#contemplating my lane n shit

[sweet-creature101]

New York Streets & Dreams

Harry Styles, a classic New York law firm grump meets a wild spirited girl, Y/N when he argues with her on a road intersection.

Grump!harry; a grump x sunshine trope.

warnings: mention of alcohol, swearing. Suggestive language.

The songs playing in your headphones pumped your head with a string of melodies. You hum with a smile on your face, riding your bicycle in the warm sun taking in the city around you. Your paint splattered hands, still a bit wet grip the bicycle handle as you steer it around the city.

You steer around the busy and bustling roads, whisked away in a world of your own. You paid no heed to the rushing cars, staying near the footpath. Many had often told you not to cycle, especially during rush hour since the streets would be jam packed. “Walking, driving or going in a cab isn’t the same as cycling y’know?” You’d always say when the question was risen as to why you cycle.

You were about to turn right when a series of honks stops you right in your path. You yank down your headphones harshly and look around, an annoyed look beginning to form on your face.

“You!”

You whip your head to meet that voice. You see a man, dressed in a blue blazer over a white shirt with trousers step down from his Mercedes, his face morphed into a furious expression.

“What?” You ask harshly, your bicycle still parked right in front of his car.

“Look around woman! I would’ve run you over.” He shouts at you over the loud traffic.

“I was on my side of the lane. You’re the one who decided last minute to take the turn!” You yell back with equal anger as you meet his steel gaze, your own unflinching.

“You had your headphones on! If you would’ve looked around, we wouldn’t be here!” He said, even more annoyed than before now.

“What do you want? You know what, I offer you my sincerest fucking apology! Leave me alone!” You said, your coloured hands flailing in the air.

“An apology? Thats not good enough. You need to be aware of your surroundings.” He countered, his arms crossing over his chest.

“And you need to chill out. It’s just a traffic jam!” You exclaimed, your voice a pitch higher.

“You don’t understand! I almost ran you over!” You were certain that the man in front was giving out literal smoke now.

“Yeah, well I’m still here so calm down.” You said sarcastically. Your hands come down and rest at either side of your hip.

“You’re unbelievable. I can’t do this.” He said, huffing out a breath of disbelief.

“Fine. Suit yourself.” You said shrugging as you sat on your bicycle. And began to cycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” The man yelled for the last time.

Harry checked his watch again and again, contemplating if going out with his friends was a good decision considering how his utter shit his day had been. He had reached his office late because of a mishap that involved him arguing with a pretty girl in between a traffic jam which earned him an earful from his colleagues.

He looked around the neon street, the coloured lights metling into the dark night sky above him. He wondered, when he was the last time he went out with friends. When was the last time he went just as Harry, not as a top shot lawyer? When was the last time he didn’t think about work?

He couldn’t remember.

“Harry! I’m so happy you made it!” Lindsey, smiled and encased him in a hug.

Lindsay had been begging Harry to join her and her friends since the last two months. Harry as always, had politely refused saying that his workload was far too much. However, Lindsey wasn’t short of surprise when Harry called her late this afternoon and said he wanted to join her.

“I’m only here so that I don’t have to deal with you for the next two months.” Harry said rolling his eyes playfully. Lindsey smacked his arm and dragged him in the club.

It was large semi circle couch nestled in the back corner with a mammoth sized round wood table fitted in it like a puzzle piece.

Lindsey dragged Harry all the way to the back of the club where he spotted a few familiar faces. All of them waved to Harry and Harry said to hi them.

“Where’s Y/N?” Lindsey asked as she slid onto the seat.

“In the washroom.” A friend, Niall said before downing a shot in one go earning an impressed looking from Harry in return.

“You’ll love Y/N.” Lindsey said, winking at Harry who was still standing. He only gave her a slight smile.

Harry was about to go to the washroom before a voice boomed, seeming quite familiar.

“You! Oh my God you’re stalking me!” You yelled at him, your face showing how furious you are. Everyone at the table stopped eating and drinking because all their focus was fixated on you.

“What the fuck!” Harry said, his eyes widening at the accusation you hurled at him.

“You try to kill me first and now that I’m alive even after your murder attempt, you decide to do the deed here.” You said, referring to his attempt at ‘mudering’.

“Are you stupid?” Harry asked you in utter disbelief.

“No but I have a gun!” You said, not realising that you hadn’t even brought your purse with you tonight.

“Yeah, well where is it then?” Harry asked you, crossing his arms as he eyed you up and down like a predator assessing his prey.

“It’s none of your business!” You yell at him, realising that he caught you lying red handed. You size him up, your arms crossing over your chest.

“So I guess you two have met already. Harry this is Y/N, Y/N this is Harry.” Lindsey murmured from her side of the table, the overhanging lamp illuminating only a small part of her face.

“For the record, you and I know both know I didn’t try to kill you.” Harry said, his eyebrows raised as a wary look danced in his eyes.

“Fine.” You said.

“Great now that’s over, let’s get this party started!” Niall yelled, with excitement as the whole table broke out in a couple of hoots.

As the night proceeded, you downed drink after drink and danced like there would be no tomorrow. The lights flashing around you merged into your skin. The music blaring around you was pumping life into you.

In the corner of your eye, you see Harry who was leaning against the wall, a drink that he had been drinking for the past half hour still in his hand as he looked around with a bored look etched on his face. You walk toward him, your steps much more confident now because of a few drinks you had.

If your circumstance wasn’t so compelling you might have thought Harry to be quite an attractive man. You could make out the sculpted muscles of his biceps and abdomen through his shirt.

Harry watched you intently, drinking in your frame with every movement of yours. He didn’t fail to notice how wondrous your body looked in that little white dress you paired with a metal chain waist belt which had blue stones engraved on it, resting on the swell of your hips.

“You look as if you’re at a funeral.” You snickered, coming to stand close to him. Your forearms touch and you feel your focus narrow to the sparks of fire you felt coming from there.

Harry let his lips show a sliver of smile, a chuckle coming out of him.

“Ah well I’m not really in the mood to dance or party tonight.” Harry said shrugging slightly.

“What! You’re at a club, with such amazing people. Come on, if you’re not gonna dance on your own then dance with me.” You said smiling at him as your turn your face to look at him, admiring how the dancing lights accentuated his eyes and upraised cheekbones and his plush lips.

“You’re drunk, arent ya?” Harry asked you.

“It takes me more than three sleazy drinks to get drunk.” You said patting his arm.

“Well, I can’t really dance.” Harry said, evidently stalling like a five year old.

“It’s about having fun Harry.”

Those words somehow snapped a leash on Harry which he didn’t know existed. You extended your hand towards him that he gladly took.

Harry never knew he could have that much fun. He danced all night with you, drinking to his hearts content and screaming every song that played, even the ones he swore he’d never listen, ‘stupid pop music’ he called those same songs.

His hands were on your waist now and you broke out in a string of giggles, the alcohol in your system heightening every feeling. Harry looked at you and marvelled at your face, how pretty it looked and smiled at you softly drawing you closer to him.

“If you hadn’t tried mudering me this morning, I would’ve called you handsome y’know.” You said flicking his nose.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to murder you.” Harry said smiling.

“God, you’re so handsome Harry.”

Harry woke up with a groan as he clutched his head. He looked around and found himself in a room he couldn’t recognise. There were sun catchers hanging from the large window which was installed, as large as a wall casting sparkles all over the room. There were plush colourful stuff toys strewn all over the orange couch opposite to the bed he found himself in. He looked over and saw you sleeping.

The sight of you alone nearly knocked out his breath.

You slowly you open your eyes and once the realisation hits, you scramble out of the bed, looking at yourself and then Harry. You were in an oversized tee shirt of yours while Harry was in a pair of boxers.

“Did we?” You ask him, standing barefoot at your wooden floor.

“No, we were too out of it.” Harry said looking at you.

“Oh thank God.” You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “Wait, it’s not like I don’t want to do it with you, seriously don’t take it that way-”

“Hmmm.” Harry hummed, clearly amused with your state of chaos.

“I dont want to do it with you if we’re like.. drunk and all. I’d rather be stone cold sober.” You said.

“I’ll keep that in mind Y/N.” Harry said chuckling.

“Oh my God I’ll just shut up.” You said, covering your face with your hand.

Harry looked at the time and got up, stretching. You avoided the urge to look at his sculpted arms, chest and stomach but you managed to sneak in a few glances.

“I’ve got a case to prepare for. I’ll text you in a few.” Harry said as he buttoned his white shirt.

“You don’t have my number.” You said.

“But Lindsey does.” Harry said shrugging.

He wore his trousers and grabbed his stuff. Before leaving he ran a hand over your hair playfully. He then snaked an arm around your waist and tugged you towards him. You bit down a gasp at the sudden movement and closeness that was now there.

“I’d kiss you if i wasn’t so late for work.” Harry said.

“Are you making excuses Harry?” You said, peering up at him as you rested your hands on his chest.

“I’m waiting for the right moment Love.” He said.

He dipped his head and kissed the corner of your lips. He slowly moved his lips over yours. You could feel them hovering over yours. You could imagine and feel how kissing him would be like, sparks running down your bones and veins.

“I’ll see you.” Harry said, kissing your cheek before leaving for work.

You felt yourself melt into a puddle of emotions and glitter as you sank to the floor with a youthful smile on your face.

Harry, in all his corporate glory was late to pick you up tonight. Meaning, he had no time to change his clothes which is why he stood at your door, in his black trousers and ruffled white shirt, a single rose he plucked from his office garden dangling from his hand.

Harry most positively hated everyone. He hated large crowds. He hated too much colour. He’d rather live life in black and white but you brought about a change. A change dripping with colours and laughter and undiluted joy.

He rang your doorbell which was splattered with coloured fingerprints, probably yours.

“Hi.” You said, emerging out of the apartment which was installed above your art studio where you took classes and painted by yourself.

“You look beautiful.” Harry said, as you dressed up in a short white satin skirt which you paired with a yellow top. Your cowboy boots clicked with every step.

“You look like… you came straight from work.” You said chuckling.

“That’s because I did.” Harry said as he handed you over the single rose, already whitering.

“Cute.” You said.

———————

Harry looked around the restraunt, sitting opposite to you. It hadn’t occurred to him how silent and how much of a grump he had been all evening. You observed him silently, waiting for a sliver of conversation to appear between you two.

“Get up.” You said, breaking Harry out of his daze.

“What?”

“Did I stutter? Here’s my half of the bill, give yours and let’s get the hell out of here.” You said callinh a waiter, giving her half as you waited for Harry. He handed her his half as well and stood up and followed her out.

———————

Harry had no clue you bring him here out of all the places he could think of. You handed over Harry his rollerskates, a devious smile on your face.

“No.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked around the skating rink, purple lights flashing all over his face.

“Come on, don’t be a sour sport.” You said lacing your shoes.

“We could have had a nice dinner-”

“Not with you ignoring me all night Harry.” You shot back before he could finish his sentence. “I don’t know what was bothering you but now we’re here. You’ll only have fun if you let go.” You added gently.

“Fine.” Harry said as he laced his shoes and stepped into a rink.

Harry holds your hand as you guide him, picking up pace gradually. You smile at him as you leave his hand and circle around him, twirling like a small child. You let out a laugh as Harry yanks to his side, almost making you two fall down on the ground.

“Harry!” You squeal as his hand reaches your waist and pulls you towards him.

“What?” He asks, feigning innocence, gliding with you effortlessly. You jab his side causing him to let go. You poke your tongue at him and skate away backwards, your eyes at him.

Harry tries to skate as fast as you but ends up almost tripping. “Come here Y/N!” He says, from one end his face full of joy.

You slowly glide towards him and interlace your hands with his. You pull him towards yourself this time and rest your arms on his neck, a smile on his lips at your movement.

“You look very beautiful tonight Love.” Harry said, an idle coming to rest at the curve of your back.

“You happened to mention it earlier.” You said blushing.

Harry looked at you and realised how much you meant to him. He realised that he in fact didn’t how to have fun or let loose before he met you. Hell, he’s even rollerblading with you. Harry felt free. Harry felt himself. Harry felt at home.

And perhaps that’s why he kissed you.

His hand reached out, cupping your cheek while the other reached the nape of your neck. His touch sent shivers down your spine. And there it was, without a word he kissed.

Harry kissed you and the world slowed down.

In that moment, all colours merged into one. Your focus narrowed down to the entirety of the kiss and how it felt to move your tongue against his, savouring him slowly and sinfully.

Harry pulled away and looked into yours. His being a pool of utter joy and happiness. He picked you up slightly, sounds of laughter of coming out of the two of you.

“It’s the Rollerblading, I tell ya.” Harry said smiling.

You were sitting in your art studio all by yourself when the bell rang. You found it peculiar since you had no classes scheduled today. You wiped your hands off a towel and opened the door to see Harry, dressed in normal clothes for the first time in months.

You and Harry had been meeting on and off for a quite a while now. Kissing him, cuddling him, simply staying with him brought you happiness and same was for harry. You saw him open up to new things like dancing in the rain, going to McDonalds at midnight, screaming songs and appreciate life.

“How can I help you today?” You ask him, your arms coming to rest at either shoulder as he pulled you in and kissed you hard and slow.

He pulled away and shifted on his feet.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him as you sat back on your seat and began finishing your painting.

Harry fished out a piece of paper and started reading, a smile of amusement on your face.

“Y/N, you’re the reason I feel no shame in singing at the top of my lungs or at skinny dipping late night. You make me live. And I know I’m not what you want and I know I’m an arrogant son of a bitch but the minute I saw you at the intersection, I knew was I fucked. So-” Harry stopped mid way, crumbled the letter and looked at you, his gaze unflinching as he asked, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes. A thousand times yes.” You said as you ran over to him, your painted hands grabbing his face as you kissed him with all your might.

Authors note: thank you so much for reading! Interact with me! Let me know if you liked it in the comments, send me asks, send me messages, talk to me! I love you I love you I love you.

[songfell-ut]

Songfell anniversary post, pt 1

Eyyy so four years ago today, I posted the first three chapters of my story on AO3, having seen an unfinished comic and gotten permission from the artist to write a fic using her premise. This here is the first piece of Songfell art ever, commission from the OG comic creator, @lostmypotatoes 👌

So! I am not posting any new content for the moment. My mom has been having health problems, including me having to help take her to the ER (she's fine, just needs to stay in bed for a while), which delays actual writings a bit. What I am doing is reposting art from four years of Tumblr! C'mon down memory lane, wheeeeee

(Part 2, Part 3)

This is going to be in VERY VERY approximate chronological order as it depicts stuff in the story. Stuff with no set place in the story will be guesstimated because I have that power ah ha ha ha ha

Disclaimer: I've pulled all of these from posts or reblogs made by this specific blog. If I didn't see or repost any Songfell art you've done, especially for the videos, I did not leave it out on purpose. I threw in exactly one image from Discord for the sake of completing a set, but that was it.

In cases of multiple...okay it's just the fork scene that has multiple iterations because everyone liked it, but besides the opening one here (which is still my AO3 pfp!), the one that was the first piece of non-commissioned art I ever got will be first. Enjoy!

This was the first non-potatoes art in the videos, I believe, done by the superlative @venelona (probably the most prolific of the arts on here), when somebody realizes he's gonna lose 😘

The collection skips ahead to Sans contemplating killing the nice lady and then totally randomly thinking of Kris instead, by @mambourin D: But whaddya know--

See? That's the sound of losing, son

That's the sight of losing, by @sharkowskii, whose work speaks for itself. Here's the whole thing, colored fantastically by Vene.

Know what else they did together, and happens once he's been knocked out?

(Look at this so good holy shit) Frisk's had a bit of a tired, scared cry in the hall, and it's time to face her new guest head-on.

I lost my mind at least a little bit when I first saw these, ngl. I can't find the next page that she did for the compiled "movie" video 😢 But now we're coming up on a fun bit of Songfell lore!

I was scrolling through Tumblr and glanced over what looked like a picture of my Frisk ha ha that was kind of VENELONA DID A THING WAIT WHAT

First ever fanart, that's what. We have a High Priestess who is completely done with his goddamn nonsense, and

Pictured: goddamned nonsense. N-Not like he LIKES you, baka

Aaand here's my Discord pfp, by @xxkoichiixx (who seems not to be on here anymore D:).

And here's a very plausible alternate outcome by @vafro1.

Though this was a bit more like it, thanks to @naomyart.

Oh look a distraction after he was stupid what are the odds (Catler1!)

Last and never least (none of you are >:( so there), puns are dumb and it turns out they're into it. The End...for now

...

Bonus outtake recording illustration from @dale-the-human

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

X. “discernment”

parts: previous / next

plot: back in your respective hometowns, you navigate a sudden shift in family finances. Bruce Wayne contemplates an identity shift.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, health issues, chemotherapy, debt, substance use

words: 3.1k

a/n: i feel like this chapter is kinda the end of the setup. i’ve had a lot of fun subverting expectations of Batman’s identity usually being kept secret, and seeing how that impacts the story to have it be known so immediately. ahhh i’m very excited to keep writing <3

You did your best to shower as quickly as possible, ransacking your medicine cabinet behind the mirror while the water was heating up. Toothbrush, toothpaste, you had it all back at home, and it went into the trash. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, all did the same after you used up what you could and jumped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a single towel you were fine with leaving behind. As you walked back into the main room, you stopped for a moment. With the sheets off the bed, the kitchen empty, and the rest of the room deserted besides what was left of your luggage, it felt final. Gotham was finally being abandoned and you could go back to the safety of hometown life.

Sweats, tee, sneakers. The plane ride was going to feel massively long with how much anticipation was in your bones thinking about being able to make your mom's appointment. You'd clarified with your dad with a text message and he responded that her treatment was at 3. Even if the plane left by noon, that was 9 to them--you'd be home by 2, could head straight from the airport to her chemo. Luggage zipped, key in hand, you nearly made it out the door before remembering you had edibles sitting in your nightstand. You couldn't technically have it in your apartment, and you definitely couldn't bring it past TSA... you shoved it in your pocket to discard in a public trashcan and made your way to the lobby. You gave the keys and your name to the same young woman, and walked out of the lobby for the final time. Damn. I'm really done here. I'm done with Gotham. I just need to make it on my plane. Then I'm gone.

Bruce was slumped down in his chair trying to avoid passersby. You slipped in beside him and yanked your thick luggage between your legs. He sat up and nodded at you as he buckled, and you did the same. As you reached to click the seatbelt in, the edibles slipped out of your pocket and fell at his feet. Shit. He reached down, read the package, and his brow furrowed. "Marijuana?"

You laughed. Hadn't he ever seen it before? "Yeah uh, I can't take it with me to the airport or leave it here." You shrugged and held your hand out expectantly, but he hesitated. His eyes scanned your face, confused. "You do marijuana?"

Now you were looking at him with confusion. He'd never done it? Drops were hardcore; weed was legal in Gotham, it was legal in most states now. You'd gone to a dispensary just around the corner from your complex to get it, surely he had experience. "Sometimes. Why are you looking at me like that?" A slight defense crept into your tone; people drank alcohol all the time, why was it strange to have edibles? He gave the slightest shake of his head and mumbled. "I just don't see the point."

"I don't get the point of drinking alcohol either, but,"

"I don't drink. I don't do any substances."

You whipped your head toward him. "Like ever?"

"I need to be clear at a moment's notice." He gestured for you to click your seatbelt in, dropped the edibles in your lap, and pushed on the gas. You sat in silence for most of the ride there, and just before he took the exit toward the dropoff lane you held them out to him. "Here. Take them." You paused. "Please."

He shot a glare at you, nearly missing the exit. "Why?"

"You don't have to take them or anything, I just can't have them on me at security." You shrugged and he begrudgingly obliged, tucking them into his pant pocket. He pulled to the right and stopped, unlocking the car. You sat for a moment, staring at all the passengers going in, all the couples embracing each other with heartfelt goodbyes. Your heart throbbed. You wanted that. You wanted to be held, you wanted someone to miss you—someone that didn't have to, like parents. Someone that liked you enough for you, as you were, for no reason other than enjoyment and care. Already in your mid-twenties you were beginning to wonder if that would ever happen for you, and it didn't help to be sitting in a car with the most frustrating, cold man imaginable while looking at so much warmth and love.

He hesitated before asking what had been on his mind since City Hall. “How did you know it was me?”

You hesitated just the same, then shrugged. “I don’t know, i just… knew?” How else could you express just how unique his eyes were? You turned toward him and met his available gaze. His eyes were so distinctive... you couldn't even quite place the color, further puzzling you as to how you had matched him so immediately to the vigilante. Maybe that was the whole thing—his eyes were so unplaceable. Sitting between a gray and blue with no particular lean to one or the other. You hadn't seen anything like it. "Thank you." A smile was easily conjured for him, sympathy and guilt fueling it. "I know I pushed my way into your home. And again, I won't tell anyone. Promise." You cleared your throat and averted your eyes as you popped open the passenger door and grabbed your luggage. He didn't respond until the door was almost shut. "I know. Have a safe flight."

You hid your smile as you shut the door behind you and walked through to the lobby of the airport. You were just in time to get in line for TSA and still make it to your terminal. You shuffled around in your purse to find your ID and pulled up the virtual ticket on your phone. God. You were finally going to be home.

You woke to the pilot over the intercom: "Good afternoon folks, we have arrived in Seattle, Washington. It is now 1:39pm as we pull into the terminal. The weather is a comfortable 73 degrees with partly cloudy skies. Alaska Airlines thanks you."

Waiting for you in the lobby was your mother and father, but your eyes quickly landed on your mother's new wheelchair. She looked frail, with more deep-set wrinkles exaggerated by her new thinness. A lump formed in your throat. He'd said she'd gotten worse. You hoped it wasn't impossibly worse, but soon you would find out more information. You hid your surprise and ran to them with open arms. Your mother started weeping, pointing out how much more grown up you looked. "Your updates on Facebook didn't do you justice," She complimented. Thankfully her voice was unchanged.

Your dad drove you all straight from airport parking to her doctor's office. Chills traveled up your spine remembering the times you'd sobbed alone in your car wondering if the chemo would work, if the medicines that made her vomit and cry in the middle of the night when she thought no one was listening would be worth it. Only to end up back here. But, you reminded yourself, with so much more time than some people got.

Your dad looked tired, so you told him you'd take your mom inside. She was happy to get some time alone with you, chattering on with questions about what exactly Gotham had been like. "I've heard so much about it. Your dad focuses on the bad things now more than I do, he's been worried sick. Especially with all the explosions. Those did worry me I'll admit. But you're back now! We got your room ready, and Walter is so excited to see you! Ever since we made the room up he has been sitting at the foot of your bed." Walter was the family cat your mother got about seven years ago when she was first diagnosed; he was her therapy cat, and he'd taken to everyone in the house. You were excited to see him, you'd missed him tons.

The receptionist smiled when you walked into the clinic, gesturing for you to follow her to a room down the hall. "Mrs. Y/L/N, how are you doing? This room is ready for you." As you wheeled your mom in and sat her next to the IV, you pulled a chair over to sit nearby. You noticed it wasn't already pulled close—did people normally not accompany their relatives, friends, neighbors to their appointments? It saddened you to think about someone having to endure chemotherapy alone. You'd never do that to her.

About halfway through some more casual conversation—the neighbors were doing great, excited to see you, your dad had been working on a back porch for them to spend nights looking at the sunsets together, she'd stocked the fridge with all your favorites, asked about your classes, and gushed to the nurses about how you were now a soon to be college graduate. She also expressed sorrow about having you come back so early and miss graduation, to which you immediately and profusely told her not to worry. You were so glad to be back, and grateful to just do everything you could. You told her how you'd be looking for a job this summer.

A nurse walked in and gently reminded you both about payment. Your mom gestured to her purse sitting at the table opposite her and you went to find her credit card. Long ago your family had abandoned debit, as the mounting costs of having cancer were too much to front all at once. You hurried to the receptionist and stood in line behind a mother and young kid with a bald head. God, kids shouldn't have to go through this. No one should have to. "Miss Y/L/N?"

"Yes, this is for Ellie Y/L/N." You held out your credit card but the receptionist cocked her head at you with a furrowed brow. "Oh hon, your balance is paid."

You stopped. What? "Uh, I'm sorry, I don't think I've paid yet." You stared at her as she clicked a few buttons and focused on her screen. She shook her head. "Nope, but an anonymous benefactor has paid your remaining balance and left a card on file." She smiled over at you. "Must be your lucky day!" She clicked a few things with her mouse and walked over to the printer, handing you an invoice. In bold print next to the mountain of numbers which had previously had a negative in front was a new 0 next to PAID. Concerned, you rushed back to your mother's room. She noted your concern at once. "Y/N, what is it?" She moved toward you enough to get the monitor to start beeping to stay put. You stared down at the paper. "It, it says it's paid. By an anonymous person, I don't, I don't know."

You fell back in your seat as you handed your mom the paper. She pored over it, then shrieked with relief. "Honey, this is a blessing. I can't believe it!" Tears came to her eyes and she looked around. "My phone, I need to tell Thomas,"

"Here, I'll call him." You took out your phone with clammy hands and dialed him. This was... unbelievable. The debt had been well above six figures. Each treatment was a few thousand dollars, with a month-long course going above thirty thousand. Not to mention the massive cost of the at-home medications she had to take multiple times per day that weren't covered by insurance. Your dad shouted with glee, saying he was going to order everyone pizza tonight. "Golly," he sounded on the verge of tears as well. "Looks like luck might be on our side."

As you helped your mom out of the clinic and into the car, your parents embraced each other and danced in place in the parking lot. Your mind was occupied, still in shock. If they had their balance paid, if all the costs coming up were covered, your dad's job at the school would be more than enough to sustain the family. Maybe they could even retire. He'd been saving up his 401k to pay off the balance in one lump sum, though he was only halfway there. It was nice to see them celebrating, but you had a strange feeling in your stomach. Who had it been? Who could have known? Your mother wasn't keeping her diagnosis a secret; many neighbors had been very supportive, and she had many friends who were decently well off that had helped your family when things got rough. But none of them had nearly enough money to do something like that.

As your dad pulled up to Domino's, it hit you like a ton of bricks. It had to be him. There was no other person who could afford it. But how had he known? Did he snoop? Did it even matter?

It had to be Bruce fucking Wayne.

Bruce dragged his pointer finger along the embossed lettering—LEMON LIME THC GUMMY. He was worn out, but could not possibly sleep. The night had been shockingly uneventful with only a few carjackings on his radar. Even the walkie talkie Gordon had lent him from the station was quiet. The night had ended early, yet he still felt tense with untapped energy. Pulling out his phone from his nightstand he Googled marijuana and sleep which elicited clear results: Cannabis may improve sleep quality by helping people fall asleep faster and wake up less often at night. Sigh. He checked the dosage instructions on the back of the tin and pulled off a small piece. Here goes nothing.

Immediately after swallowing he started to feel fearful. What if you had poisoned it? A final blow? Your last revenge? He pictured your eyes meeting his from the passenger side earlier that day. Again, I won't tell anyone. Promise. He thought your eyes were too kind not to mean it, but he still walked up the stairs over to Alfred's room. He was still up reading the paper when he walked in.

"Alfred, I'm gonna be taking some weed tonight." As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to scream with embarrassment. Here he was, in his late twenties, telling his guardian that he was talking drugs. Non lethal ones at that. Alfred peered up from over his papers with a small bit of surprise. Bruce had never shown interest in drugs before, and it felt a bit awkward, like he was admitting something terrible to a parent. He tried to make his reaction measured and interested. "Oh. Okay! Sounds... good!"

Bruce shifted his weight between feet, wanting to fall through the floor. He was still nervous of how he would react. Would his face melt? Would he have a panic attack, "Yeah. I'll be in my room." Alfred, having known him all his life, easily read between the lines.

