#a compilation of the most eyebrow-raising / mouth-watering shots

[gogycule]

this video was a rollercoaster

[astranva]

TikTok Compilation (pt.2)

Word Count: 1.8k

Category: Fluff

Warning: Some language, very, very slight implied smut; like, it’s a line.

Summary: Yet another compilation of Y/N and Harry content on TikTok as a couple.

// masterlist //

a/n i’ve been receiving loads of tiktok requests so i combined some here! y’all have been asking for this for so long, sorry it took me long to post! let me know what you think. stay safe, friends!

..

Surely, you had hoped life would have taken a turn a long time ago with the pandemic.

Going outside without masks and crippling fear seemed like a dream, despite it all having been a reality for most of our lives. And while it was cliché, you truly don’t know what you have until it’s gone, like the boring routine you had complained about but now wished to get back.

And in your case, you also didn’t know that one app could have the ability to make things slightly easier during these times – TikTok.

Call it as you may, but quarantine TikTok content was a blessing and while you could swear by that, so could the fans and everyone else on the app since the moment you (and Harry) joined.

Having had tried so many pranks, challenges, and dances, you showed no signs of coming to an end of finding humor and pleasure from the app that Gen Z dominated with the wildest spirits.

With wild spirits, came wild content and for a generation that is openly expressive, there was also wholesome content; all of which Harry’s fans had tagged you to do and try with him.

‘Make your partner impersonate you’

For that one, Harry seemed to be the most excited to do, face beaming with a thousand spiraling ideas of things he could do and say.

The moment the video began, Harry was seen under your white covers, your pink velvet headband that everyone considered iconic rested on his head to show that he was acting like you, pretending to be sleepy as he spoke in a softer voice than his, “Don’t want to get up. More cuddles, please, baby.”

Then video then cut to Harry in the kitchen, you following behind him.

“I wonder where H is, need to pinch his bum.” He said in the same pitch he used for the previous shot.

The video then cut to Harry sitting on the couch beside you, holding his phone, “Baby, look at that!” He showed you his phone, showing you a video on TikTok, “Can we do it?”

‘Wipe your lips after your bf kisses you’

For this, you were picking Harry up from the studio.

Waiting in the parking lot, you had your phone placed behind the box of tissues.

To stay safe, you began recording a normal video for you to edit later as you waited for Harry to show.

When he did, Harry looked right and left as he searched for your car before his eyes fell on you and despite the mask on his face hiding half of it, you could tell that he smiled.

Getting inside the car, Harry took off his mask with a sigh, “First time to actually breathe since morning.” He said before leaning closer to you, pressing his lips against yours.

Doing your part, you looked ahead as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, noticing Harry’s body stiff as he looked at you.

“Did you just-” He paused, “Did you wipe your lips?”

You hummed in confusion, acting as if you hadn’t heard him as you looked at him.

“Did you-Come here,” he frowned before pulling you close by your hoodie’s drawstrings, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss again.

Again, you wiped your lips.

“Why are you doing that?” He asked, not only confusion being evident in his tone, but hurt, too, “Why are you wiping my ki-Babe, I’m clean.”

“What?” You asked, looking at him as you smiled amusingly, trying to contain your laughter.

“Why are you wiping my kiss?” Harry almost whined, frowning.

“I’m sorry, it’s for TikTok,” you giggled, breaking into laughter when he groaned with a roll of his eyes before he grabbed your jaw, kissing your lips more aggressively.

“Never again.”

‘Let go of your partner’s hand and see what they do’

If there was one thing Harry liked to brag about, it was knowing how to multitask; drive with one hand, hold yours with the other.

It was a natural occurrence for the both of you to hold hands when he drove, no matter what.

Deciding to try that one trend, you took advantage of Harry being focused on the road to film your intertwined hands on your thigh for two seconds before taking your hand out of his.

Instantly, Harry glanced at you, seemingly unaware to you tilting your phone in the other hand to film his face, “Why’d you leave my hand?” He only mumbled before opening his palm towards you once again, smiling when he heard you softly giggle as you put your hand back in his, cooing when he raised it his lips, pressing a soft and gentle kiss on your knuckles, “This stays right here.”

‘Film yourself acting like your partner’

Since the TikTok of Harry acting you like received so many reactions, among them were fans asking you to act like Harry as well, and Harry was down to watch that happen.

Harry recorded you, first shot of video being a little shaky as he couldn’t contain his giggles while watching you in his flared pants, an oversized shirt, his cross pendant on your neck between the valley of your chest, rings on your fingers that showed chipped black polish on your nails.

Your hair was gathered up in a scrunchie, one leg over the other as you sat on a chair, “I’m Harry Styles,” you began, “And like, I never explain my music, I let people interpret it the way they want because music,” you sucked a breath, “Is art. It’s a form of expression that isn’t limited, it’s, like, very open. Like the ocean.” You said slowly, mimicking Harry’s accent and smiling at the end when Harry burst out laughing.

For the next shot, you were in Harry’s white bathrobe, coming out of the bathroom before leaning on the doorframe and looking at Harry as he filmed you, “You sure you’re going to let me shower alone, love?”

Another shot was of you in Harry’s joggers and TPWK black hoodie, sprawled on your couch with the hood on, looking at Harry in disbelief as you still mimicked his accent and deep voice, “Excuse me? Why are you standing there and not cuddling me?”

In a grey tank top of his that you dramatically spilt water on to make it look like sweat and sweat shorts, you had Harry’s boxing gloves on your hands as you bumped your fists together, approaching Harry as he recorded, “God, I’m so sweaty, I have to go hug my girlfriend.”

For the final shot, you had Harry’s guitar in your arms, adjusting the strap as you stood, “I’m going to write a song that is so sexual and record it but I’m not going to release it because I’m a biiiiiitch.” You sang, dramatically strumming the guitar.

‘Pretend to take a mirror selfie with your partner then whisper something dirty in their ear’

You enjoyed the sun; the way it sneaked inside yours and Harry’s room from the sides of your curtains, lit up the room so warmly.

You enjoyed how the natural lighting looked for pictures.

You also enjoyed teasing the shit out of your boyfriend.

“Come here,” you made one grabby hand at Harry who entered the room, scratching his chin, “Let’s take a picture.”

Already used to random pictures being taken together, Harry reached you, standing in front of your vanity mirror as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss against your temple.

Oblivious to it being a video, Harry leaned his chin on your shoulder, giving his famous smug look to the mirror as you held up your phone.

Turning your head, you made sure your voice was low so that your phone wouldn’t pick what you said;

“Want you to pound me.”

And instantly, Harry’s smug look faltered; his eyes widening, face brightening as he looked at you as you giggled before releasing a squeal once you felt him carry you and move you from where you stood, and to the bed as you laughed.

‘Tell your partner your ex wants to return a hoodie of yours’

Propping your phone up, you made sure it showed Harry as he cooked while you sat on the kitchen stool.

You folded your arms on the table, clearing your throat as you eyed Harry while he was chopping carrots.

“Hey, H,” Harry hummed, stealing a glance at you before looking back at his chore, “My ex called earlier,”

At this, Harry’s eyebrows furrowed before he looked up at you, putting down the knife and leaning his hands on the counter, his arms seeming to look bigger as he tensed, “What did he say?”

Trying not to laugh, you looked down, beginning to play with your fingers before giving him a shrug, “Just that he still has a hoodie of mine at his place,”

“Yeah?”

“And asked if I need it back.”

“What did you say?”

You gave him another shrug, “Said I’ll let him know.”

“Well, do you need it?” He asked, “Like really need it?”

“Yeah, it was my high school’s.”

“But baby, you have a lot of hoodies,” one hand of his reached to his lips, fingers grazing his bottom lip for a moment, “Can get it for you.”

“That’d be so awkward, H,” you sighed.

“Why? I’m your boyfriend.” Harry reasoned, “Maybe I can just come with you,” he said again before his face lit up, “I can have it customized instead. Just tell me how it looked like and-”

“Baby, no,” you chuckled, “It won’t be the same.”

“Come on, love,” he frowned, “He calls you 3 years later to tell you he still has your hoodie. You don’t think that’s suspicious? He knows you’re with m-Everyone knows we’re together.”

“Maybe he forgot,” you shrugged, “Actually, let me call and as-”

“Oh, fuck no!” Harry instantly rushed to you.

‘Aggressively tell your partner you love them’

Chilling on the couch, Harry was watching the TV, unaware of your phone that had been resting on the shelf to record you beforehand.

You stomped where Harry was, whose head snapped to you, his mouth chewing his banana bite slower as he eyed you carefully, taking in your angry state.

You threw your notebook on the couch beside him, “I love you!” You said aggressively, a frown on your face as you pointed at him, “I fucking love you!”

Harry took a moment, his face shifting to one of amusement before he raised his hands up – one holding his banana – before pointing at you, “I fucking love you, too!” He screamed.

“No, no,” you shook your head, still aggressively speaking, “I love you more!”

“I’m so fucking in love with you!” Harry said as aggressively, standing in an instant, towering over you as he pressed himself against you before wrapping one arm around you, “Why are we shouting, you weirdo?”

‘Stick your hand out and see what your partner does’

Harry was sat beside you on his laptop, music blasting from it as he emailed himself some tasks.

