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soranihimawari · 2 years

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Break-In

Word Count:6.4K Pairing:timeskip!iwazumi x reader Warnings: mentions of stalking; break & entering; security breach; 🔞nsfw ending scene

『Good evening Mr Iwazumi. My name is unimportant, but I thought you might like to know I have access to all your media accounts, bank records, oh? and your personal schedule...

Hmm, who is YLN, YN?』

No one had wanted to be part of the security breach from Human Resources. The department had received multiple e-mails and phone calls from various public relations teams when the news spread to the general public via media outlets. Unfortunately, you were working at the time with a Parisian bound Olympic team. You were suggested to assist the sports medicine team in your home country of Japan. It had been years since you had visited home, however since your parents later in life chose to separate legally, you’ve been making trips to visit your mother and her parents over the course of your university years. Your father chose to remain back in the states due to being granted tenure and department head promotion for his university job. The same university where he was employed was the one with a fellowship program where you were able to continue your education in sports medicine. Always an avid track and field participant, you have overcome both physical and mental hurdles to be accepted into the program where your degree hails from.

Currently, you are at the center of the concerned team members, assisting in passing out water bottles. You’re listening to the captain and the coaches talk about current travel plans for practice matches around the city, only contributing here and there until your fellow sports trainer, Iwazumi Hajime, is called a little later into the coaches' office. A representative from the Human Resources department along with a social media public relations consultant is present. You’re assisting in the clean up routine for now as you wonder what is going on in that office. Surely, you've been invited out by a few members to the local pub down the street for a post-practice outing. You mention you’ll text Iwaizumi later tonight before packing your items, heading out with the ace and vice captain of the team.

Hours later, while in the comfort of your home your phone vibrates with a melody attached. You had just boiled some hot water for your nightly cup of chamomile tea dressed in nothing but a simple camisole and shorts. Picking up your phone, you see you have several missed calls from a few members of the team (whom, your mind thinks, were a bit more drunk than others) and a few texts from…

“Iwazumi-san?” you mumble while the kettle begins to whistle.

All the message has is an emoji (you and the team had introduced the keyboard to his phone the other day) of the Red Cross (❌) on it. There is no mention of whether or not it was a typo, but alas you decide as your tea seeps, to give him a call instead.

“He always said I should call,” you muse. “Maybe I should tell him the team might be dealing with a hangover tomorrow…”

Down the road, a baffled and irate Iwazumi had just parked his car in the underground parking structure of his apartment complex. He recalls the words of caution the HR Rep and team social manager had said. As far as the athletic trainer can remember, he hasn’t met anyone, romantic or otherwise, who would have developed a delusional idea of cloning his phone. The only one he could think of in recent terms was your recent camaraderie and partnership with him because of the work you two signed up for. A stalker for the team or a deranged fan might have had more information tucked away elsewhere and it’s that particular wavelength he is apprehensive of. Sure, in high school he had a taste of the fan-lifestyle thanks to Oikawa being the pretty boy setter he was (and still is). However, Iwazumi Hajime, twenty-seven years young, head trainer for an Olympic bound team, is about to learn the ramifications of having his personal information leaked. What does that entail, he wouldn’t know. Perhaps that’s why, as he enters the elevator to proceed in going to retire for the night, he receives a peculiar call from you.

“Hey,” his voice is tired, he claims this as you hum mentioning you made tea.

“Are you ok?”

Your question almost has Iwazumi fumbled his keys out of his hands. You clear your throat justifying your answer in the veil of co-workers’ friendship. He chuckles at that and he is reminded of the first time he had met you…in the office of the advisor at Irvine.

Once inside his residence, he slips off his shoes and you hear his bag slide off his shoulder.

“Iwa,” you place your half empty cup back on the counter. “You don’t have to tell me the details of you don’t want to…”

This makes his heart rate pick up just like in the office hours, or what seems like days ago now.

“What was that meeting about?”

“…”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose with your free hand. He hears you sigh on the other end.

“Tell me when you’re ready. I should go, it’s late.”

You withdraw by a centimeter and until he is advised to break his silence on the issue (it’s still in the observation stages of the investigation), he keeps up the facade in this call. He bids you good night, unsure if he will do the same.

Morning comes with the news chimes in the neighborhood going off. Your phone buzzes with back to back notifications from the group chat: five names is all you see. Five names, all of which you know because you saw them yesterday. One of which shocks you because of the nature of his keeping personal and professional life separate or as separate as can be. Suffice to say you knew Iwazumi was pretty popular amongst the female student body and the boys while you think about it. Your mind races in fleeting pocket memories and for all that is holy, some poor sap in a tabloid magazine probably had (somewhere along the way) misconstrued your relationship. “We’re friends” or “we met in university” conversations always ended with the players, even coaching personnel, wondering when you two would be honest with yourselves. Truly, the secretive romance rumors were not so lucrative since the vox populi seemed to take to social media scrutinizing the way you’re never more than a few feet apart during interviews even going so far at one point you two wore similar colors to a function hosted by the JVA. The stylists thought it would be fun since the theme of the party was “mirror.” You had dismissed the idea of going until Miya opened his mouth to ask if he can take you as a date. Iwazumi is within earshot when he says you can’t because, ‘yn is going with me.’ You stutter, yet recover quick when you read through your prickly friend’s sentiments. Playing along, Iwazumi can’t help the cough that comes out of his mouth when you make a mention of remembering he said in passing: ‘we were going to wear teal, ivory, and mint green, right?’

That was the last social function of the spring you think, minus the press tour for the Parisian games and even at world championships. Iwazumi couldn’t have made any enemies since then, right? This wouldn’t be a publicity stunt by anyone on the team either…

“Fuck me,” you sit up in a jolt, immediately dialing your partner in the training department. Your phone’s email counter now begins to rise to an alarming high as your texts keep getting flooded by family and players alike.

“I know,” is all that is said when you hear him pick up on the other side. “Stay there, I’m almost at your place.”

“Bring coffee asshole,” you grit your teeth and though you say it affectionately, he is ultimately reminded he has truly never seen you lose your composure. Sure, he’s seen you stress cry, but when you open your door roughly fifteen minutes later, your eyes are glazed out of frustration. Holding up the drink carrier holding a peace offering of trenta sized hazelnut espresso concoction and an everything bagel with blueberry cream cheese, you do not dial back your anger.

The door is closed behind him and the deadbolt is secured. He walks into your kitchen, sitting himself on a barstool facing the counter. You stand between the counter and the stove, sharp bonsai leaf green eyes observe your casually dressed attire: the white polo with red shorts and black belt was similar to the one you wore on beach trips in university. You noticed he came dressed still in the dry-fit undershirt and newly washed jeans from earlier that week.

“Iwazumi,” your voice is scarily monotonous. “Sit and explain.”

He listens like an obedient pet. If you could draw, you’d make a caricature of him as a hedgehog with a deflated expression. On the other hand, he might be bold enough to call you a tiger’Now he knows why your father is a docile man—your temper is inherited from your mother.

“Now,” you growl before taking a bite of said bagel, sliding your phone with the breaking news articles plastered everywhere on the site.

“One chance to tell me everything from the top, Hajime,” you raise a finger before taking your first sip of the hot beverage he brought.

“We’ve been through a lot worse,” you finally take a good look at your first friend from abroad—iwazumi looks like a psychopomp ready to rue the day: the lack of sleep is evident in the dark circles under his eyes, his jaw is tense, and for what it’s worth, you can tell your tactful (or rather inefficient, but justified rage) onslaught of a greeting was perhaps not a good call. He seemed to be blindsided by the media hoopla catching wind of the fact there was a security breach in high profile athletes’ information. Sure, breaches were created to test the waters of firewall security systems in an OS. Somehow, a tech savvy bot was able to unzip and reallocate specific targets, ie Olympic status athletes. Your friend explains this to you as calmly as he could, apology on the tip of his tongue before you lean forward to silence him with a finger to his lips. You’d think you’ve gone mad, but when you shake your head, you say something a bit more provoking: “so what’s the play Haji?”

