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imperialstark · 3 years

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choke on me—chapter four

breathe me in (prequel fic)

chapter three

chapter five

a/n: this is a pretty chill chapter, and chapter five is going to be the exact opposite so have fun with this one while you can ;) also for my bilingual readers, if i have any, please excuse my shitty Italian in this chapter, i'm literally just working off of google translate

rating: pretty gen...this time

warning(s): n/a

—————

Carmen couldn't have picked a better day for a carnival; It's not too hot out for it to be August nonetheless. A slight breeze ruffles Tony's ungelled hair, sending his bangs into his eyes. He smooths the hair back with a huff. So much for keeping it casual today. His brief irritation dissipates when he looks, truly looks, at his surroundings.

The scent of cotton candy and funnel cake and something smoky, no doubt barbecue, carries on the wind. There are two long lines of booths, rides, and rest places alike stretching for a good yard. The other volunteers are zooming about, dressed in bright red tees like the Avengers, finishing up last-minute preparations.

"She doesn't half-ass anything, huh?" Clint says. He sounds impressed and…a little excited. Tony can't lie...he's excited too.

"I'll say," Steve says, and there's no hiding the awe in his voice. "I can't believe some of these rides even exist."

Out the corner of his eye, Tony sees Thor lean down to whisper something in Bruce's ear, blue eyes dancing. Whatever he said makes Bruce laugh, a real one, not the sharp little chuckle that's usually full of self-loathing or sarcasm or both.

They're off to a good start. Even Natasha looks pleased, or as pleased as she can be, with her arms crossed in front of her. She's taking in their surroundings too, but Tony knows that a part of her isn't doing it for fun. She's looking for enemies, escape routes, any possible threats to her and the others.

"You can take an agent out of the field," he thinks. He hopes that maybe she'll loosen up by the end of the day, preferably without anyone getting hurt.

"Where's Solomita?" she asks. "I want to know what we’re doing.”

"I know where she is," Tony says and leads the way, picking out Carmen's chirpy voice, throwing out orders and praise with a megaphone, Jesus Christ.

"Make sure you're at your booths in ten minutes! The kids are going to be arriving soon!"

She's crossing things off on her clipboard when Tony and the Avengers following behind him pull up in front of her.

She hasn't changed a bit since Tony's last seen her. She's still tan, still short, shorter than Tony. Her dark wavy hair is pulled back into what she used to call her "business braid" for when she had "shit that needs to be done."

Tony clears his throat, and Carmen looks up, her big brown eyes going wide before a grin breaks across her face and—

Carmen pounces on him, full-on throwing her arms around Tony's neck. Tony catches her no problem and—Carmen's mood is so infectious—gives her a little twirl before setting her down.

"Jesus Christ," Clint says under his breath. "She almost took him out."

"Did not," Carmen says, and Clint has the good sense to look bashful. "This is normal for us. Especially when someone hasn't reached out in two. Years," she says, slapping Tony on the arm twice for emphasis.

"Ouch," he says, rubbing his arm. "I've been busy."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save the world a few times, and suddenly you have no time for your friends," she says, grinning, so Tony knows she's joking. She turns to the Avengers, who've all been standing there awkwardly like they're the new kids in school.

"All jokes aside, I'm thankful for you guys, all of you," she says. "Who knows where we'd be without the Avengers." She sticks out her hand for them to shake and for a split second, nobody moves. Maybe it was the genuine gratitude in Carmen's voice, or the others were still trying to process Carmen's everything, but the smile on her face starts to waver at their hesitation.

Steve is the first to act, taking Carmen's hand in his own. "Thank you, ma'am," he says. "I know I speak for everyone when I say that we're glad the team exists, and we'll help out any way we can."

"Thank you," Tony mouths to him, and Steve gives him a slight nod, letting go of Carmen's hand.

Thor steps up next and, in true princely fashion, bows, bringing Carmen's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. "A pleasure to be here, my lady," Thor says.

Carmen's face is red when Thor straightens back up, releasing her hand. After that, it's like the others shift into gear. Clint apologizes for his comment. Bruce offers her a kind hello until it's just Natasha who steps up until she's right in front of Carmen. Even though they're the same height, Carmen stiffens up, looking at Natasha like she's about to get chastised.

Natasha simply...sticks out her hand. "It’s nice to meet you,” she begins.

Carmen takes Natasha’s hand slowly like she’s expecting some trick.

“I’m actually a fan,” Natasha says. “I saw your work this February while undercover. Very nice.”

"Thank you," Carmen says. If she blushes anymore, Tony’s going to start worrying about her health. "I was actually inspired by your suit. The leather and the bodycon silhouette paired well with Fall and Winter."

"Oh, really?" Natasha says, raising her brows. Natasha looks her up and down, and Carmen, much to her credit, holds her gaze. "I have ideas for your spring collection if you'd like to hear them."

And just like that, the Avengers have won Carmen over forever. And Tony didn't even have to make any threats. Maybe today won't be a disaster after all.

"Yes, please," Carmen says, her voice coming out high and reedy. "I mean since you're offering—"

“Carmen,” Tony interrupts before she starts melting under the full force of Natasha’s undivided attention, “what’s the game plan for today?”

"Game plan. Right. We're here to work." Carmen clears her throat, a flush still staining her cheeks, and flips through some of the pages on her clipboard. "Okay, Tony, you're easy. You're running the basketball booth."

Basketball. He can do basketball.

"Mr. Rogers," Carmen says. Natasha starts humming "Won't You Be My Neighbor" until Steve shoots her an exasperated look.

"Sorry," Natasha says, not sounding sorry at all.

"Please, call me Steve," Steve says. "She already has that song set as my ringtone."

"Steve," Carmen says. "I know you're an artist. Think you could do caricatures slash portraits?"

Steve nods. "Easy enough."

The rest of the assignments go quickly. Natasha gets the sharpshooting booth, Clint's over Ring Toss, and Thor and Bruce will oversee the sack race. Now that introductions and assignments are over, there's a thrum of excitement to the air. Or anxiety. Tony's not sure yet.

"Nervous?" Carmen says to him. She's tucked her pen behind her ear.

"Maybe," he says. "Maybe not. It could just be indigestion."

"Gross," she laughs, wrinkling her nose. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I meant what I said, you know. I'm glad you guys showed up. You know how much A Helping Hand means to me."

Of course, he does. Carmen's like him...in more ways than one. She had been orphaned at nineteen when her parents' plane had gone down over the Atlantic.

And at twenty-one, she had also found herself the sole heir to a family fortune and no family to share it with. She got the idea for A Helping Hand after Tony's own parents had died.

Tony repeats what she had told him all those years ago. "Us orphans gotta stick together."

"Damn right," she says. "Siamo famiglia."

"Siamo famiglia," Tony echoes.

"Congrats on your new additions, by the way," Carmen says.

Tony's brows furrow. "What new additions?" he asks.

Carmen tilts her head at him like she used to whenever she thought he had said something stupid. "You're telling me that those five supermodels you call teammates just came here for shits and giggles?"

"They needed a day off," Tony explains. "I offered. Nothing else to it."

"They came because you asked them, dumbass. They're your friends."

Tony's not going to argue with her, mostly since the others have stopped talking amongst themselves and are looking right at them.

"Anyway," he says pointedly, "can you point me in the direction of my booth?"

*********

For the next three hours, Tony shoves Carmen's words from his mind and throws himself into teaching anyone who steps up to the basketball booth about physics. It wasn't cheating per se; Tony simply calculated the angle the kids would have to throw the ball along with the perfect amount of force. The looks of shock followed by unabashed glee after they made a basket more than made up for any guilt he was feeling.

His break comes faster than he wants it to, but he has to take one eventually and decides the best way to do that is to take a walk. His fellow volunteer, a young man named Jake, says he'll be able to hold down the fort while Tony's gone. Maybe Tony will check on the others, see how they're faring.

“It’s a great day to fly,” he thinks. The sky is a soft pale blue that soothes his heart. Cirrus clouds, like pulled apart cotton candy, lazily make their way across the horizon. Maybe after the carnival is over, he’ll take the suit out for a ride and cruise through the skies.

He wanders without direction, letting his feet carry him wherever they fancy. Seldom does Tony get quiet moments to himself like this. There was always a fire to put out, a project to work on, kittens to rescue from trees, that sort of thing. Not that he ever doubted her, but maybe Pepper was right. Maybe he did work too hard.

The sound of children squealing pulls him from his thoughts and brings a smile to his face. Carmen had spared no expense, not that he expected any less, as he takes in the Tilt-a-Whirl lifting its arms higher and higher. The riders throw their arms up in the air, their laughter carrying on the wind. For today, they would get to fly too.

Tony continues on, the shouts and whoops and laughs fading into the background; he's made it to a quieter part of the carnival where they tucked off all of the arts and crafts booths.

There's the finger painting table where plenty of toddlers and adults alike are flinging paint onto sheets of canvas. One kid rises from the face painting table with Cap's shield emblazoned upon his cheek and a booth over...there's Steve, drawing caricatures for the kids. There's a curve to his lips. Steve's biting back a smile at the little boy trying (and failing) to sit still in his chair as he draws him. Tony's heart jumps at the sight. He's tempted to slide into the line for Steve's booth himself, but something holds him back. It could be the look of contentment on Steve's face or the kid's near infectious excitement—Tony feels like he's intruding on something private. Someone else's life. Someone else's dream.

His heart pangs in his chest as the little boy jumps as soon as his drawing is finished and throws himself into Steve's arms. Steve startles but recovers quickly, giving the kid a polite hug back.

For some reason, Tony thinks of the kid he met not even a year ago when everyone thought he was dead: Harley. Tony didn't hug Harley. He didn't have it in him to hug Harley. The kid deserved it, though, for dealing with Tony's shit. Tony liked kids well enough, but having one of his own? He would never admit it out loud, but it scared him. And Steve...Steve deserved more than a coward.

There's less energy in his steps as he turns around and walks right back to the basketball booth.

He knows he still has time left on his break, but for some reason, he can't bring himself to care.

He finishes his shift with little fanfare, the carnival-goers opting for the rides and fair food after loading up on prizes for the day.

His head's all foggy like he just got up from a nap. He's so out of it, he doesn't even realize that the others are walking up to his booth. Tony blinks slowly, trying to ignore the pressure building in his forehead, a sure sign of a headache.

"Hey," Steve says when they make it to his booth. "You about ready?"

Tony winces, prompting the others to look him up and down.

"You okay? What's bothering you?" Clint asks.

"Just got a headache," Tony says, stepping out from his booth, giving Jake a wave. Jake waves back, trying his best not to look starstruck at the sight of the other Avengers.

"Did you eat at all?" Natasha asks, and as soon as she says something, his stomach growls.

"Guess not," Bruce says.

"You must eat," Thor says gently. "A warrior such as yourself must maintain your strength."

He knows they're right, but being confronted by all of them at once has his hackles rising. Carmen's words are getting all tangled up with Pepper's, and he can't. Stop. Thinking.

"I will," he says, aware that they're watching him more closely now. He hopes that he doesn't look as unsound as he feels. "But why leave just yet? Don't you guys want to check out some of the booths or rides before we leave?"

Steve starts to object, but Natasha is one second faster. "I did want to beat Clint at Shoot 'em Up," she says with a smirk.

