#i’d like to add that the pens are the team that i hate but like. i LOVE to hate them. hating them feels so so good.

[fixfoxnox]

I don’t mean to add to your never ending list of drabble requests, but how do you think the NicPrice kiss went down??? I’d like to get a better gauge of papa Price lol

ANON I LOVE YOU FOR ASKING THIS JSBFJFJFNF AH

Setting Us Up For Failure - Price/Nikolai

Description: A young Lieutenant Price meets, befriends, and falls for a Russian pilot

Word Count: 9k (I may have gone a little overboard)

My Masterlist

"Captain MacMillan," Price had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he trailed behind his Captain, watching him greet the jovial Russian man ahead of them. It was an interesting sight, seeing his Captain wrapping the other man up in a hug, "It has been too long, how is your wife?"

"Still begging me to come home," MacMillan answered with a resounding laugh. The two men exchanged another hug before MacMillan was stepping back and motioning Price forward, "This is my Lieutenant," Price puffed up slightly at the use of his new rank. He'd worked hard for the promotion, sue him for being proud of it, "John Price."

The man held his hand out to him, a bright grin on his face, "Ivan Orlov," his gaze turned back to MacMillan briefly, "I see you've found yourself a protégé." He pulled back, crossing his arms across his chest and smiling in a way that didn't seem fully genuine to Price.

"Yes," MacMillan answered, meeting Price's eyes briefly before continuing, "He's a good lad, rather skilled."

Orlov eyed him up and down for a moment, a smirk on his lips that had Price flushing red in embarrassment and anger. It was clear to see that the other man didn't believe MacMillan's words.

Price knew that he was smaller than a lot of people expected of him. He'd been a skinny, lanky, underweight thing when he'd joined the military, most of that from his time on the streets after he'd run away from home. Over the years he'd managed to put on some weight and muscle, but it didn't come easy to him. It was exactly why he looked how he did. A lieutenant in the military, still a skinny thing with a layer of lean muscle over his body. His clothes hid most of it, making him look weaker than he was. With that and his affinity for random hats that he'd picked up in nearby towns, MacMillan had commented several times that he often looked more like a kid than a lieutenant in the military.

"Right," Orlov said finally, a chuckle pulling from his lips.

Price wanted to say something to the man, prove that he was more than he looked, but he didn't. Instead, he just ground his teeth together and clamped his mouth shut, letting MacMillan change the topic.

"You said you've put together a team for us, but do you have a pilot?" He raised a brow at the man, "No offense, mate, but you seem a bit too out of it to be offering us support these days." The words were a jab, an answer for the clear remark that the other had made about Price.

Price watched Orlov's jaw clench as he forced a smile. He suddenly understood why MacMillan had gruffly commented that he hated working with Orlov. It was clear that the man turned everything into a competition. "Yes," Orlov gave a cynical smile, "I've taken on a protégé as well," he gave a low chuckle, "come, I'll introduce the two of you."

He turned, starting off toward the airfield where several different planes were going through routine checks. As they walked he pointed out various things on the base, pride radiating through his voice as he spoke. Occasionally he would throw in something like "bet you don't have one of those in England, eh?" The patronizing words grated on Price's nerves, but he kept his frustration to himself.

The walk was almost agonizing with his constant speaking, it felt like it took them thirty minutes to finally make it to their destination when, in reality, they'd likely only been walking for five. Orlov had stopped him in front of one of the larger planes, one that would carry an entire platoon if need be.

There was a man standing outside of the plane, a clipboard and pen in his hands. He would call something out in a loud barked Russian and, moments later, a deeper voice from inside the plane would respond, also in Russian. Orlov turned to them as they came to a stop in front of the transport, "I think you will like him," his eyes turned to Price with a smug grin, "He is around your age I believe. Quite accomplished too." He turned then, calling something out in loud Russian. The only thing Price could make out was a name. Nikolai.

The voice responded quickly and there was a brief pause before a man, around Price's age, appeared at the entrance to the plane, quickly dropping down and walking over to meet the group with a smile. Orlov spoke to him in quick Russian, pointing to Price and MacMillan as he spoke before finally turning back, "This is the pilot. Nikolai."

Price tried not to stare, but it was difficult. Nikolai was, well, gorgeous. Black hair that was grown out to his chin, split with a middle part that showed his widows peak. He had to be using some sort of gel in it with the way it was slicked back, all but one loose piece neatly out of his face. Price knew it was likely to hang down at the sides more messily when it wasn't slicked away.

Nikolai had a strong, sharp jaw and defined muscles down his entire body. It wasn't hard to see that he was strong. His shoulders were quite broad with bulging biceps and pecs made only more defined by the tight white shirt that he wore. There were several buttons at the top of the shirt, two undone showing a bit of his chest. Price tried to avoid looking, but the silver of a chain around the man's neck kept drawing his attention back. At least, that was what he told himself.

He ended up having to divert his gaze completely from the other man, trying to avoid being caught ogling him. His face went a bit pink at the thought. He was a Lieutenant in the military! He did not ogle at cute bulky Russian pilots!

"Captain MacMillan," His captain stepped forward, shaking the Russian's hand before motioning for Price to do the same, "This is my Lieutenant, John Price."

Price hesitantly stepped forward, taking the man's large hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. He risked glancing up at the man, his cheeks flushing red when he met the other's eyes. They were a soft brown. He stepped back quickly, moving his hands to fold together behind his back as his gaze fixed itself on the ground.

"Nikolai," he responded. His voice was deep, the Russian accent adding something to it that had Price's ears tingling and his hand clenching tight behind his back. He took a deep breath in, he needed to get ahold of himself. This was work, not some bar where he could openly stare at handsome, muscular, nice-voiced Russian pilots!

"You know the mission?" MacMillan asked the man carefully.

"I do."

"Think you can handle it?" MacMillan crossed his arms, "you'll be leaving the plane and joining us on a raid, not many pilots are up to that."

Price glanced up, watching Nikolai from under his lashes as he puffed up slightly, "I can handle it, sir." Price spotted the way that the man glanced at him, though he couldn't quite understand why, "I've been trained in ground combat just the same as air combat."

MacMillan nodded to him slowly, eyeing him carefully, "Good," he landed on finally, "I'll have Price here run you through some drills," Price's gaze turned to MacMillan then, his face likely showing how startled he was by the assignment. "Not today, 'fraid Price and I could use some rest. Expect to see him tomorrow though. I just want to be sure you can handle it."

Nikolai nodded, his eyes moving over to meet Price's again. Price had to look away quickly, unable to hold the other man's gaze for long. "I understand. I will look for your Lieutenant tomorrow."

"Good lad," MacMillan chimed with a grin. "Well if the two of you don't mind, Price and I are going to get settled. We've a busy few days ahead of us men."

"The pilot, Nikolai, you should try to befriend him." Price whipped around quickly, meeting MacMillan with confusion in his gaze. He'd been unpacking his things, left to it by his Captain while the man went to get himself settled. The Russians had been gracious enough to give them separate rooms.

"What?" Price stood taller, tilting his head at his Captain and crossing his arms over his chest, "Why?" He really hoped that his Captain hadn't picked up on the way that he'd been looking at Nikolai. It was an awkward conversation that he did not want to have with the man who had become something akin to a father figure for him.

MacMillan tilted his head at him, an amused smile tugging at his lips, "It's good for you to make friends. Have an ally with the Russians and it will make dealing with them much easier for you in the future."

"What," Price asked, a lump forming in his throat, "Like you and Orlov?" He could feel nerves racing through his system. He always got nervous when MacMillan started talking about his future. He hadn't even thought he'd ever become a lieutenant, but MacMillan was always aiming higher for him. He had a lot of faith in his abilities and a lot of faith meant that it would be easy to let the older man down if he didn't live up to that potential.

"No," MacMillan gave a chuckle as he stepped further into Price's room. He closed the door behind him, blocking their voices from any nosy people who might pass by. "Orlov and I tolerate each other. We work together when we need to and we pretend to like each other."

"He is a bit of an ass," Price grumbled out, still a bit sore from the way he'd been eyed up and down by the other man earlier.

"More than a bit," MacMillan agreed with a chuckle. "I want you to be different. I want you to actually befriend this Nikolai."

"Why?"

"Because," MacMillan gave him a smile, "It pays to have people you can trust around. If what Orlov says is true, then both you and Nikolai are extremely skilled. He'd be a good ally to have. Someone good to rely on." He stepped forward then, lightly smacking Price's arm before turning to head back to the door, opening it fully before turning to add, "Tomorrow when you're running him through the drills, make a friend, John." With that he stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a thud and leaving Price by himself, silence echoing around him.

Price hesitantly moved into one of the large open garages on base, glancing around himself nervously. He knew that stepping into the garage was more than allowed for him, but it still felt somehow taboo. He figured it was because of the almost personalized nature of the small area. Tools on the walls, little pictures hung about, a jacket slung over a chair. There were little bits of the pilot he'd come to see all around the room. It made it feel almost like he was stepping into someone's home unannounced. Though, if Orlov's words about Nikolai practically living in the small garage because of how much time he spent there were true, then it was to be expected.

After a quick morning check-in with MacMillan and Orlov, Price had set off to retrieve the Russian pilot and take him through the drills his Captain wanted to see. Orlov had given him quick directions of the few places where he'd be most likely to find the man before taking off with MacMillan to start prep for their mission. He had to pretend that he didn't see MacMillan's pointed look toward him as the men were walking away. His words from the previous night about making a friend still echoed around in his mind. He knew it wouldn't be as easy as his Captain made it out to be, making friends could be difficult for him, and, even now, he had no one in his life who he considered a friend.

He'd gone searching for Nikolai, checking every place other than the garage first, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't have to step into a room where he would be completely alone with the other man. Of course, his luck wasn't that good, so he'd found himself marching toward the garage. He'd knocked on the little side door at first, trying to maybe put some separation there. He tried twice, but the sound of tools being used on the other side of the door seemed to swallow the sound of his knocks, even where he stood, so he pushed quietly inside.

He couldn't see Nikolai, but based on the various tools that littered the ground and the sound of the man muttering to himself, he could assume that the Russian was currently underneath the small car that was parked in the garage. It seemed that the Russian was good with things other than planes as well. Price stood still for a moment, just watching and listening as he tried to work up the energy to let himself be known. He really hoped that Nikolai wasn't anything like Orlov.

Finally, he cleared his throat, hearing the man under the car go silent, "Nikolai?" He took another step toward the car, "It's-"

"Price, from yesterday, right?" Nikolai was suddenly pushing himself out from under the vehicle, stopping to sit up on the little roller he'd been laid back on. He gave Price a wide smile, "Here to run me through my drills I'm guessing?" He gave a short chuckle and Price couldn't help but let a smile tug at his lips as well.

"Sorry," Price folded his hands behind his back again, looking down at the other man with a smile of his own, "I know I'm pulling you away from work."

Nikolai waved him off and pushed himself to stand from the ground, taking a confident step toward him as he responded, "Nonsense, this is work too. Besides, I could use the break."

Price was taken aback as he was, once again, faced with all of Nikolai. He could feel his face flush again as his eyes scanned over the man's face and chest, moving all the way down to his hands. They were large, large, and covered in some type of oil or grease that the man was currently trying to wipe off onto a small rag in his hands. That same substance was on the man's shirt and covering bits of his skin, mixing in with a layer of sweat to create a temptingly disheveled look on him. With every slight movement he made, Price found his eyes drawn to something new, whether it be his face, his chest, his arms, or those hands.

"Um," Price tried to refocus his mind, looking back up to meet Nikolai's eyes and noticing the amused smile that now graced his lips. "I don't," he tried to remember what they were talking about, his brows furrowed and he bit his lip for a moment before finally settling on, "I don't plan on going too hard on you."

Nikolai gave a low chuckle in response to that, "We can go as hard as we need to, don't worry, I can keep up." Price flushed red again, mentally cursing himself for the way that his mind had immediately turned to something less than innocent. He didn't trust that his voice wouldn't give him away, so he didn't speak. He just gave the man a quick nod of his head, taking a step back while the other man watched him, that smile still on his lips. "Hmm, cute."

"What?" Price blinked suddenly at the man, unsure if he'd actually heard him speak or not. Certainly, the man hadn't just called him cute?

Nikolai gave a hum in response, turning away from him to walk toward a free-standing sink in the room to begin cleaning up, "What?" The man responded casually.

"Did, did you say something?" Price asked, trailing behind him slightly.

"No," Nikolai responded with a glance over his shoulder. Price opened his mouth to respond to the man, but quickly shut it. He looked away from the other man, embarrassment burning at him. His mind must have been playing tricks on him.

"You're good," Price complimented the taller man with a smile. He'd just watched Nikolai tear apart several different targets on the range, his aim impeccable as he hit every target that he called out for him. Nikolai puffed up with pride at his praise, turning toward him with a bright grin on his face.

Price had learned rather quickly that having a smile plastered on his face seemed to be the man's default setting. It was only a little endearing. Only a little.

"Yeah?" Nikolai leaned toward him, trying to get a peek at the clipboard he held in his hands. Price was quick to tuck it against his chest, leaning away from the man as he received a playful pout in return. "Good enough to join you on a raid?"

Price lifted the clipboard up, just enough to hide his face as he grinned at the papers in front of him. "Hmm," he responded, pretending to look at the paper in front of him harshly, "I don't know," he pulled the clipboard down just enough that he could meet Nikolai's eyes over the top. "You could be cheating."

Nikolai gave a chuckle, seemingly pleased with Price playing along with his teasing. The smile that the man sent his way had Price's chest tightening and his heart squeezing a bit beneath his ribs. It wasn't the most professional reaction to have to someone he'd be working with, but he supposed it was fine so long as the other man didn't notice. "Cheating? Come now, you say that only because I am the best shot you've ever seen."

Price scoffed, lowering his clipboard back to his arms, "I've definitely seen better," he teased.

"Who?"

"Me," Price gave him a smug grin and was pleased to see that Nikolai didn't seem annoyed with his self-confidence, but rather amused at his words.

The man stepped to the side pointing to the base of the shooting range where he'd just been standing, "Care to prove it then?" He held his gun out carefully to Price, a challenging smile on his face.

Price only hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, his chin tilted defiantly up as he set his clipboard face down on the ammo table and took the gun from Nikolai's hands. It was Russian-made, one that he'd never used before, but with quite a few similarities to many of the weapons that he'd used back home.

He checked his ammo quickly, loading in a new mag before stepping up to the little shooting window. "Ah, ah," Nikolai called as he raised his gun, Price turned to look at him with a raised brow. "Ear protection and eye protection, Lieutenant. I'd hate for you to get yourself hurt."

Price rolled his eyes at the man's teasing tone, but listened to his words and grabbed one of the pairs of safety glasses from the table. He tapped the side of his head as he turned toward Nikolai, "I've been wearing ear protection the entire time, you're too loud not to," he was met with another laugh from the other man and he couldn't help but grin at him. He could tell his face was flushed, but this time it seemed to be more from his own enjoyment of the other man's presence rather than his mind running wild while he looked at him. "Call my shots?" He asked after a moment, turning back to the range to lift the weapon up into a ready position.

"Gladly," Nikolai replied, stepping up beside him. "Two by the car," he was starting him off easy, Price wanted to scoff at the man. He took one shot, adjusted for the recoil, then took two more shots, hitting both of the targets by the car with a headshot. Nikolai gave a low whistle before calling, "Three by the shack." Three more headshots. "Two by the wall." These two were fairly far away, still, Price hit his shots. Finally, Nikolai called, "One at the back, by the barrels." This was the farthest target at the little firing range. Price took a moment to aim before he shot and once again hit his target.

He turned back to Nikolai with a grin, already finding the man's eyes on him as he turned. He burned red at the look of amazement that he wore, but managed to stay calm as he smiled at him and teased, "Told you I was better."

"You've really never worked with cars before?" Nikolai tilted his head at him, watching Price with an amused grin as the shorter man peered anxiously under the hood of the car that Nikolai had been working on. They'd returned to the garage together from drills, surprisingly easy conversation flowing between the two.

Price had intended to leave once they'd reached the garage, though the thought did make him feel a tad bit disappointed. He was pleasantly surprised when Nikolai invited him into the garage to look at his latest project. Price had, a little too quickly, taken the man up on his offer. Nikolai hadn't commented on that though, instead, he'd just given him a big smile and guided him inside to look at the car.

He'd been talking about the mechanics of the vehicle for nearly twenty minutes, happily telling Price anything and everything as they walked around the vehicle. It was clear to see how passionate he was about his work, his voice going over every piece of the car excitedly, using words that Price had never heard in his life. He was content to just listen to the other man, even if he didn't understand what he was saying. Something about the happy look on his face and the excitement in his tone had Price's heart beating faster in his chest.

Of course, he'd eventually put his foot in his mouth. He considered himself to be a fairly good bullshitter, he had to be for half of the things that he and MacMillan got up to. Apparently, all of that flew out of the window when he was faced with someone as eye-catching to him as Nikolai. So he'd rather dumbly asked the man a question about something that was apparently common knowledge when it came to cars. Obviously, it wasn't common enough.

He'd felt his face go bright red when the other man had broken into laughs before asking him through his laughter if he actually knew anything about what they'd been discussing. Price had been forced to rather sheepishly admit that he had no idea what the man had been talking about the entire time.

That had led them to where they were now, with Price, rather embarrassingly, standing on a little step stool so that he could lean over the hood of the vehicle Nikolai had been working on. The man was explaining several things to him under the hood, trying to teach him the basics. "I've never had a reason to work with them before," he explained quickly to the taller man, "Nothing's ever fucked up on me before, so no reason to get under the hood."

Nikolai gave a snort, "You've never even changed the oil yourself?"

Price blinked at him for a moment, tilting his head with confusion, "You have to change the oil? How does that work?" Nikolai sputtered at him, a look of absolute horror crossing his face that only disappeared when Price let a playful grin cross his face, letting the other man know that he'd only been joking.

"Not funny," Nikolai muttered, nudging his side, "I was worried for your wellbeing you know."

"If it makes you feel better," Price leaned fully onto the hood, turning to look down at all of the complicated-looking things beneath him, "I don't actually have a personal vehicle, I only have my license for military driving necessities."

"That does certainly make me worry less," Nikolai gave a chuckle, that grin back on his face as he looked up at Price, "Anything you're curious about? I'd be more than happy to explain."

There really wasn't anything that Price was actually curious about, but he'd take any opportunity that he could to listen to Nikolai talk more, especially about something he was interested in. With that thought in mind, he just pointed randomly at something further toward the back of the hood, "What's that thing?"

The car, while likely taller on its own, was also up on jacks, meaning that Nikolai, despite his height, was forced to strain to try to see what Price was pointing at. After a moment, the man gave a sigh and turned, making his way toward him, "Hold on, I can't see it." Price went to step off of the little step stool, only to be instead pushed to the front of the little block, Nikolai stepping up behind him to look over his shoulder.

He could feel his entire face flush red, heat creeping up his spine as he felt the warmth and solidness of Nikolai's chest pressed against his back, his arms caging him in against the vehicle. "What was it you were asking about?" The man asked, his mouth next to Price's ear as he leaned over him.

Price took in a shaky breath, bracing himself against the hood nervously before pointing at the same spot again. "That thing." His voice sounded high and wrecked to his own ears, the sound pulling a wince from him. Thankfully, mercifully, Nikolai didn't mention it, only started explaining the little bit under the hood.

He really didn't mean to, but with Nikolai's chest against his back and his hands caging him against the car, it was no surprise that his mind began to wander. It was a dangerous thing, with the man his mind was focused on being quite literally pressed up behind him. He tried hard to focus on Nikolai's words, but instead, his mind latched on to the feeling of the vibrations of his words against his back.

"Price?" He realized suddenly that he'd definitely zoned out. His mind snapped back into place and he tried to take in a calming breath without the man behind him noticing. "Everything alright?"

"Yup," he responded slowly, "Just thinking. This is all rather complicated, I don't think I'd ever want to mess with any of this."

The words pulled a chuckle from the man behind him, "If you ever get a car, some of these things are important. You should try to learn."

Price wrinkled his nose at the idea, turning so that he could at least halfway look at the other man. He found the usual grin that Nikolai wore waiting on him, "I don't know about that. I think I'll just have someone else fix it up for me." He paused before giving a playful smile, "maybe I'll just have you do it."

He could feel Nikolai's rumbling laugh against his chest as the man responded, "All you'd have to do is ask. I'd be more than happy to help." He didn't quite realize how often he would come to hear those words from the man.

Price hadn't meant to hover around the front of the plane, really, he hadn't. He'd fully intended to board the little vessel with his Captain and take his seat by the man, waiting with the seven Russians, Orlov included, that were joining them on their mission as Nikolai flew them to their drop point. Really, that's what he'd meant to do.

He'd boarded the plane with MacMillan, fully dressed in his gear, one of his favorite beanies firmly in place to keep his hair out of his face. He'd followed MacMillan to his seat, sitting patiently as the back of the plane closed up and they took off into the air. It was a bit awkward, the entire back of the plane was filled only with the sound of loud Russian. Price could have spoken with MacMillan, but the man was chatting tensely with Orlov about business, which meant that Price was left to spend the ride essentially on his own.

Then, a loud voice cut through the noise, calling for Price and making most of the voices in the plane go silent. Price had gone bright red before slipping out of his seat and quickly making his way to the entrance of the small cockpit, leaning in to look at Nikolai. "Nikolai?"

Nikolai had given him a grin, motioning to the empty copilot seat next to him, "Sit with me for the flight?"

Price had blinked at him for a moment, shock sent through his veins. Sure, the copilot didn't have to actually do anything with this type of plane, but Price certainly hadn't expected to be invited to take the seat. He hesitated for a moment, the offer was certainly more appealing than sitting by himself in the back, "Are you sure?"

Nikolai gave a low chuckle, "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure. Come, sit." Price wasn't going to say no to that so, with one last glance back (and choosing to ignore the looks that he was getting from both Orlov and MacMillan), he quickly moved fully into the front area, plopping down in the copilot seat. He was careful to keep his hands folded neatly in his lap, trying to avoid knocking against any of the controls and fucking something up.

"I've never really been at the front of the plane before," he spoke idly, looking around at all of the confusing buttons and switches before teasingly saying, "it seems almost as complicated as a car."

Nikolai gave an amused snort, reaching forward to flip a switch on the dash as he responded, "Trust me, dusha moya, this is far more complicated."

Price tilted his head at the man, watching the way that he so casually flipped switches on the craft, flying the plane as though what he was doing wasn't something unbelievably impressive, at least in Price's mind. The man looked quite good at that moment, his hair slicked back as usual, the headphones that he wore for the plane fit snugly over his ears, and the sunglasses he wore framed his face well. He was wearing another tight shirt, showing off his muscular arms. It was a tempting sight for Price, especially as Nikolai reached up to flip various buttons, his arms flexing with the movement. The man was unbelievably attractive and it was eating its way at Price something fierce.

In any other scenario, Price would have easily considered Nikolai a friend already. Really, they were friends. They'd spent the rest of the day after drills together, they'd been taking their meals together, and Price had taken to joining Nikolai in the garage, chatting idly to the man as he worked on whatever needed to be worked on.

The past week of Price's life had been him befriending the Russian man and, as sad as it sounded, he already felt like Nikolai was probably the best friend that he had. That should have been enough for Price, he should have been happy with the almost natural friendship that had formed between himself and the other man. But he wasn't. He wasn't happy, and the entire reason boiled down to the fact that in the process of befriending Nikolai, Price had also quickly formed a fucking crush on the man.

Sure, it was one thing for him to find Nikolai attractive. He was a gay man with eyes, he wasn't going to not find Nikolai attractive, but to have to admit to himself that he had a crush? It made him feel like a stupid kid in eighth year with a crush on the handsome boy in his maths class. It felt stupid. It felt childish. But fuck, he really wanted to kiss the other man, even though he knew he couldn't.

"It's kinda cool," he muttered lowly, watching Nikolai's hands flex against the steering for the plane, "Seeing you in your element and all."

Nikolai hummed, turning to give him a quick wink that had his face heating up again, "I'm excited to see you in your element," he responded playfully, "Lieutenant Price. I'm quite looking forward to taking orders from you." And fuck, if that didn't make Price squirm in his seat a bit.

"Well," Price turned away from the man, pretending to be interested in something on the dash in front of him, "You may not like it so much when I'm screaming at you to move your ass."

"Oh," Nikolai gave a chuckle, "No, I think I'll still like it just fine." Things were silent between the two for a moment, Nikolai quickly flicked a few more switches as Price tried to get the heat of his face under control and the stupid butterflies in his stomach to stop fluttering. "I like your hat," Nikolai said after a moment.

The comment, though simple, pulled a wide grin from Price, "Yeah? It's one of my favorites!" He reached up to touch the edge of his hat. He had quite an affinity for them and he was more used to people teasing him than complimenting him.

"You wear hats often?" Nikolai questioned, "I noticed the caps that you wore during the week. I was wondering if that was a preference or just because you were having some bad hair."

Price gave a small chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck. He hadn't expected Nikolai to pick up on something so simple, just the thought that the other man had made his heart flutter again. "Yeah, I have a lot of hats, I usually pick one up every new place that I go. Captain says most of them make me look like a little kid though."

"I don't think so," Nikolai shot a quick glance at him, "I think they make you look cute, dusha moya." Price gripped tight to the fabric of his pants, his face flushing.

"Thank you," he managed to get out, his voice a bit too shaky and high for him to not feel embarrassed.

Nikolai gave a hum, "Have you bought a hat here yet?"

"What?"

"You said you try to pick one up every new place you go. Do you have one from here yet?" Nikolai turned to look at him fully, raising an eyebrow at him above the sunglasses he wore.

Price hesitantly shook his head, "No, not yet. I don't really know my way around the town, so I haven't had a chance yet."

Nikolai's lips curled up slightly at the words. He turned back toward the front of the plane again, casually saying, "Good, I'll take you out to get one when we get back from our mission, yes?"

Price could only agree with the man, those butterflies in his stomach coming back even stronger. He was fucked.

"Nik!" Price turned, watching one of the men who'd been on the mission with them run up to the man next to him, his cheeks tinged red and his breathing heavy as he spoke quick Russian to the man. Nikolai answered in Russian, though based on the way he'd motioned to him while speaking, Price could assume that he was telling the other man that he was taking him out.

The Russian in front of him furrowed his brows, looking Price up and down like he hadn't even realized he was there. It sent a flush of anger down Price's spine. Why were so many of these Russians so damn rude? Luckily the man didn't stay much longer, simply giving Nikolai a friendly slap on the shoulder and a few more words in Russian before turning and heading back to the bar that Price and Nikolai had just left.

Once he was gone, Price turned to Nikolai, his eyebrow raised as his mind turned back to what the man had called him. "Nik?"

Nikolai gave a chuckle, "That's the first time you've heard someone call me that?" He guided Price toward the car they came in, opening the passenger door for him and shutting it once he was inside. Price waited patiently for the man to come around and climb into the driver's seat.

"I like it," he spoke quickly, shooting the man a grin before repeating, "Nik. It's cute." He was surprised to see a bit of red rise to the tops of Nikolai's cheeks at his words.

"Well," Nikolai cleared his throat, "You're free to call me that whenever you want, dusha moya."

"What does that mean?" Price asked quickly. Nikolai had called him that several times now and the almost affectionate-sounding words had been eating at his mind. He'd thought about asking Orlov about it, but the idea of mispronouncing the words to the older man or getting them wrong somehow made him want to jump off a cliff. So he'd decided that was a no.

Nikolai didn't answer him, he just kept his eyes firmly on the road as he drove them into town. "I'm taking you to a clothes shop. I think we'll find you something you'll like there." Price nearly huffed at his question being ignored, but he respected the dismissal for what it was. He wouldn't press, no matter how curious he was.

The ride was short, though not uninteresting. Conversation flowed between the two men naturally, discussions of their mission and the shop they were going to taking up the majority of their conversation. Price also found himself occupied with the sights outside of their small vehicle, admiring the area as they drove through.

They made it to the shop about thirty minutes before they were set to close. It was clear to see that Nikolai was relieved that they'd made it in time, his face fixing into an easy grin as they got out of the car and made their way into the building. Price knew they'd probably stayed a bit longer at the bar than they were meant to, but when Nikolai had jokingly asked if he was able to handle his alcohol, he couldn't help but take the man's offer of a bit of whiskey to wash down a successful mission.

"This place looks nice," Price spoke lowly, trailing through the small clothing shop after Nikolai, "Not sure if it's my style," he wrinkled his nose at an overly flashy top that they passed, "but it's nice."

Nikolai gave a low chuckle, "Luckily for you, their selection of hats is much larger in styles." He motioned Price back to a large wall of hats of any and every kind that he could think of. It was an incredibly impressive sight and one that had Price's heart swelling with excitement. There were so many choices, so many new things that he would be more than willing to add to his growing collection.

"I don't even know where to start," he stepped closer, letting his hand run along the top of several different caps and beanies along the wall, his eyes racing around to try to take in everything. Eventually, he stopped hesitantly at one of the hats, pulling it off to get a closer look at the details.

After a moment, he plopped the hat on his head, turning to look at one of the mirrors along the walls so that he could get a good look at himself. He hummed at the sight. The color wasn't quite working for him and he already had several other caps, so he knew it wouldn't be a winner. Still, he turned to Nikolai with a small smile, "What do you think?"

Nikolai tilted his head at him, his eyes scanning over his face for a moment before saying, "It looks good, though something tells me you don't agree with that?"

Price gave a short chuckle, taking the hat off and returning it to its place on the wall, "I don't like the color," he spoke simply, "And I already have plenty of caps. I'm thinking a different style, like..." he looked over the hats before playfully pulling down one of those gimmicky propellor hats and plopping it on his head. He turned to Nikolai with a grin, already seeing the man trying to contain his laughter, "How about this?"

"Perfect," Nikolai responded, his voice laced with amusement, "Suits you very well I think."

"You don't think it makes me look too childish?" Price stepped closer to Nikolai, a teasing grin still on his face.

"Not in the slightest," the man responded, his lips pressed together tightly to try to hide his smile. After a moment of just looking at one another, Nikolai reached forward, flicking the little propellor on the hat to send it spinning. The two men devolved into laughter only moments after.

They went on that way as Price continued trying on various hats, cracking jokes to one another and delighting in every smile or laugh that the other gave. To Price, this was far more enjoyable than sitting in some Russian bar with MacMillan and a bunch of rude Russian soldiers. Still, they'd gotten to the shop late, which meant that they didn't have much time until a worker was coming up to them to let them know that they were closing in five minutes.

"Well?" Nikolai raised an eyebrow at Price, "Made a decision?"

Price gave a low hum. Normally he would have gone with the soft blue beanie that he had clasped in his hands. It normally would have been his first and only choice, an easy one to make. But there was something else that had caught his attention, though noticeably for a far more selfish reason.

It was a simple hat, something he never would have looked back at twice if it hadn't been for the man standing next to him. It was a brownish-green bucket hat, one that looked more similar to something a fisherman would wear than what he would ever even think of putting on his head. He'd tried it on absentmindedly, not really thinking anything of it. He liked how he looked in it, in an odd way it suited him, but that wasn't the reason why he was thinking about snatching the thing up.

No, the reason behind that was the man standing next to him. He'd turned to Nikolai, prepared with a little quip in mind about the hat. All of his words had failed him when he caught sight of the way the other man was looking at him. His face was soft and there was something that Price would have had to be a fool to miss shining in his eyes. He recognized that look, the pure adoration that the other man was sending his way. It sent a shock of joy through his veins and, just thinking about it had him snatching up the bucket hat.

