#that means i’ll have to push back my internship which means i’ll have to extend an already 5 yr program. which i absolutely cannot afford

[pallases]

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(my saddle’s waiting) ride it

Iwaizumi “Big Guns” Hajime x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Being ridiculous in front of your crush. Porn With Plot. Not researched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Oral in a public space (bathroom); Cock-blocked Interrupted orgasms; Masturbation/fingering; Fingering  in public (street), then while driving. Driving while fingering? Unsafe driving. Fucking against a door, then a wall. Alcohol and mentions of drugs. Side Tendou/Oikawa. Bit of a teasing, overconfident Iwachan.  A poor excuse of oblivious colleagues to lovers.

Word count: WAY TOO BIG. +11k.

Note: 🤠 Brought by your wicked duo degenerates, Saint Dymphna and me:  LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠 electric bogaloo

You guys know the drill @dymphnasprose​ started this all with their tempting ways! It was the image of Iwaizumi all oiled up,  working in his garage like Channing Tatum that made me cave and do this. Once again, being with Dymph is nothing short of amazing and I LOVE THEM  🥺💕💕

This is wayyyy too ploty for something where I just wanted people to bang, but you guys know how I get with Iwaizumi. I’m not totally happy about how this turned out but honestly I have no time to work on it and it has to be out. You guys will realize I went full myself with Reader’s crush on Iwaizumi in this. Sorry not sorry.

Biiig, huuuuuge thanks to both @vanille--kiss​ and @oneblonded​ for their help in beta-ing this, you guys are incredible.  💕 As always a big thanks to @mixedhell​ who always helps me when I’m troubled <3

Iwa’s song: Pony (of course)

You can also read: MAKKI | MATTSUN 

You check your phone and realize you’re late… again.

You hate, hate, hate morning classes, but if you want to be in time for your internship and still have time to study and, well, live, you’re obligated to accept the first class of the day on a Friday. You hate it, and you hate it even more that it’s how you have to end your week but you’ve made peace with it. 

That doesn’t mean you can actually get there in time, reason why you’re twenty minutes late running with your keys and coffee in one hand while you try to balance both your books and your backpack with the other. And when you push the door with your hip, it makes a loud squeaking noise while opening, ruining both your quiet entry and bringing everyone’s eyes on you, of course, because when have you ever been granted a fucking break, right?

“Sorry!” You murmur while trying your best into making a curt bend, and your professor looks over his glasses to you in a very pointed manner but other than that he  resumes what he was speaking on before.

You know he hates you being late (especially as a repeat offender) but you’re a fairly participative student and you regularly earn one of his top grades, so you think that buys you some slack -- and leverage. You go to your habitual seat by the wall, and try your best not making any other noises while you set everything in their places and, thankfully, a moment later, you’re able to breathe while in your seat, with your open computer and notes ready. You give yourself about twenty seconds to drink a bit of your coffee and check out where in the topic the professor is lecturing about.

“That’s why Iwaizumi-san will be receiving your papers. I’ll be returning to the next week, and in the time being, he’ll be doing the full TA hours. If you have any questions just ask him and remember to schedule appointments before-hand, if possible.” Your professor states something that makes it clear you lost some important announcement at the beginning of the class and your eyes fly to Iwaizumi in response, but the man is just sitting at his normal place, front class, quietly nodding to the professors’ explanation while his big hands fly over his notepad. 

You sigh, wistfully, and take another sip of your coffee while your eyes thread over his form, clad in loose jeans that still seem tight in those amazing thighs of his and a hoodie that doesn’t do much to hide those incredible arms. Iwaizumi isn’t very tall, but he’s still taller than you and his shoulders are broad enough to engulf anything behind him when you stand too close. God, you wished Iwaizumi would do full TA hours on you anytime. He could work you into overtime too, you certainly don’t mind. 

You gulp down the saliva that overflows your mouth with some coffee and leaves another small breath to accompany your thoughts. 

You snicker just a bit and Iwaizumi’s eyes are suddenly on yours and your blood pressure peaks in a second while you choke on your coffee. Your teacher asks if you’re okay and you are obligated to answer yes while trying to shrink into the chair. 

See. Incredible track-record.

You manage to not make a complete clown of yourself during class again and even win over some praise from your professor for your contributions in the debate about ethical issues and patient safety. It’s usual that you and Iwaizumi end up interacting with each other’s input in debates but he was quiet today and when you’ve made an addition to his comment about unhelpful patients and mandatory rest all he did was nod and roll his jaw. As if you know what the fuck that means.

You chalk it up to him stressing over being in full TA hours for the week and when the class ends you stay in your seat while finishing typing some notes before you blink and they’re suddenly lost in your brain. When you look up and start packing your things you realize there’s only you and Iwaizumi left in the class and notice he’s looking directly at you, almost as if he was waiting for it.

You don’t think there’s another man who can look so dashing before ten am and with just a small corner lip smile, but hey, you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he says a one-word greeting and holds his hand up and your heart leaps before you can manage to send a smile his way. Ah, it’s really unfair how cute he is. 

“Hey Iwa,” you greet back in a fair tone even if you feel a bit hot in the face, “You were unusually quiet today.”

He smirks and his hand clasps his neck for a moment while he scratches his hair. “Aa, just busy.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to you while you’re still packing your books. “You lost the warning, right?” 

“Yeah, late. Something important?”

“Nothing big. It’s the deadline for the midterm article, which you lost the explanation to but here--” He extends you his open notepad and you see the notes and instructions there, scribbled in block letters not very neatly, but fairly organized. You look it over briefly, confirm that is nothing different from the normal and bring your phone to take a picture. 

“Thanks, Iwa. Do you need any help with the TA hours?”

“Nah. It’s all fine. I organized my internship last month to have this week off.”

“Oh, smart,” you say as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your purse and the single book that couldn’t fit with your laptop in it. Iwaizumi makes you nervous. You’re fairly sure it’s because of the massive fucking crush you have on him. “Well, let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks,” you notice that he stays there looking at you for a second more... And then a few seconds more. 

“Is everything okay?

“You’ve been getting to class late a lot,” his eyes turn wide when he realizes what he just blurted out and the small pink dust atop his cheeks could be the thing that ends up killing you. Your brain gets lost in a chant of CUTECUTECUTE and for a moment you resist the urge to clench your books to your chest. “The professor asked me to see if everything was okay.”

“Oh, ah…” You actually force a bit of laugh out at that, surprised and a bit breathless. Dammit, you monitor two classes and then suddenly being a little bit late becomes a crime. “It’s nothing, actually. I’m just not a morning person. And I hate early classes, but I needed to get this one because of my internship, so I’m struggling with the time.”

Iwaizumi nods and even gives you a short smile while you two start walking alongside one another out of the class. “Ah, you should really fix your sleep schedule. You know the drill, eight hours every night.”

“You mean that impossible thing?” You laugh and thank him when he opens the door for you two to pass. Hot and a gentleman, God really has favorites. “I’m trying, but it’s easier said than done and I’m something of a night owl.”

“Brat. You’re just on your phone until late,” Iwaizumi snickers and you all but gasp, and before you can say anything he’s signaling to the other side you’re going. “I still have classes, see you on the TA hours?”

“Yeah, I have two days of TA next week,” you manage to squeak out without making a fool of yourself after he calls you a brat and even smiles his way despite the way you feel a sudden heat wave over your body.

“Nice. See you then.”

“Bye Iwa.”

You scurry off the other side and when you turn a corner you stop and do something absolutely ridiculous that is an internal scream with your head against the wall. You press your forehead against the cold tile and breathe about two or three times, all while your mind goes into overheat after a small talk with Iwaizumi Hajime, the hottest, most amazing Teacher Assistant this Physical Therapy course must have ever had.  

You hear someone saying your name while you try to recover and when you look to your side your heart sinks to your stomach as your eyes turn into plates. Hajime is looking at you funny, holding out a small paper to you and probably wondering if you’re okay in the head. Of course it’s him. It wouldn’t be you if this didn’t happen. 

“Ahhh, hi again?” You squeeze out in a weird breathless voice and Iwaizumi’s eyes seem to turn a pretty dark shade while his lips spread in a grin.

“You let this fall.” 

Sure, of course, you dumbass did. 

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks, Iwa. I was uhhh just…” You press your lips because your mind is blank and then God decides to cut you some slack with a momentaneous brilliance. “I forgot an important thing was due tonight and yeah, I was just screaming at myself.”

“Anything I can help with?” 

Yes. Marry me. Or just fucking, you’re not picky. 

Your whole face burns and you lower your eyes for a moment because the images assaulting you are just too much. Iwaizumi looks just so good up close, all sharp jawline and hard planes on that spiky jet-black hair and green eyes. Jesus Christ, looking like that should be illegal.

“No, it’s just something for this bachelorette party I have tonight.” God decides to grace you with some more lying skills and you thank them internally. There’s even a smile on your face. 

Iwaizumi nods away with your explanation.

 “Ohh,” He says with a smirk and your heart does a leap. “That’s nice. Give the bride my congrats.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her.” Then, he extends the paper again and you finally grab it, once again making a fool of yourself to him. “Sorry, thanks for this.” 

Iwaizumi just nods and smiles your way, quickly turning back and leaving after saying goodbye and waving your way. This time you have half a mind to search a bathroom before screaming for real.

-

Honestly, you cannot believe where you are right now. Lawbreakers. The name is written in a pretty calligraphy font in bright fucking neon that simply demands attention in the dark of night. It’s the final stop of the bachelorette party of your good friend to which you are late. From the group text, everyone is at least nicely buzzed and you’ve been laughing with the ridiculous pictures the group of women have been sending you non-stop while calling you a buzzkill. 

As your car pulls into the front of the place, you just can’t help but snort. It’s cheesy, definitely tacky but nice, a use of the western theme that actually plays well. 

Outside there’s a neon cowboy riding a horse and you just… can’t help but be amused. There’s a small line of women waiting even when it’s already late but you walk up front as your friend had told you too, perks of being a member of the VIP entourage of women partying in the allegedly last night for your friend to be free. 

The doorman lets you in quickly and just as you’re passing the threshold a tall, pretty and lean, but built man clad in nothing but a white outfit rolls to your side, offering a flute of sparkling wine from a tray.

“Well, look at that.” The smile he sends you is trained, but charming and you can’t help but smile back. “We truly do have the prettier customers. Can I offer you some champagne? Maybe something stronger?”

You’re just bringing your hand up to say no when you stop, muse about how much catching up you’ll have to do with your friends inside and shrugs. “Well, better get a head start, right?”

“Yes!” He congratulates you, standing too close as he brings you a flute and deposits on your fingers, his hand trailing on your pulse for a moment before he lets go. Then, he throws you another charming smile, the mischief reaching his eyes this time. “That’s a good girl~”

You try to hide the way his charm works by letting your mouth fall in a small laugh, but something tells you he catches that either way. That, you think, is what you call a seasoned pleaser.

“Thank you.” 

Your cheeks are heating the tiny bit as you scurry off the corridor to the club insides, following the loud music and increasingly louder screams.

“Enjoy the show!” The man chuckles behind you and you raise your glass in acknowledgment, hurrying inside to do just that. 

Honestly, it’s not what you were expecting. 

As you pass the wooden saloon doors at the end of the corridor, the sound of screaming surrounds you as physical waves, washing through your body in such a high pitch you stumble in your heels. The energy inside makes you unable to not enjoy yourself automatically, surrounded by tables of women and a few groups of men all completely enthralled on the show that’s already happening inside.

For starters, western decoration aside, you were definitely not expecting to see your friend, the bride-to-be, being grinded on stage. 

The strawberry-blonde male is thrusting against the center of your friend's legs, precise and exciting wave-like motions that clearly are making everyone inside, your friend included, lose their minds. He grinds and holds himself up, moves your friend around as if she’s a doll and humps her behind. It looks so sinful and still in perfect beat with the song and for a second your mind just-- short circuits, hand shooting to your mouth as the laughs tip over loud and hearty. Your friend is burning in embarrassment at the way the man is moving and grinding on her, hands almost locked on her body as if she thinks she can’t move or something will just blow up. 

Then again maybe she’s the one who’ll blow up, being so close to such a fucking hot man. You can definitely see how that would make her blow a fuse, completely not used to this kind of thing. 

You manage to stop laughing at your friend losing it on stage and quickly spot the table, the balloons that have been featured in lots of pictures making themselves seen: bright teal things stating “one dick forever”. Every single one dressed in black and with their current bright plastic cowboy hat. It could be worse; if the place wasn’t so fitting with it’s bright lights and mixed decorations ranging from cowboy neon signs and saddles in place of stools.

By the time you manage to walk over amidst the screaming and join in on the girls fun, the showman has finally let your friend go in prol of fishing another happy bride and she looks every bit completely shaken as you’ve thought.

“Hey, baby, you good?” The slit in her white dress is higher, clearly a side effect of the way the man hiked her legs just so…open, and you chuckle at how she huffs a breath out and let herself fall against the cushions, both parts pent up and mortified. 

Well, you’re already liking the place. 

Then, one of the other bridesmaids presses a full plastic flute of champagne to your hand, calls everyone up to a toast and you let yourself fall back into the festivities. Your friend seems to be having a hard time coming back from the heated grinding session in the middle show, to which she excuses herself from the table and reassures everyone that she’s fine. Still, you pull her on the side, ask her once again if she’s okay, to which she just explains she needs some air.

God, you understand.

You were about to follow her when another bridesmaid pulled you into a hug, happily chatting about how this place was incredible, and trying to fill you in on the fun you missed by being late. Your eyes accompany your friend for a moment, seeing as she walks a bit clumsy but otherwise fine to the corridor that leads to the bathroom. Well, she would be fine.

The current show ends and the lights glow brighter, finally allowing you to check out the place. The Lawbreakers Club is nice and full; filled to the brim with groups of women and men around and apparently yours is not the only bachelorette party taking place in the western-themed strip bar. The waiters are wearing skimpy little clothing, the place decorated as a cross-theme of magic mike and an imitation of a western saloon.

Then, before you can even finish the current drink you have in your hands,  the lights go down once again while the stage is lightened up in bright neon. You’re all close enough and with an amazing stage view to catch when a very tall, very pretty, brunette who welcomed you earlier comes to the middle of the stage. 

The crowd goes immediately wild as the song is lowered to a simple mumble in the background and the man walks slowly to the center stage, open hands and the devastating smile of someone who knows they’re all that and more. 

Bit obnoxious but hey, there’s a literal horde of women screaming for him. You’d say it’s acceptable.

“Well, well, well, look like we have a full house tonight.”

The screaming reignites, sounding even louder since they also come from your own table and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Are you guys ready for the next show?” The crowd screams a resonant yes. “Good. Let us make a lot of noise for two of our best, biggest outlaws around.” As the cheers erupted once again, you can actually hear some names being called, all revolving around names with big, pretty or animals thrown around. 

“Did someone actually scream for Issei Horsecock?” You ask the bridesmaid closer to you and both of you laugh when she says yes. “Oh, wow.”

 “Yes, yes, you know the ones. Now, let’s make our Big Guns flustered with the warm welcome, you know what a big softie he actually is under all that hard, big, brute exterior.” It’s actually enthralling to see Oikawa dealing with the crowd, you can’t help but laugh away at his faces and double meaning. Then he stops, winks at the crowd and goes, “Maybe he just needs a ride. So, ride it, ponies.”

It’s clear the announcement everyone was waiting for, as the crowd loses right there. The lights are once again focused on the stage, dripping low as the music picks up in a sexy beat as two big, broad and athletic men make their ways to the center stage, Oikawa nowhere to be seen anymore.  

You cannot believe your eyes. You blink them once but then become completely unable to tear your vision from the image unfolding in front of you even for a second. The men comes to the front of the stage, holds onto the pole dance and undulates in a sinful, unholy trusting motion that has your mouth watering and he falls backwards with his hand supporting himself as his legs part on the metal pole and he keeps trusting in time with the bass, a honest-to-god mimic of sex that has you swalowing dry and drooling, your body heating up at the simple images that ellicit in your brain. 

He does a twirl in the air, falls in a plank and holds a hand up to hold his cowboy hat all while supporting his body in only one hand. He undulates in thrust motions, twerk his ass in the air before pressing down and takes his hat off his head as a display of strength you never in your mind thought would get you this bothered. 

His jet black hair is short and spiky, mussed by sweat and you immediately licks your lips at the salacious thought of licking it up from his skin. He falls with his back on the floor, start once again to proove just how fucking incredible it would be to ride him and then gets up in one single jump that knocks the air of your lungs. 

You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand. 

And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.

Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream. 

Yours, to be even more specific. 

It’s clear he doesn’t see you with the dimly lit room and the crew of women chanting. You’re sitting dumbfounded, mouth agape and blood reeling enough that your forehead seems like it will explode, but also feeling as if you’re suspended in a haze - as if Iwaizumi’s body undulating on the air as he holds himself on a pole is something of a spell and you’re definitely sucked in by it.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you, as his show’s ending and the lights around the stage start shining once again. It’s painfully clear how Iwaizumi tenses from the realization, his eyes falling wide and curses tipping from his beautiful lips, the top of his cheekbones lighting up as he all but runs from the front of the crowd and in a moment you’re mirroring his embarrassment, face heating at the bizarre situation you’re finding yourself into. 

Your TA is a stripper. And a very good, famous one at that. 

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information?

It’s almost an hour and about three shows later where you’re filling your head pounding by the beat, unable to relax even as delicious men pass through your table and play with your friends. 

You feel tense, paranoid at what exactly has happened and where Iwaizumi may be, stomach turning and unresponsive as you try to sooth it with booze until you give up, rising on unsteady legs. Muscles strained from how long you’ve been sitting still, afraid to look anywhere and be slapped across the room with some other shocking news.

You take a deep breath as you balance yourself once again on your heels and walk to the bathroom for some needed cool-down, latching on the opportunity when another show is already rolling, a hot but unapproachable-looking man with blond hair and streaks on it owning the stage as if it’s his territory.

As you’re turning on the corridor, however, you’re circled by big arms and yanked from the ground, a yelp turning into silence as you take one look around and find dark green eyes boring into yours, a harsh look on Iwaizumi’s face that make you embarrassed at what it does to your guts.

He scurries off with you inside a place that looks like a private room, fairly dark with red lights around and a ominous pole-dance stage in the middle that makes your mind overheat at the images it summons: the man in front of you clad in nothing but a black jeans rolling his hips up into the air as if daring you to take a ride.

Well, shit.

Iwaizumi’s arms leave your sides and you stumble a bit, eyes diverting down as your face burns. You realize he takes that the wrong way when he sounds gruff and pissed. 

“What? Can’t even look at me now?” 

You look up in time to catch his arms crossing around his front. You wish he didn’t do that, as now you have one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen all angry-looking with bulging arms oiled and shining, clad in nothing but removable pants, leather chaps, vest and a black cowboy hat. 

You groan something unintelligible as you lose the ability to speak and Iwaizumi’s expression turns sour, lips pressed so hard it almost seems like he’s pouting, his hard eyes looking anxious and downcast. 

That’s what helps your brain kickstart, completely unable to see Iwaizumi looking remotely sad and acutely aware of how this must be taxing on him.

“Sorry, I-- It’s not you,” You wince as his eyes center on you, unimpressed, “I mean it! It’s just-- I was caught off guard.”

Iwaizumi makes a humming noise and centers his eyes on you as if he’s waiting for you to keep going but your brain is completely blank, staring at him with wide eyes and burning surprise. You have to make a serious effort to avoid letting your eyes wander his frame.

“So,” you start, unable to handle the silence and Iwaizumi groans, pulling his cowboy hat off to thread fingers over his hair in a nervous display that you’re sure he did not mean to be sexy but ends up being anyway. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Shit. What are you even doing here?”

“Bachelorette party,” you answer without missing a beat and he all but groans again, as if just remembering is an actual thing that exists- and probably gives him lots of money if tonight was anything to go by. 

The clear display of his anxiety actually helps you get a bit more at ease, and you can’t help but crackle an awkward smile. “So... you work here.”

“Yes,” Hajime brutal honesty shows he’s regaining his composure. “It’s good money if you work well and the hours are flexible.”

Not the only thing that’s flexible. You bite your lips at the thought to stop the words from actually spilling from your lips.

“I take it you're not public about this?”

“As little as I can considering the pictures and social media. The club is kinda famous, too.”

“I noticed.”

The silence stretches for a moment as Iwaizumi looks around nervously, his stance unmoving. You take a deep breath and sigh, lips falling in an odd, astonished smile. “Wow, Iwa, that’s…”

“What?” He bites back, defensive. You just end up chuckling, long breath falling from your lips as you look at him and can’t help but be once again dumbfolded at how fucking perfect this man is.

“Nothing, it’s just-- I would never expect it. It’s amazing, though. You’re amazing.” You wince at your own words and how telling they are, but carry on despite the burning on your face. “You seemed like a completely different person out there.” 

Definitely not the quiet TA you’re used to. Definitely still completely gorgeous.

Your body tenses as your heart does somersaults in your chest, hunger flaring enough that your throat constricts and your face burns once again.

“Don’t you think it's bad?” It comes out a bit strained, his eyes trained on you, tense and vulnerable. And you just about fall deeper for him right there. 

“Why? It’s your work.” You try your best smile, and after a little consideration Hajime’s shoulders finally seem to relax, lips jutting up just a bit as he breathes deep.

“No one in the university can know though,” Iwaizumi says quickly, eyes on yours with a little, tiny smirk. “Obvious reasons.”

That makes you giggle.

“Of course. I’ll keep your secret.” You agree in earnest, honest and clear, and this time when you smile at him, your whole body warms at how his eyes fall down to look at it. 

“Good.” His voice goes down a tone, husky and gruff- and making unspeakable things to your already poor state. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your heart seems to shoot up to your throat, and you try to squeeze words out around it.

“I… uh… yes, I mean, sure. It was… quite incredible.”

“Really.” Hajime smirks and you try to swallow your heart before you choke. 

His green eyes stare deeply at your face, drinking the burning on your cheeks, the quick beat of your pulse on your throat, the pursed, wet lips and the way you tremble when he all but takes a step closer. You brace yourself, eyes lifting from the ground to center on him and the sticky, hot sensation spreads through your lower limbs at the burning heat you find there.

“Well, there’s another one to be done.” That tone comes again and you’re forced to press your legs just a tiny bit closer, suddenly aware of the fact you’re both alone in a dark room. He takes another step closer and your eyes fall on his lips, smirk starting to split his face in two, “Stick around.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and Hajime’s eyes turn darker. 

"Iwa-channn~'' 

It's so close it sounds loud from across the half-opened door and Iwaizumi seems to fall back on himself, annoyance furrowing his brows. He takes another deep, heated look on you but tears his eyes away before you can’t say anything.

“Sorry, have to go.”

Your breath leaves you in one go. It feels like you just stepped off a rollercoaster, blown off the ground and slow to catch up. 

“Okay, uh, good show?” 

“It will be,” Hajime’s eyes are warm on you. Meaningful. “Watch it all, okay?”

And then he leaves, the brightness from the corridor snapping you from your haze as you suck all the oxygen left in the room and then screams silently against your hands. 

Iwaizumi feels nervous for the first time since the first time he stepped on stage, about two years ago. It feels like he has something to prove and conquer in this single performance and it doesn’t help that Makki comes running late, smelling of sex and sporting marks that tell just of that, too. But for once Hajime decides he has his own stuff to worry rather than the shit his friends pull.

When they step on stage, his eyes zoom-in on you immediately, something spreading on his skin as he finds your attention centered on him - bulging, enthralled eyes and warm appreciation. 

Hajime smirks. They haven’t even started yet.

On cue, Mattsun, Makki, Oikawa and Kyoutani slide on their position and Iwaizumi is delighted that your eyes remain on him. 

When the show starts, among screamings and money being waved, he follows the steps nicely, out of habit. Iwaizumi tilts his hat at you and you burn so bright he feels his skin heating at the newfound power. 

His vest is the first to go off and he makes sure to have his hands running around his chest more than once, teasing slide until the leather chaps as he thrusts his hips, waving motion that covers his whole body. 

He circles, back muscles in the spotlight as his hands come up behind his head, holding the cowboy hat snug in his head, ass tight in the black briefs as he keeps the motions and then turns to fall down on a plank. Iwaizumi grinds down on the floor, blinks and smiles at the ladies but his eyes are only searching for you. 

He gets up with an elaborate move and puts both his hands on the pole, holding himself up sideways before circling it, dropping and incorporating some break dance Kyoutani teached him. 

Hajime’s hand slid easily with the oil on his skin, slowly planting his thumb under the loops of his leather chaps to the sound of screaming. He feels electricity edge through his skin -- someone’s eyes focused solely on him and the thrill of it it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. Suddenly he understands a bit more about how Oikawa feels with Tendou around. 

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips forward once, snaps his belt off in the air with one pull, making the crowd gasp and scream and the itching on his skin turns south. He watches as your eyes follow the hard planes of his abs and the tight squeeze of his thighs on his leather chaps and then snap back into his face. The fact it’s you only makes it all the more exhilarating.

The choreo is once again on the floor, and he drops to it in a wave motion, hips humping on nothing without faltering, tight ass in the air winning cheers and waves; even so, it’s your silent appraisal that rings the louder.

He gets up again, circles the pole in a charming, teasing manner as he holds the metal bar and grinds on it. Iwaizumi lets his hat on the ground and turns his back to the public in time to snap his pants off in one go, at the same time as the other men on stage, staying in nothing but a ridiculously tight, dark, leather brief. 

When he was first presented to the thing, he hated it and opted to go comando into some shows, which earned him some nice money and was always quite the surprise to the patrons. Now, as his eyes lock on yours and your wicked tongue peaks out to lick your plush lips in nothing but appreciation, Iwaizumi is rendered quite fond of the offending thing -- who’d thought this day would come.

Your eyes are glued to him and it almost hurts Iwaizumi that he can’t go straight to you, bring you on stage with him and glide your hands all over his body. He’s unsure of how to proceed but there’s no chance in hell he’s throwing this shot away. 

He’s been crushing on you for far too long to do that. 

In fact, the dumbfounded look on your eyes is quite endearing, much like all the fumbling and tripping over yourself that he got used to expect every time he sees you. Iwaizumi just assumed you were a bit clumsy and quiet, but then he got to know you and it all blew in his face. 

You were a bit of a dumbass but also beautiful, kind, dedicated and attentive. The crush that started as a endearing feeling quickly escalated into opressing and Iwaizumi was all but rendered stupid around you at all times, firm believer that you never truly looked at him like that.

However, as you stare at him unblinking and eager, the picture of hunger in the most delicate predator, Iwaizumi realises he may be wrong and that thought alone is enough to ignite his veins.

 Oikawa fishes a lady, pushes her on Kyoutani then does the same with another for Iwaizumi.

He smiles at her, professional, and brings her hands to his chest, his hips drawing circles against her. As her tentative strokes and fondling turn into frantic holds and clawing nails, his eyes can’t help but slide sideways, taking in the way you’re hanging out of every move of her hands. 

Fuck, Iwaizumi can’t get hard. But there’s a clear throbbing threading south at your concentration. He can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining your hands on his body instead of hers; your hips against his as he grinds on hers; your mouth on his biceps when she kisses his trademarked asset, the ones that gave him his stripper name. 

The woman slides several singles around his briefs, not without copping a few and your mouth falls open in an indignated breath. Iwaizumi tries hard to avoid it going to his dick.

He fishes for another woman in the audience as he lets the groups slide more singles not only on his briefs but inside his boots. Iwaizumi pulls one while she’s sitting in the chair, deposits it on the stage and grinds on her enough that the woman is overheated, hands faltering by her sides. Hajime’s eyes search yours once again, drinking, basking in the envy he pinpoints.

 Does that mean you wish to be under him, like that? To feel his body against yours, his hips between your legs, his lower body shoved on your face? 

Hajime ends his routine with this one halfway, unable to let them feel what you are doing to him and then - finally - he’s free to walk over to your table. Semi-naked, with his boots, hat and slow-rising hard-on.

He’s done this enough times to be able to keep up with the choreo while he’s navigating the tables, hips thrusting and circling, strangers hands sliding on his oiled body to deposit dollars anywhere they can. They’re mostly handsy, few grab his dick and scream, others palm at his thighs and chest. There’s both numbers and dollars being thrown on him but Iwaizumi is used to it - and that’s definitely not his focus tonight.

Iwaizumi stops for a moment at the table before yours. Joining in the fun as Oikawa is happily grinding on his roommate. It gives Hajime a chance to look your way, enough to find you completely enthralled by his body, wide eyes unwavering, mouth open in a breath as your hand fists the flute you’re holding, the perfect depiction of surprise and enchantment and fuck, Iwaizumi is thrilled.

When Hajime finally stops in front of you, you’re looking at him as if under a spell; mouth hanging softly as stars shine in your eyes and he can’t be faulted for fisting your hair, pulling you up to meet his chest, even if he’s careful with where he touches you. 

Iwaizumi pretends his lips gliding against the shell of your ear is not a planned thing.

“You’re looking too hard. Are you enjoying the show that much?”

Your lips move without words falling from it and having you speechless all but set him on fire. Iwaizumi thanks every god (and begrudgingly Oikawa) for his expertise in what he’s about to do. His hand slides on your hips, feeling the way you sway with tremors and stop on your back to support you as he bends you backwards. His mouth skims the skin of your neck and dips lower, so his nose can cross over your cleavage, softly caressing the spanse of your collarbones. 

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll start thinking things, princess. Interesting things, physical things.” Iwaizumi lets his teeth close on the fabric covering your neckline as his eyes look up on yours to find every hint there can possibly be of your warm desire. “Seems like we’re reaching an agreement, too. Do like what you see, hm? Do you want me to do to you the same things I did with them?” 

“No,” you tell him in a steady tone and Hajime’s eyes shoot up to yours, confused, until you sigh a breath against his face. “I want you to do more.”

He groans, pulling you tighter against his chest for you to feel the effect you have on him, choosing the momentum to circle his hips in what can be disguised as performance despite it being anything but.

“You can’t just tell a guy that. I may believe it.” His hands drop on your ass, gripping as he guides your hips to work with his and you all but melt, blown out eyes falling on his mouth.

“I’m hoping so. I’m pretty much using all my courage to tell you this.” Your breathless chuckle all but obliterates Hajime’s thinking and he has to put some distance between your faces before he takes your lips in a kiss. 

There’s a ringing around his ears and he identifies it as the performance’s end approaching. He has to go back on stage to strip naked and his cock is going to give a show of his own tonight. 

“Go wait for me in the corridor, quick.” It's a plea and a promise as he forces himself to let go of you and turn on his heels to get back on stage.

Oikawa gives him a hand up back onto the stage, eyes all knowing as they survey the whole big thing going on inside his briefs. 

“Nasty, Iwachan~” His smile is a annoying little thing, but then he slaps Iwaizumi’s ass in encouragement, “Sneak off stage before the end, go, quick, I’ll cover.”

Iwaizumi grunts a thanks and as the boys line up one behind the other, he’s able to lock eyes with you and signal with his head before he dips through the backstage drapes.

You’re not sure what’s the plan when Hajime disappears through the back and your spine immediately shoots up, leaving your friends with a half-assed excuse as your legs carry you towards the corridor that leads to the backstage once you choose neither left or right, but only forward. Your eyes are focused, body overheating as your heart gallops in your chest, clinging to the words Iwaizumi whispered in your ears during his show as it repays again and again over your mind’s eye. 

The door to the backstage is signaled with nothing, the only hint of its location being the in and out of men from it as their shows end and they leave the place to either mingle along the audience or enter a private room for privé little shows. Honestly, if it was for Hajime, you’d blow a hole in your wallet for every single second of his time. 

However, as you’re closing in on the hidden door you start growing strikingly aware of the fact you have no idea how to actually meet him there and having to knock on it makes you feel both silly and self conscious.

Luckly, you don’t have to do anything.

Iwaizumi burst the door open in time to fetch you and drag you inside as you let out a little yelp, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the smell of weed, cigars and sweat along with men; Iwaizumi’s hot, sweety skin is sticky against yours and you have the fleeting thought that maybe that would be off putting to you if you didn't have the all consuming need to drop to your knees and lick it all from his fucking skin.

“Iwa,” leaves you lips for no reason, just for the fact it’s his name and you let your neck fall back against his shoulder, turning your head to finally taste his skin. Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around you in such a way you feel the rumble of his growl and he all but tow you deeper inside.

 You can barely get a look around the dimly lit, dirty backstage room before you’re past the messy lounge and into a tight corridor that ends a small, locker-room styled bathroom where Hajime quickly dips inside. 

You get one look at the metal lockers on the side, the two sinks with mirrors upfront and the four bathroom stalls on the left, two on each side before you focus back on Iwaizumi’s jawline, nibbling on whatever you can find and relishing on every little noise that tumbles from his lips. 

Hajime’s arms leave you for one moment, depositing you on unsteady legs so he can turn the lock on the door and by then his hand is burying itself in your hair and closing at your hip, forcefully pulling you to him as his mouth closes around your neck and he proceeds to kiss, bite and suck at every spanse of your skin. 

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this here,” Iwaizumi starts with a gruff voice that makes your center weep, the force of his hands around you enough to render your feet useless as he strides over to the sink, imediatelly hiking you over it with his big hands over your ass and a hard bite at your shoulder as if he’s pinging you as the culprit of his angish. “But I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

He sounds so pained, so raw, that you can’t help but groan, mouth searching his quickly as your hands reach for his hair and shoulder, nails digging on whatever you find to secure your hold on his slippery skin. He tastes of whisky and weed, but it’s the fact that it’s Hajime that renders you intoxicated.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, a trail of kisses making their way down so he can bite at your neck, licking  it over just so he can suck on it, your eyes rolling back inside your head as your body all but trembles. “I was sure you weren’t interested, fuck.” 

That is probably the one thing that could pull you from the haze settling in your brain caused by the fucking thrill that having Hajime kissing and holding you is enough to cause. 

“Are you insane?” You whine back at him, tilting your head away from his mouth as your fingers pull at his hair to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, heated and earnest florest-green eyes that have been your demise since day one. “Iwa, there hasn't been a day I wasn’t interested.” 

There’s an edge of surprise on his face, along with a hint of something soft you can’t name and you all but moan at him, unable to form words of just how much you’ve wanted him and for how long. So you choose to show him, instead, legs circling his frame as you press your chest against his and hold his neck with both hands to pull him in a kiss that leaves you lightheaded, toes curling on your heels and heat burning through your veins, melting your insides until it spills on your underwear.

A rumble in his chest tells you about the groan he keeps inside and Iwaizumi’s hands take hold of the flesh of your ass and thighs with bruising strength, violent heartbeats making both of your bodies tremble with need. But then he angles himself back, breaks the kiss and curses after one look at your face.

Next thing you know Iwaizumi’s down on his knees between your thighs, holding you open with big hands under your knees and your brain just ups and fries. Your panties are sticking to your drenched folds and there’s no way the flimsy triangle is able to do much to hide you from Hajime’s attentive eyes. He groans, fingers dipping under the sides of your underwear and he pulls it to the side, baring you the best he can.

