#i can think of only very few times players have tried to block cameras

[takkamek]

honestly i'm pleasantly surprised how the williams teams blocked the cameras when logan was getting out. in hockey it's all out in the open

[ruby-whistler]

i made a list of the vibes of the hermits i watch, so you might want to check some of them out! this is just mostly jokes, but i thought all of the more “serious” propaganda was missing something, so have what truly makes hermitcraft worth it; the players’ unique styles!

will be back on my dsmp stuff asap but it’s the first day of season 8 and i would really appreciate if you checked them out through the links provided :]

Grian; [ episode one link ]

vibes of a 17 year old mcyter, is actually 27 and married

noo not my red jumpah!

chaotic capitalist

someone is making the server better through order? *starts another war* whoops, hand slipped :D

he built a- he rebuilt his entire megabase in survival, above a giant lake of lava, in the nether, on hard mode, upside down??

“watching as scar dies over and over in my trap is peak comedy and i’m tired of pretending it’s not” but it happens like 5 times i every season

video editing is very main-stream and good for short attention spans!

*sad montage over losing stuff he’ll get back in 15 minutes because he’s rich*

pesky birdd! great elytra flier! amazing builder! will tnt your house! poultrymannn!!

wholesome, chaos incarnate, talented architect

why won’t mumbo respond to my messages it’s been two weeks :[ (clingy)

doors???????????? your house has doors???? no doors for you good sir!

will laugh a lot at a lot of things, esp when he’s with his friends

genuinely just so fun to watch

Mumbo Jumbo; [ episode one link ]

perfect british accent

mustache man (warning: he has no mustache irl)

*fails ten businesses in a row* iskall please help

redstone is his element

“it’s actually quite simple” i like your funny words magic man, now can you repeat how in the hell you made a that fancy vault work-

filmographer?? i think? met up with grian irl

him and grian have a robot son named grumbot. that has nothing to do with the vibes but i had to mention him because he means a lot to me.

tries to stay out of wars and server politics until someone (grian) drags him into them

minigame maker, makes the hermits competitive and that is scary (also very funny) e. g. button, hermit challengesss!

“it’ll be fineee” *que shot of everything on fire behind him*

makes his base a living being and then all his neighbors end up feeding it instead of him

conspiracy theorist. bumbo baggins. the usual.

very entertaining videos that help you learn more about minecraft mechanics!

GoodTimesWithScar; [ episode one link ]

wheelchair creator with literally the best vibes

so wholesome i. he is so cool he makes me so happy :’D

*extremely cool announcer voice* ooooo hello there my fellow miners and crafters, good timeees with scar heree, and welcome backk to the wonderful world of hermits and crafting, and we’re flying over-

commentates everything extremely well

spends tenths of hours on builds within a single video and doesn’t bat an eye

lore for all of his builds! he builds these amazing bases to tell a story!

“i wanna see white flags! white flags, outside your base, by-“ wait no wrong anti-rebellion army leader

all videos have a clear objective

mostly building, but he loves hanging out/helping his friends!

loves disney movies! wants to go to space! :D

kind-hearted, always makes everyone else smile

can be chaotic but usually just tries to have fun and make sure everyone else has fun too

*flies into a tree on half a heart* wait what why did i die D:

scar. scar please eat. you’re going to die for the tenth time this video-

the non-chaotic capitalist, has extremely creative shop designs

a danger to himself, but also the kind of person you can’t be angry at for long

BdoubleO100; [ episode one link ]

the guitar music at the beginning of his videos brings a smile to my face, it just has such an immaculate mood

*camera pans over him as said music plays* ladies and gentlemen welcome to another episode of hoimycraffff

the way he talks is extremely endearing

one of the best builders on the server - probably best builder of interiors in existence

able to make a palette using any number of strange blocks and then make amazing builds using it

built a whole castle as a backdrop, then built an entire giant mountain for said castle

extremely sensitive to short jokes, usually gets pranked by others because his reactions are always so funny

his daughters show up from time to time in his room while he’s recording and it’s so cute

*has no way to see the sun but still knows it’s nighttime* gotta go schleep!

scar, pointing at him “this is why we can’t have nice sunsets”

(scar dies because of mobs every time bdubs isn’t on the server to sleep)

likes to be accomplice because he isn’t the one being made fun of (/lh)

*shoots himself in front of a confused grian because he thinks the guy wants his face again when he’s actually just looking for a netherportal*

is usually the underdog so it feels good when he wins

they’re all actually such great friends so it’s genuinely funny to watch

he himself is amazing at entertainment and just a very cool guy

ImpulseSV; [ episode one link ]

what’s going on everyone, my name is impulse and welcome back to hermitcraft!

always speaks with a smile in his voice

has a good dynamic with basically everyone

great co-worker and always helps out if he can

had his base turned pink during the swap, and instead of changing it back afterwards, he dyed his skin’s hair and clothing pink to match it

very cool and original building style!

makes a lot of farms and sells what he gets in his few shops

makes money to be able to do more stuff and make more farms

blows up most his base ever so often to rebuild parts. you know, like a normal person does in minecraft survival.

the grind is never over

the guy who always gets all of the work done on the school project and proceeds to be chill about it

always has very cool side-projects going on and puts his heart into all of them

pog timelapses!!

Rendog; [ episode one link ]

*short, funny scene from the video at the beginning slowly fades out into great music

dogs howling as the half-dog half-cog logo comes up*

greetiiings cyberdogs and citizens of the interbubs! this is ren diggity dawg coming atcha, in another minecraft episodes varuuummm the hermit. craft. server. (hey!)

we’re kicking things off today my friends, from the- *location name on screen*

that intro gets me hyped every time

he’s a furry who talks in bro language it’s great i swear - very atypical but fun

he transformed an entire biome into a star wars planet for his base

his building skills and dedication are incredible

horny (just a little bit)

the only person who cared about mycelium in the whole rebellion

does a lot of roleplay-themed stuff and mysteries to be solved

“b-dubba-dubs one hundred”

extremely upbeat & sweet guy

adds -age after everything “biddage” “flyage” to make it sound Cooler

amazingly positive always and funny as hell

mcc winner!! wooooooooo :D

always tries to be where stuff is happening and interact with people

very entertaining editing style

Iskall85; [ episode one link ]

drives joke into the mud and then picks them up and does it again which is funny

starts videos with one-off bits

iskallman!!! the superhero literally no one needed and yet there he is

only has one (1) braincell when with mumbo

they both do and they’re hilarious together every time

like when they laughed at squeaky noises for ten minutes straight. guys please you’re adult men

bernie the leaf master

omega (something) of doom!!

encourages gambling (in a videogame)

he has so many jokes he keeps using i can’t possibly fit them all in here

basically a wildcard

i have no idea what he’s doing this season

i have no idea what he’s doing ever actually

tame chaos, confusing to the point when it’s funny again

really great builder as well!

mostly for younger audiences but his videos are a good watch in general

feel free to send asks about hc! i’m already loosely involved in hermitblr but yeah, my dsmp followers aren’t immune :] /lh /j

[tparker48]

"Your task is simple noobie, sneak into our opponent's team and get intel on who to look out for. And do not get caught, we won't be able to reach you in there" his captain said.

"Understood, I'll be in and out before you know it" the tiny would crawl underneath the gap of locker room doors as he walking into the area. The tiles slightly pale as the air smelled of old sweat. Carefully, he made his way toward one of the lockers as he climbed the hole along the panel to the top. Thankfully he picked one that wasn't too noisy as his shoes hit latched on the ends.

He climbed all the way to the top as he perched himself upon an edge as he heard the doors begin to open. Each of the players would shift themselves into the area the sound of cleats and banging shoulder pads came closer. As they came into view, the little would duck a little as he readied his camera.

"Man was that an interesting skrim match. I swear that shoulder nearly knock me off my feet"

"Heh, you that heavy dude. You're almost light as a feather. But speaking of feet, mine are nearly killing me with that running we've been doing"

"Man, they must be really packin this year" the little guy said holding his camera. listening amongst the crowd of players as each conversed with one another. At the same time, he would begin to take pictures from his phone as he scanned and snapped each number and player they see. But there was a particularly bunch that caught his attention the sound of ruckus echoed through the lockers. A hoard of players would begin to swarm the locker doors as each got ready to change from there gear.

"Good work boys, freshen up and get ready for the game tomorrow. And sure to plenty of rest" the coach said among them. The little guy tried to take a picture of him, but sea of players would keep him out of frame before losing him. But a sudden ruckus would soon to turn up below him as the two players were caught in an argument.

"Next time you decide to catch the ball 27, make sure you can actually catch" he heard from below. He held his camera over the edge as he took pictures at the two.

"Get off my case 60! You're the one who threw it too far"

"Not my fault you can't catch think faster than you. Psh, might as well stick to line"

"Ooo note, players 27 and 60 have no coordination. This'll be usueful for tomorrow" the little guy said.

"I'll show you who should stick to line back" one of the players would tackle into the other as they were sent into the locker. Its startled the little guy at first as he continued taking pictures. At that point, the commotion would be to get attraction as the other players would start to gather around.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" They echoed through the locker room.

"Ooo ho ho, now this this is some useful info. Just let them go at take picture and numbers. Simpl-"

"Hey 26! Brace yourself!" Number 60 would go in for a tackle as the both the players crashed into the locker. The force behind it would shake the frame as it distorted the little guy's balance. Before he could get his footing back, he fell of the lockers as he tumbled to the ground

"Please land somewhere soft! Please land somewhere soft!" The little yelled as he fell to the ground. His vision constantly turning before becoming dark with a white surface in front of him. He blinked his eyes for a moment as he slowly got up and looked at the surface. A cushioned pad would be underneath him as he gave a deep sigh of relief. He soon began to stand back to his feet as the as it went to get off and pat himself down. "Oh Thank goodness,for a second there i thought i was gonna land somewhere wor-..." standing on the bench, the little guy started to look up as pillars of players towered around the table. Each of them peering down at the little guy standing in the center of the table.

"What's a little guy doing in here?"

"I don't know, but he picked the place to snoop around. Probably stealing something".

"Let me at em, i'll show him something he can snoop into"

"Eheh, now now guys. Let's not be too hasty. I um...i can explain" the little guy says backing into the pad. The players getting even more closer to the table.

"Now now boys, that's no way to treat a little. Allow me.." The team captain would push a few players aside as the he stood at the front of the table. Moving himself a little closer as his hair blocked the light overhead. "Apologies for them, they tend to get a little roudy when they see someone smaller than them. What's brings you here little one? Never seen someone the of football around here"

"I-I....**ahem** im simply passing through. Heard some commmotion and...decided to look into it. Didn't want to cause any attention"

"Cause the attention huh? Well you certainly are beyond that point" the team captain soon saw a glare from his vision as he looked to the little camera in the pile. The little guy froze for a bit as two finger rose over head a picked it up. "Hmph! Passing through huh? Looks to me like you were taking pictures" he eyed the camera for a bit before seeing a symbol from another university. "Ah i see, so the they're snooping on us huh? We got ourselves a spy boys!" The team captain held up the camera into the air as many squinted at it, but their gaze soon turned downward as the furrowed their look down at the little guy.

"W-what no! I wasn't spying at all. Just hear me out-"

"Sorry little one, evidence spells clear as day. So the other team wasn't to know more about us huh? Heh, well then lets give them what they ask for. Boys? Form a line" with an echoed chuckle, the would line themselves, behind the captain as he stood in front of the table.

"Gah!" The little guy would try and hop off the table, but a thumb would rest on his legs.

"Ah ah ah, can't have you running off just yet. And to make sure you don't" the captain would pull out a patch of tape as he laid it across the little guy's legs.

"Hey! Wha-what are you doing!"

Giving you the info you wanted" the captain would turn his back towards the little guy on table as he unfastened his pants. Pulling them down, his round glutes would stick out partially as he hover the crack over.

"Th-this is insane, what if your coach comes back and sees you doing this?" The little would pry at the tape, but he wasn't able to get a good hold.

"The coach's gone for today, which means its just you and us. And we hehe, have a very special gift for your data" the captain would soon drop to the table as his ass planted ontop of the little guy. He felt his cheeks spread a little as the sound of little muffles echoed from underneath.

The little guy's world would be dark, but the warm smell still remained as he pushed his hands between the ass crack. With each push, he could feel the hairs along the cracks length and in between it, the hole clenching at him as he bucked against it. "Hey! This isn't funny, get...off of me!".

"Sure thing. But first, your gift" as the captain sat down firmly onto the table, he would soon begin to spread his left cheek away from the other as the wall of ass planted ontop of the little guy. The sound of churning echoed above him before the hole he pushed against began to open up, before the little knew it, a warm scent escaped from inside as his nose scrunched at the smell of it.

"There go, fresh data just for you. I hope you like it"

"Augh! Come on, seriously. Get off me alrea-" before the little could finish, a rush of hot air burst into him as the smell followed behind it. The captain would feel the seat begin to warm as he chuckled to himself. Feeling the little hands underneath pounding against his. Ass as released another one. At that point, the little guy's eyes would begin to water as a second rush of air blew into him.

About a few more seconds passed before the captain began to stand back up. But not before rubbing his ass in place as the sound of grunts sounded underneath. "Aah, now i feel much better. Been holding that in since practice".

"You...are a bastard you know!" The little guy coughed.

"Heh, such harsh little words for a squirt. I do hope a little gas didn't get the better of you"

"Peh, hardly"

"Good, cause the rest of the of the team want to give you some data too" the two of them looked to the other players as they looked at the little guy with eager anticipation. "He's all yours boys. Oh and, do be sure to drop him off at the other team's place".

"With pleasure" one of the players behind him said as he stood forward. Peering down at the little as the captain went out. His shadow casted over the little guy as a little smirk came across his face.

"Ehehe..please rethink about this" the little said sweating.

"Oh i've thought of it alright" the player would seperate his legs apart as he moved them along the length of the table until his ass hovered over the little guy's head. Pulling his pants down, he spread both cheeks apart as he as aligned it with his face. "I'd hold your breath if I were you" as the player said that, his ass would move closer as the area darkened. As it sat to the table, it would plant down on his shoulders. Leaving his face to be in the center as his hole winked against his cheeks. "Unlike the captain, i like to have things much close and personal against my hole"

The little guy would feel the force of his hole mush into him as its wrinkled skin still had a little sweat in between. He tried kicking his legs from behind to get his attention, but he only received a firm press from the hole above as it slowly moved in place. As it did, the hole would begin to open up as the as a fart came out in firm bursts. The hole clamping back onto to his face each time as the farts ringed through his ears.

"Grgh! Stop it already!"

"Sorry squirt, i ain't stoppin til every bubble inside me is out and blown into you" the player sat down a little more as the hole covered over the side of the little guy's face "so sit tight". Mire churns would echo from inside him as the table once again started to feel warm. The warm smell following behind as it resonated strongly underneath him.

Another few seconds passed as the players farts soon stopped. As it started to get up, he poked a finger against the back of the little guy's head as he felt him slide off against it. "Thanks for the release squirt".

"Hah....hah...please, no more farts for lord sakes"

"Quit your whining but mat, you got the rest of us to tend to" a bigger players would step into the light as the towered over head. He also spread his ass apart as he hovered overhead. "Now just keep your head juust like that for.." As the the big player casted overhead, the little guys vision would soon go dark.

An hour later:

The other team would just now be finishing up practice as each went to change there gear. Some of them talking amongst each other while others went and trained a bit more. Suddenly, they heard a flurry of knocks on the enterance of the locker as a shadow showed up before disappearing.

"Hmm, wonder who that could be" one the players went to go open the open, but found no one outside. The only thing standing there was as small twisting jar. "Hmm, there's a note" bringing it inside, he read it to the other players as the sound stared puzzled at it. "Here is your data. Be sure to get it cleaned up. Winky face? The hell does that mean?" As the player said, they soon heard loud bangs coming from the jar as the one them slowly went to open it. Untwisting the lid, they were all met with a foul smell as a jock would stored inside. Along with the little guy as he popped out of it gasping for fresh air.

"Holy crap! What the hell happened?"

"The smells, so..so many smells. Who'd think that many players could smell that bad" the little said climbing out.

"They, what do you mean?"

"I'll tell you later. For now im just gonna...lay here for a while" the little guy would sprawl onto the table as he shut his eyes in defeat. Leaving the other players confused as they looked back at the tired tiny.

"Dang, they must've really did a number on you" his captain said.

"Ugh, you have no idea"

[fruitcoops]

SIRIUS/REMUS PLAYING WITH PUPPIES WHILE ANSWERING FANS QUESTIONS

Please know that if we ever met in person, I would literally lift you off your feet and hug you for suggesting this. My afternoon was filled with adorable puppy videos because of this!

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Can I have them?” Remus asked softly, staring at the person behind the camera with big, pleading eyes. “Please?”

“Do the introduction and then we’ll set ‘em loose,” Marlene said.

“Fine. Hey, everyone, welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m Remus Lupin and I’m here today to play with puppies.”

“And answer questions.”

“And answer questions,” he added. “Maybe, like, one or two in between snuggles.”

“You’re going to answer all of them,” Marlene said more firmly.

He rolled his eyes and took the lid off the jar of paper slips. “Can I have the puppies now?”

A door clicked open behind the camera and Remus lit up as four puppies tumbled into frame, racing straight for him. “Hello, babies!” he laughed as a tiny golden retriever jumped on his chest. “Oh, I love you so much. Come here, come here, let me give you kisses.”

“Question number one?” Marlene prompted as he began playing with them and rolling their toys around.

Remus sighed and pulled a question out. “What would I be doing if I didn’t become a hockey player? Physical therapy for su—ope, okay, you can have that one.”

The Irish Setter puppy growled playfully as they played a short game of tug-of-war until the paper tore.

“Oh no, it broke!” Remus exclaimed, giving the pup a scratch behind the ears while it chewed on the leftover scraps. “Yes, that’s all yours now. Next one: what is the best part about playing professional hockey? I get to do interviews like this.” One of the puppies, a medium-sized black one, began chewing on one of the laces of his Converse. “Excuse me—excuse me, young man, that’s my shoelace. Are you chewing it because it’s rainbow? Is this homophobia?”

“Remus.”

“Sorry.” He lifted the puppy into his arms and kissed his head. “Okay, munchkin, what’s next? What’s next? You’re so fucking cute, I just wanna squish you. Um, what’s the most common thing fans say when they meet me?” He laughed and the puppy licked his cheek. “Usually they look at me and go, ‘god, you’re tall’, which surprises people because I’m always around these gigantic guys. Do these dogs have names?”

“If I tell you their names, you’re going to get attached.”

“We have crossed, salted, and burned that bridge, Marley.”

“The one you’re holding is Mercutio, the red one is Juliet, the retriever is Pip, and the fluffy one on your lap is Lucie, after Lucie Manette.”

Remus’ jaw went slack. “They’re named after book characters?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yep.”

“Oh, no.” He reached out and pulled Juliet and Pip into his arms for a moment. “Oh, no, you all have to come home with me now. The next question is…would I ever do drag? Probably not, but I looked hot as fuck in eyeliner, so do with that what you will.”

“Which video was that?”

“It was the fear pong one, which I played with my fiancé and my friends James and Lily!” His voice pitched up as he turned to talk to Mercutio. “I did, buddy! It was so fun! Yes, it was!”

“Remus. Questions.”

“Right. What’s one of my weirdest or funniest fan encounters? There was this one lady, she was like forty-something, and she came up to me while I was at the post office and asks ‘are you Remus Lupin?’ and I said, ‘yes, that’s me’ and she’s like ‘from the Gryffindor Lions?’ and I said yes again and then she went—” He narrowed his eyes and nodded his head slowly. “—‘I knew you were gay. Good for you, kiddo’ and then left. It was the weirdest fucking thing, especially considering I had played, like, one game with the team by that point.”

“Are you serious?” Marlene asked.

“Totally honest. I never saw her again, either.” Juliet put her paws on the front of his Lions hoodie and began licking the edge of his jaw. “Hey, sweet girl, thank you for the kisses. Can I grab another question? No? Okay, we can stay here.”

Pip began yipping and Mercutio wiggled out of Remus’ hold, launching himself at the other dog with a tiny growl.

“Mercutio, no!” Remus gasped, scooting Juliet aside so he could put the two puppies under his arms. His hands were big enough to almost cover their whole bellies. “We’re not here to start fights, you two. Apologize.” They turned their heads to lick his cheeks. “I didn’t mean apologize to me, but okay. You’re so soft and warm, what the hell?”

“Next question?”

“What’s the craziest rumor I’ve heard about myself? A solid group of people thought I asked to be on the team, which isn’t true. I didn’t even know people were considering it until James and Lily’s wedding. Coach wanted it to be a surprise while he cleared it with the organization.” Remus shook his head and slowly petted Lucie as she napped on his thigh. “Is there a celebrity I’ve met that left me starstruck? Ha! Yes. There was a fundraiser a few months ago and Sam Neill was there, which I didn’t know until I turned around and he was about two feet away.”

“What did you do?”

Remus laughed and turned faintly pink. “Um, I made a sort of squeaking noise and he kinda chuckled, which was mortifying in and of itself. He goes, ‘hi, I’m Sam’ and I nodded because duh, he’s Sam fucking Neill, and then I mumbled something about Jurassic Park and he smiled and said, ‘son, you’re blocking the water’ and I just about died on the spot.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Sirius was standing next to me the entire time and silently laughing his ass off. I saw them talking later, and when were about to drive home he hands me this napkin and it has Sam Neill’s autograph on it.”

“He didn’t,” Marlene gasped.

Remus nodded. “He did.”

“That’s the smoothest move I’ve ever heard of.”

“It was incredible.” Juliet waddled closer and nudged a red ball out from under Remus’ knee, which he picked up and tossed before taking out another question. “Do I appreciate when fans come up to me in public or is it annoying? Oh, it’s never annoying. It’s a little weird if I’m eating lunch somewhere or running errands and someone tries to sneak a picture, though. I love all the fans and it’s super fun talking to everyone, so please just come over and say hello instead of failing to be sneaky while I’ve got pizza grease on my face.”

“Even if you’re on a date?”

Remus snorted. “Okay, well, use some common sense. Pip—babycakes, stop trying to eat the questions. There we go.” He settled the puppy into his lap and rolled the ball for Juliet again. “In a movie about my life, who would I want to play me and Sirius?” He paused and looked at the camera. “I would want us to play ourselves, but only because neither of us can act and it would be so fucking funny to make the absolute worst movie.”

“Come on,” Marlene groaned.

“I’m being a hundred percent honest right now! I think it would be hilarious. We’d be terrible.” Juliet pawed at his arm insistently until he grabbed the ball, but she wouldn’t let it go and they ended up playing tug-of-war despite the fact that she had no traction on the floor and kept sliding around. “Aren’t you a feisty one, sweet girl! What is the most memorable moment of my life that I want to cherish forever? This. Right here, right now.”

“Really?”

“I have two dogs on my lap, one under my arm, and the other slobbering all over my hand. This is the best possible place to be. Wait, hang on a second.” Remus carefully lifted Lucie up and laid down, settling her on his abdomen as the other three clambered over to flop on him. “Oh, yeah, this is the peak of my entire life.”

“You’re not going to say your engagement? Maybe the day you started playing for the Lions?”

“Nope. The engagement was incredible and one of my favorite memories for sure, but I was shaking in my skates.”

“Just read the next question.”

“Okay! What’s my go-to karaoke song?” He hummed for a moment, then laughed as Lucie scooted up to rest her head under his chin. “I think it’s probably ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ by Whitney Houston. Lily and I did a duet of that a year or so ago, and it rocked.”

Pip began gnawing on the cuff of his sweatshirt. “Pip,” Marlene scolded; her foot appeared in frame until Remus waved her off with a smile.

“It’s okay, he can chew if he wants to. It’s an old sweater anyway, and it’s not even mine!” He scratched behind Pip’s ears. “No, it’s not, peach-a-keen! You can go nuts with that as long as you’re cozy. What is…my favorite behind-the-scenes Lions moment? Our groupchat, no contest.”

“Does it have the whole team?”

“Most of us, yeah. You have to earn your spot.” Remus looked over at the camera and Lucie put her head on his neck. “Looks like I’ve been banned from turning my head now, huh?”

“Are you comfortable?”

“Marley, there are very few things that would make me happier than I am right now. I’m being slowly crushed by puppies and I get to cuddle them for free.” He reached blindly into the question jar. “This is a two-part question. Do I prefer big dogs or small dogs, and how is Hattie doing? I love all dogs, but I think I prefer big ones because they’re always so much fun, and I don’t feel like I’m accidentally going to break them if I move wrong. Hattie’s doing well! She’s almost eighty pounds and she’s at home with Sirius right now, probably getting snuggled within an inch of her fuzzy little life.”

“That’s the dream right there.”

“Tell me about it. Alright, sorry ladies and gents, but I have to sit up to get to the questions.” All four puppies made noises of protest when he started sitting up and he sighed, eyebrows pitching upward. “I know, I know, it’s really hard. Here, how about we…” Remus carefully gathered them until he held all four against his chest; their tiny faces looked out over his forearms and he placed a kiss on each of their heads. “Much better.”

“Can you get to the jar?”