"I think I'll get both of these actually," He muttered quietly, giving a shy smile to the other man. Though Nikolai only gave him a nod, he could see how pleased his choice made the other man. It pulled a grin to his face, one that didn't leave even as he paid for his hats and walked outside to climb inside the car with Nikolai again. He pulled the tags off and plopped the hat on his head as soon as they were in the car.

He could feel Nikolai's gaze warming him the entire ride back to base. There was something different between them on the ride back, like a shift that filled the air with tension between their light conversation. Maybe it was Nikolai's heated gaze or the flush that sat high on Price's cheeks the entire ride back to base. Maybe it was just that the two were done dancing around one another, bolstered by a successful mission and a week of friendship entwined with flirting.

Price felt closer to Nikolai than he'd ever felt with anyone else and he knew, even when he and MacMillan were forced to leave in the morning, even when he would be so far away from the other man, Price knew that they would stay like that. This friendship, romance, whatever the hell it was...it would just keep growing.

His face was still flushed when they finally arrived back on base, Nikolai pulling the vehicle he'd borrowed back into its space in the garage. Price clambered out, meeting him around the front of the vehicle. They stopped there, watching each other for a moment. Price knew that he needed to get back to his room. It was late and he'd likely missed his check-in with MacMillan, not that he could find it in himself to care. He needed to go inside, but he didn't want to.

"I guess," he cleared his throat, smiling hesitantly up at Nikolai, "I should probably get back to my room. MacMillan and I are supposed to leave tomorrow." He paused, turning his gaze away from Nikolai as he spoke. He wasn't asking anything crazy, and he wasn't making a request that would seem anything but friendly, but still, looking the other man in the eye seemed too intimate. "Please stay in touch and everything, I'd like to say goodbye tomorrow before I leave, but I know you're busy, so-"

There was a hand on his jaw, gently turning his face. Warm soft lips connected with his own, pressing passionately against him and nearly knocking him back with the force. He was pressed back against the vehicle quickly, caged against the metal by Nikolai's strong arms as the man stole the breath from his lungs. Price didn't hesitate to react, his own arms moving to wrap around the man's shoulders, yanking him as close as he physically could.

The feeling of the man's warm body pressed against his own sent shivers down his spine and pulled a satisfied little sigh from his lips. This, Nikolai licking his way into his mouth, his hands gripping tight at his hips to hold him steady, it was so much. It was so much, but it was so perfect.

After a moment, Nikolai pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead against Price's as they both took in deep breaths. They didn't say anything at first, just looked at one another, occasionally diving down to press another short but passionate kiss against the other's mouth. Finally, after several moments, Nikolai pressed closer to him, slotting their lips together again so that he could mumble through the kiss, "See me tomorrow, before you leave. In the garage."

Price could only nod against him, his mouth far too occupied to respond with words.

Price was still high on Nikolai's kisses when he made his way back to his room. He could still feel the man's touches on his skin, tingling where they'd brushed against his arms or grabbed his hips. He was high on the feeling.

Of course, with every high came a crash. Price's came in the form of his Captain sitting on the bed in his room, a knowing eyebrow raised at him. "Captain," Price tried. MacMillan didn't let him finish.

"I told you to befriend the pilot," he tilted his head at Price, "Not seduce him."

"Sir," Price started, his voice small, "I didn't mean to, it's just he's so," he tried to find the right word, but nothing good enough came to his mind so he lamely settled on, "nice."

MacMillan watched him for a moment. "You like him? Really like him?" Price nodded his head hesitantly. There was a moment of silence before MacMillan gave a heavy sigh and stood up from his bed, "Listen to me, John. I want you to be happy, I do, but I also want you to be successful." Price winced a bit at his words, diverting his eyes to the ground quickly. "This goes beyond what is professional, if this doesn't work out for you? If the two of you only last a month before having a heated break? That's an ally that you've lost." He stepped forward, placing a hand on Price's shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, "It's your call, lad. Just know what you could be losing."

The man stood for another moment, watching him before giving a quick pat on his shoulder and leaving the room. Price stood silently, his Captain's words eating at his mind. There was a heavy feeling that settled in his chest, a heavy feeling and a pool of dread that rose up his throat, replacing the high of Nikolai with the weight of the crash. It was consuming. It was heartbreaking. But, above all, it was enough to pull Price back to reality, a reality where he knew what he had to do.

Price felt sick stepping into the garage. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, all of his few things packed up. He was ready to leave Russia, but the thought made him feel sick. When Nikolai saw him, fixing him with that bright grin that made his heart stutter in his chest, he wondered if the sting in his chest was what a gunshot felt like. He was sure he'd find out eventually, sometime in his career.

Nikolai seemed to pick up on his less-than-stellar attitude, his smile falling into something more concerned as he stepped closer. He came closer, reaching out for him, but Price stepped back. He gripped tight at his bag, avoiding the look of confusion that the other man sent him. He looked like a kicked puppy. It broke his heart, the splinters of it piercing into his chest harder.

"John?" Nikolai's voice was soft, laced with concern, "Is everything alright?"

"I," Price bit his lips, trying to find his words. This was better for both of them, in the long run. It was right. "About last night. I think we should try to keep things professional."

"What?" Price winced at the sound of Nikolai's voice. He could feel tears threatening to rise to his eyes, but he pushed them down. He couldn't fucking cry over this.

"We're going to be working together for a long time," Price cleared his throat, "I think it would be better if we didn't complicate that. If we just stayed as friends and coworkers."

"Friends?"

Price winced again, bringing a hand up to readjust the hat on his head. It was the bucket hat, the one he'd picked last night. There was a bit of comfort that he took in the material, in the memories that it carried with it. "If you want to stay friends," he replied, "I understand if, with all of this, you'd prefer it if we just were coworkers. Nothing else."

He jolted back when hands grabbed his own, pulling them up and drawing his attention back to Nikolai's face. Price could feel his eyes going glassy as he looked at the other man, recognizing the confusion, dread, and heartbreak that was building there. "John," Nikolai shook his head at him, stepping closer, "Tell me that you don't want this."

Price shook his head, looking away from the man as he slowly pulled his hands away and responded, "It isn't about what I want. It's about what is going to be better for both of us in the long run." He took a step away from the man, feeling like he was fighting against his own body to actually move away. He didn't want this. He didn't want to pull away from the man in front of him. He did though. He did because it was going to be better for both of them. "I'm sorry," he muttered to the other man.

Nikolai didn't respond to him, his face frozen into a picture of devastation. Price wondered briefly if a lie would have been better. If telling Nikolai that he didn't want him would have saved them both the heartache of knowing what they wanted, but couldn't have. It was too late for that though. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder, "I'm sorry. I," he paused, taking a deep breath, "I have to go. I'm sorry."

He hesitated for one more moment before turning, slowly making his way to the garage door. It felt like one of the hardest things that he'd ever done. Walking away. It wasn't until he got to the door, pushing it open to step out, that he finally heard Nikolai's voice. "John." Price hesitated for a moment. He prayed that Nikolai wouldn't ask him to stay, he didn't know that he'd be able to say no if he did. He turned to look at the man. Nikolai took a moment, steeling his face before saying, "If you need anything, just ask. I would be more than happy to help."

Price understood the weight of the words. He understood what the other man was telling him. He could feel his heart stuttering in his chest and he could certainly feel tears rushing to his eyes now. He didn't let them fall yet, he just nodded his head to the man before weakly replying, "Thank you, Nik."

He left the garage without another word, making his way toward the plane that would take himself and MacMillan back to their base. If his Captain noticed him wiping tears from his face he didn't say anything. Price felt sick. He could feel regret bubbling up in his chest. He'd done the right thing, but he knew that he'd also set himself up for a lifetime of wanting. A lifetime of looking, but never touching. A lifetime of pain when the other man eventually moved on. He knew, beyond anything, that he'd set himself up for failure.

Masterlist

#captain price #captain john price #john price #price x nikolai #nikprice #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw2 fanfic #cod #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #captain price fanfiction #cod nikolai #cod price

[rustyskateblade]

as a fan of the penguins who is just getting into the red wings when i tell you the gasp i let out when i found out dan bylsma was still around and on the RED WINGS? and everytime im reminded i chuckle because like the highs and lows we had with that guy and now he is just chillin with the wings making their special teams bad

the BRAVERY of telling me you’re a penguins fan in the very first sentence azhdvshs i’m speechless but hats off to you lmao i’m sorry if you’ve ever seen me say any of the things that i have said about your team.

but yeah against all odds dan bylsma IS still around in detroit and like. frankly he didn’t always have the best ingredients to work with but fuck me if he didn’t consistently bake the worst possible pies with our power play i’m going to scream if i have to see him next season

#wings pk not terrible but if i’m not wrong that’s more of houda’s specialty? idk lemme google some stuff i’m second guessing myself #yesh that’s correct #edit: *wings pk wasn’t terrible for the wings. in general? i think still below league average so. ya know. #but anyway what do pens fans hate him for again? didn’t he like break MAF or something? idr #oh sorry about insulting your team btw #i’d like to add that the pens are the team that i hate but like. i LOVE to hate them. hating them feels so so good. #love to dunk on those flightless fucks #but i don’t hate them with the absolute malice and disgust i reserve for chicago. ya know? #like i don’t think you’re a bad person for aligning yourself with the penguins lmao. i just question your taste #but that being said clearly i have bad taste in most things so who am i to judge. love who you love and all that #if it feels like i’m insulting you rn i promise i’m trying for the opposite but i’m failing spectacularly #anon

[gyllenhaalstories]

YOU WON’T PLAY, YOU’RE NO FUN — PROF!CHRIS

summary: chris evans is your professor with whom you’ve had an affair with since the beginning of the semester. you meet with him over zoom with your fellow teammates to discuss your project, but you can’t seem to get into the right mindset. instead of providing the group with clever comments and ideas, all you do is test the limits of chris’ patience and self control.

warnings: don’t have sex with your prof please, mentions of online classes, smut including: established dom/sub relationship & teacher/student relationship (abuse of power used strictly as a joke, they are both 18+ and consensual), degradation, masturbation & mutual masturbation, edging. MINORS DON’T READ NOR INTERACT.

word count: 1500

notes: rail me daddy :) i’m a hoe for teacher/student if you can’t tell already. i do keep it vague by not mentioning any majors, don’t worry! it’s my first time writing for chris, so please, be kind!!! i hope you enjoy reading this mess!!!! ily <3

gif credits: capsgrantrogers blessing us with this low quality webcam goodness.

“Miss /Y/L/N, would you mind staying a little longer? I need to talk to you.” Chris’ voice resonated as your classmates went quiet before they waved their cameras goodbye and left the two of you alone.

Uh oh.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” By the time you were done with your question, you noticed that his face was frozen. “Mister Evans! Chris?! I think there’s an issue I can’t — hear you.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. You seriously needed to get that Internet connection checked. You had your hand on your laptop, ready to close it up when you heard the familiar noise of a video call, but this time it was a private conversation.

“Don’t want anybody to walk in on us, right?” Chris winked and smirked at you. You had a flashback of that one time you hooked up in his office and realized his door was left ajar when you could hear the secretary of the department arguing with the printer. You thanked your guardian angel (who must had been very disappointed) that you were just on your knees blowing him off, and that nothing too serious was going on.

You laughed, for a second you thought you were in trouble.

“What was that all about?” Chris questioned, his smirk disappeared and was replaced by a dark expression.

“I have no clue what you’re referring too.” You shrugged lightly and looked at the screen, wishing he had chosen another shirt that showcased his tattoos. You were lucky enough to see his arms from the short sleeves, you felt as aroused as royal men back in the day when they saw a woman’s ankles.

Chris clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh, really? There is no explanation to the attitude you’ve been giving your teammates and me all morning?”

You sighed again, loud enough for him to hear you. “They’re idiots and I’m sick of their shit. They’re not doing anything on the project yet they show off in front of you just to   —“

“Got it, they’re dumb and you’re smart.” He put the emphasis on the last few words. “Tell me, Miss, if you’re that smart, how come you’ve made the very stupid decision to be rude to me as well?”

You swallowed thickly. You were just so pissed off, exhausted from the all nighter you had to do in order to complete the requirements for today’s class. “Chris, look, you know it wasn’t about you...” You heard him cough. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I’d call you a good girl, but good girls don’t talk back and they certainly don’t act so bratty. What a potty mouth, you swore in front of everybody. Do I have to teach you manners too? I’m afraid that’s not listed on my tasks as your professor, too bad.”

“I said I was sorry! You know how much I hate them!”

“Do I have to give you a bad grade for not cooperating? Not everybody is as understanding as me, you need to learn that.”

He sounded so arrogant, so condescending. As much as you hated it, it turned you on. You were all squirmy on your chair, and he caught up on that.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind, princess? Why are you on the edge?”

You looked up through your lashes, letting out a complaint. That fucker. The last time you met, which was over a week ago, he had an emergency and had to leave his apartment to go on campus. How convenient, you had not finished and you were left breathless and worked up on his bed. He made you promise not to touch yourself without permission on his way out. He knew just how impatient you could get. All the needy texts you sent him while he was looking over his other classes during an exam; all the begging you did over the phone while he insisted on doing small talk.

“You won’t play with me,” you pouted at the screen. “You’re no fun.”

He chuckled, his voice sounded lower than usual while he sat up on his chair. He loved this game with you, probably as much as you did if not more.

You noticed his arm disappeared out of the frame. You’d do ten other team works with your stupid colleagues if it meant you’d be the one to take care of his hard on at that very moment.

“Oh, baby wanna have fun? Is that it? You should have told me sooner!” He cleared his throat when he heard you sigh again, giving you a warning. “Get those fingers nice and wet for me.”

You obeyed, sucking on two fingers of your dominant hand. You picked up on the back and forth movements of his arm, he was palming at his crotch. You caught a glimpse of him standing up   — he was in tight Calvin Klein boxers   —  and sitting back down, his cock freed from his clothes. “I’ve been good, Sir. So good.”

He nodded slowly, after spitting in his hand and starting to fist his cock. “Oh, really?”

You nodded frantically. “I haven’t touched myself since you left,” you pulled your hand away from your mouth, a string of saliva fell down your chin. “I’ve been so wet for you, Sir. You’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Then think about my fingers rubbing your clit.” He groaned, the speed of his arm motions increased.

You jerked on your chair at the contact of your fingers, your panties were soaked from your arousal. “Sir!” You moaned out when you circled faster against the bundle of nerves.

“You’re so fucked up for me, you’d rather cum on your fingers than on my face, huh?” You felt tears pooling in your eyes. “Stop touching yourself and answer me.”

You pulled your hand away, showing it to the camera so he believed you. “I want to cum so bad, Sir! Please, just once! And I’ll wait until we meet again. I need it!”

“And I need to fuck that tight little cunt of yours and you don’t hear me complainin’.” His bicep flexed in his tight shirt, his breathing got heavier. “I waited for you the entire week. I didn’t text you in the middle of the night begging like a desperate slut.” He nodded, indicating you could start rubbing again.

You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. He was edging you, again.

“Eyes on me, Baby. Need to see you.”

It took so much energy just to keep your eyes open.

“Faster.” He growled, he was so close too. You could feel it, even if he was far away.

“Sir, please!”

“Stop, stop right fucking now.” He pulled away from his swollen cock at the same time as you did. “I won’t tolerate attitude like this again, you heard me?” You nodded, mouthed a ‘yes’. “I don’t want to repeat myself. You’re such a dumb little baby sometimes, I’ll probably have to.” The more he mocked you, the more you needed to touch yourself again. “Next time you act like a bitch in my class, you’ll regret it.” You never took his threats lightly. The first, and last, time that you did, you ended up bent over his knee with the belt of his dress pants spanking your ass red like the ink from the pen he used to grade papers

“I’ll count to ten. At ten, you’ll...”

“I’ll cum!” You spoke excitedly.

“Yes, Babygirl. You’ll get to cum.” He licked his lips and stroked his beard, his hand holding his sensitive cock. “Ready?”

You replied with even more enthusiasm and he started to count up.

“Slowly, 1, 2, 3...” He swallowed thickly. “Add more pressure now, 4, 5, 6,” he tightened his grip around his cock. “Faster, 7, 8, 9...” he jerked himself up at the same speed as you. “Now, cum for me. Make a mess like you’d do on my cock. That’s right, cum for me, Princess.”

The knot in your stomach finally snapped and you released yourself on your hand. You were panting and clenching around nothing, wishing you were with Chris right now.

He growled loudly as he released himself on his hand and shirt. “Look what you did to me, Baby.” He sat up just enough to show you, causing you to laugh at the sight of his messed up top.

In exchange, you showed him your slick coated fingers before you licked them clean. Blood rushed to his cock again, but he took a deep breath to calm down. “All good now?”

“Yes! Thank you, Sir.” You smiled, content and satisfied.

He wiped his hand clean with his shirt, after he removed it and let you admire his broad chest and inked drawings. “I’m giving you extra homework.”

Your smile disappeared and you squinted, mentally preparing for more readings or an extra essay on how good he fucked you. It would be your third or fourth, you ran out of synonyms to explain that he made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

“Take a shower and a nap, I’ll get to this meeting and meet you back home, okay?”

Your face lit up again, and you clapped happily.

“See? I can be fun when I want to.”

#chris evans imagine #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

[enthusiasticharry]

Swan Lake

summary: you've recently audition to be the White Swan in the Royal Ballet’s next production, only to learn that the new choreographer, Harry, will make this experience a lot more thrilling. 

author’s note: hiya! sorry the has taken so long but I've been busy with classes and only just had time to sit down and write this. this has been an idea of mine since i first saw harry’s snl promo when he was in the tutu and i'm glad i can finally share it!

word count: 10.6k words of smut, fluff and me trying to sound like i have a clue what i’m on about whilst describing ballet moves (i'm no ballerina, just a pre-warning) 

masterlist    |    asks

Even from being a small child, it had been your dream to become a dancer. You had originally gotten into dancing when you were very little, watching the different dancing programmes on the TV. You can remember like it was yesterday, the day you first watched the Royal Ballets performance of Swan Lake. You were around six, and you remember your mother flicking through the TV guide and seeing it and deciding to put it on, much to your detest at the start. But, you found yourself mesmerised as you watched the dancers flitter across the screen with such elegance and grace that you knew straight away that in the future you wanted to embody. It wasn’t the easiest occupation to get into, and it was very draining upon your body. But you loved it, and you were always going to — until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“Have you heard about the new choreographer?” Ethel, your friend asks as you walk towards the academy. You shake your head, “Apparently he’s very fit.”

“But he’s a choreographer.” You curl your nose up, “No choreographers are ever fit. They’re all old and hate the world.”

Ethel shakes her head, “This one is. He’s not too older than us either, but apparently he’s one of best Ballerino’s to ever walk out of the Royal Ballet School.”

“That’s a bold statement.” You say, pulling your bag tighter on your shoulder, “What is he choreographing?”

“The solos, I think.” Ethel adds, holding the door open as you both walk through, “He’s taking over Vernon.”

“Thank god.” You sigh, letting the door close behind you, “He was a horrible man.”

“He was.” Ethel laughs, “At least he’s someone new. We haven’t had a new choreographer in a year.”

A year ago, you and Ethel had graduated from the Royal Ballet school in London and you immediately joined the Royal Ballet. After auditions upon auditions you both had made it to the shortlist and then even made it through to the corps de ballet and were preparing for the audition for Swan Lake. You were positive that you wouldn’t get in, but you were also positive that you wouldn’t get into the school, never mind to the actual Royal Ballet.

Even though you felt like you had made it in life, you certainly hadn’t just yet. Today, you were auditioning to dance as White Swan. It was the next step into completing your dream completely. You were nervous to say the least, and you don’t think you’ve ever practiced something so much in your life.

“Are you ready for this?” Ethel asks as you walk into the back room, where there were quite a few other people who were obviously auditioning for other solos within the ballet.

You sigh, sitting down on the floor and starting to tie your pointe shoes, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll smash it.” She smiles.

“I certainly hoped so.”

You were third to go, which wasn’t too bad. You certainly didn’t want to go first but you didn’t want to go last either. You were nervous, but you felt as though you dealt with it well and floated across the dance floor. You hated to say it, but you did find yourself being distracted quite a bit by the new man in the room, sat at the end of the table with a notebook and pen, watching intently as you dance and making certain notes. None of the choreographers made any hints that you were doing anything good, or not so good for that matter.

“Thank you.” The man said, his voice as soft as silk, “We’ll get to you shortly.”

A week later you were making your way to the notice board, where the solo and cast list were being posted. Ethel was in a rehearsal, so she wasn’t able to come with you and you found yourself being even more nervous due to being on your own.

You hung back and watched as other people rushed towards the list. You had just finished a pointe class, and your muscles were aching and you didn’t feel quite like making a huge scene trying to see the list. You watched as some people had very happy faces, and other had quite disappointed ones.

The group had dispersed quite a while ago, but you still found yourself stood in the corner. You had even started to pretend to scroll through your phone to distract yourself from actually going up to look at what it says on the sheet.

“I don’t think you can see the list from back here.”

You eyes flick up to the voice that startled you from your scroll. The man, who you had since the audition had learnt was called Harry Styles, stood across from you with one corner of his lips curled up.

“I was, uh.” You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I was psyching myself up to look.”

“I’d go look if I was you.”

You nod your head and walk up the sheet, flicking your eyes down until your saw ‘White Swan’. What surprised you even more was the sight of your name in the column next to it. You eyes widen and you turn to look at Harry, who’s stood leant against the wall next to you. He smiles at you, nodding your head as you look at him with a confused look upon your face.

“Me?”

“Yes.” He nods, “You.”

“I got it?” You’re in complete shock, “Me?”

“You did. You earned it. You have one of the best form’s I’ve ever seen in my life. It was an unanimous decision, and you were the certain choice.”

“Wow.” You smile, “Thank you.”

“It’s really no problem.” You watch as he turns slightly to walk away, “Don’t let us down, though.”

You really hoped you wouldn’t. You hadn’t worked harder for something in your entire life, and he was mistaken if he thought it would be the same for this. It was your dream, plain and simple. It was hard to have a dream that lasted only the first thirty years or so of your life. If you were only going to get a limited amount of time to do this, you were going to make the most of it and you had made your first step by doing this.

“I won’t.” You nod your head, “I promise.”

“Good.” And with that, he’s gone.

The first day of rehearsals came quicker than you expected, but you had spent every minute of every day thinking about this day. Ethel had landed a role in the corps de ballet which she was proud of, and you were proud of her for doing so too. It meant that you both were going to be in the performance and go to all the main rehearsals for the group dances. Ethel wouldn’t have to come to the solo rehearsals, which was understandable, but at least you still had the time together now.

“Have I told you how much I really love that leotard?” She says as you shrug your coat off, revealing your black leotard which you’ve paired with a blush pink jumper that falls off your shoulder to match your pointe shoes.

“It’s just a simple black leotard.” You shrug, “It’s nothing special. I think I got it on sale.”

“You style it well, though.”

You sit on the bench and lift your feet up, slipping your toes into your pointe shoes. They weren’t comfortable, that’s a given, but you were used to it by now. You went to your first ballet class at seven years old, and you were now twenty-three. Sixteen years of wearing these shoes frequently meant that your feet had gotten very used to feeling.

“Thank you, Ethel.” You smile, grabbing your water bottle and following her as she walks out of the door and towards the training room.

“Do you think Harry will be here?” She asks, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Possibly. He does solos so he isn’t technically required to be here.”

“He does. It’s the first rehearsal, though. He may want to at least show his face to the rest of us.”

You laugh, “You just want to see his face, Ethel.”

“Maybe I do.” She doesn’t even hide the blush on her cheeks.

In the training room, groups of dancers stand together either stretching or talking. It’s important to stretch and warm up before anything you do, so you and Ethel find a spare spot by the bar and start to stretch your muscles. You stretch every morning quite intensely, warming your muscles up for the day just because you know that you won’t get a lot of time to do so when you arrive at rehearsals and they even ask you to do so before you come so it works better. It’s nice to just refresh your muscles when you arrive, though.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Holland, the main choreographer says as her and a few other people walk into the room, “Welcome all to this years production of Swan Lake.”

A chorus of claps circle around the room, smiles all around as everyone congratulates each other on getting a part. It was very hard to get into productions like these, so you weren’t surprised that you were around the best of the best.

“I’m Holland, I’m pretty sure all of you know me but I’d like to introduce you all to the rest of the team.” She motions to the people behind her, “Isabella is in charge of Pas de deux this year and Harry is in charge of Solo’s, more specifically the Black and White swan’s solos.”

You immediately feel your heats cheek up, knowing that you and whoever is playing the Black swan will be spending time with him. You couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t a handsome man, because he certainly was, but he was your choreographer and he spoke to you in a tone the other day that you couldn’t quite pinpoint but you knew that you weren’t too keen of.

“Today we’re taking it easy, and just introducing some of the group dances. Can both the White and Black swans see Harry, please?”

You freeze with your eyes upon the floor, not wanting to look up.

“That’s you.” Ethel nudges your shoulders.

You nod and stand up, walking towards the corner of the room where Harry stands as well as another girl who you know is called Frances, from being in a few of your classes during school. You smile as you walk over, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Behind you, everyones already stood and following what Holland is saying.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He smiles, “But I just want to discuss some things with the two of you before proper rehearsals start.”

You both follow him out of the large training room into one of the smaller practice rooms that people can you use whenever they want. You find yourself lagging behind as you walk, the feeling of nerves bubbling within you. You have had one solo before in your life, but it certainly wasn’t as important as this one, and you felt yourself getting more and more worried with every second.

“It’s important that the two of you know that I’m your main choreographer, but also that you’re in the group sessions when they’re on.” You both nod, “There aren’t a lot, because even in the group dances you have a lot of solos so you are with me a lot more than in there.”

“That’s why we got these parts though, right?” Frances says, a smile across her lips that you can just tell isn’t a sweet one.

“Not really.” He tilts his head to the side, “You got these parts because we think that you’re able to make the role yours and work hard for it. We can take it away just as easy as we’ve given them you.”

You nod your head and Frances does too, but there’s a little huff that escapes her lips as she does so.

“Our rehearsals start tomorrow, with the White swan, and they’re all going to be in this room.” You nod, but you don’t take any notice of what Fran does, but you guess she nods too, “Just so you know, I don’t appreciate lateness or laziness whilst in the rehearsal.”

“Understood.” You smile, tucking a piece of your hair behind your head.

“Good.” He nods, “You can both return to the main group.”

The next day you find yourself walking into the studio ten minutes before the rehearsal is set to start. The door is open when you walk in, but no one is in which your thankful for. You place your bag down in the corner and start to put your pointe shoes on.

“Morning.” You jump out of your skin at the sound of Harry’s voice walking into the room, “Didn’t mean to make jump.”

“It’s okay.” You chuckle, “I was in my own world and wasn’t paying attention.

He smiles and drops his bag in the corner next to yours. He walks closer to where you’re stood and leans against the bar.

“Have you stretched?” He asks, shrugging off his hoodie. You try not to stare at his physique, but it’s hard not to. Especially when you notice the tattoos that you can see across his arms and his check and stomach underneath the white wife-beater he had on. He also had one some joggers, but you knew it wouldn’t make the best first impression if you continued to stare at him.

“Before I left.” You say, “Not since I got here.”

“We can stretch together.” He says, “Do you use the bar.”

You nod and stand up, smoothing down the wispy bits of your hair that had escaped your bun. You pull your jumper up on your shoulder also, due to the material slipping off everyone once in a while. Your eyes drift to watch as he starts to stretch, using the bar to stretch his peculiarly long limbs. Average male ballet dancers that you’d met in your life hadn’t been as tall as he was, but he had a sort of elegance to him even when he was only stretching that his long limbs only extenuated.

“Have you been dancing long?” You certainly hadn’t expected him to be making small talk with you, but here he was.

You nod, “Since I was seven. Have you?”

“I was ten.” He says and your eyes widen, “I was quite late, to be honest.”

That was quite late, you had to agree with him. Most ballet dancers that you met within your life started even earlier than you, and a lot of them were surprised that you’d started so late but were so successful. Talent comes in any shape or form, and even though he did start quite late, if he was as talented as people made him out to be, then you weren’t surprised that he was as successful as he was starting quite late.

“Did you dance before then?”

“I did.” He nods, “I did tap for a few years before I decided that it wasn’t for me, and then I started ballet lessons.”

You smile and continue to stretch, lifting your leg up to the bar to stretch as far as you can. You can feel your muscles starting to relax as you do so, and you know you’re warmed up.

“Are you ready?” You nod and make your way to stand behind him, at the side slightly so you could see both yourself and Harry in the mirror. You were nervous, to say the least, but you had a slight suspicion that Harry was going to try and make you feel as comfortable as possible.

“We’re going to take it easy.” He says, “Well, as easy as it can be with this show.”

You chuckle and watch as he starts to teach you your solo. You wondered how many times he’d watched the previous performances of the ballet to know the solo as well as he did. You got through the first quarter of the dance or so. It was very quick, and it was basically going through al of the steps and seeing where you needed to focus your practice.

By the end of the rehearsal, you were sweating and you knew that you didn’t look the best just from looking at yourself in the mirror. The dance was one of the hardest you’ve ever done in your life but you knew that was how it was going to be. It was intense, and Harry was certainly right when he said that he knew you’d be able to do it but you needed to put in the hard work. One of the hardest things you found yourself having to do was stopping yourself from getting distracted at the sight of him.

Every time he moved, the muscles within his arms contracted. You didn’t want to stare at him, but you physically couldn’t stop yourself. You wondered if he could tell, or if he was staring at you. More than once during the rehearsal your jumper slipped from your shoulder, dangerously close to revealing your chest and you swear that you saw his eyes drifting at some points but you would never say anything.

“You’ve done well.” He nods, taking a quite a large gulp of water from his bottle, “I knew there was a reason why we’d chosen you, and that certainly was it” 

“There are plenty of other dancers that will have been just as good, maybe even better, I’m sure.” You say, placing your hands upon your hips as you try to catch your breath from the jeté’s you had just been doing.

He chuckles, walking over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder, “Have a little more faith in yourself. Not many people will be able to do what you’ve just done.”

You hate to say it, but you do feel fuzzy inside at his words. Flutters fill your belly and you can feel your cheeks heat up. He can see it as well, you’re absolutely sure of it and you nearly faint. The feeling of his fingers upon your skin leaves it heated for quite a while, long after he’d taken his hand off, and way after you’d left the room.

He was your new choreographer, but you couldn’t help but feel as this was the start of something else.

You had been in the practice room for an hour or so.

The group rehearsal had finished an hour ago, and you had planned to go into a practice room to spend a little extra time going over the new moves that Harry had added a day ago at their second rehearsal. The new steps weren’t too bad, but the order they fell in you just couldn’t pick up. You practiced it over and over again but you still couldn’t get it right. You found yourself becoming more and more annoyed with yourself that you couldn’t do it.

You started to do it again, starting with the jeté before moving to the pirouette but you found yourself loosing your balance yet again.

“You need to keep your core straight.”

You jump out of your skin, placing your hand upon your chest as you turn to look at the culprit. It’s Harry, and you aren’t surprised to say the least. He has a tendency of jumping out at you when you least expect it.

“You should wear a bell.” You say, standing up and and walking towards his body, which is leant against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing actual trousers today, and you were wondering if that’s why he wasn’t in the group rehearsal earlier.

“I’ll announce myself next time, I promise.” He laughs, walking towards you. His shoes tap upon the floor as he moves towards you, “Your movements aren’t flowing because your core isn’t strong, and you’re letting your body go dizzy.”

