joke despite an ugly jealous feeling starting to bloom in your gut.

“It’s possible because that’s how I feel with you.” Armin confesses, and you could swear in that moment time froze. You suddenly became hyperaware of how he was fiddling with his fingers, how his eyes were fixed on you. His cheeks were turning pink, and he nervously licked his lips. He was flustered. More flustered than you had ever seen. 

“Just hear me out okay? I like you, I like you a lot. You make all the romance books I’ve read make sense. When they talk about that warm feeling in your chest, or the feeling of being home, suddenly I understand them because of you. Cliché and sappy words make sense because that’s what I think when I look at you, that’s what I feel. I’ve been in love with you since I was 18, you know? I don’t know when it started, but I don’t regret it one bit. And if you give me a chance, I hope you don't regret it too. I know I’m not the strongest or even the tallest, I don’t have a lot to offer except my heart that chooses you every day and my arms that were made to hold you. It’s corny, I know but that’s all I have to give you and I hope that’s enough.” 

You keep quiet for a moment before letting out a small giggle. You had spent all this time keeping quiet only to realize he felt the same way. And top it all off, after he poured his heart out to you, saying the words you always wished he would tell you, the words you were always too scared to admit, Armin was still worried about not being enough. It was in the vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes that you finally found the strength to do what you’ve always wanted to do, to say the words you’ve always wanted to say.

“Gosh Armin, for someone so smart you can be really dumb sometimes.” you tease, accidentally giving him the wrong impression.

Armin felt numb. You didn’t feel the same. He was dumb for thinking someone like him had a chance with someone like you. But before he could feel his heart break in two, he felt your lips gently on his.

You were kissing him? His mind couldn’t process everything that was happening fast enough so that by the time he was ready to kiss you back, you had pulled away.

“Armin you’re always enough for me, you’re more than enough. I don't care about what you're not, what matter is what you are, and you are always enough” You whisper, holding his beautiful face in your hands so his eyes meet yours. “and if you still don’t believe then that's fine, I can love you enough for the both of us.”

Armin’s brain finally caught up with what was happening, and his heart had started beating to the promise of your words. He was enough. He was enough for you, and he was enough for himself. For once, his words failed him, so he decided to kiss you back, knowing that was enough for you both.

No love story could ever describe the way his lips felt against yours. No poem could detail how lovely his fingertips felt as they traced gentle patterns against your skin. The greatest novelists or poets would never come close to describe what it felt like to have a love like this. It was a love meant to be preserved in the stars. A love considered fictional by most, and rare by few. It was a love one could only dream of having, a love only you and your beautiful blue-eyed boy lived out everyday. 

You lived a love so great and pure, would happily spend all your lifetimes and more, knowing what it’s like to be loved by and to be in love with Armin Arlert.

[gojology]

Intoxicated. (18+)

The Request: 

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I’m so sorry anon, usually I finish the whole fic before adding the author’s note, and I’m now realizing that I read your request wrong. I think you meant to have Gojo and Reader as friends but uh... I kinda wrote this as the opposite? It’s more of a Popular Gojo x Loner Reader. I hope this still fits your tastes because otherwise I followed everything you asked for, you’re welcome to request more and I’ll write them PERFECTLY I swear. Also can ya’ll tell I’m bad at choosing titles LMFAO 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | College Student! Dom! Gojo x Drunk! Sub! (as per usual..) Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3808 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Suggestions of Rape (Nothing Happens Though, Also I’m Not Sure If That’s The Correct Choice of Wording...), Fluff, Oral (Male Receiving), Somewhat Public, Hair Pulling,  𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | After attending a party due to some persistent begging from a friend, hopeful for Gojo Satoru, your long-time crush to come, you turn back empty-handed. That’s what you thought, though. Eventually he comes around and helps you in more ways then one.

           The thumping of bass was all you could hear.      Loud drunken cheering, chatter amidst the scene. Poorly discarded red solo cups littered the floor and the tables, and at the corner of your eye you could see a heap of college students piled up on top of each other, snoring.     You impatiently tap your foot against the sticky floor, most likely due to the uncleaned spilt drinks. You weren’t exactly fond of college parties. Most of the time nothing occurred, and besides, you had your eyes set on a certain man, so you weren’t quite looking for a quick night. But you had come regardless, since your friend had begged and eventually convinced you to.     Scanning the crowd once more, hopeful, you curse under your breath as you come out of your search unsuccessful once more. Not even a glimpse of Gojo Satoru, someone that always attended crazy parties, and this party was high on the scale of crazy. This had to be the most depressingly boring party you’ve ever attended.     But if you weren’t here to shamelessly stalk Satoru, or socialize, you had to do a bit of drinking, or else what would be the point?    Walking towards the alcohol was the last thing you wanted to do. Hordes of intoxicated students were blatantly making out with each other, drinks left untouched and probably forgotten, not to mention just the overall anxiety you would get to be so caught up in the life of the party.     “Yooo... ‘S that you, (Y/N)?” you heard a familiar drunken voice even through the loud music, and you whip around, glad to have some form of escape from the awkwardness.    You were hesitant to approach your friend, you knew they were the friendly type, and that was only exemplified during drinking.    “Yup, that’s me!” you smile awkwardly, setting your empty cup down on the table.     “Agh. Fuck.” your friend groaned, stumbling onto you, sloppily catching themselves using your shoulders. “Sorry... Long night. Holy shit (Y/N), didn’t think you’d actually fucking come out and party. Nice to see you... Fuck-” brushing off a pair girls dancing wildly from their shoulder, your friend cleared their throat.    You try not to make a face, and instead direct your attention to the crowd on the opposite end of the room, hoping this was enough to tell your friend that you weren’t exactly looking for a conversation.    “...Fuck... What was I saying..? Oh yeahhhh, glad to see ya out here hermit. I’ll pour your drink~! How’s class going?”     Clumsily fumbling with your cup, you had subconsciously picked it back up, your fingers itching to fidget with it and pretend your friend wasn’t there at all. Turning to face your friend again, a grin playing at your lips, hoping you looked friendly. “No that’s fine! I’ll do it myself, I’m way less drunk then you are. Why don’t you go sit down?” You mentally facepalm. Of course they wouldn’t get your body language, they were literally drunk.     Your friend grinned boldly, “Hey, you said it, not me~ You can leave anytime though... Guy named Gojo Satoru coming soon... Makes all the parties go wild. Ladies love him. Probably not your style though, eh?”     You don’t reply, instead watching your friend nod at you, perhaps as a way of saying goodbye when they couldn’t do it normally. Taking sluggish strides to mix back in with the crowd of people, unintelligibly rambling about something you presumed was about Gojo Satoru. You wave at them as they blended into the blur of faces.    It takes a moment to register everything that was just said. Your heart pounding, you turn to face the variety of alcohol instead, finally settling on some cheap beer, since you had no idea what the rest was, yet you weren’t quite thinking about the quality of the alcohol you were drinking.    You were looking down at the selection of drinks, but your mind wasn’t thinking about that at all.     You had thought your luck really was shit, but that didn’t appear to be the case any longer.     Your brain was thinking quicker then your hands could catch up, spilling the canned liquid onto the table instead of your cup, but that wasn’t what you were thinking about right now.      Setting the can down without another thought, you take a long sip, enjoying the ice cold beverage, your mouth going numb with every swig. Usually you’d throw up at the slightest thought of the after taste of beer, but that didn’t matter. Right now, all that was in your world was your red solo cup, the cheep booze inside of it, and whenever the hell Gojo Satoru would arrive.      The likelihood of him noticing you was probably in the negatives, you were a wall flower, an average college student, but him? He probably had a part-time job as a super model, or perhaps a fitness trainer. Strong toned arms, always a smug smirk on his face, strikingly white hair, and those damned circular shades.      Shaking your head, you pour another can of beer into your cup, feeling yourself go numb and ignoring the thoughts going rampant in your head. The only thing to distance yourself from these thoughts were to drink yourself to sleep, seeing as everyone else was doing the same thing, or call an Uber.      Unfortunately, that probably had a lower probability of Gojo taking an interest in you. You were, of course, a broke college student living off of pre-packaged noodles and relatively cheap dishes. It would be more likely to crash at your friends place.      You weren’t quite the drinker, much less experienced with the booze. You felt your knees wobble, and a strong urge to throw up at the back of your throat. You shouldn’t have overdrank.      Leaving your cup on the table, you shrugged your way towards the exit, murmuring (or rather slurring) polite excuse me’s and sorry’s, Stumbling your way towards the door, you were just now realizing that people were even now still coming into the party. You desperately needed fresh air, the atmosphere in the party was too hectic, too crazy, too stuffy.      As soon as you stepped an inch away from the interior, you drew in a long much needed sigh, every breath coming out as a cloud of fog.      The night was quiet and still, and you finally felt like you could vomit your guts away in peace.      Walking over to the nearest trashcan you can find, you vomited as much as you could, feeling lighter as soon as it all left your system.      Turning back towards the house, you still found yourself stumbling and struggling to walk normally. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve, you refused to look this stupid returning back to the house, figuring you could take a few more breathers.       Taking another deep breath in, without even beginning to mention your surroundings, confidently taking long strides. You knocked into someone, headfirst into their chest.    Cursing under your breath, you squint your eyes, this person was incredibly tall, you noted. Remnants of expensive smelling cologne clouded your sense of smell.    “...Sorry.” you mumbled, still struggling to see who this was due to the darkness.      “Hey. No problem girly, you seem drunk, you okay?” yet another familiar voice, yet you hadn’t heard it quite as often as your friend.      “Huh...? Uh, yeah... I think.” giving him a dopey smile, you couldn’t remember who this guy was for some reason.      “Yo Gojo! Who’s this chick?”      Immediately swiveling your head towards the direction of the voice, it came to your attention that you had seen the guy on campus hanging out with Gojo quite often. Turning back up to the guy towering over you, beads of sweat formulated on your forehead, you gulp, the confidence you got while drinking evaporated into thin air. A toothy sly grin on his handsome facial features,  you don’t even know if your heart rate is dropping to the negatives or skyrocketing.      This was the actual real Gojo Satoru. The egotistical bastard.     Stifiling an eep, you try to respond, attempting to say you were in-fact not his affirmative, “chick”.      “Chill, Geto, just some drunk girl. Hey, you go ahead with the party, I think I’ll help her.” he said, waving at whoever Geto was.      “Gojo, again? You’ve done this shit like 4 times, you want pussy that bad... Yo!” he raised his arms up as soon as Gojo shot daggers at him. “Dude, come enjoy yourself when you can, okay? Was just a joke.” Geto mumbled, you heard a few goodbye’s and words of agreement, and then the atmosphere was still once again.       “You seem really drunk. I don’t think being alone is good.” his eyebrows knitted together. Placing a firm hand on your forehead. “which fucking sucks honestly. Here, let’s go back inside sweets. You’re heating up.”      Seemingly forgetting every language you’ve ever learned, you instead look back at him in awe.      He laughed, putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “Here, I’ll help you walk. If worse comes to worse, I’ll fucking carry you, yeah? Nothing to be worried about, who doesn’t wanna flex that they were carried by Gojo fucking Satoru? They don’t call me the greatest for nothing~!” he sang.      “You’re real?” you breathed, immediately covering your mouth following suit. Wishing you had the confidence like this sober.      He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you, taking long strides that you couldn’t quite catch up with. “Yeah, I’m real, don’t walk into that you’re gonna faceplant into a car.”

    “I think I’ve seen you before in one of my classes, humanities maybe?” he added, turning you back into the party, you heard the loud thumping music once again.      It was in fact humanities, but you couldn’t quite tell him you always marveled at him every lecture, so instead you flutter your eyelashes. “...Uh yeah... I think I remember you too.”     Before he could say anything back, you hear the steadily increase of a deafening combination of party music and loud screams and chatter.      “Yo Gojo! Got a new girl? Thought you were dating some chick named Utahime?”      “Yo! Nah, just helpin’ this girl, and no I am not dating Utahime-”      “Is that fucking Gojo Satoru? Yo! Over here, shots? Geto’s here too!”      This guy was popular, obviously. These were also top-notch names within the small college’s community, yet here you were under his arm, and not one person knew your name. Everyone just referred to you as just a girl. This probably wasn’t new to Gojo then, so you weren’t special.     You felt your heart drop.      Once again, you were in your own world, and you never felt like a burden more then now.      “Hey, where are the rooms?”      You look up from furiously studying the floor, and you realize he’s talking to your friend, tapping at their shoulder.       “Huh? Oh my god... Gojo, I thought you didn’t make it~! Want a drink?” they lifted up their red solo cup to Gojo’s lips, an easygoing smile plastered onto their face.      “Nah. Where are the rooms?” Gojo asked with a slightly impatient tone, now rhythmically drumming his fingers against your shoulder with one hand, the other shoving the cup away from his face.       “Damn, my guy.” your friend wiped their lips before speaking, their arm slack. “You’re intent... Yeah down the hallway, left, there’s some spare condoms somewhere...”       “(Y/N)? I didn’t even realize... You’re gonna fuck my boy Satoru over here?” they slapped a hand on his shoulder.      “Wha? No of course not.. Uh... He’s...” everything came out as unintelligible babble, you felt your cheeks go warm.       “She’s probably not an experienced drinker, just looking out for her to be honest. No fucking, just want to make sure she’s safe for the time being. I’ll join you later, yeah?” Gojo chirped, reassuringly patting your friend’s shoulder back.     “Shit, say less Satoru. See ya~”  your friend waved before turning their back on the two of you, striking up a random conversation with the people who just so happened to be nearby.      As you both walked down the hallway in quiet, you look up at him, grateful for the not as noisy room.      “U-Uh.. Thank you..” you murmured, “I can speak though, you know..”      He chuckled, “As fucking if, I just have experience with drunk people, I can usually tell what they’re saying when others can’t. You sounded like a crackhead back there.” fidgeting with the bedroom’s doorknob, he finally unlocked it.      “You’re mean! How do I know you’re not gonna... You know!” you retorted, collapsing on the bed without another thought, relishing the plush mattress.       “Thanks babe, if it makes you feel any better I can pull any chick within a 500 mile radius. I don’t need to resort to such cowardly and criminal shit.” he yawned, grunting before placing his shades on the nightstand, laying down next to you. “I’ll even leave the door wide open if it makes you feel safe.”       Reassured, you relaxed your body, staring at the blank ceiling. Your body felt numb and you couldn’t quite think straight.      “How’d you know I was in humanities?” you slurred, still staring at the ceiling.      “I see you all the time, you sit near me and have some cute stationary.” putting both of his hands at the back of his head, his eyes turned to look at yours, his neck twisting as he did so.      Immediately, the first thought you think of even in your intoxicated state was how beautiful his eyes were. Like rare diamonds mined from the deepest caves, placed delicately into someone’s eyes by some divine being. A strikingly vivid bright blue. It was a little on the lighter shade, but so, so beautiful.      “Pretty..” you struggle to restrain yourself, but you can’t help it, instead staring at him, eye-to-eye.       “Yeah? Just like you, sweets. I thought we were talking about cute stationary?” you couldn’t quite tell if what he just said was a joke or not, but you really didn’t want to find out. You felt your heart burst.       “...Really?” you breathed, ignoring his previous statement, lifting your legs upwards to wrap your arm around them.       “You’re pretty. Why else do you think I’d notice you in lectures?” he paused, and even you can tell he seemed slightly nervous, a slight quiver to his lips. “honestly, whenever I’m bored I just kinda look at you. You’re cute, what can I say?” Gojo added.      Unable to respond, you instead looked up at him, you felt like a blood vessel was going to pop, or your heart, whichever one was first.      Scooching closer to you, he placed a hand on your neck, breathing heavily. “Hey, I’m not lying. You’re genuinely pretty, sugar, you know? Yeah we haven’t talked to each other often, but I’ve always thought you were cute and I’ve heard things about you.”     “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” that was all you could pathetically muster. “Is that the joke?”       “When a cute chick is on the line, I don’t lie.” he assured you, pursing his lips.      Seeing him so up close was nerve-wrecking, so perfect, he looked like was sculpted with marble. A part of you wished you weren’t drunk, so you wouldn’t look as stupid. “I think you’re cute too.” you whispered.      For a moment, it went quiet. So quiet that you could hear the loud music and the wild party once again, but you don’t dare interrupt. It takes everything inside of you to not break eye contact, your stomach a butterfly exhibit.      “I like you.” he finally said, you couldn’t sense a damn sarcastic tone. “Bet you’re gonna doubt that too.” snickering, he ran his hand through his hair, but you swear you see him bite his lip. Sexual or something he did subconsciously, you weren’t quite sure.     Time stopped. This was way too far to be a troll, but what if it still was? You didn’t know, the stupid small thought never went away, you looked at him dumbfounded instead. Snapping out of your daze, you ask, “...But we haven’t talked a whole bunch.”      “I know that. I don’t know, I guess I liked the idea of the competition. You don’t throw yourself at me, and sure other girls don’t do that as well-” he trailed off, before finishing his sentence, “but I think there’s a lot of positive traits that I like in you, and you’re just.. Really pretty. I guess I don’t want to throw you away like what I do with other girls?”      Before you could speak, he cuts you off again, this time a tad frantic. “But you know- Listen, I know it seems like I fuck around with girls a lot, but I’m looking to change that. I know I don’t seem very genuine now, but I think I’d like to try something with you specifically. You don’t even have to say anything back, just leave if you don’t want to, and if you do I’m sorry for disturbing your night-”      Maybe it was how intoxicated you are, or how you suddenly felt a burst of confidence, but you kiss him, and you kiss him hard. His breath hitched while you rolled on top of his chest. You’re desperate to have contact between your skin and his. He kissed you back, shyly at first, soft and delicate, but that didn’t last for long.      Heat rose to your cheeks, you were rusty with your kissing, but he wasn’t. The smell of his cologne was tantalizing, he kissed you like he wasn’t ever shy to begin with. One hand under your neck, propping you up towards him, the other groping your breast. Parting your lips, feeling him explore you just briefly before slipping back out as soon as it started.      You felt him unhook your bra with relative ease, and you can’t control the flutter within. Still kissing you sloppily, Gojo shuddered and you could tell there was a sound at the back of the throat. Moan, grunt, growl, you couldn’t tell. Slipping his hand away from your breast momentarily, he hastily yanked your top off your body.      Pulling away from the kiss not too long afterwards, he licked his lips, panting, you find yourself catching your breath too.       “Sit up.” he ordered, and you did as you were told, looking up at him with eyes that practically said, “What’s next?”      “Look at you. So cute.” cupping your breasts with his hands, you gasp at how hot they are, sweating just a bit, his thumbs brushed briefly against your nipples, giving them slight twirls before finally kissing both of your mounds.      “Let’s be nice and light today, okay pumpkin? Nothing too serious.” you gaze up at him, now standing and unbuckling his designer belt, unbuttoning his jeans which dropped to the floor afterwards, an obvious bulge in his boxers.      “...The door’s still open. Close it.” you suggest, your eyes still intent on his bulge, you don’t try to hide licking your lips.      “The world needs to know who’s mine tonight. Fuck that.” he smirked devilishly before also tugging his boxers down, exposing his dick.      Now, you weren’t quite expecting that he was packing this much, but he was. You easily estimated 7 inches, maybe more, you didn’t know. A pale flush pink at the very tip, veins adorned his length. Fairly girthy, and you loved it.      “Off the bed, on your knees.”      Scrambling off of the bed, you immediately look upwards and kiss the tip. He hummed, looking down at you with watchful eyes. You didn’t care if someone saw the two of you like this, in fact you’d love it.       You instantly put your hands to work, pumping his length, making sure that you were making eye-contact. Giving playful licks along the sides whilst doing so, you note his panting is getting heavier, so you must be doing something right. Your tongue quickly darted out of your mouth to lick your lips, before suckling the tip, just as a tease.      He growled, yanking at your hair so that you were looking directly up at him once again. “Don’t tease me, sweetheart. Or you’ll see what happens.”       Letting go of your locks, with one last look at his face you engulfed his rock hard cock, slightly drooling. Once in a while, you took a risky peek at Gojo’s face, predatory and lustful eyes staring back directly at you. Grunting, he twitched in your mouth, and you brace yourself.       “Fuck, (Y/N). You’re so good with your mouth.” he breathed. You groaned in an attempt to communicate, since your mouth was so stuffed full. Precum leaked from his dick, and you bobbed up and down once more. Taking another breath in, tears began to form at the corner of your eyes. You choked a little, but you were doing well for someone who didn’t suck dick very often.      Bracing yourself for a flashflood of cum from him, your mouth worked up and down on his length before you heard a loud groan, signaling that he had came, his eyes squeezed shut, the orgasm completely wracked his body. You found yourself with a mouthful of cum, and you struggle to swallow, before doing it successfully.      You look up to him, panting, some cum had escaped your mouth, splattering onto the floor. He looked you up and down, before opening his arms out for you, beckoning for you to come forth.      “Come here, you looked so pretty doing all that. Such a good girl.” pulling you in closer to his chest, he laid down with a huff, hugging you now. Gojo’s hand rubbed up and down your bare, sweaty back, in a state of euphoria, you don’t do much other then giggle.      “I’m so glad I can call you mine now, pumpkin.” he smiles, before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.      “Wait... We’re dating now?’ your head shot up, in shock.      “Yes. Dummy. Fuck it, let’s just crash here tonight, your friend won’t mind.” he tousled your hair, taking another deep breath in. “Let’s sleep together.”       “Again?”       “I mean it in a literal sense.” he rolled his eyes.       “.....You guys can fuck here.” a familiar voice rang out from the hallway, you hear a murmur of thanks as the voice became closer and closer, but you’re too tired to move.      “We never closed the door.” you say hazily, digging your face closer into his chest.      He grumbles in response, and you can’t tell what he’s saying.      “..Ah nope- Looks like that room is occupied by Gojo and...” your friend’s eyes looked down, before looking back up in terror. “(Y/N)?”     They looked back down at the ground, their eyes lighting up as soon as they realized what was on it: cum splatters and clothes.     You’re too intoxicated to care, though.     

