#thought i was getting better but the bloody tissue says otherwise…

[falseroar]

If I call tonight and they don’t give me jury duty, I’ll finally go see a doctor about this (probably) sinus infection.

-Me, making a deal with god or the devil or my mom, one of those three probably

[ughgoaway]

Yes so many constant teacher reader thoughts! What about early dating when she's had a really hard week at school, maybe she's been staying behind for parents night or something and is absolutely exhausted. She's not replying to Matty as much or just giving him short ideas and him being Matty starts to worry that she's having second thoughts about their relationship

Omg people having thoughts about my au is so cool… and this is such a good thought. 

You and Matty have only recently started dating, maybe a month and a bit? And matty thinks it's been going perfectly, but he can't help but feel insecure about the relationship. He is so madly in love with you and has been for so long. He can't help but be nervous he's going to lose you. And he can't bear the thought because he's only just managed to get you. 

You reassure him when he asks that you want to be with him, that you were also pining over him for months, and that this is exactly what you wanted that whole time.

And Matty believes you, for the most part. But there's always that sneaking thought of “what if”. What if she hates me? What if she regrets this relationship? What if she thinks im wrong for her? What if this is all wrong?

////

it's been a stressful week at work. You have parent evening at the end of the week, which means it's lots of late nights preparing everything you're gonna say to each parent. It might seem easy to talk to parents about their kid's progress, but it's one of the worst parts of being a teacher.

It seems parents either think their child is an angel on earth or the spawn of Satan. You say one thing they can improve upon, and suddenly, a parent is jumping down your throat, “How could you? My little Amy is perfect!!” or they start scolding the child in front of you “You are useless! Why can't you just focus for 5 bloody minutes??” 

So you've been fucking exhausted all week, and you've cancelled on Matty twice. You had a date on Monday, but you saw the pile of work on your desk and messaged to reschedule for Wednesday.

Matty then didn't hear from you all of Tuesday or Wednesday, so was already nervous you were mad at him. But when you text to cancel on Wednesday? His heart fucking dropped.

You must be second-thinking this whole thing. Maybe you decided the risk to your job was too much, or maybe Matty isn't how you wanted him to be. 

But in an attempt to stop himself from spiralling too much, he texts George and details his worries. Of course, George simply calls him a twat and says “Trust me, she likes you. It's sickening being around the two of you for more than 10 minutes.”

Matty wants to tell George he and Charli are no better, but he leaves it for today and takes his friend's words at face value.

So he texts back saying it's fine and that he misses you. and each minute that passes by with no response is killing Matty slowly.

After 45 minutes of silence, you just reply “<3”, which doesn't exactly help Matty’s mental state. 

He texts you every day, and each day, your responses get shorter and shorter. Until it's Sunday, and he hasn't heard from you since Friday evening. 

It's then he decides you must be rethinking this, rethinking him. there is no reason why you would be ignoring him otherwise. And it fucking shatters him, he goes into break-up mode before any break-up even happens.

He drops Annie off at Hanns and stops at Tesco, grabbing ice cream, red wine, and tissues. He wants to feel like a girl in a shit romantic comedy, so he's gonna do just that. 

2 bottles of wine later, Matty thinks it's the perfect time to call you… despite it being 3 am. Needless to say, you don't answer. But Matty being Matty, he leaves a wine-drunk voicemail. 

“Heyyyyy y/n. It's Matty. Your boyfriend. I think… anyway, im just calling to say you can just dump me, you know? You don't have to be nice or anything. I won't turn Annie against you. But I don't think I could even if I wanted to, m’ pretty sure she likes you more than me already. But whatever… I've had a few bottles of wine and just thought I should call and tell you im fineeee. Totally fineeee. So yeah, if we’re over of whatever, you can let me know. Because im fine. Like so fine…. Okay, bye.”

And with that, he passes out on the sofa, spilling wine on his rug that he will be forced to scrub tomorrow.

///////

It's 7 a.m., and Matty's head is banging, so much so it sounds like someone is hammering on his door. Oh, wait. Someone is hammering on his door.

He stumbles off the sofa and catches a glance in the mirror, his eyes are hollowed, and heavy bags sit beneath them. Half his curls are flattened and stuck to his head, whereas the others are sticking on end like he had been electrocuted. 

“Ye-” he starts to speak as he opens the door, but you storm in talking before he can even get one word out. 

“BREAK UP WITH YOU? WHY WOULD I BREAK UP WITH YOU?” You stand in Matty’s front room with your hands on your hips. clearly, you had stormed straight over here from your flat, not even bothering to get out of your Halloween pyjamas (it is like May btw <3).

Matty rubs at his eyes and blinks a few times, “what?” he asks, coughing as he finishes because Jesus Christ, his throat feels like it's full of sandpaper. 

“...do you seriously not remember?” you shake your head at Matty with wide eyes, and he nervously shakes his head, and he swears he can almost see the steam coming out of your ears. 

“Matty. You called me at 3 in the morning telling me to dump you. Why the fuck would you think that? Why would I ever dump you?” your voice is softer now and you've come closer to Matty, and he can see any rage you might have had was never really anger.

It was fear. Pure fucking fear. 

“Oh.. that,” Matty says shyly, rubbing at his face and pulling it down. 

“Yup. that,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Okay, im so sorry about that,” Matty starts to explain, desperate to get you to understand his fucking crazy brain, “I had a few bottles of wine and my stupid anxiety took over. You hadn't really spoken to me this week, and you cancelled our date, so I convinced myself you were having second thoughts. And drunk Matty thought the best course of action was a long rambling voicemail reassuring you that you can dump me.”

You nod slowly, and Matty seemingly can't stop his word vomit, “And you can if you want to! But I really don't want you to. Like at all. Im actually kind of obsessed with you, if im honest” Matty steps closer to you and pulls you into his chest. 

Your arms remain limp at your sides for the first few seconds, and Matty wants to die. But just before he pulls away, your arms slip over his shoulders, and your fingers wind into his curls at the back of his neck.

You burrow your head in his neck, and Matty can feel you nodding, “Okay. That makes sense” he breathes a sigh of relief. Thank GOD you didn't dump him then and there. 

You snap back and look at him intensely before saying, “But just so you know, I was planning for parent's evening this whole week. That's why I was so quiet. And I would never break up with you just by ghosting you. And if im being totally honest, I would never break up with you in the first place. or ever, really."

Matty nods and can't help the smile that comes on his face, you don't want to break up with him. ever.

You snap your fingers in front of his face before he can get too happy, “Hey don't you start smiling. I’m still pissed off at you… but you are especially cute in the mornings, so I feel you’re trying to manipulate me into forgiving you... are you?”

“Well that depends, is it working?” he teases

“Maybe... Shut up.”

[lilalouuxx]

Friends to lovers pt 3

Thank you for all the love and support on this 3 part fic. I didn’t write fics before I started to write fez so my writing isn’t the best but I’m improving each time, I Love reading all the other fics on here that’s how I learn to write better💕love you all.

Fez x reader

Enjoy the final part of friends to lovers.

Read part 1 and part 2 here

Warning: swearing, mild smut

The sun streaming through the curtains is what woke you up. You groaned and turned over so your eyes could block out the light. Once you turned you felt your head on the pillows next to yours. You frowned and cranked your eyes open, it was empty.

You were a little dissapointed that you didn’t wake up to a certain favourite freckled face. You then instantly think back to the night before, heat rises to your cheeks. You never expected fez to be so forward last night with you, however he had had a lot to drink. Something he doesn’t normally do.

You sit up, looking around you. The vodka and bloody tissues still on the bedside table, even more of a reminder from last night. You rub your face with your hands, remembering how he felt being so close to you, kissing your neck. You wanted it to go so much further but he was drunk and you wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing.

You fling the covers of you and swing your legs over the side of the bed, you stand up fixing your hair. You knew you’d have to have a discussion with fez today about what happened, if he even remembered it. Your heart ached a little at the thought of him not remembering.

Just act normal y/n, you thought to yourself.

You quickly try and fix your hair as much as possible, it’s in a messy low bun with strands falling everywhere and you’re still in fez’s clothes. You grab your phone and the bloody tissues, you make your way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. You see ash first, he’s cleaning his bowl. You throw the bloody tissues in the bin then wash your hands.

“Hey y/n”

“Hey ash”. You see fez in the corner of your eye sat at the dining table, you see his head lift up when he hears your voice but then it drops again.

“Sleep good?” Ash asks

“Uh yeah thanks, you?”

“Yeah I slept good thanks” he says before putting his bowl away. You reach over and grab a bowl for yourself before pouring some cereal into it, you notice the milk is left on the dining room table. You curse to yourself knowing how awkward it will be.

“Morning” you say to fez as you sit at the table, you reach over and pour some milk into your bowl.

“Morning” he says with his mouth full, he doesn’t look up at you. Ash comes and sits back at the table now with some more food

“You just had cereal and now you need more food?” Fez asks looking at him

“What? It’s not like we cant afford to buy food” ash replies back whilst shoving his face with food. Fez rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“So uh, been meaning to ask bro. What the fuck happened last night” ash says looking at fez, the food no longer in his mouth. You look from ash to fez then fez to ash, wondering if fez will tell him the truth.

“ it doesn’t matter bro” fez replies

“Yes it does, it’s always me getting physical not you so what the fuck happened”

“Bro! It doesn’t fucking matter, now shut the fuck up” fez says standing up from the table clearly pissed off. He takes his bowl out into the kitchen then goes to his room slamming the door behind him.

“What’s up his ass?” Ash asks looking at you,

You shrug “no idea”. You finish your cereal and take your bowl out to the kitchen too, you lean on the side for a few minutes contemplating. You want to speak to fez, talk about last night but he seems pissed off right now. But why would he be pissed? Unless he’s pissed about what happened last night between you both.You can’t hold it in any longer, you need to speak to him otherwise your thoughts will go into overdrive.

You make your way to the bedroom, you don’t even bother knocking. “ fez we need to talk” you say opening the door and walking in, fez was just finishing getting dressed, pulling a shirt over his head. “Jesus y/n” don’t you knock”

You shake your head at him shutting the door behind you “ not right now I don’t no”

Fez scoffs and pulls his t shirt down, you sit on the edge of the bed “Um, I just wanted to ask you, do you remember much from last night”

Fez stops what he’s doing and stays silent for a few moments, he then rubs his hand over his head. “What part” he says quietly, so he does remember.

“So you do remember?”

He turns around to look at you and smirks “What me bashing Nate’s head in? Yeah I remember that” he laughs clearly joking. You roll your eyes at him and chuckle a little “no not that” you say in a timid voice.

Fez sighs, runs his hand over his head again before coming and sitting close next to you on the bed “look y/n last night, I was very drunk. I’m not saying I don’t mean the stuff I said or regret doing what I did but… I was very drunk”

“I know you was, I just wanted to make sure you remembered”

“What if I didn’t remember”

“I probably would of been a bit upset to be honest” silence is all you hear after you say that. “So… you don’t regret anything that happened?”

“Yeah” you look up at him, hurt in your eyes.

“No” he says quickly seeing your disappointment, he takes your hand in his. “I mean, I kind of regret it. I wish I wasnt drunk“

“Oh” you say looking at your joined hands

“But then I probably wouldn’t of had the courage to do something like that so maybe it was a good thing”

“Hm, so what does this mean”

“I don’t know y/n what do you want it to mean”

“I don’t know, I mean are you just wanting to fuck me or is it something more fez”

“Fuck no, I don’t just want to fuck you. I mean yeah I want to fuck you real bad you have no idea but it’s more than that ma” he says, a little blush rising onto his cheeks.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I dunno. I’m just not sure it’s right”

“Why wouldn’t it be right”

“You’re my best friend, we’ve known eachother since we were kids” he says then looks away from you.

“And? Your point is” you say shrugging

“Would if not feel weird to you?”

“No” you laugh “ fez, ive liked you for a long time, longer than I wish to admit so no it would not feel weird”

He looks at you again“for real?”

You nod “for real”

“Shit”

“But if I’m being honest, I’m surprised”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah I’m surprised that you feel this way, I really didn’t think you saw me like that and when I saw you talking to Lexi… i thought it kind of confirmed it for me even though you said it was nothing” you say, he then laughs and you frown.

He releases your hand from his and waves his hands in front of him���Hold up, you Trippin. I already told you we was talking about you” he runs his hand over his head again “ she was actually telling me to man up and tell you how I feel, she’s very observant you know. She said she saw how I looked at you and shit, So I kinda just told her how I felt about you”

You stare at him shocked, you really did get the wrong end of the stick “Wait, really?”

“Yeah really”

“Look, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve liked you for a real long time y/n, it drives me fucking insane not being able to do the things I wanna do to you, you feel me” you raise your eyebrows and bite your lip, you then decide you like how the conversation is steering, you’ve got the validation you need from him so you decide to hook your leg over him so that you’re straddling him. His hands instantly go to your waist, you hear him grunt a little.

You nod “ what things do you wanna do to me fez” you say playing with the chains around his neck.

“ I mentioned one of em last night” he says and gives your hips a squeeze

“Oh yeah?” You say, heat pooling down below as you remember what he said to you about betting you taste as good as you smell.

“Fuck fez, why couldn’t we of done this sooner” you say pouting and nuzzling your head into his neck.

“What do you mean girl, I ain’t even kissed you yet” he smiles, you lift your head back up at the comment, he instantly looks at your lips when you do.

“ well do it then” you smile back also looking at his lips, your faces are dangerously close now, your noses brushing against each other.

“Oh I plan too” he pulls your face into his by the back of your neck, your lips collide. It’s a hungry but passionate kiss, you can tell he’s been craving this just as much as you.His hands cup your face as he deepens the kiss which you’re both starting to get lost into.

“Fuck baby, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for” he says in between kissses. He then lifts you up, stands up briefly before turning around and gently placing you on the bed, he lays you down then he lays next to you, he cups your face again with his right hand whilst his left arm props him up. The angle that you’re in means the kiss is much deeper, you’re savour every minute off it. Fez then moves his lips to your neck just like last night, you bite your lip.

“Fez… I’d love for you to do whatever you wanted to me but I really need a shower” you say laughing, he laughs with you.

“So do I, I should just join you” he says. Fez then stops kissing your neck and looks at you. You raise an eyebrow at him

“But ash is out there?” You say quietly

“We’ll be sneaky” fez says, you think about it for a few seconds before nodding your head and agreeing.

You and fez manage to get to the bathroom without being seen by Ash, you both strip off. You entering the shower first, as soon as fez sees you naked for the first time his eyes darken “damn girl, you fine as hell” he says before getting in the shower with you, he tugs on your hips pulling you into him.

“You’re not so bad yourself” you say then lean up to kiss his neck, he slides his hands to your behind giving you a squeeze. You’re shower lasts for 30 minutes, he explores every inch of you with his fingers and tongue. He tells you that you tasted as good as you smelt, in return you go down on him. You take turns in getting one another to your peak, you try and be as quiet as you can but during your steamy session you heard the front door slam shut a wile ago so you’re pretty sure ash has gone out.

“Oh, fez I’m close” you moan as his fingers pump in and out of you.

“ you gonna cum for me again baby” he says kissing and sucking your neck. His words send you over the edge, he kisses you on the lips rough as you ride out your orgasm. He gently pulls his fingers out of you and cups your face as he kisses you, he pulls away and leans his head against yours.

“ you really are something” he says as he looks into your eyes, something flickering across them but you can quite figure out was it is. Admiration? Nervousness?

“Look, I know it’s not romantic and it’s not how I would of wanted to do it but… I fucking love you y/n y/l/n”

You smile and squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck and smooshing your lips onto his

“I love you too fezco, so so much!”

“Good, now get yo ass out of the shower and wait for me on the bed and don’t put any clothes on, I wanna show you how much I love you” he says, you giggle and pull away getting out of the shower, fez not missing the chance to smack your ass as you do so. You do as he asks and wait for him on his bed naked, he joins you a few minutes later in all his glory. He shows you exactly what you’ve been missing all these years, he makes love to you for several hours over and over, sometimes gentle and sometimes rough. Fez telling you how much he loves you over and over again. At some points you can’t even believe it’s real but then you touch his face, tracing his freckles like you love to do which reminds you that it is. Everything you’ve ever wanted has finally happened.

________________________________________

Eeek! I know the ending isn’t great but I wasn’t sure how to end it off, I suck at endings!

Thank you so much again for reading💕💕

[lebenspurpur]

AN: Helloo, wrote this because I spent today suffering through my post-drunk-vandalism hangover. Guess it's deserved but still, it sucks. After eating chicken broth my dad made, unsalted if I may add, for an hour straight I am now ready to be creative. I really don't know what this is.

Have the link to my Larry playlist while we're at it:

Pairing: Larry Johnson x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol

Wordcount: 1744 words

🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓

Larry looks really, really stupid right now. Stupid and sick.

His tall form slumped over in defeat, big blanket wrapped around him but not too tight, otherwise he'd feel too hot, too feverish, he still needs some air. There are tissues scattered across the couch as well. Fucking hell.

Usually, this would disgust you but it's Larry, you think you've seen worse.

Small sniffles come from where he's laying, whenever he clears his throat hoarse croaking leaves his mouth and he cringes every time he hears it. He can feel your judging gaze on his body, hear your arched eyebrow without even lifting his head.

His radio is blaring some kind of metal music, you don't recognize the band. Technically, the music is useless since the TV in front of Larry's bed is playing an old horror movie, bloody screams only adding to the grimy ambiance in the room.

"I-", you start but Larry lifts his hand before you can even consider continuing.

On any other occasion, you would've noticed the rings adorning his slender fingers, the metal accessories leaving a trail of dark smudge on his hands. Damn, did he have some nice hands.

Thankfully today wasn't a normal occasion. The metalhead in front of you had worse problems than you drooling over his fingers right now, one of them being the sickness he caught.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so.'", he croaks out while he finally lifts his head, bloodshot eyes meeting yours. He looks immensely tired. You can sense his annoyance at this sickness, this hellish treatment he's in and can't seem to escape.

You take a deep breath in and drop your bag next to his opened front door.

"Alright. I won't."

You close the door quietly and deposit your jacket as well as boots next to it.

His mom always screams at Larry to finally get something for visitor's shoes and bags but he never does. Too busy, too lazy, he figures his visitors get it. Who even visits him, anyway?

The floor is, as usual, covered in stuff he hasn't cleaned yet. Unfinished drawings, sketchbooks, take-out cartons, empty booze bottles, you keep wondering how he manages to create that kind of mess in a timespan of not even two days.

You tiptoe over them, careful as to not to step into something. Earlier experiences have taught you to never mistake one of these seemingly empty cartons as really empty. Just last week you stepped into a fucking pizza the man in front of you didn't finish.

You sigh as you sit down next to him and Larry tiredly raises an eyebrow.

"Dude, I know you don't want to move but Jesus, we really need to get you to bed.", you then state, voice comforting yet firm. You use the moment to stare into his eyes, adore the brown, thick, deepness of them.

Larry groans loudly, voice breaking from how raw his throat is. His head falls back and he closes his eyes, a pained expression on his features.

"Don't wanna.", he grumbles quietly and you involuntarily crack a smile. Larry always managed to do that, even in the most unbelievable moments.

"I'll join you if you do."

One of his eyes slowly creaks open, observing your face to look for any kind of sarcasm or irony. As soon as he doesn't find any, the other eye opens as well and he leans forward again, blanket clutched tightly in his fists.

"Alright."

You grin at his quiet answer, hand reaching over to pull him with you. He obliges, warm, slightly clammy hand tightly grabbing yours. He follows you through the messy room, his blanket leaving a trail of destruction behind the two of you.

You kick open the door leading to his bedroom. Immediately, the familiar images of various album covers greet you. The air in his room is colder and less damp and you hear him take a deep breath.

Turning around, you mention for him to wait while you walk over, grabbing the blanket on his bed. You shake it a bit, readjust the sheets as well the pillow, all while Larry's eyes never leave your back.

"There you go, sweets.", you add as you finish, quickly turning around to see Larry standing the same way you've left him. Tired, slumped, and emotional. The need to hug him starts boiling inside of you but you try and hold yourself back. First, you have to make sure he gets into bed.

Larry slowly stumbles past you. During the last few baby steps, he drops the blanket around his shoulder, faceplanting right into the freshly made sheets. He's not even wearing a shirt and you huff at his stubbornness.

Larry's back looks strong like this, muscles contracting beneath his skin as he tries to get more comfortable. Your eyes glide over his spine, his wide shoulders, the small bumps where his ribs encase his organs. His olive skin is sweaty and long, brown hairs cling to it.

You cringe at that, knowing the feeling all too well.

Softly placing a hand on his back, you move closer, forehead scrunched together.

"Larry, darling."

He grunts into his pillow, a muffled questioning sound.

"I got a hair tie here. Mind lifting your head real quick?"

Larry obliges and lifts his head quickly, taking a deep breath while he does so.

Your fingers find his scalp and start collecting all the strands, securing them afterward with the tie around your wrist.

The man beneath you hums in appreciation as the cold air hits his neck, sweaty skin finally being able to breathe. You kiss the small space beneath his neck real quick, a short sign of comfort before you stand up again, hands leaving his skin.

Larry whines the second you do so, all while quickly turning around, sending you a pleading look.

"You said you'd stay.", the whiny tone only makes his voice sound more hoarse and you can't help the small grin from appearing on your features.

"In a second, sweetie. You need some water and medicine first, alright?"

He whines again but the thought of something fresh and cold going down his throat is enough to soften the pleading look in his eye. You blow him a kiss and then quickly walk into the kitchen, which is right across from the brunette's room.

It's surprisingly clean but what did you expect? Larry never uses his kitchen unless he has to. Which isn't all too often.

Grabbing a water bottle and placing it on the counter, you keep searching for the small broth packets you'd bought exactly for this kind of scenario. You find them in the fridge, the only thing in this room that Larry actually uses.

Chuckling you get some water cooking, all while pouring the powder into one of the giant cups Sal has gifted Larry a while ago. According to the masked man, everything tastes better if it's being eaten out of a cup and so, everyone has their own sets of cups, a premium gift from Sal Fisher.

Soon, everything's done and you maneuver your way back into Larry's room. Said man is awaiting you, eyes still opened as he watches you creep towards his bed, hands full with water, soup, and medicine.

First, you feed him the medicine. Normally he'd do this himself but you know that he'll just ignore the bitter juice unless you force it down his throat. Stubborn motherfucker.

Larry's sitting up now, back propped up against one of the many big pillows he has. You hand him the broth and he inhales it in less than two minutes, apparently, this is the first thing he's eaten today. Shaking your head at the thought, you tug a few strands of hair out of his face, smiling at your lover's appetite.

Finally, after gulping down half of the water bottle, the brunette leans back and smiles, for the first time this evening.

"Thank you.", he croaks out and you touch his arm as an appreciative gesture, "Does that mean you're allowed to join me now?"

You're about to nod as you notice the faint traces of eyeliner on his skin.

"Did you take off your makeup when you got home?", you ask, throwing a teasing smile his way.

Larry clears his throat, embarrassed that you caught him. A faint blush raises on his cheeks and you feel your heart swell at the sight.

"I might have forgotten about it.", he answers, gaze slowly meeting yours again, "But please, let's just do this later, dude. I am so fucking tired."

Huffing, you roll your eyes at his answer but you nod anyway. He'd be fine with the makeup for a few more hours. You just have to remember taking it off tomorrow.

"You're lucky I love you."

Larry grins at that, the usual wide, blinding grin, that makes your stomach tingle with fuzzy feelings inside of it. His fingers find your arm and he tenderly pulls you down to join him. Soon, your head is placed on his chest, and his arms cradle your shoulders, pulling you into his body.

You can hear his relaxed breathing as he finally settles down, nuzzling his face into your hair.

His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile into it. It doesn't matter how often you've done it, laying on his nude chest always makes you flustered.

Larry's fingers start to draw stuff on your back, the feeling more than a delight for you. Humming, you snuggle closer and the metalhead next to you smiles.

His eyes already start to close slowly, lack of sleep finally catching up to him. The quiet sound of the ongoing movie in his living room, as well as the metal music, make for a great background sound and you both listen intently.

You notice the way his heart beats, slow and steady, beneath the tanned skin. Unknowingly, you start to synchronize your breaths with his. In and out. In. And out.

Soon, your eyes close as well. Damn it, you don't want to fall asleep. Though, you suppose it doesn't matter as the man next to you pulls you closer, his breath warm against your ear. He wouldn't let you leave anyway.