Steve looks ready to protest, but Clint cuts him off. "Oh, you're on," he says. "Loser has to do the other's paperwork for two weeks."

"Prepare to drown in files, Barton," Natasha says, catching Tony's eye.

Tony nods at her. A Thank you.

She flips her hair over her shoulder. You're welcome. He doesn't know when they learned to read each other so well.

Clint and Natasha make their way to the sharpshooting booth, Thor and Bruce walking along behind them.

"You sure you're okay?" Steve asks, scanning Tony from head to toe. Steve can see through him so easily, his skin might as well be made of glass.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Tony says. "Come on. Let's catch up before they kill each other."

*********

Natasha and Clint tie in Shoot 'em Up. Since Tony is on a team that consists entirely of children, they extend their competition to every booth in the carnival. Steve warms up as the day goes on, even joining in on their little competition along with Thor. Tony and Bruce are just content to watch.

Thor ropes Steve into the strongman game, which attracts a crowd, but who would turn down the sight of two handsome, well-built men lifting heavy things and showing off their muscles? Tony certainly couldn't, and given the way Bruce eyes the bulge of Thor's biceps, neither could he.

Steve rings the bell easily and wins, of all things, a Captain Ameribear for his trouble.

"Aw," Tony says. "It has wings on its helmet too."

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that it came with a shield pillow?" Clint asks.

Steve blushes, but it's all in good fun. Thor, of course, breaks the game, the bell flying clean off the top of the tower. The game runner in awe (and a little bit of fear) gives Thor a prize regardless. Tony promises to compensate the man as soon as possible. Despite all of that, his headache has receded slightly. He needs to eat now, and that barbecue is starting to smell better and better.

Tony's so caught up in drooling over a rack of ribs or some trashed wings he barely notices the others walking off to the next booth, Steve lingering behind to wait on him.

"Sorry," Tony says. "Guess I'm out of it. You...you don't have to wait on me, you know."

Steve shrugs. "No one's forcing me. Spending time with you isn't a chore. This actually works out."

Tony smiles despite himself. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing," Steve says. "I just wanted you to have this." Steve hands the bear over to Tony, and Tony...Tony melts because Steve is so fucking cute and sweet, and how did the hell did he end up in Tony's life?

Tony takes the bear, and maybe it's the lack of food in his system, but the urge to cry at Steve's kindness strikes him. The bear is cute with Steve's signature red, white, and blue suit and the shield to go along with it. "Thank you," Tony says. "You sure you want me to hold onto this?"

Steve looks at him from underneath his lashes. "Tony," he begins, "it's a gift. I want you to have it."

"Okay," Tony whispers, feeling like the air is closing in on him. It's hard to breathe when Steve looks at him like that, like Tony means something to him.

"Besides," Steve says, leaning in close to him. "I'm gonna clean the booths out. I'm trying to beat the super spies. Can you keep him safe for me?"

Steve's breath, cool and minty, washes over his face. Tony has to blink a few times, processing what just happened before he can even think about speaking.

"Are you guys coming, or are you just going to gaze into each other's eyes?" Clint shouts from the next booth over.

Tony jumps and hurries to rejoin the others, Steve right behind him, staring into his back.

True to his word, Steve cleans out every booth they touch, until he's practically drowning in stuffed animals. They attract a crowd as they make their way to the food court. Tony's feet are aching, and his stomach is outright roaring for sustenance. He and Thor get the biggest plate of ribs they've got to offer. The meat's so tender it's falling off the bone and smoked to perfection. The sauce they used is homemade, all tang and smoky sweetness. He eats until his stomach is about ready to burst.

Thor's singing the cooks' praises and their delicious Midgardian cuisine and rises to go get seconds, Bruce trailing after him.

Clint runs off to the bathroom, and something catches Steve's eye. Tony follows his gaze to the herd of children trying (and failing) to watch them eat without freaking out. Steve rises from the table, taking his prizes with him, leaving just Tony and Natasha behind.

"Sometimes, I can't believe he's real," Natasha says, breaking the silence. There's no need to wonder who's the "he" she's talking about. Tony thinks it himself sometimes.

It's hard not to when kids start lining up single file for their turn to receive a stuffed animal from Steve.

"Me neither," Tony says. "Howard...he'd tell me all these stories of Steve and the 'good old days'...Steve single-handedly storming a HYDRA facility. Throwing himself on a grenade to give others the chance to live. I always thought he was embellishing a little. Making war stories more digestible for a kid, you know? But seeing him, knowing him? You can't help but wonder how someone can be so good."

"He's not like you," Natasha says. He doesn't even have it in himself to be offended. She's right. Steve isn't like Tony and will never be like Tony. A little rough around the edges. "He's not like me, either," she admits, catching Tony by surprise.

"He's the best of us," Tony says. He glances at her. Natasha sits forward, resting her head upon her palm. Her face is smooth, her cheeks still tinged pink from their rowdy tramping through the fairgrounds. She looks...raw. That's the only word to describe her. Raw and real and human. Not the robot switching personalities and names and appearances like most people change clothes.

"You make him that way," she says, shocking him again. His stomach drops, and whatever peace between them quickly disintegrates. What does she mean by that? What could she possibly know about him and Steve and all the complexities of their relationship?

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tony says, his voice coming out thin.

Something in Natasha’s face softens, and she tilts her head at Tony. “I’m not going to pretend I know all of the details, but…you’re good for him. And I think he’s good for you. You’re both...softer. You look happy.”

It’s like someone’s dumped cold water down Tony’s back; he’s so in shock he can barely register what Natasha is saying. He swallows. Natasha knows. Of course, she knows, and if it weren’t her job to gather intel and pick up on context clues, he’d be a lot more worried that the others knew. But she wasn’t blackmailing him or threatening him to stay away from Steve? She...approved of them? He remembers that debriefing after they had defeated Loki, what felt like a lifetime ago, and her casual dismissal of Tony and his relationship with Steve. He wants to bring it up, to confront her, but what’s there to confront?

He brings it up anyway. “Still think he wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole?”

Natasha tilts her head at him again, and he hates how sweaty his palms have gotten, and the hummingbird beating of his heart, like his relationship with Steve hinges on her opinion.

“No,” she says slowly as if to weigh her words. “He wants you too much. I don’t think he could give you up even if he wanted to.”

As if summoned, Steve comes bounding back to their table looking boyish and vibrant in the evening sun before Tony can process her words.

"What I miss?" he says with a breathless grin, holding onto one last stuffed animal.

"Nothing much," Tony says before Natasha can say anything incriminating. His eyes dart down to the last stuffed animal in Steve's arms. It's an Iron Man bear, of course, all done up in the telltale red and gold of Tony's suit. "What's the deal, no one wanted him?" he says, nodding to the bear.

Steve looks down at the Iron Bear, and what he says next might actually make Tony melt into a puddle. "Nah. Couldn't bear to give him up."

Tony ignores Natasha's pointed look and hopes that his face isn't as red as he thinks it is.

“Clint, you’re riding with me on the Ferris wheel,” Natasha declares when everyone makes it back to their table, and Steve has successfully made Tony as red as his suit.

“A Ferris wheel?” Thor asks, arching his brow.

“It’s a carnival classic,” Clint says. “It’s a giant wheel that lifts you into the air. Perfect way to end the day.”

“It’s older than Cap,” Natasha throws in helpfully, smirking at Steve when he shoots her an exasperated look.

“Your Midgardian traditions are so strange,” Thor says. “Interesting, but strange.”

“I’m not hearing a no,” Clint says.

“Hm.” Thor turns to look at Bruce, who looked surprisingly (and thankfully) content with himself. “Would you like to ride with me, Doctor Banner?”

Bruce reddens, and Tony doesn't feel so alone because it looks like Bruce has his own beefy blond problem he needs to deal with. "Sure, since you asked," Bruce responds, leaving just...Steve.

Steve shares a look with Natasha, and Tony gets the sneaking suspicion that they planned this. Who knew that the fall of SHIELD would lead to one of the most dangerous alliances Tony had ever seen?

"Tony," Steve begins, sounding like he's about to propose, he's so serious. "Want to ride with me?"

His heartbeat quickens, and he's not sure why. It's not like it's a public declaration of love to ride with someone on a Ferris wheel.

It'd look weird if he takes too long to answer, so Tony says, "Yeah. Sounds like a plan."

They toss their trash and pick up their respective prizes they won throughout the day, Natasha with her light-up sword, Clint with his stuffed dog. Thor's lion hat from the strongman game sits proudly atop his head. Tony wants to make a joke about Hercules, but he also doesn't want to deal with the guaranteed headache he'll get when Thor replies with some mind-bending statement like he and Hercules are gym bros or other. Tony and Steve walk side by side, far behind the rest of their little group, bears in one hand, their free hands brushing with each step.

Part of him knows that if he just reached over...if he took that extra step for Steve's hand...Steve would let him. It'd be so easy…

The line to the Ferris wheel isn't too long, and by the time Tony works up the courage to take Steve's hand, the volunteers are strapping them in.

One of the volunteers lowers the bar over their heads, making sure that they're secure, and that's it. Tony's trapped. He's stuck on this Ferris wheel for the next ten minutes, and Steve is so goddamn close he can feel how hot his skin is from being out in the sun and—

"I'm not gonna bite, you know," Steve mutters when they start to ascend. He won't meet Tony's eyes. "I...I know you're afraid of me."

Tony swallows, his stomach twisting into knots at the thought of Steve thinking he feared him.

"I'm not...Steve, I'm not afraid of you," Tony says. Steve's still looking down. He doesn't know where he gets the courage, but he cups Steve's face and makes him look at him. "You hear me? I'm not afraid of you."

Steve's eyes have always been a weakness of Tony's, and right now, when they're so big and blue and so fucking sad, it doesn't do him any favors. They're almost at the top of the wheel. A stray breeze rustles a lock of Steve's hair, and Tony feels like he's on a cliff's edge.

"Then why—" Steve begins, only to be cut off by Tony's lips. Tony closes his eyes and answers Steve the only way he knows how.

It's cliche, but Tony swears he can see fireworks going off behind his eyelids. Steve's lips are warm and soft and pliant against his. Tony deepens the kiss and slides one of his hands into Steve's hair, the other remaining on his face. He can taste the remnants of cotton candy on Steve's mouth.

They break apart because, unfortunately, air is necessary to live. Tony has half a mind to invent a way for humans to survive without air if it meant he could spend the rest of his life kissing Steve.

This high up, with the sun setting behind them, Tony wishes he had at least brought a jacket.

Steve lifts his arm, "Here," he says. "Lean into me." Tony does just that and tucks his body into Steve's side, his arm is a reassuring weight around him.

The others are too far back to see Tony and Steve. It's easy up here, easy to forget that Steve's Captain America and Tony's a barely functioning former alcoholic with a slew of mental issues.

He looks at Steve out the corner of his eye, takes in his features shamelessly and selfishly, the allure of being above everyone reeling him in. He loves Steve's face, the cut of his jaw, and his long, pretty lashes and those eyes. It's painful looking at him. Sometimes it feels like his heart's gonna swell up and pop right out of his chest when he looks at Steve.

In that moment, he's glad they went to the carnival if only to forget the world for a little while.