"Do you want me to, check on you?" He paused halfway through, not wanting to come across condescending. Bruce seemed anxious. Alfred tried to smile at him. The kid averted his gaze. "I got them from Y/N. They're just for sleep." He turned to leave as Alfred continued. "Okay. Uh, have a good rest."

Bruce mumbled "Thanks." before disappearing back to his room. He laid in waiting facing the ceiling with his arms crossed across his chest, looking small and worried. Why had he trusted you so implicitly? What if your kind words at the airport had been nothing more than a ruse? He needed to be smarter than that. And the crosswalk? How he'd almost hit someone? He couldn't believe it. You clouded his thoughts more than he'd even realized. You weren't stupid and he couldn't ignore the possibility that you knew exactly what you were doing. But what were you doing? You didn't like him. You left Gotham to care for your mother's returned cancer. You were so ready to rid yourself of the city. And he did believe you when you said you wouldn't tell anyone. You puzzled him.

He decided to take a hot shower to try and relieve some extra stress before the weed kicked in. The heat coaxed his muscles to relax, his shoulders to drop, and his eyes to close. He focused on the sounds of the water, the feeling of the soap on his tired, chronically injured body as his hands ran over his bruises. He forgot the time while he was in there, until he started feeling floaty. Blinking to try and shake the sensation, he stepped out of the shower and threw on a pair of sweats. He sat on the edge of his bed and felt its emptiness. His vision was slightly blurred, reminiscent of when he got hit too hard in the head. It wasn't as jarring as he was anticipating, and let himself relax back to his initial position staring up at the ceiling.

His walls were painted black, and that made him a bit nervous. Through his periphery he saw the empty darkness of his room and turned on his bedside lamp. The soft incandescent glow felt warm on his skin and he relaxed into it. Thoughts began creeping up at the edges of his mind. Your eyes gave it away. I don't know, I just knew. Your words fluttered around the room to dizziness. That was possibly the worst answer you could have given, knowing that unless he wanted to reduce visibility while fighting and wear some sort of glasses, he could be recognized any time. In the haze of his high he pictured himself in front of him. Bandaged, bruised, melancholic, isolated. His hair dark and in his eyes. It came to him akin to an epiphany: he needed to make himself more distinguishable from his nightlife. He looked like someone who might be Batman. How instantly you knew him. There had to be someone else like you. You weren't an anomaly, no, you couldn't be.

He got out his journal and started scribbling on the page.

Me now: dark, casual, isolated, angry, unfriendly, critical

Batman: dark, isolated, angry, unfriendly, critical

Too many similarities.

Then he wrote down the opposite: bright, fashionable, connected, easygoing, friendly

As his high peaked he looked out the window at the streets of his city. It hit him like a ton of bricks settling into the pit of his stomach. He needed to become a Wayne—public facing and more inconspicuous, he needed to create distance from the two halves of him. He needed to become so different as to practically gaslight the people of Gotham into discarding their suspicions as madness. He fell back onto the mattress. He couldn't hesitate.

He had to become Bruce fucking Wayne.

[notmrskennedy]

Noticed

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

A/N - Howdy! Here’s another little something from my drafts. It’s a draft and a half again so be gentle with it. Also, I’m touch averse and I would be so happy to find someone I wasn’t upset with touching. But c’est la vie! I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary - The touch averse agent starts getting touchy....

W/C - 2.5k

Warnings - none I think, but lmk if there is something

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

If Morgan was being honest with himself, he thought you were dying. Or maybe ill. Or so feverish you’d abandoned every single principle you had. Because he’d been there that first day of yours, waltzing up from the coffee machine to see you nervously trailing behind Hotch. It was painful to watch, he remembers, so terribly nervous you’d envy the kid on one of his bad days.

He had smiled at you and stirred his coffee and remained optimistic that someone so obviously terrified would be a decent field agent. (You’d been decent and then some, especially in an interrogation room). There’d been one non-committal wave—distinctly reminiscent of a certain genius—and the first full sentence of, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t do the touching thing. Handshakes included.”

Every little touch plagues you. You’re six inches away at all times, lest someone accidentally bump into you or get the wrong idea that you might be willing to brush shoulders. There’s no friendly pats. No high fives. Certainly no hugs. Garcia is furious in her attempt to loosen you up—to no avail—but Morgan knows better than to push. Something makes you hate skin to skin contact and he’s not looking to share trauma stories with you. Not yet.

So this, Morgan thinks as he wanders into the bullpen while stirring his coffee, is a sign that you’ve lost your mind.

He watches as you carefully extend one palm to one Dr. Spencer Reid. Perched on the edge of his desk, you’re a regular fixture, just another cute figurine to add to the collection. It’s the end to some wild discussion he could hear in the kitchenette, full of flailing limbs and butchered sentences. Everyone always thought it was cute, if you stripped away how irritating it could be.

This is the point where you two are caught up in whatever moment you’re having, so much so that you extend an upturned palm between the two of you. Reid threads his hands through his hair, stunned at your peace offering. Or maybe an offering of something more than friendship. Morgan assumes its something more; not only because you have the softest grin he’s ever seen, but because your fingers are practically begging the kid to hold your hand.

Reid’s careful in how he asks his question—Morgan doesn’t know what it is, but he can just tell. The wide eyes. The scared contemplation. The are you sure parting the kid’s lips.

Grinning and blushing, you just wiggle your fingers. Murmur something that Morgan isn’t allowed to hear. Something only for Spencer. There’s surprise before he grips onto your hand, wriggling all ten combined fingers together. You giggle as you spin him around in his desk chair and get tangled up.

Dropped jaw and grinning, Morgan can’t believe you, so touch averse you, are willing engaging in such risky behaviour. There’s a weird few moments when he wants to remind both of you to wear protection in such endeavours.

And as he’s wondering if hands need condoms, the two of you let go and move on like nothing’s happened. You go back to punctuating your points with your flailing hands. Spencer goes back to distracting from his blush with paperwork.

Morgan goes to get more coffee, trying to stop imaging that you two were his kids, growing up without his consent. And maybe also the hand condoms.

#

It’s shortly after JJ’s wedding—about midnight as the cleaning crew are picking up the straggling drunks—both Hotch and Rossi notice. They’re leaned up against the bar, each smoking a cigar, watching a slightly tipsy you teach an awkwardly sober Spencer Reid how to swing dance.

It’s no secret that you and Reid get on like a house on fire, two nerds that couldn’t shut up about whatever weird ass shit was on your brains. Rossi never made much move to care. Hotch was too stressed to think about what the pair of you did off company time. Everyone, them included, imagined that what time you did spend together was three feet apart. In museums. Wherever. No one questioned what kind of weird nerd shit you did, especially stuff that they couldn’t really be bothered to care about.

Now, they’re forced to carefully consider the implications of how touchy you’re getting. With Reid.

He’s even more gangly and uncoordinated than normal, as Hotch and Rossi watch on, getting thrown around like a rag doll. It’s kind of adorable, Rossi thinks and shares a well meaning look with Hotch. The two of you would be cute and he’s hoping that you do get together. Rossi always knows about these things, even if Hotch is positive that you two are just friends. And as two professional gentlemen do, they made a bet.

Twenty bucks.

Your laugh—one that no one gets tired of hearing—echoes around Rossi’s whole yard, even into his house. Reid’s voice is about two octaves too high as you spin him around on his wobbly feet. You go from three feet apart to chest to chest and back again. Rossi remembers high school dances vaguely and Hotch absently thinks about Hayley’s old infatuation with Grease.

Rossi takes another long drag from his cigar, grateful for the indisputable proof that you two are shacking up. There is no way that two people so touch averse could be touching this much without prior exposure. The yard is a ruckus of both of your laughters, year after year of awkwardness falling off you both in sheets. They’re no denying you two shut in nerds are finally having some fun.

It’s warming both Hotch and Rossi’s hearts.

And their bet.

#

Penelope notices next. Who knew that such a simple interaction could leave her speechless? Stammering and stuttering over not even a full minute of insanity.

She didn’t know how she’d gotten sick, or what she’d come down with, but the only thing that was keeping her in her work chair was you. And the endless buckets of soup that you kept pouring down her throat. Without a case—thank god—for the last couple days, all that you’ve done is sit in the bat cave, keeping her and her soup warm.

It’s as you are finishing some corny ass joke that she thinks how sweet you are. How loving. Penelope’s love language has always been touch—she’s given too many hugs to count—but it’s taken her a minute to figure out yours. And as she stares into the chicken soup in her hands, she realises that it’s everything you do for her. Your love is literally palpable.

It’s in the bright keychains you bring back. Or the crazy pens. Or the way you always drive her home after drinking.

As she’s opening her mouth to tell you, tell you just how much she appreciates everything, when Reid pops his head in, whole body following. He’s got too much of a grin this early. But when he’s far enough into the room, he spreads his fingers out over your shoulder and squeezes. Says something about a case and you follow behind him with a wave of your hand at Penelope. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like Penelope hasn’t been the one furiously trying to break you out of your shell. The predetermined first to get a hug in the office.

You’re still up and still waving and by the time she’s got her wits about her, she’s asking, “You let Reid touch you?”

The empty room and the closing door don’t answer.

#

JJ is nearly the last to find out. Well, your little touching relationship with Spencer has been the only topic of gossip between anyone for the last six weeks. They can’t believe they hadn’t picked up on the little bits of affection passed between the two of you.

Hand touches. Shoulder squeezes. Quick brushes. The mystical hug Morgan claims he once saw.

For the rest of the world, you and Spencer were nothing but friendly. Maybe even best friendly. To the team of highly trained profilers who had been friends with the pair of you for a combined 15 years, this was marriage material. This was you and Spencer screaming the pair of you had eloped.

You two crazy kids had to be together, but the team was left to sussing it out for themselves. Neither of you two would ever say anything, never give anything up. But surely, the three of them—using Penelope would be cheating of course—could figure out when you two had started up. Because you had to have. There was no way all of this was just friendly.

And it isn’t. That much is clear when JJ gets a phone call from you while she’s looking a crime scene over for what feels like the gazillionth time. Some un-sub with the usual cocktail of daddy issues, anger issues, and a healthy dose of narcissism.

It’s rare you call anyone without good reason. You aren’t the type to just chat—everyone has speculated you got enough of that from Spencer. And once JJ says hello, you start bawling.

You’re sobbing and JJ has no idea what to do.

“Y/n, y/n,” she tries, hoping you’ll calm down enough to breathe properly. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s—it’s Spencer,” you hiccup. JJ can hear you sniffling into your sleeves. Can hear the blinkers go as you change lanes. “He’s not answering—not answering his phone. And he said he’d—that he’d call, but he hasn’t. And JJ something’s wrong.”

By the way your breath hitches and your sobs crackle into the phone, JJ knows exactly how bad it has to be. Spencer, however, is supposed to be following up a lead with Emily. Some paint huffer in his mom’s garage—nothing more than a routine witness report. She almost can’t believe something would go wrong.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“JJ,” you sniffle before the flood gates open again, “I can just feel it. Something’s wrong.”

JJ’s mind scrambles. As much as you played it off, you had a sixth sense. Every time, every countable time, someone got hurt, you knew before it happened. You had a gut for these things and JJ didn’t want to think about how bad this was going to be. How bloody. So she scrambles for her car and doesn’t wait for the other detectives to figure it out.

JJ’s halfway to the witness’s house when you make it there yourself. You’re still on the phone, doing a horrible attempt at trying to keep each other calm. You’ve traded the sobs for hiccups, thankfully. JJ can hear you climbing the porch stairs. She’s taking corners at 65 miles an hour.

Nothing seems fast enough when JJ hears the phone clatter to the floor and the shout of “oh my god, Spencer!”

Nothing is fast enough when you’re sobbing out, “You can’t die on me like this.”

Nothing is fast enough when JJ quietly but distinctly hears, “I love you too much for you to fucking die, Spencer Reid.”

#

Spencer Reid always thinks he’s the last to find out. He’s blunt and oblivious and thinks too much to just see what’s in front of his face. He was so sure they had all seen how in love he was, just how desperately he was clinging to the hope they wouldn’t notice. If they didn’t notice, you wouldn’t. Not while wearing the same sort of blinders he wore.

But once everything had come out? He was positive everyone else had known. That he’d come into work one morning and there would be a cake engraved with the words, “Congrats on Shacking Up!”

It never happened. No cake. No lights. No surprises. No one seemed to know or notice or anything. Spencer and you went on like nothing had changed—it really hadn’t anyway. He liked to laugh when you told him the two of you had been practically dating since the first time he’d offered to take you to a Korean film festival.

Two years later and he’s become very aware of you. And also the ache. All of the very dull and consistent ache in his body. Another scar to add to the collection, he bitterly thinks, out of anaesthesia enough to know that he’s in a hospital. That he’s been hurt. That someone’s holding his hand.

It’s calloused and soft and just perfectly latched onto his. A hand he’d waited to hold for too long. One that he’d be holding for the rest of his life.

Attached to the hand is you, sleeping haphazardly between his bed and a plastic chair. Your fingers are tangled in his, head rested on the crook of your arm and the bed. There’s too much of you curled up in a chair. It’s one of his favourite bits about you, just how dedicated you could be. How you were always there when he woke up and always would be.

He smiles and chuckles despite the pain in his ribs. You wake with a start, one startled gasp followed by a shuddery exhale as you realise again where you are. That nothing’s changed. That everything’s changed.

Through lidded eyes, he watches your eyes light up, matching you grin for grin. He watches the anger flash across your face for not even a second, and he knows exactly how bad you want to murder him for scaring you so bad.

Instead, you press frantic kisses to the back of his knuckles, message fully received. You missed him. You’d been terrified. You’d cried so hard, he can still feel the salt on your lips.

“Spencer,” you breathe, giving his hand one more kiss for good measure and pressing his knuckles to your cheek. “God, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m alive, y/n, I promise,” he whispers back. Hoarse and adorably okay. It’s one thing to expect to get shot going after un-subs. It’s another to get attacked by a PCP addled grandmother.

He wiggles a finger against your cheek. Even though he can’t see your red rimmed eyes or the dark tear tracts on your cheeks, he can feel the tear that pools on his finger. But before he can reassure you one more time, you shush him and tell him to get some sleep and that you’ll both worry about this later. Maybe over jell-o.

He grins.

#

The team, visiting the next morning, doesn’t have the heart to wake up either of you. Reid looks happy for the first time in—years—with you carefully curled into his side. Sure, there’s a scratchy hospital gown and some pesky lines overriding everything, but it’s cute. No denying that. Thank god you two knuckleheads are finally being open about it. Even if you’re sleeping.

Emily smiles to herself as she readjusts her sling. Morgan and JJ are trading exclamations of shock, while Hotch passes Rossi twenty dollars. You readjust and Reid’s arm moves to rest across your cheek. JJ isn’t subtle when she takes a photo, sniggering.

Emily is even less subtle when she snorts. “I guess I can finally let the cat out of the bag.”

Everyone perks up; she swears she sees Reid open an eye.

“Nearly six months ago, y/n drunkenly confessed to dating Reid. She’s a real wild card on tequila, let me tell you.”

“You knew?” Morgan screeches, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Emily shrugs, winces with her busted up shoulder. “Does it matter? Didn’t we all know?”

[hanaonesflower]

Photo: @Aruna on Pinterest

Asahi Shiina x f!reader

Warnings: implied sexual innuendos, no explicit mentions of sex, fluff

Wc: 1818

A/n: omg I started watching free! And I gotta say – the manz are G O R G E O U S!! The amount of daydreaming and ideas for headcannons were unfathomable. Anyway, this is basically my first piece of the anime, not much but will experience more with it. I think my sense of humor shows in these draft 🤪. Anyway, enjoy!

_________________________

The pungent smell of chlorine water doesn’t help with my nausea right now. Morning practices shall be the bane of my existence but tough shit. Being Captain isn’t exactly simple either, showing up to the pool 30 minutes before the rest of the team to set up lane lines all. by. myself. Do you realize how heavy those bitches are? The answer is VERY.

The indoor facility was serene with a glass panel up above, I could still see the moon peeking shyly from the dark clouds. The bright stars sprinkled across the night sky. The water below was a mirror, reflecting the canvas above. It was quiet, it was peaceful. I checked the clock, 5:30. Great, now I had to submerge my very warm body into the Atlantic Ocean – oh I meant pool.

The heater had been broken for weeks and we sent in numerous complaints about it. But the school board actually didn’t give a shit about the aquatics sports, and gave most of their funding to the basketball team that had not scored a single basket in the past 5 years.

I took a few deep breaths as I pushed the lane lines out from storage. Contemplated leaving and pool forever and never coming back. I dipped my toes in the freezing water and chills transferred from my spine to the rest of my body. Goosebumps rose frantically across my forearms and legs.

“Good morning, (y/n)!”

“Oh, good morning, Asahi!”

“Do you need help?”

I thought I would be the first one here before I saw a red headed male making a beeline towards me. Asahi Shiina, we had been swimming together since we were kids. Experienced the same swim clubs, gone through multiple instructors and coaches, separated in high school but now ended up on the same swim team in college. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is. His parents knew mine from when they were on a cruise together once upon a time, his mom was already 6 months pregnant and mine was 4 months – that was the story my mother had relayed to me. Asahi Shiina would constantly act like an old soul, as if he wasn’t only 2 months older than me.

“Yeah, that’d be nice!”

“Anything for you, (y/n)!”

Asahi winked and dove in feet first in the water. The cold chlorinated water splashed all over the deck, violently covering me in its glory.

“Asahi! The reason why I accepted your help was to not get any water on me right now, goddamn it!”

He let out an explosive laughter that rang through the hall of the facility. Shiina has always been such an uplifting spirit in my life. I think I’ve only seen him go through bad days once in a blue moon.

I shivered and threw on my giant parka – headed towards the control room to turn on the lights. The fixtures simultaneously flickered on, slowly brightening up the room, beating the shine of the moon in the sky.

After revising the day’s practice regimen, Asahi knocked on the door.

“The lanes are all in, boss!”

He saluted me, in the dorkiest way possible. But also very charming. I would be lying through my teeth if I said I never saw Asahi that way. I mean, can you blame me? The water dripping down his tall physique was enough to make me not want to look away from his toned muscles. He stood at 5’10 tall but he begged me to give him the extra invisible 2 inches so he could be 6’0. I told him that’s not how things work. Asahi was, how do you say it? Dense. In an endearing way. Oh, how he was dense. I remember one time in high school where this sweet girl, one year his junior, was running up from behind him and offering her home onigiri. Every. Single. Day. That’s dedication if you ask me. He never thought it was her having a huge, Earth-sized, crush on him.

“Thanks, Asahi!What would I do without you, hm?”

No, I wasn’t going to pass on an opportunity to flirt with him. Of course not. I never said I was a good person.

“I’m going to grab some coffee. You want some?”

“(Y/n), it’s like you don’t even know me… do you know how bad that stuff makes me shit?”

I chuckled at his remarks. He had a way of always making me laugh.

“I guess it’s coffee for one then. Look through today’s workout while I leave, would you?”

“I hope you aren’t planning on killing the newcomers today. That would leave a bad impression.”

“Oh, please, they won’t want to leave once they see how charming the men’s Captain is.”

“Likewise, Captain (y/n).”

He shot a flirtatious grin my way and I pretended not to notice it. The sexual tension of it all goddamnit. We’ve been making these remarks at each other since the first year of college, that would make it 2 years now, of us not doing shit about these underlying, subconscious romantic feelings for one another. One more year before we graduate and leave swimming behind. Our parents even tried to set us up, but we’ve always played it off as just us being childhood friends, that would explain why we were close. But no, I wanted him to fuck me.

The coffee vending machine was acting up today. I was already late to the initiation and welcoming segment of today’s practice. Guess I’d have to forgo my daily coffee this morning. On the way back to the pool, my phone dinged in my pocket, the sound echoed in the empty hallway.

“The recruits are here. And I need you, I have no idea how to be a good host ;).”

See what I mean.

There came a prep in my step. I was almost skipping to the entrance of the pool. I could hear light chatter bleeding out of the door as newcomers were starting to fill the pool deck one by one. Seijuro had asked them to take seats on the bench and Asahi was running around greeting them like he had known them for ages. My heart skipped half a beat.

I thought I wouldn’t be affected by men in speedos as I grew up seeing it. But it was just something about him that made me feel some type of way.

I waved at Seijuro as he gave me a friendly head nod. I proceeded to strip out of my parka and stood in front of the new recruits in my brand new one piece. It was navy blue and it was beautiful.

“Good morning and welcome, everyone! I honestly am so grateful to see your excited, and very tired, faces here this morning. I know the feeling, trust me.”

These new recruits made me feel like a celebrity, they were looking at me with eyes full of wonder.

“I totally forgot to introduce myself. My name is (y/n), as of right now I am the standing captain of the women’s collegiate swim team. This is Asahi, he is your standing men’s collegiate swim team.”

As Seijuro would put it,

“I wish someone would look at me the way Asahi looked at you during the intro.”

“Please, Seijuro, don’t be weird.”

“You wouldn’t think I’m weird if you saw it for yourself.”

Seijuro had been a close friend ever since we met at regionals during his third, my second year of highschool. His sister, Isuzu, had been a fellow teammate and gamer of my (sibling).

“I guess so.” I gave in to his insinuation. Seijuro patted my head and teasingly scuffed up my hair.

Seijuro and Asahi agreed to get the recruits, as well as returners to warm up as I completed the white board for today’s practice regimen.

10x100 freestyle on 1:20

8x50 freestyle on 1:00

6x25 freestyle 0:50

10x50 butterfly on 1:45

8x25 butterfly on 0:55

5x200 IM on 3:00

3x100 IM on 1:45

3x200 flutter kick on 3:00

4x100 backstroke on 1:20

5x100 stroke of your choice on your PR

3x100 freestyle warm down

I could hear groans of utter pain emerging from behind me as I penned down the last of the regimen. I have to admit, this would be tough for new swimmers, those who weren’t scouted for the university and joined via tryouts. That was me. I wasn’t good enough to be scouted, but I was good enough to pass tryouts and improved. I realized a few words of encouragement would help setting at least some in the right mindsets.

“I know that for some of you, you didn’t end up on the team because (uni name) scouted you. I would know, because that was me.”

I didn’t think the information was surprising even though I heard gasps from the crowd.

“I know, shocking right. I was not scouted by the school so I joined the other way, I tried out. Lo and behold, here I am. What I am trying to say is, there is always room for improvement. Don’t let that get to you, I promise.”

“I agree! As long as you dedicate yourself and have a goal in mind, there is no doubt in my mind that you’ll get where you want to be.”

Asahi chimed in after me. I thought I was the spokesperson but he rightfully outshined me. I was glad.

“Let the practice commence.”

//////

“Let’s grab breakfast! I don’t have class today.”

Asahi’s voice snuck up behind me as I exited the locker room. His wet hair fell on his forehead, he looked more alluring than ever. He was clothed with a pair of snug khakis that hugged him at all the right places, a brown hoodie with the words “be free” embroidered on his left chest and a black trench coat that stopped mid-thigh completed his look. Asahi looked dashing.

“Seriously, Asahi. I cannot. Do you even see what I’m wearing?”

I, on the other hand, knew that I would be heading straight home after practice so all I packed were a pair of brown sweatpants and a lazy white crew neck that was starting to fluff up.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m not dressed for the occasion.”

“(Y/n), don’t be ridiculous. You’re gorgeous.”

Punching a wall, kicking my mama in the throat.

On the one hand I was flustered, on the other I was pulling back. Not being able to tell if he was being serious or just goofing around.

“You sure?”

Asahi threw his strong arm over my shoulder as he lowered himself down to my height. I hoped his back wasn’t hurting because I was almost a foot shorter than him. His breath tickled my ear.

“(Y/n), have I ever lied to you?”

[xgryffinwhore]

can you do something with bev🥺 like it can be literally anything - it’s just so hard to find stuff on her

I KNOW RIGHT!!! bev content is lackingg!! don’t worry, i got you

the right words to say

warnings: bev x fem reader!!! soft fluffiness heh. and smoking. aaaand language.

word count: 1.2k

her fiery locks bounced short on her head as she road fleeing sherman lane. her crew socks and worn out reebok’s peddling her rusty bike down the slope of the asphalt. lose floral sundress flying back from her sped, the cuts and scars on her legs exposed. some fresh, from your recent adventures.

she is your best friend, always will be. ever since you two met each other, your souls intertwined. she’s cool, cooler than anyone you’ve ever met. she’s stubborn, can be such a prick sometimes. but she’s beautiful, in a friend sort of way. yeah, just in a friend way. right?

to be honest you had no idea. sure, you were in highschool, you had boyfriends and you liked your boyfriends. but your boyfriends didn’t act like bev, they didn’t speak like bev, and they sure and hell didn’t smell like her(like the perfume she stole from the mall; citrusy with a touch of musk.

it was just a girl thing though, it was normal to think your friends were pretty and shit. everything you were feeling is NORMAL. it’s normal to blush when you think of your friends, it’s normal to stare at them when they’re not looking, and it’s normal to imagine their lips on yours so soft an-

“l/n” bev mused “you seriously need to go to bed earlier, it’s like i’m pulling you down from jupiter.” you shook your head and looked back at bev, her break stand on the gravel and her foot dangling from the bike seat where she perched.

“sorry marsh, i’m good now” you threw your bike on the ground and began walking with her toward the quarry. the water was a deep turquoise today, matching your bra you used for a bathing suit.

you both stripped eagerly, the summer sun making your skin hot to the touch. she wore a white bra and pantie set, with little pink polka dots. “nice lingerie” she joked, pointing at your black underwear with a small duck on them. “shut it bev.”

you held yourself hand out in an invitation to hers, you always held hands and jumped in together. her hand clasped yours, it was rough and calloused from the days she spent climbing up trees to get away from henry and gretta. before you had time to think bev had jumped, her weight pulling you with her.

the water always felt the same, frigid. it was refreshing on the days that you couldn’t walk on the asphalt barefoot without burning the soles of your feet.

beverley’s head popped up shortly after yours, she slicked her amber locks back and inhaled deeply. your bodies floated on the stagnant water, for a while actually, it was so peaceful.

your bodies migrated to the shallow part of the quarry, a little place you and her called ‘pebble palace.’ she handed you a opaque stone “pebble for your thoughts” she always did that. you took the pebble and rubbed it in between your index finger and thumb. “dont really have any right now” you breathed, your mind crowded with every thought imaginable.

“well i have one” she stole the stone back from you, “scared for highschool to start back up, if ‘m bein honest” she skipped the stone into the water, that’s what you two did. after a pebble-thought has shared, you had to throw the pebble back into the water.

school was closer then you’d like to admit, a week left of days like this. you picked up a pebble and threw it in the water, “still get to see you though, so i’m not too bummed.” she smiled like the always did, “yeah, it’s that aspect isn’t as sucky”

she laid back on one of the rocks, she usually naps around this time after we are done swimming. the sun captured her perfectly, her freckles looked like constellations and her limbs were loose and relaxed. she was alluring.

her nap was short lived, the sun was hot, you both mutually agreed to go back into the water. she splashed you "so, you still talking to kent?" she asked, you looked down and smiled "nah, too boring." you both splashed each other and she prodded "but why not? too pretty to be riding solo"

that made you blush under your sun burnt skin, she took noticed and continued "probably the most gorgeous girl in this town" she traced her fingers along your jaw "soft on the eyes" she slurred.

you stood there idle, why was she doing this to you?