He walks towards you, holding his hands out before retracting them.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” He asks, and you nod, allowing his hands to fall one upon your back and the other upon your stomach. He pushes your stomach in, straightening your back as he does so. You find yourself struggling to breath slightly, but once you do you catch up quickly, “Try again like this.”

“Okay.”

You stay as upright as you can, keeping your core straight as you move. Somehow, you manage to do the sequence without falling over. You sigh in relief and drop down to the floor once you’ve done it. He stands and nods his head, watching as you take a sip of your water.

“See.” He nods his head, “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you.” You smile, “I knew I could too, I think I was just becoming lazy because I’m tired.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Go home, take a break.” You start to unfasten your pointe shoes, sighing in relief as your toes separate after being in the shoes for way too long, “How long have you been in here?”

“An hour or so.” You shake your head, “I just wanted to get it right.”

“I bet it was right before.” He says, opening the door for you to slip through once you’ve put your proper shoes on and gathered your things, “Your body is just tired, that’s why your form was off. You usually have a great core.”

He had been looking at your. . . core? You felt your cheeks heat up, and you tired your hardest to not to let him see it but it was quite hard under the spotlights of the hallway.

“Thank you, but it really wasn’t. That was the first time I’ve done it properly.”

He turns to you with a grin, “We’ll just to have to agree to disagree, won’t we?”

You can’t stop the blush that rises upon your cheeks at his words, but more so at his grin. It’s cheeky and boyish and sort of flirty. He couldn’t have been flirting with you, but a part of you prayed that he was.

“Have a good night.” He smiles at you, “Sleep and don’t worry about the dance.” 

“I’ll try.”

“One. . . two. . . three. . . four—”

His counting has been ringing through your ears since your arrived at the rehearsal an hour ago. You couldn’t tell whether there was something wrong with him, or whether you had done something wrong for him to be in such a mood.

You had managed to ignore the fact that he completely ignored you once you’d walked in, and focused more on showing him that since you last saw him, you had mastered the sequence you were struggling with completely.

Everyone has bad days, you knew that, but it’s hard to learn a dance when your teacher is so stoic that you can’t tell whether or not you’re doing the moves right. His eyebrows have been furrowed since you walked through the door, and the clicks of his fingers were so loud that you can’t help but wonder whether or not they have blistered.

You manage to perform the sequence of steps, from start to about half way which you’ve managed to learn in the two weeks that you’ve been learning the steps. It’s nice to know that you’re able to do it, no matter how much you’ve struggled and that it’s been hard work, you’ve done it.

“We’re moving onto the pirouettes next.” He says, standing with his hands upon his hips as he does so. The harsh look upon his face doesn’t leave, and you truly wonder what had happened for him to be this way with you.

It’s making you feel as though every step you make isn’t right, when you know in fact that it is.

“The what?” You are struggling to catch your breath, after non-stop dancing for an hour can’t believe that he wants to do the pirouettes with you.

“Pirouettes.” He stands facing you, instead of you looking at him through the mirror and you wonder what you’re going to do, “Do as many as you can until the music drops.”

You weren’t quite sure what he was asking of you. You furrow your eyebrows, but Harry just stares at you. He looks at you as if to say why aren’t you doing it yet, so you decide you’re better off just starting the pirouettes.

You start, lifting your body into fourth position with both legs straight. You fix your eyes onto a spot where the mirrors meet. After taking a breath, you bend both legs into a deep pilé, concentrating on sinking your heels into the wooden floor so you could push into the spin. You focus your core, keeping it tight. You spring to a retiré position, before relevé to a full pointe with your back foot to your front leg. You hold your body in the position spin, flicking your head quickly so that you can focus yet again on the gap in the mirror. Once you’ve completed one, you continue to go round and round, trying to ignore the aching within your bones and the throbbing within your head.

You manage eight before you loose your balance and drop to the ground, immediately sitting with your head in between your legs. 

“Have a break, and then we’ll start again.” 

You sigh and shake your head, “I can’t do it.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry says, furrowing his eyebrows, “Of course you can.” 

“I can’t do it.” 

“You’ve done eight.” He shrugs, “You can do more.” 

“I’ll be able to.” You say, “But I can’t do them now.” 

If you honest, you hadn’t woken up feeling the best this morning. You often get headaches that throughout the course of the day transition into migraines. You had felt it coming on at the start of the day, and you knew with how much you had to do you couldn’t pull out of the rehearsal but at this point you were seriously considering it. The pirouettes seriously hadn’t helped with the throbbing within your head and you had started to feel quite nauseous. 

“If you have that attitude then you certainly won’t be able to, and it’s probably best that you leave.” 

You’re completely taken aback, unable to believe that the man who has been nothing but nice to you throughout this whole thing had just said something so horrid to you. You were mortified and if you hadn’t felt sick before, you certainly did now. 

“You know what.” You stand up, “I think that’s a good idea.” 

You leave the room and don’t look back. 

The next rehearsal, thankfully, was a group one. You and Ethel had made your way to the training room bright and early, ready for what the day was going to hold. You hadn’t told Ethel about what happened earlier in the week with Harry. It would have been nice to talk to someone about it but you knew that you shouldn’t, so you didn’t. It was, however, the thing that fluttered around in your brain on a loop. Doing everyday mundane things you found yourself distracted. Instead of being upset or angry anymore, you were concerned, and you just hoped that he was okay mainly. 

The two of you had stretched yourselves pretty quickly, leaving you stood in the right corner of the room waiting for it to start. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not Harry was going to be in the rehearsal today. He normally was, but after the last one, you had no idea what was going to happen. A part of you wished to see him, and the other part of you didn’t. It was as though you had a devil and angel on your shoulder, bickering between the options of whether or not you wanted to see his face. 

In the back of your mind you knew that this man was your choreographer. You knew that traditionally that you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him, since he had the same role as a teacher would, but you really couldn’t help it. It didn’t help that he was one of the prettiest people you had ever seen in your life — and one of the nicest apart from the last time you saw him — but the was besides the point. You were an adult, and you were allowed to have these feelings, even though you were positively sure that they aren’t reciprocated. 

Both Holland and Isabella walk into the room, but there is no sign of Harry. You try to ignore the disappointment that sits in the pit of your stomach but you can’t. 

You should be angry at the man, livid even, that he said such a thing to you but you really weren’t. That was your own fault, but that didn’t mean that all would be forgotten from that day. You were at least expecting an apology the next time you saw him. 

“Everyone get into positions for the start of the second half.” Holland calls and everyone moves from their groups into positions. 

You weren’t on the stage at the start, so you move to the corner of the room by the door and watch everyone else. You try your hardest not to let your mind wander, but you can’t help it. Your thumb is running back and forth over your bottom lip, furrowing your eyebrows as you did so. 

“If you furrow your eyebrows anymore your face is going to stay like that.” 

You don’t even jump at the sound of his voice. Your heart does start to beat a little faster, since your certainly weren’t expecting him to be so close to you, but you wouldn’t tell anybody that. 

“Was starting to think you just hated me.” 

“Could never hate you.” He shakes his head, “You’re too good of a dancer for me to ever hate you.” 

You have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You manage to, but before either one of you could say anything else, you see your cue and you’re out on the floor. 

You try to ignore his stare as you move around the room, remembering the choreography you had learnt whilst also trying to be as elegant and strong as you physically could be. You remembered to keep your core straight, and if you weren’t mistaken by the few times you looked over at him, Harry’s eyes hadn’t left you.

You were unsure whether it was something your were flattered about, or whether you were slightly concerned about it. You weren’t too concerned, but you found yourself wondering why he was doing this. The last time he saw you he told you to leave, and now he couldn’t get his eyes off of you. 

Once the dance had finished, and you had your lips around your water bottle that you were taking a sip from, you swear you saw Harry’s head flick towards the door. You furrow your eyebrows and lift you finger up, pointing at yourself as if to ask whether he was looking at you. 

He nods his head and walks out of the door, leaving you confused but walking towards him and consequently out of the room. You bite the lid of your bottle as you do so. You knew exactly where he was, and the second you walked into the room you saw him stood in the middle of it with an almost defeated look upon his face. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You swear your heart almost bursts out of your chest. 

You nod your head, “Okay.” 

“I was a dick.” You nod again, “And you didn’t deserve it at all. I shouldn’t have asked you to leave and I should’ve asked if you were okay the second you dropped to the floor. I’m sorry, I really am.” 

“I accept your apology, I do.” He seems to sigh with relief, “But! You have to be extra nice to me next rehearsal. If I want a break, I want a break.” 

He chuckles, “You can have as many breaks as you like.” 

“Good.” 

To say rehearsals have been different since Harry apologised to you would be an understatement. You found yourself enjoying them, no matter how hard you had to work, and you looked forward to them in your week.

You believe it might have been because of the change in relationship between the two of you. It was much nicer, and also a little flirtier. You had noticed Harry coming over to help you by touching you more, he was forever smirking and winking at you and some of the things he said completely turned you to putty in his arms. 

You’d like to think he’d noticed, but you really couldn’t be sure. 

“Dress rehearsals start next week.” He says as you take a break, sipping on some water whilst holding a banana in your other hand, “Are you nervous?”

You shrug, “A little bit. I know I’ve worked hard but there are still a lot of things that could go wrong.” 

“I disagree.” You throw him a quizzical look, “I agree that you work hard because you’re one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met. I don’t agree that a lot of things could go wrong because that just isn’t true — one thing could.” 

You knew what he was talking about. 

You drop back so you’re laid on the group, “The pirouettes.” 

“The pirouettes.” He nods and stands up, so you sit up, “I know you can do it, you just need to believe in yourself.” 

You sigh, “Can you just do the pirouettes for me?” 

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Like the audience wouldn’t notice you slipping off and a six-foot man taking your place to do some spins.” 

“I’m sure they’d be highly entertained.” 

“I’m sure we’d have thousands of complaints to deal with.” 

You laugh and he joins in. You finish your banana and stand up, tucking some of the hair that had fallen out of your bun back before moving to the middle of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” 

“I do.” Harry nods, crossing his arms over his chest, “Focus on your spot and never take your eyes off it, remember your core and remember to bounce yourself. The higher bounce you get at the start, the more you’ll be able to spin.” 

You’re unsure how it happened, but after listening to Harry’s words you manage to complete almost twenty pirouettes. The most that had taken place during the small amount of time in a performance had been thirty-two, and to say that you’d never done more than ten in your life before meant that you were pretty proud of yourself. 

“See.” He says smugly, “I knew you could do it.” 

You watch as he walks towards you, shoving this hand into the pocket of his jogging bottoms. You weren’t one to necessarily like people who are so in-your-face smug but there was something different about the way Harry said things. He didn’t say them maliciously, or to make himself feel better but to just tease you slightly. He was close to you, and you resisted the urge to let out a little squeak of nervousness. 

“Are you going to start believing in yourself?” 

“Hmm.” You ponder, “I might have to be reminded again, and again.” 

It all happened quickly, but before you could process anything happening, Harry’s lips were on yours. 

He kissed you. You felt his lips upon yours, his hand immediately reaching to rest upon her cheek. The nervous squeak you held in escaped your lips as he did so, but he masked it with him. You gripped the material of his wife-beater, bunching it up at his stomach as you pulled him towards you. Your lips parted once you’d felt his tongue dance upon your lips, allowing it to slip through them. You were shocked, but you never wanted it to end. 

It did end though, like all good things do. He pulled away from you and you felt even more out of breath than if you had just performed your solo. You looked at him with wide eyes and lifted your fingers to run over your swollen lips, 

“Did that remind you?” 

Dress rehearsals had started, but all you could find yourself thinking about was Harry’s lips on yours. 

You stood backstage at the Royal Opera House, looking at yourself within the mirror as you ran your hand over your costume. It was white, and completely gorgeous. The tutu fluttered out gems and sparkles fluttered along the bodice with a hugged your curves perfectly. You had the head piece on as well, but you hadn’t done your makeup. It was the first time you’d seen the costume upon your body, and you were in love with it. 

“You proper look like the white swan now.” Ethel smiles, placing her hand upon your shoulder, squeezing slightly, “You look gorgeous.” 

“Thank you.” You turn to look at her, and the costume she had on and you gasp, “And look at you!  Absolutely beautiful!” 

The two of you giggle and walk towards the main stage where everyone was collected. You stood to the side with Ethel, even though she’s quickly scooped away by some of her friends. You stand and done move, going over the moves of your solo in your head just to make sure you knew what you were doing. 

Holland calls you all to start soon. It wasn’t the first time that you’d ran the performance all the way through, but it was the first time that you’d done it in your costume. 

You manage to make it through the first half of the performance without any malfunctions from yourself, but you can’t say the same for everyone else. It was around half way through the third section of dance or so when you noticed Harry sat on the front row, his eyes never leaving you as you dance around the stage. When your first section of solo dance came up, you saw Harry’s eyes furrowing as you danced. You couldn’t watch him throughout the entire thing, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he never looked away from you. 

During the interval, you go backstage and make your way towards a bathroom. As you make your way closer, you try to find the fasten of your tutu so that you can quickly pull it off. What you hadn’t expected as you down the hall and towards the bathroom was to be pulled into one of the rooms you pass.

You squeal as you feel the hand around your arm, but once you’re in the room, you’re silenced by someone’s lips upon yours. 

You can tell that it’s Harry immediately. You can tell not only from his lips upon yours, but also from his hand that he places upon your cheek. You feel the coolness of his ring, and the slight itch from his stubble, but you really aren’t complaining. You lift your hand to the back of his neck, slipping your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

His fingers run across your thighs, being light so that he doesn’t rip the thin material. After a minute or so, you pull away, turning your head so that his drops upon your shoulder whilst you catch you breath.” 

“Harry?” He hums against your neck, placing a small kiss there, “I really need a wee.” 

He laughs and stands up, pecking your lips once more. You smile into the kiss and it seems to only grow afterwards. 

“Well you better go and have one.” He chuckles and you nod, “But I’ll only let you go if your promise me something.” 

“What?” 

“You’ll wait for me afterwards?” 

“After what? My wee, because I have to back on stage after—”

“No.” He chuckles, “Not after you’ve had your wee, but after you’ve finished tonight. I want to take you somewhere.” 

“Sounding very stalker-ish of you, Styles.” She furrows her eyebrows, “But I’ll wait for you.” 

The second half, and your solo goes okay. You managed to do sixteen pirouettes but your brain was in overdrive, thinking of everywhere that Harry could be taking you. Once you all finished, you couldn’t help but rush to get changed and ready to leave. You hadn’t borough the nicest of clothes, only some jeans and a jumper since the air had started to get quite a lot cooler now that autumn had shown its face. 

“You ready?” He asks once you’ve walked out of the theatre and find him stood by the wall next to the door. 

You nod and follow him. The two of you don’t talk, but his hand does slip into yours as you walk. He’s very smooth in the way that he does it, slipping his hand into yours as you walked across the busy London road. Your cheeks heated as he did so, and you couldn’t help the small smile that planted across your lips. 

You knew that you shouldn’t feel this way about someone who was like a teacher for you, and you knew at some point that the two of you would have to speak about what this even was but at this point you were just happy. 

You certainly hadn’t expected to end up at a cinema, but here you were. Harry scanned the two tickets he already conveniently already had. The tickets were halfway up in the cinema, where you normally enjoyed sitting but you certainly had never told Harry this. 

“If you wanted to see a movie with me, you should’ve just asked.” You whisper to Harry as you both sit down, “You didn’t have to basically kidnap me into a storage room and shove your tongue down my throat.” 

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my tongue down your throat.” He says, and you can almost hear the smirk upon his lips, “Just watch, you’ll understand why I brought you here in a second.” 

You did understand. The recording was from 2015, one that you hadn’t seem before which was surprising because you’re absolutely certain that you’d watched the majority of them. You wonder if this was one that you hadn’t been able to find before, to nitpick every single movement that the white swan made. 

Harry’s hand sat tightly in yours as you watched, never moving throughout the entire performance. 

Once it had finished, you found yourself sat in an Italian restaurant that was next to the cinema, the both of you having ordered pasta and having large glasses of red wine to wash it down. 

“Why did you bring me to see that?” 

Harry smiles, placing his glass down that he had just taken a sip from, “It’s my favourite performance, so far, of Swan Lake. I didn’t know whether you’d already seen it, and you’re probably fed up of it but I thought you needed to see it.” 

You shake your head, “I hadn’t seen it.” 

“You remind me of her.” He smiles, “Giovanna, who was the White Swan. She was a few years older than me, and I met her getting lost in the school.” 

“You knew her?” 

He nods, “We were best friends, for a few years, and she taught me everything I know about how to be the best ballerino I could be. I was there when she was got the part, and I used to watch her practice.” 

“That’s how you know the solo so well.” 

He nods, “She believed she couldn’t do it. I can’t count the amount of times she said that she couldn’t do it. She hardly slept because of it. They recorded that opening night, and it took me sitting her down and showing her that for her to believe that she could do it.” 

He’s interrupted by the waitress coming with their pasta, which they smile in thanks at. 

“Thank you.” He nods his head at the waitress, “I’m more involved with you as the White Swan, and I swore to never let anyone who I worked with whether it be on this production or not, feel like Giovanna did.” 

“How could you tell?” 

“You always look as though you’re battling with yourself within your head.” He says, “You need to know that when you’re on that stage, and it’ll be even more like this when you believe yourself, you are elegant and you look absolutely beautiful.” 

If you weren’t in public, and if you didn’t have a mouthful of tomato pasta in your mouth, you probably would’ve cried at his words. You couldn’t believe how much this man actually cared about you and how you were doing. 

“Are you still friends with her?” 

“No.” He shakes his head, “She left a few years ago, didn’t tell me where she was going or why she was doing it. I haven’t heard from her since.” 

You drop your head, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You’re the new swan in my life, and between the two of us, I much prefer you.” 

“Do you think people are going to mind?” You ask, moving your pasta around on your plate, not daring to look up at him, “You’re like my teacher, and we don’t exactly have one of the more conventional relationships.” 

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “And you shouldn’t either, swan.” 

The day of the first performance was here, and you were absolutely dreading it. 

“Ethel.” You shake your head, “I really can’t do this.” 

“Oh shut up.” She places her hands upon your shoulders as you look at yourself in the mirror, sighing as you made sure your wispy pieces of your hair were down, “You’re going to be fine. You’re only worried about the pirouettes and you managed twenty-two yesterday.” 

“It’s not thirty-two though.” You shake your head, “It isn’t good enough.” 

Yesterday it was your last run through of the solo with Harry in the practice room. Even though the relationship between the two had shifted dramatically since their first rehearsal, and yesterday it almost felt as though you were back in with that Harry. 

The flirty banter that the two had adopted wasn’t there, and you were both focused on getting it right. It was the first time that you had managed to do more than twenty pirouettes, which had been your best, but it was now twenty-two. You had sighed in relief and finished your solo dance with a smile upon your face. 

“You’ll be fine.” Ethel smiles, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’ll go out there and smash it. I have to go and do my makeup, but I’ll see you during the interval — I promise.” 

You nod, accept her hug and sigh yet again at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time, not even when you auditioned for the ballet school, or even when you auditioned for the part of the white swan. In every other aspect of your life, you were confident. In your dancing, that’s when you found yourself spiralling in the most. 

“Hey white swan.” You can’t help but smile at the sound of Harry’s voice behind you, your body immediately turning around to look at him. 

You don’t want to seem shocked, but the sight of him all dressed up causes your heart to beat quickly within your chest. You hadn’t seen him dressed up in this way before, a blue button up upon his body, as well as yellow trousers and a grey jacket. His hair framed his face in such a way that you couldn’t help but press your thighs together. You very much liked Harry’s practice outfits that show off his strong body, but there was something else about seeing him dressed in such a way that you liked even more. 

“Hi.” You laugh, standing up to wrap your arms around him. It’s an awkward hug, with the two of you trying to navigate your way around your tutu, “You look fancy.” 

“And you look gorgeous.” He pulled away from you and leant back against the wall, whilst you leant against the chair you were just sat on, “Ethel saw me on the way in.” 

You laugh, “What did she say?” 

“That you’re spiralling again.” He laughs, “I thought we’d spoken about this.” 

“I know.” You nod your head, “I’m just scared about the pir—”

“—If you dare say pirouettes!” 

You laugh as he interrupts your words, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You know that you can do it, and I believe in you. You’re going to smash this and I’m going to be front row cheering your on.” 

Without a single hesitation, you cast your eyes around the room in hopes to see nobody there, which there isn’t, and you throw your arms around his neck and place your lips upon his. He smiles into the kiss, and you do too, but you quickly pull away because you know that anybody could walk in at any moment. 

Harry flutters his eyes over at the clock, “It’s time, white swan. I’ll be here afterwards.” 

In your first performance of Swan Lake, you manage twenty-six pirouettes. It’s the most you’ve ever done, and once you’ve done it, you find yourself finishing the entire performance in higher spirits than when you started it. 

Somehow, you were finishing the day of your first performance with your thighs wrapped around Harry’s waist as he presses you up against the door of your flat. He had offered to walk you home, and the flirty way the two of you had become accustomed to felt a change as you walked home. You felt as though there was a magnet pulling you together and the closer you got to your flat, the closer you felt towards each other. 

You suspect that was why you were now pressed up against your door. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Harry murmurs against your lips, and you smile against them. 

With him holding you up by your thighs, and with your half arsed directions, you both make your way towards your bedroom. Harry places you down upon your bed, his fingers grasping the jumper upon your skin. You pull away slightly and he pulls it above your head, exposing your chest to him. He leans down to press another kiss to your lips, moving down to your neck. He litters kisses down your cheeks, and your neck until he’s upon your chest. You hadn’t worn a bra with your jumper, so you’re completely exposed to him. 

The next movement he makes is to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around one of your budding nipples, using his thumb to tweak the other. Your hips are involuntarily bucking towards his. 

“Fuck, Harry.” You sigh, smiling down at his head as he kisses down your stomach until he reaches the band of your jogging bottoms. 

He stops his movements and rests his head upon your stomach, “What do you want?” 

“Want you to lick me.” He smiles at your words, and hooks his fingers into the band of your jogging bottoms, pulling them as well your underwear down your legs. 

He placed a litter of kisses across the inside of your thighs, teasing you until you can help but lift your hips up to him. 

“Are you this wet all for me, baby?” He questions, running his thumb across your clothed clit, “Got yourself all messy for me.” 

“You have a way with words.” You grin, reaching forward to run your fingers through his hair, “And a way with your mouth.” 

“You don’t need to flatter me anymore, I’m already in your bed.” He pecks your pubic bone, “But my ego really appreciates it.” 

“Your narcissistic side is showing.” 

“What did you expect?” He runs his fingers across your pubic bone, “You’re so fucking ready for me. All wet and ready for me to have a taste.” 

He starts with small kitten licks that have you withering across your duvet, small whines leaving your lips. He wraps his lips around your clit, mixing between nibbling and licking. 

You moan, lifting your back up off of the bed, “Can I use my fingers, baby?” 

“Please.” You nod, watching as he lifting his fingers up to your mouth, pushing them through your parted lips so you could swivel your tongue around them, wetting them to make them easier for him to push into you. He pushes his index finger in, rhythmically moving it in and out whilst also licking and flicking your clit with his tongue. Each thing his does coaxes you closer and closer to your orgasm, the way he skilfully uses his tongue sending moans spilling out of your lips.

“Don’t stop!” Harry drops his hand to your stomach, pushing down so that you aren’t moving you hips as he brings you closer to your peak, “M’gonna come.” 

“Come for me, baby.” He murmurs against you, flicking his tongue quickly. 

You can feel your stomach tightening as he moves quickly, the feeling causing your toes to curl as he does so. 

“Fuck.” He uses his fingers and his tongue to coax you through your orgasm. 

You honestly couldn’t believe that you had waited this long to have him touch you. Moans spill out of your lips as you reach your high, the euphoric feeling spreading over your entire body. 

Harry kisses your clit one last time, kissing up your stomach and around your breasts, up until he wrapped his lips around your nipple. He allowed you to recover and calm your breathing whilst he kissed up your body. 

“Good?” 

You hum, a small giggle escaping your lips, “Fucking amazing.” 

“I’m glad your enjoyed it.” He laughed, leaning down to place a kiss to your lips. 

Feeling as though you had recovered from your orgasm, you start to unbutton his trousers. He grins against your lips as you slip your hand beneath the band of his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his length. 

“I want you to fuck me.” You whisper against his lips, the corners of yours curling up. 

“Yeah.” He grins, “Have you got any condoms?” 

You were glad at this point that you’d picked some up during your daily shop. Not that you had expected anything, but it was always good to be prepared. 

“Yeah.” You nod, “In the bedside table.” 

He stands up from the bed and unbuttons his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and he makes his way towards the drawer. You eyes never leave his body, watching as his ever muscle flexes. He opens the drawer and drops his hand in, and if you weren’t already flushed, you certainly would be from what he pulls out. 

“What’s this?” He holds up the small vibrator that you had bought a few years ago to relive some of your tension every once in a while. 

“God.” You drop back upon the bed, your head rested on the pillow as your bring your hand to your forehead, “Just something I use to relive some of the tension in me every once in a while.”  

“The tension?” He raises his eyebrow, “When was the last time you used it?” 

You shrug, “Ages ago. I think it was after the first dress rehearsal.” 

“That long ago? We’ll have to change that.” He turns the little machine on to its first setting, holding it as it vibrates in his hand. 

“Are you going to use that on me?” You ask, writhing as he places it upon your budding nipple. 

“As tempting as it is.”  He smirks, taking it away just as a moan threatens to leave your lips, “I think we’ll save it for another day.” 

He turns it off and places it back in the bedside table, taking the box of condoms that are in there out also. He takes the foil packet out and at the same time pushes his underwear off of his body, revealing his member to you. It was already red, the tip angry and already leaking pre-come as it stood out from his body. 

You can’t take your eyes off him. You had had some encounters with people before hand, you had needs, but you certainly hadn’t been with anyone quite so well endowed. He uses his teeth to rip open the packet, pinching it between his fingers and rolling it over his length. 

“Can I ride you?” You ask, watching as Harry kneels on the edge of the bed. 

He raises his eyebrows, “Do you want to?” 

“I do.” You smile, watching as he laid down next to you. 

“Hop on then.” He smirks, reaching for your hips as your straddle him. 

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your centre. He grips your hips, guiding you down onto his cock. You moan as he fills you up, but you can move at your own speed and wait as long as you needed. 

“Fuck.” He moans, sitting up to rest his head against your shoulder, “So fucking tight around my cock. Squeezing me just right.” 

You couldn’t believe how much you were throbbing between your legs at the sounds of his words. Once you’ve become accustomed to his size, you started to bounce up and down on him. You catch his lips with yours, allowing yourself to succumb under the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t help the moans that tumbled out of your lips whilst you bounce, Harry’s hips lifting to meet yours.

“Harry, fucking hell.” He was making you feel so full, and so good, “Fuck, can I go faster?” 

“Go as fast as you want, baby.” He kisses your lips briefly, “Make yourself come on my cock.” 

You bounce your hips faster, leaning forward to grip your headboard to give you more leverage to move your hips. You could feel sweat collecting upon your brow and body, your hair sticking to your neck. The only sound in the room was your moans and your groans, as well as the creaking of your bed and your headboard hitting the wall. You prayed at this point that your neighbours couldn’t hear you through your wall. 

“I’m gonna come, H.” You moan out, lowering one of your hands so that you could rub your clit. Harry immediately notices and pushes your hand away, replacing it with his own finger rubbing quickly to coax your second orgasm of the night. 

“Come on my cock, baby.” He speeds up his hips meeting yours, “Come on, I wanna feel you.” 

Your second orgasm washes over you quicker than your first, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Harry thrusts harshly up into you a few time and you feel him spill into the condom. He groans against your neck as you collapse on top of him. 

You had never felt so close to someone as you did to Harry, and even though you weren’t together yet it just felt right to take this step. 

“You’re incredible, swan.” 

You laugh and roll off him, whimpering at the feeling of him leaving you. You lay down next to him and watch as he takes the condom off and places it in the small bin in the corner of your room. Whilst he does that, you quickly make your way towards the bathroom to pee and clean yourself up. Never in your whole life had you felt this wet and orgasmed so hard from being with someone, and you don’t know whether to thank Harry or worship the ground that he walks on. 

As you walk back into your room, you notice Harry laid upon your bed, shirtless and smiling as you walk back into the room. You slip into bed next to him. 

“Harry?” He hums, “If I perform like this every night, are you going to do this overnight?” 

“If you want me to, swan, I’ll never stop.” 

You didn’t want him to. 

A couple of months later, your time as the White Swan had finished. Your parents, as well as both Ethel and Harry, joined you for celebratory drinks. You found yourself loving having Harry with you, and Harry loved being with you as far as you could tell. 

Waking up the next morning, you can’t remember the last time you woke up without having something to do the next day. Harry’s deep breaths fill your ears as he rests upon your neck, his arm around your waist and his leg pressed in between yours. You loved the feeling of having him so close to you, and you felt as though you couldn’t ever have him away from you now.

“Are you awake?” His voice is low and gruff in a morning, and it sparks something between your legs almost immediately. 

“No.” You smile, “I’m still asleep.” 

“I think you should stick to ballet, lying isn’t your forte.” He squeezes your middle, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m not lying. I’m still asleep.” You smile, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you.

He laughs, “I didn’t know I was with a sleep talker, swan. If I’d have known I would’ve been running for the hills.” 

“How long have you been awake then?” You laugh, “Have you been watching me sleep?” 

“Not watching.” He laughs, “Observing.” 

You turn your head briefly so that you’re looking at him, leaning forward to place a kiss to his cheek. 

“Kissy?” 

“Morning breath.” You grimace, “Once I’ve brushed my teeth, maybe.” 

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I just want a kiss.” 

“I care, though.” 

“‘Gis a kiss, baby.” You lean forward and place a closed-lipped peck to his lips. 

“Good enough?” 

“I guess that’s all I’m getting.” 

“That is correct.” You laugh. 

Harry’s eyes fall upon yours, and he doesn’t look away. Even though he just woke up, he’s so effortlessly gorgeous that you can’t help but want to jump his bones and kiss him all of the time. 

In your opinion, you had hit the jackpot. It was the most traditional relationship, but Harry was your person. From the first day you walked into the rehearsal room and Harry looked at you with such joy in his eyes you knew he was for you. You didn’t care what anyone else though, and you only wanted him. 

You were falling for him, at a fast speed but you certainly would never complain. 

“Be mine?” 

“What?” You question, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Be my girlfriend?” He asked, “Be mine?” 

You ponder the thought for a couple of seconds, leaving him waiting before your lips curl up into a smile, “Okay.” 

“Okay.” You kiss him again, “I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“My swan.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you once again. 

You laugh, “I feel like that’s going to be my forever nickname.” 

“It’s how we met.” He smiles, “I never want to forget it.” 

You never do. 

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles au #harry styles writing

[taizi]

the second hand unwinds

@natsumeweek 2021 day 1; nature/nurture

read on ao3

x

Natori Shuuichi ✔️ @natori_shuuichi

I’d walk through fire for my brother. Well, not FIRE because it’s dangerous. But a super humid room. But not too humid, because my hair.

 Shuuichi doesn’t actually pay attention to what happens on his social media—he has a whole PR team that does that for him—so he didn’t realize the Tweet had blown up until several days after he posted it. 

Lucky for him, Takashi is even less inclined to check Twitter than he is, or he would have definitely given Shuuichi shit for it by now. 

And then he’s sitting down for a quick interview on set, and the smiling young woman opposite him says, “There’s something everyone wants to know about your brother,” and Shuuichi has something like an out-of-body experience. 

