#and the thought of Dream sitting behind the counter as he heres the thunk thunk thunk of axs hitting the wall behind him xD

[ibrithir-was-here]

Very silly Dreamling Modern/ Human AU I came up with out of the blue, somewhat based on my own experiences working at a mall (only sadly minus the romance parts xD)

Dream is the owner of a used bookstore down at the far end of the mall where not a lot of people come anymore, but he doesnt mind as it keeps the bookstore calm and quiet and chill, which he really appreciates after the stress of his last job (something about Burgess here? Stole/bought out Dream's old boosktore location that was its own building?)

At least its quiet until the DnD/RPG shop owned by Hob Gadling opens up right next store and Dream has to listen to kids screaming through the walls each day

Dream is less than enthused about his new neighbor at first but of course they meet cute when one or the other wanders into the others store to say hello/complain about the noise

And of course Hob would like books and Dream would end up loving DnD and they start falling in love

For conflict they have to deal with scheming Thessaly who runs the crystal stall in the downstairs hallway, Burgess coming back to try and buy out the mall cuz its starting to lose business cuz the economy sucks and the boiler breaking and floods Dreams store (this happened to us once :/) and he almost gives up then

But happy ending eventually due to their efforts and the mall is saved and they kiss xD

[vannahfanfics]

Bird-Isms

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff, Comedy

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Fuyumi Todoroki, Keigo Takami

“Ahh, I shouldn’t be doing this,” Fuyumi scolded herself as she stood in line at a fried chicken joint, patting her cheek and pouting at her weakness. She’d only meant to run to the office supply store to grab more red pens, but the scent of deep-fried chicken tenders had simply been too strong for her hungry tummy to ignore. She’d yielded to its insistent yowls and cramping tantrum, trudging into the small diner with a heavy heart and salivating mouth. Since the new year, she’d vowed to eat healthier, but it seemed that her stomach still clung stubbornly to unhealthy morsels. A cheat day or two isn’t terrible, right? she tried to convince herself as she walked up to the counter. 

She was still trying to persuade herself that she wasn’t committing some kind of cardinal sin when the employee handed her a basket of hand-breaded, crispy tenders and golden-brown crinkle-cut fries. Despite her wrestle with guilt, her mouth flooded with saliva at the promise of the salty meal to come. Slurping at her soda as if she could drown her sorrows with it, Fuyumi drizzled ketchup across the fried foods before headed to a table in the corner. As she weaved around the young teenagers and families packing the joint, she kept her basket tucked against her chest to avoid spilling it. 

That ended up backfiring, however, when someone cut in front of her and she slammed right into their red-winged back. 

Fuyumi released an unflattering sound when the basket flipped up, painting the bust of her skirt in bright red ketchup as the chicken tenders and fries smooshed against her body. Worse, she gripped her soda on reflex, popping off the lid and sending fizzy soda and ice cascading down her hands and to the floor. In her shock, she lost her grip on the basket, and it clattered to the floor. She couldn’t even lament the cosmic joke that was foiled lunch. She just stood there, blinking rapidly with her mouth open, as the stranger whirled on his heels. 

“I’m so sorry!” he cried, crimson wings flapping anxiously and ruffling the napkins sitting on the table nearby with their winds. “Ugh, I tell the owner all the time that they need to upsize, I’m always bungling around in her trying not to knock over things,” he groaned while grabbing a fistful of napkins from the nearby container. He blushed a little and gestured to her chest with a meek, “May I, miss?” 

“O-oh!” she stammered, his question bringing her out of her stupor. She pulled at the hem of her shirt, stretching the fabric so the man could lean in to carefully scrape the thick globs of ketchup away. His wind-tossed tufts of blond hair bounced with each coordinated movement, and his golden eyes flickered up every so often to make sure that she was comfortable. After her frazzled neurons regained their function to synapse, she let out another gasp when she realized just who was wiping ketchup off her clothes. 

“Y-You’re Hawks!” 

“The one and only,” he winked and straightened, tossing the bunched-up, soiled napkins into a nearby garbage can. “I would say ‘pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ but I’m sure you’re not jazzed about me ruining your shirt.” 

Eyes fluttering, Fuyumi glanced down. Her nice button-up, ruffled white blouse was now blotched with orange-pink stains and smears. She hurriedly looked up, flapping her hands dismissively. 

“No, no! It’s my fault for running into you! I should have been more careful!” 

“Nonsense,” Hawks insisted, then looked down to the remains of her chicken tenders and fries scattered across the red-and-white tiled floor. “It appears I’ve also ruined your lunch,” he chuckled, looking up at her with gleaming eyes. “We could sit here and argue about who’s fault this travesty is all day, but regardless, I won’t be satisfied until you let me buy you a replacement meal.” 

Fuyumi flushed darkly and began to refuse, but the creep of Hawks’ eyebrow up his forehead silenced her. She swallowed her words and nodded meekly, prompting the hero to smile. Dizzily, she fancied that he had a rather nice smile, bright and warm and charming. She was floating on air after the whirlwind encounter, so she offered no resistance as Hawks led her to his booth by a hand on the small of her back. She sank into the pleather seat, slumping into its squeaky embrace, and pinched her thigh to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Instead of the gloom of her bedroom, when she opened her eyes she was greeted with the sight of Hawks sliding into the booth and placing a fresh basket of chicken tenders in front of her. 

“Thank you. This is really too much,” she said shyly, squirming and wringing her hands in her lap. With how much her belly was twisting, she doubted she could even manage two bits of the tenders now. Completely unfazed, Hawks plucked a chicken tender from his own basket and waved it around emphatically. 

“Please, it’s the least I can do for causing you the trouble of having to go to the dry cleaners,” he smiled. “I insist.” Not wishing to be rude, Fuyumi took a French fry and nibbled half-heartedly on it, giving Hawks a bashful smile. “What’s your name, miss?” 

“Fuyumi Todoroki. You work with my father, Endeavor.” 

“No kidding?” he said, eyebrows shooting up his forehead as he continued to wave the chicken tender around like a baton. “You must take after your mother because a woman as pretty as you sure couldn’t have come from a brute like him.” Fuyumi’s face flushed the color of the ketchup that had just stained her shirt, and Hawks only smirked mischievously, crunching down on the end of the chicken tender at last. “So what do you do?” he asked, the bit of chicken tender wedged into the pouch of his cheek. 

“I’m a teacher,” she answered. Though it was intimidating at first to reckon with eating lunch with the number-two pro hero, Hawks’ effortless charisma had already appeased Fuyumi’s nerves somewhat. She found that her stomach had settled so she could actually enjoy the meal he’d graciously bought her. “I teach elementary school not far from here,” she continued as she munched on her chicken. “I didn’t inherit a powerful Quirk, so I decided that instilling knowledge in the next generation was the best way I could serve my community. Besides, I love children.” 

“Hehe, yeah, the little rascals are adorable,” Hawks hummed, leaning a cheek in his hand as he casually tossed a chicken tender up, let it land in the basket, picked it up, and repeated it. Fuyumi watched him play with his food with slowly pinching eyebrows; she thought at first that he wasn’t even aware of it, yet his eyes glittered and looked down at his food every few seconds, implying otherwise. She jumped when he suddenly snatched it in mid-air and shoved almost the entire thing in his mouth. “So are you the oldest?” he asked around the large tender crammed in his cheeks. 

“Erm… yes,” Fuyumi said, really not sure what to think about Hawks’ odd behavior. “I have a younger brother in college, and then you must know Shoto, who attends U.A.” She tried not to shudder as Hawks chewed and swallowed the chicken tender, making a loud gulping noise. When he looked down at the basket, he picked up a French fry and then inexplicably tossed it at the window. It collided with the glass with a loud thunk, and Hawks cooed in delight, feathers ruffling. Fuyumi hid her chuckle behind her hand, though her amusement showed in the scrunch of her eyebrows. Hawks was completely oblivious to her, bobbing his head a little as he tossed another fry at the window. 

He’s a grown man! Is he really enjoying playing with his food? It was so impossibly ridiculous. Fuyumi scolded her students at lunch all the time for playing with their food, yet here was a sophisticated twenty-something pro hero chucking French fries around! Though she should be disgusted, Fuyumi found it oddly endearing; his golden eyes sparkled like topazes as delight filled them to the brim, and a childlike smile adorned his face. 

When a snicker managed to sneak out from behind Fuyumi’s fingers, Hawks looked at her quizzically. 

“Is something funny?” 

Fuyumi debated whether or not she should say anything, but she really couldn’t think of a good excuse for laughing. Besides, she was madly curious.

“Hawks, um… Do you realize that you play with your food?” 

The hero blinked at her, then looked down at the French fries and crumbs littering the table. A pink haze blossomed on his cheeks, prompting him to wrap his hands around his face and look at Fuyumi in complete embarrassment. His wings drew close around his body as if to shield him from her inquisition, but he looked so cute that Fuyumi couldn’t help but let out another light-hearted chuckle. “Don’t be embarrassed! I’m only curious, that’s all.”

“It’s my Quirk,” he admitted, parting his fingers so he could mutter but still hiding his blush from her. “I’ve got bird tendencies, and one of those is… playing with my food. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Sorry, I must have looked like such a kid! And here I was wanting to impress Endeavor’s pretty daughter…” 

Fuyumi blushed at his second mindless flirt but fought past her bashfulness to reach out and pat his arm encouragingly. 

“Don’t worry! As I said, I was only curious. To be honest… It’s kind of adorable.” When Hawks looked at her owlishly, she flushed darker and flapped her hands wildly. “I-I’m sorry! That just kind of slipped out. You probably don’t take well to being called something like that; I didn’t mean to insult you, I just— oh my, I can’t believe I just called the number-two hero adorable!” It was her turn to cover her face; she buried it in her hands, wincing at the heat rolling off her flushed skin in waves. Though part of her didn’t want to look at him but rather wanted to melt through the pleather seat, she couldn’t bear not knowing Hawks’ reaction either. Meekly, she parted her fingers to peer worriedly at him. 

Hawks’ expression could only be described as “a kid in a candy store.” 

“You think I’m adorable, Fuyumi?” he grinned. His wings flapped behind him, feathers vibrating to try to channel the sheer elation welling up in his body. Fuyumi slowly lowered her hands, almost confused by his happiness. He continued to beam at her as he explained, “Everyone always teases me about my bird traits. Nobody understands how hard it is having DNA that’s basically part avian… So it’s really reassuring to hear you call me that!” He tipped his head slightly, scrunching up his eyes as he smiled so hard it was blinding. A warm, fuzzy feeling bubbled up within Fuyumi, making her return his smile. 

“Oh, well… I’m glad you feel that way.” 

“Hehe, adorable,” he cooed, wiggling his shoulders in satisfaction. Fuyumi giggled again; he really was quite a childish man, but she simply couldn’t help but be endeared by his antics. 

Little chirps and tweets of delight bubbled from Hawks mouth as he polished off his chicken tenders and fries. He even finished off some of Fuyumi’s meal that she couldn’t finish. As he was licking the oil and crumbs from his fingers, Fuyumi bowed her head respectfully. 

“Thank you for treating me.” 

“Of course! My pleasure,” he quipped, popping a finger out of his mouth. He walked out the door with her, despite her embarrassment that someone would see them together. He slipped his hands into his pockets as they lingered on the sidewalk outside of the diner. Fuyumi stood shyly in front of him, clasping her hands while slowly swaying from side to side. “I enjoyed meeting you, Fuyumi. Really,” he said, giving her a serious look that made her heart thrum in her chest. “Maybe this is too forward of me, but perhaps we’ll see each other again sometime?” 

Reeling, it took Fuyumi a moment to process before she quickly sputtered, “Yes! I would like that very much.” Her face continued to redden as he gazed at her with lidded eyes, embers burning in the golden seams of his irises. “Hawks—” 

“Keigo. Call me Keigo,” he said softly. Fuyumi let out a little gasp, her cheeks growing even warmer. It was an honor to be trusted with his true name, one she wouldn’t take lightly. 

“Keigo,” she repeated, enjoying the way it rolled over her tongue. “Keigo, I look forward to when we meet again.” 

Ever the devilish flirt, he licked his teeth and tossed her a wink. 

“Until next time, then, Fuyumi Todoroki,” he said before diving in to kiss her on the cheek. Before she could even process the brush of his lips over her blushing skin, he was gone, flying into the air in a flurry of crimson feathers. She reached up to cup her cheek as she whirled on her heel, watching him bank around the corner and disappear from sight. The titillation of her nerves was the only proof it had even happened, bringing a giddy smile to her face. She wondered how close she would get to know Keigo and his bird-isms in the coming days…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[seulgiology]

that’s my type | jeon jungkook

pairings: fwb!jungkook x fwb!female oc

words: 3k

genre: SMUT with an “i love you” at the end , uwu

warnings: cursing, praise, dirty talk, thigh fucking, pet names, choking, a widdle exhibition, a lil pussy spank, ass slapping, piercings, tattoos (are those warnings?? idk), oc loves to mess with kookie lol save him

a/n: GIF IS NOT MINE! sad yer. admin 1 is sadly alive. HERE’S A REQUESTED JUNGKOOK SMUT, I TRIED MY BEST PLZ ACCEPT MY OFFERING TO YOU @itboykook . Also, i just randomly put two names together, so if by any chance that it relates to an actual idol IM SORRY. anygays, being a student is hard and online school is a lot :))), sorry for my inactivity.

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

--

Mid July - 12:03 p.m.

Jungkook fit right in with the rest of you, his quiet, odd, yet lovable personality was enticing and it didn’t fall short from the other 6 guys. 

He was the newest and the youngest out of your friend group, only a junior in college. His adorable teeth whenever he smiled that contrasted with his toned body was so attractive and he knew it too. He nearly rivaled Jimin when it came to visual duality.

You all were on one of the campus’ fields, enjoying a rare afternoon of no classes on your spread blanket. You and Hoseok were trying to play a makeshift game of basketball in the field with a random volley ball lying around and your jacket in a circle as the “hoop.” 

You were both dying of laughter from your failed attempts at playing defense and rolling in the grass like a couple of kids on a sugar rush.

Jungkook was next to Taehyung listening to brief him on everything about you, from your flat feet to your unconventional love for Tom Holland. He was sitting comfortably on the blanket, hands resting behind his back as he watched you and... What was his name? Hobi?  He’ll remember later. 

He couldn’t see you too clearly but he knew you were having fun after hearing your bubbly laughter from the distance. You didn’t seem to be coming over towards the others anytime soon so he thought he’d rest his head on Jimin’s plush lap and rest his eyes for a bit, letting the spring sun beat down on his face.

“Don’t you come over here with all that grass on you, Mae, you don’t know whose child was in there pissing.”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, and he hissed out at the suns rays blinding him. He lazily shifted towards the direction of the noise and heard Seokjin— Jin grumble to you two. 

You were in the middle of rubbing the loose grass off your jeans when you could feel someone’s stare on you.

Jungkook shamelessly drank in your figure, loving the way your ripped jeans hugged your thick thighs. He could only dream of burying his face in between them and leaving hickies. You were slightly bent over in front of him trying to wipe the dirt off of you, but he had a great view of your full and round ass trapped inside the denim.

Is this what it feels like to look at an angel? Jungkook didn't know what to believe anymore after being graced with your existence. Did he want to worship your body, make you laugh, hold your hand? Or something more? The blood rushed to his center the longer he kept his gaze on you and letting his thoughts take a sexual turn.

You didn’t catch him practically eye-fucking you, but when you looked up and around, you did see him blushing and hastily putting his bag on his lap.

He must be a shy guy. Yet his whole presence makes you want to shut up and be a good girl for him. He was only laying down with his arm propped up for support, and his short black hair was flowing in the wind, making him look goofy with such a concentrating look on his face.

He pretended to be searching in his bag for something as his heart raced when he saw your shadow coming towards him. He tasted the saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of you towering over him, your nose and ear piercings glinting in the sunlight. 

“I’m Maerin, the only reasonable one here. You are?” You carefully reached your hand out for him to shake with a charming grin on your face, amazed that your friend group just continues to add more attractive men to your circle.

“Jungkook, the other reasonable one here.” You laughed at his statement and his adorable nose scrunched when he smiled with you. You took the vacant seat next to him, and his sight was glued to your physique on your descent, entranced by the minimalistic ink on your arm.

Could you get anymore perfect? Perfect face. Perfect ass. Perfect thighs. Perfect body. Perfect personality most likely. HIs mind raced with thoughts of only you as soon as he took your much smaller hand in his in a firm shake.

He was going to have you one way or another. And that’s a promise he kept. Sort of.

--

Early December - 11:46 a.m.

Those god-awful finals had just ended for you guys and it was time for winter break. It was decided that you all would put in money to go to a ski resort for the break, needing the stress reliever and rest.

And get rid of stress was exactly what you did.

“Fuck, you really don’t know what you do to me,” His hand tightened around your neck in the most pleasurable way, and you were hazy from the dream-like steam the shower was bringing.

He had you pinned against him, his arms held you tightly in place as he thrusted in between your thighs, only sliding his cock against your slick womanhood. You hated not being able to feel him inside you, but he was in heaven when he had you like this. 

Jungkook’s reasonably unreasonable obsession with your ass and thighs played a great part in your friends with benefit arrangement. 

“This is all mine, sweetness,” He grunted in your ear, and all you could do was gasp in response. His wet and wavy locks draped over your shoulder as he sped up his pace, leaving you devoid of any type of release as your thighs tightened around his cock sliding in between them. 

“Jungkook-” You whined to him, upset that he was using you to get himself off. He payed you no mind however, his thrusts speeding up as the unrhythmic slide of his cock in between your folds meant he was going to cum soon. 

"You wanna cum pretty girl? Wanna feel me stuff you so full you won’t remember anything but me?” He moaned in your ear at the thought, torturing himself as much as he was torturing you.

You let out a pathetic but audible yes that you knew had his dimple popping from the grin that adorned his face. You yelped when he manhandled you against the wall and pushed your back down so your ass was to his front. You turned around to see him desperately pumping himself in his hand and his lips slightly parted. The sight had your arousal trailing down your legs along with the water and you licked you lips at his hard cock in his hand.

He pumped his load on your cheeks that were spread for him and he watched it get rinsed away as quickly as it came with the water.

Your body was still on edge when you felt Jungkook rise you up and back hugged you so tenderly, you were ready to fall asleep in his arms at the safety they welcomed. He chuckled in your ear at your languid body and held you tighter. “If you fall asleep you won’t get your reward for being good for me,” his voice was so sweet and you. Why isn’t he your boyfriend again?

“Mmm, really?” You questioned him in a sultry tone, wanting to get him riled up again. You grinded your ass on his hardening manhood and you loved the way he grabbed a handful of it and rolled his hips on you.

“Jungkook, you in there?” You both froze in panic upon hearing Namjoon over the white noise. Jungkook’s finger tips stopped their descent down your stomach and lightly dug in. Shit, fuck, fuck fuck, shit- 

“Yea hyung, I’m in the shower, what’s up?” His voice was unusually shaky to the older man, but he brushed his overanalyzing to the side. “Have you seen Maerin? She said she was looking for you but she disappeared.”

Your heart pounded to the speed the water was hitting you. Namjoon wasn’t stupid, he’d probably figure you guys out, if he didnt already.

Jungkook frowned at you in confusion and you shrugged back at him, your face heating up at the excuse you told the others men to just come see your fuck buddy. 

“She told me to meet the rest of you in the lobby but I wanted to take a shower before leaving. Um... I think she went to get more food before they closed the breakfast buffet.” He lied smoothly, and you sighed in relief and let your grip on hi arm drop.

THUNK!

Namjoon jumped after hearing the load thump and an extremely familiar feminine squeak from the bathroom.

Wait.

Was that Maer—

“Sorry hyung, the soap fell on my foot when I tried reaching for it! I’ll be out soon, don’t wait for me.” He replied in a haste after turning the shower off and giving you a hard look. After hearing the room door close, your body chilled beyond return and your nipples hardened in anticipation.

“You think this is a game, huh?” He tilted your chin up with his cold finger tips and glared at your smirking face.

This was most definitely a game you wanted to play.

—

Late December - 1:30 p.m.

“Who brought the liquor, im trying to get wasted tonight.”

“Jimin, we’re watching Stranger Things.”

“Ok— so where’s the liquor...?”

You smile to yourself at hearing your friends’ conversation, they never fail to amuse you. You were in the kitchen, trying to get popcorn ready for all 8 of you to watch the supernatural show in Jungkook’s apartment.

You leaned on the counter in front of the microwave and listened to its humming as the bag of popcorn started to slowly inflate.

“The guys are here and you have your ass all out like this?” A silent groan left your lips and arousal pooled in between your legs when Jungkook grinded his hips into your ass and grabbed a handful of it.

Your friend group had no idea that you were fucking each other for about 2 months now. It felt wrong to be sexually attracted to each other, especially because you were friends. So you both didn’t want a bad reaction if you told the others.

“Jungkook, someone’s going to walk in—” But you ignored your own words and instead rubbed against him more. You were breathing softly but heavily when you let him cup your cunt through your leggings. He loved it when you wore leggings, it always left little to his imagination when he wanted to guffaw at your legs.

The microwave beeped loudly and it startled the young man behind you into jumping back in fright. Jungkook swallowed hard at hearing your snickering and in a haste, left the kitchen and into the noisy living room instead. He was hard under his sweats, and hated how uncomfortable he was because did it.

They were all seated and prepared to binge watch the latest season of the popular American show when you crept out with two large bowls of kettle corn popcorn.

After they graciously thanked you, you took the obvious seat next to Jungkook on the loveseat. The others expected this, they knew you two were closer than ever. He threw the fuzzy blanket over you both as you cuddled close to the arm chair and put your feet on the other side of his thighs.

Your knees were bent up because you couldn’t fully extend your legs, and it was the perfect position for him to touch you in. He turned to gaze at you under his dark and curly fringe and his earring dangle from the movement.

He discreetly leaned in and whispered, “I dare you to try something while they’re here. Watch what’s going to happen.” The eerie theme song of the show began and you knew for a fact you weren’t going to pay attention. 

You’ve seen the legendary show already. So instead you’d mess with the man directly in front of you.

So for eight long hours you you teased him under the blankets; Rubbing his length with your feet, edging him and never letting succumb to the unusual pleasure. It was exciting to see him sweat while all of your close friends were so close to you yet too engrossed in the T.V. set to notice.

Just as your group was piling out and saying their goodbyes, you suggested that you stay to help the maknae clean. it was late and everybody would be busy the next day but you. 

And Jungkook wasn’t going to let you go that easy.

--

9:54 p.m. [same night]

Your damp forehead was pressed into soft cushion and your hands clutching the closest pillow on the couch as you were hopelessly whimpering for more. 

Jungkook wasted no time in having you ass up, head down with his wet tongue abusing your cunt and giving you a taste of your own medicine.

“You really must think this shit is funny, baby” He said, basking in the taste of your arousal. You whined when he lightly slapped your clit, your hips involuntarily pushing back for more and he arrogantly chuckled at your neediness.

“I asked you a question and I expect you to answer it.” His voice was gruff when his hard and angry cock slapped against your swollen lips, the slickness of it making it an obscene noise.

“Only if you fuck me first.” You breathlessly said to him and wiggled your ass to draw him in even more. His hooded eyes caught the sight and he moistened his thin lips, loving they way your bottom moved.

You both sighed in relief when he finally pushed in, the initial sting always catching you by surprise, no matter how many times he’s done it. 

“Shit, you always take me so well Mae,” He pumps faster, his hips snapping into yours and you cry out from the intensity of it. Your clit throbbed from your fingers circling around it, and your moans were purely sinful. Jungkook loved seeing you like this.

Back arched and your pussy clenching around his length. The way your ass bounced against his hips whenever he thrusted into you. Fuck. His hand came down hard on your already stinging before grabbing them and drilling into you impossibly quicker than before. 

“Please don’t stop!” You cried out, living for the way his dick filled you so fucking full until you you were seeing white. “Look at you pretty girl. You’re such a brat and all I do is fuck you and give you what you want.” He grunted in your ear and kissed right below it, hearing the dangling sounds of your own earrings.