Recording him with one hand, you reached your arm out, opening your palm at him.

Harry looked down at your hand, a smile making its way to his face before he looked at you before placing his chin on your hand, closing his eyes as he gave you a dopey smile as you squished his cheeks while giggling, “Hiii.”

[anayaahwrites]

KOT Ficlet #5 (Momoya Natsu/ Yoshinaga Atsumu)

When the lights start flashing like a photo booth (And the stars exploding, we'll be fireproof.)

Warning: Themes of underage drinking and implied sexual content.

Natsu roughly based on this art by @sasukeslove

A small AU on MomoYoshi's first meeting:

...

Natsu is six when he learns about Angels.

He’s perched on mama’s lap, carrying a new storybook with tiny hands and slowly pronouncing all the words. Her proud smile encourages him to read the larger words too, the ones he’d avoid out of embarrassment—something about a pro-fe-cky and a pro-mice that He exists up there somewhere, over the pillowy clouds watching down on them.

Mama tucks him in that night and tells Natsu to close his eyes and pray because Angels only come to good boys.

He’s ten when it all sounds like bullshit to him.

Over the years, Mom’s rosy smile had withered into a fatigued sigh, a cry for help to the God that never answers no matter how much they pray. Dad was more a guest than a resident. He came around once in a while to eat lunch—with a taut smile plastered eerily over his smooth features—and swiftly vanish to not return in that week .

They’ve stopped waiting for him and Natsu stops asking questions.

He’s thirteen when he meets Sei, a child around his age, except so much more charming and calm and composed for someone that carried half the same set of genes Natsu had. He learns of his father’s betrayal and is honestly shocked at his own lack of surprise. Still, he questions his God and why why why would He let mom’s heart shatter like that?

Sei is quick to laugh and tell him that God doesn’t exist and mom is just a victim to their monster of a father.

So he goes home that day to his outraged mother, hair coloured like glittery Christmas tinsel and sapphire lenses replacing his usual shade of honey brown. She snaps at the sight, yelling at him till her throat closes up, till nothing but a harsh sob escapes her and he lets her. They both had to cope somehow.

By the fall of his fourteenth year, he gets pierced four times and stops talking to his mother almost completely.

To hell with dad. To hell with God.

Natsu is fifteen, and he doesn’t care about anything anymore.

He’s fifteen and quickly realising from his daily job as a guitarist in the club that girls aren't attractive no matter how much they flock around him. He still humours them sometimes, a touch here, a kiss there since the pay is good enough for him to add some extra service on his part.

Mom plies herself with work as often as possible, to douse her misery in the decayed scent of piled papers and clunking keyboards. She leaves Natsu to deal with everything else on his own like the obedient son he is, letting him go like dad left her.

Natsu is alright, though. He’s done this far longer than she knows.

He stops reaching out to her, stops talking to someone up in the skies, settling instead to live a tranquil life in the shadows, under the dependable shade of music. He hates people. He hates the world.

Natsu is basking in the warmth of another uneventful day in the club, when in walks a boy out of fucking nowhere and his entire world tips on its axis.

The boy takes shaky, wary steps as if he were balancing on a trapeze. Dark black bangs like thick black rain spill over the side of his face, half covering wide brown eyes. Splotches of pink and porcelain white stick out where his sweater ends and skin begins. He’s small and delicate and beautiful, Natsu’s heart skips a beat. Or two. Or maybe three.

And why should he lie? Natsu has seen beautiful, quite a few varieties of it too. But this…this was different. This was unreal.

The boy looks around nervously before he catches something and there’s a spark in those hazel eyes, sharp and electric, a smile tugging at his lips.

Natsu follows his gaze. On the stage lies his own guitar—a pre-performance habit for people to know he was next. He took great pride because this itself garnered more clusters than anyone in the entire house.

Natsu smiles. So he was a fan.

He downs the customary shot of vodka, waving at the people before hopping on stage and wrapping the sling around his neck. He scours the audience for a familiar face and it doesn’t take a lot, to spot a splatter of ink black in the crowd, batting eager eyelids at him. The smaller boy realises the attention on him and glances behind to confirm his suspicion.

By the time he swings around, eyes blown wide in a stare, Natsu plays the first chord.

In an instant, his expression shifts to a mix of awe and interest, a silent worship and a loud cheer compiled in one small, thin body. He claps more than anyone else in the room, beaming like a floodlight by the time Natsu finishes.

It was nothing strange. He played among cheers every day but none felt as satisfying with this voice hooting and clearly standing out from his regular gang of squealing girls. He throws his head back laughing back stage when no one is there to see.

By the time Natsu gets out on the floor again, a little more thrilled for the night and dressed in something less flashy, he’s gone. He screws his lips in displeasure and asks his friend to make him something stronger than the usual.

This happens more nights than not, and it was frustrating him.

The moment Angel boy—as he’s dubbed him, steps in through the door, Natsu traces his every move and quickly registers a pattern. He only comes around on days the club was the busiest—specifically during Natsu’s performance, talks to no one and leaves before he has the chance to even ask a name.

Not that Natsu was interested in him or anything. He was just curious, is all—why this boy looked like a starved pet every time he saw him on stage and if he really smelled like soft winter blankets and warm fireplaces, all angelic and pure.

Okay, so maybe he was a little interested.

Months pass like that.

The mid-November chill comes with its blistering snowstorms and the club is jam packed—winters were some of their busiest months—and Natsu’s up to perform. Instead of preparing, he watches the door resolutely from the bar, tapping impatiently at the table.

As routine, it barely opens a crack, and he sees a sliver of ebony snaking it’s way through the crowd. The boy stands on his tippy-toes which don’t give him much of a view, so he does these tiny jumps—that are so adorable, for a second Natsu forgets his own name—and scowls when he notices no guitar on stage.

He checks the time, the stage and then scans the crowd. The anticipation throbs through Natsu as he follows his eyes cross the room in slow motion, dragging dragging until they eventually land on him. Everything stills—the thundering music, the singing and all he can hear is the low thump of veins against his skin.

It’s over in a flash.

“That your Angel boy?” The bartender gestures at the figure turning tail and running, drying the pad on his prized work station. He skillfully pours two coloured liquids into an oddly shaped glass and passes it over the counter to him.

Natsu hums, swirling the absinthe stained drink in hand, eyeing the smaller boy gasp as a couple slams against the door, clearly piss drunk with her suspended over his thighs and gyrating her hips into the man.

“Hey, chief.”

“Hm?”

“You think I can get off early tonight?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Like now.” Natsu answers, never letting his gaze falter from the head full of black hair slowly receding through the crowd, horrified.

The man guffaws, lifting a glass of water—since he can’t drink on duty—and clinking it with Natsu’s.

“Must be fuckin’ Christmas if you’re taking interest in anyone, so I’ll let this one pass. Don’t scare him off now. He already looks like a trembling lamb.”

Natsu knocks back the contents, swallowing the liquid till it numbs his entire mouth and smirks.

“I’ll try.”

So he follows the boy. Hands are immediately all over him from faces he recognises in passing—a girl he once kissed, someone that made him cake, but he pushes them off.

His boy of interest forces the hood of his shirt up all the way, and glances behind him once before increasing his pace. Maybe the lights are really getting to him and maybe Natsu is a little tipsy when he reaches out to grab his hand.

The boy flips around to lock eyes frantically, as if a ghost had seized him.

“Hey.” Natsu musters his sweetest smile.

“Hi..” The boy replies.

And oh, his voice. It’s sugary sweet and so so soft like—like actual rolls of smooth and silky cotton had woven them. He blushes fiercely under Natsu’s relentless gaze and stares where their hands were connected in a tight grip as if it burned holes through him.

Natsu frowns. “Don’t run.”

The boy’s gaze shoots up, and he’s pulling away.

“I-I’m sorry I really h-have to go—”

“It’s my birthday.” Goddamn, he must be really wasted to admit that. Now that he thinks about it, what did he just drink?

Twentieth November, the day he was born and incidentally also the day he found his father’s tongue down another woman’s throat, holding a child over his shoulder.

“Oh,” The boy stops, pursing his lips and letting the hood go all the way down before flashing easily one of the most ethereal smiles Natsu has ever seen.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” he replies awkwardly. “It’s not going really well.”

“No?”

Natsu nods. “It’s nothing different.”

“You want it to be special?”

The buzz in his nerves practically screamed a yes to that—he wanted something to remember, to bury the horrible memories he associated with this day, for the days he wished he was never born in the first place. He wanted to fit it all in this one boy in one night, this angel he didn’t even know, to free him from himself.

Natsu tightens his grip. “Dance with me?”

Oh boy, the alcohol was talking.

Angel boy looks at Natsu with wide doe eyes, peers back at their hands and gulps. Natsu frowns and releases his hold. He was drunk, probably a little more than he’d admit to, but he didn’t want to pressurize anyone—not when this boy already looked so out of his element, a beige hoodie and skinny jeans in a club full of scantily clad folk.

But he reverses the roles, grabbing Natsu by the fingers so delicately, he releases a soft hum of satisfaction. He rubs fingers between his own, feeling the brush of calloused fingertips on them. It reminds him of mom’s soft chest rising and falling when she slept beside him because he was her ‘perfect little angel’ and made him feel safe.