It took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to reach in. “Do you want to read it?” he asked Mercutio as the puppy tried to bite the slip. “No? Okay. What is my favorite thing about playing on the same team as my fiancé? That is an excellent question. My favorite thing is that we finally have the same schedule, so we can build in time to hang out more easily. It was hard to do that when we were doing different things.”

Pip yawned and the entire camera crew ‘awww’ed; Remus made a soft noise and nuzzled his floppy ear.

“I adore you,” he murmured. “I really do. Last question: What is my advice to those who want to follow their dreams? Oh, jeez.”

“You can take a minute to think.”

Remus crossed his legs and lifted his knees up so he could hug all the puppies at once while still looking at the camera. “The only reason I got big and strong is so that I can hold four puppies at once. Just thought people should know that. Uh, my advice to those who want to follow their dreams is to persevere. I never in a million years thought that I would get to play on a professional hockey team, but I worked really hard to overcome my injury and stay connected to the sport because I love it. If there’s something you love, don’t be afraid to hold on to it.”

“Wise words,” Marlene remarked. “Do you want to tell the fans where they can find the puppies?”

“At my house,” Remus joked. “But if that doesn’t work, they are up for adoption at Friendly Paws Animal Shelter, which is just south of downtown Gryffindor and has tons of adorable friends like these guys. Can I call Sirius real quick?”

“Sure,” Marlene laughed.

Remus gingerly lowered Lucie into his lap and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a quick number before putting it on speakerphone and setting it down to pick her up again. “Re?” Sirius sounded confused. “Aren’t you still with Marlene?”

“Yeah.”

“…did something happen?”

“Nope, all good. Can we get another dog?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Marlene, what did you do?”

“It’s just an interview!” she called.

“What kind of interview?”

“Baby, they gave me puppies,” Remus said gleefully, burying his face in Lucie’s fluff for a moment. “Like, really good puppies.”

A long-suffering sigh came through the phone. “How many are you holding?” Remus hesitated. “Sweetheart, how many dogs are currently in your arms?”

“Four.”

“Holy shit, Marlene! You gave him four dogs?!”

“They named them, too,” Remus added. “Pip, Juliet, Lucie Manette, and Mercutio. Baby, they named him Mercutio.”

“This was a recipe for disaster.” Despite his protests, Sirius sounded intrigued. “How old are they?”

Remus glanced up at Marlene. “They’re all six to eight months old,” she said.

Sirius blew out a slow breath. “So they’re babies.”

“They’re all up for adoption.”

“We have Hattie already.” Sirius was wavering. “But…she might possibly need a friend. Maybe.”

“You already love these dogs and you haven’t even seen them,” Remus said with a grin.

“The names are perfect! What was I supposed to do?”

“I’m going to sign the video off and then call you back, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t let go of the dogs until I get there, please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Once the call ended, Remus faced the camera with a smile. Juliet and Pip had already fallen asleep. “Thanks for tuning in, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe for more content. Endless thanks to Marlene McKinnon for allowing me to spend an hour holding tiny dogs. Have a great day!”

[zillennial97]

Enemies to Lovers | Larry Fanfic Recs

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy | 149k | Explicit

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.- A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry | 136k | Explicit

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

we're not friends, we could be anything by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart | 115k | Explicit

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “What that supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Harry narrows his eyes right back. “It was a good joke.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jokes require laughter, Curls.” Louis glances down at Harry’s thighs again, Christ. “Your pants must be so tight they’re restricting airflow to your brain.”

Harry wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Pretty sure yoga is supposed to increase airflow, blood flow, and all that,” he responds dryly, finally jumpstarting himself and walking away from Louis towards his own bedroom.

Louis can’t help but stare at his broad back, still sheen with drying sweat, and his perky bum in the tight yoga pants.

Louis swallows. Christ.

...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey | 113k | Explicit

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can't Lose by dolce_piccante | 112k | Mature

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Dance to the Distortion by Lis (domesticharry) | 96k | Explicit

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | 95k | Explicit

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

The Sidelines by RedRidingStiles | 47k | Explicit

"Alright, I know you guys are the best of friends but I'd like you to do this for the rest of the team,” Cowell says, making the rest of the team snicker. "So I want both of you to compliment each other." "I hate your trainers. I mean that in the nicest way possible. They're very...yellow," Louis says, arms crossed as he offers a fake close-lipped grin. "It's really nice of you to blow anyone you find slightly attractive," Harry replies, a sickening sweet smile on his lips. "Thank you, children, let me remind you this is a college hockey team. Try again," Coach says, completely unamused.

Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can't stand one another, since they can't keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other

Wonderwall by AFangirlFantasy | 43k | General Audiences

Taking the sheet cluttered with times available for the next few weeks, Louis notices a pattern in the list. The name of the person Perrie had just mentioned: Harry Styles. It’s written at least seven times, and three of which are during timeframes Louis wants.

“Who the fuck is Harry Styles?”

“You’re about to find out,” she answers, pointing over Louis’ shoulder.

Or a Love/Hate College AU where Louis Tomlinson is the lead singer of The Rogue - the most popular band on campus - and Harry Styles is the talented Freshman unknowingly challenging all that.

All the Right Moves by cherrystreet | 32k | Explicit

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

Nicotine by KrisStylinson | 32k | Explicit

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups | 31k | Explicit

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?” “Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?”

(Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

We're Like Bumper Cars by sincehewaseighteen | 31k | Explicit

“I have won, I won the final cross country. I win, Harry--”

“Whoever gets to fucking nationals wins it, pretty boy,” Harry teases. “You haven’t won. Interhouse is nothing compared to nationals, or interstate. You haven’t even won interschool. You can dream all you fucking want that you’ve won.”

Louis becomes so ignorant he decides to no longer eye the boy taunting him. “Trophies prove it all, Styles.”

“Where’s your trophy for biggest asshole?”

“Where’s yours for winning cross country?”

Harry growls before hooking his fingers in Louis’ belt loops and bringing them together for a flat kiss.

Or the AU where Louis and Harry are rivals of the century and Cross Country competitors before things get complicated and they play pretend.

After Hours by Velvetoscar for shipsdrifting | 26k | Not Rated

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are the bane of each other's existences. Unfortunately, they're already in love--even if they aren't completely aware of this minor detail.

[A "You've Got Mail" AU]

When It's Late At Night by Rearviewdreamer | 25k | Mature

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

Love Me Please by angelichl | 23k | Explicit

Louis hates Harry, which is fine because he would really rather prefer to avoid him at all costs.

The only problem?

They're soulmates.

runnin' like you did by orphan_account | 20k | Explicit

“Should we tell him?”

When Lauren is met with everyone either nodding their heads or shrugging, she takes a deep breath. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious by now.” She stalls, sounding ominous and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.

“What is obvious by now?” Louis asks. He’s starting getting anxious. “I swear to God, spit it out. Stop being so damn cryptic.”

“I—We think it’s pretty obvious that you’re in love with Harry,” she states simply and shrugs as if she isn’t telling him he’s in love with the second—Nick being the first—most annoying person on the planet.

or, a college au where Louis knows how to hold a grudge and is definitely not in love with Harry Styles

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews | 20k | Mature

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

once bitten and twice shy by pinkcords | 19k | Mature

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

That's How I Know by allwaswell16 | 19k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

Get Off of My Cloud by Marora_Daris | 9k | Explicit

Harry is the most annoying neighbour that sexually frustrated Louis could have. Niall decides it's a good idea to handcuff them together.

Featuring guinea pigs, animal print leggings and inappropriate boners.

Erase My History, (Expo)se Me by BayouSexual, pacificrimjob for Edandcurly | 6k | Teen And Up Audiences

“My hair does not smell like strawberries.”

Louis blinks up at Mr. Styles. “I never said your hair smells like strawberries. How would I even know that?” Harry’s hair does smell like strawberries, Harry himself smells like strawberries, everyone who’s been within three feet of him knows this. ~~~~~~~~ Or the one where Harry and Louis both teacher history, their students think they should date, and one pink dry-erase marker is trying to ruin their lives (with a little help of course).

[votederpycausemufins]

Already here with another chapter. Much shorter, but last one was long, so what do you expect?

au by @hermitcraftheadcanons and @helleborusangel gets tagged in my writing.

Thousands of people waited on bated breath as they tuned into what was likely to be the next episode of Hermitcraft Recap. Pixlriffs and Zloy had already made a public announcement that they had no idea about the new season or what happened to the hermits, only learning when they themselves watched the day one recap.

In fact, the two of them were on their couch, ready to watch another episode. Their hope was that this was some sort of elaborate prank and this week there would be no weekly recap and instead a reveal. But luck didn’t seem to be on their side, as a new clip started to play.

As a clip of Joe and Beef seeing a giant structure that had suddenly appeared started to play, both the recappers got notebooks ready. The intro started just the same as before, Zloy quickly writing down the names of Noah, Goofball and Valentine so they could look into their player records later.

From there, they again went from hermit to hermit, recapping all that had happened, though there was one thing that stood out to the recappers. In a few clips, a new structure was featured, one near most of the hermits. But it was completely ignored, other than either Noah or Goofball saying the hermit had ‘found something’ and then not elaborating.

A worrying detail was the fact that mob hybrids seemed to be acting more towards their instincts, such as Zedaph munching on wheat and Ren attacking Etho when he was hit. The other that a few of the hermits were gaining traits of the area they were stuck in, like Wels growing tusks or Bdubs becoming black like the void.

Speaking of those two hermits, both of them had found someone new. Wels of course had found his evil copy in the crimson forest, but the footage was cut off before he could be talked about much. Bdubs on the other hand had found someone hanging onto what looked like a mix between an end gateway and the things that had been appearing near others. Again, they couldn’t get much of the hermit’s reaction due to a cut taking them elsewhere, but it was enough to take note of, getting a description of a person in pink armor and white hair.

There were also two other new people who hadn’t interacted with other hermits, though these people the new recappers actually covered, them being Pearlescentmoon and Geminitay. Apparently they weren’t there on day one, but had been there most of the week. Gem was in a better situation than a number of the hermits, not being stuck somewhere or in a death loop, though she was still stranded who knew how far from spawn.

Pixl and Zloy took as many notes as they could, then the presenters said the thing they wanted to hear. “Now, rolling things back a little, some things have appeared at everyone’s spawn, the question is what they are.”

“With a few minor exceptions, every player has had these pillars appear at their spawn made of different blocks depending on the spawn.” Goofball was speaking, explaining the structures. “For example, in the deep dark, Xisuma’s pillar is made of deepslate. Meanwhile Hypno’s has birch and honeycomb.”

“Right now, the pillars only show each person’s spawn,” Noah picked up. “But over time they may lead to something more. Though right now, there are three exceptions.” Noah paused as there was a little bit of whispering. “Right. Four exceptions. The first two of these four are the most important, those being Beef and Joe’s pillars.”

“As you saw.” Goofball spoke up again. “The two of them found a large tower in the middle of spawn that was not there before. The pair briefly explored the tower to see what was inside, finding a parkour course leading upwards. Instead of following that up, they tried to build up with little success, and shortly after found a number of their harder to find items missing.” And the audio paused to show a clip of Beef and Joe finding all their diamonds and other similarly rare items gone.

“Possibly in the future they’ll try getting up there again. But eh, who knows when that will be. And with that marks the end of today’s Hermitcraft Recap. I was Toon Noah-”

“And I was Mysterious Goofball and our writer was Pin Valentine. If you’d like to see original content made by us, you can find us if you already know where to look.”

“Don’t forget to give this show a good rating and tune in next week for the next episode of Hermitcraft Recap. Thank you all so much for watching and goodb-”

The recappers had already both looked up at the television when the outro started, so many questions still left unanswered. If they hadn’t, they would have suddenly looked up when the audio cut out. Though it seemed to have stopped, the panorama of footage from the new hermitcraft season, if it could be called that, was still playing. Zloy was about to get up and check their sound when there was suddenly another noise from the tv, the sound of a crash that seemed to come from off camera.

Then one of the new recapping pair spoke up. “What are you doing here? Look, if you’re angry about-”

“Angry? Why would I be angry?” A new voice spoke up. It was familiar, but for the life of them, neither Pixlriffs nor Zloy could figure out who it was. “No, it’s a wonderful idea! In fact I want to help out with your recording next week. I assume you have general scripts for the upcoming events, yes?”

“I mean, yeah.” Goofball spoke. “But shouldn’t you-”

“Great. Now I think I want to talk about these player files. They shouldn't be- oh, you’re still recording, aren’t you? Shut that off.”

And a moment later, the episode finally finished, leaving Pixl and Zloy sitting quietly on the couch with their notebooks.

“Pixl, you were recording this, right?”

“Yeah. Want me to replay it?” He asked Zloy, who nodded. Pixl pulled up the recordings and replayed the recap episode, only to find it very different from before. The entire video was now replaced with a black screen and purple text scrolling across the screen.

‘Sorry for the inconvenience, but this episode cannot be rewatched. -Xelqua.’

“I’m guessing we want to add that one to the player list.”

“Already writing it down Pix. We’re taking this up the ladder tomorrow, right?”

Pixlriffs nodded. “At this point, it might be better to go now.”

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Christmas Day 34

previously on Christmas

Polo Xmas prompt: Lexa gets auctioned off as a date for charity to support a good cause. Clarke gets jealous and tries to bid on her but loses. Thanks!

“You’re late!” 

“Not that late,” Clarke furrowed as she adjusted her dress slightly. 

“Fashionably late,” Lexa offered after checking her watch. “Hardly noticeable.” 

The annual Christmas Charity Gala illuminated the museum. The carpet was hidden beneath the white tents, protecting the visitors from the dazzling flurry of perfectly timed snow. Lights hung from every available eave, while brilliant Christmas trees glowed throughout the exhibits. The main hall was a sea of black ties and festive gowns, of fancy hair and cologne, of happy couples and wishes of merriment. 

Immediately set upon by Raven as they walked past the cameras and coat check, there hadn’t been even a second to really take in the winter magic that existed for the benefit Marcus began with Abby’s help. It was the social event of the season, and Lexa considered her boss to have outdone himself more so than ever before, and she’d been to quite a few Kane parties in her time with him. Tables here were going for no less than $50,000. He was ready to set records, even in philanthropy. 

As Clarke finished fidgeting, she met her friend’s eye. Lexa’s hand remained on her back and she felt the flush of the warmth of the building finally hit her cheeks. Nothing was noticeably out of place. She was reasonably put together. 

“Seriously?” Raven groaned, shaking her head at the couple. “The limo?” 

“What? No… what do you mean?” 

Stoic and unbothered, Lexa squeezed Clarke’s arm subtly, tucking her other hand into her pocket. Raven was completely right, and she was almost slightly proud of the fact that it was almost apparent on her girlfriend’s face as to why they were late. She got a smug grin and surveyed the rest of the party. 

“I’ll let Marcus know you’re here,” Raven rolled her eyes as she turned to walk away, only to pause and give them another look before departing. 

For a moment, Clarke stood there and looked over her dress before looking over her girlfriend’s completely unrumpled tux and tie and hair. 

“How did she know?” 

“You tend to have a glow about you.” 

“I do not,”Clarke disagreed. She found a reflective surface and checked her make up while Lexa found them glasses of champagne, snagged from a quickly moving waiter’s tray. “If anyone should have a glow it’s you,” she accused. “I’m damn good in a limo and you’re lucky to have me.” 

“Oh, I know, princesa.” 

“There’s no way she could know though. Not for certain.” 

“She knows.” 

“Shut up.” 

With a calming gulp, Clarke held her glass and for the first time since arriving, surveyed the party as they walked through toward the main area in hopes of finding familiar faces. 

“You weren’t saying that twenty minutes ago,” Lexa reminded her. “I believe your exact words were something about my outfit.”

There was a blush near her collar bones at the recent memory, but Clarke didn’t break this time, instead taking another sip of her drink. 

“Do you like my dress?” 

Lexa looked it over again, for well about the hundredth time and remained completely in love with how her girlfriend looked in it. She nodded as she took a drink herself. 

“You know I think you look amazing in it.” 

“Good. Then forget what just happened in the limo.” 

“I could never.” 

“It’s the smugness. It’s unattractive.” 

“Is it though?” Lexa grinned. 

They stood close as they found their table, pausing before Lexa pulled out the chair to offer to her girlfriend. She kissed Clarke’s cheek before taking her own seat as well, happy to be near her, happy to be at an even like this for the first time ever in her life. There’d been many times she’d been on the arm of someone, but never had she been so happy to have Clarke on her’s. 

“You might want to hide that smugness, there, tiger,” Clarke offered, looking over her shoulder at the familiar form approaching. 

“I don’t know if it’s possible. You do remember what I did to you in the--”

“Dad! Hey!” 

Clarke rolled her eyes to see that the smugness didn’t leave Lexa, though she did stop talking, which was important. It was the season of giving, and Clarke was proud, too proud often, and she was not great at accepting, except with it came to Lexa. With Lexa, she took everything. 

Lexa stood as quickly as she sat, careful to button her coat before grabbing Clarke’s chair for her to hug her father. She did everything in her power to stop thinking about the limo. 

“Looks like this is the family table. Your mother was kind enough to put us all together after taking my very large check. How are you, Lexa?” 

“Doing well, sir. Nice to see you.” 

Gripping his hand, Lexa met his eyes and nodded. He smiled kindly, and he had Clarke’s eyes. It was disarming in a way. 

“You look great, honey,” he kissed his daughter’s cheek. Once more, Lexa pulled out the chair. 

“You clean up alright, too. Is Mom auctioning you, too?” 

“She is, and here I thought the divorce was enough to get rid of me.” 

Despite herself, Lexa smiled into her glass as the patriarch of one of the largest companies on the planet signaled for a drink as well. Clarke sighed audibly at her father’s jab. 

“Clarke’s annoyed that I was volunteered,” Lexa offered, earning a nudge from an elbow. 

“She never did share well,” he shrugged, chuckling at his daughter’s misfortune. 

“There’s only one limo I plan on going home in tonight,” the polo player promised. 

“Maybe you both will find true love tonight as you’re sold like slabs of meat on the auction block. I don’t understand why they can’t just do a silent auction.” 

“Oh, she is a bit jealous, isn’t she?” Jake observed. 

“I was just hoping to get her to take me to lunch more.” 

“Are you going to bid on your girlfriend?” 

“No. I get her for free. I’m not going to spend your money.” 

“You can bid on your old man, if you want,” Jake explained. “I’d hate to get stuck at some lunch with some mad woman or man, plus it’d be nice to catch up.” 

“You’re really not going to bid on me?” Lexa furrowed.

“You signed up to go on a date with a stranger, and so I’m going to oblige.” 

“That’s not what I--”

“Okay, you two, let’s go,” Raven appeared, slightly out of breath. “Abby is running me ragged looking for the talent.” 

“Now you’re making me sound like a pornstar.” 

“If you go for a high enough price, who knows,” she retorted. “Come on.” 

“Good luck,” Clarke offered as Lexa leaned down for a kiss. “I hope you go for higher than my dad. That’d be embarrassing.” 

“Remember when I said you were beautiful in that dress?”

“Mhm.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know,” Clarke smiled. “I’ll see you after.” 

XXXXXXXXXXX

Left to her own devices, Clarke finally took stock of the past hour of her life and ventured a moment to think of the next one. There was something magical about Lexa showing up in the limo, dressed to the nines, her hair perfect and tamed, or at least as much as it could be. It lived forever in her mind, that image of a dashing girl, adjusting her watch at the foot of the stairs, the look she got when Clarke walked down the steps. 

She was smitten with the polo player. She was more smitten than she could ever remember being, and she didn’t want anyone else going to lunch with her girlfriend. 

Exchanging pleasantries with the rest of her table before her friend returned, Clarke did everything she could to put the events of the limo out of her mind. There was something about how sexy Lexa was, and how her hands were always everywhere, and her lips were always so warm. It was alarming to want someone so much. It was new for Clarke. 

Beneath the small tree in her apartment, there were little gifts, already wrapped and ready for Lexa. There were plans, already, for that morning. 

“There is going to be a feeding frenzy over your dad and girlfriend.” 

“How’s he doing backstage? He hates attention.” 

“I might bid on him myself, honestly.” 

“Did he say he’d bank roll you to get him out of it?” 

“Even if he did, I’d hold him to a date.”

“Ew on so many levels,” Clarke laughed. 

“Him and Lexa are actually gossiping about watches and junk. They’re kind of adorable together. You might have to bring her around more,” Raven explained as she grabbed another glass of champagne. 

“I don’t know if I’m more afraid of them getting along or not getting along.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Next up, we have perhaps the most eligible bachelor in all of New York City. You know him as the CEo of Griffin, and I know him as the father of my child, I give you, Jake Griffin.” 

Abby applauded as the CEO sheepishly made his way out onto the catwalk toward the stand. 

“Jake loves Italian food and Westerns. He’s run the NYC marathon five out of the last seven years and practices kickboxing with his daughter at least once a week. A proud alumni of Columbia, he’s become an affiliate professor teaching business classes part time at the community college.”

On the stage, Clarke’s father waved and put his other hand in his pocket. 

“Bidding will start at five thousand for a wonderful lunch date while you tour the city from the water on his private yacht.” 

“Five right here!” Raven yelled, lifting her paddle quickly. 

“Stop!” Clarke rolled her eyes. 

The bidding went higher and higher as Jake gave his daughter a confused glance. She just gave him a thumbs up and laughed at the entire thing. 

“Remember, ‘tis the season, everyone,” Abby added. “We have fifty-five going once, going twice, and sold!” 

Surprised as he was, Jake nodded and smiled toward the crowds. He offered a quick wave before retreating to the safety of the backstage. 

“Next up, we have someone who needs no introduction, though I am going to give her one anyway.” 

Unlike her predecessor, Lexa came out, prepared for the season, clad in a bright red Santa hat and sporting a very mischievous smile. 

“The championship polo player and current model for Patek Philippe, Calvin Kline, and Ralph Lauren is fluent in four languages and enjoys spending the day snuggled up with a good book, something she’s done a lot of with a Masters in Latin American Literature.” 

In a similar movement, Lexa waved toward the crowd and shoved a hand in her pocket, however she knew how to work a crowd and walk a runway, much to her girlfriend's faux chagrin. Lexa knew Clarke wasn’t one to get jealous, but she appreciated the display. She appreciated feeling wanted and protected, as if somehow the girl in the green and red gown would fight anyone who bid. 

“Lexa Woods is an accomplished athlete. She’s an Olympian for her native Argentina, enjoys a hearty red wine, and spending time with her ponies. We’ll start the bidding at ten thousand.” 

“Fifty thousand,” Clarke called out after a few people lifted their paddles. 

It grew a little quieter for a moment. 

“Sixty!” a voice rang out from another table, though Clarke couldn’t see where it was coming from exactly in the hubbub of the large hall. 

“Seventy,” another joined, the crowd getting into it. 

“Eighty!” Clarke interjected, earning a look from her mother. 

“Ninety.” 

“One hundred.”

Clarke lowered her paddle and rolled her eyes. 

All said and done, Lexa went for a record $183,000 and Clarke found herself somewhat proud of that number, just as Lexa looked floored by the final result before escaping backstage as well. But it was for charity, and Clarke was relieved to see that the winning bid was to an older woman. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep bidding on you,” Clarke mumbled as she plopped down onto the bed in the hotel room. “I would have easily spent a million dollars on you.”

“That’s kind, but I’m glad you didn’t,” Lexa smiled to herself. 

Carefully, she folded her coat and laid it over the chair in the corner before she sat down and began removing her shoes. The light from the hallway streamed in, casting one long line across the livingroom and bedroom, but Clarke didn’t move at all, just spread her arms wide and stared at the ceiling, full of too much mirth and spirits. 

“Are you going to take that dress off for bed? It doesn’t look too comfortable to sleep in.” 

“Take it off for me.”

“Hopefully my lunch date will stay a little more sober than you.” 

“I doubt it. I know Mrs. Winston and she’s about as dry as a… as a wet mop.” 

Lexa shook her head and went about the task of undressing her girlfriend, grateful to have made use of their time together before the event. She knelt at the edge of the bed and began with the shoes, gingerly unstrapping them and slipping feet from them. 

“I would have bid on you more.” 

“I know. I wouldn’t have stopped if it were you.” 

“Afraid I’d run off with some hedge fund manager?” 

“Terribly afraid of that.” 

“Nah,” Clarke murmured, lulling her drunken head to the side slightly. “Not with how good you look in a tuxedo. Holy fuck.” 

“And I couldn’t care about a stupid lunch when you look like the most wonderful present waiting to be unwrapped,” Lexa promised. 

“I’m drunk but I think you should come up here and kiss me right now.” 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Leca shrugged before eagerly agreeing.

NEXT

[agerefandom]

Restrained

Fandom: Death Note

Words: 4,150

Characters: Regressor!Light Yagami, Caregiver!L/Ryuzaki. Brief appearances from Soichiro Yagami, Shuichi Aizawa, and Watari.

Summary: Set during Light and Misa’s imprisonment (episode 16-17). Classification/Regressors Are Known AU: Light was classified as a regressor when he was fifteen, but has fought the identity ever since. L is classified as a caregiver, but has never used those skills further than calming people in interrogation situations. Things come to a head in the second month of Light’s imprisonment.

Warnings: Imprisonment, irresponsible use of restraints, mentions of death and murder, nightmares, panic attacks, involuntary regression, hidden regression being revealed non-consensually. Ominous ending. 