He scoffs when you retract your hand. The bagel is nothing but crumbs at this point and your coffee is almost gone when you come round your kitchen counter. He watches as you lean your back against the edges, arms crossed while he swivels around to turn at least three quarters toward you.

“I just told you everything,” he hands you your phone back. “And your immediate response is ‘what’s the play?’”

“Don’t be so surprised,” you turn off your phone entirely now before sliding it in your back pocket. “I’ve known you for better half of seven years, heh.”

Leaning down to knock your temple against his, gently in the form of trying to let your brains catch up with this impertinent information.

“And this is not the worst thing that's happened in those years?”

He is dumbstruck, almost pulling away from you to show you his phone with his own messages and emails with counters almost in the hundreds by now.

“No,” you are suddenly face to face with him. You were honestly trying to bring some lighthearted humor back, but alas this is a grave breach in personal privacy, unaware of what would happen when you see your reflection in his rather glazed eyes.

Dangerously too close if you think about it; his pretentiousness loosens to give into curiosity. Iwazumi and you can’t recall who initiated locking lips with the other, both of you sort of let it happen.

“Ha-hajime,” you cup the sides of his face, gently yet firm when you pry him away from you.

His voice murmurs your name back and you’re unprepared for the ramifications his tone does to your heart. Iwazumi studies your flushed features before coming back to his senses like an Icarus falling into the sea. His eyes flutter close, lashes tickling your palm; mind you, he is trying to think of any excuse really, yet he comes up with none. Seven years is a long time to look at love in the face and just ignore whatever underlying pretense there was. It becomes suddenly apparent to both pirates once he readjusts himself to hold you properly by your natural waist. He wants nothing more than the world to disappear, even now as the perplexed look on his brow gives way to witnessing his typically sharpened features melting away—you do now know why the lines are so easily blurred. You hear him hum tiredly, exasperated by the shit-show that is about to occur once you return to work.

“Lay low,” you advise.

You run a hand through the back of his head when he presses himself more into this simple embrace with you.

“Stay out of sight,” he frowns when he says this against the fabric of your shirt.

“We can talk about this later,” you continue, tapping his lips with your other hand.

This time, you feel his muscles twinge upwards into a small smirk.

“I’ve got your back,” you remind him kindly when he lets you break free of his gentle grasp. He chortles a bit before making the move to wrap up this morning greeting.

“Don’t look so surprised,” you tease when you escort him to your door.

“I’m not,” shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns abruptly before you unlock the door. He bends down to press his lips to your cheek, whispering a secret loud enough for you to hear. With that, Iwazumi departs from your place, a little more confident in his steps.

A team meeting is called immediately at noon. You’re included in the must-attend listing as though you’re the one about to receive the scolding of a lifetime. However, you’re the odd one out considering you’re standing shoulder to shoulder with not only Iwazumi, but Miya, Ushijima, Hinata, and one more you’re not yet familiar with, but you choose to pick your battles wisely for now.

“You too?” seems to be the general consensus while everyone stands awaiting further instructions or rather, for whomever called this internal meeting to begin with. You all find your answer once the doors open and in walks the coach, their assistant, three representatives?: one from the JVA, the other two were from HR and the media manager. Now it occurs to Iwazumi why you might have asked the question, “what’s the play?” to him. His stomach knots on itself almost as much as Hinata’s when the meeting is called to start by the coach.

Before going into much more detail, Ushijima and Miya glance at each other because though they are single at this point in time, they had been known around the rumor mill as a hot and cold duo more so than another certain jackal this year; yet if Hinata was here as well, then it is also because of the outlying ramifications of one series of people all tied to them–family. Families outside of this room are no longer safe, go figure. All this talk and legal jargon could make your head spin, yet it doesn’t.

“Ms YLN, you’re awfully quiet,” the coach’s assistant points out. The boys were already holding files of the information that was leaked about their privatized personal records. Clearly the boys beside you are going through all the documents there and some of it is pretty damning from women being photographed at games to private dates outside the purview of the public to even travel tickets. Hinata is quite young, but the horrified faces of Ushijima; Miya’s color drains from his sunny disposition; to finally Iwazumi’s trembling fists. There was something on all of them and the only reason why you don’t speak up is because you’re about to say something extremely stupid (or brilliant).

“Just because I have no files in my hand, doesn’t mean I am unaware,” your voice seems to snap the boys’ attention real quick. “Truth be told, I knew something was afoot when Iwazumi-san was called into the office yesterday.”

The assistant is about to say something when you decide to not give anyone else a chance to speak, planning to thwart the insinuations any farther.

“If you think I had something to do with it since I am the only common denominator, then I will do you all a favor,” you take your phone out of your pocket to turn it on.

As the tech comes to life, your phone sounds off with different tonalities of various degrees, however when one particular chime goes off, you don an expression that is seldom let out.

“I’ll sit this one out if you get internal affairs involved,” you are eerily calm as your words carry the weight of a block of dried ice. “The athletes have a lot of stress placed on them once it was made known they would be representing their home country for the games, so whose brilliant idea was this to leak the story to the press?”

Your question raised a valid point, one that perhaps might not have crossed the minds of everyone in that meeting, yet here you were presenting a fact outside of the normal wheelhouse. In the later half of the meeting your refusal to say anything further than what you had said is a true neutral ground. You don’t budge, rather you repeat the question you asked any opportunity you can:

“Clearly if this was one of those publicity stunts, we would have made it known to the players, Ms. YLN.”

“And yet I find it rather interesting that none of you thought of involving internal affairs in this matter from the start, and since you’re so bright, mind telling me whose idea it was to leak this information to the associated press?”

This goes on until the meeting is adjourned with you coming too close to being either fired or suspended for a time, much to the dismay of your friends behind you. They know you didn’t do anything, hell Hinata, Miya, and Ushijima vouch for you being at their little pub crawl the night before, so they swear on your sobriety you had nothing to do with this if that was what the assistant was trying to do. For now, the contingency plan is to have the guys keep their distance away from you and your hours were going to be reduced (at least while the investigation is underway to make sure nothing else was leaked) until the case draws to a close. The coach reminds the athletes themselves they have the world watching when returning home while Iwazumi learns the basics of managing his time with each of them individually for the remainder of the off season/pre season conditioning training going on.

Things go pretty quiet after that: Miya, though he was young and up and coming as he is, might have sacrificed a relationship outside of work, but he bounced back eventually; Hinata chose to spend time with his family outside of volleyball for a little while; Ushijima stayed to do what was expected of him; and Iwazumi chose to take the path of least resistance and adhere to the proposed schedule of training. You were mostly put to use the gym in the early mornings or well into the night once main practice was over to observe and make notes of individual practices. Though it was a rough couple of months, you all along with the team don't really interact with each other the same way you used to. You’re mostly left out of the team dinners, the social media pages go ahead with contractual rumors and affiliations for sportswears once more, and for the most part you become like a living breathing poltergeist.

You’re in the gym one night, body now attuned into working out late, a half empty ball rack is at the side of the court you’re standing on. Empty water bottles line the opposite side of the net. A few scattered balls roll away with each serve you had successfully aced. Your hands weren’t as calloused as before, but since you decide to go back to your roots as they say, you learn to hone your anger in a different light. It’s not until you’re a third of a way deep in the new ball bag you hear him call out to you.

“You never told me you played,” Iwazumi steps into the court.

Shrugging your shoulders, you give the ball a good bounce or two before tossing it high in the air–that’s when he sees the surgical scar on the back of your heel. It pokes out of the socks you wore and Iwazumi can’t place what’s worse: knowing you had to give up the sport or resigning to prove you can play again. Your serves are powerfully direct when gravity takes over and the speed gun clocks your serve around 115mph. You’re not just good, you’re on par with some of the best servers out there. Peacefully your feet touch the ground and Iwazumi approaches you, only to hug you from behind.

“We never really had a chance to talk,” is how he opens this side of the conversation. “And I know it’s killing me and you with both of us trying to upkeep this schedule.”

“I know,” you bow your head a bit. “I know, Iwa, but you really have to stop coming here—”

“To convince you otherwise?” He holds you a bit tighter now.