Why are we talking about my brother? he almost asks, out loud, with his mouth, on camera. Takashi isn’t a forbidden topic, per se, but he’s also not something Shuuichi just flings around in conversation. 

Then the interviewer goes on, in a tone that says she’s clearly teasing, “Which is more important, for the record? Your brother or your hair?”

Oh. Oh. Shuuichi smiles, and leans back in his chair. He hopes it looks smooth and not at all panicked. His mind is racing cartoonishly, scrambling to piece together a response that draws as much focus away from the brother in question as possible. Takashi hates attention, and absolutely won’t forgive Shuuichi if his name starts Trending again. For a third time. 

“Well, let’s be realistic, here,” Shuuichi says charmingly. “One of us has to pay the bills, and he’s certainly not going to. Besides, Takashi is insured. It’s hard to find a premium for this, specifically.” 

He indicates his head with a twirl of his hand. The interviewer laughs, penning something down in her notebook and making a swift gesture at the cameraman behind her. She flips a page, moving onto her next topic or series of questions, and Shuuichi tentatively allows himself to feel some relief. 

It’s short-lived, because a second later, Sasago disappears from his line of sight with a flicker. There’s only one person she’s willing to abandon him for at a moment’s notice. Shuuichi’s heart plunges through ice, and he lurches to his feet.

There’s a jarring crash from the other side of the studio. A few voices cry out in alarm. 

“He’s okay!” one of the technicians calls to the room at large. And then, quieter, “Damn, that was a close call, kid.”

Someone mumbles in reply, a mumble Shuuichi would recognize anywhere, and he’s across the set before he’s conscious of moving in the first place. Everyone moves out of the way, and he finally lays eyes on Takashi, who’s sitting on his knees next to a fallen lighting rig that looks like it weighs at least twice as much as he does. There’s broken glass scattered around him and tiny crystals of it stuck to his jeans, as if to emphasize how close it came. Sasago is standing over him, her edges flickering with agitation. 

Takashi is clearly fine, not even as shaken as the pale-faced film crew around him seem to be, but that doesn’t stop Shuuichi from crouching down in front of him. He takes Takashi’s chin in hand and steers his face up until they’re eye-to-eye and says, in a tone that brooks no argument, “Are you hurt?”

I will sue everyone in this room if you’re hurt, he doesn’t say, but not because he won’t actually do it.

“No, it missed me,” Takashi says. “Sorry for scaring you, nii-san.”

Someone behind Shuuichi coos. And he gets it, the kid is adorable, but there’s a time and a place for being cute. He stands up, the shattered lenses crunching beneath his shoes, and then reaches down and bodily lifts Takashi up and over the mess to a clear part of the floor. 

Takashi starts to pat himself free of the clinging glass particles but Shuuichi stops him, laying a gentle hand on the crown of his head. 

“Don’t, you’ll get cut. Can we get a brush over here?” he adds, raising his voice in the direction of the wardrobe department. One of the stylists leaps to her feet and starts rummaging through a case the size of a steamer trunk. 

One of the writers makes his way over, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I have no idea how that happened.” He frowns apologetically at Takashi, genuinely rueful, as far as Shuuichi can tell, and adds, “Takashi here was quiet as a mouse, as well-behaved as you promised he would be. The rig just came crashing down out of nowhere. I’m sorry, Natori.”

Shuuichi is the type to hold grudges. It is the easiest thing in the world for him to nurse resentment for even the pettiest of slights. But Takashi, his polar opposite in many ways, has an endless capacity when it comes to forgiveness and compassion and generally just being a better person than everyone around him.

Shuuichi doesn’t know who he gets it from. He’s hesitant to take any of the credit for raising this kid right.

Takashi says, “It wasn’t your fault, Haruta-san. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

He gazes up at Shuuichi with those big brown eyes, wide and imploring beneath an untidy fringe—something that has worked on Shuuichi for the last six years, and will probably continue to work on him for the next sixty. 

Ugh. 

“He’s right, Haruta-san,” Shuuichi says, playfully mimicking Takashi’s inflection of the man’s name. “No harm done. I think we’re going to head home for the day, though. A bit too much excitement for an old man like me.”

Haruta is less than one year younger than Shuuichi, and he rolls his eyes to show what he thinks of that sentiment. They’ve almost wrapped anyway, and Shuuichi isn’t needed on set for the rest of the weekend. The stylist finally makes her way over with a big clothes brush that she uses on Takashi’s shirt and jeans with quick, deft sweeps. Five minutes later, they’re collecting jackets and bags from Shuuichi’s trailer and making a quick, unnecessarily-sneaky escape through a side door. 

Halfway through the lot, Takashi perks up and runs ahead. “Sensei!” 

Sure enough, the ugly cat is waiting to greet him, already making loud noises about how annoying it was to sit around all day with nothing to do, nosing through Takashi’s pockets for treats and making demands for dinner. Through it all, Takashi’s little face shines with affection. It’s the only reason Shuuichi hasn’t tried inventing a ward that will keep that demon far away. 

When the boy is suitably distracted, Shuuichi tilts his head toward his shiki.

“Was it a yokai?” 

Sasago nods. “I took care of it,” she adds, as if there could be any doubt. She takes her babysitting duties seriously. Frankly, that’s the closest Takashi has ever come to real harm. 

Still. It was too close for comfort. 

Ahead of him, Takashi announces, “Sensei wants barbeque for dinner.”

“Sensei will be lucky to sleep inside tonight,” Shuuichi replies brightly. 

The cat squawks in outrage, and Takashi rushes to reassure him that even if he did get locked outside Takashi would just leave a window open for him, and Sasago sighs at all three of them collectively. They probably look ridiculous to whoever might be watching them make their noisy way down the street, but Shuuichi has more important things to worry about these days than his image. 

When he puts an arm around Takashi’s shoulders, the kid leans into his side, wholly trusting. It took years to nurture that trust, and Shuuichi doesn’t take a moment of it for granted. 

Not even the really annoying moments. 

Like the next morning, when Takashi’s best friend e-mails him a link (the subject line a glaring DUDE IT’S YOU!!!) and Takashi bursts into Shuuichi’s bedroom at seven AM, a towering storm of righteous fury contained in a scrawny eleven year old’s body. That opportunistic interviewer kept rolling yesterday after the lighting rig fell. The video of a frantic Shuuichi rushing to his little brother’s side, immediately after joking that he cared less about him than he did about his own hair, went viral overnight, and now Takashi’s name is Trending, again.

And because Shuuichi, as a general rule, does not learn from his mistakes, he Tweets about it. 

 Natori Shuuichi ✔️ @natori_shuuichi

Teaching my brother how to read was a mistake.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsumeweek #natori shuuichi #natsume takashi #my writing #natsuyuu fic #second hand

[togetherwearerapture]

Boundary (Ethan x MC x Tobias?)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Elle Valentine) x (hints of) Tobias Carrick

Description: Tobias and Elle get to know each other while working on a case. Tobias pushes some boundaries.

Warnings: A few curse words, underlying health problems. Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes: Something a bit different, but I very much enjoyed writing this. There’s no overt Tobias x MC, so this is hopefully something Ethan stans can enjoy reading too. If PB won’t give me what I want, I guess write it myself lol 

*********

It’s early Fall, yet despite this fact and the hospital’s ‘Bloom-and-improved’ ventilation systems, the diagnostics office feels uncomfortably hot. Elle feels a prickling heat across her back, one that she has become accustomed to of late. The façade she’s wearing is beginning to feel like an actual mask, all clinical-scented and restrictive and artificial.

And yet, this is not a mask she’s wearing on a crowded, sweltering T carriage. Her discomfort is unwarranted; there are, after all, only three of them in the room.

Oblivious, Ethan and Harper continue their conversation. She’s tuned out long ago, but she catches the premise- something that Dr Yannick once said at a conference in New York several years ago.

If she really tried, Elle knows she could search for a moment to join in the discussion. But if she’s being honest with herself, she’s tired of searching for sidegates to enter their house of conversation, instead of ever being invited through the front door.

She tries her hardest to appear relaxed, unbothered, indifferent. But her uneasiness spills into her mannerisms, like water through a cracked pot. Manicured nails drum erratically on the top of her thigh. Her top teeth tug, over and over again, at her lips. The apex of her stiletto heel taps the diagnostic office floor like a furious knife.

She likes and respects Harper very much, and her feelings for Ethan, both as a diagnostician and as her romantic partner are unfathomable. But as juvenile as it sounds, she’s so tired of being shut out.

A whooshing of the sliding doors breaks her out of her reverie, and she and the two other occupants of the room look up. Tobias Carrick strides in, all beams and bravado.

Her own notion takes her by surprise, but somehow, she thinks, his arrival is the breath of fresh air she so desperately needs.

“Goooood morning team!” he chimes brightly. Once again, his arms are laden with a trayful of drinks.

“Morning,” Elle offers him a warm smile, Harper echoing her words.

Ethan nods towards the drinks.

“Another round on you?”

“Sure is, but this isn’t just any old round, Ethan,” Tobias replies. “Now I’ve spent a week on the team, I take great pride in this being the first drinks order that’s just right, for all of you.”

Ethan quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Tobias grins, and plucks the first drink off the tray.

“Harper,” he presents her with an extravagant looking drink. “Chocolate frappucino. Double the sugar, double the caffeine. The Friday OR schedule is always jam packed, so I reckon you’ll need it.”

“You got that right, I’ve got two laminectomies today,” she sighs, although the passion for her job shines through her eyes. She takes a sip from her drink. “No complaints from me!”

“Excellent,” Tobias grins. “Ethan- a Vienna for you. Classic, refined, and,” he winks, “only a little pretentious.”

Ethan accepts the drink with a roll of his eyes, as Tobias moves around the desk to Elle.

“And now, for you Elle,” he hands her the third cup. “I must admit, for you I went out on a whim. I just hope my guess is a lucky one.”

Curiosity piqued, Elle presses the rim to her lips. She is aware of the eyes of both Tobias and Ethan following her action with interest. Mild, pleasant citrus swims onto her palate.

“Lemon balm?” she asks Tobias. He nods. “You going to elaborate?”

He shrugs.

“Well, I’ve noticed that I’ve never seen you with a coffee before 4pm, so I figured you like to limit caffeine earlier in the day. And I’ve seen you make up a couple of herbal teas before. I took a gamble and figured you’d like this one.”

“Impressive guess, Carrick,” Elle nods, amused. She takes a sip. “It’s good, thank you.”

“Those are some very…astute observations” says Ethan stiffly, as Tobias takes a seat beside Elle. “Maybe you can put your perceptiveness to better use for our next case.”

He slides three manila envelopes across the table, and the team begin to peruse.

“Jake Adams. 17-year-old male admitted last night, with multiple cardiac arrests,” Ethan begins. “He collapsed at school, was unresponsive, no signs of life, but luckily a fellow student was able to perform high-quality CPR until the paramedics arrived. Heart rhythm on their defibrillator was ventricular fibrillation, he was shocked, back to normal sinus rhythm. Between the scene, being loaded onto the stretcher, in the ambulance and arriving here, he arrested and was shocked again 5 more times.”

“Jesus, poor boy,” murmurs Elle, a crease forming between her brows.

“Cardiology have asked us if we can determine the cause of the arrest, which will of course determine the treatment,” Ethan explains.

“This case only came in last night and since he’s now on life support, we’re able to bypass Bloom’s absurd judicial performance and get straight into it,” Harper adds. “Actually, Ethan and I discussed it at length before you both arrived, and we have some solid ideas.”

Elle looks up from the file, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“So I’m thinking Long QT syndrome, or maybe Brugada,” says Harper.

“They would definitely explain the spontaneous cardiac arrest,” Ethan adds, “Harper and I have ordered genetic testing for both on immediate family members already.”

“Any family history of sudden cardiac death?” Tobias asks.

“Not that we know of,” says Ethan. “But that wouldn’t rule it out.”

Elle frowns slightly as she browses the file. The tests ordered so far are scant, and in her mind, there are several pieces of the diagnostic puzzle missing. But this didn’t seem to stop Harper and Ethan steamrollering ahead, and seemingly settling on a diagnosis before the case had even been presented.

“Does Jake have a-”

“Do you remember that patient with Brugada syndrome who came in for a study a few years ago, Ethan?” Harper turns to Ethan suddenly.

“Ah yes, Paul?” Ethan chuckles, “he was quite a character.”

As Harper and Ethan drift off once again, Elle glances up to see Tobias looking at her quizzically. She lets out a heavy sigh.

Tobias clears his throat.

“Hate to interrupt your…uh…stroll down memory lane,” he begins. “But Elle was about to ask a question about the case, and you both spoke over her.”

The three other diagnosticians turn to Tobias, and a tense silence hangs in the air. After a beat, Harper speaks up.

“I’m sorry Elle,” she says, sincerely. “That was out of line, please continue.”

Tobias turns to Ethan expectantly, who meets Elle’s eye.

Something flickers across his face for a moment, a mixture of shame, guilt, embarrassment, perhaps? It’s a look that Elle can’t quite place. Then, his eyes skim to Tobias and he coughs awkwardly.

“Yes…thank you Tobias. We did speak over you, Elle, I apologise. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if he had a 15-Lead ECG.”

“Not yet,” Harper replies.

“Then until he has one, I don’t think you can consider Brugada syndrome,” says Elle. “We’d need to do an ajmaline challenge too. I can see from the echocardiogram reports in here that he has a structurally normal heart, so we can definitely exclude congenital heart disease as the cause. But for me personally,” she gestures to the file, “there’s a lot missing in here. About what actually happened.”

“How do you mean?” Ethan asks.

“About the context of the cardiac arrest. All we know is that he was at school, but what was he doing? Was he doing anything strenuous, did it happen at rest? There’s a lot more I’d like to know.”

The rest of the team nod thoughtfully.

“I agree…if it happened during exertion, there’s a few other things we could rule out,” says Tobias.

“Exactly,” says Elle. “I think we should consider catecholaminergic polymorphic ventricular tachycardia.”

“You’re thinking CPVT?” asks Ethan, interested. “It’s a possibility.”

“Yes, and it’s one I’d like to investigate more by visiting the school, and finding out more about what happened” says Elle.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Harper responds, twirling her fountain pen between her fingers. “But unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you on your expedition. Like Tobias said, I’ve got a full day in the OR.”

The rest of the team turn to Ethan, who hesitates.

“I…have a meeting with Naveen and the board until lunch,” he says. “Which-”

“-means it’s just you and me, Valentine!” exclaims Tobias, clapping his hands together. “Oh boy, I’ve been looking forward to my first house call with the diagnostics team. We’re going to be on some scooby doo shit, Elle!”

“I beg your pardon?” says Ethan, scowling. Elle can’t help but burst out laughing.

“That settles it then, me and Elle will go to the school,” says Tobias, standing up from his chair. At the same time, Harper gets a page that her surgery is starting and bids them a hurried farewell.

“I was going to say, which means the three of us can go this afternoon once I’m finished,” Ethan says stiffly, as Harper heads out. Tobias shoots him a bemused look.

“I’d rather not wait,” says Elle flatly.

Ethan has wasted enough time in their meetings by bringing up pointless anecdotes with Harper, and she’s very keen to revert her focus to the patients, to diagnostics- the things she loves.

“Me and Valentine will be just fine, E. After all, I’m sure what happened with Jake is still pretty raw to the kids and staff, we’ll need to handle it delicately. Two’s company, three’s a crowd, right?” Tobias flashes Elle a smile.

The same look as before flashes across Ethan’s face, although this time, Elle thinks, it has less of the awkwardness and embarrassment and more of the…something else. His bright blue eyes seem to narrow a fraction, as he looks between Tobias and the woman of his affections.

“Alright,” he sighs finally. “We’ll reconvene when you’re back.”

“Let’s get this show on the road!” says Tobias happily. “To the mystery machine!”

He crosses the room to retrieve his car keys from his bag, while Ethan turns to Elle, and this time, the look of concern is undeniable.

“If you need anything,” he closes some of the distance between them and lowers his voice just a little, “just call me.”

“I think we can handle it,” says Elle, not unkindly. “Enjoy your meeting. And tell Naveen I said hello.”

And with that, she and Tobias leave the office.

********

A short while later, Elle and Tobias are riding in his blue Mercedes S-Class on the way to Jake’s school, a short drive away in South Quincy.

“Not exactly the mystery machine, huh?” says Elle, glancing around at the plush interior.

Tobias shrugs.

“The same colour, at least.”

Boston blurs by as Tobias pulls into a main road, and Elle turns to look at him. His side profile is unmistakably handsome. He drives one handed, the other resting on his thigh.

“So, how’s June?”

He gives a wry half smile, and glances at her.

“Is that your way of asking if we’re still sleeping together?”

“No!” says Elle, honestly. “I’m just wondering how she’s fitting in at Mass Ken. I mean, she left Edenbrook when she thought the ship was going to sink. I got the impression she was pretty keen to be working on your team, now I can’t help but think now you’ve come here, Aurora too…don’t you think she’s been left kinda high and dry?”

“In all honesty, I haven’t seen her for a while, and don’t expect to again anytime soon,” Tobias admits. “But trust me, Hirata will be just fine. She’s head of the team there now.”

Elle raises her eyebrows, impressed.

“I’d say she moves fast, but actually, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“She was pissed as hell when I said I was leaving, don’t get me wrong,” says Tobias. “But she’s the strongest diagnostician on that team, and the strongest player too.”

“Player?”

“She knows how to play the game. She’ll have no trouble asserting herself as the new leader, running the show the way she wants to.”

Elle thinks back to her time working with June. The way she changed her personality to gain patients’ trust…and Elle’s. Distant anger simmers at the back of her mind, as she remembers how June stole her employee file.

“I agree…office politics was always child’s play for June.”

“Speaking of,” says Tobias as they stop at a red light. He turns to look at her. “The meeting this morning seemed very…uh…political.”

Elle pauses as feels the uncomfortable tingling rise in her chest. She could ask “what are you talking about?”, but she knows exactly what he’s talking about. And there’s something about Carrick that makes her want to cut the crap, to be upfront. So she is.

“You mean Harper and Ethan…”

“Yeah, that. Whatever the hell that was.”

Elle is silent.

“Does that…happen a lot?”

“More often than I’d like.”

“Well, good job I’m here then,” he grins.

Elle’s head whips around.

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t appreciate the out.”

She rounds on him.

“Ok, let’s make one thing clear, I don’t need you to fight my battles” says Elle angrily. “Since Harper joined, every time the two of them have gone off track, I’ve steered them back on. I’m here for the patient, to solve the case, and nothing is going to detract my focus from that. That’s the way it’s going to stay, with or without your “outs”, Tobias.”

Tobias chuckles.

“You’re feisty Elle, I like it.” His eyes sweep over her from head to toe, which makes Elle feel more angry, but also, inexplicably, makes her stomach flutter a little.

“What I mean is,” Tobias speaks more seriously; sensing her anger, but mercifully oblivious to the other sensation, “I hope you know you’ve got someone else in your corner Elle. I know how much you care about your patients, and I know Bloom’s going to make life for the team difficult, and try and undermine our every move. That’s not helped when it feels like you’re not listened to by the actual people in it. You’re an excellent doctor Elle, and I value your input. The others should too.”

Elle is dumbstruck. She still doesn’t know what to make of Tobias Carrick; she had picked up pieces and hints from the scattered stories she’d heard from Ethan, most recently in their walk through the rose garden. But while considering the perspective and feelings of the man she so deeply cares for, she acknowledges it is biased. Elle knows that she has good reason to be wary of Tobias; it was not just Ethan he had toyed with, after all- Aurora had been burned by him too.

But, Tobias had helped to save her life. And the genuine smile that he gave her through the contamination screens of that cursed room, on the worst day of her life, had always stayed with her.

So, with a pinch of salt ready between her fingers, Elle decided from the moment he joined the team, that she would form her own opinion of him.

It occurs to her then, just how much Ethan sees the world in black and white. But Tobias Carrick is very much a shade of grey.

Before she can respond to him, the GPS on Tobias’ dash declares that they are arriving at their destination, and sure enough, Elle sees the school up ahead on the right.

“Here we are,” murmurs Tobias as he pulls in through the school gates. “Looks like we’re expected.”

They park up and head over to the school steps, surrounded by blossom trees, where a middle aged woman offers them a watery smile and extends a hand.

“Ah, hello…the doctors from Edenbrook, I presume?” she asks. “I’m Helena Brady, the principal of Greenview High.”

“Yes, we spoke earlier on the phone,” says Elle. “I’m Dr Eleanor Valentine, and this is Dr Tobias Carrick. We’re here to speak to the people that were with Jake when he collapsed?”

“I’m afraid it’s just the one person,” says Helena gravely, leading them through the school. “His friend Charlie was the only one who saw it, and then ran for help. How is Jake doing?”

“He’s still in a coma, but stable,” says Tobias. “The most important thing for us to help him, is find out from Charlie some more about the collapse, and go from there.”

Helena nods, as they come to a stop outside a small office.

“We’ve all been praying for him, it’s so tragically sad…nothing like this has ever happened to a student before,” she sniffs stoically. “Thank you for your work doctors, but please, be gentle with the boy. He’s still very shaken.”

Elle smiles at her reassuringly.

“We will be, don’t worry.”

As Tobias and Elle knock and enter the room, the boy springs to his feet, eyes wild.

“You’re the doctors…how’s Jake, is he-oh god is he-is he dead?” he cries.

“No, Jake is ok. He’s been through a lot, but he’s recovering,” says Elle gently. Charlie sinks back into his chair, though his knees are still quaking.

“It’s Charlie right?” Tobias asks, pulling up a chair. “I’m Tobias and this is Elle. We’re Jake’s doctors. Do you know why we’re here today?”

“Y-yes, that’s me,” Charlie sniffs. “Principal Brady said you were here to talk to me about Jake…I was so scared, I thought, I thought that meant he had died.”

Elle kneels in front of him, laying a gentle hand on his knee.

“I’m really sorry that us coming made you think that, Charlie,” she says. “It must have been really tough watching Jake collapse like that, I’m not surprised you’re thinking the worst. But we think we can help Jake get better, we just need your help.”

Some of the tension seems to leave Charlie’s body upon hearing this; his shudders subside. He pulls anxiously at the strings of his hoodie, unruly teenage bangs falling over his forehead.

“So, Charlie,” Tobias asks as Elle pulls up a chair beside him, “do you think you could tell us a bit more about what Jake was doing when you saw him collapse? Had he been running, exercising, working out?”

“No,” Charlie says quietly. “He wasn’t doing anything like that.”

“That’s really helpful Charlie, thank you,” says Elle. “Can you tell us if he standing up or sitting down? Did he lose his balance or seem dizzy? Did he complain of feeling ill, or funny in any sort of way before it happened?”

Charlie stiffens.

“No. He was-we were-we were arguing.”

Tobias and Elle exchange a quick look.

“Is Jake your friend, Charlie?” Tobias asks.

“No! No he’s not, and I’m so sick of pretending he is!” Charlie shouts. “Jake’s my boyfriend!” Tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

“Oh Charlie, I’m so sorry,” says Elle. “You said you were pretending…does anyone else know that?”

Charlie shakes his head.

“No. That’s what we were arguing about,” he accepts a tissue that Elle offers, blowing his nose.

“Take your time, Charlie,” says Tobias, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “It’s ok.”

After a few deep breaths, Charlie steels himself.

“We’ve been dating for three years, kind of in secret, kind of not,” he explains. “My parents know I’m gay, and they’re fine with it. They’ve met Jake before and they love him, they know we’re together. But he’s not even out to his parents, they just think we’re friends.”

He sniffs.

“Now we’re in senior year, we’re both looking at colleges, and we want to go to different ones. We’d be living five hours apart. I don’t know if we can make the long-distance work, especially if his parents don’t know about us. In the times we’d both be back home, they wouldn’t understand why he’d want to spend a lot of that time with me. But the one thing I just really, really wanted, was for us to go to senior prom together. As a couple, you know? To just dress up together, get photos together, dance together, one last time before we leave.”

“And Jake…wasn’t on board with that?” asks Elle.

“He was,” says Charlie. “He said he really wanted to. He just…wasn’t on board with the part of that which meant he’d have to come out to his parents.”

“I see,” says Tobias.

Charlie’s eyes begin to fill with tears again.

“I was saying, before he collapsed, that he didn’t love me,” he cries. “That he must not love me if he’s not prepared to come out. He was getting so upset, begging me, telling me of course he loved me, he was just scared, and then-” he sobs. “Then he was on the floor.”

Elle kneels beside him again, taking both his hands in her own.

“I’ve been googling stuff that could have caused it,” Charlie sniffles. “I saw there’s this condition, some long one beginning with, a C, I think, that means people’s hearts can give out when they’re stressed.”

Tobias raises an eyebrow, somewhat impressed at the boy’s diagnostic skills.

“What if-what if I could’ve killed him, because of the argument? And I told him he must not love me, I didn’t even mean it, I know how hard it is to come out, I didn’t mean to-” he buries his head in his hands.

“Charlie- Charlie listen to me,” says Elle. “It’s true, that we think Jake might have a condition called CPVT. It means that certain situations, like exercise, or stress, can cause the heart to go into an abnormal rhythm. But that does not mean, whatsoever, that any of this is your fault. We all say things we don’t mean in the heat of the moment, when we’re angry. If Jake does have this condition, and we’ll have to run a couple more tests to know that for sure, then it means that we can treat it, and stop it from happening again. It could have happened to him at anytime, anywhere, but he was lucky enough to be with you. You’ve helped him have a lucky escape.”

“R-really?” asks Charlie.

“Really,” says Tobias, who is on his feet. He lays a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.  “Your principal was telling us earlier that you did CPR on Jake while you got others to run for help?”

“Yes,” Charlie mutters, looking up at Tobias.

“Well Charlie, I think you saved his life.”

Charlie’s eyes gleam with hope.

“What are you applying for at college?” Tobias asks.

“Um..cardiac nursing,” he says.

“Very fitting. You’ll always be welcome at Edenbrook for some work experience.” Tobias smiles, genuinely. It’s the same smile Elle remembers from after the attack.

“Do you think, then, that he’ll be ok?” Charlie asks tentatively.

“Yes, I do,” smiles Elle. “And I think that you and Jake will be ok too.”

****************

Some time later, Elle steps out of the school. After speaking at length with the school counsellor, she had made sure that Charlie had some extensive therapy sessions in place. Tobias is waiting for her at the foot of the steps, beneath the blossom trees, and she is surprised to see he has a cigarette in hand.

“You smoke?” she raises an eyebrow at him as she approaches. “I thought you’d know better, Tobias.”

He takes a drag.

“Vices, Valentine,” he quips. “We all have them.”

Elle vaguely remembers Ethan had once said the same thing about butter.

“Carcinogens, though. Really?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I’m dirty, what can I say?”

He dutifully puts out the cigarette, as Elle gives him a reproachful look, and turns to her.

“You were good in there, with him,” says Tobias.

“Thanks…so were you.”

“We make a good team,” he smiles, and his expression softens a little. “That was kinda heavy though. You bearing up ok?” he asks.

Elle nods.

“I’m fine. I just hope Charlie will be ok, I really want to make sure he starts therapy as soon as possible.  I know how much of a difference it made for me, after the attack.”

She trails off, and Tobias seems to sense the darkness clouding over her eyes. The mild September breeze sifts through the blossom trees above them with a gentle sigh.

“I don’t think I ever actually said this to you,” says Elle quietly, “but thank you. For helping to save me and Raf, that day.”

“No thanks needed,” he responds. “I wanted to do everything I could to help.”

He pauses only briefly before continuing.

“You know, out of everything that happened that day, all the work we did in the lab trying to find an antidote…the one thing I remember most is how Ethan was in that room. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him like that before. About anyone, or anything.”

A sudden chill trickles down her neck, goosebumps erupt on her forearms; a million tiny foothills.

Since their conversation in the car after Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Ethan had never really spoken in depth about his own feelings during the attack. Sometimes, in early hours when they laid in bed together, with the rain hammering against his window, she would mention it.

And every time, she would see his eyes darken with so many unsaid words. He would fix his gaze desperately on her like she was evaporating steam, set to vanish from existence in a matter of moments. His hold on her waist would tighten, fingertips tracing her soft skin as if to remind himself she wasn’t a ghost.

There had been whispers in his bed in the stillness of the night, when they were both half asleep. He had uttered sleepy confessions and declarations to her; some so heartfelt and moving, she still questioned whether they were real or if she had dreamt them.

More often straight after the attack, but still now sometimes, she would wake in his arms to find him already looking at her, his eyes filled with wonder, pain, and something else that she was starting to place.

‘Why are you awake?’ she would gently murmur.

‘I couldn’t sleep. I-had a nightmare.’

She would press herself closer to his chest, feel his strong arms encircling her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

‘I’m here, Ethan.’

‘I know. I’m…so glad you are.’

She is jolted to the present with Tobias’ voice.

“Even if he didn’t show it this morning…Ethan’s got it bad for you, you know.”

Elle cranes her neck to look up at him- at the man who shares so much history with Ethan. He’s almost as tall as her lover, but slightly less built, shoulders not quite as broad. Alike in many ways, but different in so many others.

“Why are you here, Tobias?” she asks, without breaking eye contact. “You had it all at Mass Kenmore. You’re an excellent diagnostician, you could have gone anywhere. Why, of all people, would you want to come and work for Ethan, someone you have such a complicated past with?”

Tobias’ hazel eyes, a contrast to Ethan’s azure blue’s, look into hers deeply. She knows that there’s something hiding beneath their golden depths; either earnestness, an ulterior motive, or perhaps something more complicated- a mixture of both.

He takes a step towards her, raising his hand towards her face. Her breath hitches, then climaxes in a soft exhale, when he simply removes a lone blossom petal that has settled on the lapel of her white coat. She wonders what exactly she had been expecting him to do.

Tobias twists his tongue between his teeth, a half-smile playing on his lips. Once again, his eyes roam over her from head to toe. This close, Elle can smell his cologne. It’s good; notes of leather and pine and exotism drift to her olfactory nerve. It’s a contrast to her favourite aftershave of Ethan’s, which smelled like bergamot, cedar, and home.

Tobias drops the petal to the floor, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I’m here Elle,” he murmurs, “because I want to push boundaries.”

********************

Ethan leans against his desk, fingertips drumming impatiently. His meeting had been finished for a while now, but he was still waiting for Elle and Tobias to return.

His old rival’s keenness to go on an outreach call with Elle had stirred something within him. Something in his head had switched on. A distant alarm bell that had been silent for some time, had started to ring.

Lost in thought, he mulls over the events of the morning.

He’d done it again.

He, and Harper, had spoken over Elle when she was trying to talk about the patient. Not only that, he recognises now, but before Tobias had entered the room, the two of them had been reminiscing about something that didn’t involve Elle in the slightest.

He doesn’t know why he keeps slipping up. He harbours no romantic feelings for Harper whatsoever, but he’s been enjoying the chance to work more closely with her, the friendly conversations, to share stories and experiences.

But they haven’t just been work related, he thinks. Did I really need to bring up the flamenco lessons? Or Gaston’s? He recalls the look on her face when he’d told Elle he planned to take her there because of its intimacy, immediately after discussing it with Harper. Before Elle’s forced smile and her gracious reply of “I’d like that,” he’d always thought he had caught a flicker of dismay, of hurt, on her features.

Now he’s certain it was more than a flicker.

I don’t deserve her, he thought.

With a swoosh, the doors of the diagnostics office open. He sees the familiar head of immaculately coiffed blonde locks, and as his eyes travel down to Elle’s beautiful face, his heart soars, and he can’t help but break into a wide smile.