Author’s Notes: I usually take issue with Classification AUs, because regression is a coping mechanism and not a fixed part of someone’s identity. Regression can change, and regressors can also be caregivers, and the idea that it could be ‘classified’ as part of someone’s political identity is kind of distressing. All of that said, it’s also a very comforting trope: it’s nice to imagine that you were ‘meant to be’ a regressor, naturally given that role, and that there are natural caregivers who want/need to take care of you. So, there are pros and cons to this kind of universe, as long as you remember that it’s an AU for a reason! Anyways, that’s my soapboxing done. Please note the warnings before reading! 

Light was not a regressor.

It didn’t matter what the letter he received at age fifteen said. Didn’t matter that his age range was listed as ‘2-3’ and a permanent caregiver was recommended. Light Yagami was a neutral, collected, and precocious teenager. He was mature for his age, and always had been.

Admittedly, Light occasionally sucked his thumb to help him sleep. And he convinced his mother to buy him more expensive sheets because he liked to run his hands across the texture. And maybe he cast side-glances at the adult playgrounds all around the city, at the regressors who were happily running and playing on the swings.

But Light Yagami was not a regressor. He got top marks. He wore stiff, professional clothes. He didn’t cry, not even when he stubbed his toe. He turned his nose up at sweet drinks and packaged candy. In short, at seventeen, Light was a model young man.

Which was when the notebook fell outside his classroom window, and everything got a lot more complicated.

--

Could a regressor do this? Collectively bring the world to its knees, the news outlets humming with one story? Could a regressor kill hundreds, save the general population from the evil in its midst?

Light Yagami was Kira, and Kira was not an age regressor.

--

Light Yagami was not Kira.

Light was trapped in a cell, his arms shackled behind his back, and he was absolutely certain that he wasn’t Kira. What kind of idea was that, marching in and saying he thought he was subconsciously Kira? Absurd. He wouldn’t do that kind of thing.

He yelled at the ceiling, pleaded with Ryuzaki, and received cold answers in return.

How had Light sat here for a week, believing that Ryuzaki had been right to lock him away? It was absurd: he couldn’t have committed the murders without knowing at all, it just didn’t make sense.

“You told me to keep you in there, no matter what you said,” Ryuzaki repeated calmly, his voice crackling through the cheap speakers outside of Light’s cell. “I’m only doing what you told me.”

“Well, stop!” Light shouted, tugging uselessly against the leather cuffs that held his arms behind him. His shoulders ached from the position. “Listen to me now, I’m not Kira!”

“We don’t know that,” Ryuzaki said. “Until we can be sure, you will stay in that cell. I’m sorry, Light.”

Light felt tears well up in his eyes, and he jerked his head down to hide it. With his bangs hiding his expression, he tried to wrestle himself under control.

He felt scared and helpless and he just didn’t understand what he was doing here. Let me out! a voice was screaming inside him, younger and just as frightened as he was. Please, I can’t take it anymore!

What was he thinking? He was Light Yagami, part of the taskforce dedicated to catching Kira. He could withstand this. He would have to.

He didn’t bother to hide the tears as he raised his eyes again to the camera.

“Fine. I’ll stay. But you’ll see that I’m not Kira! I don’t know what’s happening, but I believe that my innocence will be proven one way or another.”

“That’s exactly what Kira would say,” Ryuzaki drawled into the microphone, and then there was a short sound of feedback as the conversation cut off.

Light rocked back to lean against the side of the bed, feeling exhausted but satisfied. He’d made his statement, and he had fought off the despair. He was Light Yagami, and he would deal with this imprisonment with all the dignity he could.

--

This was awful.

Light had never been so bored and anxious in his life. The days stretched on, with only Ryuzaki’s occasional check-ins to keep his mind busy. Out of lack for other things to do, Light started sleeping more than usual. His days were hazy, short bathroom trips out of the cell and the clatter of the food tray his only reference points for time. The lights shut off for seven hours every night, the cameras equipped with night vision to watch him toss and turn in his restraints.

There was nothing to do but ruminate, worry, wonder. Light tried to run through lectures in his head, even tried his hand at mentally writing a story. He wondered if he could convince Ryuzaki to play chess with him over the speaker system, but found himself worrying about whether that would make it seem like he wasn’t taking his imprisonment seriously.  

It had been a month, and Light was suffering.

The nights were hardest. In the dark, Light cried, trying to stay quiet. He couldn’t bite his thumb, he couldn’t feel his soft blankets, and sometimes he couldn’t sleep for the tug of the restrains at his wrists and shoulders. He wanted to kick his legs, flail around, scream at the top of his lungs until they let him out. But he was Light Yagami, and he had dignity. Even with cameras fixed on him twenty-four hours a day, even with his wrists and ankles contained, even under the constant scrutiny of Ryuzaki and the other members of the task force.

He almost made it to the end.

--

Things that Light didn’t know:

-it had been a month since Kira had begun killing again -his father was in a matching jail cell, several blocks away -the task force had been pressuring L for weeks to let Light and Misa go, convinced by the new wave of murders that the two were innocent -L had a plan, and was simply waiting to contact Light’s father to play his part

(Light would never know most of these things, because before they became relevant, everything fell apart.)

--

L sat in the same place he’d been sitting for weeks, watching the same scenes play out on the same flickering screens. Misa sagged against her restraints, Light laid curled up on the bed, and Soichiro sat in his chair, staring down at his hands.

Nothing had changed, but everything was different.

Light and Misa were Kira, or at least they had been. L had never been more certain. Now they both seemed utterly convinced of their innocence, and L wasn’t comfortable with the implications of that. Were they truly ignorant of their role? Had their ability to kill been passed onto someone else, or had the two of them been unwitting puppets to some new and yet-unseen player?

Misa took a struggling breath, and went limp again. Light shifted. Soichiro got up and began to pace. His cell would fit eight of his steps before he had to turn around and begin again in the other direction.  

L missed nothing. But the pieces weren’t coming together.

He tapped his fingers against his knees, a syncopated rhythm as his eyes flashed from one prisoner to the next. Watari had brought him a plate of fruit, not yet touched, with icing sugar sprinkled over them. They would make L’s fingers sticky, and he didn’t want to get juice on the controls. He would have to eat with one hand, and operate the microphones with his other. He was just about due his check-in with Misa-Misa.

Just as L began to reach for the berries, a movement on-screen caught his eye. He didn’t currently have the audio on for the cells, but from the visual, he would guess that Light just woke up screaming. L has had a few of those nightmares. They weren’t pleasant.

L switched the audio on, and listened to Light trying to calm himself down. He was talking out loud, a mutter only loud enough for the microphones inside his cell to pick up on. (Light always yelled to the camera when he was talking to L, as if he weren’t aware that the cell was bugged well enough to hear every last breath he took. They could take no risks with Kira, when they still didn’t know how he was committing the crimes.)

“I’m okay,” Light was muttering. “Don’t… don’t do this. I don’t need anything. I’m okay.” His breathing caught, paused, and then resumed. “I’m okay. Please, please- don’t.” His voice was trembling, and L leaned closer. He’d seen Light crying, of course, trying to hide it by turning away from the cameras. But this seemed… different. Light was on the edge of something, and if L was lucky, it might be some kind of confession, fuelled by a terrible dream that brought all of his crimes rushing back with the sudden weight of guilt that Kira never felt.

Yes, L had enough self-reflection to know that he was kidding himself. But it had been a long month and a half.

He remained crouching, one hand poised above the plate of strawberries and the other hand hovering above the microphone that would let him speak to Light. And he listened.

“I don’t wan’ do this,” Light whispered to himself, his words slurring together in a way that L had never heard from the other man. The distressed voice hooked its claws into his chest in a way that was both foreign and familiar. Was this… “I don’ wan’ do this,” Light repeated, and then burst into tears.

It wasn’t anything like the quiet, hidden tears of the night-time. Light was sobbing, pulling at his restraints, tossing on the bed. Unable to wipe them away, tears and snot made a mess of his face. L watched as the teenager struggled to his knees and pressed himself against the wall, as if he were trying to get some kind of comfort from the pressure. The tears wouldn’t stop, even as words started making their way through the sobs.

“Lemme out, I wan’ out, I can’t, I can’t. It’s too dark, I can’t. Please, I’m too… I can’t feel my hands!” Light wailed, collapsing in on himself, his shoulders straining against the cuffs.

L was dimly aware that his hands had dropped to his sides. He knew he was staring. He knew that Aizawa had come running to stand behind him, alerted by the cries coming through the speakers. His ears were ringing, and he could feel Light’s sobs in his own chest.

The truth was unavoidable: Light Yagami was a regressor, and L had not known.

How was that possible?

Light was registered as age-natural on his official documents. L had watched him for weeks, and he had shown no signs of regression, not at home when he was unaware of being observed, and not here in the prison cell. Until now.

This was a harsh involuntary regression, from the looks of it, and the part of L that had made them stamp ‘caregiver’ on his own documents was aching.

“Oh my god. Is Light a regressor?” Aizawa said behind him. “That looks like regression, right?”

“It isn’t on his file,” L said, pleased that his voice sounded even. He hadn’t been around a regressor in distress for a few years, and he’d forgotten how much it made his chest hurt. Knowing that he’d been the one to put Light in that situation made it worse. Rationally, he knew that Light being a regressor meant nothing to the investigation. In fact, it made L even more certain that he was Kira. To conceal his headspace that thoroughly, even under investigation, made it clear that Light was no ordinary teenager. That must have taken an immense amount of willpower and planning.

“You have to let him out,” Aizawa said. “You can’t hold a regressor in a place like that, and his innocence has already been proven.” Light was still sobbing, his harsh breaths providing an undercurrent to their conversation. “Ryuzaki, you can’t possibly let that continue.”

“I… think he knew this might happen,” L realized. “This is what he meant when he asked me not to let him out, whatever happened. He knew that he would regress under the pressure.”

“All the more reason to release him! He still doesn’t know that Kira is killing again, it’s not fair. You’ve put him under way too much stress. Let me talk to him.” Aizawa reached for the microphone, and L struck his hand away.

“No. The last thing he needs is more sensory input from the speaker system.” Aizawa recoiled from the physical interception, eyes wide. “And you could jeopardize the investigation,” L added, slightly belated.

“You can’t do this. I’ll call the rest of the team,” Aizawa threatened, reaching into his pocket.

“There’s no need for that,” L sighed. He knew that the rest of the team would agree with Aizawa. The legal system was more lenient for regressors, and keeping them in solitary confinement was widely considered cruel. “I’ll go myself.”

Just because Light couldn’t be held in the cell anymore didn’t mean that L was prepared to let him go without twenty-four-hour supervision. Luckily, he had a set of unusually long handcuffs that he’d already been prepared to use after Light’s release. He could just speed that process along… and tell Watari to order some more regressor-friendly accessories for their room, of course. Maybe pad the cuff that Light would wear, so he didn’t accidentally hurt himself.

L shook his head, pushing his chair back from the table with a sigh. His caregiver mind was getting in the way again. Light was Kira, regressor or no. He wasn’t keeping Light close so that he could take care of him, but so that he was unable to hurt anyone else.

“We’ll discuss Misa’s release when I return,” L added over his shoulder as he headed for the door, reaching into his pocket to call Watari with the car. Light’s prison was a short drive from the base, and the sooner L got there, the better.

--

Sure enough, the drive was agony.

L stared out the window, the seatbelt Watari had forced him to wear digging into his chest and disrupting his thoughts. He was trying to make plans, trying to think back to all of his interactions with Light and wonder if he should have known. Was that why Light had always sharply refused any kind of sweet drink, even something as simple as fruit juice? Was he afraid that he might slip into regression? Was that why he had been crying at night, quietly regressing just enough for his childish fears to come to the surface? How confused was he, how disoriented in the cell? He seemed to know he was trapped, but did he remember what he was accused of?

L barely noticed when the car came to a stop, but when Watari opened his door for him, it took genuine effort not to go running into the building. Instead, L moved even slower than he usually would. Each gesture would be planned. Each word intentional. Just because Light was a regressor, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. L had to be on his guard, even more because of his natural caregiver instincts.

He made his way down the cold concrete stairwell, Watari a few paces behind him. Hands tucked in his pockets, breathing slow and natural. No worries about what he might have missed in the two minutes he’d been away from the screens. Had Light hurt himself? Was he safe? Was he still crying? L should have brought water, he’s sure to be dehydrated-

They stepped onto the cell block, and L had a brief conversation with one of the guards to obtain the keys. He’d already texted ahead, and they knew to expect him.

Watari stayed behind, just within earshot as L padded down the line of empty cells to the one that held Light.

It was strange to see the cell in person. For the first time, L could see the camera that Light had shouted at so often. He could see the details of the walls more clearly here, the chipped tile of the bathroom corner and the scratches in the concrete that didn’t come through on the long-distance video feed.

And there was Light, curled into a ball on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms still tied behind him, much in the same position that he had been napping in before his nightmare.

L had approached soundlessly, and Light’s eyes were closed. He didn’t open them until L put the key into the lock and turned it.

“N—no, I don’t-” Light stuttered, and then looked up. “Ryuzaki? Ryuzaki!” He tried to get up, but the cuffs on his ankles made him stumble and fall. L heard his knees hit the concrete with a harsh crack, and Light teared up again. “No, no, don’t come in. M’sorry, don’t come in.”

“I’ll let you out of the cuffs,” L told him, his hand on the door but waiting to open it.

“No, I don’t want it,” Light managed. “Just… go.”

“Light, how old are you?” L pressed.

Light made a sound that resembled a squeak, and very slowly raised his eyes to L’s.

“How old are you right now?” L asked again. He watched Light’s expression twist from surprise to embarrassment to conflict, then Light started crying again.

“I don’t wanna be,” Light sobbed. “I don’ wan’ it.”

And there went L’s chest again, twisting and aching with the sound of a regressor in distress. He regulated his voice, unwilling to let it sound too caring. It came out flat instead.

“There’s no shame in regressing, Light. Two percent of the population isn’t an insignificant number. You’ll be more comfortable with your arms free.” Light shook his head, tears flying with the gesture.

“No! Don’t come in!”

“How old are you, Light? You’re young, I can tell that much. Probably in the toddler range, if I had to guess.” From Light’s glare through the tears, L had hit the nail on the head. “I thought so. Stop fighting me. I was going to let you out soon anyways.” Well, L hadn’t been meant to say that. But he could probably use that to his advantage.

“But… but you think I’m Kira,” Light mumbled. Interesting: he did have his full memories, then. Very little disorientation for such a young age range.

“I do,” L admitted. “But the taskforce doesn’t. They want you back on the team.”

“Me?” Light blinked up at him, and his eyes were even wider than usual, framed with perfect dark lashes, and L was in agony being separated by bars. This regressor was going to be the death of him. “But… I thought the bad things stopped ‘cause I was here.”

L was fascinated by the limits of Light’s mental reasoning while he was regressed. He would have to do some experimentation at a later time, but for now…

“I lied. Kira has been active for almost a month. I wasn’t convinced it meant you were innocent, but it makes a good case.” L watched that news hit home, but in a very different way than it would have hit an adult Light.

“You lied? Why? I thought… I thought I was bad, maybe, but you were lying!” Light tried to wipe his tears on his shoulder, only partially succeeding. “I don’ wanna know why. Probably a good reason, ‘cause you’re L and you do all the good things.”

Hmm. It seemed that Light’s certainty that he wasn’t Kira didn’t extend to his regressed self. Perhaps he was speaking more candidly in this headspace.

“I’m not fond of unnecessary cruelty,” L sighed, hooking one hand through the bars. “If I had known, Light-”

“You never woulda had me on the task force,” Light said, quite viciously. “Never ever.”

“That’s not true.” L traced one thumb against his lips. “I’ve known regressors who are exceedingly intelligent. Everything would have proceeded the same.”

“Even though I’m three?” Light asked, and L fought the urge to smile. Information, at last. Three. He stored that away.

“Even though you’re three,” L confirmed. “Your input is valuable to me. In fact, I would like to invite you back to the taskforce after you’ve recovered from this imprisonment.”

“Yes!” Light shuffled forwards on his knees, wincing at the movement. He probably bruised them earlier when he fell. “Yes, please! I wanna help catch Kira! And all the bad guys!” His eyes were shining with excitement and the tears from earlier. Looking down at him, L’s mind caught in a loop.

Light Yagami was Kira, but this… this was not Kira. What that meant about Light, or Kira, or the nature of Light’s regression, L couldn’t say, but he was certain of one thing.

“Can I come in now?” L asked.

Light visibly hesitated, then sank back onto his heels and nodded.

“Thank you.” L left the keys in the lock as he swung open the door and entered, making his way to Light briskly. It was easy enough to get the cuffs off his wrists, and Light whined when his hands were free, struggling to move his shoulders back into a natural position. “Give it time,” L advised, pressing at his spine with experienced fingers. Massages were one of his lesser-used skills, but easy to pick up with his wide knowledge of the human body. “They’ll hurt less in a few minutes.”

He wasn’t expecting Light to shift forward and wrap his arms around him, but that was exactly what happened.

L froze, his hands raised in the air as if in surrender. He’d comforted regressors before, at crime scenes and over interrogation tables. A few of the children at the orphanage were regressors, and he interacted with them when he visited. But none of them had dove into a hug like this. L was a detective, a mentor, a little too strange and intense to be approachable. Now there were arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly, and L didn’t know what to do.

Falteringly, L returned the embrace, the tips of his fingers resting lightly on his own forearms. Light had lost weight over the last month, and his body felt almost frail against L.

“Had a nightmare,” Light whispered.

L wondered if Aizawa was listening, back at the base. He wondered if Watari had wandered closer, after hearing the cell door open. He wondered what kind of things Kira dreamed about.

“Do you want to talk about it?” L asked, and didn’t lean back from the embrace.

“It was bad,” Light said. “I was running, and there were hands, and a fence, an’ there were… bodies. On the fence. And they were… they were…” L could feel Light shaking, and he held the regressor just a little bit closer.

“Just a dream,” L said. He wondered how much blood was on Light’s hands, how much of it he remembered. “You’re safe now. It was just a dream.” L held Light in his arms, the ache in his chest finally fading as he looked down at him. There, the regressor was safe, and L could finally relax. Light’s breathing slowly evening out, his grasp on L’s shirt finally loosening. “You’re safe.”

Light blinked up at L sleepily, and then his eyes slid closed. A natural reaction to stress, and having a caregiver close by. Even if L hadn’t disclosed his classification, his actions combined with Light’s instincts had likely made it clear. L cradled Light in his arms, like a puzzle piece fitting into place, and watched him fall asleep. He would have no more nightmares with a caregiver so close by, and even if he did, L would be there to calm him down.

L knew that this was trouble. Light was Kira, and Kira was death. L’s instincts as a caregiver could only blind him further as he continued in the investigation. If he were being rational, he would attach Light to someone else for the rest of his surveillance period. Prevent the caregiver/regressor bond that had been formed between them from strengthening into something difficult to break.

But L didn’t like being rational. He followed his instincts, and they were always right.

Right now, his instincts told him two things.

I will not let go of Light Yagami.

This will be the death of me.

[cakelanguage]

This took much longer than I thought it would, but work has been absolutely exhausting lately. I'm honestly just excited that I get to share this with you all because I really wanted to participate in Hurt!Noct Week. This is a combination of day 1 prompts: buried alive and captured by Nifleheim (at least sort of?). This is just the 1st chapter, but I figured I’d share at least this bit for now. I hope you enjoy this!

You can also read this on AO3

-

He should’ve called Ignis. Or texted Gladio that he was going to be ten minutes late to their training session. Or Astrals, accepted Prompto’s offer to walk home with him even though his house was in the opposite direction.

But he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d strolled down the bustling streets, thinking about the planned King’s Knight session later that night. He scrolled idly through the mission details, trying to formulate a plan of attack. The last time Noctis had attempted this mission he’d been severely outclassed and had to abandon the mission lest he lose what little loot he’d been able to pilfer from the dungeon. With Gladio’s character acting as their tank, he could have Ignis on range attacks and healing. Prompto had the best stealth stats so they could have Prompto looting the place while the rest of them took care of the bigger monsters. Noctis fancied himself an all-around player so he could assist wherever needed the most help.  

Caught up in his mini strategy session, he didn’t realize he was on a collision course with someone until he ran right into them. He stumbled, juggling his phone between his hands in an attempt to save it from meeting its demise on the pavement below.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man he ran into grumbled, brushing imaginary dirt off his jacket.

The man was dressed lavishly in a wide variety of patterns and textures. His coat looked sturdy and thick like it would keep out even the harshest of cold winds. The scarf around his neck was the brightest piece of clothing he wore—the reddish-orange silk oddly complementing the man's red-violet hair. Not a sliver of the man’s skin was visible besides the tip of the man’s fingers and his face under the shade of his fedora.

He had a right to be upset even if half of him wanted to insist that the man could have moved too. He shoved that thought down and instead nodded his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that,” Noctis apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Yes, I figured as much.” The man squinted at him, his head cocking to the side. “Hold on a moment, don’t I know you?”

Not for the first time, he was thankful for his privacy. His father had done a remarkable job at keeping him much out of the public eye. People knew who he was, but because he wasn’t in any of the newspapers or rag magazines that most celebrities appeared in he could go through life like normal. He didn’t have to think about paparazzi waiting outside his school or people approaching him asking for something or other.

“Probably not,” Noctis said, “maybe you’ve seen me walking home before? I go to the high school three blocks away.”

Shaking his head, the man inspected his face more thoroughly. “No that’s not it. I’ve definitely seen you before.” He felt as if the man could count his pores, and Noctis shuffled backward away from the man’s heavy stare. “Have you got an uncle that works at the palace? I used to work there.”

The man gave Noctis a private quirk of his lips like he was privy to some hidden joke that only he knew.

“Oh that’s… nice?”

The man nodded absentmindedly gaze still heavy on Noctis. “Hm, you really do look familiar,” he commented. “Quite handsome too.”

“Thanks?” Noctis looked down at his uniform and his loosened tie and wondered if there was a polite way to excuse himself from the conversation. He didn’t want to be rude by walking away from the man but he really did need to get going or he was going to be later than he thought to Gladio’s training session. “Well, I’m sorry for walking into you like that, but I gotta get going.”

“Right, right, of course.” The man swept a hand through his hair sheepishly. “It’s not like I can keep the prince from his important tasks just to talk with me.”

Ice filled Noctis’ veins as his title was casually thrown out by the man who claimed he couldn’t place his face. He stared at the man, uncomprehendingly. This was starting to look like the beginning of one of Ignis’ crime drama shows. Why did the man lie? What was his angle? What was going on?

“Who are you?” Noctis asked, channeling his calm façade to the max.

“A man of no consequence, I assure you.” The man waved him off with a few shooing gestures. “Off you go, your highness.”

Noctis gave him a wary look and an awkward bob of his head. He needed to get out of here. Ready to put this whole interaction behind him, he stepped to the side of the man to continue his route. Except he didn’t get very far before a hand latched onto his wrist with surprising force.

A violent tug had him wrenching himself back around, his shoulder twinging at the sudden jerk. Face-to-face with the man once more, Noctis saw how the man’s expression was colder, harsh in the afternoon sun. His teeth were bared in a sneer—looking for all the world like a coeurl.

“Let go,” Noctis ordered, now glaring at the man who wouldn’t leave him alone. “Didn’t you just tell me to go?”

A taunting smile peaked through the man’s sneer. “Now why would I do that?” He asked.

Noctis clenched his fists and bit out another order. “Let go of me, now.” He grabbed his phone with his free hand and quickly dialed the palace’s emergency numbers. It would be mildly embarrassing if Gladio found out he’d called the Crownsguard on a regular citizen, but his SAS kidnap training was blaring in his ears. “I’m warning you, I can have you arrested.”

A soft tsk came from the man who shook his head at Noctis’ threat. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

He opened his mouth to demand his release again, but all that came out was a choked-off yelp as something heavy struck his head. His knees refused to hold up his body and he collapsed to the concrete. The skin of his palms was torn in his attempt to catch himself, but he couldn’t feel it; the sharp pain by his temple shadowed the pain in his palms.

He turned his gaze back to the blurry figure of the man, who had been joined by another figure. His brain felt sluggish, his thoughts thick in his mouth as he tried to string a sentence together. “W-what—“

“Shh,” The man shushed, ignoring Noctis’ flinch as he tenderly ran a hand through Noctis’ hair. “Good night, sweet prince.”

The last thing he saw was a fist coming at his face.

Then nothing.

He regained consciousness with a choked-off groan. He felt like he’d gone through one of Gladio’s marathon training sessions and lost miserably.

Laying still, he took stock of his body. His lip was swollen and tender as he wet his dry, split lips. The right side of his face throbbed in-tune with his heartbeat and Noctis could barely get that eye to open more than a crack. What was he supposed to do? He’d been trained on how to handle a kidnapping situation; Cor had made it abundantly clear the variations in which people would try to snatch him up. But this wasn’t just a ‘what if.’ He’d been kidnapped not even four blocks away from his school.

It was a matter of figuring out what he could do to get out of here. He still had his magic though admittedly his connection to the Crystal felt like he was trying to pull at the energy through a strainer. Like sifting through a pile of hay for the needle—all of his abilities being the needle and the presence of his magic being the hay.