#stony #stevetony #steve x tony #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel #mcu #stony fanfic #stony fic #stony fanfiction #superhusbands #my fic #my writing #imperialstark fic #choke on me

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

Pretty Gertrude Stein

PART NINETEEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions family issues, anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: To congratulate Jess for an award, Ella gets him a lucky bouquet, and arguments over the future ensue.

A cozy, aged smell filled the bookstore, aisles lined tightly with weathered pages. Ella ran a finger along the ancient, dusty spines. She didn’t have a massive budget, exactly, but they’d stopped in partially because of the Edgar Allen Poe decorations. The author’s fan society had begun rolling into town the day before, and all the Stars Hollow businesses were taking advantage of the possibility for sales, the bookstore only one of many. Sighing heavily, she pursed her lips and decided she should move on to the next shelf. There, she found Jess with a couple dystopian novels in his hands. Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451. He was on a masochistic kick, as always, but instead of heartbreak it was now the fate of the world.

“I’ll have to give you The Handmaid’s Tale next. Probably scarier than both of those combined,” she said, gesturing to the books in his hands as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Jess shrugged. “Not everyone reads things for the terror factor, Morticia.”

“Well, not everyone can handle it,” she quipped, smirking.

He chuckled, then turned away from the various volumes and held the books to his chest. “You ready to go?”

Ella nodded.

“Really? Not even the Poes are striking your fancy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her empty hands as they made their way to Andrew at the register.

“Trying to save up. Textbooks and whatnot.”

“Very wise of you, college girl,” he said, nodding at Andrew as he put his choices on the desk.

She breathed a sigh through her nose. “Besides, master of horror or not, Poe was still a creep who married his thirteen-year-old cousin.”

“Fair enough,” Jess agreed, digging in the pocket of his jeans for some crumpled dollar bills.

“But, when you consider the time period-” Andrew began as he placed Jess’s books in a paper bag, but Ella immediately cut him off and raised a hand.

“His wife was a child who was a victim of oppressive patriarchal norms. I’m not even entertaining this conversation, Andrew. Good luck with the crazies this weekend,” she said, bidding him goodbye as soon as Jess had the bag in his right hand, grabbing his left and leading him towards the door.

Jess smirked proudly at her as they exited the store into the April evening. Squeezing her hand, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. The air was still slightly warm from the sunny afternoon, even as the pinkish evening came. Ella breathed in the night and glanced over at the town square. The gazebo was empty below the twinkling lights. She and Jess were set to study for the evening, with Jimi Hendrix on the record player. Though they both were aware the night would probably end in distraction.

“You wanna hang out tomorrow?” she asked. “We could go to the movies or something? Or we could watch those fake Poes butcher ‘The Raven’ at Patty’s?”

Jess shrugged. “Actually, I’ve gotta go to Shangri-la.”

“Really?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing. “I thought they didn’t schedule you for Saturdays anymore?”

“The exception that proves the rule.”

Snickering, she stopped walking and turned to face him with a smirk. “If you’re mixed up in something, you can just go ahead and tell me, Scarface.”

He rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Daria. I just…”

“What?” she asked, face falling into a frown of concern.

Heaving a sigh, he finally locked eyes with her again. “I’m employee of the month and I get two hundred dollars for going to this stupid ceremony.”

A wide smile blossomed on her face, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, hands winding into his hair. Jess paused in surprise for a moment, then sunk into the moment with her. His skin tingled beneath her fingers, and he felt her lips turned upwards against his own. Pleasant giggles bubbled from her lips as they separated, though she kept her palms on his shoulders.

“That’s great, Jess.”

He shook his head humbly. “It’s not a big deal. I’m only going so I can get the money.”

“I’m serious, Mariano. I’m really proud of you,” Ella said earnestly.

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, cheeks tinted pink, gaze cast downwards.

“You’re welcome. You’re the fucking best.”

She planted one last peck to his lips before grabbing his hand again. There was a moment of comfortable silence before she nudged him playfully with an elbow.

“So, what time’s the ceremony tomorrow?” she asked.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he shook his head slightly. “No way.”

“C’mon, James Dean! I’ll sit in the back.”

Sighing again, he rolled his eyes. “Fine. If you promise not to bring ridiculous balloons like you did for Rory’s birthday.”

She scoffed. “Of course not.”

“You gotta promise.”

“I promise. Cross my heart,” she said, kissing his cheek.

. . .

Three knocks sounded on the door, and Jess finally pulled himself away from the Twilight Zone episode on the TV near the kitchen table. The Sunday afternoon crowd chattered in a monotone hum down below, and the smell of burgers filled the apartment. Sighing, he ran a hand through his ungelled hair and trudged over to the entrance. A small look of surprise crossed his face when he saw Ella, in a faded green dress and her battered converse, hair falling loose around her face. He hadn’t seen her since the ceremony the previous day, after which he had picked up a shift. Luckily, she had sat quietly in the back, alongside Luke. She’d had time to give him a quick peck on the lips in congratulations before he had to go move stock.

He couldn't help but be rendered silent when she told him how proud she was. It made nauseous butterflies rise in his stomach and up his throat, and a blush spread on his face. Often the way she made him feel was new and pleasant, but when she praised him it was undoubtedly an uncomfortable feeling. So foreign he couldn’t decide whether it was positive.

“Hey, Mariano,” she greeted him, nodding slightly. “Do you have a vase?”

“What?”

She shrugged, smirking. “Well, I got you these flowers,” she said, bringing a bouquet of red roses from behind her back, “but I’m concerned now that you won’t have a vase.”

He couldn’t help the doubtful laugh which escaped his lips. “You...got me flowers?”

Ella sighed through her nose, then brushed past him into the apartment, placing the flowers on the table and searching through the cabinets. Standing on her tiptoes, Jess watched her dress rise up, her legs in full view. He bit at his lip, brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Since I promised no fanfare at the ceremony yesterday, I thought I’d give you something today. And I know you have a hatred of balloons, so flowers seemed like a natural option. But now that I’m here I’m worried about the vase situation. I certainly can’t take these flowers back to my house; they’ll die within a day! I mean, why do you think I only have cacti? I can’t keep anything else alive!”

Jess, eyebrows raised, nodded along with her rambling, amusement growing on his face. His hands were shoved in his pockets. Eventually, Ella gave a frustrated huff, crease between her brows, and took a beer stein from the cabinet near the sink. She filled it with tap water and placed it down on the table, wiping her hands on her dress and tucking her hair behind her ears before going to work on the bouquet.

“Can I have some scissors?” she asked suddenly, locking eyes with him again.

“Oh...yeah,” he said, grabbing some from his desk. After handing them to her, he leaned against a kitchen chair on his palms.

Ella found her eyes flicking up to the TV a few times as she cut the bouquet open and trimmed the stems of the roses diagonally. A dying man dealt masks out to his family, which would end up disfiguring them all in the end. “I love this episode.”

“You like all the macabre ones.”

“But of course,” she said, smiling over at him for a moment.

“I can’t believe you got me roses,” he said slowly, a smirk still present.

She shrugged. “Why not? I mean, it’s no two hundred bucks, but I just...thought you deserved them. A rose is a rose is a rose.”

“Huh.”

“And I didn’t go full Lloyd Dobbler with the boombox outside your window, so you’re welcome.”

He chuckled breathily. “Thank you.”

After arranging them to her liking, Ella stepped back and regarded the stein. When she decided it was good enough, she balled up the crinkly clear plastic the bouquet had been wrapped in and threw it away.

“Pretty Gertrude Stein of you, Stevens,” he said, still slightly flabbergasted at her move.

Again, she shrugged, hands on her hips. “A little saccharine, but it seemed fitting. And I got you the bouquet with thirteen instead of twelve. My mom always said those were lucky.”

“But you don’t believe in luck.”

“No, but I think it’s good to cover all your bases.”

A full smile broke out on his face, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her in for a long kiss. Pulling away from her, Jess kept his smile. “And you say I’m the romantic.”

Ella rolled her eyes at him. “If I bought you all the bouquets in the world, it still wouldn’t match your love of Hemingway. The bigger Hemingway fan is always the bigger romantic. It’s a universal law.”

“I disagree wholeheartedly.”

“Of course you do.”

“But thank you,” he added quietly.

“You’re welcome,” she replied.

. . .

The Replacements played over the boombox, Ella on the end of the bed and Jess leaned up against the wall at the head. Golden, dusky light streamed in through the windows of the apartment. Ella’s history textbook sat open in front of her crossed legs, as she scribbled on a notebook in her lap. Biting at her thumb nail, she glanced up at Jess. He wrote something in the margin of his Huxley novel, already nearly finished. It made her want to roll her eyes; she could never even come close to matching his reading speed. A long afternoon of making out with The Twilight Zone as background noise had bled into an evening of studying. Ella almost always had various homework in her bag, in case of a random study session at Luke’s corner table.

“Jess?”

“Hm?” he asked, eyes still on the words.

Hesitating for a moment, she put down her pencil and ran her fingers through the ends of her hair. “Are you...going to school?”

Brows furrowed, he marked the place in his book and tilted his head at her. “What kind of a question is that?”

She sighed, trying to formulate the right words. “Just...we don’t have any classes together and I’m always in the art room during lunch. Your manager mentioned something about you working forty-five hours a week yesterday...and you’re always so tired.”

“Jeez, Big Brother,” he snapped. “Need my alibi for a specific date and time?”

She scoffed, doubling down. “Fuck, Jess, I just wanna make sure you’re not working too much. I mean, if you don’t graduate, you can’t stay with Luke anymore.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m glad,” she shot back. “Forgive me for not wanting my boyfriend to end up homeless!”

“I’ve got it under control.”

Nodding doubtfully, she sighed again. “Fine. But if you need help or-”

“Stop it, Eleanor. I don’t need you to worry. I don’t need your help. I think I can handle my cursive practice and my arithmetic,” he deadpanned. “If I need help, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse will be a satisfactory supplement.”

Her jaw tensed and she bit the inside of her cheek. Then, so quickly Jess could barely even register what was happening, she was packing up her stuff and over by the door, tugging on her shoes.

“You can be such a dick sometimes,” she said, shaking her head to herself.

“Taking your dramatic exit now, Norma Jennings?” he asked, his voice dripping with angry sarcasm.

Licking her lips, she tucked her hair behind her ears in frustration. “Maybe I’ll go to the library and study, so I can graduate and get outta this town someday. And not think about how all the work I’ve done the past four years is some joke to you. Holden fucking Caulfield.”

“Elle, I didn’t mean it that way,” he sighed, getting up from the bed, ready to run after her if necessary.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then how’d you mean it?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I just...I’m doing fine! If I need to catch up, I will. All I need to do is pass! You can stop worrying!”

“You can’t stop me from worrying, Jess! It’s what I do!” she insisted, gesturing wildly with her hands. “If Luke kicks you out, what are you gonna do?”

“He won’t kick me out!” he replied, voice raised. “I’ve got school under control. So I take a few shifts, who cares? It’s not your problem!”

“I just…” she began uneasily, shaking her head. “You would tell me? If you were falling behind?”

“Yes.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, still obviously annoyed. “Really? If you were one step from not graduating, you would actually tell me and let me help you?”

Jess rolled his eyes. “My god, you’re like a broken record! I would tell you!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why does graduation have to be such a big deal, anyway?”

“Because it is!” she shouted back. “I know you don’t like it, but if you don’t graduate, you won’t have a place to live! Why can’t you just grow up and realize it?”