The thought makes you feel giddy, excited, in love. Smiling widely, you try to press yourself closer into him, and soon, you too, fall asleep, enveloped by the arms of the boy you love most. Your favorite boy.

[elenarodriiguez]

day nineteen: black eye | m.m.

summary: when may comes into the medical wing it’s usually life or death; a black eye and bloody nose are welcome changes.

pairing: melinda may x reader

cw: minor injuries, blood

word count: 759

Bruises and scrapes were a dime a dozen around these parts. These parts being the base’s medical wing, home to the meagre team that Coulson managed to put together and the plethora of patients walking in and out at a sometimes hourly basis. Of course the field agents practically lived in this wing, that was obvious, but for a load of supposed geniuses who could take over the world at the push of the button, they were not on friendly terms with lab safety rules.

So despite the many years you’d slaved away to get your degree in medicine, your skills were more often than not being put to use dealing with the most minor of injuries. But the pay was phenomenal, secret government agencies and all, so you couldn’t say that you minded too much if your days were rather slow and monotonous more often than not. And over time you’d gotten to know who were the staunch avoiders of the medical wing and who were the frequent fliers.

Which is why when you see Agent May poke her head in the room, your mind immediately jumps to you being in the Twilight Zone. Because a fan of medical help, she is not, and there is no other way to describe her being there on her own accord than unnatural. Rather than making a scene about it, you abandon your paperwork on your desk and stride over to her, determined to keep her from running away again for no good reason.

“Agent May, this is a surprise. Come on in and I’ll get you sorted out.”

“I don’t think-”

“Nonsense!” You interject before she has the chance to make her escape. “It’ll take five, ten minutes tops, and then you can go back to terrifying rookies once more. And hey, a black eye will really seal the deal.”

Before you can drop yourself in it any further, you turn on your heel and head towards your little cubicle, staunchly staying silent instead of filling the silence with chatter. You hear May close the door behind herself, and seconds later the crinkle of the paper covering the chair reaches your ears.

Grabbing yourself a pair of gloves, you pull them on and pass May a box of tissues now that you can see the dried blood which had been dripping from her nose. Once she’s satisfied with her attempts to clean off the blood, you hold out a hazardous waste bin for her to put them in, placing it off to one side when she’s done.

After getting her permission to check that she hadn’t broken her nose or fractured her eye sockets, you start up a one sided conversation, filling the silence by telling her all about the people whose ailments you’d treated today. It’s by no means interesting, although you think the story about Agent Fitz yelling at one of his underlings loudly enough that they thought they were having a heart attack brings a smirk to her face, but never once does she tell you to shut up, silently or otherwise.

It’s weird, she avoids the medical bay like the plague, and seldom speaks to you except when it’s necessary, but she’s just different with you in a way you’ve only ever spectated when she was around her team. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she had feelings for you, but everyone knows that she and Coulson were destined to be together, they’re just both too blind to see it.

“So, how did you get this black eye? I thought you were untouchable, at least that’s what Piper and them lot say.”

“Davis wasn’t looking where he was flinging his elbow and apparently my nose was the target.” She says so dryly, you would’ve thought she dead serious if it weren’t for the mirth lighting up her eyes.

“Okay, well, so long as you avoid Davis’s elbow again, you shall live to fight another day.”

“Thanks.”

May pushes herself off of the table and hesitates, arms still braced on the pleather seat as she leans against it. You don’t take much notice of her, disposing of the slightly bloodied gloves before turning to face her. She doesn’t give any indication of her next move, rather she leans in and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before turning tail and fleeing from your little cubicle.

It’s a good thing you didn’t put anything into the office bet about her and Coulson after all, or you’d have been a very sore loser.

[cinnamonest]

//abuse/domestic violence, have this that's been sitting in my documents in the meantime while I'm working on stuffs Having some very cute-dark thoughts about Diluc being Mr Anger Issues and how, although it's not necessarily intentional and more of his angry impulses he regrets soon after, darling ends up looking a lil bit like a patch quilt with all the bruising going on in the *motions to her entire body* area It IS accidental. He gets irritated easily, yes, and it's not like he's thinking it through, some people would be so much worse you know? And you could avoid it if you weren't so mouthy but you just had to keep bitching at him when he was already mad. Unfortunately, given that your mouth gets you in trouble, it's your face that most often ends up bearing the brunt of consequence because unlike some men that would have the patience to keep their cool and haul you off for a more well-thought-out punishment, he ends up just snapping in an instant and lashing out and getting one good smack across the face. One is enough to knock you down with ease though. There's too many people running around to let you be seen, I mean the maids and winery workers are kinda used to it/know but he's still kinda embarrassed, and there's a lot of business partners that come for visits and things like that and he can't have you so blatantly bruised in the face when they're there. He does feel really bad, but deflects it on you because who likes accepting that they're the one in the wrong? If he acknowledges that then he'll feel bad and sulk and wallow in the self-loathing so he just gets mad at you for being bruised up. You KNEW there would be people coming today, and you KNEW you weren't supposed to do the thing you did that earned you that darkened blotch on your jaw so it's YOUR fault that you have to stay up in the bedroom all day long. So you have no right to complain about it. That being said, he'll still apologize eventually. Ok, ok, yeah he shouldn't have done that. You were being awful in his defense! ...But he knows it was wrong and he mutters a sorry and a promise he'll get better, dabs at your poor bloody nose with a tissue. He's much more likely to apologize if you're reacting in fear and crying and whimpering and cowering, and much less likely to apologize if you're getting mad (if anything that's more likely to earn another mark). If anything, he should be even more mad since you should have known better, he wanted you to be at this meeting because, well, having the image of a put-together, successful, competent man of business requires the little wife in the back that sits there silently and smiles and looks pretty without looking anyone else in the eye. But now YOU ruined that. And consequently, as a punishment, even if you had something to do in the bedroom, now you don't. Anything fun you could have had is taken out beforehand and you're left to stare at the ceiling and listen to people mumble and drone on downstairs. And you have to be quiet, otherwise it will look strange that you're sitting by yourself up there. There's the possibility of maids helping you though, they probably have some sort of makeup to cover your face with, but there's no guarantee one of them will have something to match your skin tone so it ends up looking like a very obvious patch they put over a few parts of your face. If the bruising is just your arms, then at least you can just wear sleeves. Something is weirdly... cute...? About him trying to fix you up. Some of the older maids probably have generational secrets to healing bruising and burns and you get to be a guinea pig to testing those methods. Weird salves and teas and stuff like that. It's a cycle where you HAVE to be at these meetings because you've been at a few so people know you exist, but he can't exactly afford to become known as that kind of person (not that he is a bad person, it's that YOU'RE not good at YOUR role, and he acts accordingly, but he still feels bad about it). In the end it's YOU that gains a reputation, as a massive klutz. You have to go over it and make sure you have a consistent story before these events -- how did you get the bruise again? Right, you fell down the stairs. You just become known as very very accident prone, but it's okay, a lot of the visitors think it's funny or cute. In the end you're a cute clumsy housewife that ends up with a lot of busted lips and bloody noses and bruises, but he doesn't mind. Not that he's the only boy you'd end up bruised from of course. Xiao would be another candidate. He's similar -- although it's more grip bruises, not impact bruises. He just grabs you when you try to run and grips you way too hard and is unaware of his strength. You have hand-shaped bruises around your upper arms, rope burn on your wrists. Finger-indent bruises on your hips from using them like handlebars that he just holds way too hard. And, of course, he also tends to lose his temper pretty easily and definitely gives you a few on the face and chest area every now and then. Not to mention the bites when he gets possessive while fucking you. Ouch. You'll never catch him apologizing though, not unless you're extremely scared and cowering and even then he huffs it out in a frustrated way just to get you to stop, he doesn't really mean it. It's so simple, if you want him to stop, just don't be bad? What part of that do you not understand? Humans are so confusing and dumb sometimes. Speaking of, why would you want anything to cover it up? That's dumb. It's not like anyone is going to see you locked up here in another realm entirely. He doesn't mind how it looks. It's actually kind of pretty, he says, which strikes a little shiver of fear through you when you realize he's actually kind of fascinated by the realization that he likes it... hm. Also ends up kind of fascinated by how many shades of human skin will kind of redden when hit. Huh, it even leaves a welt in the shape of his hand. Your lip swells up when it gets busted. Neat. He’s learning more and more about the human body every day.

[wickedw3asleys]

JUST LIKE HEAVEN (Pt.2)

Fred x female reader (mentions of George)

AN: it is 5am i cannot sleep i need help oh my god i am SWEATING, FRED WEASLEY WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME. he's a dom and i do not accept any kind of criticism. Okay but more seriously, thank you so much for the support for the 1st part! I truly appreciate it and I hope you'll like this one as much as the first one!

WARNINGS: smut smut smut smut and more smut... unprotected sex... and cussing

A few days had passed after your talk with Fred and George.

And still nothing had happened.

And you never thought you'd be so eager for one of them to reach out to you to fill his needs. But you weren't going to be the one to give in first.

And they knew what they did to you, because the first moment they saw you after the big talk they started teasing the shit out of you, and you were too easy to piss off, way too horny to have patience with them. Could be an accidental brush of George's hand on your thigh; Fred whispering things in your ear that weren't necessarily explicit; or again, George finding any kind of excuse to touch you, even the slightest... And that drove you crazy. And the fact that they exactly what they were doing, only made it worse, them making clear that they wanted you.

And today was the day that your patience was at its limits. So you were going to play it reverse on them, and make them suffer a little bit.

You decided to just play it cool, not to look to hard for them, and just let the big boys come to you, as they liked to call themselves. So when you least expected, you saw them appear with the biggest grins on their faces.

You were hanging out with Hermione and Luna at the library, and once again you were going crazy with your studies. You already have had 2 exams, and you could feel your brain slowly dying from all the information it was absorbing.

So obviously, when the twins saw you in such a frustrated state, they knew once again how to play their cards.

"Oh, darling... You look so stressed...", Fred came behind you, "and those shoulders! You're way too tense..."

He winked at his brother and put his hands on your shoulders, slowly massaging them.

Hermione looked at you with an interrogating gaze, not really sure if she should say something or not, to what you unconsciously shrugged your shoulders.

Fred dominantly put his hand on the back of your neck, applying a slight pressure to the sides of your neck, "Keep still, sweetheart..."

You could feel the blood rushing up to cheeks and to other unholy places on your body.

"What. The. Hell.", Hermione mouthed to you, Luna getting more and more confused about all the situation, since she was way too preoccupied reading her Astronomy book.

"I. DON'T. KNOW.", you mouthed back.

Fred continued to massage and apply pressure on your shoulder and the back of your neck, and you felt like you were going completely mad. And when you saw George glancing at his brother, you knew this was another one of their games; so why not join in?

You sighed, mouthed a quick "sorry" to the two girls and started playing.

"Freddie! Oh my god! You're so good!", you softly moaned, stretching your back and neck. You could catch a confused and nervous look on George's face, who was once again looking at his brother, expecting a reaction from him.

"Mmhhh... you like that?", he whispered down to your ear. Fuck, he was a way too good player.

You turned your face to his, just to be a few inches from his lips. "Yeah, I like it...", you said, trying to sound convincing; when you knew that you were affected by him to your bloody core.

You could feel his breath shake as he straighten up, leaving a satisfied smile on your face.

"And what about you, Georgie?", you asked, looking at him with puppy eyes, "How's my favorite Weasley?"

"I'm fine...", he said, smirking, "Why? You missed me, darling?"

You couldn't see any type of nervousness in him, he never answered wrong, always continuing the game.

Not wanting to leave poor Hermione and Luna alone, you decided after a while to semi ignore the twins, and go back to your conversation with the girls, including the boys in from time to time, and when you could feel Fred being totally distracted, you made your killer move.

"OH! I'm so sorry, Fred!", you said, looking how your ink pot just had fallen on his lap.

"Damn it!"

Everybody had taken a few steps back, not wanting to have ink all over them, and when Hermione got up to go for some tissues, you got on your knees and started wiping Fred's thigh with your robes. Fortunately you knew a spell that would make these stains go away, otherwise you wouldn't have sacrificed yourself like that.

The sight of your on your knees, a hand on his upper thigh and the other one wiping the ink stains that were dangerously close to his dick, almost made him cum in his pants. He had spent too much time without doing anything and you being you didn't made it better. You've always drove him completely mad, and the fact that you've actually accorded to be shared between him and his brother was all he could have ever asked for.

He dominantly grabbed your hand, "Bloody hell, Y/N! Stop!", he groaned between his teeth, making sure no one else but you could hear him.

"What's wrong?", you asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Shit", he groaned.

He quickly got up, took his brother by the arm and left the library.

"Oh... Where did they go?", Hermione asked with the tissues in her hand.

"I don't know...", you couldn't help but smile victoriously. You've beaten Fred Weasley at his own game. You've put down one of the two twins. You still had to win against George, and from what you've been observing, he'd be the harder one to play against; fooling everybody with his innocent looks.

"Am I right saying that there was completely an unsolved tension in here for a second?", Luna asks.

"Y/N, what the hell was all this?!", Hermione says, clearly aware of what's happening.

"It's just a game! Nothing harmful! Don't worry", you smile, blushing.

"I don't know what kind of games you're playing with them but when I saw Fred going through that door he looked like he could spit fire...", Hermione points out, "I just hope you know what you're doing..."

"I do, Mione... I've talk to them..."

"What do you mean you've talked to them?", Luna asks, curious.

"Oops...", you say as you start getting up and taking your books with you, earning a gasp and shocked laugh from both of them. You winked at the girls and got out of the library.

There wasn't a lot of students out in the corridors at this time of the evening. It was almost bed time so everybody was either in their common rooms or still at the library, just like Hermione and Luna.

So when you felt a hand on the back of your neck again, you felt relief that no one was there.

"Good night, Freddie...", you smiled, his hand adding pressure.

"I hate you", he says between his teeth.

"Oh... Why is that?", you pout. If he'd thought he was the only one able to play this game, he was damn wrong.

"Don't play innocent here, you knew what you were doing"

"Just how you knew what you were doing to me for the past days. Both you and your brother. Am I wrong?", you tried turning your head, but his grip on your neck didn't let you, "Didn't your mother tell you to not play with your food, Freddie?"

The smirk you had on your face the second you pronounced these words could have killed Fred in an instant. It was the weirdest, yet most erotic, thing a girl have ever said to him, and he felt those words resonate through his whole body, specially under his pants.

"Fuck...", he groaned. He grabbed your arm and started leading you. You didn't knew where but you wanted to follow him so bad right now, nothing could have stopped you. You wanted him and you knew the feeling was reciprocal.

You turned a corner and arrived at the second-floor girl's bathroom. Fred quickly opened the door, making sure no one saw them go in and the second the door closed, his pressed his lips against yours. Almost with anger. He was so eager to kiss you...

Neither of you took the time to completely undress the other, you just stayed there, him pressing his body on yours, devouring your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, he started leading you to the sinks, where he lifted you and sat you. Your skirt almost lifted to your waist and his hands fiercely groping your thighs.

"How DARE you come snog in MY bathroom?!", a whining voice made you both jump, trying to regain your breath.

"Mimi!", Fred breathed out, "Sorry! W-we..."

"Oh... Hi, Frederick...", Moaning Myrtle slowly approached Fred, not even paying attention to you, "You're looking good tonight...", she says.

"You too, Mimi, but we're kind in the middle of something right now...", he says, awkwardly.

"Oh... I see that...", she says, glaring at you in anger.

"Hi, Myrtle..."

"Come on Myrtle, please... I promise to make Harry come visit you tomorrow, but please, please, let us stay here...", he pleaded. You could hear the desperation in his voice and that only turned you on even more.

Moaning Myrtle was taking his proposal in consideration, and quickly ended up agreeing. "Tell him I want to see him in that grey shirt he always wears, he looks so good in it...", she says before completely disappearing in the darkness of the bathroom.

"Wow... So Moaning Myrtle too, huh?", you teased Fred.

"Yeah, yeah, don't start", he quickly cupped your face with one hand and started kissing you again, this time with more passion, more fire. He was kissing you as his life depended on it, his hands always groping your skin; your thighs, your stomach, your waist... He was like an animal, so eager and needy. And you loved every bit of it.

Fred pulled out from your lips and started going down, kissing your jaw... You neck... Licking it and making sure to leave at least two or three visible marks for him to admire the next day. You moaned when he started kissing that sweet spot of you, just behind your ear, as he started slightly pulling your hair. That combination would be the death of you.

"Fuck, Fred...", you moaned in his ear. He raised his head and took a second to finally admire your messed up state, which only made him want to go rough on you.

He leaned in again and started kissing you while unbuttoning your white shirt, not losing a single second. Just as he kept unbuttoning it, he started kissing your chest until it was completely at sight. He groaned to himself when he saw the black lace bra you were wearing that day.

This time, you were the one to not lose time. The second your blouse was unbuttoned, you started attacking his pants, taking of his belt and lowering it a little so you could play with the elastic of his boxers.

"Wait...", he suddenly stopped.

"What? What are you- FUCK!", you loudly moaned as you saw him going down on his knees before you and taking your clit in his mouth. Your hands directly went to his hair, pulling it gently.

You could have come by the simple sight of what was happening, Fred on his knees eating you out, his hair all messy and his arms strongly around your thighs.

"Oh my-... Yes, just like that", you moaned again, making Fred chuckle against you, sending vibrations through you.

He started placing little kisses and kitten licks all over your pussy, licking every inch of it, making it his.

"If you keep... FUCK! Doing this... I'm going to cum... Oh my god, Fred..."

He chuckled again and stopped his movements to look up at you. Fuck, you were looking so pretty, already all fucked up.

He got up, never breaking eye contact with you. He was literally towering you, you sitting on the small sink, your legs around his waist.

He was going to start kissing you again when you stopped him, putting your soft hand on his clothed chest.

"Wait... My turn...", you seductively said, slowly kneeling.

He instantly knew what you were about to do, so he helped you lowered his pants down a little.

"Bloody hell, you're so big...", you whispered.

"Well, wait are you waiting for?", he said, lifting up your chin.

Your mouth instantly started drooling the moment you took him in your mouth. You slowly lowered your head down his shaft, taking all you could of him in your mouth, and then up again.

You started licking his tip and his sides, trying to get it as wet as you could.

"Y/N... Fuck... You're so good at this...", you felt his body lean against the sink you were previously sitting on, and saw his hand grab the edge of it to gain support. "Keep going please, keep going..."

You did as he pleaded. You slowly started to bob your head up and down his dick, both of you making the most sinful sounds. You could feel him throb in your mouth as your lowered your head more and more, and you loved it.

Suddenly, he grabs you by the hair and lifts you up again, helping you sit on the sink again.

"Legs up for me, will you sweetheart?", he says, caressing your inner thighs.

"If you ask so nicely...", and you lifted your legs to wrap them around his waist.

Fred sucked his thumb and lowered it to your clit, drawing figures eight on it, slowly.

"Mmmhhh...", you moaned, throwing your head back.

"Are you ready?", he asks, his thumb still on your clit.

"Yes", you smiled back at him, locking eyes with him and not breaking contact when he entirely slid into you.

"Merlin, you're so tight...", Fred moaned in the crook of your neck.

You grab him by the shoulders and let him start thrusting in and out of you; first at an awful slow pace, making him bite your neck.

"Come on, darling...", you encouraged him. And with that, as if something lightened up inside him, he straightened himself, towering over you again, and roughly putting one of his hands around your neck and the other one around your thigh. That made him gain stability, so he started thrusting deeper and harder tan before.

"YES! Oh my god... Yes...", you put your forehead against his and closed your eyes shut, lost in the feeling.

"Yeah... Like that...", he says, going even faster, hitting that special spot of yours that made you almost scream. "That's it, darling... Show me where I am..."

You clumsily took his hand and tried to find on your lower abdomen the spot that Fred was hitting so you could show him how deep he was buried in you.

"Oohh, yes... There it is...", he says, feeling his tip brushing against his hand. He applied more pressure to your abdomen, making his dick hit that spot again and again.

"FUCKKKKK! YES!", you screamed, eyes almost rolling back in your head.

"Look at me, sweetheart, look at me...", Fred took your face and started to thrust deeper and harder just to watch your reaction, to which he wasn't disappointed. Your swollen lips, messy hair and the spots he had been leaving along your neck and chest were the most beautiful view ever.

He started massaging your breast through your bra as he once again increased his speed.

All you could do was messily breathe and loudly moan as he trusted in and out of you. He was so big. Stretching you so good. And the fact that he was being so rough yet so gentle with you was insane.

Once again he brought his hand to your clit, slowly massaging it and making you moan even louder.

"Ssshhhh... Sweetheart, do I have to remind you how to be quiet?", he says, his hand against your mouth.

You remembered the moment he first pressed his big hand on your mouth, all the thoughts that were crossing your mind and all the fantasies you've created because of that specific moment, and now all of them where becoming reality.

"Do I reckon you like my hand on you like this, right?", he smiled, thrusting deeper.

Your screams were now muffled by his hand, but he could see your eyes starting to water, which only made him increase the pace.

You were a moaning mess, your nails going to his back, his arms and chest, also leaving your little marks.

"Come on, I want you to see yourself when you cum...", he says before slipping out of you and turning you, now facing the mirror.

He put his hand where it belonged: your neck. And started to kiss you again, looking at you through the mirror's reflection.

With no previous notice, he slammed into you from behind, making your face contort in pleasure.

"Oh my god...", you say, trying to grab the edge of the sink.

He pulled your hair again, leaning your head back on his chest.

"Look at you...", he says, "so fucking... pretty..."

He brought his free hand to your clit again, the new angle making it easier for him to massage it in the correct way.

That made you scream again, feeling your legs fail you.

"I've got you, darling... Come on...", he whispered, tightly holding on to you.

He continued his relentless attack on your pussy and clit, making the pleasure almost unbearable for you.

"F-Fred... I-I'm c-cumming... SHIT!"

He smirked at your reflection and didn't stop his thrusting until he felt your inner walls tightly close again his cock. The feeling of you cumming with him inside you made it impossible for him to hold any longer, so as he was helping you riding your orgasm, he chased his own one, both of you moaning loudly in the other's ears and clinging to each other as your lives depended on it.

He stayed inside you a few more seconds, trying to regain his breath and strength.

"I think that deserves a big high five...", you say, lazily raising your hand.

He weakly moaned, trying to high five you, but terribly failed.

He finally got the strength to pull out of you with a hiss, slowly pulling his dick out and letting a pool of both of your fluids form in the sink.

"Thank you", he breathed out, kissing your forehead.

"No! Thank you!"

"I knew this was a good idea!", he says, proud of him.

"The most brilliant idea you've ever had...", you say, helping him putting his belt back on.

"What are you doing?", he asks.

"That, my friend, is a souvenir...", you laughed, patting the panties you just put in his pocket.

"Oh, you're a nasty one... Very, very nasty...", he smirks.

"You have no idea...", you say, kissing his neck again. "Let's go, before the others start asking too many questions"

"We're definitely doing that again, I hope you know that...", he says, entering the Gryffindor common room.

"Isn't that why we've talked about it, you git?" you laughed.

"Hey, where were you two?", Hermione asks, "We've been waiting for you for almost two hours!"

"Oh, we just quickly went to visit Moaning Myrtle...", you say, eyeing how George was looking at the marks on your neck, "Harry by the way, she wants you there tomorrow with your grey shirt. No discussion!"

You hear Harry groan and throw his head in his hands, "Why? Why did you this to me? Why do you hate me so much!?!"

"Come on, she's not that bad...", you say, sitting next to George.

"How does she even know I have that shirt?!", he starts whining, but soon enough, your attention was turned to George, who was playing with the back of your skirt.

"Looking good...", he whispered, "Who would have thought you're such a dirty player?"

"You have no idea...", you smirked.

He looked at you and chuckled, "You'll show me soon enough...", he said, discretely placing his hand on your inner thigh.

You looked up trying to see if anyone was looking at you, but for your luck, they were too busy hearing Harry whine about Myrtle. And then, you crossed Fred's gaze. He winked at you and raised to you his plastic bottle and drank a sip, that making George chuckle again.

For Goddrick's sake... These two were going to drive you completely mad...

[tokyoimagines]

✧ I’ll Always Take Care Of You ✧

❀ Summary: Megumi was hurt on his last mission so you took it in your own hands to take care of him!