But that didn’t mean he was helpless. He just needed to approach the situation the right way and he could escape. He tried to remain calm, limiting his breathing to shallow breaths to keep up his ruse. This became a fruitless act when he heard someone or something step up behind him.

A familiar voice came from behind him. “It appears our guest of honor is awake,” the man cooed. Some of the man’s nonchalance had vanished, replaced by cruel giddiness. “And how are you, your majesty?”

Like hell he was going to go along with this guy’s fake care. His pride wouldn’t let him bite out a pleasantry, instead choosing to press his steely gaze on the eccentric man. His stare didn’t deter the man’s delight in his situation which only served to make his blood simmer in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to punch the smug look off that face.

“I think you’ll find, Noctis,” the man loomed over him, nudging him lightly in the ribs with his boots, “that I have the upper hand.”

He didn’t. Noctis refused to believe it. He may not have had any weapons on him, but Noctis had dialed the emergency response number for the palace. By dialing the number he had ensured back-up would be on their way to his location in less than five minutes. Well, the location of where the call took place. He couldn’t feel the shape of his phone in his pockets, but the Crownsguard would be able to pick up on any trail his kidnapper had left behind.

All he needed to do was wait.

“What do you want?” Noctis asked, shifting his position on the floor to try and alleviate the pressure on his lower back. He could already feel the scar tissue there begin to burn and ache.

“Already wanting me to reveal my dastardly plan?” The man questioned. “How cliché.” Noctis’ face must’ve given away his annoyance because the guy clucked his tongue at his expression.

“I realize this isn’t one of your silver-spoon soirees, but it’ll serve as a good setting for the video.” He straightened and made his way over to the small set-up of… camera equipment? “We need you to put on your best performance, your highness.” He looked up with a cold smile that sent a shiver running down Noctis’ spine. “Though do save some for the main event.”

“So you’re gonna, what? Ransom me or something?” Noctis squirmed in his binds. “Is that your plan?”

Humming noncommittally, the man continued setting up his equipment. “Or something.”

“Not much of a talker huh?” He was banking on being able to get some info out of the guy so he could shout it over what was sure to be his ransom video.

The waiting was bizarre. Despite the discomfort, he didn’t feel like he was all there—though the main contributor to this was the head injury—the quiet sounds of rustling cables and footsteps gave him peace of mind amongst the simmering unrest and anxiety as the experience faded into less immediate danger. If only he could concentrate on his armiger and summon the knife he stored there—then he’d be able to warp out of his binds and escape.

A quiet huff of laughter broke through the silence; it took him a few moments to realize the laugh came from him . It wasn’t funny, not by a long-shot. He was being stupidly optimistic, especially since his vision still wavered between doubled and covered in black splotches. He probably had one hell of a shiner too.

He wished he’d called someone to get him.  

The derelict state of his mind was brushed away as a triumphant cry echoed slightly around him. He squinted at the man who looked at him expectantly.

“What?” Noctis asked, tiredly. He had no desire to give the man the reactions he was hoping for. Actually, the other being put off by his apathy made him feel better. “Did you finally get your whole… set-up ready?”

The man had the audacity to pout at him. “Now you’re just no fun,” he complained. “Aren’t you curious as to why I’ve brought you here?”

Noctis shrugged. “Not really?” The motion caused his chains to rattle in the tight space. “Most of the guys I’ve been kidnapped by all want the same thing: revenge or money.”

“I can assure you that my reason is definitely not for any monetary reason.” The man took a step towards him. “I suppose you could call it revenge, though I admit you are simply unlucky—to be chosen by the gods.” He cupped Noctis’ cheek with surprising tenderness, brushing his thumb along his cheekbones. “You do bear a striking resemblance to him.”

A nail dug it the flesh underneath his eye and Noctis hissed, attempting to turn his face out of the man’s grip. “What a pity,” the man said, releasing his hold on Noctis. “Before we begin, I think it’s only fair that you finally be able to put a name to your captor.”

“Oh now you want to introduce yourself?” Noctis grumbled—because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life apparently.

Fortunately, the man seemed amused by his comment. “Do forgive me for my rudeness, your highness .” The mocking emphasis he placed on the title was not lost to Noctis, but he didn’t dignify him with an answer. “I’ve been reduced to the moniker ‘Adagium,’ by the royal line of Lucis.”

It sounded familiar, but Noctis couldn’t place where he’d heard it. Had the name come up in his studies? Was it a political thing?

Adagium sighed and shook his head. “I’m not surprised you don’t know of me. Your dear father is desperately trying to keep you in the dark.”

Noctis furrowed his brow. “What do you mean he’s keeping me in the dark?”

With a shake of his head, Adagium stepped back over to his equipment. “I’ve talked enough for now, it’s time we get the show started lest the party be stopped before it’s even begun.” Adagium grinned at him. “The stage is yours, prince Noctis.”

A red light blinked to life on the camera as Noctis stared into the lens. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Did Adagium want him to beg? To show whoever was watching the video that he was scared? He wasn’t. Scared that it is. Unnerved? Yes, how could he not be when he was kidnapped and tied up in some unknown location.

His captor sighed tilting his hat to cover his face and—

Adagium changed. No longer was he wearing the extravagant, pattern-clashing, textile collage of an outfit. He was in a set of armor, his face masked and hair tucked away under the rigid helmet. Noctis had only seen the armor in person once before on that fateful escape from Tenebrae as he reached desperately for Luna’s hand.

Magitek armor.

To see the man stripped of his individualism did more to bother Noctis than he expected. Something about the metal, placid expression staring at him had his stomach clenching nervously. How had Adagium done it? An illusion? But how? To his knowledge, illusion magic was typically only used by the messengers of the gods; he figured he’d already met all of them at this point with his connection to Luna.

With four jerky steps, Adagium stood beside him, a hand painfully clasping his shoulder. Noctis side-eyed the man as if he could glean some sort of direction for what he wanted Noctis to do.

Once again, Adadgium broke the silence. “Salutations, Your Majesty, Regis Lucis Caelum,” Adagium said, “113th monarch in the long line of Lucis.”

He’d somehow managed to project his voice to see like he was behind the camera again. Another impossibility Noctis didn’t know how to find an answer to.

“As you can see, I have an auspicious guest with me, one I know you’re well-acquainted with. Won’t you say hello to your dear father, Noct?” Adagium asked.

Gritting his teeth, Noctis glared at a spot on the wall. He wasn’t going to give the other what he wanted, not when he could still deny him of his game. If he could weaponize his silence, he would.

With an angry tut from Adagium, Noctis’ hair was yanked with a merciless tug, pulling his head backward and exposing his throat. He could feel the handful of hair desperately trying to cling to his scalp as he let out a small whimper at the rough treatment.

“What a difficult boy,” Adagium commented, “he must’ve been quite the child to raise. To think he’d forget his manners at a time like this.”

“Shut up,” Noctis growled.

“Oh he speaks! Splendid! Now while I’ve broken through that stony exterior, we can commence the show.”

Suddenly, a knife was pressed against Noctis’ neck. He flinched back into Adagium’s hold on his hair, but the knife followed, the edge of the blade making a small, shallow cut on the delicate skin of his neck. He was helpless, tied up, and at the mercy of his captor. And it didn’t seem like Adagium had any qualms against hurting him.

The blood that lazily oozed from the wound dripped down his neck and settled into his jugular notch like a morbid jewel. Noctis heard Adagium’s hum of approval and could feel the pressure of the knife increase slightly as if Adagium had lapsed in his awareness that he was the one holding the knife and thus in control of how far the blade entered Noctis’ flesh.

“Now, I understand why Lucis values black as a special color—it goes amazingly with blood red, wouldn’t you agree?”

He said it so off-handedly that Noctis wasn’t sure who he was talking to: Noctis, Regis, or himself. What was clear, was that Adagium had a deep-seated grudge against Lucis—the royal line in particular. But why? Was he from one of the outer nations that had been left behind when his father had to pull back the wall to just the city of Lucis?  

Adagium broke out of his musings, finally pulling the knife back enough that it was just resting against the cut. “Never mind that,” he said. “I expect you’re waiting for some kind of demand from me. Money? Some impossible wish for power? Recognition?” Noctis could hear the smirk in his voice, that deceptively playful quirk of his lips. “No, I don’t want any of those, not explicitly at least.”

What do you want? Noctis didn’t voice no matter how much he wanted to. This little video of Adagium’s seemed to be going nowhere which could be good if this was a live broadcast, build the tension maybe.

“My reason for kidnapping Noct is very simple: because I could.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that Noctis’ brain stumbled to a halt. That’s it? Because he could? That didn’t make any sense, not when Adagium had brought up some kind of revenge. “What happened to your revenge?” Noctis asked. “You mentioned your reasons could be considered revenge and the gods.” He remembered the forlorn look in Adagium’s eyes before the rage had trickled back in. “You said I resembled someone, Adagium.”

He knew he was being bold, foolhardy more accurately, but his captor hadn’t revealed his name and Noctis was hoping if he brought up his aforementioned desire for revenge on film he’d reveal more of his reasoning. If the heroes in movies could get a villain to reveal their schemes, Noctis should be able to do it to Adagium.

Adagium’s grip on his hair tightened, Noctis crying out as several strands were tugged out of his scalp. “Oh Noct,” he purred, “I see you’ve decided to join the conversation.”

Noctis felt his skin crawl at the contemptuous pride in Adagium’s voice. He’d overstepped with his nosy questions.

“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” Adagium said. “You remember Adagium, do you not Your Majesty? The mythical monster locked away in the dark depths of Angelgard for ages, lost to time amongst the words of false kings and fraudulent nations.”

Who was Adagium? Noctis wondered, a stray tear slipping down the side of his face towards his hairline. “Why?” Noctis whispered, afraid of the answer he’d receive but unwilling to let his question lie.

The magitek disguise rippled ominously, a black miasma seeping through the gaps of armor. Quickly, the figure of Adagium was being overshadowed by the mist. The tiny glints of gold light within the consuming shadows was what gave away the nature of the mist: Starscourge.

Eyes wide, Noctis struggled in the man’s grip. He remembered when the Starscourge had infected him as a child when the Marilith had sliced his back open and nearly severed his spinal cord. The burning agony of the scourge ravaging his body, when not even his coma brought him relief from its infection. The hushed cries of similarly infected at the edges of his mind like a web of anguish, ever-growing with each infected. Get away getawaygetaway.

His struggling was for naught as the black mirage leaned closer to him. “Why?” Adagium asked the hand that held the knife lazily dragged to the center of his chest. “Because I was saving people. Because that first false king was jealous and power-hungry, over-eager to be the one to wear the crown. And the rest,” he spat the word, “never bothered to question any of their forebears, convinced that they had always done what was best for the kingdom of Lucis.”

Noctis shook his head as best he could. “But why would they—“

“Because the gods didn’t stop them.” The knife in his hand pressed harder against Noctis’ chest and hissed at the sting of the blade. “But the time of reckoning is steadily approaching!”

With a flourish of his hand, the knife was sent away. Noctis thought it was eerily similar to accessing the armiger. “While all the pieces aren’t in their proper place just yet, a bit of ‘divine retribution’ soothes the soul.”

“What do you mean by divine retribution?” Noctis asked, his voice far quieter than he expected.

The miasma cloud seemed to grin impossibly wide, though he couldn’t discern an actual face. “I thought it would be perfect for you to atone on behalf of your forebears, Noct. And to have your father helplessly watch as he struggles to find you.”

Adagium stood behind him once more and wrapped his arms loosely around Noctis’ shoulders. “Let’s have the chosen, King of Light spend some time in the dark,” he purred, black ichor dripping onto his shirt. Onto his head. Onto his face. It was everywhere and Noctis couldn’t focus on anything else.

And then there was nothing.

[arhvste]

TSUKISHIMA KEI - IMPOSSIBLE AND INSUFFERABLE PART 3

this is it y’all the chapter you’ve been dying for

hara bullying hour is officially in session bitches 😈

i will fix any grammar errors tomorrow my fellow simps now have fun reading about little bitch hara’s downfall

part 1 part 2

Tsukishima had exited his classroom after the last bell had rung still in the same foul mood he found himself to be trapped in as of late.

“Tsukishima!”

Hinata bounded towards the tall boy with a big smile on his face.

His foul mood had worsened in nanoseconds.

“What.” he coldly spat at the energetic ginger.

“You’re coming with me. Captain's orders.”

Tsukishima frowned and reluctantly obliged as he followed Hinata into the clubroom where Daichi was sitting on the table alone with what looked like an ipad.

Opening the door, Daichi welcomed him with a warm smile to which Tsukishima tried to reciprocate even though it was clear the clubroom was not where he wanted to be.

“Hey Tsukishima, I have a few people to talk to you right now. I need to run some errands before practice. I’ll meet you in the gym once you’re done, take as much time as you need though, I’ll see you shortly.”

“Thanks for the concern but I’m really okay.”

Daichi had already left Tsukishima and the ipad in the clubroom alone. Irritated, Tsukishima sat down on the table and picked up the ipad only to instantly pull a face of disgust.

“Why? Why you of all people.”

“And what an absolute pleasure it is to see you too Tsuki.”

There on the screen showed the captains and setters of Fukurodani and Nekoma. Bokuto sat there with a wide grin on his face, excited to be talking to one of his ‘students’ as he liked to call and next to him, Kuroo who was smiling smugly at the agitated middle blocker. Akaashi and Kenma in the background were seen keeping an eye on their captains to make sure they weren’t crossing the line of invasion for poor Tsukishima.

“Whatever you’re about to say to me I’m not interested, thanks.”

“But Tsukiiiiiiii!” Bokuto whined pouting through the camera.

“Let your wonderful and wise Senpais give you advice and take advantage of it.” Kuroo smoothly spoke, propping his hand under his chin.

“No.” Tsukishima wanted to end the call right there and then but, a small part of him felt bad for both Kenma and Akaashi having to waste their time being there too so he opted to not hit the tempting ‘end’ button just yet.

“Listen, we heard you had a rough break up and we want to give you some advice.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes before he spoke. “So enlighten me, my two most wonderful and clever senpais.” sarcasm dripping from every single word.

“See Kuroo! He does love and respect us!” Bokuto was beaming as he shook his fellow captain and friends' shoulders slightly.

“He might respect you but I can assure you Tsukishima-san is far from loving you.”

“Akaashi don’t say that!” Bokuto cried out pouting once again.

“Honestly Tsuki, you didn’t seem like the type that would suffer from heartbreak to me. Guess I was wrong.”

Tsukishima was ready to cut the rooster headed captain off right then and there but Kuroo began to speak again.

“You also didn’t seem like someone who disliked volleyball either at first but I was wrong about that too. Look, your ex-girlfriend obviously meant more to you than what you’re choosing to insist but if it’s affecting your plays I’m going to need you to do something about it. I quite enjoy playing against you simple country folk. You are good opponents I’ll give you that, but you won’t be if your playing ability starts to deteriorate.”

“Yeah what he said! Tsuki, how did you even get a girlfriend anyway? If I was a girl I’d run 7 miles from you with that mean glare. But anyway, snap out of your bad mood and go get her back if you’re still hung up on her. If she has this affect on you she must mean something to you right? Do it go get her back kid.”

“You two sure do have a lot to say for a pair of relationship virgins.” Kenma quietly spoke up.

“Kenma! If I wanted to be so brutally attacked I would’ve asked Yaku.” Kuroo feigned an offended look.

“He’s right though.”

“Akaashi stop or I will cry.” Bokuto turned and threatened his close friend only to have him roll his eyes back at him.

“Look, Y/N I mean L/N, had a long relationship with me I think it’s normal for me to be slightly off my game for a short while. Why is it such a big deal and why can’t you all just mind your own business. Focus on getting yourselves girlfriends, if that's even possible, before trying to get me back together with my ex one.”

“Listen here young one -”

“Oh here we go.” Kenma mumbled.

Kuroo paid no mind to him as he continued. “- Myself and Bo are ever so busy. We’re third years and captains. We have no time for girls but I can assure you we both have the option to have one if we want whenever we want.”

“No you can't. Girls find your hair stupid and probably don’t find chemistry puns funny or attractive.”

“Kenma! Are you here to help or to bully me?”

“Both.”

Bokuto snickered but was silenced by Akaashi’s sharp voice.

“Stop laughing Bokuto-san you’re no better. The closest you’ve gotten to a girl is our managers who babysit you if anything and you still owe one of them money.”

Bokuto’s face dropped as Kuroo’s smirk widened.

“Kuroo stop laughing.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

The bickering between the Tokyo prefecture students went back and forth until Bokuto stood up to chase Kuroo around who had grabbed Kenma to help him.

Tsukishima had just about had it and had his finger hovering above the ‘end’ button.

Akaashi took it upon himself to pick up the device they were communicating through and leave the room Kenma was currently trapped in with the two child-like captains.

“My apologies for the two of them, they're a handful. But what they’re saying does hold some value. Tsukishima-san, you’re a talented player and sure this must be something you’re trying hard to overcome but, I do think Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san are somewhat right. This girl clearly means something to you and keeping yourself in denial won’t help you. It’s important to keep control of personal issues as it will affect your performance in a match otherwise emotions build up and you’ll lose focus.”

Tsukishima was taken aback slightly. Akaashi was never one to speak up often, only giving his input when needed unlike his friend who would talk for the sake of it. Tsukishima had genuine respect for Akaashi and had decided that from their meeting at the training camp. He was someone Tsukishima found level headed and honest. Someone worthy of giving their opinion in Tsukishima’s head anyway.

“Yeah. I’ll give it some thought. Thank you for your time Akaashi-san I look forward to our next meeting.”

“My pleasure Tsukishima-san and if Bokuto-san bothers you, don’t hesitate to contact me and I’ll sort it out for you.”

“You’re like his babysitter.”

“He needs one. He has the mental age of a 5 year old. He is still a good captain with good intentions though. Same goes for Kuroo-san. They are concerned for you and want you to know that they are here if you need them. They’ve really taken a shine to you.”

Tsukishima almost smiled. Sure the two loud third years were irritating and provoking at times, they had changed his perspective on volleyball and it was thanks to them he found himself fall in love with the sport he played. He only wished he had the girl he loved too. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud though.

“I do somewhat appreciate them, I suppose. Anyway I had better go. Sorry for all the trouble Akaashi-san, please apologise to Kozume-san too.”

“No worries, take care and I hope to see the usual or improved standard of yourself when we next play.”

“I’ll try.”

And with that the call had ended. Tsukishima didn’t want to admit it but the points Kuroo and Bokuto had made to him did make some sort of sense and he was silently grateful to them.

Entering the gym felt good for the first time in a while.

Nodding at Daichi, Tsukishima participated in the usual drills coach Ukai was running. Keeping to himself, Tsukishima thought over the current situation and evaluated his options. He wanted to talk to you again but his pride wouldn’t allow it. Not while you apparently have a new boyfriend. That stupid Hara Itsuki none the less too.

-

2 weeks had passed since then and to Tsukishima’s annoyance, both Bokuto and Kuroo made it their responsibility to contact him every few days to check on his progress and wellbeing. Sure he was technically their rivals, but neither Kuroo or Bokuto cared. They saw Tsukishima as a worthy and respectable opponent and someone they wanted to be good role models to.

The rumours had begun to die down much to your relief and you had decided to distance yourself from Hara ever so slightly to discourage people from getting the wrong idea. Hara noticed this and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

-

5pm at Karasuno highschool was usually a peaceful time. Volleyball practice had ended and very few students were left on campus.

Tsukishima had been making his way out of practice when his phone rang. Another facetime call came up on his screen and immediately his face scrunched up.

“Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Nope ~”

Tsukishima snarled as he made his way to his locker to grab his biology textbook before heading home.

“Hang on I’m gonna add Bo to the call.”

“Must you? I can just about handle you both one on one and I don’t even like doing that.”

“Such a sharp tongue Tsuki. I only hope you're working on your blocks and observations to be just as sharp again.”

“Hey, hey hey Tsuki!”

“Ugh.”

The two captains spoke to each other briefly as Tsukishima kept them on the call while unlocking his locker until a familiar voice piqued his interest.

“Shush for a sec would you.”

Tsukishima demanded the two third years as they stopped and stopped talking.

The blonde first year could hear your voice nearby and from what it sounded like you were in slight distress.

“Stop it you piece of shit!”

“Thats Y/N’s voice.” Tsukishima quietly muttered as the two captains listened carefully.

Quietly walking closer to where you were heard, Tsukishima noticed Hara had you cornered against the wall and it didn’t look like he was letting you go anytime soon.

“Listen to me Y/N. I’m fucking sick of waiting. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do anything with you? You’re so fucking naive it’s pathetic.”

Tsukishima was taken aback slightly. Hara had just insulted you? But weren’t you dating him? Deciding not to step in just yet, he decided to continue observing from a distance and then make a decision on what he should do.

“Hara, listen to me. You broke me and Tsukishima up whether that was your intention or not. I rejected you because I don’t want to date anyone. Especially not you and you know why. Let me go now.” Your tone was icy and your glare was hard.

Lowkey Tsukishima was proud of the tone you were using. Before the two of you had started dating, you were never nasty to anyone. You did start to pick up the habits of Tsukishima’s spiteful tone however a few months into your relationship and he was proud of that.

“Listen here you fucking slut. Your lanky boyfriend only got in the way. Poor naive little Y/N did you really think I was interested? Your personality is something I’ve been forcing myself to put up with for months and I still haven’t dicked you down yet. You’re a selfish brat.”

Your face twisted with disgust. You were furious, enraged even. Since your fight with Tsukishima you had built up your tolerance to harsh words so Hara’s insensitive language didn’t affect as much as it probably would’ve a few months ago.

“Who the hell gave you the confidence? As if I’d ever let a creature like you touch me. Did you really think I’d let you sleep with me after you drove a wedge between me and Tsukishima? You’re a sick little bitch an ugly one too!”

Now Tsukishima was proud of you. Harsh insults, cutting edge tone, dark scowl and a whole load of attitude. Whether you liked it or not, your time spent over the long months with your ex boyfriend had transformed you into his own Frankenstein's monster and he took a small hint of pride in that.

Hara grew angry and slammed his hand harder against the wall making you flinch.

“What makes you think I’m waiting for your permission. You’re helpless Y/N. A helpless little slut who’s about to get what she deserves.”

Your eyes clenched shut. There was no chance in you winning a physical fight with this boy. You had just about lost hope.

“AHAHAHAHAHA BO DOESN’T HE SOUND LIKE A GREMLIN!”

“BRO YOU’RE RIGHT HE DOES!! I JUST KNOW FROM HIS MID PUBESCENT VOICE HE SMELLS LIKE MAYO OR SOME SHIT!”

“STOP IT YOU CHEEKY BASTARD I’M GONNA PISS MYSELF!”

“DON’T BLAME ME, BLAME LITTLE PITCHY VOICE BITCH AT KARASUNO!”

Hara’s head snapped to face Tsukishima who was sighing in embarrassment at his two upperclassmen’s comments. Kuroo and Bokuto were currently having a field day mocking the ‘little bitch boy’ Hara.

You looked up as your eyes widened at the sight of your ex boyfriend stood there, phone in one hand, bag and textbook in the other. He was slightly sweaty from training and he held a dark expression to his face.

“What the actual fuck?” Hara spat out.

“I’m afraid you’ve been caught out Hara-san.” Tsukishima cooly said as the screeches of the two captains on the phone lowered down.

“Tsuki PLEASE show us what little bitch boy looks like I’m begging you!”

“Yeah show us Tsuki!”

“Ready to have your eyes burned?” Tsukishima snickered as he flipped the camera and pointed it towards the now raging Hara.

“WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THAT NO I AM GONNA PISS MYSELF!”

“IT’S THE EXPRESSION FOR ME!”

“Guys stop being so mean I think he’s going to cry.”

Hara snarled and glared straight at Tsukishima who had decided to give into Bokuto and Kuroo and encourage their provocative behaviour for once.

“You’re the one who’s going to be crying you lanky bit-AH SHIT FUCK!”

Hara was cut off by your knee making quick contact with his crotch with heavy force.

“Felt kinda small down there buddy.”

With Hara on the ground clutching his assaulted private area, you ran away from him and next to Tsukishima’s side.

“NO WAY DID SHE JUST SAY YOU FELT SMALL DOWN THERE THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD I’M SO GLAD WE CALLED TODAY AHAHAHA!”

“LITTLE DICK PITCHY VOICE BITCH BOY!”

Tsukishima made a mental note to not ever encourage the two captains to be as irritating as they were being to Hara now but since he wasn’t on the receiving end it couldn’t hurt to push them a little bit.

Hara began to move and both you and Tsukishima stood towering above him.

“Oi Tsuki I don't condone violence but… kick him if you’re bad.”

“Do it Tskui, do it for the boys.”

“Nobody is kicking anyone.”

A new voice was heard in the halls.

“Sawamura-san.” You bowed your head slightly as he smiled at you and Tsukishima briefly before turning his attention to the two fellow captains on the call with Tsukishima.

“I’d appreciate it if you two didn’t try to corrupt my players thank you.”

“Do you country kids not ever have a bit of rough house from time to time?”

“Not when I’m around no.” Daichi replied back to the bedhead captain who only smirked in return.

Now turning his gaze to the whimpering boy on the floor Daichi raised an eyebrow.

“What happened here.”

“Attempted assault.” Tsukishima swift replied.

“Attempted? That bitch did assault me!” Hara cried from the floor.