Brows furrowing, Jess took a step back at the accusation. “What? Grow up like you? End up getting some bullshit job I don’t even like so that maybe, someday, I’ll end up where I wanna be?”

Ella scoffed. “At least I have a plan! At least I can actually handle thinking about the future! I mean, Jesus, Jess, bad things happen and you deal with them! You don’t just avoid them, and run away, and wait for them to solve themselves!”

“Getting to be valedictorian doesn’t make all your problems go away, Eleanor! They’re still here, in that house you never wanna go home to, where you’re trapping yourself for the next four years! I hate to break it to you, but no amount of sad music is gonna change that!”

Biting the inside of her cheek again, she looked down at her shoes. A charged silence hung in the air before she looked back up at him with fiery eyes, though full of sincerity. “You really wanna get kicked out of here? Fine. Fuck it! But, God, Jess, why can’t you just talk to me? Tell me the truth? What are you so afraid of?”

Heaving a sigh, Jess tried to come up with something to say. He ran a hand over his mouth, searching his mind for an answer, a witty retort, an accusation to deflect from the core problem, but nothing came. A blank drew in his mind; he was speechless, looking back at her expectant gaze.

When she realized he was done with the argument, shutting her out completely, she gave one last roll of her eyes. Her shoes were still untied as she left the apartment, bounding down the stairs. Jess waited for a moment, pondered going after her, but didn’t. If she hadn’t let that last question slip out of her mouth, he would have. He would have run after her down the street, found a way to convince her he knew what he was doing, he was sure of it. But he knew then that he couldn’t fool her. She could see right through him. Instead, he switched the music to some angry screamo, cranking the speakers up as far as they would go. He flopped down onto his bed, bringing the pillow over his head to block out the world, focusing only on the ear-bleeding music. The stein of roses sat alone on the kitchen table, stagnant and unchanging in the unhappy air.

. . .

Notes of “Für Elise” drifted from the dance studio out into the town square. Ella could hear it, making her feel nostalgic, as she sat reading Dorothy Parker in the gazebo. The Poe society packed the diner, having been forced to leave the Independence Inn after a fire the night before. Though she had tried more than once to get behind the counter, Luke told Ella it was already too crowded with Sookie having taken over the kitchen and brought the inn employees. She’d already done all her homework, in preparation for an evening of work, so her forced freedom was proving difficult to fill.

After a couple hours of sketching angrily in her room, Stevie Nicks on the record player, she decided she was too moody to face Fiona. Her stepmother was humming country music in the kitchen, making her tuna salad. Usually, she could stomach the small talk. But as she was still fuming about Jess beneath an outer layer of indifference, it was ultimately too dangerous. She didn’t need to add another screaming match to her recent hits. The night fell chilly as dinner time approached, but the twinkling lights offered enough, so she could still see the words on the page. Even if Fiona was upset she didn’t show up for the awkward, sit-down meal, Ella knew her father didn’t care. It would be easier to deal with.

The soft music floated around her, Mrs. Rothschild apparently taking advantage of the Poe crowd off for dinner to practice in solitude. Ella thought of the piano bench, the girl with the short red hair and vibrant blue eyes, who now danced on some stage in New York City, tuition paid with family money. Before meeting Veronica, Ella had known she found both men and women beautiful. After all, her first fictional crushes were a tie between Kevin and Winnie from The Wonder Years.

But she hadn’t thought of kissing Veronica before it happened, and when it did, she felt some piece of her heart falling into place. Even Rory and Lane didn’t know she was bisexual (a word she hadn’t known before reading it in a biography about Virginia Woolf). She wasn’t exactly scared of backlash, or open criticism. But she knew Stars Hollow well. She knew there were lingering eyes and judgmental whispers. She had decided it would be easier to label herself when she got away, got to a city where she could be whoever she wanted. Sometimes she wondered if she felt so out of place in her hometown more because of her mother, or because there was a part of her she couldn’t fully embrace there. If anyone asked, she would tell them, but no one ever thought to ask. She wasn’t ashamed, but she certainly wasn’t forthcoming.

Only Jess knew that part of her. Her mind wandered to the night she’d played “Rhiannon” for him, the way she’d decided on a whim to tell him the truth about her first kiss. For some reason, with Jess, it was easy. It was comfortable. She’d never met anyone who understood her the way he did, who knew what it was like to be out of place, to feel like there was something missing. No matter how much she loved Rory or Lane, or even Lorelai, she knew they wouldn’t quite get it. But Jess did. Jess always did. Breathing out a sigh, she tried to swallow down her thoughts of him and concentrate on the poetry in front of her instead.

Fiddling absently with her necklace, she tucked her legs underneath her and wished she had brought more than just her jean jacket.

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here too long, Stevens,” Jess drawled at her side, stepping up into the gazebo with an unreadable expression.

Startling slightly, Ella looked up from her book with a scowl. “You have no concept of weather, but thanks for the concern. It’s duly noted.”

“Anytime,” he said, taking a seat next to her, leaving a careful distance between them. They both stared ahead, into the bustling diner.

“Pretty chaotic in there, huh?”

He nodded. “Luke kicked me out.”

“And Lorelai slept in the apartment last night, right?” Ella asked dryly.

“Yeah.”

Uttering a quiet scoff, Ella shot him a momentary look. “Now the whole town’s gonna know you snore.”

“Avoided the press as long as I could.”

Ella quietly hummed in acknowledgement, nodding. An unusual awkwardness filled the space between them, and it took Jess a long moment before he mustered the courage to venture a look over at her. Her hair, pulled back messily, glinted with gold beneath the lights. Arms crossed over her patterned dress, she looked chilly and defensive. He could feel words choking his throat, but he swallowed them down and turned back to the diner.

“Are you gonna talk, or can I keep reading?” Ella asked, having felt him staring and fidgeting.

Blowing out a long sigh, he rubbed at his mouth. “I understand what you said.”

“Good,” she said shortly.

He chewed his bottom lip, brows furrowing in frustration. “I just...I can handle it. And I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Okay. I’m sorry too,” she replied half-heartedly. As much as she wanted to lose the tension in her shoulders, to let the topic drop, she couldn’t find it within herself. “Look, I’m not trying to...you’re eighteen, you can make your own choices, whatever. But I care about you and I want you to, one: have a place to live, and two: be able to have money. You and I both know how much it fucking sucks to not have money.”

“I do have money. I get it from working the way I do,” he argued.

Ella nodded slowly. “I know. Just...I want you to have everything you need. To write your novel and do whatever else, y’know? And I’m gonna worry, no matter what.”

“Believe me, I know,” Jess said, cracking a tiny smirk. Words from Lorelai echoed in his mind, and he gave a hesitant shrug. “But I know what I’m doing. You just have to trust me.”

She offered a small smile back. “Okay, I’ll try.”

“I’ll try too,” he said, bringing an arm around her shoulders. “And I want you to have everything you need, Stevens. Some studio with very organized art supplies and horror-movie-caliber sketches.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It will be. I really am sorry,” Jess said. “But I want your someday to not just be a someday.”

“I know,” she sighed, bringing her head to his shoulder. “I’m really sorry, too, Jess.”

“Glad we sorted that out then,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Ella cleared her throat and nodded against him. She leaned into him, warmer with his closeness. “Me too.”

Running his fingers gently up and down her arm, Jess took a deep breath and felt his heart relax.

#jess mariano au #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano imagines #jess #mariano #jess mariano #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #jess mariano x oc #original character #original character stories

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dessiekarma · 4 years

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My Harem is Entirely Bad Boy Types (Kirisaki Daiichi x Reader) Pt. 10

Chapter 10: I Really Need a Beach Episode in the Midst of All This Bullshit

Yamazaki felt the wind get knocked out of him as Furuhashi slammed him into the gymnasium wall. He screwed his eyes up tight as he watched the angry male draw his fist back.

“Furu no!” Seto called out pulling him off his teammate.

“If you don’t want her that’s fine! But you didn’t have to tell your ex all this shit about her!” Furuhashi snapped at Yamazaki, looking angrier than anyone had seen him.

“We don’t know for sure that he’s the one who spre-” Hara began only for Yamazaki to scowl at him.

“Spread rumours? Is that what you were gonna say? It’s not rumours if the facts are true. (Y/N) let Furuhashi spend the night with her several times, you and her sure took your time on the roof the day of the Seirin interview, and Seto told us he spent the night with her in a love hotel.”

“Which I told you guys in confidence! And from what she’s told me you’ve spent the night at her place more than once!” Seto was now the one raising his voice. “If something had happened do you think I would have mentioned it? Did I ever say that I slept with her?”

“You never said but you never said you didn’t.” Hara mumbled to himself. When Seto had come back to school after that weekend he’d told the guys of the predicament he and their manager found themselves in. The lavender-haired male wouldn’t let on to the fact that he was feeling what he could only describe as jealousy. It would stand to reason that he was just a bit bitter.

“What? That isn’t the point! I didn’t ask you if you fucked her on the roof!”

“Only because knowing him, you might not like the answer.” Furuhashi grimaced as he too thought of his teammates being intimate with (Y/N).

“Oh really? Well you know it’s a lot easier to mess around with someone in the comfort of their own house than it is on a public roof. So, anything you want to own up to?”

Furuhashi casted empty eyes on Hara before looking at Seto and Yamazaki.

“Who am I to own up to anything. Sex is something between two people and meant to be kept that way. Without her being part of the conversation, it isn’t any of our places to say what she has or hasn’t done with anybody.”

Hara visibly deflated as he took in his words. Seto too looked almost guilty to have dragged anything further into the conversation. Still Yamazaki simply rolled his eyes.

“If things haven’t become abundantly clear at his point…I care about her.” Furuhashi looked serious, as his eyes were almost challenging his teammates “It is my intention that she grows to care for me too and I abandon my engagement. While it makes me angry to think of her giving any of you that level of intimacy, I haven’t told her my feelings. What right do I have to expect loyalty from a girl who isn’t even mine? If none of you have spoken your feelings than you have no right either.”

“Oh fuck off, Furuhashi! It’s not about loyalty its about having some goddamn self-respect. You wanna be another number to her then be my guest but maybe I wanted more than that! She knew I was defending her from everybody saying these things and she let me continue to make an ass of myself knowing full well it was all fucking true!”

“Nobody is saying you have to pursue her; in fact it betters our chances if you don’t. But for you to go and purposely tell those things to Mei, knowing she was going to tell everyone…makes you a bitch too.” Furuhashi spoke calmly as if simply stating facts.

“What the fuck did you call me!? Maybe it’s easy for you to accept her because you want an out from your engagement. And Seto has been fucking desperate for any warm body since he started highschool! And Har-”

A certain bubble-gum chewing player grew angrier as each word came out of his childhood friend’s mouth. When Yamazaki’s eyes met his, he could see them both burning with the desire to speak out to him but also with hesitation. Who exactly did he think he goddamn was, talking to the team that way?

“And what about me huh?” Hara asked suddenly up in Yamazaki’s face. “You were getting to me, weren’t you? So, what is it you’ve been wanting to say to me? Because I know it’s been a long time coming, before we even met (Y/N).”

“Of course, you wouldn’t mind because you’re just like her! You bragged about a different girl every day up until you met (Y/N). And why? Because it distracts you or because your over-” Yamazaki trailed off looking away with a growl.