[millers-planet]

Spontaneous - Obi-Wan x F!Senator!Reader

Storyline/ Prompt: Even cool-minded Jedi’s have their moments of weakness.

Warnings: Arguing, angst, fluff

Notes: my hormonal brain said “make it! make it!” and here I am :) also a lil longer than my usual fics

POV: Reader

“He just came into our chambers and began starting stuff, or it seemed like it. I was just taking a nap, because I didn’t have anything better to do, and he started lecturing me on how I should be doing my ‘responsibilities’.” Padmé listened to me carefully and nodded as I continued rambling, both of us sitting out on a concrete porch on Coruscant. “I asked him if he knew that we had a small assembly earlier today and that I was tired from that, but he just kept saying how I should prepare for the next session.”

Angry tears filled my eyes as my hands balled into fists and slammed into my legs. “Do you know if he had a bad day or failed mission recently to make him lash out like that?” Padmé’s voice was soft and gentle, comforting as I tried to form any connections. “We both know this isn’t like him, at all. If you want I can ask Anakin, him and I are- erm, close.”

I smiled and chuckled as I wiped away a few stray tears, “c’mon, you know I’m smarter than that. The number of times you’ve blown me off for him has made me realize there’s nothing friendly about you two.”

She stuck her hands up and laughed that contagious sound that made the world turn right-side up, “okay, you caught me.”

Bringing us back to topic, I looked at her more seriously, “I think he was trying to get through to Anakin about something, but he instead went to go talk to the Chancellor.” Padmé looked down and lost the expression on her face. “Sorry. Obi-Wan has been kind of upset about that recently and I think it happened again today, so I think that’s what caused it.”

She looked back up to me with sincere and understanding eyes, “I might talk to Anakin about this, myself. Before we go too deep into a rabbit-hole, let’s go out.” She stood up and walked over to me, putting her hand on my shoulder to guide me with her.

“Sure, but where?” We both smiled and continued out of the palace, into a hover car with her in the driver. “Are you going to make it a surprise? You know how I feel about those.”

She chuckled, “calm down, Y/N, we’re just going... out.” I gave her a glare as she sped off, eventually making her break. “Okay! Okay! Since you look like you’re going to strangle me, we’re going to The Outlander Club.” 

Padmé smiled innocently as my jaw dropped, “you understand how risky this is for us? I mean, c’mon we’re senators, don’t you think this is a lil... dangerous?” My voice shook and thumbs twiddled as I considered how Obi-Wan would react to me going into this place, especially since he knows that I know how he feels about it. “What if Obi-Wan-”

“Nope, we’re not doing that.” She shook her head as we sped through the city. “Tonight is about us, we need to be adventurous. If we get captured, who cares? We know who our lovers are.” She continued with her gaze dead ahead for the nightclub, my heart rate sped up as we got closer. What started as tiny, growing beats, turned into thundering pounds in my chest that pulled me away from this place. However, Padmé’s grabby hands led me into the club.

We entered casually, just two ladies right where they most definitely belong, totally not risking their lives for a bit of “adventure”. I caught the occasional gaze of someone eyeing me, not in the ‘i’m gonna skin you alive’ kind of eyeing, but a more ‘i’d like to see your full skin’. She eventually pulled me towards the bar and ordered us some fruity drinks, nothing too strong, in case we had to be sober for a dire situation.

I kept my eyes on the bar and my colorful drink as I tried to ignore my surroundings, figuring out how I would confront Obi-Wan tonight. As much as I would love to spend the night with Padmé, it would feel wrong sleeping in a space without him nearby. Maybe I could sleep in our bed and kick Obi to the couch, or I could sleep on the couch without saying anything to him to make him feel bad. Or, I could go to my own quarters since we usually sleep in his.

Just as I was devising my evil plan, Padmé interrupted my train of thought. “Watch out, 8 o’clock.” She pointed with her eyes as she put her back against the bar. I gazed over my shoulder and saw some man approach me. His hair was darker shade and had a bit of scruff. He set his arms on the bar and looked at me, eyeing my features.

Clearing his voice, he spoke with a deeper tone that took me off guard, “can I buy you a drink?” 

My mind skipped beats, my heart sputtered. “I, uhm, er-. Well, may-”

“Yes, buy her a drink.” Padmé interrupted, smiling and nudging me as she walked away, probably off to some mutual she knows. I swear she knows everyone, maybe she knew this guy,

It was a shot halfway filled with a dark, mysterious liquid. He picked up both and handed me one, “to tonight.” 

I took the glass and furrowed my eyebrows, “why tonight? Should I be aware of something happening?” I smiled and released a short and small giggle, watching an enchanting smile grow on this stranger’s face.

He shrugged, “why not tonight? Is there something wrong with tonight, because if so, I could make it better.” He winked and downed the shot. My stomach dropped at his sly remark, to try and ignore this feeling, I brought the glass to my lips, about to down it until someone grabbed my elbow.

“Not tonight because she has a busy day tomorrow,” Obi-Wan grabbed the drink from my hand and pulled me away from the stranger, giving him a glare as we walked out of the club. “Did you really think this was smart, Y/N? Were you even thinking? I knew you’d be here when you weren’t with Padmé,” he raised his voice at me as we stood against the outside wall of the building.

I placed my back against it and looked away from him, “I just wanted to do something fun and spontaneous.” I whispered quietly. I looked back at him with stiff expressions, “and why do you care? Seemed like you just want to criticize everything I do today.”

Obi sighed and looked around angrily before fixing his gaze back on me. “I was so upset because you have responsibilities, Y/N, and slacking off isn’t helping anything.” His tone changed to something softer as he watched my lip try to stiffen as it quivered. “I just worry about you, darling.”

“Don’t darling me. I have given you no reason to make you worry about my abilities, so before you go and assume I’m not responsible, see if I’ve done anything to say otherwise.” My voice was sharp, pricking him with every word I spat at him with anger.

He composed himself to not yell back, trying to keep a level head. “One irresponsible example would be this.” Obi pinched his nose bridge and directed his hand toward the hover car. “Please, Y/N, can we just go home?” I walked to it and strapped myself in, looking away from him as he got in the drivers seat and began to leave the area. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying,” His words were gentle and genuine.

“Clearly,” I scoffed. I watched the building flash by, cars going in the opposite direction passing by with a loud hum. “You made me doubt myself, Obi. You yelled at me, which you never do, making me really wonder if I did something wrong.”

He readjusted his grip on the wheel as he continued onward, closing in on the palace-like building where we resided. “I know, I promise to never do it again,” he reached out for my hand, and I just looked at it, until he pulled it away. “I can go for the night, if you want, give you some space.” I didn’t answer him because I didn’t know what I wanted. While I wanted to slap his stupid face for the things he said, I also wanted to kiss his stupid face and just cry in his arms.

Before I realized, we were back at the ‘palace’. We walked back up to our quarters in silence, not even looking at each other or sparing a gaze. I unlocked the door and made my way inside, sitting down on the bed as he followed behind me slowly, his movements... different. Instead of walking confidently and determined as he did usually, he was slightly slouched and head hanging a bit lower, obviously hurt from our conversations.

Obi walked into out closet and I watched him look through his clothes to bring with him. “Obi, stay, please. Don’t go tonight,” he looked back at me and pulled his head back up.

“Are you sure?” He walked into the doorframe of the closet and leaned against it. I invited him back to the bed by patting the empty space next to me, and lying on my side towards the place I pat. He walked to the edge of the bed and climbed up, lying down next to me, on top of the soft sheets. He was on his back and just stared at the ceiling as I watched his chest move up and down with each breath he took. 

I lifted up his arm and wrapped it around me as I put my head on his chest, closing my eyes and just dozing off. “I’m sorry,” I spoke softly before drifting off finally, his embrace around me tightening as my words slipped out of my mouth and past my lips. Obi planted the smallest kiss on the top of my head and hummed softly as everything faded out.

all tags: @blondekel77 @mysticdeerpolice

star wars tags: @gabile18​

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[magioftheseas]

Look Look Look

Summary: They both have one reason for interacting with each other, and that reason is to get Momota Kaito's attention.

Rating: T

Warnings: This is angst. It’s pretty bitter.

Notes: This is for Jen who wanted “Ouma using Saihara to get to Kaito” and my brain was like “okay but imagine Saihara being the same” and this is what I ended up with because I have Chapter 4 on the brain. Uh. Don’t read this if you’re looking for Saiouma Saiouma because it very much isn’t a Saiouma fic.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

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“Oi, Shuuichi!” With a friendly wave and a friendlier grin, Momota Kaito shone brighter than the sun. “Hey, you got any free time or what?”

It’s so bright it hurts to look at. Bright enough that he wants to shrivel and retreat into the shadows, but that wasn’t going to happen when two thin arms latch onto his own like a vice.

“Soooorry, Momota-chan!” Ouma exclaims with the same amount of cheer, even if it’s just a cheap facsimile of the real thing. He presses against Saihara, his grip unforgiving rather than secure. “Saihara-chan already promised his day away to little ol’ me!”

“You again?!” Momota’s smile dropped, his teeth gritting. “Haven’t you been hogging enough of Shuuichi’s time! Seriously, Shuuichi...” Momota’s gaze darts towards him, and Saihara freezes under such a strong stare. He’d reach up to yank down the brim of his hat—but dammit. Momota had convinced him to toss the thing weeks ago. “He’s not blackmailing you, is he?”

“Wah! What a horrible thing to accuse someone!” Ouma squeezes his arm hard enough to cut off circulation. Saihara thinks of trapped wolves gnawing off their legs to escape. Ouma sniffles, exaggerated but still putting on an impeccable show regardless with tears welling up in his eyes. “T-That you’d even think so lowly of me, Momota-chan... That hurts! That really, really hurts!”

Momota looks unimpressed, but his gaze bores into Ouma. Saihara thinks of leeches.

“It’s nothing like that,” he whispers. “It’s not—anything like that, Momota-kun. I’m fine, it’s fine.”

Momota hardly looks relieved. He’s also hardly looking at Saihara at all, gaze still focused more on Ouma, wiping off his face and sniffling loudly. Momota’s brow furrows the way it does when he’s working on a puzzle.

Saihara thinks of drowning. Drowning with leeches.

“It’s fine,” he repeated. “I’ll talk to you later, Momota-kun.” A pause. A sharp inhale. “Ouma-kun. Let’s go.”

“M-Mm,” Ouma nods, still caught in his tearful act. “I wanna leave right away. Momota-chan is horrible!”

Momota rolled his eyes, but he does grin at Saihara. Easy and kind. Saihara eagerly searches his expression for a reassuring hint of disappointment.

“Later, Shuuichi.”

Momota waves him off, turning on his heel without another comment. Saihara feels cold.

“Ooh,” Ouma coos, quiet and pressing up against him again. Saihara can feel the other’s racing heart and contemplates digging his elbow into Ouma’s sternum. Of course. He’d never do anything like that. He wasn’t Momota Kaito, after all.

Momota, who does glance back. At Ouma. Ouma sticks his tongue out, and Momota hurriedly snaps his head forward with a huff.

He hadn’t given Saihara a second glance.

“Come oooon, Saihara-chan,” Ouma sing-songs, and pulls him along. Weakling that he is, worthless coward that he is, Saihara follows mutely.

--

No matter who it is, he just goes along with what the other person wants. Even if he doesn’t really want to do whatever they want to do, he just goes along with it. He can’t say he enjoys being around other people, honestly. He’s not like Akamatsu, who laughs with others and leads as easily as she breathes. Momota is like that, too, of course, but Momota is—

He’s special. Like that.

He’s special and shining, and someone like Saihara Shuuichi can’t stand being around him just as much as he wants to bask in that radiance until he burns to a crisp.

And that’s why he...tolerates Ouma. Sits with him and picks at the treats, at his teacup. It’s more tolerable than those weird card games that Ouma likes to force him through. Or the inane games of Clue. Or the detective dramas that he’s sure Ouma puts on just to watch him squirm.

He doesn’t enjoy it. But, he doesn’t think Ouma’s super crazy about his company either no matter how much he laughs.

They both have one reason for interacting with each other, and that reason—

“I think it’s best to break things off, Ouma-kun.”

“Eh? You’re breaking up with me, Saihara-chan?” Ouma doesn’t even pause in sipping his tea. It’s like they’re discussing how it might rain soon with his dry his tone is. “Just like that, huh.”

“It’s...” Saihara swallowed. He pushes away his own cup. “The more I hang out with you, the less Momota-kun looks at me.”

He just looks at you. You, you, you.

He can’t bear to say that because the last thing he needs is Ouma giving him one of those truly unpleasant smirks.

“You said that an upside to us hanging out would be that Momota-kun would pay me more attention.” Saihara tries not to grit his teeth. “But, it’s been the opposite. Because you’re nothing more than a dirty liar, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma doesn’t even look offended. He just looks bored.

“How was I supposed to know this was how things would turn out?” he asks, yawning into his hand. “Do I look like a seer? Well. It does break my heart that this backfired for you, Saihara-chan. My deepest, sincerest apologies.”

There’s not even an attempt to fake sincerity. For that, Saihara hates him.

“You had a suspicion it wouldn’t. You...”

“Me?” Ouma does feign innocence with wide eyes and pursed lips. “Don’t tell me that you think I’m trying to steal Momota-chan from you. Whyever would I do that? I already have Gonta, I have Amami-chan...” He ticks on his fingers. “Kiiboy’s so fun to mess with, too. And Akamatsu-chan! She’s so much better than Momota-chan. Whatever would I even need Momota-chan for?”

How is he supposed to answer that? Is he supposed to explain all the ways that Momota is kind and wonderful? How Momota is his strength and stability and how lucky he is to know him? How Momota is so overflowing with care and consideration that he looks out for everyone? Everyone—including Ouma?

How Momota keeps looking after Ouma, how he keeps bothering with Ouma, how he gets so worked up over Ouma, how he gets so fixated on Ouma because Ouma makes himself such a troublemaker—!

Ouma smiles at him, and Saihara knows in a heartbeat that the other is well aware. Of all that. There’s no point. There’s no point in trying to play along.

“The only reason you even pretended to notice me was because of Momota-kun.” That’s just a fact. He’s suspected it from the beginning. He’s not the kind of person to just attain another’s interest, after all. Even kind-hearted people like Akamatsu and Momota just treat him as they would any other person. “You wanted his attention, too.”

And you got it. You won. But.

“You don’t even know what to do with it. Momota-kun could look at you like you hung the moon and stars, and you wouldn’t have any idea what to do. You only know how to keep others at a distance, even as you manipulate them into chasing you. Ouma-kun...” Saihara blinked, realizing. “You’re pathetic.”

Ouma’s expression does change. He sets the tea aside. He leans in. There’s nothing but shadows encasing them both. Not a hint of light. Radiance. Anything.

“And you’re any better? If you wanted Momota-chan’s attention, surely there are better ways than trying to make him jealous. The two of you are supposed to be friends, right? Sai-ha-ra-chan?”

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m pathetic, too. But...at least being with you let me see the truth.”

That Momota-kun isn’t going to look at me the way he looks at you.

“Truth?”

It’s funny. Ouma looks genuinely confused. It’s really, really funny.

“What truth?”

“As a detective, it was easy to figure out,” he replied solemnly, shrugging as he did. “But, for a liar like you... It’ll probably take you a while, Ouma-kun.”

“What truth?” Ouma repeated, irritated. “You aren’t even going to tell me? You’re just going to keep that shit to yourself?! You sleazeball!”

Saihara stood up, pulling away even as Ouma scowled at him. With how small Ouma was, it was a wonder anyone could find him intimidating.

“I’m breaking things off. I’m just going to be a normal friend to Momota-kun. And you—you can do whatever, Ouma-kun. I don’t care. I really don’t.”

“Saihara-chan!” Ouma whined. Saihara doesn’t even twitch.

If he had been Momota, he would’ve at least grimaced with annoyance. But he’s not, so he doesn’t. There’s nothing to his expression at all.

“Do whatever you want,” he repeated, and he only lets his voice lower for this one thing. ��Except, that’s a lie. I will keep an eye on what you do to Momota-kun. As his friend.”

“You liar,” Ouma hissed. “You’re an even worse liar than I am.”

“But I’m not as pathetic as you.”

Ouma opened his mouth, and then he shut it. His eyes glimmered with emotion—a storm of emotions that Saihara didn’t want to be caught up in, so he turned away.

“Have a nice day.”

--

“Ouma’s been in such a stormy mood lately,” Momota sighs later when they’re finally together. Except, Harukawa is there, too, and she’s outwardly irritated.

“Why do you care?” she griped.