“Elle!” he says happily, pushing himself up of the desk.

I missed you, he foolishly finds himself wanting to say, despite the fact that like most days at work, it’s only been a few hours since he’s seen her. But as his eyes travel to Tobias following her in, he keeps the admission to himself.

“We have an answer,” says Elle triumphantly. “We’ve listed Jake for an ICD insertion tomorrow morning.”

“It was CPVT?” Ethan asks.

“Yep,” says Tobias. “Elle’s hunch was right. Turns out it was an argument with his boyfriend that brought on the cardiac arrest. We ran a test for CPVT as soon as we got back, while you were still in the meeting, and it’s positive.”

Elle smiles brightly.

“Jake’s going to be okay.”

Ethan beams. He’s exceptionally proud of her.

“Excellent work Elle,” he leans forward to squeeze her arm, as bold a gesture as he dares while they have company. “And thanks Tobias, for helping out.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” says Tobias. He looks pointedly at Elle, then adds, “believe me.”

An unpleasant sensation coils in the pit of Ethan’s stomach. He tries to push it down.

As Tobias crosses the room to take a phone call, he steps closer to Elle, lowering his voice.

“Listen Elle, about earlier. I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, tentatively taking her hand in his own. He caresses her tiny fingers with his thumb. “It’s unacceptable for me to talk over you in meetings, and I…know that this isn’t the first time it’s happened, and that there are, uh, other things. I’m sorry if my actions have ever made you feel excluded.”

Elle’s bright green eyes look into his thoughtfully, though she says nothing; silently willing him to continue.

“I’d like to make it up to you. I think a date night between us is long overdue. Can I take you for dinner tonight?” he asks. A flash of hope, along with the tinge of dismay he remembers from before, travels across her face. “Not Gaston’s,” he adds quickly. “I want to find somewhere new with you. For us.”

Her face floods with warmth, eyes gazing into his searchingly. He desperately scans her beautiful face, seeking some inkling of her true feelings; the ones he knows she’s bottling up.

“You’re right, it is long overdue,” she says finally, her gaze steady. “And I’d really like that, to find somewhere new to go to dinner with you. But I can’t do tonight.”

His heart sinks a little, and as if sensing this, like she always seems to, she squeezes his hand reassuringly.

“I’m out for drinks with Si, Aurora and Jackie tonight. But we’ll go soon.”

She offers him a soft smile, which he returns.

It doesn’t quite quell the slight but unmistakable feeling of anxiety in his stomach. It’s guilt, it’s the gnawing thought that he will never be good enough for her, the idea that he’s taken her for granted.

Worst of all, there is the completely irrational, but terrible notion that he could lose her.

And somehow, the thought that he could lose her in living rather than in death, as he had once feared, is almost more terrible.

She gently lets go of his hand. On the other side of the room, Tobias hangs up the phone.

“I’m going to go and speak to Jake’s parents,” says Elle, slipping off and readjusting her white coat.

Ethan’s eyes travel over her form-fitting pencil skirt, clinging to her delicate body in all the right places.

He doesn’t miss the way Tobias’ do the same. Then, as if knowing he’s being watched, he looks up at Ethan. His eyes narrow, and the corners of his lips twitch.

Ethan wants nothing more than to sock him in the jaw.

“We’ll check in later, once Harper’s finished surgery?” she asks, breaking the two men out of their reverie.

Ethan nods, and Elle bids them goodbye. The click of her heels on the linoleum echoes into the tense silence. Then, he can’t hold it in any longer.

“Could you be,” Ethan begins through gritted teeth, “a little more fucking subtle, Carrick?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I can’t help it, Ethan, and clearly neither can you. A woman like that, body like that…we’re just as powerless as any other red-blooded male.”

Ethan curls his fists in the pockets of his coat.

“Don’t talk about Elle like that. I won’t have you disrespecting her in that way,” he spits, taking a step towards him.

“You want to talk about disrespecting her?” counters Tobias, unflinching. “Because I think taking a stroll down memory lane with your ex, every five minutes, is pretty disrespectful to the woman you’re currently fucking.”

Ethan is stunned. Had she told Tobias that it had happened before? Did she tell him they were seeing eachother, or had Tobias clocked it himself? What exactly had they talked about while they were away?

“Elle is- she’s off limits,” he snaps, the only response his seething mind is able to come up with.

Tobias smiles, satisfied at seeing the other man riled up. Then, infuriatingly, he turns away.

“Who decided that, Ethan?” he says quietly over his shoulder “Her or you?”

And with that, Tobias turns and leaves.

*******

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading this far! I wanted to explore the dynamic between Elle and Tobias, and the way I wrote him in this fic reflects my own thoughts about him; I think he’s a good guy, as demonstrated by him helping to save her life and his thoughtfulness, but I’m definitely suspicious of his ulterior motives and his past actions. I also wanted the sexual tension between Ethan, Elle and Tobias, and was hoping that PB would make Tobias call out Ethan shutting her out of meetings. They didn’t deliver so I did it myself lol Also wanted Ethan to start feeling insecure about the way he’s been treating Elle since his behaviour has been trash thanks to the OOC writing, but I still love him

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #tobias carrick #ethan ramsey #tobias carrick x mc #open heart #choices open heart #open heart 3

[faulty-writes]

Hello, I just read your tensei one-shot and loved it! Could I request something with him after his injury and he gets his wheelchair, he and reader adjusting to life again?

If not that's totally fine!

[ I would be more than willing to write anything involving the Iida boys. I just adore Tensei, poor baby stuck in a wheelchair. ]

You had visited him a couple months after the hero killer incident. “Is there anything else you’d like me to add to your new wheelchair?” you questioned as you tapped the tip of the pen against the paper which was currently held in place by your clipboard.

Despite trying to get over the fear of almost losing Tensei and getting used to the changes that had happened within the Idaten Agency. That is the change of command, it had taken a long while and plenty of discussion and arguments as to who was a worthy replacement for Ingenium.

You knew in reality that no one could replace the one-of-a-kind hero Tensei was. After all, he paved the way for many sidekicks and that wasn’t something that could be easily matched. Maybe it was selfish to say that you didn’t want to follow anyone else’s authority.

You were thankful that you were close to the Iida family, but it was only per Tensei’s request that you found yourself in his bedroom. It wasn’t that hard to spot the accessories that now littered the man’s room which included safety bars that allowed him to pull himself onto the bed.

But, at the moment he looked comfortable sprawled across his bed with his legs stretched out in front of him and a massive amount of pillows piled behind his back. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt, with an unbuttoned long-sleeved plaid shirt over it.

You were a little surprised he had decided to wear jeans today, but he looked handsome as always. You were also happy that his spirit wasn’t completely broken and that was evident enough from the way he smiled at you, showing off his pearly whites which made your heart race.

You glanced away in an effort to hide your flushed cheeks. “No,” he replied as he reached over to touch the top of your knee. You gasped and immediately looked down at that hand. Tensei’s touch was always gentle and you reached over, placing your hand over his.

The former hero seemed pleased and you took note of that gentle expression that illuminated his face as he looked at you. “I really appreciate it, Y/n. You’re the best,” he said just before he squeezed your knee. “Heh,” your cheeks continued to heat up as you brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I-It���s nothing Tensei, I-” he interrupted you. “It’s not nothing, you’ve been there for me since we met back at Yuuei,” he leaned over with a slightly sympathetic smile. “I know I scared everyone, going after the hero killer. But hey, at least I’m still your hero. Right?” he questioned but your smile immediately faded.

“Huh?” of course Tensei noticed your now sad expression, but your sigh seemed to make matters worse. He knew it was still a tender subject to talk about and that it would take a long while to get used to the way everything was now. “Sorry, it’s just…” your hand clenched around the clipboard.

“Tensei you don’t think we stopped looking at you as a hero because of this, right?” you questioned, trying to prevent your bottom lip from quivering. But inside, you couldn’t help but feel your heart sink in your chest. Despite what happened and the end result of Tensei’s retirement and condition.

You never stopped looking at him as a hero and you never would, the day Tensei was reported injured it was like time stood still. Everyone frozen in their own grief and worry, you were surprised the Idaten team still managed to complete their scheduled hero tasks for the day. He glanced down, and you heard him take a deep breath.

“I know it was a big shock," maybe that was an underestimate, for a moment he thought he was going to die as he laid there in his hospital bed with all those injuries. "I also know I still have people that look up to me. I just hope I’ll always be a hero to my little brother and...to you,” he gave you a sheepish smile and your mouth went dry.

Once more you were reminded that without even trying Tensei could keep you right where he wanted you. Your fingers tightened around his hand that still laid on your knee and slowly, you found yourself leaning forward. Tensei remained where he was, however his eyes widened slightly.

As if he were wondering what you were doing, it was only when he raised his eyebrow that you seemed to snap out of your actions. “Oh,” you glanced away as that familiar heat coursed through your cheeks. “I-I’m sorry!” you stuttered before suddenly standing causing Tensei's hand to fall from its previous place on your knee.

“Hey,” he said as he attempted to reach out to you again. “Are you okay?” he frowned when the only response he got from you was a frantic nod. “Y/n,” he began, almost prepared to scold you but he stopped when you shook your head. “S-Sorry Tensei!” you replied as you cradled the clipboard to your chest.

“I-I’ll have that wheelchair for you next time I come to see you,” though once more you were reminded that you hated walking into the Idaten Agency knowing that Tensei wasn’t in control of it. Part of you was even worried that they would take away your workshop, the one that Tensei specifically ordered to be built for you.

It seemed unlikely, they needed you and your expertise which meant the workshop should remain untouched. But if there was anything you learned from Tensei, it was that unexpected things happen. You tried to push it to the back of your head, failing to notice the eerie silence filling the room.

“Y/n,” came Tensei’s voice and you heard the bed squeak as the former hero maneuvered his legs over the edge of the bed. You blinked and slowly turned to look over your shoulder. It must be hard to lift your own legs like that.

One of Tensei’s hands was securely holding onto the bed rail and the other was fisted into the mattress, his expression was intense as he looked at you with a present frown across his lips. It was a surprise to see Tensei so unhappy and you slowly turned around, lowering the clipboard from your chest.

“Tensei what are you doing?” you glanced over at his current wheelchair which was sitting in the corner of the room unoccupied. “Mm…” you muttered, lowering your eyebrows as if you were angry. Why was the wheelchair so far away from him?

You took a step forward, fully intent on retrieving it when Tensei spoke again. “Wait,” the command, though simple and soft, halted you in your tracks. You slowly glanced back at Tensei who took a deep breath before he held his arms out in front of him.

You knew he was indicating a hug and felt your heart begin to race. “Come here,” yet another simple command, but you followed it as if you were under hypnosis. You closed the distance between Tensei and yourself, allowing his arms to gently wrap around you.

Despite the blood rushing to your cheeks as you were pulled close to him, your chin resting in the crook between his neck and shoulder. Your nostrils were filled with his musky cinnamon-like scent and the feeling of being completely safe washed over you.

You brought your arms up to wrap around his neck, though the clipboard made it slightly difficult. Tensei didn’t seem to mind the piece of wood resting against his shoulder blades and you enjoyed the blissful moment of peace before you stepped away.

“Um...t-thank you,” the stuttered words left your mouth and you looked down at your clipboard. Part of you was eager to start on the new wheelchair but another part wanted to stay with him. Then again, you didn’t want to overextend your welcome. “I...I should go now, but-” you pointed towards the door just as Tensei spoke again.

“Are you sure? You know you’re always welcome to stay as long as you’d like," a nervous chuckle came and you directed your glance to the floor. “I...I know but-” you paused, what could you even say? That you did want to stay, that you didn’t want to leave Tensei’s side?

All those things sounded nice in your head, but more than likely would be a jumbled mess if you tried to speak them out loud. So instead you swallowed your courage back and shook your head. “I...I can’t,” you replied, trying not to feel guilty when you saw Tensei frown.

You’d much prefer to see that pearly white smile of his. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” you trailed off for a moment, your eyes glancing back and forth before you continued. “I want to get a head start on your new wheelchair.” you hoped he'd buy that explanation.

Though it wasn’t entirely a lie, you did want to make the new wheelchair and you wanted every last detail of it to be perfect. “Hm?” you watched as a surprised expression came over Tensei’s face before softening into that normal smile of his.

“You really want to get started on that, huh? Just the thing I’d expect from one of my best,” you brought your free hand up to your chest where you could feel your rapid heartbeat. You knew your cheeks were a toasty red color and you looked away.

“Y-You really think that…?” you always seemed to get flustered when Tensei complimented you but that wasn’t much of a surprise at this point. He nodded, “I do,” he replied with a chuckle, his hand pressing to the back of his dark blue hair and his eyes remained on you.

Though he’d never tell you, he thought you looked adorable with your cheeks that rosy and felt a sense of pride knowing he was the cause of it. “Um…” you pressed your lips together, your mind coming up with a thousand responses before you actually settled on one.

“T-Thank you,” the words left your mouth quickly before you bowed and scurried to the door. “I-I’ll inform you when y-your wheelchair is ready!” you squeaked out before opening the door and running down the hallway.

It wasn’t the most polite exit and it left Tensei calling after you, but you kept running with the clipboard securely pressed against your chest. “I have to make this for him,” you said with no hesitation and from that point, you spent every waking moment in your workshop.

This caused a deal of concern to the Idaten Team. Maybe they knew of your feelings towards Tensei or maybe they were just afraid you were focusing too much of your effort on something that wouldn’t benefit the able-bodied heroes that were currently employed at the Idaten Agency.

You knew it was rude to think that way, but you couldn’t help it. You had known Tensei for so long, you saw him grow since your days at Yuuei. Helped him build the Idaten Agency from the bottom up, recruit the sidekicks, watch him become the pro hero he was meant to be only to see his downfall in the worst kind of way.

Well, it just didn’t feel the same without him. Tensei was always going to be the only one you would truly follow which is why you wouldn’t let him down. Your fingers ached and you had gotten a few cuts here and there, but to see the finished product was well worth it. You had added some features to the wheelchair that most wouldn't expect.

Overall, it appeared to resemble that of a standard wheelchair apart from its blue-tinted coloring and built-in gel cushion layers. It also had specialized wheels on the off chance Tensei wanted to use his quirk which part of you hoped he wouldn't. Apart from the wheels, you also built some self-storage compartments into it.

You managed to configure a way to make the foot petals automatically retract and return when weight or lack of was present, the sensors you installed were to thank for that. You had also added a secret feature that may take time for Tensei to discover, but essentially you made it so the wheelchair can fold upward.

Allowing Tensei to ‘stand’ once again and hopefully make it easier for him to transfer from his wheelchair to whatever he desired. Still, it had taken you the span of a month to complete and during that time you hadn’t had much outside contact with anyone.

Including Tensei, but part of you wanted to surprise him and you were sure he understood how consumed you got in your work. Not to mention the Idaten Agency was planning their annual celebrating sidekick's event.

The idea was Tensei’s and you were happy that despite the new management, the event was still planned to take off in a week’s time. You knew Tensei would be excited about it and despite your slightly exhausted state, you were looking forward to attending as well.

After a good night’s rest, you contacted Tensei who was both thrilled and relieved to talk to you again. It was shortly after this, that you found yourself visiting the Iida Estate. To say Tensei was excited when you presented the wheelchair was a bit of an understatement.

The smile on his face seemed to make up for the hours you put into crafting it and his mother seemed equally as joyful. Though you weren’t expecting her to embrace you in a hug nor for Tensei roll over and wrap his arms around your waist. The feeling of him nuzzling into your side caused tingles to course through your body.

You gave an awkward chuckle and tried to play off your hard work, but Tensei seemed to see right through it. “Aw come on!” he said as he playfully punched your arm which in turn had you stumbling forward. Tensei was bigger and more developed than you which meant something as gentle as a 'playful' punch still ached.

“Ow…” you muttered as you reached over to rub your arm and looked back at Tensei who was still smiling. It was nice to see him like that, even if he was paraplegic as a result of his mishap with the hero killer. He was still looking at life through the same positive eyes as before and you never wanted that to change.

“Do you...do you like it?” you questioned as you walked over to the wheelchair, glancing over the metal and screws that you had put together by hand. “I love it!” he replied as he raised his arms above his head, then he brought them down and curled his hands into fists.

“You’re always so amazing, I could never craft such beautiful things,” he chuckled as he then reached up to rub the back of his head. There he goes complimenting you again and you couldn’t help but glance away, once more feeling that warm rush course through your cheeks.

“I-It was…” you paused, regardless of what you said. You knew he'd always find a way to continue to compliment you, to defy whatever negative thing you could say about yourself. So was it pointless? You internally sigh before dropping your head, “Hm? Is something wrong?” Tensei questioned, but you shook your head.

“No, nothing is wrong,” you said, “I was hoping you’d like it," you wrapped your hands around the handles of the wheelchair. The ones you had spent hours crafting the details into. “It took me long enough to build and I’m sorry if…” you trailed off, how would you even apologize for basically ignoring Tensei?

“I...was too busy to contact you, I just wanted to finish this before the celebration,” you said and raised your eyebrow as Tensei's jaw dropped. “Jeez, I almost forgot about that,” he said as he slapped himself which made you wince slightly. But his laugh seemed to reassure you that he was fine.

“Guess I’ve been a little out of it since the whole ordeal,” while you understood that, Tensei was the one who created the celebration event, to begin with. He was always the star attraction when the time came and you tried to suppress the chuckle that threatened to come when you recalled the way Tensei would always dance in his Ingenium suit.

It was entertaining, to say the least, but you knew this year would be a little different. 'Ingenium' wouldn’t be present, and part of you wondered how Tensei would deal with everything now that he was in a wheelchair. Would he spin around on the dancefloor or would he remain on the sidelines?

You knew you wouldn’t allow him not to have fun, but then again you had no idea how the evening would truly play out. You found your smile fading as you walked around the wheelchair and reached out to place your hand on top of Tensei’s knee, similar to how he had touched your knee prior.

However, unlike you, he didn’t seem to hesitate to place his hand over yours in turn. You shivered when you felt his thumb slowly trace over your knuckles, but you kept eye contact with him. “Are you planning to go?” you asked. “It’s not the same without you,” which was an understatement.

You always found yourself willing to go anywhere as long as Tensei was there. His thumb stopped and a few seconds later you felt his hand tighten over yours. His face softened some and he reached up, gently cupping the side of your face which caused your cheeks to grow hot.

More than likely he’d notice, but restrain from saying anything. “I wouldn’t leave my best all alone! Of course, I’ll come, as long as you save a dance for me,” he said, his voice filled with confidence as he flashed yet another smile at you. “O-Oh…” you leaned back and a nervous chuckle escaped you.

Just the thought of dancing with Tensei made your heart race, though in the past he always seemed to save his first dance for you and you loved that the rest of the world faded away when you were wrapped up in him.

“You’ll be using the wheelchair I made you right?” your eyes glanced over the hospital chair he was currently sitting in, that thing couldn’t be comfortable. Tensei looked confused before he glanced over at his new wheelchair, then he nodded.

“I have to go there in style, right?” he chuckled at his own words and the sound of your own laughter joined him. You took a breath and slowly retracted your hand, though Tensei seemed a little saddened by your action as he rather enjoyed the warmth your hand provided.

But he still smiled at you and allowed his hands to rest in his lap. “I suppose so, but you always go in style and I’m sure everyone will be happy to see you,” even though the pro heroes that were invited almost never showed up.

In fact, you were always disappointed that the only heroes you consistently saw present were Best Jeanist, All Might, and Edgeshot. More than likely because Ingenium had past experience working with them. Not that you had any sort of problem with them, quite the contrary.

You enjoyed talking to them, despite the fact Tensei would always be leading the conversation. But you were always fascinated with the stories the heroes shared. As a support agent, the only real heroic aspect you experienced was the aftermath. The damage that was done to both equipment and hero.

At least you could still fix one of them. Still, this event wasn't about you, hell it wasn’t even about the pro heroes. It was about the appreciation, dedication, and even bravery sidekicks displayed. It was true that most, if not all of the time heroes couldn't do everything on their own.

The backbone of a hero was essentially those that supported them and it wasn't much of a surprise that a sidekick would always be dedicated to their hero. "I'm really glad you think so. Hey…" he leaned over in his chair and you tilted your head, unsure of what he wanted.

But regardless, you found yourself leaning down. "Yes?" you were a little suspicious as to what Tensei had planned considering he did most things out of impulse. But you were surprised when he reached up and gently brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear.

"Hm?" you were a little concerned when he allowed his hand to linger there on your cheek. "Would it be too much if I asked to pick you up? I know I may not go as fast as I did before but I'm still proud to stan-" he paused. "Sit," he corrected himself, "by your side." Why was he so sweet?!

You opened your mouth to speak, but it seemed no words came out. You quickly sealed your lips together, looking lost a moment before he chuckled. “Uh s-sorry,” you replied as you rubbed the back of your head.

Your cheeks were yet again red and you almost wanted to run out of the room again. “I just...you’re...y-you’re sweet Tensei,” you said, noticing his confused expression turn into a happy one. He grinned at you and reached up to grasp his armrests.

“I’m glad you think so! I like being sweet for you.” he teased with a playful wink which only caused your cheeks to turn dark red and you shyly glanced away. “Heh...thank you,” Tensei grinned and reached down for his push rims, using them to roll back.

“You don’t have to thank me!” he replied before pressing his hand to his forehead. “I’m happy to see you so happy,” you lifted your head, your eyes widening and you almost wished you could fan your face to cool it down.

But all you could seem to do was smile and place your hands in front of you before bowing. “Thank you Tensei,” you said as you leaned back up. “So…” you began, “I’ll see you when you pick me up?” Tensei grinned and nodded.

“I won’t let you down,” he promised with a playful wink causing you to turn your head as a nervous giggle escaped. You took one last look at the wheelchair you had crafted. Your hands were still a bit sore, but hopefully, the small cuts would heal.

“Until then...um,” you took a step forward and leaned down, you had to stand a little back taking Tensei’s footrests into account. Still, you were happy to hug him. When the day of the celebration came as promised Tensei picked you up, he was using the wheelchair you had gifted him and you were happy to see how well he adjusted to it.

But you were more distracted by the outfit he was wearing, a blue suit with a black tie and a striped button-up shirt. Somehow it suited him. You didn’t have many fancy clothes on hand and you thought about wearing the same outfit as last year, but due to the protests of many from the Idaten Agency.

You decided to go shopping for a new outfit instead, but as long as Tensei liked it you could care less what others thought. You smiled as you approached him, once more letting your eyes roam over his figure before you noticed a bouquet of flowers resting in his lap.

You tilted your head, slightly confused and for a moment wondering if they were for you. Luckily Tensei answered your question a moment later, “I got you these!” he said as he held the flowers up and despite being a little surprised.

You took them and brought them up to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent. Allowing it to calm the butterflies in your stomach, once again it seemed no matter how much you tried to convince yourself not to be nervous around Tensei. It never worked.

“Ready to go?” he questioned with a bright smile and you shyly lowered the bouquet. “Of course,” you said and out of instinct reached out to take his arm, but you stopped yourself when you realized or rather remembered Tensei was in a wheelchair.

“Oh uh…” you gave an awkward chuckle. “Sorry,” you muttered as you glanced away, old habits died hard. Tensei seemed to catch onto what you were trying to do and chuckled, sometimes you were grateful for his easy-type personality.

“It’s okay,” he said, “I’m glad you like the flowers.” You glanced down at the bouquet, oh right. Maybe it was best if you left them at your apartment. “They’re beautiful, thank you Tensei,” you said before glancing over your shoulder.

“I’m just going to put these in water and then we can go,” you said, watching as Tensei gave another grin before nodding. “Of course, do you need any help?” he questioned as he watched you walk away. You took a deep breath, trying once again to calm yourself as the faucet ran.

“I think I’m okay, thank you Tensei,” you said as the sound of the water hitting the glass vase echoed. ‘This is just like last year, nothing has changed.’ you tried to convince yourself as you glanced over at Tensei.

He was gently swaying himself in his wheelchair. The sight brought a sense of sadness, but it was nice to see him acting so cute. You turned back to the vase and turned the faucet off before unwrapping the plastic and paper the flowers were surrounded in.

You found a place for them on the counter and took a moment to admire them before turning back to Tensei. “I’m ready now,” you said, reaching over to run your hand across his shoulders. He jumped a little and you weren’t sure if it was out of surprise considering he always seemed to welcome your touch.

Either way, you offered a smile and the two of you made your way to the car. It was somewhat of a relief that an Idaten Team member offered to drive everyone. Though it was a challenge to try and get Tensei inside the vehicle.

Watching him being lifted from his wheelchair to the seat was different as was the fact his folded-up wheelchair laid across the floor of the car. But at least you got to sit next to him and laugh as he shared stories with everyone else.

Just like old times. Though you kept quiet during the ride due to the fact you were too busy watching Tensei, even more so when he had to be lifted back out and into his wheelchair once more.

"I can't wait!" he exclaimed and you could hear faint music coming from the building ahead. You watched as he began to wheel himself forward, however, he paused and turned his chair to face you. "Hm? What?" you questioned and Tensei chuckled before he offered you his hand.

You hesitated a moment before taking it, a smile of your own coming to your face as Tensei turned once more. Both of you were facing the entrance of the celebration, there was a long red carpet starting from the end of the sidewalk to the entryway.

String lights hung from the rim of the building and you could see how they illuminated the inside of the entrance as well. You could also see the many heroes that had already arrived, particularly you noticed a group of women crowding around the number one hero himself, All Might.

The sight alone caused you to laugh which caught Tensei's attention. “Everything alright?” he asked in a concerned tone, your hand was covering your mouth in a half-hearted attempt to muffle your laughter.

“Yeah,” you said as you lowered your hand and turned back to look ahead of you. The other members of the Idaten team who were in the car began walking past you, talking amongst themselves as they entered the building.

“It’s just, I’ve always thought it was funny how All Might seems to get all the attention. Do you think he ever gets tired of having all those women flock to him?” you questioned as you took a step forward and Tensei quickly followed, rolling along beside you.

“I only want one person to flock to me,” he responded and you turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He only smiled in return, but somehow it was clear to the both of you who he was referring to. Regardless, you felt a certain sense of pride came over you as you passed through the entrance or maybe you just felt lucky to still be by Tensei’s side.

It was always the two of you and wherever Tensei went, you followed. In a way, you were like a sidekick, and maybe in a sense part of this celebration was for you as well. You took note of the several familiar faces and some new ones that you could only assume were upcoming sidekicks on the scene.

There was a large seating area with tall tables covered in white cloth and expensive-looking glassware. On the opposite side of the room were several tables pressed up against the wall, each one covered with an impressive amount of food, and most of it looked too fancy for your taste.

You preferred simple things, but between the two areas was the dancefloor and a few people looked to be having fun. Showing off just how fast they could move or gather attention while everyone else remained standing around chatting.

Some held plates of food while others seemed to be making conversation with little distraction. You paused, reaching over to lay your hand on Tensei’s shoulder. “Hm?” he turned to look at you, but you were busy glancing around the room again.

‘Hey, it’s Ingenium!’ someone suddenly called and you turned your head, watching as more people seemed to walk over to the former hero. ‘Here we go again,’ you thought as you removed your hand from Tensei’s shoulder, bringing it up to rest against your forehead.

‘Hey man, how are you?’ watching person after person greet Tensei made your stomach twist some, especially as they leaned down to shake his hand, was it strange you were allowing such a thing to bother you?

A frown came to your lips before you took a step back, wanting to distance yourself from the scene as people continued to converse with Tensei. The few women that were around smiled and folded their hands together and had the nerve to ask how he was since the hero killer incident.

"Excus-" you wanted to interrupt but Tensei's laugh drowned your attempted words out, how can he still be so fine with talking about what happened? In a way, you couldn’t blame them for being curious. But still, it bothered you. Yet, Tensei kept smiling.

“I’ve been wonderful thanks! This new wheelchair was designed by Y/n,” he then turned his head and you paused in your movements, still attempting to distance yourself from the former hero and the small crowd he had around him.

Instead, you found yourself frozen again and by nothing more than those eyes of his. “Why are you backing away?” he questioned, and honestly you couldn’t come up with a good explanation other than the fact you felt a little envious when you weren’t the one getting Tensei’s attention.

But you would never admit such a thing, at least not out loud. “Excuse me a moment,” he said before he reached down for his push rims and proceeded to roll over to you. “Everything alright?” he questioned and you felt your throat tighten, a little embarrassed for being caught in the act of trying to back away.

“Mmhm,” you replied with a simple nod, though Tensei didn't exactly buy it. He brought his arm up, stretching it behind your lower back to grasp the side of your hip. “Ah!” you cried out as you felt yourself being pulled toward him, your opposite hip hitting the armrest of his chair.

“This is Y/n! The brilliant support agent of the Idaten Agency, they designed my wheelchair and I sort of view them as my hero.” you felt your cheeks heat up and turned away if anything to make your red cheeks less obvious.

‘Oh yeah, I remember them.’ someone said, ‘Mmhm! They’re always by your side, huh?’ another one commented. “Well, I wouldn’t say always but…” Tensei trailed off when he noticed you were looking elsewhere. "Hm?" he leaned forward in his wheelchair, observing the dancefloor before he looked back up at you.

He opened his mouth to say something, but one of the women interrupted him, ‘Hey Ingenium, are you going to dance?’ her question came off rather desperate, but you made no comment. ‘I would love it if you could save me one!’ another girl commented and yet again that feeling of envy grew in your stomach.

You knew it wasn’t right, considering Tensei always danced with you. The man in question chucked and you felt his arm retract from your hip. “Well…” he began as he raised his hands up, you knew he was trying to find a nice way to decline the requested dance.

“I...usually dance with Y/n first, it’s sort of a tradition at this point,” he said as he turned back to look at you and flashed a playful wink that had your head spinning. This man was going to be the end of you. ‘Aw come on,’ the woman insisted as she took a step forward.

‘Can’t you break tradition just once? I’ve been a fan of yours for a long time and I just recently became a sidekick. I would love to say I danced with one of the heroes that inspired me,’ she said, and you suppressed the growl in your throat as she proceeded to bat her eyelashes at Tensei.

“Heh, I’m glad I could be your hero! That means a lot, but even if I’m retired now. I still like to think a hero always keeps his promises, so maybe we can dance later. Okay?” he said with a bright smile before turning his wheelchair.

You were in slight disbelief that he had turned down the woman. She was moderately attractive and seemed to be willing to do whatever she could just to get a dance, but he still turned her down. You were lost in your thoughts until you felt his hand take yours, your breath hitched and you almost ripped your hand away from him.

But Tensei threaded your fingers together so such an action was useless. “Want to dance with me?” he questioned, despite not knowing how to exactly ‘dance’ in a wheelchair. He was willing to try for you and gently stroked his thumb across your knuckles.

“I…” you paused and turned to look at the group that was previously talking to Tensei, the woman that originally asked for a dance seemed to have walked away. You frowned and took a deep breath, slightly hoping she wouldn’t come back and bother you. “S-Sure,” Tensei smiled, though he did sense something was wrong.

Still, he hoped a dance would make you forget about your troubles You tried to ignore the looks you received as you walked to the dancefloor with Tensei, the sound of his wheels echoed against the wooden floor. You partly hoped you two wouldn’t gather much attention as you reached the center of the dancefloor.

Then you turned to face Tensei just as the lights above you dimmed causing you to glance up. “Um…” you slowly tilted your head back, walking around to stand in front of Tensei. Your hand squeezing his before you glanced around, taking note of the many eyes on you.