He doesn’t really say anything past throwing you a burning look, kissing up the inner part of your thighs, and then he’s mouth is on you - tongue lavishing at both sex and fabric, circling your clit with wondrous expertise and licking along your inner lips like they’re about to spill all your secrets.

“Fuck,” slips from you as your head arches back, hitting the wall. “Iwaizumi...” 

Whispered from you that way, his name is the only thing that conveys all of the feelings bubbling on your chest: the glee of the mutual crush, the excitement of being this close, the massive bliss igniting your nerves at his ministrations. If the way Hajime doubles down on his efforts between your legs is any indication - tongue slipping up and down then back up to circle your clit mercilessly - you’d say he agrees.

You feel suspended in time, tense as a tight coil that’ll tear with a single harsh pull. His tongue dances around your cunt as much as he did on stage: perfectly. Deliriously bringing you to a high you’ve aren’t sure you’ve ever tasted. And then he brings his fingers to calmly, slowly massage around your entrance. 

“Oh fucking christ!” Your burning moan bounces around the empty space loudly and you swear you feel him snickering against your cunt, only you’re way far gone to care. “Haji-fuck!” 

Your hand slides over his hair, fingers delighted at how soft they feel and you use your palm to press his face further against your folds. Your hips humping anything they can because staying still feels like an impossible task with the way your blood is boiling inside your veins. 

But then someone is pounding at the door loudly and your eyes snap open as your high slips from you, Iwaizumi’s lips abandoning your sex to throw a nasty glare at the door. 

“C’mon Iwa-chan~” someone calls outside, sounding unbelievably pleased at the interruption. “You know the rules! We need to use the bathroom~” 

“Two minutes!” Iwa snarl back and as the pounding on the door doesn’t come back, you think he got himself a deal. “Fucking assholes. Can’t give me one fucking moment when they’re the ones always doing this shit.”

He sounds so pissed it’s actually awfully endearing. Red in the face with swollen lips glistening in a pout, and despite the throbbing on your cunt, you can’t help but laugh. His eyes come back to you and a renewed wave of pleasure curls on your pussy by the clear shift into softness you find there, so you pull him back up standing and make a point of kissing him so hard you’re licking your juices from his chin. 

Two minutes apparently go by awfully fast, as the door is nudged once again. Softly, this time. 

“Fuckers,” Iwa mutters after he breaks the kiss, eyes as daggers aimed at whoever is outside the door. “Give me ten minutes and meet me outside?” You realize by the tone of his voice that Iwaizumi is nervous and your heart does a sickening loop inside your chest as if you needed a heads up of how much you’re gone for him. Your face must do something weird, as his eyes scrunch up and his hands grip on your hips with a tiny bit of strength, pleading. “I just need to change and get my stuff, I’ll be real quick, promise.” 

Jesus Christ, didn’t he get it yet?

“Iwaizumi,” His name sounds gruff past your breathless throat and you see the way his eyes turn steely, bracing for heartbreak. “You could tell me to wait forever, and I’d be dying outside waiting for you.”

You make a point of holding his eyes because it feels like it’s important and you’re thankful for that as you can watch the exact moment Iwaizumi lets a long breath out, eyes warming as his lips descend upon yours - one time, then once again; his fingers drawing soft little patterns over your skin.

“I’ll be outside,” you tell him before someone disturbs the moment between you two and he helps you down the sink, your panties choosing this moment to slide to the floor, showing the fact that all that pulling ended up causing a rip. You choke up a gasp and Iwa chuckles, hand sliding to your bare ass to pat at the plush flesh.

“Well, one less thing in the way.”

Getting out of the bathroom and outside the backroom ends up being the most embarrassing thing about it all, as you’re forced to pass through a horde of almost-naked men that throw you all-knowing grins. The pretty man that welcomed you into the Club is the one with the wickedest grin and you can see by Iwaizumi’s grimace alone that he’s in for a hell of teasing. 

If the hand gripping your hip is anything to go by, you’d doubt he’s paying it half a mind. He leaves you at the door, tells the ones around there to shut it as they watch, and breathlessly promises you he’ll come in a bit before closing the door.

Even so you can still hear the immediate hollering going on inside and you chuckle for a moment, until you try to take a step and your legs betray you, shaken. There’s a smile etched to your face that you can barely contain until you’re painfully remembered of the fact you’re dripping between your thighs. That’s all you need for your heart to beat on your face, burning so bright you’re surprised you haven’t melted to the floor.

You’re breathless and antsy as you wait for Iwaizumi to come back, the club visibly emptier after the final performance. Your friends have left already, only waiting around until you came to pick up your purse, all of them tired and drunk and leaving in group after calling enough ubers and making sure you were fine. 

And not without teasing, of course.

God, you were more than fine. But you’re throbbing, uncomfortable wet and empty, increasingly aware of the fact you’re standing there pantiless as the horny fog dissipates a bit in the absence of one Iwaizumi Hajime to end your logic thinking.

You get antsy of waiting around in the bar despite the bartender trying to make nice small-talk and instead trudges over to the corridor, standing there awkwardly fidgeting as if he’s taking hours and not literally a few minutes.

The door opens with an urge and Hajime’s eyes zoom in on you, long strides that only serve to make your body once again acutely aware of it’s poor state, arousal spiking to the point where you press your legs together to help with the feeling. 

But then he’s reaching for you before he’s even really close, and you’re quickly running to him and latching your lips together with urgency. Now that you can kiss him it feels like there’s no point in any other greeting that doesn’t involve his mouth on yours. 

His hair is dripping wet with a recent, clearly quick shower and he’s wearing the same clothes you’re used to see him with day by day and, somehow, that just makes it all worse, a literal groan passing your lips as you reach once again for his lips but this time Iwaizumi stops you with a groan, turning you in his arms so both of you can eagerly trudge out of the Club.

Hajime tries to be mindful of you as he shortens his long strides to be able to accompany yours. You’re balancing yourself to run on heels, laugh bubbling out of your chest at the exhilarating feeling of glee of a mutual crush. Iwaizumi throws you one amused look, sharp smile turning teasing as his hands come to circle your waist, hoist you up and hurry the remaining distance to his car.

“Too slow!” Iwaizumi teases with a grunt and chuckles against your neck, big toothy smile against your skin. “Hurry up!”

“Someone’s eager,” you tease but he’s already rounding his car, pressing you on the side to attach his lips to your neck, soft bites and circling hips that show you just how much that sentence is true.

One of his hands surrounds your neck and his thumb tilts your head up enough for his lips to capture yours, a soft kiss contrasting with the need in his grasp on your hips. 

“I think we’ve waited too long.” 

“Yeah? Who’s fault is that, dumbass?” You nibble on his lips and grind your hips on the impressive burning length that presses on your belly. Iwaizumi chuckles, biting on your neck as his hand slides past your hip to close on your ass. 

“Yours.” 

Your outraged gasp is lost on his lips, passionate kiss blowing your rational thinking with a nuke. Would you ever recover from Iwaizumi Hajime? God, you don’t think so. 

You pull him closer, pressing your chest against him, pressure building once again as your nipples stand to attention. Your leg rakes up on his side as if you’re not on the middle of the street and Iwaizumi lets his hand slide to the underside of your thigh; fingers dipping lower, digits gliding over your drenched slit once before he dips them carefully past the tight ring of your entrance. It’s barely anything, but your mind short-circuits, head falling back against the car.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Iwaizumi sounds anguished, teeth punishing his lips as his eyes bore on yours. His fingers slide deeper inside you and your mouth opens in a silent moan. “I can’t wait to be inside this pussy.”

That ends you, pussy clenching so hard around his barely there fingers it’s painful to feel the remaining emptiness. You puff a hot breath of air on his face, eyes dazed and blood boiling as you tense and throb. 

“Iwa,” Your nails press on his skin so hard your own hand hurts, “if you keep doing this we’ll be doing it in the street.”

Something burns in him, as he presses his fingers deeper inside you to watch your eyes fall close and then pulls them all out, quickly opening the door.  

“Get in.”

You obey, having half a mind to wonder if it’s really happening until he’s closing the door and circling the vehicle. “Iwa!” You plead, as somehow it feels like abandonment, your whole being hurting and boiling, a whine in your lips as Hajime slides in the driver's seat and turns the car on, driving it out the curb and down the street as a madman.

“We’re doing this right,” Hajime tells you as he drives, drinking your panting form from the corner of his eyes. His jeans are tight, hint of what awaits you forming a very clear pattern and you feel overheated, frenzied, throbbing with need. So as it turns out, you’re far past the point to care. 

You adjust yourself in the seat, legs spreading to allow your hand to reach the appex of your sex as the other closes on a clothed breast. “Iwa,” you sigh in bliss as the pressure finally seems to give in just that one tiny bit. His eyes shoot to you and fall comically large at the view, turning hazed in sequence as his cheeks color red.

“God, baby, don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi grunts, hand adjusting his cock through the jeans as his eyes try to flit between you and the fairly empty streets. 

“I’m not doing anything to you though, I’m doing it to me.” You moan and the car loses balance for a second, sliding to the side and back as you laugh. 

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“Try not to kill us, Iwa.” Is all you answer, moan slipping out at the way you let your fingers alleviate the pressure at your clenching center. Iwaizumi looks as if he’s in pain. One of his hands shoots down to hold on your left thigh, bruising strength delicious.

“You wanna play dirty, huh? That’s what you want?” The tinge of aggression in his voice makes your pussy throb around your fingers and for a moment it feels like he knows. “I can play dirty, baby. I can either make you cum like a good girl or let you hang the whole night like a brat, so what do you want?”

Your voice is nowhere to be found and your eyes are locked on Hajime as if he’s the one who hung the moon and stars. He even has the gal to smirk.

“I can be so good, baby, but I’m even better at being bad.”

You skyrocket shamelessly into a little bout of pleasure, a short-lived thing resembling a climax that’s caused by the whiplash of Hajime’s dominance and the pressure bursting inside you as you abuse your own fingers' expertise. 

You tremble on his side, head thrown back with a moan of his name and Hajime curses loudly, hand at your thigh awkwardly reaching your slit to slide over it and push two fingers inside, catching the last of your short-lived climax. His face turns solemn, eyes darkening with hunger as a vein rises in his jaw and a renewed wave of wetness stains his digits.

Those forest-green eyes settle on you as he speeds down the empty street. “I’m going to end you,” Iwaizumi presses deeper and you arch your body, legs falling wider for him as fingers you effortlessly, driving and stretching you on thick digits that make you gasp on your own breath. 

“This is how it’s going to be.” Hajime starts, voice rough and hot. “Once we’re out of this car and private enough, I’m burying myself inside this pretty pussy in one go.” Your whole breath leaves you in one quick breath, eyes falling open as Hajime’s thumb rounds your clit and a third finger starts pushing inside your walls, burning stretch making you delirious as his words take you apart, one by one. 

“Then, I’m fucking you the whole night until you cant even think about a time where I wasn't inside you,” his fingers curve inside your walls, calling motion and upwards thrust that makes your pleasure sparks through your whole body, one hand closing around his wrist as the other locks on a breast. “Until you feel empty without me inside.”

He pulls his hand back as you all but sob, eyes literally welling with tears at the loss of your quickly rising bliss but one look at Hajime has you sobering up, his focused eyes on the street as he hurries down the rest of the way. 

As it ends up, Iwaizumi stays true to his words. 

He presses you up against the door of his apartment while you two are still on the corridor, brings his hands to your thighs and hikes you up against the door, your dress sliding way past your ass as your bare, throbbing pussy glides over his clothed length. Your whole skin feels like a live-wire, hypersensitive and vibrating.

Hajime’s mouth is closed in a bite on your shoulder as he uses his abilities to open his door without interfering with the sinful way you roll your center against his big cock, needy and lost, pleading for him to just fuck you. 

When it clicks open, both his hands fly to your ass as he pushes past the door and close it with a bang as he presses you against it. His mouth is back on yours, tongue invading your lips with a groan and hand flying to tear his jeans open and down just enough for his big, hard cock spring free.

"Yes!" You break the kiss to cry at the first touch of his weeping, hot cock against your cunt, the sheer amount of wetness making it slide from your hole to your clit and then down again. 

Hajime sucks a breath to still himself, slowly angles his hips back and let the thick head slide to  your entrance with perfect precision, slamming himself half the way inside with one powerful thrust that have his head falling on your shoulder with a blissful groan, your cries of agreement thrown around the air above as you angle your head back.   

Your walls fall open for him brutally, soaking wet and ready but still struggling against the stretch. It burns, his fat cock pulsing inside you and as you clench around his girth you realize he's not even all the way inside. 

"Oh my god," you breathe out and Iwa sighs, fist slamming on the side of the door as he braces himself and rolls his hips, pushing steadily, sheathing his cock inside you slowly. You choke on a breath, suddenly silent, legs kicking out without your brain to rein on it.

"Jesus," Iwa grunts as he bottoms out, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself back, mind stumbling as every single cell in his body seems overwhelmed by the feeling of reaching paradise. “You feel like heaven.”

Hajime tells you mostly because he wants to feel you clench around him and you do, his heart soaring with the delicious high of knowing exactly what makes you tick; but the throbbing of his cock reminds him just how long he’s been forgotten and Iwaizumi adjusts his stance, locks his arms around you and simply mutters, “Now, to fucking you the whole night.”

You skyrocket quicker than ever, few presses and pulls igniting a supernova bliss in your veins, tongue useless as it feels alien in your mouth, brain short-circuiting at his thrusts. You’ve never felt like this and you’re pretty sure you’ll never would, not without Hajime.

You’re so lost you don’t even realize he moves you from the door to the wall, Hajime’s hands grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you to a blistering kiss, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock doing wonders against your clit every time he bottoms out, nestled inside a place you never even felt before. 

You’re so oversensitive, wound up and tense as your pussy holds him as a vice, grunts falling from his lips that make you skin all but burn at the delicious praise. 

As you squeeze “Hajime” past your mouth in a painful breath, frenzied eyes searching for his,  he soothes you with kisses all over your face. 

“Go ahead, baby.” He tells you with his lips against your skin, “I got you.”

You explode. 

There’s no other way to explain the way your pleasure blows you over, sharpshooter through your veins and short-circuits your brain. It feels like being caught in an ocean wave, unable to swim as it carries you underwater and the tides hold you down, unending twirls that assault you through every side until you’re finally reaching shore, rising above to suck a deep breath.

Hajime is peppering your face with kisses as you settle back inside your skin, blinking hazy eyes to his perfect face with a ridiculous smile that must show just how fucking much you’re smitten. But there’s an edge of something painful on his face.

“Wow.” You breathe and his cock responds inside you with a nod of agreement.

Hajime chuckles, plants a big kiss on your wet lips and tries to smile despite the strain on his face as he calls your name. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” you smile dumbly at him, loose and fuzzy around the edges. “Go ahead. Not sure I’ll be of much use, I think I just had a outer body experience.”

“Hmmm,”  Hajime smirks, tight around the edges with his throbbing cock buried in your pulsing heat. as he seems pensive  “No can’t do, baby.”  He rolls his hips for a moment, lecherous noise echoing around the silent flat, then decides to bring you across the short distance to his couch, letting his ass fall on it graceless, cock pressing deeper with the movement. He drinks the little gasp straight from your lips. 

“I think I’ve earned my turn to sit back and relax.” Hajime smiles, predatory, hungry and you decide you just may love him like this. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and ride it?”

-

[mochegato]

Paper Lanterns for New Beginnings

Another meet cute Monday fic.  Not going to let being sick stop it.  Hope you like it @boldlyanxious

“What do you think, Lian? Should we get a yellow one and a red one?” Roy asked holding up two paper lanterns.

“More, Papa.  We need lots,” Lian jumped excitedly as she answered, reaching up for more lanterns on the wall.

Roy shook his head, trying to hold in his chuckle.  She definitely got that need for more from him.  “Sorry, Sweetie, our hotel room doesn’t have room for more.  I think it’s just going to be the two for us.”

Lian pouted and sent him a glare to let him know how unhappy she was with his answer.  This time he was unsuccessful in keeping in his laughter in the face of her adorable three year old glare.  “I know you want a bigger celebration, but it’s just us this year so I think we’ll keep it small, okay?”

“No!  Big, Papa.  I want big!” she exclaimed loudly opening her arms wide to show him how big she wanted.

“Not this year, Honey. Maybe next year we can get Grandpa Ollie involved.  He’ll love to go over the top for you,” he answered firmly, sending her the most sympathetic look he could.  He understood she wanted to have a big celebration, like her mother would do for her, but he was not prepared for it.  In all honesty, he probably shouldn’t have taken the assignment from Oliver or pushed it back so they could celebrate Têt at home, but it was too late now.  “Come on, let’s get these and find a Vietnamese restaurant to get dinner at.  They might have some kind of party going on we can join.”

He started moving toward the front of the store, looking back to encourage Lian to come with him and make sure she was still following him instead of pouting in place.  His attention was so focused on Lian, he missed the young woman who was also making her way to the front with a box that almost looked larger than her and was overflowing with decorations.  He walked backwards into her box, knocking it out of her hands and pushing her off balance.

His arms reached her seconds before she fell into his chest, doing little more than wrap around her protectively.  He barely set his foot as a brace in time to keep them from falling over.  She lifted her head from his chest to look up at him with wide, beautiful, blue eyes.  Her eyes caught on his for a few moments before she shook her head lightly, seemingly bringing herself back to reality.  “I am so sorry!  I’m so madly clumsy.  Are you okay?” she gushed out quickly.  She looked him up and down, searching for any evidence of injury.

He chuckled lightly and checked her quickly to make sure she was okay too, which was a mistake because now his cheeks were heating up as he found himself unable to stop himself from checking out the absolutely beautiful woman in his arms.  Arms he hadn’t retracted from around her yet.  Arms, he noted, which she hadn’t removed herself from yet either.

“Daddy?  Okay Daddy?” Lian asked worriedly.

Roy jumped back from the woman, pulling his arms back quickly.  He chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.  “Yeah, Sweetie.  I’m fine.” He turned back to the woman in front of him.  “Are you okay?  I’m sorry. I was watching my daughter instead of where I was walking.”

He moved to reassure Lian, but his feet got caught on the contents of the box that had spilled out around them when the woman fell.  He searched for a clear spot to set his foot to brace himself, but couldn’t find a spot before gravity took hold.  This time the woman was there for him.  She reached out and steadied him before he could fall.  “Thank you,” he grinned sheepishly at her.

She gave him a sweet smile in return.  “Just glad I could return the favor.  We’re even now.”

He smiled back at her, staring into her eyes.  He lost track of how long he was staring when Lian spoke up again.  “So many lanterns!” she squealed excitedly.

The woman jumped slightly and looked over to her with a kind smile.  “Yeah, we’re having a party tomorrow night for Têt.”  She knelt down to start gathering the decorations.

Roy knelt down next to her and started helping as well.  She gave him a grateful smile.  He shrugged back at her.  “Least I can do after knocking it out of your hands in the first place.”

“You’re having a Têt party?” Lian exclaimed.

The woman giggled.  “Well, I’m not. My friend’s mother is.  She always throws a big celebration for the second night. Everyone is invited.  If you guys want to come, you’re more than welcome to.”

Lian gasped loudly and looked at Roy with big, hopeful eyes, practically vibrating in excitement.  “Can we, Papa?”

Roy looked from her to the woman and back. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t want to impose on their celebration.  “I don’t know, Sweetie…”

The woman gave him a shy look and spoke quietly so he could hear her but not Lian.  “If you’re worried about imposing, don’t.  It’s a big party and she makes a point to invite anyone who wants to come. Everyone contributes, hence the…” she motioned toward the decorations.  “In fact, she’d have my head if she found out I ran into people who were interested and didn’t invite them.”  She gave him another bright smile that made him lose his breath. “So please, feel free to come and bring whoever with you.  You’ll be saving me a lecture.”

He found himself smiling back at her and nodding.  Like he would ever say no.  “Thank you. That would be great.  I wanted to do something for Lian, but I don’t…”  He paused to calm his mind and sort his thoughts. “That would be perfect, yeah. Thanks.”  His hand tingled where it had brushed against hers as they reached for the same lantern to put in the box.  

“I’m Roy.”  He extended his hand to shake hers.  “This is Lian.”

The woman smiled at Lian and turned back to Roy as she shook his hand, letting her hand linger in his as she spoke.  “I’m Marinette.  It’s nice to meet you both.”

“It’s really nice to meet you too.  Um… but, for the party, it’s just us.  There’s nobody else… here or at home.” He internally face palmed at his awkwardness.

She grinned pointedly at him and took her hand back to pick up the last of the decorations.  “Well, don’t tell Thim Lê Chiến that.  She’ll try to set you up with someone and since I’m the one inviting you, it’ll probably be me.”  She winked at Lian and chuckled as she put the last of the decorations into the box.

“You say that like it wouldn’t make me tell her first thing.”  Roy gave her a charming smile and grabbed the box, as he moved toward the front with her. “I wouldn’t mind the help actually… if you wouldn’t,” he added hesitantly.

She smiled ruefully at him.  “Normally I wouldn’t, but this party is actually celebrating more than just Têt.  It’s a bunch of new beginnings.  It’s Têt and birthdays and the defeat of Hawkmoth and… my goodbye party.  I’m moving in a few weeks so…”

Roy’s heart clenched slightly at the thought.  His charming smile turned sad.  He really would have liked to get to know her better.  But, then again, Paris would have been difficult anyway.  A new place couldn’t be much worse, right?  “That’s great for you though.  I mean, assuming you’re moving for something good.  Where are you moving?”

She took Lian’s hand as they made their way to the front together.  “I’m starting an internship in New York next month.  I’m moving in a few weeks to get settled and find an apartment.”

She watched as a grin found its way back on his lips.  “Do you believe in luck?” he asked smugly.

She eyed him suspiciously. “You live in New York?”

“I live in Star City, which is less than an hour outside it.  And I love visiting New York,” he answered, his roguish smile firmly back on his lips.

“Daddy, you said you hated when you had to go to New York.”  Lian’s face scrunched up in confusion.

Roy grimaced slightly and turned back to Marinette quickly with an overly wide smile.  “Hated that I don’t have a good reason to visit more often,” he corrected, cutting her off before she could say more.  “I have friends that live in New York if you need pointers and recommendations.  Maybe I can give you some at the party or over dinner tonight?

Marinette gave him a bemused smile, her eyes sparkled with mirth.  “Don’t you want to spend the first night with your immediate family?”

He motioned to Lian.  “This is my immediate family.  And we would love to invite you to join us.”  He gave her another charming smile.  “What do you think, Sweetie?”

“Yeah!  Please come.”  Lian clapped excitedly and turned to Marinette with wide kitten eyes.

“Well that’s just playing dirty,” she playfully scolded.  

Roy set down the box at the register and picked up Lian, setting her on his hip.  “It really is.  Luckily, she only uses her powers for good… mostly.” He gave Lian a mock glare that caused her to start giggling.

Marinette joined in the laughter and handed over her card to the checker.  “I’m not sure if I’ll have time.  I have to help set up for the party now and I’ll be spending most of the day tomorrow preparing food for the party.  So I’ll probably be busy until the party tomorrow… unless you guys want to help with the decorations?  If you want more Têt experience.”

“I don’t want to…” Roy started.

“Again,” she cut him off, “don’t worry about imposing. Thim Lê Chiến would absolutely love to have Lian helping.  She loves getting kids involved in the celebration.  And seeing Lian will only increase her harassment of my friend about when he’s going to have kids so that’s just another bonus for me. Please don’t take causing that away from me.”  She looked up at him with her own kitten eyes.

He chuckled lightly and looked down to give himself a brief reprieve from the lightheaded feeling he felt whenever he looked in her eyes.  “Who’s being unfair now?” he playfully chided.

“Is that a yes?” she asked, looking to Lian conspiratorially.

“Please, Daddy?” Lian added, matching Marinette’s kitten eyes.

“Oh God, too much cuteness,” he laughed shaking his head.  He raised his head to look her in the eyes again and send a genuine, grateful smile. “Yes.  We would love to help and get to know you better.”

Marinette smiled brilliantly at them.  “Sounds like a great start to the new year.”

[choosing-criminalminds]

One More Time

Summary: Their love was years and years in the making, and even when prison quickly builds back up the walls they worked so hard to break down, Spencer learns just how strong the foundation of their trust is.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader(ish) -> told mostly in the 3rd person, from Spencer’s POV

Category: angst (?)

Warnings: mentions of character death (Maeve, Gideon), mentions of blood (Maeve’s death), slight panic/anxiety, language -> let me know if there are any more to add!

Also, un-beta’d, we die like the trash we are.

Length: 5.6k

A/N: Okay yeah so first post. So…this turned out much longer than expected? This is for Ellie’s ( @spenciebabie ) writing contest/celebration and goodness I’m so nervous because I’ve barely written, much less posted, anything in years. Anyway, I guss I decided to challenge myself to write this? I hope you guys like it?

Also, if anyone wants a new friend, please hit me up because I’m too shy to say hello myself.

Prompt was: “Why don’t you make me?”

-*-*-*-

“Trust has to be earned, and should come only after the passage of time.”

—Arthur Ashe

-*-*-*-

For all his genius, Spencer didn’t know what to make of the fact that he found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

It wasn’t until years down the line that he realized he had been exceptionally aware of her since they met, carefully observing, cataloguing the way she so gently and kindly defied every expectation and pushed past every preconceived notion he had of her. By then, she had already settled in a little corner of his heart and helped seal the cracks in his life that he didn’t even know existed.

But when she first joined the team as an intern, he was more than a little reluctant to get to know her. It was during the summer between her college graduation and the start of her graduate studies, and she seemed too worldly, too perfect. She wasn’t like the girls from high school, or even college, for that matter, who were simply mean. On the contrary, she was wonderfully polite and incredibly ambitious, intelligent, and very much the type of girl that was far too out of his league, one that wouldn’t spare him a second glance before continuing down whatever focused path she was on.

That’s why he planned to avoid her as much as possible her first day in the office. She had, thankfully, spent the morning in Hotch’s office, since he was her official supervisor, but when he saw them about to emerge right before lunch, he panicked, muttered a random excuse, and shuffled out of the bullpen, leaving a bemused Derek and Elle in his wake.

It didn’t help that he was ducking out of rooms while JJ was giving her a quick tour and making introductions, and almost every member of the team had cornered him, encouraging him to talk to her, to befriend her due to their closeness in age. (“She’s only what? Two-ish years younger than you?” When he mumbled that exact date, Penelope had broken into a large, wicked grin, poking him teasingly in the cheek. Gratefully, she held back any further comment.)

Spencer had blinked, a little surprised, when Penelope Garcia, who generally disliked change, had only good things to say. Remarkably humble about her achievements, and not in the standoffish fake way, Penelope commented after admitting she had run a background check on her. Genuine, and quite sweet.

Polite, Derek had said, if a little quiet, trying to see where she fits in the team dynamic. You should reach out, be a friend, he suggested.(Spencer ignored the very pretty slipped somewhere in the comment, as well as the knowing smile shot his direction when he felt his cheeks flushing.)

A surprisingly wicked sense of humor, was all Elle said with a sly smile. (Spencer chose to ignore that too.)

And when Spencer tentatively asked the man, Jason Gideon, a man of generally few words, had spoken of her, however briefly, with surprising fondness, because of course Gideon had met her when she was a child, because of course her uncle now headed legal three floors up, and of course her uncle was the last third of the BAU’s Holy Trinity, of which Gideon and Rossi were a part of.

You’ll get along very nicely.

Spencer was incredibly intimidated, to say the least.

And then when he couldn’t avoid her anymore (because of course they were desked next to each other), all it took for her was noticeably catching herself from extending a hand, then offering a small little wave and a nervous smile to leave him breathless. (He pointedly ignored the look knowing look JJ shot him.)

He tried to stifle the little seed of hope—that she definitely wasn’t interested in him, and her saccharine smile was nothing more than a false front to make a positive impression during a lucrative FBI internship meant only to bolster her resume—but the resolve crumbled quickly. She turned out to be so genuinely kind and sweetly humble that Spencer cursed the fact that the internship lasted only through that summer.

It also certainly didn’t help, either, that the very first thought he had when meeting her was a single word.

Pretty.

-*-*-*-

It was almost ridiculous how well she got along with everyone in the office.

She clearly made it a mission to make the most of the time she had and was more than willing to put in the work and prove her worth. Although she was technically Hotch’s intern and her main role was to assist the core field team, Spencer watched as she managed to get on absolutely everyone’s good graces through a combination of unassuming charm, sharp wit, and willingness to learn and to help that was so uniquely her.

For Spencer, it meant that she happily listened to what he had to say, encouraging him to continue when appropriate or saving a quiet question for later when it wasn’t. When she told him that she enjoyed listening to him talk, Spencer was taken aback, stuttering as he tried to figure out if she was only saying that to be polite. She gave him a gracious smile, ensured that she “quite honestly enjoyed” listening to him, and proceeded to ask a few well-timed and well-pointed questions to smoothly nudge him back to their previous topic.

Spencer stared at her, slack-jawed, then smiled bashfully, and allowed himself to hope.

(He definitely didn’t know what to do with the fact that when she knowingly reached out to his hand resting on the table and lightly tapped the back of his hand, he didn’t have his typical knee-jerk desire to pull away. He also mostly certainly didn’t know what to do with the fact that when her thumb grazed over his knuckles to sooth the tension he didn’t even realize he had, he felt an inexplicable calm ease into his very bones.)

-*-*-*-

“It’ll take a good five, six years to finish my J.D./Ph.D., but Hotch offered me an open invitation to join the team when I do, and I’m more than inclined to take his offer when the time comes.”

Spencer peered at her, breathing out a sigh of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding. It was the last day of her internship, and she was making the rounds to say her thank you’s and goodbyes individually to the members of the team. He was the last one, and he had been dreading the conversation the entire day.

While he wouldn’t describe what he felt for her as anything beyond a genuine, platonic friendship—in the grand scheme of things, they’d only known each other for ten weeks—their easy companionship had become very dear to him. And he was terrified and nervous that her time with the BAU would be just a small chapter in her life before she moved on to the bigger and better things, leaving him behind as a fond but distant memory.

She laughed softly at his surprise, before it trailed off into a sigh. She then took a deep breath and asked. “Do you trust me?” Spencer looked at her, a bit dumbfounded. Did he trust her? Her gaze was heavy on him and the question weighty, a gentle demand for an honest answer. Did he trust her? Yes, he did, he supposed, they were friends. Right? He breathed in deeply, squared his shoulders just a bit, and answered in the affirmative.

As if she sensed his hesitance, his unease, she gave him a knowing look and took one of his hands into hers, fingers brushing over fingers, before hooking her pinky around his. “Because I promise you, Spencer Reid, I’ll be back, right here. You’ll be waiting for me, yeah?”

He looked at her in awe, the dim light of the nearly-empty office reflecting off her kind eyes. Warmth spread through his chest, and she smiled so brilliantly that he nearly forgot to breathe, to answer. To answer. He smiled back, twitchy, introspective, and considered the weight of her question. He nodded and responded simply.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She managed to remain on the Bureau’s consulting payroll over the next several years, though she was primarily based in the Bay Area as she finished her graduate studies at Stanford. The team as a whole still went to her for a fresh perspective when needed; she video called in to help on cases when necessary and met up in person if a case called them to California.

He knew that she kept in touch with JJ, Penelope, and Derek, and that Hotch and Emily (whom she met shortly after Emily joined the team and a case brought them to LA) were also friendly, if professional, contacts. Spencer himself was known to receive the odd phone call from her.

However, what had Spencer almost covetously pleased was that they had something they shared exclusively between the two of them, because she had steadfastly kept her promise to write to him.

-*-*-*-

Her letters were as beautiful as they were constant, and Spencer handled and read each one with care.

Her handwriting suited her; while it generally was neat and clear little scrawl, he knew it would get a little freer, and little loopier when she was tired, if she was particularly excited, or if she found herself a bit tipsy. (And yet she still managed to always write in an almost perfectly straight line even on a blank sheet of paper. He was envious, and when he told her as such, he could hear the laughter in her response as she wrote it a little more wobbly than usual.) And while he knew her to be tilted more on the quiet, introverted side of the scale, she had a way with the written word, each phrase poetic and thoughtful.

And they were remarkably therapeutic to write in return, Spencer found. Their initial letters mostly consisted of light banter about their mutual and individual interests, updates on the progress of her research (sprinkled amusing tidbits of her exasperation and frustration), bits and pieces about his cases and updates on and amusing anecdotes about the team.

However, over time, he slowly opened up to her, about his fears, his hopes, his dreams. And when he hesitantly divulged bits and pieces about the drugs, his mother, the headaches, he felt the relief in his entire body when she responded with empathy and grace. In turn, she did the same. She was vulnerable, she was open, and as wonderful and quite near perfect as he knew her to be, he was pleased to find her so incredibly human.

Those letters he slowed down to read, committing them to memory with more intention.

(He kept her letters in the drawer of his desk at his apartment, and eventually moved them to a specially designated box when he needed more room. When he learned that she did the same, he couldn’t help the tender warmth that fluttered in his chest. He still didn’t know what to do with the feeling.)

-*-*-*-

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It took six years, and an additional five months at the Academy (and then another few weeks as she was introduced to the legal team, with whom she would also be working with in her role as legal liaison), but she kept her promise and found her way back to the BAU, and it was like she was never gone.

This time, in her re-introduction to the team, she was a breath of fresh air.

When she approached him individually with a nervous smile, she reached out, then hesitated, and a sense of déjà vu washed over Spencer. But then, she had placed a hand on his elbow, and when she smiled, he breathed in a sense of peace and familiarity, of comfort.

“You waited.”

He smiled back, and in a rather forward gesture on his part, he adjusted so he could take the hand on his arm into his.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She was too good for him.

Whatever relationship they had—Spencer didn’t know what to call it, though friendship seem too trivial of a word for it—he knew it was too good, too perfect to last.

Because in a cruel twist of fate, her first case back on the team, however unofficial it was, was Maeve.

He was hyperaware of the neutral expression on her face when he finally brought his fears to the team. To anyone else she would seem serene and put together, but to him the slight sag in her shoulders and the realization transitioning to acceptance were clear as day. Spencer never mentioned Maeve to her in their letters, but later, in retrospect, he believed she had an inkling, at the very least. You seem happier, she had written, once, not too long after he first became acquainted with Maeve, and that makes me happy.

Did it? Then he didn’t want to know what his misery would do to her because then, Maeve died, and in his grief over another woman, he fought desperately to push her away.

She could share his happiness, but he refused to let her share his pain, his brokenness. She did not deserve that, and he would not be the one to destroy the beauty and sunshine and hope she brought everywhere with her.

But when they finally took Maeve’s body away, and when the blurred commotion of sirens and law enforcement and emergency services and constant hammering of half-hearted condolences and check-ins finally died down, he felt the blanket around his shoulders be adjusted, and a now-familiar pair of hands take in his own, firm, and refusing to ever let go. Thumbs traced over his knuckles as soothingly as he remembered, and only then did he begin to vaguely process the fact those hands had been tucked into his almost the entire evening, anchoring him through the haze and the fog.

As if on cue, she squeezed his hand gently, like she knew exactly when he was slowly becoming aware of her presence, and he suddenly found he lacked the strength to do what he initially intended.