“Ohhh, Jungkook I’m so close,” He huffed before carefully flipped you over and fucked you with vigor, your toes curling and an amazing sensation rushing through you. “Come on sweetness, you’re almost there.” He placed your legs over his shoulder and gripped your delicious thighs so tight, this wouldn’t be the first time you’d see hand prints there tomorrow.

His forehead was pressed against yours as he watched his dick push in and out of your sopping cunt, your cries egging him on to spill inside of you without hesitation.

The feeling in your lower stomach was becoming uncomfortably persistent and with one final rare moan of your name his hips stuttered sloppily and he filled you with his seed to the brim. Your body spasmed around him and your mantra of his name didn’t even let up after you came. 

When you finally came down from your high, your eyes cleared to see the sweaty boy slumped against you, body spent from putting his all into this session.

He peppered kisses along your collarbones and softly massaged your chest as your eyes closed from his blessed hands working on your soft tissue.

He peeked up at you through those unruly locks of his and that boyish charm never failed you whenever he literally did anything. Don’t even get you started on his boxing practices, whew-

“So round two?” He quirked a playful eyebrow at you as his fingers lightly danced over your torso. You giggled when he reached around your waist and applied pressure, the soft skin felt like silk to him. 

“What do you expect an answer?” You giggled up at him, stars in your eyes. You sneakily reached and tickled under his arms, and he let out the most adorable laugh your ears could ever hear. You shushed your laughs with unsuccessful kisses that were even more laughs because of your failed attempts of keeping a straight face.

When he pulled away, his doe-eyes were stuck on your gorgeous face. The way he was looking at you wasn’t unfamiliar, you we’re just too stupid to play it off as the “post-fuck love stare.” But here you were now. Laughing in between his strong arms and pecking each others lips. 

We’ve been friends fucking like this for months and I’m just realizing this now?

“What if I told you that I loved you? How’d you answer to that..?” He trailed off towards the end, his spontaneous confidence wearing off by the millisecond from his impulsive words. 

You could combust with the overwhelming feeling of happiness and your chest felt lighter even with his body of muscle on you. You smiled so wide up at him, you could barely see his own face morph into the dimpled look you’ve grown to love since you first met him. But you still wanted to mess with him for 10 more seconds.

“I would say I love you with all my heart...” 

You think his just dropped to his stomach with the way his face turned ghastly pale and his eyebrows raised in worry. He was not expecting that after your reaction to him confessing his feeling towards you. Was this a joke? But you were smiling... mayb-

“But my ass is bigger.” Your laugh was contagious and he couldn’t even be mad at you cause he couldn’t agree more.

[bonesofapoet]

could you pls do "indigo skies just before dawn" from the sensory prompts with donna or jason?💕

Now Cracks A Noble Heart

[jason todd x you]

author’s note: thank you so much for requesting, i hope it brings a little light to your night!! (im apparently incapable of keeping things under 500 words, but i mean its 800+ of jason todd so i dont think anyone is gonna complain? )

word count: 861

When you couldn’t sleep, it was the night that brought you comfort.

There was irony in that, you imagined. It was not unlike the irony that had you rolling your eyes when you realized you had become one of those people – the kind of insomniac movie cliché where you hid on the fire escape until all your woes had been thought through, or the sun rose to chase away the feelings of nighttime despair.

When you couldn’t sleep, this city born of Hell and fiery brimstone became a haven from your mind – like the demons of flesh and bone came calling, but in your dreams instead of the streets.

You would have appreciated the concept if this really was a movie.

Instead, you were left with this newfound hobby. It wasn’t unusual for Jason to meet you after patrol, perched on the metal steps or sitting on the edge of the windowsill, feet kicking through the smoggy city air. Sometimes, like that night, he used the front door with a key like a normal person. The soft click of the aged wood closed, locked. Familiar sounds of his boots on hardwood, the thunk of a red helmet on a counter, kevlar peeling off as he headed towards the bathroom. A clink of discarded weapons on tile. Water hissed through the shower-head behind a door you knew he only half closed after a long night.

All mundane sounds; small things that meant someone had, in fact, not broken into your apartment. Tonight was not the night you needed to be your own version of a vigilante, nor a night to mourn your boyfriend.

Thank god.

You stayed where you were with eyes cast up to the sky, that familiar feeling in your chest tightened when the small handful of stars began to disappear in the approaching light. It was nice, having something so vast and holy to focus on in these quiet hours; something that couldn’t imagine what it was like to have a life built on bones. A sadness settled in your heart when you had to see it go.

“Been out here long?”

A voice all rough and worn pulled you back down from a silver swirl of clouds drifting above.

“Uh. . .a while,” came your admission. You hadn’t bothered to keep track – you never did – but the mug gone cold in your hands spoke for itself well enough. Eyes slid over to the broad silhouette leaning out the window, white streak almost glowing in the dark.

“You know,” Jason huffed, pulling himself through the window. It always amazed you, how graceful he was for a 6 ft, 200+ pounds of anti-hero. “I’m supposed to be the sleepless mess in this relationship. There isn’t room for two, beautiful.”

You snort. Jason settled between your legs a step below, leaned back into your chest. “Oh, really? Worried I’m gonna dethrone you?”

His shoulders shook with silent laughter, and you felt yourself smile as your eyes turned back towards the once velvet sky, already lighter than it was a few moments ago. No longer a hazy void, but now a deep navy bruise with wispy clouds for cover. You started to run your fingers through Jason’s hair, still a little damp. He hums, began to relax into your arms.

“Wouldn’t that be somethin’?” he said, a little smug; you didn’t need to look to know he’s smirking – but his voice was softer than it was a minute before. It always seemed to be these sorts of gentle moments, the kind you tip-toe around in fear of invoking something colossal, something ancient, something unwelcome. They always seemed to steal the breath from your lungs in a savage conquest to  tame the fear of your heart.

And just like that, your arms draped loosely around his neck, head buried into the shoulder that didn’t have a week old stab wound beneath a bandage. Jason leaned his head on yours, hands clasping themselves over your own. You knew he’d figure it out, why you’re usually out here while he’s patrolling the city – it’s not goddamn rocket science, after all – so the two of you stayed like this for a while. Ten minutes, maybe an hour. Time never existed when you were together, because all that mattered was the here, the now, the occasional day in advance so you could plan an uninterrupted date night.

When you finally looked up, dawn approached on warm, lazy wings. The silence charged with all those unspoken night-things had begun to dissipate, or just crawled back to their darkened homes to wait.

Jason watched you, always radiant in the lingering shadow of this complex life you shared, the one you refused to leave behind. After all this time, he finally began to believe that you meant it, how you always insisted you were in this with him until the end of time.

He tried to ignore the racing of his heart, tried to hide the shaky breath he took when he realized that, shit.

As he felt you hug him tighter, Jason Todd wondered underneath these deep indigo skies before dawn, if this is what being in love felt like.

[kisskissbanggang]

Death Warmed Up

[<15Min Read/~4K Words - Coffee Shop Au - Felix x Neutral Death!Reader - Fluff, Minor Angst - Dogs, Death, Coffee]

[Originally slated for the skzwriternet Cozy Collab, but here it is! Hope you enjoy.]

Nets: @skzwriternet​ @kwritersworld​

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You stared at the assignment you had found on your desk. This was late… by two years?

The notion was fully ludicrous. Even with a file like this, there was no way that it could reasonably have been delayed by two whole years. Then again, the idea of getting saddled with an interesting case intrigued you. It sort of felt fancy — important, even — to see this in your inbox when you sat at your desk. You flicked through the file again. Felix Lee, 21 years old: living on Borrowed Time since he was 19.

You hadn’t been an Arbiter very long, and you mulled over just how little Borrowed Time you’d really seen since your appointment. There was the tiny old grandmother — Jane, you thought her name was — a matriarch of her household and a staple of her community, but even then her Arbiter, Bill, could only find her a year from scraping together everything he could. He had told you all that when he did finally meet her at the end, he was in tears along with all her family, and she was the only one smiling. The fact that this kid could be afforded two years was a feat in and of itself, to a point that you were morbidly curious who the previous Arbiters were. The most recent was Jisung, a surprising name to find. Jisung was nice, he liked to maintain how he looked when he died in the mid-nineties, nose ring and flannel and all… and he currently worked as a first-level Arbiter, watching day-to-day activities between humans and the world around them. When you got transferred into the department you’d had no idea that he used to be up on this level. The previous Arbiter’s name was Chan: a name you didn’t recognize and had never heard around the office. Whatever had happened, you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to get distracted by excuses. You needed to see for yourself.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

It was a surprisingly balmy autumn afternoon when you finally found the cafe. Even with all the extra instincts and wherewithal you were afforded by your position, you still had to search around for the little coffee bar, a humble cubby hidden away in an alley off a side street in the bustling city. Some trees lined the sidewalk outside and the orange leaves managed to drift on by, and there was a young man sweeping them off the stoop of the cafe before he turned to go back inside. You opened your portfolio and pulled out your file again. You examined it closely. Could that have been him? The guy now cleaning up behind the bar? There was no way that was him. You stepped closer down the alley.

Thankfully, even if the young man in the window did look up, he wouldn’t see you in this plane you were currently occupying. Your body was only as real as your conscious willed it considering you were already dead, and right now you were perfectly content watching the barista bustling about behind the counter. A little old man with smart half-moon glasses waved from where he sat in his cracked leather armchair by a tall bookshelf, getting his attention.

“Felix, dear, could you top me off?”

Well, there, then. This was the guy.

He didn’t seem so special.

Felix didn’t look like his picture. That was your first hint. The photo was always a snapshot of the client at the time the referral was made to Arbitration, and he looked much worse for wear a couple years ago, laying in a hospital bed and hooked up to a spiderweb of tubes. Here, now, Felix stood tall and healthy, slim but fit under his apron, a modest but present definition in his arms showing through the rolled sleeves of his shirt as he set about making a new drink for the tottering old man. A spray of freckles adorned his dainty nose and rested among the golden glow of his cheeks, and he even had a little satisfied smile curling at his lip as he got the foam just right on the old man’s coffee.

You still didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

A dog ran up to Felix behind the counter, a panting golden retriever asking for pats, and your heart begrudgingly melted. In fact, there were even more dogs you hadn’t noticed. A small scotty rested at the feet of the old man. A tiny chihuahua slept in a basket on the counter that barely roused as Felix stepped over to add the drink to the man’s tab. A sleek sheepdog sat up from behind the counter to let him by, and a basset hound raised its head from where it sat in another chair when Felix set the warm cup on a small table by his elderly customer. Felix pet the dogs in a round and wiped up a string of drool from the basset with the corner of his apron before he returned to the counter and washed his hands.

Fine, so Felix was good with dogs.

But being good with dogs didn’t automatically mean you were entitled to Borrowed Time.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

You returned with gusto the next day, ready to confront this supposedly difficult client. Your getup was simple, fully materialized now and dressed as a package courier. This form was common when working on this plane, even popular with other people in your department like Jisung, the previous Arbiter, who actually did use to deliver packages back before he died. It made sense in getting a feel for who a client really was. This was a blue collar worker that people were used to seeing and seeing through, and could really show who a person could be, given the right situation. And you really wanted to see who Felix could be.

You strolled into the cafe, large box in hand with a clipboard sitting on top and a pen tucked behind your ear. Felix perked up when you let it thunk onto the counter, the weight taking care of the poignancy.

“Delivery,” you boredly greeted. “Can you sign for this?”

“Er,” Felix stared — at you, the box, and back at you, “what is it? I wasn’t expecting anything.”

You laughed out loud as you held out your pen to him. “I don’t know, I’m just delivering it. Can you sign for this, please?”

Felix bit at his lip before he grabbed the proffered pen and signed, and you looked amused as you stood and watched him slice open the box with a pair of scissors from under the counter. What surprised you was that this old trick — this misdelivered box of assorted mugs and pens — only made Felix laugh.

“I didn’t order these!”

“That’s too bad,” you shrugged sympathetically. Admittedly, his smooth and deep voice was pleasantly unexpected, catching you off guard. “They’re addressed here and you signed for them.”

Felix’s eyes widened as he plucked out a piece of paper. “There’s an invoice?! With a balance on it?!”

But he still only laughed. You were a bit stumped.

“I guess I’ll pay this before I return it,” Felix shrugged. “I’d hate for someone to get a late bill on a mistake like this.”

You were puzzled, to say the least, as you turned to leave, but then Felix stopped you.

“Hey!” He called. “I feel bad that you had to come all the way here just for this to not be mine. Can’t I at least get you a drink on the house? Do you like dogs?”

The most astounding thing of all was you felt yourself heat up at his offer. This was well and truly bizarre, but you needed to check this out as well. There had to be fine print. You should’ve looked closer at the file.

You dumbly nodded as Felix gladly directed you over to a seat at the bar by his register. When he asked what you liked and you added a dumb shrug to your list of unintended responses, he shrugged in return and said he’d love to surprise you, then. Felix ground some beans down to a dense powder, pressed it into a puck, and pulled a couple espresso shots. You found yourself intrigued, having never seen or paid any attention to someone doing this by hand before. He steamed a small pitcher of milk until a modest head of creamy foam sat on top and carefully poured it in the center of the shots. He proudly slid the cup over to you on a saucer.

“A flat white,” he humbly presented. You silently nodded your gratitude and tried it. This was utterly confounding. The same misdelivery stunt got a shoe thrown at you by a client a few years back. You had to put the cup down as soon as you tried a sip.

“Is everything alright?” Felix worriedly asked. The fluffy lab originally sleeping on the rug in the center of the cafe got up to check on you, his wet nose leaving a slight print on your uniform pants.

“Er, yeah,” you gulped down the hot drink on your lips, “this is just really good. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

Felix raised a hand to deny you. “Wouldn’t dream of accepting it. I’m sure you’ve been working hard all day anyway.”

“Sure have,” you stiffly lied. “Well, I can at least tip you.”

You conjured a wallet with a sizable bill inside, more than enough to cover the coffee as you quickly downed the modestly sized beverage. Felix beamed as you waved goodbye.

Fine.

So Felix was nice. So Felix was really nice. Felix was really nice, and kind, and he made good coffee.

But you’d have to try anyway. There was something in him that could convince you that he wasn’t 100% good, even though that shouldn’t have been a reason from the beginning.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

You returned two nights later, but you didn’t enter the small side street. Instead, you paced in front of your parked bike out on the sidewalk, over and over again, working up the nerve. After a while, though, you knew it was time. You would goad Felix into dropping the act, into showing who he really was under all the sugar and sunshine. After making sure the sizeable package was sitting precariously on your handlebars to match the one on the back of your bike, you revved the little engine as Felix swept the stoop for the night. You barreled down the street, apparently unable to see much in front of you beyond the shoddy headlight. This was fine. This was easy. You’d done this before, and a saint of an old schoolteacher beat the snot out of you with their cane for it a while back. Felix noticed you at the last second, eyes widening comically as you reflexively honked.

You couldn’t do it.

Your finger barely squeezed the brake, but the front axle jackknifed and sent you ass over elbows onto the pavement.

Everything went white for a second and you definitely did not miss being alive in this moment, because this invariably sucked. And now Felix was there.

“It’s you!” Felix gasped and immediately offered you a hand up. “You scared the daylights out of me!”

“Uh,” you stammered and groaned, “I can say the same.” You could not wait to leave this plane and not feel the pain radiating in your hip and back. But right now, Felix was already pulling you into the cafe and fretting.

“Are you in a rush? You should at least sit down a moment.”

You sighed and let Felix seat you in a comfy chair by a heater in the small cafe, only lit by warm lamps at this time of night. The basset hound watching from a basket on the low windowsill came to sit at your feet as Felix hurriedly set about making you a hot cup of tea. He rushed over, light on his feet and pushing the warm mug into your hands. You nearly spat as you looked closer at the ceramic cup. “Is this—?”

“From that box you brought me the other day? Sure is.” Felix let the force of his belly laugh carry him into a chair beside you. “The funniest thing, really. I tried calling the phone number on that invoice and only got busy tones, and I tried looking up the business and only found dead websites. I figured I could always use pens and mugs, so now I have a supply and a funny story.”

You could crumple into dust, honestly. You set the mug on the little table by your chair, albeit a tad roughly. “I’m so sorry,” you shook your head, “but what is your deal? You’re literally the happiest person I ever met.”

Felix’s eyes pointed sharp into you. There it was.

But he wasn’t angry. He seemed embarrassed.

“Well,” he sighed, even still attempting to maintain his persistent smile, “it’s a long and tired story. I was really sick a couple years ago and I pulled through when no one thought I could.”

“I’m sorry—” you meekly interjected, but it was too late. The shine in Felix’s eye finally dulled, if only a little. You’d cracked him.

“It’s fine,” Felix reassured you. He gently patted your knee before he got back up to his feet. “You go ahead and enjoy your tea. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Of course, yeah,” you babbled as you got up and followed him anyhow, “I’m just glad I didn’t hit you.” You set the mug on the bar and sat down as he walked behind the register. The chihuahua in his basket drowsily got up and walked into your hand for pets.

“I was going to say the same,” Felix nodded tiredly with a worn smile. “It’s happened before. I guess I should put some lights up outside. A cute delivery boy almost ran me over with his bike about a year ago, too.”

“Delivery boy?” You asked starkly. Felix caught your look before falling right back into stride. His grin seemed to get its warmth back.

“Yeah,” he nodded amusedly. “He had an adorable nose ring, I remember I was terrified I almost ripped it out when he helped me up.”

Felix looked confused at the very least as you choked on your tea.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered out. “You know I — it’s weird that — I just remembered I need to be somewhere. Thank you again, for everything.” You dug out entirely too much money for the tea and clapped it down onto the counter before grabbing your things and sprinting out the door.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

Jisung looked caught as you slapped Felix’s file on his desk. “Hi,” he squeaked as you towered over him.

“What happened when you tried to crack him?”

The young Arbiter let his head drop back with a hard sigh. “You got the file? I knew he couldn’t last long.”

“You only gave him another year, you had to know this was coming.”

“He was just so—? He’s so nice, and genuine, and warm?” Jisung blathered on as he sat back up and flipped through the file. “He was never the same since what Chan did. He was the most amazing turnaround I’d ever seen.”

“So you gave him a year—“

“I didn’t.” Jisung shook his head. “Look closer at the file. I put him back in the queue for Reassessment.”

“What do you mean you—“

“Look,” Jisung insisted. He grabbed your sleeve and dragged you down the hall. “I put him back in Reassessment and was lucky to only get demoted. After what Chan did, I couldn’t bring myself to do more.”

“What are you showing me?”

“Here.”

Jisung shook out his hands and you found yourself standing beside him in a graveyard. This was a pleasant enough place to end up. The grass was neatly trimmed and there were trees and benches to sit on. The orange and red leaves scattered around looked like confetti, a graceful celebration at the end of life. Jisung stood between two headstones.

“I made the mistake of looking at what Chan did, except Felix’s family wasn’t gone yet when he had the file. They were on their way out, though. He saw that they were leaving soon, and Felix would be alone with his grandfather at his cafe. His grandfather would be all alone after losing all of them, and that would be after everything Felix would go through, getting sick and getting better and learning to live again. Chan saw a horrible ending to an awful story and put a stop to it, and he got banished for it.”

“That’s not fair though,” you shook your head, “no matter how much you or he wanted it.”

“But look at him!” Jisung reeled. “That decision made one of the brightest humans I’ve ever seen. When I put him back to Reassessment, I just spent time around him before I was called back. I suggest you do the same, no matter what you choose. I hope this helped.”

Jisung haughtily folded his arms before he vanished. You finally looked more closely at the headstones. Those years were much too close together. Your heart hung low in your gut.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

Felix grinned wide when you returned to the cafe. He immediately set about making you a drink.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“You were?”

This was feeling familiar, like you were home or at a friend’s house, while you sat yourself in an easy chair and let the panting sheepdog sit between your feet so you could scratch under her chin.

“Yeah!” Felix brightly called over. “Because you asked why I’m like this, I sort of only gave you half an answer.”

“I’m sorry again,” you lamented.

“It’s fine,” Felix said adamantly as he set a warm mug in your hands. He gestured grandly before sitting down. “A latte. Now, I only gave you half an answer. The fact of the matter is that I spent a good while tied to tubes and machines with nothing to do and no choice in the matter. Now, all this time later, I’m just happy to be here, because I know the day after could be any day now.”

“The day after?”

Felix nodded. “When you come away from something like that, later it just feels like a day. One big day, or week, or whatever is tangible, but it definitely wasn’t forever. It feels like one big day to me. This, in the grand scheme of things, is the day after that, but the day after this, when everything actually does end— I’m expecting it. And I’m not scared, but I’m going to be enjoy my time here as much as I can.”

“You’re not scared?”

“Not anymore,” Felix shook his head in determination. “I had to cope with my own loss like everyone else was getting ready to cope with losing me. I didn’t get to have that luxury of not expecting it anymore, because I know what it looks like and I know what’s coming. To do anything else would be a disservice, so I’d rather walk into it with a clear mind and a full life.”

You thought of Bill and Jane, how she was the only one not crying at the end. It was hard to place exactly how you felt, sipping your coffee made with loving hands in this small cafe full of an inordinate amount of golden afternoon sunlight for being so hidden away from the main road. Felix fit here — cosmically, almost, in the least dramatic way you could muster.

“I’m really glad you feel that way,” you said, hoping that the added sincerity hidden behind the sentiment was felt.

The shimmer in Felix’s eyes told you it was. “I am, too. And I’m especially glad you’re back, because I like seeing you around. I don’t think I’ve given away this many free drinks since that delivery boy last year.”

“I like seeing you, too, Felix.” You finally admitted it, and it was true, even more so as Felix’s shining smile grew even more. You did like seeing Felix, and you would continue to see Felix as much as you were able, all the way to the end.

[forbidding-souda]

Hello there! If I got it right, you're doing a prompt request? So, if yes, can I have some Kazu x reader and Hiro x reader with prompts 18+40? I just,,, feel like it'll be very neat. Thank you for your blog and works!! And for amount of a best boi Kazu on your blog!!! and sry if i misunderstood your reblog of prompts eheh......

18: “I’d do anything for you” with Kazuichi Souda 40: “I’m too afraid to fall in love” with Hagakure Yasuhiro

You got it right! I’ve actually never seen someone call him Kazu before, it’s so cute oml I love it. Your mind is so large for picking 18 with Kazu btw. I love this and I love you!! Team Kazu!!!

If you’re reading this - I also didn’t spell check this one so hopefully I didn’t make any pronoun or grammar mistakes. :D

-Mod Souda

Kazuichi Souda

Thunk, thunk. You drag your suitcase up the stairs, both of your shoulders occupied by colorful backpacks.

You lived far away from Hope’s Peak, of course, so you decided to move closer.

This means carrying all the stuff you brought.

Which was everything.

Your arms ached, as you are not the most hardworking person out there, and you definitely would rather pay a butler to do it.

“Woah, hey there!” A cheery voice calls out. When you turn to look, you don’t recognize him. Is he calling to someone else?

“Do you need help carrying all that?” So he is talking to you. His beady, pink iris’s meet yours, and for a second, your heart skips a beat.

But you play it off.

“I most certainly do!” You respond, letting his pale hands take the suitcase away from you. He’s even kind enough to slip one of your backpacks over his shoulders.

You can see his collarbones through his jumper, and how his face is angled and sharp.

Strong hands too.

And he helped you to your room, spending his time casually flirting.

Which you don’t pick up at all.

Then you say you are going to Hopes Peak and he !!!

“I’m going there too!”

Oh thank god at least you will recognize someone in the halls.

Ever since then, now that he knows where you live, he has taken it upon himself to walk you to school.

He likes doing kind things for you, things like opening the door and whatnot.

It makes him happy to see you smile.

And one day you’ll be feeling down, a solid 5/10, with your headphones on and your gaze to the floor.