He misses it. Misses being safe. Misses being loved.

“Okay,” the boy mumbles, peering from under his natural hood of hair with a light smile. “Okay. Let’s dance.”

Natsu doesn’t really know what he’s doing anymore. The lights blink and they’re suddenly in stop motion. It tricks his brain into thinking of them as pictures trapped some place in his brain forever. So he stares and stares and captures the blush spreading like wildfire across the boy’s face, a smile widening in tandem with the soft beats.

They’re two faces among a thousand on a random winter night. The music isn’t his type nor is his attire anything to be proud of. But this boy. Holy heavens, if he isn’t the prettiest thing ever then the stars should be ashamed because damn, he’d beat them even on a bad day.

His hair sways—a steady swing of left right left right and a pleasant smile sits snug on his features like that’s where they belonged, that’s where they had always belonged and Natsu closes his eyes when their hands meet again.

This is perfect.

It’s when the music stills that they transition to a slower lull of movement, and the blaze of liquor in his blood emboldens him into yanking the boy a little closer. He lets him fall with a small plop on his chest and laughs when he rubs his nose, scowling.

“Why do you never wait back?” He asks, exhaling at the warmth the boy’s presence brings. Natsu puts his hand around his waist and he swears, it was like he wasn’t human, like someone had sculpted him out of clay, moulded to near perfection. And maybe he’s treading into dangerous waters, but his mouth had a mind of its own and there’s nothing he could do to stop it.

“I always look for you after I’m done but you’re never here.”

Pair of hazelnut eyes sheepishly peer at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just.… not good at socializing.”

“So you say,” Natsu laughs, “But you’re doing better than me.”

“No way!”

“Yes way.”

“You have to be kidding me you’re so cool—and and so beautiful I really cannot—since the beginning I haven’t been able to take my eyes off—”

He squeaks when he's dragged closer by the small of his back. Their eyes meet. Natsu sees flashes of every happy moment of his life mirrored in them; His first recital, mom’s naturally loud laugh, the first time he played the guitar. They reach into Natsu’s soul and drag out his joy like the reel of a kite.

“I thought you were an angel,” he chuckles so close, he feels the boy shiver against his cheek. “I still do. Everyone here calls you Angel boy. Score a drink from them with that name sometime. I’m sure they’ll oblige you.”

“Angel? I—” He breathes a giggle, twisting silver strands with his fingers. “If there’s any angel here, it’s you.”

But this is fake, he wants to say. It’s fake, artificial, made of desperation because he never wants to look into the mirror and see his father’s face staring back at him. He won’t be him. He won’t.

“Atsumu,” he says. “My name is Atsumu.”

“Atsumu.” Natsu repeats in his head till it rolls naturally over his tongue. Like Atsu meaning heat and summer and everything bright and cheery.

Natsu purposefully lingers near his ear, to breathe his name in the air, smiling, content.

“ ‘Tsumu. It’s cute,” he hums. “You’re cute.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Definitely.” He chuckles.

Atsumu whispers, low and uneasy. “C-can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm.” At this point, his voice gave him a greater high than the drink he had downed fifteen minutes ago. Or was it an hour? He couldn’t really tell and decided very quickly he didn’t care, anyway.

“Why don’t you.. come to school?”

Natsu’s eyes open a crack to glimpse at the boy who trembles softly under him, as if he were admitting to a crime.

“I—” he continues in alarm, “I swear I’m not a stalker I just—Oh my god please don’t misunderstand me—”

“Calm down.” Natsu shushes, smiling apologetically at the few people around him that had been torn out of their aggressive make-out session as if they weren’t the ones that needed a room. God, if he sees another dick hanging out, he’ll have to bust out the chainsaw in the basement and go wild.

“So,” he leads them to a quieter corner with very few people and lesser eyes their way. “School,” he waves a hand dismissively, “It’s boring. Lots of people. Annoying questions. You know the drill.”

“Right,” he gulps. “Right so, I’m uhh—in your class I don’t think you noticed and I’m from an instrument club and someone asked us a question. Something about erotic sounds—wait that sounds bad—not erotic erotic but.…Ah, I’m bad at explaining.”

Natsu doesn’t keep back the dreamy giggle that leaves him, swaying lightly to the music. He’s exactly as he imagined—hell, even his name was spot on—all warm and giggly and fluttery.

“I’m still listening,” Natsu smiles. “Go on.”

Atsumu scrunches his nose and continues. “So one of my club seniors—he comes of a little rough but he’s really nice—went to one of my other seniors house who I think he really likes, and her mother told him it’s—I’m sorry am I too confusing?”

“I think I can manage.”

“Okay, so basically, her mother says it’s the pause in between his words and actions. The space that is just…there. And so I was writing about it—because I write everything—and Oka-kun saw my book.”

Natsu scowls. “Oka is annoying like that.”

The boy giggles this time. “Funny. He said you’d say that.”

“It’d be nice if he attempted to change it, then.”

“And so he told me you play music, where you work and that maybe you could do something good for once—I didn’t say that he did—So…” He moves his hand vaguely around them. “Here I am.”

Natsu hums against his head, bringing him to a slower pace as the song changes.

“I’ll have to thank him for that.”

“You’re not..angry?” He says through furrowed brows. “Oka-kun said you would be if you found out.”

He’s certain if Oka showed up here uninvited, Natsu would promptly kick him out. Because Oka is annoying. Atsumu however….

“So? Did you get your answer?” He asks instead.

The smaller boy makes a face, pulling all his features in to make his button nose stand out more than it already does and pout.

Natsu laughs. He’s been doing a lot of that today. Laughing.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Don’t get me wrong! Your performances are splendid and I really can’t get enough of them but the answer…I still haven’t reached a conclusion.”

Natsu plays with the fingers in his hand, shuffling to let them sink into the gap between his. Atsumu stares and responds by shyly tucking his fingers in.

“Want me to help you?” He whispers, tapping the side of Atsumu’s waist with his other hand.

“Can you?” He whispers back.

Can he? Yes. Should he? Probably not.

But what use is logic anyway, when a boy the embodiment of a sunny summer day amid a bitter winter stood enclosed in his arms?

Yeah. To hell with logic.

Natsu sways his hips, raking his free hand through Atsumu’s hair. He releases a pleased sigh when the tiny fingers between his tighten as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality, which was good. Natsu felt the same, like his sanity was slowly slipping through open fingers.

“Spaces…exist everywhere. In words, in voices, in time…” He draws their joined hands to his mouth, dragging wet lips over porcelain skin. Atsumu shudders, breathing in sharp, shallow exhales.

“These hands..there’s a space in between them too if you look carefully. We’re so close,” fingers tighten around his shirt. “But still never close enough.

He runs a palm down the boy’s face that angles and angles till plush, red lips are within kissing distance. They part and blow warm clouds of air that taste mint and chocolate in his mouth. Natsu smiles. “Space is where there is distance. Space is where there is intimacy. Space is where there is friction. And this exciting gap that keeps us wanting to be closer till not even an atom could squeeze in—” he leans in closer, “—is erotic.”

He backs away while he has the physical capacity to do so, before the alcohol overrides every decision in his head and they end up a tangled mess of limbs in some random hotel room, but Atsumu having none of it.

He pulls Natsu to himself, clutching the pleats of his shirt and tugging him down to his lips. Teeth knock loudly against each other and Natsu hisses lightly, parting to lick the tingle in the tip of his incisor away.

“S-sorry!” Atsumu covers his embarrassment behind shaky hands. Natsu wraps thin fingers under his chin, reeling him in slow and steady and closes the distance. It’s soft, like a snowflake on a tree, virgin snow settling on frozen water and ironically, melts him. It boils and freezes, ignites his soul into a firework of bursting flames. He’s touching, feeling, pulling until every inhale feels like fire in his lungs.

“Closer,” Atsumu murmurs, throwing nimble hands over his shoulder and locking their lips together like puzzle pieces on a gameboard. “Make the space go away.”

It’s chaotic, and it’s magical. Like every star in the galaxy twinkled around them tonight, like every blossoming flower settled wherever Atsumu touched him. He’s drunk on vodka, drunk on happiness, drunk on love.

Closer. Natsu pushes a knee in between his thighs. His mouth hangs open in a silent moan, eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head.

Closer. The hands in his air pull him in for another searing kiss, pressing for entry, to delve deeper, deeper into themselves. Atsumu nibbles lightly on his lip and Natsu lets him bruise him for tonight. To wreck him, destroy him.

Closer.

They settle for a slower casual rhythm when they part to breathe. He keeps them moving on the floor, smiling against a pair of swollen lips.

“School suddenly sounds much more interesting.” He says.

Atsumu squints incredulously. “We can’t do this at school.”

“No?”

“No!”

Natsu shrugs, pecking the tip of the boy’s nose. “Shame.”

“Then you’ll come?” Atsumu bumps his forehead against Natsu’s. “I’ll really see you tomorrow?”

“If you can walk home straight after tonight, then sure.”

Atsumu gasps and slaps him across the back, blushing as they leave the club, hand in hand, away into the wintery night.

Natsu turns sixteen—a little drunk, a lot happy—but he’s sixteen and he can pinpoint this as the day he falls in love even years later.