Still dazed, he felt her shift, and she was kneeling on the ground in front of him where he sat on the curb, and softly drew him into a hug. Any form of resistance he previously had dissolved; he clung to her, tears stinging his eyes once again.

It’s okay, I’m here, I’ll stay, she whispered, I’ll stay, always and always.

Just don’t push me away.

“I-” His voice cracked. “I loved her.”

He paused, his voice weakening.

“I love her...”

Hands ran soothingly through his hair.

“I know.”

She always did.

“…so much.”

He didn’t need to see her face to realize that she was crying with him, for him—he could feel her trying to contain the trembling in her chest, trying desperately to remain composed. He tried to do the same, but when she tilted her head and let him bury his face into her neck, Spencer finally felt fresh tears begin to flow, and he allowed her to take his face into her hands and chase the tears with her fingers.

And Spencer wept freely, first for death of the woman he loved, and then for the tears and the grief he caused the one person he could call his kindred spirit, his soulmate.

-*-*-*-

He healed, slowly.

There were good days, when the thought of Maeve did not stir up memories of blood and fear and gunshots but, rather, of auburn hair and admiration and hushed conversations on the phone. On those days, he felt like he was no longer haunted by a ghost and could finally begin to move on. On those days, he could slow down, appreciate the small things again, and focus on how a pair of familiar, steady hands pulled him out of the past, anchored him in the present, and allowed him to hope about the future.

But then there were the bad days when her touch scalded and burned his skin. The warmth and the pulse of blood rushing through her veins and the germs on her hands and her life was overwhelming because Maeve was dead and cold and gone. So, with every glare and with every sharp comment aimed at where he knew it would hurt, he finally made good on his desire to push her away.

It was on those days the bitter voice in the back of his mind whispered how it was supposed to be Maeve, not her, there alive with him, holding his hand as they faced the world.

It was also on those days he chose to disregard the regret that settled in the pit of his stomach each time he heard his own biting voice, and disregard the horror brought on by even thinking of wishing she were dead instead. He began to ignore the tremble in her hands when she reached out to him and brushed her fingers against his in concern, and he ignored how she gradually began pulling back, hesitant, nervous that her touch would be unwarranted, unwanted. He certainly ignored the unconscious flex in his hand, the ache for the reassurance and comfort he had become so accustomed to—

He ignored it all until he woke up, one night, to an empty bed, and a sudden surge of panic rushed through his body and bile rose in his throat. She was right there, when he fell asleep, giving him a small smile and nod when he asked if she could read to him, to stay the night. Now, without a word, she was gone, she was gone, shewasgone and Spencer could feel the tightness in his chest and tears sting his eyes when realized that the only one to blame was himself, himself, himself.

Why, he thought bitterly, why was he like this? Why must he try to push away every good thing in his life?

But then, there he stood, barely aware of the tears on his cheeks and ice running through his veins, as he found her curled up on his couch, franticly wiping away her own silent tears and exhaustion from her eyes. He stumbled forward, upset, upset at himself because he made her cry again. And when she flinched when he cradled her face in his hands, apologizing to him, he nearly choked back a sob, his hands trembling as he tried to wipe away the tears that did not belong on her face.

Neither of them went back to sleep that night, and Spencer began to realize just how strong she was, as she gently told him through her tears the hard truths of his situation and where she stood in relation to him.

I can’t fight with a ghost, she had murmured hoarsely, but I can work with her legacy and her memory.

And then, with a pinky wrapped around his, she promised that she would be there to help him through it, but the only way was if, and only if, he let her.

It was that night (or, rather, morning, as the sun rose) that he began to come to terms that, whether he deserved it or not, she—and her pure and unadulterated goodness—was more or less a permanent fixture in his life, and he felt more at peace than he had in ages. And when the early rays of sunlight filtered through his windows and caught her in a soft glow, he found himself once again in awe. He reached out, hesitantly, and his heart soared when he felt the familiar pressure of her hand slipping into his.

She was steadfast and loyal and strong. She was brave, she was patient, she was kind. Moreover, she was alive, she was breathing, and she was here, present, by his side. It took time, and more painful conversations and more painful realizations, but eventually, the good days were a bit more consistent, the sun just a bit brighter, and his breathing a just bit freer with her hand pressed firmly into his own, her pulse thrumming beneath his fingers until his heartbeat synced with hers.

And Spencer was finally learning, learning about what to do with the fact that with her by his side, he felt like he could truly face the world.

-*-*-*-

Face the world he did.

When Gideon died, he felt his hand twitch, and the compulsion to escape and hide tugged at the back of his mind, and an old, nearly forgotten itch made its way from the crook of his elbow, slowly ebbing into in his veins and nagging in the crevices of the back of the mind.

But when he felt her hand slip into his, he felt it abate, the tension in his muscles eased. When her lips twitched into a knowing, gentle smile, he could see the underlying grief and frustration. Of course. She had known Gideon just as well as he did, if not better.

He breathed deeply and smiled back. It was weak, it was twitchy, and it was sad, but it was a smile, nonetheless. He wasn’t in this alone.

-*-*-*-

They were seated on a large blanket in a secluded park in D.C. on one of their rare days off when she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, and suddenly it seemed like all the right pieces finally fell into place.

And when she whispered those three little words, and everything made sense. He looked up from where he laid, and again he was breathless at how the setting sun caught in her hair and reflected off her skin and her eyes. But then, when he opened his mouth to respond, the same three little words caught in his throat and his breath hitched, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to respond, to let her know that her feelings were returned, but the words failed him.

“It’s okay,” she murmured softly, and he trembled as he felt her hands cupping his face and fingers gracing over his cheekbones, “if you don’t reciprocate; I’ll live. But I just wanted to let you know–know that I’ll be by your side no matter what happens.”

It wasn’t until they were at the door of her apartment, when he found the strength to push past the nerves and respond.

“I do re-reciprocate, and I want–I want to say it, because I do,” he stuttered out, “but I just…don’t know how to say it yet.”

He suddenly felt like a prepubescent schoolboy, nervous and quaking and terrified. But then, magnetic as she was, she brought his gaze back to her face, and her knowing smile breathed air back into his lungs. His heart blossomed, and the fingers rubbing circles into his hand anchored his attention on her. “Then I’ll wait until you can. Always. Forever.” She paused. “Do you trust me?”

Spencer peered up at her, brows furrowed. Unbidden, the memory of the first time she asked him the same question floated to the front of his mind, and he couldn’t help the breath of amusement. The question caught him off guard, but this time, when he found his voice it was resolute, quick, and sure.

Yes.

He felt a pinky hook around his, and the now-familiar warmth bubbled in his chest.

“Good, because it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

This time, the tears her fingers caught were those of appreciation and relief.

-*-*-*-

And then, the sun set, and prison happened.

-*-*-*-

At first, it was easy to ignore.

Prison changed him. He knew it did, and he knew that she wasn’t naïve to the fact either. He was a bit harder, a bit more defensive, and while he tried his best not to show it, he knew she could see the darkness had just a little bit more of an edge. He was well aware of how she watched him just a bit more closely.

It seemed alright at first. It took a while for him to adjust; there were certainly bumps and bruises along the way, along with some admittedly choice words exchanged in frustration, but that was expected.

But he supposed it was the small things, and small things add up.

The first week her hand naturally slipped into his like nothing’d changed, but his grip was tighter and more desperate than normal, like she’d disappear or slip through his fingers if he didn’t. At the same time, he was also too terrified to touch her otherwise, as if she’d break like glass if his grip on her waist was just a bit too tight.

She never commented, gave him space, and allowed him to initiate physical contact.

She didn’t need to know, he rationalized, it wasn’t her burden to bear.

Then he began to hold her at arm’s length. She pushed, gently, and he pushed back, harder. He knew she was only trying to help, but he needed to figure it out for himself, lest he hurt her again. She only sighed, and relented. While her concern was apparent with how she watched him with just a little more unease, she gave him space.

However, while she was an exceptionally patient person, there was only so much distance and space one could handle. When she reached out, worried, and pressed just a little harder, he withdrew completely, and his rationalization slowly evolved. Stop hovering. Don’t need you treating me like I’m broken. Don’t need your pity.He ignored the pain that flashed in her eyes, the quiet desperation in her voice whenever she called after him after he refused to listen, and the increasingly familiar ache in his entire body when he began to avoid and refuse her touch.

It was the small things, because when the nightmares started, it wasn’t so easy to ignore.

-*-*-*-

“—eathe, Spencer. That’s good, breathe.”

The mumbled affirmations continued as he slowly processed his surroundings.

Queen-sized bed. Egyptian cotton sheets. Breathe in. Goose-feather down pillows. A firmer memory foam pillow that smelled of her shampoo. Breathe out.

Safety.

He was still bleary-eyed when he sunk back down, burying half his face in the pillows and ashamed as he mumbled a quiet apology. Her voice was kind, understanding, telling him it was alright as she tucked a stray lock of curls away from his face. When he seemed to settle back down, her hand gentle rested on his jaw, thumb absently tracing his cheekbone.

“Do you want to talk—”

“No.”

She frowned, sighed, took a moment to flick on the lamp light and collect her thoughts; he could see, through his lashes, the gears turning in her head about how to proceed. Meanwhile, he heaved a sighed, and sat up against the headboard. His eyes closed, doing the same as her. She then reached out, touched his hand, grazed her thumb over his knuckles and drew circles on the back. It started slow, hesitant—she was surprised that he didn’t recoil, and frankly, so was he—but the motion was familiar, grounding, so he let her continue. He knew it helped her focus as well.

“Spence, you’re…you need to talk to someone—it doesn’t have to be me! But bottling it up all inside, it’s clearly tearing you apart.”

“I agreed to start talking with my therapist, haven’t I?”

His voice was flat, defensive.

“But you haven’t, and…knowing you, you won’t be telling them the whole truth.” His jaw tightened and his lips pursed, his hand gripping the sheets flexed, and he looked away from her, intently staring at a random point in the room that wasn’t her. As always, she seemed to know him far too well.

She let out a breath of a sigh; she knew he was beginning to shut her out again. Her free hand lifted to his shoulder, rested in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve told you before, that you’ve started to shut people out. I know–I know you’re so, so strong, but you don’t have to face it alone. You don’t need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders; we’re not as fragile as you seem to think we are.” She paused, contemplating. “If you need someone with distance that you can trust, call Derek, call Hotch, even, but remember, Spence, I made you a promise: I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

When he didn’t answer, still staring off into the mid-distance, she sighed.

“I’ll leave, give you some space. Think about it.”

She was at the bedroom door when he finally cleared his throat and responded. His voice was bitter as he bit out: “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

A quiet ‘wha–’slipped from her lips as she angled toward him as he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly.

“If you want to leave, fine. You seem to be doing that quite well recently. The door’s right there and you don’t have to come back until you want to make me a charity case again. But if you want me to talk, if you think you can handle it, then be my guest. Take a seat and why don’t you make me?”

He instantly regretted the words, but some dark part of his mind as pleased that he could see the anger and annoyance spark through her as she inhaled deeply and slowly turn around to face him in full. “I will if that’s what it will take.”

Spencer’s gaze hardened.

“You don’t have the fucking guts.”

A brief moment passed as she took him in full, eyes flashing. Spencer raised his gaze, challenging, daring her, and then, the same, shadowed part of his mind was savagely happy that he had finally gotten a rise out of her, because she bit back with venom.

“Fucking try me.”

And then, he watched her warily as she visibly froze, then deflate, her jaw tightening and eyes welling with unshed tears as she stumbled backward to the door.

“But–but not like this. Not like this. I’m–I’m so sorry you didn’t–you don’t deserve…” Her voice was quiet, but it was hitched with a swirl of emotions Spencer couldn’t pinpoint, and he was suddenly aware of the hot tears dripping down his cheeks. “I’m going–I’m going to go…” He heard the doorknob turn, and suddenly the sound of gunshots rang in his ears, and he could the taste the metallic bitterness as blood and dead brown eyes filled his vision.

Wait. Wai- She was halfway out the door when he called out, voice cracking, and through blurred tears he saw her shut the door and shuffled and stumbled back into the room toward him, kneeling in front of him. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the whispers of his name and the urgency of the apologies. And then his eyes fluttered closed when she reached up to brush the tears away, and the motion opened the floodgates. It was one of the many little touches they shared—thumbs wiping over cheeks and hands cupping faces—and he had half a mind to shove her aside, but dear God he hadn’t felt it in far too long; he leaned, almost desperately, into her touch and he could hear her sniffling back her own tears.

Fuck.

He was always like this.

His passive aggressiveness was his defense mechanism; he lashed out blindly whenever he felt vulnerable, not caring who he hurt and how much. It was something she had been helping him work through, and he thought he was getting better, but here he was, hurting her because of it again.

Not like this.

He barely noticed that she had pulled him into a tender hug, but now that he did process the warmth of her embrace seeping into his bones, he wanted to push it away. He didn’t – he didn’t deserve this but now she was pulling back, and it sent a brief course of panic through his body, a fear that she was pulling away, away from him, away from the darkness and shadows that loomed permanently over him. He wouldn’t blame her, but–but…oh.

Her eyes always spoke volumes for her, and now that she had firmly tilted his chin up, her gaze firm, resolved.

“I know you are feeling vulnerable, and I know that you believe you can do this on your own.” She breathed in deeply. In turn he gazed up at her through his tears, as evenly as he could, and she met it without wavering. “You are strong, Spencer Reid, so, so strong, been so for so long. But…but I made a promise that I would always be by your side, and I’m never going to break it. So please.” Her voice hitched, and his breath caught in his throat. “Please, trust in me, one more time. Just one more time.”

Moments ticked by to the time of his heartbeat before he finally nodded, and the relief and the elation in her eyes soothed the dull pain inside his heart. This time, he drew her into his arms and into his lap and sighed as he leaned into the crook of her neck.

Thank you.

I love you, too.

-*-*-*-

“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

—Maya Angelou

-*-*-*-

[amberwild420]

one step back, two steps forward (pt. 41)

After so long i have returned. Sorry for ghosting out for almost two months. My exams and sh*t ton of assignment had kept me away. so now i have returned with the update. the updates will be on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday because i’m doing my internship rest of the week.

masterlist

too much

Clicking of the keyboard filled the silence as Bruce made his way down the bat-cave. Alfred was in the main chair looking through the whole case of miraculous.

 Alfred?

 The said butler didn’t say anything. Completely absorbed in the case.

Alfred?

 Bruce called a little louder making him twitch but he didn’t replied. Just as he was about to call again, Alfred stood up abruptly and started pacing around.

 By now the other bat children had made their way down as well. Seeing their grandfather figure pacing around, they were confused. They hadn’t seen him distress before never mind to this extend.

 Just as they thought they couldn’t get any more surprised, Alfred put his face in his hands and let out a sound that was very much like a sniffle.

 Alarmed everyone tried to console him and inquire about what has made him so sad.

 Alfred! What happened? Tell me who needs to die?!

 I’ll sic goliath on them!

 ……    

 Cassandra just hugged Alfred and said nothing. But Alfred said nothing but schooled his emotions.

 Why don’t we all take a seat?                Alfred said before smiling a little.                                       Let me tell you something about my time during MI6. Something you need for this case to be solved.

 The sudden hush was little eerie, especially with the bats screeching in the background. Bruce showed a little emotion in his eyes before settling down.

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

Miraculous ladybug!

 Millions of ladybugs flew around, fixing the damage done by the akuma. Many people cheered for the miraculous team. Just as they were about to leave, a figure ran up to them and called out to them.

 Ladybug, wait! Answers a few questions!

 The miraculous team looked at each other, clearly thinking the same thing. Ladybug turned and gave a stern look to Alya. Which one of them didn’t know about her intentions? To think that this girl was this thick-skinned that she couldn’t take a hint when the other party didn’t want to talk about it, instead she use more force to get things she wants to hear.

 Miss Cesaire, we don’t have enough time to give you any type of answer.

 But it was like she was not listening to anything.

 Ladybug, what do you think where chat noir is? Is he doing some special mission? Is he on a secret job? How long would it take you guys to get together? Or is it that you are already together?

 She kept firing questions without pause. Ladybug frowned, letting everyone see her face twisting. Many people already shook their head at Alya’s constant trouble. Before she could say anything, Luna grabbed her shoulder and pushed her away lightly, clearly indicating that she should leave and let her handle it.

 Since ladybug was too nice to put it bluntly, usually it was Honeybee and Luna who drove away Cesaire’s attempt to ask irrelevant questions and point out coldly about how it was mostly her fault that the team has to exhaust themselves just to pull her out of the trouble.

  Right now ladybug was at the very last minute of her transformation. If she stayed behind she will be forced to de-transform in front of everyone. Ladybug nodded in gratitude and left.

 Alya tried to follow but Luna got in her way, cutting off every attempt of the girl to get answers. Alya gritted her teeth and glared at the wolf hero.

 Why are you stopping me from asking a few questions?!

 You mean the irrelevant questions.

 I always ask what other wants to know!

 I think you said it wrong. You just want to ask what you want to hear and see as your rating blow up. It has nothing to do with the others.

 You’re just a temporary hero. I don’t even know why ladybug keeps you around. You are so rude to everyone.

 Her eyes flashed before she took a threatening step forward, making her to step back hurriedly. People, who were still around, moved to the side. Many took out their phones to record the interaction. Luna didn’t aim for the reporter; instead she put her hand on the innocent fire hydrant. The creak and groans of the metal was heard before they saw what happened.

  The hydrant was misshaped brutally, making people feel a chill in their spine. Luna looked at the blogger and glared.

 This is my true strength. Every time there is an akuma, I’m in charge to take it out in a fist fight. But what do I have to do? I have to hold back and save you every time, because you have no self-perception about throwing yourself in the face of danger just for a few views. Tell me do you have any right to call me rude?

 Alya stuttered, trying to say something. But Luna once again cut her off.

 Tell me Miss Cesaire, we have to put our life on the line just to make sure that none of the people get hurt. Everyone knows that in the face of danger, they have to get away from the danger unless they want to have trauma of dying over and over again but that’s not the case with you! You just have to run towards the danger, trying to get killed or getting us killed because you’re so selfish! Do tell me after all we go through, all the trauma we bear by witnessing mass massacre, fighting with the akuma, getting black and blue do you still want to ask questions about romance!? Are you this thick-skinned?!

 n-no, I-I…….

 You what?! Do you still want to accuse me of being rude and a bully?! After tolerating you for this long, do you still want to test my patience which is already thinning?!

 Many whispers and murmured were passed through the crowd. True if you are constantly fighting an emotional hostage and some tabloid reporter wants to force themselves in every single time just for a few rating, they would be just as irritated as her, if not more.

 Many glances changed to sympathy. The heroes were putting themselves as the shield just to protect them. They even started a campaign on how to stay away from trouble. Did that kid actually wants to kill the heroes or something?

  Luna huffed before turning around to leave, the misshaped hydrant left behind as a reminder. This was due anyway. Since ladybug was the beacon of hope, the rest would have to be the bringer of the harsh reality, especially her along with Honeybee. Both were blunt and straightforward and didn’t waste energy on sugarcoating the words.

 And if there are people that would shed negative light on her, well, too bad she didn’t care. Luna swing her whip before swinging in the general direction of her home.

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[littledrummeraussie]

pillowtalk. / a Mr. Irwin blurb

Word count: 2400+

Warnings: soft and cute and fluffy with some angst to spice it up.

Author’s note: this is a continuation of my Mr. Irwin blurbs, following the events of backseat rendezvous and who’s the boss?

masterlist. / general masterlist.

- - - - -

“Maybe we should take a shower,” Ashton’s fingers lazily ran through your hair as the two of you lay in bed, a sheet wrapped around your bodies to keep you warm.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” you hummed, making Ashton huff out a laugh as you drew patterns on his stomach.

“Stop tickling me,” he pulled your hand up onto his shoulder, giving you a pointed look. “You’re gonna wake the beast.”

“Tell the beast he left me sticky and unable to walk,” your lips pulled into a cheeky smile before moving closer to Ashton’s ear, whispering. “My legs are still shaky. And I can still feel your cum dripping out of me.”

“It’s my favourite way to mark you,” his lips attached themselves to your jaw, sucking a kiss into your skin.

“Like that one time you fucked me before my presentation?” your giggles filled the room as he smeared kisses along your cheek. “Still don’t know how I was able to stumble through that.”

“You did amazingly, that’s why we extended your internship,” Ashton pushed himself up onto his elbow, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. “I wouldn’t call that ‘stumbling through’ your presentation.”

“I was really… really… really distracted…” your finger followed the inked lines of his moon tattoos, stroking your palm up to his biceps, eyes settling on his hazel ones. “Are you sure I didn’t get the extension because of you?”

“It was all your charm and ambition, sweet girl,” Ashton leaned forward to peck your lips, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “Come on, let’s clean you up, you messy girl!”

With that he climbed out of the bed, reaching back for you to pick you up in his arms. You squealed and hid your laugh against his neck as he took you to the bathroom, never saying no to your boyfriend taking care of you. Ashton was quick to find the perfect temperature, pulling you under the water to warm you up, his lips already pressing kisses along your neck and shoulder. You leaned back against the wall, still not trusting your legs to work after the orgasm he pulled out of you, and he squeezed your hips, pressing one last kiss onto your temple before reaching for the shower gel.

“Are you okay?” his palms smoothed over your skin, following the curves of your body. “You’re not sore, are you?”

“Just a little,” you slowly turned around to let Ashton wash your back, and he hummed in response, pressing his lips against a hickey he left on the back of your neck. “You know I love feeling it – feeling you even after we’re done.”

“Noted,” he pressed another kiss to the junction of your neck, rubbing his cheek against yours. “Always thankful for reminders and confirmations.”

“Do I have to remind you, Mr. Irwin, that my thighs are still sticky?” you chuckled as he tried to chase your lips with his own, and Ashton let out a laugh, hands teasingly sliding between your legs and running down your inner thighs.

“Can confirm. Definitely sticky,” he lightly bit the shell of your ear, stifling his own giggles against your hair. “Alright, let me clean you up, this time for real.”

He spent the next few minutes making good on his promise, after which you also helped him wash off your shared pleasure. Ashton quickly tied a towel around his waist, wrapping another around your body, then guided you back to the bedroom. He made sure you were dried off from head to toe, lips kissing away water drops sliding down your skin, making you blush and mumble when he stood up in front of you, both of your cheeks warm, smiles bashful, but flirty.

“I’ll get you a shirt,” his fingers curled under your chin, tilting your head up to kiss you. “Then we can snuggle up for tonight. Is that okay with you, sweetie?”

“Sounds perfect,” you pressed a kiss onto his palm, smiling up at him. “Thank you.”

Ash nodded and went into his closet while you sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. He was already wearing a pair of shorts when he returned, holding out his shirt for you to pull it over your head, squeezing your hips and kissing your forehead when you were wrapped up in the soft fabric. You fluffed up the pillows and climbed back under the blankets while Ashton made sure the door was locked and all the lights were off in the house, then he joined you, arms curling around you the moment he slid under the sheets next to you.

“Hey you,” his voice was only a whisper, fingers combing through your hair as you both found a comfortable position, arms wrapped around each other and bodies pressed close.

The streetlamp cast a soft glow across the room, giving off enough light so you could see each other in the dark. Your palm rested on Ashton’s face, thumb lightly rubbing his cheek as his fingers settled on the back of your neck, playing with the soft hairs at the nape. He was only a breath away – you felt hot puffs of air tickling your skin as he exhaled, his nose nuzzling yours sweetly, a wordless game you’ve been playing since the very first night you’ve spent together.

“Hey,” your lips brushed against his in an almost kiss, making Ashton tilt his head forward just a bit to close the distance between the two of you.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight. You looked breathtaking. You still are.”

“Guess company parties are our thing,” your finger trailed down his neck and over his collarbone, connecting the freckles on his skin with an invisible line. “Somehow I always end up… right here. In your bed. With you.”

“Are you complaining, Miss?” he quirked an eyebrow at you and you giggled, shaking your head.

“No. It’s my favourite place. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. And it’s definitely not just the sex – it’s you, Ash.”

“Do you think I’m good enough for you?” he lightly brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and you moved your head to kiss his palm again. “A good enough boss? A good enough boyfriend?”

“Why are you asking?” you nuzzled against his hand, giving him a soft look. “Did something happen?”

“Just wanted to talk about something with you,” he leaned up onto his elbow, resting his head against his palm, running a fingertip down your nose. “And it kinda involves both our professional and personal lives.”

“It’s about my internship, right?” you rested you head back against the pillow, looking up at Ashton who just nodded. “Did I do something wrong?”

“God no,” he shook his head, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together. “That’s the thing – you do an absolutely phenomenal job. And I’m torn because what I should be doing and what I want to do are two different things.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Two more months and your internship will be done. Meaning I either have to offer you a job or write a recommendation letter and let you find another one. Which means… fuck, I can’t do this,” Ashton let out an annoyed huff, nervously running his fingers through his hair.

“Hey, it’s okay! Just tell me,” you stroked his cheek lovingly, trying to calm him.

“If we keep working together…” he curled his hand around yours, resting both of them against his face. “Then I’m not sure we can stay together.”

“Protocol?” you bit your bottom lip, already catching on to what Ashton was saying.

And you knew he was right – of course you couldn’t keep this up forever. All of this was too good to be true, the job and the man you’ve loved. Of course you could only keep one in the end; there was no way the Universe would let you have both. That was just too much.

“Something like that. I mean… God, Y/N, do you even know how much I want to just tell everyone to fuck off and give you a permanent place in the office? How I want to tell all of them to mind their own business and focus on work instead of our relationship?” Ashton’s expression was sombre, and you knew it was really hurting him to have this conversation with you.

“I guess it’s not that easy with three interns, right?” your fingers tangled into his hair, lightly brushing through the messy locks, both to keep comforting him, but also to keep your own hands occupied.

“All of you were meant to stay for 6 months. I’ve thought that once your internship will be done then maybe we can have a normal relationship. I didn’t know that the leadership board would offer you another 6 months,” Ashton confessed, and that made you stop in your track.

“I’ve really thought you were the reason why I’ve got to stay. I’ve thought you somehow convinced them.”

“Told you it was your hard work and amazing ideas,” he leaned forward to press his lips against your forehead, giving you a small smile. “I only had to agree that we can keep working with you. And in all honesty? I was already composing my speech of how I wanted to ask you to come and get dinner with me after we were done. You know, like an official date.”

“You still did that,” you reminded him, and a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Can’t let a good speech and a dinner reservation go to waste.”

“You’re so silly,” a giggle left your lips, breaking the tension for a short moment. “So what now?”

“I mean, I can either offer you a job here, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m only keeping you because… well, they think I’m only fucking you because I’m the boss and you’re only an intern,” Ashton rested back against the pillows, curling his arm around your shoulder as his eyes searched the darkness.

“So if you offer me the job, and not to the others, then everyone will think I’ve only gotten it because you want to keep fucking me, and not because I’m good at what I’m doing,” you came to the conclusion, and Ashton hummed in response. “But if we stop seeing each other then they can’t claim that I’m only here because I’m a good fuck.”

“You’re much more than just a good fuck, sweet girl,” Ashton cradled your head against his chest, and you turned to cuddle up to him, his lips brushing soft kisses on your temple. “Not to mention that you’ve gotten the internship on your own. I didn’t have to do anything with it, just signed your papers that we want to work with you. But I did the same for the others too.”

“So I guess we should go with the second option?” you moved until you could fold your arms over his chest, resting your chin on top of them as you looked at him. “You don’t offer me a permanent place and I just find a job elsewhere. Even though I would love to stay, and not just because of you.”

“I know some people. I could call them up if you’d like,” Ashton curled a lock of hair around his finger, brushing it behind your ear. “We could find you a job in no time.”

“That’s really nice of you Ash, but… I don’t want that,” you shook your head, biting your lip. “I don’t want anyone to offer me a job just because I’m Mr. Irwin’s girlfriend.”

“I understand,” he nodded, fingers still brushing through your hair.

“Promise me!” you gave him a pleading look, not really believing his words. “Please, just… I know it would be so easy for you to just pick up the phone and ask a small favour from one of your partners. I know you have the power, but I want to do this on my own.”

“Y/N, sweetie,” Ashton’s hands locked around your arms, pulling you up until you were face to face with each other. “I would never go behind your back, you can trust me on that.”

He curled his fingers around your jaw, pulling your face closer to press your lips together in a short, sweet kiss. Even in the dark you could make out the honesty in those hazel eyes, and you felt guilty that you thought he would do something without you agreeing to it.

“I know you can do this on your own – you’re smart and ambitious and you know your way around your craft. They would be stupid not to hire you. I would do that, without a second thought, and it’s actually killing me that I can’t keep you in my team,” Ash knocked his forehead against yours, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “So that was the boss in me.”

“What about the boyfriend?” you whispered, fingers tangling into his hair again.

“The boyfriend in me says that I want to support you in any way I can,” he continued, his voice firm, but still soft around the edges. “And for that I have to accept that sometimes support means that I just stand by you and encourage you, without actually doing anything. Know that I really want the best for you, the best job, the best opportunities. But more importantly I want us to have a loving and honest relationship. I would much rather have your trust than anything else in this world. I know I can’t have it if I start seeking out people to give you a job.”

“You don’t know how much I appreciate that,” you mumbled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and Ashton wrapped you even more tightly to himself. “Thank you.”

“You make me so happy, sweet girl,” Ashton whispered in your ear, kissing it softly as he continued. “I wouldn’t risk it for the world. And if I can’t offer you an actual job, then I’m gonna write you one hell of a recommendation to make people want to work with you.”

“I love you so much,” you sighed against his skin, pressing a kiss onto his collarbone. “Not for this, but for everything that you are.”

“I know baby, I know,” you could hear the smile in Ashton’s voice. “I love you too. I promise you we will work this out, everyone else be damned.”

“That’s your boss voice, Ashton,” you giggled lightly, and you felt him squeeze your hips.

“I’ve thought you liked my boss voice,” he teased you, giving a small bite to your ear. “I remember someone moaning Mr. Irwin again and again…”

“Well, he’s hot,” you opened one eye as you looked up at him, a cheeky smile pulling at your lips. “But not as hot as my boyfriend Ashton.”

- - - - -

taglist.

@mymindwide @loveroflrh @notinthesameguey @babylonashton @talkfastromance4 @dead-and-golden @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @karajaynetoday @myfavfanficsever @myloverboyash @suchalonelysunflower @sexgodashton @rebelwith0utacause @creampiecashton @irwinkitten @allthestarsandthemoon @castaway-cashton​ @spicycal​

[poutyhannie]

word count: +4k 

warnings: fluff, angst, smut, college!fem reader, college!felix, romantic fantasy

** **

You gaze down at the materializing letters stretching across your palm till your elbow. It was a mixture of Korean and English. The Korean characters were few and far in between but were delicate and even while the English letters were long, messy, and leaned to the right.

I’ll need to turn in Prof Behl’s assignment when I go to class and then explain why I can’t go to the museum research trip.

Did I use all my meal swipes? Chris said he wanted to workout at 3…

These notes would often appear on your right arm, sometimes remaining like a tattoo for weeks or fading before you could even read it fully. These were the thoughts of a person whose soul matched your own. He was a college student who is majoring in English with focus on things like creative writing and poetry and you’ve gathered that ‘Chris’ was his roommate.

For as flowery his major was, the boy’s thoughts were surprisingly plain and boring. However, you were thankful for it. Your friend often had dark circles under her eyes. Her connection with her soul partner was being awake at the same time and you were sure her soul’s partner lived on the other side of the world with the opposite time zone. To be honest, you gleaned almost nothing from the notes. The boy probably didn’t know that his thoughts were being recorded on your arm, which you always kept covered with a sleeve. Neither did you know what connection he had with you. Did he feel the emotions you did? Were his dreams your memories? You’ve laid to waste these meaningless thoughts to focus on your life more, not his. There was little reason to go searching him out; if you truly were tied together by souls, fate could do the heavy lifting for you two.

Leaning back at your desk, you shake out your cramping hands. The graphic design project requires that you draw out the story board by hand rather than digitally and you never wished more to curse for it. The reason was, according to your Professor, head of the project you and your classmates are fighting to be a part of use physical copies in the preliminary section. Because you had started in traditional art, relatively it was easy to get back in the swing of things. Didn’t mean that your hand didn’t hurt like a bitch, though. You had everything riding you getting to participate in this project, you’d planned everything out with your counselor and had little attractive options if you didn’t get it, so you return to your drawing.

Your roommate swings open the door, causing you to jump and tug your sleeve on quickly. She throws her bag on her bed with no regards to the loud thump it emits. Her blonde hair rests on your paper when she leans over to look at your drawing. As always, she gushes at your talents and as always, you remind her that her microbiology major is much more impressive.

The night is a lot hotter than comfortable, especially with the tight sleeve you always relegate yourself to, even while sleeping. Ever since you caught your dad reading the thoughts on your arm when you slept, you sometimes go so far as to sleep on your stomach, with your right arm tucked under you. It was uncomfortable reading his thoughts, much less having someone else read them. Yeah, they weren’t always too juicy or detailed, but it still felt wrong to share something like this with anyone else.

“Even family?” You remember your dad asking to your rage. 

“Even family.” You hissed.

With a groan, you rise out of bed, your roommate looking up from her five inch thick textbook, illuminated by a soft, yellow dest lamp. Her watery eyes gaze up at you from behind her round glasses. “I’m going out. Can’t sleep.” You tell her.

The night breeze whispers through your hair as you sit on an empty bench in an empty courtyard near your dorms. It’s in time like these that you feel peace. When not a soul is around you and you can finally just sit with yourself. Slowly, you unwind the sleeve and are met with chaotic swirl of words. This happens when he dreams.

Worth, friends, others, internships, classes, empty, running, nothing, darkness.

Your heart pangs. He’s having nightmares again. Instinctively, you begin to wrap your arm up again, not wishing to invade him at his weakest point.

Though you don a mask of indifference towards the scrawl on your arm and effectively the boy around others, you can’t help but hurt for him. He seems swamped with so much to do and feels helpless. When you look down, the chilling sentence on your arm burns in your mind and heart.

I don’t think there’s anyone for me. All I see is black. Am I alone?

Two weeks later, they stay. No matter how many times you unwrap and rewrap your arm, those three sentences never leave. Others come and go, but from that night until now, they stay.  And the guilt of not pursuing this boy is eating you alive.

You always assumed he had a connection that allowed him to know of your existence. When you realize that he doesn’t, your passivity almost seems like a sin. How lonely it must be to be alone in a world where everyone has someone. Since then, you’ve been paying close attention to the scrawl on your arm, careful to gather as much info on him as you can decipher. Right now though, in class, you can’t.

Your Professor is announcing the chosen students of the project and you can’t really think about him now. 

“And the last student is Y/n.”

You heave out a sign of relief, making a note to thank you Professor. You’re sure she had a few good words to put in for you. “The students I just called will be working with other student in screenwriting. You guys need to pick five scripts you want to animate and the screenwriting students will choose their preferred artist.”

Walking into the classroom with another female peer by your side, you absentmindedly fidget with your sleeve. She walks boldly up to a male student, who’s dark blonde falls onto his freckled cheeks, sticking her hand out. “I’m Madeline,” you hear her say. His eyes snap up towards yours but he immediately looks back to Madeline as they exchange pleasantries.