❀ A/N: If I mix up the names I’m sorry, I watched Jujutsu Kaisen in three different languages and the names get mixed up a lot. I’m not a native English speaker speaker so there will be mistakes (feel free to correct me)

❀ Pairings: Megumi x Reader

❀ Warnings: Grammar Error / Fluff / Blood / Bad Language

❀ Published: 11.02.2021

❀ Words: 1.742

You couldn't believe it.

Megumi just came back from a mission that Gojo gave him a few days ago but he won’t let you allow see him. He came back a few hours ago and went straight to his room, not even looking you in the eyes. You just wanted to know if he was fine but he kept blocking every social interaction.

All you knew was that the mission included a grade 1 curse while Megumi was a grade 2 sorcerer so this shit didn’t even make sense. You were really worried, not knowing what happened.

“Megumi? Can I please come in?” it’s the fifth time now that you are were standing in front of his closed door. Shifting on your feet you waited quietly until you heard his stern voice replying. “No you can’t. Now please leave me alone.” Wow that hurt. A frustrated sigh leaving your mouth. Your best friend could be so stubborn its incredible.

Deciding if you should go to your room or just try again you saw Yuuji approaching you. “Yo!” he waved at you “He won’t let you in either?”

“No, I don’t know whats going on with him. So you also tried to talk too him?” you sigh, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. Looking at Yuuji you noticed that he also seemed kind of worried. You remember how happy he was when you first met him, this boy has definitely changed a lot.

“Well he told me to fuck off.” he said laughing. “HE SAID WHAT?”

Yuuji let out a loud laugh. “I guess he’s just really exhausted, we should give him a break and try again later” Thinking about what he just said you bit your lip. Maybe he was right and Megumi was just really tired. We’re probably just annoying him right now.

“You’re probably right. If he was really hurt he would have went to Shoko. I’ll look after him again in the evening.” you said in a monotone voice.

After the sun began to set you found yourself in the kitchen, brewing some soup. “If he won’t let me in this time I’ll pour this shit over his head!” you mumbled while stirring the soup. Grabbing a bowl of the freshly made soup you made your way to Megumis room again.  Hesitantly you knocked on the door again. “Megumi? I made you some food. I haven’t seen you the whole day, you must be hungry…” You waited nervously, biting your lip.

What if I just woke him up? Oh shit this punk will kill me.

“Leave the food in front of the door, I’ll get it later.”

Wait? Is this idiot serious right now?

You couldn't remember the last time you were this angry at your best friend because this shit just reached a whole different level. “You know what? I give a shit if you don’t want anyone to see you. Get the fuck ready because I’m coming in now”

“Y/N I dare y-” You stepped into his room, making his words die on his lips. He was laying in his bed while holding an ice pack to his lips.

Walking over to his bed and putting the soup on his nightstand you could make out some bloody tissue papers in his trash bin.

Now inspectating his face more closely you were able to see a big cut over his eyebrow and a dark purple eye. Now grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand with the ice pack away from his face, revealing a bruised lips.

“You could have just told me you were hurt.” you pressed out quietly. “You should go to Shoko”

“It’s really not that bad” he mumbled, pressing the ice against his lip again.

“That bloody shit in your trash says otherwise.” you pointed at his trash bin. “I’ll be right back, just don’t run away.”

“Where do you think I would be going looking like th-” again he was cut off by you leaving his room.

A few seconds later you came back bursting into his room again, in your hand a little package.

“Okay I guess I’ve got everything I need. Can you sit up? And put that damn ice to the side.”

Megumi put the ice on his nightstand and sat himself on the edge of his bed looking around his room. He looked everywhere but definitely not at you. After you positioned yourself in front of him you grabbed his chin softly, not wanting to hurt him any further.

“You look like shit” you said while getting out the bandages and the alcohol.

“Yeah Sherlock you don’t say” you chuckled at his stupid remark.

Putting some alcohol on a cotton wrap you padded it on the cut over his eyebrow. This angle gave you a chance to have a better look at his eyes. They were so dark, almost like obsidian. They were so deep, you almost got lost into them but Megumis hissing made you snap back. Ah right, the alcohol.

“I’m sorry, does it hurt that bad?”

“No, its fine. Just hurry please” You nodded, putting the cotton wrap away and grabbing a big band aid to put it over the cut. “This should stop the blending for now.”

“Turn your head a little bit, I need to see how badly your lips look.”

He turned his head to the side. His lips where mostly bruised but you could make out a little cut.

I can’t really patch that up but I can at least disinfect it.

Grabbing your alcohol and cotton again, you began to press it on his lips.

“Sorry this must hurt a lot”

Megumi kept quiet and just looked at you. His stare made you nervous.

Damn this boy and his beautiful eyes.

“I guess that’s all I can do for now. Do you have any more cuts or bruises I should take a look at?”

you immediately regretted your question.

“I actually got some more wounds, but I guess I can take care of them myself, it’s fine.” Oh no. If I do my job I do it correctly.

“Can you at least show them to me so I can see how bad they are. They should not get infected, you know right?”

Megumi let out a loud sight. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. Damn it, I wasn’t expecting it to be on his rips. I thought they were on his arms or some shit like that. So this was the reason why he had troubles getting up. Makes sense now.

You immediately became flustered by the pure sight of his upper body. Luckily Megumi was busy trying to not look you in the eyes.

I have to touch him. Oh please no.

You quietly did your job of disinfecting and cleaning up his wounds. His skin was pale and cold to your touch. Your eyes staring right at his upper body, not daring to look him in the eyes for just one second. Megumi was just as nervous as you were but after some minutes of acting like all of this didn’t happen, he was able to look at you cleaning his wounds. How careful you were to not hurt him.

“Y/N?” he spoke softly. You instinctively looked up, becoming even more red.

“Thank you for doing this.” he said, still staring into your eyes.

You hectically looked away, fixing your eyes on his almost patched up wounds again.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’ll always take care of you. No matter what.”

After you finished patching Megumi up, you packed your things together, strands of hair falling in your face. Megumi pulled his shirt over his head, being fully clothed again. The situation was awkward and even tho you really like Megumi, you wanted to get out of it.

“Guess my job is done here. Text me if you need something and I’ll come over. And eat your soup!” you said smiling at him, pointing at the soup that was still on his nightstand.

You were about to turn around, when Megumi spoke up.

“You know you could just stay here, then I don’t have to text you if I need something” he mumbled while scratching the back of his neck, not even looking you in the eyes.

You heart hammered so loud, you were scarred he would be able to hear it.

Was he serious? He wants me to stay with him over the night. This boy is joking right?

“Are your sure? Like… you want me here to stay?” you mumbled. Not really knowing what to say. You’ve gotten so nervous it’s getting ridiculous.

“Only if you want to, I thought that would be the better option” he shifted around, not knowing if what he said was wrong.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess that would be better.” you agreed by rapidly nodding, almost stumbling over your own words.

This was everything Megumi needed to hear. He lifted his blanked up to signalize you to get your ass into his bed.

Hesitantly you crawled into the bed, now laying next to him.

Megumi was laying on his back. You turned around to face him. “Can I….. you know. Can I maybe lay my hand there?” pointing at his stomach. You felt ashamed for asking to literally cuddle him, but you just couldn't help it.

Everyone can sleep better when they cuddle something, right?

Megumi looked at you, surprised that you even asked him that. “If it helps you sleep, sure.”

You slowly slit your hands up his stomach and rested it right under the wound you just patched up before. Curling into his side you breathed his scent in. He smelled so incredibly good, it gave you butterfly's in your belly.

“Am I not hurting you?” you asked, referring to the position you hand was in.

“You could never. Now go to sleep, you had a troublesome day with me acting like a completely asshole.” he chuckled, patting your head once, letting his hand rest on your back.

“I guess your right.” was all you where able to say, before slowly drifting off into a deep sleep.

Megumi watched you a bit longer, questioning how you both ended up like this. He always had liked you since he first laid his eyes on you. Seeing your sleeping form curled into him, made him realize how much he cared for you.

A/N

I hope you liked this imagine. If you know things I could do better, feel free to DM me. I always want to improve myself and my writing.

Have a nice day! ♡

[notquitetwilight]

THE CULLANOS: A TASTE OF BOSTON, PART ONE

The Cullanos head to Boston to take care of some business.

“Well?” Carlisle Cullano asked his wife from across the table. “How does Boston pizza compare to Jersey pizza?”

“It doesn’t,” Esme answered her husband automatically. “Especially not ours.”

“Typical Jersey girl,” he smirked. He looked to their daughter beside her. “Rosie?”

Rosalie wrinkled her nose, looking up at him from the slice she was chewing on. “It’s too thick. I don’t like it. But then again, Jersey pizza doesn’t compare to New York pizza, either.”

Esme gave a deep sigh and threw her daughter a look. “Really?”

“What? You know I’ll always be a Manhattanite.”

“You were born in Jersey City Med,” Esme pointedly reminded her.

“Where I was abandoned,” Rose said slowly. “…To be raised in Manhattan.”

“You weren’t abandoned at the hospital,” Carlisle countered.

“She wasn’t abandoned at all!” Esme hissed before he could continue. “How many times do we have to go through this?”

“I know, I know, you were just kids, younger than I am now,” Rose waved the hand that wasn’t holding a pizza slice dismissively. “I’m over it. But I don’t know why you always get mad at me for saying I’m a New Yorker when you’re the ones who chose not to raise me in Jersey. Well, chose not to raise me at all.”

A tense silence fell over them. Rose lowered her eyes to the table of their booth as she continued chewing. Esme glowered out the window, her jaw clenched. Carlisle nudged his foot against her leg in an attempt to comfort her, but she ignored him.

It was a little over a year since the couple had gotten their daughter back. Though she had left her adoptive family and seemed to have settled into their lifestyle, the topic of their lost time together still occasionally raised its head.

The couple had had her at the tender age of 17, unbeknownst to their families. Both of them decided they were too young, too broke and already too involved in the mafia game to raise her themselves. She was adopted by the Hales, a wealthy couple of lawyers who raised her in a Manhattan townhouse and gave her the finest private education New York City had to offer. Carlisle and Esme secretly watched her grow from park benches and the back of school auditoriums. They never interacted with her or allowed her to see them, but watching her grow up safe and happy from a distance filled the void that giving her up had left.

Well, it did, until it didn’t. A year and a half ago, right before the couple finally married, Esme’s sister gave birth to her first child. The family rejoiced in the arrival of the baby boy, with Esme’s mother proudly parading her “first grandchild” around. “Aren’t you jealous, Esme?” Mrs. Platt had asked at the wedding. “You hate it when others have something you don’t.”

“No, mom, I don’t get jealous,” came her answer. Carlisle stifled a laugh at that. The death certificate of his previous wife proved otherwise.

“I always thought you’d be the one to give me my first,” Mrs. Platt continued, causing her daughter to bristle. “But your little sister has beaten you to it.”

Esme’s knuckles went white around the champaign glass she held. “She’s just drunk, baby,” Carlisle muttered in her ear. “Fuggedaboutit.”

But it didn’t matter. Esme’s moods worsened in the weeks that followed as she grieved 17 years’ worth of parenting the daughter they tried to do right by. She stopped parking outside the Hales’ Upper East Side building in hopes of catching a glimpse of the girl, or regularly checking her social media pages for updates on how she was doing. Carlisle knew it had become too difficult for her, particularly when her sister got to be a mother so openly. Mrs. Platt was right; Esme hated going without what others had. And Carlisle could never let her go without.

So one day, he pulled his yellow Alfa Romeo into the garage of the couple’s home and paged Esme to meet him there. “Hey doll,” he greeted her from against the bonnet as she entered and closed the door behind her. “I gotcha somethin’.”

She looked around in confusion. Normally when he asked her to come to the garage it meant he had bought her a new car. “What?” She wondered, but before her husband could respond, she was answered by a chorus of thumping and muffled screaming from the trunk.

“Who’s in there?” Esme asked, bored. Visitors to their home arriving by car trunk wasn’t exactly new. He grinned at her smugly as the thumping continued. “What?” She said again, but he could tell he had piqued her interest. He sauntered over to the trunk and opened it, a flurry of blond immediately lunging at him from inside. Esme instinctively reacted with a raised gun, but as Carlisle restrained the girl, her eyes widened and she lowered her weapon. “Is that…?”

He beamed at her as Rosalie struggled in his arms. Her wrists and ankles were tied, but still she writhed around. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and fear, and duct tape covered her mouth. “Take that thing off of her,” Esme commanded. “I wanna proper look.”

“Hold still or it’ll hurt,” Carlisle told the girl. She stopped wriggling long enough that he could gently remove the tape without ripping her skin. She immediately attempted to bite his hand, but he was too fast. Then came an ear-piercing screech that caused both adults to wince, but Esme was smiling.

“You wait,” Rosalie said once she was finished screaming, her voice hoarse. “Just you wait. If it’s money you want, good luck. You might as well kill me now.”

“She looks just like you,” Esme said as if she hadn’t heard her, though she didn’t take her eyes off the girl. “We knew it already, but up close, it’s crazy. I didn’t get a look-in.”

Rosalie’s face contorted to an expression of both confusion and disgust. “What the fuck…?”

Carlisle laughed at her exaggerated expressiveness; the narrowed eyes, the over-the-top frown, the grimace that caused her cheeks to apple. He had seen Esme pull that face a million times before. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he told her as they both went back to staring at Rosalie — who was attempting to naw at the rope around her wrists — with the kind of fascination people usually reserved for newborn babies.

“Carl, untie her,” Esme instructed. He gave her a hard look, thinking it was a terrible idea. She arched an eyebrow in response, and he knew better than to argue with her.

“Wait ‘til my father hears about this,” Rose grumbled as he began cutting through the thick rope. That amused him, and he couldn’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?” She demanded.

He shook his head. “Nothin’,” he tried, but he heard Esme giggle and he started laughing again.

Rosalie’s face flushed angrily as she looked wildly from her almost-free hands to Esme and then to Carlisle. “I said, what’s. So. Funny?” She said it slowly and punctuated, as if she thought he was stupid. Esme’s laugh was turning into the loud cackle she gave when she was particularly thrilled. He sniffed with a smile and shook his head again.

Rosalie was then red-faced, her eyes flashing with rage. “What the fuck is so funny, you piece of shit?”

The couple collapsed into full belly-laughs for what had to have been at least a full minute as Rosalie could do nothing but glare. “It’s funny—“ Carlisle started, pausing to try and compose himself. “It’s funny that you said ‘wait ‘til my father hears about this,’ because I am your father.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes, irritated. She clearly thought that was his lame attempt at a joke.

“It’s true, saweetie,” Esme tried to turn her amusement into a sincere-looking smile. “Your our daughter. I’m your mommy! Were you ever told you were adopted?”

“What kind of weirdos are you?” Rosalie mused, her eyes still narrowed. “Don’t normal kidnappers just tie someone up and leave them be ‘til they’re paid ransom or get arrested? What is this, some sort of house-play shit? I saw something about that on TLC once.”

“Look, princess,” Carlisle started, struggling to get the blade through another bit of rope. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’s the truth. I didn’t bundle you up in my car for money, or to hurt you. I bundled you up in my car to bring ya home, where you belong. We’ve missed you your whole life, and now that you’re a lil’ older, we’d love to make up for lost time.”

She looked silently from one to the other. Carlisle could see that it would take a while to convince her. She was suspicious, defensive, and unyieldingly stubborn. Just like her parents.

“Whadiya say, kid?” He smiled at her. “Wontcha give your ol’ man a hug?”

The last of the rope snapped and Rosalie immediately punched him so hard in the nose that it made a horrible crack. He held it as she tried getting away, having seemingly forgotten about the rope around her ankles.

The pair of them allowed her to hop around the garage as both exits were locked. Esme handed him a tissue for his bloody nose and they stood side-by-side against the car, watching Rosalie noisily hunt for something she could either free her ankles or hurt them with. It took him a second to realise Esme was quietly crying.

“Don’t worry, doll,” he put a consoling arm around her and pulled her into him. “She’ll come round eventually. She just needs time. And maybe a car, or a pony, or whadevathefuck teen girls are into deeze days. Whadeva it takes, we’ll do it.”

“It’s not that,” Esme swiped at her tears and turned to him. He was surprised to see she was smiling.

“Then what? What is it, baby?”

Esme wiped another tear away as she proudly cried, “she’s got my uppercut!”

Getting the three of them to work as a family unit had been no easy feat. After showing her the paperwork that proved they were her biological parents, the couple brought Rosalie back to her adoptive home the same evening they had taken her from it in an attempt to show her they were no danger. She didn’t tell the Hales about what had happened, instead blaming her broken curfew on losing track of time while at a friend’s house. Carlisle knew that this was more out of anger at them for lying to her her whole life than it was out of loyalty to the Cullanos. The couple returned to watching her, but this time it was on a daily basis, and they made sure she saw them either by waving across the street or approaching her if she was alone. They often arrived with bribes, but she rolled her eyes each time.

“Hi, Rosalieeee,” Esme sung one day, the two of them having waited for her to get home at the corner of her block. “How was school?”

“Get lost,” Rose muttered as she went to walk past them as usual. Carlisle caught her arm, so she begrudgingly came to a halt and rounded on them with a glare. “What? What do you want?”

“I bought us matchin’ Birkins!” Esme said excitedly, unfazed by Rosalie’s attitude. She held up her arms, each hand gripping the handles of a bag.

“I already have expensive bags. I don’t need more. You know what? I already have parents, too.”

“Who had about as much of a hand in raisin’ you as we did,” Carlisle said. “Tell me, Rosie, which nanny was it you used to mistake for your motha?”

She flinched for a second before recovering her steely expression. “I told you not to call me that. You don’t get to give me a nickname. You don’t get to ask me how my day was. You don’t get to wait around for me every single day. Seriously, you’re both stalkers. You’re already breaking the law by seeking me out before I’m 18. Stop before I call the police and report you for harassment.”

“I don’t think you will,” Esme said gently.

“Oh yeah? What makes you so confident?”

“If that’s what you wanted, you’d have done it already.”

There was a pause. Esme took her chance to hand Carlisle a bag, freeing a hand to caress Rosalie’s arm. “Look, sweetheart. All we’re askin’ for is for you to get to know us. If you get to know us, and you decide you want nothin’ to do with us, we’ll walk away, no questions asked.”

Rosalie considered this for a moment, then looked back and forth at the two of them. “You swear?”

Carlisle traced the cross-my-heart motion on his chest. “Hope to die.”

“Promise,” Esme said firmly.

She let out a sigh. “Fine. But how will it work? I can’t just disappear to go live with you. I’m in my senior year, and my parents would have the mayor turn the city upside-down looking for me.”

“Well, they work ‘til late, right? So we’ll start pickin’ you up from school, and get you back before they come home,” Carlisle said.

“No, you can’t pick me up. Friends will see me getting into some random car. Plus, I’ll have homework...studying....that kinda thing.”

“Ahrite-ahrite,” he nodded. “Responsible, I like it. Education is very impawtant.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, it seems to have played a huge role in your life.”

“How about we get you a cell that you can use specifically for us?” Esme asked. “And you can call or text us whenever you’re finished with schoolwork? We can take ya out to eat or...well, do whateva you wanna do.”

Rosalie paused again. “Do I get to pick the phone?”

“Of course,” Esme smiled. She had told Carlisle the bribes would pay off eventually.

“What about your...business?” Rosalie asked curiously. They hadn’t explicitly told her what they did, but she was bright enough to guess.

“We do most of our work at night, anyway,” Esme answered.

And so the months that followed were filled with evening family bonding. Rosalie would call or text, they’d go out to eat, do different things around NYC or Jersey City, drop her home, go take care of business, get home either a little before or after dawn, and sleep while she was at school. She seemed to enjoy her time with them; she never said she was happy to continue allowing them to be in her life, but she never again brought up wanting them to leave her alone, either. So they continued the way they were as her 18th birthday drew closer.

One evening, when the family had gone go-karting, Carlisle noticed Rosalie’s ability to drive with extraordinary speed and precision. He decided to test it out in an actual car, just the two of them, and was thrilled to discover this skill was transferable.

“Guess what, baby?” He approached Esme from behind at their kitchen counter the next afternoon, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“What?” She smiled sleepily as she prepared breakfast, though it was 1pm.

“I think I’ve found us a driver.”

“Really? Who?”

“Rosie.”

She frowned and pulled away so she could properly look him in the face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Remember how great she was when we went go-kartin’? Well, I brought her to a track last night and she was amazin’. Turns out she’s actually really into cars — kid knows more about ‘em than me!”

“First of all, drivin’ round an empty racetrack at night is very different from drivin’ the streets when you’re fleein’ a scene or bein’ chased,” Esme said, pulling fully out of his arms and heading for the sink. “Second, Rosie’s goin’ to college.”

“Whadiyamean, she’s goin’ to college?”

“I mean what the fuck I said: she’s goin’ to college!”

“We just got the kid back and now you’re gonna send her off to some otha parta the country to go to college?”

She turned back to him with a glare. “The whole reason we left her in the first place was so that she could have a normal life. College is a normal life.”

“Normal life? She was bounced around from nanny to nanny! We didn’t give her a life with normal parents, we gave her human cash cows and babysitters!”

“Well, at least she was safe.”

“We’d never let anyone hurt her.”

“We couldn’t guarantee that. We still can’t. That’s why she should go to college like the rest of her friends.”

“What, because college is so safe for young girls? Have you neva read a newspaper?”

“Don’t tell me about the dangers young women face,” she practically growled.

“She’d be with us,” he said, his tone much softer. “Where else could possibly be safer for her to be than with the two people who’d die for her?”

She stared at the counter for a moment. “Her 18th is comin’ up,” she said slowly. “That’s her opportunity to decide if she wants to come live with us or not. If she does, she does; if she doesn’t, she goes to college like the private-school kid she is should. But I don’t wanna force her like we did last time. If she chooses us, I want it to be because she chooses us.”

“Okay,” Carlisle smiled, then added, “and she will.”

And she did. She turned 18, deciding to finish out the school year where she had always lived. After graduation, she packed her bags, told the Hales she knew the truth and that she was leaving them for good, and came to live in the Cullano house. The Hales were a little persistent in trying to convince her to come back to them, but it was nothing that couldn’t be solved by sending Emmett, the most intimidating-looking member of the crew, over to their house to smash a couple of things up. As Carlisle had envisioned, Rose started driving for the Cullanos and their team, initially just the occasional, stress-free errand here and there. But she found it brought a certain amount of thrill and excitement her life had been missing, and so she worked her way up to riskier jobs. This trip to Boston would be her riskiest job yet.

“Is everyone done?” Carlisle now asked. Esme still had a slice left over while Rosalie sat with nothing but crust in front of her.

“Mmhmm,” Rose answered. Esme mumbled something about being full.

They gathered their things and headed back to the borrowed Bugatti that Emmett had arranged for them. Though Emmett was a Brooklyn boy, Boston was his father’s city, and he had relatives all around it. Relatives that would be more than happy to see the Cullanos through what they planned to do tonight.

Rosalie set the GPS to their hotel. “How many Ivanovs are there, again?”

“Six— well, 4 Ivanovs, a Petrov and a Ryan,” Esme answered from the back.

“Who’s the head?”

“Mmm, Tatiana. Or at least she thinks she is,” Esme smiled.

“Is she the one who...did she kill Emmett’s dad?” Rosalie met Esme’s eyes in the rear view mirror. She had developed a bit of a soft spot for Emmett over her time with them.

“No,” Carlisle answered instead. “That was Katarina and Garrett.”

“Garrett doesn’t sound very Russian.”

“Garrett is the Ryan. Irish mob, like Emmett’s dad,” Carlisle said.

“They worked together ‘til he fell for Katarina,” Esme added. “So it was a real blow when the two of them killed him. A big betrayal.”

“Then how come no one’s taken them out yet?”

“They’re powerful. Ruthless. Batshit crazy,” Carlisle said.

“Look who’s talking,” Rose said with a slight smile.

“That’s why Emmett’s mother left here and raised him in Brooklyn,” Esme said. “That’s where she grew up, so she knew she’d be safe. The Ivanovs have people everywhere around Boston. And with a target on the back of every McCarthy, stayin’ woulda been a death sentence.”

Rosalie frowned then. “If they’re that bad, what are we doing here? There’s three of us— two, technically, since I’m just the wheels. Those don’t seem like very good odds.”