“When you know the answer?” An aggravated sigh leaves your lips. “Hajime, listen. You and I both love and respect this team from day one, right?”

You feel him nod when you lean back to look up at him.

“But we both know we can’t go public unless one of us leaves and,” you glance back at the empty court. “I won’t let you lose them.”

“YN.”

You hand him the ball that was about to be in your hands.

“I resigned this morning.”

“You’re kidding. C’mon,” he tries to see if you’re actually joking, yet your silence is all he needs. It’s not long before you’re handing him the ball from the other side of the court.

“Seriously?” he seemed so despondent the more you began to clean up. You explain as you go telling him how you’ve started receiving texts from him, most of which were not from him. Some of the messages were pretty illicit in terms of the content, none of which you know he would never send, yet when it was brought up, your concerns were brushed aside. When you tried again and failed, you decided to start flagging the messages.

“And you never thought to tell me?”

Iwazumi isn’t upset, you didn’t speak up, you did. It was the actions of those who would rather save face for the athletic department for an internationally revered country for their continued contribution to the growing interest in a sport.

“I tried,” you pick up a volleyball and place it amongst the bag at your feet.

You showed him your call log from a few weeks ago to be exact. He remembers that call, yet it was the end of a rough day and he recalls asking if you want to go for a bite before your shift started. However you were stuck waiting at the appointed place for over an hour when he was held up by the new juniors under his supervision. The assistant coach finally pulls them away to speak to him privately for a short while.

“So excuse me for trying to interrupt whatever life has in store for you,” you are bitter when you twist your face into a forced smile that never reaches your eye. “But you weren’t there for me, Iwa. Do better.”

The night janitor was heard whistling down the halls. His shift must have just started when he saw you and Iwazumi taking down the net. You kept your back to the door because though you may be a proud person, you don’t have the capacity to let anyone else know how a breakup before a relationship could even start wounds you both.

“Is everything alright?”

Clearing your throat, you speak up. “Y-yeah. Just talking to an old friend. I’ll be going soon, ok?”

Your acting is sublime as the janitor reminds the athletic trainer he needed to sign in all visitors who don’t have a badge, yet when you hear the old man say, “they’re quite a catch Iwazumi-san. You’re lucky to have found your match so young.”

Iwazumi doesn’t have the heart to disagree which truth be told, but he corrects the old man.

“They’ll come around sonny,” the janitor says. “People do crazy things when they’re in love.”

Iwazumi glances back at the door, apologizes to the old man (he makes a mental note to get his name say after tomorrow) over his shoulder as he runs off to find you.

YLN, YN, twenty eight and three quarters old, ex-athletic trainer for the Olympic bound Japanese Men’s Volleyball Team, is a person of great importance in his life, the internal workings of Iwazumi’s mind finally sees you in the world of black and white. So when he sees you half a city block ahead of him, the man sprints fast enough to a) startle you and b) tells you to be quiet so he can remind you.

“Remind me of what?” You ask, more wittily delivered if you were being honest.

Iwazumi rolls his eyes before shaking his head when he pulls your body protectively over to his.

“Comfortable?”

You nod, your face is unabashedly flushed the more his intensity radiates off of him.

“Good.”

One final word of warning is the last thing you know of before you’re caught in a silencer of a kiss: it is a ruggedly formed one until you quit overthinking for a time.

You remembered that time the day the news blew up your phones, the whirlwind meetings that went on and all this goes on while you both try to protect your images both on and off the court. Your friends notice the change in Iwazumi going so far as to ask him by proxy how you were doing these days; you don’t go to team functions anymore because your name was not added to the list (Hinata finds this out at the end of practice a couple weeks before sports fashion gala was announced and Iwazumi declines attending); self practice hours held with you had Miya and Ushijima vying for your attention until Ojiro and Sakusa join for a more balanced two on two match and it’s then you decide to showcase your little secret when Miya provokes you to “try an’ get a service ace against me” (and you do much to his dismay, four times over to prove it wasn’t a fluke); all those stolen glances Iwazumi did when his new juniors walked through those doors as if you’d pop in at any moment was the final straw for him.

It’s not until you reciprocate his affection you catch him by surprise. There is something refreshing about the way his warmth balances your rage filled blood, believe you me, he understands more than he lets on. Although you pull away with eyes closed, you take a fist full of his shirt and pull him back to you. You don’t break, not yet, because there will be time for that too.

“Don’t cry,” his voice soothes your anger until you feel a coarse curled finger flick away a stray.

“Don’t give me a reason to,” your voice cracks a little more than you thought. You’re about to crumble back because you tried everything in your original playbook, so you’re left with the only path you thought was plausible. Iwazumi finally pieces it together in his mind’s eye and he can only imagine the horrified slap in the face look you give your collective superiors who brush your claims aside. No wonder you’re on the precipice of a spiral, yet just as you’re about to drown, you maintain your tactfulness, hoping to bid the place you’ve come to love to work in a final goodbye.

Iwazumi reacts to the rigidness of your body as you let him try his luck in comforting you: he readjusts his hold from earlier–his hand that held you by the shoulders earlier slides down to the small of your back. Meanwhile with the other, the same one he used to flick away the tear, he invites you to hide away from the very real world around you. A car or two passes, for all you know this might be one of the last times you’d get to spend together, so as you calm yourself down, you make a small request.

“Give them hell,” you kiss the corner of his mouth, pressing your phone on to his chest.

It takes less than seventy-two hours for the following to occur: first, on behalf of the team, a press conference had been scheduled with the intent of the investigations coming to a close. Second, the majority of those who are involved are asked to wait until the end to answer any and all questions the news outlets needed to know. Third, and this one was the piece de la resistance, a zip file containing all text exchanges between the person claiming to be ‘Iwazumi, H.’ had been sent to all reporters on the roster for the day. You’re at home, typing up an updated version of your resume and reviewing it one more time before deciding it was time for a break. You received a new phone graciously bought by an old friend who just came back from Sendai to cheer on her former classmate, unbeknownst to you said friend passed along your new phone number to a certain athletic trainer. You recognize the phone number when you’re asked to turn on the local city news no later than five-forty in the afternoon.

The conference room was abuzz with flashes here and there, microphone reverb was cut to a minimum when the floor was open for questions.

“I'm with the Orange City News, this question is for your athletic trainer: Iwazumi-san, how has your life changed since the leak? Are there any new developments you can speak freely of as of right now?”

Iwazumi places what seems to be a phone on the table and you nearly drop the glass you’re about to pour some apple cider in. Leaning back in his chair, there is an air of nonchalant business about him, you hear him decide to go through with this. It was the answer to your question which seemed so long ago, “what’s the play?”

“A few months ago, when the initial news of the leak was made known to me, I found out the same morning you all did,” chuckles were heard everywhere but it soon died out the moment it was made clear the young man was deathly concrete in his demeanor. Whispers of, “wait, really? You didn’t know at all?”

“I didn’t know what was leaked or how much information was already made known to everyone, but I try to keep my work life and private life separated. And yes being well known as the athletic trainer for this stellar team is a bonus, but when you try to hurt me, you instead inflict trust issues onto my person, nearly causing them to spiral into an unhealthy mindset you can’t just apologize and recant,” he flips over your phone which he had kept up with charging and whatnot, even called in a favor to a friend in the city precinct to backlog your messages. “Not when I’ve had to pacify their worries over take out, or practice attempting to receive their killer serves, who knows how to prioritize the needs of the team usually putting in the work even when they were stuck with the flu for two weeks, or,” and now he’s a bit more reserved before he continues. “Or bribe them to open their door with their favorite breakfast meal I’ve memorized since sophomore year abroad, all because some idiot thought they had the high ground in taking pleasure at tearing down an important member of our team.”

Your phone rings and though you pick up, you have a sly grin of approval.

“You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” you turn your tv off once you hear several chimes go off.

The zip file and backup evidence of the messages that clear your participation in all this is sent privately to those journalists attending. Back carbon copies are sent to the managers, the board of directors of the JVA, and even a baffled coaching staff. Following Iwazumi’s answer, though he never says your name explicitly, he bids everyone good day, pressing the phone he used to call you to his ear.