Why were they all staring? Well actually, you had an idea as to why. “How are we…” you trailed off when a smile appeared on his face. “I have an idea,” he said and you raised your eyebrow. “Which is?” you questioned as you placed one hand on your hip.

Once again, you found yourself letting your guard down and as a result, Tensei yet again surprised you. Your vision blurred a moment as you were pulled forward, your hand pressed against Tensei's chest and before you could properly react. You felt his hand reach for the back of your legs and you were hoisted onto his lap

“Uh…Tensei…” you began, allowing your fingers to dig into the fabric of his blazer. You wiggled in his lap, but Tensei’s arm remained draped over your legs and he kept still as you got comfortable. “I know this is kind of different, but I’m sure we’ll both get used to this,” a soft song began to echo through the air.

You couldn't help the frown that came to your lips as his words echoed in your head, ‘We’ll both get used to this.’ when? Your thoughts were shattered when Tensei spoke again. “Hold on,” he warned. You weren’t sure what he was planning, but as fairly instructed.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he reached down for his push rims. He started gently swaying his wheelchair back and forth, the motion was slow and tousled your hair back and forth. But in a way it was nice, you found yourself smiling as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Your legs were draped between his foot pedals and you closed your eyes when he began to roll around in a circle. It wasn’t like the way you had danced last year, but you enjoyed the new closeness this brought and almost forgot about the eyes that were on the two of you.

The music continued and on occasion, Tensei would turn his wheelchair and rock you back and forth vertically or do silly half turns which made you laugh. At least he didn’t lose his sense of humor and as the song came to an end, you pulled back and glanced down at Tensei.

He was illuminated by the lights above, his red eyes standing out as he looked at you with a smile. You reached up and gently cupped the side of his face, trying to ignore the flashes from phone cameras. Part of you didn’t care if people took photos, it wasn’t like you were doing anything scandalous.

Still, you smiled and wrapped your arms around Tensei to embrace him in a hug. The rest of the evening seemed to go by rather quickly, at one point you lost Tensei only to find Tsunagu rolling him around. By the end of the night, you felt exhausted. Your feet ached and you couldn’t wait to get your shoes off so you could lay down in bed.

Luckily Tensei allowed you to sit in his lap once more as the two of you exited the building, like before you had to wait a few moments as Tensei was transferred from his wheelchair to the car seat. You had expected to get dropped off at your place first, but Tensei insisted he had something to show you back at the Iida Estate.

So with some hesitance, you agreed. “What do you have to show me?” you questioned as you walked behind him in one of the dimly lit hallways of the estate. You assumed everyone else was asleep. “You’ll see,” he replied and you didn’t miss that playful tone in his voice just as he reached his bedroom door.

You frowned as you watched him grasp onto one of his armrests and lean forward, stretching his other hand out for the doorknob. Part of you wondered why they hadn’t adjusted Tensei’s bedroom door, but then again the Iida family seemed to enjoy having everything in order. Maybe a different door would set them off too much.

Still, you were happy when Tensei finally got it open and rolled inside. “It’s changed a bit, I’m grateful my brother helped set it up for me,” he said and you had to admit, you were in slight awe of the equipment that now littered his room. His bed now had a rail that surrounded all sides with a small opening that you assumed allowed Tensei to securely climb into bed.

There was a grip molded into the rail and you imagined Tensei used it quite frequently so he could hoist himself up properly. “He did a good job,” you replied as you watched him make his way over to the bed. “You’re not having trouble with these new adjustments, are you? We could try one of the features of your new wheelchair if you want,” you suggested as your hand came to rest on your hip.

“New feature?” he questioned, turning his head to look at you with one of his unusual eyebrows raised. You nodded in response, “Yeah did you forget I added a feature that allows your chair to extend upward so you can ‘stand’?” you questioned as you shook your head in disappointment.

"There should be a button located underneath the seat," you explained, snickering some as Tensei leaned over one side of his chair, searching for the button that you had just described. “It’s to the left,” you crouched in front of him and reached underneath.

“You just press it for a few seconds and-” you words came to a pause when you retracted your hand and watched as the wheelchair vibrated. The footrests curved inward, keeping Tensei's legs in place as the seat of his chair folded flat.

The wheels remained pressed against the floor while a single metal bar pushed the chair up, allowing Tensei to stand upright. However, you ensured that it wouldn’t extend too far as you didn't want him to fall. Though it was slightly amusing to see Tensei look back and forth in awe. A laugh escaped him when he came to a stop.

“Wow!” he began. “You always surprise me somehow!” if only he knew the feeling was mutual. You cautiously took a step forward, “Do you need any help, can you reach the…” you trailed off to glance over at the handrail that looked within his reach, but you didn't know for sure.

“Hm?” he blinked and reached up to scratch the side of his head. “Well…” he began, trying to ignore how uneasy he felt. Standing up felt slightly odd since the incident, but he appreciated your hard work. Even if he didn’t see himself using this feature much in the future.

“I think I can but could you help me?” he questioned and you jumped. “Me?” you questioned as you watched Tensei nod. Then he gave you another smile, “I wouldn't trust anyone else!” and while you knew that wasn’t entirely true considering he seemed to put his trust in people too easily.

You reached out to graze your fingers along his sides. "I'll help you," you replied, giving him a shy smile in return. "Great!" he exclaimed, “I could hold onto your shoulders and you could help me sit on the bed,” he suggested, but you tilted your head. You were a little uncertain of what the end result of this would be.

Despite that, you allowed him to lay his hands on your shoulders. You tried to ignore the way he dug his fingers into your skin and in return, you properly gripped his sides. You were a little nervous given the limited amount of space between yourself and the bed. But you tried your best to take a step back, allowing Tensei to lean forward.

Of course, he was a lot heavier than you expected and your arms slightly trembled as they tried to support his weight. “Uh...Tensei…” you felt your knees buckle as he tried to reach over for the handrail while you found your legs pressed against the mattress. “Sorry about this,” Tensei said and you shook your head.

“It’s fine,” you replied, trying to ignore the way one of your shoulders started to ache. “Can you turn to the side?” he questioned. “What?” you replied, slightly confused as to what Tensei was trying to accomplish. “I can sit down on the bed if you step to the side, then pull myself onto the mattress,” Is that really how he thought this would work?

Despite the butterflies that began to swell in your stomach, you nodded. "O-Okay," you tried to keep your hands on Tensei as you maneuvered yourself, cautiously taking a step to the side and watched as the former hero somehow turned his body. You stumbled as Tensei somehow allowed himself to fall into the small opening in the bed rail.

You were almost straddling his legs at that point and though slightly embarrassed, you did your best to regain your balance. Gees, that was a lot of work. Your hands came to rest on top of his knees as your soft pants filled the air. “Are you alright?” Tensei reached over to thread his hand through your hair.

“Yeah…” you answered between your pants. “Do you do this every day?” you questioned, glancing up at him as he continued to run his hand through your hair. “Ten usually helps me, but sometimes he’s too busy so I end up doing it myself,” he explained with a half-smile as he finally dropped his hand from your hair.

He reached down to place his hands over yours. You paused, holding your breath. “Would it be too much to ask for your help to swing my legs over?” he questioned, giving you that innocent puppy dog look that always seemed to get to you.

You hung your head a moment, shaking it slightly back and forth. “As you wish, Ingenium,” you crouched down and gently took hold of his legs before lifting them over the railing. “There,” you said as you pressed your hands into the mattress. “Thanks,” he replied, flashing you another smile before he laid back on his pillows.

Then he patted the spot next to him, “Lay down next to me,” he instructed. “Hm?” you leaned back, once again feeling your cheeks heat up. “Y-You want me to lay down next to you?” a chuckle came before he nodded and once more patted the spot next to him.

You took a deep breath. “You don’t have to blush so much around me,” he commented, causing you to flinch back. “I-I’m not blushing!” you denied, waving your arms like wild. Tensei gave a knowing smile but said no more. “Hmph!” huffing, you crossed your arms a moment before sighing in defeat.

“Fine,” you stated before climbing onto the bed, wiggling some before you laid your head against his shoulder. Allowing your legs to drape over his, “Tensei, are you comfortable sleeping like this?” you questioned as you laid a hand on his chest.

There was so much about his current condition that you wouldn’t understand, but you wanted to. “It’s not so bad,” he said as he draped an arm around your shoulders. Part of you expected him to try and pull you close, but it seems at the moment he was content with having you at his side.

Of course, in some aspects, it was a little silly to be laying in bed with your former boss. But he was your friend before he became your boss and a hero above all else. Silence filled the air and after a long moment, Tensei closed his eyes and you couldn’t help but look at his resting face.

Then you glanced around the bed, it felt odd to be surrounded by a railing. Almost like you were trapped in a box, did Tensei feel that way as well? The doubt that you would get used to seeing him like this came back to mind.

But, you knew that you would always stay by his side regardless. Maybe one day, you could make him a support item that would once again allow him to walk. Until then, you’d figure out a way to accept this new way of life.

#tensei x reader #iida x reader #bnha x reader

[dimitrescus-bitch]

I’ll Die Anyway (Emily Prentiss x Reader)

You woke up bright and early to join your new team in DC. You hadn’t been in the United States for very long before the offer came in. Years earlier, you’d been a part of a program to help America’s relationship with other countries. Then, you had worked with the FBI, CIA, and a number of agencies on various cases. Now, you were back in America, but you’d be exclusively working as a member of the BAU. 

“Agent Y/l/n, surprised to see you here so early.” You shook the hand of your boss and then went back to your desk. There wasn’t any paperwork for you to work on, so you sat and just read a book as the rest of your new coworkers came in. Spencer didn’t introduce himself, Derek seemed overly friendly, you had already met JJ, and Emily had avoided you like the plague when she saw you. 

“It feels sort of tense in here,” Spencer said and you glanced over at Emily. Derek caught the little look and smirked at the two of you. “Is there something I’m not picking up on?” 

“Agent Prentiss and I used to work together, although quite a few things were different then,” you said and Emily ran a hand through her hair. For a second, you knew that she was afraid you’d talk about Doyle, but that had been traumatic enough to live through once. You couldn’t imagine how being so close to the center of it could have been for her. “Please tell me you haven’t the bangs all that time.” 

“Screw you, it works,” Emily said as she threw a pen at you. You let it hit you and Derek gave a little chuckle. The tension was still there, but it was less. Hotchner called you in for a briefing and you could honestly say that you were a bit shocked by the level of mutilation of the bodies. 

“This takes serious time and practice. The cuts are precise, almost surgical looking,” you noted as you looked through the pictures. 

“So our unsub went to medical school,” Derek suggested and you shook your head. “You said surgical.” 

“Almost surgical. It’s careful and precise, like they’ve done it before, but not to a human. I’d say you’re looking for somebody in animal medicine, not human,” you told them. It was nice to be able to add something that the rest of them didn’t. You weren’t a profiler, you weren’t there to be a profiler though. You were there because of your expertise in the medical field and the fact that you were a good tactician. 

“You want the aisle seat?” Emily asked as she followed you onto the plane. 

“You don’t have to sit by me. I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me Emily,” you told her. Emily sighed and took the window seat by where you were going to sit. 

“I know too much about you to let you sit by yourself on a plane,” Emily said and you smiled a little. Emily may have been awkward around you and she couldn’t look you in the eyes, but she was good about the little things. The two of you sat next to each other on the plane and she kept everybody from asking questions when you asked to sit in the backseat. 

At the hotel after you’d all started working on the case, Emily hadn’t been the one to come and check on you, it’d been JJ. You understood why, the connection the two of you had back then had been a very strong one. It would have taken a lot of self-restraint that neither of you had in yourself to not make a mistake. The two of you didn’t allow yourself to be alone together for long, which you knew the rest of the team had to have picked up on. 

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

“You are only making things worse for yourself Nathaniel!” you yelled at the unsub over the radio. 

“I’ll die anyway, might as well take some of you bastards out with me.” Your eyes widened as you watched him step out from his cover. He threw something and as the agents and police scattered, he started to shoot wildly. You stood up and booked it towards Emily. She was moving quickly, but she was also moving towards where he was aiming at. You jumped to cover her body, tackling her backwards and shielding her from debris. 

After the explosion, everything was quiet. You heard no more gunfire, no more shouting, just nothing. For a moment, you wondered if you were dead, but then a sharp pain in your back told you that you weren’t. You rolled off of Emily and tried to get up, but couldn’t move to do that. 

“Hey, Y/n, why did you do that? That was stupid,” Emily told you. You could see tears brimming in her eyes and you felt bad. Not because you’d gotten shot, but because you were upsetting her. “Breathe with me. Breathe in... Breathe out. You’re doing great so far.” 

“Em, calm down,” you told her weakly. You moved your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose as a ringing in your ears started. You hated explosives, they were always so damn loud. Maybe you should have asked for one of the helmets that the SWAT guys had. “I’m not letting one bullet kill me.” 

“Good, you stay stubborn,” Emily said. She got up to get help and you were rushed to a hospital. The bullet narrowly missed your spine, but there was some nerve damage. The extent of it wouldn’t be clear until you were able to start physical therapy. “You could have died.” 

“I’ll die one day, might as well be saving the girl while I do it,” you said with a wink. Emily paused and you realized that was not the right thing to say. “I’m sorry if it was reckless and scary Em.” 

“If you’re gonna save the girl, you should be alive after so she can than you,” Emily said and you reached out for her hand. 

“I take my thanks in dinners,” you told her. Emily nodded and checked her phone. “When can I get out of here?” 

“That’s not a question for me, but when we get back to DC, I’ll find us a nice place to eat at,” Emily promised you. You smiled and laid back to relax in your hospital bed. It had been sort of scary, waiting to either make it by the skin of your teeth or die on the way to the hospital. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were glad that you’d made it and that Emily was finally acting normal around you.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss imagines #prentiss imagine #prentiss imagines #prentiss x reader #prentiss #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fanfiction

[crescentsteel]

To All the Boys I’ve Loved - The Popular Guy (1)

route: Tooru Oikawa genre: fluff wc: 3.4k

This is a collab from our server @babythotshq. 

Experience other routes here. 

Route masterlist.

For the last time, he took in the sight of the volleyball gym. This is the last day he’ll ever step foot in one again. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the place while reliving the memories he gained for the last three years. Training, wins, and losses – glory and bitterness, he recalls them all with no regret.

Yet, he found it best to leave the sport behind.

After having his fill, he turned around and found a girl waiting for him. At first glance, it looks like she’s going to confess. She had the look — blushing cheeks, starstruck eyes, and a letter, only it was not just one letter. She was holding one too many envelopes.

“Um. Oikawa-san?” 

He smiles, his signature one when greeting his fans, “Yes?”

She hands him a brown envelope that has ‘Oikawa’ written on it. He usually knows how to react to letters given to him. He’d be ‘happy and excited’ to receive them, but something tells him that this is not a usual letter. 

“It’s not from me, but uhh, can I have a photo with you?” Her voice was a pitch higher as she voiced out her request.

“Of course.” 

She took out her phone with excited hands and they both posed with peace signs. Before she gives him the envelope, she hurriedly gets a pen and scribbles something on the envelope. After she hands it to him, she bows and walks away.

He usually does not bother with fan letters these days. They say the same things anyways, just written differently. Yet, he has a strong feeling that he must read this letter. For the first time in a long time, he’s thrilled to open a fan letter.

When he gets home, he plops himself on his futon and carefully opens the envelope.

Hey,

I know this is weird since we’ve never talked except for that night but hear me out. I kind of like you, not in the sense where i know everything there's to know about you but in a way where if I see you at random times of the day, you just kinda lift my mood…

Maybe it's just because I find you inspiring? 

You were kind of an all around guy, super nice, with a fun personality to the boot. As much as I liked you, I envied you too. How could you make everything look so easy? As an overachiever who grew up burning her candles every damn night, you made it all look effortless and to add it all up, you didn’t even brag! How annoying you are. 

What’s even more annoying is that I can see your profile on magazine spreads and ads as if seeing your handsome face in school wasn’t enough.

I hate how it seems like something you’d do, yet at the same time, something you wouldn’t. Get what I mean? I thought your passion was for Volleyball, leaving modeling just as a hobby, but you do that exceptionally well too.

Indeed you were out of reach and definitely on another level.

Yet that night when I first got to talk to you on the farewell dance, you weren’t on another level. You were just you and it made me realize that maybe I should take a page off your book, “It’s all about a leap of faith, Y/N.” you said.

A leap of faith. Such words from a guy I’ve been crushing on wasn’t something I’d expect. I always thought you played safe, stayed behind safety bars but when I saw that dangerous glint in your eyes, I realized, you never did. 

You were always like that, people were just so caught up with the idea of the model/volleyball player with good grades that they never saw past that. They don’t think about the devotion and commitment you must’ve poured to be good at everything you do. 

I know I won’t be seeing you again and it’s kind of sad to be honest since you kind of brighten up my day but I’ll remember you, especially those words. Probably even buy a signed poster of you someday.

Take care always,

Y/N

Oikawa’s eyes remain at the signature of the letter with surprise and amusement. Y/N? The awkward, timid girl from the dance? He reads the letter once again just to make sure he’s read it right. 

He knows how popular he is, both in and out of school. He’s always approached by random people, mostly girls. Those who greet him and ask for pictures on the streets he immediately forgets. But the students, he somehow can remember their faces, especially when he sees them frequently ogling him at school. Being the captain of the volleyball team while working as a model meant having fans cheer for him on the sides. He doesn’t mind of course. He’s used to it. He knows how to smile for them, talk to them, make them like him even more. 

By the time graduation was just around the corner, the faces of his fans at school were already familiar to him. So when you talked to him at the night of the dance, he had question marks looming on top of his head. Prior to that night, he had no idea who you are. He hasn’t seen you around. He just knew you were in the same year with him because it was the farewell dance for the seniors. 

That whole night was tiring. If it wasn’t the girls asking him to dance, it would be students asking to take selfies and/or asking for his number. He’s used to the adoration and he loves it, revels on it even. But that night was on another level. They didn’t care about his personal space anymore. The dance was their perfect excuse to hog him. 

So when he had the chance, he escaped from the place and took refuge in a restricted area. The dance took place only in the school grounds, so they had closed off certain rooms for equipment storage and preparation materials for the party. He snuck into one of the rooms. He didn’t bother turning on the lights since he did not want anyone noticing that someone might be there. 

He took a seat near the windows and looked at the main grounds from that room. The bonfire was lit in the middle of the place while students frolic around, having the time of their senior year.

He’s always at the center of everything he’s involved with and it was fucking awesome. But sometimes, just sometimes, it gets a little bit too rowdy. Once in a while, It’s nice to sit out like he was doing now and watch from the sidelines as students like him have their moments like this. 

The door suddenly opened, much to his dismay. Was he followed? He made sure he wasn’t. He’s a bit ticked off. Some fans really don’t know when to quit. Maybe he’s been too generous to them.

He heard someone trying to flick open the lights, but the room still remained dark. 

“Huh? The lights aren’t working?” The stranger said. He stayed in his place, hoping that he wouldn’t get noticed and be left alone. Although, the chances of that happening is really slim even though he knows that only the silhouette of his back can be seen from the way he was facing the light of the bonfire. 

Like he predicted, you notice him not long after. But what came out of you wasn’t what he was expecting. 

“Hey! Students are not allowed here. Go back to the grounds.”

He turns around from his seat to look at you. You squint at him, trying to make out his face that was hidden by shadows. But he sees you, how you walked slowly to him so you can identify who he was and how your face contorted from strict to horrified. 

That’s a first. 

Even though you didn’t know it was him, you could at least be glad that it was indeed him. 

As you’re closer now, he confirmed that you weren’t one of them. You didn’t follow him. You found him.

“O-Oikawa san?!”

He executes his ever pleasant smile. “Hi! Do you mind if I stay for just a few more minutes?” Surely, you can give him that. You do know him after all. “Um, well... Students shouldn’t be here.” You responded hesitantly. 

He wanted to applaud you for refusing. It’s been a while since someone denied him of a request, especially a girl. Nothing he could do about it though. He’d rather just find another hiding place instead of convincing you.

He stands up and heads for the door when you suddenly block his way and wave your hands frantically. “Wait wait. Uhh. Err.” You look around as you try to search for the words to say. “Before you leave. Can I ask you something?” Your face is flushed red as you put your hands together and fiddle with your thumbs, obviously nervous about what you were going to say. 

“How do you do it?”

His brows knit together in confusion.

 You must have realized how vague that sounded since you spoke again. “I mean, how are you so good at everything?” The admiration in your eyes wasn’t like the one he sees from everyone else. It was one that showed respect, as if you recognize the hard work he’s put in everything he does. And for once, it felt like someone perceived him as an actual human being. 

“What’s your name again?”

“I-I’m y/n l/n!.” You said a bit too loud with a shaking voice. It was funny.

You must be part of the farewell dance committee since you seemed like you were about to get something from the room for the event. You’re also wearing the school uniform, unlike everybody else who’s dolled up. What a waste. You’re kinda cute.

You’re at enough distance for his arms to reach you and pull you closer. He grabs your waist with his left hand and holds your hand with his right, getting you in a dance position. Your eyes widen. The fluster in your cheeks goes a shade deeper. Your whole body becomes rigid while your hands tremble at his touch. He can literally see your chest rise up and down from breathing too heavily. He almost wants to laugh at your reaction. 

“Oikawa-san?! What’re you doing?” you whisper in a panicked voice. 

He really wasn’t sure, but he felt like teasing you. “We’re still part of the farewell dance, yeah? Indulge me and I’ll indulge you.”

He starts swaying slowly. You follow clumsily with that look of uncertainty and nervousness still transparent in your whole face. He wonders what’s going on in your mind. A lot of others had desperately asked him to dance with them, which he all declined because accepting one invitation meant accepting all of the others. 

But within the small confines of this dark room, he can do as he pleases without any regard to mindful eyes.

“Why aren’t you looking at me though?” You grimace at his question. “I’m not used to being this close to good-looking people.” You bluntly said, your expression is still of discomfort. You really are interesting despite the aloofness you show him. 

Still, you moved with him to the faint rhythm of the music outside. 

“How I do it, you ask?”

That’s when you meet his gaze, your eyes curious and attentive to the next thing he’s about to say. Your whole body loosens up, as if you forgot that he was holding you.

“It’s all about a leap of faith.” He was awaiting the look of puzzlement in your eyes. He knew how obscure his answer was. 

But it didn’t come. Your eyes retained the same inquisitiveness they held before.

“How can you sound so sure about something uncertain?”

Smart girl. You clearly understood what he meant. Maybe he can give you a real answer, one that he hasn’t said in any interview for it showed a dark side of him that doesn’t sit well with his image.

“Hmmm. Between you and me, y/n, when I hit something,” he dips his head just a few inches from your ear. 

“I hit it.. until it breaks.”

He felt you shiver at his words. Then he let you go and patted your head while you were frozen in place. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said while exiting the dark room.

After that dance, he never saw you again. He didn’t think much of it. If he’d be honest, it’s like it never happened. There were no traces, no witnesses, only you two in the dimness of that enclosed room. The exchange you had was just as brief as well. 

But your letter, it ties up with what little words were said between the two of you. The admiration is just the surface of it. Beneath that was perceptiveness, envy, and compassion. Four different things melded coherently to give a refined message of encouragement, all in the form of this letter.

He has to see you. The letter needs to be answered. 

Only then he realizes that you’re both senior students who already graduated. He didn’t even see you on campus as students. How the fuck can he even find you now that he has no chance of seeing you at all?

He quickly gets the envelope to see anything that might be a clue to how he can find you.

And there it was. A number written hurriedly at the edge of the envelope with a note that said ‘call me’.

The corner of his lips shoot up. He’s a hundred percent it wasn’t your number. It couldn’t be you based on how refined you wrote that letter. 

It was the girl from earlier, but he doesn’t mind. At least you’re traceable now.

—

He was able to get your number from your sister in exchange for a video greeting. Unfortunately, your sister was texting non-stop so he had to block her number after he got what he wanted.

He didn’t text you yet. First, he wanted to see the university you decided to go to. It was one piece of information he managed to extract from your sister. 

He’ll take a look around first. He wanted to see what uni life is like since he’s not going to attend one. He couldn’t tell if it was a busy day or there’s this many people on a daily basis. A few minutes of walking around and he could already hear the murmurs in the background. 

‘He’s so hot.’  

‘Does he go here?’

‘He looks like a celebrity’

Well, it couldn’t be helped. It was him, Tooru Oikawa. Even if they don’t know who he is, his looks attract attention.

Maybe he should’ve worn his cap and facemask. Admirers will just get in the way of seeing you. Maybe he’ll just come back later. 

He’s about to dip when two girls approached him. “Hi! Are you a freshman like us?”

Too late. He should’ve left sooner. When one comes, they’ll start flocking at him right after. Since he’s already caught, it wouldn’t hurt to accommodate onlookers.

“No, sorry. I’m just visiting someone.” He replied warmly. Another girl comes his way, followed by another, and another. Yep, just like he anticipated.

“You’re looking for someone too?” One girl asked, then her friend whispered something to her. It was supposed to be a whisper but it was loud enough for him to hear. “These hot men better not be looking for the same girl. I swear I’ll lose it if they are.”

He remembers the other colored envelopes your sister was holding. 

Ahh. So he was not the only one, huh? The original plan was there was no plan. He just wanted to see you again and talk about the letter. But based on what he heard, he has competitors now. 

That just won’t do. 

He tuned out the girly muttering and looked for a way to flee from the scene. 

Among the crowd he was attracting, there you stood, paralyzed in the middle of the path with your eyes expanded in horror. 

Great! He found you.

He filled his lungs with air. 

“Yahoooooo! Y/N!” He waved enthusiastically at your direction which caused everyone else to look at you. Instead of acknowledging him, you took a step back, turned around, and half-ran away. 

You really are funny if you honestly thought you could outrun him.

“Excuse me, ladies. That’s her I came to visit.” He hears the dejected groans but pays them no mind as he makes his way to you.

With his long strides, he didn’t really have to put as much effort in chasing as you did in running away from him. He’s impressed at your dedication though. You didn’t even dare look back. That’s good for you. At least you won’t see him right behind you already. 

He wouldn’t mind following you a little bit more just to see how long you can last before you turn your head back and check where he is. But he needs to be the first recipient of the letter who gets to talk to you. He has an idea to throw off anyone who could possibly be around, waiting for their own chance to go talk to you.

He picks up the pace just a little so he can close in on you. When you are within reach, he loops an arm around you which causes you to stop dead on your tracks. 

“That’s not nice of you, y/n. You heard me calling you.” 

You didn’t have to look at him. He knows that you know it’s him. You gulp before facing him. A terrified look spread on your face upon seeing his, verifying that it was truly him. 

You looked around nervously, assessing the situation you were in. You saw something that unnerved you, but he couldn’t tell what it was. You suddenly remove his arm, only to take his hands.

You spoke with a worried expression.

“Come with me.”

You drag him haphazardly, leading him somewhere in the university. He has no idea what’s running in your head as he lets you take him away. Though, he doesn’t mind. You’re essentially the reason why he came anyways. 

You reach inside one of the buildings with less people. Still on full alert, your eyes skimmed the area before going inside one of the rooms, pulling him with you. Once inside, you let go of his hand.

Without catching your breath, you yelp at him. “Why are you here?!”

He reaches for his back pocket and takes out the brown envelope. “Cause of this.” He smiles sweetly while he waves the enclosed letter at you, then puts it back to where it came from. “Your sister’s a real gem for going out of her way to give it to me,” his statement drenched with irony. 

Instead of answering him, you walked three steps away and faced the wall. You softly knock your head against the wall, looking down as you mutter, “What did I do to deserve this?” Followed by another knock, “What did I do to deserve this?”

Before you can do it the third time, he moves toward you and places his back hand where your forehead is supposed to hit again. You look at him distressfully, not removing your forehead against his hand. “Why are you here?”

“I just told you why, Y/n-chan.”

You stand up straight and sigh wearily. “I mean why even bother? I’m sure you get tons of those on a regular basis.”

You were right. Among other letters, he only read yours. Even though you didn’t intend to send the letter, he thought you’d be at least glad that he went after you. Instead, you were questioning his decision of doing so. Not once in any of your limited interactions had you agreed with him. 

He really just wanted to talk to you, initially at least. But you prove to be more and more entertaining that he’s about to do something totally abrupt. 

He supports his weight by leaning his elbow against the wall where his hand is. He slightly tips his head to the side as his smile veers from pleasant to haughty.

“I bothered cause I want to ask you out.” 

Route masterlist.

Taglist (those in bold and crossed out can’t be tagged):

@sakusarights  @elianetsantana  @tetsujime  @kweenregent @ne-kuroo @restricted-illusion @avbreyissad @kac-chowsballs @aksteldesu @justatempo @barali.k @humanitysbiggestsimp @al3xx1s @kellesvt @isentsworld @daniella-uwu @bokuakadaily @kitababie @luckypartyranchmug @melialeic @omigogames @cafetetsu @sleep3deprived @vicassa @the-writing-otaku @chibishae34 @chickennuggetthot @tsukisemi @timeturnerss @mariachiiii @spaceboitrash @dearestsuna @atsumubabe @cadenceh2o @hawkssnugget @hikari-writes @dabilove27 @isleofnajera  @thathoneybee3  @tsumue @uncleirohsbobbatea @shinhiromi @solarskiesdream @greyevangeline @graykageyama @holycometz @mattsuns-prettybaby @fluffymilkbread @rogueofbullshit @turntechsquishy @tweety1501 @sunashi @stale-sandcastle @kellesvt @heykoutarou​ @kuroosleftkneecap

#oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa toru x reader #bbthots #bbthots collab

[engie-ivy]

I've written a part two for this fic! Read part one here.

What Chance Do I Have?

Regulus has agreed to tutor a classmate in statistics, but quickly comes to regret his life choices when the only chance the guy seems interested in, is the chance of getting to snog Regulus’ older brother.

“You want to snog my brother!” Regulus points his pen accusingly in Remus’ direction.

Remus huffs and straightens his back. “In my defence, your brother is very snogable!”

Part one: Crushin'

Part two: Fallin'

What Chance Do I Have? Part two: Fallin'

Dating Sirius Black is like a dream. No, a fantasy. A teenage fantasy of summer romance.

Dating Sirius Black is sneaking up to his room after Remus’ tutoring sessions and snog for hours on his bed. Dating Sirius Black is hurrying outside when his motorcycle pulls up, while Remus’ mum throws him a worrying look. Dating Sirius Black is Remus’ arms tightly wrapped around his waist while sitting on the back of his motorcycle. Dating Sirius Black is driving up a hill to watch the sunset and wearing his leather jacket when Remus gets cold. Dating Sirius Black is eating take-out pizza in the park late at night with him teaching Remus the constellations. Dating Sirius Black is skinny dipping in the lake at midnight. Dating Sirius Black feels like homecoming and an adventure, an obsession and an escape, too much and never enough.

Also, Remus’ statistics are actually going better. Regulus has given up on banning Sirius from their tutoring sessions. Sirius would just go outside to do all sorts of distracting activities in front of the window, like watering the plants in just his swimming trunks (“What the hell are you doing? We have a gardener! You haven’t watered a plant in your life!”), washing his motorcycle (“If you want to wash that thing, at least pour more water on your motorcycle than over yourself!), or doing his stretches (“What muscles are you even trying to stretch? You’re just standing there bend over. Get your arse away from the window!”). After Regulus sending Sirius away, Remus would go to the toilet and disappear for twenty minutes.