And every other birthday is insignificant but so much better, spent at home, in the arms of the boy that saved him in just one night, all those years ago.

Mom only ever asks where he’s going and who he’s moving in with while he packs his bags to leave. She frowns when he answers with the widest smile on his face, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“An Angel.”

Ignore the sloppy writing haha. I'm writing this while travelling back home after a god awful six hour exam.

It felt too plotless to post on my ao3 kdkcd—

If you look at the colouring of Natsu I based it on (go give @sasukeslove all the real love), I imagine the art as the morning after when Oka's annoying Natsu and Atsumu walks in through the door (≧▽≦)

[j-elaine-hyde]

Desert Heat - J. Elaine Hyde

Day One: Into the Wild

Diamond Fork Canyon - Fifth Water Hot Springs

The views were everything, but you knew that was almost all of Utah. It was breathtaking. You had paid for your camping spot and parked the excursion. With a 2.5 mile hike you’d be able to soak in a beautiful hot spring. It was still early enough in the season to ensure fewer people, but upon arrival, you found you were the only person there.

You excitedly packed a bag for your day hike. You only needed the essentials, plus a random assortment of emergency supplies, and water. You started off on the trail and almost immediately started taking pictures. You took in the amazing sounds of nature and felt... zen. You jammed your phone into your pack and continued on.

Before you could even see the hot springs themselves the fog rolled onto the trail signaling their direction. It was still an early March morning and more than a little chilly. You knew getting buck naked to climb into the hot springs was going to be freezing, but realized it would only make the hot spring water that much more amazing once you climbed in.

The steam/fog combination slowly crawling across the trail was purely magical. You had to attempt to get a photo. After a few shots that would have made Ansel Adams proud, you continued off the trail towards the springs.

It was freeing, you thought, to get naked in the middle of nowhere by yourself. It was also freezing. You tucked your hair into a ponytail and fought to pull it through the hole in the top of your beanie. Other than your beanie, you were as naked as the day you were born. You knew you were the only person here, but it was exhilarating.

The steam surrounded you, giving the hot spring an ethereal feeling. You sunk into the steamy water and felt around below the surface with your hand for a comfortable place to sit. You positioned yourself along the wall, in a spot that allowed you to be submerged to the tops of your shoulders. You exhaled deeply as your body relaxed. It was serene.

You had lost track of the time, but you didn’t care. This was the most relaxed you’d probably ever been in your entire life.

“Is it as amazing as you’re making it look?” The deep voice out of nowhere completely startled you as it shattered the calm.

Your hands sprung to your chest, attempting to cover yourself as you sat forward staring up at the large figure blocking out the sun.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I guess I should have announced my presence a little better.”

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here.”

“Ranger says we’re the only two people in the park.”

Normally if a large man was telling you this while you were alone in the middle of nowhere, you would have been completely terrified, but something about this guy just made you feel safe.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He was polite... courteous. Something about him made you happy you weren’t alone anymore.

“Sure. Of course. The water is amazing.” You settled back into your spot.

“Uhhhh... weird question... you can totally say no.... but.... uhhh... do you care if I just wear my birthday suit?” He kind of laughed as he said it, realizing how awkward it was that he was asking a total stranger in the middle of nowhere if he could get naked with them.

“Go for it. I am. I won’t even peek.” You smiled as you leaned your head back closing your eyes.

You lied of course, but pretended not to watch as you saw this giant man getting undressed. He came closer to the edge of the spring, covering himself with both of his massive hands.

“Ohhhh wow.... this feels amazing.” He remarked as he sank into the water.

“It really is....” you stretched your back a little, allowing the tops of your breasts to break the surface, feeling slightly aroused at the thought of being naked in the middle of nowhere with a man you were guessing was attractive. At least from what you had been able to see of his body, he was.

Pretending not to care, you stretched your neck and exhaled deeply.

“I’m Pablo. By the way. Figured you should know my name since you’re the first female in ages that I’ve been naked with....”

“I’m y/n. Nice to meet you Pablo.” You were unfazed and kept your eyes closed. After repeating the name Pablo multiple times, you asked, “Like Neruda or Picasso.”

You guessed that his parents were into creative types.

“Neruda. No one ever gets that...” he seemed genuinely surprised.

You raised your eyebrows in response with a smirk.

“Ok... given our current situation... this is going to sound creepy. But I don’t mean for it to.”

Unmoved, you replied. “Ok. Shoot.”

“Are you really out here all by yourself? You’re gorgeous... and naked... that doesn’t seem safe to me.”

He thought you were gorgeous? Now you had to get a better look at him.

You lifted your head and opened your eyes, seeing his face for the first time.

“Oh shit.”

“What?!” He looked around behind him in a startled panic.

“You’re Pablo Schreiber.”

He laughed slightly, “Guilty.”

“Sorry. I didn’t...”

“It’s ok. I’m just flattered you even know who I am.”

You tried to play it cool. You didn’t want to come off as a fan girl, but you, and every inch of your body, was very aware of who he was, how insanely attractive he was and how naked.

You leaned your head back against the wall closing your eyes, you thought this move to be the epitome of playing it cool and unaffected.

“Den of Thieves and 13 Hours are two of my favorite movies.”

“That really says a lot about you....Makes a little more sense why a drop dead gorgeous woman would be out here naked and alone... should I be afraid?” He laughed.

You were amused, “What do you mean?”

“Well those are badass action movies.... we’re out here in the middle of nowhere and it’s not an easy 2.5 mile hike to get here. I’m guessing you’re kind of a badass.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that. But I’m definitely not your average woman.”

He paused... “Well I already knew that... look at you.”

You lifted your head and locked eyes with him, a small mischievous smirk spread on both of your faces.

You took the opportunity to calculate the risk on what you were about to do. Compiling a quick mental checklist.

You were both naked and in the middle of nowhere.

He thinks you’re attractive, and you’re obviously attracted to him.

He mentioned it’s been a long time since he’s been naked with a woman.

Fuck it.

You stood up, the water cascaded down your body, the water level now at your naval. You took a step forward. You kept your eyes locked on him as his eyes wandered around your exposed body. As he brought his gaze back to yours, you bit your lip.

That was all the signal he needed. He launched up, and in one swift movement was towering over you, he wrapped his warm massive hands around your face, passionately kissing you.

Never stopping the kiss he pulled you down into the water, in an effort to keep the both of you warm. He released your face, sliding his hands down your body, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he clutched onto your waist. Making out with him was incredible. You’d be lying if you said you had never fantasized about it before... but this blew any fantasy you had out of the proverbial water.

You lost yourself in his kiss. His strong lips were mesmerizing, he used the perfect amount of tongue. His hand had gravitated to your ass, his massive hand palmed it, grasping it with a firm grip.

Your curiosity finally got the better of you, you loosened your legs around him, ran your hand down his chest, and found his erection below the water. He moaned into your mouth as you stroked it. His hand took advantage of the small gap between your wet bodies, immediately massaging your breast.

You threw your head back with a gasp. Taking full advantage he kissed your neck sucking and nibbling drawing out more moans from deep inside of you.

You leaned forward locking eyes with him as you positioned his erection at your opening. With the slightest shift of your hips, he entered you. Both of your eyes rolling back in your heads.

He groaned, “Ohhhh fuck you feel amazing....”

You wrapped your arms around his neck for leverage as you started working your way further down his shaft. His hands gripped your ass, lifting and pulling you faster and faster, never losing eye contact for more than a moment.

You leaned in, and kissed him, and as you did your first climax hit. He hugged your body tight against his, groaning as your body tightened around him with orgasm.

He continued, lifting and lowering you onto his thick manhood. You looped your feet inside his thighs, increasing your speed and force, as you climbed towards your second orgasm. He held onto your waist as you bounced on his dick, leaning forward so he could rub his face between your breasts.

As soon as his lips took your nipple into his mouth your second orgasm rushed through your body. You slowed your pace as he picked you up, placing you on the rock ledge of the pool. It was freezing but you didn’t care. It only added to the intensity.

He began thrusting into you, as you put your hands on the rocks behind you, propping yourself up.

“God you’re beautiful...” he said as he shook his head in disbelief.

You threw your head back, unable to suppress your screams of sheer pleasure. You had never been fucked this well by anyone, and out of all the men on the planet, Pablo Schreiber was the one plowing into you.

You felt another climax building as Pablo increased his speed, you knew he was close. Laying down against the rocks, you clutched your breasts in your hands, and that was exactly what sent him over the edge. Knowing he was getting off, buried deep inside of you, forced your orgasm, and the two of you came together.

Still inside of you he pulled you against his chest, plunging both of you back into the hot water. Your ams and legs were wrapped around him.

He kissed your shoulder, “That was the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. I’ve never.... I don’t... holy god that was incredible. You’re incredible.”

[ladynonsense]

A Royal Disgrace (TRR/PM Crossover) Part 9

Catch up on my masterlist

Pairings: Damien x Liam, Liam x Riley, Damien x m!Kai 

Rating: PG-13

Summary: About last night...