He contemplates what to do, his brain is filled with ideas. If he buys you something, will it make it obvious that he likes you? He doesn’t exactly think he’s being subtle about it, but you were responding normally to his advances.

He spends so much time thinking about it that he doesn’t realize you both are already in the classroom.

You sit down, your cheek rested on your palm and your breathes slow and heavy.

Kazuichi can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. He watches you steadily, observing the way you move, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

Sonia even asks him what’s wrong, wondering if he’s gone ill or something, and he will casually brush off her worries and reassure her.

He pauses though, and then asks her what cheers her up when she’s down.

She puts a finger to her cheek, her soft smile still occupying her face as she thinks of an answer. “Maybe just spending time with all my friends!

“D-Does it work with anyone?” He whispers, in case you are listening in on the conversation. Sonia lets out a laugh and clasps her hands together, “I think everyone likes hanging out with their friends.”

He makes a note of all the things he would make you do after class ends. What about a picnic? Or going on a walk through the city?

Mentally he slaps himself. Those are all romantic things! What do friends do?

By the time class ends, he has definitely planned everything.

Is what he thinks.

But you leave first, making him panic!

Are you... mad at him for something? The thought hasn’t even crossed his mind.

Oh no, did he say something to make you upset without realizing it? He was always afraid of that.

When he walks outside he sees you by the door, waiting for him.

He freaked out over nothing! Wow, you can’t believe he overthought it.

“Ahaha, I thought you left me!”

You give him a small smile, “Eh, I thought about it.” With a tiny laugh, you turn and head down the hall.

“W-Wait, S/O!”

You turn, looking at him with bright eyes. It makes his heart melt.

“I just... how about we go for a walk today! Like, the two of us?”

Great job trying to be platonic, Kazuichi!

Of course you agree, because you would rather hang out with him than do basically anything. Extra time with him is worth it!

Once you two reach the trees, he cheerfully turns to face you. “Shall I carry your bag for you?”

Thoughtlessly, your hand goes to grip it tighter. “No, you don’t need to do that for me, I’m okay!”

“Oh please,” he teases, “I’d do anything for you!”

Your cheeks heat up, but you reluctantly pass over your bag anyways. His gaze falls onto your face, but you’re too embarrassed to look back at him.

His bumps his shoulder with yours. “You know that I am being honest, right?"

“I like you a lot, Kazuichi.”

Hm?

His brain lags and he stops walking.

“Yo-You like me? Like romantically or platonically, you know I can’t tell!”

You just smile at him, “I know I’ve been mopey all day but it’s just because I’ve been planning on telling you! Sorry if I scared you, Kaz!”

His eyes nearly forms into hearts.

He sighs in relief, “thank god because all day I’ve been worrying about how to cheer you up!”

“How about a kiss?”

Is this even real?

Is he dreaming?

He answers you, but not verbally.

Hagakure Yasuhiro

He watches you, keeping his eye on you as you doodle on the counter you work behind.

He has been stalking the aisles for at least an hour now, picking up worthless things.

Mostly snacks.

Quite the money savers.

He visits that corner store often, and will automatically leave if you aren’t sitting their behind the counter.

Though, you seem to always be.

You glance up, again, and look at him.

!!!!

He hides behind the shelves again.

“Hey,” you call out.

Oh no, he’s busted!

His heart is beating out of his chest. He can’t believe you noticed him.

But of course you noticed the man stalking around in your shop for nearly an hour.

“I’m not mad, I’m just curious.” Your voice coos out.

When he peeks over to you he sees your face, resting in the palm of your hand, and your mischievous looking eyes.

“Yeah, I’m just bad at shopping, you know?” He tries to excuse himself. While he talks, he talks steps closer to you, until you both only have a counter between you.

You watch him shift the weight between his feet, uncomfortably. You hide your laugh. “What’s your name?”

“Ehh... Yasuhiro.”

“Okay, what do you do, Yasuhiro? I see you in here a lot. Are you a construction worker? Clergyman?”

“I’m a clairvoyant.”

He seems almost embarrassed to say it.

The way you talk, the way you express yourself, is just so relaxed.

You’re intimidating to him.

Little does he know is that, internally you are a flustered mess.

You prop yourself up, eyes widen in pleasant surprise. “A clairvoyant? For real?”

Your excitement makes him feel a lot better, giving him the confidence he always lacks.

“Of course! Maybe next time I should bring my crystal ball in, eh?”

A crystal ball? He’s so cool! What if he gave you a reading?

Your cheeks heat up when you think about what your future looks like.

Would it be good? Hopefully.

He puts a hand on his chest, resting it directly onto his heart.

“Maybe I should give you a reading. The first one will be free but you’ll have to pay for the rest of them!”

You give him a small laugh. “I doubt I would need more than one, let’s see how good you are.”

As he walks home, he can’t stop thinking how excited he is. Tomorrow he’ll show you his talent! Even if it has a 30% of amazing you!

The next day he arrives, crystal ball in hand, only to find you missing behind the counter.

You tricked him, didn’t you? He should have seen it coming from the evil gaze you gave him.

He steps outside and gets distracted by someone calling his name...

And there he sees you, standing in front of the sun with a book bag around your shoulder.

“Aw, you didn’t think I’d leave, did you?”

His heart flutters, bursting alive out of his chest.

The warm colors of the sky; orange and yellow hues; highlight your figure as you walk past him. “Come on now, let’s go.”

You blow his mind! 

He doesn’t even know where you are leading him, he just follows behind you with his crystal ball tucked safely in his palms.

Eventually, he realizes, you are taking him to a nearby playground with a patch of grass and large, shady trees.

And in your book bag is a thin blanket for you both to sit on.

He sits with his legs crossed and you sit on your knees.

Excitement trickles through your bones but you try not to hide it.

You’re bad at hiding it, though, because you have a goofy smile on your face.

“Put your hands over it so it can absorb your energy.” He instructs. 

Following his orders, you begin to focus your energy into your palms, wondering if the power is even real or not.

You’d like to believe, but you’ve never seen it for yourself.

And when you feel complete, he closes his eyes, humming to himself before glancing into the ball.

Impatient, you are, and you almost jump him for the answers.

But he takes his time trying to interpret what the colors he is seeing mean.

“Ehm... so if I’m getting this straight... there are new awakenings coming to you that are very positive, indicating a new love... and or friendship... and or... I don’t know, something like that.”

His eyes glanced all over your face to see your reaction.

He is basically on a date with someone cute...

Date?

Is this a date?! He didn’t even realize! And he didn’t even wear his formal clothes!

“Oh, that’s interesting... love?” You ask, covering your mouth with your hand. “I don’t think I like that very much.”

His eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like love?”

An unease swoops in, overlaying the once bright coversation.

“I guess I don’t... I mean, I love my friends! It’s just... romance.”

He chuckles, trying to pry himself out of the situation he was forced into.

“Romance isn’t that bad! I mean, it can be cute sometimes.”

His words linger in your brain.

“Cute...”

He sits in silence, watching your eyebrows twitch and your lips part while you think.

Eventually, you just laugh into your fingers and eye him.

“I’m too afraid to fall in love.”

He responds quickly, nervous about saying things that are accidentally flirty. “Well, hopefully it’s easier this time around.”

You nod to him, smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind, Yasuhiro.”

His name flows easily from your lips, making him melt.

He sits up, fast, coming to his senses. “Right, the next reading--”

“Isn’t free, I remember that.” You wave him off.

He expected you to stand him, to thank him for the reading and be on your way.

But you stayed, looking at him with awe in your eyes.

Until your face heats and you rustle around in your bag. “I...I brought snacks, for us.”

When he doesn’t respond, you look up with soft eyes.

“For our date... okay?”

[thiswasinevitableid]

Have you seen the post going around about the zoom class with one guy and his full streamer setup vs the guy whose just in the middle of the woods? I know you have a prompt list rn but I’m just saying there’s a sternclay fic in there somewhere...

It is! Here you go!

Life is better with order. Or, at the very least, with some attempt at patterns, organization, or consistency. 

Which is why Stern has carefully arranged his desk, his chair, and his equipment in the background. Streaming as a hobby and a side hustle means he has some (okay, a lot) of practice making his digital self look just right. He needs to make a good impression on the first day of the semester.

Unlike some people. 

“Holy shit man, are you in the woods?” Duck, the guy in a “Monongahela National Forest” shirt, grins as he asks this of another student whose screen consists of a forest clearing, a log, and the name “Barclay.”

“Yeah. Hang on, lemme finish getting the phone balanced.”

“Dude, that’s like, way better than my background” this comes from Jake, in front of a poorly rendered half-pipe. 

“Can’t really take credit for it, just where I ended up.” Barclay sits down, and Stern gets his first look at a man so tall he barely fits in the frame, with a short, coppery beard and an honest-to-god man-bun.

Damn west coast schools. 

“How is your battery going to last long enough for class?” Stern leans back in his chair, certain Barclay will have “battery trouble” halfway through as an excuse to cut out early.

Barclay smiles, lifting up a small green and black rectangle, “solar battery. Not everyone needs fancy gadgets for school.” He aims a pointed stare at Sterns set-up. 

“It’s important to have the right equipment.”

“Whatever you say, man.” He lifts a cup of iced coffee into the frame, sipping it through a straw. It’s the picture of relaxation, as if nothing is wrong in the world. As if this is all totally normal. 

Stern wants to reach through the  screen and slap some sense into him. Preferably while he’s shirtless.

He chalks that thought up to not having gotten laid since last December and pulls up his note taking software as Professor Chicane enters the room.

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

Private Chat 9/20/20

Duck (he/him): I timed it, we’re already at ten minutes of arguing.

Indrid (he/him): I know Ned enjoys their demonstrating the different modes of rhetoric, but this is a bit extreme.

Duck: To be fair, Joe does seem kinda uptight.

Indrid: Yes, but Barclay should know by now that zeroing in on him during our practice debates only results in this.

Duck: Yeah. Oh shit, are they for real wrapping up you think?

Indrid: We can only hope. Skype me tonight?

Duck: Of course, sugar.

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

What is Joseph’s problem? He’s got a set-up that would make a pro-vlogger jealous, what looks to be a well-lit apartment with some houseplants and the kind of coffee-cups that are weirdly lacking in personality. His clothes are immaculate, his hair slicked back as if he;s in a business meeting rather than an online class in the midst of a chaotic world. So why is he acting like everything is terrible? And why is he always arguing with Barclay, when there are plenty of other people in the class to disagree with?

“Now” Mr. Chicane’s voice booms through the tiny speaker on his phone, “if you all had a chance to read over the instructions, we will begin the first mock debate. Do we have any volunteers?”

He and Joe raise their hands at the same time. Mr. Chicane raises an eyebrow.

“While I appreciate your eagerness, gentlemen, I would like two other volunteers this time.”

That’s fine by him. It’s not like he likes listening to Joseph get all wound up and passionate, making everyone on the call sit up and take notice of him. It’s not as if he enjoys being the center of his focus. 

Nope, not at all.

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

Private chat 10/11/20

Jake (he/him): Dudes, did you see who got paired up on the final project?

Aubrey (she/her): Chicane must be getting them back for all the times they’ve hijacked discussions. 

Duck (he/him): Man, for their sake I hope it works out.

Indrid (he/him): This is going to be a disaster.

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

“Are you out of your mind!” Stern is talking before Barclay’s video is fully on. 

“Nope. And you don’t have to yell, my speaker works just fine.”

“You’re outside, for all I know there’s a ton of ambient noise.”

Barclay, phone obviously in his hand as he walks through the trees, groans.

“And don’t try to derail this; how can you possibly suggest I come out there so we can do the project in person? We’re supposed to be limiting travel and gatherings.”

“Look, Joseph, we both agree that trying to generate our own cryptid hoax is the best way to demonstrate all the techniques Ned wants us too, right?”

“Yes” he hides his answer behind the rim of his coffee mug. 

“We’ll do a way better job if we work in the same space. And if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t had any human contact in three weeks; all quarantined up, unlike whatever you’ve been doing in the city.”

He sets the mug down with a thunk, “I haven’t been out in a month. And before that was only for one grocery run and a hospital visit.”

“Uhhh-”

“I cut my hand cooking. So. Yeah.”

Literal crickets chirp, courtesy of Barclay’s end of the line, as the silence stretches on.

“If it helps, it’s real easy to stay isolated here, and I’ve still got utilities and everything.”

“And you’re not subsisting only on MREs or granola or something?”

A deep chuckle, the kind that makes his skin prickle, “Nope. That much I can promise.”

Stern glances around the studio apartment, clean and empty. 

“What’s your address?”

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

Look, all Stern is going to say is that he’s seen and read plenty of stories that start with a cabin in the woods and none of them end well. Which is why he’s still sitting in his car, parked beside a beat-up Subaru, rather than knocking on the door. 

Breathe in, five counts. Out for four. Repeat four times. 

Waiting for him on the door is a note.

Joseph,

Key under mat, make yourself at home. 

Barclay. 

He brings in his bags (a matching set of three, a gift from his aunt last year), placing them in the tiny guest room. It’s not much more than a bed, a dresser, and a tiny table. But there’s a heating unit below the window looking out into the woods, which is pretty pleasant. He’ll be keeping the blinds closed at night, though; he hates the thought of something being able to look in. 

Stern’s busy evaluating the laundry closet when the front door opens. 

“Hey, glad you found the place okay.”

Barclay stands in the doorway, a basket full of fruit in one hand. He’s remarkably kempt for a man living in the woods and that, combined with the deep voice being even richer in person and the fact Stern has to actually look up to meet his eyes, has him stumbling for words. 

“Your directions were very thorough. Thank you. Um. I put my things in there, should I, um-”

“I can give you the grand tour.” The taller man sets the basket on the dining table, notices Sterns puzzled expression “there’s a piece of property about a mile thataway that has orchards they don’t really use. They let me come and pick whenever i want, less for them to clean up.”

Barclay keeps up a steady monologue as he shows him the cabin. The lower level is the living room and dining area, a kitchen which leads onto the back deck, Sterns room, and a bathroom. As the cabin is A-frame, the upstairs is Barclay’s room, all dark wood and pine colored plaid. It’s as Barclay is telling him about the woodpecker that sometimes nests in the eaves that he realizes why he’s talking so much.

He’s nervous. 

Neither of their nerves improve when he gets to his last point of order. 

“Uh, so, the bathroom downstairs is only a half-bath.”

“So...if I want to shower, which I do, I have to come up here.”

“Yeah.” Barclay scratches the back of his neck, “sorry. I don’t, like, sleep naked or anything so we should be fine.”

“Disappointing.” Stern sighs, only to sail past sarcastic and land face first in sincere. 

Barclay blushes, then shrugs, “Trust me, after the first night, you’ll see why.”

Stern does. He’s warm as long as he’s in bed, but the moment he ventures into the bathroom in the middle of the night he’s cocooned in cold. 

The morning brings cinnamon and coffee on the draft coming under the door. He plods into the kitchen in search of caffeine, finds Barclay in an pron, the counter covered in trays of dough. 

“Morning!”

“Morning. Coffee-”

“Right there, sugar and stuff’s in the cabinet above it, cream and such is in the fridge.”

Blessedly, there’s heavy cream to be found, and soon he’s sipping from an enamel mug emblazoned with a UFO made of veggies. 

“Is this all for your job?” Barclay mentioned he was a cook during an icebreaker. 

“Yep. Way it works is I bust my ass baking once or twice a day, and Thacker, who works with Mama at the Lodge in town, comes and takes them over there. Normally I’d just be there but, well, y’know.”

“Everything is on fire? Figuratively, I mean.”

“Sometimes literally too, but yeah.”

As he’s turning to grab his clothes and head showerward, Barclay adds, “You a scone man, coffecake man, or a cinnamon roll man?”

“Coffeecake?” It comes out hesitant. 

“There’s no right answer, man.” Barclay sounds amused, “what do you want?”

“Cake, definitely.”

“Cool. I’ll save you a slice.”

Once he’s showered and on the wi-fi, his day runs like normal; one lecture, reading, a research paper, his initial half of their project, and working either his copy-editing or transcription job in between, and planning his next stream. Barclay comes and goes, stops now and then to see if he needs anything, leaves a sandwich in front of him around dinner time. Then it’s time to crawl under the covers and dream of a less-stressful world. 

The next day, just before one, Barclay taps him on the shoulder. 

“Ready for class?”

“Yes…” He gestures to his laptop and notebook. 

“C’mon, join me out here, it’s way nicer, and we can share the phone.”

“Barclay, it’s  a nonsensical way to attend class, just stay in here with me! Even this set-up has to be better than the woods.”

“This set up. You mean my house?” All the friendliness leaves hi voice. 

“Yes. Look, I agreed to come out because you’re right, if we want to ace this thing that’s worth sixty percent of our grade, this is the place to do it; I don’t have to go along with the whole self-sufficient woodsman aesthetic while I’m here. “

“Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty far from self-sufficient. See you in class.” 

Stern stews through the entire session, but where he’d usually find something Barclay says to latch onto, he instead gnaws on himself. Why didn’t he just go with him? Why snap at someone who’s been nothing but nice since he got here?

Whatever the answer, how can he fix it?

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

Barclay tromps back through the twilight, done with his second class of the day. If Joseph is in the main house, he plans to ignore him until tomorrow morning. That all goes out the window with the clank of dishes from the kitchen. 

Peering in reveals the other man bent over, pulling a casserole from the oven. He waits to announce his presence until Joseph is out of the danger zone, enjoying the view as he does. 

“Smells good.”

Blue eyes flick over to him as Joseph opens drawers, “it’s mostly cheese and chips, so I’m not surprised.”

“Servers are in that one.”

“Thank you. Nacho pie?” He scoops some into a bowl, holding it out. 

“Sure. Uh, look, Joseph I-”

Joseph holds up the server, “Wait. Before you apologize I, um, I wanted to say I’m sorry for my comments. And for being so...me-ish.” He sighs, staring at the utensil in his grip, “I’ve always been a little bit tense, tried to be polite and effective and friendly in spite of it. The last six months made that harder to do. I don’t love it when I can’t be organized, when normal systems go out of place. But that’s no excuse for being rude to you, even before you invited me here. You’re just so...you’re always so calm and relaxed, like nothing was wrong and I just honed in on that way more than made sense. I’m sorry.”

“If it makes you feel better, I kinda did the same thing. You’re always so put together, it looked like you had this organized life in the midst of this whole shitstorm. I feel lik everything is slipping away, like my world is just this cabin. I mean, I assumed you were seeing friends in the city, while I haven’t seen Mama in person since April. So” he sets the bowl down, rests his hand on Joseph’s shoulder, “I’m sorry too.”

Joseph laughs, softly, “turns out we both had failures of imagination, huh?”

“Yeah” he runs a hand over Joseph's back, “now come on, this dinner’s not gonna eat itself.”

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

“You sure you don’t wanna wear the bigfoot costume?”

“Positive. Besides, it suits you.” Joseph finishes styling the fur on the head of the costume to look more realistic, “I just hope we get this done before that storm comes in; as mush as the rain would add to the mood of the scene, that’ll be hell to dry and you’ll be miserable. So, go lurk over there while I finish up getting the camera settings where they need to be.”

“Yes sir” Barclay pops the head on, leaves crunching as moves to his appointed tree. He smiles as he watches Joseph fiddle with the camera; things have been so much better between them these last two weeks. They trade off cooking dinner, study side by side, and watch movies or play games in the warmth of the heater. They have a similar sense of humor and taste in books, and are tidy to boot.   Joseph’s even come with him to listen to lectures in the woods, the pair sharing a thermos of coffee under the astonished gaze of their classmates. There’s just one problem. 

Barclay’s buried crush is now blooming in every direction. Animated, argumentative Joseph was attractive. Joseph, in all his moods and mannerisms, is devastatingly enchanting. He’s come close to telling him this, but the other man is his guest and also only here for another two and a half weeks, so a confession is setting himself up for heartbreak at worst and awkwardness at best. 

He almost blew it last night when they were washing dishes (Joseph scrubs, Barclay dries and puts away). 

“Last one.”

“Thanks, blue eyes.”

“What was that?”

“Uh, blue eyes? Like a, uh, a nickname?”

Joseph laughs, “Sounds like something from a Raymond Chandler book. I like it.”

On the plus side, if Joseph thinks it’s just a nickname and not a pet name, maybe Barclay can keep using it.

“Are you ready?’

He sticks up a hairy thumb and calls, “you know it, blue eyes.”

That same laugh as Joseph takes up his position. Maybe it’s the weird film over the costume’s eyes, but Barclay swears he sees a blush.

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

Stern trawls through the search results. Their video is getting some traction, with two cryptid hunter sites claiming it’s credible footage. He’s making note of how the information spread, which threads lead to belief and which to doubt, when Barclay calls from upstairs. 

“Joseph? Little help?”

The other man is in the bathroom, and when Stern knocks he says, “Think the pilot light on the water heater went out again, all I’m getting is cold water. Can you go relight it?”

“Sure.” He gets to the stairs then, stops, “where’s the key to that closet?”

“Huh? Oh, shit, right, hang on” Barclay says at the same time as Stern’s “don’t worry, I can find it.” 

Which is why the instant he turns back into the bedroom is the same instant Barclay steps out of the bathroom, blue towel around his waist. 

Any blood that doesn’t head south goes instantly to Stern’s cheeks. 

“You okay there, blue-eyes?”

“It’s completely unfair how good you look without a shirt.”

He clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Idn’t ean to ay at out oud” The mumbled explanation makes Barclay smirk. 

“You like this, should see what’s under the towel.”

The unusually bold statement from Barclay kindles his own confidence.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, big guy.”

“Who says I won’t.” Barclay sits down on the edge of the bed, nonchalant and leaning back on his hands, “got plenty of time to make good on them.”

“We literally don’t. I go back in a week and two days.”

Barclay toys with the lint on the towel, “you could stay. Through break, through next semester, for however long you wanted.”

“Do you mean that?”

A shy nod, “I like having you around, Joseph. Even beyond the huge fucking crush I have on you I...everything is a little better when you’re around.”

“I, um, I guess it could work. We know next semester is online too, and so is work, so…” there must be variables missing, something he’s not seeing, some reason this is too good to be true.

“You want some space away from shirtless me to think about it?”

“That’d be great.”

Barclay stands, hesitates, then plants a quick kiss on his forehead, “take all the time you need, blue eyes.”

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

Private Chat log 1/11/2021

Barclay (he/him): Did you see the look on Duck’s face when we turned up in frame together. 

Joseph (he/him): Yes. Pretty sure Aubrey yelled something about him needing to pay up. I wonder what the bet was. 

Barclay (he/him): Whatever it was, pretty sure I came out the biggest winner. 

Stern snorts, trying not to blush on camera, and leans over to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. 

[minourp]

Mermaid Au

I know I said this would probably be a one off idea but it invaded my dreams the other night so I had to write it out. It ended up being much longer than I expected.