“I don’t!” Momota exclaimed, and Saihara notes that it’s such an obvious lie that it’s despairing. Especially when Momota clears his throat a little, and even looks flustered. “I just...notice these things. You don’t think something happened, do ya?”

“I don’t know.” Harukawa rolled her eyes. “And I don’t care.”

Momota shuffles uncomfortably. He looks a little uncertain.

“What do you think, Shuuichi?” he asks next, looking at him—really looking towards him. And how dearly Saihara wanted to agree with Harukawa and tell him not to worry at all.

Except. He knows he doesn’t have that kind of control. And if he can’t do anything about Momota and Ouma getting closer, at the very least he doesn’t want himself and Momota to become more distant.

“Maybe... You should ask him yourself.”

Momota lights up.

“Yeah! Good point! I’ll do that, then! Thanks, Shuuichi!”

He shines brighter than the sun.

It hurts so much.

[andersoncharm]

Don’t Read The Last Page- October 24, 2020

MiniPara: - Don’t Read The Last Page

Rating: PG.

Pairing: Seblaine. 

Sebastian: smythesm

Blaine: andersoncharm

When: October 24, 2020-  Two days after Blaine’s 24th Birthday.

Location: Sebastian’s Apartment- Boston, MA

Notes: Sam visits Blaine for his birthday week and gets to know Seb a little. He gives Blaine some unexpected news that could change Blaine and Sebastian’s lives…

Warnings:  Mentions of death. Parental Death (Blaine’s Mom), Mentions of toxic past relationships. Mentions of brief past Klaine.

Extra Warnings: (This hasn’t been brought up for a bit but, this RP is not Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine tipped a sip of his tea attempting to hide the smile that had overtaken his face as he watched his boyfriend and his best friend place the freshly carved pumpkins out on the balcony. The visual brought him a joy that he’d not felt in a long time and he wanted to hold onto the moment, freeze it in his brain and save it for a darker day. They’d done six squash and each one had a dreadful grin or the face of a pup, or little cat whiskers carved into the shades of orange and yellow. He, Seb and Sam had spent the crisp day doing various autumnal things that Blaine wanted to do in sort of a birthday weekend celebration and Blaine’s perpetually worried yet happy demeanor over the last few days, had somehow evolved to an even bigger degree of happiness that balanced somewhere between being thrilled to downright ecstatic. Sam being here had brought a little slice of his childhood into his new world and Blaine was over the moon with the feeling of having them both near. If only David and Nick could be here to make it all even better.

He fought the urge to light each of the pumpkins from his spot in Sebastian’s apartment, but refrained- Sam would be leaving soon to go back to Ohio with his family for a few days before leaving for Japan and Blaine could wait before he used his favorite bit of spooky magic. Sam had been in America for almost two weeks now and he’d been in Boston for four days, Blaine only wished he had more time here. He sat his cup down and went over and opened the balcony door as Seb and Sam turned to come back in, the purple and orange glow of the Halloween lights backing them as they stepped into the room.

“I know Sam’s got a long drive ahead of him so I’ve made a kettle of hot water for tea and a pot of coffee, the two of you can take your pick. And yes, Sam, there are about six different types of creamer to choose from.” He rolled his eyes at Sam’s grin and sat down to wait for them to come back. Sebastian came first and Blaine’s face once again threatened to crack open into another smile as his boyfriend snuggled into him, shivering from being outside. Blaine wrapped his arm around him and pulled him even closer before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s not that cold, baby.” He mumbled teasingly. Seb just grunted in response.

“God the two of you are so gross.” Sam mused with a smile as he came back into the room with the biggest coffee cup from the cupboard filled way too full and slightly sloshing over as he sat down at the end of the couch. “Gross, but like way better than the dude you dated in high school for those few months. Kurt? Did I tell you that I ran into him when I first got to Ohio? Still has major uh, god complex energy. God complex? Did I use that right? Yeah.”

Blaine’s stomach dropped a little at the mention of his brief, witch ex-boyfriend and he pulled Seb a little closer. Whether it was to keep himself calm or Seb safe he couldn't tell.

Sebastian’s POV:

Seb liked Sam well enough. He had brought him a plethora of Japanese candy and a Sailor Moon manga. Sebastian was touched by how thoughtful it all was even if the blonde man wrapped him in a giant bear hug that had lasted a little too long for his liking. Sam laughed at pretty much everything Sebastian said (“your voice is so monotone, dude! It’s hilarious!”) and was Blaine’s biggest cheerleader, had a giant grin and even bigger arms so what wasn’t to like? Ras liked him, too (probably because they had almost the exact same demeanor and ecstatic energy.) Sam fully embraced Blaine’s autumnal themed birthday weekend and didn’t make things seem third wheel-y. 

Sebastian nestled the last grinning jack o’ lantern on the bannister as Sam stood back and wiped his palms on his jeans. They had carefully carried all six of the pumpkins they had carved with Blaine out to the balcony to display. Blaine had made a show of making sure each pumpkin had a little white votive candle inside of it though Seb knew that he would just use his magic to make sure they shone bright and long all season. 

He nodded at Sam as if to signify that their work was done and they headed back into the warmth of the apartment. Sebastian immediately snuggled into his boyfriend’s warm arms, the scent of coffee and cinnamon candles instantly comforting. He wasn’t ready for the nights to grow colder and darker but he knew how much Blaine loved the colder months and so he welcomed the chilly air and tried not to grumble about missing his beloved sun too much. 

Seb peeled himself out of the other man’s strong arms, flipped Sam off and poured himself a cup of coffee with a little half and half. He clasped his mug and reveled in the feeling of the hot ceramic in his hands. Sebastian joined the other men in the living room and tried not to audibly sigh when he noticed Sam’s coffee (kind calling it that, it was mostly caramel creamer) slosh onto the arm of the couch. He knew Blaine would magic it but his Virgo tendencies were itchy with the want to spray the spot down with cleaner and scrub vigorously.  

His ears perked at the mention of Blaine’s ex. Sebastian felt the other man pull him a little closer and could feel the energy change around them. He sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat, “God complex, huh?” Sebastian took a drink of his coffee and watched Sam who seemed very chill as he sipped on his drink and gave Ras’s hair a ruffle. He could feel Blaine’s body tense to his side. “Humor us, Sam. What did he have to say?”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s heart thudded in his chest as he waited for Sam to reply to them. This familiar icy feeling of dread that he’d grown accustomed to ignoring over the past couple of years slowly crept over his body even before Sam spoke what had been said into the atmosphere. He tried his hardest not to react, tired not to grip Seb’s arm too tightly as his stomach fell to the floor. Sam’s perky, nonchalance made Blaine feel crazy about his internal struggle, but one quick glance at Seb told him that he wasn’t alone in his struggle. All at once he was happy that Hunter and Tony had already left a couple of days ago after meeting Sam and weren’t here to hear this. Wouldn’t it be their obligation to the Order to do something about it? Kurt was a Witch. A Witch that now knew about Sebastian and Blaine’s very forbidden relationship… He was especially thankful that Freya was out in the moonlight so that she couldn’t tell him she told him so. No matter how much she cared for Seb and of course, Ras.

“Well, he was like standing there, looking like he stepped out of some magazine, you know how he was, remember? And then he just casually asks how you are. So I tell him how happy you are and how you’ve got this awesome boyfriend named Sebastian that treats you like an equal and not like, you know, a trophy wife like he did and this fucking dude just keeps smiling at me. His eyes got all big and crazy looking and man, ooh, he looked like that cat from Alice in Wonderland, you know? Anyway,  I’m glad you got outta that one as quick as you did.” Sam took a big swig of his too hot drink and winched but still managed to look so proud of himself for talking Seb and Blaine up. He really was a good best friend. But, all Blaine could feel was that shrinking dread. 

Blaine licked his lips, a permanent chill settling into his bones as he sat his tea cup onto the coffee table in front of them before leaning back against Seb. His body tensed and ready for a fight as if Kurt or the Order and Council would bust through the door at any second. “That’s so strange. We dated for like two or three months, I can’t see why he’d even care what I’m up to.” He forced a laugh and reached out for Seb’s hand, linking their fingers and squeezing tightly so as not to float away. “How long ago was this?”

Sam took another drink of his coffee and shrugged. “Like when I first got into Ohio.” He shook his head. “I saw him about three more times on my trip, he didn’t talk to me or anything, just seemed to be at a few places I went to, I wouldn’t worry about it, dude. Like you said, you totally shouldn't give a shit about what he thinks anyway.” His best friend stopped and looked up at the clock with a sigh. “Ugh, I guess I should go soon. I promise the next time I come though that I’ll stay longer than four days, alright?” Sam stood up and not so carefully went into the kitchen to discard his cup into the sink. He pulled Seb into a hug that looked like it hurt before standing up and pulling Blaine into an even stronger hug, crushing him against him. Blaine knew he was tense and that he was distracted and he hated that he wasn’t able to say a proper goodbye to his best friend, but his heart was thudding so fucking hard in his ribcage that he wanted to scream.

He was such an idiot. How could he have been so careless? How could he have forgotten that Sam’s family was from Ohio that sweet, oblivious Sam would have no clue that all the Facebook and Instagram and Twitter posts had been glamoured so that it looked like Blaine was still single to Witchfolk? The high from his Birthday weekend crashed down hard and he couldn’t even bring himself to speak after Sam had left. His body felt heavy as he made his way back into the bedroom to get dressed for bed. He ignored Ras’ pitiful look which made him feel worse. He was working on autopilot as he changed his clothes and he could feel Seb’s eyes on him, searching for answers that Blaine didn’t have. His hands were shaking as he ran them through his curls before finally looking up at Sebastian, lost.

“Fuck, Seb…”

Sebastian’s POV:

It was a good thing that Sebastian was in law school and had been trained not to wear his emotions on his sleeve and had a pretty perfect poker face because his stomach was tied in knots. He knew that he and Blaine needed to remain calm while Sam was around. Kurt was a witch. A witch knew about them and it wasn’t just any old witch, it was Blaine’s ex. Sure, they had only been together a few months but they way it had been explained to Sebastian, he was sure there was a grudge. He could feel his boyfriend’s rigid body and slight shake. “Fuck him.” The words were meant for Blaine’s feelings as well as a reply to Sam’s story.  

Sebastian awkwardly patted Sam on the back as he bunched him up into a hug. Blaine hugged his best friend and gave a half hearted goodbye and Ras gave him a few kisses and he was on his way out. Seb walked Sam to the door and wished him a safe trip. He watched Blaine silently head into the bedroom and sighed. 

“What does this mean, B? What do we do?” He pulled open the top drawer on his dresser to find the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in amongst his boxers. He felt too agitated to get into his sweats or get undressed for bed. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep at all. Sebastian sat on the bed next to the other man, his cigarette in between his lips. “Can I get a light?”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine gave a half hearted smile and reached out his hand and with a surge of energy and a flick of his fingers Sebastian’s cigarette was lit. Seb rarely let Blaine use magic with him aside from sex and he knew this was an attempt to make him feel better. He watched as his boyfriend took a long drag, his eyes blurring from staring at the reddish orange glow of the magic lighted ash. He worried his bottom lip as his thoughts raced through his head. What would he do? He could go to Hunter and Tony, warn them that someone may know about him and Sebastian. Someone that could do something about it, that might dislike him just enough to turn him in. But, would Kurt? They’d only been together a few months and while they hadn’t had the best break up and Blaine had gotten angry about the way Kurt had controlled every aspect about their relationship right down to what Blaine wore sometimes, surely that didn’t mean he’d try to have him killed. Right?

He blinked remembering the disdain in Kurt’s eyes when he said he didn’t want to be his legacy, descendant prize. He remembered when Kurt had reminded Blaine that some witches never found their fate and that they should just settle for each other since Kurt understood what it was like to lose a parent. Blaine remembered how upset he’d been when Kurt threw his mother's death in his face and suddenly it was all too much for him at once. He shook his head and turned back to look at his boyfriend. 

“Nothing. We’re not going to do anything, okay?” He knew it sounded insane and saying it out loud scared the hell out of him, but what was he supposed to do? “If we tell Hunter or Tony or my dad it will only expedite everything and I want to hold onto us for as long as I fucking can.” His voice was sharp, like he needed to convince himself and Sebastian. “Kurt has known about us for two weeks, surely he would have gone to the Council or the  Order by now, right?” Or he’s just biding his time…  He shrugged that thought off, knowing it was going to haunt his thoughts for the rest of his life, leaned in closer to Sebastian. 

“Whatever has to happen is going to happen. All I know is that I’m not leaving and I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay? My top priority is keeping you safe and I plan on sticking by that.” He reached for Sebastian’s free hand and brought the back of it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, his eyes falling closed as he breathed him in. The overwhelming feeling of how much he loved this man and how much dying for him and them would be worth it overtook him and he wanted to scream and cry about how unfair the world was but Sebastian needed him to be calm and he needed to be calm for himself or he’d panic and where would that leave him?

“It’s going to be okay.” He mumbled the words, his conviction whooshing out of him as he scooted so that he was as close to Sebastian as he could get, his head pressing into his chest as he tried to steady his breathing and convince himself of the words' truths. It had to be okay.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke up towards the ceiling. He stared at the ceiling fan for a few moments, the light making little blue dots swim in front of his eyes. Seb squeezed Blaine’s thigh and held the cigarette out towards him. “Hopefully this kid has grown up some.” He took a deep breath and his lungs wavered a bit from the smoke and the fear swimming low in his belly. Sebastian didn’t like the sound of any of the words Blaine was saying. It all sounded detrimental and uncertain and scary. “You’re my top priority, too, you know. I need you to be safe, too.” He bit his bottom lip and looked into the other man’s warm eyes. Blaine looked scared and sad and that made Seb’s stomach knot up and his anxiety spike. “We can get through this.” Sebastian didn’t want to turn his courthouse tricks on with Blaine but he wanted to calm the other man down and reassure him somehow. 

“Maybe we should lay in bed and watch a movie. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep and I don’t want to mindlessly stare at my phone all night. You can pick what we watch.” Sebastian stood up and grabbed the sweatpants he had set out for that night off of his pillow. “The water is probably still warm in the kettle. I’ll bring you some chamomile tea.” 

So, even though his body felt sick with anxiety and his throat felt dry and his hands wanted to shake, he forced his voice to stay even and his hands to calmly grip the maroon mug that he filled with hot water for Blaine. Sebastian turned off the lights and plugged in the heating pad for Blaine, snuggled into his side as they watched Tangled and West Side Story. He drifted off to sleep before anything bad happened to Tony and Maria and wished on any star that happened to be out that he and Blaine would be okay.

/fin.

[miles3855]

The Tracker

Sam Paxton rode his horse slowly into the alley. It was a beautiful clear day in April, the grass lush and thick under the horse's hooves, the sun already high in the purest of blue skies. But there was nothing but sadness in Sam's heart, for this day he would have to kill a young man he liked and admired.

Adam Corbett, the man Sam hunted, had turned twenty-one only the month before, and seemed even younger with his innocent blue eyes, clean-shaven face and curly, shoulder-length brown hair. Adding to his youthful appearance was his incurable habit of kicking off his boots wherever and whenever he could, and traipsing around in his sock feet. Some of the men on Old Man McCune's ranch ragged him for it, called him the Barefoot Boy, but Sam--the ranch foreman--never did.

The ribbing was mostly good-natured, for Adam was the best-liked hand on the ranch, kind and friendly as well as superbly skilled. In his twenty years as a cowboy Sam had never seen a man so young who was such a good hand at riding, roping, breaking broncos, and doing whatever came to hand. Adam was even more popular with the ladies than the me, and that more than anything was what had gotten Billy McCune's blood up.

Billy McCune was a rat. There was no other way to put it. Four times Billy had gunned down men and claimed self-defense. Because, conveniently, there were never any witnesses, and because Old Man McCune. Billy's father, was the richest man in the territory, Billy had always got off scot-free

Billy wanted to make Adam the fifth notch in his gun. But Billy, an incorrigible drunk, misjudged his man fatally.

It had been only last evening, at the Georgia Belle saloon. Adam was at a table, boots off as usual, and one of the saloon girls--one Adam and Billy both favored--was rubbing Adam's white-socked feet and making sweet talk to him. Billy, a full bottle of whiskey in his gut, stood up suddenly, called Adam a pansy, said his feet were stinking up the place, and ordered him to draw.

But Adam, who was better at most things than Billy, was also a faster draw and a better shot--even sitting at a table with his stockinged feet in a girl's lap. Also, Adam wasn't a heavy drinker.

The sheriff hadn't even bothered to arrest Adam; more than a dozen witnesses swore it was self-defense, and anyway everyone loved Adam and hated Billy. Everyone except Old Man McCune. Billy had been his only child, and the old man was as mean as Billy and even more ruthless. Adam didn't have to be told even once to get out of town as soon as he could get his boots on and mount a horse.

The old man, as soon as he had heard of Billy's death, had presented Sam with a proposition: a flat five thousand dollars to go out alone, hunt Adam down, and kill him. If Sam didn't agree, he would hire a posse from out of town to kill Adam--and they would be considerably less delicate about Adam's feelings.

The old man accomplished several things with this proposition. He knew Sam was over a thousand dollars in debt from poker games at the Georgia Belle, so he couldn't rightly refuse such a lucrative offer. He also knew Sam was particularly fond of Adam, so there was the double motive of testing Sam's loyalty and sadism at forcing Sam to kill a buddy.

Sam, for his own part, not only desperately needed the money, but also knew that if he didn't take the old man's offer, there would be an even larger bounty on his own��head.

As he rode along that morning, Sam thought bitterly that McCune could have sent a heifer from his herd to find Adam, as difficult as the job would be. Adam--for all his skill with a gun--had a trusting, naïve nature, and knew nothing of outlaws' tricks. It would be pathetically easy to find Adam, if not necessarily to outdraw him.

And, sure enough, Adam was right where Adam thought he would be. There was a hillside in the valley that sloped gently to the river, where a small grove of live oaks and a tiny mountain stream flowing through. This was Adam's secret place, of which only Sam knew.

Adam's horse was tethered to one of the oaks, grazing peacefully. Adam himself was sprawled under the tree, fast asleep, his hat over his eyes. His six-gun was to his right, his boots to his left, and one white-socked foot was crossed over the other.

Sam felt cold disgust at the sight of Adam sleeping. Didn't he realize the sort of danger he faced? But with that came a feeling of unbearable sadness. Adam was so innocent of heart--he couldn't conceive of a world where his best friend would be coming to kill him.

Sam rode up softly. The horses nickered at each other, but Adam didn't wake. Sam dismounted, tethered his own horse, and walked over to Adam, gun in hand. Sam loathed the thought of shooting any man, even one he hated, who was asleep, or had his boots off. Neither of these would happen to Adam!

He knelt at Adam's stockinged feet; the outline of Adam's toes was sharp and perfect on his stocking soles. Same tickled Adam's foot with the gun barrel.

Adam woke with a start and sat upright, reaching for his gun. Sam fired at the gun, hitting it, knocking it out of Adam's reach. Adam stared at Sam, flushed, not speaking.

Sam stared back at Adam, pointing the gun at his head, cocking the trigger. "You know the rules, Adam," he said, his voice trembling. "You knew the old man would send somebody after you, and when you think about it, it was an act of kindness he sent me. And you know if I don't kill you, he'll kill me."

After the initial shock, Adam looked less fearful than hurt, like a little boy who had been betrayed. Tears started to leak from his eyes, but his gaze was steady, and he did not speak.