"such pretty hair" with her other hand she rain her fingers through your damp ends "and eyes" she titled up your head to make eye contact with her. she was close now, you could smell the lilac candies on her breathe. you both subconsciously gravitated closer to each other, you lips almost brushing. your breath became audible, the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

you turned around and regulated your air flow. "what the fuck marsh" you cursed "what the fuck is happening?" you carded your locks through your fingers, your world running in circles around you. "im sorry y/n- i thought you liked it!" she sloshed her legs through the water to be face-to-face to you once again.

"what are you trying to do to me?" your feeling welled up in the corners of your eyes and began to drip down your face. " y/n, i thought you and me and some -eh- chemistry?" your eyes went blank, homosexuality was a ew concept in the 80's. sure, men homosexuality was well known but female? barley heard of, basically only in porn (which you may or may not have watched.)

"bev- we cant be into each other" you laughed nervously "we are friends, we are GIRLS, we cant like each other." beverley's face dropped in disbelief "i see the way you look at me l/n, you cant fake that type of shit" you tried to stop her but she kept going:

"youre the only person who makes me feel something, youre the light of my life. youre not like anyone else, better than any stupid boy. youre everything y/n, everything."

your words stumbled together, you couldnt form a sentence if your life depended on it. "i- well thats so nice of you ca- i feel that som- well no that you r- like agree-" she hushed you with a kiss, fire works went off in your head. kissing a girl felt so much better then kissing a guy.

you spent the rest of the evening holding hands and walking around the forest 'no i thought you were so pretty' 'i think ive like you forever, swear to god!'

bev and you road back to your house, your curfew was soon. "so" bev started "ive been dropping hints for like- ever- why didnt you stay anything?"

you bit your lip in contemplation; you were never really good with phrasing things. "i guess i was just looking for the right words to say" you bashed. "and that is" bev leaned in "i love you" you whispered, she answered by kissing you one last time before the sun fell behind the horizon.

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 1)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak

Word Count: 1562

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I wanted a room with two queens and an east facing window!” the woman with short, curled hair informed for the tenth time, her face already beet red as she yelled at you.

“Ma’am, I am sorry. I see we booked you with two queens and you’ll be on our seventh floor, with a south facing window,” you started to explain calmly.

“Does south sound like east to you? Jesus Christ, where do they hire you lazy brats?” she asked. 

Your poker face didn’t waiver though. You didn’t close your eyes, or take a deep breath, or shake your head slightly. You continued to smile and apologize. 

“You’re absolutely right, ma’am. But with the awards in the city and the influx of visitors for the winter--”

“I don’t care if all of Europe is here, I booked this trip over three months ago! My room should be available to me now!” she shouted, causing other patrons in the nearly full lobby to stare at the two of you. 

That was the good and bad thing about being a hotel right outside the city center, just on the outskirts. You didn’t get entirely booked a lot, but on rare occasions you did, it meant something.

You had been asked to step in for your coworker Danielle, when the woman found out she wasn’t on an east facing window. You’d been going back and forth with her for over twenty minutes now, her screaming in your face. This wasn��t super atypical as a hotel manager. Angry patrons of the hotel, confused guests, exhausted tourists, frustrated honeymooners...It was your job to ensure every stay here was a pleasant one, and you did want that. Why wouldn't you? But on some days, people like Mrs. Taucht here really wore on your nerves. Why did people have to be so cruel and mean when all you were doing was trying to provide them with excellent service? 

Smiling your best customer smile, you offered sweetly, “I am terribly sorry. I can refund you some of your money and perhaps you could take the south facing room, and as soon as an east facing room is available I’ll inform you.”

“Some?! Some of my money?” she shrieked, shaking her head. “I want all of my money back and free room service! This is absolutely ridiculous.” She turned to look to another guest waiting to check in. “Do you believe this?” she asked him, and you’d been so preoccupied focusing on her, you hadn’t noticed that the lobby was so getting backed up. You quickly turned to Danielle. 

“Open up check in five, and start taking everyone from this line immediately. Check everyone in as fast as you can,” you quietly spoke to her as Mrs. Taucht ranted to the man in the line behind her. 

Danielle nodded and waved everyone over from your line, telling them that she could help them at the end of the counter, while Todd, Eric, and Trish helped as quickly as they could on their lanes. 

“Actually, I can,” the man with golden hair responded politely. “I’ve been to this city many times and you wouldn’t believe how crowded it can get and how fast,” he informed.

“But I made these reservation months ago,” she reiterated.

“Well, with all respect, ma’am, you do have a room,” the guest retorted. “It’s just not the one you wanted. If I were you, I would ask for a full refund of your room, take that, and go the room they have booked for you. I would prefer any room, to standing here in the lobby, shouting at the manager…But that’s just me.”

Mrs. Taucht stared at the man, then turned back to you slowly. “What he said,” she sighed. “Can you give me the full refund and forget the room?”

“Absolutely, ma’am. It was our mistake, and I do apologize. I will throw in free breakfast every day for your stay, for your patience and understanding. Is that alright?”

She nodded her head side to side. “I would say that’s fair. Thank you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I will get to work on this refund for you, and it’ll be settled when you leave, okay?” you sweetly said.

“Alright.”

At that, she took her things and left, heading for the elevators to the rooms. You wanted to take a deep breath, but refrained, trying to keep composure for the nice guest that was next. 

“Just a moment, sir, let me enter some notes for her account,” you said politely before clacking in all the notes for you to finish later tonight. “I deeply apologize for that. I know you’ve been waiting and now you’re about to wait more.” You let a small laugh out, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I’m in no rush, besides, you’ve got your hands full,” he said with a sideways grin. He was rather handsome, now that he was closer. Warm, brown eyes, dark blonde hair, a reserved smile...But something about him seemed familiar. He had said he stayed in the city a lot. Maybe he’d checked in once before. But...his face didn’t look like one you’d forget. 

“You noticed that, hmm?” you asked with a bigger laugh. 

“Hard to miss,” he remarked.

“Too true. Thank you, for putting in a good word for me, there, by the way,” you said. This random man had no  reason to stick up for you or make your job or day easier. 

“Oh it was nothing. I was just trying to get her to move so I could get checked in,” he said evenly.

The humor whisked away from you as you nodded, realizing he wasn’t really helping you.

“Right,” you concurred, as you finished up the notes, your eyes shooting down to the computer screen. 

He leaned forward and smiled at you. “I’m joking. I was happy to help.”

Your eyes flitted back up to him as a giant grin spread across your face. This was new for you, unusual. People didn’t really go out of their way to help you. You were a bit of a wallflower all your life. Not an outcast, but not the brightest star. You were the girl that no one picked out of a crowd. You were the girl that was overlooked, rather than looked over. It wasn’t so much your looks, you’d always felt you looked average. But that was the problem: you were average. Average looks, average grades, average car, average education. Nothing about you was stellar.

Maybe that’s why Jason had left. Your boyfriend of two years had decided to dump you five days ago, just after the new year. What a way to kick it off…

“Well thank you, again. What name is your reservation under?” you asked as you queued to the page to look up check ins.

“Hayden...Christensen,” he warmly informed, seeming to hesitate though.

You smiled and nodded. “Ah. Found you. Two queens, sixth floor, room 602. Is that alright?”

“As long as it has a bed and a TV, I could care less,” he said with a shrug and a smile. 

“Simple man?” you lightly inquired as you got out his room keys and began to scan the code to them.

“Relatively,” he replied with another shrug. “You? Simple woman?” he asked. 

“In some ways, yeah, I’d like to think so,” you said, contemplating. 

“And in others?” he inquires.

“Well...none of us are simple, are we?” you questioned, a bit of ominimity in your voice. 

He nodded slightly. “I suppose that’s true.” 

You stared at him a moment longer, not exactly realizing you were staring until it became awkward and you realized you needed to hand him the room keys and information. 

“Ah! Here are your keys, here is a brochure to the spa, restaurants, and room service. Here is the number to the concierge, the manager--me, and the hotel operator,” you said, pointing at everything with a pen.

“Thank you very much,” he said, taking his cards and the pamphlet. 

“Any time, sir. I’m Y/N if you need anything, or if you need a manager, feel free to give me a call at any time,” you said warmly. Typically, you didn’t lay on that extra charm unless a customer was overtly rude or incredibly nice, and in this case he was incredibly nice, very handsome, and you still had this gnawing feeling that you’d seen him somewhere before. Therefore, if he was a returning patron to the hotel, you wanted to make him feel extra special.

“Will do. Thanks,” he said as he grabbed his bags, waved to you, and took off toward the elevators.

Once he was out of sight, you dealt with the new family coming up to check in and your day continued as usual. The rest of the shift, you were racking your brain trying to remember where you’d seen him from. You couldn’t place it at all, and that bothered you because typically you didn’t forget a face. After awhile though, you shrugged it off, figuring it would come to you later.

In your down time, after verifying the room service orders were fulfilled, requests were taken care of, and the kitchen staff was on schedule, you sat down and began playing around with some music, scribbling down some lyrics in your ratty notebook that you carried with you everywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag: 

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo 

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

@yknott81​

@sorryimacrapwriter

@glitterquadricorn

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23 

@alyssaj23

@princess76179

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@sarahp879

@malfoysqueen14

@ellallheart

@breezy1415

@marvelmayo

@lyniboy

@paintballkid711

@pandacookieowo

History Repeats/Hayden

@haydens-moles

[hey-there-love]

Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is hard right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately following the path of straight and narrow is difficult when you find a blonde ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was easy. New experiences, new friends, new interests...what could go wrong?

Chapter 4: Fine. Fight Me

Content Warning: adult language, Cringy Situations, slight mentions of grinding

WC: 1.4K

AN: This is what I was listening to when I wrote this :)

It was a restless sleep to say the least. First you were hot, then you were cold. Hours of tossing and turning had passed until you finally realized you weren’t going back to sleep. You stared out the window at the night sky for a while contemplating on what to with yourself.

Glancing at your phone to check the time, it indicated that there was still an hour until sunrise. You huffed and swung your feet over the edge of the bed. You padded quietly to the bathroom and flicked on the lights, wincing at the brightness.

You examined yourself in the mirror. You had faint dark circles under your eyes and disgusting eye boogers. You must have slept hard for the time you did sleep. Quickly you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Feeling slightly better, you brushed your hair and threw it up to get it out of your face.

When you retreated back to your room you opted to change your tank top into a sports bra with a loose cropped top. You put in your contacts carefully infront of the mirror hanging infront of your closet. Sliding some socks on, you picked up a pair of sneakers and headphones. Deciding to begin your work out, you took the three flights of stairs to the gym.

You paused for a moment infront of the gym doors to lace up your shoes. Making your way inside an audible gasp escaped you. The room was filled with expensive equipment. Rows of treadmills, bikes, bench presses, you name it, gleamed. “Planet Fitness doesn’t have shit on this place.” You drooled.

Finding an empty spot on the floor you began stretching. Once you were warmed up, your eyes darted from one thing to the next. Settling on running a few miles, you chose the treadmill in the corner, facing the wall. You clicked on your work out playlist and turned the volume up loud. You found you could think better with music flowing through your ears than silence.

You jogged for about 20 minutes before shifting to a run. The to do list for today formed rapidly in your head. You needed to buy the essentials, obtain a residency card and a metro pass, pick up your uniforms, and locate your hero costume. You didn’t exactly know where to go for any of these things, but you knew you needed to call Mr. Aizawa about the last part.

You began to think about your costume. You loved it with every fiber of your being. Designing it yourself, It was made to be a simple yet functional long sleeved black bodysuit. The sides were a breathable sapphire colored material. You adorned the same colored high boots with a thick heel that made it easy to run. Blue goggles were made especially to protect your eyesight from diminishing more, thick insulated gloves helped form your UV light, and a utility belt to hold your smaller support items.

Lost in your thoughts you realized you had ran about two miles and you were loosing steam. You turned off the treadmill, and tried to catch your breath. Your muscles ached and you shirt was sticking to your back. You felt gross. Closing your eyes you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face.

When you turned around and opened your eyes there stood Bakugo in all his shirtless glory. “Ugh, don’t look!” You cried out and pulled your shirt down, attempting to stretch the thin, white fabric over your stomach. If you weren’t mortified you probably would have tried to sneak a peak yourself. His cheeks dusted with a heavy blush as he dropped his weights onto the floor.

“I wasn’t fucking looking! You’re the one who flashed me!” He shouted, defensive he had been caught.

“I thought I was alone!” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to make yourself feel small. You had a banging body that you weren’t ashamed of, but your cleavage hanging out of an old, ratty sports bra infront of a guy you didn’t know was a different story.

“You live with 20 extras! You’re never alone!” Bakugo argued. He stared at the floor, not making eye contact with you.

“Clearly!” Your own blush not faltering. “How long have you been here?”

“Just long enough to hear the whole rendition of that Chris Brown song. Jesus, I thought some stray dogs were going to break in.” He laughed. You threw your head into your hands. You had to get out of here.

You hastily made your way to the exit. “Go to hell.” You called over your shoulder.

“See you there, Cherry. ” Bakugo called after you. You paused dead in your tracks, anger taking over you.

“You just always have to get the last word in don’t you?” You were fuming at this point. You never let anything bother you, but you had enough. He didn’t have to be rude to you all the time.

“You started it.” Bakugo grunted, now gaining his full attention once again. “ Look, I don’t care who the hell you are or where the hell you came from, we can go right here. Right now.” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, maintaining a hardened stance.

Turning on your heel, you stomped towards him. He was built and had the advantage of a few inches on his side, but that didn’t matter. You had taken on far scarier enemies. Your gaze bore into his. Without breaking eye contact, you responded. “Fine. Fight me.”

You could have sworn your answer took him by surprise. His face faltered slightly before turning back into the grimace he wore well. “No quirks. I’ll be damned if I pay for one more thing in this shithole.”

“I don’t need it.” You hissed. Taking him by surprise you hit him in the face, hard. He groaned, but it didn’t affect him as much as you were hoping. Bakugo countered and hit you with a jab to the side. Thank god something told you to move so when he connected with you there was only half the impact.

You two were going at it hard. Every move he made you matched. It was a pretty equal fight overall. You didn’t hold anything back. You let out all your aggressions and frustrations onto him. He took them in stride. If you weren’t so focused on winning this battle you might have realized you were having fun.

“This is all you’ve got, Cherry?” Bakugo taunted as he blocked another one of your punches. You knew you needed to end it fast because you didn’t have a whole lot left in you. You managed to kick his leg out from underneath him and twisted his arm behind him as he fell. You landed ontop of his back, straddling him, and held his arm tightly in place.

“You don’t have to like me, Bakugo. But you will respect me.” You huffed, feeling accomplished you kicked his ass. You held his head down so he couldn’t escape. He squirmed under you as a string of curses left his mouth. You remained like this for a few moments until he stopped moving. Smiling, you let up on his arm slightly, assuming all the fight left his body. You were wrong.

Bakugo used the opportunity of you loosening the grip and flipped the two of you. Your back was planted firmly on the floor, pinned under the weight of him. He held your wrists down to your head with both of his hands.

You both were panting messes, chests rising to meet each other and falling back into place. “I’ll be damned if you tell me what to do, Cherry. ” He hissed, just loud enough to make your head swim. It was a compromising position to say the least. If anyone were to walk in they’d assume the worst. Hell, you were beginning to assume the worst.

You shifted under his weight, planning your escape. There was no point in trying to use your arms, so you used your lower half to wrestle against him. The friction you caused was dangerous. You both felt it. You felt something press into you and you knew it wasn’t his phone. The gym felt like it was five hundred degrees.

You struggled to find your voice. “My name is Y/N.” You whispered. Giving up, you stopped resisting. This time he ground his hips into yours, not breaking eye contact. You moaned in response. You felt yourself throbbing to the core. Bakugo wasn’t dumb, he could tell you enjoyed it.

He leaned down and his lips hovered over yours. You held your breath and closed your eyes, waiting for his to meet yours.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Bakugo peeled himself off of you and left you laying on the floor alone without another word.