“There’s also Alice, virtually,” Carlisle reminded. “She’ll be there behind every camera to tell us what we’re dealin’ with.”

“Cool, so she can say, ‘hey guys, you’re about to die’ right before we die. Helpful.”

“It is helpful,” Esme said. “Even the shortest of warnin’s can buy you just enough time to save your life.”

“Besides, we’re not plannin’ a massacre,” Carlisle said. “I’m expectin’ only one to be there. We hit ‘em, we go. Then we’re even for how they fucked us over with the Kiev deal they were supposed to facilitate.”

“So it’s...a blind hit? It doesn’t matter who you get, as long as you get one of them?”

Carlisle nodded. “But it would be...convenient, if it was Tatiana.”

Once they got back to the hotel, they freshened up and changed. The couple pulled out the stuffed bags Emmett had also organised for them. They took only what they needed, a couple of guns and knives each, and shoved the rest back under the bed.

“Don’t forget my favourite,” Carlisle smirked, waving Esme’s thigh holsters in the air.

“Never,” she said, holding up two pistols that were identical to her favourites back home. “Put them on for me?”

He knelt down, lifted up her skirt and strapped one around her right thigh. Then he moved to her left as she slotted her gun into it. After buckling the left one, he ran his hand down her inner thigh, causing her to giggle. Rosalie burst through the door of their adjoining rooms and froze as she registered them, her face immediately screwing up in disgust.

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” she said. “Get a room.”

“This is our room,” Carlisle pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. “Why aren’t you in all-black?”

She was wearing head-to-toe black like they taught her, as she always did. Carlisle was dressed like an office worker from Mad Men, while Esme looked like a housewife from the 50s. Neither of them said anything.

“This isn’t one of your weird sex things, is it? Like, you can’t possibly get off on killing people together?”

The silence continued. “Ugh, don’t answer that.”

They made their way down to the car and Rosalie silently drove them to a street two blocks down from the address they’d given her. As the pair got ready, she drummed her fingers against the wheel.

“You scared?” Carlisle asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“No,” she said, a little too forcefully.

Esme leaned forward into the gap between the two front seats and put a hand under Rosalie’s chin, directing her so she could look at her intently. “Remember the plan. Stay inside the car at all times. Stay put here, lights off, engine off. Only turn it on when you see us. Or when you see people who aren’t us carryin’ guns. If that happens, you drive and you drive and you don’t ever stop. Same goes if we’re gone past, mmm, a half hour. Forty minutes, tops. There’s a loaded gun in the glovebox if you need it. Got it?” Rosalie nodded. “Good.”

“Stay safe, princess,” Carlisle kissed her on the cheek, opening his door. “Love ya.”

He closed the door and Esme took her hand and squeezed it. “Everything will be fine. But in case it isn’t, you know what to do. I love you, sweetheart.”

She nodded wordlessly again. She never said it back; it was probably still too weird for her. But she swallowed tightly. Esme brought the hand she held onto up to her lips and kissed her knuckles. She then let go and opened the door.

“Esme?” Rose choked out just as she was about to close it.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Come back to me, like you did before.”

Now Esme was the one who could do nothing but nod. And with that, she closed the door, and the couple walked off into the night.

[rreyie]

Fight for Us

Chapter i- the reunion

summary- it’s been a long time since you’ve last seen reiner, one of your best friends from your childhood. but he’s changed. a lot.

genre- some fluff, angst, comfort/hurt

warnings- mentions of trauma, alcohol, readers feeling getting hurt, death. major spoilers for those who have not watched aot. eventual smut, not in this chapter- this is mainly just background info.

a/n- i told y’all i would be giving you a reiner fanfic for 500 followers, so i delivered and now it’s probably a series lol

For the past hour, you had been waiting at the train station for the Warriors to arrive once again. You had heard about their recent victory at Fort Slava, which everyone seemed to be giddy about. Another step towards victory.

You hadn’t seen them since you were about fourteen or fifteen, when you used to hang out with them in their free time when they weren’t training. You would all chat about who would be getting each titan and why and what the future would hold for you all.

It was always peaceful except for when Porco and Reiner had their usual clash, a few of which quickly became violent. It would usually end with Reiner having a bloody nose which you would always have to tend to, telling him to tilt his head back as you dabbed a tissue under his nose and on his clothes to wipe off the remaining blood.

Your parents lectured you each and every day about how you shouldn’t be hanging out with Eldian scum like him, that he and the others were spawns of the devil and not to be trusted around their innocent daughter. They scolded you each time you checked on them or decided to bring them bread to eat, and sent you to your room for hanging around them. They claimed it was out of love, but you knew better at this age that it wasn’t out of love- it was out of fear.

But they gave in on the day they were leaving for Paradis, and let you say goodbye one last time. You and Reiner talked for a while about how he will make his parents proud of him and save the world.

———

“So you think you can do it? You can really turn things around?”

“Of course I can!” Reiner chirped. “I’ll be a hero.”

“But you only have thirteen years, Reiner”, you warn him. “Your life is cut short now. I, I just...”

“Just what?” Reiner asks you, hazel eyes looking your way.

“I just... don’t want to lose you that early.”

You felt your cheeks start to warm, and quickly hid your face in your shirt to save yourself from the embarrassment. Reiners gaze was soft now, mouth slightly agape. You could easily see a pale pink form on his light complexion.

“You’re that worried about me?” He questioned, slightly raising his brow.

“Yeah, sure. You’re one of my best friends and I don’t want you dying early like that. It’s not fair to you”, you said, almost muttering those words.

“Y/n...” Reiner said. “I’m not just doing this for my parents. It’s for you too.”

Your eyes stop staring down at the ground and now avert to Reiner, who’s blush was deep now.

You had no clue what to say. It seemed like this comfortable silence was the best option, just sitting there trying to process your emotions.

The sun was starting to set, and Reiner had to leave at sunrise with the others. He slowly got up from the pavement of the sidewalk and brushed off his uniform pants in case any dirt got on them. You got up with him, wanting to spend every moment you possibly could with him before he left.

“I think this is goodbye, y/n. I should get some sleep before I leave in the morning”, he murmured.

“Okay. Guess I should let you sleep then”, you say. “Just...promise me you’ll come back alive. Fight for us, Reiner.”

Reiners expression turned warm, a smile curling on his rosy lips. “I will. I’ll come back, I promise.”

You both knew what was coming next. Reiner put his hands out for you and pulled you in close, your lips landing on his. You put a hand on his cheek, rubbing at his skin as both of your lips clashed against each other. It wasn’t a rough kiss, but not timid either. It was somewhere perfectly in the middle. Something you both were going to need to remind you of each other.

———

Now the time had finally come to meet eyes with him again. This was the last thing you thought about before the train came rolling in, coughing big clouds of black steam as it entered the station. Cheers could be heard from the crowd on the platform as passengers from inside waved to their families, likely for the first time in years.

You jostled through the crowd once the train came to a stop and started to unload its contents. Soldiers ran to embrace their mothers, fathers, siblings and spouses, some reunions making tears fall from their cheeks. This was the most happiness you had seen in a while.

Nearby, a short brunette girl quite literally flung herself out of the train, shouting into the air about how happy she was to be home. A man with slicked back hair had a rosy-cheeked blonde, clearly intoxicated, slung around his shoulder. For a moment you thought it was Reiner, but you thought otherwise when you continued to observe his features.

“Reiner! I’m so glad you’re home!”

You heard what sounded to be an old woman talking in another direction, the mention of his name making your head instantly turn towards where it was coming from. A woman with short blonde-grey hair was hugging a much taller man, with pale skin, hollow cheeks and noticeable dark circles under his eyes.

No fucking way that’s him, you thought to yourself. The solemn expression on his face did not match what you last saw, the old Reiner you used to know. What the hell had happened while he was in Paradis? Did the island devils get to him?

You gulp and decide to go and see for sure if this was really Reiner. Pushing through the dense crowd again, you walk the direction of the familiar voices.

Once you finally get a clearer glimpse of the old woman and who you assumed to be Reiner, you came to the conclusion that this was in fact him- just a tired, potentially malnourished version of him.

“Reiner!” You call. His head spun around, eyes widening when he saw your figure running towards him. You swore you could see a tiny smile form on his face, a contrast to his exhausted features.

You run into his chest, and wrap your arms around his buff figure. But for some reason, you don’t feel his arms hug you back. It felt strange, but you were going to take what you could get.

“Y/n?” Reiner asked, making you tilt your face up to confirm that it was you. “Oh fuck, I missed you, how are you?”

“Language, Reiner”, the old woman scolded. You could recognize her now, it was his mother- Karina Braun.

“Excuse me mother”, he said. “But really, how have you been?”

“I’m okay, but shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” You question him. “You’ve been at war for years.”

“Yeah, sure”, he responds. “Just tired.”

You pull away, and see Karina starting to smile, making her dimples appear on her cheeks. “This must be y/n, the girl you wouldn’t stay quiet about when you were little!” She exclaimed.

Reiner scoffed. “Not the time, mother. And I didn’t talk about her that much.”

The dispute between them made you giggle. Karina sighed, slightly exaggerated.

“If you like, you can come over for dinner tonight”, she offers. “I’m making beef stew and my sister and her family will be over to talk about what happened. Her daughter is a warrior candidate too, so I bet Reiner and her would have some interesting stories to tell.”

“Sounds wonderful!”, you say. “I’ll be over whenever.”

“Is seven alright for you?”

“Yes, that’s alright”, you reply. “In that case, I’ll see you two tonight!”

Karina beamed and nodded. Reiner was clearly starting to get bored of the conversation, observing some of the architecture of the station. It looked like he was in his own world, telling from the foreign look in his eyes. They didn’t seem as bright as they used to.

“I should go. I need to run some errands for my family before tonight, but I’ll be over! See you two later!”

“Goodbye, y/n!” Karina yelled as you waved and began to walk away. For some reason, Reiner did not say anything to you before you left, which you found strange. You chose to not question it out of being polite, he may still be adjusting to being back in Marley.

A couple hours had passed since you left the train station. You went to the market to negotiate the high prices of nectarines and plums, to the bank to cash a few checks, and back to your parents house to drop off groceries and a little bit of spare cash to buy toiletries for the week.

But Reiner didn’t leave your mind while you were doing all of this. You were almost scared to ask what happened to the others who went on the mission, in fear of the truth. Perhaps minding your own business was the best thing to do right now.

You walked into the Braun household at exactly 6:55, a smile on your face. Karina hurriedly walked to the door to greet you, a bubbling sound in the distance along with the scent of meat, garlic and rosemary.

“Welcome, welcome!” Karina chimed. “I’ll take your coat, it’s rather warm in here.”

“Thank you”, you say. “It smells delightful in here!”

“That would be the signature Braun family stew”, she said. “My sister is tending to the stew. Reiner and Gabi are in here waiting for you.”

You walked though the hall that connected to the dining room and small kitchen, where the smell was coming from. Reiner and Gabi sat at the table along with a middle aged man, who was Gabis father.

“Is this her?” The man asked. “Nice to meet you, y/n. This is my daughter Gabi, and I bet you know Reiner. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Gabi gave you a toothy smile, while Reiner just looked down staring at his empty bowl.

“Sit down, Reiner and Gabi are about to tell out about their experiences”, he said and pulled out a chair.

The other woman in the kitchen brought in a steaming pot of a red stew, chunks of meat, carrots and celery floating around in the thick broth. She dished you some, then gave some to the others.

Gabi seemed to talk for hours about how she single-handedly took out the rest of the Allied Forces from a grenade she constructed, Reiner not saying anything and only staring at the stew, occasionally poking the contents.

“It was amazing!” Gabi said. “After this it’s just those island demons!”

“Speaking of”, her father said. “Reiner, how was your stay in Paradis?”

“Dad, you shouldn’t ask that stuff!” Gabi yelled. “Most of it is probably classified anyways!”

“You’re right, Gabi”, he sighed. “Reiner, forgive your uncle.”

“Actually”, he began. “Not all of it is a secret. There was this girl who had the courage to eat a potato at the opening ceremony... what was her name again? Sasha Braus? Yep, that sounds about right...”

“That’s wonderful, but I mean the battle. Did they find out? About you know... the titan thing?”

The slight smile on Reiners face soon disappeared and turned into one of terror, his pupils getting small and eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Gabi elbowed her father. Karina flashed a nervous look to her sister, and you looked back to her for guidance.

“Reiner, are you okay?” She asked.

“Y-yeah, just need to step outside. I think the air is getting to m-me”.” He quickly got up and left his seat and hurried out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

You all sat in silence, growing uncomfortable by the second.

You weren’t hungry now.

———

After failing to make conversation due to the recent events, you get up and excuse yourself, only after putting your bowl in your sink and thanking them for dinner. Gabi promised she would tell you more about her adventures before you headed out the door.

The Braun’s had a small porch on the house, and you assumed that Reiner would be sitting there when you came out. But you were shocked to find him nowhere to be found. You told Karina that you would look around for him, and left the house.

You were out for two hours looking for him. The night was starting to become darker, stars twinkling above you and shining down on this messed up world you were a part of.

But after hours of searching and worrying that you may not see him again, you found him on a bench outside of a pub in Liberio.

“Hey, Reiner!” You yell to him. His reaction wasn’t as sudden as the last time you called his name at the train station. Instead, his head was hanging low and slowly lifted up, his eyes reminding you of a stray dog.

You walked towards him, and stood in front of him once you felt that he noticed your presence.

“Your mom is scared, she doesn’t know where you ran off to”, you lecture him. “You should really come back home-“

“I’m not coming back home tonight, y/n.”

“Huh?” You ask him. “Reiner, it’s almost midnight. I’ll take you home if you need someone to walk you home.”

“Stop worrying about me. I’m staying here for the night, gonna have a few beers. Just... go away.”

These words take you by surprise. You can feel your throat tighten, and you try and swallow the feeling down so you wouldn’t have to deal with it right now. You couldn’t cry, not with him in front of you like this.

“I said fuck off. What do you not get about that?” His gruff voice growled. There was hostility in his expression, like you had never known him, or even worse- he was your enemy.

“O-ok, I’ll be going now”, your say as your voice cracked. You did your best to stifle your tears but you couldn’t stop them from collecting at your lash line. “Um, have a good night, Reiner.”

Swiftly, you get up from the bench and head in the direction of home, where you would probably spend the incoming day crying in embarrassment for making Reiner pissed. This was the exact last thing you wanted to do, make him feel uncomfortable to the point where he was pushing you away.

You stopped at a nearby lamppost to collect your thoughts, slumping against the cold pole and letting a few tears trickle down your cheeks. You grab a tissue from your pocket, and try to soak up your salty tears. You felt like absolute and utter shit.

A few footsteps are heard in the distance, and you are quick to reach in your other pocket and pull out a small pocketknife. After all, Liberio after dark wasn’t a safe place for a woman to be. Especially in this lighting.

“Who’s there?” You ask. “Show yourself or I’m drawing my knife.”

“Calm yourself, y/n.”

The familiar deep voice came closer to where you were standing, and a tall figure showed itself in the shadows. The red armband was crimson in the faded yellow light from the lamp, the man wearing a beige uniform.

“Reiner?” You ask, hoping for an answer. “Is that you?”

“I followed you back. I’m sorry for yelling at you”, he grumbled, and scratched the back of his head. “It’s about time I told you what happened.”

You nod, and sit on the curbside of the dimly lit street. He came and sat with you, just like you two did when you were young.

“So are they like people say?” You ask. “You know, the whole devil thing.”

Reiner shrugs. “They’re not evil. But they’re not good people either. It’s... hard to describe.”

“I understand.”

“You do?”

“Well, that’s a stretch”, you say. “I don’t, but I know how you feel. Um, I know you probably don’t want me asking but... what happened to the rest of the people who went with you? Marcel? Bertholdt? Annie?”

Reiner puts a hand to his face and shakes his head.

“Marcel died first. Bertholdt died a year ago I think. His titan was passed down to some blonde boy with a bowl cut in Paradis. And Annie, god who knows where she is? I’m not sure if she’s alive or dead.”

This information was something you were struggling to process. Marcel was a quick thinker, how could he not survive? And Bertholdt- he had what may have been the strongest titan, and who would want to kill his poor gentle soul? Annie though, you still had a bit of hope for.

“Before he died”, Reiner began. “Marcel told me I wasn’t meant to become the Armored. It was supposed to be Porco, but he interfered to protect him. I’m seeing what he means by I wasn’t meant to do this.”

“Don’t say that”, you order him, but not in a pushy tone. More like a gentle one. “If you’ve made it back alive, that’s enough for me.”

“What would you have done if I died?”

“I wouldn’t know”, you say. “I don’t think I want to even think about that.”

He nods. Death was too familiar to him now, it had almost become his friend now. It wasn’t an uncommon thing to see nowadays.

“And you kept that promise to me”, you utter. “You came back in one piece. I’m proud. This entire country is too.”

Reiner doesn’t look to you. Instead he gives a hum of approval, indicating that he heard you. You could see his chiseled features in the moonlight shining down on him to create a perfect shadow. God he was beautiful, he always was.

[wizkiddx]

...surprise part 2

warnings: tw for miscarriage , mh and eating disorder(though more like just really poor relationship with food) - please don’t read if these are sensitive topics

There will be a part 3!! This is v sad, um but from experience a bit so I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, if this offends anyone please message me and I will take it down if that’s what you want xx

(this is fictional, and everyone’s experiences are different)

[part 1]

By the time it came to dinner at his parents there was still very much an elephant in the room. Tom had sort of assumed that later in the morning you’d properly explain it, at least bring it up? But you’d skilfully managed to dance your way out of the conversation every time there was the opportunity to talk it out. For example, even though Tom was pretty sure you’d already washed you hair this morning apparently you had to take the worlds longest shower in the world in preparation for his parents roast. It also didn’t go unnoticed that you’d locked the ensuite door while you were in there.

Now this might not seem odd to most but Tom knew this wasn’t right. You were 3 years deep at this point and when Tom was home the two of you really used to make the most of it- barely leaving each others side. This meant brushing your teeth together, showering and bathing together - or at least one perched on the bathroom shower while the other was washing. Just doing the mundane together, that was the intimate thing- it didn’t have to be sexual or encroaching personal space. Clockwork, that’s what it was. It had taken a bit of time at the start for you to open up and be body confident in front of Tom, yet you were both long since past that point - or so you had been. With every ounce of your being, you knew that Tom loved you for you. Frankly though, that was the issue… you weren’t you. Your body had changed , or rather withered away and that was your fault. Yet another thing to add to the list. Being conciously aware of how unattractive you looked, literally a shell of yourself, there was only a wave of sad acceptance to surged through when you did lock the door.

Because in your head you. knew. This was the beginning of the end of your time with Tom and it was all your fault.

/////////////////////////

“I can help with that.” Y/n’s voice got Nikki turning away from the sink where she was attempting to make a dent in the huge pile of washing up Sam had accumulated - the boy could most definitely cook, but clean up? Not one bit.

“No no dear you go sit with them.” She shooed and smiled kindly at the girl she thought of as an adopted child herself. Because honestly? She looked like she could pass out at any point just from standing up. She clearly tried to hide it- wearing a baggy knitted sweater and mom jeans- but even just from her face, you could tell she was gaunt.

“I-no I’ll dry.” Y/n spoke very matter of factly , making Nikki just nod in agreement since this was probably the most conversation anyone had got out of Y/n since she arrived.

Tom had texted them all before hand, with the very unspecific message of ‘please don’t mention anything she’s just been ill and stressed’ and followed up with ‘I really mean it.’ Unsurprisingly, everyone had lots of questions given the ambiguity of the message, however these were all answered as soon as the door had opened to the couple. So dinner went down quieter than normal, everyone noticing how protective Tom was being of Y/n - who never ever normally needed protection, (in fact sometimes the other way round).

So Nikki and Y/n stood side by side, silently washing up. They must’ve stood that way for 10 or so minutes, Nikki hesitant to say something that was wrong, but desperately wanting to break the silence. But Y/n took that job out of your hands.

“How did you find out you were pregnant with Tom?”

“Oh god now your making me think” Nikki laughed, suddenly so relieved at an easy topic “um I think it was a bit of a shock you know? We had spoken about kids but weren’t actively trying for one and then all of a sudden I was sick and took a test.”

“So Dom was happy about it though?”

“Of course he was over the bloody moon. The man was meant to be a dad you know? At least I think he’s pretty good at it.” Y/n giggled lightly at the question and nodded vehemently.

“Yeh he is… I think all your boys are - when I brought my cousins.” Y/n smiled a little at the memory of bringing her two toddler cousins round to Tom’s family home. Safe to say that day the kids were spoilt with attention and food and had all the boys wrapped round there little fingers.

“You might just be right there. Are you and Tom trying?” Nikki probed, testing the waters a little.

“No.” Y/n closed that thought path down very very quickly. “I er… I was just wondering.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No no it’s fine.”

Back to the silence of the washing up, the occasional clink of ceramics and culterlry clanging together reverberating through the otherwise empty kitchen.

“So you never had….um any issues with kids. No…er no losses or scares?”

Nikki suddenly had a much better guess at what this whole situation was about.

“One…. I lost a baby girl between the twins and Paddy. It-it hurt a lot and you know I still wonder sometimes. We just never had a little girl and it well, it would have been amazing… but I’m a firm believer of everything happens and if we never had that angel we maybe wouldn’t have Pads…”

“I’m sorry” Y/n muttered, Nikki noticing how her eyes were absolutely fixed on the frying pan she was drying up.

“I don’t mind love, and I think she’s still with us in her own special way you know.” Nikki studied how Y/n silently nodded, thinking it were going to drift back to silence - yet instead she gulped before speaking.

“I don’t think I want kids now. I do- but not right now. Just Tom’s still so busy and we aren’t married but-“ Y/n’s pace of talking suddenly dramatically picked up and Nikki could hear a wobble in her voice “but… no-one does the sort of nuclear family anymore do they? I mean suppose I did want that and-…. I don’t know but it would’ve worked out right?Like-like if I… if we um“

“Y/n love, please I just need to ask because I care about you… Did you loose a pregnancy?” Nikki hit the metaphorical hole in one. Although she was pretty certain before she’d even asked, the way Y/n froze and fear took over her expression said it all.

“I-“ Y/n stammered before forcing a controlled breath out through her nose, still looking down, now on the cutlery drying process. “I- yeh. I couldn’t do it and they-“ Nikki interrupted her, the tears brimming to such an extent the started escaping over Y/n’s eyelashes as Nikki took both the tea towel and forks out her hand.

“Come with me.” Nikki whispered in Y/n’s ear, directing her out the kitchen - leading Y/n’s small frame into Dom’s office, mainly because it was the opposite side of the house to where everyone else was.

She got Y/n sat down on the small striped sofa and joined her after retrieving a box of tissues from the window sill. At this point Y/n was properly crying, no matter how much she tried to swallow back her feelings or wipe away her tears with shaking hands. Nikki read the girl like a book, watching her try to bite back the pain.

“Love, you take a breath and then tell me what you want to.” Y/n was the one that brought up the topic, Y/n was the one that searched Nikki out that evening. Nikki knew she needed to get this off her chest.

“I found out just after Tom left for Atlanta and-and I was… I was pretty late anyway at that point, I think like …like 9 weeks they said? And I was terrified because we weren’t ready and Tom said he wanted kids in the future but not now and then…then they happened. I hated them at the start. They’d ruined my life I’d have to quit work because lets face it Tom just wouldn’t be around and then…. But-but I don’t know… I was waiting till Tom was supposed to get back. Cos then I’d have the scan picture and you sort of can’t say ‘I’m pregnant’ over the phone so. So yeh.” Nikki nodded, squeezing Y/n’s had gently, encouraging her to continue. “But then I had the scan and they had a heartbeat you know? Suddenly I was so in love with the little blob in my stomach and I was like it will all work out, because it just would and-and Tom-“Her voice cracked again, Y/n bit back the sob though and continued “Tom would be the best dad anyone could ever imagine.” Nikki exhaled heavily, pulling Y/n into her chest as she cried a bit more. Giving her a chance to ground herself again. It took a moment or two but then Nikki pressed a little again.

“He doesn’t know about any of this… does he?” Nikki knew this was something more than just telling her almost mother-in-law. This was Y/n telling someone , anyone, else for the first time. Speaking the words the first time. Making it hurt all over again. The answer wasn’t really needed, but Y/n still shook her head against Nikki’s shoulder, confirming her suspicions.