"Come on, Adam," Sam said, his voice not unkind. "Pull your boots on, and stand up. I won't shoot you sittin' on the ground."

Adam continued to stare at Sam silently. His face, though tears were streaming down it, was brave and resolute.

"Stand up, Adam!" Sam said, more roughly. "Get your boots on!"

"No." Adam's voice was calmer than Sam's. Always a handsome boy, he looked angelically beautiful at that moment.

"I won't kill you like this, damn it! You can either die with your boots on like a man, or in your sock feet like a pansy-ass!"

"I've lived with my boots off, and I'll die with 'em off," Ada said, sitting at the base of the tree, his voice quiet but hard. 'If you're goin' to kill me, kill me like you found me!"

"Stand UP! Get 'em ON!"

Adam gazed at Sam, blinking back tears. Softly, he began to speak. "Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name...:

Sam was in a blind fury. Not know or caring what he was doing, he dropped his gun, still kneeling, grabbed one of Adam's boots, and tried to force it on the wrong foot. "GET YOUR BOOTS ON, DAMN YOU!" he yelled. Adam tried to pull his foot away, screaming with rage.

Sam lost his grip on Adam's boot, which plopped to the ground. Sam stared wildly at Adam's foot, the strong young toes flailing in the soft white sock. The sock seemed brand-new and clean. Everything about Adam seemed brand-new and clean, even when he did the dirtiest jobs at the ranch, like mucking out the stables or pulling a calf from a mudhole.

Sam wondered why, all of a sudden, his vision was blurring. Staring at Adam's foot in his hands, he stroked it gently, then kissed it.

Adam stopped struggling; he now began to sob audibly. Sam caressed the foot, gently kissing each toe, breathing in the faint smell of dried sweat. Adam felt Sam's handlebar mustache tickle his toes, and involuntarily let out a gasp of pleasure through his tears.

The other hands at the McCune ranch had always laughed at Adam's sock feet, but Sam had always found them endearing; now they seemed considerably more than that. Feeling the warm flesh and wiggling toes through the sock, Sam suddenly felt a wave of emotion like he hadn't felt since a girl had known back in Arkansas, a girl who died...

Still kneeling, Sam dropped Adam's foot and buried his face in his hands. He realized he could no more kill Adam than himself--knowing full well that to let Adam live was the same thing as killing himself. This was still racing through his brain when he heard two guns click above his head...

Adam stood over him, pointing his own gun and Sam's straight at Sam's head.

"Now YOUR boots," he snarled. "YOURS."

Sam stared horrified at Adam as he forced Sam to a supine position on the ground. Laying down one of the guns, he ripped the boots from Sam's feet and threw them as far as he could.

Sam's socks were gray, with white heels and toes, and extremely sweaty from the morning-long nervous tension of the man who wore them. Adam picked up the other gun and, with a look of near hatred on his face, began to tickle each of Sam's stockinged feet with the gun barrels, jut as Sam had done to him. This went on for several minutes while Sam watched silently, fear and excitement mingling in his heart.

Then Adam threw down the guns and started to kiss, lick and sniff Sam's feet as if he were trying to devour them. Sam, like Adam, let out a moan of pleasure, feeling the boy's handsome face and lips against his stocking soles.

Adam put Sam's stockinged toes in his mouth, and sucked. Sam, now nearly deranged with fear and desire, thought Adam was trying to suck his toenails out.

Then Adam dropped Sam's feet, grabbed Sam's face in both hands, and kissed him passionately, full on the lips. The two men tumbled through the grass in each other's arms, kissing each other as hard as they could, fumbling for each other's trouser buttons. Within a minute each had the other's manhood in his hand, and within two they had both come, their spunk billowing onto the grass.

They lay in each other's arms for several minutes, their pants still unbuttoned, each one's stocking feet rubbing against the other's. They stared into each other's eyes, crying, confused, relied, and unshakably in love.

After a while Sam sat up and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Finally calm--for he know now what he had to do--he looked at Adam, smiling. "We got to finish our business here," he said.

He buttoned his pants, then stood up and went to get his boots, which Adam had flung about thirty feet apart. Adam watched him, sitting cross-legged like a small child, one stockinged foot crossed over the other.

Sam picket up his gun and reholstered it. "Can you stay here tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Sam looked down at Adam tenderly. "We got to make this look right," he said. "The old man wants proof you're dead. I think he'll take it as proof if I give him your horse, gun and boots."

Adam stared back gravely. "He's goin' to want more proof than that," he said. "He's goin' to want my corpse, or a piece of it."

Sam shook his head. "A man don't give up his horse and boots--and certainly not his gun--unless he's dead," he said. "The old man knows that better than anyone." He picked up Adam's gun and boots and carried them over to Adam's saddlebags.

"Anything you want out of these?" he asked.

"My Bible," Adam said. "Also two pair of socks I got in there, and I'd appreciate my bedroll. I ain't got no money."

Sam took the Bible and socks out of the bags, then stuffed in the boots and gun. He took the bedroll from Adam's horse and brought everything over to Adam, who laid them on the ground. Sam then walked over to his own saddlebags and pulled out a box of hardtack, some strips of beef jerky, and a box of shotgun bullets. He pulled the rifle out of his saddle holster, and brought everything again over to Adam.

"The old man won't know I'm missin' my rifle," he said. "You may need it. I don't think anyone will come after you, but you never know."

Adam stood up. He took the rifle and other things over to the base of the tree. Then he embraced Sam and gave him an ardent kiss, his stockinged toes rubbing against Sam's booted foot.

"The old man promised me five thousand dollars to kill you," Sam said. "He didn't tell nobly else, so I figure you're probably safe tonight. I've known the old man twenty years now, and though I know he's an evil bastard, I also know he'll give me the full five thousand, and he won't tell no one about the bounty till I come back.

"The jerky and hardtack ain't much, but they'll last you till tomorrow sundown, which is when I'll be back." He stopped to wipe his brow; the noon sun was warmer than he anticipated. "You also have water from the stream, of course. The grove is just big enough for you to hide in if anyone comes by, and you also got the rifle. God forbid you have to use it. Don't light a fire tonight; put your blanket around you if it gets cold, and put on the extry socks too." He looked down at Adam's feet. "You goin' to be all right here? Alone all night in your stockin' feet?"

"Beats dyin' with my boots on!" Adam smiled, a full, radiant smile showing his even white teeth. Seeing the boy smile, Sam felt weak with love. He could barely open his mouth to finish what he had to say.

"Even after I pay my debts at the saloon, we'll have enough left over for a little spread of our own, far away from here. When I get back, I can walk the horse with you on it to the next town over, where we can buy you a new horse and boots--and a steak, 'cause you're goin' to be starvin'."

"Just so long as the steak ain't as tough as the boots!" Adam laughed, the first time that morning, and Sam thrilled to hear that familiar, welcome sound.

"I'll be back tomorrow, and then, God is my witness, we ain't never goin' to be parted again." They kissed once more. Sam gently lowered Adam to the ground, and once more kissed the boy's sock feet, now sweaty and wet from exertion. He kissed each toe slowly and tenderly, stroking the arches as he did so. Then he gently tickled each sole, and rejoiced in the boy's laughter.

"On second thought, I don't think I'll buy you boots after all," Sam said. "I'll buy you a hundred pair of socks, and keep you sockfooted forever."

"That'd suit me fine!" Adam said.

Sam rode off with Adam's horse in tow. it hurt him more than anything had hurt him in his life to leave the boy alone on the hillside, but he had to do it for Adam's sake.

Sam turned around one more time, and Adam was there, laughing and waving. "God is good to me," Adam though as he waved. "He brought me Sam, and He'll watch over us both." The noon sun was delightfully warm on his face, and the long grass tickled his stockinged feet. Yes, he though, everything will be fine.

[cordytriestowrite]

Keeping Up Appearances

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Chapter 11

Summary: When an old friend comes back into your life you struggle to maintain the lies you've told. Bucky Barnes has no idea what he's gotten into by agreeing to be your fake boyfriend, but you have no idea what to do about the very real feelings you have for him.

You were stumbling, barefoot, down the hallway and over your desperate sobs you could still hear the steady thump thump thump of Bucky's headboard against your bedroom wall. It haunted you, it chased you down the hall, it would kill you if you didn't get as far away as possible.

In a fortunate turn of events the elevator doors slid open just as you reached them. Another tenant was exiting but you didn't bother to wait for them before pushing inside. That was your intention at least, until a strong hand pushed against your shoulder.

They were talking but you couldn't hear anything they said. That thump thump thump drowned out all rational thought. A second hand grasped your other shoulder and shook you harshly. You couldn't breath, couldn't see past the tears, couldn't hear anything but

Thump

Thump

Thump

And Bucky's voice permeating through the haze.

"Please say something babydoll. What happened?"

You blinked in rapid succession, clearing your eyes, clearing your head, and managed to make eye contact with a slightly blurry Bucky Barnes. Your adrenaline, once moving at top speed, was slowing down long enough for your brain to catch up. Your mouth didn't bother waiting for the two to meet before letting out a flood of gibberish.

"But- you and Nat. I thought...I heard."

Bucky's face was contorted in confusion, like he was trying to actually decipher your indecipherable code. You stopped to take a deep breath. Gripping Bucky's forearms for stability. 

"Nat was here and…"

You couldn't bring yourself to say it. You could barely think about what you had thought Bucky and Natasha had been up to, especially now that you knew it wasn't true. Bucky furrowed his brow, a small divot forming down the center. 

"I just saw Nat downstairs. What did she do to you? What did she say?"

You shook your head and in a voice barely over a whisper finally said the words out loud.

"I thought you and her were," a fresh sob broke out before you could hold it back, "having sex."

Bucky let out a short laugh that seemed seemed to echo in the quiet hallway. 

"Why would you think that?"

You turned your head, back to your apartment. The sounds were following you now and everything seemed too still. 

"I heard your headboard against my bedroom wall."

The furrow of his brow released, the crease smoothed out, and his face went slack. You could see the wheels turning, feeling your own thoughts try to make sense of what you heard. Did you imagine it all? It seemed silly now, barefoot and pajama clad outside your apartment, but Bucky was holding your face so gently and for the first time in days you were seeing him, you were talking to him.

He put his arm around your shoulders and marched you back up the hall. Your door was still open and you silently admonished yourself for being so irresponsible. If Bucky hadn't stopped you who knows how far you would have gotten. 

"Stay here." Bucky instructed as he all but placed you just inside your own doorway. 

Carefully and silently he unlocked his own front door and entered slowly. You waited, holding your breath, just listening.  Bucky had closed his door behind him but muffled voices managed to filter through the thin walls but couldn't make out any words.

Minutes passed, or at least it felt like they did but you had no way of telling time without leaving the doorway. You shuffled from one foot to the other then back again. Your curiosity was overwhelming rational thought as outrageous scenarios filled your head, but none of them included Bucky with anyone else. It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did for a fake relationship, but then again the breakup shouldn't have hurt as much as it did either. 

The door flew open, startling you, and next thing you knew you were backing up to make room for Bucky. The scowl was set so deeply on his face you didn't dare to speak. Closing the front door behind him you followed Bucky into your own living room where he was pacing heavily in front of the couch. You sat down gingerly on the closest end.

"They were having sex in my bed!" He finally shouted, his hands clenching his hair so hard that when he released them his hair stuck up haphazardly. 

"Who?"

"Sam and Alli!"

Understanding dawned on you, soaked you like a cold shower of clarity. The giggles came slowly, bubbling up from your stomach and shaking your torso. You let one slip and Bucky's attention turned to you and then you couldn't hold them back. 

You laughed more than you had all week. There were more tears, more desperate attempts to catch you breath, but it was all different now, it all seemed so hilariously perfect. 

A deep chuckle joined your giggles then a warm body pressed against yours on the couch. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You struggled to say between fits of laughter. 

"It's just so…"

Bucky shook his head and you felt the mood die down a bit, enough for you to get a few deep breaths in. You couldn't wipe the smile from your face now that it was there and when you turned your head towards Bucky he had a wide smile of his own.

He was leaning against your shoulder, sitting so low on the couch you were looking down on him and his face was tilted up towards yours. You took in his features, admiring them in the close proximity. You could see the dark stubble gracing his chin, the way the corners of his eyes were crinkled with laughter, you admired the light blue of his eyes and the way they took you in with a spark of appreciation and sorrow. 

"I've missed you."

He was looking at your lips when he said it, but his gaze shifted down to your hand resting on your thigh. He picked up your pointer finger then let it fall before picking up your middle finger. He lifted and dropped each digit before speaking again.

"We got pretty close through everything. Feel like I lost a friend as well as a girlfriend."

You wanted to cry all over again hearing the hurt and vulnerability in his words. Guilt crushed your lungs making your feel lightheaded and slightly nauseous.

"Would you want to be friends?" You asked, knowing your attempt at sound in light and airy only came out at high pitched and broken.

Bucky looked back up at you and took a long time before he answered. His hand came back to yours interlacing your fingers with his and moving the entangled appendages onto his own thigh. 

"I don't think it'd be enough for me."

Your heart stopped beating, blood stopped moving, synapses stopped firing. Time stood still around you and Bucky and your clasped hands. 

"I saw Nat in the lobby on my way in. She asked me out for coffee. She said it was just to catch up but I think she wants to maybe get back together. The thing is...in our real relationship she never made me feel the way I did in our fake one. I turned her down."

You sniffled loudly, crudely, above Bucky's head. Its like he knew what you wanted to hear. What you needed to hear. You stared through watery eyes at your hand in his. It was so warm, his palm against yours. This all felt so right. 

"Will you help me tell Pepper?"

He nodded, and with a small, docile smile he brought your joined hands up to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. 

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[phantomphangphucker]

A Life Of Role Playing Weakness - PhannieMay - Day 14 D & D

Summary: What’s a halfa to do when school is on lockdown and everyone’s bored? Games and trickery.

Most of the class groans as they can tell the sun has set by the room becoming near pitch black. Though pretty well everyone’s glad Mr. Lancer got stuck outside of class, otherwise he would have spent the afternoon making them do school work.

Danny, knowing full well no one else can actually see, finds some candles and sneakily lights them with his fingers. Unfortunately, there’s only three but most of the class seems relieved to have them, “took you long enough Fenton”. Rolling his eyes at Kwan, “like you would have been any faster, at least I was actually doing something”. Danny honestly could have found them way faster but that would have been suspicious. Groaning a bit at the window, though the groan was more aimed at the extreme weather outside, that has caused the school lockdown and blackout. Sure he could technically just leave, but due to the schools' security system, all the doors and windows are sealed shut. The only way out would be to phase out and that would be so many levels beyond suspicious.

Clearly, a couple geeks are tired of Star and Lily bickering, “why don’t we play a game? You know, actually get along? For one night?”.

“Oh why would we do that when it’s more fun to annoy you losers?”, Danny rolls his eyes at Todd, sure he’s not as bad as Dash but still.

Apparently, the geek kid, James, isn’t very impressed either, “I’d rather get destroyed by stupid wind while having fun, than getting mocked by some meathead”. Danny’s not really sure how insulting the guy will get him to play games but whatever.

Deciding to interfere, “what game? Ain’t nobody going to play if no one knows what’s up. And if you say truth or dare even I will mock you”.

“Oh like you even know how to mock someone, Fenton. But yeah whatever, spill”, Danny muffles his snickering because he could out mock this guy easily. Half his fights involved mocking the opponent, eighty percent if it was Vlad.

The other geek kid, Tyler, rummages through his bag and pulls out what looks like a board game, “well, someone made a D & D ghost edition. Because this is Amity, got figures and everything”. Tyler is smirking as even Danny knows that anything ghosts gets pretty much every Amity teens attention. And Danny is honestly so down for this too, he will die if there’s a figure like him in this thing.

Flopping on his back as there is indeed a little crystal clear figure that, while mostly featureless, looks suspiciously like Phantom. Finger gun shooting himself in the head before pointing at the board, while still laying on the ground, “ok, I’m in”. Seems everyone else agrees while looking at the collection of ghostly figures.

Unsurprisingly, pretty well only the geeks know anything about this game. And no one’s interested in long explanations. So they just give a quick run down of classes and alignments. But having to pull out the book and read over it quickly for species, since this was an entirely ghosts and humans version.

Danny snickers, “chaotic good undying warlock suits me I’d say”. Really Danny only picked that because of the undying bit, the joke was there so he had to take it. And chaotic good pretty much was him, no way he could call himself lawful. Not when his very existence was against the laws of nature and reality themselves.

James tosses down a shorthand species sheet, “I’m surprised they actually made so many ghost species, so take your pick”.

Species:

Ghost - versatile but never the strongest

Ghoul - aggressive close and personal fighters

Spirit - gentle divine creatures, usually lawful

Spector - sneaky loners, like to appear highly intelligent.

Poltergeist - aggressive powerful fighters, always evil. Large but often invisible.

Whisp - tricksters but powerful with magic, always chaotic good. Small in size

Wraith - protective, unattractive and often feared by others

Banshee - prophetic strong healers

Phantom - selfless guardians who care for others, always good.

Danny obviously wants to pick the Phantom class but apparently, no gets to be that, as James taps on that class and snickers, “considering this is Amity, Phantom isn’t going to be a playable species otherwise half of you guys will pick that”. Danny sticks out his arms, “oh come on, if anyone should get that species it should be the guy with the same first name!”. A few of the other kids snicker and even James shrugs in amusement but, “can’t just let one person pick it. That would be a dick move”. Danny rolls his eyes but is thoroughly amused, seeing as he’s almost about to graduate and literally no one has figured out who exactly he is, he’s kind of stopped caring about going out of his way to hide shit. Heck, he’s tempted to just randomly clue in his classmates through various absurd means. At least now the government can’t even touch him, they wanted to be on “safe footing” with the ghost king even if they still have no clue who exactly that is. All they know is that he’s frequently in the human world and capable of taking the form of a regular human. Danny’s perfectly content to let them think that ability is unique to the Ghost King.

Shaking his head and looking down to the sheet, Whisp and Wraith are the only ones that stand out to him but trickster is much more in line with himself and would be much more amusing. And he’s not really surprised that no one picks regular ghost, “well Whisp it is for me. A chaotic Whispy Warlock that just can not fucking die already”.

“Dude, that’s not what undying means here”

“No shit, let me have my jokes”, besides undying warlocks get their magic from immortals right? Well this character was made by a damn immortal, given creation and thus power from Phantoms immortal ass.

Lily rolls the weird dice in her fingers, “so what? We roll for stat points now?”. While Rex eyes Danny up and down, “you picked the smallest class but you’re the tallest guy here. Did you just pick everything to be funny?”. Danny smirks wide, not why he picked the species but absolutely. Everything about him is practically one big joke, Hell he’s playing a board game with a bunch of regular humans while pretending to be trapped during a storm. He could literally fly through this weather and it would be fun too. He could also stop it if he really wanted to, use his ice to mess with the weather and air currents; but fucking around that much really wasn’t a good idea.

“Yup, roll three dice. Total stat point of three is the worst you could get, eighteen is the highest. Ten or eleven is the average. All the regular human npc’s are tens”, Danny’s not surprised Todd went with Ghoul. He might not be that big of a guy but man could he ever be an aggressive asshole to pretty much everyone. Speaking of asshole, “Fenton, your turn. What? your brain still fried from that weak little shock?”.