You grabbed your chest, “What the hell just happened?”

~~~~~~~~~

AN: Hi all! So if you’ve read the chapters before this one was posted you might be confused why Bakugo is calling Y/N Cherry. Well, after brainstorming ideas of the future chapters a thought came to mind referring to the panty incident of 2021, “Lane, he can’t call the reader pinky...that’s Mina’s hero name.”

That was a total face palm moment. So if you go back you’ll see I changed the underwear to black with cherries on it. Ok, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. 😬

[bitchiha]

To Eternal Bliss, I’m so Glad to Know (ModernAU!Hidan x Reader)

The Rats 1k event prompt: Street racer x Hidan

A/N: hey.. aha.. how y'all doing.. hum so i haven't been doing great, I think that is evident through my inactivity on this blog, but that being said i am in a bit of a better place now. i finally have some time to myself and i intend to put that towards my 900 follower event. Enjoy this wonderful piece of modern racer Hidan that strayed into crazy murder himbo I love car man Hidan.

Title inspired by: this song.

MAJOR TWs: smut, harassment (brief, undescriptive), uhm murter, reckless driving, lots of mentions of and contemplations of death. You are a literal accomplice to murter. Reader is confused. But.. It’s not supposed to be gory and dark, I kinda wanted it to just be stupid and reflect a himbo hidan as much as I could. Last like 6 paragraphs aren’t edited.

-

You shouldn’t be in a criminals car, much less in the middle of a police chase and much much less be falling in love with him.

 His silver hair flashes wildly in the occasional flicker of red and blue lights, teeth bared; he was making that face again. That one he had when he first met you, lips curled and canines showing. It looked like he was in pain. It was just because he was actually trying to use his brain, you think. He grips the wheel tightly, the whites of his pale knuckles glowing as he swerves onto one of the busiest city streets you know. 

Barely avoiding a collision with a distinct yellow blur you could barely classify as a taxi, he continued to speed through the lanes, horns blaring and merging into the sound of the wailing sirens quickly approaching. Another sharp turn onto a slightly less busy road had your body slamming against the console, leaning close to Hidan. Your eyes stray from the window and onto his face, unable to hear what he is saying, you make out the movement of his lips:

shit,shit,shiiit 

The tires screeched as he fumbled around with the controls, sending the car into a full 180 and narrowly avoiding a police car sacrificing its auto body in favour of capturing Jashin. That was real close call, just scratching the side of the passenger door, but you wouldn't know; you were still watching your boyfriends features as he speeds off down another dirty alley. 

You were pretty sure that one day you were going to die trapped in Hidans little metal box.. A distant part of you wanted to throw up when you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sure, he was obnoxiously annoying in the most serious of times and incredibly oblivious when you desperately needed him to get a clue. I mean fuck, it felt like despite his adolescent years of elementary and secondary school (which you’re not even sure he attended) his brain only had the capacity to process two things. The first being lewd shit and the second would be the gas pedal... and maybe half a braincell was in there thinking of you, but probably only of you in your panties or something really shallow like that. 

You really shouldn’t love him. 

Barrelling down the alley he randomly slammed the breaks down, the lack of warning sending you flying forward. Bracing yourself to be slammed into the front of car, but just when you thought you were going to break your nose Hidan reversed, sending your body backwards instead. You yelped and he sent you a stupid little apologetic curl of his lip before twisting his body, hand coming to your chair for support as he sped the car backwards through the trash littered street. You didn't understand why he suddenly changed his mind about the direction until a few seconds later when a black and white cop car swerved down the alley in the direction you were back pedalling from. Hidan must have known they were going to try and cut his route off.    

  At the sight of the police vehicle your boyfriend impulsively slammed the breaks, rolling his window down and leaning his head out of it, “Ha, you stupid fucks think you could catch Jashin with some lame shit like that? I could smell that from a mile away!” From your boyfriends childish tone you predicted he was going to blow a raspberry, but the sound of speeding tires approaching quickly stopped him. Sirens blaring, the police car sped its way forward. 

“Oh fuck.” Hidan sped Jashin backwards again. 

  You remembered the first time you met Jashin.

  It was late that night, you were making your long trek home after a disastrous closing shift. You were tired. So fucking tired. You never would have taken that shortcut if you weren’t truly physically drained. As you made your way briskly through that musky trash infested canal, you were stopped by a man who smelled just as intensely as the alley itself. It was so much so that you had thought that perhaps it was the mans smell that was so potent and not the space itself. 

  Defining what the source of that smell was wasn’t important though, not when he was coming straight at you with barred, yellow teeth. You didn't know what to do and to be fair, what the fuck were you supposed to do? He was yelling something, you couldn't hear it over the thrashing of your erratic heartbeat.  Were you going to die? You were so fucking tired. 

Maybe you should run.

  You didn’t though. Didn’t have the energy. So you let the man come face to face with your figure, grabbing at the lapels of your coat and screaming. His breath was unbearable and you thought you were going to pass away just from the smell as opposed to actually being murdered. Although you suppose this could probably qualify for a murder, his breath was most definitely a weapon. But despite his shouts being directly at you, his humid breath spraying across your face as his chest constantly heaved, you couldn't understand what he was saying. 

“Jashin! Jashin is coming!” 

  What the fuck was Jashin? Could you still not hear him? He was probably sick. You were tired. So you continued to let him shake your form. Was he going to kill you or just ask for some money?

  Thats when a beast of sleek red metal swerved down the alley, trampling over peeled open garbage bags and beer bottles, approaching you with each sound of a crinkled can. It was gunning straight towards the man who was backing you up against the wall, he was frothing and screaming at the sight and the next moment the hood of the car slammed into his form. Despite your close proximity to the man, you were left barely unscathed and a little bit disappointed.  

  The scene laid frozen for a good thirty seconds: the man unconscious on the floor, your unsteady breathing and the window of the car rolling down. It inched back to reveal a man about your age - which made him just barely a man - with silver slicked back hair, barred teeth and knitted eyebrows. 

“Shit.” 

  You just stared at him, backpack beginning to slide down your shoulders. He stared back at you, waiting to see what your next move was going to be. You didn’t have one. 

  “...If it makes you feel any better, douchebag deserved it.” The man said a few minutes later, he clearly wasn't expecting the crumpled body on the floor to have tried to seek out help, let alone from a cute girl. He smoothed his hair back. 

   His crappy attempt to seduce you didn't work and nor did his equally crap words of consolation, you were tired. This whole situation was even more tiring. You just wanted to sleep. 

  “I won't tell anyone, if you just drive me home.”

  He clearly wasn't expecting that, you could tell that from the pained look intensifying on his face and his little choked gasp. A few moments later it released like an elastic band snapping and his features set into a smug smirk. A cute girl who wasn’t gonna snitch on him?

  “You’re not going to question the fact that I just hit someone with my car? Is it cause I'm so fucking sex-” 

  You weren’t listening, walking over the heap of a body and around the car into the passenger seat. The contrasting smell of vanilla and cigarettes clouded your senses as you clicked your seatbelt into place - noticing his lack of one in the process.

You hated that your face was burning up as you spoke. “I live a few blocks away.” 

For a while you were sure that this was the first girl Hidan had ever had in his car. It was obvious that he was freaking out, maybe if he didn’t hit people in alleyways and then blamed your silence on the fact that he was so fucking sexy, then maybe he would be able to talk to more.

  He tried to blab to you the whole way to your apartment accidentally making wrong turns to try and extend the length of your stay. He told you about that man in the alley, said something about how he totally fucked him over in some black market shit for auto parts. Said his enemy, - he stressed this word very intensely - Shikamaru probably put him up to it. Nobody messes with Jashin goddamit, I fucking hate that guy. It was a shit justification for murder no doubt, there is never a good reason to hit someone with a car, but you supposed your indifference wasn't any better. 

  You stole a couple glances at him every now and then, when his eyes took a break from darting back and fourth between your thighs, your face and the road. He had a sharp jaw, pretty cheekbones, gelled back hair with small strands escaping every so often - causing him to brush them back when too many tickled his forehead - his lashes were long and his eyes so pretty so in the dim light of the empty city streets. His teeth were straight and sharp canines peeked out whenever he sent you a suggestive smirk.

You also spent an unbelievably long time watching his fingers maneuver the steering wheel, the way his hands flexed with a certain turn. The veins of his forearms travelling underneath his leather jacket pushed up at the elbows, his jeans were all worn out and faded and his shoes looked like they were about to fall apart, it was a big difference in comparison to the well kept state of his handsome car.

  When he finally made it to your complex after running out of roads to take wrong turns down, he looked at you like a lost puppy, rolling the passenger window down to call out to you as you opened the lobby doors. “So I’ll meet you out here tomorrow then? Say, around 9?” 

  You turned to look at him confusedly, inquiring as to why he would be picking you up when you made no reservations to see him again, why would you want to see your accomplice in a murder ever again? But he was already speeding off before you got the chance. 

At least you could finally go to sleep.

The next day he was outside your apartment fifteen past nine, blaring his horn as he maneuvered his upper body to hover out the window of his lovely Jashin. You were nestled on your couch, staring at the blue light of the TV screen in your dark apartment desperately trying to avoid the textbook glowering at you from the coffee table.

‘Cute kitten saved from tree’ was sprawled across the bottom of your television in bold letters as a perky blonde read off the little cue cards in her hand. You’d been watching the news all day, waiting for the red breaking news! To slice across the screen and read out the description of a crippled homeless gambler found dead in an alley, but it never came.

It mad you feel a little angry when you realized his death wasn’t going to be announced and you knew there was no way it hadn’t been discovered yet. Then you sat startled at the realization that you didn’t feel anything towards what happened. That the anger you felt in wanting it to be so desperately displayed on the news was because you hoped you would feel something then.

The sound of Hidans car horn threw you out of your thoughts as you jumped like a frightened cat to the window. Peeling back the curtain you were surprised to see that blood stained blotch on the road with a lavender haired boy peeking out, baring his teeth.

You contemplated staying inside, he didn’t know your apartment number, but you knew that he definitely wouldn’t stop blaring the horn if you didn’t. His hand was undeniably laying flat against the centre of he wheel as he continued to sound out, you heard someone yell for him to fucking shut up. Hidan continued as if he didn’t hear. It kind of flattered you.

You wanted to vomit.

You took the stairs.

It was the beginning of winter when you finally let Hidan fuck you. You were in some parking lot lined with pitch black shops on a Sunday night. Everyone closed early going home to their families, except the two of you of course.

It was odd being with him for this long. One outing turned into another and then another, before you knew it he was picking you up every night at nine -sometimes fifteen minutes passed,- blaring his horn excitedly as he peeked out his car.

He told you it was the perfect place to do donuts, didn’t you want to do donuts? You did. It was the beginning of winter. It was icy. His idea was incredibly fucking stupid. But you agreed because maybe you’d skid on the ice and smash into a store, get crushed by the crumbling debris..

There was little snowflakes hitting the windows of Jashin as you two sat parked in the middle of the deserted lot.

“You ready? Oh you’re gonna love this, babe.”

He grinned as your face heated up at the name, you always got all flustered whenever he said anything like that. It made him feel giddy. His long fingers start Jashin up, moving to clutch the wheel as the car thrums to life.

When he makes the first swerve with his car, he turns his head to watch your body all stiff and frightened. It was funny. He laughed as your face twisted into an even more flustered one - if that was possible. God, you were always such a hard ass at the beginning of the night, but when he dropped you off outside your apartment early into the morning he always made sure to leave you with a little smile on your face. Even now, this early into the night he could see the beginnings of one.

He twisted the wheel again and your body flew to the left, smooshing into the console and the surprised laugh that left your mouth had his guts twisting. He wanted to hear it again. Your walls always fell when he did stupid shit like this. You were kinda fucked up now that he thought about it. Always getting all giggly when you should probably be screaming at him to be more careful for fucks sake! But you never did and he loved that about you. Just as fucked as he was.

“Hey babe, babe! This one’ll be good. Watch, watch.” He gripped the wheel again and grinded his sneaker into the gas, the first skid across asphalt was intentional, but when he tried to regain the reigns of his dark red beast it began to thrash out of his control.

Goddamn ice patch.

The car twisted, screeched and burned into the pavement for a good twenty seconds and when he was sure you should be screaming because I mean come on, that was fucking scary, he heard silence.

As the car came to a complete stop and your body was once again flung against the console, he turned to you. He thinks he was gonna ask if you were okay but he couldn’t remember because the next moment you were grabbing tufts of his gelled hair and sucking his face off.

He loved every second of it. The amount of times he’d tried to get his dick wet with you before was astronomical, but you’d always tell him no and he would pout like a dog. But hey, now you’re shoving your tongue down his throat like a dog so he settled on the idea that good things do come to people who wait.

The reason you decided to do it then was blurry. One moment his car was skidding around the parking lot and you were laughing and thinking of the chance of death and the next second it spat onto your tongue and you realized you didn’t want it anymore.

Like that first time you slid into his car, as you kissed him now you tasted contrasting flavours. Mint and cigarettes. For a moment you thought you were going to pull away, but you felt the sudden need to drink all of it. To somehow understand why you felt like you were burning from the inside.

It was his fault really. Hidan made you feel less tired, if that was a good way to put it. You started looking forward to things after you two met and eventually you actually started to feel a bit more deeply for poor crumpled man in the alley. It felt as if you’re body was being thawed out by this silver haired idiot who was groping for the clasp of your bra underneath your shirt.

So you climbed over the console, fumbling with the side of his chair to pull his seat back as you began to strip off your top in haste. You unbuttoned his jeans and slid down to the space between his leg, choking and drooling all over his cock because when you did you felt all these funny emotions bubbling in your body, you felt alive.

He was a loud mouth when you had his dick down your throat, groaning and saying the dumbest, lewdest shit his sex wired brain could think of. You know how many times he’s thought of this? You feel so good, you feel so good. God this is so good, Jashin probably loves it too... We should fuck on the hood of the car next. Long slender fingers guided your head up and down him as he began to twitch thrust his hips upwards, finally spill into your mouth. Douchebag didn’t let your head go and you felt some of his juices dribble down your tongue.

“Swallow it, swallow it while my dicks still in your mouth... Atta girl, you’re so good. So greedy..”

And you swallowed it all, he hoisted you back onto his lap and pushed your skirt up. He was whispering all this perverted stuff in your ear and your mouth fell open against his neck. Words making you flush fiercely and slowly grind your hips against him. You stopped him when he was beginning to shove your panties down your thighs, though.

For the first time you felt small in comparison to him as you met his eyes. He stopped his movement seeming like he was going to say something too, but you cut him off.

“- Hidan... I’ve never done it before.”

He stares at you all wide eyed before laughing and for a second and you think about getting out of his car and walking home because that’s such a douchebag thing to do, but then he surprises you.

“Me too, I was just about to say.. but I mean it can’t be hard right? Well, I am hard,” he laughed and you found yourself huffing a small giggle at his stupid joke, good mood returning as he continued, “I was just gonna go with what I seen in hentais.” That explained his dirty talk.

It was pretty good for your first time though. Ideally not the best place to have sex, you kept hitting your head and he couldn’t quite get his hips thrusting at a good pace with the confined space, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because it was Hidan and you think you just might be in love with him.

That’s why you don’t say anything when a few weeks later you see “Shikamaru Nara, infamous street racer found dead in a back alley crash.” flashing across your tv screen.

You don’t comment, just give a little understanding hum when Hidan calls you and tells you he can’t pick you up tonight babe, or for a few nights, Jashin needs some repairs..

It’s why now, as he speeds through the streets recklessly with your bags in the trunk and the sound of sirens ringing in your ears that you feel tears prick your eyes. You wish you could have told him to be more careful, that he shouldn’t have done what he did without planning it. Something, anything.. it’s too late now. But he’s not to blame.

You think it’s your fault, really.

[jaeminscoffee]

Grounded.

Pairing- Huang Hendery x reader

Genre- Fluff, Crack.

Word count- 1.80k

Warnings- bunch of stupidity.

Summary- Never trust Hendery when it comes to escape plans.

Was it past 1 am? Yes. Were you allowed to stay out at that time? No. Does your mom know that you're out of the house? She doesn't and she should never. But are you desperate for cuddles? Hell yes. 

You found yourself unable to sleep, twisting and turning in bed trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in,  only resort to silently whining and hitting yourself in the head with your pillow. 

Sleepless nights suck. But it'd suck less if you had someone as equally sleep deprived as you. 

And that's how you ended up at Hendery's house. 

His house wasn't that far, just a lane beside yours and that's where he lives. So when he picked up the call at the second ring, you knew that you could just walk into his studio apartment and spend the night there, wake up extremely early, make your way back to your house and then pretend you were there the whole time without even a soul knowing about it. 

This wasn't the first time one of you sneaked into the others house, well, Hendery sneaking into yours and you just walking into his as he lived alone. Ah the luxury. 

Living with parents isn't a bad thing, not necessarily a good one either if you're a fully grown adult who can stay out for days. But living with parents comes with its own unspoken regulations. Most of them doable, but curfew. Oh curfew. 

You never till date have gotten caught, and god forbid you shouldn't, that's why the two of you always choose extreme late hours to meet up with each other. 

"Alright cuddles with snacks or just cuddles?" Hendery asked the first thing after he opened the front door. You walk in, slamming the door behind you and dragging your feet towards him. You throw yourself right onto him once close enough.

"I don't care just make me sleep". He looked at you, lips drawn into a straight line, contemplating on what to do, wrapping his hands around your body to keep you from sliding back. 

Seeing you blink frequently, barely keeping your eyes open, Hendery placed a peck on your forehead, picking you up and carrying you to his room."Just cuddles it is"

Chic, Black and clean. Way too clean actually. But it was cozy.

"Do you have any reason for being sleepless?" he asked after turning the lights off, only keeping the warm, little bedside lamp on, placing you down on the bed. 

"I missed you.. " you reply in a tiny voice, muffled from you nuzzling into his pillow. You hear him let out a small laugh, climbing onto the side beside you as you reach into your pocket, fishing for your phone, placing it on top of the side table once finding it. 

"That's the reason?" he asked in a teasing tone, shifting closer to you once he got into the comforter. 

"Just shut up and hug me" you reply back, yawning and pulling him closer to you, his cologne making you feel lethargic, eyelids growing heavier and heavier as seconds passed, with Hendery's hand running up and down your back in a soothing manner.

"Night, princess" he hummed by your ears, resting his head on top of yours as you mumbled a good night back. 

That sleep was definitely one of the best ones you've had, you didn't even wake up dead in the middle of the eyes like you'd usually do, even if you did, his scent and the slow heaving of his chest was so calming that you'd go back into dreamland in no time. 

The best part of it all is waking up beside him, a real blessing seeing his lips slightly parted, hair disheveled but still looking absolutely ethereal. 

But when you woke up, clueless to what the time is, you were extremely disappointed to not have Hendery beside you. You stretch and rub the sleep away from your eyes, running a finger down your nest of a hair. "Hendery?" you call out, voice a little breathy as you'd just woken up. 

You get no reply so you call out a little louder, "Hendery?". The house wasn't that big, it was medium. But big enough for at least three to four more Hendery's to fit in. "In the kitchen!" you hear a muffled voice screamed back. 

You stretch out once again, groaning at the feeling of your sleeping muscles coming back to life, stepping your foot down and making your way towards where your boyfriend was with slow strides. "Morning, sunshine" 

Hendery chirped, slightly flinching as you wrap your hands around his torso, back hugging him while he was busy with whatever he was doing. You smile at the nickname, cuddling further into his back as you returned the greeting with as much as enthusiasm your morning voice could muster. 

"Why are you up this early?" you assumed it'd be early as that's how it always went, you'd wake up at absolutely absurd times when he was sound asleep and make your way back home, but seeing him awake was just as pleasant as waking up to his calm sleeping face. 

"Early?" he turned to the side to look at you, laughing, "baby, it's almost 1 in the afternoon, how is that early?" he said so casually, turning back towards the sandwich he was making (you sneaked a peak from around his tall frame)

You let go of him, tugging at his shirt pulling him to face you as he spoke, thinking you misheard him. 

"It's what?" you ask with your eyes wide open, "it's 1..?" he replied, tilting his head towards the side, confused. "Hendery! Oh god, my phone.. Where's my phone?" you gasp out, silently praying your parents were still asleep, rushing to the bedroom, towards the side table where you'd left it last night, Hendery following right behind you. 

You turn your phone on, the screen ridiculously bright, making you squint your eyes. Adjusting to the brightness after a second, you look at the screen. '15 missed calls from mom'

Oh that's less. 

'3 missed calls from sister'

'1 missed call from dad'

You're dead. 

You turn towards your boyfriend, who stood behind you, towering your figure peeping into the screen, turning to look at you when you turned, his expression puzzled. "I'm dea-" you start, only to get cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. 

You look at the caller id, then at Hendery, then back at your phone screen as you lift your other hand and pull your hair. "Shit mom's calling" you whine out. You look at Hendery, eyes begging to do something, 

"Well pick it up?" he said, eyebrows furrowed. You look at him with an 'are you crazy' look, rushing towards the front of the house, planning on just sonic bolt it to your house then up to your room hoping they wouldn't notice you, but Hendery stopped you by your arm as soon as you reached the entrance. 

"So wait what are you planning on doing?" he asked, nibbling on his bottom lips. "run home??" you said in an oh so obvious voice. " 'run home' " Hendery mocked your tone, pulling you back into the house after softly giving your forehead a flick. "Are you stupid? We need a plan." 

He dragged all the way back to the living room, shoving you towards the couch and forced you down to sit by your shoulder. 

"kunhang, babe, I'm already dead. Why the fuck are you trying to me kill more than I'm already going to-" "Shush my child" "Henderyy-" "Y/n." "I'M going to die!-" "DUDE" you flinch slightly, then glare at him as he giggled. 

Your phone kept ringing in hand making you clutch it hard. "Okay. Y/n?" he called out, you looked up with your eyebrows raised, gesturing him to continue. "Do you trust me?" he asked, all serious. 

You nod. "oh well then you won't die so listen" you narrow your eyes at how fast he's changing the tone of his voice. 

You breath in deep, shutting your eyes tight and then opening it. You look at him with a lot of expectancy. "what's the plan?" you ask.

"You know the ladder your dad places by the back door? It's tall enough to reach your room's window, I'll climb up first and lock the door, don't wait for any sign from my side, climb up right after me." 

You think for a while, creating the scenario in your mind before thinking it's better if you'd do that rather run straight through the door. 

You look him dead in the eyes, a smile creeping up your expression. 

"Hendery you're a genius!" 

-x-

That's how you ended up at the fence by the back of your house, climbing up the walls after looking around for any human soul. 

"Hendery you're an absolute idiot. What if we get caught??" you yelp as you land on the floor with a thud, immediately moving your hand up to your mouth, covering it while Hendery shushed you.

"Calm down we won't" he replied as he landed with ease, walking towards where the ladder was kept. 

You stand by the fence as you watch your boyfriend lift up the ladder, dragging it towards where your room was once you pointed out where it exactly was located. 

Your father has this habit of opening all the windows of the house to let in some fresh air. You always felt grumpy about that because, who needs fresh air? But you felt extremely grateful that he'd left your bedroom window wide open. 

Halfway up the ladder, Hendery waved his hands to catch your attention, once gaining it, gestures you to follow him. You look around one last time, then jog towards the ladder, gripping the edge as your boyfriend stepped his foot inside your room. 

Sighing in relief that he'd made it safe to your room, you climb up too. 

Without looking around, right after you get inside, you turn around and shut your window, "Hendery, actually yeah you are a geni-" you say with a huge smile on your face. You turn around, your eyes immediately widening as you come face to face with your mother, Hendery beside you mirroring your expression. 

"Mother! Hi!" you clap your hands together, giving it a squeeze. You watch your mom smile, raising her hands up to stop you from talking. 

"Mom-"

"You two. Grounded." your mom said with a stolid face, eyeing the pair of you. 

"But aunty I'm-" Hendery starts trying to explain that he has things to do back at home. 

"Did i stutter?" your mother replied, "Wait so me too?" Hendery asked, pointing himself with disbelief oozing out of his voice. 

Your mother nodded her head, narrowing her eyes and pointing at him. 

"Grounded."

[cheezritsu]

Taiwa 2014

Summary: It’s been a long time since Tsukishima has traveled back to his hometown, Taiwa. The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always. So why did it feel like something was missing?

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei X Reader

Word Count: 9.7K

A/N: I’m bringing what’s probably one of my favorite fics over to tumblr. crossposted on AO3 if you prefer the format. Also pain; lots of pain.

                                      ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sitting in Yamaguchi’s car with the windows down, messing up the left side of Tsukishima’s (too long) hair, he recalls one of the reasons he left Miyagi. 

He has resigned to not lean his arm outside, because the grey exterior has super heated to an ungodly degree, and he’s sure there’s a 1st degree burn that will be agitated the moment it slides against a volleyball court. He joked that Yamaguchi was trying to sabotage him, that maybe if they weren’t best friends he’d actually be upset. 

But it’s not like Yamaguchi can block out the sun. He didn’t remember Miyagi summers being so damn brutal, especially not in June. The sun beamed down on them as if God had a laser pointer on Yamaguchi’s Acura LX, which seemed pretty harsh even if the car was old. 

Sendai fades into the background, and the buildings get shorter and shorter like they’re descending stairs. Telephone wires criss cross the highways overhead, and incoming traffic gets a little congested. Yamaguchi leans back, exhaling slowly through his nose. 

“It’s always like this now. Everyone’s moving out of Tokyo and coming up north and for what? So they can hike up grocery store prices?”

“That’s awfully prejudiced of you, Yamaguchi. Why would they raise prices if they don’t know how to cook?”

Yamaguchi laughs. “Tokyo boys ain’t shit.”

“Careful,” Tsukishima gives a close lipped smile. “Your country accent is slipping through.”

“Yours is all gone.”

“I never had an accent.”

Yamaguchi hums when he grips the steering wheel, jerking the car left as he changes lanes. “Sure.”

Tsukishima keeps his mouth shut, as if sealing the evidence. 

The rip of motorbikes replaces the stalled car engines as his hometown becomes a highway exit. Like it’s been anything other than that. 

Tsukishima reels as they start to pass familiar landmarks. He never realized it was all so close together; it seemed like trips that used to take hours were now whizzing past at the blink of an eye. It couldn’t be Yamaguchi’s featherfoot on the gas, either. 

Suburbs isn't the right word to describe Taiwa. Hinata used to ride his bike uphill both ways to get to Karasuno, and all of his friends were spread out across the large expanse of undeveloped land. Animals likely outnumber the amount of residents in the town. When Kuroo used to call the team country bumpkin crows, he wasn’t exaggerating. 

Tsukishima narrows his eyes, and Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers over. “What’s got you so upset? You just got here.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies, then catches Yamaguchi still trying to look at him. “If I tell you, will you keep your eyes on the road?”

“As long as you don’t tell me something that’ll make me crash the car.”

“Just don’t crash the fucking car?”

“Spit it out, Tsukki!”

He grumbles at the old nickname. “I get enough of Koganegawa calling me that, thank you.” Date Tech’s school used to feel hours away; how long would it take under the wheels of this thing?

“Everything’s just. Closer than I remember.”

“Closer?”

“The places, I mean. The town feels smaller.”

A snort. “Sure is, hot shot. I see you got acclimated to Saitama real nice.” 

There’s something charming about the northern drawl of Yamaguchi’s words he knew he’d hate coming out of his own mouth. “It’s not the same.”

Yamaguchi’s chuckle tapers into a sigh. “Neither are you.”

The blocks become residential, and houses he used to know are obscured into oblivion. The people that bike by are different, the parked cars are newer, while some faces are just older in a way that settles like lead in Tsukishima’s stomach. 

And then he sees it: the house with wood paneling in the front, white everywhere else. Atop the stone pillars are the plants still taller than him, even though he’s upwards of 195cm these days. White undershirts catch the summer breeze on the clothesline, billowing like flags. Cross-hatched metal gate, a new car in the driveway. Faded pink door. 

Your house. With a for sale sign in the window. 

Tsukishima nearly breaks his neck as Yamaguchi passes it without so much as a glance. 

“Did you see that?”

“What?” Yamaguchi checks his mirrors. “Did I see what?”

The houses blend together once again. Everyone on the street carries on like Tsukishima hasn’t been shot through the chest. He slumps into his seat, listening to dogs barking and the laughter of children as everything goes accordingly. 

“It’s nothing. A kid fell off his skateboard. It looked pretty awful.”

Yamaguchi hesitates, but doesn’t question it. He minds his business, even when Tsukishima’s scowl falls into something a little more melancholy than usual. 

                                      ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima frowned from his post at the front desk, annoyed how your presence alone could stir...things in him. 

It had been a long time since he’d seen you at the museum. Perhaps that was good for his job security, but when he saw you walking up to him in a wool blazer that looks like a mirror image of the one he had on, he couldn’t help but admit he’d missed you. He didn’t know where you’d been, and he wanted to ask, but you flashed him the 460 yen entrance fee before he could speak.

“I’ll take the 4:15 personal guided tour.”

He schooled his face to keep it flat. “How many times have I told you—”

“It’s your last day, what are they going to do, fire you?”

The sarcasm was dry, and there was no twinkle in your eye. Tsukishima sighed, taking the money and putting it in the register. His replacement, a quickly scouted kid that was barely his shoulder height, tapped away on the computer next to him. “Hey, Hiroto.”

The boy was obviously younger, probably still in high school by the way his eyes widened when his senpai called for him. “Yes, Tsukishima-sama?”

You lean against the counter. “Sama?” you mouth, lips curling into that smirk he hated to love. 

“Take over the front desk for me. I have a tour to do.”

Hiroto squinted in confusion, but as soon as Tsukishima slid out of the booth the kid immediately took his place. He looked so nervous and unsure, and you, still leaning over the counter, sent him a wink. 

“Don’t worry kid, just make sure you turn this over.” Your fingers toyed with a plaque, tipping it over so it read Closed. Then, you cupped one hand over your mouth, whispering close to his ear. 

“This guy sucks at customer service anyways, and they kept him for a whole year.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes at your loud-as-all-hell whisper, pulling your arm. 

“Leave the kid alone.”

“I’m just giving him some friendly advice!”

“You’re going to give him a lot more than that if you keep with the “friendly” attitude.” Hiroto looked absolutely mortified, standing like a wooden plank at the front desk. You hummed. 

“How old is he?”

Tsukishima ignored your question. You looped your arm with his. “I feel like college students keep getting smaller and smaller these days.”

“That’s because you hung out with giants.”

You walked through an ornate archway into an octagonal room filled with glass cases of samurai memorabilia. The armour room had only a few stragglers left, all of them in silent contemplation. Against the archway, an employee Tsukishima recognized gave him a long glance as you two strolled past, but Tsukishima was more preoccupied with looking at you. He would sneak glances at your reflection in the glass, concerned by the indifferent frown you sported. Maybe it was the exhibits; samurais and swords were never your thing. But there was something he couldn’t put his finger on that made him anxious.

You either didn’t notice him staring, or you didn’t care. Waltzing through the halls like you were the guide, you two stepped into the completely secluded painting wing. Sharp angled walls jutted out to create more surfaces to hang the portraits. You tilted your chin, studying them like an art critic.   

 “Are you going to miss working here?”

Tsukishima shrugged. “It was fine. Gave me a use for my degree.”

“You regretting college now that you’re a superstar athlete?” The words are punctuated with tiny jabs to his arm, but they lack conviction. “Kinda seems like a waste, huh?”

Tsukishima frowned. The implication that the past four years spent being in your care and watching over you were suddenly useless didn’t sit right with him. “It’s not like I didn’t like it.”

“I know,” you sighed, moving onto the next painting. “It just seems like a detour now, doesn’t it? I mean, you’re a pro-athlete.”

There was a stress on how you said “athlete” that didn’t slip past him. He realized what was so off: you weren’t imitating the goofy poses of the long dead samurai anymore. Your all black outfit, once chic, seemed like you were in mourning. The heel clicks of your loafers brought his eyes back to you, where you stood with your hands grasped behind your back, pulling your fingers tightly. 

Tsukishima drew up to your side. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

You whipped your head around like you’ve been caught. “What’re you talking about?”

He snorted. “You’re a bad liar, you know. Your accent is your tell.”

“Shut,” you started to say, though it lacked a hard T and it made Tsukishima laugh. “Shut up.” 

It almost feels normal between you two. Almost. 

“It’s been weird, you know,” you started, voice barely a whisper. You looked like you were talking to Date Masamune’s portrait when you said “I’m back at home, and you’re not there anymore.” 

He didn’t know why you were saying that. He should have kicked himself in the ass and given you some kind of reassurance, but he was frozen, mouth agape with an unasked question. 

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Tsukishima always thought your profile should have been on these walls. You looked regal, even with your eyes fixed on the ground and an ashamed smile. “Who woulda thought two kids from Taiwa would be all the way out here, hm?” Your chuckle is self deprecating. “And now you’re gunna be playing for a Division One team in Saitama. Fuckin’ hot shot.”

You finally turn to him, head cocked with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m glad you’re getting out, Tsukki. It’s what you wanted, right?”

He can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with this image. Sometimes, it appears to him in dreams, your smile warped and faded like an overexposed photograph. The right words are floating in the ether above him, elusive, mocking. But he is destined to say the wrong ones. 

“Yes, it is.”  

You looked into Masamune’s eyes once again, like you could read the brush strokes and find the answer to the universe in them. “You deserve it, you know. Miyagi never suited you.”

 The irony was lost on him, as were most things in the moment. Your presence had now soured his mood, but you hooked your arms through his like nothing was wrong. 

“C’mon, this is the last time I’ll ever step foot in the place again; tell me something cool.”

You didn’t say “probably.” Tsukishima dwells on this now more than ever, because his response never addressed that. “Did you know there’s an anime series based on the Date Clan?”

Your laugh; that’s what he was more focused on. The way it lit up your face, and how you said “seriously?” a little too loud for the dead silent museum. Tsukishima hasn’t been back to Sendai City museum either, because this memory is pristine, and it’s the last one he has of you.

                                     ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── 

Tsukishima’s family is still the same. 

His mother has kept her hair short for the past fifteen years of her life, and Tsukishima might have a childlike tantrum if she’d cut it otherwise. But when Yamaguchi pulls up to his childhood home, she steps out of the house with her signature bob, sans a couple more grey hairs. 

The way golden hour makes his mother look ethereal never ceases to make him smile. She gives Yamaguchi a one-armed hug as he carries Tsukishima’s luggage inside, and Yamaguchi kisses her on the cheek like a better son would. 

All Tsukishima can do is stand in front of her with his hands behind his back, head dipped with a bashful smile as his mother cocks her hands on her hips. He feels sixteen again, fidgeting with his fingers when she comes closer, giving him a smile that could coax anything out of him. 

“You never stop growing, do you?” She has to stand on her toes to brush back his fringe. “Even your hairs’ gotten longer.”

“Can you cut it for me? I only trust you.”

A smile. He’s suddenly even younger; twelve years old, standing in front of the house and holding up the award from the science fair. His mother is so brilliant that the sun goes away, shamed by her beauty. 

“Of course, Kei. Come on, your brother’s waiting.” 

Nothing’s changed in the house. Muscle memory brings him to the kitchen, where the table is set for four. Yamaguchi sheds his jacket, but Akiteru swoops behind him, snatching it from his hands. 

“I’ll take that, Tadashi.” He’s as smooth and polite as ever, grinning the megawatt smile he inherited from their mother. Akiteru may be a full head shorter than Kei now, but the slap his older brother gives him still makes him lose balance. 

“You done growin’ yet, you little jerk? Huh?” Akiteru has grown less doting in years gone by, much to Tsukishima’s own (disgusted) dismay. Akiteru stops, looking him up and down before that teasing grin distills into something prideful. In a flash, he is pulled into a tight hug, the pats on his back more tepid and loving. Tsukishima leans in for only a moment, and then Akiteru holds him at arms’ length. 

He suspects Akiteru will say something sappy, but Yamaguchi’s jacket is thrust into his arms. “Be a good friend and put away Tadashi’s coat, will you?” He gives an infuriating wink before helping his mother in the kitchen. 

Tsukishima turns, even if only to hide the sentimental smile that graces his lips. When dinner is finally ready, Tsukishima sits beside Yamaguchi, facing his mother, and suddenly he is nine years old again; Yamaguchi is over for dinner and Akiteru will no doubt embarrass him, but it’s okay because mom cooked their favorite. Time stands still and the sun doesn’t set, not for them. 

It’s almost enough to make him forget. Almost. 