Quick background: Most people avoid the sea because it's dangerous and unexplored. Rey is seen as an outsider because he doesn't stay away. Ty and the trux teamed up before meeting the others (for the same reason though).

~~~

It was a dim night, no moon to illuminate the inky waves. The boat rocked and swayed beneath Rey’s feet, a storm approaching. He hadn’t meant to stay out so late but there was this fascinating coral reef he had been cataloguing and lost track of time. He had hoped he could make it back before the storm arrived but the clouds seemed faster than him.

The wind picked up outside the cabin, salty mist spraying the windows. Rey steered the boat back towards the town. He knew exactly where he was going, he was practically his own compass. But something was fighting the rudder. Of all times for it to break, he thought.

The dark storm clouds began to block out what few stars were visible above. The only light now came from the small boat, though it did little to cut through the encroaching darkness. The waves were higher now, washing over the deck as the boat tilted back and forth. Anything not tied down was rolling around on the floor behind Rey. Fortunately that wasn’t much: It paid to be prepared.

It was a fight to keep the boat straight. Straying from his course now would mean being parallel to the oncoming waves. Being parallel meant capsizing. Capsizing meant… well, you know.

He heard a thunk below the ship. Now normally in a situation like this you pay little attention to “thunks”. It could be a number of things: something heavy fell over in storage, debris hit the underside, etc. However, when the “thunk'' is immediately followed by the boat course correcting itself, you stop and think twice.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Rey kept his focus on leading the boat back to dry land. Or at least he tried. Who wouldn’t be intrigued? Of course he couldn’t leave the wheel now so he was left to speculate.

And speculate he did. He couldn’t have hit a reef, this area was quite deep. Had he hit an animal? But that wouldn’t explain the ship steering itself through the storm. It just didn’t make sense. Rey loved a good mystery.

As if to interrupt his thoughts, the lights of the town dock broke through the rain. Rey quickly pulled up to it and wasted no time hopping out to tie the ship down. As he looked up, he saw a dark shape in the water. It disappeared before he could make it out. He shook his head and went to grab his bag before departing. The others wouldn’t be happy.

Within a couple minutes, Rey arrived back home. “Home” was relative of course, he considered the ocean his home. But for now, this apartment was where he resided with his friends. Speaking of, he hoped they had already gone to bed and wouldn’t notice his late return. He opened the front door.

“Well well well,” greeted a condescending voice. Waldo’s voice.

“Hello,” Rey greeted, stepping fully inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Where were you? We were so worried!” Conner cut in, instantly hovering right next to Rey. Ace also stood nearby, behind Waldo’s chair. So everyone was here.

“Nothing to worry about, I just stayed out later than planned,” he explained, taking off his jacket and boots.

“But the storm!” Conner objected, a clap of thunder punctuating his point and making him jump.

“I made it back safe. I told you, it is fine.”

Rey walked between them and headed for his room. Technically it was a shared room but they’d leave him alone in there.

“Those are dangerous waters.” Waldo’s voice followed him.

Once in, Rey shut the door behind him and turned on the lamp. He set his bag next to his bed and began to unpack. Today's research was the first to come out, the photos being carefully tacked onto his map and the rest filed in its place.

The map was of the local seafloor. Rey had taken to cataloguing and studying the various plant and animal life. Most people in town believed the nearby ocean was dangerous and mysterious but that’s what interested Rey! So much to explore and discover! He knew no one understood.

As he moved on to pull out some of his equipment, there was a soft knock at the door. He looked up as Conner entered slowly, closing the door behind him. A moment of silence passed.

“He’s right, you know.”

“Oh not you too,” Rey sighed, setting down his camera on the nightstand.

“Tonight you were lucky! What if you’re not next time?” Conner said, wringing his hands anxiously.

“I know what I am doing. Today was a fluke,” Rey assured, sitting on his bed to take off his damp socks.

“Well I still think you’re crazy.”

“I am? Conner, you are afraid of pinecones.”

“Everyone’s afraid of pinecones!”

“No one is afraid of pinecones.”

“Well they should be.”

“Goodnight Conner.”

“G’night.”

With that, Rey flicked off the lamp and laid down. He could hear Conner do the same across the room. On the far wall he could see his map, dimly illuminated by Conner’s nightlight. His eyes settled halfway between the new reef and home. Whatever had happened out there, he considered a mystery. And mysteries need solving.

~~~

The next morning, Rey got up as soon as the sun shone through the windows. Careful to not disturb Conner, he changed clothes and exited the room. Once out, he could see Ace in the kitchen. That’s a little… scary.

“Good morning,” he greeted, walking over to the kitchen island and taking a seat.

“Hey. I was just making some toast. You want some?” she asked, holding up the bread bag.

“Sure, thank you.”

“Yeah, just don’t tell Waldo. He’s convinced I’ll burn the place down.”

“To be fair, there was that one time--”

“That was an accident! I’m never gonna live that down.”

She facepalmed exaggeratedly, giving Rey a chuckle. He noticed today’s paper on the counter and picked it up, skimming through.

“So… find anything cool yesterday?” Ace asked, waiting for the bread to toast.

Rey paused for a moment. “I was checking out a new reef to the northwest. It’s ecosystem seems quite vibrant in contrast to the one closer by.”

“Probably from not being overfished.”

“Perhaps, but I would like to study it more.”

“You’re going back out there?”

“Well yes, there is… I do not know.” He tried to busy himself with the paper.

“What is it?” Ace pressed, suddenly intrigued.

“Nothing. It was probably nothing.”

“Probably?”

“It was nothing. I am sure of it,” Rey concluded, setting the paper down.

Just then the toaster went off, saving Rey from this conversation. Ace turned and plucked the hot pieces out, dropping them on two plates. She brought both plates to the island and grabbed some butter and jam. She took a seat next to Rey, drawing her plate closer.

They both dressed their toast and ate in silence. It wasn’t long before Conner came out and joined them for breakfast, choosing a plain bagel. With the counter full, he sat on the couch, legs carefully tucked underneath him. Before long, Ace started to rave about her latest project. Eventually Waldo emerged too, groggy as usual.

It wasn't long before it was time for Ace and Waldo to head to work. They both worked at an auto repair shop, owned it in fact. Waldo stopped on his way out and turned to Rey.

“You’re not going out again,” he started.

“Of course not. I am going job searching again like I told you,” Rey answered.

Waldo seemed unconvinced but left anyway. Rey watched him close the door and heard the footsteps fade out.

“You’re going back out, aren’t you?” Conner asked.

“Absolutely.”

~~~

As Rey arrived back at the docks, he could see his small boat still in place. It looked so dingy in this lighting. Still, it had gotten him through so much. He boarded and set his bag down in the cabin. Stuff was still strewn across the floor from last night.

Despite the unruly appearance, everything seemed in good condition. Everything but the rudder. How could he forget? He grabbed a pair of goggles and went to check it out.

He had put on a wetsuit before he left so he simply slipped into the water. He made his way to the back and found… seaweed? It was tangled around the rudder, restricting its movement.

It didn’t make sense. He had made sure to avoid the boat getting too close to shallow areas where this would normally grow, so how did it get here? Maybe it was floating along and just got stuck. That must’ve been it.

As he worked it off the poor rudder, he noticed it was a single length of seaweed. The two ends almost looked like they had been connected together in a loop. Odd. Maybe some kid on a beach had been playing with it before it drifted away. It certainly didn't seem native.

After successfully detangling it, Rey surfaced and climbed back in the boat, taking the plant with him. He didn’t want it getting lodged back in again. He untied the boat and made his way to the cabin to start it up. Moment of truth.

It started like normal and he was off. The small town disappeared behind him as he made his way to the open ocean. There was no evidence of how hostile the sea had been last night.

It wasn’t too long before Rey made it to roughly where he had been yesterday. He stopped the boat and let down the anchor. He stood on the deck, looking out at the open waters. Now what?

Honestly he wasn’t too sure how to proceed. It’s not like he could recreate the scenario. Something was telling him to come out here though. Maybe he should just have a look around. This area was mostly unexplored by him so far, as he normally stuck to more shallow waters.

Rey got out his diving gear and brought it to the deck. He began to put it on when he stopped. He felt like he was being watched. Out in the middle of nowhere though?

To be safe, he took a look around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something dip below the side of the ship. Was he not alone out here? He approached the other side of the deck carefully, looking around. Nothing seemed out of place.

He heard an abrupt squelch and turned around to see the seaweed chunk slide over the side through the scupper. Something had pulled it over, it wasn’t near the edge before.

Rey slowly came back over and called out, “Is anyone there?” He was met with silence. “Hello?”

It’s probably just an animal, he told himself. Nothing to worry about. If it took the seaweed, it’s likely herbivorous, right? Perhaps it was a seal. That would be the first he’s seen around here. He needs to see this!

Rey quickly grabbed his camera and finished putting on his gear. He still couldn’t shake that feeling of being watched. Hopefully that meant it was still in the area. Once done, he sat on the wall and let himself fall backwards.

Now in the warm water, he looked around… and saw nothing. Had he scared it off? Disappointed, he began to rethink his plan. That’s when he noticed movement. Something was on the other side of the boat, its tail just visible beneath the hull. The tail did not resemble any seal Rey knew of. It was thick, pale red, and rubbery. In fact, it looked more like that of a… shark.

Okay, stay calm. Sharks don’t typically attack people unless threatened. Just get out of the water before it approaches you. But… sharks don’t swim vertically like that.

Against every instinct, Rey let himself sink deeper. The tail disappeared behind the hull. In its place was a face. A human face. The other person stared upside down at Rey with wide eyes. Rey froze. There was a person with the animal… shark… thing?

But wait, how was he breathing underwater? He must’ve just ducked under. Rey decided to swim around the short end of the boat and approach him. As he rounded the back of the boat, he saw the man had moved to the far end and was peeking around the side.

Head now above the water, Rey took his mouthpiece out. “Hello there.”

The man had risen to the surface as well, though still around the far end. Whatever creature was with him seemed to have swum around the far side too.

“My name is Rey,” he tried again, approaching very slowly.

The other thought for a moment, then answered, “Ty.” He had a slight accent Rey couldn’t place.

“Nice to meet you Ty,” Rey said, setting his stuff on the deck and hoisting himself up to sit on the edge where there was no railing. “You are welcome aboard if you like.”

“No thanks, I’m in a lot of trouble already.”

“What trouble?” Rey asked, suddenly concerned.

“I’m not supposed to talk to… you guys.”

“Me? Why not? Did Waldo put you up to this?”

“Who?”

“You are serious?” Rey asked. He nodded. “Then who told you not to talk to me?”

“My friends say you are dangerous. I don’t think so though.”

“I’m not dangerous though…”

“And I’m sorry about last night.”

“Last night? What--”

Rey heard something breach behind him and turned to look, seeing an unusually blue dolphin’s tail land back in the water. When he turned around again, Ty was gone. Rey stood up, looking all around.

“Ty? Where did you go?” he called, but to no avail.

Maybe the others were right, he concluded. Being out here is frying my brain.

[1,897 words]

[miss-tc-nova]

Trump Card - Terra x Reader

Hey! It’s good to see you, as always <3

I too love the slice of life stuff because relationships aren’t just about getting together or the first kiss. Domestic fluff is the best. And I’m glad to provide some nice fluff to dream about :3

Again, I’m so sorry this took so long to post. My computer died and I had to wait like a week to get a free minute at work to post this. So I’ve been holding onto this one for a while and I’m going mad! But that should be fixed today and I’ll be back in action! 

~~~~~

               The door jingles. Inside, my blood simmers; of course the one time I forget to lock the door behind me, someone tries to come in early.

               “I’m sorry, but the shop’s not open yet,” I call, placing a hot pan on the rack to cool.

               “Yes, I know but I need your help!”

               Immediately, my gaze shoots over the counter where I find the young man I’d left snoozing barely an hour ago. Disheveled barely covers the bases to describe his appearance. He looks frantic and rightfully so—he shouldn’t be here. “Terra, what are you doing here? Your training starts in like ten minutes.”

               “I know!” he exclaims. “I slept through the alarm!”

               “Oooh.” Now knowing exactly why he’s here, I return to the cooling rack and pluck three fresh strawberry tarts along with a mild melon bread. Bagged treats slide across the counter.

               Hasty hands dig through pockets. “How much do I owe?”

               “Worry about that later,” I insist, pushing the pair of paper bags closer. “Go! Before they get cold!”

               He leans across the counter and a hasty peck meets my forehead. “Thanksloveyoubye!”

               “Love you too,” I giggle even though he’s long gone.

               When Terra fails to appear before closing time, I’m fairly certain my day has been more pleasant than his. I can only guess that it’s his punishment keeping him late but I proceed with my schedule, heading home to relax and, later, prepare dinner.

               The distinct sound of keys sliding into the lock is heard—only one other person has a key to my apartment.

               “Hey.” He sounds exhausted. “I’m back.”

               “Welcome back,” I greet, scooping stir fry into a bowl of rice. “You’re just in time. How was training?”

               “Ugh, it was rough,” he groans, plopping into a chair. “I did not sleep last night.”

               The first bowl sits before him. “I noticed.”

               “Sorry,” he groans. “At least my punishment for being late wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been—thanks to you.”

               “Did Master Eraqus enjoy his tarts?”

               “As always. At this rate, I’m pretty sure you’re his favorite student.”

               I laugh. “I’m not even a student.”

               “I know. Thanks for breakfast too by the way.”

               With my own bowl, I sit across from him. “I knew you’d skip it in your rush, you dork.”

               He tells me about the lecture that ensued upon his tardy arrival to his training and how the Master did his best to accept the offering without appearing favorable. I’ve met Master Eraqus a few times with similar offerings and, while he looks like a serious individual, I can see glints of a kind man. Still, I know he is very proper and stern with his students.

               Just as I set the used dishes in the sink, I feel his hands at my hips. Kisses litter my neck, causing my shoulder to scrunch while I giggle. “Terra, I gotta clean the dishes.”

               “Do it later,” he replies, pressing more smooches against my cheek.

               “I’ll forget later.”

               “Oh well.” Feet leave the ground as the man throws me over his shoulder.

               “Ah! Terra!” I squeal, beating a useless fist across his back. His chuckle brings one up in me, even as he drops me on the bed.

               I know I’m safe here; this is my protector. Not only could he fend off any danger that could befall me, Terra always puts in extra effort to avoid hurting me himself. Sometimes he can be a klutz and accidents happen, but I know he’s always mindful of his strength. But boy do I get a high when I get a grip on those muscles. And yes, I’ve been caught plenty of times staring—at this point I’m pretty sure he purposely walks out of the bathroom without a shirt.

               Flopping down beside me, he takes my hand. “So what do I owe you for saving me today?” he asks, trailing kisses along my arm.

               “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” It’s a chore to keep the giggles in check.

               A kiss meets my cheek. “Come on. You were at work and I really do owe you this time.”

               “Fine. Don’t be late next time.”

               “That’s not payment.”

               “I’m serious, Terra. Don’t worry about it,” I huff, pinching at his cheek. “I’m allowed to do things for you without something in return.”

               He shakes me off. “Then you won’t mind if I start doing chores around here.”

               “Yeah, no. The last time you tried to help me, one of us got glass in their foot.” There’s a cute little pout. “Thank god it was me because I never would’ve been able to carry you to the hospital for stitches.”

               “If I remember right, you’re the one who sliced their hand open trying to open a package of cheese,” he quips back, picking at the skin between my thumb and index where there’s a faint scar.

               “What’s your point? I didn’t hurt you.”

               “True. Okay, how about the time you hung up that frame and it fell on my head in the middle of the night.” A finger points to the picture frame that’s been hung twice now.

               I press a hand to my face. “Of course out of the dozens in this room, that’s the one that falls.”

               “Back on topic, I will find some way to pay you back.”

               “Seriously sweetheart. It’s fine.”

               “If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna start doing random things.”

               “No.”

               “Tell me.”

               “No!” Freeing myself from his grasp, I ungraciously faceplant into my pillow.

               The argument vanishes when a warm hand sneaks under my shirt. My body falls limp at the feel of fingertips ghosting across my skin. The only sign of my resistance comes in the form of a deep breath followed by a groan into the pillowcase.

               “What about this?” he hums, fingers flexing against my skin.

               “This is cheating.” The answer is swallowed by the fabric.

               “I didn’t hear a ‘no.’”

               “I will die here.”

               “What was that, babe?”

               Lifting my head, I glare. “I said—aaaAAAAGGGHHHH!” Whatever muscle he found was not thrilled to be prodded.

               “There’s a knot.”

               I rub at the sore muscle. “Yeah, apparently.”

               Terra pushes off the bed, slipping a leg over my waist. “How about we fix that.” There’s no chance to question when another jolt of pain shoots up my back and the pillow consumes a scream. “Relax babe. It’ll just get worse if you leave it.”

               “It hurts!” I complain.

               “Yes, that’s why it’s a knot and you don’t want it getting worse. Now relax, I’ll try to be gentle.”

               True to his word, he tries but it still hurts like a bitch. It takes several reminders and serious self-control on my part not to just squirm free and flee. However, the pain soon enough melts to a far more pleasurable feeling, eliminating the conscious effort to relax. A fog rolls across my brain, leaving all thoughts in a hazy euphoria. The steady rhythm, the kneading pressure, the warm hands: it’s perfect; I’m pretty sure the bed is just assimilating me at this point. There’s a vague awareness that Terra said something, but I don’t know what it is and barely manage a hum.