Turning to Todd and answering as he throws dice, “you know I underplayed that shit right? Didn’t want to deal with damn doctors, no way anyone would have let me out of going to the hospital if they had known it was closer to four billion than a hundred volts”. Smirking at Todd, “just for reference, a lightning bolt is around one billion. Your wall socket, that I’m sure you rammed forks into for kicks, is about a hundred and twenty”.

“Ok first off, you suck with dice, second how the hell aren’t you dead then?”, James clearly thinks Danny’s bullshitting and the sad thing is, the portal was probably more volts than that. Who knows what the volt readout for the entirety of a dimension colliding inside one tiny body is. Danny finishes rolling as he talks, “I’m not dead? Well, that’s news to me”.

Star elbows him, she’s become oddly friendly even flirty over the past year. Danny’s pretty well positive it’s because of his height and even if he wore baggy clothing pretty well always, if you really looked you could tell he wasn’t scrawny. Star’s got an eye for details so he can’t be too surprised and she’s perfectly fine with dating below her standing, Hell she dated Tucker of all people. “What even happened? Pretty sure you never told anyone”.

Rolling his eyes at her, “no one cared to ask. But if you must know a ghost portal opened up directly on top of me. There’s no real way to know just how much shocked me but I’m pretty sure an entire dimension carries more volts than one lightning bolt”.

Danny’s the only one to notice the straight up shit roll of his last dice as everyone gapes at him. Tyler’s the first to speak up, “you were electrocuted by the ghost zone?! Like all of it?! At once?! You should be a lot more than dead!”. Danny throws his head back and laughs, “what? Dead with a side of extra dead sauce?! Sounds like the perfect breakfast!”. Shaking his head as he continues talking, while catching James staring in bafflement at the dice, “sounds way more edible than those stupid ecto-contaminated Hot Dogs that try to eat you back! Or that damn overcooked turkey that stabbed me with a knife”.

Kwan mouths “what the fuck”, while James points at Danny, “dude, your luck is horrendous. I’m not even sure how you even get the worst stats possible. No wonder a portal opened up on you, I think the universe might actually hate you”, glancing at Danny who has curled up in laughter, “I don’t think it’s quite that funny though”. Danny can’t help but laugh harder, the king of ghosts, the most powerful ghost around, who’s literally worshiped as a god by some; is the weakest and shittiest ghost in this game. Like Boxy could beat this guys ass. That thought makes him laugh even harder. Wiping his eyes a bit and noticing that everyone actually looks slightly concerned know, “trust me, this is utterly hilarious. You just don’t know why! Oh man!”. Wheezing in laughter again, “now watch, the rest of my rolls will be so insanely good that I impossibly succeed at everything my character does”.

Kwan points at him, “with these awful stats you damn well better, otherwise you’re screwed”.

“I think the stats reflect Fenton perfectly. Weak and pathetic!”, Danny really can’t feel insulted because it’s just really funny right now. Todd is clearly not happy that Danny finds this funny instead of insulting, or that Star is mouthing, “are you blind?”, at Todd.

“How can you possibly find being insulted funny?”, comes Rex’s squeaky voice. Danny runs a hand through his hair, “insults are funny when they’re so insanely incorrect that it becomes absurd”.

Todd rolls his eyes at Danny, “you’re a complete weakling and a scaredy cat, just like al-”, Todd cuts himself off as he stares at Danny. Who just tore off his sweater, because this is way too funny. Chances are if he ever gets destroyed, it will be because he couldn’t resist a good joke. Danny smirks a bit as he nonchalantly flexes without doing any dumb poses, because he does have some shame. While everyone just stares at the clearly ripped and heavily scarred weirdest member of the weirdo trio.

“Todd, I could fucking maim you. I could maim the whole damn football team. But that wouldn’t be very good of me, now would it?”, tapping on his character sheet with a sly smirk.

“How the hell do you look like that man? And why don’t you just join the team then? Actually have good social standing?”, Danny can’t really blame Kwan for caring about that sort of thing. After all, being a jock was pretty well the guys' life and he wasn’t burdened with crazy weird responsibilities or power for that matter.

Responding mostly to Todd’s little insults, “I come from a family of ghost hunters, what the hell do you think? That scaredy cat crap is just a cover. Which is rather pointless now, what with graduation coming up and all the teachers not really giving a shit about my crap now”, aggressively pointing his finger at Kwan while the others finish rolling, “I don’t care for sports and my time is better spent elsewhere. Social standing in Highschool means nothing to me”.

Now it’s Tyler’s turn to look incredulously at the stupid powerful halfa, “why are you even telling us this?”.

“Because it’s funny. I picked a jokester species for a reason. I’m a little shit and this is one way I get my kicks. That and no one will believe you if you tell. So it really doesn’t matter. Even if you were believed, it would hardly matter. It’s too late for the school to really do anything and I really am someone of chaos. I will only laugh harder if the whole school starts freaking out”, Danny can tell he’s confusing everyone and that is only making him snickering more. So he takes the chance for first dibs on a figure, a transparent floating skinny man in a hooded robe with his legs crossed. Looks a shit ton like ClockWork, snickering “now if only he had a staff”. This prompts everyone else to realise what he did and to start snatching at figures, while Rex gives him a shy but quizzical look. So Danny decides to be more of a confusing mess to these regular mortals, “he looks like a close friend of mine. And this makes my horrid stats even funnier because my friend is flat out OP. His tricky ass will get a good laugh out of this I’m sure”.

“Uh, humans aren’t really OP, ever, are you friends with a freaking ghost? You’re damn weird enough to be the person who befriends some ghost. And what? You going to talk his ear off about actually hanging out with people other than the two other resident freaks for once?”, Todd’s tone goes from confused questioning to his typical insulting asshole mode. So Danny decides to be a bit of an ass right back, “Todd, my friend is an omniscient borderline god of a ghost. I don’t have to tell him, he already knows and is probably snickering like crazy right now. But of course you don’t believe me, why would you? Which is why he’ll either A, do nothing to make me the butt of a joke. Or B, do something to make you the butt of a joke. That, or he’ll hit me with his staff to do both at once”. Honestly Danny’s kind of looking for approval and pretty well a go-ahead from the master of time here, he’d like to know he’s not majorly fucking up just because he’s having a bit of fun.

Everyone’s staring at him in disbelief and he can tell Todd wants to mock him some more but Danny falling back laughing stops him. Holding the figure, which now has a little tiny glowing CW staff resting across its lap, above his face. Through a laugh, “fucking nice, you enigmatic weirdo”. Sitting back up as he places the figure on the board, “and now he’s got a staff”.

“Nice trick, maybe you can-”, Lily cuts Todd off, “dumb boy, pretty sure he doesn’t carry around mini glowing staff things. No ones that weird”. She’s not wrong, why would someone ever do that anyway? Well, ClockWork might, just to throw them at him. After all, he’s got all the time in the world to mess around, when he can anyway. Just like Danny, though Danny takes way more mess around time.

Tyler shakes his head, “something tells me, we barely know you”. Danny pats Tyler on the shoulder while James actually gets the game started, “so we’re doing this party style, just a dungeon crawl. Get through the city without getting caught by hunters and defeat the ghost king”. This makes Danny cough a bit startled, the goal of this game is for his classmates and him to defeat, himself? Well, he guesses that’s not really a first for him. “Hey, James. Who does this game think the ghost king is?”, everyone looks a bit confused at him. Then James grabs one of the figures, Danny can’t help but laugh at the little knock-off Pariah figure. “Well that’s a damn easy battle currently then! Dude’s locked inside the sarcophagus of forever sleep. So we’re beating up a sleeping man, or releasing him just to fight him. Which is grade A stupid and insane”, waving off their shocked glances, “besides he’s not even the ghost king”.

“Oh and you know who is? We could just swap out if there’s a figure for him. All the figures have set stats for if you’re going to use them as NPC’s”, now Danny’s just flat out interested, because that includes him. Danny motions for the book but James sticks it behind him, “oh Hell no, just tell us who”.

Rolling his eyes, “I’m just going to take the book, dude. I do want I wanna, chaotic and all that”.

“Fenton, he’s literally right across from you. How you plan to do that?”, Todd snickers a bit while James looks smug. Danny decides just fuck it at this point, because really how has no one noticed his crap yet. Using the free-floating ectoplasm in the air to fling the book over Jame’s head and at himself, flipping through it as everyone gapes. “How did you even do that? That’s more than just sleight of hand, holy shit”, Danny blinks at them over the top of the book and snickers, realising none of them actually noticed the slight ghostly glowing. Comparing his and Pariah’s page and damn they made Phantom overpowered. Sure, that’s accurate but, uh, even if everyone had freaky high stats this doesn’t seem winnable. Why the heck put a nearly undefeatable character in a board game? Sure it was accurate to real life but still. Though making Pariah just barely above half Phantoms strength was majorly underestimating the former king. Like insanely so. And did they seriously make a Walker look-alike stronger than Pariah? The tornado “race” too? Putting the book down, “yeah I don’t think we want to do that. The goal here is to actually win right? Not just have everybody’s asses get universally kicked”.

Lily puts her hands on her hips, “just spill already. You satiated your curiosity now do ours”.

Chuckling a bit as he pushes around the figures some, “fine fine, it really should be obvious though”. Smirking as he cups the little knock-off Phantom before slowly placing him at the castle, “our little town hero is a lot busier than he seems”. Literally all of them are grinning, though Star looks a bit confused, “so why do ghosts keep coming here and picking fights with Phantom. If he’s their king shouldn’t they, like, listen to him?”.

“Fighting is how ghosts socialise, know each other, and keep each other from getting rusty. The only way ghosts won't go picking fights with another ghost is if that ghost is hated or extremely annoying to literally everyone. Well, that or just being really dumb and pointless to fight”.

“So what Phantom’s not strong enough to be pointless to fight? Really Fenton”, Danny rolls his eyes at Todd’s unimpressed tone. Shaking his head, “oh the stats this book gives him are accurate. He’s pretty well the most powerful ghost there is. An omnipotent immortal who’s literally worshipped as a god by many other ghosts. All those fights are usually more like sparring matches, he’s having his ghostly fun and keeping in touch with everyone. He’d be so very bored otherwise and the other ghosts wouldn’t want him out of practice in case something happens”.

Todd actually starts laughing at this while James does indeed decide to stick with using knock-off Pariah because damn. Todd points at Danny, “of course Phantom likes hitting and fighting! Regular jock for sure, just with real power”.

“Well I don’t like that. He should be wanting ghosts to not come here, not eagerly, or whatever, awaiting the next fight”, Danny can’t help but jerk from that because dude fuck buddy. He absolutely did look forward to the next fight, fighting and witty batter was his bread and butter. Locking eyes with Tyler, “nearly every ghost awaits their next fight, welcome to ghost nature buddy. Humans go to cafes, ghosts punch each other. Humans show off pictures of their selfies or pets, ghosts show off new weapons by using them on each other. To fight is to socialise. Phantoms one of the few that doesn’t like others in the crossfire though. If ghosts stopped picking fights here, he’d feel unneeded and paranoid. Plus this is his home, ghosts have to come here to see him. Them being here doesn’t mean they’re causing problems”. Tyler still looks unimpressed.

There’s the occasional jokes and pepperings of ghost questions as they play a few turns before Lily has just about enough and finally asks Danny just what the fuck, “how do you even know all this shit? Even your parents, who’ve spent their whole lives researching ghosts, don’t know even half this shit. I would know, I’ve asked”. Danny chuckles, his parents would know this shit if they weren’t so damn biased and actually just asked. Smirking at her, “you learn this stuff by genuinely socialising and being friendly with ghosts. My parents only wish to send them back to the Zone or experiment. Of course, they don’t know”.

“That’s actually kind of sad, still doesn’t answer my main question though. You’re actually fighting ghosts?”, Danny will give her props on being pushy. But he rolls to see if he can avoid this random hunter trap before responding, smirking as it rolls high, “I spar yes, protect the citizens. Toss around witty banter, making Plasmius regret ever meeting me. In general, I’m an OP little shit”, Danny taps on his figure, that’s actually doing well for being an utter weakling, “that’s why this is funny. The strongest most capable person here has the utterly weakest character ever”.

“Capable ghost hunter isn’t a capable ghost, even if you’re a ghost friendly hunter”, Danny can’t help but wheeze. He was just a ghost being a ghost. Half human or not, he was sparing and socialising as a ghost does. Calling him a human hunting ghosts was just so entirely wrong. Smiling with his head in his hand, “I don’t call myself a hunter and neither do they”.

Kwan pushes him playfully, “yeah well, regardless of title, I still can’t believe you even do that. Props man, I guess”.

By the time the party gets to knock-off Pariah, both Lily and some quiet kid named Max have had their characters killed off. Danny’s snickering as his and Tyler’s characters are leading the face off. While James shakes his head and points his hand at the figures, “this is ridiculous even if you had raised your stats the most you possibly could, there’d still be no way to win this”. Danny chuckles because that’s pretty much what the odds were when he did face Pariah. Once again deciding fuck it, “well then let’s make this even more realistic then. I’ll roll to multiply my characters power a hundredfold”. James starts lowkey choking, “what?! How is that realistic?!”. Danny laughs as he rolls, “that’s how Phantom won. Multiplied his power a hundredfold and nearly destroyed himself in the process. This book drastically underestimates Pariah’s power. It took thirteen extremely powerful ancient ghosts just to seal him away, Phantom did it alone. Like the self-sacrificial idiot he is”. Shrugging, “well that and, no one else was even willing to fight Pariah cause he was too damn strong and wasn’t worth fighting”.

Smirking at his die showing a high ass number, while menacingly petting his figure, “having that much power... it’s a burden, isn’t it, child?”. James mouths, “what the fuck”, at both the die and Danny.

While Todd blinks a bit surprised, “Fenton, what? I would never have expected you to sound creepy, threatening, and powerful”. Danny grins wider, “and that’s why no one will believe you about any of this”.

Now, unfortunately, this battle with Pariah requires actually defeating him. No sealing him away, and his character is pathetically weak even at a hundredfold power. He could kick his own ass with his ghost powers completely neutralised. So it really surprised no one that Danny fuckin’ dies.

Snickering down at the figure, “little ragged around the edges, eh, child?”. Before bursting out laughing as the mini staff explodes into purple mist. Todd, Tyler, and Star do wind up surviving and winning though.

“So any other crazy bullshit you feel like pulling. Since we’re officially out of shit to do besides being dicks to each other”, James mutters while lying on the floor. Todd snickers, “I’m cool with that”. Danny rolls his eyes, “now-now, would you act like that in front of Phantom?”. Both Star and Todd shake their heads rapidly, only Todd speaks though, “why the hell would I? That guy’s like super moral, I’d be making a horrible impression”. Danny can’t help but laugh, yeah he’s definitely got strong morals but he’s also a little shit. He steals, pulls pranks, constantly breaks into to pretty much everywhere, and spends most of his time pounding the crap out of someone. Good reasons or no, he’s ain’t a golden boy. Just the good guy who generally plays fast and loose with morality... and mortality. Smirking at Todd, “it’s a little late to change his impression of you, I’d say. You’ve literally punched him in the face, multiple times actually”, Danny sneers mockingly but still humorously, at Todd looking startled, “oh what? Didn’t know Phantom can change into a regular human?”. Throwing his head back and laughing loudly, “funny thing! The town barely knows Phantom”. Danny sighs as his ghost sense goes off and well, surprise surprise, his icy breath also glows. Knowing full well it’s Skulker, who really is more of a threat, he has a bad tendency to abduct people after all.

“What the fuck was that?”, Danny completely ignores Tyler, though he does talk, “the town also barely knows Fenton. So you’re right about that, but looks like I’ve got a job to do. Guess Skulker doesn’t really care about the shit weather, but then again, neither do I. Flying in the wind is hella fun”. Smirking as his toxic green eyes fill the room with an eerie ghostly light, “anyways this has been quite amusing and like I said, I’m a little overpowered shit. And ain’t nobody gonna believe you”. Before transforming and phasing out the window.

“Fenton, Phantom. We are all idiots, holy shit”

End.

[hogwarts-and-mistletoe]

You, Only You

Rating: K+ Category: Sixth Year Summary: On the night of Slughorn’s Christmas party, Ron and Hermione finally clear the air.

Cormac hiccups, rises from his chair, and sways on the spot. A crystal goblet dangles precariously from his hand, one strong breeze away from slipping and shattering on the common room floor.

“Ready to go, then, Granger?”

He takes a few steps towards Hermione, stumbling over his own feet, and instinctively she takes several steps back.

“I suppose,” she replies, unable to help glancing down at her attire as if to confirm this for herself. And she’s not sure she agrees.

She’s in her best dress, yes, the gauzy blush-colored material skimming across her knees. And heels, which are already pinching her feet. But truly? She can’t bring herself to do much more. She’s simply wrested her hair back into a knot at the base of her neck, rather than bother with Sleakeazy; what little Muggle makeup she owns is still wrapped in its original packaging.

Cormac’s not worth the effort.

He drains the contents of his goblet into the back of his throat and tosses it haphazardly in the direction of the hearth, where it crashes against the brick and disintegrates.

Hermione cannot keep the disdain off her face. “What’s wrong with you?”

“S’alright,” he chuckles, approaching her again. “Elves’ll clean it up.”

Blood rises slowly, steadily up Hermione’s neck and into her face as she uses all the willpower she possesses to fight the barrage of disparaging remarks on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she simply vanishes the broken glass with a wave of her wand and marches towards the portrait hole.

He catches up with her just as she’s stepping into the corridor and slings an arm around her waist.

“Hey,” he said, Firewhiskey sharp on his breath. “Whaddya say we skip the party altogether?”

Hermione walks a little more quickly, shaking off his grasp.

“I told Harry I’d meet him there.”

Cormac scoffs. “Potter. Don’t you reckon he’s got enough friends already?”

Just two hours, Hermione tells herself. Two hours, then it’s over.

All she has to do is put in an appearance at the party. Just enough of one for the word of her arrival with Cormac McLaggen (who is currently taunting the portrait subjects as they walk) to enter the gossip circuits. News at Hogwarts never fails to travel fast, and it just needs to get back to one specific person for this all to be worth it.

At the thought of - of him - Hermione’s stomach twists uncomfortably. This is not how she imagined this evening would go.

Slughorn’s office is so festively decorated, the walls dripping with bunting, mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, that it feels like an assault. The air is heavy and thickly perfumed, like Trelawney’s classroom, and the guests - not all of whom are students, as the jolt to Hermione’s stomach upon catching sight of a vampire tells her - seem to press in from all sides. The poor little elves bearing trays of food appear in danger of being trampled. The music is loud and cloying and guests have to shout above it, creating a cacophony of discordant sound. Everything in her body is telling her to flee, that this isn’t worth it, that she doesn’t belong here, that he is too busy snogging Lavender Brown to care if Hermione goes to Christmas parties at all, let alone with a lout such as McLaggen.

“Ya wanna drink?” Cormac half-yells in her ear, his massive hand landing on the small of her back.

“Erm-“ She may as well, if only because the room is stiflingly hot. “Just a gillywater.”

“You got it.”

The smile he gives her as he slinks off in search of a serving tray has no warmth behind it, no affection. It’s a mere baring of teeth, a means to an end, and it sets her nerves on edge. As she waits, she scans the crowd, hoping and praying to catch a glimpse of Harry’s dark mop of hair or Luna’s radish earrings. Anyone friendly will do, particularly when Blaise Zabini pushes past her and nearly knocks her into the wall.