And then Nikki waited, waited for her to speak again.

“And then it was two weeks ago and I-I was 14 weeks. I had a bump and everything! But I was at dinner with my friend and I got this horrid pain in my stomach. And I knew it. I knew I….I had wished my baby away for weeks and weeks and they’d given up. I ran home and bled my baby away into the drain. And…..” She took a shaky breath, attempting to steady herself. “And I I was grieving I think? Well I think I still am. But I couldn’t eat and it was just like I didn’t do enough for them? So-so I was supposed to be getting my life sorted and you know getting over it this week before Tom came back. But then he came home last night and I-I had a migraine so I didn’t notice him until this morning. He-he was never supposed to see me like-like this! So-so I shouted at him, I was really mean. Really really horrid to him which is stupid because I love him so much and….and I killed his baby.” Y/n’s voice was raised as it also got more fragile - completely synchronised with Y/n herself, who looked like she was going to crack and break at any point.

It was important that she went through the whole story. It was important the Nikki just listened as she recounted the traumatic, vulnerable and oh so personal loss she’d gone through. It was important she let it out into the world for the first time.

“Y/n… look… these things just happens sometimes right? It’s no ones fault and… I know that the day you are blessed with a little baby you will be an incredible mother. I’d love to say I could somehow make you feel better but I’m not sure I can… when this sort of thing happened to me I needed Dom. He held me together and then picked up the pieces and - well we slowly put them back together. So you know why I can’t really help, don’t you?” Y/n sniffed, her eyes closed, but eventually after letting Nikki let silence in the air she nodded minutely. Nikki squeezed her palms tightly, as she looked at the girl with such deep empathy and sympathy. She could only imagine how traumatic it must be tp have this happen with your first child - especially without anyone else to lean on.

“Because you’re not Tom?” With an agreeing nod, Nikki stood up , withdrawing her hands from Y/n’s grip; rubbed up and down Y/n’s back before finally offering a plan.

“Look, I’ll go get him and you tell him what you told me okay? He loves you and he’s worried.”

After a little more comvinving and encouragement, Y/n steeled her nerve as Nikki fetched Tom. The two woman had agreed that the couple would just go back to their home, where Y/n, in her own space would tell Tom. Here she didn’t feel as if she could - this was unequal territory, this was Tom’s childhood home. Nikki knew that this fact would really be irrelevant - it only mattered if the couple somehow called it quits… and she knew without doubt that’d never happen.

///////////////////////////

Tom walked in quietly, clearly having been briefed that something was going on, taking notice of the tear tracks Y/n’d tried to wipe away and just how small and vulnerable she looked. Wordlessly, Tom crouched in front of her, his deep brown eyes swimming with warmth as they met hers.

“Mum said you wanted to go home… is that still okay?” She nodded jerkily in agreement, wiping her eyes once again before taking Tom’s hand as he guided her to stand. Nikki gave her a sad smile as her son led the two of them out the room and forward the front door.

It was hard- no doubt- but she had absolute faith in the relationship between the two.

They’d be okay.

Tagging people who were interested : @vanillanestor @thevelvetseries @333dolans

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 12 - A Little Death

Masterlist; Chapter 11

Summary: You have to help Neil get back onto his feet after the tragic news. The lack of control and overwhelming grief lead to a few revelations...

Warnings: This is quite angsty still despite mentions of comfort; excessive drinking; self-harm (only implied); swearing

Author’s Notes: Okay so the length of this is beyond me and I’m sorry. This takes place just before Neil’s departure to Mumbai, film-wise. I really hope you’ll enjoy and please let me know what you think!

P.S. The referenced song is ‘A Little Death’ by The Neighbourhood 

You did not check how long you were sat like that on the floor, cradling Neil and letting him cry and shake as though those were the only things he was capable of. Later you realised it was probably close to two hours as by the time you got up, it was nearly evening. But for those two hours, you just let him take his time. He did not speak, and you only occasionally whispered words of reassurance into his ear. You kept on drawing soothing circles into the skin of his back. After the first half-hour, you found a much-needed package of tissues and placed them in his lap. Despite his silence, you knew that your presence meant everything. And so you stayed, ignoring the rumbling in your stomach and tiredness. For the most part, you also ignored your own tears, fully aware that this was not about you, nor it should be.

Neil’s heart-wrenching sobs stopped after those two hours and were replaced with small gasps as though he was struggling for air. That is when you knew that the breakdown was past its culmination point. Slowly, you shifted so that you could look at him and gently tipped his chin. His eyes were puffy and red. The heart-breaking look he gave you was enough to nearly tip you off the edge. But you had to be strong. So you just took a deep breath and broke the silence:

“Don’t say you’re sorry for this because that’s the least I could have done for you” he nodded hesitantly upon seeing your determined gaze “I’m here for you, and I won’t make you talk about anything but sometimes it helps” you kissed him on the forehead.

When you met his gaze afterwards, you were struck by the admiration you saw there. He smiled at you slightly as though trying to convey something difficult to be expressed otherwise. You smiled back and took his hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. After another beat, you got up and filled a glass of water for him. You knew well enough how something so simple is needed after crying for so long. You watched as he emptied the whole glass, placed it on the side, and took a deep breath. Then he spoke for the first time in two hours.

“I… I know that this isn’t what you’re used to from me” he shrugged helplessly.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still someone I care about deeply” for a second you wondered why you felt like you wanted to say more.

But now was definitely not the time. So, instead, you added:

“Tell me what happened? If you’re ready, of course” you took his hand back and smiled when he entwined your fingers on reflex.

“When we arrived, he…” Neil swallowed hard “TP called us to his office and started explaining the next steps in the operation. He mentioned the bloody Mumbai and how I’m needed there tomorrow” he clenched his jaw, and you felt the tension rise.

You placed your free hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. Then you let your hand linger on the side of his neck. He sighed at your touch before resuming the story:

“Then he asked Ives to leave, and we talked a bit about everything… It was like the old days, you know” his brow furrowed “He mentioned how I’m probably his greatest friend in the whole world… How I helped him make Tenet into what it is now and how that wouldn’t be possible without my contribution” he exhaled shakily “We even talked about you” he glanced up and met your surprised look “Just about how it was seemingly fate that brought us together and how you fit in so well here, just taking everything in your stride” you smiled at the words shyly.

Even though it hurt you to know that he was not allowed the truth about your hiring. But maybe that was for the better, you mused.

“We talked like that for over an hour before he started acting strange… The things he said…” he seemed to gather words “It didn’t make much sense, but now I think I should’ve realised that he was…” he shuddered slightly “That it was supposed to be a goodbye” you saw the tears in his eyes again and shifted so that he could rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“Don’t blame yourself for not predicting what will happen. There’s no point in that” you leaned against the foot of the bed behind to be more comfortable.

“Maybe… But I felt something was wrong, so an hour after I left his quarters, I went back in” you tightened the hold on his hand, feeling the moment approach “The door was unlocked and he… he was just sat there” Neil brought his head up to look at you with teary eyes “I thought that he was fine but then… there was no pulse, and he wasn’t breathing” you felt him become breathless and gently urged him to slow down.

When he stopped hyperventilating, you let him lean on your shoulder again.

“He died alone… and I couldn’t do anything about it” you were not sure if you preferred the dejected tone or the former sobs “I was supposed to be his best friend, his partner”

“I think that he didn’t want to hurt you even more by making you watch it happen” you suggested, trying to make sense of the situation.

After the earlier text and what Neil told you begun to understand that TP intended to do it. To end his life. You just had to find a reason why.

“But I don’t understand why he did it” Neil’s voice broke through your contemplation “There was no reason to… He said himself that the plan is going well” you could hear anger creeping into his voice.

“I know… But maybe there was a reason…” you trailed off.

Neil watched you sharply, and you felt like if you said something wrong, you could risk losing him again. You had to tread softly.

“You once said that he never did things without reasons” you stumbled over the tense and frowned “And that��s the same feeling I got when I talked with him… Maybe he had to do that to avoid clashing with his former self in any way” you glanced at Neil to gauge his expression.

He was staring ahead into space with a serious look in his eyes, considering what you said.

“Is like… they mentioned during training that it would be bad if we ever came in contact with our other selves, inverted and so on” you kept on rambling, hoping it was helping somehow “So maybe he was afraid that his existence now would coincide with his younger self out there”

“There must have been better ways of dealing with that” you could tell that he was angry.

At himself. At TP. At the universe. And there was nothing you could do.

“Maybe that was all that he could think of”

You watched helplessly as he turned away from you, suddenly overcome with the emotions. You urged yourself to calm down. Maybe now was a good moment to mention the text…?

“I… I got a text message from him actually… as I was getting here in the cab” you took out your phone and gingerly offered it to him.

Neil took it without question and read over the recent message. Then you saw his eyes dart to other text conversations. But you did not mind. There was nothing to hide. He handed you back the phone without a further word. Then he got up and wandered over to one of the side cabinets.

Now that was concerning.

“Neil?” you scrambled after him and watched in horror as he hastily threw the cabinet contents onto the floor.

Finally, he found a whisky bottle hidden in the back and took a triumphant swing out of it. That sight made you shake off any paralysis you fell into. You crossed the room and snatched the bottle from him. The dark look he gave you was somewhat terrifying. He took a step closer as you took one back. Then he met your gaze challengingly as though doubting your ability to deny him anything. But this time, you were not going to give in. You shook your head and extended the gap.

“It helps with the pain” Neil shrugged helplessly.

“I know, but I think you’ve had enough for today” you gestured towards the empty bottles on the floor.

Thinking fast, you decided to act. You took out your phone and summoned Ives, asking him to come by Neil’s room in a moment. He responded instantly, evidently waiting on the news. Once that was dealt with, you went on to pick up the reminders of Neil’s state. When he saw you do that, you heard him speak:

“If you’re going to take away all the alcohol, then at least leave me the empty bottles” you turned to see an unfamiliar cynical smile “The glass might come handy” the emptiness in his eyes made the delivery worse.

You could only stare, processing the words. Suddenly everything felt too overwhelming.

“Neil…”

You stared at him pleadingly, hoping that maybe the look of panic in your eyes will help him realise what he said. You did not dare breathe until he somehow denied your worst anxieties about the situation. You watched as his face fell, then he covered it with his hands and breathed out a long exhale.

“Fuck. I’m sorry…” he stared at the floor “I didn’t mean it” he looked up at you remorsefully “I don’t know why I said that…”

“It’s okay. Just don’t ever scare me like that again” you gave him a weary smile.

Before you could say anything more, a knock on the door interrupted you. At Neil’s quizzical stare, you answered:

“Ives. I’ve asked him to come” you moved to the door, clutching all the bottles in your arms “Give me a second. And please don’t do anything stupid” you gave him a final warning look before you exited into the corridor.

Ives waited there with a worried expression on his face that seemed fixed at this point.

“Is he alright?” he asked, glancing at the door you closed.

You shuddered, thinking about the situation you just dealt with. But he need not know all that.

“He will be. For now, though…” you placed all the bottles of alcohol in his arms “Take these please and maybe get us a little something to eat from the kitchen… and tea” you tried to gather your thoughts.

“Okay” he nodded “If you need anything else, let me know”

“Thanks” you sighed, feeling the tiredness slowly descent upon your whole body.

But there was no time for that. Not yet.

“I’ll stay with him tonight” for once, Ives did not tease you about it, and you were grateful.

“His plane is at 3 pm tomorrow. Do you think that’s manageable?” he looked sceptical.

“It has to be” you smiled as Ives squeezed your shoulder reassuringly “I better go back to him. Just leave the food outside and knock on the door, please. Think it’s best if he doesn’t see anyone else tonight”

“Of course”

Without further word, you entered the room again and locked the door behind you. Neil was sat on the bed, anxiously picking at the skin around his fingernails. His hair was falling in his eyes, and he was staring at his lap, looking incredibly lost. It hurt you to see him like this. Ignoring the growing ache in your chest, you approached him slowly.

“I asked Ives to get us some food and tea because I think we both could do with that” you attempted a smile when he looked up “But before it arrives, you could shower and get changed… that could help a little”

You stood near enough to reach out and brush your fingers over his cheek tenderly. He seemed to consider your words for a moment before he leaned into your palm.

“Okay, I’ll try” you saw him hesitate before adding, “Thank you for putting up with this”

“Of course, that’s what friends are for” for some reason, the word felt wrong. And he noticed that too as you saw a small frown appear before he smiled at you and left for the bathroom.

When you heard him put the shower on, you started cleaning the room. You put away the pages that landed on the floor and made the bed. While you were smoothing the covers, your brain came up with a rather intrusive thought about how there you were, alone with Neil in his room. Again. And how that really did not fit in with the friendship story you desperately clung to. Because it was rather obvious that you would end up sharing the bed again. That was not something friends did this frequently. You did your best to shut that voice, but you could not deny the facts. So you just sighed and waited patiently for Neil to remerge.

Food arrived before he showed up, so you just set the coffee table. Once you were done, you heard the bathroom door creak. You turned to look at him and were taken aback by the casualness of his get-up. For the first time since you have met, he was not wearing suit trousers and a shirt, and instead had loose joggers and a t-shirt on. Despite the reality of the situation you found yourself in, you could not help but stare. He caught your look with a rather sheepish expression that you did not expect.

Interesting… But there was no time to dwell on it, so you just invited him to the table and encouraged him to have something from the selection Ives got you. Sometimes you would anxiously glance at him to see whether his mood has not changed for worse again. But he seemed fine; quiet and sombre but there with you, physically and mentally. And that was what mattered for the moment. So after you ate, you suggested settling in bed to rest. Neil agreed to that without any objections, giving you hope that maybe he was past his worst point.

After the initial awkwardness of the situation wore off, and you both relaxed onto the pillows, you asked:

“Should we put the tv on? Just have some music on or something…” you searched his eyes, trying not to get too conscious of the moment.

While this was certainly not the first time for you to casually share a bed, this time it somehow felt different. But you blamed that on the rollercoaster of emotions you both went through in the recent days.

“Yeah sure” Neil nodded and sent you a small smile.

This silent version of him was strange to get used to. It felt like he was holding back from you, and you were not sure whether you liked that. But there was nothing you could do apart from giving him unlimited space and time for expression should he need it. So, to provide a distraction, you put on the tv and quickly found a suitable music channel that was not blasting annoying pop songs. Silence fell on you again, as you let the music help you relax. You were not even paying attention to the exact songs played.

‘Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human’

That is until you felt Neil shift, and you glanced in his direction only to meet his intense stare. The blue eyes were fixed on you with a hazy tint on the pupils. Before you could ask him anything, he moved closer. You were struck by the look of intoxication on his face. Somehow you knew that it was not due to alcohol. You felt slightly paralysed by the multitude of feelings that came then. Neil ended his scrutiny of your face to ask:

“Can I kiss you?” his voice was huskier than usual.

‘Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there’

“Neil...” his name usually came quite handy in those speechless moments.

There were millions of reasons why you should not let him, but the look on his face and what he said next started breaking down the resolve.

“I know” he was looking at you with something close to pleading “I know this won’t fix anything, but if for at least a few seconds I can forget about this mess... then please give me that”

‘She sought death on a queen-sized bed And he had said, "Darling, your looks can kill, So now you're dead.’

He was close now. So close that all you had to do was lean in and kiss him softly. He sighed at the contact, and you brushed away the damp hair from his eyes. Then he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer with his hands on your waist. You were too lost in the moment to stop him when he urged you to lie down on the covers. Feeling your heart pound in your chest, you continued the kiss as he hovered over your body. His hands wandered until you felt him slide them underneath the fabric of your shirt. The warm, sudden touch on your bare skin acted as a warning. You gasped and broke the kiss, but not before he managed to bite on your lower lip, drawing blood. The desperate whine he let out made you open your eyes in a flash. The darkness of his eyes made you realise how close it got to the point of no return. That was enough to help you shake off the daze.

“Please, not like this” you pushed him away gently.

Your cheeks were burning as you came to realise what nearly happened. But once you met Neil’s gaze again, you could tell that he was still not quite aware of the reality. The passionate look in his eyes was replaced with something akin to begging.

“I just want to get lost in you” he murmured, still keeping his hands on the bare skin of your waist.

He ran his fingers along your sides, and you shivered. Inhaling slowly, you tried to calm down. Normally his words would have made you throw caution to the wind. But something like that could be disastrous right now.

“I don’t want it to happen like that” you pushed him off you completely and sat up, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

“But you want it?” the hopeful tone made your insides flutter with thousands of anxious butterflies.

Fuck… Of course, he wouldn’t let it go easily.

“Ask me again when we’re both better” you hoped that you sounded surer than you felt.

You touched the split lip and wiped away the blood droplet with your thumb. That moment must have awakened something in Neil, as suddenly you heard him inhale sharply before he blurted:

“God, I’m so sorry” you looked up to see him staring at you in terror “I don’t know what overcame me… It’s not that I didn’t want to…” he was clearly struggling with whatever he wanted to say.

“It’s okay. I won’t hold you accountable for whatever happened… or almost happened” you gave him your most convincing smile despite feeling more confused than ever.

“But I… I want you to know I didn’t do that only because I’ve lost control” that was enough for you.

“Neil, it’s fine” you interrupted him “You don’t have to explain. It doesn’t matter” you forced another smile onto your face, praying he will drop the topic.

You could not even explain why it hurt so much. Maybe because you worried it was just him losing control? And that if there was someone else with him in your place, it would have happened anyway? But it felt selfish to have those thoughts after everything that happened, so you just tried to rake your brain for some other distraction. Somehow, this moment felt right to breach a topic that has been on your mind for the past few hours. Slowly, you turned to face Neil, who was evidently still pondering the situation while staring at the tv screen unseeingly. 

“Neil…” he turned to you the instant you said his name “Before I came here, Ives told me about Alex…”

The moment you mentioned the name, you could see a plethora of emotions flash in Neil’s eyes. There was shock, sadness, and worry, among others. He visibly tensed and tried to school his features before responding.

“I- I would’ve told you” he was desperately searching for the right words “There just wasn’t a good moment, and I didn’t know if you…”

“No, no. Stop right there” you interrupted him, worried by the rambling “I didn’t mention that because I want an explanation or because it hurt me in any way” you met his gaze steadily “I only wanted you to know that I’ve been told. And that if you ever wanted to talk about it, I’m here” you tried your best to convey the support and love (?) into the long look you gave him.

“But… is-is this okay? Are you okay with that?” the doubt and genuine worry in his eyes made your heart clench painfully.

You wanted to hurt whoever made him question things like that.

“Of course it’s okay. You loved and lost him, and that’s the only thing I care about” tentatively, you reached out to take his hand again “It’s a vital part of your story, and I want to know you better” you smiled, seeing him relax slightly.

“Thank you… I’ll tell you one day, I promise” he brushed his thumb along your knuckles “But I think he’d like you”

You were not expecting that.

“Yeah?” you blushed slightly, suddenly flustered.

“He used to call me out on my bullshit too… and never fell for my charm too easily” he smiled fondly.

You liked the way pleasant memories seemed to light up his whole face.

“I can see some similarities then” you grinned shyly “To be fair, you need someone to keep you from getting too cocky” experimentally, you reached out to ruffle his hair.

If his blissful smile and the way he leaned into your touch were anything to go by, he did enjoy the gesture.

“I’m not sure I deserve you” he opened his eyes and looked at you with some kind of new emotion.

But before you could find any ways of answering that, he yawned. Once, then twice. The tiredness was finally catching up with him.

“Think you should try to get some sleep” upon his silent question, you added, “I’ll stay in case you need me”

For a second you wanted to offer that you will take the sofa, but somehow you knew that was not what he would have wanted. And neither did you if you were to be honest with yourself. So you just watched as he hesitantly started shifting on the bed, trying to find the most comfortable position. You switched off the forgotten tv and the lights and slowly laid down on the pillow. In the quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths. One look in his direction was enough to help you decide. You moved closer, closing the safety gap, and carefully placed your arm on his waist. After a beat, you curled up around him, with your head resting on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” you asked, following the tense silence.

“Yeah… It’s just that I really don’t think I deserve any of this” you could hear the apprehension creeping back into his voice.

“You deserve much more” you pressed a small kiss to his neck “But let’s start with this. Good night, Neil”

“Good night…” he hesitated but then just exhaled, letting you hug him closer to your body.

*** The peace lasted only for the first two hours. After that, you were awoken by Neil tossing nervously. Before you could properly come to your senses, he let out a few soft whimpers. Shit. You shifted so that you were hovering over him and took a long look. His brow was furrowed, jaw clenched, and he was incredibly tense. Whatever nightmare he was having, it was escalating quickly. The next thing you knew, tears were falling down his cheeks, and he was mumbling something, sounding distressed. That was enough. You cupped his cheek, as softly as you could, and leaned in close:

“It’s just a dream” you kissed him on the forehead “Wake up love” you were not sure where the endearment came from.

You leaned back to see his eyes open in a blink. His gaze was unfocused, evidently still lost in the nightmarish world. Using the hand that was cupping his face, you brushed the stray hair away from his eyes. His breaths were fast yet shallow. Knowing the experience well, you immediately kicked into action.

“Neil, listen to me” you waited until his eyes locked with yours “It was just a dream. It’s all okay now” you placed your hand on his chest over the heart “You need to calm down”

“I can’t breathe” he choked out and sat up suddenly, nearly knocking you in the head.

“You’re panicking” you shifted so you could be sat in front of him.

The fact that you nearly climbed into his lap in the process had to be ignored for the time being. You took his hand in yours and placed it in the middle of your chest so he could feel the rising and falling with every breath you took. With your other hand, you tilted his chin so that he was forced to meet your gaze. His pupils were darkened by panic and adrenaline.

“Follow my breath” you made him match your breathing for a few cycles.

Once you heard his inhales and exhales elongate and level off, you let go of the hand you kept pressed to your chest. He kept it there for a moment longer, as though making sure you were really in front of him.

“I’m sorry” the heartbroken and tired look he gave you was enough to make your heart ache “You really shouldn’t have to deal with this mess”

“It was my conscious choice, and I would never leave you alone after something like this” you leaned in closer and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth “Now, let’s try going back to sleep, shall we?”

This time he was holding on to you as though you were the only constant thing. With his arms around you and the warmth of his body, you could almost forget about the mess you both had to face in the morning. Before drifting off to sleep, you pondered his words again. More and more, you were sure that he got it the wrong way around. It was you who did not deserve someone like him. And you were afraid he would soon realise as much once the initial crush (or whatever it was) passed. But for now, you allowed yourself peace as you relaxed into his embrace and buried your face in his chest. If by some accident, the universe decided to be on your side, you would not complain.

*** In the morning, you were both awakened by Ives calling to make sure both of you were alive and awake. You had to blame the awkwardness that followed it on that very phone call. You only managed to shake it off when you sat down to the breakfast you brought from the canteen. You passed Neil coffee in silence, cursing your inability to hold a conversation after everything. But this time, he had some solutions. As your fingers brushed, he set down the coffee cup on the table and turned to you:

“I’m sorry about everything that I did and said yesterday” he glanced at your split lip “I wasn’t in control... and I don’t want you to be scared. I’d never do anything like that normally” he shifted nervously.

You knew an apology was coming, especially after seeing the way he looked at you ever since waking up. And while, admittedly, his behaviour worried you, you did not dare to think about how your ‘almost’ made you feel.

“I know, and I won’t judge you on how you acted last night” you put on your best smile, hoping to end the topic as quickly as possible.

But it was not meant to be as he clearly thought hard on what to say next. All you could do was wait and listen.

“I know that I crossed some lines” finally, he found the right words “And while I can’t deny that I was acting on my genuine desires…” he searched your eyes to make sure you understood “I won’t do that again because I respect your wishes to keep this strictly friendly”

Was this your imagination, or did he sound like he did not want to say that? If you were honest with yourself, that was not something you wanted to hear either. But now was most definitely not the time, so you just reached out to squeeze his knee reassuringly.

“Thank you, and don’t worry about it. We’re all good” he covered your hand with his and mirrored your smile.

Maybe all this confusion was worth it? After a short beat, you took your hand away and went back to breakfast. The silence was still there, but at least it was less awkward now. When you noticed him frown at the headache that was undoubtedly bothering him, you passed a painkiller. He smiled gratefully.

“So… when is my plane?” he asked after you both cleared the plates.

You could tell that he was dreading the trip. And it hurt to know that there was no way for you to help him.