Madeline is paired up with the freckled boy and you with a quiet, thoughtful boy named Seungmin. He tells you that he is friends with Felix, the freckled boy, so you combine tables and group up. Because this is a project done in your own time, you all choose to work together to bounce ideas off with each other though with how bubbly Madeline is, you wonder how much you guys will get done.

When the topic of soul partners comes up, you and Felix shift uncomfortably. Seungmin gets visions through the eyes of his partner and has seen her face, he tells you guys casually. 

How wonderful it must be to know who your soul is tied to, you think bitterly, a twinge of jealousy coursing through you.

Madeline’s green eyes shine as she starts, “I don’t know who they are, but I see colors that has to be tied to them.” She’s a romantic, giddy with excitement at the prospect. It’s so easy to live with just seeing colors; it’s pretty and inconsequential, much a contrast to the invasive cryptics on your arm.

When all your eyes turn to Felix, he purses his lips softly, only able to look down at the table. “I actually don’t know what my connection is. Maybe its unconsciousness because I can never fall asleep at nights,” he jokes, attempting to push the attention off of that topic.

A glossy nail taps Madeline’s pink lips as her dark lashes flutter, “I don’t think so. Insomnia isn’t usually paired with unconsciousness connection.”

Feigning disinterest, Felix shrugs, focusing back to the sketches, “Maybe it has something to do with my color blindness, I’m not sure. Doesn’t really matter,” he mutters, his voice deep and throaty. Madeline gasps, lightly slapping Felix’s arm. He raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Of course that has to be it!” She exclaims, “It’ll be a subcategory color connection, just like me! Maybe you’ll see colors when you see your partner or when some other unveiling instance occurs.”

She goes into depth about connections, her shoulders bouncing in excitement. Thankfully, this distracts them from asking you about your connection. As her movements and words quicken, the stale bitterness in your mouth consumes you. It’s immature, your distaste for anything about these connections. Just because you have a subjectively unfortunate connection definitely doesn’t mean you should shit on Madeline’s obvious interest in the subject. In fact, Felix and Seungmin seem to enjoy talking with her about it as she has extended knowledge about connections. 

However, while Seungmin’s tone that he asks his with questions are amused, his interest piqued, Felix is leaned forward in his chair, his eyes barely concealing desperation. Your heart pangs for him; he’s probably so lost. 

Seungmin and Madeline walk in front of you and Felix on the sidewalk, returning to the dorms. They’re in deep conversation about Seungmin’s connection and with Madeline’s knowledge and Seungmin’s intellect, they quickly and thankfully exclude you and Felix.

“I don’t wanna talk about connections,” you declare to him. A small smile spreads across Felix’s face and he nods knowingly. “What made you want to get into animation?” He asks, a pleasant and refreshing topic.

“I haven’t always been the best at art,” you admit with a shrug. “No way!” Felix exclaims, his eyebrows raised, “Your work is so cool, though.” 

You laugh at the compliment, “Yeah, well it took me a while to get here and I didn’t want to throw away that work, so here I am. What about you? Why did you want to get into script writing?” 

Felix’s eyes soften and he stares off past the line of buildings, into the horizon. “I feel like I can see different things with words. Does that make sense?” He pauses, gathering his thoughts, “They open up worlds and ideas that I can’t experience and it makes me feel closer to normal. It makes me feel alive.” 

“Like, you can imagine how colors feel or look through words?”

He nods, looking back at you with a playful look, “That’s another reason why I like your work so much. The values are clear and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by not seeing color.” 

The genuine, heartfelt comment makes your heart warm and a smile spread across your face, “Yeah, I focus a lot on just greyscale because composition is the most important aspect to my art. Stuff like color theory, while important, it basically inconsequential if you can’t even tell what’s going on in the picture.” 

Felix’s voice quiets as he shoots a look up at Madeline’s back, “Yeah, I didn’t want to choose Madeline’s for that reason, but she really thought that the color use in my script would work in perfect tandem with her style and I really couldn’t tell whether she’s right or not,” he shrugs, his lips pulling into a line.

“Oh, totally,” you say quickly, not wishing to have Felix question his choice, “It makes total sense and in some instances color can tell more of a story than composition and values can. It was wise to team with her.” Maybe your intentions of reassuring Felix was too obvious because his eyes crinkle deeply when he gives you a big, knowing smile.

A week into your work and the very basic shapes for the animation is finished. Working with Seungmin is wonderful as he has a clear direction and even pictures he’s taken to show you what he envisions. Concentration pinches Felix’s eyebrows together and he and Madeline converse as you watch them from the other end of the table.

An hour or two pass and you stand up to stretch, announcing that you’re gonna take a bathroom break to which they agree is a wonderful idea. Coming out of the bathroom, you wrap up your sleeve, peeking to see what the ink says this time. The three words that you’re familiar with; that have been etched into your sink for weeks don’t make your heart stop, but the ones under it. 

Am I alone? She needs to add more clear composition so I can actually tell what’s going on. 

Your eyes snap up to the blond haired boy. That’s exactly what Felix told you a day ago.  Its him?

To your confusion, he now stares, awestruck at Madeline. There’s a sinking in your stomach but you can’t tell why. Gasping, his eyes widen as he takes her hands. “Madeline…I think,” he stumbles over his words, clearly flabbergasted. “I-I’m seeing color now, I think.” 

She squeals, squeezing his hands tightly, “When? Just now? What happened?” His dark eyes look dazes and he steps back. His eyes wander from the ground her hers and he whispers, “When I saw you.” Turning your back on them, you leave quickly, not wishing to intrude on Felix’s revelation. 

You resume your seat next to Seungmin, heaving a sigh. “What’s wrong?” His lips form a slight pout and his head tilts to the side. You shake your head, waving a hand, “Felix and Madeline are soul partners. He just found out.” From your peripheral, you see Seungmin smile widely.  You laugh to yourself, an embarrassed blush rising on your cheeks at your previous hasty conclusion.  You really are desperate for the person who matches your soul.  

“That’s great,” he taps your arm with his hand, hidden by his sweater’s sleeve, “Why do you look so bummed, though?” 

You purse your lips, “It just sucks to be a late bloomer. I don’t know who my partner is,” you tell him as the bitterness fills your mouth again. Seungmin nods firmly, his fingers tapping your arm again, “At least you know that you have one, though. Felix didn’t even know whether he was alone or not.” 

“Yeah,” you shrug, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt of your selfishness, “it just sucks.” 

“Of course but just give it time,” Seungmin advises, patting your shoulder softly.

You and Seungmin gaze blankly at Felix and Madeline as they both gush over each other. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when Felix gingerly strokes her cheek.

Clapping, Seungmin returns to the story board, pointing at a slide, “I like the idea with this one, but if you’ll look here,” he pulls out a picture he took of a deep, dark green forest that just seems to dissolve into black, “I want the composition to be more dangerous. Like, the characters are being drawn into darkness and they won’t have any way to escape.” Nodding quickly, you add rough shading and lines to your preexisting work to cater to Seungmin’s request.

“Perfect,” he beams his toothy smile at you.

By the time the project is all but done, Felix and Madeline are attached at the hip or the hand or the face. You try not to watch them, jealousy foaming in your throat. Felix’s eyelashes flutter against his freckles and his lips are glossy as Madeline gently strokes his cheek, smiling softly. Such a romantic—it would make sense that her seeing colors would be paired with his past complete colorblindness. He gushes over her work and her use of color, his voice giddy with excitement at finally seeing color, finally being normal.

While your initial bitterness at their fortune has washed away into passivity, you can’t bring yourself to look at your arm like you used to. In a way, you’re foolishly upset at you partner for not giving you anymore clues that would lead you to him. It’s foolish because he doesn’t know you can read what’s on his mind.

You pick up your artist’s hand brace from your dorm bed and begin unwrapping your arm to put it on, barely sparing the black scrawl a glance.

Its not all black anymore. I can see it. I can see her.

Dread clenches your gut as your eyes travel down to the next single word.

Madeline.

There’s a buzzing white in your head as you fumble to get your shoes on, tripping out into the hallway, breaking into a sprint towards Madeline’s dorm, on the other side of the campus. Whirling confusing overcomes your mimd and you feel like you’re suffocating, the only goal is to find an answer. You don’t know when hints of this conclusion plagued your mind. Maybe it was that day, months ago at the bathroom. Maybe it was a deeper jealousy at seeing Felix kissing Madeline. It didn’t matter anymore, you frantically knocked at her door, out of breath and gasping.

Her green eyes are wide and her pink lips are swollen, she’s almost as out of breath as you are. She makes no move to hide Felix, who’s pulling on a shirt behind her shoulder. Nervousness pangs in your throat but you shove past her and shed your arm to Felix.

“Wh-what’s this, Y/n?” He asks, eyes bouncing off your arm to your face, uncomfortable with looking at something you’ve explained to him is so precious and private to you.

“Read it,” you beg, eyes flicking from his face to Madeline’s. She furrows her shapely eyebrows, gingerly taking your cold arm into her soft hands. At Madeline’s brazenness, Felix finds it in himself to look down at your arm.

Her grip is firm but you could rip away from it at any moment.

Madeline’s eyes are wild and horror fills them as she looks up at Felix. You try desperately to explain, “I-I don’t know what this means either, but that day that you first saw color, Felix, there were your exact words to me about your project on my arm.” 

He laughs to deflect how uncomfortable he feels, it comes out too harsh and grates against your neck, raising heat into your face. “Y/n I know you really wanna find your partner, but this is crazy. Don’t try to suggest stuff like this. Madeline and I are partners, everything has been perfect since that day for us.” 

He looks over to Madeline for reassurance, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. A soft, vulnerable look plagues her eyes as she looks up at you. Felix stutters, confused why she wouldn’t immediately agree with him. “Lix,” she inhales deeply, “for my connection, you know how I see colors? Those are actually s-supposed to go away when I meet my partner.” You realize the vulnerable look in her eyes was actually guilt.

“What?” His voice is a breath, like he’s been struck in the chest and is left gasping for air. “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to meet them because I don’t want to loose my color—it’d be like dying for me and I’m really happy with you. Aren’t you happy with me too?” Felix’s lips hang open and his face is frowning in confusion, “So you’ve been using me when you knew I wasn’t yours?” Madeline’s eyes fill with guilty tears and she nods. As much as you can understand why she did what she did, anger and bitterness towards her, towards loosing so much time with Felix consumes you.

“Then you never deserved him,” you hiss, possessively retracting your arm into your body, hiding the words against your bosom.

You and Felix sit wordless on a bench in a park in a part of town you were unfamiliar with. 

“So it was you this entire time?” 

“I’m so sorry, Felix,” your voice cracks and you bite your lip to prevent it from trembling, “I really didn’t know for sure and I doubted what I knew because you just seemed so happy with her.” 

He scoffs loudly, running a hand through his silver hair, “Yeah and look what that amounted to.” 

Quietly, you respond, “It amounted to us realizing. That means something.” 

Felix exhales slowly, turning to face you, his eyes tired and sad, “Yeah, at least we realized now—” he stops abruptly, pausing to collect himself, “God, I was so stupid, just because I started seeing color one random day because she was in front of me?” He scoffs again, slouching into the bench. 

“It made sense though, you were both eager to get your partners and—” 

“But to leave you alone?” His voice is raw and soft, “I left you alone when you were right there.” Slowly, as if he were a hologram or mirage you couldn’t quite reach, you extend your hand to rest your hand on his warm cheek, almost shocked that he’s there. Unintentionally, he leans into your hand, closing his eyes gently. “We can begin now. Rather a late start than never. We have the rest of our lives to get it right.”

Felix buries his face into the crook of your shoulder, pressing firm, confident kisses and hot, stinging hickies into your neck. You run your hands up the bare expanse of his back and up to his hair. Flush spreads across your cheeks as he lifts himself up to gaze down at your bare chest but you don’t cover yourself up. You have nothing to hide. “Have you ever done this before?” You whisper to him. He shakes his head softly, leaning down to trail kisses from the base of your neck through the valley between your breasts. Lower, his kisses get wetter as he gets closer to your aching hotness. As if you’re made of paper, Felix gingerly spreads your legs. The cold air hitting your core causes you to flinch, but Felix’s warm palm presses slowly against you, calming the sensation into pleasure.

“May I?” 

You whine out a ‘yes’, groaning when his sinks a finger into your core. It sucks his finger in and Felix barely contains a moan at the sensation, imagining how you’d feel around him. Slowly, he begins to pump his single finger into you before adding another and scissoring deep. Curling his fingers, he brushes your sweet spot, causing you to gasp and arch your back. 

Smiling to himself, he continues to work at that spot until you’re gasping and moaning incessantly. He pulls out and you whine immediately but he positions himself above you, gazing down at you with adoration even while his impossibly hard dick pokes against you. “Hurry, Lixie, please do it,” you whine and he hushes you with a kiss, slowly sliding in and caressing his tongue against yours when you gasp. Your face is scrunched up at the unfamiliar stretch but Felix can’t help but smile down at you, endeared. His eyes are dark at the sensation of him dragging against your walls. When you begin to relax around him, you start whining again and he giggles, slowly beginning to thrust up into you. There’s nothing desperate or wanton about his movements against you. He’s being gentle, letting you feel him as his drags along your walls though it takes all his self control to not increase the pace. It’s deep and rhythmic, his hips against yours. He fills you up and groans as you seem to suck him up, your juices mixing with his precum.

“Baby, you’re so warm and so—mhg—tight,” he gasps against you, “Can I go faster?” 

“Yeah,” you’re breathless and rake your fingers across his back when he starts to do just that. He positions his hip in a way that has himself dragging across your sweet spot and you screaming with every thrust. He reaches down to rub your clit, stars and lights sparking across your vision as a burning coil begins wind in your gut. The groans and moans he lets out when you unintentionally clench around him paired with the way his movements quicken as he becomes desperate push you closer. “Y/n, I’m g-gonna cum,” he whispers, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. “Me too, Lixie,” you gasp, running your hands over his body. 

“I love you.” Your high crashes over you, white pleasure electrifying you through your body as you feel Felix shoot into you. The burning pleasure overcomes your senses as he collapses next to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as he pants into your neck, smiling deeply in pure bliss. Euphoric, you tug him closer, pressing a kiss to the freckle on the tip of his nose, onto both his cheeks, and finally onto his warm, glossy lips.

“I love you too, Lixie.” He is yours and you are his. That’s how it was predestined and you both have fulfilled destiny.

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Luck (Peter Parker x Male Villain Reader)

my line breaks wont FUCKING WORK TUMBLR IS TRASH

Luck is a superpower, you can disagree (respectfully) in my asks. I don’t know how to write “villain” villains, especially for the reader, so you’ll notice that I tend to give the villains a motivation for their actions. They’re typically redeemable.

Requested by: anon since requests are open and i like your writing, id thought id request something. perhaps you can do a spidey x villian reader where the reader and peter are dating but dont know about the others alter ego? 

Word count: 2265

"Peter, where's the black pepper?"

"Top shelf!"

You opened the cabinet looking up at the black pepper just barely out of your reach. Even on your toes, your fingers barely brushed the wooden shelf. Turning quickly to check if Peter was still in his room, you extended your arm just a bit and managed to pluck the little container off of the shelf.

"Are you almost done with lunch? You know we have to go to the city today," Peter said, walking into the kitchen.

He was just pulling his sweater down when you turned to look at him, a smile on both your faces.

"Yeah, just salt and pepper for taste. You know how spices work, right?" you joked.

He laughed and hugged your middle from behind, pulling away to grab the plates from under you and bringing them to the table. He started eating right away, his plate always just a little more filled than yours.

"Even now I'm always surprised because I already eat a lot. I don't know where all of that goes," you commented, gesturing to his body.

"My ass," he mumbled through a bite.

You laughed around your own food as he shrugged. Once you both finished, you did your normal elevator vs. staircase race. You had the staircase this time, and you were alone. So if he didn't see you somehow hop down entire flights of stairs without any injury, all was well. You tried to lean against the wall like you had been waiting for him forever, and laughed when he blew a raspberry in your direction.

"Come on, we gotta catch the train," he urged.

He pulled you along until you got outside, both of you walking side by side to the station. The train ride always felt shorter with him, and he got off a stop or two earlier than you did every time. Even with your own extracurricular activities, you wondered if you would ever get to know what he did. You brushed it from your mind. If he knew what you got up to, he'd be upset. He was a huge supporter of the Avengers and similar "hero" figures, and even worked with and for them. You had to engage in crime just to get by. As you entered the building, you looked at the Avengers Tower a few blocks down. You turned away.

---

The sooner you got into your suit, the sooner you could join your companions in robbing the next bank. You knew whoever made the plans would get the most money, so you always planned things before anyone else could think of them. Without it, you wouldn't even be able to pay for groceries. Everyone else had a job, but you were younger and still in school, which made it much more difficult for you and they all understood. Despite the luck you knew you had, life was the one thing that could bring it down.

Just as you all left with bags, you stopped instantly at the sight of Spider-Man leaning against the wall awkwardly, much like you had done earlier that day. You almost laughed, but you had to leave with the money so you kept a straight face.

"So, uh... you guys ever think about the law? It's pretty cool sometimes," he said with an obviously faked confidence.

You pushed the bags towards your team and ushered them to move, swiftly moving towards Spider-Man. He darted to the side as you kicked toward him.

"Missed m- Oof!"

As he tried jumping for the ceiling, you grabbed the back of his suit and yanked him down, thanks to your luck. It left him winded for a few seconds.

"Sorry, dude. Just let me off this once," you said unapologetically.

He groaned as you ran back towards your team, two of them grabbing you into the moving van. The doors shut and you watched Spider-Man through the darkened window, just barely catching a glimpse of your vehicle as it sped away.

"Well, that was fast. Maybe you're right about your luck being a power," one of them snickered.

You hit her with a grumble, turning down to check your phone. A text from Peter said he needed snuggles, and you smiled a bit as you pulled your mask off.

"Is it that kid you're dating again?" she asked, pulling her own off.

"Yeah, drop me off in the area. Leave the money in the usual place and I'll come grab it," you said, beginning to pack your things.

"You got it."

"Thanks."

As you left the van, you waved at them, giving some of them a fist bump as you passed and hopped out of the van.

"I'll figure out our next location."

They waved back and you turned as the van doors shut. You went into the dark alley nearby to change, then walked the few blocks to Peter's apartment. Aunt May greeted you with a hug and a smile, then gestured you Peter who was curled up in a blanket in front of the TV, looking like he stayed up all night despite it only being nine at night.

"What's up?" you asked, sitting next to him and putting your arms around him.

"I feel like garbage and my body hurts," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"Exercising? Did you... fall down the stairs? Stand up after too many hours of playing video games?"

He snorted and pulled away for a bit, wrapping you in the blanket as well. You both laid down, and you took extra care to wrap your arms around his shoulders when he seemed to wince at the movement of his back.

"What exercise did you do?"

"No, I just... I decided to go to the playground with Ned cause there were no more kids there and my internship was done, so I was fooling around and climbing things but I fell on my back."

"Be a bit more careful next time?"

"Okay."

Aunt May was always nice enough to leave you food knowing when you didn't eat. You smiled at her as Peter moved closer to you when you pulled away to eat, and you both laughed fondly at his clingy behaviour. You left a few hours after that to get your money and go home.

---

After another afternoon of your antics, you had decided to run around on the rooftops for a bit. On one of the higher ones, you climbed the ladder quietly to find someone pacing on the edge. You almost reached out to tell them to step away when you realised who it was: Spider-Man himself.

"How does he always get away? And he beats me so quickly? It's like he has really good luck. That's so weird. That's not even a superpower, I think. Oh no, what if it is?!"

He paused as there was a response from his phone, and he sighed as if stressed as he yanked off his mask. You quickly covered your mouth in shock. How careless could any identity-hiding person be to pull their mask off when anyone in a building could look up and see him? At least your face was kind of covered. It was just your hood on and that lame mask that just covered the area around your eyes, but it was enough. His face was covered by his phone, but the messy brown hair made you a little sick when it reminded you of your boyfriend. You were only here because of your luck and your criminal actions. He was probably at his internship being a good, upstanding citizen.

"No, that can't be right. I'll check with Mr. Stark. He'll know."

"Hey."

He screeched and yelled a quick bye into his phone, making the horrible mistake of just shoving it in his pocket as he turned to look at you. Without his mask on.

"Put your mask on," you said, knowing it sounded a bit strangled, but you passed it off as just climbing over the small concrete wall that bordered the top of the building. "You should be more careful, you know?"

"You-you're that guy! I keep running into you! Who are you?"

"Well, that's the question everyone wants to know, huh?"

You walked over to him and plopped down next to him as he sat, his hands playing with his phone that was now back out. Peter did that when he was nervous, playing with anything in his hands. Once it was a book and he somehow managed to throw it and leave a small crack in the ceiling when someone scared him from behind.

"Tell me your secrets. What's got you so stressed about me?"

"What are your powers?" he blurted out.

How Peter of him to just ask right away.

"I'm lucky. Just not lucky in the rest of my life. I don't have enough money to pay rent and sometimes it's not even enough to buy groceries. I have to depend on other people and I don't want to do that. So I'm doing the best with what I can."

"Well, M- uh, Tony Stark has all kinds of internships and charities and stuff. I mean, I work with him so I would know. He could help! And he's always willing to help a superpowered person!"

"Spidey, things aren't that easy. I'm a criminal for a living and things like that don't just slide with most of the population. You tell them why you did it and you'll get consequences. My luck is the only thing keeping my team and myself safe."

"You could try! He doesn't judge and he's still friends with Captain America, who's currently a war criminal. Someone who's a thief isn't a huge problem to him."

"I don't take charity," you stated clearly.

"I mean it! He could really help," he replied.

"Peter!"

He paused entirely. Without the sounds of the cars below and the people speaking, it would have been completely silent.

"How... how..."

You pulled off your mask and your hood, giving him a sympathetic smile.

"I don't... take charity. Especially not from my boyfriend. I'll let you feed me once in a while, but that's the most I'll take. I can't do that to you, and I can't do that to your mentor who has definitely figured out my powers and knows who I am."

He was silent as you put the mask in his hand and stood up.

"You can text me whenever you want."

You left him behind on the roof.

Peter texted you the next morning, telling you to meet him at Stark Tower. You instantly knew that he had talked to Tony Stark about it, and both of them would search the entire world for you if you didn't go. Of course, that left you with the only choice of doing what he said. Peter was waiting for you in the lobby right in front of the building's security.

"Hey! Um, just follow me," Peter said quietly, his voice dying out as he turned to walk.

After an awkwardly silent trip in one of the elevators, he brought you to a large laboratory where sparks flew from the corner of the room.

"Mr. Stark! I brought my boyfriend for you to meet," Peter shouted over the noise.

Tony Stark himself sat up from his work to look at the both of you, his goggles now on his head.

"Tell me about yourself," he said, starting to walk towards you.

"You already know enough about me, don't you?" you replied.

He gave you a calculating look as he turned to a desk and pulled up a hologram. It contained information about you and your powers, but mostly your financial assets.

"I don't normally keep tabs on petty thieves, but when I found out how much you were annoying Peter, I had to find out," he said. "Kind of weird to be fighting your boyfriend every other night, huh?"

Peter looked away, his eyes instantly going to your arm. You knew he was fighting a blush, but you were busy hiding your own embarrassment. Tony started to push Peter out of the room, and he grumbled but left regardless.

"I saw his recording from his suit. I know you don't take charity, but I would do anything for Peter. All he wants is to know that you're safe from anyone who could be a threat to him or the people he cares about. How can you be safe if you can't even pay your bills?" Tony lectured. "The least you can do is stay here for a bit until you have enough money to stay at your own place. He already worries about being Spider-Man. He doesn't need to worry about you having nowhere to stay."

You stood for a moment, looking between him and the hologram.

"Fine. But for Peter. And the second I get a well-paying job I'm out of here."

"Well, you could always work here. We have great benefits."

"And work for Tony Stark? No way."

He barked out a laugh and opened the door again, Peter rushing in to grab your hand.

"What did you say?!"

"I said yes. Quit worrying," you laughed, kissing him quickly.

Tony tapped on a few things on the screen before turning to look at you both.

"Your stuff is being moved here within the next one or two days, and I let your landlord know. He's actually kind of cool. Oh, and after we move your stuff here, can we test your powers?" Tony rambled.

"No."

"Great, we'll start tomorrow."

[yootaesowlwrites]

Requested by: Anon.

Request: Hey, I enjoy your writing so much ❤ I imagine you are so busy with your writing but may I make a request? Another Mick Imagine. Maybe y/n is an intern with Prema and is only there for a short time, so maybe they make the most of it? Maybe with A15)A5)A17? Thank you so much. Lots of love - a fellow South African 🇿🇦

Prompts: A5- “Well this has gone horribly wrong.” A-15 “Make me.” & A17- “Can I kiss you?”

A/N: I’m not sure how the relationship between Mick and Robert are, but in this, they’re close friends.

Warnings: COVID-19 Mentioned.

Word Count: 1.9K

【 • Primary Masterlist •  Mick Schumacher Masterlist •  】

【 • Prompt List • 】

【 • Characters & Drivers I Write For • Rules & Request • 】

(Y/n) had been fortunate enough to get an internship with Prema Powerteam racing, she was studying software engineering when an opportunity presented itself to her in the form of Prema, they were looking for somebody young and new to help them a little and decided to take the risk by hiring a college student, she has given a contract for a year with the team to prove how much help she would be for the team, Mid-June she met with the team and the drivers she would be working with as well.

“Gentlemen, if you could please join us in the conference room for a minute.” Rene Rosin says, (Y/n) stood at the conference room unsure if she was allowed to enter it.

“New blood, hopefully, we can learn something new.” Brandon, one of the mechanics, says as he opened the door to the conference room, she faintly smiles at him as he entered the room, closing the door behind him, Rene approached her with two young men following behind him.

“Mick, Robert, this is our intern for the year, (Y/n) (Y/L/N),” Rene says. “She’ll be assisting us with the car’s software this season.” Robert takes a step closer to her and extended his arm towards her.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Robert,” Robert says, she took hold of his hand and shook it, Mick was caught off guard with her beauty, it almost felt like he had died and gone to heaven for a split second, he wasn’t sure if the woman standing in front of him was real or a fragment of his imagination, Robert took a step back as they released each other’s hands, and elbowed his team-mate. “Mate, don’t be rude.” Mick snapped out his trance and quickly stepped forward.

“I, um, sorry,” Mick says as he extends his arm out for her. “Nice to meet you, I’m sure it’s going to be a pleasure working with you.” She widely smiles at him as she took hold of his hand and shook it.

“I hope so.” (Y/n) says as she releases his hand, Mick took an unwilling step back.

“If you two will excuse us, we have a meeting with everyone to discuss her internship,” Rene says as he opened the door to the conference room. “I’ll let you three get to know each other on another date, but work comes first.” (Y/n) steps into the room, quickly walking towards an empty seat at the table, Rene steps into the room and closed the door behind him, Mick watched (Y/n) through the glass wall as she pushed her hair out her face, Robert glanced at Mick before looking at (Y/n), he chuckles and placed his arm around Mick.

“You’re fucked.” Robert says causing Mick to look at him and tilt his head in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” Mick asks.

“It’s obvious that you like her, you just met her, don’t you think you should at least take her out on a date first?” Robert asks, Mick shook Robert’s arm off his shoulder.

“Don’t be ridiculous, she’s very beautiful,” Mick says. “I couldn’t help but admire her.”

“Sure, call it what you want,” Robert says. “I call it love at first sight.”

“That’s cliché,” Mick says, Robert shakes his head as a smile formed on his lips. “Besides, she’s here for work, not to date anyone.” He walks away from the room, Robert glanced at (Y/n) before going after Mick.

“Let’s go train, see if we can get your mind off her.”

(Y/n) crouched next to the car with a laptop in one hand as she looked through the software, she needed to be sure that everything would be perfect for the first race, she couldn’t afford to mess up during her first race weekend, Mick walked towards her, already dressed in his racing suit, he could see her brows furrowing as she focused on the screen in front of her, he moves closer to her, careful not to interrupt her, she heard crunching behind her and knew somebody was approaching her, she looks over her shoulder and saw Mick, she gives him a soft smile before turning her attention back to the screen.

“Hey,” Mick says.

“Hey.” (Y/n) says. “Ready for the race?” Mick stops behind her.

“I’m hoping so,” Mick says. “Is my car good to go?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Doubting the intern already?” (Y/n) asks him in a teasing tone, he crouches down next to her.

“Absolutely not,” Mick says. “I heard that you’re good.” He looks at the screen.

“Your car seems to be fine, there doesn’t seem to be a software issue.” She closes the laptop and stood up straight before unplugging it from the steering wheel. “But try to avoid spinning and the curbs.” Mick nods his head as he stood up.

“Maybe you can teach me about software,” Mick says. “Because I didn’t understand what those numbers were.” He knew what they meant, but he just needed an excuse to spend time with her, she tucks the laptop underneath her arm.

“I’m sure that you know exactly what they mean.” (Y/n) says. “I’ve been told that you do pay attention to everything involving your car.” Mick placed his hand at the back of his neck and begins scratching his skin.

“Uh, right, well… I could always learn more.” Mick says, Robert walked towards them wanting to know if his car was ready for the race. “I can always know more, the more knowledge, the better, right?”

“What?” Robert questions as he comes to a halt next to Mick, Mick quickly lowered his arm to his side.

“He apparently wants to know more about the software.” (Y/n) says. “But Rene already informed me that he knows a lot.” Robert looks at Mick.

“Are you serious?” Robert says. “You’re horrible at asking somebody out on a date!” Mick’s eyes widen in shock that his friend would just blab out his secret.

“Wh- no.” Mick stutters.

“What, date?” (Y/n) asks, Robert looks at (Y/n), oblivious to what he just did.

“Yeah,” Robert says. “He wants to get to know you a little more, probably wants to go on a date with you as well, but I don’t think he knows how to ask you out.”

“Robert, no, I, no.” Mick couldn’t form a proper sentence as he tried to speak.

“Is that true?” (Y/n) asks as she looked at Mick. “You wanna go on a date with me?” She could see his cheeks becoming red as blood rushed to his cheeks.

“I uh, yeah,” Mick says. “But this isn’t how I wanted to do it.” He glanced at Robert, wanting to glare at his teammate. “Well, this has gone horribly wrong.”

“How?” (Y/n) asks. “You haven’t even asked me properly yet, how has it gone horribly wrong?”

“Because I imagined it happening differently.” Mick begins. “Better timing.”

“There’s no better timing than the present.” (Y/n) says as a soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips, the mask she wore hiding it from them, but they could see it in her eyes.

“I uh, um.” Mick stutters, he needed to quickly think and form a proper sentence. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I would love to have dinner with you, Mick.” (Y/n) says. “What about tonight?” She shifts her weight onto one leg. “I have a camper here on the track, if you would like to join me for dinner?” His eyes widen in surprise not expecting her to invite him over to her camper for dinner.

“I uh, I would like that,” Mick says.

“Great!” (Y/n) says. “I’ll send you a pin to my location, I usually start cooking at 5:30, if you want to help.” Mick nods his head still in shock.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll definitely be there to help,” Mick says.

“Okay, great.” (Y/n) says. “See you tonight then, and have a safe race out there today.” She turns and makes her way towards the other engineers to discuss the cars.

(Y/n)’s camper door stood open allowing the fresh air to flow through the camper, she had bought food for the next three weeks, which was mostly ramen and microwavable food, Mick approached her camper feeling his hands becoming clammy as he became nervous with each step, he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of her, he stops in front of the door seeing it open, he softly knocks on the door hearing her move inside, he looks inside and (Y/n) turns away from the small fridge she had and smiled when she saw him.

“Hey, I thought you changed your mind.” (Y/n) says.

“Uh, no, I wouldn’t,” Mick says.

“Come in, don’t just stand outside.” (Y/n) says, Mick chuckles and steps into the camper. “So I uh don’t have a large variety of food, I just have ramen and microwavable food.” Mick nods his head.

“Ramen’s okay with me,” Mick says causing her to nod her head.

“Well, that’s good to know, because I already have it on the stove.” (Y/n) says as Mick approached her, he saw the pot on the burner with boiling water in it.

“Anything I can help you with?” Mick asks.

“Can you cut these for me?” (Y/n) asks referring to the vegetables she had been cutting, he looks down at them and nods his head.

“Yeah, sure, I can do that,” Mick says and took the knife from her, he pulled the cutting board towards him.

“Thank you.” (Y/n) says before turning back to the small fridge, she takes out a carton of milk, Mick quickly noticed the kettle on another burner.

“What do you usually drink, coffee or tea?” (Y/n) asks.

“Uh, tea is fine with me,” Mick says, she nods her head and placed the milk carton on the table, deciding to have a little fun, he picks up a small piece of vegetable leaf and tosses it towards her, her mouth falls open and she lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Oh, you did not just do that.” (Y/n) says.

“I did, what are you gonna do about it?” Mick asks her, almost challenging her to do something.

“Oh, you want to play it like that?” (Y/n) asks, she picks up a small container that she had filled with flour, she opens it and took some in her hand before flicking it into his direction.

“Oh.” Mick gasps before putting the knife down on the cutting board, he moves closer to her and sticks his hand into the container before flickering some flour in her direction.

“Oh.” (Y/n) says reaching for more, Mick quickly grabbed her hand, stopping her as he released the mess they were about to make in her camper.

“Wait, no, no, don’t.” Mick quickly says.

“Oh, and why not?” (Y/n) asks, the small place was already covered with the little flour they had tossed at each other, and he already felt guilty about the mess he made.

“I don’t wanna make the place dirty,” Mick says, she placed the container down on the table before stuffing her hand into the flour, filling her hand with it before dumping it out on his head.

“You started, now you’re gonna have to make me stop.” (Y/n) says, he quickly took hold of her other hand and slowly walked her backwards, only stopping when they reached the back of the van, which was where her bed was, the back of her knees hits the bed, stopping them, he looks into her eyes, almost drowning in them, he glanced at her soft lips before looking back into her eyes.

“I know this might be moving a bit quick, but…” Mick begins, he thought carefully about what he was about to say next. “Can I kiss you?”

[hajimemashita777]

Eleven Eleven: Chapter 1

You took a deep breath. Crisp, cold air filled your lungs, slightly burning as your hand shakily rested on the worn silver doorknob in front of you. Vision blurry and light-headed, you tried to regain your composure.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

You knew what to expect from this job, but to think that you made it this far had you feeling lightheaded. As you begged your heartbeat to slow and the immense pressure in your head diminished, you took in another shaky breath, this time slower and careful. Your eyes moved to the metallic-blue plate on the wall next to the door, whispering aloud the words that were plastered across the plaque.

ATHLETIC TRAINER OFFICE

You entered the room, briskly walking to the front counter and asked the young male if the athletic trainer was in today. He seemed disinterested in your presence, busily filling out the injury sheet before you with his head slightly tilted to the side, the angle of his mandible resting on his palm. Clad in the familiar-looking black uniform shirt that matched the one you were wearing, his left arm was wrapped snugly in a matching black sleeve that traveled under his shirt, unlike his right arm which remained bare. 