“You still there?”

“Mmhm.”

“Good because I’m due for a vacation.”

You chuckle into the receiver. The commotion surrounding the files that were airdropped as a power move resulted in more legal action than originally thought.

“I hear Argentina is fabulous this time of year.”

Iwazumi hums approvingly before saying a quiet, ‘start packing now love’ when he ends the call. He walks into the gym away from the brewing shitshow only to be ambushed by two familiar faces.

“Sawamura,” the former ace nods at the first-year detective. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Eh, well,” the former captain has this shy smile. “Don’t tell me you think I’d miss the opportunity to right a wrong for an old rival…pro bono as they say?”

“Oya?” Another voice calls not too far behind the detective. “Send me a postcard when you see Oikawa-shenshu. Tell the pretty bastard to pick up his phone every once in a while!”

“Yeah yeah,” Iwazumi waves the two former captains off (one known for instilling a firm foundation, the other known for scheming) as he crosses the empty court with a victorious smile. He’s driving back to you with the future becoming more promising than before. Sure the team will make do for a few weeks as their athletic trainer(s) set off on a much deserved break. Iwazumi sends a final text to the team while he’s sitting in his car: ‘rest assured hell week is coming’ is cryptically sent to everyone. A smiley emoji is tacked on courtesy right after he sends a ‘and don’t worry, I’ll send your greetings to yn when I see them.’

The drive from the stadium does not take longer than twenty minutes, so when your door opens, you are greeted much like before. With your preferred blossoms in hand, Iwazumi’s unmistakable hair protrudes behind it, all of which you find amusing.

“Flowers?” you question while taking a hold of the bouquet. “Does your significant other know you buy me flowers?”

“I hope so,” he smugly says. “I just think they’re neat.”

You roll your eyes before kissing his cheek when he walks through the door frame. Without giving it much thought, he toes his shoes off at your entryway before heading to the living room. His suit is still pressed from before the press conference and he does fill you in on what his old friends had said. You’re listening intently as you fill a nearby cubed vase with water.

“Sawamura said he’d call once there are more developments on promising leads,” Iwazumi reassures you when you come round to join him on the couch. He holds your hand as if you’re going to pass him by. You give yourself a moment to pause before shaking free from his grasp.

“Not good enough,” three words that would stop the world, his world, from spinning.

“Excuse me?”

Iwazumi glances up at you bewildered as your demeanor seems to wilt a bit.

“YN, they’re going to do the best they can to find–”

“How come you get to stay and I was asked to resign?”

Your interjection came with a fiery ferocity which you expanded upon. You go through the motions of talking it out with Iwazumi by your side to listen to rambles and go off as you’re pacing the living room. The fact that someone was delusional enough to have a mark on you whether it was intentional or not, the team still kept all of their players and out of fairness thought it was best to see if they could force you to resign, yet you are a boulder unwilling to move.

“Genius comes in many forms I suppose,” you stop in front of Iwazumi for the nth time. “But if this turns out to be a stunt, contractually or not, I resign for no reason and I don’t know what’s worse than that.”

Whatever you just said made Iwazumi’s face contort in a sort of conspiracy theory way. If what you say is true, then it is plausible the members of the committees who had you all under surveillance minus internal affairs, would have access to what had been leaked. You might have stumbled upon the answer around the same time, give or take a few seconds, as the both of you exclaim the name of one of the common denominators: the assistant coach.

“Can you prove it?” you whisper to him.

Iwazumi scoffs as he pats the empty space beside him on your couch.

“For you, I will,” he answers you, a tired smile and all. You sit down beside him, resting your head against his arm, almost leaning into his shoulder. He rests his cheek atop your head with a delightful hum; his hand rests palm up on your knee and this time, when you take it, you intertwine your fingers.

“Would you like to stay like this for a while?” you ask, although you know the answer.

“As long as we remain stalker-free for the rest of our days, sure, why not?” you could feel his fond smile through every word.

Elsewhere, the names of the tertiary parties involved have less than a half days time to gather all necessary documents because slander is added amongst the charges of breaching the laws of privacy. Your phone records as well as Iwazumi’s are kept sealed until the trial is set to begin. It’s been a wild two-three months since dealing with the damage control for this security breach, and luckily those who were questioned did face irrevocable jail time for slander and stalking. To this day, you and Iwazumi are thankful to have supported each other throughout the ordeal especially since it drew you together.

𝔸𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕒, 𝟚 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕤 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣

Considering the generous offer of one Oikawa Tooru, you wake up, in a shirt not your own. Strong coffee, as you’ve learned to love during your stay here, has been brewed just to your liking. You are lazily flipping over in bed as the wind caresses put face and a slight chill is sent down your spine; you hiss at the absence of company you kept, the same person who and you quote, ‘fuck like you love me.’ Oh, after a few drinks after dinner, did Iwaxumi do that. Four times, four times?! You sat up quickly, throwing the blanket over your legs. Your thighs, littered in teeth marks and firm bruises made you let out a shaker breath. You feel so sore the higher your eyes and hands climb toward your core. There, unmistakenly, is a dull ache from where you remember you embarked on the physicality of this relationship—“god damn it, yn,” you inarguably stifle a laugh. He wore you out, you don’t even remember half the pet names he called up, but up until yesterday, you thought your college friend was a serial monogamist, and you knew why now.

As you let the memories of last night’s tumble in the sheets with Iwazumi blind your memories, he knocks on the door. The bastard has this pot on his lips asking if you’re ok or if you woke up too sore after something you both consented to.

“‘M fine,” you pat the space next to you. “You?”

He sits down, kissing the spot behind your ear, teasing you with a gruff, “mmhm.” The guest room still smells of sex and candied sin, but that doesn’t stop you nor Iwazumi from exploring each other with the intent of making another mess. You turn three quarters of the way to rest comfortably in the space of his lap, clothed erection you can graze by and feel he’ll become hard the longer you’re on him like this. Teasing him by tracing your hands over his chest, down his defined abs, then the waist band of his boxers had you greedily mumble, “already? hajime, we haven’t had breakfast yet…”

“Don’t care,” He sighs back into your mouth, hands supporting the small curve of your back. “You started this, we’ll pause after one round, eat, then come back.”

“Mm, sounds promising,” you tilt your head to one side. The buttons where the shirt was clasped together easily pop off the second you push iwazumi’s compliant body down. You settle yourself at an angle you know you could take him as you feel him drag down his waist band.

“So pretty boy,” The bold name makes him almost buck up into you. You feel the raw aching tip graze your uncovered sex. Leaning down to kiss his clavicle, your expression darker than his, you squeeze his member with one hand the other on his shoulder. Your hand adjusts the grip until you almost easily slip him into you. His eyes roll a bit as he feels you pump him just a smidge. “Think you could let me ride you for a few hours?”

A shaky breath followed by a most haste kiss has you continue preparing yourself to take him, all of him, at once. You groan from the slight, but pleasurable sting as does he. Your breathing is shallow like his as you let him set a steady rhythm that works for you both. His hands hold your waist while gently telling you encouraging words, “It’s better if you do it like this,” and a hip stuttering, “didn’t think I’d get to see you so fucked out this early.”

“Waking up alone sucks,” You breathe as you lace your fingers around iwazumi’s own. Prying his grip off your hip this time, you press a kiss to his palm before placing it on his neck. He’s a bit surprised, but now that he knows you like being choked a little, he presses down a bit.

“Nngh!” The very same cry from you as he is mercilessly curling up into you had your head in a tizzy. He’s come alive and you can feel his member pulsating at how your gummy walls stick him back in. His fingers still on your pulse point when he squeezes it again, another blissful cry has him wiping away glossy tears from your face.

“Keep making noises like that and I’ll fuck you from behind in the bathroom so you can watch your pretty face see what I do to your body,” It’s a beautifully prompted threat. Your orgasm has you in a metaphorical choke hold as your stamina increases with every pull and push of Iwazumi’s free hand. The one that holds you against him is not not dominant hand; that one sneaks between where you two are joined, locating a spot where if given enough attention, you’re driven off the metaphorical edge. You’re sinking your teeth into his shoulder and you feel him tense up.