Words: 1900

Tag List: @hustacks @hopefulmoonobject @brightpinkpeppercorn @perriewinklenerdie @pixieferry @nazariobae @zaffrenotes @ritachacha @h3llostrang3r @choiceslife @blackcoffee85 @wannabemc2 @sleepwalkingelite @debramcg1106 @furiousherringoperatortoad @bobasheebaby @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @jovialyouthmusic

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Damien’s eyes shot open, squinting into the bright morning sunlight streaming in through the window. He blinked several times, trying to get his bearings. Asleep on the couch, naked under his blanket, with his phone resting on his chest. And Riley standing over him, smirking.

“Um, hi. What time is it?” He noticed his balled up pajamas and underwear at his feet, and tried to stealthily cover it with his blanket.

“8:00. Late night? I didn’t even hear you come in.”

He yawned, stretching his arms over his head. Riley stared shamelessly at his chest as he flexed and relaxed. “Eyes are up here, Riles.”

She rolled her eyes. “You could’ve slept with your clothes on.”

“Well at least one of us fell asleep wearing my clothes.” He raised an eyebrow at her, walking around the apartment in one of his t-shirts. As he said it his eyes fixed on the lacy black panties that were peeking out underneath. She turned away from him to walk into the kitchen, swaying her hips a little more than was necessary. “Now whose eyes are wandering, Nazario?”

He grinned, shaking his head. Baggage aside, that old chemistry was still going strong. It was good to see her back to her usual annoying self, instead of the scared, withdrawn woman she’d been the last few times he’d seen her.

“Have you heard anything from Liam?”

Guilt and shame washed over him like a cold bucket of water. “Um, just that he’s OK. His security team is keeping him at the hotel and turning away visitors for now. Bastien gave me a phone number to reach him at if you want.”

She shook her head as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. “Nah, that’s OK. He doesn’t like us to communicate electronically until we know for sure who’s been conspiring against me. Better not to leave any traceable evidence of our relationship.”

“Right. Smart.” He shifted under the blanket, trying to sit up without making himself indecent. He realized his stomach was sticky and cringed. Definitely shouldn’t have fallen asleep without cleaning himself up first.

Riley settled into the chair across from him, digging into her cereal. “So what’s the plan for today?”

He scratched his head, trying to think of an elegant way out of this. Nothing came to mind. “Riley...I’m naked under here.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Completely?”

He cringed. “Completely.”

“But...why?”

“Ugh, can you just turn around or something, please?”

She rolled her eyes and noisily scraped the chair on the floor as she turned it to face the wall. “Pull yourself together, dude.”

“I’m trying.” He frowned as he grabbed his balled-up pajama pants and boxers. Desperate, he used the boxers to wipe the mess off of his stomach and then shoved them down between the couch cushions, then pulled on the pants. “OK. I’m decent.”

She turned the chair back around, scraping the floor just as loudly as before. “If you call that decent, I guess.”

He got up and headed for the bathroom, pausing to kiss Riley’s forehead on the way. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

“Whatever, old man. Fix yourself up; you look like shit.”

“Why do people keep saying that to me?” He murmured to himself as he locked the bathroom door behind him. “...Oh.” He leaned over the sink, studying his face in the mirror. His eyes were red and tired, with dark circles under them aging him badly. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to freshen up, but ‘tired and damp’ was not really an improvement over ‘just tired.’ Sighing, he stripped and hopped into the shower.

He was just massaging the shampoo into his scalp when he heard pounding at the door. Groaning, he turned off the water. “What?”

“Kai won’t stop calling you,” Riley complained through the door. “Hurry up.”

--------------------------------------------

Kai was up bright and early, working at Damien’s office doing his favourite thing: pinning pictures up on the big wall.

The night before, he’d gone straight to the office after Damien called him from the ball. Damien had overheard the assassin refer to somebody as ‘Your Grace,’ the traditional address for a duke or duchess in Cordonia, so he’d compiled a list of all of them. Fifteen total duchies, most of them governed by a married couple, left him with twenty-six names. Narrowing it down to only those who had daughters in attendance at the ball brought it down to twelve.

He’d scoured Cordonian gossip websites for the best headshots he could find of all of them, and made full-page colour printouts of each of their faces at the 24-hour copy shop down the road. And now, after a two-hour power nap and a potentially deadly amount of coffee, he was tiling them carefully on the wall, along with images of the daughters in question. His rainbow-coloured yarn, on loan from Nadia, was itching to start making connections.

“You look chipper.”

He hadn’t heard Damien come in over the sound of the ‘Monday Motivation’ playlist he’d been blasting through the tinny computer speakers. “Hey, you! I thought you’d never show.”

Damien ran a hand through his still-damp hair, looking over the wall of photos. “It’s nine a.m., Kai. What’s all this?”

“I’m glad you asked, Detective!” Kai turned back to the wall with a flourish. “One of these rich fucks tried to kill your girl. Is it him?” He pointed dramatically to a photo of a very generic-looking middle-aged man. “Or is it...HER?” He pointed to a photo of a perfectly nice-looking woman. “Maybe this prick? OK honestly I do think it’s this prick.”

Damien stepped closer to read the label on the photo Kai was pointing to. “Duke Karlington. That’s Madeleine’s father. He’s been on my list since day one.”

Kai was practically bouncing with excitement and caffeine. “Of course, right? It makes perfect sense. He wants his daughter to be queen, but the king is like, ‘I don’t want to marry this blond demon!’ so this old Duke is like…”

“Yeah, Kai, I get it. I appreciate the very spot-on impressions, though.”

He bowed dramatically. “Thank you. But yeah. This guy totally did it, right?”

Damien nodded, still studying the wall. “Yeah...yeah, he totally did. But we’ll need proof. The NYPD and LAPD have basically given up on this, now that they’ve got their shooter and the person pulling the strings is almost certainly overseas. We’ll have to coordinate with Liam’s royal guard to nail this guy before this goes any further.”

“Liam,” Kai repeated. “Just your buddy Liam, your casual pal, ordinary dude Liam.”

“Oh, fuck off.” The slight grin on Damien’s face did not go unnoticed. “His Majesty, King Liam of Cordonia. Better?”

He couldn’t help himself. “Is that what you call him in bed?”

“Kai.” Damien flopped into his desk chair and buried his face in his hands, groaning. “You’re the only one who knows about that, you know.”

“Yeah, I figured. But you know you have to tell Riley, right?”

Damien looked pained, but nodded. “That’s a discussion for another time. We need to make sure they’re going after this guy. The king’s guard will have access to evidence that we don’t.”

“Right. So you’re going to see him.”

“Liam? No, I’m going to see Bastien Lykel.”

Kai hated himself for how relieved he was at that. “So what should I do?”

Damien threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze, making him blush. “You should finish this beautiful wall of yours, and make sure we’re not missing something with these other potential suspects.”

He smiled at that, picking up his bag of yarn. “On it. Go get ‘im, boss.”

--------------------------------------------

Damien fidgeted nervously in the hotel elevator, unsure what to expect when he got to Liam’s floor. How many low-level guards would he have to sweet-talk to get to Bastien? He plastered on his most charming smile as the doors began to open.

To his surprise, the hallway was deserted. He walked slowly down the corridor, wondering if he was on the wrong floor. Rounding a corner, he finally spotted Bastien and one other guard standing outside of a set of double doors. Bastien looked his way immediately, enough venom in his gaze to stop him dead in his tracks.

“Mr. Lykel…” he began, trying to shake off the sudden nerves. “I’ve got some information…”

He was striding towards him already, holding out a hand to stop him from coming any closer. “Mr. Nazario. I must ask you to leave. The king is not available to you.”

“Right, I know, orange alert and all that. I’m here to see you actually, I brought my files…”

“Let me be clear,” Bastien went on, still staring daggers at him. “The king is not available to you, period. You will not try to contact him again.”

He was dumbstruck. What was happening? “He’s my client…”

“And I will personally ensure you’re paid what you are owed. But you will not hear from His Majesty again.”

Damien was torn between pleading for him to just listen, or telling him off for being an asshole. He settled for just staring blankly ahead, mouth hanging open like a numbskull.

To his surprise, that seemed to work. Bastien’s furious glare softened as he took his elbow and led him into a small sitting area. Without a word he passed him a phone with an audio file loaded up on the screen. Feeling a cold dread settle in his stomach, Damien hit play and held it to his ear.

Breathing, just heavy breathing. And then a familiar voice: “Do you remember how I felt inside you, Damien?”

The phone fell from his hand as the cold dread turned to hot panic. It bounced on the carpet before Bastien slowly retrieved it, not taking his eyes off of Damien.

“You said...the number...it was secure…”

“I was wrong. And now I’m running a skeleton crew while everyone who would have had access to the phone is suspended from duty until I can determine who compromised it.”

“How long is…”

“It’s all there, Mr. Nazario.”

“Why?”

Bastien frowned. “Blackmail, obviously.”

Damien sat down in a daze. His chest was tight and his stomach had turned, his face burning hot with shame. “This is my fault.”

“I told you he was never safe.”

“What do they want?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“I’ll guess: for him to honour his engagement to Madeleine.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

Numbly he handed over the folder in his hands. “It’s Duke Godfrey. I can’t prove it, but I’m almost certain.”

Bastien nodded, flipping through the folder’s contents. “I’ll look into it. Thank you.” He turned to leave.

“Wait,” Damien called after him, his voice shaking. “Could you...just...tell him I’m sorry? I never meant to fuck up his life. I just…” he trailed off, unsure what he could possibly say to make anything better. “I’m just sorry.”