"Which one?" he asked, not looking up from his paperwork behind the counter.

"Ukai Keishin," you answered, eagerly looking down at the paperwork he was scribbling on. "Um, I'm the new student intern under him."

He stopped writing for a bit, still avoiding your eyes, to roll his chair across the hardwood floor to the opposite side of the long desk to flip through a binder. He lazily trailed the tip of his pencil across the sheet, stopping to finally look at you for the first time.

"You're Y/N?" he asked, dark green eyes finally darting to meet yours. You nodded as he groaned and stretched back in frustration, his hands clasping behind his neck as he slumped into his chair. "Ukai must've forgotten you were coming today. He even marked it in his schedule, but he left early."

"Oh," you sighed, visibly upset. "Should I just come back tomorrow?"

Noticing your distress, he pondered your question for a moment and clicked his tongue. "Since you were supposed to start today, I can at least show you around the office," he proposed, the last phrase sounding more as a question.

You eagerly nodded, "Yeah, that'd be great!"

A light laugh escaped his lips as he slowly stood up from his chair, amused by your enthusiasm; it was refreshing to see a bit of life in the dull office. Only when he stood up did you realize how much taller he was than you. The seats behind the counter must've been insanely low. He must've been six feet--no, a little less that six feet tall but still towering over you nonetheless. It didn't help that his overall appearance just seemed...unsettling. His appearance was rigid, and you could tell he was a naturally rough person. His hair was dark brown, the shade that nearly every natural brunet had, yet marking a tasteful contrast against his sage-green eyes. Not only was he on the taller side, but it was clear that he had something to hide under that sleeve of his: a tattoo or scar, but nonetheless a mark that was meant to remain hidden. 

After shuffling around in his bag, his fingers settled onto a rectangular packaging, fiddling with the foiling to pop a piece of white square of gum into his mouth. 

Starting the tour, he first acquainted you with the area he was sitting in: the reception area. Frankly, it was a total mess: piles of papers littered the desks and surfaces behind the counter, dusty bookshelves full of files and records, and two rickety office chairs sat next to each other. 

As he walked you around the rest of the office, he tried to engage in some simple conversation, probably to ease the silence that had settled between you two. 

"Are you a student?" He asked, chewing his gum behind closed lips.

"Yeah, I'm in my third year, what about you?" you questioned, immediately fumbling over your words, "I mean, are you still in school or did you graduate?"

He smiled, surprised but grateful for your thoughtfulness. "I'm in my last year, but I'm an intern like you are." He paused a bit, running his hands through his dark hair, "I'm under Ukai, too; he picked me up last year like you."

Eyebrows slightly raised in interest, you questioned him again, "What's it like to work under him? Is he nice?"

"You haven't met him yet?" he asked, scoffing. "Didn't he interview you?"

You shook your head in response. "No, a different trainer interviewed me," you explained. 

He crossed his tanned arms over his seemingly muscular chest, the half-size-too-tight black polo shirt straining a bit over his features. He settled his shoulder onto the wall near a door, still facing you. His jaw slowly clenched occasionally, working the piece of gum between his teeth.

"He's a great guy, really chill, but sometimes he's really forgetful. Obviously," he chuckled, gesturing to you. "He's pretty young, but he really does care about his interns," his smile faltered a bit as he paused, intense dark green eyes staring downward into yours for just a second longer than you were comfortable with. His head tilted down ever so slightly, probably in an attempt to close the large distance between you to avoid anyone hearing. In a soft, almost concerning voice just above a whisper, he spoke his piece of advice, "Just don't do anything stupid. He's kicked interns out before."

You felt a warmth envelop your head at the close proximity to him, his eyes boring into you so deep as if he could see through you. The faintest smell of cinnamon and what you could only assume was his cologne permeated the air between you two. You quickly looked away toward the rest of the room. Iwaizumi must have read your nervous reactions because he pulled away from you quickly. 

"Are you okay? You seem a little on edge."

"Oh, no, I mean," you stammered, thinking of a decent excuse, "I was just thinking about how school just started up again and it kind of gets me really stressed, you know? Especially with this internship and everything."

He nodded, looking up at the ceiling, "Yeah, it gets a little stressful sometimes, but I'm sure you'll do fine." After you didn't respond, he glanced over at you again to still see the same nervous expression on your face. 

He pitied you a little, remembering his experience as a new intern. "Look, if you want to blow off some steam or whatever, my friend is having a smallish get-together before he leaves for Argentina. You should swing by if you want," he paused, gauging your reaction. "You could bring some friends if you'd like, but just keep it small."

Before you had a chance to answer to his offer, he pushed himself off from the wall and nodded his head toward the door. Following behind him through the long corridor, you considered the choice he gave you. Before you even reached the main waiting room, you decided you definitely needed some stress-relief, even if that meant going to an absolute stranger's farewell party.

Once he reached the end of the corridor, he slipped behind the counter again, momentarily crouching behind the short desk while he scribbled something down, peeling the layer of paper from the rest of the notepad. "The address," he announced, standing again and handing the note to you between two fingers, "it's actually tonight." The corners of his lips flicked upward to form a closed smile, one that was offered out of politeness and curiosity.

A Monday night? 

"I'll think about it," you stated as you grabbed the bright green note from his hand, "but what was your name again?" He stopped and looked at you, eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, I didn't introduce myself? Sorry about that, I'm Iwaizumi Hajime," He forced out a laugh at his brashness, extending a hand for you to shake, which you gladly accepted. His hand was larger and rougher--cold from the freezing office--yet his grasp was gentle. Your eyes trailed around the now empty waiting room and then to the digital clock on the wall.

6:27 PM

"Oh my gosh, it's so late," you squeaked, drawing your hand away quickly and pulling out your phone to see a mountain of text messages, "I'm so sorry, but is there anything else you wanted to show me? I'm supposed to meet some friends for dinner." 

He yawned and stretched a bit, shaking his head. "Nah, that's about it. I'm sure you'll learn the rest of it with Ukai when you come in again," he explained as he started ushering you toward the door.

"Did you need any help doing anything else, like locking up?" You questioned, surprised at his abruptness to get you out the door.

"No, it's fine, I can lock up by myself. It was great meeting you, Y/N, I'll see you around," he offered a sheepish smile before softly securing the door in front of your face. 

"Thanks for the tour, Iwaizumi!" you called, raising your voice slightly in hopes he could hear it past the door. You stood in the entryway to the office, waiting for a response from him.

Click.

Sighing and walking away toward the building's exit, you stuffed the green paper into the back pocket of your jeans and pulled out your phone to scroll through messages to reply to the mountain of texts. Suddenly, buzzing surged through your phone and you hesitantly accepted it, just to be met with a hushed, agitated tone instructing you to rush over to the dining hall immediately.

"I'm coming, hold on," you breathed out, picking up your walking pace and promptly ending the call. The distance to the dining hall was short enough, but he's been sitting there since 6. Guiltily, you started to jog your way over to where you saw him sitting at a table, dressed in another one of his impossibly comfortable-looking sweaters, tufts of dark hair framing his face and black glasses perched on his nose before blue eyes.

"Where were you?" Akaashi inquired, eyeing you down and raising an eyebrow at your disheveled, slightly sweaty appearance. He closed his laptop and started clearing the space in front of him for you to set your things down.

"Sorry, my intern thing ran long," you apologized, plopping down with an exasperated huff as you attempted to fix your appearance. He slid a large bowl across the table, stopping it in front of you and gestured for you to start eating. You quickly obliged, unraveling the hot dish and started to dig in. "Where's Hitoka?"

"Well, I'm just glad you decided to actually go to it, especially after stressing over it all summer." he hummed, the corners of his lips curled upward to reveal a small smile, the ends of his eyes crinkling in humorous teasing, "And Hitoka said she got called in for work, so she's not coming."

You nodded in response, though still confused: it was unlike her to pick up extra shifts. "Of course I went, I can't afford to not go," you replied while popping a portion of your katsudon into your mouth. Frankly, it really was an opportunity of a lifetime. 

Setting down his cup again, he sighed, "I know, I know." As much as he made fun of you about your stressful existence, he couldn't help but feel immensely proud of you sitting before him, clad in the black polo shirt with the university's name and ATHLETIC DEPARTMENT embroidered over the front left side. 

"Anyway, how was your first day?" Akaashi quipped, eager to change the subject. 

You gulped down your favorite sports drink Akaashi bought for you. "Classes were fine and all, but the athletic trainer I'm working for wasn't there today, so that kind of sucked. What about you?"

A smile tugged at his lips once again as his face lit up in enjoyment as he talked. From the moment you met him, he was always very meticulous in everything he did: the way he needed all his notes in order before he could begin studying, how he absolutely had to make sure there were no smudges on his glasses at all times, stopping mid-sentence to clean them, and how he described everything--including his day--in great detail.

Likewise, you appreciated his happiness too; it was relieving to see his smile, especially since you never saw it often. He could spend days--weeks even--finishing long literary assignments and typing up journalism entries for class. In fact, you had to drag him out of his room numerous times just to make sure he was eating; he had a terribly unhealthy habit of overworking himself. 

"I just don't understand why we'd get such a big assignment so early...it's only the first day," he grumbled quietly.

"What kind of assignment is it?"

"It's an article we have to write on topics that were given to us," he sighed, bringing his cup of tea back to his mouth. "I got Japan's underground street racing." 

"Is that a bad topic or something?" you asked.

"It's not necessarily bad, but it's just out of my comfort zone--I mean, I have no idea where to even begin," he trailed off. 

You shrugged, not exactly knowing how to help him. "Maybe you could just search it up?"

"I tried doing that while waiting for you," he explained. Suddenly, he shot up in attention. "Speaking of which," he started, piercing blue eyes meeting yours, "could you do me a huge favor?"

"Depends what it is," you muttered, tipping the last of your beverage into your mouth, hesitant yet interested in what he had to say.

His eyes widened in excitement as he leaned toward you, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. "I came across a sketchy forum that mentioned a time and location for a race," he eyed you down cautiously. You knew where this was going.

"Akaashi." You groaned, not because you didn't want to accompany him, but more so because you were concerned about the legitimacy of the event. A public ad for a clearly illegal race? It couldn't be real.

"I just want to go to one," his eyebrows creased toward each other, begging you. "Just to see what it's like. You know, to write my article," he gestured to his closed laptop near his backpack sprawled over his side of the table, frowning ever so slightly. 

You sighed, seriously considering whether this was a good idea; Akaashi can definitely get reckless for a grade. Knowing him, he would go to the event with or without you; that's just how he was. 

"Okay, I'll go with you to check it out," you laughed lightly, amused as his tense body relaxed into the chair behind him. "But you have to come with me somewhere first."

--

Not only two hours later, you and Akaashi stood in front of the door to an apartment complex. With just enough time for both of you to trek back to your shared apartment and get ready for the night, you hadn't exactly spared the details to Akaashi about the party.

"How did you find out about this again?" he huffed, burying his pink-tinged nose back into his navy blue scarf, away from the biting cold that nipped at your skin. "And whose place is this?" he asked, his glasses fogging from his warm breath.

"My new coworker invited me," a puff of white escaped your lips and nose, "and don't worry about it."

"I don't want to stay for too long," Akaashi mentioned for the fifth time that night, "I have a 7am tomorrow."

"I know, I know, just a couple hours," you sighed, repeating the words he countlessly drilled into your head on the way here. You took out the crumpled green sticky note again, double checking if the cab driver dropped you both off at the right address. 

"Let's get inside," Akaashi breathed, eyes watching a group of young, probable university students as they stumbled up the short concrete steps into the building, obviously fresh from pregaming. 

Tugging on Akaashi's sleeve, you followed the group before you all the way up to the 7th floor, even squeezing into a small elevator with them. Once on the floor, they entered the apartment thumping with loud music furthest down the hallway that stretched to the left of the elevator. Just in case, you looked at the address Iwaizumi gave you earlier. Comparing the instructions to those written on the apartment complex's wall, you determined this was the place. 

Entering after the group before, you were surprised to see the apartment darkened and absolutely packed and blasting with music. A wave of heat rushed out through the door as you opened it, probably from all the bodies dancing in the middle of the living room. Didn't Iwaizumi say this was supposed to be small?

Without much time to take in the whole scene, you were shoved by another group of people behind you who were eager to get in, your body thrusted into the swarming pile of flesh in the middle of the room. Sweaty bodies surrounded you, pushing into you left and right as the smell of weed and liquor filled your lungs. Turning around, you were shocked to see Akaashi no longer behind you. You understood you lost him in the crowd, but it was absolutely disgusting to be in there completely sober. Fighting against the bodies toward the kitchen bar, you finally reached an area where you had some personal space. On your toes, you stretched up as high as you could to try to spot Akaashi. Maybe he would be somewhere in the crowd or next to the door?

"Hey, you're here!" A voice erupted next to your ear. You quickly turned to see Iwaizumi, slightly sweaty with a red cup in hand. His dark sage-colored eyes had an amused glint in them, surprised you actually came. Instead of the athletic department's uniform he was wearing in the office, he donned a black button-down shirt, sleeves messily rolled to just above his elbows, buttons near his neck sloppily undone to reveal the sharp angles of clavicles meeting his sternum. Like the black polo, this shirt was once again a half-size-too-small as you could easily see the outline of his biceps and chest muscles even in the dim lighting. You were taken aback by his presence, but thankful to recognize someone.

"Hey!" You answered back, shouting over the loudness. "I lost my friend in the crowd!"

"She's probably fine, but you should get a drink for her!" He shouted back, pointing in the direction of the kitchen with his drink in hand. He momentarily leaned closer to your ear, shouting a little softer, "I saw you come in with a guy, is he your boyfriend?"

"No, he's just a friend!" You shouted back. Iwaizumi made a confused face before fully bending down to your level, his head turned sideways so that his ear was near your lips. "He's-he's just a friend," you say, surprised at the sudden movement. You caught the faintest whiff of his cologne and the alcohol fanning from his breath. The close proximity didn't last long as Iwaizumi stumbled into you, the weight of him and another person nearly knocking you into the wall. 

Iwaizumi promptly shoved him off, lightly kicking his ass and sending the individual face-down into the ground.

"Iwa-chan," the brunet individual whined from the ground, peering over his shoulder to look at Iwaizumi through his bangs, "why are you being so mean?"

"Iwa-chan"?

Iwaizumi huffed, a look of frustration on his face as he ran his fingers through his dark hair, "Just get up already!" He grabbed the shirt and upper arm of the male on the ground, dragging him up and onto his feet. Once he regained his balance, the giddy, brunet male's brown eyes met yours.

"Oh? Iwa-chan, who's this?" He asked, a huge smile spreading across his pink cheeks. A bit taller than Iwaizumi, you felt a little cornered by these two men that looked down at you. The shirt he was wearing was a cheap light blue Hawaiian print shirt, all the buttons loose to reveal his toned torso, his external obliques looking especially accentuated as he rested his arm onto Iwaizumi's shoulder, the movement causing his shirt to rise slightly. An uncomfortable feeling made your stomach churn, your eyes darting away from the brunet only to find that most of the girls in the room were now looking at you. 

Iwaizumi looked at you first and stated your name in introduction, causing his friend to nod his head at you in greeting. "Y/N, this is Oikawa Tooru...he's the guy going to Argentina for volleyball."

Oikawa beamed at you, "It's great to finally meet one of Iwa's coworkers! I'm glad you could come by, let's go get some drinks!" He guided you into the kitchen, hand settling at the base of your back as Iwaizumi followed silently behind.

Once in the kitchen, Iwaizumi drank the last of whatever was in his cup before setting it down on the counter. "What do you drink?" Oikawa perked, eyeing you up and down as he opened the fridge to get some spirits.

"Anything, really," you laughed, "Can you make me something?"

A charming smile laced on his slightly pink face, Oikawa shot you a dazzling wink. "Sure, I'll make something I learned in Argentina," he looked from you to Iwaizumi, "Iwa-chan seems to like it a lot."

With matching drinks and red cups in hand, Oikawa urged you all to join plastic cups together with a dull clank, much to Iwaizumi's objection. Oikawa cheered a bit before you all downed the drink in one go. The three of you drank whatever idea came to mind, although most of the ideas only came from you and Oikawa. 

"Oikawa," you breathed after your fourth shot, the burning sensation tickling your upper chest and throat, "How did you end up playing for Argentina?"

He laughed a bit harder than you would consider normal before slinking an arm around Iwaizumi's neck. "I started playing pro after we graduated high school," he lazily gestured between himself and Iwaizumi. "Iwa-chan and I were always on the same team up until then."

"You played volleyball in high school?" You gasped, looking at Iwaizumi, who didn't meet your gaze but instead nodded, eyes glued to his empty shot glass.

"Yeah, Iwa-chan was the best!" Oikawa marveled to you, embracing Iwaizumi even closer, "He was our ace!" You figured Iwaizumi seemed like the kind of guy to have done sports in his youth just looking at his build. After all, he was practically oozing athleticism...but you never expected volleyball. Baseball, maybe.

"Okay, that's enough," Iwaizumi voiced sternly toward his friend, lightly nudging Oikawa's arm away from him, "it's gross."

"What?" Oikawa teased back, now making his way over to you, "Nothing wrong with being an ace." His brown eyes peered into yours from heavy-lidded eyes as his face inched closer to yours, pink lips slightly ajar forming a smirk. "What about you, hmm? Are you into aces? Or are setters more your type?" he whispered lowly.

His hot mouth was practically on your face as you could make out the tiniest amount of brazen flirtatiousness that dripped from his words, which clearly denoted an underlying meaning. Taken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor, you backed away from him, offering a shy laugh in response. 

Oikawa hummed at your actions, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, "Guess not."

"Stop, you're making Y/N feel self-conscious," Iwaizumi boomed from behind Oikawa, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder to provide distance between you two.

"You mean unconscious," Oikawa piped back in response, slurring faintly.

"What?" Iwaizumi turned to look Oikawa dead in the eyes, half-laughing at Oikawa's misuse of the word. "That doesn't make any sense, idiot."

Sensing his friend still didn't understand what he meant, Iwaizumi's smile dropped from his face once he realized Oikawa was being serious. 

"Unconscious means, like, unresponsive--comatose," he said slowly, "Self-conscious means you're shy or whatever. Stupid-ass." Oikawa nodded at Iwaizumi's quick vocabulary lesson, waving his hand in front of his friend’s face in a dismissive motion before pouring more drinks for the three of you. 

After a while, you felt a good amount of the alcohol as it pumped through your body. You turned your head to Iwaizumi, a slight blush spread across his cheeks, nose, and ears. He caught your gaze and stared at you for a long time--long enough to make your sober self feel uncomfortable, but thanks to the alcohol, this time you didn't look away. 

"Y/N!" A voice erupted from the kitchen entrance, causing you to peel your eyes from Iwaizumi and toward the interruption. "I've been looking all over for you!" Akaashi exasperatedly came up to grasp your forearm, sweaty and huffing loudly. "We have to go--I completely forgot I had an assignment due in half an hour." 

Tired and tipsy, you leaned into his arm, "Akaaashiii," you wailed, "not yet!" Once he heard your intoxicated tone of voice, he looked up to see Iwaizumi and Oikawa looking at him. As he turned to ask you who these two men were that you were drinking with, Iwaizumi explained for you.

"I'm her coworker and he's hosting," he thumbed toward Oikawa, who was leaning over the counter with a sly grin.

Akaashi offered a polite smile and nodded before replying, "I'm her friend. And the guy who has to make sure she gets back home." His eyes fell back to you as you tugged him in closer and buried your face into his arm.

"Akaaashiii, I don't wanna leave yet," you whined before slumping down to the floor and scooting away from him, back pressed flush against the cabinets. Your shoulder hit something and you looked up to see Iwaizumi staring down at you. 

"Y/N, please, I just need to submit it," Akaashi groaned, attempting to grab your ankles but you lazily kicked his hands away, your body pushing further and further into Iwaizumi's leg. "Due in 30 minutes," he repeated, hands falling into his lap in defeat. The cab drive itself took about 20 minutes and he could submit it in under 5 minutes, but that meant he had to convince you to get off the floor, haul you downstairs, and call a cab all in less than 5 minutes.

"Just go," Iwaizumi looked at Akaashi, head nodding toward the door, "I can take her back."

Akaashi sighed and rose back to his full height to look at Iwaizumi. Even though he had a red cup in hand and there were dozens of glasses on the kitchen counter, it didn't seem like Iwaizumi had drank a whole lot. Still hesitant about letting a total stranger bring you home in your drunken state, Akaashi began to decline Iwaizumi's offer, even if it meant sacrificing his grade for that assignment. Akaashi couldn't leave you alone like that with two guys at this party, no matter what.

"We're coworkers, it's strictly professional," Iwaizumi urged, stepping closer to Akaashi and gently pushing his upper arm in the direction of the door. "Trust me, I'm the one who invited her to come anyway--and if anything happens, you can find me at the office." 

Not seeing any other option, Akaashi reasoned he could trust this guy. After all, you and he worked in the same office. "Strictly professional," he repeated Iwaizumi's words back to himself. He sighed and thanked Iwaizumi, offering a small smile to him and Oikawa before tapping you on your head on his way out, signaling his leave. 

"Let's keep going!" You chimed from the floor, Oikawa once again laughing for a bit too long. He started to make the three of you drinks again, but Iwaizumi nudged him before he could pour a third glass. Understanding his friend's gesture, Oikawa set the large bottle back down and handed you one of the two drinks.

"Y/N, be my partner for beer pong!" Oikawa gushed, grasping your hand as he led you out of the kitchen and to the far side of the living room where a small table had been set up for the game. 

A cold bottle of water in hand, Iwaizumi silently followed behind you two, settling down on a nearby chair that viewed the middle of the table. You and Oikawa were a dominating pair, smashing every single one of your opponents quickly. Even though you both were constantly winning, Oikawa insisted that you both match the shots that your opponents drank, occasionally drinking it for them. 

"That's not how you play." Iwaizumi hissed at Oikawa as his friend reached across the table to collect another opponent's cup. Oikawa rolled his eyes at his sober friend, swatting his concern away with his hand as he gave the cup to you. After countless games and drinks, your condition steadily kept getting worse and worse, until you found it hard to even keep the ball on the table.

It wasn't until you started referring to Oikawa as "Tooru" that Iwaizumi knew you were completely gone. The way you laughed with Oikawa, playfully hitting his arm or chest when you would win yet another round like you two had known each other for years. He knew his best friend always got loads of attention from everyone--especially at parties like these--but Iwaizumi didn't expect you to fall for Oikawa's charms so quickly, although he wasn't surprised either. His best friend had always been a social butterfly, instantly being able to connect with people immediately. It was a skill that Iwaizumi lacked for some reason, and he envied Oikawa for that.

"Let's dance instead!" Oikawa shouted over the thumping music, grabbing your hand and guiding you near the large group of bodies dancing, grinding, and pushing up on each other. As you two incorporated into the mass of people, only then did you realize that most of the girls in the room were constantly looking at you and Oikawa dancing together. It wasn't just curious glances, either; some girls were full-on staring you down. You felt uneasy, but Oikawa bent down to your ear, shouting, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom!"

You nodded, feeling more comfortable when the stares died down as soon as Oikawa left the scene. You continued dancing by yourself, perfectly happy and intoxicated, your body calmed and soothed by the booming bass. Firm hands grasped your waist from behind, a hot puff of breath lingering over your ear and traveled down to the base of your neck. 

"Dance with me," the deep voice muttered. Happy to have a dance partner again, you obliged, pushing yourself flush against his front torso and moving your hips ever so slightly against him. His hands ran up and down your sides, carefully squeezing and caressing your skin. You were fine with the movements, but began to feel his grip tighten around your hips, right arm stretching across your torso to your opposite hip, his left hand traveling up your stomach, to the base of your left breast. You quickly pushed his hand away, but his grip on you was hard, enough to bruise. He buried his head into the side of your neck, and you squirmed in his arms, shouting against the music, but the bass drowned your struggling screams. 

"Hey!" A voice rumbled next to you, and before you knew it, the man's body was ripped from yours. You stumbled forward, almost falling, and turned to see a large figure with dark hair, dressed in black with his back turned to you, confronting the man who was feeling you up from behind. "She's not into that," Iwaizumi hissed, shoving the man backward. He turned toward you, "Time to go." 

Immediately, he takes your wrist and leads you outside the crowd, which momentarily watched the commotion but resumed dancing. Once at the door to the apartment, he starts to open it but is met with your grip on his arm, your eyes meeting his.

"Wait, Iwa-chan," you whined, the nickname that only Oikawa ever used for him gliding out of your mouth made his eyes slightly widen, "I want to say bye to Tooru."

"'Tooru'? I don't even call him that." He sighed in frustration, looking down at your dazed appearance while urging you both out the door until he felt you bury your head into his arm.

"Please," you whined softly. He took a deep breath, eyebrows knit together as he ran tense fingers through his hair in frustration. 

"Fine, let's look for him."

Iwaizumi led you through the apartment, hand carefully wrapped around yours as he opened various doors, weaving in between people and navigating the layout through the dim lighting. He opened the door to the bathroom, which was closed but surprisingly unlocked, to find Oikawa fully clothed in the tub, snoring loudly. Iwaizumi initially froze at the sight, then stepped closer to wake his friend with a firm slap across his thigh, leaving a pink imprint of a hand.

Oikawa grunted awake at the impact, wide brown eyes meeting Iwaizumi's olive ones. Oikawa then sheepishly smiled at his friend, trying to pull him in for a hug. Iwaizumi groaned, almost disappointed at his friend. "Party's over," Iwaizumi muttered to Oikawa, who wailed in response.

Hand still grasping your wrist, Iwaizumi pushed you onto the closed toilet lid to sit. "Wait here," he instructed before heading out the bathroom door and shutting it on his way out. Moments later, the thumping music came to a stop, followed by groans of objection. You turned to look at Oikawa, sleeping soundly in the tub again. Iwaizumi returned to the bathroom about 2 minutes later, water bottles and Pedialytes in hand. 

He tossed you a Pedialyte and water. "Drink," he instructed to you, before turning to his friend and waking him up again.

"Mmm," Oikawa groaned, pushing away Iwaizumi's hand that was lifting the Pedialyte to his  mouth. You could have sworn a vein popped in Iwaizumi's neck as he groaned in frustration before forcing Oikawa's mouth open, feeding the bottle to him like a dog. Half frightened at the sight of Iwaizumi forcing Oikawa's mouth open, you quickly opened your Pedialyte bottle and began to drink up. 

One foot in the tub, Iwaizumi struggled to hoist Oikawa up and over his shoulder. He walked out of the bathroom, you slowly trailing behind him as he kicked open the door to Oikawa's bedroom. He slammed Oikawa onto his bed, not caring if he woke up. His eyes shot open at the sudden sensation of falling, and his eyes focused on Iwaizumi, who was already working to get most of Oikawa's clothes off. Unbuttoning his pants, Iwaizumi pulled off the fabric in a swift motion, which left Oikawa gasping at the sudden cold as he reached to cover his flowery boxers with a blanket. 

"Okay, that should be it," Iwaizumi panted, leaning up from the bed and looked toward you. You were still very drunk, but the water helped sober you up a little bit. The room was spinning as you made your way over to the bedside.

"Bye, Tooru," you sang softly, patting Oikawa's shoulder, "have fun in Argentina." 

His eyes fluttered open in response, "Thanks, Y/N, keep Iwa-chan company." Oikawa drifted to sleep slowly after, Iwaizumi promptly turning off his friend's light and grabbing your wrist again before leading you both out of the now-empty apartment and toward the elevator. 

He turned to assess your appearance to find the slightest bit of pink still decorating your cheeks and nose. "Now let's get you home."

[parkerpeter24]

best friends or more (part-2)

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: fluff, angst👀, oblivious people, swearing. I think that is all...

Word count: 2454

Italics — flashback/thoughts

Sorry for being so late! I hope you guys liked the first part, I think my tags didn't work🤷🏻‍♀️. Tumblr is a disaster, even more so when you're on your phone... I hope you like this part!❤ Also, I can't divide the text under the cut because I don't have a laptop and it didn't work on chrome. I try to not extend it too much!

Series Masterlist | Prologue | Part 1

“What the fuck are you doing on the ceiling?!”

Peter jumped down to the floor, already putting his hands up to try to stop you from freaking out. You were already at the verge of screaming out loud. Your breath hitched and you couldn’t think straight.

“(Y/n), I can explain.” He said. One could wonder how he was being so calm and composed, like it was totally normal for people to walk on the ceiling of their houses.

Peter’s hands were on your shoulders in an instant, rubbing soft, soothing circles through the thin fabric of your shirt, concerned eyes making sure you calmed down before he started rambling about what had happened.

“H-how were you, what were you—?” You tried but even after all efforts, you couldn’t get yourself to utter a single coherent sentence out of your mouth. It was like your brain stopped working. Peter was on the lookout, in case you fainted.

“I know it’s crazy. Just calm down and I’ll tell you everything.” He said. You took your time, breathing and trying to relax. Finally letting go of the door handle you stood up straight, but he could still see your shaking hands, still hear your heart’s palpitations, still sense the weirdness in the air. 

“You were on the ceiling.” Your voice came out shakey, but you were taking regular breaths. Peter nodded.

“I-I was.” He started. You waited for him to continue with an expectant yet incredulous look on your face. You wanted him to tell you that it was due to some crazy anti-gravity belt that he accidentally ‘created’ due to some error, or something alien he got from the storage of the apartment building, “I know it’s weird but I have a good reason. Just- let’s sit down first?” He asked hesitantly. You just nodded, still confused about everything.

You both walked over to his bunk bed, which was occasionally used by the both of you for sleepovers and Star Wars movie marathon nights, and sat beside each other “How are you now?” You asked suddenly, making Peter raise an eyebrow at you, “You had a fever.” You stated.

“Oh, that? Yeah, I’m way better now.” He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly before a wince passed his lips. You became cautious and concerned at the action.

“What is it?” You asked as you craned your neck to look at the cause of the pained voice.

“A spider bit me.”

———

You were pulled back to reality by Liz when she nudged your side. Your head perked up from your lap where your chemistry book was lying carelessly, not that you were actually reading it. You pushed your glasses up your nose. No you weren’t a nerd, not even close. Albeit the chemistry book lying in your lap, you were focused on the events from last night. Your mind replayed the way Peter’s sweet, familiar scent filled your nose when you leaned down to check on his injuries, what if you had kissed him, would he have kissed you back?

Peter’s thoughts didn't vary much than yours. All day he kept dozing off thinking about you, about how you smelled of honey, about how your soft lips would’ve felt over his.

He watched you at lunch as you sat with Betty and her friends like you usually did on Fridays just because they were your friends too and you didn’t want to upset them. He saw you turn back to look over at his table and the moment your eyes met, you mouthed a humorous ‘save me’ as you laughed silently, making him smile and look away as he blushed.

His eyes quickly shifted from you and adjusted to somewhere behind you, indicating you as well as convincing himself that he was blushing because of the girl who was behind you, hanging a banner for homecoming, and apparently the girl turned out to be Liz. You turned away from him to hide the frown on your face as you felt a pang in your chest.

You didn’t mean to feel bad. Peter, your best friend, had a crush on a girl who actually deserved him. She was way too nice, smart and beautiful as compared to you. She was the perfect match for him. Or so you thought.

Peter’s eyes fixated back on you as soon as you focused your attention on Betty, he observed your movements, the way you waved your hands in the air to illustrate things better, the way you pushed the same strand of hair —that he was much grateful of— behind your ear again and again and yet again. All things including Ned’s voice was background and the only desired thing was you.

“Earth to (y/n)?” Liz snapped a finger in front of you, waking you up again, “Were you even listening?” She chuckled as you passed her a sheepish look.

You were sitting in the gym bleachers, now in your midtown high sweatshirt, with the group as Peter did his crunches with the help of Ned.

“Sorry, I was thinking about... something.” You replied, settling yourself on the bleachers so that you were comfortable.

“Anyway…” Betty started, “We were playing F, marry, kill, for the avengers! Let’s continue.” She clapped a hand in front of her chest. Sometimes you didn’t like how excited the blonde girl could get. You rolled your eyes playfully muttering a ‘sure.’

“So what would it be for you (y/n)?” Liz asked from your side. You wanted to run away from there as all eyes fell on you but the group was sitting all around and you were in the middle. You knew the whole gym was listening to the conversation of the ‘popular’ kids.

“Um,” You gulped, “F thor, marry Captain America and kill hulk?” you offered. Peter's eyebrows furrowed, what was he thinking, of course you wouldn’t take his alter ego’s name. He was not expecting you to say you would marry Spider-man, no.

Your friends all seemed satisfied with your answer and nodded, except Liz.

“What about Spider-man?” She asked. Peter's ears perked up at that.

“What– What about him?” You asked her. You could feel Peter’s —and everyone else’s— eyes lingering over your group.

“Didn’t you see the big security cam on YouTube?!” She bragged, “He fought off four guys!”

Everyone rolled their eyes like they already knew what was happening, “Oh god, she’s crushing on Spider-man.” Some girl announced nonchalantly.

Your eyes widened dramatically, “What?” You asked.

She shrugged, trying to seem uninterested but the smile on her face gave her facade away, “Well, maybe.”

“But what if he’s like, seriously burned, or eighty?” You asked suddenly. Peter squinted his eyes on you as he tried to hold in his laughter. You looked so cute when you tried so hard to hide the fact that you actually knew Spider-man or how that one strand on hair fell on your face which you adjusted behind your ear. You were blushing slightly and Peter could just grab your face and kiss all over — Stop!

The group thundered, “Okay, first of all, he’s not eighty.” Liz laughed, making you blush in embarrassment, “And second of all, I wouldn’t care. I would still love him for the person he is on the inside.” Peter was full on staring at the black haired girl as you could see from the corner of your eyes. You felt a strong feeling tugging at your heart as it dropped to the pit of your stomach. Were you jealous of Liz? No! But again, why was Peter staring at her in the hallway?! 

Before you could interject or even think of anything to say back to her you heard a voice which made the whole gym fall into silence, “Peter knows Spider-man!” Now all the eyes were on Peter as he turned to Ned with an unbelievable look. He scrambled off the ground, “No, I don’t.” He tried, waving his hands in dismissal, “I-I’ve met him, yeah, t-through the Stark Internship.”

“They’re friends.” Ned quipped. You stared at the boys with a questioning look, what was going on in their head? Peter passed you a tight lipped smile.

“Oh yeah, like coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Flash laughed, “You know what, why don’t you invite your ‘friend’ Spider-man to Liz’s house party?”

“You’re having a party?” You whispered to Liz, only for Peter to repeat it out loud.

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight.” She said, giving you an apologetic grin. You shook your head.

“You should totally invite your pal, Spider-man.” Flash said as the bell rang and students started emptying the gym. Peter turned to Ned with an angry look and you rushed towards the both as your group also dissipated.

“What’re you doing?!” He asked, frustrated as you slipped beside them and started walking out of the room, behind the crowd. You slipped your hand in Peter’s since no one was watching, and why not. You knew it calmed him down when you rubbed soft circles on the back of his hand.

“Okay, did you not hear her? Liz has a crush on you.” He explained and you could feel your heart drop to your feet, and Peter was about to step over it.