“Because what?!” Hara called out pushing Yamazaki hard. “Say it you little pussy!”

“Because you’re overcompensating for being damn-near blind! Just admit you actually like the attention! Keeps girls coming back to you! You hope they will find out so they can pretend to see something in you, since horny blind basketball player seems to be your only fucking personality trai-”

Hara’s fist connected with the male’s cheek instantly. Yamazaki didn’t miss a beat and swung back nailing the male in the jaw.

“You’ve always been fucking jealous of me! Just admit it! You only hung out with me because you hoped the girls I was done with would give you a chance! And you’re stuck kissing Mei’s ass because you think she’s the first girl who paid attention to you instead of me.” Hara had his knee firmly planted into his former friend’s chest. “I guess she was looking for an easily manipulated bitch boy so turns out you fit the bill!”

Yamazaki threw his weight up and tackled Hara into the bleachers, effectively smashing his back into the hard metal. The two continued to exchange blows.

“Oh, so now you want to play the good guy and say I’m the asshole. You’ve never had problems calling girl’s out for having sex with you. In fact, didn’t you just do it to Yuna?”

“Those girls are bitches! I don’t worry about hurting people who don’t deserve my respect! But what did (Y/N) do to lose yours!?”

Hara, on top again, was about to bring his fist down square on Yamazaki’s face. Reeling his fist back as far as he could go, the sound of someone screaming for him to stop couldn’t actually halt the momentum.

His fist did come down every bit as hard as he intended it to. Only the target wasn’t Yamazaki but (Y/N). Her body was trembling as she hunched over Yamazaki’s head.

Tears were running down her face and none of them knew if it was due to the blow on the shoulder or simply from watching her friends fight.

“Don’t hurt him.” She pleaded as Hara instantly tried to pry her off.

“Why are you protecting him!? I’m on your side! I’m the one fucking defending you! Did you hear any of what he said about you?!”

“…I did. Fighting isn’t going to change his mind. Just let it go…please.” (Y/N) had let go of Yamazaki and was looking into Hara’s odd eyes, pleading with him silently.

“Whatever. Get the fuck up and get out; you’re lucky she was here to save your ass.” He spat at Yamazaki who was quick to storm out of the gym slamming the door behind him.

Only then had the remaining three members noticed a certain someone handing around the entrance.

“You guys have control of the team for not even a month and you’ve managed to be falling apart this badly.” Hanamiya commented with an almost concerned tone in his voice.

“Hanamiya, what are you doing here?” Seto asked more curiously than accusatory.

“I came because I was gonna chew you out for not watching that one. What good was it for me to leave if she was just gonna be hurt by someone else?”

The team turned to (Y/N), only now realizing she looked pretty beaten up. Dried blood hung around edge of her nostril, her bottom lip swelled slightly and a dark bruise could be seen right under her eye. Her arm cast was littered with obscene drawings and the words ‘whore’ ‘slut’ scrawled in big red letters.

“What the hell happened to you!?” Furuhashi asked, now quickly by her side.

“It’s okay my cast was coming off in a few days anyway.”

“Your cast? Look at your fucking face!” Hara exclaimed.

“I found her pulling herself off the ground like that. Judging by the way she kicked that one guy’s ass…I’d say it had to be a group effort, but she won’t tell me who did it.”

“(Y/N) just tell us! I will end their fucking existence! Whoever it was I’m not afraid of them. Me, Seto, Furu and Hanamiya will fuck them up!”

“What good would that do? Today is the last day before summer break. When we get back its Wintercup and then it’s all smooth sailing until we graduate. Besides I started the fight. I thought I could handle myself but then one of his friends joined in and another. I couldn’t fight off 4 guys at once.”

“It doesn’t matter who started the fight! Why the hell would it be okay for four guys to gang up on one girl!?” Seto said running a hand through his ungelled hair. “But also why the fuck would you pick a fight with someone?! Do you have no concern for your goddamn safety!? Those guys didn’t come out of nowhere, you must have seen them hanging around their friend. And four of them? Goddammit (Y/N) they could have done a lot worse than beat you up and for what? Because they were talking shit about you?!”

“They were talking shit about you guys!” (Y/N) screamed out, her voice reverberating off the gym walls. She was now sitting on the bleachers staring at her feet. “They were saying how they expected this from Hara and that they were going to find Furu’s fiancé and tell her things. They said that you were desperately waiting for an easy girl and Hanamiya was a psycho and Zaki was just whipped by his ex and trying to get her attention.”

None of the team made any move to comfort her as she raged on.

“At first it was all true! I did sleep around and I did go on paid dates…but now they’re making things up! They’re telling everyone I slept with Touou’s coach; that’s not true and that shit isn’t funny! He could lose his job because of something like that! And to hear them talk about things I’ve supposedly done with the people on Touou’s team…including Shoichi. They don’t even know him! I wish they would all drop fucking dead!”

(Y/N) had very apparent tears running down her face. They knew she had been holding this in for far too long. Nobody, no matter how strong, was made of stone.

“We ignored it for too long and now it’s a fucking issue.” Hanamiya said with a sigh. “Doesn’t help that the mind frame found its way in here through Yamazaki. Good thing the trash took itself out. I’d say if anyone else feels the same, they see themselves out as well.”

Hara, Seto and Furuhashi looked at each other and back at their manager. Even some of the second-string players had turned their backs on her.

They all had time to think of it. To decide if they cared about her past or about anything she could have done with one of their teammates. For all of them, as far as they were concerned…once she was theirs, they would worry about her being only theirs.

“Well then good. Seto, you got a summer schedule worked out for practices?” Hanamiya said going up to the tall male.

“Wait are you back on the team?” Hara asked with wide eyes, he no longer bothered hiding.

“From the looks of it you guys are one man short. And with (Y/N) becoming Kirisaki Daichi’s main target, you’ll need someone else to kick asses. Besides…I decided it was time to stop punishing myself.”

~~~~~

“What do you mean!?”

(Y/N) stopped walking and pressed her back into the school’s wall. She was just trying to make her way home without dealing with anyone and she could recognize that voice anywhere.

“Mei, I care about you but I don’t think we should be together.” That was definitely Yamazaki’s voice.

“After what you told me about her, after betraying her do you think you’d possibly have a chance with her? You still want that bitch!?”

“No, I told you those things because I was angry with her. But Mei…you aren’t good for me either.”

(Y/N) hung her head as she listened to Yamazaki’s footsteps walking away from the conversation. Her head snapped up when she heard an accusatory voice turn the corner.

“You! Of course you’re fucking here! Did you come to make sure Yamazaki told me what you wanted him to!” Mei yelled out, getting dangerously close.

“I didn’t tell him to say anything. I was just going ho-”

“Home? You were just going home? Your home is back in America, you don’t belong here!”

“I know I don’t! I never wanted to be here! But I am and…Mei I’m sorry!”

The angry girl stared at (Y/N) in shock.

“Everything I did back then was for attention. Not yours or anyone at school but just someone I never got it from. In middle school I didn’t know that guy was your boyfriend when I first started seeing him…but I wasn’t apologetic after I found out. Once I knew I should have stopped but I didn’t, that wasn’t right and I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N) had no reaction as Mei’s fist connected with the side of her head.

“I don’t want you to say you’re sorry! I want to make you feel sorry! You were cheap and easy, and all the boys wanted you! You could have gone for anybody, but you went for what was mine! And I wasn’t the only person you did that to! You slept around with a lot of guys who you knew were taken!”

“I know! I was doing so many horrible things back then. But I’m different now, I’ve changed.”

Mei hit her again but (Y/N) held her ground.

“No, you haven’t! You took Yamazaki from me too!”

“I never came onto him! He wasn’t even dating you when I came here! And he thinks I’m a slut now, so you got what you want! I’m out of the picture what more do you want from me, Mei! You win!”

“I haven’t won until I have him! Don’t you get it? He still wants you!”

“But you didn’t even want him before I got here….and its never been about him. Mei, you can’t do that to him! Yamazaki cares about you and he thinks you’re fighting for him because you love him not because you hate me!”

“How noble of you. You’re worrying about me hurting him when you already did that!”

“I can’t help it! I can’t change my past and if it bothers him there is nothing on this earth I could do about it! But I never pretended to be anything! When he asked me about the rumors, I told him the truth and he hurt his own feelings by taking something that doesn’t matter so personally. He hurt me too because I thought he saw more to me than how many people I’ve been with. But no matter what he’s done to me, I won’t let you intentionally hurt him.”

“Stop trying to act like you’re better than me! You want him too! You’re using him to try and make me miserable because you’re just like me! But I’ll get him first, I’ll be sure that you see he’s mine and once you do I can drop him just as easily.”

“No Mei I’m not like you. Of all the guys I’ve ever been with, I never made any of them think I really cared about them or loved them when I didn’t. Maybe that makes me a slut but I know I’m a good person who made some really bad mistakes. You…you’re just a bad person. It doesn’t make what I did to you okay but its why Yamazaki still doesn’t want you.”

With that (Y/N) pushed past the fuming girl and made her way off the campus and back home.

A certain ginger-haired male hung around the corner of the building. He’d run back to find Mei, wanting to talk things out. Hoping maybe there was a chance they could make something work.

After everything he’d said about (Y/N)…he didn’t deserve to have her defend him. And he definitely didn’t deserve her.

~~~~~

“Fuuuuuuck it’s hot as hell why are we here?!” Hara exclaimed, pinning his bangs with the purple clip (Y/N) gave him.

“(Y/N) needed a break from everything.” Seto said not able to help the smile on his face from said girl running ahead to check her bags in to the hotel.

“And why did I agree to tag along?” Hanamiya grumbled helping Furuhashi unload another suitcase.

“Because your mom said it would be good for you to spend your last high school summer vacation with your friends.” Furuhashi offered grunting as he swung a heavy duffle bag over his shoulder.

The guys stopped their chatting and complaining when they saw (Y/N) come to a dead halt, her eyes boring into her phone screen. Coming up behind her the word ‘DAD’ illuminating her screen, requesting to FaceTime made them all freeze.

(Y/N) seemed to look panicked before spotting a group of highschool girls just ahead. Running up to them she tapped the closest on the shoulder.

“Hey so I’m here with my guy friends but my dad actually thinks I came with some girls so can you please pretend to be my friends while he video chats with me?” (Y/N) spoke rapidly pleading with the girls.

They looked amused and giggled but nodded their heads in agreement. The guys watched as their manager swiped the phone up to answer. Her dad was probably some strict CEO that didn’t want (Y/N) to reflect badly on the company being caught vacationing with several guys.

“My little baby girl why did you take so long to answer!?” A genuinely concerned male’s voice could be heard through the phone’s speakers. “I was about to send the cavalry to search the island for you, princess!”

The guys stood dumbfounded at the sweet-sounding voice and exchanged glances. (Y/N) smiled widely and positioned the camera so her dad could see the group of girls behind her.

“Sorry dad my friends and I just got here. Hey you guys go check in and I’ll catch up!” (Y/N) said giving the girls the opportunity to carry on. “So, as you can see I wasn’t kidnapped or involved in a plane crash.”

“Dear, don’t treat me like a helicopter parent! I got worried when you didn’t text me after you should have landed!” (Y/N) rolled her eyes but smiled at the man who was giving her a kicked dog look. “You usually spend your summers with daddy! But I’m glad you finally found yourself a group of girlfriends you can trust. I know things haven’t been easy for you and I’m glad you’re opening up to people.”