Bastien nodded again, returning to his post in silence.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 5

Warnings: Language. Mentions of nudity.

A/N: First of all, I’d like to extend a bear hug to the ones who are showing any love at all to this piece!!!! I can't begin to express my gratitude. And secondly, I know to some, the plot may be bit slow right now, but HOLD ON! I can assure you, there is LOADS TO COME, so buckle up, buttercups.

The Grind-Chapter 5

I had to make a visit to Danny Mendez’s training spot for article research that morning, per Ryan’s demands.  Colton had playfully teased me, suggesting I run his opponent over with the car, or slip him something to ensure he’d fail the pre-fight drug test, to give him the guaranteed upper hand on Danny. I had originally intended for the piece to be strictly centered around the life, and journey of Pittsburgh’s silent underdog, Colton. However, my nagging objections hadn’t convinced Ryan, and he’d instructed me that the piece would be better received by the public if I covered both competitors. Although I had never worked directly with Mendez, word around the office from coworkers who had sat down with him in the past, was that he was quite the bombastic pig. Oh, lovely. As if having to appear completely unbiased wasn’t already going to be enough struggle, now I’d have to spend my entire morning penning notes as he stroked his own roaring ego.

I checked the given address Danny’s trainer had emailed me, taken aback with surprise when I wheeled into the parking lot. It was a far cry from the gritty, seedy vibe at Mac’s gym. I glided through the automatic doors of the tawdry, two level complex and was greeted by a clearly well-trained receptionist.

“Hi, uh… I’m Liv Elliot with the Pitt Pilot. I have a meeting this morning with Danny Mendez.”

She escorted  into the glass box of the elevator, where I kept any further communication with her to the bare minimum. The entire drive over I stewed and fretted over the dread of having to even look Mendez in the eyes.  My chest puffing with quite the prejudiced attitude, and a newly protective girlfriend instinct kicking in. I withheld an airy squeak at the thought “girlfriend.” Until this instant, I prided myself in the stern, professional ethic I displayed in all aspects of my work life. But now, I was struggling to sort through, and control all the newfound feelings that Colton had provoked in me as of late. The ding of arrival sounded when we had reached the second floor, opening to reveal a painfully illuminated gym facility. Treadmills, and weight benches, and therapy bikes, oh my.

“Mr. Mendez is right over there, Miss Elliott. He’s expecting you.” She pointed her manicured finger to the left toward a huddle of men.

I readied the recorder on my cell, and boldly marched in their direction, the subtle clack of my black pumps announcing my approach. He was waylaying into a battered speedbag, but turned his smug face to me without ceasing his blows, obviously in shameless effort to impress me. Danny had countless tattoos much like Colton, but his height towered over me at least double the distance his challenger did. He was a very large man, however not quite as amply defined.

“Afternoon, Olivia. Come to get the word from the real champ for your story?”

He indeed impressed me alright. With only a handful of words he had already tempted me with lacing his open water bottle with a certain substance that could easily disqualify him from stepping into the ring with Colton.

“Actually, it’s just Liv, Mr. Mendez. How are you?”

One of his pathetic goons promptly handed him a towel to wipe the sweat from his slick, hairless head, and I tagged along on his heels to find a seat next to the empty caged octagon.

“Is this where you train for every fight, Danny? I know most fighters tend to find one gym they favor and stick to it.”  

“it is, yes. I own the place, in fact. None of the shit hole facilities in the city had the right feel for me. So, I took it upon myself to build this one. I’m a firm believer in doing something yourself if you want it done right, Miss Elliott.”

My eyes may have rolled instinctively in obvious hatred for the guy. I wanted to get what I needed as soon as possible and bid riddance to this prick.

“I was just about to hop in the cage with my grappling partner, you mind? You can pass the word to that amateur asshole Ritter about what he’s got comin’ to him next weekend, huh?”

To say I wanted to rattle the stupid, snide smile right off his bearded face would be an amplified understatement.

“Please! Don’t let me stop you. I’m here to see what a day in the life of the champ is like, right?”

He chuckled at my statement, dumbly oblivious that it was intended as 100% sarcasm.

I wasn’t at all pleasantly surprised at what happened in the half hour I had spent there. He was indeed the middleweight champion, and I learned very quickly why. He, in my opinion, wasn’t what I would call more talented than Colton on any level, but he definitely wasn’t the scrub I ignorantly assumed he would be either. Unlike the utter animalistic indignation Colton displayed in the cage, Danny was so poised and light on his feet. His expression was focused, yet calm. I noticed instantly he was the type of fighter who paced himself for the duration of rounds, making sure he kept his breaths as even as possible, analyzing every move he made, and why. I wouldn’t say that I left the gym with doubts that Colton could come out on top. However, I feared the victory wouldn’t come served to him on a silver platter as I’d hoped. Mendez unquestionably proved every bit of gossip that insinuated he was a dreadful human being. Unfortunately though, he wasn’t the slouch I needed him to be on the mat.

I went back to my quaint cubical at the Pilot to compile the very limited, nearly useless comments Danny had given me for the spread, but my protesting mind had other plans. Colton had yet to reach out on the report he had gotten from the doctor, and there was no chance of me focusing on anything aside from him. I promised to him I wouldn’t pry, so texting him was a no-go. But, he did tell me that anything going on with him, was indeed my business as well? My over-worked, over analytical brain had nearly reached over-heating, when a gentle buzz rattled my tiny metal desk.

Message from: Colton

How soon can you make it over to Mac’s?

It was almost as if I had willed the text into existence. I raised the rose gold watch on my wrist into view, 1:57 p.m. Getting an early start this morning with the commute to Danny’s gym, meant I would be able to add drive time onto my hours for the day. Sure, I’d still be shy roughly an hour shy from a full days work, but Ryan would understand if I explained that one of the competitors from the match I was covering may be facing a detrimental injury, and he would shoo me to catch the happenings. I hoisted my black, alligator skinned satchel over my shoulder, laptop in tow, and trudged impatiently downstairs to the parking garage.

The short drive to the gym, I couldn’t seem to still my tapping fingers on the peeling steering wheel of my silver SUV. I tried to occupy myself with the radio in attempt to build a blockade from the piling thoughts racking my mind, but it was entirely useless. He knew I was working, why had he needed me at Mac’s? Was the hand injury worse than both of us imagined? Had the doctor advised him to bow out gracefully from the fight against Mendez? My tripping mind, and the fussing over a doomed lost of hypothesis nearly teleported me to Mac’s before I even knew where I was.

I pushed through the double doors of the building, and slowed to a more casual pace giving off the illusion that I wasn’t an eager, panicky mess. Colton was easing his half naked body into a scuffed silver tub resembling that of a horse troth like Mrs. Bishop, the widow down the street from my childhood home in Westfield, had transformed into a flower bed. There was a vicious wince spread wide on his lips as he lowered to be seated, and my eyebrows upturned in evident concern.

“Hey doc, mind comin’ over for a second?” He motioned the salty-haired man over to where I now stood at his side, petting back his combed over hair.

When I had gotten a closer look, I realized the painful twitches of his face where thankfully caused by the rigid ice bath he sat in, the cold therapy submersion aided in the healing of his exhausted muscles.

“Dr. Cooper, this is Liv. The pain in my ass who insisted I let ya’ take a good look at my hand here. Would you please tell her what we talked about earlier? I know she’s too hard-headed to believe it outta my mouth.” The smart-elic tone of his voice generally would’ve set me off, but the way he intertwined his fingers through mine when he spoke to the doctor was his saving grace for the moment.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss. As Colton said, I did take a good look at the hand earlier this morning. I took an x-ray, revealing no broken bones, which is obvious good news. And after observing him in the ring a bit, it seems Mr. Ritter does have some severe inflammation going on. However, with a series of cortisone shots, I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t proceed with the fight.”

My eyes met Colton’s with a nod of relief, happy for the weight of worry to be finally lifted from my chest. “Thank you so much for the explanation, Doctor. And thanks for taking such good care of this one.”  

Dr. Cooper returned to the conversation he was previously having with one of the other fighters Mac was working with, leaving Colton and I to ourselves. I retrieved the large towel he’d laid to the floor in close proximity to his bath, handing it to him, but yanking it back swiftly before he could pry it completely from my hands, “Well, well. Looks like now that we know your hand is fine, you’ll have to come up with another excuse when you lose to Mendez.”

A wide, wicked smirk danced over his handsome face, and with one instantaneous motion, I was plunged into the subzero pool of ice. The fitted material of my wool pencil skirt now clung tighter to my figure, and the collar of my blouse now heavy from saturation.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean to pull you so hard. Guess I don’t know my own strength, baby. Sorry...” His shoulders shrugged mimicking innocence in the matter of my now trembling appendages, as he patted dry his own wet chest.

“I probably had that one comin’, huh.” I reasoned.

He guided me to the locker room, offering up a change of some spare sweats that obviously swallowed me from his cubby, and he wrapped his arm over my shoulders as we shivered into the nighttime streets back to my place.