“Did you know the (Surname) house is for sale?”

Yamaguchi blinks, but his mother doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you saw?”

“It’s the one on the way here, with the pink door. It’s hard to miss.” Tsukishima keeps eating like its normal conversation--isn’t it?--but Yamaguchi’s eyes are trying to x-ray his skull. 

“It’s been up for a little while, hasn’t it Aki?”

Akiteru, who’s sixth sense is his little brother’s emotions, clears his throat. “Probably since March.” 

“They’ve been wanting to get rid of that house since (Name) left.”

Hearing your name out of another person’s mouth sends a ripple through Tsukishima, like he’s been punched in the stomach. Akiteru and Yamaguchi don’t miss the way his breath hitches, how he drops his utensils to crack his knuckles. 

“It’s probably too big for them anyways,” he says, returning to his meal, head bowed so he can’t see their prying eyes. “They’re getting kind of old.” 

“It’s been so long since it was full, hasn’t it? Their older daughter moved out over a year ago, I think.” 

His mother’s words buzz in his ears as the conversation dornes on. Akiteru steers it away from the house, asking about Tsukishima’s appointed condo in Saitama, but he only gives one word answers through the fog in his mind.

Suddenly, he is eighteen, time fast forwarding as his glasses change and his hair gets shaggier, and you, like his mother, brush it out of his vision. Yamaguchi sits on Akiteru’s left because Tsukishima scowled at the idea of you sitting next to his brother. It’s not like it even matters, because you aren’t his: everyone in the room is showering you with attention and you have to divide yourself four ways, giving them individualized smiles.

“--(Name) really broke their hearts when she left.”

“Huh?”

As it turns out, eighteen wasn’t so long ago. His mother smiles fondly at a memory. “She was a firecracker, wasn’t she? Used to walk around like she owned the place. Her older sister was always more respectful.”

“Wasn’t her older sister in a rock band?” Akiteru reminisces. 

“Yeah, but which one was constantly skipping school and getting caught with boys?”

“Younger sibling privileges. They get to do whatever they want and never get punished.”

His mother laces bridges her fingers, then leans her chin down. “But everyone still loved her, didn’t they?” His mother’s eyes are far away, like she was in the same moment as her son. “I miss her.”

Tsukishima doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but he has to force the words out of his throat. “Why’re you all talking like she’s dead? She just lives in...wherever the hell she got whisked off to. Who knows?” 

The entire table halts, staring at him. Akiteru and Yamaguchi share another secretive glance, and Tsukishima’s forehead throbs. 

“Whatever, can we just talk about something else?”

Another reason Tsukishima revered his mother: she knew how to deal with him. “Of course dear,” she says, her voice never even missing a beat. “You haven’t even told us about your last match!”

“It was televised,” he drones, but Yamaguchi gangs up on him

“It was your first time playing against the Black Jackals, though.” Despite his years of practice, Yamaguchi still has some hesitance when he changes topics. “Was it satisfying blocking Hinata’s spikes? I bet you liked shutting down Miya Atsumu.”

There’s a twitch to his lips as he gives Yamaguchi a grateful glance. The rest of dinner goes off with little conflict, and Tsukishima groans when Akiteru pulls out strawberry shortcake and the alcohol that pairs poorly with it--beer.

“I’m not drinking that.” Tsukshima means it, too, leaving his brother and Yamaguchi to their own devices. His mother cleans up easily with the extra set of hands, and while they chat over booze, he drops his things off in his old room. 

It’s the same as when he left. His old books are still on the shelves, the dinosaur figures covered in a thin, disrespectful layer of dirt. His first Karasuno jersey still hangs next to his door, swinging idly when he enters. 

It, like Taiwa, feels small. Perhaps it’s because his bed is still full sized, and his feet hang over the edge. His suitcase doesn’t really fit anywhere, and when he sits down at his desk, he can barely fit his knees under it. He feels like he’s in a dollhouse, or worse; a museum. 

The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always. 

So why did it feel like something was missing?

There’s a knock on the door he didn’t remember closing. When it opens, the light from the hallways creeps in, and Yamauchi peers inside. “Why are the lights off?”

“It wasn’t dark when I sat down.”

Yamaguchi pushes the door open with his back and when Tsukishima sees why, he lets out a snort of disbelief. “Where did you dig that up?”

The Kahlua bottle has a layer of grime on it bleach probably couldn’t cut through. It’s barely half empty, sliding across the desk into Tskishima’s waiting hands. How his friend was able to balance the bottle, a beer, and a glass of milk between his fingers was beyond him; perhaps it was the years of volleyball under his belt.

Tsukishima isn’t light handed when he pours his drink, clicking the glass with Yamaguchi’s beer and relishing it with a long sip. 

“You looked like you needed it.”

“I’m fine,” he hides his lie with another sip. Yamaguchi isn’t fooled in the slightest. 

“I didn’t know they’d bring it up.”

“You guys can stop using euphemisms, you know.” His amber eyes are dull when he looks over his glasses. “She’s not Beetlejuice.”

Yamaguchi laughs. “I suppose she won’t appear if we speak her name three times, but she’s frightening all the same.”

“Frightening isn’t the right word,” Tsukishima thinks, staring at how the liquor and milk swirl galaxies in his glass. Maybe if he looks hard enough he’ll find the right word to describe you, but the thought stays unfinished. 

Leaning on the wall, Yamaguchi turns his head to look out the window at the last vestiges of light. “Sometimes I think I see her in the convenience store; you remember the one we used to eat at after practices in third year?” Tsukishima nods at the memory. “I’ll just be standing in line, and then out of the corner of my eye, there she is. Like a hallucination.” 

Yamaguchi’s glazed eyes come back into focus, smiling sheepishly. “It’s stupid I know. It’s just,” he stares down at the floor, shifting his weight. “I know she hated Taiwa, but I thought she loved us.”

The drink has gone sour in his mouth. Tsukishima sets it down with a heavy thud, looking at Yamaguchi with a blank expression. 

“I guess she didn’t.”

Yamaguchi frowns, then tilts his head back to finish his drink. “I don’t know why I thought I’d talk to you about it,” he humorlessly scoffs. “It’s been what, five years?”

“You’re the one seeing her in grocery stores. She got what she wanted; she left this place, married her rich CEO husband, and forgot about us ‘northern folk,’” Tsukishima exaggerates the accent he fought so hard not to maintain. “I’m not going down memory lane with you. Not this one.” 

His tone drips with finality, and Yamaguchi pushes himself off the wall. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he says, leaving the Kahlua bottle on the desk. “But don’t act like you didn’t want her to stay, too.”

Yamaguchi leaves him alone in the dark. His footsteps pound down the staircase, and as they cease, Kei slouches into his chair, defeated. He tops off his drink, taking a miserable sip while his feet push the office chair side to side. 

 He spins idly, and the years unravel at the seams. 

                                          ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Not so suddenly, he is twenty years old. It’s not a milestone, not in Japan, not anywhere in the world, and yet, you wanted to celebrate. 

The day after his birthday was a lot more memorable than the actual party. Not because he was black out drunk, but because when he came back to your apartment after getting a fabulous nights rest, he was greeted with not just you, but your three overnight guests. 

“What the hell happened to them?” 

It was both luck and a curse that the MSBY Black Jackals were in town for a match. The few members that knew Tsukishima had come over for his birthday party, and the morning after they were face down at your kitchen table. Instead of their usual lively antics, they were slumped with hangovers, groaning in harmony. 

“You’re too loooud Tsukki!” Bokuto yelled, making Atsumu Miya hiccup. 

“Bokkun, please shut the fuck up,” he whispered, that melodic Kansai dialect shriveled and dry in his throat. His presence had been most shocking, but the way he called him “the snarky middle blocker” proved that he truly did remember him. 

“Language,” Hinata’s tiny voice squeaked out and you chuckled behind your hand. 

“They’ve been like this all morning. apparently they can’t head back in this condition, so,” you held up a frying pan. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Yer an angel, sweetheart,” Miya said, drawing himself up from the table. “If you had any painkillers you’d be a god.”

“You better get to worshipping then,” you pointed to the cabinet. “Bottom shelf, all the way against the wall.”

“Marry me,” he joked, and Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at your laughter. There was something about how your hair was pulled back with a headband that made him want to possessively kiss your forehead, but he held himself back. 

“What?” You said, and he realized you’d been staring at him too. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“There’s nothing picture worthy here. Except maybe those two.” He jabbed a thumb to the duo rolling on the floor. “Might keep it for blackmail.”

“You can’t blackmail people who don’t get embarrassed,” you reminded him, beginning to crack eggs into a bowl. Everything looked so effortless when you did it; even Miya was impressed by how you whisked together the eggs in a homogenous scramble. 

“Gosh, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Basic mathematics, hold her alcohol, go five seconds during a movie without crying,” Tsukishima ticked off his fingers. “Need I continue?”

“I can’t stand you, so there’s another thing,” you bit back, and Miya laughed behind you. You hummed. 

“You’ve got a pretty voice, Miya-San. Where’re you from?”

He raised an eyebrow at your compliment. “Well ain’t you sweet? I’m from Hyogo, darlin’, more specifically Kawanishi.”

The stove made that loud tick tick tick! as the flame flickers to life. It’s like that scene from Howl’s Moving Castle, and Tsukishima is enraptured at the sight of you pulling apart strips of bacon and placing them in the sizzling pan. 

“Kawanishi,” you muttered, and Tsukishima knew that longing, tired voice of yours. It always broke his heart. “Is it big?” 

“Not really; maybe ‘bout less than 200 thousand people.”

You scoffed. “Where I’m from, that's huge.”

The setter cocked his head. “Ain’t you from Sendai?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the last consonant. “I’m nobody from  the middle of goddamn nowhere.”

“It’s not like you had to bike uphill both ways to get to school!” Hinata piped up from the table. “At least you lived closer to Karasuno than I did!”

“Ah, is that how you know this guy?” Miya jutted his chin toward the taller blonde. Their gazes met momentarily, and through Miya’s whisky brown eyes, Tsukishima saw a black hole of hunger. He looked back down to you as you drained the bacon onto a paper towel. 

“Yup.” You were proud when you said it. “Tsukki and I have been together forever.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were dating.”

Tsukishima didn’t correct him, but you did. “We’re not not dating. Hell, to be honest we don’t even go that far back. We’re both from Taiwa, which isn’t really weird because it’s a huge place, even though there’s barely thirty thousand people in it.” A fond smile played on your lips, and you fixed Tsukishima with an adoring look.

“Thirty thousand people, and I lived walking distance from you. And you never even knew I existed.”

If he wanted to kiss your head before, the urge was stronger now. He licked his lips, putting the feelings aside. “What do you want me to do, apologize?”

“Hmm, no. I think I’ve harassed you enough to make up for it.”

That little smile on your lips said it all. You busied yourself with cooking once again, and Miya looked between you two like there was something tangible. If there ever was a red string of fate tied to your pinkies, it has long since been severed. But in this memory, the two of you danced around each other in the kitchen with ease, plating breakfast for five like husband and wife. 

Actually, it was just four. You returned to cleaning the apartment, quite a monumental task with all the drunk volleyball players you’d had over last night. Tsukishima had dipped after everyone was either safe at home or tucked in on your couch, and daylight was not kind to the aftermath. 

“This is why I didn’t ask for a party,” he said, watching as you tossed beer cans into a trash bag. 

“You should be grateful she threw ya a party, string bean,” Miya said in between bites of toast. The eggs on his plate matched the blonde of his hair, and Tsukishima can never unsee this. “Even more so that it was a rager.”

“Yeah! (Name)-san has always been so nice to you.”

Tsukishima choked on his drink. “You must have gotten the memory knocked out of your head with a receive, shrimp. That woman has never been kind to me.”

“I threw you a whole party!”

“I am once again asking when I told you to do that.”

He could hear your petty insults drift away as you walked out of the living room. There was only the sounds of utensils scraping against plates until you stomped back in, holding up a box that filled your arms. It’s wrapped up perfectly, because you were always good at that; in second year of high school, every member of the volleyball team brought their Secret Santa gifts for you to wrap. You charged everyone five dollars, except for him. 

When you got closer he could see the dinosaur stickers you’d placed sporadically across the surface, and Miya snorted with laughter when you unceremoniously dropped the present in Tsukishima’s lap. 

“Happy birthday, asshole,” you spat, but he could see how the corners of your mouth tipped up in a suppressed smile, getting wider by the second. 

“Well? Open it Tsukki!”

“Yeah, I wanna see!”

The peanut gallery beside him banged their hands on the table, and Miya groaned, clutching his forehead. “I’m begging you two to stop.”

Tsukishima let them carry on in their torture for a little while longer, liking the sight of the setter gnashing his teeth. When it became too much for even him, he opened the gift at the seams, careful not to rip the wrapping paper. It was pretty cute, and he smiled at the visual of you sitting down on your bedroom floor and strategically placing the stickers, your head bouncing to a playlist he’d shared with you. 

When he lifted up one long edge, he caught a glimpse of the gift, and his breath hitched. He gazed up at you in disbelief, peeling it all back to reveal the turntable in all its glory.

Tsukishima is a pro-athlete now; he could afford music systems that cost more than a regular citizen’s car, and yet he still proudly displays this exact one in his Saitama apartment, and he always gets compliments from the girls he brings home. Above the wall, in a frame never to be touched, is the first record you ever gave him; the one he will find out momentarily was sitting under the box. But he wanted to drink in that particular moment, the moment his heart stopped completely. 

The other three leaned over to get a better look at it, oohing and ahhing at the sight. Tsukishima was too busy memorizing your proud smile, your hand on your hips, and how the constriction of his heart resembled love a little too closely. 

“Because you’re always lamenting you don’t have one. Just so you know, the only presents you’re ever getting from me are vinyls.”

He should have hugged you. He should have told you how much it meant to him, but he just assumed you could see it on his face. Maybe he expected too much from you. 

But he did say, “Thank you, (name).” with the most sincerity he’d ever used, and you’d smiled like you knew he loved you.

                                           ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima knows he does not have enough money to buy a house, and isn’t even interested in buying one, but that doesn’t stop him from putting on his (second) best clothes and working through whatever the hell he’s going to say to the person who opens your (old) front door. 

It’s the second dumbest thing he’s ever done. The neighborhood is bustling today, and a couple people do double takes as he strolls by with his headphones up, cap tilted low. He’s aware he kinda looks like he’s undercover in a Marvel movie, but there’s only so much he can do; height is a curse, he keeps telling people, but they never listen. 

He blends in enough not to get stopped, which may be yet another curse, because then he’d have time to recollect his thoughts and ask what the fuck he thought he was doing walking to your parents house in the middle of the goddamn day like they didn’t have jobs. Had his brain finally conked out now that he was a jock for a living? 

Maybe so, because the faded pink door was finally in sight. From the street he could see it clearly: a realtor’s number under the brilliant bold FOR SALE, like it’s yelling at him to leave. But his eyes drift, catching the little details of your house.

Everything in his memories has shrunk and distorted, but not this place. It’s still as clear as day: the red brick steps up to the door, lined with potted plants your mother had a talent for growing. The iron gates have rusted with time, and they stand much shorter now that he’s 195 cm. The bushes were trimmed into weird rounded shapes, both indicative of the neighborhood, and still odd in your front yard. The second story balcony had the same sheets—the same fucking ones from high school! Tsukishima had to laugh. 

And then his laugh tapers off as he realizes they’re yours. Purple with little moons and cartoon bunnies on them. The sheets from Sailor Moon! Your whine is an echo in his ears.

He’s just standing there, hands in his pockets as the memories bombard him one by one, crowding his brain, making him lose his—

The front door opens, creaking like a horror movie sound effect. Tsukishima steps back, watching in terror as a figure comes into view, checking his pockets before lifting his head up and seeing a man—a fucking giant—standing right outside his house.

“Hello?” he greets cautiously, stepping closer.  

Tsukishima holds in a breath. Your father has gotten old; almost all the hair on top of his head has thinned and greyed, like a samurai in a black and white movie. He’s still wearing the same uniform from the manufacturing plant he was employed at back when you were in high school, his (your) surname stitched on the pocket. He holds a lunchbox in one hand, the other curled into a defensive fist by his side. Intimidating as always.

 That is until he squints, and then his eyes light up with recognition. “Tsukishima? Tsukishima Kei?”

With equal hesitation, Tsukishima walks up to the gate. Your father pushes it open, and when he walks down the steps to be on even ground with Tsukishima, he laughs at how much shorter he’s become. 

“My god,” he whispers it like he’s staring at a ghost. Tsukishima feels too aware of his long legs and arms, holding them behind his back when he bows respectfully. 

“(Surname)-san,” he says, and your father’s eyes twinkle. “It’s been a long time.”

“So it has. How have you been, boy? I hear you’re playing for Saitama now.”

The recognition has him reeling. It’s too much, he shouldn’t have come. His stunned silence makes your father laugh. 

“No need to be modest about it! We’ve been following your progress, you know.” He sounds proud, as if he was talking to his own son. “I always brag to my coworkers that a pro-athlete used to come to my house. Three of em, really! How fortunate you’ve all been.”

“Thank you,” he says stiffly. “It’s been such a long time.”

“How is your mother?”  She must be awfully lonely without you two boys in the house.”

“I’m visiting her now. She told me your house was for sale?”

Your father was never an idiot. He looks up at the for sale sign, something heavy settling on his shoulders. “Both of my daughters have moved farther away than we intended,” he sighs, although there is no particular sadness in his tone. “I’m proud of them both, really, although (Name) has less filial piety than her sister.”

“She was,” Tsukishima cannot use the word that comes to mind in front of your father. “Something.”

Your father barks out a laugh. “That’s the polite way to say she was a pain in the ass.” Tsukishima’s posture visibly relaxes. “You couldn’t tell her nothin’. Sort of a shame she’s someone’s housewife, ya know? She would have done great things.” 

This time there is a wistful quality about his voice, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. “You know, you haven’t been here in a while. (Name)’s mom would love to see you. You were her favorite of all (Name)’s friends, I think.” 

A paternal pat on the arm makes all thoughts of weaseling out of this fly out the window. Tsukishima ascends the steps, the top of his head brushing just underneath the archway. 

“They don’t make houses for your height, I’m afraid.” 

“I’m used to it.” 

He wasn’t sure why he expects the inside will be any different. There’s no new furniture, the walls are all the same color, even the books your parents kept out were arranged the same way from nearly five years ago. The only difference is you’re not running down the stairs to save him from the embarrassment of talking to your parents.  

“Honey?” your father’s voice calls out as they round a corner. “You’ll never believe this: there was a professional athlete just standing outside.” 

You mother looks over her small glasses from where she’s sitting, her brows furrowing, then raising as she places her hand over her mouth. Much like his own mother, time has been kind to her, the only signs of aging appearing in the grey that grew from her back roots. 

“Oh my-” she’s standing in front of him with an awed look, and Tsukishima remembers that you and your mom have the same face, just older. He once thought he’d get to see you this age, maybe even in a house like this. His eyes fall to the floor, because your mother looks like the future he can no longer have.

She holds his arms like she’s going to lift him, her lower lip trembling. “Look at you! So tall, still so handsome. (Name) was an idiot for never making you my son-in-law.”

It used to be embarrassment that pained him. Now it was bittersweetness filling his mouth as he thought of something to say to that. “Yeah, she was” feels a little too familiar, and not at all cognizant of his broken heart.

“Oi,’ your father warns. “Enough of that, yeah?”

“Oh,” she swats her hand in his direction, then looks back up to Tsukishima with praising eyes. “I’m kidding. Kind of.”

Tsukishima rubs his arm, giving her a strained grin. He didn’t expect your parents to reopen the wound he’s done his best to forget. Time is supposed to heal all, but you are a fever that’s never broken. 

“I came by because I saw the house was for sale.”

Your mother’s face softens. “Oh, you must have so many memories here. Gosh, you haven’t been here in a long time.”

“Years” your father pipes up. 

“Years. You should head up to (Name)’s room, you might find something in there.”

This simultaneously piques his interest and fills him with existential dread. “Is that alright?”

“You’re probably the last person in Taiwa that has attachments to this house besides us.”

The sobering reality of that statement makes him drag his feet up the stairs. He looks back down, and he feels like he’s staring backwards in time. Every step forward is another year, and suddenly he’s anxious like he’s entering a girl’s room for the first time. 

Your presence, though missing, is overwhelming. He remembers condensation from something dripping onto the hard word floors he’s standing on now, your heart patterned socks mopping it up behind him.

                                         ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was still up over the horizon, late July prickling Tsukishima’s bare arms with the last vestiges of heat. Your white dress shirt was speckled with little dots of red like a blood splatter. 

“You look like a homicide victim.”

“You look like you swallowed blue paint.” 

Convenience store slushies were actually a terrible way to beat the heat. They condensed and made the cup soggy, meanwhile the ice in the drink melts immediately after it leaves the machine. But Tsukishima wasn’t going to say no when after ten minutes of begging, Hinata proclaimed he would buy him “his last slushie of high school.” Tsukishima had just clicked his tongue, telling the excited middle blocker, “As long as you’re paying,” so he wouldn’t see how red his ears were.

Hinata and Yamaguchi chuckled at your little back and forth, while Kageyama slurped his drink with a seriousness that didn’t suit the moment. Bathed in sunshine, you all looked like bronze statues: immortal, eternal and infallible. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, but Tsukishima still liked the analogy. 

“You would think after spending like, every waking moment together these two would be nicer to each other.” Hinata hummed.

“I thought graduation might make them sentimental,” Yamaguchi sighed. His hair was long back then, decorated with multicolored clips you had strategically placed to match their uniforms. Tsukishima has told his friend once and only once that he liked this hairstyle on him the most. He doesn’t know if it’s because he has the happiest memories associated with it or not. Not that Tsukishima would ever say that. 

Yamaguchi pulled his little ponytail taut. “And to think, I wanted them to get their happily ever after.” How a person could look so much like the tear drop emoji, Tsukishima would never know. Your disgusted grunt broke his thoughts. 

“Ugh Yama, please,” you begged, throwing away your slushie like he’d spoiled your appetite. “Will you cut it out with this fantasy of yours?”

“What? Wouldn’t it be nice if my two friends got married?”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Tsukishima deadpanned.

“I’d divorce him and steal all his money.”

“Now you’re entertaining the thought.”

Hinata jumped excitedly. “I think it’d be really cute! You guys are going to the same University right?”

Tsukishima bristled, staring at his shorter teammate with contempt. “That means nothing.”

“It means you still have time!”

Tsukishima hated the gremlins optimism, but in that moment, with the sun painting a strip of light across your already brilliant eyes, he’d had the fleeting thought that Hinata could be right. 

(He can’t kid himself. It wasn’t a passing thought; it was all consuming, like a tsunami. He couldn’t sleep, because he would dream of domesticity, and your next words cemented how unrealistic this was.)

You waved your hand at Hinata. “I’m not the marrying type, Hinata-kun.”

(A complete lie, but back in 2014, he’d believed you.)

“Besides, what’s so exciting about marriage when Kageyama’s going to be a famous athlete by next year, hm? And you’re off to fucking Brazil.”

All eyes shifted to the quiet setter, still casually drinking his slushie. When he opened his mouth to speak, his mouth was comically purple. 

“Marriage isn’t any less significant than being an athlete.” He’d said, sounding very much like the student counselor. Then he grimaced. “But you two would be an unholy couple.”

You broke into piercing laughter. The sound still rings in Tsukishima’s ears. “Kags, will you join me and Tsukki in an unholy matrimony?”

“You want me to get married to you two?”

“No, idiot, she wants you to officiate the wedding.”

“What wedding?”

“I-“ Tsukishima shook his head. “Good fucking question. I’m not marrying you.”

He wonders from time to time if you’d been serious back then. It didn’t make any sense when you were third years, but in retrospect, maybe, just maybe you were hinting something. That sun-made sparkle in your eyes glittered with dimension, and underneath the mirth was something Tsukishima never understood. He thought he would have more time to. 

“My original point still stands,” you said, exasperated. “You’re all going off to do great things, and I’m just going to Tohoku.”

“Oi,” Tsukishima chided. “Don’t make it sound so inconsequential when I’m going there too.”

“You're literally going on a full ride with your volleyball scholarship,” you rolled your eyes. “So, no, it’s not inconsequential. It’s just not the same.” 

Tsukishima will not be able to fully read you until freshman year of college, so he didn’t catch your downturned lips or how you tried to blink away welling tears. He just thought you were malfunctioning. “You’re being weird.”

“It’s not weird to miss your friends.”

“AHHH! (Name)!” Hinata jumped high enough to nearly kick you in the head. He looked at you with teary eyes and you’re astonished, even though you’ve known him for three years. “Don’t miss us! Don’t be sad!!”

“We’re not even gone yet,” Kageyama grumbles, and you grasped at your heart, confusing him. 

“Kageyama...do you care about my feelings?”

“What about his response gave you that idea?”

The black haired setter clicked his tongue. “I’m just saying, we haven’t graduated yet so you don’t have anything to be sad about right now.”

“I can’t believe the Kageyama Tobio is giving me a pep talk,” you dabbed at your eyes dramatically. Kageyama flicked water onto your face, and you giggled. 

“Hey!” He was relentless, so you hid behind Tsukishima who didn’t have a quick enough reaction time to be mad at you. Not that he would say anything about the way your hands touched his sides, sending a jolt down his body. His face is probably as red as a slushie. 

“Kageyama, when you’re rich and famous I’m going to send all the embarrassing pictures I have to the paparazzi.”

Yamaguchi laughed at the mental image. “That would take an hour long special.”

“A two part hour long special.”

“You’re a fake friend,” Kageyama said, and you prop your head on his shoulder. 

“That would imply that I don’t love you all, and that could never be true.”

You used to say such brash things so casually. Kageyama, with his congested emotions, bloomed into a furious blush. Hinata mocked him, pressing his wet hand against his heated face, much to Kageyama’s dismay. Chuckling at the freak duos antics, you shuffled into Tsukishima’s side, who simply looked on with indifference. 

“You’re such a sap, (Name),” Yamaguchi notes, and you gave him a brilliant smile, more golden and beautiful than the sunset at their backs. The only thing Tsukishkma laments is that the smile wasn’t aimed at him. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

Tsukishima walked ahead of everyone, slurping aggressively on his slushie, trying to quell the jealousy that erupted in his chest. He didn’t have the right to feel so possessive over a friendly declaration, but it still worked its way into his heart. 

Suddenly you were beside him, leaning forward to catch his expression. “What’re you hiding from?”

“Who says I’m hiding.”

“Ya know, Tsukki, you shouldn’t be jealous,” Your grin is troubling and sweet, because you’re a walking contradiction. Here and gone all at once.

“Who says I’m—“

“Because I love you most of all.”

                                          ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The door to your room is open. Tsukishima stands at the threshold, hands stuffed in his pockets so he can’t feel them tingle as he approaches. 

Already he can tell something isn’t right. The blinds are closed even though it’s the middle of the day, making slits of light like jail bars shine across the floor. The walls are completely stripped of posters and pictures, but they never stripped away the paint. The blue has faded with years gone by, and everything is a hollow shell of what it used to be. 

Tsukishima steps in. It doesn’t feel like anything special, which annoys him a little. But then again, how could it feel like anything different when the room has changed so much?

It’s a storage room now. Your bed is gone, your bedside table stuck up against the wall. Your antique dresser, the one you were so proud to steal from your sister, stands alone on the far wall, no clothes sticking out. Your closet is open with suitcases crammed inside, the hangers swinging idly and the floorboards creak under his weight. 

It feels colder in here. There’s no peach scented candles, no window open, no nothing. This isn’t yours. This isn’t right. 

It’s blasphemous what they’ve done. Tsukishima is not an irrational, angry person, and yet he has the violent urge to take a metal baseball bat and smash everything in your room. Not your room. 

Tsukishima's trembling fingertips trace over a water raised circle on your bookshelf, a scar to mark your existence. And there, on the side, where you recorded the length of your growing ivy plant, the months going down down down like a timeline until they stop. Until you’re gone with hardly a trace. 

Tsukishima balls his fists. You did leave something behind. He just can’t touch it, can’t see it anywhere else but his mind's eye and he curses because no one can see how you’ve ruined his life and continue to, even in this void you’ve created in your absence. 

He stops trying to control it. The memory swirls over him like a hurricane, pounding against his skull as tears well in his eyes. He falls to his knees to take a breath, then lays on the floor, in the exact spot where your bed used to be; in the middle of the room, parallel to the windows. He can almost feel the Sailor Moon sheets, closing his eyes. His panicked breathing splits into two, and like Athena from Zeus, you’ve sprung from his mind. 

You’re catching your breath. The drawn curtains turn afternoon sunlight into a diffused red glow. It colors Kei’s pale skin and blonde hair a dreamy pink, and you roll onto your naked stomach, legs kicking up playfully. 

Through the haze of warmth and pleasure, Kei cracks open an eye just a little bit to see you gazing at him with a sickly sweet smile. Your index finger traces his collarbone, setting fire to the skin underneath. 

“What’re you doing?” He croaks, and your chuckle sends waves of pleasure to his crotch. You drag your blunt nails across his throat, and he suppresses a hiss. 

“Can’t I touch you?”

“No.”

“Hmm. It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

In all the years that came after this, Kei couldn’t figure out why this happened. It felt like—still feels like—a fluke the universe handed out to him. It never happens again and you never talk about it. 

This memory is his most prized possession: he keeps it under lock and key in the back of his mind because the way his palm tenderly connects to your cheek baffles him. His hand slides down, knuckles skimming your jaw in soft strokes, like he’s carving you out of clay. 

“You said—“

“I know what I said.” Your hand catches his wrist, bringing his long, slender digits to your lips. You inspect the cuts and bruises, how they’re bent and mangled from blocking harsh spikes and slamming down equally powerful ones. You kiss them like you could heal them, and Tsukishima wouldn’t put it past you. 

“Did I change your mind?” He has a smile that’s a little too smug. You’re ignoring his face and he feels anxious; he wants your eyes on his so you’ll melt, so he can devour you while you helplessly watch just how you’ll go down. 

That never happens. Not with you. You open your mouth and give one clean suck to his index finger, and Kei inhales through his nose to control the heat pooling to his abdomen. 

You kiss the pad of his finger. “I guess I had second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts?”

“You’re trying to get into Tohoku, right?”

“So are you.”

“Right. If we don’t get in—“

“Don’t jinx it, stupid.”

“—if I don’t get in, I don’t want to feel like I wasted my time.”

His brows furrow. Kei draws up on his side, catching himself with his elbow. His body is thoroughly wrecked from giving you everything, and he shivers upon seeing the damage on your neck. But he pushes aside all thoughts of pleasure and stares down at you. “What are you talking about?”

Your hands drag down his chest, trailing the curves and contours of the muscle he’s built up for three years. His shoulders have broadened out and his waist tapers into a trim V. He is chiseled marble, a statue come to life in your bedroom. If only he were as permanent. 

Kei follows your gaze, reaching down to intertwine your hands. The gesture is obscene, intimate, and reverent all at one. “(Name),” he pleads, and your eyes flicker up to his. 

“You really think you’re going to stay in Miyagi? You, Tsukishima Kei? With the handsome face and the brains and the brawn?” You’re joking, trying to put on a smile but your voice is thick with emotion. You can’t hide, not after what you’ve just done. “You’re going to be, I don’t know, something great, and I’ll be here, like always.” 

(Tsukishima, the one on the cold floor with his eyes closed could laugh. What he wouldn’t give to be here, with you.)

The old him didn’t share that sentiment. “So, you wanted to have sex with me because you didn’t want to miss the opportunity?” 

“You’re missing the point, Kei.”

“Hey now, just because we fucked doesn’t mean you can get familiar.”

You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but his fingers curl, locking you in. He pulls you closer so your bodies are flush, and lays his head next to yours. 

“You act like you’re not more than capable of getting out on your own.”

“It’s easier for you,” you admit, words nothing but a whisper. “You’re so bright, Kei, so talented. I think it would be cruel if you didn’t leave.”

“God you’re so,” he‘s stuttering, trying to keep the awe from your voice. He can’t hide from you, not after what you’ve just said. “You don’t get it, do you? How you’re the only good thing about Taiwa, about fucking Miyagi.”

“Kei,” you whisper, on the verge of tears. “Kei stop.”

“This is the only time I’m going to say something nice about you, so.” He tilts your chin with the hand that’s bigger than your whole head, gentle as a lamb. “I don’t want to be like all the other Karasuno grads, living and dying here.”

“We can’t do anything about it.”

“Like hell we can’t. If either of us get out, if I get out, we’re going together.”

“Ha,” you laugh dryly. It certainly knocks him down a peg to hear you reject his proposition. “Please don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“Well, you gotta keep up your end of the bargain. Get into Tohoku and we can take it from there. It’ll be you and me.” 

“This doesn’t sound like the Tsukishima I know,” you say coyly, lopsided smirk making him crazy. “What’s got you so sentimental all of a sudden?”

“It could be that there’s someone I don’t mind being sappy for, especially if they’re naked under me.”

“I’m not—“ the words are stolen from you as Kei bruises your lips with a kiss. His hands turn your cheek toward him, and he kisses you into the mattress, all while climbing on top of you. He pulls back with a satisfied smirk, your lips glistening with (his) saliva. 

“You were saying?” 

You shove him and he falls back against your knees. “No, you were saying.”

Kei presses his chest against yours, kissing your neck, your jaw, then your lips in a softer kiss. “We’ll get out of here together. How does that sound?”

You don’t have a hopeful face. Your eyes have closed and you sigh, like you’re looking into the future and seeing Kei’s broken promise play over and over in your head. You two were young, but even you were less optimistic than he was. 

You opened your eyes, letting your face morph into a happiness Kei now realizes is tinged with melancholy. He thinks it’s beautiful, in a tragic sense. Tragedies were timeless classics, like you. 

“It sounds like you should put your money where your mouth is.”

“Do I ever disappoint?” 

This brings out your real smile, beaming at him like the sun and the moon and every star in the galaxy. “Never. Not to me.” 

Tsukishima lays on the cold floor with his hand over his eyes, lungs threatening to pop as he tries to exhale the guilt and heartache. None of the memories of this god forsaken town and this goddamn house hold anything but guilt, nothing but a knife in his stomach; the same one he stabbed into your back the day he signed on for the Saitama Spears and left. 

He used to firmly believe that if you never try at something, it can’t break your heart. He took that attitude to volleyball and wasn’t proven wrong. Tsukishima does not know if it would hurt more if he’d tried with you. It wasn’t like he did it on purpose; he simply forgot. Somewhere in the shuffle, somewhere between keeping his promise and not, it slipped from his hands like a bad block. 

He tries wiping the tears from his eyes. It’s not like thinking about it matters anymore; there’s no differentiation between the memories and the reality, only the same crushing pain. 

And yet, Tsukishima finds himself dissociating into the ceiling. If he stops breathing, he can hear your laughter echo off the walls. Perhaps his ghost and yours can live here forever, like they do in his mind. 

It’s the only way he can keep his promise.

[kyber-kisses]

Hymn (Part 4)

Winchester Brothers x Sister!reader

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the Masterlist!

Warnings: a good amount of feels and angst. . but there is fluff!

Summary: Y/N Winchester has wrestled with demons ever since her mother died, but when her younger brothers lives are in danger it’s their souls she fights to save, because isn’t that what a big sister should do? (Based on the song Hymn by Joel Porter) 

A/n: *Throws chapter at you and runs away* Have fun! (gif created by the lovely ellen-reincarnated1967)

“What do you think your doing?” Your voice slightly raising as you stepped back into the motel room, shutting the door softly behind you with a loud click.

“Definitely . . . Not jumping on the bed?” Dean tried, both him and Sam staring down at you from their perch on the nearest bed.

“Wow. I’m convinced.”

“It was Deans idea!” Sam quickly pointed, his little hand lightly smacking against Deans face as he did.

“I leave for three minutes and you guys go crazy? Now I know I can never leave you guys again, which is disappointing-“ you sighed. “Seeing as I was gonna give you guys this extra bag of funyuns.” You slowly pulled the bag out of your hoodie pocket, instantly making Dean freeze.

“Okay, wait we’re sorry.”

“Oh are you? I said no funny business while I was gone.”

“Yes! I’m sorry! Can we have them?” Dean was practically vibrating at this point, teetering on the edge of the mattress.

Narrowing your eyes, you let a silence fall between you before giving in and toss the bag onto the other bed. “Fine, go to town. No crumbs on the bed.” It didn't even take a second before the middle child was vaulting over the space between the beds and ripping the bag open.

Sam grimaced, not making a move from his spot at all. “Funyuns are gross.”

“Yeah, well that’s why I got you this-“ being a subtle as you could, you passed Sam the candy bar you had grabbed from the vending machine with a quick wink, his eyes lighting up as he grabbed it.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“Yeah, don’t tell Dean.”

“I won’t.”

“Pinkie promise?”

He linked his small finger with yours. “I pinkie promise.”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

“Sam? . . . Sam!”

Suddenly snapping back into reality, Sam whipped his head around took at his brother. “What?”

“I’ve been talkin to you for the past five minutes, have you even heard a word that I’ve said?”

“. . .yes?”

“Wow, you are a terrible liar. What the hell were you even thinking about?”

Pressing his lips together the younger Winchester contemplated whether or not to say anything. You were always a risky topic . . . Especially to Dean, and seeing as his brother had been in a decent mood most of the drive he really didn’t want to take that away.

“Dude, seriously. Tell me what’s going on in that weird head of yours.” Flexing his hands on the steering wheel, Deans eyes bounced back between the road and Sam.

“Y/N. . . What else do you think I would be thinking about right now?”

Dean sucked in a breath before he nodded his head in understanding. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. She’s gone. What’s it matter?”