The KiriDai boys saw the fake light behind her eyes and had no doubt her father saw it too.

“I’m still gonna see you at the end of the summer. Besides this is my last school year before I decide.”

Hara turned to his friends with a questioning look in his eyes but they just shrugged.

“Don’t you go making your decisions for me! You told her you would decide what was best and you owe it to yourself to make a decision for you. Anyhow I wont keep you chatting with me when you have a whole beach waiting for you. Miss you love!”

“I miss you too da-”

“Hey and if any boys give you a hard time or come on to you after you’ve said no-” The team felt their spines straighten as (Y/N)’s father’s voice went down several octaves and held a clear threatening tone to it. Was this even the same guy!? “I’ll crack open their fuckin skulls, got it!?”

“Yes, dad I know. I need a break from boys for this vacation anyway.”

“Well good then! I have to get back to work but you go and have fun, enjoy your last summer as a kid! Bye sweetheart!”

“Bye dad.”

With that (Y/N) hung up the phone and tucked it back into her pocket. Looking up she was met with the blank faces of her teammates.

“What the hell was that about! Was that actually your dad?” Hara exclaimed.

“Huh yeah. Sorry he kinda switches between voices depending on the subject matter.”

“He sounds so nice though! Even when he was threatening it was for your sake!”

“Yeah he’s a pretty good dad. Why what were you expecting?”

“An evil CEO who had an affair, fathered a child but was forced to take you in to be the family’s heir. A carbon copy of you who refuses to acknowledge that because he is ashamed of his own mistake. Meanwhile he secretly not only cares about you deeply but about your mother as well.” Furuhashi answered a little too honestly.

(Y/N) blinked at him owlishly before a loud laugh ripped through her body and she slammed a hand over her face.

“Did you just rip my backstory straight from Ouran Highschool Host Club!?”

“Well you are a harem protag. And you aren’t the broke one in the group so that left male lead’s backstory.”

Hanamiya shot Furuhashi a glare for the broke comment but couldn’t let it bother him as (Y/N)’s laughter was taking up most of his brain function.

“I’m sorry but I can’t! Its funny enough that someone like you would even have seen Ouran!”

“I have no shame in admitting I wanted something to talk to you about. My little sister told me that one was a good place to start.” Furuhashi said with a slight blush coming onto his face and even more so when the girl took his hands into hers.

“I appreciate the effort for trying to find some conversation topics for us! But in all honesty guys my dad has always been great to me! From what I’ve heard he used to be this real stoic, asshole, aggressive fuckboi type. But he was pretty smart, so he made it into a university, had me and was suddenly a family man overnight.”

Stoic.

Asshole.

Aggressive.

Fuckboi.

Smart.

The guys looked between each other clearly all thinking the same thing.

“That actually explains a whole lot.” Seto said with almost a chuckle.

“But then what’s with the illegitimate thing?” Hanamiya asked with no tact.

“Dude!”

“I’m just asking! Your mother’s the one who dragged that out and got it on the first page of Buzzfeed Japan. We kinda assumed your dad was the one who had you when he wasn’t supposed to.”

“Yeah well…my situation is a bit more complicated than that.”

“And what did he mean when he said you have a decision to make?” Hara asked.

“Guuuuys! Please just let this be my beach episode and not my tragic backstory!”

“She’s right.” Furuhashi said beginning to walk towards the hotel again. “A proper romcom needs a beach episode.”

“Are we even considered a romcom at this point?” Seto asked with a roll of the eyes.

“I don’t know, I feel like the comedy did drop off a few chapters back.”

“Do you keep referring to events in our lives as chapters to be sarcastic or meta?”

~~~~~

“So definitely a romcom.” Hanamiya mumbled as he sat on the blanket thrown out over the sand. “Only in a romcom do they stupidly book your hotel room wrong and only get us one suite instead of two. And of course, they’re sold out of other rooms.”

“Ehh they gave us a cot so none of us have to sleep next to (Y/N). Besides she doesn’t seem to mind.” Hara commented with a shrug.

“Of course not! She knows she’s gonna get one of the three actual beds and two of us will have to be on the cot or couch.”

“Even if we got the two rooms one of us would have to have been on the couch anyway.”

“Yeah but without her definitely taking one space it would have been easier to trick you into taking the cot.” Hanamiya joked tossing an ice cube from his drink onto the unsuspecting male’s bare chest.

Hara jumped and flung the cold piece into the sand. He let out a laugh before looking at Hanamiya straight in the eye.

“You know I missed having you around.”

“Oh god I thought we were done with the BL portion of this anime.”

“I’m being serious. I don’t know if you see us as more than just teammates, but I think all of us see you as our friend. And even before this shit with Zaki the team wasn’t the same without you there.”

“Seto was doing a great job as the captain. You guys even made it through the rest of the Interhigh.”

“Yeah but none of us would have even joined the team if it wasn’t for you. You invited Seto to play and I only thought it was cool when I saw you winning a game against the first years here. I asked Zaki to try out with me and Furuhashi said he was just trying to join anything, but I think he saw that basketball had some likeminded teammates and leaders.”

“Whatever you say, just stop staring at me. Your eyes freak me out.”

“Your eyeBROWS freak me out, but do I comment?” Hara laughed but his voice trailed off as he saw the figure behind Hanamiya. “What the fuck are you wearing?!”

(Y/N) tilted her head innocently and eyed her clothes.

“My swim clothes.”

“It’s not cute at all! What kind of girl wears trunks and a t-shirt to the beach!? What is even the point of you!?”

“Shut up the shirt is a cover, but the trunks stay on!” With that (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest and grabbed the hem of her black t-shirt. Slowly she pulled it up, revealing her stomach and then her bikini-clad breasts. Once it was over her head she smirked at her male friends. “Yes, I did that on purpose. You guys need to take a cold dip?!”

“Stupid.” Hanamiya mumbled out turning his attention back to the ocean.

Furuhashi was suddenly behind the girl, having walked from the hotel room with Seto. He placed a hand on the small of her back and gave her a small smile.

“Your skin is going to burn in this heat. Don’t forget to put sunscreen on okay?”

“You’re right! Seto can you get my back for me?”

Furuhashi’s head practically spun exorcism style, as he cursed himself for not just asking to put it on for her.

Seto was red-faced but nodded quickly. The whole team scoffed as (Y/N) pulled a can of spray-on sunscreen from her bag.

Once she was all misted up she immediately bolted to the water and dove in. The boys watched as she waved them in.

“She’s weird.” Furuhashi commented. “It’s like 50% of the time she knows exactly what she’s doing and the other 50% she’s totally oblivious.”

“Yeah and what’s up with her dad? You didn’t bother asking your mom about her?” Hara asked Seto who shook his head.

“She refuses to hear or speak of her so no and my father has never been well versed in the who’s who of companies.”

“I think maybe we are overlooking much of her situation here. We assumed her father was the bad guy and now we are assuming he isn’t the one with money because he seems to be a nice guy.” Furuhashi ponded aloud.

“I don’t know I feel like maybe (Y/N) is keeping it to herself for a reason. I mean…when I was at her house, I saw this picture. It was of her and these kids and a woman in a wheelchair, I didn’t ask about it but you could tell they were in a hospital. With the comments my own mother threw at her I think it’s safe to assume…(Y/N)’s mother isn’t alive.”

“I’ll admit I looked into the CEO of New Face and it’s some old ass dude, way too old to be her father. So, a grandfather or something? You think that he’s the one she keeps trying to impress and is even here in Japan for?” The lavender-haired male said burying his hand in the warm sand.

“Guys!” All of them turned their heads to (Y/N), who was now dripping wet and waving at them. “Are you guys gonna stay on the beach gossiping or get in?!”

Groaning, the boys looked to each other to see who would go and be the distraction while the rest continued their riveting conversation.

“Oops! My bikini top untied!” (Y/N) called out pressing the fabric triangles to her chest while giggling. “Can one of you help me?!”

The guys all tripped over themselves, none of them rushing into the water faster in their entire lives.

~~~~~

“I think I got sunburned!” (Y/N) wined taking a huge bite out of a slice of watermelon that was sitting on top of her huge beach towel.

“Then you should wear more clothes next time.” Hanamiya stated munching on his own piece of fruit.

“Don’t tell her that! We still have three more days here!” Hara wined as he flipped over to let his back tan up some. “Besides tanlines are sexy.”

“Not that you’ll get to see them.”

“Shit I was talking about myself.”

(Y/N) giggled before turning her head out to the ocean and being met with a sight that made a chuckle ripple through her chest. While Seto seemed to have gotten the hang of fishing, Furuhashi looked ready to throw in the towel.

The taller was trying to help him cast his line, but the bait never seemed to want to travel more than a few inches from the pair. And the one time he had finally perfected the cast did Furuhashi realize he forgot to add his bait onto the hook.

Now he just looked like he wanted to pick the rod up and snap it over his knee.

“Not bad for a beach episode huh?” (Y/N) said turning to Hanamiya with a smile. Despite him helping her at school, his rejoining of the team and just being out here he was understandably distant from the girl. The male looked up from the novel he’d been reading momentarily, only to shrug.

“I mean not ‘My Love Story’ good but definitely not ‘Another’ bad.”

A shrill scream from the water drew everyone’s attention.

“Ohh did I speak too soon?”

(Y/N) stood up immediately, only to see Furuhashi practically halfway up Seto’s back. The tanned skin male didn’t seem to be fairing better as he seemed to be glued to his spot.

“Get the fuck off! I’m gonna fall into the water and land on it!”

Furuhashi shook his head, wrapped his arms around Seto’s neck tightly and hiked his legs up out of the water.

“Carry me to the shore.”

“I’m not one of your damned butlers! Get down and walk!”

Curious, (Y/N) went running up to the water before wading closer. As Seto noticed her he looked suddenly very panicked.

“Hey (Y/N), no no no get back okay?”

“Why? What is it?”

Lifting his face from Seto’s back Furuhashi looked (Y/N) in the eyes and for a moment she thought he would be embarrassed to let her see him like this.

Nope.

“(Y/N), you’re strong right? Carry me back to the shore.”

“Guys what the hell- oh!” The girl smiled as she finally saw what it was her teammates were so scared of.

A decently sized stingray seemed to be lurking around the sand, most likely waiting for it’s next meal. As if sensing the new person, the animal made a path around the front of Seto’s feet causing the man to run ghost pale.

“Awww a sea pancake! What a little cutie!” (Y/N) suddenly gushed as she crouched down and tenderly lowered her hand into the water. The stingray stopped timidly before swimming closer, as she gently touched the top of it’s smooth body. “So adorable! Little flap-flap! My little ravioli!”

“Good while she has it distracted, bolt it back to land.”

“Dude you have no fucking spine.”

“I have a spine; I just don’t need that thing’s in my ankle.”

“Idiot, get the hell off me!”

Seto jerked his arms back effectively tossing his friend off his back. Furuhashi splashed into the waist-deep water before coming up for air. (Y/N) shook her head as the antics scared off her little aquatic friend.

“You guys are both idiots.”

“At least we aren’t any worse off than those two.” Seto nodded back on the beach.

Hara seemed to have snoozed off, not feeling his back being decorated with dozens of seashells, compliments of the two kids a few feet over.