Regulus eventually allowed Sirius to stay, when Sirius came up with the idea of rewarding Remus for each good answer with a kiss, which remarkably improved his performance. Except for one instance where Remus had solved a particularly difficult problem and Sirius had gotten a bit carried away in his reward (the hoisting Remus up on the table throwing the statistics book on the floor-kind of carried away), and Regulus had muttered something about rinsing his eyes with bleach, it was a good arrangement for everyone.

Today, Remus is having drinks with a few girls from his class, Mary McDonald, Marlene McKinnon and Lily Evans. They had apparently taken a liking to him and decided to befriend him, which Remus still finds surprising. Lily Evans and her boyfriend James Potter are the school’s it-couple, and the most popular people in school.

Remus and the girls have gathered for brunch, and some much-needed catch up-time.

“How’ve you been, Remus?” Marlene asks, sipping her tea. “Hardly seen you since the summer hols started.”

“I’ve been good. Keeping myself busy.”

“Ah, right,” Lily says. “You’ve been having those tutoring sessions with Regulus. How’s that going?”

“Yes.” Mary not-so-subtly steaks a pancake from Marlene’s plate. “How are you bearing spending beautiful summer days in the stuffy Black manor?”

“It’s not that bad.” Remus does his very best to sound casual, but he can’t help the corners of his mouth curling slightly upwards thinking about some of the times spent in the Black manor.

“Oh oh,” Mary says, staring at him with a piercing gaze. “Look at his face.”

“Ah, yes,” Marlene says. “I see.”

“Maybe it’s just the heat?” Lily suggests weakly.

“No,” Mary says decidedly, shaking her head. “The combination of a blush like that and the dreamy look in his eyes can only have one explanation.” She points her fork accusingly in Remus’ direction, pancake pieces flying through the air. “You’ve met Sirius Black!”

Remus tries to look unaffected and calmly meets her gaze. “I may have seen him around.”

Marlene leans forward resting her head on her hand. “So he still looks like that, huh?”

“He does Marlene,” Remus replies, forgetting about seeming unaffected. “He really does, and I was very unprepared.”

Mary chuckles. “Some things there’s no preparing for.”

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like,” Lily interjects, looking at Remus pointedly. “You cannot start being friends with Sirius Black!”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I haven’t started being friends with Sirius Black.”

Lily lets out a relieved breath and takes a sip of her tea.

“I’vestarteddatingSiriusBlack,” Remus murmurs in one breath.

Lily spits out her tea, Marlene drops her fork with a clatter, and Mary actually shrieks.

“What?” Lily coughs, dapping her chin with her napkin.

“You… are dating… Sirius Black?” Marlene asks, stunned.

Mary just stares at Remus with something like awe.

Remus shrugs. “We kind of clicked.”

“Dating Sirius Black,” Mary whispers. “Many have tried, and many have failed.”

“Including you,” Marlene says to Mary.

Mary sighs wistfully. “I should’ve taken tutoring sessions with Regulus.”

Marlene whacks her over the head. “I’m pretty sure Sirius Black’s type is cute, freckled guys with big eyes and floppy hair. Not whoever his little brother happens to be tutoring at the time.”

“You shouldn’t be dating Sirius Black!” Lily points her finger accusingly in Remus’ direction. “That guy cannot be trusted! He’s bad news, Remus.”

Remus arches an eyebrow. “He has been nothing but respectful towards me, and has never given me a reason not to trust him.”

“Well, maybe you don’t actually know him that well,” Lily retorts.

“I’ll find that out for myself then, won’t I?” Irritation seeps through in Remus’ voice. “I’m very much capable of making my own decisions.”

“You are,” Lily replies. “If you were making those decisions with your brain and not some other body part.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Lily, Remus,” Marlene says hesitantly. “I think you can’t see that Sirius Black is no good for you.”

“Yeah,” even Mary chimes in. “While I know it’s easy to get distracted by that hair, and those eyes, and that smile, and those shoulders, and that arse- wait, what was I saying again?”

Marlene whacks Mary over her head.

“Look, I’m not just dating him because he’s a walking definition of physical perfection,” Remus says. “He’s so clever, and he’s always doing nice things for me, he actually listens to what I say, and he always makes me laugh…”

“Oh god.” Lily is staring at him with a horrified expression on her face. “You’re falling in love with him!”

Remus can feel his cheeks reddening, but he refuses to look away and stares back defiantly. “If I was, I’d be none of your business.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Remus!”

“I appreciate your concern,” Remus says cooly. “But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Fine,” Lily scoffs. “If he does break your heart and you need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me. And whatever you do, do not mention him in front of-”

“Hi, Lilyflower!”

“James!” Lily shrieks, whirling around in her chair and her voice sounding three octaves higher than usual. “Hello. Hi. How do you do? Fancy seeing you here.”

James gives her a funny look. “You mean where we agreed I’d meet you to give you back your car keys? Thanks again for letting me borrow your car, by the way.”

“Oh, right. Silly me,” Lily says with a very unnatural chuckle, as James places the keys in her hand.

James glances around the table suspiciously. “What were you talking about?”

“School,” Lily says, at the same time Marlene says “the weather”, and Mary says “cows”.

James looks at Remus, but he looks just as confused as James is.

“Alright then…” James says. “Well, sorry for interrupting your school-wheather-cow discussion.” He bends to give Lily a kiss on her cheek. “See you tonight, babe.”

“Yes, toodles!” Lily says, and James gives her an amused look before walking away.

Lily slumps in her chair.

“I think that went pretty well,” Mary says.

Marlene whacks her over the head. “Cows?”

“I panicked!”

Remus arches an eyebrow and leans forward in his chair towards Lily. “Care to tell me why I can’t mention Sirius to James?”

Lily sighs. “Back when Sirius Black was still in our class, he and James were best friends.”

“More than best friends,” Marlene adds. “Like brothers. Platonic soulmates.”

“You never saw one without the other,” Mary chimes in. “They were on the football team together, sat next to each other in class, were always pranking the teachers together.”

Marlene snickers. “The teachers always said ‘PotterandBlack’ in one breath.”

“Well, yeah,” Lily says. “But then Black started skipping grades, and I don’t know, he must’ve thought he was too good for James suddenly. He just stopped hanging out with him, quitted the football team and didn’t speak to James anymore.”

“That’s rough,” Remus frowns. “Without giving any explanation?”

Mary nods sadly. “It was a though time for James.”

“It really threw him off,” Lily agrees. “It was hard to see.”

“I thought you said you hated James back then?” Remus asks.

“Nah, she didn’t,” Mary replies.

Marlene smirks. “Unless it was in a ‘I hate James Potter and his stupid face, with his stupidly sexy hair and that stupidly cute grin, and those horribly pretty eyes and outrageously broad shoulders’.”

“Anyway,” Lily says pointedly, her cheeks flushed. “The point is that you deserve better, Remus. Someone who treats people as if they’re disposable is obviously no boyfriend-material.”

Remus thinks about it for a moment. “Alright,” he eventually says. “I’ll admit that I see where you’re coming from, but still. I have to make my own judgment from my own experience with Sirius.”

“I respect that,” Lily replies, only a tad reluctantly. “All I ask is for you to be on your guard.”

Remus walks home with Marlene, who’s going in the same direction.

“How are you going to handle it, though?” Marlene asks. “I mean, it must be stuck in your head, the question what Sirius Black’s deal was with that whole thing with James?”

“It is,” Remus replies. “But I’ve come up with an ingenious plan to find out.”

“Which is?” Marlene asks.

“Out-of-the-box as it may be,” Remus says. “I’ll go up to Sirius and ask him ‘what was your deal with that whole thing with James?’.”

Marlene grins. “I can see Sirius Black didn’t just like you for your pretty face!”

“Oh Marls,” Remus throws an arm around her shoulders. “You forget that he met me while I was doing statistics.”

Marlene throws her head back and laughs. “I take it back! It was definitely your pretty face!”

Remus decides to go and see Sirius that very evening. They didn’t make any plans, but Remus figures he can always check if he’s home. He walks up to the Black manor and knocks. After a few moments, an anxious looking Regulus opens the door, only slightly.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus hisses, the moment he recognizes Remus.

Remus is about to answer, when a woman’s shrill voice sounds from the living room.

“You ungrateful brat! After everything we’ve done for you, you’ll choose to shame us?”

Remus blinks, and Regulus looks over his shoulder and then back to Remus.

“This is not a good time,” he tells Remus. “You should leave, quickly!”

A man’s heavy voice now comes through. “You’re embarrassing yourself. And worse, you’re embarrassing your family. I’m starting to doubt whether you’re even worthy of being our son.”

Suddenly, Sirius bursts out the living room, pushes the front door further open, and stalks out into the street. He’s walking fast, jaw tight, and eyes fixed on the floor. He doesn’t even register that he walked right past Remus.

Regulus makes a move as if to follow him, but then the woman’s voice sounds again. “Regulus! Regulus Black, where are you? You get over here immediately. I will not have you talk to your brother!”

Regulus looks terribly conflicted between hurrying after Sirius and making sure his parents don’t freak out more.

“I can go after him,” Remus offers in a quiet whisper. “Then you can deal with your parents.”

Regulus nods gratefully, before disappearing back into the house.

Remus finds Sirius sitting on some steps not far from the house, his head in his hands. He looks up at Remus’ approaching footsteps and startles.

“What… what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. I was at the door.”

Sirius shakes his head. “I didn’t even see…”

Remus smiles. “I noticed.”

“Did you hear…?”

“Only some bits.” Remus sits down one step above Sirius and threads his fingers through his hair. “Wanna talk about it?”

Sirius shrugs. “I told my parents I was thinking about becoming a veterinarian instead of a doctor. I thought they’d might be okay with it, as it’s still a medical profession, not too much of a deviation from their plan, but apparently veterinarian is ‘an inferior profession much below their status’ and I am ‘selfish, stubborn and ungrateful to even consider it’.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus says softly.

Sirius sighs. “Yeah. I’m just sick of it, you know? Sick of trying to live up to their expectations instead of my own.”

“Is that also why you stopped being friends with James?” Remus asks hesitantly.

“I ruined my friendship with James for the same reason I’ve ruined each good thing I’ve had in my life,” Sirius replies bitterly. “My bloody parents.”

Remus stays silent, and after a moment, Sirius continues.

“They said I couldn’t become a doctor if I kept wasting my time on playing football and acting childish with immature people. Being a dumb fifteen-year-old, I believed them, and considering the option of not becoming a doctor never even occurred to me. It was the plan they had set out for me since the day I was born, it was a given.” Sirius turns his head to look at Remus. “Did James tell you?”

Remus shakes his head. “I heard from others.”

“Right,” Sirius looks away again, but Remus can still see the pained expression in his eyes. “I knew that. Regulus already told me James never even mentions me anymore.”

“Well, you’ve never given him a reason,” Remus says. “James is a good person-”

“He’s the best,” Sirius immediately says.

“Right. If you had just explained the situation to him?”

“I know,” Sirius sighs. “But James was like… the height of cool, and I had somehow managed to convince everyone I was the same. I just couldn’t bear the embarrassment of telling him it was because my mommy said no, so I took the cowardice approach. I just stopped talking to him. I regretted it soon after, but by then I was convinced he already hated me, and it seemed futile to make him hate me again for a different reason.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair. “Now I regret ending the friendship in the first place. Hanging out, playing football, pulling pranks… Life was fun back then, you know?” Sirius looks down at the stone pavement. “Life hasn’t been fun in a while.”

“It’s supposed to be!” Remus says. “Especially at our age. Life’s supposed to be fun.”

“I mean, life was fun these past weeks with you, but those years in between…” Sirius shrugs.

Remus moves down a step and takes Sirius’ hand in his. “Look at me, Sirius. You deserve to play football and pull pranks, to become a veterinarian and live life according to your own expectations, and you deserve to have fun!”

Sirius just stares at him, his eyes seeming glassy.

Remus, suddenly feeling awkward, drops Sirius’ hand. “So, I don’t expect I’ll be meeting the parents any time soon?” Remus meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, especially since he and Sirius aren’t even officially together, but Sirius looks at him intently.

“If you want me to tell them about you, I will.”

“What?” Remus asks, bewildered. “They’ll kill you!”

Sirius shrugs. “Most likely.” And Remus hates the casual certainty in which he says it, and he hates even more that he’s not sure if Sirius means it in a manner of speaking.

“But I want you to know I’m not ashamed of you.”

“I appreciate it, really,” Remus says. “But I don’t want you doing anything stupid for my sake!”

“But Remus,” Sirius says. “Isn’t that the foundation of our relationship? Me doing stupid things for your sake?”

Remus chuckles. “Perhaps, but this is not something that needs doing for my sake! I don’t mind. Well, I mind for as much as that I whish you had decent parents whose heads aren’t so far up their arses, but I don’t mind for my sake.” Remus smirks. “I think it’s kind of hot, actually. Our romance being-” He lowers his voice to a husky whisper. “forbidden.”

Sirius snorts. “You’re insane.” But he’s smiling again, so Remus considers it an absolute win.

“I mean it! We’re like Romeo and Julliet!”

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “You do know their romance lasted five days and six people died?”

Remus shrugs. “We can break that record.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows even further.

“Oh, god, for the number of days! Not the number of deaths! I don’t want anyone to die for our romance! Although, if some tragedy were to befall your parents…”

“Remus!”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”

Sirius shakes his head, but Remus likes to think it is the fond sort of headshake. His suspicion is confirmed when Sirius cups his face between his hands and strokes Remus’ cheeks with his thumbs.

“You’re insane, Remus Lupin,” he says softly. “And I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Part one

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #mary mcdonald

[ink-fireplace-coffee]

Short Story: Kiss me, for I am dying.

A/N: this story was crafted yesterday at midnight so I can't assure the quality of it at all. It is inspired in a theatre/legend we have here in Spain called Los Amantes de Teruel, or The Teruel Lovers in english. It's like the Spanish less known version of Romeo and Juliet.

Word count: 1901.

TW: mentions of death.

I don't have a general taglist or anything on the sort, but @nathandoesntknow asked me to tag them, so here you go! enjoy my midnight weird af inspiration I guess.

------

Five months ago, Jaime would've just left if he saw that on the rooftop of the campus was already someone.

Five months ago, if he had seen that stranger sitting there- feet dangling in the air and looking at the sunset- was Isa, he would’ve turned on his heels and left before she could even so much but noticed him.

Or maybe he would’ve “asked” (more like demanded) her to go somewhere else.

Jaime and Isa hated each other. Pure and simple.

Ever since the first day of university, when Isa had given him a “you are annoying” look after Jaime had accidentally hitted her backpack, launching all her stuff through the hall.

No matter how many times he had tried to convince her that it hadn’t been on purpose, she had said that it was his fault over and over again.

If that wasn’t enough, they had not only been forced to sit next to each other for their whole third year (since it was extremely rude to tame someone else’s seat after the first week of classes) but they also were constantly competing on the top of the class.

If Isa had a 95% on the midterm, Jaime had a 98%.

If Jaime had scored a 9,9 out of ten in that essay, Isa had gotten the full mark.

Everyone saw it as a nice academic competition, the kind that made you better every day and it was healthy. Sometimes it could also be mistaken for a nice banter, or even a bit of university drama.

Isa and Jaime saw it as a live or die battle where only one of them could succeed.

Spanish had been the only subject Jaime had ever been really good at, for as long as he could remember. His zeroes in maths had always mattered less next to his tens in Spanish.

When he had told his father that his dream was to become a spanish teacher, the old man had simply nodded and said “I was not expecting less”. And so, one entrance exam to Salamanca’s university later, Jaime knew he was starting to walk the path of his future.

But while his passions were words formation, syntax and how the language had developed into today’s form; Isa had decided to study the career for a whole different reason.

It was clear that she felt completely herself when discussing novels and authors. Her essays on every single topic were excellent quality (even Jaime had to admit it) and they always provided a new, fresh way of thinking.

And maybe that's why some months ago, whatever they had agreed on had taken place.

Now, when the morning classes had already finished, Isa was already on the rooftop, a book in hand and a notebook resting on her legs.

“You are late. Again.” She remarked when she saw Jaime’s blond hair.

“Some of us have life, Isabel.” he answered in the same cold tone and took a seat in front of her.

“Being the teacher’s pet is not having a life.” They both held each other's gazes for a while, until instead of intimidating, they were staring.

The wind whooshed, making the students snap back.

Jaime cleared his throat and Isa focused on her book .“What are we revising today?” asked him.

She tapped the pages of her notebook with a pen. “Los Amantes de Teruel. Spanish version of Romeo and Juliet, I believe. Since you haven't finished it, even though it was due yesterday.” Isa added, a sassy remark included in her voice.

Jaime rolled his eyes.

Lovers of Teruel.

It is true that he had been stuck for three months in a 170 pages novel. But there were far more interesting things to do than read how two fools felt in love only to die at the end.

“I would've finished it if I hand’t been busy correcting someone’s homework.'' He remarked, as he searched for his own copy of the book inside his backpack.

Isa just scoffed, and gave him another “you are annoying” look. Jaime had to make an effort not to smile.

“You know? I wonder if those death stares are unically for me, like a personalized stare.”

“Oh, right, because you are so important in my life that I decided to give you an specific look whenever you say or do something stupid.”

“I mean… You asked me for help that day, so I guess I must be somewhat important, dear Isa.”

“I asked you for help?” she repeated, astonished “You were roaming this rooftop for weeks until I got fed up with how creepy it looked and told you to help me with that assignment, which, for the record, was perfect.”

That was true. Her assignment had been flawless, but Jaime would rather die than to admit that out loud.

“Are you planning on finishing this book with me or do you want to keep talking?” He grinned then “I’m sure there are a ton of other things you could use your mouth for, but I’d like to be prepared for my exam next week.”

Her slight blush felt like a personal win. Until she stroke back, of course.

“One: that is extremely gross, and I don’t want to know about the weird fantasies you have with my mouth. And two: it’s your turn ‘Diego’, so read.”

Since there was no point in reading plays in silence and to themselves, at the beginning of the book (three months ago), Jaime and Isa had divided the roles, taking the two main characters with them: he as Diego and her as Isabel.

“You were practically born for this role” had joked Jaime and Isa wondered how far from the ground they were… and how hard she would have to shove him.

They read some scenes out loud, stopping to make some points on the narrative, paraphrase or make a summary of what they got so far. If it was true that individually they worked really well, as a team it was almost magical.

“Kiss me, for I am dying” said Jaime/Diego for the second time. Isabel had just rejected his lover, since she had already married and didn’t wish to deceive her now husband.

“And then Diego dies because he can’t bear the pain that causes him not being able to love Isabel.” the girl closed her book, and got up, stretching “It’s late, we should go before the campus closes.”

Jaime nodded and tagged alone, but stayed quiet the whole time until they were about to leave the university.

Then, just before partying ways, the question escaped his lips “Would you kiss me if my life depended on it.?”

Both of them looked equally surprised. When he didn’t add anything else, Isa understood he was waiting for an answer.

Well, what do you answer when someone asks that without a warning?

If there’s one thing Isa had clear was that Jaime and her weren’t friends. They weren’t even study buddies! They were just two students of the same class who happened to help each other out every now and then…

And for what?

“Let’s be glad that it doesn't.” she finally said, and turned away, wanting to run as quickly as her legs could carry her.

Would you kiss me if my life depended on it?. Two college students were replaying the same question over and over in their heads. Tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Isa didn’t have the guts to go back to the rooftop in the next few weeks. Since Jaime had handed in his essay on the novel, she had assumed he had finished it on his own.

That was good, right?

Now, both of them averted their eyes, and tried really hard not to cross paths.

What had been Jaime thinking when he asked that?! Oh right, he had been not thinking at all!

Still, not knowing the answer to the damn question was getting on his nerves. Not that he desperately wanted Isa to kiss him, that could never happen but…

Hypothetically he wanted to know.

Two weeks before finals, they both bumped into each other at the rooftop. Seeing Jaime’s figure -his back to her and his face to the orange sun-, made Isa stop on her tracks.

The door slammed closed and the guy turned around.

Awkwardness was all over the place.

“The library is super crowded and-” started to explain her. He nodded.

“I know, that’s why I’m here.”

A few minutes of silence and then:

“You finished the play.” commented Isa.

“Yeah, I did” Jaime rubbed his neck, nervous “Thanks for sharing your notes, by the way. They were really helpful.”

“Oh, um, no problem.”

“And, about that question…”

“It 's okay! You don’t have to explain anything.”

“No, really, I don’t know how it happened.”

“It’s fine, there’s no need to apologize, really.”

More silence in between them.

“I can go if you want me to.” offered then Jaime. She lifted up her gaze at him.

“The rooftop is big enough for the two of us, and I know you don't like studying at the library.”

Isa had been thinking about how much she noticed about Jaime without actually wanting to: his likes and dislikes, how he frowned slightly when there was a concept he was not following, his happy smiles whenever there was something he was pleased about…

He was grinning like that now.

“Earth calling Isa, are you there?” She blinked a few times.

“Yeah, totally. Here. Present.”

Jaime decided it was now or never.

He lifted up his hand, the one holding the book and showed it to her. "We never finished reading."

"You handed in your essay already. Why would we finish reading it?"

Clearly none of this was working. The guy slided his backpack on his shoulder. "I should go, Alejandro needs me for this book analysis-" he rambled.

"Go" Isa nodded and then smiled. "Teacher 's pet."

He just laughed awkwardly and headed out.

Isa had hated every single second of that conversation. Even if it's true they never had a friendly relationship, they had somewhat grown closer along the few months they had tutored each other.

What did Jaime really mean to her? He was insufferable sometimes, that's true. Arrogant in class and a stupid know-it-all…

But he was also brilliant. And he was kinder than he wanted to show: he had given her his jacket to go home when it was raining once; and even shared his notes with her when she had been sick.

The girl ran downstairs.

Jaime was about to go inside the teacher's office when she finally got to him. In a final effort after her sprint, she tried grabbing his arm.

The guy turned around, really surprised.

"Isa, what-"

"Ask me again." she demanded.

"What?"

"Ask. Me. Again" Isa pleaded out of breath. Her courage would flee anytime soon and then-

"Bésame, que me muero." he whispered.

Kiss me, for I'm dying.

Their lips touched.

"Do you like this ending better?" she asked after the kiss, a sly smile already forming.

He tipped his head back and laughed "Much better."

In Spain whenever someone mentions Lovers of Teruel, we have a saying that sort of finishes the sentence: stupid her and stupid him. Since they both die foolishly.

Luckily, we can assure that the sentence does not apply to Jaime nor Isa.

#short story: kiss me for i am dying #my writing #short story

[arhvste]

KOZUME KENMA - WORK OF ART

request - could it be possible to get a kenma fic/scenario where his gf or girl crush is an artist and often draws him- probably hides it n testu or someone finds it and shows him so now they go on lip dates where kenma just plays his games and she draws him just like extra fluffy if you can I love kenma so much 🥺🥺🥺 if it’s too much then just something fluffy with ken ! thank you!

warnings - none

an - thank you for the request anon i just know kuroo the little shit would show his best friend all the drawings he finds 😈

-

classes were boring enough as it is but learning about the history or hiragana? what was the need? 

sitting by the window seat, you had the obvious choice to stare outside the glass as class dragged along but you hardly found yourself looking outside at the window. instead, you would look and admire a classmate of yours.

kozume kenma.

he was one of the prettiest boys you’d ever seen. even his actions were so delicate and gentle to which would encourage the light butteries in your stomach to flutter a little more while you watched him. it wasn’t long before you found yourself sketching the bleached haired boy.

you were an avid artist with a beautiful talent. drawing kenma seemed a little out of your comfort zone at first. when you noticed you’d been sketching him for a few weeks you tried to consciously stop yourself, you didn’t want to feel like a creep who would just stare and draw someone. these sketches captured the boy’s calmness perfectly though and you found you couldn’t help yourself but continue, even deciding to add more detail into particular pieces you liked.

you told yourself that you were just using him as inspiration. you weren't infatuated with the boy, just inspired. no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself of this though, you found yourself enjoying drawing him more than anyone or anything else bringing you to the conclusion that yes, maybe you were perhaps a little smitten with him. not that you’d ever let him find out though.

-

your sketch book was littered with an assortment of drawings. some finished down to the smallest detailed and others half done, lazily sketched and yet to be completed. kenma took up most of the occupation of the pages though. surrounded by statues, flowers and other pretty things you often drew kenma as the centre piece for all your pages.

the drawings you skillfully created depended on your mood and kenma’s mood on the day. some days, kenma would be struggling to keep his concentration on the lesson going on in front of him, other days he’d be almost interested and looked as if he was putting more effort into his work. your most favourite days, were ones where kenma was lazily interested in the lesson. he would often propt is chin under his hand, eyes prettily fluttering occasionally while trying to stay awake (probably sleep deprived from excessive hours of gaming) and he would sometimes even use a thin black bobby pin to pin his long hair out of his face to stop his field of vision from closing in tempting him to fall into a slumber in the midst of class. those days were your favourite. he looked extra pretty.

today just happened to be one of those days as you gazed at kenma who at this moment had his hair messily pinned out of his face, eyes drooping every so often with the setters head dropping ever so slightly every time he felt the weight of sleep too heavy to handle. one hand placed under his chin, keeping his head from completely falling onto the desk and the other weakly holding his pen as he attempted to keep up with the classes notes.

you wanted to draw him in this moment really, but you did happen to feel bad for the blonde. he was obviously struggling to keep his head clear enough to focus so you decided now was a good opportunity to step out of your comfort zone a little.

“kozume-san? you whispered ever so gently.

kenma’s eyes widened slightly at the sound of his voice being called. he tilted his head in you direction and blinked his twinkly golden eyes at you

“hm?”

“d-do you want me to uh keep up with your notes for you?”

kenma’s eyes softened at the sound of your gentle voice.

“why would you want to do that l/n?”

“i can see you’re struggling to stay focused. we sit near the back and the teacher isn't interested in looking in our direction. you can catch up on a bit of sleep - o-only if you want though you don't have to!”

you knew you were blushing now. maybe you should’ve just minded your own business but in a split second you knew it was all worth it.

kenma gave you a small but genuine smile. fuck. it was so pretty. he was so pretty. his smile wasn’t blinding no, more of a gentle angelic glowing light that warms ones heart. the rare sort of golden light that can only be captured in a small time window each day and only through clear skies. you had made kozume kenma smile and you knew you were right to have stepped out your comfort zone.

“you’re observant. its much appreciated l/n, thank you. let me know how i can repay you after.”

his soft voice heavy with sleep sent the butteries in your stomach to go off in a frenzy. his delicate hands handed you his class book and he blushed so lightly it wasn't even noticeable at the subtle contact of your fingers brushing past each other.

he gave you a gentle nod as he laid his head down gently on his desk and gave into the strong craving to fall into a sleep.

drawing and writing were two things that came naturally to you. you were able at completing both tasks at a quick speed but you did it so flawlessly. you took a shy pride in your notes and classwork as you did with your drawings. both aesthetically pleasing to look at, but full of appropriate and useful content.

writing kenma’s notes alongside yours wouldn’t be a problem to you.

however, this would cause one in the unbeknownst future to you.

-

class ended about 50 minutes after you had encouraged kenma to have a small sleep. classmates were closing their notebooks and packing up their things. you gently tapped the sleeping setters shoulder with notes in your hand.

after a few taps the boy slowly lifted his head and gently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. your heart melted at the sight of his eyes flickering while adjusting to the light. the slightly darkened sun depicting his eyes as gold speckled pools of honey, his nose scrunched up as he allowed his body to wake up. was there ever a time this boy was ugly? he seemed to be attractive doing everything, it wasn’t fair.

taking the book from your hands he nodded and gave you a shy smile.

“thank you, l/n. please tell me how i can repay you”

“oh! please don't worry about it! you looked like you needed a recharge i’m just happy you were able to do just that.”

“you’re a kind person l/n. but don’t hesitate to let me know if you ever need a favour.”

and with that, the setter packed up the few papers he had been resting on and then slightly bowing at you before heading out the door most likely to get ready for practice.

you smiled to yourself and headed out your classroom to leave for home knowing you had done a good deed for the day and you had happened to have your first direct interaction with the boy you’d been delicately sketching for the past couple of months.

-

“kenma! you’re 2 minutes and 38 seconds later than usual! we can't afford to have the brain of the team slacking.” kuroo teased his best friend with an irritating smile.

“was talking to a classmate. she helped keep me up with the class notes.” kenma spoke boredly as he set his bag down so he could change into his gym clothes.

“notes eh? offended you wouldn't just ask me for help. this feels like betrayal.” 

kenma rolled his eyes at his friend’s childish behaviour and dug through his bag to look for his clothes.

“the offer was there so i just took it. besides, l/n’s handwriting is much more eligible than yours.”

“ouch. are they as detailed though?”

“probably even more.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“look for yourself.” kenma shrugged nodding towards his schoolbag.

kuroo wandered over to kenma’s bag and pulled the classwork book out.

“uh yeah i guess these are pretty ne- oHOHO what do we have here?”

kuroos eyes danced over the pages, a shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“i hate when you pull that face what’s wrong with you?” kenma’s disgusted face looked up at kuroo who looked like he was having an internal field day.

“l/n eh? i think someones got a little crush on you kenma.”

“what?”

kuroo turned the book around to show the pages to kenma who’s eye widened.

there was the pages you had littered with beautifully depicted drawings of kenma. 

both boys were silent as kenma’s eyes scanned over the pages.

“no reaction? personally i’d be flattered if someone drew me that much and with such good detail too.”

kenma was still processing all the drawings as a million possible reasons for why you’d drawn him so much ran though his head.

did you think he was attractive?

was it a crush like kuroo had teased?

did you just need a reference and he just so happened to be there?

were the drawings actually him or were they just someone scarily similar?

“sooooo... you gonna talk to her then?”

kuroo smiled teasingly at the now blushing setter.

“i’ll just give this back to her. it’s obviously personal and she might even explain herself when she sees that i have her book.”

kuroo shrugged and put the book back in kenma’s bag. 

“i think it’s cute kenma, take my advice, you should take the opportunity to get to know her a little, she's obviously interested in you.”

kenma snorted at his friends words slightly as he begun to follow him out the changing rooms and into the gym to join the rest of the team.

“ironic the relationship virgin is giving me advice.”

kuroo could only roll his eyes and laugh.

“to think you’d be the one to get a girl first, in my defence i’m too busy for relationships.”

“okay mr docosahexaenoic acid, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

-

you had just arrived home and you felt the weight of the day lift itself off of you as you threw your shoes off and dropped your bag to the floor in your bedroom.

you bag tipped over with some of the contents spilling out causing you to huff but get up and pick it up anyway.

then you saw it.

your heart dropped.

“fuck.”

‘kozume kenma’ was written on the front of one of your classwork books. how had you been so stupid in getting them mixed up.

you began to panic and think of solutions to this fresh dilemma.

“maybe i should just tell him that i just like him nows a chance? no that's stupid why would i do that? i’ll just tell him it’s a model that just looks similar to him. no, that’s not believable is it? fuck it. i’m moving country.”

you screamed into your pillow but then stopped when you remembered something. 

kenma was in practice right now. there’s no way he could’ve opened the book and bothered checking the work right? why would he bother doing that?

you checked the time on your phone. 3:28pm. you still had a while until practice was over. that would be more than enough time to go into the changing rooms and swap the books before anyone notices. and even if he had opened the book already, when he saw his book was back in his bag, you could easily play it off as if he had dreamt the drawings up as he would’ve just woken up and still been drowsy.

you wasted no time grabbing your shoes and the book to sprint out the door. school wasn’t too far from your house, a 17 minute walk to be exact. your legs started to ache at the sudden intense action of you sprinting like your life depended on it. well, your life did depend on it. if kenma saw them and thought you were weird, what were you to do then? dropping out of school seemed like the most reasonable option.

finally reaching the gates you caught your breath. getting to school was a 17 minute walk but a 9 minute run. once you gathered your thoughts you quietly approached the gym to peek inside. there the team were training and focused on the court. going in through the front of the school and walking through the halls to get to the changing rooms through the back way, you gripped the book tightly as you got to the boys changing rooms.

a quiet prayer was muttered before entering. the changing room was surprisingly clean and didn't smell like over sprayed deodorant and excessive sweat like you’d imagined. you let out a sigh of relief as you scanned the room for kenma’s stuff before noticing it at the end of the room.