He expected Dean to snap, lash out- like he did when they were younger and the wound still fresh, but instead he was silent. . . Only because he was trying to remember everything he could about his sister, both good and bad. He needed something to keep him grounded. For instance, You had been good at making people laugh, you’d take things in directions people wouldn’t expect- lewder, darker, more absurd— then ambush them into responding. Some of Deans humor stemmed from your own, he liked to think it was his way of keeping you close. Along with a love for old western movies and a passion for classic rock.

Happy thoughts. Just keep thinking happy thoughts, Dean. Just because Sam brought up Y/N does not mean you need to get bitter.

Turning his attention towards the radio, the hunter played with the volume until it was a soft hum that could easily be spoken over.

“You remember when Y/N used to play music in the mornings while Dad was gone on hunts?”

Sam let out a soft chuckle as confirmation. “You mean with that dinky old radio she got at a yard sale for like three bucks?”

“Yes! That’s the one!” Dean snapped his fingers, a grin tugging on his lips. “And it wasn’t even the good music we usually listened to in the car. . . It’s was like shitty upbeat soul and R&B.”

“You know she would probably smack you on top of the head if she heard you say that, right?”

“Yeah, probably-“ Dean chuckled, flicking on the turn signal as he turned onto a narrow two lane street. “Anyways you know how’d she dance around to it too? For like the soul purpose of embarrassing is even though there was no one else around?”

“Yeah, and she couldn’t dance worth a shit.” Sam added, smiling as he slowly began to remember.You were always doing stuff to get them to smile or laugh because you knew that in a lifestyle as dark as your families, you needed to keep something lit.

The rest of the drive felt lighter. . . Easier after that small conversation. Even after decades of absence you somehow still managed to put smiles on their faces.Still working hard even in death.

And then Dean pulled into the cemetery and that light and happy feeling he had had moments ago flickered and faded like a dying candle and he could feel his insides slowly beginning to twist as his face dropped. He turned off the engine and barely got two steps from the car before the feeling was too much and it felt like he was being crushed.

“Dean?”

“You know what? On second though this was a terrible idea. Why did we do this? We shouldn’t have done this. Why the fuck did I suggest this?” He quickly rambled, backing towards the car and reaching for the keys again. “Let’s- lets just go home and forget I ever suggested visiting this place-“

The older Winchester didn’t get very far before his brother was letting out a sigh and pushing him forward again. “We drove all this way. You’re not backing out now.”

“Sam-“

“Dude, we both agreed we would do this. Let’s start with just a minute and go from there.”

There was silence for a moment before Dean huffed and stopped resisting his brothers pushing. He felt like a kid again coming back here. Hell the last time he had been here he still was one. Even though they never found a body, their dad was decent enough to pay for a headstone, a place to come back to.

And then they never did.

The cemetery was cool, dew still on the grass as the morning sun began to peak through the trees and light haze. The place was empty except for them. . . Because who visits a cemetery at 6:30 in the morning? Dean sucked in another breath of fresh air, jamming his hands into his pockets despite it growing warmer out as the sun began to rise.

“You know, we probably should have brought mom with us. It’s kinda a dick move on our part to do this and not tell her.” Dean grumbled, eyes already glued on the headstone ahead.

“She’s still on that hunt with Jody. I didn’t really want to bother her.”

“Oh yeah, you’re totally right.” Dean snarked. “Would hate to remind good ol’ mom that her first born has a headstone right next to hers.”

“Why are you being such a dick? You suggested we visit.”

“It’s nothing, Sam. Just drop it.”

Gripping his brothers shoulder suddenly, Sam halted Dean in his tracks. “Nice try. Tell me what’s going on. You were fine ten minutes ago.”

Dean gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before letting another sigh sleep through his lips. “Do you remember that case we worked a few weeks ago with the psycho spirit that caught us?”

“You mean reverend Johnson? Yeah, why?”

“I keep thinking about what he said-“

“Dean, he was a vengeful spirit. He was crazy.” Sam shook his head, dropping his hand from his shoulder. But Dean squeezes his eyes shut as if trying to forget. The words from the reverend still banging around inside his skull. Bad guys really needed to stop it with their monologues.

“What I’ve seen is that the lord provides for those who need it. If you don’t have something, that generally means you don’t need it, or you don’t deserve it.”

At first it had made perfect sense and Dean had just gone with it. He didn’t have his sister because he didn’t deserve to have one.

But then again, by that logic, they didn’t deserve a home when they were younger, and they didn’t deserve to love their sister and be safe. Y/N didn’t deserve her life.

“You’re right.” Dean nodded, in hopes of getting Sam to back off. “You’re right. Dude was crazy. Just hard to get those fuckin words out of my head.” He mumbled, the two of them somehow turning in unison to look at your headstone a few yards away.

It was like the granite slab was staring them both down. The two brothers both afraid to get closer. . . Because to Dean it was like having to face the truth all over again. You were gone. Here reality was set in stone (Pun intended). But then his legs were moving before his brain was and he was kneeling down the wipe the dirt and dust away from your name, calloused fingers smoothing over the engraved letters.

“Why’d you have to go be a hero, huh?” He whispered under his breath, feeling the sudden and familiar sting of on oncoming tears.

He could remember it all so clearly still, how you had thrust your rifle into his hands and quickly tugged on your oversized canvas jacket. How the wind had whipped at your partially pulled up hair when you swung the door to the motel room open. How you told them you’d be back and then never were. Dean wondered if you would still be the same now. Back then he was still too small for his flannels and still wasn’t sure how to aim a gun properly. If you were still alive what would you have looked like now? Would you be taller? Would your hair be longer? . . . And would you have recognized what he and Sam had become?

Would you recognize them at all?

“We shoulda brought flowers or something.” He mumbled, picking the few stray weeds that had grown around the base of the stone. He was fidgeting. He did that when he was uncomfortable.

“We can always go get some. We ain’t too far outside of town.”

Dean mumbled a soft I guess as he rested his chin on his knee, arms looping tightly around his leg as if trying to mimic a hug.

“I think I’m gonna call mom. She would want to be with us for the next stop we make. . . We can always come back here too if she really wants.” Sam spoke up, extending a hand to help pull his brother up.

“Do what you think is right or whatever. I’ll be in the car.” rising to his feet, Dean wiped the dirt from his hands onto the front of his jeans. If he stayed here another minute he was bound to start crying. As He began the trek back through the maze of headstones, his fingers absentmindedly tugged on the piece of fabric on his wrist. The bit of flannel gave him a sense of comfort, because sometimes a bit of cloth could feel like love, and that was all he really wanted right now. It was one of those moments in which he realized how many things he had lost that mattered. Dad. Bobby. Y/N. Sure he had lost mom, but she was back. The rest were still gone.

All he wanted was the chance to see Y/N again, to hear her say I missed you, and I've come home.

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[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 008

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: New chapter!! Revenge plots, unlikely allies, and a romantic dip. TW: Hints of teen bullying and mentions of pica. Billy's anger gets scary for a hot sec. Enjoy!!  TAGLIST OPEN!!

Chapter 8: Because My Calendar Is Open

   “Wish it was warm enough to eat outside.” Evie grumbled. Picking crust off her sandwich. 

   Ignored Carol’s cackling three tables away. All the clicking of cutlery on plastic trays grated worse.

   “How was that dinner at Billy’s?” Heather looked up from her lunch.

   “Susan had to call and cancel. I guess she wasn’t feeling well.” Evie frowned. Wondered if Neil liked her staying out late with Mona and her friends. “Rain check.” 

   Behind Heather, Steve Harrington was wandering with a tray. Looking lost as he always did this time. No longer friends with Tommy and giving Nancy and Jonathan some space.

   “Steve.” Evie piped up, pressing her lips. “Want to sit with us?”

   He blinked. Crossed. 

   “Yeah...that’s cool.” He slid into the bench next to Evie. Plastered a little charm. “Ladies.”

   “Hey.” Heather’s smile brought pink into Steve’s soft cheeks.

   “Evie, you know Hargrove is staring at you, right?” Steve started to cut into his slab of meatloaf, gesturing with his chin. “What’s the deal with that? He’s been trying to use his laser eyes since school started again.”

   Evie spotted Billy a couple tables behind Heather. Intent. He didn’t look away when their eyes met. Evie just shrugged.

   “I don’t know what you mean, he’s just annoying. Forgot he even existed.” Evie scooped up some mushy peas and gagged them down. Heather studied her.

   “He’s a little prick.” She decided.

   “He’s a dumb guy.”

   “He’s not a guy, Evie, he’s a prick.”

   Steve snickered at them.

   “You reject him or something? Seems like a persistent asshole.” Steve went on.

   “As if Billy Hargrove would ever be into me.” Evie looked away. Said that before.

   “Whatever. Billy and his penis don’t deserve you.” Heather got Steve choking on milk laughing. Some came out his nose. “Oh no!”

   “Here.” Evie was giggling too, pressing a napkin to her friend’s mouth and nose. “Heather, go easy on him.”

   “So much for King Steve, right?” A laugh followed but it sounded weak. Evie only pressed her lips.

   “Royalty is overrated. Steve is fine.” She smiled a little for him. Met his dewy eyes and pulled away. When she faced Heather, Billy was gone. “Heather and I were hitting the movies after school. Want to go with us?”

   “Like hang out?” Steve perked so Heather nodded too. All smiles. “Uh, yeah. I’d like that. I’ll drive.”

   “Perfect. We do this thing where we show up and watch whatever is playing soon. Bad or not... Oh, shoot...I gotta hit the library, I forgot to return something.” Heather winked and got up to dispose of her trash. Left Evie with the pretty boy.

   “You ride your bike in, don’t you?” Steve turned his head as Evie picked up her water. “It’s winter.”

   “Seasons change, my boy.” Evie sipped, beaming.

   “I just wondered if maybe you wanted like a ride to school and back.”

   “Heather usually is able to grab me. The before and after school extracurriculars are starting to pile for her…” She blinked.

   “You live on Cherry, you’re not out of the way for me.” 

   “I so am.” Evie chuckled and shrugged.

   “Just a ride, maybe you can help me graduate.” Steve held out a hand. “Fair?”

   “Sure.” They shook on it. “Thanks.”

   “Well, well, well.” Carol flipped her helmet of orange hair aside and settled palms flat on the table. “Fallen from grace and now sucking up to the ice queen. I hear pretty boys can thaw her though, Steve, so you might get lucky for once. Does Mr. Bowers even speak to other students, or are you just needy enough for the list?”

   “Carol. I already know the answer,” Steve touched his chest, “but, do you really have nowhere better to be?”

   “Looks like Fenny gets around, huh?” Tommy curled an arm around his girl’s shoulder. Flashed that crooked smile. “Just going down the list now.”

   Normally, Evie would have spoken up. Witty comeback. But, she just glared at the ugly cafeteria tiles.

   “How about you get lost?” Steve continued. Evie’s hands curled into her lap. The amusement from their friends just grew louder and she couldn’t stand it. Anger burned white hot and a bark stopped them all.

   “Hey.” Billy crossed back in. Few tables stopped to see him command. “Knock it off, let’s go.”

   “But-”

   “Just leave it the fuck alone, Carol. Yeah? This shit is done to death and I’m over it. You’re being really pathetic. Both of you. C’mon.” Billy flared up, head cocking. “Only gonna ask you idiots once, the fucking cackling is giving me a headache. Leave her alone from now on, unless you want a problem with me. Bye.”

   He pointed toward the door. Not joking. A few students moved to go.

   Carol and Tommy both seemed to sag and follow after them. Their friends at the table decided the fun was over and crossed out too.

   Billy cast Evie one lingering stare, ignored Steve, and went the other direction. Shoved the door to go outside.

   “Did...that just happen? What’s up with him, seriously?” Steve turned back to Evie staring at where Billy had disappeared too. Lips parted.

   “I...I don’t know.” She asserted. “And I don’t care, I gotta...go.”

   “You barely ate anything.”

   “Filled up at breakfast, not much of an appetite.” Evie forced a chuckle. “See you in class?”

   “Sure…” Steve pushed his hands into his pockets. Let her go.

** ** **

   Billy didn’t appear again from all his smoke and stars. Never quipped about those almost heroics from the days before. But, his snapping kept Carol and her gaggle off of Evie completely.

   Like magic.

   More January snow fell with the weekend. Never ending frost with a perfect blanket of peace. Icicles shimmering on every house. The whole street sparkled.

   Evie bundled and slung a bag over one shoulder. Figured venturing into town was better than sitting in a freezing house contemplating what to swallow next.

   She tried to slow. To stop. To let things pass. This habit was eating her right back.

   Evie started to pass the Hargrove house and looked up to watch the new flurries fall. Too delicate upon her cheeks. Like confetti. 

   She thought of the intimate way Billy had touched her lips with two fingers to brush a piece away before kissing her. Again and again. 

   The thought bloomed unwanted roses up her cheeks. 

   She caught a glimmer on the sidewalk right in front of Billy’s car and Neil’s truck parked there. Couldn’t stop herself from shiny things. Bent down and pulled her glove off to pluck something silver up. A chain. And a pendant came with as Evie held it out from her expression. 

   A Playboy charm. 

   Crouched there, she sighed into pure cold. Blinked and let her eyes focus on Billy’s car beyond it. Quiet and undisturbed.

   So, Evie thought.

   Lips parted when she saw the passenger side door. Even with a few splatters of snow, words came into focus.

   Carved crude and angry into the side.

   Prick.

   Bold, ugly letters.

   Evie shot to her feet. Shuddering and alert like someone was watching.

   “Oh, my god.” She puffed, cradling the chain to her chest.

   By some twist of horrible fate, the front door beyond the porch opened.

   Billy stepped out. Cool as a cucumber. Lighting a cigarette. Stunning in a brown, leather bomber.

   Feet shuffled back. She stared at Billy with this clear look of horror when he spotted her.

   “Photo will last longer, Angel, but I charge for them.” He quipped, massaging his front suggestively. Lighter flicking closed. 

   Billy hadn’t seen his car.

   Evie felt adrenaline kick in when the bus passed behind her. Steps hurried up the sidewalk to get on it without glancing back. A hand covered her lips. Evie paid and sat down. Dared to peer back at Billy’s house.

   He was standing between the vehicles. Eyes pointed on the craving. 

   And then he slowly lifted his blaring gaze to where she’d disappeared too.

   Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

   Evie thought she might have a panic attack right there. Tried to catch her breath until the bus rolled onto Main Street before a hand tugged frantically to get off. She went into the first store she saw. Grocery store big enough to hide in. Attempted again to get her lungs working.

   Maybe running wasn't the best idea, but staying to explain seemed impossible. 

   The charm left an imprint in her hand from clutching it so tight.

   Billy thought she did that. Fuck. And he was going to fucking kill her.

   Evie scurried around the aisles. Kept checking the windows for the furious, rumbling Camaro. Pulled a beanie lower and her hood up before creeping back outside to cross the street. Tucked curls aside.

   She could have blamed Heather if the charm wasn’t damning enough. Her friend had used the word prick a number of colorful times.

   Brock Tannen was fucking with them both now.

   “Shit, shit.” Evie muttered. Few residents paced to get their own errands done. The rev of an engine shot sparks up Evie’s soul. She whirled down an alleyway, figured he might just run her over.

   “Fenny!” Billy skidded halfway down the path and curved. Lunged out of his car. “Get back here! You think I won’t recognize that ass anywhere you stick it? What the fuck! C’mere!” His snarling echoed. 

   Evie was sprinting now, but Billy worked out and he was taller so he caught up easily. Two tight hands yanked her coat so hard, she skidded on slush and fell next to some stone steps. Hard thud planked her body.

   Stars burst. A groan pushed from pink lips before eyes focused on Billy Hargrove about to breathe fire and lay waste to her.

   She’d never seen such an expression on a boy before. Pure, burning fury and hate.

   Wild like he wasn’t really seeing her.

   Scrambling, Evie had also never witnessed something so frightening. Billy’s hands were on her shoulders. Pressing his steel weight down so he could snap his jaw. Starving.

   “What the fuck! You fucking keyed my car! My fucking car, you bitch?” Profanities of all sizes and colors were spitting from his lips. Evie just looked shaken and terrified at him. Realized she wasn’t talking so her brain tried to mash words together.

   “I didn’t! I didn’t do it!” She barely spoke over his rage. Hands pushed at his chest with no hope to get him off.

   For a moment, she wondered if he’d try to hit her. He just growled and yelled. Unleashing fury he might have pent up.

   “Billy! Billy, it wasn’t me!” Evie tried again. Brought her palm up so he could see the chain twisted around her fingers. “Tannen! Look! Just look, I didn’t...”

   Billy finally shut down. Went still to narrow on the charm, recognizing it.

   The fingers twisted into her coat were hauled up by bigger hands and a taller figure.

   “Hargrove, it’s too early for this, Jesus Christ.” Chief Hopper had parked his Blazer and was now smacking Billy into the side of it. He turned and noticed Evie pushing herself off the wet ground. “Evie Fenny? Are you okay?”

   Wind blew through the alley. 

   “Yeah, I…” She saw handcuffs and Billy squirmed before she sprang up. “Wait a second. That wasn't…”

   “Looked like this boy had you pinned down.” Hopper was trying to get Billy to keep still. "A new low, kid."

   “Get off me, you damn pig!”

   “Lovely.” Jim gruffed, sighing. “We’ll talk about this at the station.”

   “Wait, we were...fooling around.” Evie hurried and grasped Jim’s arm. Backed off when his head whipped toward her in disbelief. “I fell and took him with me. It was an accident. Please don’t take Billy away.” Hands clasped to plead.

   A curly head tilted toward her too. If Billy had issues with the police, Neil would snap him in half.

   “Please, Chief, just let him go. This is a big misunderstanding. Billy and I will go home. Please.” Evie tugged again and Hopper blinked a couple times.

   “Just fooling around?” He looked to Billy, who was completely simmered again.

   “Uh, yeah. I’m revved, Chief, just look at her.”

   “Okay…” Jim cringed. “Just...get out of here and stay out of trouble, kid. Drive under the speed limit, yeah?”

   “I love law, Chief Hopper.” Billy quipped. Hopper peered at Evie again so she smiled and grabbed Billy’s hand.

   “We’ll be going now. Billy owes me a ride.” She tugged, still breathing heavier. The Chief got back into his car to go, head shaking. Teenagers.

   Evie snatched from Billy and shoved him away the second the older man had gone.

   “Don’t ever come at me like that again.” Her voice tremored lower. One finger poked his muscled torso. Billy only stared. “Never again.” She tossed the chain at his chest. “Your new best friend screwed you over. Not me. Eat that up, prick.”

   Evie started walking again and saw a piece of cardboard duct taped over the nasty carving. Billy caught up with her.

   “That shithead isn’t my friend. He framed you...not very well.” Billy let the chain dangle before his face. “He’s fucking dead. My dad’s gonna ream me when he sees the car. Shit... Fucking shit!”

   Evie paused to peer back at him. Head in his hands, crouched over to curse. She slowed. A beat.

   “Look, I...I know a garage that’ll help you out with a discount. My mom’s friends with the owner and his wife. Perks.” She stuffed her hands away and looked down at her clothing. “Shit, I’m soaked.”

   “Never heard that before.” Billy joked, smirking. “Thanks...for keeping me out of cuffs.”

   “You’re an asshole still.”

   “Yeah.” He agreed, going to the car. “Get in.”

   “Why?”

   “Take me to the garage so I can get my shit fixed. See if I have enough for it.” Billy rubbed his eyes. “Fuck.”

   “Only if I drive.” Evie crossed her arms. Billy did a double take. “I have my license.”

   “No.”

   “Yes.”

   “No.”

   “Yes or I’ll walk.” Evie shot back until he tossed the keys at her to catch. Billy bitched about it, but slid into the passenger side. The engine revved so he hissed.

   “Easy...”

   “That’s rich.” Evie squealed off. Obeyed the speed limit. “Thought Tannen was your buddy.”

   “I think I punched him after the dance. I was still kinda drunk.” Billy gave an agitated breath. Sunk into the seat. “Why’s he hate you so much?”

   “Because I exist in this body with this brain and I breathe, it doesn’t matter.” Evie turned a corner. Avoided his stare. “I think he hates anything that isn’t him.”

   “Well, Tannen hates us both. Framing you and fucking with my car.” Billy paused. Got sly. “So, how are we getting him back?”

   “Revenge? No, not interested.”

   “C’mon, Angel, live a little.”

   Evie skidded to stop at a red light. Head snapping to see him.

   “Yeah, I tried that with you already.” She seethed. Billy studied her. “I’m taking you to the garage and I’m catching a bus home. My clothes are still damp, thanks for that.”

   “Brock’s date was fourteen, did you know that? He’s a piece of shit and he’s asking for it. You don’t have to like me, we can just hate the same person who hates us. Teach him a lesson.”

   “Any bright ideas?” Evie continued down the street. No answer. “Thought so.”

   “I’ll think of something.” Billy paused. “Tannen’s got a cushy little life doesn’t he? Perfect family. Girls lined up.”

   “He’s dating the daughter of a pastor. Sweet cheerleader who goes to Bates. Cheating on her because she isn’t putting out. But, she’s good for the image and for his ritzy Ridgemont family. Heather’s parents run in a similar circle. She always has dirt.”

   “Yeah? What’s Tannen like?”

   “His car and his image.” Evie parked. “Go in and drop my mom’s name. The guy’s sweet, he’ll help you out.” She tossed the keys in Billy’s lap. “See you later.”

   “Wait.” Billy hurried around the car as she got out. “Just, wait. Let’s get back at him.”

   “I don’t care as much as you do, Billy.” Evie passed with snow falling into her long, spiraling curls.

   “Sure you do, you’re just pretending you don’t.” Billy snagged her wrist. “Evie. I am fucking sorry. About the shitty dance. About school. It’s fucked and I don’t blame you for being this upset.”

   The continued groveling made her smirk.

   “Not upset.” Evie crossed her arms.

   “He flashed that money in my face and I just figured I could show you a good time and keep you out of it. But, the whole thing when I saw it...I really thought they weren’t serious about the pool. I wanted out of the deal. I kissed you after midnight. It was still fucked. The other girls, they… You know, I’ve been thinking about them too. We could get revenge for them. Shove it up Tannen’s ass.”

   “Did you fake it?”

   “Fake what?”

   “All of it.” Evie gathered the courage. “The...talking. The smiles. The laughter. Dancing with me. Why did you kiss me after midnight?”

   “I just…” Billy shrugged hopelessly. Lashes fluttering. “I felt like it. I don’t have to bullshit around you. You call me out when I do either way. I don’t know. You kissed me first and I thought...I just wanted to kiss you. I asked you to a fucking motel.”

   “And I was gonna go with you.” Evie shrugged. “But, you lied to get me there. I can’t help but feel that bullshit laced all of it. Do you understand that?”

   “Yeah.” Billy sighed. Stood there against winter. Unafraid. “Fact remains, I didn’t want anything else.”

   Evie gave a breath into the cool air. 

   Neither did I.

   “Let’s get your door fixed.” Evie went around him to go into the shop. She did all the talking to a burly man with a hook prosthetic for one hand while Billy teetered on his feet behind her. “Give him a couple hours to work.”

   “Daddy’ll miss you.” Billy huffed, digging for a cigarette while his precious car was moved away. Evie gave him this scrunched look and shook her head, laughing.

   “Well, see you around.” Evie got the back of her jacket snatched and huffed for theatrics.

   “Nice try, you think I can’t follow you all over this town? Look, grabbing you was... I shouldn't have done that. I won't come at you like that again.” Billy turned her, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Tannen.”

   “Your problem.”

   “He’s gonna be your problem too, Evie.” Billy stood over her, plucking his smoke out to puff. “If you don’t help, I might run off and do something stupid.”

   “All your life.” She cocked her head. Gave another sound of aggravation. “Just because I know I can’t outrun you. Let’s go. It’s too cold.” A hand tugged his jacket until he was walking next to her. Billy felt his stomach bubble with excitement. “There’s this place Heather and I like...up the block.”

   They walked slushy sidewalks to the corner where a little cafe sat. Teens wandered a smoky, dim lit lounge. Evie pulled her coat, beanie, and gloves away to sit. Billy stole an ashtray and followed. Peering around at all the art and empty stage. Hippy sort of place, not like other hangout spots in Hawkins.

   “The co-owned bakery next door supplies all their pastries.”

   “Broke now.”

   “I’m offering.” Evie decided. “Not cause I like you. I just don’t like to eat alone at a table.” Billy’s eyebrows lifted before he tapped his ashes.

   “You pick.”

   “Do you drink hot cocoa?” Evie watched him nod when a boy crossed over. “Jesse, hey.”

   “Fen,” the boy grinned broader, “hi.” Year younger and going to Hill Valley. Family moved a town over but kept the location for their beloved cafe. “Marty was just asking if I’d seen you around Hawkins.”

   “Yeah, let him know Heather and I said hi. First year of college any good?”

   “He likes the Florida weather.” Jesse swept his mop of brown curls aside, a million piercings along his ear and eyebrow caught the light. Broad boy who enjoyed football, painting, and the piano. Peered at Billy and blushed. “Who’s your cute friend?”

   “Down boy. This is Billy, he’s having a day that only your hot chocolate and apple strudels can cure.”

   “Where’d you get your ink?” Billy eyed Jesse’s decorated arms.

   “City, not far. I’ll write it down for you.” A wink. Billy seemed to like the attention today. Jesse turned back to Evie. “My mom tried to dye her hair in the bathroom. Didn’t go well so Mona will be seeing her this week.”

   “Ouch. Again?” Evie chuckled. “What color this time?”

   “What supposed to be strawberry sky and it’s...cotton candy pink. I liked it.” He laughed. “Sprinkle of cinnamon on the cocoa?”

   “You know me too well.” Evie let him go off then faced Billy. “High School running back. Sweetheart. I dated his older brother. Briefly before the move."

   "So, you guys still talk or...?" He faked disinterest and she snorted at the attempt.

   "Not really. I mean, we ended fine, he's just a college kid now." Evie cracked a smile, narrowing. "But, my mom’s friends with his mom.”

   “What mom doesn’t Mona know? Figure she leads the network.” Billy countered. Evie shrugged.

   “Good point, she’s a social nut.”

   “Speaking of, isn’t that her?” Blue eyes turned out the frosted windows. Mona in a short dress, fitted chic coat, and tall platform heels that rode up her knees. Nancy Sinatra would be proud. Walking with a bunch of paper bags, headed back toward her shop. Men stopped to see her bounce. “Damn.”

   “Stop looking at my mom, perv.” Evie reached for his jaw and turned it back toward her. Breath catching as she slipped away quicker. “Why’d Susan cancel on us?”

   “Dad canceled. Not Susan. He just made her do the dirty work.” Billy explained, snuffing his cigarette out.

   “He didn’t like her staying out with friends late?” Evie guessed. “What kind of husband doesn’t want his wife to have friends in a new place? I bet she’s lonely.”

   “You lonely?”

   “I have friends. Are you lonely with your fake fans?” Evie shot back, sitting up. He batted his lashes, undaunted.

   “Dad doesn’t like anything except maybe his collection of belts and a full bottle.” Billy shrugged his jacket off. Played with his ring. Head turning, the little spike hanging from his ear caught the light outside.

   Infuriating, how pretty he was not doing anything.

   “Does he hit her too?”

   “Too?” Billy snapped back in, leaning forward with his arms crossed. “What’s that mean?”

   Evie only stared at him.

   “Sorry.”

   “No, I…” Billy cursed to himself. “You probably get a front row seat. You know, he didn’t start going at Susan until the move here. She’s learning though. Quickly. How to play dad’s game.”

   “Does he go after Max?”

   “No, he’s too distracted with me and I keep Max out of trouble. He will one day when she’s older.”

   Evie looked at his hand and wondered about touching it. Billy seemed to feel it hang in the air so he sat back.

   “Bowers ever hit you?”

   “No, he doesn’t-” Evie caught herself with wide eyes. Got smaller. “He’d never hit me.”

   “So, you’re admitting it.” Billy leaned forth again. Even closer. Some instrumental and chatter covered their voices.

   “No one will believe you.” She repeated, eyes on the table.

   “No, probably not. Won’t tell even if I think it’s fucked.” He screwed his eyes at her. “How?”

   “How’s it possible for someone gorgeous to get with a girl like me?” She sounded wounded.

   “No, just...how?”

   They paused when Jesse returned. A full plate of warm, golden pastries. Two steaming mugs. Evie tipped him with a sudden smile.

   “Thanks, Jess.”

   “Anytime. Don’t be a stranger.” He looked to Billy. “You too, got it? I wrote that address down. They love taking new people if you need ink. Come in here and...show it off.”

   “I just might. Thanks.” Billy sparked with his usual charm as the boy went.

   “You love to flirt.”

   “I love to be desired, don’t you?” Billy stuffed the card away, peered at his mug before drinking. Evie followed. “So. We got time.”

   “Why do you care?”

   “I just do. I think you're interesting, Evie. This town needs a blast of color and I found it.” Billy stared. “Think I’m gonna judge you?”

   “Yeah.” Blunt.

   “Well, I’m not. Not you.” He plucked up a little pastry when she didn’t. “Don’t let me eat this whole damn plate.” Evie scoffed, breathless and took one to chew. Licking sugar from her lips. 

   “Billy, why...why are you here with me still?” She narrowed again.

   “Because,” he sparkled, “my calendar's open.”

   Evie tried to look away. To laugh him off. Couldn’t find the will and locked in.

   “Well, I don’t want to get into it here. So, let’s just enjoy the heater and sweets.” Evie reached for another flaky pastry. Billy grabbed one too. They filled their bellies in silence. Eyes locking then averting ever so often.

   “Let’s get out of here. Walk.” Billy licked his thumb. Arms crossing to lean over and see her drink.

   “You want me to spill badly.”

   “I took you out and you had a shitty time, I don't do that. I want to make up for it.”

   “You don’t like the snow,” Evie ruffled her curls, “don’t know how you’re surviving it, Cali.”

   Billy peered out the window. Let the glow bathe his face. Cool and almost iridescent. Brightening his eyes framed with those sinful lashes. 

   “You like winter?” He asked out of the blue.

   “Actually, yeah. It’s not so bad. Prefer fall. I like tucking in with a warm blanket and cocoa. I like the snow, things always feel...new after." Evie felt a distance quell. He seemed to notice it too. Wistful and vast. "It covers up what came before.”

   “Well, let’s go walk in it.” Billy pushed up. “I’ll meet you halfway and brave it.”

   Evie stared at the table. Watched him start to go before she shoved her hat on. Got up and followed.

   “If I just say that I forgive you, can we part ways?” Evie got in front of him outside. Flecks of snow tumbled into her hair. Melted on strawberry cheeks. Billy was too many colors against white and grey. Ocean blues. Peaches. Cherries. Honey. All sun kissed freckles and golden hair. 

   “We could make a bet.” Billy stepped closer to curl a devilish smile.

   “Another bet?” Her brow lifted. “No thanks, my track record with you and bets is zero.”

   “No fun at all.” Billy puffed. “Evie, the way I see it, neither of us can leave the other alone.”

   “That’s a you problem.”

   “You know you can shake me and you’re not trying too hard, I think you’re just curious enough to stick around.” Billy cocked his head. “So, I’m just saying we should chase that. It was fucked up and...I am sorry. For you and those other girls. I say that you and I hang out long enough to get revenge on Tannen and then, I swear...cross my heart as fuck all...that I’ll leave you alone once that prick gets it. Only if you want me gone.”

   “You tried this.”

   “I didn’t mean it then.” He stuffed hands into his pockets and she exhaled out her nose. Shuffled on the slick sidewalk.

   “But, you magically do now?”

   “Maybe that’s what has us stuck, we want to do something about it.”

   “You swear?”

   “Every damn day.” Cheeky shit.

   Evie’s eyes squinted at him. Sized him up. 

   “I just...I don’t forgive you.”

   “I can live with that,” he said, “for now. I haven’t earned shit. I’ll make it up to you.”

   Promises. Promises. 

   “I don’t,” Evie tried again to disengage, “I don’t think you can.”

   “C’mon.” Billy slid in front of her when she turned. Got lush. “Evie.”

   “Let’s just not make this harder than it needs to be.” Her hands lifted. Evie went around him and Billy’s arms went out aimlessly.

   “What would your Mr. Darcy do to make you feel better?”

   “What?” Evie spun on her heel, almost laughing. Billy peered away.

   “I got his name right. How’d he make you feel better? Listen, Evie...I deserve the cold shoulder. I do. It fucking…” Billy sucked in air and came to her at the corner. “I’ll level with you. I’ve been beating the shit out of myself for what happened and I deserve that. Does that help you? I can’t even get it up...you know what I’m saying? I liked it. Being there with you and I can’t change what happened after-”

   “Ick. I wish I didn’t know what you mean.” Her face screwed up. A beat to break for laughter. “Is this really that important to you?” Billy got close with those wandering eyes. 

   “Yes… It really fucking is.” He hissed lower. "Truth is, I even want more of those signature bad kisses we love to share. If you can still call them that, Angel."

   Evie huffed. Almost aggravated. Not really. Stepped back to look him up and down.

   “There’s one thing you might be able to do to make me feel better.” She crossed her arms. Brought on hands up to tap her chin in thought.

   “And?” Billy gasped out.

   “One question.” She rounded him, eyes wandered to scrutinize. “Do you still have that white button up?”

   Billy turned his head, earring dangling before he narrowed.

   “Uh, yeah....” He looked a little apprehensive when she smiled fuller. Sly.

   “We can work with that.”

** ** ** 

   Three knocks and Heather Holloway was blinking her doe eyes at an odd pair.

   “What’s he doing here?” She pulled at Evie’s arm to get between them. “What did I tell you, Hargrove?”

   “Billy’s trying to make amends, Heath.” Evie said flatter. They stood before her huge mansion on Loch Nora. “Are your parents or the housekeeper around?”

   “Not today.” Heather was still all daggers at Billy. “We don’t need Billy’s amends. He’s done enough.”

   “There’s a bigger asshole to be worrying about.” Billy spoke. “Tannen.”

   “Your buddy? I’m not so sure.”

   “No, he...has a point. But, we’re not here to discuss that. Yet.” Evie blinked. Smiled. “Can we use your pool?”

   Heather looked confused. The curls piled up onto her head bounced a little. No makeup. Lazy sweater dress. 

   “Why?”

   “It’s indoors and heated.”

   “Not heated right now.”

   “Even better.” Evie beamed when Billy’s face dropped. “Sidebar, just us girls.”

   Billy hung out on the snowy steps while they went just in the door. There was a great deal of snickering before Heather returned biting her cheek. Fully amused.

   “You can come in. Shoes off.”

   Billy stepped inside to obey, looking around.

   “Jesus, Holloway, this place… Is daddy the mayor?”

   “He runs the paper.”

   “Explains a lot.” Billy grumbled as her head snapped at him. “Easy. Not here to fight. Just...acting out Evie’s whatever Darcy fantasy to make her forgive me.”

   “Never said I would forgive you.” She noted down the hall.

   “This won’t hurt my chances.” Billy was stepping out of his shoes. Evie looped her arm into Heather’s.

   “This way.”

   He walked slower behind them to observe the place. Cheesy family portraits galore. Too many vases with fake flowers. Floral wallpaper. Rich people.

   “So, what the hell brought you two back together?” Heather had asked.

   “Not together.” Evie piped quicker. “Tannen keyed Billy’s car, framed me for it. I sorta helped him get it fixed.”

   “He, what? ” Heather paused, opening a textured glass door.

   “Yeah, big mess. Tannen’s not quitting.” Evie picked up as they went into the pool room. Odd to be in here while frost covered the back windows.

   “Probably cause I punched him.”

   Heather snorted at that, stepped on a button to bring the cover rolling back over the illuminated fresh water. 

   “You sure this is what your dream freak would do?”

   “So, sure. Don’t forget your line.” Evie flicked a piece of paper she’d written on at his chest. Billy griped when Heather laughed at him trying to get out of his coat and jeans. White shirt and grey briefs. Evie peered at his muscled thighs and looked up at the ceiling. 

   Whew.

   “You can look, ladies.” A sleazy grin bloomed. “You’re both lucky I wore underwear today.”

   “Gross.” Heather came around the pool to her friend.

   “Well, do your thing, William.” Evie giggled, gesturing. “Or should I say: Fitzwilliam.”

   “How’d a guy with that name not get his fucking ass kicked? Instead, he’s drowning in pussy, I don’t get it.” Billy stepped into the water. Bitched about the cold and sauntered to the center holding his paper up. Soaked his shirt through.

   “This isn’t even in the book.” Heather had whispered so Evie hushed her.

   “Yeah, duh, but...Billy doesn’t know that. Look how hard he’s trying. It's almost cute. Almost.” She covered her mouth. “Plus, I dreamed about this once, let a girl live here. It can happen one day.”

   “Is he like...really trying?”

   “Starting to think he is. Won't leave me alone and he...I'm not exactly running either anymore.” Evie peered at Billy turning around. Voice rose. “You look great.”

   “Bite me.” He dunked while holding one hand up to keep the line from getting wet. Came up ruffling his curls like some ethereal merman. Still stunning. White shirt clinging to his rock hard chest. Evie bit her lip with hooded eyes and missed Heather watching her face.

   “Say the line!” She called then. Billy rolled his eyes with the longest huff he could muster.

   “In vain I have-”

   “With a little life, Billy!” Heather laughed at him there. Billy sucked in to pout. Water sloshing all over to prune his fingers. Hair and face dripping. Eyelashes clumped. 

   “In vain!” He just said it louder. Slower. “I have struggled!”

   Evie and Heather had to kneel down because they were laughing so hard. Clinging together on the tiles.

   “Keep going!” Evie waved her hand and tried to breathe. Billy groaned, eyes rolling.

   “It will not do…” He’d already gotten water smudging the page. “My feelings will not be...regressed?”

   “Repressed!” Came the correction. Billy shot the rest out in one swift breath.

   “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you!"

   “How, what?” Evie was all giggles.

   “How! Ardently! I admire! And love you!” He played a total smart ass. Smoldered. Broke. “Can I be done now? My balls are getting kinda high in here.”

   Evie cackled comically, holding her stomach and rolling before she waved a hand.

   “Yeah, yeah, you can get out. Oh, god. I can't...” She wiped her eyes and heard splashing. Scrambled because Billy was marching toward her sopping wet. Heather skidded to get away before Billy dove on Evie and shook himself out like a mad dog. Spraying her with water. “Billy! No!”

   “Billy, yes!” He pushed her shoulders down and ignored the slaps at his chest.

   They both were laughing now. Loudly. Almost free. Almost forgetting.

   Heather grabbed a stack of towels and paused to see. Billy’s infectious grin and Evie Fenny so lost in it that nothing else mattered. 

   Evie caught her friend's confused expression and shoved Billy off.

   “Okay, okay, you’re done.” Evie shot up. Cheeks rosy. “Uh, bathroom.” She got a towel from Heather’s arm and jogged away. Faster than she meant. Billy pulled up to his knees so Heather padded toward him.

   “What are you doing?”

   “Fuck if I know at this point.” Billy felt her drop a towel over his back. Pushed to his feet to see her. “Thanks.”

   “Are you actually trying here or are you going to hurt my friend again?”

   Billy ruffled his hair and wiped his face. Holding the towel over broad shoulders. 

   “Listen, only thing I know for sure is I don’t ever want to hurt Evie again.” Billy stopped after that to let it sink in. “You know her best, what the fuck else can I do here?”

   Heather’s lips turned up. Spread to show teeth.

   “You want to know what Evie likes.” Tables turning.

   “I know some stuff. Give me some more to work with. And don’t lie, we played that game.”

   Heather exhaled to study him.

   “Just because you seem to be trying and that’s the hardest my friend has laughed in awhile.” Heather peered at the door. “Evie’s a hopeless romantic even if she hides it. A regular dreaming Cinderella. She likes people unafraid to show how they feel about her and anything made of chocolate…"

   "That checks out, I can work with it."

   "That dance was cruel. You’re lucky she’s even allowing you the gift of embarrassing yourself in her presence.”

   “Noted.” Billy peeled his shirt off and wrapped the towel around his waist. “I have a change of clothes in my car. Will it be weird if I jet out in this and my boots?”

   “Ahhh, give me your keys. I’ll find it.” They paused to step away from each other when Evie returned. Towel bunched to her chest. Eyes flicking between them. Avoiding Billy’s damp chest rising and falling, his saint chain glittering and stuck to skin.

   “So, this thing about Tannen. Oof. I have an idea.” Evie cleared her throat.

   "Ohh, look at Miss Naughty Evangeline." Billy mocked with a southern twang. "Getting into the spirit. Why, now?"

   "Because my calendar is open." She cocked her head up. Looked wildly pretty there with her devious pride. “Does Tommy still have Bubbles’ number?”

   Billy flashed a smirk. Let it illuminate his face until she matched it. Heather wondered about offering them a room.

   “Angel, I’m really liking the way you think.”