“Kuroo listen! The gremlin’s voice is even more pitchy!”

Daichi sighed and grabbed the boy up from the floor.

“I’m not stupid. Tsukishima isn’t the type to lie and L/N doesn’t exactly look thrilled to be in your presence either. I think me and you should take a little trip down to the principal's office and have a look through the cctv footage.”

“Get rekted.” Bokuto snickered as Daichi dragged the disgraced boy off towards the reception.

“Listen I think you two have some things to talk about so we’re gonna go now. Remember what we said to you Tsuki. Call you soon!”

“Get that cooch my son!”

Tsukishima immediately hung up after Bokuto’s last comment which earned a snicker from you.

“Look, Tsukishima, I’m really really sorry about what went down a while ago. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and it was wrong of me not to just approach you and express my issues I had with you. In all honesty I didn’t have a huge problem with your attitude, Hara got into my head a bit and would tell me my reputation was being dragged down by you.”

Tsukishima stared down at you as he examined your face. He could tell you were being genuine but he knew you both needed time to talk things through and be more transparent with each other before picking things back up from where they left off.

“I know Y/N. I’m sorry for what I said too. I know I said some hurtful things but I didn’t mean them. You’re worth more than what I claimed you were and for that I apologize. I just wish you had been more open with me.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Tsukishima never apologised so this was a big deal to you. You gave the boy a soft smile.

“It’s going to take some time for us both to heal. A lot went down today but if you’ll let me, I want to give us a chance to rebuild things between us. I still love you no matter how much I try to deny it. We need to work on communication obviously but I do want to give us another shot, Tsukishima.”

“Kei. It’s Kei to you. And yeah you’re right. We do need to be more open with each other. I’m not saying we should get back together right now, but I do care about you and I suppose I do need you in a weird way. I’m happy to work on us if that’s what you want.”

Tsukishima smiled down at you. The first genuine smile in a while which you immediately returned back to him.

-

Hara had caused a lot of damage. But you had the time to rebuild it all and that’s just what the two of you did.

This was obvious to all 3 captains involved in watching over Tsukishima when they saw the improvement in his playing.

Sure Tsukishima found people irritating often, but thanks to their concern a weight was lifted off his shoulder. Hara was expelled for attempted sexual assault, and you were being more clear with him.

It would take a while for things to go back to what they used to be, but getting rid of Hara and having you back by his side was a good start.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Erik dealing with his sixteen year old daughter.

Warnings: Angst

Okay so this was intended to be two parts but the way this is written I will do one more part to wrap it up.

“What should we do? Should we go to this party of Donte’s or should we stay in and have a sleepover?”

Trinny brought her shades above her head, turning over on her pool lounge chair to look at Kayla. Kayla was currently watching the clouds float by within the crisp blue sky while the sun beat down on her peanut butter skin. 

“I don’t know, Trinny...with what’s going on in my house my mom would kill me if she found out I went to Donte’s for a party.”

“Why don’t you ask your dad, Mr. Erik?” Trinny sounded his name out seductively, “Just tell him it’s a mutual friend's party and he can just...drop you off at my place and I can drive us over to Donte’s. He’s expecting you to be there, don’t you wanna see him?”

“First of all STOP saying his name like that, it’s cringe. Secondly, my dad ain’t stupid he will know I’m trying to be sneaky.”

“Well, then you won’t be going,” Trinny turned back on her chair, bringing her shades back down, “Your mother is a complete BITCH. My parents are never around so it’s not like that can tell me what the fuck to do...GIRL! I forgot to tell you about what happened with me and Miles…”

Kayla blocked out Trinny’s words. She really wasn’t in the mood for gossip. After the big argument with her mom they basically avoided each other. Her father tried to play the mediator in the situation but her mother didn’t feel like dealing with it anymore. She felt like she lost a battle against her own daughter. Kayla is still irritated with her for going through her phone and finding her half naked photos. 

“Kay, are you even listening to me?” Trinny says with an elevated tone.

“Uhm...what happened with Miles?” 

“Oh my God, bitch, you didn’t even hear a word I said.”

“Sorry...I’m just thinking about my mom...she found my photos that I planned on sending to Donte.”

“WHAT?!” Trinny sat up, flipping her legs around to sit on the edge of the lounge chair.

“Yep...she went through my phone and found my photos. She literally invaded my privacy.”

“That’s fucked UP.”

“I know,” Kayla says with a sad voice, “she should have just talked to me about it instead of going through my phone and snooping…”

“I mean, would you have told her?” Trinny asked.

Kayla didn’t respond to that. 

“Don’t worry, if you come to this party tonight, Donte can see you in your underwear then.”

“Ughhh!” Kayla blushes, “In person is better than in a picture, isn’t it?”

“Exactly!!!! Then, you can finally lose that V-card like I did with Miles...trust me...I heard Donte is big,” Trinny giggles.

“I don’t know about having sex with him but we can kiss...and touch,” Kayla says timidly.

“Kiss? Touch? Girl, this ain’t middle school! You are about to be 17 years old! It’s time to take it to 3rd base.” 

“I don’t know,” Kayla chuckles, “That’s sacred, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it Kay-Kay, miss star basketball player, you’re chicken!” 

“Shut up, Trinny,” Kayla sat up in her own lounge chair, adjusting the straps to the bikini that Trinny let her borrow since her parents felt it was too grown to wear something so revealing, “Take a picture of me in this bikini, it’s cute on me.” 

“Yeah, it shows off your curves,” Trinny grabs her iPhone, standing up to take a picture of Kayla. Kayla stood in front of the pool, looking back at Trinny with her booty poked out like those IG models do, giving a kissy face to the camera. Trinny snaps a few photos before instructing for Kayla to turn around, bend over, and blow a kiss to the camera.

“Donte NEEDS to see these,” She motions for Kayla to come over so she can see them.

“Oooh, They are all so cute, send them to me!” 

“Gotcha,” Trinny sends them to Kayla but not before sending them to Donte as well without Kayla’s knowledge, “You ready to fool around with my parents liquor stash before we do each other’s makeup and toes?”

Just then, Kayla’s phone started ringing. Picking it up from the chair, Kayla almost jumped out of her own skin.

“It’s my dad! He’s trying to FaceTime me!”

“Cover up!” Trinny tosses Kayla a fluffy beach towel with SpongeBob on it while laughing hysterically at Kyla frantically trying to wrap herself with it.

“Hey Daddy!” Kayla puts on a wide smile while walking away towards Trinny’s house.

“Hey, Princess...you didn’t tell me you were leaving...what did we talk about?” His voice was stern right along with his eyes. 

“I’m at Trinny’s. She picked me up...I didn’t think I needed to tell you.”

“You didn’t think you needed to tell me? Really Kay? I don’t care if you were going to your cousins house. You let us know where you are going, with who, and when you will be home, ALWAYS, do you hear me?”

“...yes,” Kayla takes a seat at Trinny’s parents open bar in the kitchen. She toyed with a bottle opener out of her father's vision so that he wouldn’t assume she was drinking. 

“I’ll come and pick you up, Trinny lives in the hilltop community right?”

Kayla sighs, “Dad, Trinny can bring me home. She has her license. You don’t have to come-

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for Trinny to drop you off, your mom already thinks the friendship you have with her is questionable.” 

Kayla can see her dad leaving the house in a crisp white t-shirt with the words “The Black Dollar Is A Terrible Thing To Waste” one of his brand T-shirts since he has his own clothing company. 

“Mom says this, mom says that, what can I do? Honestly. It’s like I’m in a prison.”

“You’ll be in your own prison if you keep talking about your mother like that,” Erik warns while settling behind the wheel of his Lamborghini truck, “Have your things packed I’ll be there in like fifteen minutes.”

“Whatever,” Kayla hangs up, slamming her phone down with a roll of her eyes. She wasn’t ready to go home just yet. Supposedly Trinny could whip up a mean daiquiri with tequila and she wanted one badly. The only amount of alcohol she has ever had is a few sips of red wine from her mom during the holidays. 

“How did it go?” Trinny came strolling back inside with her long, jet black, silky thick hair that reminded Kayla of Pocahontas soaking wet. She must have taken a quick dip in the pool. 

“I have to go home apparently...he’s on his way here.”

“Ouch,” Trinny has a smile on her face, “So I get to see your fine ass dad? Mmm.”

“Trinny, STOP IT! For real,” Kayla says with rage, “That’s my dad and your underage...it’s disgusting.”

“First of all, I’m 18, secondly, it’s not disgusting if the feeling is mutual,” Trinny starts laughing as if it were a joke but Kayla is angered, “Girl...chill the fuck out. I’m kidding...I wouldn’t do you like that.” 

“...have you ever...been with an older man?” Kayla asks with a whisper as if an adult was in earshot.

Trinny kisses her teeth, “okay...once. He’s 23 though...my older brother's college friend. It happened over winter break.” 

“TRINNY!” Kayla was flabbergasted. 

“What?!!! You’re giving me this judgy look.”

A knock came to Trinny’s door. Kayla shared a look with her before quickly getting up from the bar, running out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Trinny’s room. She was still in the bikini that Trinny let her borrow. Trinny opened the door, giving Erik her best braces filled smile, poking her petite hip out.

“Mr. Erik! Hi!” She spoke with a bubbly voice before holding her door open wider, “Kayla is up stairs gathering her things, do you wanna come in and wait?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Erik stepped into the house, looking around like a detective would a crime scene.

“Everything okay, Mr. Erik?” Trinny stepped around to meet his eyes.

“...where are your parents, Trinny?” 

“Out of town, Santa Monica,” Trinny gave him a wide smile, “They are always pretty busy, nothing new.” 

Erik averted his eyes completely. Trinny was inappropriately dressed with the tiny fabric of her bikini, a belly ring, and a tattoo of a butterfly on her left hip. Erik walked around Trinny to stand near her steps, his eyes focused up and ahead so he could spot Kayla. He couldn’t explain it but he felt out of place. Being alone with Trinny didn’t feel right.

“I’m going to wait in my car. When Kayla is finished, tell her I am outside waiting on her,” Erik says before walking towards the door again.

“Mr. Erik, you don’t have to go so soon...it’s okay to stay inside.” Trinny says with a soft voice.

Erik’s blood was boiling. Trinny wasn’t his daughter but if she was...she wouldn’t see the light of day for a very very long time. She was definitely a lost child. No direction at all. He feared for what this little girl influenced Kayla to do. Y/N is right, Trinny is a problem. Erik was back outside in a flash, his breath coming out harshly. This will be the last time Kayla steps foot in this house again.

Back inside, Kayla is storming down the stairs wearing a pair of Nike biker shorts with a matching Nike sports bra, some Nike slides, and a beach bag filled with her swimwear. 

“Your dad was in here waiting for you but he left,” Trinny spoke lazily, “Do you have everything?”

“Yep! Let me get out of here before he calls me! Bye girl!” Kayla gives Trinny a quick hug before leaving her place. 

_________

“Her parents are never around huh? No wonder she has no direction, give me your bag.”

Kayla tried her best not to roll her eyes while she handed her father her bag. Kayla walked towards their home, her keys swinging in her hand. 

“She’s too grown, Kay. I don’t want you going back to that house.”

“Seriously?” Kayla stomped, turning to face her father, “This is crazy...did mommy talk you into this?”

“No...I’m making the decision.”

Erik ignored Kayla’s whining voice while opening the front door. He held the door open for her, Kayla storming inside like a brat.

“You better pipe that shit down, Kayla. What conversation did we just have this week? No more disrespect. You still have to apologize to your mother for talking to her the way you did. You’re lucky you still have your fucking phone.”

“So much for me asking you if I can go to this party…” Kayla reaches her hand out for her bag, “Can I have my bag back please?”

Erik heaved a sigh before handing Kayla her bag, “What party did you think you would be going to?”

“See...this is EXACTLY WHY I didn’t ask,” Kayla threw her hands up with defeat, “Never mind...forget I said anything.”

“This party involves you going with Trinny and I know Donte will be there. That is a definite no, Kay, I’m happy you knew not to ask. I don’t trust him, and neither should you honestly. I told you he has one thing in mind, ONE.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time you said it,” Kayla turned away from her father to climb the stairs to her room, “I guess I’ll go sulk in my room for the rest of the night!” 

“I don’t think so! You still have to talk to your mother, Kay! Don’t think you’re off the hook!” Erik shouted after her before Kayla slammed her door shut, “AND OPEN THAT DOOR!”

“Ughhhhh,” Kayla opened her door. 

Erik was exhausted. Stalking to the kitchen he opens the fridge to figure out what to make for dinner this time. Y/N will be home in a couple of hours and the pot of spaghetti that he made was nearly finished. Erik decided to make some salmon with lemon butter sauce, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Taking the fresh salmon fillet from the fridge, Erik opened the spice cabinet to choose all the seasoning and rubs that he needed. The green beans are frozen so that would be easy to pour into a pot and the mashed potatoes are instant. 

While he sets off to cook, Erik receives a text on his cellphone from Y/N. Rinsing his fingers free of seasoning, Erik dries his hands with a dish towel hanging from his shoulder before picking his cell up from the counter. He unlocked his phone to read the text, his eyebrows disappearing behind his locs while reading her message. If it isn’t one thing it’s another. It was becoming draining. It was an overflowing bucket of issues. Y/N was at work she didn’t need added stress on top of being a Nurse Practitioner. 

Wifey: KAYLA WAS OVER TRINNY’S HOUSE?! 

Erik: Are you available to talk right now, babe?

Three seconds later, Y/N calls.

“Where is she?” Y/N spoke harshly through the phone.

“She’s home now, relax, I took care of it,” Erik covered the salmon with aluminum foil before placing it in the oven set to broil on high. 

“Wasn’t she supposed to do that blood drive after school today? Why is she at Trinny’s house in a little ass bikini?”

“Wait, what?” Erik pulled the dish towel from his shoulder harshly, “How do you know about this?”

“Remember I told you that Delia follows her? She thinks because her and her aunt are buddy buddy that she won’t tell me!” 

Erik closes his eyes, “Do I even want to know what these fucking photos look like?”

“Don’t even worry, I’ll be confiscating her phone when I get home.” 

“I’ll do it.”

“...really?” Y/N says with a disbelieving tone.

“Yeah, I can go upstairs and do it now. Enough is enough we should have taken it for good when we found the photos instead of giving it back.”

“Wow, now you put your foot down the proper way,” Y/N chuckles to hide her irritation.

“Why are you being so cynical about it? I’ve been putting my foot down, Y/N, I just don’t yell and shout like you do.”

“I’ll see you when I get home, I’m not discussing this right now.” 

“Fine,” Erik takes the phone from his ear, hanging it up without another word spoken. Since three nights ago when Y/N and Kayla argued, Y/N took her frustrations out on him. Erik endured it enough. Walking up the stairs, Erik made his way to Kayla’s room. Knocking twice, Erik held his ear to the door. Kayla was listening to music. Lil Uzi Vert was playing loudly over her speaker and there was no way she would hear. Twisting the knob, Erik called her name between the crack of the door, Kayla still not answering him. 

“KAY!” Erik shouts before opening her door fully, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

Erik couldn’t help but to raise his voice angrily at his daughter. Kayla is laying back on the bed in a bikini that barely covered her breasts, taking seductive photos. At the sound of her father's booming voice, Kayla shot up out of her bed, grabbing a faux fur zebra printed throw blanket from a bean bag chair on her floor, wrapping it around her body with an embarrassed look on her face. 

“Turn that music off...now,” Erik says while trying to still his rage. Kayla grabs her phone from her bed, pausing her music before looking down at her feet. 

“I guess your mother texting me was a sign for me to come up here and check on you...she found out that you were at Trinny’s house and she says that you are all over Instagram with a tiny ass bikini on, bent over all grown,” Erik closes his eyes to ease his anger, “What the fuck are you doing wearing that, Kay?”

“Dad...it’s just a swimsuit. Swimsuits are going to show skin! I can’t help that-

“You can. You have more appropriate swimwear and that’s not a swimsuit that’s two pieces of barely any fabric. Delia told your mom about it.”

Kayla felt a mixture of fear and anger towards her father. Aunt Delia told her mother? She felt betrayed. She could go to Aunt Delia about anything but now that is over. She’s getting unfriended just like the rest of her nosy, interfering relatives. 

“Taking more photos for your Instagram or did you plan on sending those photos to Donte?” 

Kayla’s eyes danced around her room, avoiding her father's question. 

“Kayla…” Erik spoke carefully, “I’m going to ask you one more time...who are these photos for?”

“...Dad-

“ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

Kayla gasps, her eyes growing wide and frightened. She stepped back further, her back touching her bedroom wall. Erik was shaking, his eyes blazing, and his breathing harsh. Her father never got this pissed off with her. 

“It’s for IG!!! That’s it!!!” Kayla spoke with a shrill voice.

“Give me your phone,” Erik held out his hand, “I’m not playing. Give me the damn phone, Kayla. That’s it. I tried the calm and understanding approach now it’s time to give you tough love.”

Kayla groaned loudly before throwing her phone at the wall, cracking her screen. She blew air through her cheeks while angrily wiping tears from her eyes. Erik was reading to blow a fucking casket. He tilted his head at Kayla, his eyes searching hers, silently asking her why she would do that?

“Forget the dance, forget having your phone for the remainder of the school year, you will no longer hang with Trinny, you will come straight home from practice to focus on school and that’s it. The TV, OFF, you have no privileges, FUCKING NONE I am tired we did not raise you to be disrespectful and unappreciative. I’m serious about this, Kayla, I am done, I am fucking done, do you hear me, fucking done, do you understand what I am saying? Do you see the seriousness in my tone...my face?!!!!”

A single tear fell from Kayla’s eye while she stared at her father as if he were a stranger. He looked at her with this disgusted expression like he couldn’t believe that she is his daughter; that he created her. He looked like he wanted to disown her. All of this over a few raunchy photos. Kayla didn’t believe it was that serious of an issue to punish her so extensively. 

“I guess I should just find a new family since my parents are so damn extra-

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?” Erik stormed over to Kayla, “REPEAT THAT?”

Kayla swallowed spit nervously, “...I just feel like this is going too far...It’s just photos, Dad, that’s all.”

Erik chuckled dryly before bending down to pick up Kayla’s cell from the floor, “take that shit off and get yourself together, it’s late,” he spoke with malice before walking out of Kayla’s room, leaving the door wide open. 

___________________

Y/N walked through the front door, tossing her keys in a ceramic bowl that Kayla created in her art class during her freshman year of high school. She wore a change of clothes so that she wouldn’t bring germs home from the workplace. She could smell dinner and her mouth instantly watered. Walking through her living room area Y/N could hear Erik talking to someone in the kitchen. When she finally entered Erik was sitting at the kitchen island talking to Delia, Y/N’s younger sister. 

“Hey, sis,” Delia stood up to give Y/N a quick hug, “Erik called me over so we could talk about Kayla.”

“Hey babe,” Y/N gave Erik a chaste kiss before walking over to the stove, opening the top to the green beans and inhaling, “So what are we discussing exactly? Her photos or her overall disregard?”

“All of it,” Erik says while holding a water bottle in his hand, “I filled Delia in on everything that’s been going on here with Kay Kay-

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Delia spoke defensively, “I haven’t spoken to you in about a month and the first thing I hear is that my niece is being defiant and grown.”

“These are our issues, Delia. All you’re gonna do is go back to mama and tell her what’s going on and you know she can’t keep her mouth shut for shit. Then, I’ll have the whole damn family calling me, asking me what I’m doing wrong and how I should handle it. Kayla is my daughter.””

“Maybe that’s what you need right now because clearly what you’re doing isn’t working,” Delia shared a quick look with Erik, “Erik and I were talking and we think Kayla should spend the summer with Aunt Edwertta. She can use the isolation-

“Aunt Edwertta is a pastor’s wife who will do nothing but shame Kayla. Plus, ever since she said that I don’t have love for my family I don’t talk to her. She criticizes everything I do, she talks about how her kids are these wealthy people like we’re trash. She can mind her business too and worry about what fine China set she wants to eat on for dinner.”

“Baby,” Erik stood from his seat at the counter, “It might be a good idea. We punish her, take things away, yell, repeatedly tell her what not to do and nothing is working. This might be a good idea-

“Erik, I don’t need you to tell me what’s good for Kayla-

“Kayla is MY CHILD as well, Y/N...we make decisions together,” Erik spoke sternly while jabbing his finger against the kitchen counter. 

“Funny, you and Delia must be the new married couple because both of you made a decision without me.” 

“I’m not trying to overstep,” Delia looked between Erik and Y/N, “she’s my niece, and I care about her.”

“Teh,” Y/N walks away to grab a plate, “Her auntie or her friend? What made you change your mind?”

“Seriously, Y/N?” Delia was immortalized with fury, “Just because me and YOUR daughter are close doesn’t mean that I don’t worry about what the fuck she is out here doing-

“CHILL OUT,” Erik stood between both women that are much smaller than him, “I asked Delia over so she could tell me if there is anything else we need to know about Kay, especially with Trinny.”

“Trinny is all up and down her page,” Delia pulls out her cell, “I checked out the girls page and she’s pretty popular on IG with like 250K followers.”

Delia gives Y/N her phone to look at Trinny’s page. Trinny looked like a 25 year old girl with the way she dressed. This isn’t the influence that Kayla needed. Y/N goes back to Kayla’s page and sees the photos, turning the phone screen around to show Erik. His jaw clenched painfully while staring at the pictures. 

David_05: Damn, this is Kayla?! 👀 shawty got a phatty.

TrinnyVasquez_xoxo: THATS MY SEXY BEST FRIEND! @Dman_theRealest do you see your girl?

Dman_theRealest: SHEESH! I hope you’re coming to my party I need to see this in person, hit my phone light skin 😈

“She was taking more photos in her room when I went to get her phone...I think she was sending them to Donte,” Erik gives Delia her phone back.

“Where is her phone, let’s check,” Y/N impatiently held her hand out towards Erik for him to give her Kayla’s phone. Digging into the pocket of his jeans, Erik carefully places Kayla’s phone into Y/N’s hand since the screen was shattered completely.

“SHE DID THIS?!” Y/N examined the phone with hysterical eyes, “We just bought her this phone!”

“She won’t be needing it...just be careful looking through it so you don’t cut yourself.”

Delia and Y/N go to Kayla’s camera roll, finding just three photos of her showing an ample amount of cleavage with the same tiny bikini top on. She’s licking her lips seductively while staring into the camera. With her heart thumping painfully in her chest, Y/N goes to Kayla’s inbox and finds a message thread with Donte.

“She sent them to him…” Y/N spoke with a defeated voice, “Oh my God-

“WHAT?” Erik looked like he was ready to punch a wall.

“He sent her a picture of his...well, you know.”

“Oh hell nah!!! Little nigga sending my daughter dick pictures?!! Fuck that!!! KAYLA!”

“Shhhh, Erik no,” Y/N tried to stop him, “We will talk with her later-

“Ain’t no later she got some explaining to do! What if she’s having sex, Y/N? How will you feel then?”

“You know Donte’s father, you can have a talk with him tomorrow while you assist coach their practice,” Y/N reasons, “Man to man. For all we know Kayla probably didn’t see the photos yet since you took her phone-

“But he is sending them to MY daughter. I will gladly rough this little ass boy up, Y/N, I don’t care how old he is,” Erik tries to walk past Y/N but she stops him, “The boy is a JOKE. The shit I hear him talk about…no.” 

“I’m going to go,” Delia grabs her shoulder bag that she purchased from a friend’s boutique, “I’m sorry if I intruded. Y/N, Erik, please keep me posted on everything. I have to pick up Amar from day care.”

“...okay,” Y/N gives her sister a quick hug. 

Delia makes her way out of the house, leaving Y/N in the kitchen with her arms around Erik’s waist to calm him down.

___________

Sitting at the long extendable dining table, Kayla accepts her plate filled with a healthy portion of food. Y/N sat across from her, playing with the remaining green beans on her plate with her fork. Erik was at the head of the table chewing his food slowly while looking between his daughter and his wife. The tension was so thick a machete would have a hard time cutting through it. Kayla reaches for her glass of lemonade to wash down the potatoes, spilling some on her pajama top. She reached for some napkins placed in the middle of the table at the same time her mother did, their fingers touching. Kayla flinched, withdrawing her hand quickly. 

Y/N noticed her actions, dropping her fork on her plate with a loud clanking. Kayla looked up through her lashes at her mother before rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. Erik ran his tongue across his upper teeth while giving Kayla a death glare. Kayla could feel the heat of her father's eyes almost burning a whole into the flesh of her temple but she ignored it. Sitting in front of her mother after eavesdropping on her and Aunt Delia looking through her phone made her want to scream and pull her hair. Donte sent her a dick pic that she didn’t get a chance to see because her father walked into her room without knocking. 

“Kayla, don’t you have something to say to your mother?” Erik says, his deep authoritative voice loud in her ear even though he sat further away.

“I’m sorry,” Kayla says dismissively.

“Let’s try that again,” Erik says, “Apologize.”

Kayla looks up at her mother, seeing the hurt in her eyes. She is cowardly in her chair, unable to look at her face any longer.

“I apologize, ma, I’m sorry for yelling and cussing at you, I’m sorry for disrespecting you, I’m just truly sorry.”

Y/N couldn’t fight her tears, “Why do you do this? Is it Trinny? Does she tell you to act like this?”