Hanamiya, however, seemed just a little worse off as he cowered under the huge towel.

“Just take the fucking chips!” His voice bellowed out to the swarm of 6 seagulls hovering ominously over the spot they’d set up. Every now and then one would dive-bomb the covered male to try and peck at a single chip, before his jerking motion sent the bird back to hovering. “I will shoot you little shits down! Goddammit!”

~~~~~

“I thought tanlines were sexy?” (Y/N) said teasingly, poking Hara’s back. His skin was reddened from the sun with pale sea-shell shaped patches promising an interesting tan.

“Shut the fuck up! Why would you guys let them do me like that!? We’re supposed to be a team!”

“Don’t be so dramatic! It’ll even out by the end of our vacation!”

“This shit hurts! I need one of the beds since the cot is too rough and the couch is gonna rub against my burns.”

“Hell no! I told you to put on sunscreen, you don’t get privileges because you’re stupid.” Hanamiya asserted quickly. “I called to get the reservation so I should get a bed.”

“A lot of damn good that did us since we’re one room short.” Furuhashi said with a roll of the eyes. “Besides I have a medical condition. If I don’t sleep in an actual bed, I will start sleepwalking.”

“That’s not a real condition!” Hara exclaimed.

“It is. A dangerous one at that. I could sleepwalk off the balcony and we’re on the 17th floor.”

“You got the whole damn hotel to sleepwalk around! If you walk off the 4ft balcony rail, that’s just natural selection!”

“Look I think I deserve the second bed.” Seto finally spoke up. “I’m taller than all of you, the cot is too small and the couch is even worse.”

“Then I’ll take the couch since I’m the smallest!” (Y/N) said with a big smile.

All the guys looked at her, almost in disbelief. They’d figured she was assuming she would get one of the beds simply because she was a girl.

“My cousins and I went on our first vacation together when we were kids and we’d rented a room with only one bed! My uncle, dad, two cousins and I all had to find a way to squeeze in. I slept on the couch with my baby cousin, but she and I made do! It was actually really fun and a good memory, so I don’t mind taking the couch! Besides it’s right by the balcony and I’ll be able to look out at the moon!”

“Well…I guess that’s that.” Furuhashi commented instantly flopping onto one of the beds. “By height alone that means Hanamiya gets the cot.”

“Fuuck, fine! But we’re switching off! Tonight I’ll take the cot and then tomorrow someone else takes it!”

The boys all seemed to nod in agreement, and everyone situated into their own spots. Hara peered over to (Y/N) getting comfortable on the couch only to scoff loudly.

“What is that thing!?”

“Hmm? A pillow.”

“Yeah but turn it over! No, way! I knew you were an otaku but I didn’t think it was this bad!” Hara continued to laugh as (Y/N)’s face grew red and she hugged the cushion closer to her. “Is that the guy from Attack on Titan? Oh shit you ACTUALLY have a body pillow!”

“It was a gift! Besides I need something to throw my leg over at night!”

“Well, if that’s the case my bed is open 24/7. Come throw your leg over me anytime!”

“Shut up before I smoother you tonight!”

“With your hump pillow? Umf!”

Hara toppled off the bed as the pillow knocked straight into his face.

(Y/N) had one hell of an arm, probably would have been better suited to be the baseball team’s manager.

~~~~~

Hanamiya woke up, finally feeling the discomfort of knocking straight out in sweaty workout clothes. Glancing at his phone, he was surprised to see it was only 9:32.

Tomorrow was their last day here and the team had decided to get some practice in. Needless to say they may have pushed themselves just a bit too hard as everyone crashed at about 7.

He figured he should probably shower and change his clothes, maybe the bed sheets too. Turning his head slightly he was taken aback to find the couch empty. Furuhashi was on the cot tonight and his other two teammates were in their beds so where was (Y/N)? Had she woken up?

The dark-haired male listened for the sounds of the shower running but nothing. Stretching his arms above his head, he figured she must have gone to grab a drink downstairs or something. Shuffling his feet out of the bed, Hanamiya stifled a yawn before a cool breeze caressed his ankles.

Looking up he noticed the sliding glass door to the balcony slightly agar.

But focusing just beyond the glass was a sight that made his heart stop.

(Y/N) was sitting on the railing of the balcony, feet dangling over the edge, her head tilted up to look at the night sky.

His mind was screaming to walk out there calmly, that anything too quick would scare her, make her fall. But his body was already running, throwing open the sliding door.

The girl had no time to even turn around before Hanamiya gripped her hard around the waist and practically tackled her to the ground of the balcony. (Y/N) was staring up into the deepest storm imaginable. Hanamiya’s eyes bore into her own as he held her down.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” He shouted in her face. “Is that why you had this idea to come on a vacation? To let us all make you happy only for you to go and kill yourself!? Do you have any idea how fucking selfish that is!?”

“Makoto-”

“No! Shut up; I’m fucking talking! How could you even think about ending your life when you’ve been trying to convince us for nearly a fucking year now that ours are so great! And don’t give me any anime protagonist shit! You aren’t a character you’re a real fucking person! You bulldoze into our fucking lives, find out what’s wrong in it and then start trying to fix it. But the second any of us want to help you, to know you, you shut it out. And this? You would have died because we couldn’t help you.”

(Y/N) was surprised when she felt a small moist drop hit her jaw. Maybe it was beginning to rain, maybe Hanamiya was crying. The light of the moon was too dim for an answer.

“I wasn’t going to throw myself off. I just thought it’d be kind of a thrill to feel the breeze on my legs and face.”

“I’m not a fucking moron! It’s called passive suicidal ideation.”

“You’re wron-”

“You can’t lie to me, I’ve been dealing with it myself for 10 fucking years! The feeling that you wont jump out of the way of a car, or that you’ll go out with potentially dangerous strangers for some cash, or that you’ll purposely piss off entire teams of people knowing one could eventually beat you within an inch of your life, or picking a fight with four guys when you know you can’t fucking win. I know it! We’re doing different things but we’re looking for the same result.”

“I don’t want to kill myself.”

“But you want to die.”

(Y/N) felt the familiar pressure building behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry but why do you care?! You haven’t even spoken to me much on this trip. Why did you come help me with those guys? Why do you care about Yamazaki hating me? Why do you care if I want to die!?”

“Because I’m never wrong. If you kill yourself, then I will be.”

“Wrong about what?”

“About you. You were nothing to me when I met you, just Hara’s stupid conquest. From the beginning I knew once Mako was gone so were you. But then you made the decision to leave on your own, not giving a damn what I or any of the guys thought and I thought maybe you were strong. Then when you chose to come back not because of us and in spite of your boyfriend, I knew it was true. But…”

“But?”

“You have both impressed and disappointed me ever since. You called Hara on his shit, gave Furu some hard advice, stood up to me and Young-Mi but then you go and let everyone at school say shit about you. You let them make things up and then sulk about it. And now you’re just going to die because you’re too weak to fight for yourself. I thought you were like us, that you were different from every other weak ass female that won’t stand up for herself!”

“I’m not weak! Being strong doesn’t mean getting revenge or being angry about it but you wouldn’t know that, would you!” (Y/N) growled out finally pushing Hanamiya off and sitting up, pressing her back to the balcony wall. “I’ve been strong for a long time; I’ve lived this life for 9 years…maybe I’m getting tired of living it.”

“It’s not revenge to fucking defend yourself. But you’re here wanting to die because some people are calling you a slut?”

“Because of everything! Because I keep getting reminded that I don’t belong here and everything I’ve done while I’ve been here in Japan is coming back to haunt me! Why don’t you understand that, you fucking asshole! You don’t know me or my life!”

“Because you don’t let me! You don’t let anybody so stop yelling at me like I’m supposed to know!” Hanamiya said growling back at her. Breathing out heavily he ran a hand through his hair and looked into the room. Surprisingly the team was still sleeping, being too tired to have heard their hushed yelling match. “What is so wrong in your life that you can’t tell someone you know the worst things about? You the outcast in your family or what? Because that’s kind of the whole team.”

“No…I’m one step worse. You wanna know my life? I’m the daughter of an outcast.”

“Your father?”

“My mother. It’s simple really…my maternal grandfather had four children; three from the woman he married and one from a drunk night on a business trip.”

“And I can guess which one was your mom.”

“Yeah, she was used as blackmail for 7 years. It worked at first, but her family kept demanding more and eventually my grandfather put his foot down. All the newspapers were talking about New Face’s owner’s affair and hidden daughter. The mistress never lived to see any money; it was deemed a suicide due to guilt, but some people don’t believe that.”

Hanamiya hung on to every word the girl said.

“My grandfather did the only thing that made sense for his reputation…take my mother in and raise her. That went about as well as you would expect. Nobody cared for her except …the youngest of his legitimate children, Shoko. I guess they just had a lot in common two girls who knew they would never have anything because one was illegitimate and the other behind two heirs.”

(Y/N)’s face almost grew a smile as she reflected on the woman who would be considered her aunt. Turning to Hanamiya she raised a brow at him as if to ask if he was still following.

“But things never really worked out like they were supposed to. My grandfather’s only son, the eldest, died in an accident when he was 19. His eldest daughter, next in line had to have an emergency hysterectomy…no uterus, no heir, no place leading the company. Of course, that left Shoko, but she made the greatest mistake of all. She fell in love with a merchant in rural Osaka and against her father’s wishes got married, eventually she had a son and then a daughter.”

“So, that means it left your mother to lead the company.”

“That’s what she figured too. She’d been trying for years to impress everyone and was away at an American university. When she heard Shoko stepped down, she was already booking her tickets to Japan, but she started to not feel well. All the stress from everything…she never even noticed the symptoms and by the time she did doctors said it was too late for an abortion. She tracked it back to a one-night stand during a college party, one where she hooked up with an asshole frat boy.”

“Your dad.” Hanamiya nodded his head, not forgetting her mentioning her dad having a not so favorable background.

“According to my paternal grandparents the man did a 180 and began doting on my mother, offered to marry her and start a family. She kept pushing for adoption. In the end it wasn’t a full 36 hours after having me that she was flying back to Japan on her family’s private plane.”

“What? She just left you, never considered bringing her only child with her to another country?”

“Of course, not…I wasn’t supposed to exist, so nobody knew I did. She left my dad a check and no way of contacting her.”

“But clearly that didn’t stay the case since you’re here. What changed?”

“Shoko. She got sick and my mother ended up spilling everything to her. Apparently, she requested to meet her only niece.” Hanamiya saw tears come to (Y/N)’s eyes but she quickly wiped them away. “So, they found me and talked my father into flying me out to Japan, said it would be good for me to meet my family. My aunt was the most amazing person I ever met. Then almost as soon as I got her…she was gone.”

“That was the woman in the picture Seto was talking about.” Hanamiya mused aloud trying to string everything together. “So, we assumed your mom was the dead one…where is she?”

“…You met her in the hospital.”

“That fucking bitch is your mother? The guys told me what she did to you in front of them and she came in to my room to apologize and shit talk you more. She just abandons you for nine years, suddenly pulls you from your home and then treats you like shit when you’re here?”

“She hates me, Makoto. Before I came here she held no feelings for me but once I arrived she grew to despise me more and more. I’ve wanted to get away from her for nine years but I’ve never been able to.”