               It doesn’t take much longer for me to go under.

~~~~~

               “Terra, if you don’t get your ass out of bed, you’re going to be late again and I don’t have any tarts to save you this time!” Wedged between the wall and my boyfriend, I strain to roll the man onto his back. One more roll and—THUNK!

               “Ow!” Sitting up, he rubs his head. “Seriously?”

               “It’s that or ice water and I’d prefer not to have a wet bed. Now go get ready.”

               Grumbling, Terra hops in the shower while I bustle into the kitchen to finish breakfast. It’s almost done when strong arms wrap around me.

               “Baaabe.” Oh that’s a tone that screams ‘I want something.’ “I know today’s your day off but I need you to make some cookies.”

               There it is. “Excuse me, what?” I scoff. The spatula is set aside so I may turn on him. “What did you do?”

               “I…” That sheepish smile won’t fool me. “—forgot Ven’s birthday.”

               “You what?! He’ll be heartbroken!”

               “I know! Will you just help me please!”

               “Terra! I barely have enough ingredients here for basic chocolate chips!”

               A hand rolls. “That’s kind of why I started with the ‘I know it’s your day off’ part.”

               “Uagh!”

               “Come on.” There’s a big, sugar-coated grin that signals an oncoming trump card. “If you do, I’ll give you a massage.”  

               My eyes narrow. “I hate you.”

               “Thanks babe.”

[something-tofightfor]

Tipping Point - 15

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader

Word Count: 5032

Rating: M (language, mentions of sex but nothing explicit)

Summary: it’s time for Benjamin and Eric to leave, and after the final night (and the previous three weeks) ... it’s really difficult to say goodbye.

Author’s Note: So. This is the end of Tipping Point. It’s been quite the journey, and I’m so thankful and grateful to those of you that have taken the time to read it as I’ve posted it, and an extra special thank you to those that encouraged me with comments and messages and reassurance that this is in fact accurate for Benjamin. I was really apprehensive to write for Benjamin... but I’m happy with how this ended up going. We started with a shitty anniversary/birthday dinner for Julia... and ended with this, nearly a year later for him. With that being said. This might be the end of Tipping Point, but it’s not the end for them. 

“Hello?” Who is she talking to? “No, I’m… wait a minute, what time is it?” His eyes opened and Benjamin watched as you shot up into a sitting position, the blanket pooled around your waist. “Oh, damn.” Your eyes moved down to him, and Benjamin saw that they were wide and full of surprise. “I must have overslept.” His mouth dropped open as he rolled away from you - looking for the alarm clock on your dresser as he realized just how bright it was in the room. Eleven. We definitely didn’t wake up when we planned to. “No, we’ll be ready to go, don’t worry about it, Eric.” 

 You swore a few seconds later, and Benjamin heard the soft thunk of your phone as it hit the mattress. “You know…” He started, taking a deep breath before he turned his head back toward you, fighting to keep his expression even. “It probably doesn’t count as oversleeping if you only went to bed after the sun came up.” Wordlessly, you stared at him, and Benjamin’s eyes moved from your face down - and then back up, the smile growing. Waking up to this is… “Hey.” Shrugging, he leaned over toward you, one hand rising to the back of your neck to pull you closer. “It’s fine.” He kissed you - not tentatively like he had on other mornings, but deeply, not hesitating before he coaxed your lips apart with his tongue, fingers squeezing gently on your skin. He heard you sigh, the fight leaving you and your hands finding his leg beneath the blanket, and his side, your nails scratching gently down his skin. “Promise.” 

 “Mmm, Benjamin.” You sighed again as you straightened up, head shaking back and forth. “I just wanted to spend the last morning with you, not sleeping, and now…” You shrugged. “Now they’re on their way, and we’ve barely got time to shower, and -” 

 “Well, then.” He laughed, using the tips of his fingers to push hair off of your brow. “We should probably get going.”  You looked disappointed, and Benjamin moved swiftly,  colliding with your body and pushing you backwards, head hitting the pillow as his body pressed against yours. “But first…” Instead of kissing you on the mouth, he moved his lips over your cheeks and down to your neck, feeling your hands roaming over his back as you shifted beneath him. Five more minutes. He slid an arm beneath your shoulders and rolled backwards, pulling you on top of him, and as you settled in, he stared up at you, silently. Even if I had five more days… it wouldn’t be enough. 

 “You’re staring, Benjamin.” Your voice was quiet, and he saw the look in your eyes change from one of elation to resignation. “What are you looking at?” He traced the line of your spine with one finger, thinking. 

 “You.” He sighed. “Look, the last couple of days… well, weeks have been…” Benjamin wet his lips, pausing as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I didn’t come here thinking that…” Just say it. “In my wildest dreams, I never thought that we…” 

 “C’mon Benjamin, spit it out.” You were smiling again, eyes warm as you looked over his face. “We haven’t got all day.” No, we haven’t. 

 “Come see me.” He closed his eyes. “Not London, me.” You inhaled, eyebrows shooting up. “I don’t know how else to say it.” The room was quiet, and Benjamin waited. 

 “Are you inviting me to…” You leaned down, lips next to his ear as he nodded. “I’d like that.” He felt relief throughout his entire body, even though if the previous hours had been any indication, there was no way you’d say no to him. “But Benjamin, if I don’t get in the shower now, Eric and Michelle are going to walk in and see…” He turned his head, lips meeting yours again for brief seconds before you pulled away with a groan. “I’ll never hear the end of it, and…” You wrinkled your nose as you backed off, hands flat against his chest. “You smell like me, Benjamin. You need to get in the shower, otherwise Eric’s going to grill you about it the whole flight home.” He’s already likely to do that, but… 

 “You’re right.” Benjamin closed his eyes for a second. “But…” He opened them again, cocking his head to the side, the pillow rustling beneath it. “One more minute.” You lowered your head toward his to kiss him again without prompting, and though neither of you said it, he could feel that it was goodbye. We won’t do this in front of Eric and Michelle, and so this… this is it. When you pulled away, he saw that your eyes were glistening, but instead of admitting it, you just closed them, taking a breath and sitting up straight. One more look. He stared at you as you climbed out of the bed, striding across the room and to your closet, completely bare. 

 You emerged from it wrapped in a robe, holding clothes in your arms and then stepped to your dresser, pulling a bra from the top drawer. “I’ll see you downstairs, Benjamin?” He nodded in response, feeling a lump rising in his throat. It shouldn’t feel like this after only a few days. And we aren’t even… He watched you walk from the room without saying anything else, and after he’d collected his thoughts, Benjamin rose from the bed too, glancing around the room as he gathered his clothes. He pulled his underwear back on, folding his jeans over his arm, and then bent down, picking up his shirt from where he’d tossed it when he pulled it from your body the previous night. He inserted one arm and then stopped, considering. What if… Glancing around, Benjamin’s eyes landed on your dresser, the corners of his lips rising in a small smile. I don’t want her to find it right away, but… 

 He stepped toward it, folding the shirt and then pulling the top drawer open with one hand. He set the shirt down, fingers lingering on it for a few seconds before he pulled his hand back, closing the drawer in one motion with the other hand. She’ll see it tomorrow. Stepping back, Benjamin took one last look around your room, eyes lingering on the bed, and then stepped into the hallway. 

 --- 

 “Do you have everything?” You were sitting at your kitchen table, chin resting on one hand. “I mean, I know half your stuff was at Michelle’s anyway, but there was some of it in my spare room, and -” Eric cut you off, waving his hand back and forth. “I’m just asking because I don’t want to have to ship a giant box to you in three days like I had to when you moved, Eric.” Benjamin laughed at that and so did Michelle, though Eric stayed quiet. 

 “Everything’s packed.” He shrugged, looking over at the other woman, who was in the chair to his left. “Michelle asked me the same damn question, it’s like you two are - “

 “Wouldn’t start with her, Eric.” Benjamin sipped from his mug, grinning. “Either of them, actually.” Michelle laughed again, thanking him. “Won’t end well for you.” Though Eric laughed too, agreeing and reaching over to squeeze Michelle’s hand, he focused his eyes on Benjamin, who was leaning against your counter, elbows resting on the polished surface. 

 “Can I ask you guys something?” What? Eric frowned, and Benjamin saw Michelle’s eyes widen. This isn’t going to be good. “We met up with some friends for a drink last night, and…” The kitchen went silent. 

 “You saw Noah.” Your voice was flat, eyes on your brother. “Didn’t you.” 

 “We did. But it wasn’t just him, Michelle got ahold of some of the people we went to college with, and …” Eric shrugged. “Noah was there, someone must have mentioned it, and we talked for a few minutes.” He looked at you, and so did Benjamin, waiting. “He said he saw you two on Friday, outside the Lamplighter?” You nodded. “He mentioned that you guys looked… this is his word, not mine, but he said you looked cozy.”

 “We were sitting by the fountain and eating ice cream, Eric.” You rolled your eyes. “Benjamin and I went out to dinner, and then since he paid, I offered to buy him ice cream before we came back home.” You looked at Benjamin quickly before your attention went back to your brother. “What else did he say?” She’s avoiding it, but she’s… not lying. 

 “He said that Benjamin got really defensive, and you did too, and he doesn’t know why.” You laughed bitterly at that, standing and walking to the refrigerator, Benjamin straightening up so that you could pass behind him. He felt your hand brush against his for a second, trying not to react as you grabbed a drink, turning and standing next to him. 

 “Did he tell you the whole story?” You unscrewed the cap of your drink, taking a long swig. “Or did he -”

 “He was there with that woman I told you about.” Benjamin looked over at you, and then continued. “The one that gave me her number? She walked up first and saw me, and we started talking, and then Noah immediately walked up and started laying in to your sister about how it was ridiculous that she was there with me.”

 “What a dick.” Michelle broke the silence, a look of disgust on her face. “They were there together?”

 “Yes.” Benjamin’s lip curled. “I know he’s your friend, Eric, but I got defensive because he was making assumptions about my intentions with your sister when he was also on a date and acting like a bloody hypocrite.” He felt you stiffen next to him, and realized what he’d said, but continued. “So, yes, I might have been a little on edge, but it was for good reason.” Eric looked between the two of you, but didn’t say anything else immediately. “She did nothing wrong, and I’m not quite sure what he said to you, but I am sure that if he left out Amanda being there, it wasn’t the truth.” The kitchen was quiet again, and Benjamin glanced over at you, finding that you were looking up at him with gratitude in your eyes. I’m only telling the truth. 

 “So…” Michelle spoke first, raising her cup to her lips and eyeing the two of you over the rim. “A date?” The tension drained from the room, and you took a step closer to Benjamin, his hand moving to your back for a few seconds before you pulled away and walked back toward the table. 

 “Yeah, a date. That’s what happens when two people go out to dinner, right?” Michelle spluttered, coughing as she swallowed her drink. “But if we don’t leave in the next few minutes, we’re going to hit traffic, and I know you guys might need some extra time for screening since you’re international.” You eyed Benjamin. “I don’t want to risk you missing your flight.” Michelle stood right away, stepping away from the table and walking to where you stood near the doorway. “We’ll be in the other room.” The two of you left the kitchen, leaving Benjamin and Eric alone. This could be interesting. 

 “So you went on an actual date with my sister.” Eric’s tone was hard to read, but Benjamin caught curiosity in it along with something else. “And you ran into her ex.” He leaned back in his chair, Benjamin standing tall and facing him head on. “What are the odds?” 

 “I thought the same thing, Eric.” Don’t lie to him. Not about this. “He was pretty awful to her, especially when he had no business saying anything in the first place and -”

 “I told you.” Eric stood, meeting Benjamin’s eyes easily. “I would have suggested she not start anything long term with him in the first place.” He chuckled. “But what do I know? I’m just her brother.” Eric took the few steps necessary to reach the opposite side of the counter from where Benjamin stood and stopped, chewing on his lower lip. “It’s good that you were there, Benjamin. And it’s even better that you stood up for her the way it seems like you did.” He shook his head. “Probably meant a lot more to her than she’ll ever tell you.” Actually, she sort of… “But a date, Greene? We’re going to have a lot to talk about on the plane.” 

 Though he was smiling as he said it, Benjamin watched as Eric turned away with apprehension. Me and my big mouth. He rubbed his hands over his face and then followed the other man out of the kitchen and down the hallway, where his bags were waiting by the door. Time to go. 

 --- 

 The ride to the airport was much different than the one to your house, and it was due to more than the fact that Eric didn’t sleep the whole way, instead keeping up a steady stream of conversation with Michelle in the back seat. You and Benjamin didn’t speak much, and while he had things he wanted to say to you, he kept quiet. I can’t talk to her in front of them, this isn’t…  To his surprise, you reached over after only a few minutes, taking his hand in yours and pulling it into your lap. What is she… When he glanced over at you, he saw that you were trying to hide a smile, your eyes darting from the road to meet his. “Alright then,” he said softly, as he squeezed our fingers. More than alright. Feeling his heart rate rise, Benjamin looked up and into the rearview mirror, seeing that while they hadn’t stopped their conversation, both Michelle and Eric were smiling, their eyes focused on your joined hands. Interesting. 

 When you parked, the four of you stood behind the car in the lot for a few minutes, making small talk. You’d arrived earlier than expected, and though there wasn’t much time, you had a few minutes to spare. “Can you give us a minute?” Michelle looked between you and Benjamin, an apologetic smile on her face. “Saying goodbye in the airport isn’t really my idea of…” You looked at Benjamin, motioning with your head, and he followed you over to one of the small islands, taking shade beneath a tree. 

 “She didn’t come with him when I dropped him off at the airport after Christmas.” You gestured to the couple, standing behind your car with their arms wrapped around each other. “She did come when he first left, but…” You rubbed your arm with one hand. “Why is this so hard, Benjamin?” You looked up at him, and he could tell you were trying to hold it together. “It’s not like -”

 “Because we care about each other.” He stepped closer, swallowing and extending a hand to you. “Because these last weeks have made a lot of things clear.” Some more clear than others. “Because we don’t know when we’ll see each other again, and after last night -”

 “About last night.” You stepped closer to Benjamin, still holding his hand. “And… this morning, I guess.” You bit your lip, reaching up with your free hand to tuck hair behind your ear. “You’re leaving, Benjamin. And you’re going back to London, where you’ll have… a lot of time to think, and a lot of opportunity to meet people, and…” What are you saying? “This isn’t high school, and I’m not an idiot.” Excuse me? “We’re both adults, and I think we both understand how difficult it would be to establish anything with the Atlantic between us, so…” You reached up, meeting his eyes and stroking his beard with one thumb. “I don’t expect anything, Benjamin. You don’t owe me anything at all. But I think you learned a lot about yourself here, and what it feels like to… act for yourself.” You paused, looking away from him. What are you saying? “The difference between … us and Eric and Michelle is that … he left after they’d known each other and dated for over a year on and off. They knew each other, they… they spent time together, and they realized that it’d be worth it to work on, even from different continents.”

 “Why are you saying this?” He lowered his head, saying your name. “Trying to make it seem as if I’m going to get on that plane and go back to London and just forget how … how good these last weeks were, how much I enjoyed being here with you.” You looked up at him, and while you weren’t crying, he could see that you were torn about what you were saying. She’s giving me an out. Another one, an opportunity to… 

 “That’s just it, Benjamin. You’re going to get back on that plane, and I don’t want you to live your life like you’re… waiting on someone else, or that you’ve got to put someone else first again. You did that with Kieran and you did it with Allie and you did it for Julia for two years.” Swallowing, you blinked quickly. “That’s not a group of people I want to be included with.” You’d never be… that’s not… “So I’m telling you, Benjamin Greene, that I didn’t - and don’t plan on using what happened between us as a… as something I’m going to hang over your head or make you feel guilty about.”

 “Guilty? What -” He was speechless, thoughts flowing through his head incoherently. I don’t even know what… “You couldn’t possibly make me feel guilty about any part of what’s happened with us.” He pulled you flush against him, wrapping both arms around you. “Getting on that plane and going back won’t change anything.” He kissed the top of your head, closing his eyes. “So don’t do this, don’t cheapen what we… any of it.” He said your name again, waiting until you were looking up at him to continue. “I want you to listen to me.” He watched your breathing change, the way your eyes focused on him. “I don’t expect anything from this either, but I’m… I’m open to seeing where it goes.” He had both hands on your back, your arms locked around his waist. “Seeing what it means, what… what we…” What it could be. He couldn’t get the words out, instead hoping that the way he was holding you got the point across. “If I could stay here longer right now, I would. But I was serious, I want you to come see me.” 

 “I will, Benjamin, I -” He cut you off, trying to lighten the mood. 

 “Say you’re visiting Eric, say you want to see London in the fall, or in the winter or… I don’t know. You’ll figure something out, but there’s no way around it. I’m inviting you out to spend time with me.” You rose onto your toes, kissing his mouth quickly. It’s not enough, it’s not goodbye, it… 

 “You say that now, but we’ll see how you feel after you’ve had some time to think about the American that stuffed you full of ballpark food and made you walk the whole day in boots and rain and -” He kissed you then, and though it was another short one, the held you tighter than he’d ever held anyone, trying to pour every bit of emotion he could into the action. Please understand. 

 “Just wait until I get you to a football game and have you try the pies.” He murmured the words into your ear, pressing his lips to your skin. “Payback for all of those -”

 “Hey, you two!” Startled, you both looked toward the sound of Michelle’s voice. “We’ve gotta go, it’s getting close and we need to get into the trunk.” He felt you slump against him for a few seconds, and then you pulled away, turning and taking a few steps back to your car. Benjamin collected himself and then followed you, wondering how much Eric and Michelle had seen. Probably too much, but there’s no helping that now. By the time he caught up with you, you’d already popped your trunk, pulling out the bags and suitcases within. 

 “Are you coming in with us?” Eric questioned you, one hand on the handle of his rolling suitcase. “You know how crowded it usually is, and -”

 “Yes.” You looked at your brother in surprise. “I don’t know when I’ll see you next, and I barely saw you on this trip, so I’m going to annoy you until you get in that security line.” He laughed, rolling his eyes at you. 

 “You kept yourself busy.” He was nonchalant with his words, but Benjamin caught the look the other man gave him. “You didn’t even miss me.” Assuring him that that was untrue, you closed the trunk and then locked your car, the four of you walking across the parking lot and beneath the covered walkway that led to the terminal. It was crowded, Eric and Michelle walking ahead of you and Benjamin, and he took the opportunity to put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you made your way into the low building. And I thought Heathrow was a mess. 

There were people everywhere, Benjamin’s eyes moving over the crowds. “Let’s go print our tickets and get our bags checked, Greene.” Eric pointed. “Then we can come say goodbye.” 

 “Alright.” He slid his carry on from his shoulder and handed it to you, unzipping it to pull his passport and wallet from inside. “Be right back.” The process was much faster than he’d anticipated; his ticket and claim slip printing within only a few seconds, he and Eric making their way through most of the line in less than ten minutes. Eric hadn’t mentioned you to him, instead asking questions about downtown, about Benjamin’s trip. He’s avoiding it, but… “Eric, we -” 

 “No.” The man rubbed at his face. “No, we’ll talk about this later, Benjamin. Not here, in line or before we go through security.” Eric grinned at him. “I think it’s going to be a conversation that takes more than a few minutes.” You’re right. 

 When it was his turn, Benjamin handed over his passport and ticket - along with his suitcase - to the friendly woman behind the counter, making small talk. Eric finished before him, heading back to where you and Michelle waited, and after his bag was safely checked in, Benjamin turned away and took a breath, quickly making his way back to the three of you. This is… we’ve only got a few minutes left. You were talking with your brother, a large smile on your face, and Benjamin stood next to Michelle, watching.  “It was good to meet you, Benjamin.” The woman squeezed his arm. “Eric told me about you, but I’ve got to admit, you’re not what I expected.” Really? “I think you’re one of the reasons he and I…” She shrugged, Benjamin’s eyes on her face. “It sucks to say it, but what you went through, I think it made him…” Good. I’m glad it helped someone. “So thank you.” She turned, holding her arms out and Benjamin stepped into them, returning the embrace. “And I’ll see you at Christmas, unless you’ve already moved out.” 

 “I’m not sure where I’ll be, but either way I’ll see you in December.” And I’ll be happy to. He started to say something else, but Michelle cut him off with a push. “Go. Say goodbye. I’ll stall Eric for a minute.” You’re a Godsend, Michelle. He switched places with Eric, stepping in front of you again, and as he did, the finality of the situation hit him. It’s over. We just got here, and now… “Hi.” He spoke quietly, not trusting his voice. “I don’t really… I’m shite at goodbyes, so…” Benjamin reached up, scratching the back of his neck. “This trip was…”

 “I know.” Your eyes moved over his face, lingering on his cheek, but you were smiling. “I know, Benjamin.” Kiss her. Kiss her goodbye. Kiss her and tell her you already m- “Thank you.” He tilted his head to the side, waiting, and you reached over, taking his hand in yours, fingers sliding against each other and interlocking. “Thank you for making it clear that… what I was doing before wasn’t right. That there’s … that I deserve to…” He heard the trembling of your voice, and instead of letting you flounder further, he pulled you against him, hugging you tightly. No, thank you. “I’m gonna miss you, Benjamin.” You were looking up at him, the smile on your lips doing nothing to hide the sadness in your eyes. “So much.” It was a tease being here, a tease for such a short time, and now… “You have to go, though. You’re cutting it close, and …” You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.” 

 “You will.” He debated for a moment and then ducked his head down, kissing you quickly on the mouth. It’s too short, I just want to… “Soon.” He felt you smile against his lips and then Benjamin pulled away from you, squeezing your hand once more before he pulled it free, taking a step back. “Alright, I… you’re right. I have to go.” Glancing over at Eric and Michelle, Benjamin saw that they weren’t paying attention, the two of them wrapped up in each other again, the man’s forehead pressed to hers. Maybe it’s for the best that they didn’t see that. You cleared your throat, and Benjamin glanced back, seeing that you were staring at the ground, arms crossed over your chest. I know. 

 “We should go, Benjamin.” Eric was next to him, and Benjamin nodded, though he felt his heart sink. It’s really over. You were standing next to Michelle, and with a final deep breath, Benjamin fell into step with Eric, heading to the end of the security line. “It’s hard, right? Saying goodbye to…” But Eric’s voice faded with each step Benjamin took, his brow furrowed as he thought. No. No, you know what? He thought of you, telling him he needed to follow his own advice, of Eric telling him to practice what he was preaching, of Leo telling him how happy he looked in pictures. Don’t leave like this. Benjamin stopped, feeling Eric do the same next to him, and turned back toward where you and Michelle stood, taking a deep breath to steady himself. 

 “Oy, Michelle.” Louder than usual, his voice carried through the crowd, the woman’s eyes - and yours - moving to his face. He looked at Michelle for a long moment before switching his gaze to you. This is right.  “Take care of my girl while I’m gone, yeah?” There was silence for a few seconds, and then Benjamin heard Eric swear quietly next to him before a hand landed on his back, pushing him forward. Your eyes widened and you parted your lips, staring at him, and as Benjamin took one step toward you, he saw Michelle’s grin grow as you shook your head back and forth in disbelief, moving toward him. Yes. 

 You didn’t stop, even as you collided with his chest, hands gripping the front of his shirt. “Benjamin, what, you…” Not bothering to speak, he pressed his forehead against yours, head angled down. “Did you just…”

 “Yeah, I did.” He swallowed, the gravity of his words finally hitting him. “And I meant it.” I’ve no idea if she even… “Is that alright with you?” You didn’t speak, instead tilting your head back, meeting his eyes. “I -” 

 “Shut up, Benjamin.” You were smiling, and he saw that your lower lip was trembling. “Just shut up.” He kissed you then, not caring who saw - Eric or Michelle or any of the strangers that were milling around you, and you kissed him back without hesitation, your grip on him tightening. You pulled back with a gasp, reaching up to brush your fingertips over his cheek, the smile never disappearing from your lips. “Your girl, hmm?” He nodded, feeling himself smile, too. Yeah. “I like that.” 

 “I do, too.” He kissed you again, the action much more reserved but no less meaningful. “I’ll call you when I land?” You hugged him one final time, agreeing, and as Benjamin finally pulled himself from your arms, he sucked in a breath. “Hey.” He winked at you, dropping his voice. “Check in your top drawer, I left you something.” I don’t want her to wait until morning. You looked surprised but told him you would. With a final squeeze of your fingers, he let go of your hand, glancing back at Michelle, and then meeting your eyes for the last time. “I’ll see you soon.” 

 Benjamin turned and headed back toward Eric, the adrenaline from his outburst fading quickly. Was that stupid? Is he going to… we have to sit next to each other for… “Damn, Benjamin.” Eric finally spoke as they took their places in line, people filling in behind them. Uh oh. “You realize that you just destroyed any possible airport interaction I’ll ever have with Michelle, right?” He’s not mad? He looked over at Eric, finding his roommate shaking his head back and forth slowly. “Good for you. Good for her. You two deserve it.” We do. Especially after… As they moved through the line, Benjamin waited until he was facing the direction he’d come from to search for you, eyes scanning the crowd. I bet they left, there’s no reason for them to… But he found you easily, meeting your eyes. You were smiling broadly, and though he felt a tiny hollow in his chest at the thought that he wouldn’t get to see you again for months, he realized that for the first time in years, he wasn’t worried about how things would turn out. What a feeling. 

 By the time he and Eric made it through the security checkpoint and Benjamin was seated on a bench to pull his shoes back on, he was deep in thought. Alright, so when she comes to London… 

 --- 

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[alkae]

They were Roommates

Chapter Six

The next morning, Varian woke up at his desk, neck aching and paper wet. He felt embarrassed that he cried that much.

He looked over to see Hugo sound asleep on his own bed. Varian felt himself sigh in relief and hated himself for it. He was still wearing Hugo’s jacket and he quickly shucked it off and laid it on Hugo’s desk chair.