“S-shit, ‘m close too, hol’d on, yeah?” You wearily nod. “Where?”

“Fuck! Inside,” you don’t have time to worry about the consequences. (It’s not like you don’t plan on birthing this man’s children, but if you two keep going at it like this, you just might. He’s just that good in the sack.)

Breathing like you both ran a marathon, your abused center still pulsates as the combined fluids never threaten to spill out. You confess you don’t care what happens in the future as long as you’re in it together. Iwazumi’s, catching his breath, sort of laughs into your shoulder.

“If you wind up with a scare, we’re at least know how to fuck again to make you a mommy,” He hears you laugh. It’s the purest one he’s heard since this vacation began.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Iwazumi kisses your temple. “C’mon princess, coffee awaits.”

You concur, lazily draping the used sheets around your shoulders once Iwazumi reluctantly leaves the room. Glancing around you, despite the updates of the court case, you’re glad to rest in a paradise all on your own doing. Who knows? Maybe you’ll come back here with a family all your own—with the silly athletic trainer dancing in his boxers to “last Christmas” on the pop lite station.

Iwazumi is many things to you, but right now, a thief of your heart seems to be the most accurate.

#security breach #iwazumi hajime x reader #sora scribbles 2022 #haikyuu x reader

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aspenforest732 · 9 months

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Bello Licentiae Chapter 2: Bonding

Summary:

tw: PTSD, trauma, kidnapping, burns, abuse, grounding, dissociation, death/dying, criminal activity Relationships evolve as 1-A starts training for the Provisional Licensing Exam

Notes:

'text' JSL Text thoughts

Akira nodded to Katsuki as they padded into the kitchen to make tea. He quietly handed them his Gang Orca mug at their offer to refill. ' I get nightmares pretty often, ' Akira opened as the chamomile tea steeped. ' Counsellor says it's common for heroes, especially ones with PTSD. '

Katsuki scoffed, still curled up on an armchair. "Heroes don't get nightmares."

Akira raised an eyebrow. 'Eraser does. Heroes are still people, and our brains sometimes need more time to process trauma than we have while we're awake. At least that's what I've heard.'

Katsuki went quiet as they sat down on the couch next to his armchair. The quiet hum of the lights and screeching cicadas outside filled the silence as Katsuki stared into his tea and Akira ran through what they could work on that day. Physical training was out of the question since they were still regaining mass from their kidnapping, so clone work while eating would make the most sense.

The elevator's whir added to the night sounds, so Akira got up to make another mug of tea. Moments later, Katsuki startled up from his tea as the elevator doors dinged open to reveal a tired Fumikage. Akira grabbed a hibiscus rose blend as he entered the common area. Katsuki swiftly stood and started to walk to the elevator when Akira caught his eye.

' We've all got issues. You're welcome to stay if you want. ' At his hesitance, they added, ' We don't have to talk. '

"A film sometimes alleviates the terrors of night," Fumikage offered as Dark Shadow settled between them and started their soothing purr.

A couple hours into a rainforest bird documentary – Katsuki having been outvoted for birds over heroes – the dorm's door opened, and Akira jolted up from dozing on the couch. Capture scarf unraveling from its grounding pressure on their torso, Akira crouched and silently padded towards the genkan as Fumikage let out a half-asleep grumble at their absence. Moments later, Aizawa padded into view, and Akira relaxed back into a neutral stance.

Aizawa looked between them and the two in the living room and sighed. ' Couldn't sleep? '

Akira nodded and signed ' nightmares ' before gesturing to the kettle on the stove. ' Want some tea? '

' I've got coffee. Try to sleep, we're working on ultimate moves tomorrow. ' Aizawa headed up as Akira settled back on the couch after readjusting Katsuki's blanket on the armchair. They barely stirred as Aizawa left half an hour later, sleepily lifting their head to wave at him before settling back down.

Akira woke up a few minutes before Katsuki around five and started making tamago gohan. ' Breakfast now or later? ' they asked, turning just enough for him to see.

"I'll make it later," Katsuki grumbled and grabbed an energy drink from the pantry. "Run with Kiri first."

Not long after the pair left in matching green workout gear, Midoriya sped through the kitchen to grab the same drink and nearly fell as Akira waved from the island with their food. They raised an eyebrow, 'Situational awareness, Broccoli. Be glad Sensei isn't here.'

"Hey, did I do something to you?" Midoriya blurted out while wringing his hands.

' Not recently, but we do need to talk at some point, ' Akira kept their expression carefully neutral. ' Go on your run. I'll approach you when I'm ready to talk about it. '

He hesitated a moment, conflicted, before speeding out the door. The door slam jolted Fumikage awake to Akira's eye roll. ' Do you want breakfast? Or do you also have a ridiculously early run? ' they teased. Fumikage gave them a half-hearted glare before trudging upstairs.

Over the next few hours, Akira got ready for the day, and the class filtered into the common area. Before leaving, Akira filled a couple tumblers with their smoothie and grabbed a few mango jelly pouches. As Hitoshi was the last one downstairs, Akira handed off a purple cat travel mug full of Aizawa's blend. Like Hitoshi sometimes did for them, Akira guided him to class with occasional nudges and pulls to Kaminari's amusement from their snickering.

In class, Aizawa officially announced the weeks' goal of creating ultimate moves for the provisional license exam. In the Training Dining Land, Akira sat down near their Ectoplasm clone and signed, ' I want to focus on fine motor control for better combat and reconnaissance applications. '

"Do you want advice on control?" the clone gently asked, keeping a comfortable distance.

Akira shook their head. ' Our methods of control are very different. I'd like to start solo, and I'll signal if I want to move onto sparring before lunch. I'll dismiss the clone and ask if there's something I need another perspective on. '

Warping a few inches to the side, Akira focused primarily on evasion tactics, running through forms and methods of falling without dispelling the clone for the first few hours. There were enough holes in their clone's defense to be noticeable, and there was still a delay when Akira wasn't inside their mind shadow.

Not long into practice, All Might walked up and initially moved towards their clone, so Akira dispelled it. ' Do you need something? ' they signed.

"Ah, I'm just making observations and giving tips where I can," All Might said awkwardly. "You've mentioned your clones have a heartbeat, yes?"

Akira nodded, keeping their face carefully impassive against the desire to punch the man. ' Yes, why? '

"Have you tried seeing what else they mimic? Fine motor control is important for reconnaissance, but since your clones also copy what you're wearing, they might be able to use your support items."

' Yes, but- ' before Akira could explain, he set off towards the next student. They sighed and warped to continue working. Their capture weapon was too complex to use reliably at this point unless they directed their clones to try and interface with the nanites. Shifting their control up, Akira lightly tugged at the brain area of their clone with the clear image of their capture weapon rising. It shakily rose on their clone, hovering for a few seconds until Akira shifted their control back to the thread trailing from the shadow. Almost immediately, the scarf wrapped around the clone and constricted as if a stranger had tried to interface with it.

When they broke for lunch, Akira grinned at Hitoshi's mixed success mimicking their classmates' mannerisms and speech patterns. He almost had Fumikage's down, but they were struggling with more animated voices like Kaminari.

Hitoshi brightened as he turned to Akira, lowering their mask. "I could create a voice for you if you want," he grinned. "I bet you could learn how to talk in time since they're artificial vocal cords."

Akira froze, rice ball halfway to their mouth. Shoto especially looked curious, but Katsuki stiffened from where his group sat nearby. ' May I? ' they gestured for the mask. Akira hummed, adjusting the knobs and dials several times before they said, "Testing." Akira startled as a slightly higher version of their old voice came through louder than they intended. Adjusting it a couple more times, they tried again, "Does this... yes, this is close to how my voice sounded." It was more difficult than they remembered to vary the pitch without using the dials, but it was a close approximation.

" Your voice?" Shoto asked, eyes bright. Aizawa locked eyes with them and straightened. He drifted closer but stopped back as Akira slightly shook their head.