“On Spider-man, not him.” You butted as Peter opened his mouth to say something.

“Come on (y/n), be serious.” He chuckled. Only if he knew, you were dead serious, “You’re an avenger man! If anyone has a chance with a senior girl, it’s you! Stop pining after her and just make a move.” Ned announced before walking ahead, leaving you and Peter with your thoughts.

So he liked Liz? And he told Ned but not you?

Peter didn’t seem to notice your face drop, “We need to go to that party.” He smiled, swinging your hands as you moved to your locker.

———

“Peter, I think you need to see a doctor.” You told him as your eyebrows furrowed.

“And tell him what (y/n)? A spider bit me and I got powers, my vision is better and my senses got developed? That sounds terrible.” He shook his head. Now that he mentioned, you noticed that he wasn't wearing his glasses and his shirt did look two sizes smaller for him, “Wanna take a picture? It’ll last longer.” He chuckled. Suddenly, heat rushed to your cheeks and you felt embarrassed under his stare. You felt intimidated by him, you felt different with him, a good different of course. He was much more confident and snarky than the Peter you knew.

“What if it’s something serious?” You tried diverting the topic, thankfully he didn’t question you anymore.

“Don't worry so much (y/n). Anyway, I don’t think our family doctor could tell what it is.” He said and you nodded along. A silence fell over the room for a few moments. Peter could hear your, now calm, heartbeat and he wanted to get close to you, incredibly close, like he’s never been before. You were in your most casual clothes and without any makeup but he still found you enchanting. He was feeling different with you than before, a good different of course. 

“So can you do anything cool?” You asked, eyes shining with adoration.

He laughed, “Name it.”

———

You could sense nervous and scared vibes radiating off Peter as he sat in the passenger seat of May’s old, dingy car. You were sitting beside Ned. May was really happy that his nephew was finally being social and normal like other teenagers and not being stuck with a billionaire in his office and arranging paperwork for him. She was already very proud of Peter, everyone  was, and the internship has got him in his head all the time, so busy that he had no time to spend with friends or her.

May pulled up in front of Liz’s house and bent down a little to get a look at the venue. She nodded her head in approval before looking back to you and Ned and complimenting him on his hat. You giggled, trying to ignore the way Peter looked uncomfortable.

“This is a mistake.” He said, looking out the window, at the number of people rushing into the house, “Hey, let’s just go home.” He looked between you and May with pleading eyes.

“Come on Pete, we’re here already, you can do this!” You encouraged. May nodded before starting about how his body was going through changes. You could barely hold your laughter in as Peter chuckled, “Okay, I think we should go.” He said, opening the door and getting out immediately.

You lagged behind as both the boys moved in through the door only to be met with teenagers dancing and mingling with each other over the loud music. Flash was the DJ tonight, you rolled your eyes at him. You watched Peter with worried eyes as you moved next to him, slipping your hand in his and squeezing it gently. The gesture was so simple yet it calmed his nerves down and he gave you a grateful smile before Ned started explaining his plan about how Spider-man would enter the party.

You were again drowning in your thoughts, focusing on rubbing soft circles on the back of Peter’s hand when a high pitched voice brought you back to reality, “Oh my gosh, hey guys! Cool hat Ned!” Liz complimented, “(Y/n), you look so stunning!”

You passed her a genuine smile, after all the girl was really, very sweet, “You look very beautiful yourself Liz!” You complimented back.

“Hi Liz.” Ned greeted and Peter followed with a squeaky voice. Poor boy, didn’t know how to converse with a girl, well except you. That or he didn’t think of you as a girl.

“So glad you guys are here.” She said, being the great host she is. Her gaze went down to your and Peter’s still interwoven fingers, “Hey, are you guys finally together? Can’t believe I won the bet-” She stopped herself before she could speak any further and pointed towards your hands.

Both of you looked down at your hands. Peter was the first one to immediately retract his hand from yours. You felt unwanted as he frantically started explaining to Liz that ‘It’s not what it looks like!’ 

“We’re just friends, nothing more.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the slightest rocking back and forth visible in his body. Your chest tightened, a mere few words and actions making your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

You wish you could be something more with Peter,  but it was no use when he saw you as ‘just friends.’

Taglist:

@lauras-collection @afictionaladventure16 @rcmxnoff @euphoria-parker @drunklili @farfromhaz @fanficparker @the-crazy-fanfictionist @spideyyeet @spideygirl2003 @quackeroos @smilexcaptainx @negando-lo-negativo @cherryredparker @fatnb @itsbuckyb1tch @allegra-soleil @dear-selena @notasofti @corneliastarks @starktonyx @starlight-starks @lovabletomholland @rubberducky-jrr @audreylovesashton706 @ironholland19 @kitkatd7 @hollanddolanfangirl @tommysparker @tom-holland-is-spiderman @cucumberfingers @domisatop @terrifictomholland @mirukobecomingbothered @wherewecomealive @hoe-forharry @hollandstea

@tom-holland-is-spiderman @anjali750

Sorry if the tags didn't work 😅 tell me if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist.❤

I'll be waiting for y'all's response...

Liked it? Let's talk about it!

[teaplease1717]

Fireworks

Title: Fireworks

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto x Yaoyorozu Momo

Chapters: 1 of 3

Rating: G+

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685007/chapters/65087851

A little late, but happy second year writing anniversary to me! Wahoo! Thank you everyone who has supported me over the last year. It sure has been crazy, but seriously all your love, kudos, and comments have kept me going. THANK YOU!

This is a small 3 part story that was originally going to be a one shot, but got really long. And since I hate long chapters decided to break it up into 3 parts. All the parts are done but won't be posted until they've been beta read.

Shout out to all my betas for this work: FlourChildWrites, Emberstork, Crazyelf2018 and C's Melody ! (thanks also to Taq too for calming me down when I was a spaz, and Revaliciousness for doing a final read)

And, staying on the topic of betas, HUGE shout outs to my betas for the entire year: C’s Melody and FlourChildWrites. They’ve been helping kick Ashes of Love and War into shape and seriously I could not have done it without them. Any beautiful imagery is thanks to FlourChildWrites pushing me to be more descriptive. And, although as readers you probably can’t see it, C’s Melody has helped with the story flow and advised where scenes didn’t hit. Both have pushed me to be a better writer and I’ve learned so much from them, so thank you!

To celebrate my anniversary, I’m throwing everything I’ve learned into this piece. Last year, my big takeaway was how to keep a scene in one character’s pov and I got better at adding movement to bring a scene to life. This year, I think my biggest improvements have been learning when to use commas vs periods in dialogue and how to make sentences shorter and to the point.

Other notes, this piece was heavily inspired by Kaguya-sama: Love is War. I watched both seasons of Kaguya-sama and fell absolutely in love. I’m not usually into those kinds of romantic comedy stories but this show killed me. So now you all have to put up with my TodoMomo version of the fireworks episode.

XXXXXX

“I’ve got it!” Ashido’s chair screeched back, and she slammed her hands down onto the dorm’s dining table, causing Momo to start. Hagakure’s fingers paused in Momo’s hair as Ashido looked excitedly between the class 2-A girls. “We should go to the Sumidagawa festival!”

It had been a month since the last of the cherry blossoms had fallen, and the brisk chill of spring had given way to the cloying heat of summer. With the changing seasons and their fast-approaching summer break, an infectious excitement had taken root in class 2-A.

Unlike their first year, when they had been shipped off to the mountains to train, the summer of the class’ second year was looking to be far more tame. No training camps. No extra classes. Besides their mandatory part-time internships for the holidays, U.A. was leaving the students to enjoy their second-year summer in relative peace. And no one appeared more excited about this than Ashido Mina, who had called an ‘emergency’ girls meeting to discuss possible options.

“Sumidagawa?” Momo repeated slowly. She could feel Hagakure’s fingers scrape lightly against her scalp as she resumed braiding her hair. Momo looked down and pressed the knuckle of her index finger to her chin, trying to remember where she had heard the name before. She had only been to a festival once before — during first year, with Todoroki Shouto.

Momo felt her heart stutter in the manner she was growing accustomed to when thinking about her seatmate. Recently, her mind had grown prone to fixating and overanalyzing Todoroki Shouto’s words and actions. And, in particular, one of her favorite moments to focus on was their time together exploring and watching fireworks at the Ennichi festival.

She shifted in her chair, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles from her lace night shorts.  Her fingers caught at the edge of the fabric and Momo wrapped the end around her finger.  There was no reason for her to be thinking about it this much. Todoroki showing up at the festival had been a coincidence. And his decision to escort her was an act of kindness that any hero in training would extend to a fellow classmate. So why? Why did her mind insist on returning to that night, over and over?

It must be because Todoroki had never expressed interest in spending time with her before that night. In fact, up until the sports festival, he had seemed the solitary type, uninterested in getting to know anyone in their class. The fact that he felt comfortable enough to open up to her, of all people, about his family made her chest swell with happiness.

“It’s super, super amazing!” Ashido continued excitedly, drawing Momo out of her thoughts. “And it’s not too far from here. We have to go.”

The name finally clicked, and Momo looked up at the girls surrounding the table. “Ah, I’ve seen the Sumidagawa fireworks from my room before.” She held up a finger and smiled. “It’s a historic event that can be traced back to the Kyoto famine in 1732, when fireworks were launched as part of festivals for the dead –“  

“No!” Ashido interrupted, crossing her arms into an ‘x’ above her head. “That’s not why we are going, Yaomomo!”

“Vice President, that’s not it at all,” Hagakure chastised lightly from behind her, her invisible fingers pausing their task of pleating Momo’s hair into a braid. “The festival is about fireworks, food stalls, and yukatas.”

“Exactly!” Ashido’s voice cracked as she nodded in agreement.

“They’ll have so much good food,” Uraraka echoed from across the table, cupping her cheeks. “Okonomiyaki, yaki imo, takayaki...”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Hagakure said, unintentionally yanking a section of Momo’s hair, making her flinch. “And they’ll have your favorite Uraraka-chan — mochi!”

“Mochi!” Uraraka’s voice grew shrill on the word. Her expression lit up as if she already tasted it.

Momo hid a giggle behind her hand.

“It would definitely be a fun summer activity, kero,” Asui added, tapping her chin and smiling. “My sister gave me a new hair clip that I’ve been meaning to wear.”

“I’m sure the guys would love to go too,” Uraraka said, pressing her fingers together, except for her pinkies which stuck up in the air.

Jirou raised an eyebrow as she looked across the table at Uraraka. “Are we inviting the guys? Or keeping it just us?” she asked, twirling her earphone jack around her finger.

“I think we should include them,” Uraraka said thoughtfully. “It would be fun to do something all together.”

Ashido leaned closer to Uraraka, a grin twisting across her lips. “So sly, Urarka-chan,” she said, elbowing her in the side. “You just want to hang out with Mi-do-ri-ya, don’t you?” she whispered in a sing-song tone. The black of her eyes glittered suggestively.

Uraraka flushed. “No! It’s nothing like that,” she said, waving her hands in front of herself frantically. Her eyes glanced around the living room quickly. It was deserted except for them. Uraraka’s shoulders relaxed and she leaned back in her chair. “I just…” she trailed off, dropping her gaze down to the table. Her expression turned whimsical. “It's just maybe our last year that we can do something like this — all together — before we graduate.”

Momo’s chest tightened.

“Ochako-chan,” Asui said; her voice was soft. She reached over to rub Uraraka’s back.

Everyone’s expressions fell as the reality of Uraraka’s words hung over them. Once they became third years, they’d be busy interning and applying to agencies; they wouldn’t have time to spend going to festivals. And, even if they did, the likelihood that they would all have the same evening off on one of Japan’s busiest days of the year was slim.

Momo bit her lip. She had enjoyed seeing the fireworks last year at Ennichi with Todoroki  —

Todoroki.

Would this be the last chance she’d get to see them with him? Momo's heart dropped.

Ashido’s expression flickered, and she straightened. “That settles it,” she said firmly, curling her left hand into a loose fist and pounding it against her right palm. Her eyes were intent. “Let’s invite everyone. We have to live this up if it’s going to be our last summer that we can all hang out together!”

Momo nodded, her spirits lifting at Ashido’s words. “I can speak to Iida-san about the planning.”

Ashido gave her a thumbs up. “Perfect!”

“And we have to dress up,” Hagakure stressed.

Ashido’s expression lit up. “Of course! If we are going to take pictures, we got to look good.”

“If we are going to dress up, I think I’ll have to go buy a new yukata,” Jirou said, a small smile pulling at her lips.

Momo felt a rush of excitement. “I know a wonderful shop that sells yukatas!” She laid her hand over her chest and smiled brightly. “Why don't we go together? And anyone else who needs one is welcome to join us, of course!”

"Oh! To be expected of our Vice President," Hagakure said. Her voice was filled with admiration.

Momo’s cheeks warmed under the praise as she watched the elastic sitting on the table float up and disappear behind her head. She felt Hagakure’s fingers thread the ends of her hair through the band and release the loose braid with a snap.

“Then that settles it. The Sumidagawa festival it is!” Ashido cried, pumping her fist into the air. “Summer here we come!”

XXXXXX

Momo took a sip of her lavender tea, then tilted her head back to stare at the vase of wisteria flowers that sat on the shelf above her vanity. It had been an hour since Ashido’s summer planning meeting had ended. She should be going to bed, but her usual bedtime ritual didn’t seem to be calming her eager thoughts.

Her stomach fluttered. She dropped her gaze back down to stare blankly at the chemistry encyclopedia that laid open in front of her.

It sounded fun — going to the festival with everyone — with him.

Her hands curled tighter around her warm cup, and she smiled to herself. Last year, Todoroki had escorted her through the Ennichi festival, but they had both been too new to the experience to do anything more than explore the stalls.

Perhaps, going back this year, she could try some of the food Uraraka had mentioned, maybe even play street games. Would Todoroki want to escort her once more? Her heartbeat increased. And what if he complimented her on her yukata again?

‘It suits you.’  

Heat spread across her face, staining her cheeks pink. Momo shook her head. Placing her cup down on her desk, her lips thinned. This was going to be a class activity. A class activity. Not — whatever it was her mind seemed to be hoping for.

Momo sighed, then straightened in her chair, and forced herself to inhale slowly through her nose.

Seriously, she was in the hero course. There was no time for these sudden and confusing teenage feelings.

Momo closed her chemistry encyclopedia and pushed it to the top of her desk. Then leaned down and pulled out the blue notebook from her school bag that she had designated for class representative activities.

If she wasn’t going to go to sleep or study, the least she could do was start thinking of possible festival activities to discuss with Iida after class tomorrow. She opened her notebook to a new page and smoothed out the paper. She picked up her pen and, in careful lettering, wrote ‘Sumidagawa’ at the top.

Leaning back in her seat, Momo tapped the end of her ballpoint pen to her lip. Besides fireworks, they’d need to make sure there were enough other events to keep everyone happy.

She tried to think back to what Todoroki and she had enjoyed last year and froze. Her throat closed as she realized, with shame, that she didn’t even know if Todoroki had enjoyed the Ennichi festival.

Her stomach twisted.

Now that she thought about it, Todoroki had never suggested anything or acted in a way that might imply that he thought of the night as special or enjoyable in any way. In fact, he had even said that he had felt out of place.

Momo took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Had she just been projecting her own thoughts onto him this entire time? Could it be…had he hated it?

A sharp wave of guilt struck her, and Momo felt her stomach drop in disappointment. All this time, she had been thinking about the Ennichi festival as such a magical night without ever considering Todoroki’s feelings.

Momo opened her eyes and set her pen down on her desk. Then she slumped forward and buried her head in her arms. She was so selfish and presumptuous.

How could she have forgotten that Todoroki had revealed that he had felt out of place? Festivals were for families, he had said. And, although he had never elaborated on it, his expression had been drawn in a way that alluded to the fact that his family wasn’t on the best of terms.

Slowly, Momo sat back up. She pulled her hands into her lap and curled them into fists. Perhaps, if they were all going as a class, Todoroki would feel differently? Maybe he would have a better time than when it was just the two of them…

Momo swallowed over a lump in her throat, and set her jaw, shoving away her insecurity as she picked up her pen. She wouldn’t let herself get down.

Last year, her attending Ennichi had been a selfish, impulse decision, one she made against her mother's wishes because Uraraka and Hagakure made it sound like an experience every person should have at least once. Momo would plan better this year.

She straightened in her chair and picked up her pen again. The key to a good event was preparation. And, if there was one thing Momo excelled at, it was planning.

‘You’re good at that sort of thing.’

Momo dropped her pen with a small squeak at the unbidden memory from Todoroki and her midterm battle against Aizawa. Her heart raced. Where had that come from?

Her fingers fidgeted as they pulled her braid over her shoulder. She drew in a deep breath and absently played with the ends of her hair as she tried to calm down.

It must be her subconscious reminding Momo to trust in herself. Just as Todoroki had believed in her and voted for her to be class president - because he thought she’d be good at it. Her heart rose in her chest.

Yes. That must be it.

She breathed deeply and released her hair. Todoroki was right. Planning was her area of expertise. She could do this.

Momo squared her shoulders and picked up her pen again. She would use these emotions — the guilt and disappointment in herself — to make sure Todoroki would have the best time this year. And not just Todoroki. If this was the last chance they all had to hang out together and see fireworks, she would just have to make sure that everyone had the best time possible.

However, even as she thought this, Momo couldn’t stop her sixteen-year-old heart from beating a little faster at the idea of once again looking up at a night sky, full of fireworks, with the boy she admired most.

And maybe this time she would know for certain that he wanted to be there just as much as she did.

XXXXXX

Shouto felt his stomach do a strange flip. She was humming.

He had never heard Yaoyorozu hum before. It was quiet, barely noticeable, and he probably would have missed it if he wasn’t sitting next to her. But it wasn’t just the humming that was different. There had been a determined gleam in Yaoyorozu’s gaze all day that had drawn his attention and made his chest tighten.

Maybe he had heartburn?

He watched her from the corner of his eye as he slowly slid his pencil case into his school bag. Yaoyorozu continued to ignore him as she scribbled determinedly in a blue notebook that he recognized as the one she used for her class representative duties. Her lips curved up into a faint smile.

“Did something happen?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Yaoyorozu paused and turned to look up at him. Her dark eyes blinked innocently. “Todoroki-san?”

The school day had ended a few minutes ago, and the other students of class 2-A had already filed out. Iida had gone to use the restroom, leaving Yaoyorozu and him alone in the classroom.

Shouto had never been the type to rush, but somehow, hearing Yaoyrozu humming had slowed his feet down more than usual. His hand tightened on his notebook as he picked it up and slid it into his school bag next to his pencil kit.

“I was just wondering if something happened? You seem happier today.”

Yaoyorozu’s expression flickered, and then lit in understanding. "Mhm. I guess I am," she said, sitting back in her chair.  She tucked her loose bangs behind her ear, then raised her head. Her dark eyes glittered as they met his. “Last night, the other girls and I were discussing a possible summer outing over the holiday break — one that we could do as a class. We were thinking of scheduling an event to go see the fireworks at the Sumidagawa festival. I’m going to meet with Iida-san now to discuss the arrangements.”

Shouto nodded. He closed his bag and pulled the strap over his shoulder as he straightened. “I see. I’m sure everyone would like that.”

"Right?!"

Shouto jumped despite himself. Yaoyorozu’s hand shot up to cover her mouth.

“Sorry.” A light bashful red dusted across her cheeks. She dropped her hand and looked down at her notebook. A small, embarrassed smile tugged at her lips. "I guess I’m more excited than I thought I’d be.”

He stared at her. Something about an excited Yaoyorozu made his chest tighten. It was like the way her whole face lit up talking about chemistry — raw, unfiltered. So different than him. After a moment, the red across her cheeks deepened, and Shouto realized he was taking too long to respond.

“It’s okay,” he said, avoiding her gaze as she looked back up at him, her eyes searching his face. Shouto cleared his throat. “I think it’s good to do something as a class.”

Yaoyorozu’s expression warmed. “I agree.” Her smile returned. “I've actually gotten really into the preparation. I want this to be a memorable event, so I’m going to do my best to plan properly so everyone has a good time."

Shouto looked down at the notebook opened on her desk. A list of activities, dates, and what looked like restaurants was listed in neat calligraphy.

He snorted. She really was good at these types of things. That's why he had voted for her as class rep after all.

Yaoyorozu was a leader; she was smart, dedicated, and had always been the type to go out of her way to think of others. Even last year, when they had gone together to the Ennichi festival, she had been more concerned with his feelings than making sure she had a good time.

Shouto swallowed and curled his left hand into a fist at his side. The memory of watching the fireworks with Yaoyorozu still felt surreal.

During the sports festival, Shouto had told Midoriya what had happened with his family, but he had a purpose when he had done that. Midoriya was a rival, and Shouto needed him to understand why he was going all out to defeat him. But with Yaoyorozu, it had been the first time he had voluntarily spoken about his family to someone who was not involved. He still didn’t quite understand what had made him decide — after fifteen years — to open up that night. He had just felt comfortable.

His heart beat faster at the memory.

That’s right. Yaoyorozu was that type of person. She was dependable and could make others feel at ease.

Shouto looked back at her. Warmth spread in his chest. She really was going to be a great hero.

Yaoyorozu’s expression flickered. "What-What is it?" She reached up and touched her cheek as if feeling for something. "Is there something on my face?"

Shouto shook his head, eyes softening. "No." He felt his lips twitch. "It's just...you're amazing, Yaoyorozu."

Her eyes widened, red returning to spread across her cheeks. “Eh?”

“Planning an event so that there is something for everyone to enjoy. I’m sure you’ll be able to do it.”

“Well…I hope you will enjoy it too,” she stuttered quickly.

His lips flicked up slightly. “I’m sure I will if you’re the one planning it,” he said.

He looked up as the classroom door slid open with a clack, and Iida walked in, smiling brightly.

Shouto’s throat felt tight. He swallowed and reached up to adjust the strap of his bag, unsure why he suddenly felt annoyed by his friend’s arrival.

He rolled his jaw, as sudden impulsive words clawed up his throat.

“I look forward to escorting you again,” he said as he turned and made his way out of the classroom. His heart raced. He cleared his throat as he discreetly activated his right side to cool his suddenly warm insides.

He would definitely need to talk to Recovery Girl if this continued.

XXXXXX

Momo read over the text message again. “How does this sound?”

“Yaomomo, it’s fine.”

She looked up from her phone. Jirou was sprawled across her king-sized bed, flipping absentmindedly through a magazine advertising the latest guitar models. “You’ve read it over a hundred times already,” Jirou added in a flat voice without looking up.

Momo’s lips thinned. Then she glanced back down at the screen, scanning the text again. She was grateful Iida had graciously agreed to let her handle the details of the planning, but now that she was drafting the invite, Momo couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious about the whole thing.

What if everyone hated the restaurant she chose? Was shopping for yukatas three weeks beforehand even enough time to find the perfect one?  However, what worried her the most, sitting like a heavy, black piece of coal in the back of her mind, was what Todoroki would think of her plan - especially after telling her he’d escort her. And what exactly had he even meant by telling her he’d escort her again?

Momo bit her lip. “But what if someone has a question…”

“Then, they can ask you.” Jirou finally looked up from the magazine and met Momo’s gaze. She quirked an eyebrow. “What’s really the matter? You’ve been fidgety all evening.”

Momo sighed. “I just want the night to be perfect. I was talking to Todoroki-san earlier- ”

“What did the Ice Prince say to you?” Jirou interrupted. The bed squeaked as Jirou sat up abruptly, and her eyes narrowed. “Do you need me to slug him?”

“No!” Momo sat back in surprise. As much as she loved Jirou, Momo was still not used to how quickly she would threaten violence against the guys of their class, especially towards her new boyfriend, Kaminari.

Jirou Kyouka and Kaminari Denki had begun dating at the beginning of the year, after what had been careful persuasion, and in Momo’s opinion, an unreasonable amount of pining between the two. It had been Momo who had finally convinced Kaminari to confess to her friend.

“Todoroki-san didn’t say anything. He was very kind. He just said that if I’m the one planning, then the event will surely be enjoyable…”

Jirou’s expression relaxed. “Oh, is that it?” She sat back down and crossed her legs. “Then why are you overthinking this?”

Momo sighed. “I-I just feel so badly.” She looked down. Her fingers fidgeted with her phone.  “Last year, Todoroki-san was so kind and escorted me to Ennichi, but I was horrible and never even thought about his feelings on being there. He probably hated it...”

“You’re not horrible, Yaomomo. And I doubt he hated it if he was with you.”

“But last year he said - !" Momo hesitated, her heart sinking at the thought that her telling Jirou about him feeling out of place could be a betrayal of his confidence. "He just...didn't look like he enjoyed himself. And I'm scared that people won't enjoy this either..."

Jirou gave her a look. “Yaomomo, you’re worrying too much. First off,” she said, holding up her finger, “Todoroki wouldn’t have stayed with you if he hated it.” She raised another finger. “Second, everyone is going to have fun, no matter what happens. It will just be great to all be together.” She dropped her hand back to her lap.

“Maybe…” Momo said, avoiding Jirou’s gaze.

“Look.” One of Jirou’s earphone jacks rose in the air and pointed at Momo. “I know you are worried about Todoroki, but he isn’t the type of guy who would do something he doesn’t want to. And the fact that he stayed with you all night — when he was still just getting out of his early-roki stage — means that he wanted to see the festival just as much as you did.”

Momo nodded slowly, and then looked away to stare down at her hands for a few seconds.

Jirou exhaled through her nose. “I know there is something else on your mind. Tell me,” she coaxed, getting on her knees and crawling to the edge of the bed to sit by Momo’s chair.

Momo bit her lip. “He...” She paused for a moment. “He also said that he was looking forward to escorting me again.” Her voice was small. She could feel heat curl around her ears as she whispered the words she had been thinking about all evening.

Jirou’s eyes widened faintly. “Oh, that’s exciting,” Jirou said, leaning forward. “And what did you say?”

She shook her head. “He walked away before I could respond…."

Jirou snorted. “Well, that’s still exciting. Congratulations on finally moving forward with the Ice Prince.”

Momo felt her face grow warmer. “Co-congratulations?” Her voice squeaked slightly at the end.

“Yaomomo.” Jirou’s lips curved up into a grin. “You don’t have to be shy. You’ve liked him since forever, haven’t you?”

“Eh?” Momo cupped her face. Her cheeks were burning. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”

Her chest felt tight.

Jirou’s smile widened; she shook her head. Then she leaned forward and poked Momo’s side. “Yaomomo, you’re too cute.”

Momo wanted to hide. Did she really like Todoroki? Well, of course, she liked Todoroki. But, like ‘like’?

Was that why she had been thinking about Todoroki more? And was that why she had been overanalyzing his words all evening?

Momo’s heart rate increased. She certainly admired him and thought him an excellent student and friend, and — okay, maybe she did like Todoroki, but only… if she was going to think about it scientifically, as much as a beaker. Well, maybe a little more than a beaker. Perhaps a flask. A tall, well-made flask ...

Momo hid her face in her hands. She was ruined. How could she have not known?

“Yaomomo, you don’t have to get so flustered. Everyone knows.” She could hear the smile in Jirou’s voice.

“Everyone?” Momo asked in disbelief. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

“Well, everyone but Todoroki...probably. But it’s okay, since he likes you too.”

Momo dropped her hands. “You’re wrong. He couldn’t possibly like me.”

Jirou smiled surreptitiously. “I don’t know about that.”

Momo shook her head. “Even if he did like me as more than friends — which he doesn’t — he has never made any suggestions."

“What about him saying he will escort you again?”

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Momo said hurriedly. “He meant going as a class.”

Didn’t he?

Momo’s heart fluttered like hummingbird wings in her chest. No. Jirou was wrong. She was planting ideas in Momo’s head.

It was one thing for Jirou to know Momo’s heart, she was her best friend after all, but it was entirely different for her to presume to know Todoroki’s.

“Hmm,” Jirou hummed, looking at her thoughtfully. “Why don’t you just ask him, then?”

“No! I can’t.” Momo leaned forward and grasped Jirou’s hand. “And please, you can’t say anything either. Not to anyone.”

Jirou’s eyes softened. “Okay, okay. I won’t say anything. I promise.” She patted Momo’s hand.

Momo felt her shoulders relax. That was right. Todoroki didn’t like her, because if he did, that would mean Jirou was right and Momo was wrong — which wouldn’t make sense. Momo was the smartest student of their grade. There was no way that she would have missed the signs that he liked her.

Would she?

XXXXXX

Notes:

Ennichi Festival – this is from the Boku no Hero drama CD. Hagakure and Uraraka see a flier for the Ennichi festival and decide to go. They end up telling Momo and asking if she wants to join them, but Momo says she will pass because her mother doesn’t approve of street festivals. Uraraka and Hagakure then leave, and Momo wonders if she made the right decision. Feeling like she is missing out, Momo makes a yukata and goes to the festival by herself, but ends up getting nervous and is loitering by the entrance when Todoroki finds her. They end up walking around together, as neither have been to a festival before. The story ends with Momo asking if Todoroki enjoys the festival and him revealing that he feels out of place because festivals seem like something fun for families. He is about to leave when the fireworks go off. You can watch the full thing on youtube under boku no hero drama cd Ennichi festival.

Earlyroki - this is a slight spoiler for later in the manga. The class uses it to refer to Todoroki’s early emo stage of the first two seasons.

Sumidagawa festival – An actual festival in Japan. The Sumidagawa Fireworks Festival is an annual fireworks festival held on the last Saturday in July. They are known for having the biggest, most spectacular fireworks display of all Japan festivals with stunning pyrotechnic displays of over 20,000 fireworks launched in 90 minutes! (per Google)

[unbealevable]

IF MY BODY HAD A SAY, I WOULDN’T TURN AWAY ➝ BECHLOE.

TAGGING ➝ Chloe Beale, Beca Mitchell.

LOCATION ➝ Apartment, Prospect Park, dance studio, apartment again.

TIME FRAME ➝ 2/14, afternoon onward.

WARNINGS ➝ None.

NOTES ➝ Beca and Chloe spend a not at all gay Valentine’s Day together. Emotional!Beca. Sad!Chloe. Exotic Dancer!Chloe. Super platonic napping together!Bechloe.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca shuffled through the apartment door around noon on Sunday as she normally did after Jesse weekend visits--clutching a cardboard cup carrier with 3 large coffees and a bag of bagels with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. She felt bad leaving Chloe for two nights with the kittens alone, but she couldn’t just leave Jesse to himself after he spent money on airfare for what turned out to be a very different, way more permanent weekend visit. 

Her mind spun after he’d broken the news to her during their Friday night date, and she’d sort of been dissociating throughout the rest of the weekend, lost in a fog in his shoebox apartment he was super proud of. Having Jesse living in NYC would completely change a long distance dynamic she’d grown used to and comfortable with for the past two years. They could see each other all the time. Hell, she’d probably be expected to move in with him. 

And yet… as she closed the door behind her and lay eyes on Chloe, her heart cracked in her chest. She didn’t want to leave their tiny, shitty apartment. She didn’t want to leave Chloe. And what that meant… Beca wasn’t sure she was ready to face that, even though Jesse put her in a position now to face the music. 

“Hey, Dr. B,” she greeted with a smile that pulled a bit strained at the edges, setting her bag down before extending the coffee cup to Chloe. Then she shrugged off her coat, unwound her scarf, and peeled off her slouchy beanie, hanging them all up on the coat rack by the door. “How’re you doing? Get enough sleep? I’ll take over kitten duty today so you can take a really long nap if you need one.”

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe really didn’t know exactly what it was about Jesse that she didn’t like. He was fine, he was a nice guy, and he obviously made Beca happy enough, considering how long they’d been together. He had never done anything wrong to her, but she just...didn’t like him. So, weekends like this one, with Beca out of the apartment and spending time alone with Jesse always dampened Chloe’s mood, even if she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Fortunately, she had the kittens this weekend to keep her busy, and they certainly did a good job at that. Even sleeping, which was something Chloe always found incredibly hard without Beca beside her these days, came a little more easily to her, since she was so exhausted. But Chloe didn’t mind; she liked having somebody to care for, five little kittens who needed her, so she wasn’t complaining.

By the time Beca returned, Chloe was sure that exhaustion was written clear as day all over her tired face, but she still pushed a bright grin to her lips, eyes shining as they shot to the coffee cups. She was busy by the sink, cleaning the milk syringes while the kittens slept, but paused to float across the room, eager to accept a drink.

“Hi!” Making grabby hands at the coffee cup, Chloe pulled it tightly to her chest, letting out a contented hum at the very smell. She eyed Beca as she finally took a sip, head shaking in response. “No, it’s okay. It was a good weekend, they all ate a lot and did a bunch of sleeping. Their eyes all open now. I mean, they don’t really stay all the way open, but they’re getting better at it.” Chloe smiled triumphantly. “I’m teaching tonight, though. So are you going to be okay with them for a couple hours then?”

BECA MITCHELL

Cheeks still flushed from her long walk through the cold, Beca carried her large coffee to Chloe’s side of the bed and sat down, grinning at the kittens. “Hey, little goblins! I missed you guys!” She reached into their makeshift bed and stroked their fur, gasping in an over dramatic fashion. “Whaaat? No way! You guys are all opening your eyes? Even you, Purple Princess? And I missed it?? I’ll forgive you but that’s amazing!” 

Her head turned back toward Chloe when she mentioned she was teaching tonight, nodding. “Yeah, no sweat. I’ll even make dinner, too. Any requests?”

CHLOE BEALE

Despite the fact that she was around animal lovers all day at both school and her internship, all people who fawned over them and spoke in baby voices whenever they so much as saw an animal, Chloe was almost positive she was never going to not smile at the way Beca acted around the kittens. There was just something overly adorable about her scrappy best friend turning into mush, it made Chloe’s heart flutter.

Plopping down onto Beca’s side of the bed, Chloe laid back against the pillows, resting her drink on her stomach with her fingers wrapped around the cup. “You spoil me,” she teased, glancing toward the ceiling. “I don’t know yet, I’ll think about it.” Mostly to be polite, she added with a small hum, “How was your weekend?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca had always complained about their apartment, but it had become home in the way the Bellas' house had back at Barden. Not necessarily because of the space itself, but because of her roommates. Her best friends. The thought of leaving someday soon to move in with Jesse… it should’ve been exciting, but it wasn’t.

She carefully scooped up her little Green guy, twisting to lie on Chloe’s pillow in a half-reclining position. Setting the coffee aside, she situated the baby kitten atop her chest (higher up, so as to not brush against her still sore nips). “Good,” she said with a slight shrug. It was easier to keep her focus on the kitten, carding her fingers through his fuzzy fur atop his head. “Jesse moved here.” Saying it aloud made it more real, and anxiety surged in her gut. She knew she should’ve smiled or something, but she remained weirdly emotionally distant instead. Like she was keeping that packaged and set aside to maybe poke at and pick through later. 

CHLOE BEALE

Jesse moved here.

For some reason, Chloe’s heart dropped.

It wasn’t a bad thing—it would be awesome for both Beca and Jesse; Chloe had always thought long distance must suck, so she knew she should be happy for them. It didn’t take a genius, however, to figure out what Beca’s long-term boyfriend moving to their city would mean. She’d known that this wouldn’t be forever, this cramped set up in their tiny apartment with their shared pull-out bed, but the thought didn’t make Chloe any less sad.