“3 o’clock” you glanced at the watch “Which gives us about five hours to get you ready” you took in his sombre expression.

“I really don’t want to go” he met your gaze with emotionless eyes “It’s so fucking cruel to have me assist whoever the fuck that guy is when my best friend just killed himself. And I don’t even know why” the anger and hurt in his voice were somehow worse today.

Maybe it was because you could not blame it on his intoxication anymore.

“I know… And wish I had any answers, but I don’t know more than you do” you could only give him an apologetic half-smile “But I know that you have to be there to help… him”

Calling the younger version TP seemed somehow wrong. And you could only imagine how it must feel for Neil, on the eve of meeting that different version of his partner. 

“He won’t even know who I am” there was a broken edge to his voice “How am I supposed to meet him and act as though he’s a stranger?”

“Alright, walk me through what you’ve been told, and I’ll try to help as best as I can”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather go back to sleep?” he eyed you sceptically “You must be tired, and it’s all my fault”

“Neil, stop” you have had enough of the self-depreciation “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m here for you” you took his hand in yours “And I wouldn’t rest anyway without knowing you’re well. So let’s go through the plan and then I’ll help you pack”

He only gaped at you with a dazed expression on his face. You wondered how someone so incredible could ever doubt their importance so much.

*** Surprisingly you managed to get Neil ready in time for the taxi departure. Together you planned the mission, made sure he had all the necessary information and contacts and was as mentally well as he could be after everything. When the time was near, Ives knocked on his door. This time, Neil let him in. You watched as the two men embraced tightly, sharing the trauma and sadness. Ives then took a step back and eyed Neil coolly.

“You did a good job” he flashed you a smile “He looks much better than I expected”

“Would you mind?” Neil looked at you nervously, and you laughed at the brief moment of lightness.

“Must say it wasn’t easy, but I did my best” to prove a point, you wandered over to Neil and smoothed his suit jacket.

After disagreeing over the wardrobe choices you managed to convince him to take a few linen suits and shirts for the warm weather in India. Now you were proud you succeeded. To be fair he looked good in anything, but there was something more intimate in the fact that you chose his outfits. But once again, you were brought to the present moment by Ives clearing his throat:

“The taxi is leaving in half-hour. I’ll leave you two now” he gave you a knowing smile and exited the room before you could roll your eyes at him.

Realising you still had your hand on Neil’s shoulder, you took a step back. He was watching you attentively with a small smile on his face. That probably explained Ives’ allusions…

“I won’t ask if you’re ready but… are you okay?” you met his gaze.

“As much as I can be, I suppose” he shrugged dejectedly “I really wish I could stay with you instead”

You saw his hand twitch at his side and decided to choose for him by taking it into yours, naturally entwining your fingers.

“Unfortunately, this time we can’t decide for ourselves. But remember that you can call me if you need help or just to talk. Don’t worry about the time zones, I’ll always pick up” you tried your best to show how you felt through the expression in your eyes.

But that was a dangerous game as soon enough you got lost in the blue of his eyes. As always.

“Thank you” he breathed out, looking at you with such tenderness that almost made you feel faint “Still don’t think I deserve you though” he grinned shyly.

“Oh you do, and I’ll keep on saying that till you believe it” you raised your joined hands to your lips and kissed his knuckles “While I enjoy this slightly subdued version of you…”

“What?” his affronted face made you laugh.

“You know very well what I meant” you smirked and let go of his hand, only to pull him in for an embrace.

It took him only a second to hug you back, with his arms wound tightly around your waist.

“You said we should hug more often so” you whispered into his ear and enjoyed the laugh it prompted “Hope this is good enough for you” you ran a hand down his back.

Then, upon a sudden thought, you pushed your hands underneath his suit jacket and splayed them on his back, relishing the feel of his skin through the shirt fabric. The only indication that he felt the difference was a sharp gasp he let out as he drew you even closer.

“More than that” he kissed the top of your head.

After at least two minutes more, you took a step back but still kept your hands on his waist.

“Please be safe out there. Don’t do anything stupid. And…” you shut his mouth with a hand upon seeing him protest “And don’t get too drunk before the meeting. I know that it will be hard, but that could only make you more likely to fuck up”

Before you could take your palm away, he placed a peck on your wrist, near the pulse point. The voice in the back of your head kept screaming about how this definitely was not something friends do. But you told it to kindly fuck off. At least for now.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try” he flashed you a signature smile as though you could ever forget it “After all, I’m not the one to behave” proving the point, he brushed the pad of his thumb along your lower lip.

You inhaled sharply at the sensation. Looking questioningly into his eyes, you wondered whether he remembered about the earlier promise. But there was no time to find that out as sharp knocks interrupted you. It was time.

[thathopelessromantic]

your hand in mine

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Rating: Teen+ (for blood/injuries and minor language) Pairing: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yagi Toshinori | All Might (EraserMight) Note: Part of the EMMB 2021

The difference a year makes

A developing relationship told in seasons

AO3: (X) Companion Playlist: (X)

Summer

My love, he caught me crying Freedom can die so hard When you have a broken heart -God in Jeans, Ryan Beatty

Shouta is determined to ignore the sounds coming through the adjoining wall to his apartment. But it’s hard. There was an adjustment period to living in the apartments on campus, to stay close to the students in case of another attack. In his old apartment, the hours he kept were so erratic he rarely, if ever, ran into his neighbors. Now he knows all of them, some to a degree he never needed to know a coworker. And aside from the occasional hero work, they kept essentially the same hours. So even through the walls of the apartment, there’s usually the buzz of life around him – friends and co-workers settling down after a long day, cooking, cleaning. There was an adjustment period to being so aware of the people around him, but he thought he had well…adjusted.

He’s reconsidering that position now.

He’d like to blame it on the neighbor in question. Yagi, All Might, made so much noise as All Might, announcing his every arrival and departure with a booming voice or the crushing of some man-made structure not meant to withstand the superpowered strength of a 225 kg giant using it as a landing pad or springboard. But Yagi Toshinori as himself, at least while alone, seemed to make up for all the noise he made as his alter ego by being eerily quiet. Shouta had gotten so accustomed to hearing silence from the apartment to his right he thought it was empty. Originally, he thought it just made sense for All Might to take it for show like all the other teachers, but actually spend his time at his real home, some lavish penthouse in the Might Tower or something equally as ridiculous and extravagant. Though now that he was retired, and essentially quirkless, that trip from Tokyo to Musutafu was probably a little harder to manage every morning. Still, it seemed silly for the previous number one hero to be slumming it in glorified student dorms with the rest of them.

But Shouta was wrong about that fact too, just as he had been with many of his assumptions about the old hero. He had spent the last few months reassessing most of his assumptions about All Might, but he tended to fall back into old habits without evidence to the contrary. When a violent crash came from the otherwise silent apartment a few weeks prior, he rushed in, assuming an intruder. Instead he found Yagi in the middle of a starkly decorated living room amongst the splintered pieces of a coffee table he had fallen through. Yagi had insisted it was an accident, and an unusual one at that, and begged him to leave the subject. Shouta agreed with little argument, helping him clean up the mess, and going back to his apartment without much fuss. But he before he even realized it, Shouta found himself listening for signs of life in the adjacent apartment after that.

Occasionally he could pick up the sound of running water or the quiet beep of an oven timer or microwave. Very rarely, a quiet radio or TV station would drift through the walls. Most of the sounds would easily get lost in the bustle of every day life between a dozen or so heroes coming and going, or could have been mistaken for someone else’s noise, so it wasn’t a surprise that Shouta had missed the fact that it came from All Might’s apartment. But once he knew to listen for it, he couldn’t seem to stop listening for it.

It wasn’t…worry, exactly, that had him keeping tabs on Yagi, but he couldn’t find another word for it. He just couldn’t stop wondering how long Yagi had lived there before he realized. Couldn’t stop thinking about how dark, how cold, how empty the apartment was when he burst in before. Shouta wouldn’t have thought he ever considered what All Might’s house might have looked like until he saw how the retired hero was living and it struck him distinctly as wrong.

The coughing he hears tonight cuts over the quiet music Yagi has playing and he wonders if he normally plays it to cover the sound of his coughs before he banishes the thought from his mind. He has a week’s worth of lessons to plan still and papers to grade and what Yagi chooses to do in his own apartment is none of his business. And he is an adult who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself and doesn’t need Shouta of all people fretting over him. But all of Shouta’s logical reasons for why he should ignore the sounds coming through their shared wall can’t seem to stop him from hesitating at every harsh sound, from looking to the door and considering going over every time a coughing fit lasts more than a minute or so.

Eventually, Yagi seems to settle for the night and the coughing fits interrupt the slow music less and less. Finally able to focus on his work instead of his neighbor, Shouta lets the quiet sounds from his apartment fade into the chorus of background noise. So when, almost an hour later, there’s a new coughing fit followed by a large crack of something on the other side of the wall, Shouta is on his feet and moving to the door before he realizes what he’s doing.

He freezes in the hallway, staring at the closed door of Yagi’s apartment. No one else came to investigate the sounds, which seems strange to Shouta. It seems…impossible that no one else heard that and he knows for a fact their other neighbors on this floor are not particularly good at minding their business. But no one else comes to see what’s happening, so Shouta stands in the hall staring at the door feeling torn between an obligation to check on Yagi and a nervous, clawing sensation that makes him want to turn and never step foot back inside All Might’s apartment.

The coughing and some other muffled sounds continue through the door and eventually Shouta’s sense of obligation to help wins out because he knocks on the door, calling for All Might. No one answers.

Shouta knocks again, harder, but still after a few minutes he gets no response. Finally, he tries the handle.

The door swings open easily, unlocked.

Shouta has a lecture building in his head on the basic safety of locking your doors as he steps through the doorway. Like the last time, All Might’s apartment is dark. There’s a single pair of shoes in the entrance way that leads to the empty kitchen. The table pushed to the side of the room is identical to the one in Shouta’s apartment, but whereas his is covered in bills and homework in need of grading, All Might’s is empty. Only a single chair sits at the table meant to seat four.

Shouta steps through the kitchen into the living room, calling for All Might. He can hear someone coughing, and swearing as he gets close enough to make out the muffled talking, but still no one replies. The table Yagi had fallen through weeks before still hasn’t been replaced, so the only thing in the living room now is a large couch that looks virtually unused and Yagi’s briefcase on the floor besides it. Moonlight pours into the room from the glass balcony doors painting the room a cold blue despite the summer heat. Shouta can almost imagine the room, cold and dusty, the single piece of furniture covered in a sheet, it’s previous occupant gone, without enough of a fingerprint to even be forgotten within the space.

Shouta shakes the thought from his head and moves further into the apartment. Finally, down the hall to the two bedrooms, he sees light seeping into the hallway from the open bathroom door.

“All Might? It’s Aizawa. I heard a crash. I was just coming to-” Shouta feels the words catch in his throat as he takes in the sight before him. The laminate countertop and sink basin are broken in half, and water soaks the floor of the bathroom from a burst pipe under the sink. There is no mirror on the wall above the sink, which strikes Shouta as odd in the moment, though it is perhaps the least weird thing happening in the bathroom in that moment. All Might…Yagi stands in the middle of the room, the bottom of his pants are soaked with water. His hands, clutched in fists at his sides, are bloody, though if its from breaking the skin against the sink or from wiping at the blood dripping from his mouth, Shouta isn’t sure. The blood there is smeared across the bottom half of his face, the deep red staining his clenched teeth and seeping through the cracks in thin, dry lips that hold back his coughs. There’s a furious, wild look in his eye as the curses Yagi was spewing die on his lips and Shouta isn’t sure if he looks more ready to yell or cry.

But through all of that, it’s the bright red, gnarled scar on the side of Yagi’s chest that seems to be eating him from the inside that makes Shouta take a step back in shock. Yagi’s baggy clothes hid most of his form like this, even with his more updated wardrobe fitting him better. But the crater in his chest mangles his form. Even if he was standing up straight, if he even can fully stand straight with that much scar tissue stretched across his torso, it was obvious the scar had made his chest uneven, like it was slowly collapsing into itself, ribs and organs giving way to nothingness.

How many years had he lived like this? How many years had he worked like this?

“Aizawa,” Yagi grinds out hoarsely, the single word sounding like gravel in his abused throat.

It pulls Shouta out of his shock regardless, and he takes a few steps closer, as if they could both forget his broken composure. “I’m sorry for coming in unannounced. I heard the…crash. But there was no answer and your door was unlocked.”

Yagi stares at him for a long time and Shouta isn’t sure if it is because he doesn’t know what else to say, or just that he can’t bring himself to say anything else.

“Can I…help with anything?” Shouta finally asks.

Yagi pops his jaw a few times before he tries to speak again. “If you could…call someone…about the water…”

“Of course,” Shouta starts to pull out his cell, hoping he remembered to keep the stupid thing charged for once, when Yagi starts to speak again.

“Could you also…grab some towels…and a…a change of clothes?”

Shouta looks up but Yagi isn’t looking at him anymore. Just staring hard at the wall in front of him as if it had personally caused all of this. Shouta looks down again at the slowly-flooding room and wonders if Yagi even owns enough towels to make a difference.

“In the closet in the bedroom?” Shouta guesses.

Yagi nods once, stiffly.

Shouta takes the opportunity to flee for a moment gratefully. He calls Nezu and the maintenance number they had all been given when they moved in as he goes to the bedroom to rummage through the closet. He doesn’t turn the light on in the bedroom, he’s not sure why he doesn’t want to, maybe just to afford Yagi even a sliver more of privacy after tonight. But it doesn’t make a difference. The moon is full tonight and enough light comes through the open window to show that nothing is in the room except for an unnaturally large bed, the dark plain sheets slipping to the ground, and a bedside table covered in enough pill bottles to fill a small pharmacy.

There are only two more full-sized towels in the closet and a single hand towel, so Shouta just grabs all three. He’s not sure the clothes matter that much, so he just grabs the first pair of pants he sees that don’t look like slacks and a t-shirt.

He returns to the bathroom. The water is still steadily pouring in and there is no way the three thin towels will make much of a difference, if any. Still, Yagi takes them from him, dropping the two full-sized towels onto the ground. He uses the hand towel to wipe off his arms and chest first, though dry it doesn’t do much to help the blood that seems to be everywhere.

Uncaring of Shouta standing there, Yagi undoes the belt that keeps his jeans on his body and they drop to join the already-soaked towels and the stained lump between his legs Shouta thinks might have been his shirt. Yagi steps out of them, gingerly walking through the water until he joins Shouta in the hallway. He drops the hand towel to the ground, mopping up what water had already begun to leak out of the room. Shouta doesn’t mean to stare, but like every other part of him, Yagi’s legs are unbearably thin, nothing but skin and bone and scar tissue, the pale pink and white lines crisscrossing over his calves and thighs like a roadmap.

Yagi holds out a hand for the clothes. Shouta realizes his mistake in not looking carefully a moment later as he pulls on the jeans and dark t-shirt obviously meant for All Might’s pre-retirement body. Shouta feels an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Yagi barely blinks at the ill-fitting clothes. He wraps a fist around the waist band of the pants to keep them up and shuffles past Shouta into the dark living room.

Shouta follows hesitantly behind him. “Nezu said he would be here soon,” Shouta says as Yagi falls miserably onto the couch. He drops his head to rest on the back of the couch and sighs, exhausted. Despite his open, splayed position, Yagi’s body is still tense, coiled tight like he’s ready for a fight at any moment.

“Can I do anything else?” Shouta asks.

Yagi licks his lips. “A glass of water would be appreciated.”

Shouta nods, heading into the kitchen. He turns the light on above the stove for something to see by, but he worries the overhead light would be too harsh in this odd darkness. He finds a glass easily enough, Yagi only has things in two cupboards. He opens the fridge, but it’s empty. Not empty like Shouta’s is “empty,” as in home to just a water pitcher, some old condiments, and his latest package of jelly pouches, but completely and entirely empty. Shouta closes and opens the door again as if it would change the contents of the fridge. He opens the freezer above, just to check, but expecting more of the same. There Yagi has an ice pack and ice tray with two ice cubes left.

Shouta fills the glass at the sink and returns to the living room. Yagi’s position hasn’t changed at all, though he turns his head to watch Shouta reenter the room. He sits up to accept the glass once Shouta is closer, and at that distance Shouta can see there are cuts across his knuckles. They don’t seem to be actively bleeding any more, but they’re not a pretty sight regardless.

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

Yagi takes a drink before he answers Shouta. “Under the sink in the kitchen.”

Shouta turns back around to retrieve it. He also finds a dry dish cloth in a drawer that he dampens at the sink. He’s wringing the towel out when there’s a quiet knock at the door before it swings open. Nezu stands on the other side with a plumber.

Shouta bows his head in hello. “Principal.”

“Aizawa-sensei!” Nezu replies brightly. “Thank you for being such a dutiful neighbor and checking on All Might.”

Shouta follows Nezu and the plumber back into the living room. The small principal shows the plumber to the bathroom, waving off Shouta’s offer to show them the way, before he returns and stops at the couch. His head just barely rises above Yagi’s knee as he looks at him in concern.

“How are you, Toshinori?”

Shouta freezes at the familiarity in his tone. Yagi’s expression changes ever so slightly as he looks down at Nezu.

“I’ve survived much worse than this, old friend.”

Nezu laughs off the comment, good naturedly, but the laugh sounds hollow even to Shouta. “Yes, well I suppose that’s true.” Nezu reaches over and pats Yagi’s knee. “I’ll let Aizawa-sensei here clean you up a little while I look at the damage, hm?”

He scurries off back down the hall before either hero can argue. That had been Shouta’s plan, even before Nezu announced it, but now he hesitates, frozen and staring at the old hero before him. The towel he brought drips slowly but steadily down his hand and onto the floor. He’s not sure Yagi wants his help, and normally he would prioritize the man’s injuries over his personal hang-ups in the moment, but he already feels as if he’s intruded too much into the man’s space, into his privacy.

So Yagi breaks the silence, holding out a bloodied hand towards him. “I can clean up the blood,” he offers.

“I’m not worried about a little blood,” Shouta snaps, unthinkingly. Irritated back into movement, he sets the first aid kit on the ground besides the couch and grabs Yagi’s outstretched hand. Mindful of the open wounds, he wipes at the blood furthest away first, where it dripped past his hand and down his wrist before drying in dark, cracking trails.

Yagi’s eyes glint for a moment and Shouta thinks he almost looks amused.

Shouta has to rinse out the towel twice before he’s finished with both of Yagi’s hands. The wounds on his left knuckles started bleeding again as he washed his hands, but thankfully it was a slow, sluggish bleed that didn’t go far. Satisfied with his work there, Shouta starts to drop the towel but Yagi’s hand darts out catching it before it can hit the floor. Shouta stops, surprised by the quick movement, as Yagi looks for the cleanest spot on the towel before wiping at his own face.

Shouta watches for a moment before he remembers himself and busies himself with going through the first aid kit. In comparison to the rest of Yagi’s apartment, it’s surprisingly well stocked. Yagi drops the bloodied towel uncaringly onto the couch cushion besides him as Shouta pulls out some antibiotic ointment, a gauze wrap, and some clasps.

When he looks up, Yagi is watching him curiously, like he’s still trying to figure out Shouta’s bizarre behavior. And there’s still blood around his mouth. Shouta sets the supplies aside, picking the towel back up. He steps between Yagi’s long legs, carefully holding his chin in place.

“You could just tell me I missed a spot,” Yagi reminds him quietly as Shouta wipes gently around his mouth.

“This is just more efficient,” Shouta says harshly. He tries to look only at the bottom half of Yagi’s face where there’s still blood, but he can feel his bright eyes boring into him.

Finally, Yagi says, “You haven’t asked.”

Shouta’s hand clenches around his chin, a reflex, a flinch, before he forces himself to relax. He looks up finally meeting Yagi’s eyes. The bright blue sears him in the dark. “It’s none of my business.”

“You can ask, Aizawa.” Yagi replies and it’s the use of his name that gets him. They’re All Might and Eraserhead to each other. Co-workers. That’s all they were supposed to be, ever. But Shouta’s aware Yagi’s slowly become Yagi more than he is All Might to him, and even if he leaves now, doesn’t ask any more, insists on knowing nothing else, he now knows something big about All Might that he imagines very few know. He can’t unlearn this secret, so he might as well have the whole story.

“What happened…to your side?”

“My first fight with All For One was six years ago,” Yagi starts and it takes all of Shouta’s self control not to react. Six years. “I crushed his head and damaged his body, originally I believe to an extent that he could not recover, though, obviously, I was wrong.” Yagi makes an odd, self-deprecating smile. “In return, after the fight I lost my stomach and part of my left lung, among some other irreparable damage to my respiratory system. I could still fight, but I was weakened considerably…it limited the amount of time I could use my quirk. And eventually left me like this.”

“…Why?” Shouta isn’t entirely sure what he’s asking until Yagi tilts his head and looks at him as if the answer is the most obvious one in the world.

“I’m…I was a hero. It was my job. I couldn’t retire yet.”

Shouta feels some kind of emotion welling up in his chest, choking him, as he looks at the weathered hands he’s bandaging and thinks of all they’ve done. All they did while withstanding this immense pain and loss. But he doesn’t know how to articulate that. Doesn’t know how to say thank you in a way that matters, in a way that he’ll even believe. So instead he says, “You’re an idiot.”

Yagi’s head drops back against the couch and he laughs. Not the same, booming laugh of All Might, but something somehow familiar and comforting all the same.

“Thank you, Aizawa,” Yagi says.

Shouta isn’t sure exactly what Yagi is thanking him for, but he can’t quite bring himself to ask.

X

Fall

Please don’t be afraid I will always be here I will cry your tears Share your sweet, sad fears Please don’t look away Take my hand in your hand Come and rest my dear I will always be here -Always Be Here, Ha Jin

Eri clutches tightly to Shouta, one small hand twisted in the capture weapon around his neck while the other holds the front of his jumpsuit. Her head is tucked against his shoulder, hiding her face from the world, but even through the layers of his clothes he can feel how she’s burning up. Her quirk had started acting up the night before, after a nightmare she hasn’t wanted to talk about. Shouta was able to stop it quickly enough, thankfully, but she’s been sick since he woke her from the nightmare and he’s running out of ideas for what to do.

She’s so impossibly light in his arms, and clutches so desperately to him, he can’t help but wonder how many times she had actually been held and cared for like a young child should be before she came to live with him. If she had been comforted at all the last time she was sick like this. And the thought makes him hold her a little tighter, a little closer to him.

He felt a little bad to disturb her when he picked her up and carried her from bed, but he needed help. And he couldn’t leave her alone. The hallway is quiet, most of his coworkers taking advantage of the last few hours of their weekend to relax, so he realizes it might be a long shot for someone to be home to help, but he knocks on Yagi’s door anyways.

It only takes a moment before Yagi answers. His bright greeting trails off when he sees Eri, Shouta’s own haggard appearance probably not helping matters.

“Hello, Aizawa, little Eri-chan,” Yagi says quietly.

Eri twists in his arms and for a moment, Shouta is worried this was a terrible idea. When they first met, Yagi’s size and appearance had made Eri a little nervous. She’s gotten better with him, and with people all around, but even when she hasn’t been battling a fever and a nightmare, she has bad days when everything is too strange or just too much for her to handle. But instead of getting more upset, Eri turns just enough to peek up at Yagi from behind a thick curtain of hair. She waves meekly to him once.

“She’s been sick since last night, and nothing I’ve done has gotten her fever down,” Shouta says instead of a greeting. “Could you look after her for a little while I get Recov-”

Before Shouta can finish his question, Eri’s arms tighten around him and she shakes her head, kicking weakly against him.

Yagi smiles softly, stepping back to open the door wider. “Why don’t you both come in, and I’ll see if I can’t get ahold of Recovery Girl another way.”

Yagi leads them through the kitchen to the living room. There’s an old standing record player pushed against the wall playing something soft and low. The rest of Yagi’s décor has been updated, as well. There’s a new table in the middle of the room with a cup of tea and some papers, as well as a thick book full of brightly colored tabs. The couch, where he gestures for Shouta to sit with Eri, now has a  shocking number of pillows piled on it and a few brightly colored blankets thrown over the back. Yagi makes sure they’re both comfortable, or as comfortable as they can be, before he goes to call Recovery Girl. Shouta can just barely make out the low timbre of his voice in the other room as he talks.