' When I still had vocal cords, ' Akira signed and held out the mask for Hitoshi. He froze reaching towards it, and Mad Banquet stared at them for a long moment. Hitoshi seemed to shake out of their stupor first and gingerly took the mask back.

"What happened?" Shoto asked. He shrunk back slightly, confusion twisting his expression as the group's focus snapped to him.

' Not important. It's been four years, and I have other means of communication at this point, ' Akira signed before going back to their food. Looking around the group, they continued, ' Really, it's not great that it happened, but I'm out of that situation and am quite capable without my voice. '

"You don't want it back?" Hitoshi asked, anger burning in his eyes although Akira was fairly certain it wasn't directed at them. "Hatsume could make one of these for you."

Akira shrugged, ' I have bigger things to focus on right now, and at this point, I don't need or particularly want it. You're welcome to use my voice as a neutral one if you want, but some may recognize it. '

"Any particular group I should avoid using it around?" Hitoshi asked too casually for the calculating look in their eyes.

Akira sighed exasperatedly, ' Not the time, Blank. '

That night, as everyone filed back into the dorms, Akira slipped into the kitchen with Katsuki. ' You cooking for everyone or just you? '

"Everyone, Reaper," he grumbled. "You know how to make katsudon?"

Akira nodded and started pulling out onions and scallions. After a few chops, they tapped his shoulder to show their usual sizes with Dabi. ' This good? ' They eyed the spices Katsuki set out with a raised eyebrow. ' Might want to leave out the death spices. Not everyone has fire quirk levels of spice tolerance. Unless you make a batch just for you and Peppermint, that is. '

"Those are fine, and what do you mean?" he growled. "Deku loves my cooking."

Akira mock put up their hands in surrender. ' Maybe he's just used to it? Most people stick with salt, pepper, sugar, soy sauce, and mirin. I got used to spicy food living with a fire-quirked roommate, but he kept it toned down a bit. '

"Fine, you do the spices, but the extras better not call it bland."

"Woah, Kat's letting someone else lead in the kitchen?" Kirishima grinned as he settled at the island, resting his elbows on the counter. "Anything I can help with?"

Akira blinked, remembering that morning. ' Are you two dating? ' they signed before carefully sliding him a knife and cutting board with the rest of the scallions. They pulled out some milder and earthy spices to balance out the tolerable end of Katsuki's selection.

"I can do it with my quirk," Kirishima protested and blushed, "and yeah, made it official after he got cleared from the hospital."

Akira immediately snatched the chopping board back, scowling at him. ' That's unsanitary! You're worse than Wildfire. ' At his confused look, they clarified, ' Roommate. Either take the knife or just sit there lookin pretty. '

Kirishima preened as Katsuki shot them a dirty look. He sheepishly reached across the island again, taking the knife before Akira would let go of the cutting board.

"Weren't they the bastard who kept burning you?" Katsuki asked as the smell of burnt caramel wafted through the air. Akira wrinkled their nose but was mostly used to the acrid scent by now.

' Yeah, but that was mostly my fault. Can sneak past Eraser and paranoid for a reason don't mix well ,' Akira signed. ' We figured it out, though. He kept trying to use his fire to cook, and he doesn't have good control to begin with. '

"Why do you call him that when he's off duty?" Kirishima paused to compare his slices and went back over his small pile with finer strokes.

Akira cocked their head for a moment before realization struck. ' Oh, I guess because I've known him as Eraser for longer? ' they mused. ' Calling him Sleepy Cat feels weird at this point. '

"So what, did the fucker keep an eye on you for the-"

Eyes wide, Akira warped onto the counter and slapped a hand over Katsuki's mouth. Kirishima yelped as a knife cut dispeled the other clone and Katsuki froze, small explosions briefly lighting up his palms. His eyes narrowed as they shook their head emphatically.

After a moment, Akira released Katsuki and slid off, carefully avoiding the cabinet handles on their way down. ' No, and please don't talk about them. Wildfire offered me a place to stay after my building was destroyed by Endeavor. '

"What's his name?" Kirishima asked awkwardly after a moment. Akira and Katsuki snapped to look at him before shifting back to their stations.

Akira hesitated, glancing towards a quietly approaching Shoto, ' I don't think- '

"Toya," Shoto said as he got closer. "They're arresting father in a few days now that they have his testimony, so there's no harm in Bakugo and Kirishima knowing now."

Katsuki scowled, brow twisting in confusion. "Wasn't Toya your oldest brother? There was a big scandal in the hero forums when he died."

Shoto's neutral expression cracked as he frowned bitterly. He started to speak, but Akira put a hand on his arm. ' I've got this. Wildfire ran away. He nearly died that night and has been biding his time to take down Endeavor. A lot will come out in the trial, and I will probably be unavailable this weekend. '

Katsuki scoffed, "If they're taking down Endeavor, why aren't they going after your family?"

Akira gave him a pointed look and threw up their hands at the defiance in his eyes. ' Fine, you want to know so bad? Meet me down here at eleven. I'll let Eraser know we're talking. ' As the other two perked up, they huffed, ' And no, you two can't come. Murder God only gets this talk because he overheard something while we were kidnapped. '

Dinner was tense, especially with the uncertain looks Midoriya and Aoyama kept giving Akira. Mina tried to keep the others engaged with their ultimate moves, but conversations kept drifting off. After showing Aizawa's permission to Vlad, Akira waited for Katsuki to make his way down. Around 22:30, they texted Fumikage to join them. He might as well get the full picture since he was part of the hospital fiasco .

' Raven has more context because of our lunch conversations and because he was with me at the hospital, ' Akira explained as they set out.

"Why are we leaving the dorms?" Katsuki asked with a hint of uncertainty. "And where are we going?"

' The dorms are too big for me to properly sweep, Ear Jerk and Tentacle Boy have Thinker quirks, and the roof has the risk of quirks that use or are similar in function to satellites, ' Akira said simply. At Katsuki's laugh, they just stared at him straight-faced.

Expression falling, he looked between them and Fumikage. "You're serious?"

Once they were well into the forested area of campus, Akira leaned against a tree and gestured for the other two to stop. ' So we're on the same page, Murder God, did the League say anything after I left? '

"Marbles-"

' Mr. Compress ,' Akira reminded him.

"Mr. Compress was weirdly obsessed with you," Katsuki said. "He kept talking about wasted potential and something called forced quirk manifestation. They were just trying to recruit me after that."

' First things first. Yes, I was born into the Inoue family... ' Akira tiredly explained forced quirk manifestation, their abuse, and their current standing with the family. ' I have plans for them, but it will take years, and I will likely not be around to see them succeed. '

Fumikage startled at that, and Dark Shadow unfurled from the comforting hug he'd been giving Akira to face them. "We will protect you, little shadow! You will see your success," they crowed.

Akira smiled bittersweetly, touched at their enthusiasm as Katsuki let off a few small pops. ' I'm afraid you won't have much of a choice, but I appreciate it. ' They lightly rapped their head against the tree trunk they leaned against. ' The odds of my survival plummeted the moment my family found out I'm alive this early, and they were already pretty low to begin with. I didn't want to involve children – other children, at least, but it happened anyway. '

"We're not children," Katsuki ground out.

' We are, though, ' Akira tiredly insisted. ' We should be, anyways. I had to grow up fast, and our class has had to as well in the past few months. My family is a bigger stage than any of us should be even thinking about right now, but here we are. '

"Fat Gum was aware of your predicament before he arrived," Fumikage said bluntly.

' He figured it out during my internship. Eraser and Principal are involved, and more may be added to the list in the near future. They're aware of Raven and Dark Shadow knowing and of Murder God hearing the name. And of our meeting tonight, obviously. I can't give you more, but I don't want either of you involved while you're students. '

"You're a student," Katsuki grumbled as he kicked a rock.

Akira smirked, ' Yeah, and I was carrying this alone until Fat Gum. '

"No, you weren't." Akira startled, looking to Fumikage. He crossed his arms with a pointed look, "You forget I've learned you like a book. What would you withhold when so much has been revealed?"