~~~~~~~~

Thanks all for reading!!! I love these two so much!! As always, feel free to chat with me. Askbox and taglist are both open. ^_^

@80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason​ @orxhidshavana​ @alagalaska​ @alongcamedolly​ @kellyk-chan​ @billy--hargroves​ @10blurredsmoke10

[artificialqueens]

Don't Strauss Too Much (Crygi) - Mumu

A/N: Back on my Crygi clownery! A big thank you to the lovely @sportcox who helped me brainstorm this title <3

Summary: Gigi needs a tutor, and Crystal is happy to help her out.

Gigi Goode is going to throw herself off a cliff.

She’s been staring at her flashcards from yesterday’s music theory lecture for what feels like forever now, and she’s still no closer to memorizing the information she needs to know for her quiz on Friday than when she got here.

She and Nicky are sitting in the corner of their favourite cafe, notebooks and highlighters sprawled out on the table among cups of coffee and various sweet treats. Normally, the cozy atmosphere always puts Gigi into a good mood, but today she’s far too stressed to enjoy the experience. She has a week to memorize a whole chapter’s worth of material. So far she’s wasted most of her time just staring blankly at her notes.

“What kind of demon professor gives a quiz on a Friday, anyway?” She complains.

Besides her, Nicky laughs. “Take a break if you’re so upset about it.”

“That’s not how it works,” Gigi mumbles, even as she closes her folder and takes a sip of her iced coffee. She slumps back into her seat. “Music theory is gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

“I don’t even understand why you’re taking it,” Nicky says, tapping her pen against her teeth distractedly.

“I needed the credit,” Gigi explains in a monotone. “I thought it would be easy, but Professor Visage doesn’t even give us completion credit for homework.”

“Oh, the horror,” Nicky smirks at her. “Imagine, Stanford professors not giving you full credit just because you turned your work in.”

“Shut up,” Gigi pouts. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Can’t you just drop?” Nicky steals a bite of Gigi’s tiramisu, giggling when the other girl swats her away. “Hey, I’m helping, I deserve some of your cake.”

“I can’t,” Gigi says, rolling her eyes at Nicky’s antics. “Missed the deadline.”

“Just get a tutor then,” Nicky suggests. “Isn’t that Crystal girl you like also taking it? You said she was doing well last time.”

Gigi very nearly chokes on a macaroon.

“How… do you even remember that?” She gets out, coughing.

“As if I could forget. That’s all you talked about the entire two hours we hung out. You were all, ‘Crystal’s so good at theory’ and ‘Visage likes her so much’ and ‘if she weren’t so pretty I could be able to hate her.’” Nicky teases. “Besides, you know I love to play matchmaker.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, but that’s not happening. I can’t even talk to her, let alone survive a tutoring session with that girl.” Gigi says.

“Okay, well, it’s not like you have any other options.” Nicky is unimpressed.

“Then I’d better just accept that I’ll bomb this quiz.” Gigi pops another macaroon into her mouth in self-pity.

“No, not on my watch.” Nicky insists. “Just message her, it’s not that hard!”

“Absolutely not,” Gigi says. She reopens her folder, looking glumly down at the index cards tucked into the pocket. “Like I said, I’d rather fail.”

She’s too busy staring down at the material in front of her to notice when Nicky grabs her phone until it’s too late. “Hey!”

Nicky just cackles, angling her body so that Gigi can’t interrupt her typing. “If you don’t have the guts, I’ll do it for you.”

“Nicolette Doll, I’ll kill you,” Gigi says, trying to grab at her phone.

Gigi glares at her friend, calculating about a hundred ways to dispose of her body. She has half a mind to drive her dessert fork into the blonde’s neck in an attempt to stop her from going through with this. Gigi bats at Nicky’s arms, attempting to wrestle the device away from her.

It’s no use. Nicky’s grip is strong, and Gigi watches with growing horror as the blonde types Crystal’s Instagram handle into the explore page. Nicky doesn’t even need to type the full name; Crystal pops up into her recent searches as soon as she inputs the first few letters.

In usual circumstances, Gigi would at least be embarrassed, but right now she’s more horrified at the prospect of messaging Crystal Methyd.

Crystal, the girl who she’s been crushing on since the very first music theory lecture. Crystal, who’s probably the reason she’s barely pulling a big fat D in the class in the first place, since, as it turns out, staring at the pretty Latina sitting in the front row isn’t a very effective learning strategy.

“Nicky,” Gigi says, trying a different approach. “I’ll do the dishes for a week.”

“Too late!” Nicky grins at her, far too proud of herself. She hands the phone back to Gigi. “Your welcome.”

Gigi stares down at her phone screen, blinking dumbly at it.

Hey! This is Gigi from music theory. I needed a tutor and was wondering if you might wanna help?

Gigi’s gaze darts from Nicky to the screen, and then back again.

“I hate you,” She decides, puffing out a breath at the end of the sentence. “Why am I friends with you?”

“You’ll be thanking me soon enough.” Nicky shrugs. “Oh! Look, she’s typing!”

Gigi feels a rush of dizzying panic at Nicky’s narration. She snatches her phone closer to her chest, doing her best impression of a chipmunk with a peanut. A glance down confirms, yes, Crystal really is typing out a response. Now that Crystal’s already seen it, it’s too late to unsend the message. God, she’s probably weirded out by the random request. Why did Gigi think bringing this up with Nicky was a good idea?

“Uh-uh, I don’t trust you anymore,” She scolds, voice only shaking a bit, as Nicky tries to peek over her shoulder. “You can sit there and if you’re lucky I’ll fill you in.”

Nicky huffs, pouting. “Putain.”

Gigi’s about to retort when Crystal’s typing icon disappears, and a message replaces it.

hi gigi :) of course!

Gigi fights the dumb smile that’s threatening to burst across her cheeks, hyper-aware of the fact that Nicky’s watching her intently. She can feel the french girl’s gaze on her, practically burning a hole through her ponytail and skull.

Crystal typed the message in lowercase— Gigi’s not sure why she finds that so endearing, but the detail lodges itself in her brain and Gigi files it under the mental list she’s begun to keep this semester. Little things about Crystal: she likes big earrings, her laugh sounds like liquid sunshine, her hair is a different colour every other week. And now, the newest addition, she types in lowercase.

The smiley face Crystal sent peers up at her.

Her phone pings again. how does tuesday sound? maybe at 3pm?

“Bitch, what’s happening?” Nicky asks, craning her neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of their exchange.

A flash of annoyance shoots through Gigi. For some reason, she feels very protective of this little exchange. Nicky’s well-meaning, she knows, but she’s not quite ready to share Crystal yet. It feels kind of exciting to know that this… well, whatever this is, is just between the two of them.

“Nothing so far,” She says. Nicky seems to accept the answer, going back to reading a section in her textbook.

Sounds good. We can work in the Lane reading room if that works for you?

The response comes almost immediately. totally, yeah! see you then

Gigi tries not to feel disappointed at the lack of a smiley face this time around. Keyword: she tries to. But it’s hard to read the signs over a couple of text messages, and she re-reads the last text she sent. Did she do something wrong? Was it too formal? What does Gigi respond, now that she isn’t sure if Crystal just texts everyone smiley faces, or if the girl is flirting with her?