His homework was half finished but it didn’t matter. He checked the time on his phone and when he saw that he had nearly 45 minutes before class, he packed up all his stuff and began to dig through the closet for clothes.

He’d finish his homework at one of the cafes near his classroom. In his bed, Hugo made a grunting noise, startling Varian. This was the first time Varian woke up before Hugo and it felt a little odd.

Varian glanced away from Hugo quickly. He only looked at him for a minute and yet the image floated back into his brain in full force: Hugo, leaning against the kitchen counter kissing a faceless dark haired girl. Tears pricked his vision and he shook them away. Bad Varian, he scolded himself.

He gathered his clothes and left the room.

~~

Varian finished his homework 5 minutes before class started and while he was walking to said class. When he got there, Hugo was already behind the counter, staring intently at it with purple bags under his eyes. He never looked that bad after a party before. Varian frowned in concern. How much sleep had he gotten?

He walked over next to Hugo, ignoring his racing heart. Hugo glanced up from the counter when Varian set his bag down on the ground with a loud thunk. “Morning Ruddiger.” Hugo yawned. “Where’d you go last night?”

Shit. He was so busy with his homework that he forgot to come up with a convincing lie. His mind scrambled for an excuse and he came up with, “I felt sick so I left.”

Hugo’s mouth frowned with concern. “You felt sick? Are you okay now?”

His compassion made Varian queasy. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. It was just the party and the music and the lights and… you know.” He looked away. He couldn’t stand looking into Hugo’s green eyes any more today.

Hugo opened his mouth but, luckily, Professor Xavier interrupted. “Alright class! The packets are already passed out. You know the drill. Ready…go!”

~~

That night, Hugo dropped his calculus textbook on Varian’s desk and, with no preamble, said, “Explain, Ruddiger.”

The night went by normally. The two studies their classes, occasionally pausing to chat about something stupid. Hugo left briefly to get the two coffee and Varian laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

He was acting like nothing was wrong because there wasn’t. Sure Hugo might have a secret girlfriend but that wasn’t Varian’s business. A part of him itched to ask him about her but a more reasonable, more anxious part silenced him. He didn’t have to know. He didn’t want to know. He had to be happy for his friend.

Varian rolled onto his stomach and pressed his face into his pillow. He suddenly had a splitting headache.

“Ruddiger!” The door burst open and Varian turned to his side to see Hugo waltzing back into the room, a cup of coffee in each hand. “I cringed when I ordered your drink,” he said as he handed Varian his coffee. “It felt like I was getting a drink for a teenage white girl.”

“That’s rude,” Varian said. “Just because I prefer sweet coffee over coffee that tastes like piss…”

Varian always had flavoring and sugar in his coffee. Plain coffee was especially bitter to him and even coffee with one sugar packet wasn’t enough. Hugo, on the other hand, ordered black coffee, the monster. He didn’t even put anything in it. “I don’t want shit in my coffee,” he had said.

“And I don’t want shit for coffee,” Varian had shot back.

Now, Varian took a sip of his coffee as Hugo rolled his eyes and made to sit. “Scoot over, Hairstripe, you’re taking up the entire bed.”

Varian choked in response and surprise. Never in all of their time spent together tutoring have they ever sat on the same bed. He wanted to say no and push him off the bed onto the floor but… he was weak. What’s the harm in it? he thought. Well he could possibly be cuddling with someone else’s boyfriend. But friends cuddled right?

He didn’t have a chance to respond before Hugo shoved him into the wall and sat on his bed. Varian grunted. “Bed hog,” Hugo said.

“It’s my bed,” Varian said defensively. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he backed into the wall. “Oh my god, is that a spider?”

Hugo leaped off the bed so fast that he backed right into his. “Where where where?”

Varian hid his laughter. “Oh I think that was just a hair.”

He couldn’t hide anything from Hugo though. Instantly, the other boy’s face fell into an unamused glare. “You are hilarious, Ruddiger. Honestly.”

Varian laughed loudly and immaturely. He felt like a petty child but he enjoyed pranking Hugo as much as Hugo enjoyed reminding him that he was 6 inches shorter.

Hugo slumped back onto the bed cautiously. Varian caught him searching the bed and snickered. “Hugo there aren’t any spiders.”

Hugo glared at him in response. “Well I’m just checking because you made me paranoid.”

Varian leaned back against his pillow, chuckling to himself. “Oh I made you paranoid, huh?”

This was nice. Messing with each other like this. It felt normal. And that’s all Varian could ask for in that moment. Hugo finally settled down onto his spot on the bed and his shoulders relaxed. “Okay. I’m calm.”

“Good. Because I need you to grab our textbooks please.” Varian smiled sweetly at him. Hugo grabbed Varian’s pillow and smacked him with it as Varian laughed maniacally.

An hour later, they were highly caffeinated and laughing about something stupid, homework forgotten. “Okay okay so you’re telling me you got drunk, climbed the roof of your house and proclaimed yourself the wolf king?” Varian snorted.

Hugo threw his head back with glee. “Yep! I refused to come down until everyone else at the party agreed to join my pack.”

Varian rolled onto his side, clutching his stomach. He didn’t know why he found the story so funny. Maybe Hugo slipped something into the coffee. “And whose house was this at?”

“Mine!”

Varian laughed harder. “Boy I bet your parents were upset.”

The laughter on Hugo’s end stopped. Varian frowned and turned onto his other side. Hugo was staring at the wall, face frozen with something like grief. “What’s wrong?” Varian asked in concern.

Hugo shook his head as if rousing himself from a dream. “No nothing’s wrong,” he said quickly. Too quickly. Varian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I can tell you’re lying, Hugo. You’re a god awful liar.”

Hugo looked at him. Varian stared back defiantly. Finally, Hugo sighed. “Okay fine. I’ll give you my sob story.” He laid fully down on his back and stared up at the wall. “When I was about 4 or 5, my dad walked out on us. That’s it.”

“You sure that’s it?” Varian asked gently. He laid on his back too, their shoulders touching.

“Can’t hide anything from you, huh Ruddiger?” Hugo huffed. He ran a hand through his pale hair. “I guess it kind of like messed me up? I got really attached to my mom. Like, really attached. I hated going to school because I thought she’d disappear if I wasn’t constantly watching her. It took me until 3rd grade to finally realize that she wasn’t going to leave like my dad.” He rolled his head to face Varian. Varian stared back. “So yeah. Sorry I killed the mood.”

“No no it’s fine. I’m glad you’re telling me this. I mean, friends share things with each other, right?” Hugo nodded. Varian faced the ceiling again. “My mom died when I was just a baby. I didn’t know her at all. I’ve seen pictures and I can vaguely recall her voice but the rest is just a blur.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Varian replied. “My dad talks about her a lot. Her memory lives on in him. And in pictures and videos they took before I was born and when she was pregnant with me. I watch them every year on her birthday and the day she died.”

“That’s nice,” Hugo said without one drop of sarcasm.

They stayed in a comfortable silence before Hugo asked, “What’s her name?”

“Who’s name?”

“Your mom.”

“Oh! Ulla. Yours?”

“Olivia.”

Then silence again. Finally, Hugo said, “I never really talked to anyone about this before. I mean, I got a therapist and everything and she said to talk to my ‘peers’ but I never have. It’s nice, you know.” He looked back at Varian. “Talking to people you care about.”

‘People you care about.’ Not friends. Why the difference? Varian wondered vaguely but his mind was tired and his eyes droopy. His head lolled onto Hugo’s shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah it is.” He yawned.

“Uh oh. Does someone need a nap?” Hugo joked.

Instead of objecting, Varian just nodded. “We’ll finish homework tomorrow. We’ve got all weekend.”

Hugo bit his lip. “Okay. You’ve convinced me.” He makes to move and, impulsively, Varian grabs his arm. Hugo looks from Varian’s hand to him in confusion.

“Stay,” Varian said. Afraid of sounding too desperate, he adds, “You’re really warm and it’s cold outside.”

“I see. You only want me for my body. I get it.” But he just takes off his glasses and slides into the same spot on the bed he was previously. Varian rests his head on his shoulder again.

“Goodnight, Hugo.”

“Goodnight, Varian.”

Varian couldn’t process his words before his eyes droop and he falls into a peaceful sleep.

~~

Varian woke up slowly, the fresh smell of apples lingering in his nose.

He blinked as his surroundings started to clear and he nearly lurched back.

He was wrapped in Hugo’s arms, head resting on his chest. His arms were around Hugo as well, said boy sleeping soundly and obliviously.

Varian’s mind instantly went into panic mode. Oh shit oh shit. What was he going to do? Should he leave? Should he stay here? He didn’t have time to think before Hugo moaned in his sleep and his grip around Varian tightened.

Varian closed his eyes tightly. Just this once, he thought. Just this once, I’ll let myself enjoy it. He let the steady rising and falling of Hugo’s chest lull him back to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up alone, Hugo’s heat lingering. He groaned and pushed his head into his pillow. He didn’t think he’d ever admit it to himself but after that, he knew for sure: he had a huge ass crush on Hugo McCoy.

Previous Next

[connorinabeanie]

While digging through my incomplete fics I found an utterly ridiculous snippet of a story all about Connor and North being menaces, so I thought I’d post it here. No promises on there every being any more of this, but who knows.

Markus had told them not to do it.

But, to be fair, Markus always told them not to do it. No matter how well thought out the plan was, no matter what they could gain from it, no matter if they were both already dressed and geared up, Markus always said the same thing.

“You two can’t kill your way through our problems.”

And, as always, they’d told him that wasn’t true. Still, most of the time, they ended up listening to their leader and retreating to sulk and practice shooting or sparring or maybe sometimes go pet a dog. A particular very large, very fluffy dog, whose owner had stopped even bothering to sigh dramatically whenever the two of them arrived unannounced.

But, this time, they’d decided to go through with the plan anyway.

That was why North and Connor found themselves lying flat on a rooftop, pressed against the snow and cold metal sheeting, waiting for the gunfire to die down. It was taking awhile. Connor was pretty sure someone had an automatic rifle, the skilless dick.

“Step two could’ve gone better.” North’s voice rang in his head, and since she was approximately eight inches from him she probably could’ve gotten away with whispering, but he was pretty sure she just liked seeing him twitch and blink rapidly when receiving a message. He really needed to see if he could do something about altering that reaction.

“It could’ve gone worse.” He countered, and it was true, even though Connor wasn’t really an optimist; when you could construct potential plans and calculate their probabilities of success, anything but realism seemed unwarranted. However, step two had been one of his parts of the plan, and he was not about to call it a failure.

North didn’t bother to respond, just rolling her eyes, because they were both distracted with something more noteworthy: the gunfire had died down, which meant their pursuers were either out of bullets, convinced Connor and North weren’t actually hiding on the roof, or they had dropped dead. Connor was pretty sure it was one of the former two and not the latter, but an android could dream.

He could also dream that his partner would take even a few seconds to wait and see if the coast was clear before moving, but alas, it was not the case. North was both more decisive and more impulsive than Connor was, things he hadn’t been entirely sure were possible, and so even he had trouble keeping up with her when she decided to do something.

And, currently, that something was to scramble up, launch herself forward, and drop over the edge of the roof. The sound of a wet thunk indicated she’d broken her landing with a human, and if they were lucky maybe she’d broken the human too. That’d be a bonus.

Connor wasted no time in vaulting from the roof’s edge himself, dropping the two stories to land and roll, pretending the motion was a lot more graceful than it actually was. It was really only enough to get the job done, putting him right in the face of one of the guards, too close for the rifle to be any use and Connor subdued him easily. Two down, something like seventeen to go.

He understood why Markus hadn’t wanted them to raid the warehouse; it was dangerous, and Connor knew for a fact that the police were getting ready for their own raid the next day. But even though there was no confirmation that the red ice producers were holding any androids for use in making their drug, Connor couldn’t get the idea out of his head that there might be androids suffering while they did nothing. North had noticed how agitated he was, and after he’d explained the situation they’d both decided to do something. Markus, however, was unwilling to risk their lives on a maybe, when they didn’t know for sure--or even have good reason to suspect--that there was anyone who needed help.

And so they’d just ignored him.

He was going to be mad when they got back, but that was just how life went sometimes. Connor was mad at people a lot, and he got over it. Sort of.

Anyway, they’d deal with the issue of Markus being angry and/or disappointed in them later. With the guards out front dispatched, they could continue on into the warehouse; the only--or well, the most current problem--being that there were definitely more guards before. Where did they go?

“Maybe they went to get more ammo.” North suggested, having the same thought he did, stepping on the arm of the guard she’d tackled as she walked over to Connor. She pretended it was completely cavalier, but he saw the faint grin that crossed her face when she did it.

“Maybe. If so, we should go now.” Before they finished reloading and came at them again. Connor and North could handle a few heavily armed humans, especially if those humans were drug dealers and not military or FBI, but they didn’t need to take any more risk than they already were. It was already a lot, and eventually it would catch up to them.

Eventually, as it turned out, was actually about four and a half minutes later. After several non-fatal gunshot wounds, two explosions, and a lot of broken human bones, they were successful but absolutely not looking forward to explaining this to Markus.

An upside was that they did indeed end up saving an android; an AX400 had been still alive in a storage closet, and had been incredibly shocked to see a pair of androids open the door. She had in fact latched onto North, crying on her shoulder in appreciation, and this time the smile North tried to hide was for a very different reason.

They made it back to New Jericho with only minor further incidents and blood loss, and were really quite proud of themselves as they escorted the AX400--her name was Lila, as she’d told them on the taxi ride back--to the repairs center in the lobby of the repurposed apartment building. That pride lasted until Josh gave them both a horrified look and informed Connor that he could see through the hole in his shoulder.

And that was how Connor ended up sitting on an exam table and attempting to behave himself while Josh fussed over him, North getting a similar treatment from Simon--who had been called in by Josh--on the next table. Markus hadn’t shown up yet, but it was only a matter of time. Connor set up a timer in his HUD to see how long it would be.

It took, coincidentally, about four and a half minutes. Connor was starting to think 270 seconds was a cursed number.

“I thought I asked you both not to do anything.” Markus said, voice soft, as he looked from Connor to North and back again. 

“You did.” Connor informed him helpfully, holding still so Josh could pry a bullet out of his side. “But we assessed that the situation required immediate action.”

Markus gave him a look, then glanced at North again. She just shrugged. He sighed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re both alive. What happened?”

And so they relayed their epic tale of heroism and murder, Connor slightly more factually than North, but her version definitely had a lot more flair. The steadily increasing furrow of Markus’ brow softened a little upon hearing about Lila, and so Connor thought they might be in the clear.

He was, unfortunately, incorrect.

“I’m really glad you’re both okay, and that you were able to save someone. But I’m still very disappointed that you snuck off; if you’re not going to listen to me, at least let me know so I can do something if you don’t come back.” Markus said, still in the soft and gentle tone he was so good at, looking so sad that Connor wondered if it would be too obvious if he got off the table and crawled under it to hide. 

North seemed similarly chagrined, but in typical North fashion that shame manifested as a will to fight. “We couldn’t take the chance that someone would stop us. You didn’t leave us any other choice.”

Oh no. Under the table was looking more and more appealing.

“North, I wouldn’t have-”

“Yes you would’ve!” She insisted, even though Connor was pretty sure Markus wouldn’t have actually stopped them, and more than that he was pretty sure North knew it. Connor shared a look with Josh, and got the impression that Josh was also considering disappearing, but fortunately he was far too tall for Connor to be concerned that he would take the hiding spot Connor had already mentally called dibs on.

Markus, being Markus, didn’t bother to argue further; instead he just gave North an incredibly sad look before turning his attention toward Connor. “Are you angry with me too?”

“Not currently.” Connor said, and it was truthful, because currently he wasn’t angry at anyone. He was just a really weird combination of mortified, accomplished, and guilty. He definitely preferred feeling angry.

Markus seemed to accept that answer, sighing quietly, and he gave North another look--her arms were crossed and she was scowling past Simon at a wall--before apparently deciding not to say anything more. Instead he just swept out of the room, coat billowing dramatically behind him, and Connor would’ve found that annoying if he didn’t know for a fact that it wasn’t on purpose. That was just how things went for Markus.

[vannahfanfics]

Time Marches Ever On

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Characters: Osamu Miya, Rintarō Suna

Hey, everyone! I am super stoked to present my story for the @sunaosabigbang​! Please also give my partner akira’s art some love! I hope you enjoy and it was a pleasure being part of the event this year~!

Osamu stared listlessly at the ceiling, watching the blades of the ceiling fan spin round and round with lidded dust-brown eyes. Slowly they rotated, spilling cool air down on him as he lay flat on his back in bed. Round and round, they turned, just like the world kept turning too; tick-tock, the clock ticked ever on, just like the alarm clock perched on Osamu’s bedside table. Time marched onward without distinction or prejudice, a different goal for everyone. For Osamu, that was the end of high school and the new chapter beyond. Except, Osamu didn’t know yet what to fill those pages with; they were blank, empty, just like his thoughts as he watched the fan blades slowly spin clockwise above his head. Round and round, ever on. 

After several straight minutes of staring, his eyes began to sting from lack of lubrication, so he finally closed his eyes with a quiet sigh. Each day that passed he grew more and more unsettled and fell into these contemplative moods, just lying in bed wondering what was to become of him. He was too young to ruminate like an old man, but he simply couldn’t help it. The future was not clear to him, not like it was to his twin. 

Atsumu knew in his heart that volleyball was his dream. He envied his twin for that, more than he’d ever envied him for anything. Atsumu just kept charging forward with that big, confident, cocksure grin on his face. Now Osamu felt himself lagging behind. It felt like he was slogging through wet cement, the thick muck drying on his feet and trying to lock him in place to weigh him down with all his insecurities. He opened his eyes, sadness and trepidation filling his dull, dusty-brown eyes. 

He reached down to the volleyball sitting by his bed, scooping it up with one hand to put it on his chest. His hands wrapped around the ball’s surface, fingers exploring the ridges and grooves he’d come to know so well from the game. Atsumu always seemed so sure when he held a volleyball in his hand, like it belonged there. Yet to Osamu, who was so alike to Atsumu in so many ways, the ball felt foreign. He ran his hands over the smooth surface, like he had done many times before, yet he could still not banish the alien hint to the ball it had always carried for him. In his heart, Osamu knew that his destiny was not the same as his brother’s— and that scared him. 

With a quiet “Tch!” Osamu chucked the volleyball at the wall. It collided with his dresser instead, filling the room with a hollow thunk. It bounced down to the floor, rolling several feet and coming to rest under Osamu’s bed— like it was hiding from him, like it was rejecting him. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he rolled onto his side and fisted his comforter. He had to make a decision soon; the clock ticked ever on, counting down the seconds to the precipice. As he mulled on his weighty internal debate, the screen on his cell phone lit up, shining bright in the late afternoon gloom. He picked it up to find that it was a simple news notification, but seeing the messaging app near the bottom of his screen gave him an idea. 

He pulled up Rintarō’s contact information— which didn’t take long since he was near the top of his message log— and sent him a quick message asking what he was up to. When the other boy replied, Osamu had to smirk, oddly eased at how well his best friend knew him. 

I already know what you’re going to ask, because you never ask me what I’m doing unless you want me to come over. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. What are we eating tonight? 

Osamu rolled onto his back, quickly replying that he hadn’t decided yet before rolling the rest of the way out of bed. He flung his phone down onto the mattress, not even bothering to check the reply when his phone buzzed against the sheets. He dropped his pajama pants to change into a pair of sweats, not wanting to look like a complete mess in front of Rintarō, though his friend knew he was a mess anyway. Osamu was always a mess when he invited him over; it had become an odd staple in their relationship, Rintarō listening while Osamu ranted about his problems. Of course, when Osamu was stressed he tended to cook. He wasn’t really sure if it was the food that Rintarō was interested in or the notion of being a good friend, but nonetheless, Osamu appreciated the company. 

Osamu smirked as his phone began to buzz insistently, indicating that Rintarō was calling him. He scooped it up and swiped to answer as he passed the bed, tucking it between his ear and shoulder while exiting his bedroom. 

“Ignoring my text message? Rude,” Rintarō quipped blaisely on the other end of the line. Osamu chuckled, switching ears as he walked into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator to see if any ingredients inspired him today. 

“I didn’t know you were so needy, Rin,” Osamu joked, earning an irritated snort from Rintarō. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a kiss when you get here.” 

“Ugh, you sound like your brother.” 

“That was the point. I wanted to annoy you,” Osamu grinned while picking up a carton of milk to inspect it. He grinned wider when he heard Rintarō snap his teeth irritatedly through the phone. 

“Can you do it another way, then? I really don’t want the image of either of you puckering up to kiss me, thanks.” 

“Aw, don’t be like that. ‘Tsumu may be more popular, but I’m definitely the better kisser.” 

“I’m turning around.” 

“Nooooooo,” Osamu wheedled, draping himself over the refrigerator door with a pout. “Rin, I really need to talk.” There was a small moment of silence, followed by the distinct sound of Rintarō breathing out of his nose. 

“Why do I put up with you…?” Rintarō muttered, but Osamu could hear the tone of defeat lacing his voice. Osamu smirked triumphantly and went back to ferreting through the refrigerator. He spied a package of ham and pulled it out, raising an eyebrow as an idea hatched in his mind. Some onigirazu would be quick and easy to make, he thought while bouncing the package of ham up and down in his hand. The sound of Rintarō driving buzzed through the phone; they often did this, simply existing in companionable silence as Rintarō made his way to the Miya twins’ residence. Osamu sandwiched the phone between his head and shoulder while he fished eggs and lettuce out of the refrigerator, then moved to the pantry to grab short-grain rice and nori sheets. He dumped all the ingredients on the counter, then, while holding the phone, surveyed them thoughtfully. 

“Let me guess— you’re making rice balls,” Rintarō quipped suddenly, and Osamu could feel the smile in his tone. Osamu snorted derisively, crouching down to retrieve a skillet from a low cabinet. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I believe you have a fascination with rice.” 

“It’s a Japanese staple!” Osamu protested while waving the skillet around emphatically. “I’m sorry that I can’t make a meal without rice or noodles when damn near every recipe in the country contains either!” 

“Sounds to me like you need to get a little more original,” Rintarō chided with a teasing laugh, and Osamu puffed out his cheeks derisively. Rather than change his plans, Osamu was going to make the rice sandwiches out of spite now; grumbling, he marched over to the rice cooker, dragging the bag of rice across the counter with him. 

“For your information, it’s not rice balls,” he informed with a matter-of-fact head waggle, tearing the bag of rice open. He retrieved a measuring cup and scooped it into a bowl, then carried it over to the sink, squashing the phone into his shoulder again. “It’s rice sandwiches.” 

“Oh, well excuse me,” Rintarō said, and the snark in his tone made Osamu scowl. He drowned out the boy’s next snippety reply by flipping on the tap, sending a cascade of water gushing from the silver spout. 

“Oh? What was that? I can’t hear you over washing my rice!” he cried loudly, spinning the grains around the bowl with his hands to clean off all the impurities. He just barely heard Rintarō snort over the grating of the rice against the plastic bowl and the thundering cascade of water. Though he wanted to keep it on for the rest of the phone call to drown out his friend’s chiding, that wasn’t good for the environment, now was it? Huffing, Osamu flipped off the tap and slapped a handheld strainer onto the bowl to drain the frothy water. “You’re such a dick, Rin,” he sniffed petulantly into the phone. “I’m not gonna cook for you anymore if all you’re gonna do is make fun of me.” 

“I thought that was the beauty of our relationship, though?” Rintarō said, and Osamu had to smile, imagining the smirk that was painting his thin lips right then. He closed his eyes as he carried the washed rice back to the cooker and dumped it into the cooker, then grabbed his trusty measuring cup. 

“Oh, so you can make fun of me but I can’t make fun of you?” he asked, walking back to the sink to fill up the cup. He kept the running water more gentle this time, more to avoid overfilling the cup than to avoid being rude. 

“Exactly. I’m glad you’re following along.” 

“I’m going to eat all the rice sandwiches before you get here,” Osamu warned, walking back to fill up the rice cooker with water. As he slapped the lid closed and set the timer, he heard Rintarō chuckle. 

“Too late, I’m already here.” 

“Fine. I’ll eat them right in front of you.” 

“Oof, how heartless. You invite me over to ask some of my sage advice, and you won’t even feed me?” Rintarō pouted. The sound of his car door shutting echoed through the phone’s speaker. 

“Nope. Matter of fact, I won’t let you in, either. You can give me your sage advice through the door,” he teased even while he was walking to the front of the house to let Rintarō in. The boy’s dry laugh sounded through the phone, followed by the sound of him hanging up. Osamu tucked his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants as he made it to the door. Rintarō must have heard him walking, because the boy piped up as he reached for the doorknob. 

“All right then, what sage advice can I give today?” he shouted through the door, voice bleeding through the wood. Osamu snorted in laughter and shook his head; he always had to appreciate Rintarō’s gift of sticking with a joke. He flipped the lock and turned the knob, his hand on his hip as he greeted his friend with a smile. “Oh? Change of heart?” the dark-haired boy said with a raised eyebrow. “I knew you had some good in you, ‘Samu.” 

“Just get in here before I become serious about not feeding you,” Osamu laughed and stepped aside. Rintarō walked into the entryway, shrugging out of his jacket and slipping out of his shoes like he’d done a hundred times before. As he tossed his jacket over the hook hanging on the wall, he looked at Osamu with narrowed eyes. 

“Are you all right, ‘Samu?” 