“just in and out.” you muttered under your breath as you walked swiftly over to the setter’s belongings

digging through kenma’s stuff proved to be quite stressful. you were so focused on not getting caught, you failed to noticed the door separating the gym and changing rooms open.

“uh l/n?”

you jumped and turned your head to the owner of the voice.

there stood a slight sweaty and tired looking kenma who had offered to return to the changing rooms to grab one of yaku’s extra kneepads.

“uhhh i can explain.. our books got um mixed up and i uh well -”

“you’re talented you know.” kenma gave you a small almost ghost smile.

your face instantly heated up at the small praise the boy had given you.

“w-what?”

“the drawings. i must say, i was surprised when i saw them but, you have talent y/n and... i don’t mind if you keep drawing me...”

kenma’s shy persona caused the last part to come out so quietly you almost didn't hear him.

“i’ll keep that in mind.” you smiled as you approached kenma to give him his book back.

he muttered a quiet thanks and went through his own bag to fish you out your book to give back to you. the tension was awkward but not heavy enough to drive either of you away instantly. both of you holding back in anticipation waiting for one of you to talk.

“so um, do you wanna maybe go out sometime? you don’t have to.”

your eyes softened again as you shyly nodded.

“i would like that kozume-san.”

“kenma. call me kenma.”

-

months had passed since then. you found you had things in common with the setter and found his neutral presence calming. he wasn’t too loud or in your face but he also wasn’t completely extroverted to the point where you’d sit in awkward silence like people often assumed he was like. 

you had met his team and family and they all welcomed you with open arms eager to get to know the girl who had drawn kenma not only on paper but drawn him out of his comfort zone gently. 

the two of you weren’t big on going out on dates. you would both often opt to stay in and enjoy each other’s company. kenma would game and you would draw, the two of you engaging in soft and relaxing conversation. kenma would never admit it out loud, but he loved the days where you would draw him. he would act like he was too immersed in his game to notice you sketching away but he felt a sense of pride in him whenever he noticed you using him as your model.

you had grown more confident in yourself and often allowed kenma to see your drawings. you decided since you were using him as your reference, the least you could do was show him how you portrayed him and every time he would compliment and praise you for your work.

“you know i’m glad i felt extra tired that one day you offered to do my notes.”

you hummed and looked up at your boyfriend.

“yeah? i’m just gad you weren’t weirded out by my book.”

kenma offered a gentle smile at you.

“weirded out? i was taken aback but not weirded out. i was ever so slightly flattered even. thank you for seeing some sort of beauty in me.”

brushing his hair out of his face you smiled softly as you leaned closer to his face to whisper your final words before pressing a delicate kiss to his lips.

“no, thank you for being a work of art.”

#kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma x you #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

[snickertoodles]

Megalist of Tropes and Themes to Tag Your Story With

If you’re prone to staring at your tags on AO3 wondering “what the hell do I put here?”, knowing you want to add a tag like “friends to lovers” or “found family” but not remembering all the popular tropes and themes everyone is into, this is for you. I basically spent an entire night on this so I hope it helps.

Notes:

I tried to keep it general and avoid really obscure tags no one would ever use.

This is made for AO3 and thus there’s a lot of fandom or fannish stuff in here. 

I didn’t include any “inappropriate” tags. Feel free to make your own list.

Romance tropes and themes at the bottom. (Not all of them have to be romantic, but if they’re generally associated with romance and there are very few gen fics with that tag, it went there.)

Under cut because I’m probably going to edit this often and I’d like reblogs to be up to date. Please suggest any ideas you have.

Genre: Action, Adventure, Apocalypse/Post-Apocalypse, Contemporary, Comedy/Humor/Parody/Satire, Coming of Age, Crime, Cyberpunk/Steampunk, Drama, Dystopian/Utopia, Fairy Tale, Fantasy/High Fantasy/Low Fantasy/Urban Fantasy/Isekai, Family, Friendship, Gothic, Historical Fiction/Alternate History/Period Piece, Horror/Slasher, Mystery/Murder Mystery, Paranormal, Philosophical, Poetry, Romance, Slice of Life, Supernatural, Surreal, Suspense, Sci-Fi/Science Fiction/Space Opera, Spiritual, Thriller/Psychological Thriller, Tragedy, Urban, Western

Genre (Fandom): Angst/Light Angst, Case Fic, Crack Fic, Crossover/Fusion, Dark Fic, Fix Fic/Fix-It/Deconstruction, Fluff/Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Podfic, Missing Scene/Gap Filler, Self-Insert, Shipping, Sickfic, Songfic, Whump

Length: Drabble, Ficlet, Flash Fiction, Short Story, Novella, Novel, Epic, One-Shot/Two-Shot/etc, Series/Duology/Trilogy/Saga/etc, Long, Short

Pairing: M/F - F/M - M/M - F/F - F/F/M - You get the idea. Also [Character] x [Character], Slash, Yaoi/Yuri (if people still use those...)

POV: POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV First Person, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, POV Outsider

Ending: Happy Ending, Sad Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Ambiguous Ending

Diverse Characters: Gay Character/Nonbinary Character/Asian Character/Disabled Character/Autistic Character/Jewish Character/etc.

AU/Alternate Universe: (I do not have the time to list out Coffee Shop AU/High School AU/Canon Divergence/What-If/etc, I assume if you’re writing one then you already know to tag it lol)

Abuse

Adoption

Afterlife

Aftermath

Aged Up

Alcohol

Aliens

Amnesia

Androids

Angels

Animal Transformation

Anti-Hero

Awkwardness

Babysitting

Backstory/Origin Story

Band of Misfits

Best Friends

Betrayal

Blood

Bodyswap

Bodyguard

Bonding

Bounty Hunters

Bromance

Bullying

Canon Compliant

Character Development

Character Study

Childhood Friends

Children

Chosen One

College/University/Higher Education

Corruption

Criminals

Crying

Curses

Cute

Death

Delinquents

Demons

Depression

Destiny/Fate

Disability

Domestic/Curtainfic

Dragons

Dreams/Dreamscape

Drugs

Education

Ensemble Cast

Epilogue

Fanon/Headcanon

Father Figure/Mother Figure

Feelings

Feels

Fights

Flashbacks

Forgiveness

Found Family

Freedom Fighters

Frenemies

Future

Genderswap/Gender Change

Ghosts

Gods

Good Versus Evil

Gore

Grief/Mourning

Growing Up

Healing

Heartwarming

Heroes to Villains/Villains to Heroes

Holidays

Homesickness

Hospital

Hurt

I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping (A very legitimate tag.)

Imprisonment

Injury

Introspection

Illness/Sick Character

Immortality

Isolation

Jealousy

Kidnapping

LGBTQ/LGBTQ Character/LGBTQ Themes

Light-Hearted

Locked In

Loss

Love

Mafia

Magic

Magical Girl(s)

Major Character Death/Minor Character Death

Manipulation

Medieval

Medical

Melancholy

Mental Health Issues

Mentors

Merpeople

Mind Control

Military

Misunderstandings

Modern

Monsters

Morally Grey/Ambiguous Characters

Murder

Mythical Beings & Creatures

Mythology

Neighbors

Next Gen/Next Generation

Nightmares

Original Character/OC/OCs

Orphans/Orphanage

Out of Character/OOC

Parenthood

Past Lives

Peggy Sue

Pen Pals

Pirates

Platonic Relationships/No Romance

Platonic Soulmates

Plot Twists

Politics

Possession

Post-Canon/Pre-Canon/Mid-Canon/Bad Ending/etc.

Prompt Fill/Prompt Fic

Protectiveness

Rags to Riches

Rebels

Recovery

Redemption/Redemption Arc

Regret

Reincarnation/Resurrection/Rebirth

Rejection

Relationships

Religion

Rescue/Rescue Missions

Restaurants

Reunion

Revenge

Revolution

Rivalry

Road Trip

Robots

Roommates

Royalty

Sad

School

Secrets

Secret Identity

Self-Discovery

Self-Harm

Shapeshifting

Siblings

Single Parents

Slow Build

Soft

Spies

Spoilers

Substance Abuse

Suicide

Superheroes

Sweet

Sympathetic Villain

Teamwork

Team as Family

Team Bonding

Team Dynamics

Teenagers

Tension

Time Loop

Time Travel

Training

Trapped

Trauma

Travel

Undercover

Unreliable Narrator

Vampires

Villains

Violence

War

Weapons

Wedding

Wilderness

Witchcraft

Worldbuilding

xxx to Friends (Rivals to Friends/Enemies to Friends/etc.)

Zombies

ROMANCE TROPES

Battle Couple

Blind Date

Breakup

Confessions

Dating

Divorce

Dorks in Love

Drunken Confessions

Established Relationship

Eventual Romance

Falling in Love

Fake Relationship/Fake Dating/Pretend Relationship/Pretend Couple

First Kiss

First Love

Forbidden Love

Heartbreak

Idiots in Love

Long-Distance Relationship

Long-Term Relationship

Love/Hate

Love at First Sight

Love Confessions

Love Potion/Love Spell

Love Triangle

Marriage/Accidental Marriage/Arranged Marriage/Marriage of Convenience

Marriage Proposal

Mutual Pining/Pining

OTP

Pregnancy

Rarepair

Secret Relationship

Sharing a Bed

Slow Burn/Slow Romance

Soulmate/Soulmate AU

Tsundere/all of the other -deres

Unrequited Love/One-Sided Attraction

xxx to Lovers (Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers/etc.)

#tagging #archive of our own #ao3 #tumblr #tropes #trope list #tag list #tag ideas #writing #writing resources #toodles talks

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 16: Sit Rep

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, various other original supporting/secondary characters (This includes Sy’s Army Buddies of varying rank as follows: Kevin Kaufmann, Nate Banning, Chad Randall, Matt Styles, Jake Ryburn, and Travis Hodges. I apologize if I’ve mixed up their names anywhere. I just gave them last names and sometimes rank so they could be called something other than their first names for sake of variety! lol!)

Summary: Sy meets up with his Army buddies and they are eager to help.

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Language, firearms, implication of abuse and violence

Author’s Note: Guys, we are getting closer! Our couple will be back together soon! I can’t wait and I know most of you feel the same! I hope the strike team members aren’t too muddled and confusing. If they are, I’m very open to your feedback and suggestions on how to clarify and improve! Thank you to everyone, long time readers, and new fans picked up along the way! I cherish you all, and would never have gotten this far in the story if it wasn’t for each and every one of you! I hope you enjoy the 16th chapter (18th installment…remember when I thought this would just be a few chapters of fluff with a smutty conclusion? Lol!) of The treatment of Captain Syverson.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby  @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24  @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g  @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway  @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Sy sat in his truck in the parking lot of Cade's. He couldn't help but think about the last time he was here. The altercations with Elliott, both inside the bar and outside, the friendships he'd started to build with the other fellas in Shane's work group, the simple way Shane pulled off the elegance of minimalism with her wardrobe and makeup, the ride home…and the night of lovemaking that followed. He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have agreed to come tonight. He was gonna leave. His right hand reached for the keys in the ignition, a firm grip ready to set the engine roaring again, when he was startled by a rap at his window.

Tap-tappa-tap-tap his friend Kevin had just rhythmically knocked with one knuckle on the window. He was smiling and waving exuberantly, like a puppy whose master had just come home.

Sy's scowl softened into a sheepish grin and he knocked back tap-tap.  

Kevin waited near Sy's front fender while he got out of his truck.

"How ya doin' Kevin?" he greeted his old friend warmly.

"Alright, I s'pose! You?"

"Oh…I'm makin' it, I guess. What are you up to these days? Still workin' at the plant?" Kevin had worked for the 3M factory over in Lebanon, Missouri since his last tour. Sy knew if he just got him talking about his life, Sy wouldn't have to give him details about his own, which he was going to avoid like the plague, if he could tonight.

"Yup, I actually just got a promotion. I'm a line manager now." And Sy could barely congratulate him before he started delving into the details as the two men walked into Cade's.

It was already busy, even for a Friday night. But the rest of the guys had already claimed a table between the dart boards and the pool tables, and were working on a couple of pitchers of beer. The two were welcomed warmly and only slightly teased about walking in together.

With the group finally assembled, they began taking turns giving report on their lives. It began with Kevin, who, having already begun with Sy, continued with a brief recap for the others. Sy exhaled with relief when Matt, who was seated on the other side of Kevin piped up to speak next, having recently proposed to his long time girlfriend. They were going to get to him last, if at all. He listened as well as he could as he battled the troubled thoughts in his head by bombarding them with beer. Unbeknownst to him, his friend Nate, who'd organized the gathering, had been observing his behavior with curiosity, and a measure of concern. He didn't let Jake finish talking about his latest dalliance into what they were all sure was a pyramid scheme disguised as direct sales. Even though Jake insisted it was not.

"Well, I'm curious as to why Sy's been so tight-lipped all evening. What's on your mind, Captain?"

"Nothin' Nate. Just enjoying a few beers with old friends." Sy lied, not convincing anyone at the table, least of all Nate, who had been one of his closest friends while they were stationed together.

"If I wanted to hear bullshit, I'd have let Jake keep talking about the Duraplex scam."

"It's not a scam, guys, it's real supplements for busy people!" Jake defended.

"Can it, Hodges. We aren't buying it, and we aren't signing up to sell it, either." Nate focused again on Sy. "Come on, man. You told me on the phone you had a lot going on. What is it? Female troubles?" He snickered, as did the other guys.

Sy looked into his glass, through the foam and into the honey liquid below it with a rueful grin. "In a sense."

He took a huge drink of the beer, five gulps, nearly emptying it, fortifying himself to speak.

"My girlfriend is missing." Everyone froze in position as they processed this.

Half a dozen questions hit his ears at once. Which he could have handled if he hadn't had almost a full pitcher by himself.

He shut them down, and began to tell them the story of how he met Shane and their sort of whirlwind romance. He paused for a moment to pour himself another beer.

"Never heard you talk about a woman like that, Sy." His friend Chad piped up.

"Never felt this way before, man. She's…she's the one."

"You said she was missing, though?" Nate asked, brow furrowed in concern.

Sy continued, talking about their argument, reconciliation, and then his leaving for training, ending his briefing with the phone call he got from Shane's boss.

"That's fucked up, man." Matt said. "What are you gonna do about it?" His worry seemed genuine, as well, as if he was putting himself in Sy's shoes. Sy assumed because he had been in love with Tonya, his now fiancé since they were in high school, even though she didn't come around on him until he came home on leave one holiday weekend.

"I've already gone to the police with my statement and an idea for a prime suspect."

"You think she was kidnapped?" Brad Randall, who was a Sergeant for the Rolla Police Department, inquired.

"I personally have no doubts that she was kidnapped, and I am a hun'ert percent certain it was her shithead ex."

"And you don't think she's just…ghosted you?" Brad prompted. The thought put a painful tightness in Sy's chest, but it passed quickly. He knew she wouldn't do that. And not just to him.

"No way, man. She left her phone. She didn't tell work. She didn't even tell her parents. Shane takes her phone with her from room to room. She's glued to it. She'd never do that to her coworkers, who are practically family, and she'd certainly tell her parents if she was going to leave town for any amount of time. It's just…not her. I know her."

"And who's this ex? What's his deal? Why is he on the short list of suspects?"

"He IS the list, Brad. He was abusive when they were together. And a cheater. And a liar. And he tried to jump me right outside just a few weeks back. Ask Candace. She was behind the bar when he started getting in Shane's face up there. And I'd bet she saw what happened out in the parking lot, too." He gestured to the sporty blonde bartender with a high ponytail and a Cardinal's jersey when he mentioned her, and then pointed toward the windows looking out onto the dozen or more vehicles parked outside.

"Can we do anything?" Kevin asked, clamping a hand on Sy's shoulder.

"Nothin'. But I appreciate the offer, brother." And he returned the contact with a clap to the other man's shoulder.

Nate and Brad exchanged pointed looks, and Nate countered Sy's rejection.

"I wouldn't say THAT, Sy."

"What do you mean?" Sy looked at Nate as if he was pedaling snake oil…or Jake's supplements.

"I think…that we CAN do something. To help you find Shane."

"We all have military experience, and some of us have connections that could be very useful." Added Brad. "I'm on the Force. I can handle getting intel on the guy."

"I'm in to help with transpo." Matt Styles raised his hand to offer up the vehicles in his transportation service, Rydes with Styles. Sy hated when words were misspelled for the sake of gimmicks…but he had to give Matt credit for that one.

"And Travis and I still work at the base. We can arrange gear." Jake added as Travis nodded.

"And whatever else you need, I'm in too." Kevin concluded.

"No way, guys. You can't stick your necks out for me like that. I won't have it."

"Sy…You know I talked to Lopez after that last mission the two of you were on?" Travis met Sy's eye as he spoke. "He said you had your team carry out Kominski's body. And that you took on most of, and then all of his bodyweight, just so Freeman could cover everyone. Said you were hurt, yourself, but helped him, carried him, to your extraction point. Up several flights of stairs."

Sy had no response other than a blank stare. It seemed to say all it needed to, because Travis continued.

"Lopez is alive and the Kominski girls got to say a proper goodbye to David. Plus, that mission WAS a success because you got the target. I know it's still classified, but…I think we all know the significance of what you did by leading that mission. You didn't leave a man, living or dead, behind."

"And we aren't gonna let your girl get left behind, either. We're gonna take that sonofabitch out. Because what do we do?" Nate declared, ending with the call Sy had always used at the end of his mission briefs.

The whole table, including a reluctant Sy, recited “We embrace the darkness and the suffering.”

“And why do we do it?” Nate continued.

“So that our fellow man is free to live in peace." Sy looked around the table at all of these men he had served with, fought with, watched comrades fall with, and fought against tyranny with. He thought most of them could have come up with their own story about his role in their military time, but the mission Travis was talking about outlined what he figured was the most significant sacrifice he had ever made for a teammate.

"Well…I guess we need to come up with a plan, then." Sy smiled and finished off the beer in his glass before laying it out for the others.

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

Sy had given them all missions tailored to their own strengths and connections. Brad would gather all the info he could on Elliott. Matt would reserve vehicles. Jake and Travis would procure tactical gear for the team, and Nate…Nate would provide weapons. Pistols and blades. Ammo. Holsters. Even flash grenades and smoke bombs.

Cade's was too public to talk about their plans, so Sy told everyone to rendezvous at his house the very next afternoon. They sat around the patio table on his back deck while they waited for everyone to arrive. Jake was late.

"Well, I guess 'direct sales' waits for no man, and we can't wait for Ryburn anymore. Styles, report?" Sy commenced the meeting.

"I have three Suburbans that are only a couple years old. They're black, discreet, and all glass is tinted within an inch of it's life. Even the license plate covers. I'll make sure they're fueled and ready." Matt stated.

"Aces. Richardson?" Travis spoke up next.

"Yeah, Jake had to go in for a late shift last night after we met, but I talked to him. He's gonna get vests for everyone, eyewear, comms, the whole works. All rated for Black Ops. He told me a bit ago he was following up on a lead and was hoping it would pan out. Said he had a hunch." Travis shrugged, not certain what his friend was up to, but not that concerned.

"Sounds good. Randall?"

"I made up some dossiers for everyone that includes everything I could find on Thomas. He doesn't have a ton of priors. Mostly drunk and disorderly's that were thrown out, because he got the right representation and the wrong judge. He must have someone backing him, because I have no job on file for him. No employer has run a background on him in ten years. Last known address is from six years ago, when he filed a change of address from an apartment in the Cottage Hills complex to…407 Oak Street."

"That's Shane's address." Sy interjected. "He must not have changed it since she kicked him out."

"It seems so. But it's so weird. I don't see any credit cards, online orders, not even a Netflix account on the guy. He's totally fallen off the grid since Shane. I did get into some social media accounts, but he hasn't posted to anything in the last 18 months."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was posting hot and heavy about this girl, Kara Hutch. 37. Lives over in Waynesville. But his last Facebook status just says, 'What a waste.' and 'feeling betrayed' and that was in February of last year."

"Hmm, do you think--" Sy was interrupted by the unexpectedly loud and abrupt sound of his front door flying open and Aika, with them on the deck, barking like they were about to be murdered. She was ready to kill whatever came through next. The men, all of them battle hardened veterans sporting conceal and carry permits, were out of their seats and in defensive stances in a fraction of a second. Aiming at an unseen enemy. A figure approached in the shadow of Sy's kitchen, arms raised and slowing as it saw several barrels aimed for its head and chest.

"Woah, woah, woah, guys it's me! It's Jake! Stand down!"

"Are you FUCKING INSANE, Corporal!?" Sy asked, reverting to Captain mode. "You just snuck up on and burst in on a group of soldiers. Do you comprehend how close you came to looking more like Swiss Cheese than a man, Ryburn?!" Sy scolded, fire in him rising, but more out of an angry concern for the friend they nearly shot.

"Sorry, sir, err, Sy. I was focused on getting here for my report." Jake said, out of breath.

"Travis already told us about the gear, Ryburn. You didn't need to bust in like that." Nate berated.

"Oh, guys. What I've got is way better than night vision devices. I might have an address for our guy."

"How in seven hells did YOU get an address?" Brad exclaimed, pride wounded as intel was his task.

"I know, dude, that was on you, but…I overheard a conversation when I was doing some work on equipment in the Air Traffic Control tower."

"What could you have possibly overheard in ATC?" Sy was incredulous.

"Do you want me to tell you, or would you like to keep screaming at me?"

Sy called Aika off and let Jake onto the deck, but the German Shepherd was still eyeing the corporal with marked skepticism.

"So I kept hearing this controller talking to the other girl at her station. She kept talking about her boyfriend…whose name was Elliott." Eyebrows went up all around the table. "Yeah, and he fit the description in every way. Physical appearance, textbook narcissism, the works. I went to the personnel office when I got done with the service call and told the attendant that the girl had helped me with my gear and I wanted to send her an email to thank her. She gave me a contact sheet on Sasha King. I looked her up on my lunchbreak, and found some photos of her with a guy I think might be Elliott." Jake showed Sy an image he'd saved to his phone. "Is this him?"

"Yup, that's the guy." Sy's blood was boiling again at the smiles on the couple's faces. He didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve a pretty girlfriend. He should die alone, starving for the love he deprived others. "You say you got an address?"

"Yeah, the gal in personnel printed me a full demo sheet. The only thing we don't have is a social." Sy noted the redacted 9-digit code in one corner of the document Jake had handed him. He read out loud. 3502 Highway D. St. Robert, MO.

"You boys feel up to a little recon tonight?" They all nodded, excitedly, patting Jake on the back, and high fiving him in congratulations on the invaluable find. Even Brad commended him on his detective skills and told him he'd have a job on the Force with him if he ever wanted a change. The corporal almost blushed.

The men went back into the house and through the front door to the driveway where they were all parked.

"Jake, you brought all the gear, too?"

"Sure did, Sy. There's vests, belts, NVDs and helmets to mount. There's plenty for everyone." Jake opened the back of his Jeep as if it were a buffet of delicious tactical equipment. Sy found among the gear a large case and opened it out of curiosity. A sound amplifier with headphones. That was going with him, as it appeared there was only one.

"I'll outfit everyone with guns and ammo later. But here are some tac knives, and three of each diversionary devices for each member of the team." Nate passed out packs with the blades, smoke grenades, and flash bombs.

"Okay, rendezvous at Matt's shop at 1800. We'll go over some procedures for the evening and get set up with the rest of our weaponry then. Okay?" General nods of ascent and "mmhmms" in confirmation of the plan came from the men. Sy continued, "Maybe get some rest between now and then. I don't know how long this is going to take."

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

Sy got to Matt's a little early. 1730. Nate showed up about ten minutes later and pulled in next to Sy, leaving the rear doors accessible to arm the team. The men got out of their vehicles and began double checking Nate's inventory.

"Nervous?" Nate said after exchanging the usual pleasantries.

"I didn't think I was. But just now, I got to thinking about what that…monster is doing to the love of my life. What he's putting her through, if he's even let her live. What are we going to come across when we get to this place?"

"You can't think like that. She's not Schrödinger's cat. You have to be positive here. This mission depends on your strength as a leader. You're gonna do great. And Shane is gonna be fine. We all will. Have a little faith, man." Nate patted Sy on the back in encouragement. Sy appreciated it. But he thought he might have to compartmentalize, instead. Think of this as just another mission. Forget that Shane was involved. Even if it wasn't healthy, it might at least be helpful.

Matt arrived soon after and waved at the two men as he pulled in on the other side of Nate. He got out and greeted his friends, all of them shooting the breeze and enfolding the others into the conversation as they got there. Kevin was the last to arrive, just before 1800, when the briefing commenced.

"So," Sy began, more timidly than was his usual way. "First, guys, I wanna say, I appreciate y'all so much for doing this. For putting in the time and the resources to help me and Shane. I owe y'all more than I can repay, but that doesn't mean I won't try. Within reason." He grinned and his friends chuckled.

"Now, we've got the comms set up. We'll be in each other's ears, so we can report in real time. I've looked up an aerial view of the farm on Google Earth, and there should be good cover for surveillance with the sound equipment and NVDs. I'll take point, Nate, you and Matt are with me. Kevin, you and Brad will flank the property on the left, Travis and Jake are going right. I'm hoping this will just be recon, but if I get wind of something I don't like, I may call for the strike. You guys will report anything you think looks fishy, and I will make that call with the intel I'm given. Now. When and if I make that call, we're gonna aim for disorientation and soft incapacitation. If you don't have to kill, don't. I don't know how much help this bastard has, but I know it would have taken several to take down Shane. It's not that I think any of them deserve to be spared, but…I don't want us to break up any families. We don't need the weight on our already heavy souls." War had changed them all, and Sy didn't want to make any more widows. "We good?"

Nods of approval from the men made Sy think he was looking at a military bobble head collection. He stifled a smile.

"Alright, lets get armed and ready, then Matt can take us to our chariots."

They were all mostly suited up, black or dark colors were the general uniform. They were ready for whatever might happen. As Nate handed out guns and ammo, the men examined their clips, loaded their guns, and put them in their holsters until needed…they hoped they wouldn't be.

When they were all set, they followed Matt to the huge garage he kept his fleet in.

Although, "garage" didn't quite do the building justice. It was actually an airplane hangar that Matt got for a good price when the local airline went under. He'd made a loft in it with a ramp so there was extra room for smaller vehicles like his town cars. The limos, SUVs, and the stretch Hummer were on the lower level. He had a separate space outside for the two party busses and the RV, protected from the elements by large carports.

Matt went to grab keys from the lock box as the men gathered near the Suburbans. Sy was getting angsty. Moment of truth was here.

"Okay," Matt jingled two sets of keys in his hands. "Who's driving?"

Kevin deferred to Brad without contest, but Jake and Travis were bickering over the question between them.

"Grow up or get married already." Sy chided. "Jake, you got the good intel for us yesterday. You drive."

Travis was mildly crestfallen, but Jake was stoked and he caught the keyring Matt tossed him.

"You wanna drive, Captain?" Matt offered Sy the last set of keys.

"No, Matt. You're driving our group. I'll take shotgun though."

And the seven men got into the vehicles as if they were mounting horses, headed into the sunset.

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

Over the comms on the way, Sy addressed the team. "Okay, there's a large outbuilding near the road, guys. Pull off the driveway and park behind that structure. Hopefully they'll hide the vehicles from the main house. Bravo and Charlie teams, you let Alpha team get in place before you take your positions."

"Roger that, Captain." Kevin said in the headset.

"We copy." Travis answered for himself and Jake.

The first phase of the mission went perfectly. Sy, Nate, and Matt were in position, and Sy had set up the sound amplifier, aiming it at the house, headphones on. When the other teams were in position, Matt reported to Sy, since he was getting feedback using the earpiece and the headphones for the amp at the same time.

"Bravo and Charlie teams are in place, Captain."

"Great. Sit Rep?"

"All's quiet so far. Wait. Headlights coming up the drive." Each team tried to make themselves as small and low as possible so as not to draw attention to their presence. Sy had been getting nothing but crime show drivel from the TV in the house since he got here.

A petite but curvy brunette got out of the white Honda Civic and stomped into the house.

"Hey babe." Elliott's unmistakable voice rang in Sy's ear. And he was filled to bursting with rage all over again.

"What the fuck, Elliott? I've been trying to call you for hours! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Oh, I was charging my phone in the bedroom. What's going on?"

"That Captain Syverson your little pet was banging? I found out today that he's back in town. Has been for a few days."

"Shit. Shit!!! SHIT!!!"

"Yeah, so…if he isn't already, it won't be long before he starts trying to find her."

"But…how could he? Even if he thought it was me, I have no official ties to this place, or even you!"

"Flattering."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever, but I'd get rid of her ASAP. This guy is NOT someone you wanna piss off, Elliott."

"I'll bring the guys in. We'll take care of it. Tonight."

Sy cussed in a loud whisper. He wanted to rip Elliott apart with his bare hands. Nate asked him what was wrong, but Sy held up a hand for him to remain quiet because he heard the scumbag inside on the phone.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, change of plans, we need to do this tonight. Get everyone out here. Yes, immediately. There's a…potential complication. We need to take care of her before it becomes more. Yeah, she's weak, but I'm still gonna wait until you guys get here. She's still got some fight in her. She about took Jackson's eye out yesterday when he was  down there. He's got some wicked scratches on his face. I think he made her regret it, though." Elliott laughed with evil mirth. Sy was furious. He reckoned God Himself might have a time pulling him off that degenerate before he made him unrecognizable as a human man. Once he started punching him, he might not be able to stop.

When Elliott signed off, Sy pulled the earphones down onto his neck. He looked at Matt and Nate.

"He's planning something with Shane and has called in reinforcements. It sounds like he means to take her somewhere else, and it didn't sound like it was gonna be pretty. I think we need to go in now."

"Shit. Okay." Matt responded. Sy put his earpiece in and called on the rest of the team.

"Bravo and Charlie, do you copy?"

"Bravo copies." Kevin reported back.

"Charlie copies. Go ahead, Alpha." Travis cleared.

"Listen, boys. We need to go in, and we need to make it quick. Here’s the situation. We have one male and one female assailant inside the domicile, and an undetermined number of additional combatants en route to reinforce the enemy's line. We have one target. A female prisoner, presumably in the basement, given verbiage used in the communication I intercepted. Alpha team will make our priority extraction. Bravo, you will subdue the male assailant and then maintain sentry position on the lookout for more unfriendlies. Charlie team, you will clear the second level of the house and subdue the female combatant. She is a soldier, so proceed with extreme caution. Once the area is secure, drivers, go and retrieve the vehicles. We are gonna need to get out of here quick, or else things might go tits up. I'm concerned we'll lose the advantage of numbers if we wait too long. Are we clear?"

"Copy that, Alpha leader."

"Roger. On your count, cap."

Sy took a deep breath. Thought to himself "Shane. I'm on my way, baby!" He saw red, then. And called for the charge, out of the darkness, and into the farmhouse. To an uncertain outcome.

Up Next: Chapter 17-Gait Training

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