Gigi grabs a chocolate chip cookie and takes a bite, stalling. There are two chunks of chocolate in the mouthful. Gigi takes that as a good sign and decides to go for it.

Looking forward to it! See you then <3

She regrets adding on the heart as soon as she presses send, but there’s no way to take the message back now. Gigi settles on stuffing her face with the rest of the cookie in regret.

She waits a few excruciating seconds, but no response comes. Fuck, she shouldn’t have added that heart. Crystal must think she’s totally creepy. Gigi flips her phone facedown on the table and picks up those flashcards again.

Nicky sees her make like she’s going to continue studying and lets out a snort. “Good luck, girl.”

“Nice to know you have faith in me,” Gigi shoots back, chewing at her bottom lip.

Nicky’s right, though. She doesn’t get anything done for the rest of the half-hour they’re there, her mind too full of thoughts about study dates and smiley faces to focus on anything else.

***

“Ugh!” Gigi tosses another dress aside, falling back onto her bed dramatically. “Why is this so hard?”

Nicky looks up from her phone. “You’re the one that’s making it complicated.”

Gigi throws a pillow in her general direction and the blonde shrieks as it hits her. The impact makes her fall out the beanbag she’s currently sitting on with a loud thump.

“Merde, okay, I’ll help!”

“Thanks.” Gigi flashes a cheeky smile at her.

Nicky puts her phone down and contemplates murdering her friend. “What do you have so far?”

“Uh,” Gigi holds up a tweed dress. “This?”

Nicky can’t help it: a snort escapes her. “What are you, Blair Waldorf? That’s way too fancy.”

“Alright then, uh,” Gigi fishes around for a bit, before showing Nicky a floral two-piece. “What about this one?”

“Hell no, a set looks way too put together.” Nicky shakes her head. “You wanna creep her out?”

Ten minutes and half of Gigi’s closet later, they’ve finally settled on a winning combination: a leather jacket and Gigi’s favourite pair of jeans.

Nicky insists that she doesn’t need a bra under her mini cardigan, so Gigi rolls with it.

A little part of her is glad that Nicky’s so passionate about Gigi flashing Crystal her nipples: at least she will have someone to blame when this all ends in a train wreck because she’s coming on way too strong.

Also, the mental image of Crystal getting flustered— well, Gigi would be lying if she said it wasn’t convincing.

Gigi’s alarm goes off and she grabs her phone, groaning at the time. “Shit, I’m gonna have to power-walk there.”

“I’ll see you after then,” Nicky says, winking at her. “Have fun with your little crush!”

As it turns out, Gigi didn’t have anything to worry about, because Crystal is late. Gigi takes a seat by the windows, spreading out her stuff. She tries not to think too much about the girl she’s currently waiting for, occupying herself instead with watching the people outside.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” A voice says. Gigi turns and comes face to face with Crystal. The girl slides into the seat next to Gigi, her smile a little sheepish. “Art History is on the other side of campus. I guess I didn’t give myself enough time to get here.”

“Oh, uh,” Gigi flounders, not sure where to look. Is it weird to look into Crystal’s eyes? That feels a bit too intimate. She settles for focusing on moving her pencil case from her left to her right. Crystal’s looking expectantly at her, and she swallows hard, trying to clear her mind of Crystal’s tanned skin and cute freckles.

“No worries!” Her voice comes out weirdly high-pitched and she cringes inwardly.

Crystal doesn’t seem to notice her strange behaviour, flashing her another sunny grin. “Okay! Is there a specific section you want help with?”

Right. Tutoring. That’s why Crystal is here. Not so Gigi can stare at her, and certainly not to get to know Gigi or anything like that. Gigi can’t help the pang of disappointment that she gets at the reminder. Part of her forgot this is strictly a school-related thing. Gigi suddenly feels stupid for overthinking her outfit and draws her jacket closer to herself. Hopefully Crystal doesn’t notice how dressed-up she is today, because Gigi doesn’t know if she’ll be able to survive that embarrassment.

“I’ve been having trouble with secondary dominants,” Gigi says, pulling out her workbook.

“Okay, yeah, I can help you with those!” Crystal grabs a pen. She leans over, tracing the chords with it. “Can I write on this?”

“Huh?” Gigi asks stupidly, cheeks warming. Crystal’s shoulder is pressed against hers, and although it’s perfectly innocent, Gigi’s still hyper-aware of the way her skin feels too warm from the contact. She tries to stay perfectly still, not wanting to spook the other girl into moving away from her position. “Oh, uh, go ahead, totally. That’s fine.”

“Right, great, so let’s use this question,” Crystal says, marking something down on the book.

She’s close enough to Gigi now that her perfume envelopes the space around them. She smells like honey and coconut, a warm mixture that Gigi finds comforting. A curl slips over Crystal’s shoulder, and the girl bats it away. Gigi almost melts at how cute the action is.

This week Crystal’s hair is a muted matcha colour, and Gigi thinks that it suits her. It’s the prettiest she’s ever seen Crystal. Then again, she thinks that every time Crystal walks into class with a new colour, so maybe it’s less of a testament to the colour itself and more to how utterly head-over-heels Gigi is.

“The key signature is A Major, and this chord starts on a C. So you can count down a fifth from C, and you get F, which means that the chord is an F Dominant Seventh,” Crystal explains. “Do you know what the next step is?”

“Um,” Gigi says eloquently, brought back from her daydream by the question. How long did she zone out for?

“Sorry,” Crystal says, tapping her pen on the workbook rapidly. “I lost you, didn’t I?”

“No, it’s okay, just,” Gigi chews at her lip nervously, then immediately regrets it because she definitely has lipstick on her teeth now. “Can you go over it again?”

Crystal nods. She takes a sharp inhale like she’s going to say something, but seems to change her mind, instead offering Gigi a reassuring smile. “Of course, yeah.”

Gigi shifts awkwardly in her seat at the action, unsure what Crystal’s thinking. She’s about to ask, or say something when Crystal jumps into the explanation again. Gigi tries her very hardest to pay attention this time, but she still finds herself staring at Crystal’s lips. They’re coated with a glittery red gloss, and they look so shiny and plump that Gigi really, really wants to kiss them.

“Wanna try one on your own now?” Crystal asks.

Gigi blinks. “What?”

Crystal sets her pen down, eyebrows raised. “Did you get any of that?”

“I, uh,” Gigi stammers, trying to find some way to save the situation. Her cheeks warm, and the realization that she’s blushing makes her even more flustered. “Sorry, I’m just really out of it.”

Crystal offers her a sympathetic smile, patting Gigi on the arm comfortingly. “Hey, you’ll be fine, okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m just worried, I guess.” That’s not it at all, but Crystal doesn’t need to know that.

“I won’t let you fail, promise,” Crystal says with a wink. Gigi can’t help but giggle at the action, and Crystal pokes her playfully. “You got this!”

“Thanks,” Gigi mutters, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth through a soft smile.

There’s a slight pause, both girls regarding each other with a hint of shyness. Gigi swallows thickly, eyes flicking around Crystal’s face. Her breath is coming quicker now, and she feels a bit lightheaded.

Crystal has picked up her pen again, nervously clicking it under the table. The sound is threatening to overpower Gigi’s already scattered thoughts. Gigi’s hand goes to cover hers out of instinct, to stop the rhythmic clicks. The back of Crystal’s hand is soft, and Gigi’s fingers loop lightly around her wrist, feeling the fuzz brush against her fingertips. Crystal stops clicking the pen, but Gigi doesn’t remove her hand.

Crystal takes another sharp inhale in, and Gigi thinks the girl is going to shake her hand loose. Nothing happens, though, and for the second time, Crystal seems to swallow her words.

Gigi’s mouth feels sticky, and she runs her tongue along her teeth in an attempt to get rid of the feeling. Crystal presses her lips together at the sight, and Gigi feels a wave of adrenaline so strong it almost knocks her flat. Every fibre in Gigi’s body wants to crash herself against Crystal. She wants to feel the lip gloss slathered on the other girl’s lips on her own, and to drape her arms over Crystal’s shoulders. Her clammy hands twitch as if they might truly act on the desire without Gigi’s approval, and she balls them into fists to suppress the urge.

“You look pretty today,” Crystal says, more air than sound to her words.

Gigi hums. “So do you. You always do.”

Another few moments of stillness. Gigi finds it surprisingly comfortable, existing in Crystal’s space. She focuses on the rise and fall of Crystal’s chest, subconsciously mirroring the pattern with her own breathing.

Crystal’s the braver of the two.

She makes the first move, flipping over their hands so that hers is on top and using that to tug the redhead closer to her. Gigi slides obediently forward in her seat, her legs slotting around Crystal’s. Crystal walks her fingers up Gigi’s arm, raising goosebumps as she gets higher and higher. A chill runs through Gigi’s body, and she regrets not wearing a bra for the second time today. She shifts, straightening her spine, and immediately has to bite back a whimper when she feels her nipples brushing against the knit of her cardigan. By the smirk on Crystal’s face, the moment hasn’t gone unnoticed. There’s a challenge in her eyes, and Gigi feels her throat close when Crystal’s hand brushes her cheek.

Fucking tease, Gigi wants to say, or maybe scream. Hurry up and kiss me.

But Gigi doesn’t, she just sits there and tracks Crystal’s movements with her eyes, and shivers when Crystal tucks a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, agonizingly slow.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Crystal asks, tilting her head in faux innocence.

Gigi bristles and feels her hands jerk impatiently in her lap. “Yes, fuck.”

But Crystal doesn’t let her get it that easily. She shakes her head, curls bouncing gently around her face. “No, say it.”

Gigi splutters something in between a curse and a laugh. The absolute nerve of this bitch. She doesn’t bother saying it again, just rolls her eyes lightly and leans in. Her patience has worn thin, and Crystal’s lips are too inviting to not feel them on hers right this moment.

Crystal ducks away and Gigi is left hanging there for a second, confused, before she opens her eyes with an annoyed huff. “You-”

“Say it,” Crystal repeats. The corners of her lips turn up slightly like she’s fighting a smile. Her hand goes to cup Gigi’s chin. “Wanna hear you say it, Geeg.”

Gigi literally feels her vision cloud over for a split second at the nickname.

Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but her blood is buzzing in her body and she swears everything has gone a bit fuzzy around the edges. In any normal circumstance, Gigi would probably be over this little game of cat and mouse. She could just kiss someone else. But this is Crystal Methyd in front of her, and that’s enough to make her decide to shelve her pride for now.

She wets her lips and whispers what Crystal wants to hear. “I want you to kiss me.”

Crystal narrows her eyes at Gigi, and for one terrible moment, Gigi thinks Crystal is going to find another excuse to deny her, that she’s going to pull away and tell her that this has all been some kind of cruel power play. But then Crystal’s closing the remaining distance between them, and Gigi takes a sharp shock of air in and has to blow the breath out in one great big rush because Crystal is finally, finally kissing her. It’s tender and soft, a bit more elementary school than anything, and it’s perfect.

Crystal pulls away before Gigi can slide even closer, and she whines unashamedly, shuddering out a shaky breath. Crystal’s hand brushes against Gigi’s chest as she lets it fall, and Gigi’s breath catches. This girl is going to be the death of her.

“Been waiting to do that for a while,” Gigi admits, still a bit breathless.

“I know,” Crystal says. There’s a pretty blush adorning the highs of her cheeks, still visible when she continues. “I was wondering when you’d work up the nerve to talk to me. You stare at me every class.”

“Bitch! I wasn’t that obvious,” Gigi defends.

Crystal just blinks at her. “No, you were obvious as fuck.”

“Oh.” Gigi feels heat blooming on her cheeks.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I know that?” Crystal prompts. Gigi still looks a little confused, so she continues. “I only noticed because I was watching you, too.”

“You liked me and didn’t make a move?” Gigi exclaims, hitting Crystal on the arm playfully.

“It was more fun to watch you struggle,” Crystal says, waggling her eyebrows.

“You suck.”

“If I kiss you again will you forgive me?” Crystal pulls an exaggerated sad face, clasping her hands together.

Gigi just snorts and closes the distance. Their lips mesh together softly, just as dizzying as the first kiss, and when she pulls away Gigi can still feel Crystal’s gloss on her lips. She smacks them together, trying to blend her own lipstick with the bright red goop.

“So. Do you think you can try a problem now, Miss Goode?” Crystal grins mischievously at Gigi.

“I don’t know, you’re quite distracting,” Gigi counters, a smile pulling at her lips.

Crystal just hums, pointing at a row of questions. “If you get three of those right in a row, I’ll kiss you some more.”

“On my own?” Gigi really would rather go on kissing Crystal.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, we can make it a game!” Crystal sounds hopeful enough that Gigi finds herself wanting to keep her happy. “Please?”

“What, now you’re the one begging?” Gigi teases.

She picks up her pencil, getting to work. Something about this new studying strategy is more effective than anything she’s tried before, and before long, thanks to Crystal’s teaching (and the kisses peppered between each problem set,) Secondary Dominants make perfect sense.

Come test day, Gigi sits right next to Crystal, in the front row, and makes a respectable 82.

If Professor Visage notices the hand-holding and stolen glances they exchange in the following lectures, she doesn’t mention it. The professor just seems grateful that Gigi’s finally absorbing the content for once. And as for the extent of her knowledge of why Gigi is suddenly so motivated to come into her class every day, well, Visage’s knowing smile says it all.

[stressedkitkatttt]

You’re Beautiful

Okay, so an Erick story wasn't even on my list to do, but this request is coming before any of the other stories. So first off, happy early birthday to your friend! Lucky duck, my birthday is still two months away... Secondly, this fic contains dark themes, such as mentions of rape and attempted suicide. If any of these things are triggering to you, or you can't handle these types of things, please do not read this story.

If you, or someone you know, has been through a traumatic event, is contemplating suicide, or anything of the sort, I recommend you check out this post here - Helplines. I want my viewers to know that I do care about you, even if we don't know each other. You all matter. I have been through some shit and I know how much it can mean for someone to just say that they care. I write stories to help deal with the stresses of life and to think that they may brighten some of your guy's day, it makes me even happier. You are all so strong and so beautiful.

Word Count: 3.1k (once I got into the feels, I stayed in the feels)

Warnings: the reader is a rape victim, reader has tried suicide(I don't go into detail about these things, but they are mentioned), PTSD/reader has nightmares, reader has a hard time accepting herself, Erick being a truly awesome human being, fluffy smut(it’s short but I hope the fluff makes up for it), I cried a little while writing this... I also got carried away but I am proud of it

Anon: Hi, can u make an Erick fanfic where the girl was a rape victim and she's like scared and self concouis, and then Erick help her. U know, something like a sweet fluffy smut. Its for a friend and her birthday is next week. Can u do it pls?.Ps Ilove u writing!😉❤️

DISCLAIMER: Do NOT  think it is okay to take my stories and post them somewhere else without my EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Do NOT  think it is okay to take anyone else's stories and post them somewhere else without their EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Giving credit does NOT count as permission. You may reblog my stories, you may NOT repost my stories without MY PERMISSION.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's dark. The street lamps only light up so much of the street, and even less in the alleyways. You look around, seeing an empty street, a faint sound of a bass and music could be heard from a couple of blocks down. This place looks very familiar. You begin to walk down the sidewalk, towards the sound of the music, yet you soon notice that the sidewalk seems to stretch on and on. You continue to walk for what seems like hours and yet, the music stays the same distance, still faint and far away.

You try to move off of the sidewalk yet you can't, almost like an invisible force was keeping you there. As you continue to walk down the never-ending sidewalk, you pass the same alleyway that is pitch black, the light from the street lamps unable to penetrate the darkness after a certain point. The more you pass the alleyway, the more a growing fear settles beneath your skin. The feeling continues to grow, almost like you're being watched.

You keep walking, something compels you to look down the alleyways. At first, there was nothing but darkness in them. Then there was a faint silhouette that grew closer and closer to the entrance of the alley each time you passed it. You tried to turn around, to stop, to run, but you couldn't. You keep on walking, your heart is beating loudly and your fear clearly visible now. When arms as dark as onyx grab you and drag you into the dark abyss of the alley, you try to scream but nothing comes out.

You're slammed against a brick wall, knocking the wind from you, and you're stunned. Looking up, you catch a glimpse of the assailant. You could see his face clear as day despite the darkness. His dark eyes, his crinkled nose, his lips, which curled into a wicked grin as he held you down with ease. You try to call for help but his hand came down over your mouth, muffling any noise. You close your eyes as he slowly brings his head down and begins to whisper your name.

"Y/N. Y/N. Y/N!"

~~~

You open your eyes and scream, looking around wildly as the alleyway and the man fade from your vision and are replaced by a mutely-toned bedroom, dimly lit by a bedside lamp. Your boyfriend, Erick, was next to you on the side of the bed, gently calling out your name.

"Turn on the lights!" You gasp out and Erick quickly gets out of bed and runs to the light switch, turning on the bright lights. You look around the room once more, pinching your arm just to be sure that this isn't a dream. You begin to shake and a rush of emotion crashes over you, making you curl up into yourself and cry. Erick comes back over and places himself beside you, making sure he's not on top of you.

He lets you cry it out, feeling helpless as he watches you go through another episode. He wants to hold you in his arms but he also knows that it could make your episode worse. Some time passes and you finally stop crying and shaking, taking deep breaths and looking up at Erick. You almost throw yourself at him and he holds you against him, letting you cry a little more as he gently rocks you. Soon, you're relaxed and breathing in his scent. You finally pull away and look him in the eyes.

"Erick, I'm so sorry about -" You try to apologize but he cuts you off.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He rests his forehead against yours, hands gently rubbing your back. You try to speak again but your voice fails you and you cough, the scream from earlier made your throat dry and raspy. "Want me to get you some water?" You nod and he gently lets you go, getting up and walking out into the hallway.

You grab some pillows and prop yourself up, thinking about the events still fresh in your mind. The man's face still haunted your vision years after the fact. Every time you closed your eyes, even to blink, you could still see his dark eyes and sick smile. It's crazy to think about how one person can ruin your life. Even though it happened a couple of years ago, the wounds are still fresh. And the PTSD nightmares seem to be like putting salt in the wounds like your mind doesn't want you to forget what happened. Though over the years you've been having fewer nightmares, it's something that will forever haunt you.

Your hand unconsciously runs up your wrist, feeling the scars, forever a reminder of the times you tried to end your pain. More tears prick your eyes just as Erick comes back with a glass of water. You take it from him and take small sips, the cold water feeling good against your throat. You place it on the nightstand when you're finished and you sit in silence with Erick. You scoot closer to him and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

In the silence, you're brought down memory lane to the first time you met Erick. After the incident, it left you feeling hollow and emotionless, pulling you into a deep depression that you thought nothing could pull you out. Your parents had finally convinced you to go outside, just down to a small cafe where your best friend since kindergarten worked. It was the first place, besides your home, where you felt semi-safe. Though it would be a while before you felt safe going out in public again alone, it was a step in the right direction.

You remember you were scrolling through your phone that faithful day, wrapped up in a blanket when movement in front of you caught your eye and your head snapped up. Your best friend was standing in front of the table with a green-eyed stranger. Your friend introduced you to Erick, and at first, you were a little panicked. He asked if he could sit down and you didn't reply. Eventually, you gave a little nod and he grabbed a chair, sitting across from you. You both were silent. You kept your head low but your eyes were trained on him like a hawk.

He began to tell you about himself and what he did, what his hobbies were, and some crazy stories he had from traveling with his buddies. It got to the point where you were actually looking forward to going to the cafe. Even if you didn't talk, you grew to love his stories, his voice was very soothing and it made you relax for the first time in years. You were sad when he wasn't at the cafe, but when he came back, he had a ton of new stories to tell you. Eventually, he was able to sit next to you, showing you some photos of the places he traveled and funny videos.

Then one day, he was sharing a story about him and his buddy Chris doing something stupid when you looked up at him. He was deep into his storytelling, which was normal for him, and didn't notice your stare for a few minutes. When he did, he looked at you with a brow raised.

"Y/N." Your voice was so quiet, but the slight movement of your lips told him you had said something. He looked at you in shock, and even your friend from behind the counter had whipped their head around like they somehow had super-hearing and heard what they thought was their imagination. In the year since he was first introduced to you, you had never spoken a word to him. You took a deep breath in and spoke a little more clear. "My name is Y/N."

He was shocked and didn't say anything for a minute. When he finally got snapped from his trance, he smiled and reached out a hand, "I'm Erick." You looked at his hand for moments, silently making him second guess his choice to do that, before you took your own hand and gently shook his. And that was the moment you had formally introduced yourself. You remember going home that day with a small smile on your lips and your parents had broken down crying. You began to get more and more comfortable with him. He made you feel like you again.

And the rest is history, leading up to where you are now, smiling, wrapped up in the arms of the man that saved you. Erick looks down and notices the smile on your lips, making him smile in return.

"What are you thinking about amor?" He asks, gently running a hand through your hair.

"Oh, you know... Just the first time we met." You reply. Saying that out loud made you realize that you never really told Erick about what happened. Your friend had filled Erick in on a vague description of, "She's been in an accident, so just go slow." You had eventually told him what that accident was, but now you figure that you've been together for a little over a year, he should at least know the truth. The whole truth.

"Hey Erick, I don't think I've ever said thank you."

"For what?" He sits up a little straighter.

"For everything. I don't think you realize how much you've helped me. I probably wouldn't be here because of you." He looks at you now. "I think... I'm ready to tell you what happened."

"You don't have to..." He trails off, a little unsure.

"I want to." He nods after a moment and gets himself comfortable. You take a deep breath and open up about the incident; telling him how you tried to kill yourself twice before you met him, and how the first time you had met him, you had made a pact to kill yourself by the end of the week. You tell him how in that first week, he, still a complete stranger to you, had changed your mind. He lifted you from this dark place your mind had gone to and helped you fight off your demons.

You explain how much he helped you and how you weren't the only one thankful for saving you, bringing up the memory of the first time you brought Erick to your family's house and how your mom had hugged him and cried, saying "Thank you" over and over. By the end of it, you could see his eyes glossing over and a few tears escape.

He suddenly looked up at you and pulled you in for a tight hug, whispering "I love you" over and over. Once he had calmed down, tiredness had both of you yawning every few seconds. "Let's get some sleep, yeah?" He said, and you nodded. Getting into some new clothes for the night, and turning off the lights, you lay down and Erick wraps his arms around you, making you feel safe and secure. Almost instantly, you both are asleep soundly.

~~~~~

Sun shines through the blinds, lighting up the mutely-toned room rather brightly. You can see the light coming through your eyelids and you groan in protest to the daylight, turning around and snuggling close to Erick's chest. He adjusts to the change in your position and snuggles closer to you. Though you were tired from last night's episode, and you're pretty sure Erick is as well, you know now that the light had been shined in your face, you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

Deciding to prolong the inevitable, you relax into Erick's embrace. You didn't have any more nightmares, and you think it's due to the fact that Erick never let you go from his embrace, not that you're gonna complain. Having no nightmares and getting to snuggle against someone you love? It's a shame you can't do it twenty-four seven.

Erick has yet to wake up and you slowly start to drift off when a pang from your bladder alerts you. You groan softly and open your eyes slowly. Looking up a little, you're met with Erick's peaceful face. Another pang reminds you and you'd hate to leave him. Slowly, you move his hands from around you and he shifts, getting comfortable again, still not awake. You quickly make your way to the bathroom and when you're finished, you walk back to the bed and sit down on the edge.

You reach a hand over and comb it through his dark hair, noticing a small curve of his lips. He opens his emerald eyes, practically glowing in the sunlight, and looks at you. You smile in return and notice when he shifts, there's a tent in his boxers. You raise a brow.

"Need any help with that?" You ask teasingly. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair.

"Only if you're comfortable amor..." He trails off. Another thing you fell in love with was that Erick never pushed you to do anything. If you felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable, he would stop whatever it was and calm you down. You get on the bed and crawl over to him, your body hovering slightly over his.

"I'm comfortable with it..." You look into his eyes before you slowly start leaning in, as did he. Your lips meet and it's a slow kiss, Erick's hand coming up to your face and cupping it gently. He slowly begins to sit up and he lays you down on the bed. Getting comfortable beside you, he makes a trail of kisses down to your neck and ghosts his lips over your sweet spot, making goosebumps rise and you giggle. "Erickkk," you draw out his name.

He smiles and his hands begin to wander down your body, to your wrists where his fingers run over the scars. Your breath gets shaky and you try not to squirm. You always get uncomfortable when people stare at you because they notice your scars. You've even gotten some dirty looks from people like they're judging you even if they've never met you. But when Erick looks at them, it's like he doesn't judge. He knows they're a part of you and he accepts it. But there's always that voice in the back of your head that, even though it's small, can drag you back down into a dark place.

Erick knows you well enough to know that you're getting slightly uncomfortable. He sits up on his knees and brings up your hands up to his lips and kisses your wrists, looking at you with so much adoration and love. "You know your scars don't bother me, mami."

You don't know how long it had taken you to get comfortable enough to show Erick your body. Long-sleeved shirts and hoodies were your best friends for the longest time. But now you're actually comfortable wearing a t-shirt around the apartment, though still a little too self-conscious to go out in public. All in good time. Look how far you've gotten come already.

Seeing Erick look at you with such a genuine look, you couldn't help your heart from melting a little. When you were with him, you felt on top of the world. He made you feel like you again. He didn't see your body's imperfections. To him, you were perfect, even if you yourself couldn't see it yet.

Erick takes his time and slowly undresses you, making sure to tell you how beautiful you were and placing kisses everywhere. Soon, you're both naked and he lets you relax for a minute, knowing you're a little stressed.

"O-okay Erick, I'm ready..." You tell him. He nods and gets in position. You give him the go-ahead once more and he captures your lips before pushing in. You suck in a breath he makes sure you're okay. Before you know it, he's bottomed out and pecking your lips, waiting for you to tell him to move. Taking a deep breath, you're ready and you tell him. He pulls up and looks at you before he moves his hips.

He pulls his hips back and pushes them back in, creating a slow-burning fire in your lower belly. Erick keeps eye contact until the pleasure gets to him, making him lean his head down. You like the slow pace, which allows you to feel him and the pleasure he's giving you. Your hand finds his hair and you gently tug, making him groan and moan your name in return.

"Feel good, mami?" He mumbles against your neck. You nod and slowly lift your hips to meet his, sending him a little deeper, and making you shutter. Before you know it, he's brought you to the edge, and you just need that little push, which you receive when he brings a hand down and rubs your nub twice and you're sent over. He follows you seconds after and rolls off of you, heading to the bathroom and grabbing a rag and cleaning up the mess and going to throw the rag.

You never thought you'd open up to anyone like this, but it's crazy to think how sometimes all it takes is one person. Erick has done so much for you that you don't think you'll ever be able to repay him. He comes back and gets under the covers with you, pulling himself close to you and you both settle down. You glance over at him and he has a big smile on his face.

"What?" You ask.

"Nothing, amor, it's just that you're so beautiful. And all mine. I'm so lucky." He adds, pecking your cheek.

"Actually, I think I'm the lucky one." He smiles even wider. "You've actually done so much for me Erick, I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you."

"Well, you don't have to. Being with you, being able to share my life with you, is more than enough for me."

"Even with all my problems and imperfections?"

"You're so beautiful and so perfect Y/N. And if I have to say it for the rest of my life to get you to realize it, I will." That made your head turn and you were a little shocked. You were both young, and marriage wasn't on your list of things to do, but the thought of spending the rest of your life with him made butterflies in your stomach flutter and your heart skip a beat. One look into his eyes and you know he means what he said. You feel tears prick your eyes and you lean into him, basically cuddling against him like a koala.

"I love you, Erick," you whisper.

"I love you too Y/N."

~~~~~

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