Cormac reappears a second later, as she’s still regaining her balance, to press an icy glass into her hand. Hermione goes to take a sip and nearly chokes.

“Are you sure this is gillywater?” she asks, repulsed and sputtering, as Cormac laughs.

“I might’ve enhanced it a bit,” he grins, though at her expression of disbelief, he continues. “Vodka,” he clarifies, opening his robes a bit to reveal a flask tucked inside. “But only a little.”

“Wha - how did you-“

“Just packed it in my trunk at the start of term,” he tells her, brimming with pride at this feat of deception. “I told Filch it was Muggle medicine, an’ he’s so thick, he believed me.”

For the first time in her life, Hermione feels sympathy for Argus Filch.

“Sorry you don’t like it,” Cormac adds flippantly, taking back the glass and drinking from it himself. “One of the elves over there has butterbeer, I think, if you’d rather have that.”

“It’s fine,” she finds herself saying, even though it plainly is not. The party has only just begun; perhaps she can salvage it. “So - er - so what NEWTs are you going to take?”

“NEWTs?” He furrows his brow like he’s never heard the term before. “Oh, I don’t know yet. Haven’t thought about it much.”

Too stunned to reply, Hermione snatches a glass from a nearby tray and, without thinking, gulps it down. It’s pumpkin juice, and it’s sickly-sweet, making her empty stomach churn.

“You look really fit tonight,” he says, eyes roving slowly up and down her figure, his hand returning to the small of her back. “You oughta dress like this more often.”

“Really?” she says skeptically, sure that he’s just spewing lines as they occur to him. “You think I should wear a party dress to class?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles again, his hand now unpleasantly close to the curve of her bottom. “It’d be hot.” Before Hermione can formulate a response - and it is taking all of her brain power to figure out what to say to him - he jerks his chin up to the ceiling. “Look.”

Against all her better judgment, she does, and of course it’s mistletoe hanging above them, taunting her.

Damn you, Professor Slughorn.

“Oh - er-“ Hermione gives a shaky attempt at laughing it off, as if the thought of them acting on the purpose of mistletoe is so preposterous, only to realize his hand is firmly situated on her backside now.

His mouth is on hers a second later, wet and sloppy and tasting faintly of alcohol and, somehow, onions, and his tongue pushes into her mouth, foreign and invasive, and this isn’t who she wants kissing her at all.

“Stop,” she blurts out, pushing his chest, needing distance, more distance, entire oceans would not be enough. “I’m - I’m just going to get one of those butterbeers after all.”

“Alright, I’ll be here,” he drawls, looking sickeningly pleased with himself.

As Cormac leans back against the wall, taking a surreptitious swig directly from his flask, Hermione steps around a small elf bearing a tray of crudités and strides purposefully towards the opposite end of the room. The scene before her has morphed into a sea of faceless bodies and voices that she can’t discern from one another. And then, when she’s sure she’s disappeared into it, become just another body among the many, she pivots on her heel and bolts for the door. She sprints past a bewildered Harry, and maybe in another universe she would have stopped to talk to him, but right now, she can think of nothing but getting away.

She feels cowardly, running rather than doing what she really wants to do - smack Cormac in the teeth. The shame rises in her, bubbling up from the pit of her stomach and into the back of her throat until she nearly chokes on it, wobbling down the hall in her heels, the abandoned corridor a slate-grey blur through her tears. Nothing that has happened tonight has been worth it. Though she set out to hurt Ron - God, actually hurt him, as though he hasn’t been her best friend for the past five years - all she’s done is make herself feel like the sludge at the bottom of the Black Lake.

It takes a near-tumble on a moving staircase for Hermione to shed her shoes altogether. With the stone floor cool under her bare feet, she spits the password at the Fat Lady (who looks offended, but swings open nevertheless) and steps into what she hopes is an empty common room.

It isn’t.

In a corner of the room, illuminated only by the wavering glow of the fireplace, Ron sits alone in front of a chess board. His lanky body is folded in on itself, a leg up to his chest pulled up to his chest, chin resting on his knee. As she hastily wipes the fresh tears from her face, he picks up his head, and his blue eyes land on her.

They regard each other, not moving, not speaking. Just… considering one another.

“You’re back early,” Ron comments, just the slightest trace of vitriol in his voice.

“Yes, well.” Hermione sniffs, trying to fix her face into an expression of utmost dignity. “It was a bit of a boring party.”

“So where’s your date?”

Now, there is definitely vitriol in his voice, but it doesn’t even sting the way it used to, the way it did after that fateful Quidditch match in November. It just makes her miss him and the warmth he used to have, the playful teasing, his sharp-tongued wit that never aimed to wound.

Hermione opts for honesty. “I left him there.”

Ron’s brows lift, briefly, and he nods. “I see.”

“And where’s yours?”

The dim light in the room is not enough to mask the ruddiness growing in Ron’s face. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I think we had a fight-“ there is a thud as his foot drops from the edge of his chair to the floor- “and she chucked me.”

“You think?”

“No, I know she chucked me.” He cringes. “She made that part clear.”

“Oh.” Despite everything, there is a little flutter of excitement in Hermione’s stomach that she can’t quite ignore. He’s single again. “You don’t exactly seem gutted over it.”

Mouthing, he attempts to piece together the words. “I - it just - well - she’s-“ He shrugs, resigned. “No. I s’pose I’m not.”

He does not look proud of this fact. His eyes are cast down to the chessboard - it appears he’s challenged himself in a match - and he’s fidgety, fingertips drumming on the edge of the table, as is his habit when he’s feeling guilty.

The fireplace crackles and hisses, flames dancing up against the soot-stained brick. Between them, the silence pulses, growing stronger, threatening to suffocate them.

And then they both speak at once.

“Why did you-“

Ron freezes, stunned, and then chuckles; the stretch of his lips lights up his whole face.

“No, no, ladies first,” he says with a wave of his hand. “You go.”

Swallowing, Hermione steels herself. She could turn, and walk up the stairs to her dorm, and she would probably end up never speaking to Ron again, but even just being in the same room is making her ache from missing him.

“Why did you get so mad at me?”

“Because,” he says in a tone that implies she should already know, “you acted like the Felix was the only reason I could play a decent Quidditch match-“

“Not that.” Hermione pads across the worn carpet floor, shrinking the gap between them. “You were already so mad at me before that happened, and I still don’t know why, I don’t know what I did - it was like you woke up one morning and decided you hated me-“ Her throat constricts, her voice breaking off.

Hurriedly, he shakes his head, as though eager to dispel the notion. “I don’t hate you.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he repeats, rising from his chair. “I’ve never hated you.”

“Then why - what happened?”

“It’s-“ He won’t meet her eyes. “It was nothing, really-“

“It must have been something,” she snaps back, infuriated, “and I want to know what.”

“It was stupid-“

“I don’t care!” she cries. “I want to know why you suddenly couldn’t stand to look at me, why you’d treat me like that - do you know how mean you’ve been to me lately?”

“How mean I’ve been?” He holds up a large hand, the back of it facing her. “I still have scars from the canaries, thank you-“

“And what about in class today?” she counters. “You think I liked being imitated like that?”

She can barely get the words out without choking on them: the recollection of the cruel laughter from Lavender and Parvati makes her want to sink into the floor.

“Yeah, that,” says Ron, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry about that.”

“As you should be.”

“Well, I am!” The flush in his face deepens to a boiling red. “It was an arsehole thing to do, I - I mean, I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I told you, I just want to know why you were so mad at me-“

“I wasn’t mad,” he says, with a brittleness in his voice that Hermione isn’t sure she’s ever heard from him. “I mean, okay, I was, but - but I was kinda just… just hurt, more than anything.”

Ron looks lost, almost hopeless, and fearing that he might just escape to his dorm never to be seen again, Hermione takes a step closer to him.

“But why?”

“I told you, it’s stupid-“

“I want to hear it.”

He gulps; he looks as though he’s about to walk to his own execution. “Basically… I didn’t want to be what I was to you.”

The words float through her brain without registering meaning. “Wh - what?”

“I didn’t want to go to the party with you if it was just, y’know, like a pity invite-“

“Pity?” she repeats, stunned. “You think I invited you out of pity?”

“I just reckoned you should go with who you actually wanted to go with-“

“Who I wanted to go with,” says Hermione, her voice trembling with the effort of maintaining some shred of control, “was you. Only you.”

“But I thought you were just - just asking as friends, so I wouldn’t be left out, ‘cause Harry pretty much had to go-“

“No,” says Hermione, desperate to be understood. He needs to know, she decides, with a rush of adrenaline that makes her hands shake. She has to tell him, and it has to be now. “It wasn’t just as friends.”

It’s Ron’s turn now to step closer, until just a foot of space separates them. In this big, empty room, all she hears are his low, shallow breaths. She thinks she might even be able to hear his heartbeat, quick and urgent, matching her own.

She’s a Gryffindor, and she knows that means she should be brave - and she is, when it comes to fighting dark wizards. But this vulnerability, and knowing, despite everything that’s just transpired between them, that Ron could still crush her heart… it requires a different kind of courage, and she has to summon it from deep within.

“And I’m sorry about the canaries,” she adds, “I really am, but when I saw you kissing her-“

“I should never have kissed her.” His words come out in a breath. “She wasn’t who I wanted to kiss.”

Hermione’s breath catches in her lungs as he moves closer, now just a sliver of glowing firelight between them. For the briefest half-second, Ron’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Who did you want to kiss, then?”

Finally, he looks straight into her eyes. “You,” he says firmly. “Only you.”

Then he’s leaning towardss her, fair eyelashes fluttering against freckled cheeks, and he’s so close, just inches between them, then millimeters, then a brush of breath against her lips-

And she jumps back. “You can’t kiss me now,” she says frantically, almost tripping in her haste. “I’m sorry, you just, you can’t-“

His face falls. “But-“

“Cormac kissed me,” she confesses in a rush, “and it was awful and disgusting and I didn’t want him to at all - and if I kiss you now, it’ll be tainted by him.”

Biting her lip, she watches as he processes this, and prays she hasn’t ruined it entirely.

“You’re barking,” he says finally, brimming with affection. “D’you know that?”

“Then so are you.”

Low chuckles rumble out of him then, like he can’t help himself, and it’s contagious, and Merlin, it feels good to laugh with him again.

“Am I allowed to hug you, then, at least?”

In response, Hermione steps into his embrace, closing her eyes as her cheek settles against the heavy wool of his jumper. He smells faintly sweet, like butterbeer, and his arms hold her close and tight, like he plans on never letting go again.

“What were you going to ask me?” says Hermione quietly, her words muffled against his chest. “Before?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter anymore.” His chin settles atop her head. “I’ve got my answer, now.”

[kwanisms]

CROSSING THE THRESHOLD - Part 5

Difference threshold is defined as the minimum noticeable difference that a person can detect at least fifty percent of the time.

⤑ genre: smut, angst, fluff, Best friend!Jihoon, Neighbor!Jeonghan ⤑ pairing: Jihoon x Reader, Jeonghan x Reader ⤑ warning: alcohol, mention of rape (no details, just mentioned) ⤑ summary: Jihoon surprises you with a night out after work during which an old acquaintance shows up and details of your past are made known to new friends. ⤑ word count: 4.1k

⤑ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | {05} | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 

You slumped in your seat as the meeting dragged on, trying your best to focus. Unfortunately for you, you overslept your alarm and rushed at lightning speed to get ready for work, scarfing down a bagel while you packed your satchel, half dressed. Now, you tried not to nod off while you sat through a meeting about correctly filling expense reports in a timely manner.

Once the meeting wrapped up, you were introduced to a new employee and two new interns before you were dismissed and free to return to your desks. You stood up, ignoring the whispers of gossip around you, just wanting to get back to your cubicle and get through your work.

“(Y/N), could you stay for just a moment?” You turned your head upon hearing your boss' voice. You lingered behind as the rest of your coworkers filed out. “How much longer until that report is complete? I need it turned in no later than Monday,” she said, holding a stack of folders. “I'm almost finished with it, I should have it on your desk before lunch tomorrow,” you said with a nod of your head.

You exchanged a few more pleasantries before returning to your desk to finish the last 30 minutes of your shift. Most people found office work boring, but you found comfort in it. Book work was always a strong suit of yours in school so you transitioned into college, and later your entry level position, easily.

Finishing your paperwork for the day, you heard your phone buzz in your bag. You were done for the day, so you packed up, grabbing your bag after throwing on your coat and scarf. You made your way to the elevator and pulled your phone out of your bag, unlocking the screen with a swipe.

Hoonie [15:56]: are you off work, yet? You [16:01]: just got on the elevator, why? Hoonie [16:04]: no reason (: You [16:07]: …. Jihoon? Hoonie [16:08]: uwu You [16:10]: what did u do?

The elevator doors opened and you stepped out into the lobby of your office building.

Hoonie [16:13]: look up.

Your feet brought you to a halt and you looked up to find Jihoon standing in the lobby, a huge smirk plastered on his face. You rushed over to him. “What are you doing here?” you ask looking around the lobby. “I came to pick you up. We're going out for drinks,” he said, placing one hand on the small of your back and leading you out the doors. “But I'm not dressed for going out!” you huffed, pulling him to a stop.

Jihoon looked you over. “Take your hair down,” he said after giving you a once over. You raised an eyebrow at him. “Just humor me.” You sighed and pulled the hair stick from your messy bun. Your hair cascaded down in soft waves, courtesy of putting your hair up while it was damp this morning. Jihoon grinned at you. “Got any lipstick in that purse?” he nodded at your bag. Reaching in, you felt around, pulled out your lip tint and put some on. After dropping the tube back in your bag, Jihoon grabbed your hand, pulling you along after him down the sidewalk to his car. “Perfect, let's go.”

Once reaching the car, he pulled open the passenger door and let you in before getting in and starting the ignition. Jihoon drove away from the office building complex and towards downtown. “What brought this on all of the sudden?” you asked as he pulled into a parking space and turned the car off. “We haven't had a night out in a while,” he said getting out of the car. You followed, leaving your work bag in the backseat.

The two of you approached the door to the bar and are let in after showing your IDs. “Put my phone in your purse, cause you know me,” he said as you approach the bar top, handing over the device. “Yeah, you'll call or text Soo-mi,” you said, rolling your eyes. You tucked the phone in one of the pockets of your purse with yours and took a seat next to Jihoon. He ordered your drinks and turned to you while the bartender made them.

“How was today?” he asked, removing his coat. “It was okay, just like reports. We had a meeting. Something about teamwork and punctuality. The same old bullshit,” you said, adding a thanks when he helped you remove your own coat. “Anyone joining us?” you asked watching Jihoon check his watch.

“Soonyoung,” he murmured. “Oh, and Joshua,” he added looking up at you, monitoring your reaction. Your brows furrowed. “Joshua?” He nodded slowly. “Yeah, that guy that lived in my dorm from America. The one who always had a bible in his book bag.” Your jaw clenched as you tried to keep your breaths steady. Yeah, I remember him,” you muttered darkly. Jihoon turned his attention to his drink and whispered something you couldn't hear.

You remembered Joshua alright. He had started a series of rumors during your time in college together and you would rather not see him at all. You let out a soft groan, stretching your arms out and flexing your fingers. “It was actually Josh who wanted to meet up,” Jihoon said and you turned to him. “Really? Sounds like you two kept in touch after everything that happened. Didn't know you to be so friendly,” you said bitterly, stirring your drink.

Jihoon placed a hand over yours softly. “It's been a few years, (Y/N), give him a chance,” he said softly. You looked up at him and finally sighed. “Fine. I'll give him another chance, but if he says anything, I'm putting his head through a wall.” Jihoon smirked, no doubt imagining what you just said, holding back a laugh as he raised his glass to his lips. The two of you continued to talk, sipping on your drinks as the bar slowly filled up around you.

The door to the bar swung open, a cold gust of wind hitting your bare legs and you shivered slightly as you peered over your shoulder. The group previously occupying a large corner booth left as Soonyoung entered and waved as soon as he spotted the two of you. He made his way over and squeezed between you and Jihoon, a look of annoyance crossing the latter's face. “Hey!” he said a breathy voice. You glanced at him to see his face red and he was out of breath.

“Did you run here?” Jihoon asked, playfully shoving his shoulder while Soonyoung ordered his drink. “Let's move to that booth,” you nodded toward the empty booth in the corner as a server moved away after wiping the tabletop down. The three of you moved your stuff and sat down as the door opened again, another gust of cold air filling the bar. “Ji!” you heard a familiar voice say. Looking up, you saw that Joshua had finally joined you.

He had really matured since college. His face was more defined, his round cheeks left behind for sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline. His bangs were pushed back showing off his forehead. He looks good, your brain had a momentary lapse in judgment and you mentally scold yourself for thinking anything of the sort.

“Hey, Joshua, glad you could make it out, “ Jihoon smiled. “You remember my roommate, Soonyoung?” he asked. “Ahh, Hoshi. How could I, or anyone for that matter, forget you?” Joshua said, a smirk gracing his lips. Soonyoung forced a smile at his old classmate. “Joshua,” he said curtly, tensing up as the dark haired male joined the table. “And my best friend, (Y/N). You remember her, right?” Joshua's eyes landed on you and widened. “Wow, (Y/N), you look incredible. How have you been?”

You shift in your seat under his gaze before you're interrupted. “Not drinking, Joshua?” Soonyoung asked, glaring at Joshua, no doubt noticing Joshua's lingering gaze on you. “My friend is getting it for me, ah, speaking of,” he said looking up as two more figures joined the table. “Guys, this is-"

“Jeonghan?” You say glancing up at your best friend's neighbor. “Seungcheol?” you add noticing him as well. The pair smiled at you and joined the table, Seungcheol sitting next to Joshua and Jeonghan next to you so you were now squished between your best friend and the man who had been harassing your dreams almost every night.

“You know them, (Y/N)?” Joshua asked, taking his drink from Seungcheol. “We live next door to Jihoon and Soonyoung,” Seungcheol said smiling at his neighbors. “(Y/N) visits frequently so we see much of her as well,” Jeonghan added, his gaze falling on you. You busied yourself with your drink and noticed Jihoon tense up, narrowing his eyes at the way Jeonghan was looking at you. Jihoon cleared his throat, trying to break the tension at the table. “So, what are you up to these days, Joshua?”

As you listened, you were painfully aware of how close Jeonghan's body was to your own and at first you thought that he didn't have enough room at the end of the booth, but after you scooted over to make more room, he moved closer, his thigh pressing against yours. His body was hot. Way too hot. Incredibly hot and you tried to focus on the conversation but all you could think about was his straddling his lap and grinding against his hard—

“(Y/N)?” You blinked a few times, trying to register what was just said. “Are you okay?” Joshua asked and all eyes fell on you. You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding and offered a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I just… I had a long day. I'm very tired. Overslept this morning.”

Joshua nodded. “Well anyway, I was wondering what you've been up to,” here inquired and you nodded. “Accounts. Expenses, stuff like that. I'm in charge of putting reports together of department spending.” To your relief, the conversation shifting away from you and you let out a sigh.

Jihoon gave you a worried look but you shook your head and smiled at him, allowing him to return to the topic. “Are you alright?” you heard Jeonghan's voice in your ear. “I'm fine,” you whispered. He let out a soft chuckle and says nothing else. You downed your drinks much quicker after Jeonghan and Seungcheol joined the table, mostly out of your own nervousness at the former’s close proximity.