“No…” Kayla didn’t sound too sure of her response, “It’s all me.”

“Are you covering for her?” Y/N asked with a shaky voice.

“Trinny has nothing to do with this, okay? I’m just tired of being sheltered, I’m tired of being treated like a five year old; can’t wear certain things, can’t go certain places, can’t talk to boys, no privacy at all. Y’all don’t understand...I’m not a little girl anymore...I want freedom.”

“Freedom to do what?” Erik says with his brows raised and a smirk on his face, “You’re 16, what’s out there for you at 16? Trust me, I know what’s out there. I was 16 before. I think you’re covering for Trinny and that scares me. She was prancing around in a bikini in front of my my face, trying to get my attention sexually-

“Oh really?” Y/N leans back in her dining chair, folding her arms across her chest, “So not only is she out here acting like she’s a grown ass woman she’s trying to seduce your father?!”

“Trinny is all jokes, she’s goofy and wild that’s it.” Kayla tries to defend.

“Jokes?! What does she say to you about us, Kay? Come on, there is no need in hiding it either way we will find out.” Y/N says.

“She thinks dad is cute but I told her to stop, Trinny wouldn’t actually try anything,” Kayla shakes her head with annoyance.

“Remind me to pay a visit to Trinny’s house to talk to her parents,” Y/N spoke more so to Erik before pushing her plate away, “That little girl is problematic.”

“Mom...please,” Kayla looked worried.

“Why are you taking up for her?! Do you need her approval or something?” 

“You don’t get it,” Kayla stood up from the table, “I’m not hungry anymore-

“Sit down and eat because you won’t be coming down here in the middle of the night to eat,” Erik says while sipping his lemonade, “Trinny is popular, right? You want to be popular? Known? Trinny took you under her wing and now you will do whatever it takes to keep that up...correct?”

It was written all over Kayla’s face. I guess being the school athlete wasn’t enough. No surprise honestly. Trinny is beautiful, popular, definitely having sex and those are all the things that Kayla fed off of. Trinny wanted to mold Kayla into a replication of herself. 

“You don’t have to respond, I already know,” Erik says while forking some salmon, “Tomorrow, I’m going to have a talk with Donte’s father. I already spoke to him and I’ll be discussing with him about what Donte did.”

“Dad no!” Kayla panicked, “Please! If somebody finds out I will be clowned forever!”

“Kayla, what do you expect us to do?” Y/N says, “Enough is enough, he shouldn’t be sending you anything like that to your phone-

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot you snooped through my phone again, typical,” Kayla fires back with hard eyes, “What’s next? Implanting a chip in my arm to see where I go when I’m not home?”

“Who the FUCK are you smart mouthing? Erik…” Y/N’s hands shook, “I’m telling you...get your daughter, get her now.”

“Take your food upstairs, Kay. Clearly this punishment isn’t sinking in. Y/N, I’m sending her to Aunt Edwertta’ for spring break.” Erik wasn’t asking, he was telling. Y/N didn’t argue with him. Maybe sending her there will do something for her. 

“Auntie Edwertta? What?!!” Kayla stood from her seat almost knocking the chair down, “I don’t want to stay with her!!!”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter,” Erik stands, grabbing all of their plates, piling it up, “Get some sleep, you have school in the morning.” 

Kayla stormed away, rushing up the stairs. Y/N finally exhaled before the tears began to fall. 

“Hey,” Erik’s large hand on her back rubbing it in circles made her cry harder, “We have to try every approach, baby. We’ll call your aunt and ask her. Since spring break is in two weeks we can drive Kayla up there and get her settled in. Baby, shh shh, hey, look at me,” Erik crouched down in front of Y/N turning her face towards his, “It’ll be okay...she’s still our baby girl…”

Y/N pressed her forehead against Erik’s while he thumbed away her tears. He kissed her all over her face before wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

“What if this doesn’t work? What if she goes up there and tries to sneak away?”

“Aye, let’s not think bad thoughts,” Erik strokes Y/N’s hair back, “we have to try first, don’t we?”

“I know I know,” Y/N sniffles, “I just wish it didn’t have to come to this.”

“What else do we have?” Erik says with a soft, soothing tone. 

_________

“Damn! What kind of shit is that? I can’t even remember the last time I was punished. Your parents are like correctional officers. Eat this time, sleep this time, study this time, like what the fuck?!” 

Kayla was sitting on her roof, way past her bedtime. Her parents forgot to confiscate her iPad that she got as a gift from her Aunt Delia. 

“They don’t want me hanging with you anymore. This may even be our last conversation, girl.”

“...what?” Trinny’s face frowned, “What the fuck did I do?”

“Well...they think that you are a bad influence on me,” Kayla dramatically rolls her eyes into her head.

“WOW,” Trinny rolls her eyes, “Mr. Erik ain’t my future baby daddy anymore, IM KIDDING CHILL OUT!”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that shit is nasty and I don’t like you referring to my father in that way.”

“Whatever, the party was lit by the way, too bad you didn’t make it,” Trinny pouts on the phone. Donte was expecting to see you but I kept him company so it was cool.”

Kayla squinted her eyes at Trinny, “Kept him company doing what?”

“We just chilled, played Uno, had some drinks, you know, my special daquiris. Everybody was asking for you!”

Kayla felt uneasy, “I told you, my parents don’t want me hanging with you anymore, Trinny.”

“You’re your own person, I don’t make you do shit. You wanna hang with me, that's your decision...I can’t stand your bitch ass mom,” Trinny laughs.

Kayla mugs Trinny, “Listen, I don’t like this shit either but my mom isn’t a bitch, okay? Don’t call her that...if anything I can not you.”

“Oh so NOW I can’t call her that? Girl, fuck outta here. She’s a bitch and if she says anything to my parents it’s a problem, PERIOD.”

“What the fuck? Why are you popping off? I said what I said, that’s it on that,” Kayla says getting buck on FaceTime.

“Listen, you called me to vent. So whatever you got going on leave that shit over there. Don’t FaceTime me on some rah rah like you’re big and bad,” Trinny yelled into her phone, “You know what, why don’t you go ahead and hang up, you punished, right? Go to bed baby boo.” 

Kayla hangs up, ready to throw her iPad off the roof and into their pool but instead she looks up into the starry sky, tears welling up in her brown eyes. Looks like she lost a friend. She has other friends but it was something about hanging with Trinny. She wasn’t looked at as the good girl, the nerdy girl, the boring girl. Quickly, Kayla made it back inside of her bedroom, closing her window behind her. She placed her iPad in her hiding place before slipping beneath her covers, tucking herself in. She is afraid to face Trinny and Donte tomorrow at school. Closing her eyes, Kayla forces herself to fall asleep, her brain trying its best to ward off nightmares. 

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[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #17: (NSFW)

———————————

A/N: taglist, I did not post one with the last marathon so check if you missed collections 13-15 |

I had a lot of difficulty posting this so if it seems unfinished and you don’t see the taglist please let me know!

Also, MATURE CONTENT BELOW! NSFW!

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

Poor Aone………………………………………’s sexual composure. 🥵🤯🤸‍♂️

That following Friday, In the calm Date Tech Hallway….

Like a hurricane, Kenji and a kanji ran over to Aone-san out of breath. 

“Aone!!!”

Used to his best friends being storms at home and at school, he turned to them at his locker. “Yes? Are you two okay?” 

Kenji made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “—Just dandy. We’re fine. But you’re not. Or, you won’t be. You’re supposed to help Y/N with her tryout video today right??!!!” 

Aone’s heart picked up speed, thinking about being alone with you again. He nodded. “Yes. Why? Is she alright?” 

“Cancel it.”

Beside Kenji, Kanji bounced on his own two feet, repeating the brunette with wide eyes. “Cancel it, cancel it, cancel it!” 

Aone looked confused. His best friends knew how much this plan meant to him, which included getting closer to you as a step, so he didn’t understand. Besides, they’d just spoken about it this morning and everything was fine. 

“I don’t understand…” Takanobu tilted his head to the side curiously. 

Kenji huffed. “Just trust us!!”

“Give me your phone Aone-senpai, I’ll call Y/N and cancel for you!!!” Kogane shouted, bustling in between the two of them to search Aone’s open locker…… for his phone, no doubt. 

Aone stepped to the side so that the setter could search his locker, knowing his phone was in his pocket. “Kogane-san, please calm down. Is anyone hurt or injured?” 

His friends looked frazzled as hell.

“No one is fucking hurt, you big giant. Just trust us when we say you need to cancel helping her film her stupid thing. Tell her to get a camera stand or pay one of the film geeks or something—“ 

“No.” Aone growled unintentionally. He didn’t mean to, he just really disliked the idea of another guy spending hours with the love of his life. Hewanted to help her. Aone removed the venom from his next words. “I want to see her, Futakuchi-san. You know that. What has gotten into you two—“ 

Kenji pinched the bridge of his nose, interrupting. “—Kusa said..... that apparently, Y/N’s cheer uniform had an issue with the order. The University—our University— sent her a uniform that’s a size or two too small. But she still has to submit her freaking audition in it and then they’ll apparently send her a new one, so—“

“I’ve seen Y/N in a cheerleading uniform before.” Aone stated calmly, feeling better now that he knows you weren’t involved in some incident or something. “You both really expect me to cancel on Y/N because of that?” Ridiculous, Aone wanted to add, but he didn’t. He tried his best to ignore, however, the way he felt a small stir in his lower belly because he recalled seeing you in the normal Date Teko cheer uniform. Not only is that cheer uniform what you were wearing the first time he ever laid eyes on you, but every male in this school—including the Mountain Man—thought you looked unbelievably hot in it. 

Before you noticed him, Aone almost ran into a pole once because he specifically saw you stretching in uniform outdoors with your team. Kenji pulled him from the pole’s path in the knick of time. 

Another time, When you were dating, Aone had gotten a huge boner after school just because he had received a text from him asking if your bra was showing through your white cheer top, with an attached photo of your chest. It was, in fact, transparent and Aone couldn’t think straight for the rest of his own practice. Coach was really mad at him that day….

Anyway, the point is that Aone has seen you in your attractive cheer uniform plenty of times. Perhaps his friends forgot?

“Aone-san, we can tell her that you’re sick, or that there is a family emergency or something, come—“ Kenji grabbed his best friend’s arm, steering him toward the exit. Aone let his friend turn him so that he does’t over exert himself like he usually did when he tried to move the all-muscle man, but he stopped just before they blocked the exit. 

‘Aone! TRUST ME. You cannot handle—“

“—I can and I will. Kenji. Please let me g—“ 

Just then, you entered through the exit doors a few feet away that Kenji was about to lead you out of, cutting Takanobu off and immediately heading his way. 

“Oh, hey, Aone! There you are!”

Aone:

Aone Takanobu can truly say—if he could speak—that he will never even question Futakuchi again. 

Kenji whistled under his breath when he saw you too. “Too late.” he muttered, folding his arms and a blush setting in. “See you at home.!” The brunette yelled as he grabbed Kanji, who was still searching the white haired’s locker—with one hand, using his other to plug his nose because was trickling a bit of blood. 

Upon seeing you, Aone felt as if all of the air in his lungs had been shaken out of his body like a damn salt shaker. He had to physically rub his eyes to make sure they were functioning correctly, and after he did that and you were still walking towards him, Aone pinched his own forearm, hard. 

Still, you were walking toward him. 

Fuck. This is real then.

Holy mother of God, Aone thought in a panic. This isn’t a wet dream?! It can’t be. He’s never seen that uniform on you before.

You stopped in front of Aone, ignoring the handful of boys that were drooling over you in your potential new post secondary school uniform. 

“Ugh. I said medium, not extra small. If I didn’t need a scholarship to make up for my grades, I wouldn’t go to this damn school. Just for this.” You grumbled, walking right past Aone to his locker that was left wide open. Without thinking, you reached inside and collected his huge Date Tech Volleyball jacket, swinging it over your shoulder and zipping it up. Aone had so many of these, and you loved them. You could practically hear the collective disappointed-male groan when you covered yourself completely. It reached the bottom of your kneecaps. 

When your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure because you were wrapped up in the most incredible warmth and scent in the world—Aone’s—you realized you had basically just performed theft, you looked down at your white cheer shoes sheepishly. “Oh my gosh. Sorry, Aone. Habit, I guess.” You apologized, too nervous to look up at him. Horny Mountain Man was in no position to respond coherently anyway, even if he didn’t want you wearing his stuff. 

Which, for the record, always makes me happy as fuck. 

Water. He thought. Water is what always helps in times like this. 

“Please, second.” Aone blurted, turning quickly to speed walk down the hallway to the nearest water fountain. It was tucked away in a corner to where he was hidden, so Aone alternated between taking big, big, very big gulps and splashing water on his face. Repeat.

You were wearing a form-fitting yellow cheer uniform. It said Pirates across the chest that it squeezed, exposed your entire stomach, and then yellow met your waist again in a really short pleated skirt (skort) that was barely covering your ass. Just seeing you in it for two seconds before you put on his jacket alone made Aone store that visual in his spank bank for tonight. Uh, for tonight x3.......or tonight x4........and then tomorrow morning, ……because the way that uniform fit you made him fantasize about doing every position in it….... ugh, Aone splashed more water on his face again. 

Back at Aone’s locker alone, You were so embarrassed in this uniform. You look like an absolute fool in a uniform so tiny, what the fuck?

Hearing a group of hurried footsteps coming from your left, from your two places you both turned to see a group of the biggest fuckboys in the school turning down this hall, searching for what Aone just knew was you with expectant expressions, positively gutted when they saw a giant jacket on you. 

You narrowed your eyes at the group in a glare, giving them a sickeningly sweet smile. “Hi, Fuck off 😊🖕.”

“Heya to you too, Y/N.” Said the guy you briefly gave a chance to before you met a real man like Aone. The baseball player. He had such a disgusting grin on his face, as if he was looking to bring you home or something. As if. 

Seemingly correct in deciphering what his look means, You had to hold down your lunch when he said, “Good luck with your online tryouts today. Care to show us that new uniform of yours?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

“Nope, thanks. I just want to send my audition tape and solidify my future never seeing your ass again.” You snapped back. 

“Ouch, Y/N. We just heard it’s tryouts for the cheer squad today, and wanted to give all you ladies our sincerest thanks for being what awoke our hormones in first year. Is that so bad?” 

“Gross. You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re newly single, right? C’mon, I’m leaving the country after graduation for baseball. Consider it a parting gift,” The baseball player licked his lips and took one tiny step toward you. “I can stretch it out for you,” 

Takanobu—who was frozen in horny-for-Y/N-mode by the water fountain—was snapped out of it as soon as a threatening movement was made toward you. 

Aone understands very well that this was not a good position for any female to be in, but especially not the most important female in his life.  

Immediately, he was in front of you, completely shielding you from the other boys behind his broad, muscular body. 

Not knowing how the fuck this giant man can move that fast again, you couldnt help the breath of relief that left you, knowing you didn’t have to fight this battle anymore. Your knight has arrived. Your ex-knight. ☹️

“I’m sure you all have something else to do this afternoon.” Aone stated, trying to be as civil as possible. 

The baseball player threw his head back and laughed. “I definitely do…..but she’s just a regular student, not a cheerleader…… so it can wait. Oh, and—totally forgot to welcome you to the dumped-by-a-hot-cheerleader club—we’re all in it.” The baseball player gestured toward the group of boys he was in and they all laughed. 

Aone felt his heart break a bit, but his anger didn’t allow him to falter. Girlfriend or not, these boys didn’t respect the love of his life or any female in this school, and it was obvious. Nothing made him more upset.

“Come on bro, tell her to take off the jacket, we all wanna see her new uniform—“ the creep tried taking a step around Aone to get to you, so Aone stepped forward blocking that path, pulling you behind him again. 

“Take one more step toward her.” Aone growled in the smoothest voice. You couldn’t see it, but from experience with creeps trying to hit on you when you were together, you could tell Aone had his absolutely terrifying expression on and fit didn’t even mean to. The biggest teddy bear... that turned into your tough grizzly without the tiniest bit of hesitation if it meant protecting you.

 “I dare you.” Aone added, for good measure.

Needless to say, like always, the group of creepos saw how serious this giant could be, and then scurried away faster than they came. 

It turns out they’re not a fan of Aone’s dares.

You resisted every nerve in your body from acting on your instincts and grabbing Takanobu and kissing him as thanks for protecting you. Fuck, you just fell deeper in love with the man and if we are being g honest, hearing him become so respectfully protective like that, not only made your heart clench but your pussy clench as well. 

Aone turned to you and bowed in apology for speaking for you. 

You waved him off and thanked him wising words as you physically pressed your thighs together to keep yourself from throwing yourself on your ex and begging him to fuck your brains out like you wanted him to. Like he always did. Truth be told, you are so turned on. 

Needing fresh air, right the fuck now—you grabbed Aone’s arm and he allowed you to pull him outside to the empty football field since school was over. 

You found a small corner where you’d be hidden from prying eyes and it was a flat enough green surface for jumps and tumbling passes, so you liked it. you asked your beautiful Ex if it was fine to set up here for the audition. Daylight hit the area perfectly. 

Takanobu nodded, but then a slight blush fell over his face and you didn’t follow exactly why that was. “What is it?” You ask, using your hand as a visor. 

“Ummm,… this spot is fine Y/N. But I just realized that I forgot my flash in the photography studio.” 

You shrugged. “Oh! That’s it? Okay, that’s fine. I can just wait here and start stretching.” 

Aone’s pale cheeks darkened even more. You tried not to swoon. Oh my gosh he looked cute! But you still didn’t get why forgetting his flash made him so shy. 

“Aone, what is it? Is there something wrong?”

Takanobu looked away, willing himself to speak with conviction. “No, I apologize again. It’s just….” He willed himself to meet your eyes, because that’s what his plan told him to do. “Do you mind accompanying me? Uh, to retrieve the flash? I can carry everything, that’s not a problem, but— I just don’t feel comfortable leaving you out here alone just in case that group comes back and I’m not around.”

You inside: 

You sucked in a breath, trying so so sooo fucking hard not to shout how much you loved this man! If you were still dating, you would tackle him and showering his face with kisses right now, then probably tug him somewhere so you could drop to your knees and suck the soul out of his dick—that’s how much you loved him. 

“Oh, that’s so sweet.” You nodded, pressing your thighs together as you walked his side, in his jacket.

***

2 hours later, Aone is almost done filming your tryout tape. 

In the beginning, He managed to distract himself on his phone while you stretched, only stealing glances at you when you were in your splits (at which time Aone accidentally bit his tongue). 

Then the middle section of filming wasn’t sooo bad, you had to tell the camera about yourself—in which Aone thought you looked so pretty and thought you didn’t list enough of your good qualities, but he wouldn’t interject to tell you that— he filmed you doing a few technical jumps, some sideline hand-only cheers that you yelled out, and a few tumbling passes, which Aone was able to handle if he was thinking about dead squirrels like Futakuchi taught him. But that was as far as the dead squirrel strategy went for him. It had served its purpose and now Aone was running out of steam, because you had just completed the flyer positions section: where you had to contort your amazing body in flexible positions that literally made his urges to fuck you hard come back, God damnit…

Even though that was tough, Takanobu had a plan to follow and it included being able to spend time with you like this, so he had to put on a brave face and endure it. He was so proud of himself so far—even if he had to overheat in the volleyball sweater he had to put on to hide his protruding cock. It was sunny, not hot, which is good. And it did a great job hiding his crotch, so he wouldn’t dare take it off.

But truth be told, a part of Aone Takanobu felt absolutely foolish for not taking his friend’s offer earlier and cancelling on you. If seeing a cheerleading uniform on you in the past almost made him walk into a pole, I don’t think anyone could imagine how seeing you in a much sexier, college cheerleader uniform that is 2 sizes too small makes him feel now. Fuck. 

During the final portion of your tryout video, you had to showcase the choreography they taught you, and well, Aone was…………. He was……………

He was……………………

A/N: Imma try to just come out and say it.

During your dance segment…………………

You are of course, wearing that tiny new uniform, and Mountain Man is so fucking in love and horny for you, and you were also horny so you were unintentionally giving him bedroom eyes, and your dance for the tryout was semi provocative, and you are so flexible and bendy, slightly sweaty from over exertion, and did Aone mention that you are wearing that tiny uniform????

Yeah, this white haired beauty was going to cum untouched. 

Why? How? Well:

“So, Aone, for this part, I need you to tell me how I’m doing, Okay? I know you don’t know cheer very well but just in this dance section if I look sloppy or Im going too fast, I’d appreciate the feedback since my future relies on this. Is that Okay?”

The white haired beauty grunted in agreement, the sound actually hurting his throat because it was so dry. 

You smiled at him sweetly.

You looked so fucking cute, LostyAone.exe stopped working. 

“I need you to make sure the camera is getting my entire body, Okay? So that the judges can judge my footwork too. Can you pan down to make sure you’re comfortable with the movement?

Using the camera, Aone panned down liked you asked and nearly died. He was glad his eyes were hidden behind the camera because they just about fell the fuck out when he caught a really good glimpse of your delectable ass under your cheer skirt. Inside his brain,  dozens of little control-panel Aone’s erupted in chaos, running around his brain with towels trying to blow out the raging inferno in there.

SHE IS SO FUCKING SEXY, His mind yelled at him, as if he needed any more of a reminder. TOO SEXY, it repeated, and Aone’s dick twitched angrily in his pants. 

DEAD SQUIRRELS. DEAD SQUIRRELS. DEAD—OH, SHE’S SMILING AT US.

Takanobu briefly thought about the fact that this footage was only going to be seen by your prospective cheer captains, coaches, and himself— but he couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to edit all of this together in the time frame he promised he would with only one hand. The incessant desire he had to pump his cock to the look of you in that tiny uniform was practically all-consuming. So when he has to stare at constant footage of you alone in his room this weekend, well............. he’d probably need to take more breaks than he’s willing to admit. He needed this to end, and quick.

“So there is one move, Aone, that I need you to make sure that part gets a tiny close-up of. It’s this part where I flip why hair like this, then I have to run my hands from my neck dowwwwwwwn my body slowly and back up to do a mini chest pump… but that move I am switching it to a mini chest squeeze…, because the coach said she wants her team this year to have a lot of sex appeal and the ability to make the dances their own, so I thought I’d add that to show her I have what she’s looking for. What do you think?”

Wait, Sex appeal? Chest squeeze? As in, squeeze your breasts?! Like how? And Did Y/N just insinuate that she needs more sex appeal ? More than she already…….………..huh🥵? Aone gulped in disbelief. If you had any more sex appeal, Y/N……….. he wanted to tell you. I’d be an absolute dead man. He already was. 

You took Mountain Man’s silence as confusion. “Do you not get what I’m saying? Here, I’m thinking something like this.”

And then, if things weren’t bad enough, you showed this poor poor hanging-on-by-a-single-thread-of-composure Aone—the move that you’re referring to in slow motion so that he could recognize it in the dance: 

Takanobu was going to lose his mind. Inside, he was all:

And he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he has what you just did on film.

 Aone’s dick throbbed relentlessly in his uniform pants, practically having a pounding heart attack of its own. Luckily, it was hidden under his jacket, telling him loud and clear that this was all he could handle from under there. 

“Umm,” Aone started shakily, turning his back to you and scanning the field. He thanked the heavens because he saw the girls entire soccer team starting practice really close to where they were filming, so if anything were to happen and those boys came back to bother you, you could just walk right over to the big group and the coaches. He wouldn’t be gone long anyway.

Not with how worked up he was. 

Not even remembering what excuse he made because all of his brain blood resided in his cock right now, whether he said he needed to go to the bathroom or fucking Pluto he doesn’t know—but he finds comfort in the fact that whatever he said, you responded unsuspectingly, saying, 

“Oh Okay, sure! I needed a break anyway!” you plopped down on the grass in fatigue. 

Good.

Everything in Aone’s mind was a blur until he was inside one of the stalls in the empty boys volleyball locker room, his right hand down his pants before he could even think to unbutton or pull down a zipper, stroking his needy length. 

“Ohhhh my God,” Aone sighed, using the immense amount of pre cum on his dick as lubrication. His dick was twitching in his palm as he stroked. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,”  chanted the middle blocker who does NOT use profanity regularly, shutting his eyes as tight as they could go. Immediately, images of you met the inside of his dark lids, especially this image: over and over and over.

So horny he wasnt even thinking clearly, Mountain Man immediately reached for his camera hanging on a necklace around his neck with one large hand. He immediately scrolled to the dance footage and moaned when your beautiful face and figure met the screen. He stroked himself through the dance you just did that wasn’t even the official dance yet, lidded eyes staring at your pretty face and amazing body in that fucking uniform. A hand job has never felt so knee-buckling.

He replayed the footage.

She’s so hot. Stroke harder. Rewind. Replay. She’s so fucking hot. Stroke faster. Rewind. Replay. She’s so UNBELIEVABLY fucking hottttttttttt. Fuck my hand. Replay, replay, replay. 

Within 50 seconds of starting, Aone was releasing so hard into his hand that he was grateful the camera was around his neck because the force of his orgasm made it slip out of this hand.