She had no right to be, though, so instead of saying so, she tilted her head to glance up at Beca. “Oh?” she questioned, offering Beca the most sincere smile she could manage. “That’s really exciting, Bec.” So why didn’t Beca seem excited? Chloe studied her expression for a moment, before adding softly, “Right?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca had always been a shitty liar. She had no poker face and she knew it. Especially around someone like Chloe, who could read her better than she could read herself. So she knew her smile pulled more like a wince, strained at its edges and completely unconvincing. She didn’t bother meeting Chloe’s eyes, knowing she’d see the swirling conflicting emotions there--sadness, worry, fear. Guilt. So much guilt.

“Yeah, it’s exciting. I had no idea he was planning this, but…” She puffed out a chuckle more strained than her smile, her laughter ringing hollow. “He’s all about the grand romantic movie-type surprises. What a nerd, right?” 

CHLOE BEALE

Maybe it was just because Chloe had never had something like this before. After high school, she’d never had a serious boyfriend or girlfriend, so maybe she was just yearning a bit. Yeah, she decided, that had to be it. She should be happy for Beca; Beca was her best friend, she deserved to be so, so happy, and she deserved a best friend who was just as happy for her. So, Chloe pushed back her own feelings, and forced a brighter smile to her face.

“Super nerdy,” she agreed with a small nod of her head. “Definitely kind of romantic, though, right?” She made herself busy with her coffee cup, pushing herself upward a bit to take another sip. Her next question came before she could even stop herself, and with her gaze deliberately away from Beca. “So, you’re moving out?” To ask so aloud caused her heart to twist uncomfortably.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca had never really questioned her relationship. Jesse was an acapella boy, she was an acapella girl. They just… worked. It was easy. He was a great boyfriend, right? Loyal, funny, sweet. What more could she want?

The question stirred up a whole host of anxiety when she realized the answer was more. God, how greedy could she be? Jesse had to be enough for her. Hell, she barely even deserved him as it was. 

“Oh! Um--probably eventually, but not yet,” Beca said, finally gathering herself enough to cut a glance at Chloe. “I’d never leave you guys hanging with rent like that. Plus, I mean--I promised I’d help with these little guys and I wanna see that through. So you’re stuck with me a little while longer, Beale. Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Her lips twisted into a smirk despite the sad glint in her eye.

CHLOE BEALE

Although she mentally prepared herself for Beca to throw at her that she was leaving over the next couple days—because why wait, right?—the response that came broke her heart almost as much as the expected one would’ve. ‘Eventually’ would come sooner rather than later. Chloe didn’t mean to let her smile fall the way it did, but caught herself after only a quick pause, pushing it dutifully back into place. “Living with your boyfriend makes sense,” she said with a small shrug, suddenly very much aware of the fact that she needed to not be directly beside Beca right now.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she shuffled toward the kitchen, ignoring the uncomfortable swirl in her stomach. “Is it still cold outside?” she asked as she began fidgeting with the syringes again. They were already clean, but Chloe started the whole process over, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot. A walk sounded good right now.

BECA MITCHELL

Chloe wasn’t wrong. Living with her boyfriend definitely made sense. It should be exciting, not having to be long distance after spending two years dealing with Facetimes and only managing visits every other month or so.

So why did she feel so… not excited?

Especially when Chloe got up, putting distance between them. Taking in a shaky breath and focusing back on the kitten now curled up on her chest, Beca nodded. “Yeah. Freezing. Are you, um--going somewhere now?” Beca kinda hoped they could hang out. After a weekend away from Chloe, she kinda missed her… weird as that was. 

CHLOE BEALE 

Why she so adamantly needed to put a little distance between herself and Beca right now, Chloe wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d just gotten too dependent on her company, and realized she needed to get used to not being in it so much. The idea of actually leaving, though, after a whole weekend apart, really wasn’t the most appealing, so Beca’s response was apparently enough for her to talk herself out of it.

“Oh, okay,” she nodded, shoulder shrugging once again. “No. I was going to go for a walk maybe, but not if it’s still cold.” She could at least put the tiny apartment’s worth of distance between them, so Chloe hopped up onto the small counter, eyes down on the syringes she’d begun to dry.

BECA MITCHELL

“I could walk,” Beca blurted before she could really help it. “If you want company? I mean, it’s cold but we could bundle up. I just…” She blew out a puff of air. “I feel like I need to get out and move around all of a sudden.” Anything but being trapped in that apartment with Chloe and her shitty thoughts. She frowned at the box of kittens. “Unless--do they need me to stay? We can leave ‘em for like, half an hour or so, right? Do a lap around the park trail or something?” Chloe had just washed the syringes, which hopefully meant they were all fed and could spend a little time without their watchful eyes.

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe didn’t necessarily want to walk. Like Beca had said, it was freezing out, and she’d get plenty of exercise when she taught her exotic dancing class this evening. She just wanted to clear her mind, because Chloe might not know much of anything else right now, but she knew she was certainly not supposed to be feeling this sad about her best friend taking a normal next step with her boyfriend. Her gaze drifted toward Beca then, though, with Chloe tilting her head. “You want to walk with me?” she questioned, glancing briefly toward the dreary weather out the window. “They’re okay on their own for a little bit. They’re just sleeping right now, anyway.” She shot Beca a small smile, not her usual bright, excited one. “We can walk.”

BECA MITCHELL

While Beca bottled her emotions as best as she possibly could, Chloe wore hers on her sleeve. So even oblivious Beca sensed the shift in her mood--which Beca of course chalked up to the sadness at talking about Beca moving out in the near future. Beca was sad, too. Maybe a little too sad, but she’d always been bad at handling life transitions anyway. 

“Cool. Gimme a couple minutes.” Beca carefully settled Green Goblin back into his bed with his siblings before pushing out of bed. Then she made sure to dress in her warmest clothes, layering up shirts and socks with her puffy black coat, turquoise beanie, scarf, and mittens, and her combat boots laced up high.

Ten minutes later, Beca walked beside Chloe in comfortable silence as they headed toward Prospect Park. Thanks to the recent winter storm, the park trail was clear but a beautiful blanket of bright white snow reflected the sunlight overhead on the grassy grounds around them. Snow lined the branches of the leafless trees lining the path. (It kinda felt like a Kinkade painting, Beca mused in her head.) A stinging chill lingered in the air but at least it wasn’t actively snowing anymore. “So what’s your topic covering in class tonight?” Beca asked, half curious and half teasing as she forced a playful sort of smirk in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Does it involve a pole?”

CHLOE BEALE

Already wearing thick inner lined leggings and a sweater, Chloe shuffled around in near silence, only humming quietly to herself every now and then, as she dressed for their impromptu walk. She almost wished she’d taken Beca up on that nap offer instead, but soon she was dressed in a thick red coat, scarf, gloves and boots, and after checking on the sleeping kittens once more, she headed out into the cold by Beca’s side, grateful for the fresh air.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket—Tinder people were way more desperate on Valentine’s Day—but Chloe ignored it, instead just taking in the snow-covered surroundings. She lifted her head at the sound of Beca’s voice. “There’s always a pole involved,” Chloe grinned, clasping her gloved hands together as they walked. “Special Valentine’s class, though. Lots of sensual music… I’m basically going to be getting people worked up and then sending them home to their partners to finish Valentine’s Day the right way, huh?” Her nose wrinkled. “Shouldn’t you be spending the day with Jesse?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca snorted. “That’s super generous of you. I hope you get some good tips or whatever.” She wasn’t sure why, but she really didn’t like talking about Chloe’s side gig. No offense to exotic dancers or anything--Beca wasn’t judging them. It just made Beca feel weird thinking about Chloe doing that in front of people. Some of whom might be creepy weirdos.

At the mention of Valentine’s Day, Beca shook her head. “We basically considered yesterday Valentine’s Day since I always come home on Sunday. Told him I had work to do before I go back to the office tomorrow.” Which… wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t really the full truth? She didn’t have a pressing deadline, but she always had work she could be doing. 

Beca waited until they reached the snow-dusted Lullwater Bridge, standing in the center and turning to look out over the frozen water below. Hands in her pockets, her frozen breath escaped in a visible cloud. “I don’t know why I’m not stoked,” she muttered after a minute or so, barely audible.

CHLOE BEALE

“Always happy to help them,” Chloe winked. Someone might as well enjoy a wild Valentine’s night on her account; it wasn’t like Chloe was going to get one. At least she wasn’t alone, though. As much as she’d wanted to escape Beca’s presence before, she found that she was grateful for it now. The park looked super pretty, like something from a painting, and having her best friend by her side made it even better somehow.

As much as she didn’t want to think about how Beca and Jesse had spent their day-before-Valentine’s together—because nobody wanted to think about their best friend doing that, right?—a part of her was kind of curious. Especially after what Stacie had told her… Of course, she wasn’t going to bring that up, so Chloe only nodded. “Well, I’m sorry to Jesse, but I’m glad you’ll be my Valentine’s date. The kittens are super cute, but the conversation is always kind of one-sided.”

Naturally pausing at the same time, Chloe shuffled toward the wall of the bridge, peering down into the ice, then instinctively began to run her glove covered finger through the built up snow. It was very peaceful, in spite of the cold, and Beca’s volume seemed to be in keeping with the calmness around them, despite the actual words. Chloe glanced toward her, softened eyes studying her expression. “About Jesse?”

BECA MITCHELL

Lips pulled inward as she kept her eyes trained on the serene scene before her, her head jerked upward and bobbed a few times. Maybe she’d been second guessing her relationship for a while. Maybe a little longer than she cared to admit. But voicing it--dealing with it--Beca didn’t think she was strong enough to do that. 

Chloe never judged her. Even in Beca’s darkest moments, her best friend remained a constant source of support. Beca knew she wouldn’t judge her now. Not ever. 

She didn’t deserve Chloe.

Just like she didn’t deserve Jesse. 

Removing her hands from her pockets, she crossed her arms over her chest, clenching her jaw against the wave of emotion lodged in her throat. Beca didn’t realize a single tear had slipped free until a breeze picked up and it stung her cheek, and she hurried to brush it away with her mitten-covered knuckle. 

CHLOE BEALE

It wasn’t like Chloe was under the delusion that Beca and Jesse’s relationship was perfect. Again, Stacie had let a few things slip recently that would hint at the exact opposite, but Chloe didn’t fully understand Beca’s reaction.

She only watched her, continuing to study her expression, and in doing so watched as her eyes began to gloss over with a shine that completely tore Chloe’s heart in two. Back-stepping from the wall to move closer to Beca, Chloe reached out a gloved hand to settle comfortingly against her upper arm. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said in a softer voice, concern lacing her tone. “Bec, it’s a really big step, you know? You’ve been living really far apart for the last two years, I bet it has to be kind of scary that that’s going to change.” It wasn’t like Beca would even be able to feel it through her puffy coat, but Chloe gently ran her fingertips against her arm, hoping to soothe her somehow. “You’re allowed to be scared.”

BECA MITCHELL

“Shit. Sorry,” Beca croaked, willing herself to get her shit together. She didn’t want to lose it--not ever, really--but definitely not in front of anyone. Even Chloe. “I’m not scared.” Not of what Chloe was suggesting, at least. 

Despite herself and her innate desire to bolt, Beca leaned into Chloe instead, craving warmth and maybe a bit of comfort. Clearing her throat, she swallowed hard. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she muttered, blowing out another hard, decompressing breath. Gathering her courage, she glanced back to Chloe and forced a watery smile. “I’m fine. I’m really stressed, y’know? Work’s been a huge pain lately and I haven’t really been sleeping super great… but I’m fine.” The last thing she wanted was Chloe worrying about her. 

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe’s confusing feelings, her apparent devastation over something as silly as her best friend eventually moving out of their tiny apartment, paled significantly in comparison to Beca’s. Seeing Beca sad was a rarity, especially like this, and the protective part of her immediately pushed its way to the forefront, wanting to offer her any kind of comfort she could. “It’s okay,” she promised in the same soft voice, “Nobody should ever apologize for feeling.”

Stress sucked, Chloe knew what it could do to a person, but this just felt different somehow. Although she nodded along with Beca’s explanation, her hand slipped from Beca’s arm, until she could instead wrap her small frame in a one-armed hug. She expected Beca to push her off, of course, but whatever she could do to help, she’d try. In spite of herself, of wanting to agree and let Beca voice her feelings, Chloe let out a small sigh, head shaking gently this time. “I don’t think you’re fine, Bec.”

BECA MITCHELL

It honestly felt different than regular stress to Beca, too--but stress was as close as she could come to describing the sensations wracking her body. Like she wanted to run away for a while. (And Beca hated running, so that meant it was pretty serious.) She leaned into Chloe instead, trusting that gut instinct to not be alone right now. “Maybe I’m not,” she allowed, again knowing Chloe would figure out Beca’s feelings before Beca would based on their track record. But she really didn’t think she was ready to unpack anything right now. (Not that she’d ever be.) After a beat, she puffed out another strained chuckle. “Wow, I’m a pretty shitty Valentine’s date, huh?” 

CHLOE BEALE

Although she wasn’t going to push, Chloe also wasn’t going to let Beca battle her feelings alone. She waited patiently for Beca to think them through, arm tightening to hold her a little closer. Two grown women huddled together in the middle of the park probably looked weird to anybody passing by, but Chloe always found it easy to lose herself in their small bubble, so it didn’t matter to her. She nodded when Beca agreed, though let out a soft chuckle then. “I don’t know, you’re the best Valentine’s date I’ve had this year,” she tried, squeezing a little tighter, before letting go, hand once more settling against Beca’s arm. “Want me to get Charlotte to cover for me tonight? I don’t think she’ll mind. We can cuddle up with the kittens and watch a movie.” A mischievous smile stretched onto her lips. “A super cheesy one.”

BECA MITCHELL

One perk about the frigid temperature was the relative emptiness of a typically busy as hell park. Beca didn’t really care if anyone thought they were weird, anyway. (Plus, it was really hard to flip someone off while wearing mittens.) Regardless, she appreciated Chloe’s sensitivity and not pushing her to talk more. She shook her head when Chloe offered to cancel her class. “No, no. I’ll be fine, I promise. You go do your sexy dancer thing.” Beca took Chloe’s arm and tucked it through the crook of hers, urging her to keep on along the bridge. “C’mon. Let’s hit up the hot chocolate cart on the way back. My treat.” Least she could do for getting all emotional during what was supposed to be a chill walk.

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe loved all of the things that kept her busy, even her part-time job, but she mentally cursed herself for it today. Leaving Beca alone really did not sit well with her, even if she could probably use the space. “Fine, fine,” she relented with a wrinkle of her nose, though she brightened at her next idea. “Oh! Why don’t you come with me? You could just watch, or you could even try it yourself.” Her eyes widened with excitement at the very thought. “I bet Amy would be okay with watching the kittens for a couple hours while we’re gone.” Easily looping her arm through Beca’s, she allowed her to guide her along the bridge. “Oh, hot chocolate sounds really good right now,” Chloe said dreamily, instinctively tightening her arm.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca’s eyes popped wide at Chloe’s suggestion. “Come with you?” A nervous sort of chuckle escaped and she shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t even--I don’t think that’s my thing?” Part of her had been curious, ever since Chloe had mentioned this gig, what it was like. She had to admit, the idea of watching Chloe teaching exotic dancing might prove a little too tempting to ignore. (If only to make fun of her about it later, of course!) “I’ll think about it,” she conceded, knowing Chloe would likely keep on her until she relented anyway.

*

*

*

CHLOE BEALE

Despite Beca’s initial response to joining her for an evening of exotic dancing, a small part of Chloe really wasn’t too surprised when she eventually relented. For some reason ‘no’ never really meant no with Beca, and Chloe wondered if that was specific to her or not. Regardless, the idea of bringing her along to tonight’s class was exciting, and Chloe also felt much more comfortable doing so than leaving her to mope around the apartment when it was obvious that Beca was very much not fine.

Being the teacher, Chloe always made sure to arrive early so she could set up before everybody else showed, and she beamed proudly as she led Beca into the currently empty dance studio, flicking on the light switch to reveal enough floor to ceiling poles set up for each member of the small class.

“I think you’re gonna love this,” Chloe mused as she set down her large bag on the shiny hardwood floor, then instantly got to work on peeling off her thick winter layers, which would eventually leave her in a much less winter appropriate outfit. Pole dancing was tiring work; the colder weather really didn’t matter, everybody would be sweating soon. As she undressed, she motioned toward a chair positioned off to the side. “You wanna go put that in the back and you can sit there? If you sit up front, there’s going to be a lot of people watching you… and people make some pretty intense faces while they do this,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose.

Other than her coat, which she laid down neatly on top, everything else was stuffed into the bag, before Chloe lowered to the floor to begin fastening her heels into place. She glanced toward Beca, then to the nearest pole, brows lifting and lowering playfully. “Do you want to try it before everybody gets here? I can show you some super easy moves.”

BECA MITCHELL

Since they first met, Chloe had this weird superhuman ability to coax Beca out of her carefully constructed shell. That power didn't seem to fade, in fact it only grew stronger throughout their friendship. 

That's how Beca found herself in an exotic dance studio that Sunday night. Clad in her typical plaid shirt and dark skinny jeans with boots, she dropped into the chair Chloe motioned to. "I'm good. Thanks though," Beca said with an amused smile. Beca could dance just fine, but she knew she had no shot at doing this type of dancing with any sort of believability. 

As soon as Chloe began stripping down, Beca's eyes dropped to her fingernails on instinct. She needed to repaint them. "Are you sure your, uh--students won't think I'm a creep for sitting here?" Even in the back, she'd be able to see everyone through the wall to wall mirror in the front. 

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe only shrugged, eyes down toward her feet as she concentrated on fastening the straps of her black high heels. People wore some crazy not-quite-outfits to these classes, but as the person leading them, Chloe liked to dress a bit more uniformly. “No, they won’t care,” she poked out her tongue in concentration. “I think people kind of like having an audience.” She glanced upward then, smirk tugging at her lips. “It might surprise you, but I don’t think the people who take these classes really mind attention.”

Carefully pushing herself to her feet, Chloe headed for the nearest pole, fingers wrapping around the cold metal. “Come on, let me show you,” she urged, despite Beca’s prior response. She pushed her lips out into a pout. “Please? Something super super easy.”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca snorted, chuckling as her eyes finally lifted to Chloe. Holy shit, that outfit… was really intense. Intense, yeah. Also like… hot and sexy or whatever, but Chloe always had been so that was no surprise.

It took another beat for her brain to reboot, her stomach flip-flopping at Chloe's pout. Puffing out an annoyed sigh, Beca rolled her eyes as she stood and strode over toward Chloe with her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm in jeans," she reminded her best friend. As though she couldn't see that for herself.

CHLOE BEALE

The natural grin to widen across her lips as Beca rose from the chair was not at all a smug one, and Chloe giggled as she swept her gaze over Beca’s very Beca outfit. “I can see that. That’s okay, you only need your hand on the pole for this one,” she explained, lifting her arm higher to grip onto the pole in the right place. “So, you’re gonna take a step with this foot,” Chloe began, slowly stretching her leg to step around the pole, free arm stretching outward as she swung her body around it. “Then lift this foot.”

Chloe repeated the move again, then took a small step back. “Now you try.”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils as she watched Chloe so gracefully and sensually moved around that pole. In fact, she forgot she was supposed to be paying attention to the actual choreography and doubles down on her focused the next time. 

"This won't look a fraction of how good it looks when you do it," Beca muttered, stepping up to the pole and mimicking the move. In boots, she managed to land the technical aspects of the choreo, though she knew she was a bit hesitant and stiff. Not unlike she usually was when first learning new dance moves. "There. Happy?" Her arms recrossed over her chest as she waited for Chloe's evaluation.

CHLOE BEALE 

Chloe’s hands planted on her hips as she watched Beca replicate the simple move, pride immediately swelling within her. She couldn’t help but let her mind drift to the thought of Beca doing that in something a little more revealing… But that was normal, right? This was an exotic dancing class, after all. Regardless, she quickly shook off the thought. “Perfect,” she grinned, offering a small clap of her hands.

The door swung open behind her, the sound of her assistant’s voice echoing around the room. “That’s Charlotte,” Chloe explained, whirling around to offer her a bright smile. “This is Beca, she’s gonna watch the class.”

“Right, Beca,” Charlotte nodded, sending Beca a small wave. “The one you share a bed with.”

“Mhm,” Chloe beamed, motioning Beca toward the chair again as people began to filter into the room. “Are you sure you’re not gonna join in? You really could just do it in your underwear. Other people do.”

BECA MITCHELL

"Hey, cool meeting you." Beca cast a smile at Charlotte, grateful Chloe's assistant hadn't seen her first (and only) attempt at a pole dancing move. Then… her jaw fell slack, cheeks flushing. "Oh, it's not like that!" Beca interjected, casting a look at Chloe because why would she tell people they share a bed? 

Her eyes rolled once again. "I'm good, thanks though. Have a good class, Beale." Beca dropped back into the chair and kept herself as still and small as possible, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She sort of generally enjoyed people watching, so it was difficult to not take in each participant as they filed in wearing similar tight and barely there dancing outfits with impossibly high heels and stepped up to an open pole. 

Almost as difficult as it was to keep her eyes off Chloe once she began her lesson.

CHLOE BEALE 

Chloe’s brows tugged together at Beca’s reaction. Who’d said it was like that? She only shot Beca a confused glance in response, though ultimately shrugged it off, before turning back to Charlotte to go over their plan for the evening.

As always, once everybody was situated by their poles, Chloe started off with warm up stretches, before diving back into the routine they’d been working on for the past couple sessions—a dance to a slowed down, sultry version of Beyonce’s Crazy In Love. Although she couldn’t really converse with Beca throughout the class, Chloe continuously shot glances her way.

Following a final run through of the whole performance, she made sure to let everybody know that they’d done a great job and wished everyone a happy Valentine’s Day, before approaching Beca with a much more flushed face as people began to pack up and head out. “So, what’d you think?” she questioned hopefully, halfway tugging on her shirt. “Good?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca assumed Kommissar had been a fluke. Like--she was tall and gorgeous and flawless and whatever but like, the whole attraction situation wasn’t real, right? Beca was just… super stressed with everything that year, and she’d been pulled under some sort of German witchcraft spell. 

Yeah, no. Fine. Beca knew somewhere deep down she wasn’t totally straight. But there was no point in pulling that fact out of the depths of her subconscious to poke around and stress over it because she had a boyfriend. A really great boyfriend who was super awesome and now living in New York City. So what if she was bi or whatever? It didn’t actually matter. 

But sitting there frozen on that chair, leaning into her locked arms as she gripped the curling lip of the seat on either side of her knees, watching the dancers? A simmering heat ignited and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from them.

No, not them.

Chloe.

It felt like that same sort of magic pulling her focus, sparking down her spine and making her shiver every single time Chloe’s eyes found hers during that routine. Beca’s breathing shallowed and her lower lip caught between her teeth; at one point, she almost bit down too hard and drew blood. 

The spell broke when the music faded out. (Music had that effect on Beca in general, but this? Okay, holy shit. Um…) When Chloe approached, Beca sat up and a different sort of chill--the cold sweat type--rushed through her body because this was very, very wrong. Chloe was her best friend, for fuck’s sake. It was super wrong to think of her like that.

Still, Beca did her best to summon her best tight-lipped grin and offered a dorky thumbs up. “Yup. That was dope. Good thing you’ve got a backup career lined up in case you decide against the vet thing for some reason.” Suddenly eye contact proved really hard. Near impossible, even. Beca gathered her bag and pulled her coat back on, focusing on her breathing. It was just stuffy in there, right? That was definitely it. 

CHLOE BEALE

It didn’t pass Chloe by, the fact that her eyes would lock with Beca’s each time she’d glance toward her. Neither did the way she kind of liked the fact that Beca was watching her, even if she did worry that her stare was simply in response to Charlotte’s earlier comment that had seemed to piss Beca off somehow. She didn’t think their living arrangement was a secret, but maybe she wasn’t supposed to tell people. If she thought about it, it did come up pretty often, though… (“I fell asleep on Beca last night.” “Beca and I just took a really nice spoon nap.”) She made a mental note not to bring it up as often.

Her grin widened at Beca’s response. “Thanks!” she chirped, straightening out the hem of her sweater, before bouncing toward her bag to grab her leggings. “I kind of wish we had a pole at home, it’d make it way easier to practice,” Chloe mused, unfastening her heels, then stepping into the pants.

“You should join in next time,” Charlotte added to Beca, pushing a reciprocated kiss to Chloe’s cheek, before announcing her departure, then heading out of the room.

As she shrugged on her winter coat, Chloe glanced toward Beca, brows knitting at the way she seemed to be a little flustered. “Are you okay?” she asked, head tilting as she studied Beca’s expression. “You look like you could use some air.” This was supposed to help distract her from her sad thoughts about Jesse, but Chloe had a feeling it hadn’t been as helpful as she’d hoped.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca puffed out a strained chuckle. “Thanks, but I can’t move quite like you guys do.” She realized after a beat that she’d barely even watched Charlotte or anyone else throughout the class, and guilt tightened like vines around her heart for more than one reason. 

“Me? Yeah. I’m cool. Air sounds good. Got a little stuffy in there,” she muttered as she hyper focused on pulling on her mittens. The brisk walk back would surely help clear her head, she figured. Make her feel normal-ish again. 

CHLOE BEALE

“Yeah, the AC doesn’t really help much,” Chloe frowned, pulling her gloves into place. There was something strange about Beca, about the way she was acting, but Chloe really wasn’t entirely sure what it was. She figured it probably had something to do with her feelings from earlier, but Chloe forced herself not to look at her too sympathetically. Even if she did really want to wrap her into a protective hug.

Although she did not quite go the hug route, once properly dressed and wrapped up to face the biting evening air, Chloe shrugged her large bag over her shoulder, then shuffled toward Beca with an outstretched hand, offering it for her to take. “We should go relieve Amy of kitten duty, huh?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca knew she was acting super off today. She couldn’t really help it. Maybe she could just chalk it all up to stress--both her weirdness right now and the emotional blip during their walk in the park earlier. “Yeah, probably. Poor things are probably being forced to listen to Fat Amy Winehouse practice.” 

She hesitated before taking Chloe’s hand, always calling her a weirdo when she offered and usually just taking it to make Chloe smile. (At least she wouldn’t have to worry about a clammy or sweaty palm this time, with gloves on.) “She seems cool,” Beca said once they stepped outside. “Charlotte? How long has she been your assistant or whatever?”

CHLOE BEALE

“Probably,” Chloe grimaced. Their third roommate really was on her own whole other level. “It was nice of her to watch them for us, though. I wonder if she’ll get as attached to your Green Goblin as you have.” Although she tried to bite back her smirk, she knew the amusement was shining in her eyes.

Chloe was used to Beca making a comment whenever she would extend her hand, so although it was nice that she didn’t this time, it only confirmed Chloe’s suspicions that Beca really wasn’t doing so good, so she wasn’t going to feel too smug about it. Gripping comfortably onto Beca’s hand, she flicked off the light switch, then led her outside and to the cooler air of the city.

“Oh, yeah, she’s awesome,” Chloe agreed, grateful for the wind against her rosy cheeks. Dancing always had her working up a sweat, so she didn’t mind the short walk home. “We took classes together, so she’s been with me right from the start. She didn’t want her own class though, so she just helps out. She reminds me of you a little bit, in fact. Maybe a little louder than you, but she definitely has a Beca vibe. I like her a lot.”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca usually complained about the cold, but in this case it helped regulate her wacky body temperature situation. At least while walking she could focus on the journey, trying to avoid thinking of Chloe dancing like that as they strolled hand in hand. 

Chloe’s words pulled her attention and Beca cast her a side look, quirking a brow. “A Beca vibe?” She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Explain.” 

CHLOE BEALE

An amused grin pulled at Chloe’s lips in response to the look she could see Beca shooting her from the corner of her eye. “Yeah, a Beca vibe,” she nodded. “Kind of broody and mysterious at first, but she’s actually a total softy.” She turned her head to shoot a smirk toward Beca, gloved hand squeezing gently onto hers. “Like my Beca.” Her gaze drifted toward Beca’s chest, before lifting back toward her face. “She has her nipples pierced, too. Maybe you’re secretly twins.”

BECA MITCHELL

“Psh, whatever,” Beca grumbled, shooting Chloe a heatless glare before turning her attention back to the street. My Beca. That phrase made her stomach flip and a sudden rush of nausea flood her core before thankfully receding a moment later. Thankfully, Chloe’s dig served as a good enough distraction, pulling a scoff from Beca. “Seriously? I’m never living these piercings down, am I?” 

CHLOE BEALE

“Nope!” Chloe smirked, giving Beca’s hand another gentle squeeze, before relaxing her fingers. They remained looped comfortably with Beca’s all the while, though.

Fortunately, Chloe’s work was not too far from their building, so as much as she’d appreciated the blast of cold air at first, she was happy to get back inside, and only released Beca’s hand once they were safely tucked away in their shoebox apartment. The strange pang of loss she felt upon letting go was something she pushed away quickly—she was pretty touch-starved these days, it probably made sense.

Dumping her bag down at the foot of their bed, Chloe immediately swept toward the kitten box, lips twisting into a smirk at the sight of it empty, with light leaking from beneath Amy’s bedroom door. “Do you think she’s napping with them?” Chloe asked, voice lowering to a whisper. “Bec, that’s such a cute thought.”

BECA MITCHELL

As soon as they stepped back into their apartment, Beca unwound her scarf and shrugged off her coat, hanging both on the rack. She frowned when she followed Chloe’s gaze to the empty kitten box. “I mean, she’s either napping with them or she kitten-napped them, so hopefully it’s the first one.” Toeing off her boots, Beca moved to her dresser to pluck out a pair of pajama bottoms and a soft sleep tee, nodding to Amy’s door. “Peek at your own risk.” While Chloe tended to that, Beca made a quick change into cozy clothes because she was pretty desperate for a nap.

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe shot Beca a playful glare; she was going to bask in her adorable idea of the image of Amy napping with the five babies, and proceeded to peel off her scarf and gloves as she tiptoed toward Amy’s door, pushing it open gently. Just as she’d suspected, Amy laid in the middle of her bed, the one she got all to herself, surrounded by five sleeping kittens. They were probably due to be fed soon, unless Amy had seen to that, but Chloe didn’t want to disturb them yet, so only giggled quietly to herself as she carefully closed the door.

“They’re all knocked out, including Amy,” she announced, hanging up her removed clothing items, then got to work on shrugging off her coat and boots, too. “Getting ready for bed?” she asked, lifting her gaze toward Beca as she approached the bed. In spite of herself, Chloe lowered down onto her side with a small yawn. “We didn’t even eat dinner yet.”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca crawled beneath the covers, waving her hand dismissively. “Promised I’d cook and I’m not gonna punk out on that. Just wanna take a little nap first, if that’s cool?” She wrinkled her nose as she tugged her hair tie out of her ponytail and used her fingertips to shake out the stiffness on her scalp. “Unless you’re really hungry?” She could forego the nap to cook sooner if Chloe wanted. 

CHLOE BEALE

They both had their reasons to be in need of a nap; Beca had had an emotional day, and Chloe had just taught a whole pole dancing class, so although she could go for food at some point, and was definitely looking forward to whatever Beca cooked, she figured a nap couldn’t hurt first. “Mm, no, I can wait,” she shrugged, slipping off her leggings to leave her in her sweater and the bottom half of the outfit she’d worn for the class. They’d have another night of broken sleep tonight feeding the kittens, so Chloe shuffled under the covers too, pulling them comfortably up toward her chest as her head rested back into the pillows. “I’m glad you came to the class with me, it was fun having you there,” she hummed, twisting onto her side to face Beca.

BECA MITCHELL

Not anticipating Chloe wanting a nap at the same time, Beca’s body stiffened momentarily while Chloe crawled into bed with her before relaxing. It truly made no sense, why Beca was being so weird with her all of a sudden--but she couldn’t really help it? 

Chalking it up to anxiety over what would likely be an imminent move to Jesse’s new place, Beca dismissed her weird feelings and turned on her side to face Chloe. “Looked like a hell of a workout,” Beca said with a tired smirk. “You’re a pretty good dance teacher, nerdface.” Not that Beca actually paid any attention to the students in the class, she realized with slightly burning cheeks. 

CHLOE BEALE

Beca would be leaving soon. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but with Jesse here now, she was going to be leaving soon, and Chloe wanted to feel happy for her, she didn’t want to feel the sad twist in her stomach that came with simply laying side by side and immediately thinking about how they weren’t going to get this anymore. Those feelings were stupid, though; best friends didn’t do this, so Chloe bit them back as best as she could, offering Beca small smile instead. “Thanks,” she nodded, lazily studying Beca’s expression.

Her nose wrinkled as she thought for a moment, voice quieting slightly. “Are you still sad?”

BECA MITCHELL

She never dwelled on their living situation much. It was what it was. But Jesse’s surprise suddenly made Beca more in-tune with her current circumstance. Like how she probably wouldn’t have these close, deep talks with Chloe anymore. Those before bed chats about anything and nothing. Talks she didn’t realize she cherished until now. Not when she inevitably moved in with Jesse.

Chloe’s question would ordinarily make Beca shrug off her concern insisting she’s fine. But with everything today, she didn’t really feel like putting on that brave face. Not when Chloe could see right through it. Instead, she went with honesty, staring back into those bright blue eyes. “I dunno if it’s sadness, really. I don’t really know what it is.” 

CHLOE BEALE

This whole thing was conflicting, because Chloe wanted to help in some way. It didn’t matter how she was feeling, she wanted to help Beca, to make her feel better. If even Beca couldn’t pinpoint her own feelings, though, then how could Chloe? She’d always been able to read her pretty well, but apparently not right now. So, she just sent another small smile her way, head nodding along gently.

“It’s just a big step,” she reiterated her earlier response, sticking her arm out of the covers to cocoon herself a little better. Her other hand rested beneath her cheek, gaze still glued to Beca. “I’m kind of sad,” she eventually admitted, mouth twisting a bit. “I mean, I’m really happy for you, Bec. And I don’t mean to be selfish, but I’m gonna be sad when you leave.”

BECA MITCHELL

If. If I leave. Those correcting words sat on the back of Beca’s tongue, sour and bitter as she swallowed them back. Just because Jesse moved here to surprise her, that didn’t mean she needed to move out soon, right? They hadn’t talked about it. What if she wasn’t ready? (What if she’d never be ready?)

“Me too,” she muttered instead, reaching out to cover Chloe’s hand with her own before she thought much about it. Sure, Chloe initiated physical contact like 96% of the time, but Beca did when it felt like it mattered, too. Like right now. “But it’s not gonna happen tomorrow or anytime super soon, okay? So don’t be sad yet.” As if it was that easy. A smile pulled a bit shaky at the corners. “Let’s get some sleep before the kittens start crying for dinner.”