The question took Osamu by surprise; after talking with Rintarō, he’d begun to feel a lot better. He couldn’t lie to Rintarō’s trained eyes, however; the boy could read the tension still lingering in his body, the bags under his dusty-brown eyes, the uncertainty hiding in his expression and voice. Osamu sagged slightly, shaking his head at Rintarō’s ability to always get right to the point. Instead of replying, he just motioned for the boy to follow him; Rintarō complied, sliding into house slippers and shuffling after Osamu into the kitchen. 

Rintarō slid into a barstool, clasping his hands and waiting patiently for his friend to gather his thoughts. Osamu retrieved his skillet and placed it on the stove, flipping on the burner. For a moment, he watched the blue-white flames dance beneath the gas burner and spread heat throughout the small space; yet it didn’t reach Osamu, who had begun to grow cold with the weight of the world slowly pressing down on him like a hydraulic press. Robotically, he walked to the refrigerator to grab some butter, slapping a chunk of it on the skillet and pushing it around with the spatula to melt it. 

“Rintarō… Have you begun to think about the future?” Osamu started quietly. He heard his friend shift in the barstool, and through the reflection in the microwave in front of him, could see him push his fist into his cheek as he looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. 

“Well, a little bit. I mean, we’re second-years going on third-years… We kind of have to think about it since college entrance exams and all that stuff will be coming up,” he said, pursing his lips slightly. “But, I certainly don’t have it all figured out or anything.” Osamu nodded, melting the last of the butter. He grabbed an egg and cracked it open; the whites bubbled and hissed as it came into contact with the hot pan, and the yolk swam within the clearish-white liquid, bright and gold like the sun. Osamu had always fancied his twin like the sun— bright, loud, confident— and he as the moon, merely reflecting its light and possessing no brilliance of its own. 

As he cracked another egg open, he asked, “Do you think you’ll keep playing volleyball?” 

“You mean, next year?” 

“No, after that.” 

“Hmm,” Rintarō frowned, a bit stumped by the question. “I guess I haven’t thought too much about it. But I do enjoy it, so I could see myself continuing on in college and maybe even community.” Osamu watched through the microwave reflection as Rintarō perked up, lowering his hand back to the counter to stare at his back in surprise. “Is that what this is about?” 

“Yeah,” Osamu sighed, closing his eyes. He opened them again after a second, cracking two more eggs on the pan. He nudged the edges around with the spatula, waiting for the protein-based part of the egg to turn fully white and a little crispy around the edges before flipping them over, one by one, and taking care not to break the yolk. Not that Rintarō would care, as he’d scarf down any of Osamu’s cooking, but the young chef did have his pride. “Atsumu’s like that. He’s been talking a lot about what college and community teams that he’d like to play for. But I…” he trailed off, watching the eggs bubble on the skillet. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that, Rin.” 

Rintarō didn’t answer, just watching as Osamu grabbed another skillet and put it on another burner, flipping it to a higher temperature. He slapped some more butter on the black surface, melting it to a bubbly liquid, and then pulled the package of ham to him. As he carved off some pieces that would fit in his rice sandwiches, he continued quietly, “Atsumu and I have always been a team. We’re twins, after all; we know each other better than anyone, like we’re really just two halves of the same whole or just the same person. But lately, I have the feeling that… I’m not as much like him as I thought.” 

The ham sizzled as he laid it on the skillet, the pink-red meat roasting and filling the air with a hearty-sweet scent. “Atsumu is the star, I know that now, and I’m just a shadow that makes him shine brighter. I think I’ve always known that, deep down, but I was scared to admit it.” 

“‘Samu, you’re just as good a player as Astumu is,” Rintarō piped up, and Osamu sighed frustratedly, his words not getting across quite what he wanted. He waved the spatula around as he tried to gather the jumbled-up thoughts he’d been ruminating on for nearly half the year. 

“No, that’s not quite what I mean,” he frowned, poking at the eggs to see if they were ready. Deciding they were a good over-medium, he grabbed a paper plate and slid them off the skillet one by one, then walked over to the sink. He dropped it in and turned on the cold water; as it hit the burning hot, greasy surface of the skillet it evaporated immediately, filling the air with white wisps of steam. “I know I’m good, but… Atsumu shines because he enjoys volleyball with his entire soul, and I don’t think I can say the same.” 

He left the skillet too cool in the sink before walking back to the stove, flipping over the ham before grabbing the lettuce. He pulled out the leaves onto the cutting board, chopping off a few before putting them in a paper bowl and carrying them back to the sink to wash them off. “I enjoy it, sure, but I think it’s more because I knew I could help Atsumu shine. But now, Atsumu is doing that well enough on his own, and I just…” he trailed off, the water filling the bowl and making the lettuce float as he stared off into space. “I want… Something of my own.”

He looked to Rintarō, who gazed at him levelly. There was no hint of judgment; there never was. Osamu could tell him his deepest, darkest, most selfish wishes and Rintarō would never look at him as a nasty person, never look at him like he was flawed. He would just look at him in understanding, like he was human, like he was just Osamu— and he appreciated that more than anything. 

Osamu remembered the lettuce and flipped off the tap, grabbing some paper towels. He slopped the sodden leaves onto the absorbent paper and blotted them dry, then carried them back over to the counter near the stove. The ham had finished cooking as well, so he flipped off the burner and piled them onto the plate next to the eggs, giving the hot pan the same treatment as the one before. The rice cooker chimed pleasantly, indicating that it had finished as well, and he popped it open. He waited for the steam to billow up, condensing on the wall and the underside of the counter in little dewdrops. Osamu waited for the top layer of the rice to cool enough for him to handle with his hands before scooping it up and plopping it onto a plate. 

“So you want something of your own, and you don’t think that something is volleyball?” Rintarō finally said, and Osamu nodded. He could feel Rintarō’s sharp, golden-yellow eyes studying his back as he shaped the bottom layer of the rice sandwich and then gently laid a lettuce leaf on top. 

“Is that selfish of me?” Osamu asked quietly, pausing in the middle of scooping a thick chunk of ham onto the half-made sandwich. The barstool squeaked as Rintarō shifted on it. 

“Why would that be selfish of you?” 

“Atsumu and I are a team… I’m sure a part of him imagines that we’ll keep going on together, the great Miya twins, striking down our enemies on the same court.” There was no bitterness in his voice, just an acute sadness that he knew in his heart that his brother’s dream would never come true. “Is it selfish of me to quash his hopes like that? To make him go on alone?” 

“Osamu,” Rintarō sighed, and the light-haired boy knew that he was getting serious by using his full name. Though his back was still to him, draping the egg on top of the ham and scooping another layer of rice on top so he could begin molding it into a sandwich shape, he still listened keenly to his friend. “That’s not selfish of you at all. You’re not responsible for Atsumu’s happiness. I’m sure he’s enjoyed playing with you, but if he throws a tantrum because you want to have your own dream, then he’s the selfish one.” 

Osamu smiled wanly, grabbing some nori paper and wrapping it around the molded sandwich. Rintarō always put things so plainly, always put things in perspective when Osamu got too in his head; he appreciated that aspect about him, which is why he’d chosen him to always give him advice, even if it wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to hear. Even now, though he knew Rintarō spoke the truth, he hurt; his heart ached at the idea of walking a different path than his twin, the brother he’d shared a special connection with since the womb. Yet he also knew it would hurt to live forever in his shadow, focused more on Atsumu’s happiness than his own. 

Tears glimmered on his dark lashes, making the rice sandwich in his hands blurry like watercolors. He heard the chair scoot when Rintarō slipped off of it, walking around the bar to enter the kitchen. He flitted behind Osamu, wordlessly walking to the sink to flip on the water. “Everyone wants to become their own person eventually,” he explained. Osamu watched out of the corners of his eyes as he grabbed the bottle of dish soap and a sponge, saturating the sponge in the thick blue liquid and frothing it up under the water. “It’s just part of being human, yanno.” He began scrubbing one of the greasy pans, spreading brown-tinged soap over the cast iron surface. “And you deserve that, ‘Samu. You deserve to live for yourself, everybody does.” 

“Yeah,” Osamu said hoarsely. He sucked in a breath, blinking several times to dry his tears. The few that had bubbled up slipped down his cheeks, which he wiped away with the hem of his tee-shirt. He finished wrapping the nori paper around the rice sandwich before getting started on the next. “You’re right… It’s just, even though I spent my whole life knowing how Atsumu thinks, I don’t know how he’s going to react to this.” 

“He’ll react how he does, and you’ll have to deal with that then,” Rintarō shrugged. “If he throws a little fit, he’ll get over it after he takes some time to think and clear his head. More than anything, he loves you and wants you to be happy. He’s your brother, and more than that, your twin.” 

“Yeah,” Osamu smiled, patting the rice down between his palms. “That’s true. But he’s also a big brat.” 

“Tch, you got that right,” Rintarō snorted, rinsing off the pan and grabbing a nearby dish towel to dry it. “He’ll definitely complain because he just can’t help but pitch a fit about anything and everything.” 

“You called me heartless, but you’re the heartless one, Rin,” Osamu laughed, and his friend only responded with a shrug. He handed Osamu the pan to put away, then started on the next. 

“How am I heartless? I came over here to listen to you whine, and I’m even cleaning your dishes for you. I’d call that generous.” 

“You’re so full of yourself!” Osamu laughed, shaking his head and setting the finished rice sandwich on a plate. “Here, a reward for your hard work, Mr. Generosity.” Rintarō wiped the sudsy water off his hands before walking over to take the plate, leaving the half-cleaned pan in the sink for Osamu to finish later, probably. He shuffled back to the bar to plop into his seat, shoving half the rice sandwich in his mouth to chomp down on it. Osamu looked over his shoulder as he worked on the third, unable to keep from silently asking Rintarō’s opinion. His teammate chewed thoughtfully, then leaned into the bar with a small smile. 

“I’d give it a solid seven out of ten,” he rated, making Osamu snort and grab the dish towel to chuck it at him. Rintarō caught it with the hand not currently occupied with the rice sandwich, waiting for Osamu to turn his back before lobbing it at his head. Osamu rolled his eyes and draped the dish towel over his shoulder, setting the finished sandwich aside before beginning on the last one. 

“That’s not a very nice way to treat the chef.” 

“The chef started it,” was all Rintarō said before filling his mouth with more of Osamu’s delicious rice sandwich. Osamu chuckled. He never could win with Rintarō; he always got the last word, but that was okay. There was a special affection in their little banter that always calmed him down when his nerves ran away from him, and of course, cooking for him always helped, too. Finally, he finished making his own sandwiches and walked over to the bar, climbing up into the stool next to his friend and exhaling deeply. 

“I really do use rice a lot, huh?” he laughed as he picked up the sandwich, turning it over in his hands to inspect it. 

“Well, as you said, it’s a ‘Japanese staple,’” Rintarō replied, his mouth full of rice and egg and ham. He made air quotes as he used Osamu’s words against him, making the gray-haired man snort and shake his head. Still, the phrase got him thinking. Instead of biting the sandwich, he tore it in half, watching the yolk ooze over the lettuce and ham and rice. 

“You know, Rin, maybe I should start a restaurant.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah… An onigiri restaurant. Onigiri is quick and easy to make, but there’s so many ways to do it,” he thought aloud, taking a small bite of the sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. Next time I’ll season the ham, he thought absently and swallowed. “I could probably make other stuff, too, like rice sandwiches and junk... I mean, a lot of people would be willing to pay for a ‘Japanese staple,’ right?” 

“Probably,” Rintarō nodded, working on his second sandwich. Osamu had to smile; when Rintarō really enjoyed his cooking, he grew quiet. The two of them ate in silence for a few minutes, just the sound of their quiet smacking filling the air of the kitchen. There really were two things that defined his friendship with Rintarō, witty banter and companionable silence. Such a dichotomous set of circumstances, but they made it work pretty well, he thought with a sidelong glance at his friend. Rintarō had finished practically inhaling the food and pushed the plate away, turning to lean his cheek in his hand and look at Osamu. 

“So, onigiri?” 

“Yeah,” Osamu said after swallowing a bite. He tilted his head, looking at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand— specifically, the rice. Already, visions of onigiri danced in his head— filled with various premier filings, others with more traditional and nostalgic recipes, some soaked in soy sauce or miso and grilled. The possibilities really were endless. A smile bloomed on his lips as he imagined it, a food truck cart with just a kitchen for him, and smiling faces at his counter as he delivered warm food that would fill bellies and hearts. “Yeah,” he said again, a dreamy echo to his voice. 

“It sounds to me like you’ve already got a great dream for yourself, ‘Samu,” Rintarō smiled, making Osamu look at him. His yellow eyes were slightly lidded and gazing at him proudly. “You should work hard for it. This is your court, after all,” he said with a gesture to the kitchen. Osamu looked at it, at the stove and his tools and the ingredients, and realized he was right. Osamu’s heart had always truly lied with fire and spices, with knife and spoon, with fresh ingredients and kitchen experiments. Sure, landing a spike was nice… But nothing had ever come close to the little flutter in his heart when someone took the first bite of his food and a smile had instantly sprung to their lips. 

“Yeah, you’re right, Rin,” Osamu said, closing his eyes. “This is my court.” 

Maybe he wouldn’t share the court with Atsumu anymore, but that was okay. Here on this court, he could learn to shine just as bright as his brother could. But that didn’t mean that they had to go completely their separate ways. They were brothers, twins. Osamu would always have his door and heart open for his brother. While Atsumu wowed the world with his show-stopping talent, Osamu would be on another stage, bringing home-cooked meals to the masses. Yet he’d always have a seat for his beloved brother, ready to give a listening ear and his favorite meal. A star athlete couldn’t perform on an empty belly, after all. 

Osamu found himself smiling as he imagined it, more than he’d ever smiled while thinking about roaming the various courts with his brother. Time would march ever on, bringing them closer and closer to the fork in their road— but Osamu wasn’t afraid of that anymore. Roads were winding and interconnected, and so he and Atsumu would always find their way back to one another. 

“Thanks, Rin,” Osamu said, opening his eyes to look back at his friend. When he did, he discovered that Rintarō had stolen the other rice sandwich off his plate and was chewing on it unabashedly. Osamu smiled wanly, shaking his head. “You could’ve just asked me to make you another, you know. You didn’t have to steal mine.” 

“Well, it was just sitting there while you were all in your feelings,” Rintarō shrugged. “I figured that I would put it out of its misery.” 

“What about my misery?” 

“Eh,” Rintarō shrugged and jammed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. “You’ll live.” Osamu rolled his eyes and shoved Rintarō lightly in the shoulder, making the boy grunt and give him a small pout. His eyes brightened when Osamu slid down from the stool, and he hopefully asked, “Are you making more?” 

“Yes, yes,” Osamu laughed with a wave of his hand, rounding the bar to the kitchen— his court. “Be patient, you fatass. You’ll get more.” 

“You’re so mean to me, ‘Samu. I don’t wanna be friends anymore.” 

“Fine, but no more of my cooking for you.” 

“I was joking!” Rintarō cried, a little desperate. Osamu picked up his trusty spatula with a chuckle, looking back at him. 

“That’s what I thought. Now, just sit there and watch a master go to work, will ya?” 

Yes, this was his court, he thought as he looked around the kitchen with a soft smile. He was home here, even without his twin. He’d make art here, art for all to share as time marched ever on, bringing him closer and closer to the realization of a dream he’d start working on this very minute. Tick-tock, the clock ticks ever on, but he had nothing to fear now. The world was his onigiri to mold and make and fill with what he wished.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[manawhaat]

Feel The Music

Title: Feel The Music

Characters: Ash x Dean. 

Prompt: ‘Carlos Santana’ for @spnfanficpond​ Unfic Challenge (round 1). 

Warnings: Ash level crazy, crack, pining, fluff, technologically/electronically induced sexual pleasure, one single butt plug, blowjob, idiots to lovers. And they were roommates! 

Word Count: 3.7k

A/n: Late entry for unfic round 1. This is AU!Dean set at MIT with Dean and Ash as roommates. THANK YOU @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @sebbytrash​ and @samsexualdeancurious​ for your feedback and amazing beta skills while I tinkered with this. Thanks for reading! 

  When Dean saw the room listing online, he swore it was too good to be true. The apartment was badass, close to campus, had everything he needed, and was cheap enough to be a dream. It was only when he went to finally see it in person that he saw the other shoe drop with three simple words. 

“Hey, I’m Ash.” 

It had taken Dean a while to mull over his decision, but he figured a weird roommate was just part of the college experience. How, exactly, Ash got into MIT baffled Dean at first, but the longer Dean lived with him, the more of Ash’s quiet brilliance he saw. Ash was razor sharp, precise, focused and detailed. Hidden behind his redneck exterior, complete with mullet and cut off flannels, was a literal genius capable of just about anything.  

-----

“Hey, you mind holding this and telling me what you feel?” Ash’s voice carried from the kitchen and Dean just shook his head to himself as he pushed up off the couch and wandered over.

By now Dean was used to it, and actually, was quite fond of Ash. He was a character, no doubt about it, but when he grinned it was wide and goofy with just a hint of mischief, and he’d proven himself to be nothing but unfailingly kind and loyal. 

The kitchen had been Ash’s lab of sorts for the better part of the past year. Wires and computers and all kinds of shit were spread across the kitchen table and counters, the scene complete with a PBR sitting on the raised bar. The things Dean had seen Ash build out of thin air had astounded and impressed him, but the setup he was met with looked like it was still in the beginning stages of development. Part of Dean wanted to ask what it was all leading up to, but there was a method to Ash’s madness that always worked out in the end, so he casually leaned against the counter and held out his hand, ready for whatever it is Ash was gonna surprise him with. 

*Squelch. Slap.*

Except that.

A sticky slap later, Dean was staring down at something that looked like a hospital monitor patch, multi-colored wires connected to the white square now firmly stuck to his forearm. 

“What the fuck is that?!”

Without giving an answer, a thick medical book thunked down onto the empty part of the bar. The book was filled with sticky notes and highlighted sections, and it took Dean a few moments to realize that it wasn’t a book he’d ever seen before. It wasn’t a book that would even be found on campus. 

As Ash scoured his cramped and frenzied notes, Dean asked, “Where’d you get that?”

“Bunker Hill,” he said, as if that should clear up any of the confusion. 

“Bunker Hill?”

An exasperated sigh fell from his lips. “Bunker Hill, Dean. Community College up the road. I’ve been taking classes there. Professor Carey gave this one to me, herself. Said I had ‘a real fine brain and could do great things if I put it to the right use’,” he smiled, amused and almost disbelieving of the compliment. 

“You’re taking classes at another college, on top of the shit you’re already doing here?” 

Ash’s blue eyes flicked up as if to say ‘so?’, and Dean just let out a laugh, impressed and astounded once again. If Dean could commend Ash for anything, it’d be that brilliance and unbreakable confidence. 

“Here it is,” Ash said, rushing over to one of the computers at the table. “Okay, Winchester, tell me what you feel…”

Before Dean could question or comment, a tickling sensation pricked at his arm where the patch covered. It was light, but definitely tickled more than anything else. Confused, he answered back. “It’s light, but it tickles.”

Thunderous cheering filled the room and Ash shot up from his chair, a broad, sun-warm smile on his gleeful face. “Damn right it tickles, boy! Dr. Badass is in the fuckin’ building! Whoo!!”

Still lost, Dean couldn’t help but finally ask. “Alright, Dr. Badass, you gonna tell me how you did that and what this all is?”

Sauntering over to Dean, Ash delicately removed the electrode pad and Dean frowned down at his skin, impressed that not a single hair was pulled off of his arm. 

“A magician never reveals his secrets, but I’ve got two words for ya...” 

He winked and rushed to his room, coming back with a guitar in his hands. A terrible chord echoed through the room and Dean winced at the horrid sound as Ash stood before him, dripping with the type of gravitas only Ash Harvelle could emit. 

“Sex Guitar.”

-----

When the idea came to him, Ash didn’t know how to actually play guitar, but he’d be damned if he was gonna let that get in his way. For weeks he learned, spent any of his free time outside of classes plucking and strumming away, watching YouTube tutorials and teaching himself how to play. The ruckus was a month-long headache for Dean, and he praised the day that he came home and heard what sounded like actual music emanating from Ash’s room. 

“Oh, thank God. I was starting to think this was never gonna work.” 

“Ye of little faith,” Ash replied, relaxed and playful. “Yaya and I are well on our way to granting the world sexual enlightenment.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Yaya?”

Ash grinned and patted the guitar in his lap, an old Gibson he’d found in a pawn shop, and smoothed his hands over the neck. “Vātsyāyana, man. Wrote a little book called the Kama Sutra.”

A laugh escaped before Dean could hold it in. “Well, that’s fitting. I’ll leave you to it.”

-----

Two weeks later, Ash emerged in Dean’s doorway. “Got another one for ya,” Ash said, pointing to Dean’s body. “Where do ya want it?”

Dean didn’t even bother looking up from his computer, just held out his arm and said, “This one better not be stabby like the last one.”

“No promises, amigo. Yaya’s singin’ in five.” And with that Ash was gone and had left Dean to his business with yet another pad stuck to his arm.

Had Dean been told that this is what his life would look like, he would have laughed. At first, it was slightly annoying, but this was his new normal. Ash’s mission was to create a Sex Guitar -- to be able to link sexual stimulation with music -- and so nearly every day Dean had a different electrode stuck on his body while Ash tinkered with his computers and guitar, trying to fine tune every note and chord to a sensation that the electrode would make tangible. Every project needed a guinea pig, and it didn’t hurt that the Sex Guitar was literally the most amazing thing he’d ever heard of. When Ash finally gave in and told him exactly how it would work, Dean was blown away. Hell, he couldn’t have dreamed that shit up. It was just another show of Ash’s genius. And he’d be a fool if he denied that it wasn’t a little fun getting to help Ash along. 

From the first time he’d had an electrode slapped onto his arm, Dean found himself fighting the thrill he got with every one of Ash’s delicate touches. Each sensory test served dual purpose, and getting closer to Ash was something Dean never thought he’d want as badly as he did now. 

Yaya broke him out of his thoughts and as the note carried through the apartment, a sucking sensation blossomed under the patch on his arm. Before he could call out and describe what he was feeling, a chord rang out of Yaya and it felt vaguely like someone was licking him. 

“Whoa, what the fuck?”

“Cool, huh,” Ash said, now standing in Dean’s doorway, strumming Yaya’s strings. “Get enough of these bad boys on ya, you can give yourself your own blowjob by playing your favorite song.” 

Suddenly, Dean was hyper aware of Ash. From the taut, lean muscles of his arms, to his long fingers, and the way his lower lip turned berry red when his teeth bit down into it. His mind could wander, think about what those lips might feel like if they were to replace the electrode patch. What style of pubic trimming would lie beneath the acid wash jeans that hugged Ash’s tight ass just right. 

The mulleted genius noticed the way Dean’s eyes gazed in and out of focus, followed the lines of his body. Dean’s tongue licked at his full lips and a light went off in Ash’s brain. Dean was checking him out. 

Suddenly, the thought of Dean looking at him the way he was, of thinking about him, left Ash flustered in a way he didn’t expect. Sure, he’d been with guys in the past, but he didn’t peg Dean as the experimental type and honestly never thought he’d give him any thought. 

Before he could get too carried away thinking about it all, Ash pulled himself together and cleared his throat to bark, “Dean!” 

The sharpness snapped Dean out of it, and he stared up at Ash who was waiting for an answer. Dean’s face flushed hot, filled in red in the spaces between his freckles.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat, “what?”

“Petroleum jelly or lube? If I were to lube you up under the patch, which one would feel more like someone was lickin’ ya?”

Dean’s heart raced and a thick swallow bobbed in his throat. “Uhh… lube, I think.” 

A dirty grin cracked Ash’s face. “Hell yeah. I’ve got both. You mind testin’ ‘em both out?”

Ash vanished before he could respond, and Dean cursed under his breath and rubbed his face with his hands to try and gather himself and his thoughts. 

“Jesus, this guy’s gonna be the death of me,” he said to himself, slapping on as casual a smile as he could muster when Ash reappeared with both items in his hands. 

Ash winked and approached, slapping on a carefree smile to hide the way Dean had unwittingly left him flustered and curious. “Ready for your blowjob?”

-----

Finals had been approaching fast and hard, and Dean was in the middle of soldering wires together when the guitar strumming he’d been used to hearing 24/7 for the past three and a half months suddenly stopped. A moment later, Ash stood in Dean’s doorway, completely silent, cheeks pink and eyes wide and glossed over. He cleared his throat and took a hesitant step into Dean’s room. 

“It’s ready.” 

Those words alone shot a thrill up Dean’s spine. He’d been watching the project come together for months, and the thought of a fully functioning sex guitar was enough to have him flustered where he sat. 

“So… how are you gonna test it? Do you need to find a girl or something?”

Ash flushed and shifted in Dean’s doorway, not quite meeting his eyes. “This song is actually tuned for a guy…” 

Dean muttered out a soft, “Oh.”

“I was thinking, since you’ve been testing it it would make the most sense for you to test the final product. But, uh, you’d need to be naked. And if it works the way I’ve planned it, you’ll- uh…. You’ll cum.”

Dean didn’t mean to gape, but he stood stock still with his mouth open, his soft pink, pillowy lips forming a puckered ‘O’. That secret longing for Ash that had been welling inside Dean’s chest for months had been leading him to this moment, to this one song Ash had prepared for Yaya to sing. Part of Dean secretly hoped that whatever the song was, Ash had picked it out special for him. It took a minute for Dean’s brain to catch up and for him to regain his composure, but eventually he nodded and cleared his throat. 

“Y-yeah, I guess that does make sense. I-I’ll do it.” 

Dean couldn’t miss his chance, even if his heart is already pounded against his ribs just at the thought of what he’d agreed to. 

With Dean’s yes, Ash got to work. His room was already set up with his computers and monitors, and the electrodes were laid out along the length of his bed. Everything was ready and waiting for the test subject, but for the first time in forever, Ash felt a wave of nervous energy wash over him. Thoughts and worry ran rampant through his brain, not only about the results of his actual project, but about Dean. 

He’d been planning this for months. Dragged out the build time to get a little closer to the green-eyed god he shared the apartment with. Though, now that it was game time, he was sweating and second guessing himself, wondering if he’d been too subtle and if Dean had picked up on any of the hints he’d dropped. 