 I was dangerously teetering on what I swore was frost bite after travelling the 11 blocks to my place, so my now extremely apologetic boyfriend had taken it upon himself to run me a scalding bath. I stripped off the damp cotton leaving a trail of articles from the living room to the bathroom plopping onto the floor, in urgent effort to dive into the water as quickly as possible. Sadly, the bathtub in my miniscule home wasn’t nearly large enough to fit the both of us, so Colt had dropped his clothes in the dryer then situated himself in the floor near the tub, propping his back against the wall to keep me company while I attempted to regain feeling in my toes. 

“How’d it go with Mendez today?” Colton asked pulling off the unraveling toboggan from his head.

“Oh, he’s just a modern day, prince charming, that one. Let me tell ya’.” He widened his eyes in agreement, no words needed to express his agreeance.

He’d given me the run down from everything else with Dr. Cooper this morning, and reenacted the “crunch time” sermon Mac religiously gave him when the closeness of fight night approached.

“So, your parents… Will they be coming next Saturday?”

We had limited conversations about our families up until this point, but one thing he had told me, were his parents, Michael and Beth, were his biggest supporters. Granted, his mother had definitely resisted the idea when she discovered he had taken such a violent career interest, making him promise to “use his head, and hang it up” if things ever got too rough for him on the mat.

“Yeah, they’ll be here on Thursday dad said. I wanted to talk to you about that…” I boosted up out of the now cooling water, my full attention on him. “I’m supposed to meet ‘em for dinner, and uh, I’d like you t’ come. Unless you think it’s too soon, then I totally understand.” The antsy man kept his eyes on the sage colored shag of a rug he was seated on, pulling nervously on some strands of the soft material.

I reflected back on a remark he’d made about his mom in a talk we had regarding her bout with cancer, and now 6th year in remission, where he’d said he wished he was half the warrior she was. And then, informed me that he had never actually taken any girl home previously because there were none he considered worthy of his mother’s company.  The sudden realization that apparently, I was deemed “worthy” had me buzzing with pleasure, my head swimming with overwhelming delight. Was this what the blindsiding smack of love felt like?

“If you want me there, then I’d love to. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to invite me, Colt.”

He leaned his arm into the tub to clutch my bubble covered hand. “Liv, do I seem like the type of guy who feels like he has to do anything? Let’s be real here, girl. You ‘n I both know, I only do things I want to do, that’s just the type ‘a guy I am.”

Boy, did I know that. He hadn’t been shy about his bull-headed tendencies in the passing months we’d spent getting to know each other, and who was I to belittle him for the very same attribute I carried myself. Cupping his check in sheer admiration, I accepted. “Name the time & place, mister! I’ll be there.”

Lifting me from the bath, he tucked my now very toasty skin into bed, insisting that if he stayed over, there’s no way he’d let me get any sleep so he should head home. A lingering peck to my lips, followed by the same to my nose then forehead, topped off with a playful “noogie��� to the crown of my head, Colton Ritter had smothered the urge to say, that no matter the resistance he had tried to muster up, he was in fact unequivocally falling in love with me.  Rather than unveiling those very sentiments, he secured the door to my now dark apartment, doubling back to check to lock, spatting murmurs of regret as he walked to his tired old Chevy truck, wishing he wasn’t going home to a bed without me in it. 

TAGLIST: @torialeysha @eap1935

[loose-leaf-teacanons]

More of that recent KiKasa snippet. Will be assembled into a proper fic at a later date.

“I’m thinking Shuutoku next,” Kasamatsu-senpai says, out of the blue.

He’s just ordered a ten minute break to rest and rehydrate, the team scattering to root through their bags for drinks and towels, or working their way through some half-hearted cool-down stretches.

In the middle of wiping down his neck and arms, Ryouta squints as Kasamatsu-senpai sits down next to him with a bottle of water and a clipboard in hand.

“I’d like you to tell me what we’re up against.”

For a moment, Ryouta is unable to get the words to make sense. Even as blunt as they are, it’s hard to wrap his head around the fact that his captain is asking him for tactical input, instead of any of the more experienced second- or third-years. True, Ryouta is the one who has first-hand knowledge of his fellow Miracles, but that doesn’t make the request any less surprising. Back at Teiko, the only ones who ever gave anything on his opinion were Kurokocchi and Momoicchi, and that was mostly just for fun – Akashicchi forged his strategies in secret, without anyone’s input, and that’s how they ended up playing, regardless of their own ideas.

Kasamatsu-senpai is different, though, Ryouta is starting to figure that out. He listens. He instructs. He takes the team into consideration with every decision he makes. There’s no running until you puke here, no ignoring sprains until the end of a match, no playing favorites or tacit ignorance of petty rivalries.

He still feels guilty for taking as long to notice as he did.

Still, he’s not sure what to do with this new development. Kasamatsu-senpai is looking at him oddly, one eyebrow raised, and Ryouta realizes he’s been silent and gaping for nearly a full minute now.

“Oh! Um. Midorimacchi– he’s, he’s really cool. I mean, you probably wouldn’t think that if you met him anywhere else, but he’s a totally different person on the court. It took me ages to figure out how to copy his shooting stance, and boy was he pissed off the first time I did!” He chuckles. “I still can’t score from anywhere, not like that, but–“

“That’s not what I was asking.” Kasamatsu-senpai is frowning at him, annoyance plain in his tone.

Ryouta blinks again, not sure what else there is.

“You can do trips down memory lane on your own time. I want your analysis.” He taps his clipboard for emphasis. A quick glance at the top sheet reveals a list of data similar to what he’s seen Momoicchi compile on occasion, though nowhere near as detailed. Basic physical data on Shuutoku’s players. Team strengths and weaknesses. Prognoses. Midorimacchi is the big cipher in the midst.

Biting his lip, Ryouta nods. “Well… Midorimacchi is… complicated. He’s an amazing shooter – I’ve never seen him fumble a shot in all the time we played together. Doesn’t matter where he aims from, it’ll go in. Once he’s fixed on the hoop, there’s no way to make him miss.”

He pauses, glancing at Kasamatsu-senpai, and can’t help the eleventh-story elevator plunge in his chest. The annoyance is gone from Kasamatsu’s face, replaced by an intensity Ryouta isn’t sure what to do with.

Complete attention.

The elevator cable shivers, pulling taut.

He swallows, trying to gather his thoughts. “But Midorimacchi, he’s also… a pretty difficult guy, personality-wise. He can rub people the wrong way real easy.”

“Seems like you two have something in common, then,” Kasamatsu-senpai says, a faint smirk touching the corners of his mouth.

“Mean, senpai,” Ryouta says, though it comes out nowhere near as whiny as he’d like. The combination of that intensity and the rare flash of good humor is making his voice embarrassingly breathy. “But, no. Midorimacchi is really particular about a lot of stuff. Kind of inflexible, though that’s more off the court than on. I mean, if he gets the ball, you can bet he’ll use the earliest opportunity to shoot. He’s not really the kind of guy who passes or fakes or anything like that, so if they’re smart, the others will coordinate their play around him, I think.”

Kasamatsu hums, motioning for him to go on.

“But by inflexible, I mean he can get put out about the weirdest things. Being forced to team up with Kurokocchi always really bothered him. Actually…” Ryouta taps a finger against his chin. “Do we have an Aquarius on the team?”

In a flash, Kasamatsu-senpai’s expressive eyebrows are threatening a thunderstorm again. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Ryouta grins. “Well, Midorimacchi is big on astrology stuff. Really big. Checks his horoscope every day and follows its suggestions religiously kind of big. If Cancer is ranked low, he’ll take care to avoid people he thinks he’s incompatible with, and he claims Aquarius is the most incompatible of them all. Which is why it’s hilarious to watch him around Kurokocchi. He actually likes the guy okay, but Kurokocchi’s an Aquarius, so…”

Kasamatsu-senpai’s eyebrows have taken to hovering near his hairline.

“You can bet he’ll have checked our horoscopes thoroughly by the time we play. So, if you have a list with our birthdays somewhere, I could figure out if we have an Aquarius to weaponize.”

“Are you serious,” Kasamatsu-senpai says, sounding torn between amazement and calling bullshit on principle. Ryouta supposes that, to anyone outside of Teiko, it would all sound perfectly ridiculous.

“Failing that, we could always show up for the game with a mascot,” Ryouta says, unable to help the fluttery glee at astonishing Kasamatsu-senpai and possibly getting back at Midorimacchi for two years of constant bitching. “Senpai, how do you feel about black cats?”

“You are serious,” Kasamatsu says, and then, “We’re not going to psychologically destroy your ex-teammate.”

“Boo, no fun.”

That earns him a swift and painful rap upside the head. “Basketball should be plenty of fun for you, brat.”

Rubbing his abused skull, Ryouta pouts. “I was kidding, senpai! Mostly. Anyway, we might not even get to play him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Depending on how bad his horoscope looks on that day, Midorimacchi might sit out the game.”

“Sit out the game,” Kasamatsu echoes.

“Yep.”

“Because of a bunch of magical mumbo-jumbo.”

“Yeeeep.”

“And at Teiko, you let him.”

Ryouta sighs with feeling, blowing the bangs out of his face. “Akashicchi didn’t consider it a problem. Besides, it’s just easier to go along with Midorimacchi when he gets like that.”

“I have a hard time imagining someone like Ootsubo-san condoning this kind of behavior.”