Breathing heavily as if he had just run a fucking marathon, it was only one more minute later that Aone felt himself hardening again, thinking of you and needing another release. Home. His dick chanted. He needed to go home. Takanobu was so horny for you that he guiltily fantasized about taking the bra you left at his house all that time ago out so that he could paint it white and possibly fuck it, but he somehow thought that was disrespectful and felt a little ashamed for thinking of you so inappropriately while looking at your footage, so he decided not to do that again. Mountain Man cleaned up with a napkin, but didn’t move to leave just yet. He knew himself better than that, so he wrapped his hand around his pre cum lubed cock again, just waiting.

He loved you for so much more than just your physical appearance—Aone knew that—but sometimes how hot you were put him through a loop. Clearly, considering he’d just jerked himself off in his locker room in 55 seconds and was ready to do it again. Unbelievable. You are breathtakingly beautiful.

I can’t believe Y/N….. gave me a chance— What could the most beautiful woman in the world have seen in me? What am I doing trying to get her back, have I SEEN HER? As Aone was greeted with his self-deprecating thoughts again, he thought about your gorgeous face. This made Takanobu began thrusting up into his wet hand impatiently. 

She’s so caring. And so loving. And such a force to be reckoned with, God I want to put a ring on her finger and cherish her forever.

Even his self deprecating thoughts couldn’t take him out of how far gone he already was, he almost forgot that he actually had to take off his pants unless he wanted to ruin them completely and chance you seeing him walk back out with a giant cum stain. 

With an upsetting growl because his pleasure had to wait a millisecond, Aone roughly unbuttoned, unzipped, and shoved down his pants and boxers, moving so that when he came it would aim where he wanted it to down the toilet. His hand found his aching cock again and he resumed pumping, Aone squeezing at the base and tip and fucking his own fist. He felt just as worked up as the time you relentlessly teased him while studying, but this time you hadn’t even touched him once. He couldn’t believe it. 

But then, well, he remembered it was you, so he could. 

He loved you for years without you even knowing his name, so logically he knows that seeing you bend and bounce and do the splits in a small cheerleading uniform can easily make him cum in his pants unprovoked.

I want to make love to her soooo badly, Aone thought, feeling a little guilty for thinking of his ex so lewdly. I’d stick my cock so deep inside her unmatched pussy and hear her moan my name so loud until she was having one of her hard shuddering orgasms around me that Aone always managed to give that made his thrusts stutter, fuck fuck fuck. Aone thought about moving those tiny shorts that are connected to your skirt aside and pounding into your tight hole, pinching your nipples and sucking a hickey on your sweet skin. Ugh, he was practically pounding into his first now. It almost hurt, but hurt in a good way. He needed this. There is absolutely no better feeling in the world than being inside you, so he tried to remember it and pretend that’s what he was doing to the best of his ability to throw himself over the edge faster. It worked. His entire body trembled.

Aone bit his juicy bottom lip, actively keeping growls in his chest because he felt so carnal. He wanted you soooooooooo bad, and if you two were still together right now and you verbally agreed, thrice—you’d be in this stall with him, your legs wrapped around his waist as he,— oh god, just the mere flash-thought of you in here with him made Aone thrust into his hand even harder, thinking about your perfect ass under that small yellow skirt, how perfect your tits would look when you freed them out from under that constricting small cheer top (but kept the skirt on), and he thought about how wrecked you’d look because you both knew such a big guy like Aone would need at least three or four rounds until he was sated and you were always so fucking willing for him—

Aone let out a growl he’d been holding in as he immersed himself in the dreams, thinking about how fuck-hot you are when you dance, how amazing your breath sounds when its short and calling his name, the look of that chest squeeze and peek-a-boo’s you practically killed him with out there—and not before long Mountain Man was subject to an array of pleasure zaps shooting from his groin up his spine, making Aone close his mouth and let out a pretty loud “MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM..” As he shot cum after cum, spritz after spritz, into the toilet. His second orgasm was so intense that he needed to grab the top of the stall wall next to him with his clean hand to keep himself upright, because his knees were shaking.

Trying to catch his breath and calm down, Aone stayed in the bathroom for a few minutes until his heart beat regulated somewhat. Even though it felt like forever, it had only been maybe 5 minutes since he’d left you on the field chilling. Not enough time for you to even believe that he was pleasuring himself. It couldn’t have been enough time. 

Takanobu cleaned up in a hurry—washing his hands four times before returning to you, feeling a little bit lighter—but not enough to say he is satisfied. Considering the fact that he didn’t have sex, Mountain Man would need a few more rounds with his hand to be satisfied. Mountain Man is a big guy and even though he is the kindest person on earth and thinks about buying you flowers and holding your hand, when he’s horny he needs a lot to satiate that hunger. 

***

Aone returned to you only 6 minutes after he left, and right away you made his dick semi-hard again, looking so beautiful when you accepted his apology.

“Don’t worry about it, Aone. If I haven’t said it enough.... I really appreciate your help. Is there anything I can do to repay you?” 

Takanobu bit back a groan because yes, there was a lot you could do to repay him. Starting with giving him one more chance..... but he couldn’t ask that of you. In any case, he knew what the answer would be right now. 

“No, I’d like nothing in return. I am glad I could help a friend, Y/N.” he offered you a slight smile that made you feel all fuzzy inside. 

You wanted to melt, he is so sweet, even after you shattered his heart. Your heart was swelling and you couldn’t wait to leave him, just so that you could go home to cry your eyes out for the man you let go of. 

“We should finish. It’s getting late.” You collected your emotions and shook out your limbs to prepare yourself for the last section of your tryout video. 

***

You performed the dance section even sexier than Aone could’ve imagined, and it made Mountain Man absolute putty. Due to the events that took place in the locker room not too long ago, Aone was able to get past his horny mind numb to recognize that his heart was exploding for you—for other reasons. His heart was bursting due to pride.

He was so proud of you. 

You weren’t his girlfriend anymore, but you were still an absolute inspiration to him in that you always chased your dreams. Here he was, giving up volleyball, and here you are—killing your own audition in an uncomfortable costume. Wow. Aone would be sure to edit the most amazing tryout video for you to the best of his ability so that the team would be absolute fools not to give you a scholarship. If you didn’t get it, he’d find some weird way of secretly paying for your schooling anyway, if it came down to it. He loved you that much. But he just knew you’d make it. 

When the last take was filmed and all was said and done, Aone was both positively enamoured and positively hard, of course. You looked beyond sexy and flushed, and when he gave you his water and you drank it, some droplet missed your mouth, skidding down your cheek and disappearing into your cleavage. Mountain Man just about needed to run back to the bathroom at that point, but it was time to go home anyway.  

You changed and Kusa picked you up, waving to Aone and thanking him with a hug before leaving. 

Aone sat in his car for 5 minutes once you left, his eyes closed and his head resting on the headrest, just trying to figure out how he would live with these feelings. He didn’t know if he could. A million questions jumped to the forefront of his mind: 

How could someone be so beautiful, so perfect in every way to him? 

What did you even see in him the first time? 

Is it even worth it to try again? 

What happens if his plan fails? 

What would he do?

And, because his dick wanted to throw in a question as well: How fucking amazing did you look today? 

Is it even possible to be this attracted to someone? Fuck. 

Aone’s dick twitched in his pants as thoughts of your pretty smile while you cheered tonight filled his mind, alerting him once more that he has suffered through enough for a lifetime and he needs release again. 

Aone raced home after that, unable to get your brilliant laugh and your perfect ass in that skirt out of his mind the entire time. 

He’s a mess. 

An aroused, lovesick, unmistakably heartbroken mess.

———————————

Taglist: @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly @simply-not-the-same @marvelousbakugou @qyuanon

Outtake #18: CLICK HERE!

[gendercraft]

Outast: Revisited [Chapter Eight: Waylon]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore; the gore actually gets kinda intense here; let me know if i missed anything

The warm gas spilt over Waylon in the decontamination chamber. His heart raced, his muscles tensed; he was ready to run. The doors were barely open by the time he made it out. 

Manera cut him off as he flew through the labs. Waylon skidded to a stop just in time, the buzzsaw tickling his nose. The saw swung, and Waylon ducked, gasping. Stumbling backwards, he staggered to his feet, and caught the saw just as it came down on his chest. 

Fabric tore, sterile air brushed against his chest. Waylon yanked the saw as hard as he could, and it came free from Manera’s grip, only to hurdle over his head, down towards the decontamination chamber. 

Manera and Waylon stared. Waylon was tense, ready to fight. Manera’s gaze slipped past his, landing on the still buzzing saw. 

Throwing Waylon to the ground, Manera raced towards his weapon. Waylon hit the concrete with an ‘oof’ but immediately stumbled up and sprinted for the door. 

He made it back to the hall and didn’t stop until he reached the chamber with the victim. Heart sinking, he stepped inside. 

The man was dead. Keeping an ear out for the saw, Waylon knelt down and looked closer. It was a security guard. A little bit of weight lifted off Waylon’s shoulders. The security guards had been cause for death even before all this, he couldn’t imagine what this man might have done to patients in the chaos. 

He straightened up and took a second to close his eyes. His mind tried supplying him with thoughts of family, things this man might be leaving behind, but Waylon pushed it away. He wasn’t a man. He was a Murkoff employee. Waylon had better things to be worrying about. 

Like if Miles Upshur would be waiting for him in the prison.

He stepped through the chamber and it led him into the dense gray fog outside, a staircase encased in chainlink. Reloading his battery, he hurried down the stairs. When he arrived on the dirt, he brought his night vision up, only to wince at the brightness. Bringing it down, though, he couldn’t see two feet in front of him. There was no way to cut through the fog. He’d have to be blind. 

“No! NO!” 

A scream. Is it him, the cannibal? Could be pleasure or pain, Waylon wouldn’t guess. Did Manera even know? His voice sounded like… something I wanted while watching the Engine. Its only message was hunger, to crush and consume. 

Waylon whipped around. No one was there. 

“You were mine!” 

Peeking through his camera, he zoomed to the building, one of the upper windows. Manera stood in the frame, face twisted. 

I’m going to try and forget it, Lisa. If I get out of here, I’m going to come back to you. 

He found his way to an open chainlink door, the floor covered in bloody footprints. The trees surrounding him were dead, bare branches arching into the air and poking at his back. Footsteps sounded from every direction, sometimes far away, sometimes close by, and the occasional scream or curse carried in the howling wind. Part of Waylon was curious about what else was going down in the asylum; how many people were trying to escape? How many were succeeding? How many were just venting, killing out their frustrations? The other part of him knew he’d never recover if he found out. 

Two patients ran across his vision, almost entirely obscured by the fog. Waylon held his hands out and got ready to dash but neither of them saw or cared that he was there. He swallowed. There was never any telling who’d attack him in this place. 

A cobble path appeared in the dirt. Waylon followed it to a stone staircase leading to the left and the right. The right was locked, so he headed through the chainlink doorway on the left. It was a small alley between the prison watchtowers and a bricked-in basketball court the patients were supposedly allowed in every now and then. Emphasis on supposedly. 

“Three hundred sixty four…” 

A grunt, a smack. Waylon trailed around the brick until he found a grated door. He zoomed in on his camera, and his stomach lurched. A patient, shooting hoops, with a human head. 

The head looped around the rim and smacked to the ground. Blood dusted the concrete, and the patient strolled over to pick it up like nothing was amiss. 

He’s playing alone and losing. Waylon took a step back. That is what the game is. 

There is a mathematical proof, if you add 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 and so on up to infinity, you can arrive at an answer. If you stop shy of infinity, you have an indescribably large number. If you continue all the way to infinity, you arrive at—1/12. Negative 0.0833333 repeating. I’m losing my grip on things. 

Waylon was thinking about the drive to Mount Massive, 400 miles in a rented truck. The job that showed up just in time to cover their bills, their debts, the insurance. The boys sleeping in the back. Nothing but AM radio. Gospel, Country-Western, late night paranoiac talk radio. They sang Patsy Klein songs and laughed at conspiracies of aliens and ghosts. Mile marker numbers passing in headlights. 

I don’t want to die here. 

There was no way forward, so he backtracked. Out of the previously locked right side of the staircase, a patient came running out holding a pipe. Waylon leapt back but the patient ran right down the stairs and disappeared into the fog. Swallowing, Waylon pushed forward through his abandoned open door. 

The ground was wet. Waylon’s bare feet ached, stung, burned. He’d never felt grosser in his life, covered in sweat and blood and snot. 

He didn’t have time to think about that. Finding a hole in the fence, he dropped himself onto a metal walkway. It clanged as he rushed through. Dropping down to the concrete at ground level, he found a ladder that led him up to the courtyard. 

Mount Massive’s prison courtyard was split up into several very small sections by chainlink. Most of the doors would be locked—a maze. He passed by a few wooden picnic tables and reached a hole in the fence that allowed him into the main pathway. The metal poked and scraped at his sides as he slid through. 

Despite the fog, it was a bit more well-lit here. With all the puddles, it must’ve rained recently, and looked like it was about to again. 

He paused as voices purred from the shadows. 

“I would like to kill him.” 

“As would I.” 

Waylon’s hairs stood on end. Two men, naked, identical, passed by the locked chain door inches from Waylon’s face. They disappeared into the fog. 

They can’t find you. Keep going. 

He kept going. 

He arrived at another small area with a picnic table, surrounded in chain link and brick, only for the two men to enter through a side door. One took the right side, the other took the left. 

They stared. 

Waylon inched towards the door they came in from. 

A smirk curled on Leftie’s mouth. Waylon prepared himself to run, to leap, to dodge, anything, but the twins just stared, grinning, smirking, eyes twinkling. Their machetes glinted in the moonlight. Where the fuck did they get machetes? 

Waylon slipped through the door and slammed it closed behind him. He broke into a sprint, racing through the fenced in main path, stepping on broken glass and twigs and rocks. Slamming a chainlink door open, something flew in front of his face. He yelped and stopped. Glancing back, panting, he frowned. Did they follow him at all? They were nowhere in sight. 

He looked down, and his mouth went dry. Another head. What was with these fucking freaks playing basketball with heads? Could they really find nothing else? 

He zoomed in with his camera. The hoop was full of carnage, dripping body parts, red all over the ground below. A shuffle behind him—he whipped around. The twins were coming. They’d been following after all. 

Stumbling into the court, he dodged the blow from the player, who rasped out, “Shirts and skins or fuck off!” 

The player shoved Waylon towards the exit, a ladder leading up the side of the building. “Spoilsport!” 

“Yeah, my bad,” Waylon gasped. The gate creaked open. The twins stepped inside. Waylon ran for the ladder. It led him up to a watch tower, where he took a moment to lock himself inside. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs and dropped his face in his hands. 

I don’t want to die here. 

Something on the table caught his eye, the words ‘exposed to the Engine.’ Pulling the email closer, Waylon squinted at the paper. 

 From: j.billings@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: k.vigalando@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: re: “Patient” Samul 

 Kurt, we’ve got another one, and I’m not sure you’re gonna be able to check it off as “Psychopathic Proximity Disorder.” 

 Security guard all the way up in the Admin block is our latest non-patient employee to start seeing Wernicke’s fairy tales. He was never directly exposed to the Engine, never even made it below level 1 in the building. It would be an enormous breach of protocol and security if doctors were speaking of the Walrider within hearing of a contracted security guard. And seems vanishingly improbable that he would stumble into such an obscure mythological story on his own. 

 It’s too similar to the Dr. Samul case, or the others before him. It’s one thing for formally sane medical personnel to fall under the delusions of their patients. It’s another thing entirely for those beliefs to be… I don’t know. Airborne. We need to talk in person. 

 Billings. 

 Waylon stuffed the paper in his pocket. He had no idea what to make of it. Wernicke… Waylon had heard that name before. Checking through the other documents he’d collected, he found mention of Wernicke’s research. Wernicke was why the Walrider existed. Wernicke created the engine. 

Wernicke was the reason he was trapped here. 

He forced himself to leave the safety of the watchtower to head across the catwalk. A patient ran past him. 

“Shhh! Shut up! Shut up, all of you! We’re not alone down here. It’s just what they want us to think. You’re going to draw it. Shh!” 

We’re not alone down here. 

Waylon swallowed. 

He reached another watchtower and climbed a ladder, bringing him even higher. A patient stood at the railing, looking down, looking very much like he was contemplating. 

“Don’t trust them,” he said with a sigh. 

Waylon brought his camera up. 

“They’ll tell you it’s science but it’s not. They were… waiting for us. In this place. Billy understood. They’ve always been here.” 

He wiped his sweaty palms on his jumpsuit and headed for the nearest door. It let him into a larger building, and down the hall by the flickering light, a few patients ran past. Blood splattered the walls. Waylon passed by a barricaded door cracked open, the shadows on the wall beating another to death. Everywhere he went, patients were running, hiding, killing each other, barricading themselves in doors. 

Waylon finally found his way to the security room, where a dozen screens showed the entire prison block. 

And the radio. 

Waylon broke into a sprint. 

“Leadville 911, what’s your emergency?” 

“Mount Ma—” 

A hand closed over the radio. An elbow slammed into Waylon’s nose, his vision blurring as he choked and fell on his back. Jeremy Blaire smashed a police baton into the radio, once, twice, three times—Waylon had to run. He jumped to his feet and headed for the door, only for the baton to crash into his face and land him back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fuck!” He gasped. 

Blaire climbed on top of him and pressed the baton to his neck. “Waylon Park!” He laughed dryly. “You couldn’t just…” A growl built in the back of his throat. “You couldn't just keep your mouth shut. You couldn’t just play along. But you’re done talking now.” 

Waylon’s throat burned. His vision was pulsing, his eyes throbbing. His head was going to explode. 

Something crashed. 

Blaire looked back. 

He climbed off of Waylon, who sucked in a huge, gasping breath, and waved the baton at him. “Do me a favour and die here, Park,” he snapped, then ran from the room. 

Waylon couldn’t get up for a good few minutes. He gasped for breath, holding his throat, his heart racing through his entire body. 

He ended up on all fours, dragging himself to the doorway. He was almost to his feet when a body flew through the once-closed door that led deeper into the asylum. Huffing grunts and snorts sounded down the hall. Waylon pressed himself against the back of a desk, eyes wide. He peeked around the side. 

Chris Walker.

[yourstarvic]

Throughout the whole game against Nekoma, you and Hitoka both hold to each other. The anticipation of where the ball was going to go. Holding each other tighter whenever it seemed the ball was going to fall on the Karasuno side. Karasuno now needed one point to win. One point to move on. One more to play against another school. One more to stay on the court longer. 

Please! Just one more point!

The ball continued back and forth, getting received, toss, spike, block, and then repeating. This last point felt like hours, but in reality, it was only for a few minutes. Until, as if it was in slow motion, the ball hit the floor. Feeling the mouth wobble, you hold your breath in, starting at the spot on the floor where the ball hit in surprise. 

Did that just happen?

Hearing a while being blown, pulling you out of your thoughts, you and Hitoka looked at each other in shock. You two started at each other for a while, and then look back at the scene on the court. Karasuno was cheering, people in the stands who came out to support Karasuno were cheering loudly, you and Hitoka were now cheering loudly. After a hard and intense match with Nekoma, Karasuno came out victorious. 

You and Hitoka still hold each other as you jumping around in circles, cheering for them.

They did it! They get to stay on the court longer!

The boys shook hands with Nekoma and then bowed to their supports. You and Hitoka both break the hold on to each other and raced down to the court entrance. Waiting by all the cameras and other players who were watching. Seeing the boys heading towards you two, you met them halfway. Giving them high fives and congratulating them with a proud smile.

“You did amazing!” Hitoka said to them, “They way you received the ball and then toss it! And your spikes were amazing!”

Wiping away his sweat with the towel, Daichi happy thanked her. Glad you were wearing your backpack, you sling it in front of you, opening the zipping, and started to hand out some snacks. Nekoma then came toward Karasuno, once again congratulating and how it was a good game. The two groups then walked, seeing Fukurōdani was about to finish up their match. Looking at the scoreboard, you saw they already won the first set and about to win the second set. Akaashi gave Bokuto a beautiful toss, which Bokuto spiked, winning that match. 

They did the after the game ritual and then greeted Nekoma and Karasuno. Hinata praised Bokuto for the amazing straight shot and Bokuto accepting the praise. Soon after, the big three groups become different groups as each one had their own conversation. You heard Akaashi, Kenma, and Tsukishima were talking but, pay no mind to it. You just felt completely happy. Not once did the smile left, but it did falter a bit when you noticed something.

Hinata seems more exhausted than usual…

Breaking off to the main seating area, the boys choose to either sleep, eat, or watch a match. Most of the boys ate first and then sleep or walk around, mostly relaxing. But in Hinata's case, who decided to watch a match first and then eat, much to Kageyama’s disdain. 

Soon after everyone had eaten, You, Kageyama, Hinata, Yamaguchi, and Hitoka started to walk around on the main court sidelines, preferring to watch the match up close. Not really paying attention to what they were saying. You noticed in the corner of your eye that a team was getting on the court. Seeing streaks of yellow and green, you turned around and saw it Itachiyama.

You then saw two boys from the team waved, one very enthusiastically when the other most just raise his hand in a polite greeting. Kageyama gave them a short wave, as for you, you held eye contact with Sakusa, final matching the name with the face. You gave him a wide smile and a thumbs up, silently telling him good luck. You also saw he gave you a small smile in return since he wasn’t wearing a mask like usual. 

He has a nice smile.

So focusing on his smile, you missed the way the brown hair Libero was so shock that Sakusa gave you a smile. Seeing him walked on the court, you couldn’t help but keep looking at him, intrigued by his presence. But you were taken out of your trance by hearing, “Now let’s decide, which one of us is the true Little Giant of today.”

Looking at the person who talked, you saw a white hair kid who reminded you of a seagull. Hearing Hinata agreeing with him made you realize that maybe he wasn’t a kid. But you got your actual answer when you saw a taller person wearing the exact same uniform, talking to him casually.

Oh, he’s a high schooler…Oops…

Seeing them walk off, they were out of eyesight. Once they were gone, Hinata exclaims how excited he was for the next match. With that, we went to start warming up. 

After the warm-up and everyone was dressed, we then started to head to the main area, waiting until it was time to start. In the meantime, we were all paying attention to the Fukurōdani game. A top 3 ace Vs. a top 5 ace. 

This should be interesting.

During the middle of the second set, you and Hitoka went to the balcony, getting ready for Karasuno fight. 

It was now time for the Karasuno Vs. Kamomedia match to start. Both you and Hitoka hold your breath, waiting for the serve. Kamomedia was the first to serve, which Daichi saved, hitting it towards Kageyama. He then passed it to Hinata, showing the world once again their crazy quick attack, scoring a point for Karasuno. 

Each side both fought hard in the first set, but Kamomedia won the first set. Throughout the whole game, you and Hitoka hold your breath, hoping to win the second set. With your hands on the rails, you tighten it, helping you stay grounded, not wanting to overthink and think of the worse. You saw Hitoka starting to shake, but before you could ask her if she was alright, she took in a deep breath and started to relax. You also decided to do the same, helping you relax as well. You couldn’t help but let go of the rail and fight with your hands. Looking at the other courts, you know noticed that Fukurōdani had just finished their match, winning two sets, they are moving on to the next round. 

With a smile on your face, proud that they won, you looked back at Karasuno’s court. Seeing they are about to start their second set. Noticing that Hinata and Tsukishima had trade places. But you knew that Coach Ukia-San had a plan for Hinata, you let out a tiny mischievous smile. Karasuno isn’t a team to be backed down so easily.

Watching the second set, you analyzed each player, toss, spike, receive, and serve. Yet you had a nagging feeling telling you something was going to happen. It would grow stronger whenever you looked at Hinata.

Nothing is going to happen…All is well…

But the feeling never went away as you continually look at the match. Fidgeting with your fingers and checking your pulse on your wrist. You noticed that Hinata was slowly getting more exhausted than usual, his face look as it was burning up.

It just because of play two games in one day… And he’s running around a lot more than usual… He’s fine... He’s fine. Please be fine…

Karasuno now won the second set, switching sides and getting ready for the final set. Which will dictates who will move on and who will go home. Everything went smoothly, everything was going perfect. The score was 14:13, in Karasuno's favor, until suddenly, Hinata fell. Realizing what that nagging feeling was.

You and Hitoka looked at each other in shock, not believing that Hinata would be sick. The two of you saw Takena-Sensei talking to Hinata.You and Hitoka went to go get Hinata, helping him with whatever he needs. First, making sure he got out of the sweaty close and into something else. Hitoka then went to go get other things while you stayed with Hinata, making sure he will be alright. You dug through your backpack, trying to find the medical supplies you carry with you. Seeing Kenma walking towards the two of you, Hinata asked, “Kenma-San…Do you have a way I can watch the match?”

As if Kenma knew what he was going to request, Kenma showed his tablet saying happily, “Yup. I can lend you this.”

As he leads it to Hinata, he walked away, fulfilling his quest. Finally founding the what you were looking for, you handed Hinata a mask, silently asking to put it on as you put one on as well. Hitoka came back with Hinata's jacket and scarf, the two of you made sure he was wrapped up, protecting him from the harsh winds outside. 

“I’ll stay with Hinata, Hitoka,” you told the blonde softly.

“B-But,” Hitoka tried to said.

Shaking your head at her, you simply said, “The team needs you right now. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Hitoka nodded her head, knowing that what you said was right. Hitoka went back to watch the game, showing her support when you went with Hinata to the front entrance of the stadium. Waiting for the two of you stood Makoto Shimada, who was escorting you out of the building. Walking to the sidewalk, Makoto told both of you, “Wait here. I’ll get us a cab.”