CHLOE BEALE

If either of them was going to initiate physical contact, it was generally going to be Chloe. A part of her felt like she should keep to herself right now, though, so when Beca’s hand settled over her own, Chloe glanced down at it briefly, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. It was instinct for her to part her fingers, slotting them between Beca’s. “Okay,” she nodded, figuring it’s not that easy probably wasn’t the best response. “I’ll just save it for when you do go. Maybe I’ll have to start sharing a bed with Amy…” Chloe’s nose wrinkled. “Sleeping on my own is weird now.” Of course, it wasn’t exactly sharing a bed that helped to settle her, it was who she was sharing it with.

Sleep was a good idea, that was what they were supposed to be doing right now, anyway. Maybe she would magically wake up feeling a little better afterwards. So, with a small squeeze to Beca’s hand, Chloe finally let go, twisting onto her back for the briefest moment, before turning with her back toward Beca. It was with the thought that she kind of just wanted to be close to her right now that she shuffled closer, eventually curling into Beca’s body.

BECA MITCHELL

“Everything you do is weird ‘cause you’re weird,” Beca fired back, though her heartstrings tugged at the thought of not sleeping beside Chloe anymore. She should be excited at the prospect of finally living with her boyfriend of five years… but she figured that excitement would kick in once the shock wore off. That made sense, right?

When Chloe scooted back against her, Beca’s arm naturally slung around her middle. She truly was exhausted, mostly because of the emotions wracking her body all damn day--a not-date Valentine’s Day she’d spent with her best friend… whom she’d miss like hell soon enough. As her body relaxed into nap mode and she willed slumber to drag her down, Beca’s eyes locked on the loose ginger wisps at the nape of Chloe’s neck escaping her hair tie. Flashes from their day together drifted into the forefront of her mind--Chloe accepting the proffered coffee with a bright, tired smile. Chloe hugging her close when she got emotional on the park bridge. Chloe’s burning intensity in her eyes while dancing like that--and the terrifying yet exhilarating way it made Beca feel. 

Maybe it was stupidity. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was desperation or a combination of all three. But Beca didn’t think about much of anything else in that moment when she quietly leaned in and brushed the softest, most feather-light kiss to the back of Chloe’s neck. Bare enough that Chloe might not even notice. Innocent enough that Beca might be able to pass it off as a gesture of friendship. 

But anxiety crept in a beat later because she knew--Beca knew it wasn’t just that. Guilt swirled in her core once again and she willed herself to close her eyes and fall asleep, to forget what she’d done and chalk it up as a dumb idea resulting from chronic lack of sleep lately. 

It was fine. Chloe was probably sleeping and didn’t notice, anyway. 

CHLOE BEALE

Even if things could feel strange and complicated sometimes—like the way Chloe felt so devastated at the thought of Beca leaving to be with her boyfriend like any normal person in a long-term relationship would—everything was always just so easy with Beca, too. Chloe’s sadness, her apprehension surrounding everything, it all instantly melted away once Beca’s arm flung over her middle, and Chloe’s whole body relaxed into its curled position against her best friend.

She really was tired, but her mind apparently wouldn’t shut up. Their day today, the way her heart had torn in two at the sight of Beca’s tears up on the bridge, all of their nights curled up tightly together (usually because Chloe had pulled Beca into her as they’d been drifting off to sleep) replayed on a strangely comfortable loop in her tired mind, and while Chloe’s lids fluttered shut, she was sure she wasn’t going to actually get much sleep.

Even less so as she felt Beca shuffle closer, felt the delicate way her lips brushed to the warm skin at the back of her neck, sending the most welcome shiver through Chloe’s spine.

Her bottom lip tugged in between her teeth as she reached out to fumble for Beca’s hand, fingers sliding between the gaps in hers, until she could wordlessly lift their connected hands up to her mouth, with Chloe pressing a soft kiss to Beca’s fingers. Maybe best friends didn’t do that. Maybe best friends didn’t do a lot of the things they did, in fact. But the thought did not scare her. In fact, as the pad of her thumb brushed across the back of Beca’s knuckles, lips hovering over her fingers, it only made her feel strangely safe.

BECA MITCHELL

When Chloe’s lips grazed Beca’s fingers in turn, Beca’s jaw clenched so hard her teeth damn near crumpled to dust, her heart thundering so loud she was certain Chloe would hear it. She had no idea what it meant--was it a conciliatory gesture, or a bolder one? Was Chloe just as confused as Beca? If so, what would it mean for her relationship with Jesse? Her friendship with Chloe? The best friendship she’d ever had… Beca couldn’t fuck that up, no matter the cost.

But words lodged in Beca’s throat and she swallowed them back down, her eyelids screwing tighter despite a traitorous tear slipping free from the corner of her eye--a single damp droplet on her pillowcase. 

She inwardly pleaded for sleep to take her before her mind could piece together her predicament.

Thankfully, it did.

[abbas-ragamuffin]

AU 17, trope 4, prompt 27 for Lokane.

Thank you so much for the request! I’ve never done a band!au before, or a messy meet, so thank you for the challenge, @iamartemisday I hope I did it right and that you enjoy it anyway! :)))

17-band!au, 4-meet messy, 27-“that was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.”

 Jane was running late, like nearly an hour late, and the show was only ninety minutes long. Her car of course, a Picasso more than a car really, made up of different parts of different colored cars decided to break down tonight of all nights. It wasn’t a beautiful car by any means, but up until recently it had always gotten her from point A to point B. She didn’t come from money, and she worked her tail off in high school to pay for it. Now two years into college, she was planning on trading it in with the money she’d earn from an internship to an astrophysicist. But that wasn’t until the summer and they still had several months worth of classes. This was the worst time to lose her car.

But right now she couldn’t think if that, or the fact she’d left it abandoned on the side of the road. She couldn’t run in her heels, knowing on this uneven pavement she’d probably break her ankle. So she hobbled along on unsteady legs, carrying her violin case and cursing her course choices. Band wasn’t something she needed, or even wanted to take. Her father had played, and left her his violin before he died. Jane was about to begin her freshmen year, the loss still brutally fresh and she chose music as an elective in remembrance of him. Music was her father’s passion, astrophysics was hers.  

Still, she let out a sigh of relief as she entered the parking lot and the entrance to the Music Hall came into view. Just a short way now, she just needed to make it inside without falling and she might be just in time for her solo. It was Bach, the name of the composition still escapes her, all she memorized was the section she’d be performing. She paused as she neared the door, pulling down the skirt of her black, halter top dress and doing her best to straighten her hair. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, she walked the final few steps to the door and reached out.

The door, however, flew open towards her – so hard it appeared it would fly off the hinges. The hinges held, however, that didn’t stop the door from hitting her in the face and knocking her backward until she fall in the garden along the front of the building. She sat up immediately despite the spots in her vision, checking her nose for blood and luckily finding none. But she noticed her bare foot, and the broken shoe that rested beside it. She faintly heard cursing in a smooth British accent coming closer.

At least it wasn’t raining. She didn’t fall in a puddle of mud and nothing was broken. Except her shoe, realizing the four and half inch heel had lost a solid 3 inches. Maybe she could get away with it. As long as she stood stock still while she played, she likely wouldn’t faceplant into the orchestra. A tall, intimidating man in a three-piece suit knelt before her, stretching out his hand to help her up.

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

He looked genuinely concerned and she’d never before seen a man with jet black hair that had such bright, vivid eyes. The tears burned in her own eyes, her ankle wasn’t twisted, but this day had been horrible enough and this was only making things worse. She didn’t even wanna do the stupid solo! But Mr. Selvig insisted, even called her his favorite student to butter her up.

“Oh don’t cry, Darling, very bad idea,” he said, waving his program across her face as if to dry her tears, “Your make-up will run. 0/10 would not recommend–”

“10/10 would recommend you not hit me in the face with a door and break my shoe!” she cried, swatting at his outstretched hand as she hauled herself off the ground. Before she could bend to pick it up, the stranger was already handing her the violin case, “I have a solo and I’m already running late…”

She yanked the case from his hand and took hold of the door, pushing passed him as she hobbled on uneven shoes. The nerve!

She felt him rush up behind her.

“I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but your shoe isn’t the only thing ruined…” her steps faltered at his words.

“What?”

He didn’t answer, merely pointed to her left hip. A tear in the dress that went from her hip to just below her armpit. Her whole side was exposed – she’d never be able to hold the violin up and play without everyone getting an eyeful. 

“Oh my god! Are you kidding me?!” she glared at him, mouth agape and a true loss for what to do now. She obviously couldn’t run home and change.

“Before you murder me, just follow me. I have an idea.” he said with hands in the air, walking backwards away from her.

“Follow you? To where?”

“The drama department…” he called as he ran from her view..

She rolled her eyes, removing her other shoe to run after him. As she passed the backstage door of the auditorium, she could hear they were nearing the end of the song before the movement. Luckily, her solo was about five minutes into the piece, which meant she had just under 8 minutes to get new clothes, new shoes, and get back and in place to play. By the time she caught up to him, he was bent in front of the door, she assumed he was picking the lock.

“Do this a lot, do you?” she asked, stopping at his side.

“Not since I was a child.”

The lock clicked and despite herself, Jane was relieved to see the doors open. He switched on the light, seeming to know his way around. He rifled through the rack of costumes, some of the most ugly and ostentatious dresses she’d ever seen.

“Are you in the drama department?”

“Yes, as well as the band.”

She scoffed, “You’re not in the band, I’ve never seen you in our rehearsals.”

“I’m usually late due to one of my courses. I try not to draw attention, so I sit toward the back and I’m always first to leave.”

Jane didn’t respond. It wasn’t impossible, she just couldn’t believe this man had sat a few rows behind her for the last few months and she never noticed.

“What do you play?”

“The chello…Ah!” he pulled a black gown from the rack and held it up to her. It was a long, A-line slip of a dress, black with a plunging v-neck and lace trimming. He held it out to her and motioned to a small fitting room to the right. She sighed and took the hanger. What choice did she have?

“I’ll sort out some shoes for you in the meantime…” he said as she closed the door behind her.

“Thank you…” she called, studying her face and still in shock that it wasn’t bruised or bleeding. That door hurt, and she was certain her nose had been broken. 

There wasn’t time to waste and so she pulled the dress up and zipped the side the closed. It didn’t quite fit. She’d worn the halter top because it was form fitting and left her arms free to play. This dress was way too long, and the plunge of the v-neck nearly reached her belly button. 

“It doesn’t fit…”

“I expected as much. Step outside, I have a remedy.” his voice was much closer and she bit her lip as she debated just staying in this dressing room all night, or at least until everyone from the concert had left.

Jane did as he asked though, reluctantly opening the door and holding the dress closed across her chest. His eyes did a swift once over, not in lust or anything inappropriate, but appraising and calculated. In his hands he held a pair of black heeled boots; the heel was not only shorter but wider as well.

“Put these on first…” she took them with one hand, unwilling to release her grip of the front of the gown.

“So why did you leave in the middle of the performance?” she asked, trying to distract herself as she slipped on the shoes. A near perfect fit. 

“I just needed some air,” he replied, already kneeling before her in an obviously expensive suit, several pins stuck out the corner of his mouth. She held her breath, watching his deft fingers work along the hemline, pinning the fabric where it reached her ankles. A man of many talents…odd talents, but full of surprises.  

Staring was rude, but Jane just help couldn’t help herself. She’ll be needing some air if she doesn’t get herself together. All she could think about was how those long fingers would feel brushing along her jaw, or moving through the short length of her hair. The man could be a model with those angles to his face, but Jane could swear she’d never seen a more gorgeous man than him.  

His long black hair, the paleness of his complexion, those mischievous, vibrant green eyes. If Snow White had been a man, Jane was sure this man was him. And his eyes never wavered as he stood, pulling her wrist away and gathering the fabric in the valley between her breasts. She could hardly breath and he seemed entirely unaffected as he bunched the fabric, inserting two more pins to keep it together.

He stepped back abruptly and turned her around to face the mirror. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders as he, too, studied her reflection in the mirror. He’d created a rather nice looking knot where he’d gathered the fabric, it almost looked like it belonged there. The v-neck was still lower than she’d normally wear, but he’d done a remarkable job covering her up. A cellist and seamstress...

“You look perfect. Even your make-up held up.”

“Thank you…for all your help – for everything.” she turned to face him, extending her hand, “I’m Jane.”

“A pleasure to meet you Jane. I’m Loki.” instead of shaking her hand, he knelt down to kiss the back of it. She couldn’t control her giggle.

She smiled, “That explains it then…”

“What?” he asked, gently releasing his hold.

“Loki…God of Mischief.” It was his turn to smile, and even look a little surprised. 

“Ah, very good. Most people around here don’t know my namesake.”

“I’m not most people…” she said, and his smile only widened. It made him even more attractive if that was even possible. The blush tainted her cheeks and Jane ducked her head, retrieving her violin and making her way back to the auditorium.

**

“No Miss Foster, you are definitely not most people.”

Loki watched her leave, allowing her to get back and enter the auditorium alone. He didn’t need any gossip getting started. But he couldn’t stop smiling after meeting such a captivating and beautiful woman. Perfect complexion. Heart-shaped face. And her wide blue eyes, looking up at him with – ok, scorn – but also curiosity. And maybe even a touch of awe. But now was not the time to dwell on that.

He’d had his eye on her for some time, but he knew her from his astrophysics class. Her understanding and grasp of the subject awed him, and he’d spent several months just working up the nerve to talk to her. Instead he slams her in the face with a door. Hardly his best moment, but what’s done is done. The hard part is over, they’ve met, he knows her name and she knows his.

Turning out the light, he closed the door behind him, unable to lock it. The sound of her violin filled the halls and he picked up his pace, sneaking in the back stage door. He watched from the shadows, strangely proud of her for her determination to be here and not just give up. He was also proud of his own quick thinking - the dress really did look made for her. He’d have to remember to thank his mother later, despite always complaining when she taught him such feminine things.

After the show, he would offer her a ride home. Come Monday, he intended to start getting to know her and courting her properly. 

[purintarts]

Han Jumin’s Luck and Prayers One Shot

(Any suggestions for a title? ^^; )

Using a wet tissue, I wipe the black stains under my eyes due to eyeliner. I put on my lipstick and fixed my hair with the hairbrush on the bathroom counter.

I always love Jumin’s bathroom, it has nice lighting and the mirror makes you feel good about yourself, no wonder Jumin always feels confident.

“Are you leaving already?”

The darked haired man leaned at the door frame wearing his dark blue pure cotton bath robe with white lining that was poorly tied so it revealed his bare chest and the length reached his knees. 

“Yea, I have to go before it gets too late. I get sleepy on the road when I drive late night” 

I stood up straight to see if everything looks good but obviously I won’t look as good as when I arrived but it was doable enough to hide the passionate moment you two just had.

Jumin came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, he buried his face into my neck as he let out a sigh.

“Why can’t you stay the night?”

“You want my parents to kill me?” I retorted 

He propped his chin on my shoulder, staring into my eyes from the mirror. He looks like a young boy in a man’s body.

“I’ll talk to them”

“You are signing my death wish,” turning around I gave him a kiss on his lips, “I’m going now”

“Wait, let me change so I can send you down”

“I can go down myself”

“I insist”

Seeing the tall figure leave the bathroom, I leaned on the bathroom counter as my eyes never took off from his back.

He was never okay with doing this before marriage but well we weren’t even dating in the first place. After a session of drinking, things just got heated, well I made it heated. I was feeling sexually frustrated after not doing it for a while and there was an attractive man with me, could you blame me?

The Jumin that usually would refuse felt powerless in my hands and next thing you know, we did it.

That is how I took Han Jumin’s virginity. 

Since then, Jumin was somehow released from his cage after experiencing something he wishes he had done earlier that he ended up asking for more.

We ended up doing around 2-4 days a week with several rounds each time. Since I’m living with my parents, I would come over to his house each time.

After the first time together when he came inside, I panicked as I told him I need to get a morning after pill. Seeing how frantic I look, the next time I came over, he had everything prepared. 

Knowing him, he would not buy this himself so I wonder who was the poor soul who had to get those different types of condoms for their boss.

We’ve started doing this for the past 6 months now, time flies fast.

To be honest, I don’t know what we are.Every time I wish to bring it up, I feel embarrassed. 

What if he finds me as a cheap woman who seduced him? The person that changed his ideals and broke his sacred rule.

What if the moment I asked, he goes away, taking a way the heaven that he granted upon me every time we are heated in his bed?

What if he feels disgusted to be with me?

What if this What if that

Letting out a deep sigh, I walked out from the bathroom to meet the man who was putting on a t-shirt. He looks sexy and elegant in his normal business suit but he looks cool and refreshing in a t-shirt. 

Seeing him in casual clothing makes my lower region heat up.

“Let’s go”

I quickly left the bedroom before I ended up extending my time here. 

 --

 “For the next party, I was thinking of inviting a couple of shareholders from a business partner’s company. They are involved in a lot of charity work. I’ll send their emails to you soon so you can send them invites to our next party,” Jumin stated.

“Yea sure, let me know”

We both stood in silence in the elevator ride down. 

As the elevator reached the basement, Jumin walked me to my car and waited for me to heat up my engine as he leaned down at the driver’s door.

“When is your internship ending?” he asked

“Another couple of weeks”

“Let’s go to Bali afterwards, I have some business to attend there and maybe you might want a break”

“That’s considerate of you but I need to handle my internship report first and I’m not sure if it is an appropriate time…”

“It’s just for the weekend”

“Still… my parents. Going on a trip with just the two of us? Might not sound good to them”

Jumin let out another sigh.

“How can I convince your parents for you?”

“By marriage, I supposed” I let out a laugh.

It was true but me? Married to Jumin? I can barely hope for a relationship, what more of a marriage.

“Oh my engine is warm, I’ll see soon, Jumin!” 

I put on my seatbelt and put my hand brake down.

“...Drive safe” 

And so, I drove off. 

 --

 As my internship ended, I couldn’t go to Bali as expected. My internship report has a lot to write and I only have 5 days till the submission. I also like to write everything in one go so the flow would be good so hence, a lot to write up in those span of 5 days not to mention the documents and feedback from my company that took a couple of days to process as well. 

On the bright side, I’ll be graduating soon. 

I might take a month of break before I pushed myself into the working force. 

Jumin was disappointed that I couldn’t follow but he understood my responsibilities. 

By the time I had completed the report, Jumin was already flying over back home. 

Getting the text to meet up soon, my lips naturally curled up in a smile. 

Maybe I should meet him tomorrow right after I submit the report? 

 Jumin:  I can’t tomorrow, I am having dinner with my father.

Jumin:  He said it might take a while due to some business discussions.

Jumin:  Maybe the day after tomorrow?

 How disappointing. Replying a “Yea, sure! Rest well”, I locked my phone and put it aside.

I’ll just meet him the day after.

I’m also excited after not meeting him after a week, a day more won’t hurt.

 --

 I ended up not meeting him on that day, or the next day. 

I ended up not meeting him at all that week.

 Han Jumin from the Han Corporate will be getting engaged to Park Boram, daughter of the Park Soohyun of the Park Corporate-

 No wonder he was so busy. 

Swallowing the pain in my heart, I finished the article before pressing the x button to close the window. 

Two rich people from the same world, that’s good for them.

Park Boram looks like a beautiful lady from the picture in the article, they are both attractive.

From the outside and the backgrounds, they looked like the perfect couple.

I hope she loves him well because he deserves it, how lucky they are.

 ---

 “When I meant I wish to get married, I don’t mean this, father!”  

Jumin raked his hair back, he was so frustrated with his father at the moment. This is the most angry he had been with his father.

When he got back from Bali and his father wanted to have dinner with him, it was all going smoothly until his father asked him.

 “Son, do you wish to get married?”

Jumin paused, right after you mentioned the word marriage, he was thinking about it every day and night.

Ever since you both shared the first night, he felt intense passion for you but he held himself back when you talked about how you wish to be married after you get a job and become more stable and now you want to focus on getting your degree and graduating.

But every time you were in his arms, he almost slipped out something about relationship but he knows he won't be satisfied with just a normal dating relationship, he wants more.

He wishes to tie you down to him.

You will be graduating soon and he thought about asking you if things went well.

The four diamonds with a big sapphire gem in the middle silver ring which was hidden in a velvet blue box in his safe was waiting for you.

He had bought that after 3 months, when he woke up from his nap with you. You were glowing in his eyes that right after he sent you back, he stopped by the jeweller.

Absolutely. He wants to marry you so badly.

“That’s wonderful!” his father rambled on.

Jumin got distracted by the thoughts of you saying yes and him slipping that ring on to your finger.

“Are you free tomorrow night? The Parks have arranged a dinner meeting tomorrow”

He wishes to meet up with you tomorrow but Jumin is sure it won’t end too late.

“Yea sure”

 The dinner meeting ended at 11pm, too late for him to meet up with you. The next day, he was asked to help send Park Boram home after he had a meeting at the Park’s company, saying how he was along the way and as business partner he did his duty to be nice.

However, Park Boram ended up dragging him around, making him annoyed beyond measure. He didn’t know a woman could make him so drained just by dragging him around.

The next morning he received a call from his father how Park Boram liked him so much that she agreed.

“I see, that is good” 

Agreed to what? Business proposal? Business agreement? 

He will ask his Assistant Kang about it later, he is running late and he just wishes to end the phone call fast so he can rush out to make it to his meetings in time. 

 That afternoon, his phone was buzzing with notifications and that is when he saw it. 

 ‘Han Jumin from the Han Corporate will be getting engaged to Park Boram, daughter of the Park Soohyun of the Park Corporate’

 Han Jumin does not curse in public but the first thing he said when he checked his phone inside the full meeting hall he is in was;

“What the fuck?” 

 “You said so yourself! I asked if you wanted to get married and you said ‘yes, absolutely’ then I told you ‘Good, the parks wishes to meet you’ and you said ‘sure’. So we met them since they wish to meet you personally, and their daughter wishes to spend personal time with you so you agreed to send her back home. When I mention that Park Boram agrees you said ‘good’. I don’t see how this is my fault when you agreed to this whole ordeal?” 

His father furrowed his eyebrows at him.

That's all it was about?

Jumin thought it was some kind of business proposal not marriage proposal

“Cancel the engagement, father”

“Are you crazy? The Park’s image! OUR image! You can’t simply just cancel an engagement!” 

Jumin felt a headache coming in. 

He needs to get his shit together or that ring in his safe will not make it to your finger.

Oh lord, help him.

 --

 I felt sick.

It was the third time I vomited this morning.

Did I eat something wrong?

Laying down on the bed, I message my mom that I wasn’t feeling well and that I am going to the clinic just in case she is wondering where I went when she gets home from her breakfast session with her friends. 

Reaching the clinic, I waited at the waiting room. There were a lot of people today, so I played with my phone. 

Opening my period calendar, it’s been 11 days since I last got together with Jumin. 

He hasn't been texting me either since he got back from Bali 6 days ago. He hasn't replied in the group chat, not even when everyone including me, congratulate him in the group.

Scrolling up, we did it quite often and I am feeling a bit frustrated at the moment after the abrupt changes but I can’t go and search for him now-

Wait a minute…

Has it been 5 weeks since I last had my period? 

I’m late for 2 weeks. 

I can feel myself turning pale and going tense.

“Shit” 

I grabbed my back and ran out of the clinic and went to the pharmacy. I took a couple of pregnancy tests and went to the nearest public toilet which was at the gas station.

I can’t risk taking it at my house with my parents there, it’s too dangerous. 

I did as the instructions said and waited. 

Hoping that no girl will need to use the toilet. 

The wait was so stressful but the results broke my heart into pieces.

Double line

Both of them showed a double line.

I broke down, crying alone in the middle of the gas station’s toilet.

Hearing a knock, I quickly cleaned myself up to leave, muttering a small apology to the annoyed girl in front of the bathroom and rushed to my car.

What now?

 --

 Jumin was tired. He’s been racking his brain for the past 3 days and he doesn’t know what to do. He may be good in business stuff but for life stuff, he is clueless.

He is a brilliant man but he is also dense in this kind of stuff.

He wishes you were here with him to tell him what to do but he wasn’t sure if it was right and his best friend is M.I.A once again.

Always gone when someone needs him.

He sighed as his driver pulls in to the parking spot, just as he feel the fatigue seeping in it was gone when he saw you were standing at the elevator entrance.

What is she doing here? 

Jumin checked his phone and noticed there were no messages from you. He knew something was wrong so he rushed out.

 ---

 I didn’t know where to go. 

I was scared to go home and I was so scared to call Jumin but I ended up in his basement parking, crying my eyes out inside the car, waiting for him to come home.

It is barely afternoon so I knew he won’t be home anytime soon. 

I waited for a couple of hours and went out to get food because I was hungry and came back, forcing myself to eat even though I have no appetite.

I took a couple of naps waiting for him when I’m tired or thinking.

I wonder how it happened… We were always careful.

Sure we did unprotected ones every now and then but that is when my period calendar says I’m having a low chance unless…

Was it the day when he accidentally came inside again? 

But I took the morning after pill that time as well...

I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw his car rolling in.

He came home early. 

Thank the gods.

I quickly rushed out and stood at the elevator entrance, my arms crossed as I waited tensely. I feel the anxiety creeping in that I just feel like running away.

He needs to know or at least he needs to tell me what to do.

I don’t know what to do.

Jumin rushed to me, calling out my name.

“What happened? Is everything alright?” Jumin looked so worried that I couldn’t help but to throw my arms around his torso.

“We- We need to talk”

 ---

 He sat me down on his sofa and gave me a glass of water.

Taking his coat off and setting it aside, Jumin rolled his sleeves up and currently donning only his shirt and vest, as he sat down beside me.

“What’s wrong?” Jumin softly asked as he brushed my hair back.

Finishing the glass of water, I slammed the glass down to so-called give myself some strength and determination.

“Jumin… I know you are engaged but I need to let you know this before-hand. I fear that it may cause you and your future wife problems so I just need to tell you and I need you to let me know what I have to do and I’ll do it”

I look over to him and hold his hand, taking a deep breath.

“Jumin, I’m- I’m pregnant”

I can feel Jumin freezing up in his spot, his body was tense.

“I thought of keeping it a secret from you but if I ended up having the baby then later on it will cause you and your new wife problems. Then again I don’t even have money for the baby- oh god my parents will kill me- I thought an abortion will be the only way but-”

“Abortion? Why are you having an abortion?” Jumin snapped out from his thoughts.

“Because I’m pregnant? With your baby? Your wife won’t be happy to hear about an illegitimate child and I don’t have a proper income and no I am not asking you to pay-”

I got cut off when he smashed his lips onto mine. His arm snaked around my waist as he pulled my close to him, hugging me so tightly as he kissed me with so much passion that it made me fell in love with him all over again.

“Say it again” he whispered between the kisses.

“I’m getting an abortion?”

“No no, before that!”

“My parents will kill me?” 

Jumin facepalmed himself.

“No, the part where you are pregnant with my baby”

“I am pregnant with your baby?”

Jumin suddenly stood up and scooped me into his arms.

“Ju-Jumin!” 

Jumin carried me into his bedroom and laid me down on his bed before he crawled towards me, trapping me under him.

“You are pregnant with my baby”

“Yes… I am? Jumin, what are you-”

He leaned down and kissed me again. The kiss was so intense.

Jumin hardly let me breath before he claimed my lips again. 

“Do we… Can we do it? Will it affect the baby if we do it?” Jumin muttered.

“Jumin!” 

I pushed him away as I scrambled to sit near the headboard, trying to create some distance which obviously made him frown.

“You are engaged! You are getting married! Engaged men don’t do this with other girls!”

“You are not other girls”

“I am not your fiancee! God, Jumin! Your fiancee will be disappointed!”

“Then good for her”

Jumin rolled his eyes as he crawled to me.

“Jumin! No! I do not wish to sleep with an engaged man!” 

I closed my eyes and took a pillow to shield me from him. 

Jumin let out a sigh, taking the pillow away. His other hand pulled my shirt up as he leaned down to place a kiss on my stomach.

“Child, your mother won’t make love to me. Your father is very upset”

“Jumin!” 

He leaned back up and placed another kiss on my lips. 

“It is arranged,” Jumin sit beside me before pulling me into his chest, “the engagement is arranged. It started off from a misunderstanding and I’m trying to annul the engagement”

He kissed the top of my head.

“I’m stressing out to think of a way out and luckily the gods heard my prayers and this little thing here,” he put a palm on my bare stomach, “Just showed me the way out”

He kissed my forehead, my nose and my cheek.

“Wait, you are not angry?”

Jumin laughed as he hugged me tighter.

“The woman I love and who I truly wish to marry just told me she is pregnant with my child, why should I be angry?”

His sentence stunned me. 

What did he say?

“Ah wait a moment”

Jumin got off the bed and ran out of the room, leaving me alone to my thoughts.

What did he mean by the woman I love?

He loves me?

So many thoughts came to mind including his arranged engagement and how our future will be like.

Jumin came into the room and held out his hand before leading me to the side of the bed. 

Suddenly, he got on one knee and revealed the most beautiful ring that I have ever seen.

“Will you marry me?” 

My tears fell once again as I hugged my arms around his neck.

“Yes,” I sobbed “I do”

Jumin’s smile was so bright that you yourself can feel happy from his happiness.

He slipped the ring onto my finger and came up to kiss me.

I pulled him close and I won’t be letting go any time soon.

 --

 BONUS:

 “Jumin! You can’t just annul the engagement!” His father harshly spoke.

“I can, I have a solid reason. My lover is pregnant with my child, I will be a father and congratulations father, you will soon be a grandfather,” Jumin grinned as he patted his father’s shoulder.

His father’s angry face turned to a big surprise.

“What do you mean you have a lover?! Me? Grandfather?!” 

“Yes, that is why you must annul the engagement”

“How did you make a baby so fast within these few days?! It is not possible!”

“Father, she is over a month pregnant” 

Jumin sighed. Did his father think he got you pregnant right after the engagement announcement.

“YOU HAD A LOVER SINCE THEN?!” 

Is it so surprising that I have a woman? 

Jumin wondered.

 ---

 ‘Jumin Han from Han Corporate engaged but not to Boram Park’

 ‘Jumin Han’s fiancee: Who is she?’

 ‘Jumin Han and his fiancee: Wedding date to be set in 2 weeks time’

 ‘Jumin Han is now off the market’

 ‘EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS: Jumin Han’s wedding’

 ‘Jumin Han and wife spotted on honeymoon’

 ‘Shotgun wedding of the Hans: is there a reason?’

 I chuckled as I read the headlines today. They listed such amusing reasons, some are a bit critical but one of the reasons was correct.

The ring twinkled when it hit the ray of sun as I put my hand on my protruding belly. I am currently in my fifth month.

“Your tea,” Jumin handed me a cup of peppermint tea as he took a seat beside me, sipping into his own cup of tea.

“What were you laughing at?”

“An article about the assumed reasons why we had a shotgun wedding”

Jumin hummed as he rested his chin on my shoulder as his arm wrapped around me.

“Were they correct?”

“Only the part that I got knocked up by you”

Jumin chuckled, pecking my cheek.

“And?”

“And what?”

“No other reason that was correct?”

“Like what?”

“I’m in love with you?”

I hummed as I tapped my finger on my chin.

“Do you love me because of me or do you love me because I took your virginity?” 

I teased making the man laugh.

“Both” 

[lazyyogi]

Why is your blog called the 'Lazy Yogi'? Are you lazy?

What the name “Lazy Yogi” means to me has evolved over the years. 

When I first started this blog, I was 22 years old and still in college. My father had died the year before I went to college and I was wondering what it all meant–Life, the Universe, and Everything. This eventually led me to the practice of meditation and the spiritual path. 

At that time, I was still getting the lay of the land. I would see other spiritual people traveling to exotic places all over the world in order to have unique experiences. I saw people going on extended retreats and getting yoga certifications. And I saw people going to the Amazon to take ayahuasca or shrooming in the desert. 

As I started to find my own path and practice, I realized that all of that wasn’t strictly necessary. It can be fun and it can be what we need at that time but really all you need is a little space and a little time to mediate. You need receptivity but also discipline. You need to be able to relax and smile but also open your heart and be present. 

And so I felt I was a lazy yogi. 

I graduated college in 2011 and then I was living at home without any prospects for career or direction in life. All my friends had moved on to high-powered jobs living in New York City. My girlfriend at that time had also broken up with me and she too was getting her life started in NYC. I felt lonely, confused, and aimless. 

But my spiritual practice kept me oriented. At this time, I was reflecting a lot on society and my place in it. I realized how society only really “sees” you if you add some sort of value to it. In the US, that value is mostly defined as productivity. Yet here I was, leeching off my family and just being a lazy ass. 

This was actually one of the most valuable periods of my life. A quote by Gangaji sums it up well, “To be truly happy you must recognize who you are with nothing.”

At that time, I was doing an unpaid internship in the movie industry, meditating an hour a day, and veritably consuming every book on spirituality that I could find. My suffering was immense but it was the perfect amount of suffering. It was strong enough to push me inward and yet not so strong that I gave into despair and hopelessness. 

Between the books The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, The Places That Scare You by Pema Chodron, and some other goodies, as well as the grace and guidance of my guru and my meditation practice, I eventually found a droplet of peace amidst all that confusion. 

Then the name the “Lazy Yogi” took on a more ironic meaning. We are not here because we need to be productive–although productivity in society is one particularly reliable way to survive. Put simply, we are here because the Earth allowed it–or more poetically, because the Earth wanted us here.

“When we walk like we are rushing, we print anxiety and sorrow on the earth. We have to walk in a way that we only print peace and serenity on the earth. Be aware of the contact between your feet and the earth. Walk as if you are kissing the earth with your feet.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

This was the new meaning of laziness to me. I didn’t need a job to know myself, I didn’t need a social scene in order to find a sense of interconnectivity, and I didn’t need a future or a past to orient my present. Just like someone lazing about on the beach. That was my way of contributing, by not printing my own fear and confusion onto the Earth around me.

As some of you might know, there came a point in which I reconsidered my life and the direction I wanted to take. I then decided to go back to school to become a doctor. It’s funny to write about that now because I will be graduating medical school this coming May. It has been a long journey! I made that decision 7 years ago. And this journey is really only just beginning. 

Throughout the hardships and insecurities of premedical education and then medical education, the “Lazy Yogi” took on another meaning. I was busy. Busier than I had ever been at any point in my life. And as a result, I learned my limits and how to gently–or sometimes not so gently–grow beyond those limits. 

At the same time, I continued my meditation practice and my spiritual way. The “Lazy” took on an inner meaning. That no matter how busy we might be outwardly in the world, it is important–essential, even–to remain inwardly at ease. I don’t always manage this but I do my best. For example, I have a nine hour board exam this Thursday. I have been waiting to hear back about interviews for residencies, which will decide where I live for the next 5 years. And I’ve been struggling a bit in my personal life as well. 

So while that inner “Lazy” might not feel so relaxed right now, I know not to give up and leave it behind. I know “this too shall pass” and I just do what I can. 

I wish I could write on this blog more, that I had more time and energy and inspiration for it. I know that so long as Tumblr exists, I will keep doing so as often as I can. I really love sharing meditation and spirituality with everyone, I love the people I get to meet and speak to on here, and the new influences I come across along the way. We’ll see how the future plays out! But somewhere, I’ll always be trying to share this stuff because I can’t think of anything more important or relevant to the human condition. 

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. :P

Namaste