Akira sighed, ' Right... There's a group I'm in that has helped me survive this long. Once we graduate or if there are extenuating circumstances, I'll introduce Raven and Dark Shadow, but not before then. Murder God, you'll have no reason to know them as a limelight. '

Katsuki bristled, "Are you saying you're a criminal?"

Akira shrugged, ' I'll be labeled one soon after my plan starts, and Eraser is aware of the situation. ' They leaned against the tree, arms lightly crossed as the pair mulled over the information. Dark Shadow gave a gentle squeeze as Akira started to drift, so they gave the shadow bird a few pets to help ground both. After a minute, they pushed off the tree. ' If you don't have any more questions, we might as well head back. '

"Only the same as I did in the hospital."

Akira winced and signed to Katsuki, ' Raven and I need to talk privately for a moment. You can head back now. '

He scowled, drawing up. "Eh? I thought you were bringing me in."

Akira waved him off, letting some of their annoyance seep through. ' This is different. It's not that I don't trust you, rather that it's a sensitive matter I barely know how to address with Raven. '

Katsuki looked ready to put up more of a fight but with a deep breath, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked back towards the dorm. Once Akira heard his footsteps fade into the distance, they sagged against the tree and lowered themself to the ground. Dark Shadow let out a startled squawk and stayed around them as a steadying force.

"Akira?" Fumikage asked softly, treading closer to sit in front of them.

Akira sighed and tucked their knees to their chest as they focused on Dark Shadow's purr to settle their racing heart. ' I'll be fine, just... give me a moment. ' They focused on deep breaths, cicadas screeching, and the soft yet prickly grass underfoot, petting Dark shadow as their family's retaliation gradually felt a little farther away. After a few minutes, they uncurled into a cross-legged position and focused on Fumikage.

"You said he offered something?" he asked gently.

Akira nodded and signed, ' All for One collects quirks. He knows how they work and interact with each other, and he has the power, funds, and resources to take down my family. '

Fumikage slowly nodded, expression clearly fighting to stay neutral as Dark Shadow shifted uncomfortably. "Are you sure?"

Akira tiredly explained his file room, the access they had, and finally the offer. ' Raven, I... his path hurts the fewest people. Has a near-guaranteed chance of success. Doesn't put any other innocents in danger. It- it makes sense, but... '

"But he's tried to maim or kill us on multiple occasions," Fumikage said softly as hurt seeped into his voice. "He wants to destroy the world."

' No, ' Akira signed to his surprise, ' he wants to rule it. ' After a shaky breath, they continued, ' The Commission is not working, and too many people are invested in the status quo for it to be reformed. It's time we make this world our own. It's time someone put them in their place. '

"Have you told Aizawa?"

Akira slumped forward and shook their head. ' I'm pretty sure it's the right choice, but I... I don't want to lose them. I wasn't going to risk losing Mad Banquet either, but you were there. ' As Dark Shadow purred a little louder, Akira smiled slightly at the idea of having people to worry about rejection from.

Fumikage gently took their hands. Akira blinked out of their thoughts, knowing how rare physical touch was for him. "It will take far more than a difference in code to lose us," he said firmly. "In this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything and I will not abandon you. The worst things you have or will do don't matter. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch. We are not the Banquet of Light for a reason, and we pledge ourselves to your cause so that you will not bear this alone and have voices of reason in times of turmoil. Speak with Aizawa or one of your trusted adults, and we can continue this with the rest of Mad Banquet."

Akira nodded reluctantly with a shaky smile and forced themself to get up. ' They're probably wondering why we're not back with Murder God. '

Notes:

gosh I had Luke's part of "Last Day of Summer" from Lightning Thief: the Percy Jackson Musical stuck in my head for this chapter. Like yes, it's an inspiration for Akira, but they haven't crossed the line to Luke's stance yet.

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pastelmapeach · 2 years

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hi... 7, 9, 17, 19, 45 :-)

HEY YOU!!! thanks for the ask ahh!! :3

7: I CAN indeed swim!! I'm not the Best at it or anything but I looove swimming it's so comfy and fun and peaceful :) <3

9: cotton candy because Texture BUT every time we go to the Saturday morning farmers market we smell the funnel cakes and sometimes we get them and they're sooo tasty <3 makes for a good breakfast when we can't find the snowcone stand hehe

17: kingdom hearts, hands down. I wrote theories about replicas (ie clone theory) and wrote fanfiction and was obsessed with organization 13 and pondered what it meant to be alive and have a soul and what made people human, with or without the relative concept of a signifying human heart (ie soul it's complicated) . Before that as a kid I was uhhh I think obsessed with the Powerpuff girls actually! :)

19: ooh okay I love both for different reasons!!! I'm more of a vampire guy but I do love a good zombie here and there! Vampires are inherently sexy and neato. There's this fantastic book called Zombies VS Unicorns I read often that's an Anthology of stories from different authors about both different subjects that definitely made me like them both more and gave them some interesting aspects. There's some fantastic entries in there.

45: my childhood go-to is honey vanilla chamomile BUT I always love a good peach tea or a good earl blue too! :)

THANKS FOR THE ASKS MYAN ILY BESTIE <333

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shnashq · 2 years

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I made a fic while on Christmas Vacation, and today I just finished a little audiobook-ish reading to go along with it. I used uberduck.ai and this voice cloning space from Huggingface:

And I edited it all with Audacity. Anyway, get comfortable and read along. Fic and Audio are under the cut.

The Worst Time Of The Year

A/rin H//anson and D//an Av/idan are two of the most popular personalities on Y/ouTube. They're known for their hilarious gaming commentary as the G/ame G//rumps. They rose to fame with their hilarious Let's Play videos.

They're usually happy to entertain their fans, but today, they didn't record at all. Why was this, you may ask? Well, because they were both congested and felt absolutely terrible, all caused by their pollen allergies.

A/rin groaned, blowing his nose with a tissue. He sniffled and cursed under his breath as he tried to fight back incoming sneezes by putting his forefinger under his achy, runny nostrils. His eyes were watery, his head felt woozy, and he hated it all. He thought this was one of the worst times to come to the G//rumps' office.

D//an hated having these allergies more than A/rin did. He thought back to when he was studying botany in France with his college class, where he had no problems being close to many types of plants, especially those that pollinated. The pollen in California was way different from what he was used to.

He suddenly then felt his nose tickle. "Huh… Hehh…" He had to sneeze.

The lanky co-host didn't want to lose any sneezes (he thought it was so unsatisfying whenever he did), so he fanned himself using his hand to try and coax the sneeze out.

"F-fuhh… Fuck, man…!" A/rin's breath hitched slightly. He couldn't keep holding them back anymore. "Aah… Ariihhh…" D//an's voice wavered as his nostrils flared. Arin's chest started frantically puffing up, like if he was taking a deep breath in.

"Gahhh… G-God, my nose tihhh… Tickles so muhhuuch…"

"I d-don't think I caahaaan make this go away…"

A//rin tried to put his forefinger under D//an's nose, but D//an had enough energy to push his hand away, as he has been waiting to satisfy this tickle since yesterday.

"I gottaaah… I'm gonnaaahhh…"

"D-D//an… Just shut up and let it guhh… Go already…!"

After a few seconds, their ticklish noses took control of their voices, turning their small conversation into a series of desperate breath hitches.

"Hihh… Heehhh…!"

"Huh… Hehh… Haah…!!"

These were the final warnings until…

"Hehh'TCHOOO!!"

"HEAAAHHP'TCHOOOWW!!"

A/rin and D//an went into a sneezing fit.

They both continued to sneeze, their sneezes getting louder and their voices getting more nasally with each release.

"HehH'TSHHheww! Hihh'TCHOOO!! Aah-- HEHH-TSHOOOOooo!!!"

"GYAAHH'TSHOOOOO!! HYEEEHP'TCHOOOOOO!!! HUAAHHP'CHOOOOO!!!"

They both continued to sneeze for a few more minutes before finally stopping with the loudest sneezes they've ever done in a long time.

"HEHHP'TCHOOOOOOOH!!!"

"HEEAAAHHHP'CHIAAAAOOOW!!!"