“Yagi is going to get a doctor to come check on you, but she’s a friend, nothing to be afraid of.” Shouta tells Eri quietly, brushing back her hair. It’s damp with sweat and sticks to her in messy clumps. “Do you remember Recovery Girl?”

After a moment, Eri nods against him.

Yagi returns before Shouta can ask something else, his phone pressed against his chest as he crouches down besides the couch. He looks between them.

“Recovery Girl wanted to know if there was anything else besides her fever?”

“Her quirk started up after a nightmare, that’s when it started. And she hasn’t been able to keep anything down.”

As Shouta finishes talking, Eri signs to him. Pressed against Shouta as she is, it takes him a moment to realize what she’s trying to do.

Almost immediately after they were (pretty) sure they weren’t going to lose their jobs at U.A., Hizashi pitched a fit that sign language was still not a required part of the curriculum for hero students, protesting and appealing to school boards and other pro heroes until things changed and people saw the sense in heroes being able to communicate, not only silently with themselves if there was a need, but with any deaf, hard of hearing, or nonverbal civilians a hero might interact with during a job, and hero programs across the country slowly began adding it to the curriculum.

Shortly after Eri came to live with him fulltime, they began to teach her sign language as well, not only so that she might be able to communicate with Hizashi no matter what, but also because they quickly realized sometimes she had bad days and talking, holding full conversations was just too much for her to handle. Even just simple signs like “yes,” “no,” “food,” and “drink,” made navigating those bad days a thousand times easier.

Shouta tilts his head as she signs again, hoping to see enough of the movement to interpret for Yagi when he picks the phone back up and says, “She says her chest hurts. Aizawa said it started after a nightmare that triggered her quirk and that she hasn’t been able to keep anything down.”

Shouta blinks a few times in surprise, but Yagi doesn’t acknowledge him. He nods a few times while Recovery Girl talks on the other end. Eventually, he thanks her and ends the call.

“Recovery Girl said to try and make her as comfortable as possible, and to try and get some food into her, but I don’t have any medicine safe enough for someone so young, so she’ll bring some by soon.”

“Thank you.”

Yagi smiles softly at Shouta’s quiet thanks. He rises to his feet, muttering mostly to himself, a habit Shouta is sure he’s picked up from Midoriya, about what he has on hand to help Eri feel better. He leans down to brush a comforting hand over Eri’s head. His hand is giant against her tiny body, but she leans into the touch rather than shying away. Yagi hesitates, and for a moment, Shouta thinks he’s going to get a similar, gentle touch before Yagi steps away, promising to return in a moment.

Shouta repositions himself on the couch so they can recline, but Eri still refuses to let go of him, and eventually he has to accept letting Yagi take care of them. Yagi helps replace a cooling patch on Eri’s forehead, wiping down her face and neck with a soft washcloth as best he can. He asks Eri a few times if she wants something to eat, or if anything sounds good to her, but her sleepy, subdued signing in reply doesn’t give him much of an answer. Yagi, thankfully, takes it all in stride, running another gentle hand over her back.

“That’s alright. I happen to be an expert now at making yummy things, even when food doesn’t sound good. Do you trust me?”

And for the first time in almost two days, Shouta hears Eri’s quiet voice again in a soft “yes.”

Yagi shares a triumphant smile with Shouta before he offers a pinky to Eri. “I’ll cook you something that makes you feel better in no time, okay?”

Eri reaches out to complete the pinky-promise, her tiny finger barely able to bend around his.

 Shouta doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up again. He’s disoriented for a moment, trying to remember where he is and why he isn’t in his own home. He’s used to dozing off in random places, stealing a few minutes of sleep where he can, but falling deeply, completely asleep in somewhere other than home feels...wrong. The quiet record still playing in the corner is what brings him back. Yagi’s apartment. Eri isn’t lying against his chest any more, but when he sits up, looking for her, he sees Yagi on the opposite end of the couch, the small girl cradled against his chest, fast asleep. His eyes are closed, but he rubs slow circles over her back, humming quietly along with the music, so Shouta knows he’s awake.

“How is she?”

To his credit, Yagi doesn’t startle at Shouta’s sudden question. “A little cooler.” He nods to a bowl on the table. “She managed to keep down about half a serving of porridge and some water. Chiyo…Recovery Girl just left a little while ago.”

“You could have woken me.”

“You looked like you could use some rest. I’m sure you’ve been up with her the whole time.”

Shouta doesn’t bother to acknowledge that, he’s right, of course. “I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Yagi looks away, considering. “When I was still…new, I was trying to help a young woman who was trapped, but she was deaf and couldn’t understand me, barely recognized me. I think I scared her more than I helped her at first,” he admits with a laugh. “I realized there was something I had overlooked in my drive to help people, people I had overlooked, and I wanted to rectify that.” He finally turns to look at Shouta. “I’m not fluent, I let my skills…atrophy a little these last few years, and even before I didn’t dedicate as much time as I could have. But parts of the body, pain or injuries, those were important for me to learn…and easier to remember.”

“…if you ever wanted to brush up on your skills, I could help you.”

Yagi laughs quietly. “Always the sensei, Aizawa.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I appreciate the offer. I would love to work on it more with you.”

Shouta doesn’t know why the word choice makes him feel suddenly flustered, but he has to look away, willing his quirk not to activate at his strange embarrassment.

“You’re good with her,” he says, changing the subject instead of acknowledging it.

Yagi doesn’t reply for a while and when Shouta looks to him again, he could swear it looks like the other man is blushing. Yagi’s expression is incredibly fond as he looks down at the sleeping girl, thankfully undisturbed by their conversation.

“I was worried I frightened her.”

“You did, at first.” Shouta confirms. There’s no point in beating around the bush. “She just needed time to get to know you better. To know she could trust you.”

Shouta isn’t oblivious to how easily his statement could be applied to himself and his relationship with Yagi. If Yagi’s expression is anything to go by, he’s also aware of the similarities between them, but he has the decency not to call him out on it.

X

Winter

I was a wolf, dear, apart from the pack But you answered my call in the dead of the night And told me you had my back, oh I can’t do this alone anymore Cause I’m not good on my own anymore -I Was An Island, Allison Weiss

“You know more about Midoriya’s quirk than you’re letting on.”

It’s an accusation. For that matter, it’s an accusation based on little more than a hunch. But the way Yagi freezes up, immediately, tensed like he’s deciding between fight or flight right there just about confirms all of Shouta’s suspicions. Or, at least, most of them.

“Ai-Aizawa, I didn’t see you there…” Yagi mumbles, slowly turning to face him.

Shouta crosses his arms and waits.

“Was there a…question?” Yagi asks eventually, when he can’t seem to take squirming under Shouta’s intense glare any longer.

“What is going on with Midoriya’s quirk?”

Yagi glances at something behind Shouta’s head, as if looking for an escape, but Shouta could definitely catch him if he tried to make a break for it past him, and he knows no one followed them into the lounge. Yagi wrings his hands nervously in front of him. Shouta knows he wants to go check on Midoriya, but he’s hoping that sense of urgency will speed up this conversation. It’s been a long time coming now, and Shouta is getting some answers.

“I can assure you, Aizawa, I didn’t know young Midoriya’s quirk could…or would produce something like that.”

Shouta leans against a desk. “I’m not buying it. You know something.”

Finally, Yagi seems to grow tired of being on the opposite side of the interrogation because there’s a fire in his eyes that hasn’t been there in a while, that Shouta realizes he…missed seeing there, as Yagi advances on him across the room.

“Where was this concern for him when his quirk was going out of control during the lesson today?”

Shouta brushes off the accusation. The second time Midoriya’s quirk had acted up, it was Yagi, after all, who insisted they let the students keep going. “We both know his explanation about power just overwhelming him is bullshit. We’ve seen what happens to Midoriya’s body when his quirk is overpowered and it’s not whatever that was.”

Yagi’s hands clench in fists at his sides and he looks away from Shouta, clenching his jaw. He reminds Shouta a little of the Yagi from a few months ago, the wild-eyed frustration welling up inside him to a breaking point. He’s just missing the blood and flooding bathroom.

Some part of Shouta feels a little guilty, intentionally pushing Yagi near to a breaking point, but this has been going on for far too long. Shouta had been prepared to send Midoriya home from day one, and from day one Midoriya, and Yagi, had been trying to convince him not to.

“Could it be you see the potential in Midoriya, as well?” All Might had asked Shouta after the first class training exercise, when Midoriya proved he could use his quirk without completely incapacitating himself for the rest of the fight. Shouta had wanted to brush the comment off, but the ‘as well’ echoed around in his head for days. How did All Might know anything about this one, random, incoming first-year? And why was he so invested in him? Why did he care about Shouta seeing his potential?

After that, it was impossible to miss the odd behavior between the two. They were constantly together, darting around corners and whispering in the backs of rooms, having lunch together when Midoriya should have been spending more time socializing with his classmates.

Even the other teachers began to notice something. He still remembers the first time someone had joked during a night out about the two being related. Yagi had almost choked on his drink, while Hizashi laughed, drunkenly, gleefully telling them about the conversation he had overheard from students that Todoroki apparently once accused Midoriya of being All Might’s secret lovechild.

If it was one or the other – some odd behavior or similar quirks – Shouta thinks he would be able to brush it off, put it out of his mind, but too many things keep adding up to there being a connection between the two of them. He just can’t, for the life of him, figure out what that connection is.

“I can’t help if I don’t know the whole story,” Shouta finally changes tactics, hoping he can appeal to some part of Yagi. “You’re both keeping secrets, badly, but Midoriya has been struggling with his quirk since he started at U.A. If there’s something about his quirk…” Shouta sighs, frustrated. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Silence stretches on between them. Shouta is starting to brainstorm a new approach when Yagi seems to deflate in front of him, body sagging against the desks beside them. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends of his bangs in a nervous tick.

Finally, finally, he says, “What happened at the training exercise today was a surprise to me too. I didn’t know it could happen…I…I have a theory, now, but until it happened today, I never even would have thought it was possible.”

Shouta lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relieved. “I can work with a theory.”

“I think it was someone else’s quirk.”

What?

If Midoriya had a quirk like Monoma and could somehow “borrow” other’s abilities, it could maybe explain similarities between his quirk and All Might’s power before he retired, but no one in either of the hero course classes had a quirk anything like what Midoriya had displayed today. There was no way he could have borrowed that from anyone recently. And before now, Shouta would have been out of other explanations past that. Now, he thinks about the Nomus they’ve interacted with, the…monsters made up of different quirks, and of Shirakumo and Kurogiri. And he feels a little sick to his stomach at the possible implications.

“What? How would Midoriya have someone else’s quirk? Whose quirk would he have?”

Yagi makes a complicated expression. “Someone from a long time ago.” He says.

Shouta isn’t sure if he wants to pull out his own hair or shake the older man for such an unbelievably unhelp answer.

“Yagi,” Shouta hasn’t figured out what he even wants to say yet, but just his name is enough to finally make Yagi look at him.

“Young Midoirya’s quirk is registered as ‘Super-Power’ in public records, but the true name of his quirk is ‘One for All.’ It’s a quirk that can be cultivated and passed on to someone else. And it was my quirk until I gave it to him when he was fourteen.”

Shouta is half convinced he’s in a dream. “You…gave him your quirk?”

Yagi nods. “Just as my master gave it to me before I started at U.A.”

“So before…”

“Midoriya was quirkless.”

Well that at least explained a few of his, and Bakugo’s, weird behaviors at the beginning of the year. Not everything, by any means, but enough.

Shouta realizes this is another secret he can’t unlearn, only this is one he walked into knowingly. He knew he was pushing for something serious, something to be guarded the same way Yagi hid his injury. It was the only thing that made sense, the pieces fall into place perfectly, filling all the holes in his and Midoriya’s pasts.

Shouta hates to ask the next question, he’s not sure it’s entirely relevant, but he needs all the information he can get to start making sense of things. Yagi seems to know what he wants to ask next, however, because he offers more information before Shouta can figure out how to word what he wants to say next.

“I was also quirkless before being given One for All,” Yagi admits. “I think it’s partially what enamored me to Midoriya. I saw something of myself in the young boy.”

And that’s perhaps the least surprising thing Shouta’s heard today. You’d have to be oblivious to miss the similarities between the two, even with their quirk taken out of the equation.

“So you knew what would happen to him until he gained control?”

Yagi grimaces at the question, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Not exactly. The quirk naturally has an effect on the body, because you aren’t born with adaptations to it, but it is also just a lot to handle. If you aren’t properly trained and prepared for it, it could, theoretically…blow the user’s body apart from the inside. But after my training, I had no problem accessing one hundred percent of the power. Meanwhile…well, you’ve seen what happens to young Midoriya when he uses one hundred percent, even now.”

Shouta closes his eyes for a moment and takes a few deep, calming breaths. There is still so much more information he needs about Yagi and Midoriya and their quirk, now is not the time for him to blow up over that particular detail. Later, definitely, but not now.

When he opens his eyes again, Yagi is glancing nervously between him and the clock on the wall. “Aizawa,” he says, and it half sounds like a plea. “I know you must have more questions, but-”

“You want to go check on Midoriya.” Obviously. “I’m coming with you.”

Yagi gives a wryly smile. “I thought as much.”

He leads Shouta to a private office down the hall. The door opens to reveal Midoriya and Bakugo waiting for them. Bakugo’s presence is a surprise, but if he shares the same feeling he doesn’t show it. Midoriya, on the other hand, jumps to his feet when he sees the two teachers, looking between them nervously until Yagi holds up a pacifying hand.

“It’s alright, young Midoriya. Aizawa knows now.”

Midoriya continues to react to things in ways that confuse Shouta, rather than relaxing or appearing relieved, he makes a complicated expression, wringing his hands together nervously as he retakes his seat.

Bakugo scoffs, slouching even further in his seat.

“I’m surprised it took you two dumbasses this long to ask for his help. Obviously you were hopeless on your own.”

“Yes, well…” Yagi trails off with an awkward cough, a bright blush high on his cheeks as he fusses with something on the other side of the room.

Shouta sees the two boys exchange a look on the couch, and it’s obvious if they didn’t already know, they definitely now know that Yagi was not the one doing any asking.

 It feels like hours have passed by the time they dismiss the boys back to the dorms. Shouta’s head is still spinning with all the new information he learned, and all the theories about the quirk and how it’s developing. He’s a little in awe of, and a little frightened for, Midoriya if he is already unlocking more of One for All than All Might ever did. He can’t even imagine how strong of a hero he might become, but it’s obvious, now, what a toll that kind of power, that kind of secret, took on Yagi and he’s concerned about how it might, or might already be, affecting Midoriya.

It’s quiet between them for a long time after the students have left while they both dwell on everything that had been discussed tonight.

Finally, Shouta breaks the silence. “I know you had no reason to trust me with a huge secret about yourself, but you could have come up with some kind of…lie about Midoriya, so I could have helped you both earlier.”

Yagi laughs humorlessly besides him. “I still don’t think I could have come up with a convincing enough lie, or one that you wouldn’t have seen through immediately.” He looks down at his hands. “Even then, I don’t know if I could have brought myself to come to you for help.’

Shouta’s first instinct is to ask why, but he’s not an idiot. He’s well aware he didn’t make the start of the year easy for Midoriya or Yagi.

“I know that’s shameful,” Yagi continues, quieter. “To have too much pride to ask you for help with a student-”

“Yagi,” Shouta interrupts, seriously. “There’s a lot you handled…badly, or just plain wrong, with Midoriya. But I was an asshole to you when we started working together. I made snap judgements about you. And, frankly, teaching is hard. I was clueless when I first started. I should have tried to help you more.” Shouta sighs, taking a deep breath. This apology has been a long time coming, but still it’s hard to get it all out at once. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you in the beginning, and…I’m sorry for making this harder for the both you without realizing it.”

Yagi stares at him, astonished. Obviously when this revelation first happened in the teacher’s lounge, the last thing he ever anticipated happening was Shouta apologizing. But it needed to happen the same as this secret needed to come out. They were supposed to be partners when it came to teaching this class, and it would just keep getting harder to do that with so much unsaid between them.

“I…Thank, thank you.”

Shouta has to look away, he can’t bring himself to see whatever expression accompanies such raw emotion. And he forces down the guilt that wonders why such a simple apology brings about such a reaction. It won’t do him any good to dwell on the past, he just has to do better in the future. They both do.

“What’s important now is that going forward we’ll figure these things out, together.”

Yagi nods, sounding more than a little mystified as he agrees, “Together.”

X

Spring

Oh, be here when I sleep When I dream, when the devils meet Oh, be here when I wake up When I wake up, when I wake up Whatever makes you stay Whatever makes yu smile Whatever makes you come and be with me a while -Whatever Makes You Mine, John Van Deusen

Shouta has every intention of going straight for his own dorm and passing out after his patrol. It’s late enough that Eri should be asleep and he doesn’t need to wake her just to carry her a few feet down the hall to her own room in his apartment. But as he’s swinging by the building, he can’t help but notice the light is still on in Toshinori’s room. Surprised that Toshinori would still be awake at this hour, Shouta drops down onto his balcony, peering in through the glass door. The small living room is dark and he can only make out the faintest shapes with the campus lights behind him. Shouta debates with himself for a moment before he lets himself in through the sliding door.

Eri’s coloring books and crayons are spread out across the small coffee table besides what Shouta is pretty sure are Toshinori’s unfinished grades. Part of him wishes Toshinori would encourage Eri to clean up after herself a little more, but he knows that’s a losing battle with Toshinori. They both like to see the young girl more comfortable in her living spaces, and Toshinori is too soft on her to impart any real discipline. And when Shouta thinks of the first time he saw Toshinori’s apartment, the cold, empty space that barely seemed worthy of being called a home, he understands why Toshinori waves him off of trying to clean up. “I like the mess,” Toshinori admitted once with a laugh. “It makes it feel lived in.”  

Shouta leaves the mess in the living room as it is and goes to the spare room first. Eri is fast asleep in the extra bed. Even just a twin mattress seems giant with the small girl curled up near the top of it, surrounded on all sides by pillows and stuffed animals. He recognizes a few she must have brought with her from his apartment, but the rest are ones just for Toshinori’s. The night light Toshinori got for the nights she stays over casts small stars across the room. A few of them shine against her pale hair.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Shouta continues down the hall towards Toshinori’s room. The door is cracked, an open invitation for Eri to come in if she needs something, and it leaves a sliver of light across the hallway floor. Shouta knocks on the open door, but Toshinori never replies. Confused, Shouta pushes the door open the rest of the way.

He finds Toshinori sleeping more soundly than he’s ever known the ex-hero to be in the time they’ve known each other. He's sprawled on top of the duvet, head below the pillows and one foot hanging off the bed. In a loose t-shirt and faded blue jeans, it doesn’t look remotely comfortable, and yet he looks so peaceful, Shouta is hesitant to wake him. For once his sleep doesn’t seem to be interrupted by wracking coughs or twisted nightmares.

Shouta rummages, as politely as possible, through the closet for a blanket. He drapes it carefully over Toshinori, making sure it falls over the foot hanging off the bed, and around his bare arms. Shouta swears it seems like his hands are moving on their own as he brushes Toshinori’s wild bangs away from his face.

The man beneath him stirs, and Shouta freezes, hand still curled to tuck Toshinori’s bangs behind his ear. Bright blue eyes blink open, but there’s something unfamiliar and hazy as they flit over Shouta’s face. A slow smile spills across Toshinori’s lips and it’s the softest smile Shouta’s ever seen on him.

“Shouta!” Toshinori says in a sleepy whisper that makes something in Shouta’s chest squeeze. Toshinori must still be asleep. That didn’t explain everything perhaps, like the use of his given name or that dreamy smile, but God it certainly left fewer questions for all of that than if he was awake. “What are you doing here?”

“Just giving you another blanket. Go back to sleep.” Shouta snaps quickly, pulling his hands back.

Toshinori catches his wrist before he can move too far. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he says with another one of those gut-twisting smiles. “You should rest too.”

Toshinori shifts on the mattress, not that there wasn’t already plenty of room - the bed was unreasonably large even if Toshinori’s unreasonably long body didn’t fit quite right - and tugs gently on his arm. Shouta had every intention of arguing with him on the matter, so he has absolutely no idea what possesses him to listen to Toshinori and lie down besides him.

Satisfied, and perhaps even a little smug, Toshinori pulls part of the blanket to drape over Shouta’s shoulders as well.

“Okay, go back to sleep now.” Shouta insists stiffly, already making a plan of escape for once Toshinori is unconscious again.

Instead, Toshinori reaches out, cradling Shouta’s face in one of his large hands. Shouta feels his entire body freeze, he’s not even entirely sure he’s breathing, as Toshinori touches him ever so gently. A thumb runs carefully under his eye, as if Toshinori could sweep away the bags there with a single touch.

“I know this is just a dream,” Toshinori says softly, his fingers feather light as they trace over Shouta’s skin. “But I hope the real you can feel just a little more rested for it.”

“I’m…I’m sure I will.” Shouta swallows thickly. “So don’t worry so much and sleep.”

Toshinori finally, finally, takes his hand back and Shouta can breathe a little easier. He snuggles deeper into the blanket, closing his eyes.

“Good night, Shouta.”

Shouta doesn’t dare speak again until he knows he is fully asleep. Carefully extracting himself from the blanket, he folds it back over the sleeping man on the bed.

“Good night, Toshinori.”

Shouta moves on autopilot back to his own dorm, not even fully sure of the path he takes or who he might have passed on the way. His mind is still in Toshinori’s room, in bed beside him. He lied to Toshinori. There’s absolutely no way the “real him” was getting any rest tonight. Not with the memory of his gentle touch and soft smile still fresh in his memory.

Shouta only just barely registers the whistle from behind him as he unlocks his door. Turning around, he finds Hizashi standing in his open doorway across the hall. With a teasing grin, Hizashi makes a show of looking at his (watch-less) wrist to check the time and whistling again. Hizashi is far too…awake for someone in a robe and bunny slippers at three in the morning, Shouta decides.

“Coming home so late, Shou? And in the same jumpsuit from yesterday? What were you up to, hm?”

“I’m always in the same jumpsuit.” Shouta mutters, already regretting acknowledging him.

Hizashi slides up next to him, leaning against the wall to look him in the eye. “And the late hour? The sneaking in?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Shouta still curses the day Kayama taught him that.

“I work late hours. And not all of us can make as much as noise as you do.” Shouta pushes open his door and takes a step in, hoping, despite what all prior experience has taught him, that Hizashi will take a hint.

“But you weren’t still working, were you? You were with a certain someone-”

“Go to bed, Mic.” Shouta interrupts as he feels his quirk activate, shutting his door before the blond can push any further. He can hear Hizashi’s laughter even through the closed door.

He waves at his face, willing the heat to leave his cheeks and for his stupid quirk to deactivate and stop giving him away with glowing eyes and floating hair like some damn anime character. How could he be more embarrassed being caught coming home from, what, tucking Toshinori into bed, than he would have been from an actual walk of shame?

X

Summer

 I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved mysel Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you without any strings attached -Two, Sleeping at Last

The evening air is cooling down, a reprieve from the last few sweltering summer days as Shouta steps outside the dorm. He isn’t sure when he got so good at understanding Toshinori or predicting his behavior, but he already knows where to find him when he realizes the old hero is missing after the class dinner. And sure enough, he finds him on the bench outside the dorm. The setting sun sets his light hair aglow.

Toshinori seems to hear him coming because he turns around to watch Shouta before he says anything.

“It’s not that cold out tonight, Aizawa-sensei,” Toshinori says instead of a greeting. “You can’t scold me for being out in the cold this time.”

Shouta rolls his eyes at the accusation as he approaches the bench. “Not everything out of my mouth is a scolding.”

Toshinori stares hard at him for a moment, and Shouta can’t meet his eyes when Toshinori replies, strangely quiet, with “I know.”

Toshinori shifts further down the bench, making room for Shouta to sit besides him. Silence settles between them as they sit together, watching the vibrant pink of the sky slowly be overtaken with a pale violet.

“The first time I found you out here, you told me you had decided to live again,” Shouta says, breaking the quiet between them.

“Why are you bringing that up again?” Toshinori asks, almost in a whine, turning away from Shouta for a moment as if embarrassed. It feels so long ago that they had that conversation, when they agreed to train Eri together, though its become more like co-parenting, and when they both truly bared some of their souls to each other, but Shouta remembers it all so clearly. Especially Toshinori’s first confession.