The conversation split off as Jihoon and Joshua mostly caught up. Soonyoung glanced back and forth between the two as he was literally caught between them. Your attention had turned to Jeonghan and he asked you about your day. You mentioned Jihoon surprising you by picking you up from work and how you got to the bar.

“Your hair does look nice like this,” Jeonghan said, resting his chin in his hand and facing you, his lips twitching into a half smile. You felt your cheeks heat under his stare, also partially from his compliment. The two of you were exchanging quips back and forth, probably due to the liquid courage in your glasses. “Yours looks pretty nice like this too,” you said voicing your notice that he had dyed it recently. It was no longer silver now a reddish brown instead. He had the top half of it pulled up into a small bun.

Jeonghan’s smile grew when you brought a hand up to play with the end of one of his locks. You couldn't help but smile back, letting out a very uncharacteristic giggle that only happened when you were tipsy. The smile on his face along with the look in his eyes, almost of pure admiration, sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy and you downed the rest of the alcohol in your glass.

“Whoa, slow down there, (Y/N),” Joshua quipped. “One might think you're trying to beat Soonyoung's old record.” Soonyoung opened his mouth to angrily retort but you beat him to it. “No one asked you, Joshua.” The male smirked at you, a twinkle in his eye. He hadn't changed at all.

“Oh come on, (Y/N), it's just a joke,” he said with a laugh. “Much like your sex life?” you blurted out before you could think about it. “Ahh, if you're about to confess your deep rooted crush on me, save it. I'm not interested in used goods,” Joshua laughed. You clenched your fist angrily.

“As if I wanted you anywhere near me. Anyway, aren't you saving yourself for Jesus?” you fired back. “(Y/N),” Jihoon warned, shooting you a look. “No, no, it's okay, Ji. Let her say whatever, at least no one called me the campus slut,” Joshua said, shrugging.

Your vision went dark as you reacted and before you had time to process what you were doing, you picked up your glass and threw the contents in Joshua's face. “Fuck you, Hong. You know what happened!” you practically screamed. Jihoon grabbed your arm and pulled you down. “Hey, (Y/N), not here,” he said softly, trying to calm you down before a bouncer came to kick you out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Soonyoung giving Joshua a death glare, Seungcheol was helping wipe the contents of your drink off the table. Jeonghan was looking from you to Joshua, a look of shock and confusion replacing the flirty smile he was giving you moments ago. “Let GO,” you hissed, ripping your arm out of your best friend's grasp. You turned to Jeonghan.

“Let me out,” you said, trying to hold back a sob, tears blurring your vision. He got up slowly and you pulled yourself out of the booth, snatching your purse and coat from the seat. You took off for the bathroom, locking yourself in the first stall before slumping down onto the toilet seat and bursting into tears. You hated him. You hated Joshua. He was so smug. He hadn't changed at all.

Outside, Jeonghan followed Jihoon with his eyes as Jihoon took off after you. “What was that about?” Seungcheol asked, looking at his friend. “Don't worry about that. (Y/N) just got around in college, that's all,” Joshua smirked, still wiping his face. “You really are a piece of shit,” Soonyoung grumbled, toying with his empty bottle. Joshua scoffed. “What was that, Hoshi?” he asked looking every bit offended as he sounded. “You're a piece of shit,” Soonyoung repeated only a little louder. “You know the truth.” Joshua laughed. 

“Ahh, the truth. Yes, of (Y/N) sleeping with half the baseball team. Hey, you were on that team weren't you? Did you get any?” Soonyoung slammed his bottle down on the table. “You know that's not true. She didn't sleep with them, Hong, she was taken advantage of!” Soonyoung growled, his voice still low.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol exchanged glances. “She was drunk, that's no excuse.” Soonyoung grabbed the front of Joshua's shirt. “No, that's no excuse for their behavior, not hers,” he snarled. “She shouldn't have been drinking then,” Joshua said, trying to pry Soonyoung off him. 

“They fucking raped her, Hong,” Soonyoung hissed, his grip tightening. “Let go of me, Hoshi,” Joshua said trying to pull away. “You know what really happened and yet you deny it. Blame her for something out of her control. They would have just done it to another girl if (Y/N) was sober. They're the ones to blame, not her!”

“Let's break this up,” Seungcheol finally said, stepping in. He pulled Joshua away from Soonyoung. “Let's go get some air,” Seungcheol said, pulling Joshua away from the booth, giving Jeonghan a look that said ‘we’re leaving.’ Jeonghan glanced over to Soonyoung who was glaring after the two. “I'm uh, gonna close out our tabs,” he said standing up but Soonyoung didn't answer.

Back in the bathroom, you washed your hands, glancing up at your reflection. Your eyes were red and puffy, tears staining your cheeks. You dried your hands and stepped out into the hall where Jihoon was waiting, leaning up against the wall. Your eyes made contact and he reached out, pulling you into a tight hug. “I hate him,” you sniffled, voice muffled by his chest. “I know. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking,” Jihoon said, resting his head on top of your head. 

“You ready to go?” he asked, pressing his lips to your forehead. You nodded and pulled away. He lead you over to the bar to close his tab and you saw Jeonghan waiting by the bar. Soonyoung was still sitting at the table, rolling his empty beer bottle between his palms.

You felt eyes on you and looked back at Jeonghan. His eyes were on you, a sort of sadness in them. You looked at the table again and then it dawned on you that Joshua and Seungcheol have left. Your blood boils when you think about Joshua’s words and you distract yourself by brushing past Jeonghan, ignoring his attempts to talk to you and sat down with Soonyoung. He looked up at you and immediately pulled you into a hug.

You chuckled lightly and patted his back, hugging him back with the same strength. “He's a pompous asshole, don't listen to him,” he whispered in your ear. You thanked him and felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn as much as Soonyoung's grip allowed to see Jihoon standing behind you. He nodded toward the door and you pulled yourself, and Soonyoung, out of the booth. Jeonghan was already out the door ahead of you when you finally stepped out of the bar and into the chilly night.

“Let's go grab a bite,” Soonyoung offered but Jihoon shook his head. “I think (Y/N) wants to go home.” His eyes found yours and you nodded, settling yourself between the two. They both walked you to Jihoon's car, Soonyoung lying down in the back, you in the front with Jihoon. As Jihoon pulled out onto the street, you saw Jeonghan and Seungcheol walking, Joshua nowhere in sight. You turned away from the window, crossing your arms over your chest and sliding down in your seat.

The ride to your apartment was silent, neither one of you saying anything. Jihoon reached over and took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You smiled down at your hands and traced light patterns into his skin. Nothing was said but you knew it was meant to calm you.You were thankful for Jihoon. Thankful that he stayed in your life. And you were grateful for Soonyoung always standing up for and protecting you. You had two of the most wonderful best friends in the entire world and you wouldn't trade them for anything in a million years.

Jihoon turned off the ignition, the rumbling replaced by the soft sound of Soonyoung snoring in the backseat. You shook your head, chuckling and got out, grabbing your work bag from the floor board. Jihoon walked you to your door and pulled you into another tight hug. “I'm never inviting him to anything again,” he whispered in your hair. “I'm not even going to talk to him ever again.”

You smiled weakly, letting out a mix of a cry and laugh before you parted to punch in the code to your building.

“Call me if you need anything,” Jihoon said bringing a hand up to brush your hair back out of your face, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. You could have sworn you saw something familiar in his eyes following the gesture, something you hadn't seen in a few years, but as soon as it came, it was gone and you thought maybe the alcohol was playing tricks on you. 

You said goodnight before stepping into your building and following the stairs to your apartment on the second landing. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed your door, usually locked with 5 locks, ajar. You approached cautiously, peering in.

Your stomach twisted upon seeing the state of your apartment. Dishes shattered all over the kitchen, your flower pots broken, dirt spilling out onto the counter tops, your couch missing, curtains ripped to shreds, and it sinks further. Your TV and gaming console also gone. You stepped cautiously over the bits of broken glass and trash from the wastebasket.

You made your way over to your bed area to see clothes strewn about, as they rifled through your dresser. Jewelry was missing as well as some of your lingerie. A broken cry sounded before the blasting of an unfamiliar ringtone from your purse.

You dug through it, fighting back tears until you pulled out Jihoon's phone. Soonyoung’s face filing the screen. You answered it and Jihoon sighed a breath of relief. “Hey, I forgot my phone was in your bag. Can you bring it down to me? I'm out…side?” he trailed off upon hearing your crying. “(Y/N)? What's wrong?” he asked, worry in his voice. You broke down, telling him in between sobs that someone broke into your apartment. Jihoon was silent on the other end until, “we'll be right up.” The phone went silent.

You heard the building door open and two sets of footsteps hurrying up the stairs before your door was thrown open. Jihoon made his was over to you, stepping over the wreckage and sat you down on the edge of your bed. “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

You told him from start to finish what happened while Soonyoung phoned the police. They showed up 20 minutes later and took a statement from the three of you, took photographs of the apartment as well as a few items for evidence. The neighbors were questioned and the landlord contacted. You were advised not to stay in the apartment that night and you agreed so Jihoon and Soonyoung helped you pack and find your cat, Mochi.

“You're moving in with us,” Jihoon did said as he carried a suitcase down the steps to his car. Soonyoung followed with more of your luggage, leaving you to carry Mochi. “I'll just stay until I find a new place,” you said, following behind. Both men stopped in their tracks and turned to face you. 

“You're moving in with us, tonight,” they said in unison. The car was packed up with what you were allowed to take, Soonyoung in the backseat with Mochi in his carrier and you back in the front. “They're gonna get whoever did this, (Y/N), don't worry,” Soonyoung said from behind you.

Once at their apartment, you stashed your luggage in the third bedroom. This was the first time you were seeing it. It had boxes filled with random knickknacks, old clothes, and the like. “We'll clear this out tomorrow and clean this room so you can have this room,” Jihoon said scratching the back of his head. “I could just crash on the couch until I find a place,” you muttered and Jihoon grabbed your shoulder, turning you toward him. “You're moving in here, (Y/N). If you think I'll let you live anywhere else, you're wrong. I won't let anything like this happen to you again.”

Your face flushed and you looked at the wood floor, not meeting his gaze. “Thank you,” you whispered. He patted the top of your head and chuckled. “I'll take the couch, you can have my bed tonight,” he said softly. “No, that's okay! I'll sleep on the couch!” you offered but Jihoon just shook his head. “No, I'll be fine. You're going to wake up with a hangover. I didn't drink as much as you did,” he joked and you stuck your tongue out before finally relenting and moving from the small room and into Jihoon's room to get ready for bed.

You finally settled in the sheets, Jihoon grabbing his pillow and a blanket from the closet before setting himself up on the couch for the night. The last thing you remembered was calling out a goodnight to him before exhaustion overtook you and you passed out.

a/n: Aissshhhh this was the hardest chapter to write. It took me forever to piece everything together and make sure it flowed well. Also, yeah I wrote Joshua as an asshole and it’s because idk. I know he’s actually a sweetheart, but I just did it, okay? I’m sorry Joshua stans!! ;n; As always, I welcome feedback and appreciate you reading!! Let me know if you like it! ~K ♡

[positiveparker]

The Sting part 1 {series}

hi loves!! this is my new series called The Sting! I am working really really hard on it and this is the first part. I hope you enjoy and I would love to hear your feedback :)

- warnings ; swearing! angst!

- series masterlist

- main masterlist

- teaser 

- collection inspo

not my gif

3 months earlier

September 1st

My feet pressed further into the pavement at every step. It was the first autumn morning of the year and I had woken up early. I didn’t sleep very well, I was an insomniac but that night was worse than ever before. I was half trapped in a dream, sweating and shaking. I almost couldn’t seep back into reality. It was the same dream I had been having since the accident. Both my parents perished in a huge hotel fire when I was six ‘The Hotel du Paris’. We had gone on a small weekend trip away to see the Notre Dame (it was my Dad’s favourite). He was a History professor at Oxford university meaning I didn’t see him much because he was always there. I lived with Mum in a flat near the centre of London. I usually brought myself to this same Starbucks just down the street every single day.

I pulled a hand out of my pocket and yanked open the metal door. A huge waft of heating hit my face and tingled my cold cheeks. It was 7am meaning not many people were filling up the seats. I approached the counter and smiled at the barista.

There were two baristas which worked at this particular Starbucks, Krista and Karen. they were twin sisters. Krista smiled at me like she usually did. “hiya (y/n)!” I always wondered how she was so lively in the morning. 

“Hey Krista” I grumbled sleepily

“the usual?” She grinned, picking up a medium cup and pulling off the pen lid of her black sharpie. She bit the lid between her teeth and started scribbling on the papery material. 

“actually, not decaffeinated today” I interrupted “I had a rough night sleeping” I explained

“oh, sure it won’t affect your anxiety?” She said softly 

“no I’m sure I’ll be fine” 

She nodded and then scribbled on the paper cup. The coffee machine hissed as we had light conversation over the soft indie music chiming out of the speakers. 

“so when does school start for you?” She asked

“tomorrow” I rolled my eyes and laughed 

“agh, ours starts in two days” She explained “so you’re going to uni right?”

“yeah, University College London” 

“wow” she gushed “that’s such a good school, I’ve heard they do great forensic studies” 

“yeah, well I’m actually going there to study crime” I explained, every time I thought about University it made my heart flutter. Of course I was excited but at the same time I was scared and didn't know what to expect. 

“oh, really” she smirked “a boy came in here this morning and he was telling me he is studying crime there as well”

“oh really” I replied curiously. Every time a boy around our age came in Krista always gave me this look, with wide eyes and a curious smirk. 

“I’m sure he’s still in here” She said peering around “Oh there he is” she mouthed pointing to the corner. A dusty blonde haired boy was sitting on one of the loungers with a laptop folded open on his lap. He had a small espresso cup clutched in his fingers and stared at his laptop screen with a concentrated face. He took a sip of his drink and set it down on the table in front of him, It made a small click when it hit the wood. He hovered his hands over his laptop keys and then started avidly typing. I looked back at Krista, she had wide eyes.

“he’s cute” she whispered with her hand covering the side of her face, I giggled and then looked back at him curiously. I mean she was right, he had big ocean blue eyes that were lit by his white computer screen and strongly cut features. He had a strong jawline but his face was soft and inviting at the same time. 

“here” Krista mumbled pushing my change across the counter followed by my steaming cup of coffee. I scraped the coins across the marbled counter and slipped them into my pocket, then I curled my cold fingers around the plastic cup and brought it to my lips, blowing on it slightly. I sat on the table nearest to the boy, he seemed interesting. I sat facing him so I could analyse him more. 

Every so often he would rapidly type and then stop to look off into the distance. I wondered what he was doing. He caught me staring a few times so I played it off by looking down at my phone. I unzipped my bag and fished my crime textbook out of it. I started flipping through the thin pages and licking my index finger lightly whenever I turned the page. I felt him staring at me intently but I didn't waver my look. His stare burned into my skull, it almost made me feel uncomfortable. Then again a part of me wanted him to look at me. Then I finally got the courage and looked back up at him, our eyes locked and his face cracked into a huge smile. He had two small indents at each side of his grin. I awkwardly smiled back and then looked back down at my book, I couldn’t wipe my smile off my face. I couldn’t focus on the words, my brain would look at the sentences but none of them would process.

“what are you doing?” I heard him say, my heart jumped and I sat up rigidly from my casually slumped position 

“uh-uh, I’m, um, I’m” I kept stuttering and looking down at my book and then back into his eyes. “I’m reading” I finally blurted out. He chuckled and then looked back down at his computer screen.

“what are, are, you doing?” I stuttered

“I’m trying to look for camera software” he explained, he chuckled down at his laptop. 

“what for?”

“oh” his face sort of dropped “oh, oh, my friend is shooting a movie” he scratched the back of his head and then went back to typing. I wanted to say something else but my brain couldn’t function properly. “wanna see?” He muttered looking up at me and smiling.

“yeah’ I replied grabbing my book and tucking my textbook under my arm. 

That morning we spent 2 hours looking at various camera software and talking about the crime course we were about to take.

“so what got you into crime?” I asked

“seriously?” He whispered “batman” he chuckled

“really?” I laughed

“yeahhh” he blushed “how about you?”

“probably watching too much CSI” 

“ohhh” he nodded, he clicked on something and then his face lit up. “this one” He pointed. I peered over at his screen. The website was black with bright lime green writing. ‘KRAD’ it said in huge writing.

“this is camera software?” I asked

“yeah” he smiled “the best” the way he talked about stuff so passionately made my heart clench. I had never met a boy who was interested in the same sort of thing as me. His passion and warm radiated onto me, I had almost forgotten about my sleepless night before. 

“oh shit” he said peering at the black rimmed watch on his wrist 

“do you have to go”

“yeah, I, uh, have this thing” he said vaguely, he picked up his khaki satchel and slipped his laptop inside. He stood up and turned around to look at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow then”

“yeah tomorrow” I replied, he nodded and then walked away. Him and Krista exchanged a friendly smile as he walked off. She looked back at me and smirked. 

October 14th 

Haz and I had been friends for a month and met up at the Starbucks every morning and then walked to lectures together. Since being with Haz my recurring nightmares had vanished. I guess being with him was kind of like a breath of fresh air. We got along so well and never ran out of things to say.

On this particular morning he had brought his friend Tom who was at the film school down the street. Him and Haz had been friends for a while.

“so Tom do you want to be a director?” I asked sipping my coffee

“yeah, I have always been really fascinated by the whole film making process. I nodded and smiled curiously, I felt Haz staring at me the whole time. 

“how is the crime course going mate?” Tom grinned nudging Haz. Haz smirked and then opened up his laptop which was perched on the coffee table. 

“well (y/n) I need to show you something”

“oooo” I gushed, Tom and I leant over to peer at his screen. Haz pulled up a website called crimeki.t’. Haz clicked on ‘radios’ and showed us a silver radio with black buttons.

“wow” I gushed, the radio tapped into all the police intercoms in the city. “is this for all of London like we talked about?”

“you aren’t even ready” Haz gushed “it’s the whole world!”

“no way” I replied 

“yeah, I’m gonna buy it for us” 

“Oh Hazzzz you don’t have to do that” I whined punching his arm

“no way” Haz retorted “I have wanted this for ages, and so have you” he hollered gesturing at the screen. We both chuckled and then stared at each other. There were times were we would just silently stare at each other, it was like we were talking with our eyes. Somehow I could tell what he was entranced by the things he was saying but really wanted to know what he was thinking. I definitely had a fear of the unknown, and not knowing Haz’s thoughts was one of them. 

“so Haz are you coming to my party” Tom smirked, Haz suddenly clenched up.

“what party?” I asked

“oh, my brothers and I are having a party for halloween.” Tom explained “you should come”

“yeah that would be great!” I smiled on the outside but really I was scared. I hadn’t ever been to a proper party yet but I wanted to impress Haz.

“you should come Hazzz” Tom whined

“oh, oh, I dont know” he stuttered

“it will be fun” I smiled softly

October 31st (halloween night)

I sat on my carpeted floor in my bedroom. I hadn’t really planned what I was going to wear yet. I went through my wardrobe hundreds of times and cleared all the hangers. My bed was piled full of clothes but nothing was costume worthy.