Ryouta tries not to make the “Ootsubo Who?” face. He hasn’t been as on top of learning about the other teams as he probably should be, and he has the feeling those gaps in his knowledge won’t be appreciated. Instead, he shrugs.

“Like I said, if Shuutoku are smart, they’ll learn to work around Midorimacchi. Otherwise, they’ll just end up subjected to a dissertation on the negative karmic energy Venus is radiating on Cancers that day or something, and trust me, senpai, nobody wants that.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you guys got anything done as a team,” Kasamatsu-senpai says, sounding almost offended at the thought.

Not much, by the end.

The fact that he can even agree with his captain on that is another new thing – he didn’t think there was much of anything wrong with the way things were run at Teikou, didn’t even really notice what was happening until Kurokocchi broke away from them with nary a word.

Though if he’s entirely honest, that’s not true, either. Kurokocchi tried so hard to get them all to listen, to get Ryouta to listen, but by then, victory had become their drug of choice and nobody much cared how they got there. In fact, it was annoying that Kurokocchi was the one who kept caring.

Come to think, Ryouta might have told him so, at some point, because Ryouta is apparently kind of a shitty friend. Was. Will stop being, once he figures out where it all went so horribly wrong. Hopefully.

He’s acutely aware that Kasamatsu-senpai is watching him again, eyes too sharp not to discern some of those uncomfortable truths.

Shaking his head, Ryouta grins again. “Maybe now you see how lucky you were to end up with me, hm, senpai?”

“You–! Ten laps around the school, freshman,” Kasamatsu shoots back immediately, back ramrod straight and glaring full force. “That ought to take care of your big ego.”

“Whaaaat?!” he whines, fake hurt and outrage obscuring whatever else Kasamatsu-senpai might have been able to see.

“Get going, or I’ll make it twenty,” his captain says in a tone that implies he’ll throw in a knuckle sandwich for free, and Ryouta goes, because ten laps around the school ought to be just the thing to clear certain thoughts from his mind.

[dontshootmespence]

The Old and The New: Just Getting Started

A/N: Well, I had quite the nice response to The Old and The New, so it will become a little mini-fic. Enjoy! @gublersmind @coveofmemories @heavenlycevans

                                                            -----

“Alright, so let’s get to know each other,” Y/N said as the five candidates sat down on the jet. Agent Prentiss had said wheels up in 30, but all of them wanted to make sure they were there on time, so immediately after being dismissed, they headed toward the jet, go-bags in hand. “My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I started college at 14, went to MIT and Harvard, Harvard was remotely. I have two Ph.D.s. I can kick your ass in Taekwondo and I’m 22.” 

Jack laughed as he sat across from the cute new agent. Maybe he would be lucky enough and he and Y/N would both make the team. God, she was cute. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d grown up with Spencer for an uncle, he would’ve been put off by her rambling about her degrees, but he was used to it, so he kind of found it endearing. She was definitely the most animated of the bunch. “You! Jack, is it?”

“Yea,” he said, leaning back in his chair. This felt so right. “My name is Jack Brooks. I have a dual Ph.D./JD from Yale. I have no martial arts skills whatsoever, but I am a fantastic shot, and I feel like this is what I’m supposed to be doing.” At the mention of his last name, Y/N raised an eyebrow. She couldn’t know, could she?

While the five very new, very green agents waited for their superiors, the rest of them introduced themselves. Tiana was the oldest of the group at 30. She was a single mother of one son and had taken until now to put herself through school. Her goals were to either work for the BAU or for counter-terrorism; she was interested in both. She was also the other candidate with a Ph.D., a dual one in mathematics and criminology from Duke. Dashawn had a master’s degree in chemical engineering and applied to this position on the fly; he wanted the experience. And David, with his master’s degree in computer science specializing in cybersecurity, was without a doubt the most quiet of the five, extremely put off by Y/N’s out there nature.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet everyone,” Y/N said as David turned himself away from her. “I look forward to working with all of you.”

“Me also,” Jack said, extending his hand across the seat toward her. When he took her hand, he felt a little spark of something. Reminded him a little of how he felt the first time he asked out his high school girlfriend, Shaina.

Just as Jack let go of her hand and shook hands with the rest of the possible candidates, his aunts, uncle and partner for this case, Luke, finally came on board. They were actually on time, it was just the the new recruits were insanely early. “Alright everyone,” Emily said as she alerted the pilot that everyone was on board, “We are off to Cedar Rapids. Let’s go over victimology.” The new recruits needed to learn; that’s what they were here for after all. So instead of taking the lead, the senior team members would basically be sitting back and letting the newbies run the show, assisting them if they drifted off track. Tiana was the first one to start things off. 

“I’ll start I guess,” she said, rifling through the files. “John Cogswell, 45, and Anthony Heskett, 47, were the two officers found floating in Lake Red Rock, but they worked for the Cedar Rapids PD. So my first question would be why were they dumped two hours away from where they worked and lived?”

Jack was about to speak up when Y/N took the words out of his mouth. He was going to have to watch out for her. “It could be as simple as the fact that Lake Red Rock is one of the biggest bodies of water in the state at more than 15,000 acres.”

“15,520 actually,” came a voice from across the jet. Of course it was Dr. Reid. 

Y/N smiled at her cooperating agent. “We’re going to have a lot of fun aren’t we Dr. Reid?” Emily smacked Reid in the back of the head while the kids got back to victimology. “Anyway, it could be because of the size of the lake. The lake could have special meaning to the unsub. Or...”

“Or if the unsub has intimate knowledge of law enforcement, he might have dumped them in another county to try and bring the case to another jurisdiction,” Jack said before Y/N could get the words out. “Cedar Rapids had to overstep their bounds because the victims were members of their department, but it should actually belong to the Marion County PD, right?” A little nod from Luke told him he was right. Y/N just smirked at him. Hey, there were only two positions and he could tell she liked to talk, so he needed to make his presence known. 

While the two playfully glared at each other, Agent Holden spoke up for the first time since he’d been forced by Y/N to introduce himself. “The next question is why these two officers. What did Cogswell and Heskett do or know that brought on the wrath of the unsub? Based on the message that we heard, it’s likely that the two had intimate knowledge of one of the area’s politician’s dark past. Whoever it was needed to get rid of any evidence of this dark past, and Cogswell and Heskett were evidence.”

“Exactly,” Dashawn said. The five of them seemed to be working together very well. Jack wondered how long that would last. “Given that they were weighed down, our unsub desperately didn’t want any evidence coming back to haunt him. He’s definitely personally connected, otherwise there would have been no reason to weigh them down, he could’ve just dumped them.”

“What about the message that was left at the police department?” JJ said. “What can you learn from the way he spoke? What he said?” Her best friend was at her side twitching. She could see how much it was killing him to not answer those questions himself, but he was keeping control of his motor mouth. 

Y/N was the one with the degree in English, so it made sense that she immediately jumped on that question. “The colloquial usage of “covering their asses” makes me believe that the person who made the call doesn’t know the unsub personally, but does have personal knowledge of what the unsub’s past is. He also sounds very positive of who it is. There was no shakiness in his voice that one might connect with being unsure of his assertions.”

As Jack went over the message in his mind, something dawned on him - it meant more bodies. “He said, ‘if someone doesn’t catch him soon, he’s going to buy and kill his way to the top,’ which means...there is likely at least one other person that our unsub intends to go after. The use of ‘going to’ indicates that he still has work to do.”

“Evidence to dispose of,” Tiana muttered as she took a deep breath.

Agent Holden would be doing most of his work with Garcia once they arrived. “When we get there, someone should probably compile a list of the richest politicians in the area,” he said, turning around toward his cooperating agent. She nodded in his direction. 

“You and I will start that once we land, my sweet.”

“We might not want to just limit it to straight-up politicians, but rich people in the area that have aspirations to join the political arena. He doesn’t necessarily have to be established in the field already,” Jack said. When he looked toward Y/N, he could see she and Tiana raise their eyebrows. He’d thought of something they hadn’t. Apparently, he’d also made an impression on the senior team members, as they were sporting similar expressions. 

Y/N got from her seat to stretch her legs, nearly smacking Holden in the face when she did so. “Given the sophistication of the crime so far, as well as the age of the victims, it’s likely our unsub is within 10 years of the victims, so between 35 and 55. What if we look back between 10-20 years for cases that involved our two officers, whether as victims or officers. It’s more than possible that they covered up something when they first joined the force that’s coming back to haunt them now.”

“Good idea,” Luke said. “If we do end up with another victim, we could add him or her to that list. See if multiple officers were involved in a case years back.”

“Great work everyone,” Emily said as she walked over to the newbies and leaned back on one of the jet’s chairs. “When we land, Agent Holden, you’ll work with Garcia to compile those lists. Agent Brooks, you’ll head with Luke to Lake Red Rock to check out the dump site. Spencer, you and Agent Y/L/N will go interview the family’s of the officers, see if there is anything they might know about who wanted to come after them. Agent Jones and Agent Smith, you’ll be with JJ and myself at the Cedar Rapids Police Department interviewing the officers, especially the ones that worked closely with Cogswell and Heskett, and working on the profile.”

As the plane began to descend, all of the agents, both old and new, had a feeling that this case wasn’t going to be cut and dry - that the more they dug, the more dirt they would uncover. They just hoped that no one else would be taken down in the process.