He’d seen the hints of it before, the emptiness of Toshinori’s apartment, his baggy clothes that didn’t fit his new life, the causal dismissals of himself and his health. But that confession brought all those strange quirks about the number one hero into jarring clarity, painting a coherent picture of the life he had that Shouta was willfully ignorant of before. His new dedication to life is so obvious in comparison. The person on the bench besides him is not the same one Shouta started working with a year ago.

“You seem just as serious now,” he admits. “I’m wondering what other new revelations you’ve come to.”

Shouta doesn’t expect Toshinori to reply at all, let alone clue him in on any of those new revelations if he has come to them. Toshinori doesn’t owe him anything, let alone an insight to his most intimate thoughts, but after a long moment, Toshinori takes a deep breath as if preparing for a large declaration.

Instead he looks down at his hands and says softly, “I’ve been thinking about a lot recently but I’m still confused and torn about most of it.” Toshinori pauses for a moment and Shouta knows there is so much more that isn’t being said. But he doesn’t know how to help Toshinori say it, if that’s even what he really needs from him, so he just reaches for him instead. His hand against Toshinori’s is dwarfed in a way he doesn’t think he will ever get used to. But even bony and thin as they are now, the skin scarred and knuckles crooked from repeated breaks, not unlike his student’s, those hands still feel safe to Shouta. Those hands helped him carry the weight of the world for all those years and they show the strain that weight left on him. But they are still gentle. Their touch is soft enough to wipe the tears from Eri’s cheeks after her latest nightmare. Their touch is tender enough to ruffle their students’ hair and send their worries away without leaving behind any of that weight.

Toshinori’s hands are safe, and Shouta can’t help but wonder who held them when he was young and helped make them that way. Who taught him to use such strength and gentleness in tandem.

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” Shouta finally says. “I know sometimes it feels like we have to, when the students are counting on us, nothing feels more like a failure than having to admit you don’t know, but you don’t have to have all the answers. Especially not right now, not here with me.”

Toshinori looks up from their hands. His expression is raw and open, but also incredibly soft and fond, and Shouta doesn’t feel capable enough to be on the receiving end of such a look.

“I’m still confused and torn,” Toshinori starts again, softer this time. “But one thing that I know for sure, is I’m tired of listening to my anxieties and worries. I’m tired of doing my best to ignore all the things I’ve wanted. I’ve decided I want to just follow my heart, but to do that I will have to be a little selfish, so…I’m sorry.”

Shouta thinks if anyone deserves a chance to be selfish, if anyone has earned that, it’s Toshinori. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Yagi. You can be a little selfish sometimes.”

“Then…can I love you, Shouta?”

[kinkykinard]

First Date Drama

Fandom: 9-1-1. Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x Female Reader. Word Count: 2255. Genre: gen/fluff. Rating: teen+. Summary: you’ve had your fair share of disastrous first dates, but this one might just take the cake. Warning(s): mentions of blood, minor injury. Note: my first ever 9-1-1 fic!  Beta’d by @starshiphufflebadger​.

You hum quietly to yourself as you step into the shower, closing your eyes as the water hits your face and runs in rivulets down your body.  There’s an ache in your thighs that reminds you acutely of the preceding night’s pleasures and you bite your lip as your hand drifts downward, caressing your overstimulated core.  When you’d tumbled into bed with Buck the night before, it had been under the impression that the two of you would have a one night stand and part before either of you could catch feelings.  Now, though, basking in the echoes and memories of the amazing sex you’d had, you hope against hope that he’s open to seeing you again.

Closing your eyes, you let the water run over your skin for a while, loosening up your tired muscles until you’re limber enough to get to work actually cleaning up.  Reaching for the shaving cream, you uncap it and squeeze a generous amount into your palm, setting the canister aside before propping your leg up on the side of the tub.  You rub your hands together, lathering the gel before coating your skin from ankle to knee in an even layer.

Retrieving your razor, you uncap it and get to work shaving, finishing one leg uneventfully.  You repeat the process with the other side, lathering it up before gliding the razor along your skin in smooth strokes.  This time, though, there’s a catch.  A small bump on the inside of your calf snags the razor and you curse quietly as you feel the biting sting of the blades sinking into your skin, shaving cream running into the freshly opened wound and making it burn.

“Damn it,” you hiss, abandoning the razor on the side of the tub as you turn to rinse your leg.

The shaving cream suds are washed away in thick clumps and a wellspring of crimson follows, filling the bottom of the tub in moments.  You whimper as your stomach clenches, nausea gripping you as you watch the blood run.  You want to lean in and inspect the damage but you already feel dizzy and you don’t want to risk overbalancing.  Instead, you grit your teeth and drag in a breath, glancing away as you let the water run over the wound.

“No, no, no,” you mutter, considering your next move.

You pull the shower curtain back, glancing around the bathroom, cursing again.  The first aid kit that usually lives under your sink is still in the basement where you’d left it after your last DIY project had seen you catch a sliver deep in your palm.  You’ve got enough towels to keep a small army dry, but none that are practical for keeping pressure on your lower leg while you waddle awkwardly downstairs to fetch the kit.  You’ve got tissues, too, but considering the amount of blood that you can feel still pouring from the wound alongside the water, you don’t want to risk bits of paper getting stuck in your skin.

A knock on the bathroom door gets your attention and you instinctively turn your head towards it, startled.

“You okay in there?”  Buck asks from the bedroom beyond.

“I’m fine!”  You reply, your voice reedy even to your own ears.

“I heard a few curse words that say otherwise.”

You huff indignantly.

“It’s nothing,” you insist.  “I just nicked myself shaving.”

Buck isn’t convinced.

“I’m coming in,” he warns, giving you a moment to draw the shower curtain again before he opens the door.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” you say, feeling your face heat in embarrassment at your predicament.

“In my experience, the ones who try the hardest to convince you that they’re fine are the ones who need help the most,” he says sagely.

His shadow looms on the other side of the shower curtain and your heart skips uneasily at the thought of him seeing you so vulnerable.  You press the shower curtain to the tiled wall with your palm, preventing him from being able to pull it back.

“It’s stupid,” you say with a sigh.  “I’m sure it’s already stopped bleeding.”

“Let me see,” Buck coaxes.

You shake your head a moment before remembering that he can’t see you through the curtain.

“I’m naked,” you argue.

Buck chuckles.

“You didn’t seem to have an issue with that when I undressed you last night,” he teases gently.

“That was different,” you say flatly.

“I’m a firefighter, I see people naked more often than you’d think,” he reasons.

“Not better.”

You can practically feel him rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he encourages, his voice softening.  “I just want to help.”

You debate on what to do for another few seconds before finally relenting.  Letting go of the curtain, you slide it back just enough to let Buck know he’s free to look.  He reaches over a moment later, pulling the curtain aside the rest of the way and glancing down at the pool of red water beneath your feet.  

His trained senses take the scene in immediately and you watch as he springs into action.  He reaches for the nearest towel, turning off the shower with his free hand as he moves to press the fabric to your wound to staunch the blood flow.  He presses it firmly into place and you yelp at the sharp sting on contact.

“Do you have a first aid kit?”  Buck asks.

“In the basement,” you reply.

“Can you hold this on here while I go get it?”

You nod and bend down, taking over holding the towel and putting pressure on the wound.  Wanting to avoid looking at it in fear of catching sight of any blood, you watch Buck hurry out of the bathroom and then set your focus on counting tiles in the trim around the sink.

Buck returns a couple of minutes later and comes back to your side, resting a hand on your back.  You shiver as a chill grips you, the ambient air sapping your body heat as the droplets of water on your skin start to evaporate away.

“I’m going to carry you out of here,” he explains.  “But you’re going to have to let go of the towel for a second.”

You nod shakily and let go, instead pressing your calves together to keep the towel in place as you straighten up.  You avoid Buck’s gaze and yelp a little in surprise as he sweeps you up into his arms.  You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and cling on tightly as he makes his way out of the bathroom.  You can feel the blood from your wound beginning to soak the towel with less pressure on it and you bite back a groan, burying your face in his neck as he heads for your bed.

“I’m going to set you down,” Buck says softly.

You nod, hesitating on letting go of him for a moment as he leans down and lays you on a couple of towels.  Eventually, you reluctantly disentangle yourself from him and lie back, throwing an arm across your eyes in an attempt to hide your embarrassment at your predicament.  Thankfully, Buck has your modesty in mind and you relax a little bit as you feel him pull another towel over your body.  

The relaxation is fleeting as you feel his hands around your calf a few seconds later, pressing the towel firmly into place over your wound.  You hiss in pain as the pressure burns, the terry cloth biting into your skin.  The warm, slightly sticky feeling of the bloodied towel against your leg makes your stomach churn uncomfortably and you take a slow, deep breath in an attempt to quell the nausea.

“How’re you doing?”  Buck asks a moment later.

You can feel his concerned gaze on you and you squirm a little.

“Uh, okay I think,” you say weakly.  “I’m just not good with blood, especially my own.”

“Just keep those pretty eyes covered and you won’t have anything to worry about,” Buck says softly.  “I’ve got you.”

You nod and keep your gaze averted as Buck shifts his grip, taking over holding pressure on your wound with just one hand.  With his free hand, you can hear him shuffling through your first aid kit and tearing open a package.  You quickly realize he’s pulled out some dressing materials as he releases the pressure on your calf, peeling the bloodied towel away and replacing it with fresh, clean gauze.  It stings fiercely and you bite your lip to keep from whining in discomfort.

Buck shuffles around a bit, letting go of your leg entirely for a moment while he opens a few more packages of supplies and sets them aside to use as needed.  The pressure returns within moments, though, and you sigh softly as the minutes tick by with Buck gripping firmly to stop the bleeding.

“Alright, let’s see where we’re at,” Buck says softly a few minutes later, breaking the silence.

You hiss a little as he carefully peels the gauze back, exposing the cut to the air and making it burn.  You feel a little queasy as you anticipate the trickle of blood, but after a few uneventful moments, you slowly open your eyes and look cautiously toward your leg.  There’s not major bleeding in sight anymore, but the large, raw swath of angry, exposed sinew you’ve torn open with your razor looks like something out of a horror movie and you quickly shut your eyes again, trying desperately to banish the visual from your mind.

“Does it need stitches?”  You ask warily, breathing slowly to try and calm your racing heart.

“Nah, there’s nothing to stitch.  It’s too wide a cut and you left the overlying skin flap tangled up in your razor, so there’s nothing left to do but dress it and let it heal.”

The thought of a piece of tissue hanging from the shaver you’d been using in the shower almost makes you gag and you groan in disgust.  Buck pats your uninjured shin reassuringly and reaches for a clean piece of gauze and a tube of antibiotic ointment.

You chew your lip as he works, his gentle hands helping you relax into his ministrations after a few moments.  Eventually you open your eyes again, blinking in the morning light filtering in through your curtains.  You turn your gaze down, watching Buck work, smiling at the crease in his forehead as he concentrates on expertly wrapping your injured leg.

“Some first date, huh?”  You quip eventually, the silence becoming a bit much.

Buck chuckles, shaking his head before flashing you a friendly smile.

“This doesn’t even crack the top ten worst first dates I’ve had,” he assures you.

You raise an eyebrow, propping yourself on your elbows as he finishes puting the last bits of tape on the dressing he’s applied.  He glances over at you as he sets your leg down, noticing your expression.

“What?  It’s true,” he asserts.  “One time, I took a woman to a fancy restaurant on Valentine’s Day for our first real date.  An hour later I was in surgery.  The doctors had to close a hole in my throat after a steak knife tracheotomy my date had to perform because I choked on some bread so badly the Heimlich wouldn’t cut it.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise and you gape at him.

“No way.”

“I swear to God,” Buck says, holding up his hands.  “And if it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t a relationship-ender.”

Your heart skips again, but this time for an entirely different reason.  Buck’s kind eyes and easy, infectious smile make your knees weak and you’re glad for the support of the bed, even if you’re not in the most dignified position.  You giggle a little bit hysterically and hope that he doesn’t notice your sudden nervousness.

“Is that your way of saying you’d like to see me again?”  You ask coyly.

“I would love to see you again,” Buck says with a playful grin.

He holds out a hand and you take it, allowing him to pull you up.  You swivel, taking your legs from his lap and letting them swing over the side of the bed so you can get closer to him.  The towel covering you slips, folding around your waist and exposing you to his suddenly hungry gaze.  This time, though, the awkwardness is long forgotten.

You close your eyes as Buck leans in, pressing his lips to yours.  You moan softly into the kiss, leaning closer, shifting so you can wrap an arm around his waist.  He returns the favor, embracing you and pulling you into his lap, dislodging the discarded packets of first aid supplies.

As they flutter to the floor, crinkling as they twist and unfurl in the air, your injury is all but forgotten.  Buck’s hands on your skin, your bodies shifting against one another as you fall back into bed for another round of lovemaking, replace the uncomfortable memories with something far more pleasant and in-the-moment.  Even the sting of your injury is a distant echo as Buck rolls you over, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his touch driving all but the feelings of friction between your bodies from your mind.

As Buck’s kisses move from your lips to the curve of your jaw, slowly descending down your neck in a slow, teasing trail, you can’t help but think that maybe this hasn’t been the worst first date after all.

[hermannsthumb]

Wrote it a year ago!! How efficient lol Did you already do 79?

Anonymous said: Have you done 79 about the ex gift finally being done?

79. we broke up almost three years ago but you message me out of the blue saying that my gift is finally done and you… you built me a house? [or choose your own gift!]

from winter writing prompts here

almost new year’s! i imagine this takes place somewhere in the pre-2025 PR timeline, not using pen pal canon, for extra awkwardness

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“You what?” Hermann says.

On the other end of the holographic computer display, Newton laughs sheepishly and ducks his head. The picture is a bit rubbish—Shatterdome tech is outdated across every base, it would appear—but even the graininess and ghostly blue tint to Newton’s skin can’t conceal his blush. “I said I finished your present,” he repeats. “The one I promised you—shit. Two years ago? Three?”

“Three,” Hermann says, automatically. It’s not because he remembers any sort of gift ever being promised, but because three years ago is the last possible time he could ever imagine Newton gifting him something. They were still on good terms, three years ago; they were beyond good terms three years ago. He and Newton still—well. Er. “Though I don’t recall you ever mentioning a gift.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have, dummy,” Newton says. “That would’ve ruined the surprise.” He fixes his glasses. “My tracking number says it was delivered today. Did you get it?”

A stack of mail was indeed dropped off at Hermann’s laboratory today, shortly after lunch, though Hermann has not yet had the time to poke through it. He squints across his desk at it now: there is a larger box at the bottom of the stack, larger than anything he had been expecting, which can only be Newton’s present. Hermann slides it towards himself with the handle of his cane. Newt Geiszler, in the corner, with the return address of his laboratory in his Shatterdome. “Can you open it on camera?” Newton says. “I want to make sure it—well, you’ll see.”

Hermann tears open the tape seal with the nib of a dried-up pen, and pulls out an absurd amount of tissue paper before finding…a sweater. “Ah,” Hermann says. He unfolds it. It’s nothing too terrible, like Hermann had (frankly) been expecting a sweater from Newton to be. A nice shade of brown, a nice thick wool, a bit simple and shapeless, but comfortable-looking nonetheless. He can’t imagine how Newton took three years to give it to him. “…Thank you, Newton?” Hermann says. “How…thoughtful.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” Newton says with a grin.

Hermann shakes his head.

“It was ages ago,” Newton says. “We went out to that taco place for dinner, and I knocked your wine all over your sweater by accident, and you got super pissed, and I was like, dude, it’s just a sweater, I’ll buy you a new one, and then you—”

“Oh, God, I remember,” Hermann groans. It’d been towards the end of their, er, relationship, and every little thing about Newton had started to set Hermann off: Newton’s humming in the lab, Newton’s jokes, Newton’s clothing, Newton’s smile, even (a thought which made Hermann feel horrendously wretched), Newton’s insistence on Hermann getting a proper sleep, Newton’s coffee runs and lunch runs and fixing Hermann breakfast every morning… The wine spill had been one of the final straws, and one to which he—admittedly—far overreacted. Hermann could simply not see a way in which it wasn’t intentional, in which Newton did not do it deliberately and maliciously, and the row they’d had over their bloody burrito bowls and Hermann’s merlot pool had been one of their finest. I’ll buy you a new one, Newton had said, and Hermann had shouted back about that not being the point—how Newton could knit one and it still wouldn’t be the point—and called a cab to take him home. Separately from Newton.

Newton was knocking on the door to his bunk an hour later, eyes fixed on his shoes as he mumbled out another apology, and he’d looked so pitiful, and Hermann felt so guilty over leaving him with the bill that he had sighed out one of his own. They didn’t touch in bed that night, not even an accidental bumping of shoulders. In the morning Newton did not fetch Hermann coffee. They ended the whole thing two weeks later, and Newton was transferred to another Shatterdome by his own request not even a month after that.

And now, here he is, Skyping with Hermann. This is not a new development in their working relationship—each of them does, after all, gather information that could be crucial to the other party, and they’ve occasionally had to ring each other up for a virtual discussion that typically ends in bickering—but it is the first time they’re doing it outside typical laboratory hours. And it is the first time one of them has dared to bring up…certain events. Usually, they just skirt around the fact they dated for two years like their lives depend on it.

“Thought you might,” Newton says, with another uncomfortable laugh. “Anyway, I know you said it wasn’t the point, but, I started teaching myself knitting a few days after that, because I really wanted to replace yours, and I’ve been super busy, so I kinda just finished a couple weeks ago.” He shrugs. “You can throw it out. I don’t really care.”

A closer examination of the sweater confirms the story. It’s far too lumpy to be anything but homemade, and the stiches fluctuate in dexterity and neatness throughout the whole thing, though grow better overall the further up from the hemline they are. It is indeed a similar shade of brown to Hermann’s ruined one. Hermann feels an odd lump start to swell in his throat. “Oh,” he says. He brushes his fingers over the hem; when Newton made those stitches, Hermann realizes, he still thought he would be gifting the sweater to Hermann as his boyfriend. “It’s—a very lovely gift, Newton. Thank you.”

“Try it on!” Newton urges.

Hermann obliges, though he flushes when he realizes it will require him to divest himself of his blazer and sweatervest in front of Newton. Newton’s sweater is a perfect fit, of course. Better yet, it’s comfortable. “Thank you,” Hermann repeats.

Hermann has always felt no small amount of shame over the breakup. It wasn’t really because of Newton’s humming, or his clothing, or anything quite so shallow, after all; it was because Newton was too damn affectionate. Loving. He loved Hermann so unabashedly and unashamedly, and Hermann—who has never been unabashed or unashamed in anything in his life—simply did not know how to handle it. It scared him. His feelings for Newton scared him, too, so he did the logical, Gottliebian thing and repressed them. The worst of it all was that Newton understood why.

Now, though—now his feelings, which he’d ignored for so long, threaten to bubble over. Of course he still loves Newton. It was foolish of him to pretend otherwise. “Newton,” he begins.

But Newton doesn’t hear him. “I was thinking about transferring back to Hong Kong,” he says. He fiddles with his glasses again, one of his nervous tics. “I don’t really have a team to lead anymore here—everyone’s been fired, or quit, or…well. I was thinking I’d probably be more useful back there with you.”

“With me?” Hermann says.

“I submitted a request, anyway,” Newton says.

Hermann wants Newton back here with him.

“There’s not much laboratory space, in case you’ve forgotten,” Hermann warns him. “We’ll have to share again.”

“Eh, I don’t really mind,” Newton says. Sirens suddenly begin going off on his end, and he winces. “Shit, that’s loud. We’ve been having kaiju drills all week, it’s driving me fucking insane. I gotta go, dude, talk to you later.”

He waves as he flickers out. Hermann’s holographic display clicks off with a small whir. “Goodbye,” Hermann murmurs.

He goes to sleep that night wearing the sweater, and hoping—foolishly, and perhaps selfishly, for he’s sure Newton’s work has been invaluable across the Shatterdomes he’s bounced between—that Newton’s transfer request is approved.

[peaches-writes]

get (a grip) tissues!

prompt 3: “Humans are friends not food, humans are friends not food, humans are friends not food....”

member: chan wc: 887   genre: fluff, modern vampire au, college au, comedy just say crack vivi warning: mentions of blood and injuries, explicit language note: this is mostly inspired by a web series i watched a long long time ago hihi

To someone with heightened senses like Chan, the smell suddenly wafting through the cold air was unmistakable. A strange yet intoxicating mix of blandness and sweetness, the faint scent of blood is something only vampires can sense fully. Someone is bleeding within the vicinity and that’s clearly not a good thing.

This then instinctively prompts him to discreetly look up from his laptop, whipping his head around to locate the source. He also reminds himself that there are two staircases on both ends of the library—if the source is on his left, he’d run to the right and vice versa because God only knows what could happen if he suddenly loses control. Who even gets hurt in a public library?

After a few turns in all directions, he then catches a glimpse of you shuffling around uncomfortably on the next table with your hands on the lower half of your face. Of fucking course, it just had to be you again.

“Oh, Chan!” As if on cue, you look up at him before he could turn away, sending an embarrassed smile his way that only makes his eyes widen in shock. “I-I’m so sorry but do you—do you have any tissues? I’m kind of...in another situation right now.”

Last week, you had a papercut from skimming through the glossy magazines at the entrance. Then the week prior, you came to one of your shared classes from P.E. with a bruised knee and even before that, you accidentally clawed your upper arm because you forgot to trim your nails. If Chan didn’t know any better, he’d think you were testing him and his patience.

But, like the completely normal and definitely not a vampire guy classmate that he is, he inhales deeply anyway, filling his lungs with air to lessen the risk of temptation, and digs through his bag for a pack of face tissues. “Humans are friends not food, humans are friends not food, humans are friends not food....” He mumbles to himself with little puffs of air, biting down his lips in between each chant while shakily taking out two plys of tissue for you. “Damn it, Chan, don’t even think about it, it’s gross.”

But just one sip? The tiny voice in his head asks.

No, dude, it’s a nosebleed and it’s Y/N. They already think I’m weird. Chan internally points out to himself.

Wouldn’t be the first time you embarrass yourself in front of your crush.

Meanwhile, you hiss at the blood trickling down the palm of your hand while you wait, completely oblivious to Chan’s internal dilemma across from you. Of all the days in a week week, you just had to have a nosebleed on one when you’ve forgotten to bring a handkerchief with you. “This is so fucking embarrassing.” You groan lowly to yourself, sitting up properly and immediately shifting your frown into a smile when Chan turns his attention back to you again, extending his noticeably shaky hand with tissues for you. “T-Thank you!”

Chan wordlessly nods, visibly exhaling a large intake of breath and turning away from you after you’ve received the tissues with your clean hand. You bow sheepishly to him, prompting more blood to slide down your nostrils as you replace your bloodied hand with tissues.

You can only steal quick glances at Chan as you tilt your head down and wait for your nosebleed to subside, feeling pitiful that he seems nauseous at the sight of blood and simultaneously embarrassed that he has to see you injured again. This is definitely not how I planned on looking cute in front of him, you sigh to yourself at the thought.

Fortunately, your nosebleed stops a little later and you’re quick to hide the tissues on your lap and clean the dried blood off of your other hand with alcohol and wet wipes you borrowed from another table. Turning to Chan again, you then garner his attention once more with a wave and say, “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“Hm?” He raises an inconspicuous eyebrow at you, one arm propped up on the table to discreetly cover his nose with his fingers.

You chuckle awkwardly, sitting up properly and replying, “It’s just that you’re always catching me bleeding somehow and I know it makes you feel queasy. I promise I’ll be more careful next time!”

His gaze softens at this and he then lets out an amused laugh himself, easing your tensed shoulders. “It’s—um, it’s fine!” He giggles cutely as he shakes his head though his thoughts say otherwise, still going into panic mode when the smell of blood doesn’t go away easily. “Do be more careful next time, though. It does make me worry when I always see you bleeding.”

Your heart rate audibly quickens at this, making Chan flustered behind his hand covering his face. “O-Oh um, I will, I will! This is the last time, promise! I’ll be more careful!” You assure with a nod. “Thank you again, Chan—for the tissues, I mean—and sorry for the trouble!”

“No worries.” He bluffs with a smile, sighing in relief after when his reply satisfies you enough to nod and end the conversation at that.

Y/N is a friend not food! Chan reminds himself once last time before going back to his work.

on a night much like tonight (drabble game)