“(y/n)?” I heard my Aunt Annie mutter and push the door open “is everything okay?” My Aunt Annie took me in after my parents died. She moved out of her house in the country and we both lived in the old flat together. We were pretty close, she was like my surrogate mum.

“yeah, uh, I don’t have a costume” I explained, I huffed and Annie came over and we both sat on the bed.

“is this a party you’re going to?” She asked in her soft voice, her voice was so soothing. It was like melted butter being spread. 

“yeah with my new friends”

“is it a boy” she smirked

“yes but we are just friends” I uttered. Annie nodded and then stood up. She turned and stuck her hand out at me. 

“what?” I asked

“come with me” she announced pressingly. I stuck my hand in hers and she yanked me up off my bed. I followed her into my parents old room. Annie had kept it mostly the same but changed it a bit so that when I didn’t go in there a lump in my throat didn’t form. It still did, every time I went in their a bitter coppery taste filled my mouth. The room was so ghostly and empty even though it wasn’t. 

I slumped down onto the edge of the mattress and watched Annie open her draws. She opened them all and then her gaze hung on the bottom draw. She pulled out a long sleeved tight black jumpsuit.

“stand up” she ordered, I stood up and she held it against me. “perfect” she muttered. I grabbed it from her and walked over to the foot length mirror in the corner. The jumpsuit was tight meaning I couldn’t hide anything I didn’t like about my body.

“oh Annie I don’t know” I whined

“no way (y/n)” she protested “you have to wear this with confidence”

“what am I even meant to be” I chuckled at her

“cat woman” she replied and then her face sighed “you need the matching ears let me find them”

I carried on staring at myself as Annie wracked through her draws. She pulled out a headband with lace triangles stuck onto it for ears. She handed them to me and I smiled at her. 

“thank you” I said softly 

“no worries, I’m glad to see you going out” She grinned back shutting her top draw. I left her room and ambled back into mine. I decided to straighten my hair and pull it up into a high ponytail, I slicked it back with hairspray at the top and put on the ears. Then I went onto makeup, lightly brushing concealer, blusher and bronzer onto my bare skin. I used eyeliner and swiped on a large layer of mascara on my eyelashes. I pulled off the tracksuit bottoms and baggy top I was already wearing and pulled on the tight jumpsuit. I had to jump up and down to pull it over my body. It had a zip at the front and I zipped it all the way. It looked too formal so I undid the zip a bit lower to reveal my chest. I paired my black outfit with chunky black heels. My phone vibrated from my dresser and I hobbled quickly over to it.

Hi, should I pick you up? x - haz

I smiled and then started typing a message back.

Yeah, I’m ready X

15 minutes later I heard a honk from outside. My heart fluttered and I raced downstairs, trying not to fall over the big blocks attached to my feet. I hobbled downstairs and then shouted up to Annie.

“see you Annie!” I bellowed from the front door. I almost kept forgetting I was an adult now and could stay out as late as I wanted. It was kind of scary but also thrilling. I stepped out of our apartment building into the dark October night. Haz had pulled up outside in a navy blue Mercedes and was perching on the door. He was dressed in a white shirt that was stained with fake blood and ripped in various places.

“nice ride” I shouted, he looked up from his phone and grinned excitedly. He hand added blotches of purple and fake cuts on his face. 

“it’s my Dad’s” he smirked stroking the shiny metal

“what are you dressed as then?”

“a zombie school boy”

“ooo very walking dead” I mocked

“cat woman?” Haz asked pointing at my attire

“yes of course” I grinned spinning myself around. I looked up at Haz he was gawking at me. I blushed and then ran up to give him a hug. His body was warm against mine. 

He opened the passenger door for me and then hopped in from the other side. The radio was lowly chiming typical halloween tunes and we sped through central London. The roads were clear since it was Halloween night and everyone was either Trick or Treating in the neighbourhoods, staying inside or at parties. I could tell Haz was nervous, he body was tense and he had a stiffened jaw. I curled my hand over his on the gear shift. 

“it’s gonna be fine” I said softly 

“I know I know I just get nervous for big events like this” he stuttered shakily

“I am gonna be with you the whole time” I said softly, I rubbed my thumb up and down the top of his hand to attempt to soothe his nerves. As I moved my thumb up and down his knuckles his body started to loose tension and relax.

“how do you do that?” He chuckled breathily

“do what?”

“completely calm me down”

“I have had practise”

“what do you mean?”

“I used to get panic attacks all the time and I had to learn ways to calm myself down” I uttered feebly.

“oh, if you- you don’t mind me asking, why?”

“My parents died” I explained

“oh” he remarked “I’m sorry”

“no, no its fine” I assured him, I could tell in his eyes he really meant it. Usually when people told me they were sorry I could tell they didn’t mean it. Something about the softness of Haz’s face told me he really cared. “they died in a fire” I explained

“thank you for telling me” Haz uttered softly. He pulled his hand from under mine and placed it on the top of my hand and started stroking my skin with his thumb just like I did for him. We carried on like that until we reached Tom’s flat.

Apparently Tom and his brothers all shared a flat in Chelsea. They were all attending the London film school together. Haz parked his car just around the corner from their apartment building and we hopped out. My heels clacked as we walked down the pavement. Even though I was wearing heels Haz still towered over me. As we ran up the steps the motion sensored light flicked on and emitted a soft orange glow. Haz scanned the set of bells and rung the 12th one. My ears pricked up at the sound of muffled music echoing down the stairs. The door buzzed open and we started walking up the stairs, Haz lead the way up the dark steps all the way to the top. He stopped at a set of white doors and banged the shiny gold knocker on the front of one of them. The door flung open and the bass of techno music burst in my ears. 

“hi Haz” an average height curly ginger boy hollered drunkenly. Haz pulled him into a hug and then gestured to me.

“this is (y/n)” Haz grinned

“hi” I waved

“oh yeah, Tom told me about you. I’m Harry” He slurred, I was expecting a hand shake but he pulled me into a friendly hug. “come in, come in” 

Haz and I stepped into the darkness which was a house party. A few green and purple lights shone and spun on the walls but you mostly couldn’t see anything. Bodies were on bodies, dancing to the rhythm bouncing off the walls. Haz fished for my hand and locked his fingers in mine, I couldn’t see anyone let alone recognise any of the faces around me. 

“I need to find Tom!” Haz shouted over the music. As we got closer to the speakers the music boomed louder and louder until it felt like I was breathing it. The kitchen was lit lighter than all the other rooms, there was a huge counter covered in beer and cider. Haz grabbed us both raspberry cider and cracked them open. He one to me and I grabbed the cool metal and sipped it slightly. 

“(y/n)?” I heard a male voice holler, I turned to see Tom who was dressed in all black with blood oozing from each corner of his mouth.

“Hi Tom!” I said enthusiastically pulling him into a hug. 

He greeted Haz and then we seeped into loud conversation over the music. 

“I heard you met my brother” Tom announced “Have you met my other one Sam”

“no” I shouted back shaking my head. I was on my third cider now and could feel the bubbles rising to my head. 

“Sam!” Haz bellowed shouting over my shoulder. A taller darker haired boy with hundreds of freckles slipped next to Tom and waved at me. 

“Hi” he grinned. I smiled back. Sam was wearing a red t-shirt and black jeans with devil horns stuck on his head. We chatted for what seemed like ages as Haz and Tom slipped off to socialise.

“so what are you doing at Film School?” I asked 

“I’m studying movie scores” He replied “I’m really into music”

“that’s cool”

“I like your costume” He complimented “cat woman right?” He pointed at my headband. 

“yeah” I chuckled awkwardly. More and more bodies filled the kitchen, squashing Sam and I into the corner. 

“can I show you something?” Sam whispered in my ear

“yeah, yeah sure” I said. Sam grabbed my arm and I quickly perched my drink on a passing ledge.  He led me up the stairs and opened one of the 3 doors on the landing. His room was painted blue with a desk in the corner and hundreds of film posters all over his wall. He shoved himself on his desk chair and started logging into his computer. I perched on his mattress and watched him open up google.

“Look” he said after a few minutes of avid typing. I stood up and looked at his screen. He was showing me a picture of a diamond necklace. The way the light in the photo hit it made the jewels sparkle. I gawked at them.

“holy shit” I gushed “how much are they?”

“no one knows” Sam explained “allegedly the Duke recently bought them for the Duchess after they got married as a wedding present” 

“wait, how many carats?” I gestured at the screen. 

“let’s see” Sam muttered scrolling down and looking at the description “The “Incomparable” Diamond Necklace. The “Incomparable” necklace costs a monstrous amount mainly because of its valuable pendant stone, an internally flawless brownish-yellow diamond weighing 407.48 carats. This stone is set in rose gold and accentuated by 91 white diamonds” Sam started reciting.

“wait” I said pushing his hands over and typing into google “the worth of a 400 carat diamond necklace is around 55 million pounds” I announced

“woah, imagine having that kind of money” Sam gawked

“wait, aren’t the duke and duchess visiting London?”

“yeah in December, why?”

“she will probably be wearing this necklace right?”

“right…but what is your point”

“what if someone were to steal it”

“they would be crazy” he chuckled

“or would they?” I smirked at him. An idea burned through my body and started forming in my brain. The impulse burned my bloodstream and skin.

Taglist ;

@tomsfireheart @feelingsareharddd @lovelyh0lland @i-dont-wanna-o-mr-stark @hazeyholland @lookclosernow @choke-me-sweet-pea @whatareyouhidingpeter @spidey-pal @cutiepie-holland @radd-but-saddd @pinkcutepug

[akaluan]

YOU WROTE IT! o> I'm just SO interested in post-Quincy War non-shit-epilogue Uryu, I'm eating up anything you can give me on that! Attainable Dreams has been a super delightful serving of that particular goodness

Oops my muse slipped.

Ichigo knew, the moment the fight was over and Uryuu stalked towards him, all stone-faced and straight-shouldered and covered in blood, that this was going to be a bad night. His gaze flicked to Tatsuki for a moment — just long enough for her to catch, for her to understand, and nod, and slip silently away — before his attention was once more on Uryuu.

“The Shinigami are taking care of him,” Uryuu told them stiffly, right hand wiping absently against a clean patch of shirt, again and again and again. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo agreed, standing slowly under Orihime’s watchful gaze and stretching to try and settle within his own skin again. Orihime’s healing was amazing as always, but it always felt /strange/, his brain remembering a wound that had never existed on his body. “Thanks.”

Uryuu grunted and turned away, moving towards the gate that would take them home, and Ichigo followed after without hesitation.

Urahara was waiting on the other side, his usual antics tempered by their fatigue and blood-covered clothing. His gaze was dark with regret, mouth drawn down in a frown that he didn’t bother to cover with his fan. “I’ll have Tessai-san set the table,” he said. “Ishida-san, shower, bath, or hot spring?”

“Shower,” Uryuu answered as he brushed past Urahara.

“I’ll have some clothing set out for you!” Urahara shouted at Uryuu’s retreating back, as the Quincy disappeared up the ladder in a burst of hirenkyaku. He sighed a bit and tugged at the brim of his hat, giving the others a questioning look.

Tatsuki glanced briefly at her lover, then over to Chad and Ichigo, and answered, “Hot springs, for all of us.”

“Tessai and I will take Ururu and Jinta out tonight,” Urahara offered softly, before any of them could take more than a step towards the hot springs. “We’ll set things out for you, then leave you be tonight.”

“Thanks, Hat’n’Clogs,” Ichigo murmured, sending a grateful look at the ex-Shinigami. “I mean it. Thanks.”

Urahara inclined his head, watching them with sad eyes as they filed deeper into the training ground to the healing spring. Ichigo… tried not to think too hard, about the guilt he /knew/ was draping over the ex-Shinigami’s shoulders, piling higher every time they came back more tired, more bloody than before.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it.

On autopilot, Ichigo stripped and settled into his usual spot in the hot spring, leaning back and trying to finally, /finally/ relax. They were home. They were safe. /Nothing/ could reach them here, in the heart of Urahara’s territory.

(Something had tried, once. Urahara had destroyed it before it even crossed the property line.)

“Uryuu-san needed to use Antithesis,” Chad spoke without preamble, once all four of them had settled in the spring together.

Tatsuki /growled/ when Ichigo looked at her for confirmation he /didn’t want/, her fury and rage and /agreement/ unhidden from view.

Orihime whined. Ichigo cursed.

“It was that bad?” Orihime asked softly, waves rippling out from her as she shifted to cuddle into Tatsuki’s side. “I know Ichigo got hurt bad, but…”

“We couldn’t hurt him,” Chad explained with a grimace. “Blut vein and some personal trick.”

“He taunted us,” Tatsuki said. “Taunted /Uryuu/.”

Ichigo breathed out. Tried to control his fury.

(At himself. At their enemy. At the Shinigami. At /the entire fucking world/.)

(He was starting to become… tired. Of everyone but his nakama.)

He reached back to grab the washcloth behind him, then tilted his head at Chad in question. When his friend obligingly moved to turn his back, Ichigo shifted closer and began to wash it, dragging the cloth through the healing water and up across Chad’s broad back. Firm, steady strokes that wiped away the sweat and ache of battle, settled them back into /peace/, into /safety/, into /home/.

Tatsuki’s strong hands rested against his back for a moment — greeting, grounding, centering — and then she began the same on him.

It… wasn’t /quite/ a ritual for them, not yet, but… it was something that had begun to happen so often that Ichigo… Ichigo could no longer find it in himself to be embarrassed.

(After everything they had been through, everything that had happened… he was starting to feel like the other four were just extensions of himself. There was no need for embarrassment around them, for anything. Even Uryuu was beginning to spend more time like this with them.)

They stayed just long enough to settle themselves. To murmur truths about the battle, to align their information to form a picture, so no one went into the evening blind.

By they time they climbed out, bodies clean and refreshed, Urahara had done as promised; fresh jinbei and underclothes were laid out nearby for all of them, and when they emerged into the shoten proper the building was empty of all life but Uryuu.

“I’ll fetch him,” Tatsuki said. “You three get settled.”

Ichigo nodded as Tatsuki headed deeper into the shoten, and stepped into the side room they usually used, settling at the low table that had been set up. Chad sat across from him, pulling the small pitcher of saki from the hot water it was resting in and carefully pouring some of the heated saki into their cups.

“Thank you, Chad,” Orihime said, sitting down next to Chad and accepting the small cup from him once she had.

Chad gave her a faint smile and set the small pitcher down, sitting back and taking a sip from his cup. They sank into comfortable silence, drinking saki and waiting for the other two to return.

Soft footsteps drew Ichigo’s attention away from the table; Uryuu padded in, expression still blank and gaze unfocused, his glasses missing. Tatsuki was at his side, one hand gently gripping his upper arm, guiding him across the room and over to Ichigo’s side.

Uryuu sat, immediately picking up his cup of saki and draining it in one gulp. His hand trembled, the only outward sign of his rising distress. Chad leaned forward again and filled up his cup, and Uryuu almost immediately drained that as well.

Ichigo grimaced, sipping slowly at his own drink and watching as Uryuu downed one cup after the next. He shared a concerned glance with Tatsuki, but didn’t attempt to stop his friend; Uryuu rarely drank so heavily, but after what the others had mentioned…

Well, Ichigo wasn’t going to protest.

The more Uryuu drank, the more his hands shook and the more his expression lost its blankness. He swayed slightly, head tilted down, and began to lean towards Ichigo.

It happened before Ichigo had a chance to brace himself; Uryuu drained his cup once more, set it down, twisted around, and lunged at Ichigo. His pressed his face into Ichigo’s stomach, arms wrapped around Ichigo’s torso and hands clinging to handfuls of Ichigo’s jinbei.

Ichigo carefully set his cup down, now free hand moving to rest on Uryuu’s damp hair, ignoring the way his jinbei was growing damp from tears. It hurt, the utterly silent way that Uryuu always cried, shoulders shaking and sounds bitten off.

Orihime quickly stood and cleared off the table, which Chad and Tatsuki moved away. Pillows and blankets were dragged out and scattered around, as the three built a makeshift nest with Ichigo and Uryuu in the center.

Chad settled first, head resting on a thin pillow on Ichigo’s knee, face practically buried in Uryuu’s hair and one arm wrapped tight around Uryuu’s chest. Orihime was next, curling up with her back against Uryuu’s side, humming a soft lullaby. Tatsuki sprawled behind Ichigo, her legs tangling with Orihime’s and her hand gripping Uryuu’s upper arm once more.

Uryuu slowly relaxed into their hold, his reiatsu creeping out to latch onto them in return.

“He wanted me to lead the Quincy to glory,” Uryuu finally mumbled into Ichigo’s shirt, not lifting his head from where it was buried. “He— he wanted— he said I was— that because I was /his/ heir, that I could— could make /more/.”

“Being someone’s heir doesn’t make you them,” Ichigo said, combing his fingers through Uryuu’s hair. “And it doesn’t mean you have to follow in their wake.” He wished the spirit world wasn’t so fixated on /tradition/ and /how it was/ and /dominance over others/.

“But every Quincy—”

“Fuck them,” Tatsuki interrupted before Ichigo could. She sat up a bit and glowered at Uryuu without heat. “Seriously. After everything they did, I don’t care what they think or want. Let the Quincy as a people die out.”

Chad picked up the thread from there. “If you’re the heir, then it’s your choice now. Others can advise, but it’s your decision.”

“Yeah!” Orihime chirped, uncurling and twisting around to drape over Uryuu’s side, the sad smile on her face contrasting her upbeat tone. “How about making an Olympic archery team? Or you could try for speed skating? Uhm… gymnastics? Oh, I know! How about trampoline!”

Uryuu gave a watery chuckle, his grip on Ichigo’s jinbei slowly relaxing. “I don’t… think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Tatsuki said dryly, giving her lover a wry look. “Can you imagine these dorks at the Olympics? They’d start trying to one-up each other, and then they’d get disqualified because they’d start pulling out powers.”

“We would not!” Ichigo protested, mostly for the fun of it. Tatsuki was right, after all; he and Uryuu might be almost a decade past the potentially destructive contests of their teenage years, but that didn’t mean they had stopped being /friendly rivals/ when they had time and space for it.

The Olympics would definitely be both.

Uryuu laughed, soft and warm and tired all at once. “We would, and you know it.”

“Yeah, fine, we probably would,” Ichigo gave in with a huff. He hummed a bit, tugging lightly on a few locks of Uryuu’s hair to be sure he had his friend’s attention. “They’re right, though. If you’re Yhwach’s heir, then that means the Quincy are yours now. Do with them what you will… even if that means ignoring them.”

“Even if I ignore them forever?” Uryuu whispered.

Ichigo nodded firmly, even if Uryuu couldn’t see him. “Even if it means you ignore them forever. We’re still trying to figure out what the hell to do with our Living World lives… why should we know what to do with anything else either?” He contemplated the pile of friends that had formed around him. Wondered at the loyalty, the /trust/ they had for him. He didn’t know what he would do without them.

(And, he suspected, they didn’t know what they would do without each other either.)

“We’ll figure something out in the morning,” Tatsuki suggested, as she laid back down. “Hat’n’Clogs’ll help us come up with something if we ask.”

Ichigo grimaced, but relented. He moved, carefully stretching out his legs and trying to sort out the pile of warm bodies draped across his lap. It didn’t take long; they were experienced in this, and simply repositioned themselves with him, until they were all laying down in the nest, limbs intertwined and using each other as pillows.

Things would (hopefully) look better in the morning.