They both sniffed loudly, then moaned in unison. Their noses were runnier than ever, and they now sounded as congested as their noses were before.

"Oh god, thad was intdense." A/rin sighed.

"Tell mbe about it." D//an replied. "I dond't thigk I've ever heard you sndeeze thad mbuch."

"Sambe here." A/rin covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. "You gondda be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be okay. …Right after I, no, WE blow our ndoses." D//an sighed as he rubbed his nose on his forefinger one last time.

After they took care of their messy noses, they felt much better, even if they were still sniffly and sneezy. When they came back, A/rin had a warm cup of coffee, and D//an had a nice cup of chamomile tea in hand.

"Here's to actually taking our allergy meds so we can never sneeze again." A/rin chuckled.

"Of course we won't be sneezing, because we'd be unconscious." D//an added.

The two laughed together, as they drank their beverages.

They both knew that they could always count on each other to cheer up, even when they were sneezing their brains out.

#art thou sneezefics #g//ame g/rumps #snz grumps #made with audacity and uberduck.ai

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dystopianam · 2 years

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48 note - Postate 18 luglio 2022

I found out from one of the developers of The Sims 2 (I don't remember the name, but the one who posted so many curiosities on Twitter) that the initial plot of the game was that some of the premades sims had been replaced by alien clones and the player had to find out who they were.

The idea was later discarded because it required too much programming work.

Now, maybe I'm saying crazy things, we know that the sim clones we know (the clone of Skip, Darleen and Nervous) surely exist because they got badly corrupted for the spaghetti codes of the EA, but what if the three of them were initially among the "impostor aliens" and working on them to create this weird plot has... corrupted them?

As easy as the game is to corrupt and we have seen so clearly how sims get easely corrupted (be it because they have outdated data or because the codes explode) is there really not the slightest chance that those three clones got corrupted just because the EA was trying to program this plot?

Think about it. There are a trillion corrupt dead sims, but EA never recreated them to replace the corrupt ones in the family tree. Many sims are different from their beta appearance (e.g. even the Caliente sisters are not the same Caliente as the beta images) but only Skip, Darleen and Nervous have clones.

Let's ignore Nervous, he was recreated because he was needed alive for the plot and certainly they had problems resurrecting him because before University I believe that sims could not be resurrected. Then maybe I'm wrong, I don't know if it was already possible in base game with university pre-patch.

And maybe trying to connect him somehow to the Grim Reaper also made it worse with his beta sim and then they figured out how to do it without blowing everything up with the Nervous of now, I don't know.

Let's also ignore the Strangetown's Bella, we know she was recreated because they couldn't connect Pleasantview and Strangetown (although that she is an alien clone is the absurdly more convincing theory since she doesn't have the same face as Bella from Pleasantview, but maxis says that the two of them are the same person)

But Darleen and Skip... what was the point of recreating them? What was the use of recreating two deceased sims?

Darleen was not needed, she could remain dead and corrupt like all the other deceased sims, Skip could possibly be used for Brandi's unborn baby genetics but... Brandi's pregnancy is unlinked from both Skips. (and from what the developer said, this is a bug that for some reason they never managed to fix and Brandi always gave birth to a male clone of herself)

The green eyed skip is that of the "beta" images but IS NOT the ""DNA""" father of Dustin and Beau. Dustin and Beau have blue eyes and have the genetics of the second Skip. (but surely like almost all premade sims, Dustin and Beau were created in CAS and don't really have anyone's genetics, just the "colors")

So most likely Dustin and Beau were also recreated along with the second Skip, but... it's also weird that Beau has very strange genetics. He has a very strange facial structure.

All this remains my personal theory, but if it's too absurd you can still use it as a plot to spice up your gameplay...

49 note - Postate 28 agosto 2022

I have reached a higher level of corruption. I haven't even played and the savegames corrupt themselves with the PC off.

Here's the story: both simPe and the hoodchecker say half my sims have been deleted. But it's not true? All my sims are there!

Situation:

I open the savegame of the folder 003 (Veronaville) and everything is ok, the sims are all there (and I'm sure of it because I opened the families one by one to do makeovers)

I made a BACKUP of the savegame, I put some new mods (safe, I found them from trusted players, no mods with NPC) and THEN i opened the game.

I """played""" a while while trying out the new mods, saved and exit.

As my habit, I open the HC for a check and... I find this. All my sims, or at least, half of them have been deleted, or so the program says.

Obviously I'm scared to death, I think the problem is some mod, so I put the backup back ... and even there the hoodchecker and simPe says that the sims have been deleted. And it's impossible because I played with it until two minutes ago, both with the current save and with the backup. By the way, if they were already deleted in the backup I shouldn't have found them in the actual save either, right? and instead.

The strange thing is that I opened another savegame and even in that the hoodchecker says that half of the sims have been deleted but EVEN with that one I played and the sims were all there!

I don't know if it's a bug, but I hope that tomorrow when I open the saves all the Sims will be there and that it's all a bug or I'll go crazy.

119 note - Postate 17 novembre 2022

Out of curiosity I was looking back at the memories of the Grunts and I realized that while Lyla worked hard with all her children and tried to dedicate the same time to all three, teaching them to walk, use the potty and talk, Buzz has only had attention to Tank. First son, he didn't give a damn about anyone else. With Ripp and Buck he gave it up from the start, he never tried.

Let's face it, all the siblings had a horrible childhood and are experiencing a toxic situation even now.

But... I've always seen Tank as an a✨✨hole who has had a privileged life with the attentions and approval of his father, I always thought he liked being his father's clone but... he doesn't.

As the game is programmed, when a sim has an enemy, he constantly beats him, even if the sim doesn't have an aggressive personality. BUT while I play with him I realized that he is... nice? With other people he is never rude, he is very calm and polite, at times he even seems a bit stupid (that he is a bit stupid is also noticeable in ts2 for PSP) and he doesn't want to be a soldier, but a ballet dancer... but he is conditioned by his father's toxic masculinity.

I noticed these behaviors in the three brothers:

• Tank is only being rude to Ripp. With any other sim he is a puppy. He seems to me the most responsible in the house, he is very clean but... confused. He shows that he wants to do things for the better but always ends up making mistakes because he is AFRAID that his father disapproves of him. I don't know about other people's gameplay, but in mine, personally, my Tank always wants to apologize to everyone he fights with and that's not a wish I see often.

• Ripp. He's so stressed out. He has the attitude of a caged bird. He wants to be a free spirit and you realize it because he just can't stay in his house (argues with everyone) and constantly wants to find love adventures (or better, "woohoo adventures" I must say). Playing with him makes me a little anxious. In my old uberhoods I used to make him leave home right away, but I have noticed that if he stays with his family for a long time... he passes the stress on you too. With Tank I always have a feeling of hidden sadness, but with Ripp I feel... stressed. Playing with Ripp is like playing with a monkey jumping into a metal cage while screaming trying to get out of the cage. Unlike Tank who is calm when it's not about Ripp, Ripp seems more violent to me. In the sense that because of what he's been through, he would be capable of having anger management issues and attacking you. I don't believe that innocent face...

• Buck. When you look at Buck you think "he doesn't give a damn" because as a child he doesn't have much personality, but when he grows up... seeing him cry because his family is fighting makes me feel bad. He is good, he is sensitive, he is a little flower. I see Buck as Tank. While Ripp openly shows how bad he feels and yells it, Buck and Tank hide it. Tank uses a cowardly method, that of pretending to agree with his father, which causes all theirs problems. Buck instead uses the method of "if I pretend all this doesn't exist, I'm fine". I think Buck takes out his sadness on food and that is why he is the only one of the brothers who is fat.

Lastly, I would like to compare Tank to Angela Pleasant. Both are forced to play a "perfect child" role for their parents, but from my perspective (this is a personal opinion) while Angela pretends not to understand that Mary-sue's behavior is toxic (Angela is very smart, she see it, but she likes her parents' attentions a lot) Tank is too naive and a bit stupid to understand that he cannot face problems by hiding under his fears of not being appreciated by his father.

120 note - Postate 27 agosto 2022

Il mio post numero 1 del 2022