The two of you nodded, conforming that you heard him. Once he left, you saw Hinata looked back down at the tablet, staring hard at the game. Hoping to make him feel better, you asked him, “Can you put the volume up?” 

With enthusiasm, Hinata nodded his head and turned the volume up. A few moments later, Makoto came back telling you that he got a cab. Following him, Hinata and yourself sat in the back while Makoto sat in the front, telling the driver the destination. Throughout the whole ride, you and Hinata watch the match, eager to know the outcome. 

Arriving at the hospital, you thanked the driver as you exit the car. Following Makoto to the entrance of the hospital, you gently grabbed Hinata’s arm, dragging him around since he was so engrossed in the match. “Wait over there in the waiting room. I’ll go check-in,” Makoto said, pointing at the empty seats in the waiting room.

Softly dragging Hinata to the waiting room, you both sat down, watching the match. Both Karasuno and Kamomedai both played to their fullest, not giving up. You and Hinata both started at the tablet with wide eyes, seeing the ball drop on the Karasuno side. Kamomedai had won the match.

You looked at Hinata’s face, searching for any emotion he must be feeling right now. But you couldn’t tell. He was emotionless, something that was completely different from the regular Hinata you knew. “They are ready for you Hinata,” Makoto said, gaining our attention. 

Hinata handed you the tablet asking you, “Can you hold on to this? Please?”

“Of course,” you said, grabbing the tablet and putting it in your bag pack. 

Getting out of the seat, you and Hinata followed Makoto to a nurse. She escorted the three of you into an exam room. Once inside, the nurse told us that the doctor will be here shortly. Thanking her, Hinata sat on the side of the examination bed, looking down at his hands. Showing his phone, Makoto said, “I’m going to make a quick call. If you need anything, I’ll be outside.”

Once Makoto left the room, closing the door behind him softly, it becomes quiet. You didn’t know what to say.

Should I ask him if he was alright? No, you idiot, that's a dumb question.

“You know,” Hinata said, shocking you that he was the first to break the silence, “I kinda feel like I didn’t do enough.”

“W-what?” You asked, shocked by what he just said.

“I should have practice more, I should have taken care of myself better, eat the correct foods, and everything. I could have played longer.” Hinata continued. 

“Hinata,” you said softly, knowing what he was thinking. Standing in front of him, you hold his clenching hand that was on his lap, hoping it would calm him down. Feeling his relax, you said softly, “You did what you could. I know you probably didn’t what to hear that but its true…”

You saw Hinata nodded, waiting for you to continue, letting out a sigh, “Only a few people know this but, my grandmother has these ridiculous standards of me. I did everything to please her, I even learned how to do a heart transplant.”

“A heart transplant?” Hinata asked eying you. 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you moved so you were sitting next to him on the examination bed. Playfully saying, “Well I did practice on some teddy bears so, it’s not really reliable.”

The two of you chuckled softly, picturing a 5-year-old (y/n) doing a heart transplant on a teddy bear. The air in the room felt lighter, not like before when you two entered it. 

You then got serious again, saying, “After a while, no matter what I could do, it was never enough. I wasn’t enough. I kept thinking, I should do this, or I should do that, and the stress of wanting to be enough for her caught up to me.”

Hinata looked at you in shock, wanting to know more, “What happened?”

“Well, it was easy for me to run away, my grandmother completely loathed me and I wanted to stop pleasing her. But I didn’t want my parents and brothers to worry about me, so made her a deal,” you said with a far off look in your eye, “I would be able to live a normal life. Go to school, make friends, just enjoy life. But in return, I would leave my family, not take part in anything family-related. I would be kept a secret, stay hidden from the outside world. I agree with it, letting go of everything.”

“You gave up,” Hinata said, concluding what you said.

Nodding your head, sadly saying, “I gave up. Yet, I still seek her approval. She gave me a proposal a few weeks back, giving me ten years to think about it. If I accept it, then she will be welcoming me back. Getting her approval.”

“What was the proposal?” Hinata curiously asked.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” you answered.

Hinata sat there, thinking about all the things you just told him. Processing the life you went through and the sacrifice you made. He looked at you, cautiously asking, “Is all that true?”

You looked at him with sad eyes, putting a hand on his shoulder, you nodded your head saying, “All what I just said…Was a lie.”

Once those words fell from your lips, Hinata froze in shock, think the whole story was real. Softly chuckling at him, seeing his wide eyes. Stuttering out, Hinata said, “But you made it so real! Why would you lie about that?”

Laughing at him, you then answered, “It made you think of something else. I wanted to help you get rid of those bad thoughts and it work.”

Getting out of the examination bed, you stand in front of Hinata, seeing his eyes look more determined and lighter, hearing him happily said, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you said softly.

Before anything else was said, there was a knock at a door. Opening the door, stood a man in a doctor's coat, ready to exam Hinata. Letting him in, you told them that you’ll be waiting outside the door, not wanting to intrude of the examination. Walking into the hallway, you sat on the chair that was near the door, glad that Hinata believed that everything was a lie.

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[stufftippywrote]

not my type, chapter 5

Read it from the beginning--

"First off," Shitty says, holding Jack by the shoulders, "you're not killing anybody."

"What was he thinking?" Jack hates this feeling, hates when the shakes seem to be reverberating through his blood. It's like every cell in his body is wobbly, like he won't be able to hold himself together. "How can he make all that up?"

Lardo's over at the computer, frowning as she reads the story through. "Actually," she says, "he did kind of a good job."

"What?" Jack takes in a gulp of breath, exhales it out in a whoosh.

"He did okay," Lardo says, turning. "Not too many details, but enough of a story to keep 'em interested. Easy for you to memorize," she adds, meeting Jack's gaze.

"Calm down, brah." Shitty's still got a hand on Jack's shirt. "It's all gonna be okay."

Jack lets them lead him to the sofa and sit him down, but he's still quavering.  "He didn't have to say anything," he says. "He didn't have to go to the press."

"Sounds like the press came to him."

"And he couldn't say 'no comment'?" Jack drops his head into his hands. How could they have screwed this up so completely? How could Lardo think this guy was the perfect fake date? He went way overboard from the beginnning, with that stupid kiss hello. Jack should have walked right out. He should have never agreed in the first place. "So stupid," he mutters.

"Look, Jack, blame us if you have to," Shitty says. "We didn't think this cunning plan through. We should have realized it wouldn't be over and done in a single night."

"And I should have realized Bitty would talk," Lardo says. "You met him, you know how he is."

"I've never met him myself," Shitty says, "but yeah, bro, I hear he's that type. We shoulda known."

Jack can't stand to hear his friends blaming themselves. The desire to comfort them breaks through the web of anxiety, and he finds a bit of sanity to cling to. "Right," he says, "okay. Doesn't matter whose fault. What are we going to do now?"

"Well, for one, we should probably talk to him." Lardo has her phone out already.

"And by 'we,' we mean you," Shitty says, slapping a hand on Jack's back.

This very nearly brings the panic back. "W-what should I say? Wait..."

But Lardo's already entered the phone number. When it starts to ring, she thrusts the phone in Jack's direction.

"Lardo, Shits, come on--"

"Hello?" A soft high tenor voice comes from the phone's speaker. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Lardo gives him a look that might as well be a dagger. Jack takes the phone tentatively in one hand.

"Um," he manages, "yes, hello. Eric?"

"Who is this?" Hearing Bitty's voice near his ear stirs something in Jack, a strange vibrating in his chest.

"This is Jack Zimmermann."

Silence on the line.

Jack tries again. "Hello?"

"I... yes, sorry, I'm just surprised." Bitty's tone becomes cheery. "Mr. Zimmermann. What can I do for you?"

What can he do? Jack's flying blind. He's been shanghaied into this conversation.  "I saw you talked to some reporters."

A gasp on the line. "Did I actually end up... in the news?"

Sounds like he's as horrified as Jack was. But what did he expect? "Yes."

Bitty gives an audible sigh. "Oh, lord. Well, of course you'd want to ask me about it. I really did my best to not tell them anything. I'm just not so great at keeping my mouth shut, especially not when they're customers in my shop. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you..."

Bitty is still going on, and Jack is still searching for the next words, when Shitty stage-whispers at him, "Invite him over!"

Jack answers him silently with wild, panicked eyes.

"What? You need to talk in person."

It's not Jack's apartment, but he abruptly has a better idea. "Eric," he says, "is your shop still open?"

---

The three of them take the short walk a few blocks down to Bittle's Bakeshop, and although it's evening, the lights are still on inside. When they come in, there's only one table occupied, a couple of kids that look college-age to Jack. Bitty is there, behind the counter, and Jack's heartbeat goes unsteady and weak for a second. He's not sure whether he's infuriated or delighted to see him again.

At the sight of Larissa, Bitty comes out from behind the counter and gives her a hug. Then he turns to Jack to give him a nod and a smile. "Mr. Zimmermann."

Jack looks him over. He's wearing a baker's apron, but it hasn't protected him very well from what looks like it must have been a hurricane of flour. It's smeared all over his shirt, and there's a light dusting over his face as well. Jack's thumb itches to pass over his cheek, just to clean him up.

But along with the flour, there are the bright brown eyes and careless smile Jack remembers, and for just a moment he's back at that gala, dancing with him, wondering idly what it would be like to reach out and touch him. His thumb itches even more. Jack curls his hand into a fist.

"So you know Jack," Lardo is saying, "and this is my boyfriend, Shitty."

Bitty blinks. "I'm sorry. Your boyfriend what now?"

"It's a long story," Shitty says.

A few minutes later, they're all congregated at a round table toward the back of the shop. Bitty has provided everyone with decaf, and once he's finished passing out pastries ("sorry, they are leftovers from today, I would of COURSE have baked some fresh if I knew y'all were coming"), Shitty stands up and raises his mug of coffee. "So! Friends, acquaintances, unfairly good-looking NHL players. We are gathered here today to figure out what we should do about Jack and Bitty's predicament in re: the press. Now that we know that the vultures won't leave these two poor gentlemen alone, we should think of solutions for how to handle the situation."

"You could stage a messy breakup," Lardo says, picking at the strawberry atop her tart. "Big public fight."

The thought makes Jack recoil. He and Bitty say "No" at the same moment, then turn to look at each other.

"It's just," Bitty hastens to explain, "I don't think I'm as good an actor as all that? I'm plenty good at pretending to be close to people, but I don't think I could play mean or angry."

"An unobtrusive breakup, then," Shitty suggests. "When the press comes after you, you just say you're not dating anymore, and when people ask why you just say GIMME PRIVACY YOU FUCKING VULTURES." He pounds the table as he says it, and Jack wonders if this is really decaf they're drinking.

"Will that work, though?" Lardo wonders. "I mean, Bitty's just given this interview where he sounds head over heels."

Bitty clears his throat. "Um... we could also keep pretending."

Jack's gaze flies to him. Why would Bitty suggest that? Isn't he the one who wanted out of this after a night?

"I mean. Just to keep everyone satisfied." For the first time since Jack's met him, Bitty looks a little shy. "Just for a while. Then have a fake breakup."

"How long is a while?" Jack's voice comes out hoarse.

"Until the press loses interest," Shitty fills in. "Problem is, that could last a week, it could be months. They could still be on your doorstep next season asking what you did together over the summer."

Bitty visibly shudders. "I don't know if I can keep pretending for a year."

"Then let's make it a week," Jack says. He turns to Bitty. "If you're willing to do a week. I can get someone from PR on our team in on it, and they can probably help with the details." He pauses. "What do you think?"

He's not sure what kind of answer he wants, what kind he's afraid of. And for a moment Bitty keeps him guessing, surveying him like he's sizing up an opponent before a fight. Finally, he nods. "I suppose that wouldn't be too much trouble, if it's only for a week. What would we have to do?"

"Go on dates," Lardo says.

"Be seen going on dates," Shitty clarifies. "Doesn't matter if you actually go on them."

Jack addresses Shitty and Lardo. "He should probably come to a practice, and then if he doesn't mind meeting the other -- the wives -- he should come to a game."

"Good opportunities for the cameras to catch him," Shitty notes, drumming his fingers on the table. "And you all don't actually have to spend any time together if you don't want to."

"I don't mind." The words tumble out of Jack in a rush, and he blinks, as surprised to hear them as anybody. Bitty is staring at him, those brown eyes wide, and Jack feels a flush creeping up his cheeks as he turns to face him. "I mean. If you don't mind."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shitty and Lardo exchange a look, but he doesn't pay much attention to it.

Bitty seems to have lost his everpresent words. He blinks right back up at Jack, mouth open. God, his eyes are just so wide, like Jack could dive right into them. Is it possible that for just a moment he's considering -- but no, he knows Bitty isn't attracted to him. He'd just be building false hope, thinking of something like this. All he needs is for Bitty to tolerate him. That's as much as he can reasonably ask for.

Shitty quickly rushes in to fill in the silence. "It probably is a smart idea to actually be seen together. Even if it means going on some dates."

Lardo coughs. "Fake dates."

"Right. Fake dates." Shitty reaches across the table and slaps Jack on the shoulder. "There ya go. Just be seen together a couple of times this week and then say adieu. When the press asks what happens, you just say it didn't work out. The end, finito, take a bow."

Bitty finds his voice, as well as a disarming smile. "Well, now," he says, "that's no trouble at all. We can survive a few evenings together without killing each other, right?" He winks at Jack, a movement that makes Jack's heartbeat skip. "I'll just take a couple of days off from the bakery, let Ransom and Holster take care of the place. I've been meaning to take a little break for a while now! Been working day and night between this and the catering." He rolls his shoulders back. "Gosh, this could actually be fun. I've always meant to go to a hockey game!"

Jack finds himself smiling, too. It's hard not to when Bitty's going on like he is. There's something contagious about his cheer, and even Shitty and Lardo seem affected by it. They're both smiling as well.

"I'll talk to Georgia -- that's the PR person from the team -- and we'll make a schedule," Jack says. "And if you need any pocket money for when you're not working, I can take care of that."

"As if!" Bitty turns up his nose. "I may be your escort for the week, but I am not an escort for hire, Mr. Zimmermann."

"You can call me Jack." Again, Jack is surprised to hear his own words.

But Bitty just smiles again. "Well, of course," he says, crossing his arms over his chest like he's in a huff. "We're dating, after all."

Lardo makes a small sound that sounds almost like a squeak. Jack and Bitty both turn to her. "Sorry," she says, covering her mouth.

They finish their coffee and treats, and Bitty walks the three of them to the door. "Well, I suppose you'll be in touch?" he asks, and Jack nods. "I feel like we ought to shake hands on it. Looking forward to working with you, Jack." Bitty holds out a hand.

"I appreciate your doing this," Jack answers. He takes Bitty's hand to shake.

Oh no. That hand in his feels far too perfect. One more time, Jack's taken back to their dancing at the gala. Bitty's hands felt good then too, on his waist and in his palm, and Jack finds himself mourning that they won't be able to end tonight with a kiss as well. Even a fake kiss.

His heart sinks. He actually likes this boy. Wants him, even. And now he'll have to spend a week with him, all the while pretending he cares (for the camera) and also pretending he doesn't.

He also can't wait to get started.

Shit. This could be the most miserable week of his life.

[starkerforlife6969]

Summer lovin’ - Starker

break up make up fluff, some possessive/jealous tony, and some healthy relationships over here! 

It feels damn good to be back for Senior year.

Summer settles neatly onto the past of Tony’s shoulders, and he steps through the main entrance with a smile on his face.

Immediately, his crew flock to him. Abandoning their lockers- newly painted after summer- and eagerly inquiring after lunch plans and new timetables.

“I heard about Pete,” Steve says quietly, bumping Tony’s shoulder in solidarity. “That sucks man, I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve had all summer to get over it,” Tony sighs. He’d hoped it would be old news by the time school started. They’d had over two months for the gossip to die down. He should’ve known it was a long shot. “It was amicable. Mutual.” 

“Doesn’t have to be,” Natasha grins slyly, “we can say you dumped his sorry ass.”

He knows she’s teasing, but he trips her up just in case she’s not.

*

It only takes a week to settle back into old routines. 

He cruises by in classes like always, relying on his natural flair and intelligence to get him by, and football season starts up again. The freshmen learn their place quickly, check the rungs of the social ladder and know where to sit in the cafeteria. Tony’s at the top, of course, and it’s all pretty great. He likes seeing new faces of admiration to add to his narcissism bank. 

He’s walking down the hall on a Tuesday morning, when he looks up and by chance, catches a glimpse of Peter Parker setting books into his locker.

It’s the first time he’s seen him in a long time. Summer’s done him good. His freckles are all pronounced, hair longer and curlier than Tony remembers, in a cream sweater and tight green pants that should awful but just look good. 

“Tony,” Peter smiles, voice soft, and Tony had thought he was over it, but his heart jerks and flips like he was punched in the chest.

“Pete,” he manages, coming to a staggered stop by the boy’s locker. “How was your summer?”

Peter bounces on his heels the way he always does when he’s excited. “Math camp was awesome!” and he barrels into an enthusiastic regaling of the few weeks away. “I haven’t- haven’t seen you since we’ve been back.”

Tony nods. “Big year.”

Peter meets his eyes. “I’ve missed you. We could…hang out, if it’s not…I mean, it’s probably weird-“

“Not weird.” Tony murmurs, even though it is weird. “We could get milkshakes sometime when you’re free.” 

Steve and Natasha are sending him curious looks from across the hall. 

“That’d be great,” Peter beams, “I’ll text you?”

*

He’s over it, he says to himself, watching Peter suck down a strawberry milkshake with extra whipped cream. 

He’s over it, even as Peter manages to pry him open the way even his own mother can’t. 

He’s over it, even when Peter touches his wrist and says that he doesn’t have to play football if he doesn’t want to. And that MIT will definitely accept his college application. 

“I was thinking,” Peter’s cheeks blush, a lovelier shade than the milkshake, “I might apply to MIT too. That could be kinda fun, right? Imagine if we both got in?” 

Totally not over it, Tony thinks to himself, as he imagines four years of college with Peter B. Parker. 

*

“So, what’s the 411?” Nat asks in the cafeteria, squinting at her pudding cup.

“The what?”

“The lowdown, c’mon, Tony, you and Peter broke up right after the semester finished. No one saw you all summer. And now you’re friends? I want details.” Her eyes light up with possibilities, “was he cheating with that guy from Harrison college like you thought?”

He has to close his eyes, shame rushing through his system, “no, he wasn’t. We’re- we’re in a good place. It’s good.”

“Where were you all summer?”

“I was working on myself, that’s all. A little fine tuning, here and there. It wasn’t too hard. Can’t really improve on perfection.”

She throws her pudding cup at him.

*

Contrary to popular belief, Tony’s never actually started a fight before. Never thrown a punch. 

He has now though. There are bruises on his knuckles. 

“We have to break up,” he says to Peter, on the last day of school, tucked away under the bleachers near an empty field. Everyone’s pulling pranks inside as per tradition. 

Peter nibbles on his bottom lip, and his lashes are long and his eyes are huge. “We love each other,” he points out, but he doesn’t sound beseeching. He’s nodding, like he thinks they should too. 

That gives Tony the final push. He’s making the right decision. “I love you so much, Pete.”

“I love you too, Tony. But I think you’re right.”

“Is Harry okay?”

Peter looks away and Tony feels ashamed. “He’s fine. He’s not- he’s not angry with you or anything.”

“Tell him I’m sorry again, anyway,” he swallows hard, ducks his head. “And are you…are you okay?”

“I can’t believe you thought I’d-“

“I didn’t, really-“

“I would never do that to you, Tony.”

“I know, I know.” Tony takes a breath. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m- I’m gonna change. But I think we should…”

“Be apart.”

“Yeah.”

Peter nods, and he smiles, tiptoeing up to kiss Tony right on the mouth. Sensual and full of longing. Tony groans against him. “Just something to remember you by this summer,” Peter sighs, winking, and Tony laughs.

He moves out of his parents house that summer and in with his aunt.

His dad is a bitch to get out of his head but every day it becomes easier and easier to ignore him. 

*

They tread carefully around each other. There’s a new friendship on top of an old foundation and they want to make sure everything’s solid before moving too far. 

“Separate timetables,” Peter confirms, sliding his back into his pristine notebook. “But we’re still on for Karaoke this Saturday? You can bring your friends.”

“Not a date,” Tony chuckles, “just friends hanging out.”

“Just friends.” Peter beams, “but…we should bring people. A lot of people.” Tony quirks an eyebrow and Peter sighs: bashful. “To resist temptation.” He explains. 

Tony laughs at that, loud and delighted.

*

“Maybe take another route to class.” Steve mutters, hands warning on Tony’s arm, trying to tug him back. “Let’s go around the west block-“

But now Tony has to see. He rounds the corner and- and-

There’s Peter, his hair ridiculously, adorably mussed from the wind outside and he’s in a flannel shirt with fucking dungarees, but more important than any of that- there’s a letterman jacket on his shoulders. 

The name B A R N E S - 12 embellished on the brilliant blue.

And that must be the name of the guy leaning against Peter’s locker, and looking down at him with interest. The guy’s built, with slicked back hair and dark combat boots and a weird sort of brooding intensity. 

“Who the fuck is that?” Tony asks, voice level, tone quiet.

“New guy.” Steve winces, “James, I think? Peter’s his assigned tour buddy.”

His knuckles ache with the memory of Harry, and he turns away.

*

Peter gets a new profile picture on facebook. It interrupts Tony’s flow of memes to see Peter balancing on a hay bale against the sunset looking like a country child. He smiles, before noticing-

It’s a video pic.

Tony plays it. 

“I’m king of the world!” Peter yells in delight, nearly losing his balance, arms flailing. 

“You’re a moron!” Someone behind the camera hollers fondly and Tony recognises the voice. The low, brooding timbre.

*

“So, you and James, huh?” He asks, going for nonchalant as he catches up to Peter as they walk to the parking lot after school.

Peter quirks an eyebrow in surprise. “Who?”

“James, new guy, very built, very tall.”

“Oh, Bucky,” Peter laughs, “I’m his assigned tour guide, I think he wants to try out for football so you could have another player on your team!”

Tony gets to his car and feels like everything’s slipping away. “How your MIT application going?” He asks desperately, and Peter hums.

“Sent it off yesterday, how about you?”

Relief courses through Tony’s system. “Sending it off tomorrow.” He promises and Peter gives him a ludicrously adorable thumbs up. 

*

The next morning, Peter is wrapped up in a leather jacket three sizes too big, and Bucky Barnes is  at his side.

Tony’s knuckles ache. He tries to pretend to be interested in the contents of his locker, but his ears are straining-

“Dinner, tonight?” Bucky says, voice low and inviting.

“I promised Ned we’d finish the Lego death star. You can join us if you like.”

“A movie on Friday.”

“Buck…”

“Think about it. Please.”

The bell rings. 

“Wait, take your jacket-“

“Keep it. I like seeing you in my clothes.”

Tony slams his locker shut. 

*

With blood pouring from his nose, Harry still manages to gargle out: “I’m straight, you dick!”

“Tony!” Peter cries in horror, rushing back to the booth. “What’s going on? Oh my god, Harry-“

Tony feels the world slipping out from under him. “I thought you were-“

“Oh fuck, it hurts! I think he broke my nose!”

“I don’t understand- someone call an ambulance! Tony, why are you even here?”

The words sound disgusting as he spits them out. “I followed you.”

Peter eyes are huge and astonished. “Why?”

“I thought…” He can’t say it. 

Peter gasps.

Tony doesn’t have to. 

*

Peter’s still in the band room after school, and Tony slips in silently, and just watches for a moment. Then he clears his throat. Peter jumps, before beaming at him. It’s a smile that makes you feel like the centre of the universe. 

“Why aren’t you going out with Barnes?”

Peter gapes, looking stunned, before scoffing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tony, I couldn’t-“

“Why not?” He presses. “He’s handsome. He cares about you. You like each other.”

“Tony…”

“Pete.” Tony shakes his head. “Please, for the love of god, don’t think about me. Think about you. Do what makes you happy.”

Peter’s hazel eyes are swimming. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He admits after a long moment, and it stings Tony more than he’ll ever admit. 

“I have nothing to be hurt about. You’re my friend, Peter, and I only want you to be happy, okay? Do what makes you happy.”

Peter gives him a long look, before sniffling. “That’s really cool of you, Tony,” he whispers gratefully. 

Tony lets out a wet laugh, but has to admit that though it hurts- it feels a little good too. 

* 

“Alert, alert,” Nat whispers frantically, “incoming!”

Tony turns in his seat in the cafeteria, only to feel warm lips press against his own. 

Someone whoops.

“What makes me happy,” Peter whispers, once Tony’s returned to reality, “is you.”

Tony could fly. He gets up, cups Peter’s face in his, and grins. “Well then, I can only oblige. As a friend.”

“As a friend.” Peter giggles, and they kiss again. 

*

“Don’t be too upset about it,” Steve consoles Bucky in the corner of the cafeteria watching the couple kiss. “They’re kind of endgame.”

Bucky gives him an unimpressed look. “And who are you?”

“Steve Rogers. I play football.”

Bucky scoffs, but can’t stop himself from admiring the way Steve’s shirt clings to his chest.