Soft knocks broke Ash’s haze and he turned to find Dean standing in his doorway in a pair of black boxer briefs. “So… is it all ready for me?”

The two shared a breath, kept eye contact a little too long, and Ash nodded dumbly when he realized he was staring. 

“O-oh, yeah. Let’s get you strapped in.”

Electrodes passed between them as they placed the sticky white patches on the upper half of Dean’s body in deafening silence. When they got to his waist, Dean pushed off his underwear and stood semi-awkwardly as Ash just stared at him. 

He was half hard already, thick cock surrounded by a neatly trimmed patch of light brown hair. He’d never felt self conscious about his body, but something about the way Ash’s eyes followed the lines of him made Dean’s insides burn hot with anticipation and need. 

“Uh… last few are here,” Ash said, pointing to the bed. “I’m gonna have you lay down and apply them to yourself.” 

Dean nodded and eased himself onto Ash’s bed, waiting for his cues. 

The sight of the tan Winchester spread out in his sheets made Ash’s dick throb in his pants, but he pushed down his own arousal and picked up two electrodes. 

“Those go on your balls.”

The tense air suddenly broke as laughter spilled into the room. The bluntness of Ash’s words had them both grinning and choking back residual waves of amusement as Ash handed him more electrodes and told him where on his crotch and genitals they were meant to go. 

Their laughter died down and Ash held the last patch in his hand. “This one goes on the bottom of your head.” Dean took it from Ash and gently applied it before looking back up to Ash, unsure of what exactly to expect.  

“So, there’s one more, if you’re okay with it…” Ash started, cheeks red as he retrieved an item and held it up for Dean. 

Between Ash’s fingers sat a relatively small, slightly curved butt plug. The smooth black silicone was attached to the last of Ash’s electrodes at the flared base, and the plug tapered to a round point. 

As Dean’s eyes widened, Ash backtracked nervously. “I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever done that, a-and you don’t have to if-”

“It’s okay,” Dean interrupted, cheeks burning as he licked at his lips and reached out to collect the plug. “I mean, I haven’t been with a guy- or anyone who uh, you know… but I’m open to it.”

Hope filled Ash’s chest, but he quickly tamed any outward expression of it and turned to find the lube for Dean. After handing the bottle off, he left the room to give Dean the privacy he needed. 

Laid out on the bed, Dean gently worked his lubed finger around his puckered hole. He’d experimented lightly in the past, but the feel of the silicone plug resting against his skin had his heart racing. It took a few minutes to let go of his rampant thoughts and emotions, but when he finally relaxed and the plug sank into him, he couldn’t restrain the satisfied groan that bubbled from his chest. 

Adjusting on the bed and making sure the last patch was pressed firmly to the skin around his slightly stretched hole, Dean called Ash back in and let him know he was ready. Eyes meeting briefly, Ash shot Dean a warm, comforting smile that put heat in Dean’s cheeks. They were both nervous, but neither of them could back down. 

Ash’s fingers shook slightly as he typed into his computer and flicked on the monitors. A few beeps and flashing lights sounded from the completed system of cables and boxes, and then he picked up Yaya and strummed a single note. 

“You feel that?” Ash asked, smirking lightly when Dean nodded. “Okay, here we go.”

Eyes falling closed, Dean took a few breaths before Ash’s song started. He was already hard from the anticipation, and a deep gasp filled the room when Ash strummed the first notes. 

Different electrodes started firing off along his body, easing him into each sensation, and it didn’t take long for Dean to recognize the tune spilling out of the small amp in the room. Despite the sparks of pleasure radiating through him, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. 

“Dude, Santana? Really?” 

Ash remained silent and three notes later Dean’s scoff turned into a sharp moan when the electrode on his tight hole was triggered for the first time, a licking sensation coupled with a vibrating pulse of the butt plug. 

Ash did his research. He knew his body and had grown to know Dean’s, as well. Every note was carefully picked, every sensation crafted specifically for Dean’s pleasure. 

As the song played, the soothing sound of Santana relaxed him, left him heavy-limbed and blissed-out. The nerves fell away for both of them and before Dean knew it, the cool mellowness that had filled him had morphed into a desperate need. More than half the song had flown by and he’d already been brought to the edge twice. The waves of pleasure were closer to mountains- tall and steady- barely giving Dean any time to make sense of the sensations before they crumbled him down into nothingness. A warm tingle spread through him, pulsed and shot straight to his dick. He was completely gone, fully out of control, his body and pleasure in Ash’s hands.  

“Oh, FUCK!” Dean grunted when the cluster of notes triggered a licking sensation at his puckered hole, vibrations sparking inside him. His legs began to tremble and the song was almost over. 

At the curve of Dean’s spine, Ash worked his fingers across Yaya with that much more passion for the home stretch. The man chiseled by god himself writhed on Ash’s bed, grunted and moaned and looked up at him, deep green eyes begging for mercy in the prettiest way he’d ever seen. 

At the last few bars of the song, Ash finally took Dean to that sweet release. Hips jerking wildly, white strings of cum shot from his red, flared tip, the warm tingle of pleasure overwhelming him. Every one of Dean’s muscles were tense as he arched up and slammed his eyes shut, breathlessly called his name in a wrecked and perfect cry that pushed Ash to the edge. 

Ash was hard and wanted Dean like nothing he’d never wanted anything before. 

Before he could try to stop himself, Ash leaned in to swallow his name from soft pink lips, felt the swipe of Dean’s tongue against his and abandoned Yaya to reach out and touch that body he’d spent months learning and yearning for. To his surprise, Dean shot up and kissed him back, hips thrusting with the aftershocks of his orgasm as his hands fisted into Ash’s mullet and held on tight.

“Goddamn. Want you,” Dean grunted, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “Wanna see you cum.” 

Like a light had gone off in his brain, Dean pulled Ash down onto the bed and flipped him over, straddled his skinny hips and ripped open his jeans. Electrodes rubbed off Dean’s skin as they pressed together, mouths dancing to music long forgotten as Dean eagerly stroked Ash’s hard cock. He had never given a blow job before but he’d had enough to know the basics, and when Ash’s head rolled back against the pillows he knew he was on the right track. 

With all the hot air and electricity, want and pent up desire in the room, it didn’t take long before Ash was cumming in Dean’s mouth, those full lips chasing down the sticky white liquid so he didn’t miss a drop. In the aftermath, the two of them simply lay together in Ash’s twin-sized bed, bodies sweaty and pressed together, electrodes and Ash’s clothes scattered across the bed and floor. 

“Well… I’d say that that was an overwhelming success,” Ash said, breaking the silence with a dumbfounded tone in his voice. The two chuckled deeply and Dean rolled out of the bed, groaning a little at the plug still in him. 

Picking off the last of the electrodes on his body, Dean disappeared for a moment to remove the plug and came back with two wet washcloths, cleaned himself up and tossed the other to Ash so he could do the same. Dean slipped back into his underwear and picked Yaya up off the floor, climbing back onto the bed. He settled at the foot of it, sitting back against the wall, and plucked at the strings lightly. 

Ash sat up and kissed Dean’s neck, earned a ‘fuck’ outta him and smirked as he watched Dean fiddle with Yaya. “You know how to play?”

Dean shrugged, but shot Ash a dangerous wink before playing the main riff of Whole Lotta Love. His fingers moved nimbly over the guitar, his eyes were cool and half-lidded, body bare and leaned up against the wall with nothing on but black boxer-briefs and a lazy smile as he nailed it. It was all enough to have Ash on the edge of creamin’ himself. Again. 

Dean chuckled at that red hue spreading through Ash’s face and continued to play, fingers moving with knowledge and ease as he taunted the man beside him. 

“All those music lessons and time you spent playing and practicing….” Dean’s eyes brimmed with confidence. “...I might-a picked up a few things.” He tossed a nod to the electrode patches discarded on the floor. “Why don’t you strap some of those bad boys on and see for yourself.”

  Forever and ‘other character’ tags:   

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[edxwin-elric]

I’ll Kiss You

Rating: T

Pairing: Todomomo/Todoroki Shouto x Yaoyorozu Momo

Disclaimer: I don’t own My Hero Academia.

Word Count: 1402

Title: I’ll Kiss You

Description: Todomomo One Shot – hurt/comfort and fluff

Momo gets hurt in the dorm on night, and Todoroki helps take care of her.

ffn || ao3

Momo

BANG!

I jolt awake and look toward the door to my dorm room. I heard a noise, right? That wasn’t a dream that woke me. Was it?

A stare at the door for a second, debating if I imagined the sound, when I hear a loud CRASH followed by a THUNK.

Something is happening downstairs. Doors in my hallway start slamming, and I hear footsteps running past my door. Scrambling out of bed, I grab my kimono and pull it on as I slip into my slippers and go to see for myself. I run into the other girls on the stairs.

“Uraraka, do you know what’s going on?”

“It sounds like a fight to me,” she says quickly, her eyes still crinkled with sleep. “I just hope it isn’t Deku and Bakugou again. Mr. Aizawa will definitely expel them if it is.”

“Yeah. I hope not.”

Something explodes below us followed by a grunt of pain.

“Oh no,” she whispers beside me. “That sounded bad.”

“You don’t think it’s a villain, do you?” Tsu asks from behind us.

“Oh my God. I hadn’t even thought of that!”

“What is the meaning of this!” Iida’s voice booms suddenly. “It is the middle of the night!”

“Stay out of this, Four Eyes! This isn’t your fight!”

I see Uraraka’s face falls at the voice.

“Idiot,” she whispers. “I told you not to–”

She cuts off as we reach the first floor, taking in the scene in front of us. The couches are completely out of order—one being upended completely. There’s a black mark on one wall and a fist-sized hole in another. One of the window panes is shattered, but somehow still in place, and at the center of it all, Bakugou and Todoroki are facing off in their pajama pants, both with looks of determination and anger on their faces.

“I told you we should take this outside before it got messy,” Todoroki says calmly, cold air visibly rolling off his right side as the air around his left gets blurry from heat.

“Fuck that! Finish what you started, Icy Hot!” Bakugou shouts. “Or are you like your old man? Too weak to follow through. Maybe there’s a reason he’s the number two hero!”

Todoroki tenses, and I see frost starting to coat his skin. On his other side, his hair has started smoking.

“Boys, that’s enough,” I announce, stepping forward.

I have got to stop this before they raze the building.

“Yaoyorozu, stay back,” Todoroki orders. “If he wants a fight, so be it.”

“Don’t be a fool,” I hiss as I move to his side, trying to grab his arm. “Have you forgotten fighting is against the rules?”

“Since when do we follow rules?” Bakugou moves behind me, and I turn to look when suddenly I’m shoved to the side. I fall into the coffee table, banging my arm. When I look back, Bakugou is on the ground, and Todoroki is shaking his hand out.

“You son of a bitch!” Bakugou starts climbing to his feet. “I’ll–”

Iida and Kaminari grab him, holing him back.

“Get out of here before I set the smoke alarms off,” Todoroki says flatly. “We’re already going to be in trouble for this damage.”

The boys drag Bakugou away, and I hear the girls starting back up the stairs as I climb to my feet.

“Yaoyorozu,” Todoroki turns to face me. “That was really dumb.”

I sigh.

“I know. It wasn’t my smartest idea to try and interrupt Bakugou during a fight. I just–”

“Oh my God,” he interrupts, “you’re bleeding.”

“What?” I follow his gaze to my arm, and I gasp at the wide streak of red on my sleeve.

How did that happen? I didn’t even feel it. I just…

“You need to sit down.” His voice is firm and calm, but I can’t take my eyes off the blood.

“There’s so much,” I whisper.

“Do you feel light-headed? Yaoyorozu!”

I sway, and he catches me, easing me onto the nearest sofa. He removes my kimono, and drops it on the ground. Normally I would be self-conscious about him seeing my nightgown. Not that there’s anything indecent about it, but usually it’s only other girls that see it. Somehow, when it’s him, it feels more…risqué.

But he isn’t interested in my clothes. He’s too focused on the gash in my arm.

“I think the bleeding has stopped,” he says softly, “but I want to clean you up. Can you make it to the bathroom?”

“Sure.”

He leads me into the boys’ restroom, half carrying me, since my semi-swoon earlier must’ve scared him. Honestly, I’m fine to walk on my own, but having his arm around me is kind of nice.

“What did you hurt your arm on?” he asks as he grabs a washcloth and holds it under warm water.

“Must’ve been the coffee table.” I clear my throat and hop up onto the counter. “I hit it when I fell.”

“You mean when I pushed you,” he corrects, bringing the cloth up to gently stroke at the drying blood on my skin. “I was just trying to get you out of Bakugou’s way. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” I tell him, reaching up to stop his hand, making him look at me. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I’m really sorry, Momo,” he apologizes anyway, and suddenly my heart is pounding in my throat.

Wow, he’s standing really close. I can see all the flecks of silver in his gray eye. And the dark ring around his blue one.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says suddenly, turning back to my wounded arm.

“Like what?” I whisper, trying to catch my breath.

“Like…you want me to kiss you.”

I blink and feel my face heat as blood rushes into it. Did I really look like that? I didn’t mean to.

Did I?

I mean…I don’t want him to kiss me! Right?

“Unless you really want me to.”

“What?” I look up at him again, my head spinning.

“If you give me that look again, I might not be able to help myself,” he says softly, still cleaning my arm.

“I don’t understand,” I breathe.

He pauses and looks at me again, his beautiful mismatched eyes landing on mine.

“I’ll kiss you, Momo,” he promises huskily.

I open my mouth to say something, but he turns away.

“There. All done. The cut isn’t deep, so I don’t think you need a bandage really, but if you want me to, I can–”

“No. I’m okay,” I blurt, sliding off the counter with the briefest glance at my arm. “I’ll just be going to bed now.”

“Okay. Goodnight, then.”

“Um, right.” I start for the door. “Uh, Goodnight, Todoroki.”

“And I meant what I said, Momo.”

“What?” I gasp and look back, my heart tripping over itself.

“I really am sorry for hurting you,” he says softly.

“Oh. Um. It’s nothing.” I wave it away. “You took care of it, so no worries.”

He nods, and I swallow.

“Well, see you tomorrow then.”

I leave without waiting for him to say another word. I mean, what just happened? He cleaned my cut I guess, but aside from that…

Were we flirting?

He said he would kiss me if I looked at him like that again. But I don’t even know what I was doing! What if I do it on accident? Will he kiss me without warning? Do I want him to?

I can’t think about this now. It’s the middle of the night.

I stop to grab my ruined kimono in the lounge before heading up the stairs. Dropping it in my laundry hamper, I remove my slippers and climb into bed. I pull the sheets over me, and snuggle into my pillow.

His eyes really are beautiful though, I think sleepily. I can’t decide which one I like the best.

I yawn and let my eyelids flutter shut.

All of him is beautiful. Of course, I want him to kiss me.

My eyes pop open, and I stare at my wall.

Did I really just…

I shut my eyes again, and my mind fills with the image of his face. So close to mine.

I’ll kiss you, Momo.

I roll onto my back and stare at the canopy of my bed.

“Oh no.”

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (13)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

Warning(s): angst, emotional and mental turmoil, brief reference to past sexual abuse and trauma

Chapter Summary: At some point, everyone’s gotta just move on...

“Maybe it’s too soon,” Steve says, his voice dripping with that mother knows best quality. Bucky actually finds himself letting out a small, crooked grin when he recognizes Sarah in his best friend’s words.

Maybe it’s too soon for you to go back to school. You’re not yet recovered. Maybe it’s too soon for you to be thinking about a career. You’re still just a boy. Maybe it’s too soon to –

“You sound like your mom,” he tells him, head hanging low. He looks up and sees the pained smile on Steve’s face, the pitiful look in his eyes. He knows he’s trying to help, but… “I shouldn’t have come here,” he says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

“Bucky, this is your home. You can always come here. And if you’re upset, I want you to wake me up.”

Bucky nods hesitantly. He looks down at his hands, still tightly gripped around the mug of hot tea. Another memory slowly filters to the surface. “Your mom used to make chamomile tea. At night, when she got home from work.”

Steve’s face almost begins to glow as he moves further into the kitchen and leans his hip against the counter to the side of his friend. “She used to threaten us with it. When we wouldn’t calm down.”

“Running around the apartment like little hooligans,” he says with a laugh, quoting Sarah’s words. He can see her face, and while he had remembered her before, vaguely recalling her presence in his childhood, he now for the first time actually recognizes her. He lets out another short chuckle before the image fades from his mind and his face falls once more. “I really fucked things up,” he says, shaking his head.

Steve sighs. “It’s just gonna take time,” he tells him simply. “You need time to forgive yourself. And she needs time to heal. To… get over things.”

He sets down his mug with a harsh thunk. “That’s the thing, though. I thought she had. I mean… we talked things out. We’ve been talking things out. It’s not like I just went back over there and decided to stay the night and ignore what happened. Hell, the first couple of nights I slept on the couch and made her lock the bedroom door.”

Steve looks up at him, genuinely surprised. “You did?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well, both mornings I woke up and found her curled up in the chair in the corner, so it’s not like she listened.”

Steve lets out a small chuckle. “Yeah, that’s more what I’d expect.”

The two men lock sad, tired eyes. “If I could take it back, I would,” Bucky tells him.

“I know that,” Steve says, his brow furrowed. “Everyone knows that.”

“She came to a therapy appointment with me,” he lets out casually.

“Really?” He shifts his weight and stands up straight. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Bucky shrugs. “Seemed like a good idea.” He swallows deeply and begins shaking his head again. “She seemed okay,” he says, voice cracking just a bit. “I mean… I didn’t think…” He pauses and tightly shuts his eyes. Then, “Do you think it’s too soon?” he asks, words spilling out in rapid succession. “Do you think I should… stay away for a while?”

Steve’s eyes widen, his face hardening. “Honestly? Yes, I do. I think it’s way too soon. And I think you should stay here for a while.”

Bucky looks up at him in shock. Clearly he had expected him to disagree, to reassure him that everything would be fine. “But…” he starts, seemingly at a loss for words.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to shake his head. “You didn’t see her, Buck. That night. You didn’t see the look in her eyes… the fear, grief… the guilt. And the pain. You didn’t see how much it hurt her to swallow or talk, or just breathe.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to the floor, his mouth falling open in a helpless gape.

“Bruce was scared,” Steve goes on, reliving his own fear as he relays the experience. “He was…” He clamps his mouth shut for a long moment, thinking better of sharing the rest.

“He was what?” Bucky asks slowly, tone low and commanding.

“He was scared to treat her. He wanted to take her to the emergency room, admit her to the hospital. He was honestly afraid that she was going to die. Right there. With us. In the med room.” He waits for Bucky to look up at him, then locks onto his eyes. “Yeah, Buck. I think it’s too soon. I think she needs more time. I think you need more time. I think we all need more time.”

Bucky drops his gaze again, hair hiding his face as he gives him a tight nod. “Okay,” he says softly before turning and shuffling off to his already packed-up bedroom.

Steve stays up. He watches infomercials and sitcom reruns on TV for a few hours, then he heads out for a run. He knocks on Bucky’s door before he leaves, asks him if he wants to join. A clipped, “No.” is all he receives in response.

When he gets back, he showers, changes, makes breakfast. He knocks on Bucky’s door to see if he’s hungry. “No,” again, bites through the closed door.

He starts on some work. Now that they’re moving into the new facility, they have the ability to upgrade the team, create sub-tiers of soldiers and set up non-combatant clean-up crews. Potential new recruits are coming out of the woodwork. FBI, CIA, NSA… well-trained field agents and operatives. And Tony’s tasked him with choosing the best of the best. He knocks on Bucky’s door, asks him to help.

“No.”

He’s only able to make it through one file before he’s on his feet and out the door, making a bee-line for Tessa’s office two floors below. It’s barely 10 AM, but it feels like it’s already the end of the day. And the minute he sees her behind her desk, her head in her hands, he’s sure she must feel the same way. He knocks on her open door, asks if he can come in, and for the first time today is met with a, “Yes.”

“You look exhausted,” he tells her as he moves a full file box out of the chair across from her and lowers himself into the seat.

She gives him an assessing look, begins to absently twirl her pen between her fingers. “What do you want, Steve?”

He pulls in a deep breath and cocks his head to the side, gives her a small, sad, knowing smile… says nothing.

She rolls her eyes. “I had a nightmare,” she tells him with more than a hint of annoyance. “One fucking bad dream. So what?” The pen drops, clattering to the desktop.

“Bucky’s pretty upset about it,” he says plainly. “I think he’s just gonna stay with me for a few days.”

She gives him a look that starts out as confused and quickly escalates to irate. Jutting her chin out defiantly, she asks him, “Why the fuck would he do that?”

“Tess,” he intones, shaking his head.

“No,” she interrupts, rising from her chair. “I told him. It had nothing to do with him.” Steve widens his eyes in a skeptical look. “It didn’t!” She looks around frantically for a path out from behind the desk, but she’s managed to somehow hem herself in with various boxes and piles of files. After a couple of failed attempts to step over the mess, she gives up, shoulders drooping as she lets herself fall back into her seat. She leans forward and rests her elbows on the desk, drops her head into her hands, and speaks in an almost indecipherable mumble, “So fucking arrogant.”

“Sorry, what?”

She looks up and notices the slightly amused look on Steve’s face. Of course, he would think that her being trapped by all of her work was funny. “I said, he’s so fucking arrogant. You both are.”

“Whoa, what did I do?”

Now it’s her turn to give him an incredulous, disbelieving look. “You didn’t tell him that he should stay with you?”

Steve knows he’s caught, and for a brief moment he actually wonders if she’s developed some sort of mind-reading powers. But still he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve…” She shakes her head slowly, a barely controlled rage emanating from her. He can see it in her hands, splayed flat on the desktop in front of her. He can sense it in her piercing gaze as she locks onto his eyes. He can hear it in her voice when she says, in a short clipped tone, “I lived a life outside these walls. I lived a life before I met you. Not everything is about what happens here. Not everything is about being fucked up over Ultron. Or about working too much or too hard. Or about that damn night terror that James had. It wasn’t about him.” She slaps the desk on the last word.

They sit in silence for a moment, Tessa slowly bringing her anger back down to a manageable level, Steve sifting through her words in his mind. “What was it about then?” he asks finally.

She sighs, drops her head back into her hands.

“Tessa?”

“Did you tell him he should stay with you?” she asks, voice low.

He nods. “Even if your… dream was about something else, you can’t tell me that Bucky attacking you didn’t bring whatever that was back to the surface.”

She doesn’t deny it. She doesn’t say anything at all, in fact. She simply looks over at him with sad, tired eyes and lets out another deep sigh. She looks defeated, he thinks. She looks miserable.

“I told him that you both probably need a little more time. That’s all. We’re set to start moving next week. Maybe waiting until then… at least until then… maybe you can have a clean start in the new compound.”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. Then, straightening her posture. “No.” She rises up and crawls onto the desk, flings her legs over the lamp and computer screen, almost taking the monitor down with her as she scurries over the top of the desk. “No,” she repeats, seemingly to no one at all, as she dodges a couple of boxes and makes her way out the door.

Steve jumps up and follows her in stunned silence. He slides into the elevator just as the doors are closing and watches as she punches in his floor. When they arrive at his apartment, she stands by the door with her hands on her hips, tapping her toe impatiently. He gets the hint and hurriedly scans his card to unlock.

She bolts through the door and Steve follows hot on her trail, coming to a startled stop when he sees Bucky at the breakfast bar, spoonful of cereal frozen in his hand. She doesn’t seem at all surprised to see him, but his eyes are blown wide in shock as he shifts his gaze from the woman before him over to Steve.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asks slowly, narrowing his eyes accusingly at his friend. Steve simply shrugs.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Tessa says, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two men. “And then we’re never talking about this again. Understand?”

Bucky drops the spoon into his bowl of cereal and swivels in his seat so that he’s facing her. “You don’t have to say anything,” he tells her. “I just think – ”

“No,” she interrupts, tossing a silencing hand out towards him. “Just… listen.” The room is quiet for a long moment as she gathers her thoughts. “That dream… it wasn’t you.” She looks Bucky in the eyes, holds his gaze as she says the words, trying to assess whether or not they’re sinking in. “I promise you, it wasn’t.” She turns to address Steve for a quick moment. “Maybe what happened reminded me of it… triggered a memory. Maybe.” She looks back at Bucky. “But it wasn’t you. I’m not afraid of you. I’ve never been afraid of you.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he takes in her words. “Who then?” he asks, voice sharp. He stands up and looms in front of her. “It was a memory? That was a memory?”

She nods carefully, takes in a deep breath, and looks him right in the eye when she says, “There are things in your past that I know you don’t want to talk about. And I have never made you talk about them with me. Never. This is one of those things. For me.”

He visibly tenses before her, lips pressed in a firm, straight line, hands slowly fisting and unclenching. But in his eyes, she can see that he’s not going to argue. He’s thinking it all through. He’s processing. He’s –

“It was a long time ago. And I’m fine now,” she tells him, taking a small step forward. She tilts her head to look up at him and slowly raises her hands to his shoulders. “I’ve had nightmares before. Not just about this. And I’ll have more… I’m sure of that. I’ve had some shit happen in my life. You get that, right?”

He nods sharply, shoulders still tight beneath her hands.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to talk about it. Okay?”

Again, he nods.

“I’m going to go check in at the lab and finish packing up my office.” She drops her hands from his shoulders and takes a few steps back. “I have a meeting with Tony at two. But after that,” she says, turning and heading for the door, walking backwards to hold his gaze, “I’m coming home. And I expect you to be there. You said you’d help me pack.” She looks into his eyes for a long moment, her small smile never fading. “I love you.”

He nods his head again, letting his posture finally relax. “Okay,” he relents. “I’ll get more boxes.” He gives her a small, exhausted-looking smile of his own. “I love you too.”

The minute the door closes, Steve spins back around to Bucky. “What the hell was that?” he asks in a  stunned tone.

Bucky takes his bowl to the sink and rinses it out. He comes back around the corner and scoots past the dazed-looking man as he makes his way for the door. “I think…” he pauses briefly before looking Steve in the eye. “I think we’ve had the time we need. That was us deciding to move on,” he says, patting his friend on the back. “You should probably try it too.”