“Why not? You aren’t happy here…The guys would miss you if you go. Hell, I want you to stay. But it doesn’t matter what I want. If you’re happier in America, that’s where you should be.”

“Do you know why I’m the next heir to New Face? Because my grandfather swore my mother would NEVER have it. When I came to meet Shoko, I couldn’t be hidden from him. The moment her saw me he knew what he would do. He was going to use me…groom me into being the ultimate slap in the face to my mother. To outsiders he seemed kind and promised me the world all while his hand gripped my shoulders so hard, I bruised. Smiling while he whispered that I was a burden to my father and that agreeing to take over the company was the only way to repay him. He hated me too, but he hated my mother more.”

“So, your grandfather only named you heir to New Face to spite your mother. The reason you’re here in Japan and the only person who would have remotely treated you well is dead. And your mother hates you because in her mind her father is seemingly giving you the two things she never got from him; love and the company. That’s uhh…” Hanamiya was for once truly at a loss for words. So, of course the only words coming out of his mouth were utter rubbish. “That just sounds like Tamaki’s backstory with extra steps.”

(Y/N), who once looked like she wanted to cry, now held a blank face. Hanamiya stared back unsure of what to say next. Sure it was insensitive but it was either that or a ‘that’s rough, buddy.’

To his surprise the girl snorted loudly, covering her mouth she stifled a laugh. She held her sides as laughter rippled through her. Hanamiya was awestruck as he witnessed the girl laughing harder than he’d seen her in a while.

“I guess Furu wasn’t too far off then huh? You are the last person I would expect this much anime knowledge from.”

“When you’re as smart as I am sometimes you gotta read dumb shit just to keep yourself sane. Sorry I don’t have anything better to say to you.”

“That’s okay. Sorry I called you an asshole.”

“Ehh you did when I first asked you to be manager and I have consistently proven I am one.”

“Why did you ask me? To be manager that is. I know everything about you wasn’t rumours. Shoichi, Ryo, Daiki…all of them told me about you. When I got to know you I realized they were right. You’re a mentally fucked up genius so what caused you to go soft?”

“Soft? I think you were giving me too much credit. You weren’t scared of me. I’ve had a few of girlfriends in the past and all were terrified of me. At first, they had no personal reason to feel that way about me so I gave them one. They wanted a bad boy and they got one. I’m not proud of it but it was what it was. My mother, my girlfriends, pretty much every woman in my life has been fearful of me. But you…you knew everything they did, yet you were never scared.”

“You let me be manager because you liked that I wasn’t scared of you?”

“I wanted you as our manager because I couldn’t scare you away and I wanted to know why. Turns out its just because you’re stupid.”

“Stupid!?”

“Yeah haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘only fools are fearless’?”

“I’m not fearless I’m scared of things too.”

“Like what? You put on this ‘I don’t need anyone, I can fix my life and everyone else’s on my own’ façade. What will you actually admit to being scared of?”

“Ruining someone’s life.”

Hanamiya turned his head towards the girl to observe her face, it was a thousand miles away.

“And by that you mean?”

“My father was premed; he was going to be an orthopedic surgeon but when he had me it was impossible to keep up. I know deep down that if my mother had been able to return to Japan sooner, her father would have been such a mess over what was happening with his kids that he would have given her the company. I wonder all the time if maybe I talked Furu into not standing up to his mother, encouraged Hara to give up on trying to fix his eyes, strained yours and Seto’s relationships with your moms, and maybe I ruined things with Mei for Yamazaki. I just feel like I shouldn’t be here…not just in Japan but in this existence.”

“You, just like everyone else on this earth had no say in being born. Either we are all meant to be here or none of us are. Regardless it doesn’t matter, life chose us. I get it, I know what its like to feel you shouldn’t have been born. People get pregnant when they don’t want to, shit happens.”

“Trust me I’m very aware. Everything just happens so fast and now I know you guys heard my dad talking about the decision. I’m scheduled to publicly accept my position and be the new CEO for New Face once I graduate.”

“What’s waiting for you if you don’t?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe everything or maybe I start back at square one. I’ve been building myself and my future for five years. I’ve done so much to get where I wanted to be. I used paid dating as a means to earn my own money and…I don’t regret a second of it. I want to get to the top on my own and have to hurt nobody else in the process.”

A sudden faint knocking snapped the two teens out of their chat. Hanamiya stood up and walked back into the room with (Y/N) trotting along behind him. Opening the hotel door, he peered out looking especially angry.

The young lady on the other side smiled wearily.

“I am sorry for the late intrusion, but we had noted in our records that we made an error in booking your rooms. A gentleman on the floor above had to leave suddenly on business and his room is now free. It is one king size bed; I have brought you the key so please feel free to use it. Have a nice night.”

(Y/N) yawned loudly before smiling to her teammate.

“Awesome! Now you get the new room and I can have your bed! Sleeping on the couch is a good memory but my body wants to stretch out.” The young woman was surprised as she began walking back to the bed only for Hanamiya to gently grab her by the wrist.

~~~~~

Hara could feel the morning sun shining through the windows but only scrunched his eyes tighter in hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep. As his body shifted, he felt the presence of another beside him.

Letting out what probably sounded like a smug chuckle. He knew eventually (Y/N) would accept his offer to crawl into his bed. Slinging an arm around their torso he pulled them into his embrace.

A deep grunt from the person made Hara’s eyes snap open instantly.

(Y/N) and Hanamiya, who were just about to open the door, heard two loud screams followed by a whole lot of racket.

“Guess the guys are up.” Hanamiya said, unlocking and pushing open the door. He was greeted with Hara sprawled across the floor in horror and Furuhashi sitting up in bed pulling the covers over his bare chest.

“Uhhh what’s going on, guys?” (Y/N) asked trying to make sense of the scene.

“Ugh if you guys were gonna experiment couldn’t you have at least given me a heads up to get out of the room?” Seto scoffed pulling the covers over his own head.

“We weren’t doing anything!” Hara yelled out, totally red in the face.

“Besides if I wanted to experiment, I have much better options than him.” Furuhashi said smoothing his hair down. “I told you I sleepwalk and you were the one pulling me closer.”

“You said you’d sleepwalk off the balcony not into my bed! I thought you were (Y/N)! Where the hell were you two anyway?!”

“A spare room opened up and the hotel management felt bad about messing up that they let us use it for the night. Makoto had me on practical suicide watch so he insisted I share the room with him.” (Y/N) said with an unusual flush on her cheeks.

“What!? You got to share a room with her? Alone!” Hara whined flopping fully onto the floor.

“How many beds?” Furuhashi questioned.

“Wow, I’m like right here.” (Y/N) retorted, not missing the asshole smirk on Hanamiya’s face.

“One.”

“But there was a pull-out couch!”

“Yeah and that was the only thing in the room pulling out. Fuck!” The black-haired male felt the wind get knocked out of him as (Y/N)’s fist collided with his chest; her cute giggle sounding just threatening enough.

~~~~~

Aomine listened to the girl ramble on. He had no idea who she was or how the hell she found out they would be practicing today.

Truth be told he didn’t care much about her anyway and she only seemed interested in one particular player. But the mention of (Y/N)’s name was enough to get him listening.

Not even involved in the gossip scene he’d heard a fair deal about what had been going on at KiriDai with her. The same rumours, truths mixed with lies, that had driven her out of Touou had resurfaced. Nothing he hadn’t heard, nothing she ever tried to hide from her team, cousin, or boyfriend.

“Nobody at Kirisaki Daiichi knew she had a boyfriend from her old school. So, we never thought anything about it when she started…doing things with the basketball team. I just thought you would like to know that you did right breaking up with her. She was cheating on you.”

That…sounded like a load of bullshit. When they saw her during the WinterCup last year, that was the face of someone truly still in love with their ex. And her chemistry with the KiriDai boys, though strong didn’t read as sexual. For that matter why bring it up now?

Aomine knew his teammate was smarter than that. His mental strength was above average, his logical side should have won out. The sound of his raised voice let him know this wouldn’t be the case.

“I knew it.” His voice came out through gritted teeth. Spinning towards his team, the young man raged on. “Everyone told me when I first met her that it was a mistake to date her, but I didn’t want to believe them. I let all of her past go! I helped her out when she told me all her problems with her mother, I stood by whatever she wanted to do with her future, accepted when she left me to transfer schools. I wanted to stay together, I wanted to marry her! I told her that when she got pregnant!”

“Just be quiet!” Momoi suddenly shouted out, her voice reverberating in the gym.

Everyone in the room grew whisper silent.

Deep coloured eyes grew wide, realizing what he’s just said. But turning his head, Mei was already gone.

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immoralfag · 4 years

Text

Bokuroo 2020, day 3.

lazy days. @bokurooweek

I’m trying okay, thanku ao3

Tetsurou would like to say he hadn’t been sitting on the couch all day waiting for his boyfriend to come back like a desperate fool, it’s his first day off out of two and he can spend it however he wants, and he’s definitely not waiting for Koutarou to come home.

He’s not. He swears, he isn’t jumping every time someone walks by their apartment, nope, he’s a man, a very manly man, who missed his boyfriend like a limb.

Okay so maybe he's waiting a little, but he was reading, sorta.

When three in the afternoon drags by followed by four he doesn’t worry because he’s not waiting. he doesn't wait at the edge of his seat ready to jump up at any point to hug Koutarou, no, that's not him.

In fact he almost misses the sound of the key turning in the lock, almost.

When he hears it he drops his phone to his stomach and starts reading again, well he tries. Koutarou is right there, he hasn’t seen him in two weeks and he wants to run over to him, and hug him.

Have some goddamn self-restraint Tetsurou.

He doesn’t have long, before the book he was trying to read is tossed out of his hands, his phone being picked up and put on the coffee table, and soon replaced by Koutarou before he can say anything about reading.

His mouth snapping shut when he sees how exhausted he looks on Koutarou’s face, all he can do to keep himself from freaking out is opening his arms, letting him fall into place, his arms wrapping around broad shoulders, as arms wrap around his waist.

He knew that the last few games for Koutarou had been long with little playoff, he presses a kiss on his forehead feeling all the tense muscles in his back relax, his hand travelling into ungelled black and white hair.

Koutarou lets out a big sigh, warm breath meeting his neck he can’t help but shiver, he waits another few moments for Koutarou to say something, about anything, like he normally does.

“Read to me?” Koutarou’s voice is rough from disuse and fatigue, he wants to ask if he got any sleep on the plane, only he’d feel stupid asking such a question when he already knows the answer to it, so he picks up his book, opening it to the first page, he starts to read.

He can’t tell what the story is about as he’s more focused on the man in his arms, keeping his hand busy playing with his hair only stopping to turn the page, halfway through the second chapter he feels Koutarou relax further into him, his breath deep and slow, he doesn't dare look down to see if he’s fallen asleep.

The more he reads, the more he feels himself falling into the story, so much so he nearly misses the sound of Koutarou’s voice.

“Thank you.”

He hums, stopping to run his hand more thoroughly his hair, “No problem, it’s my pleasure.”

Koutarou sighs, “What did you do all day?”

Tetsurou picks the book up again, holding it up to try to hide the redness in his cheeks, god he feels like a teenager again, “uhh… wait for you to get back?” he could’ve said anything else, but he’d do anything to make Koutarou feel better, even if he throws himself under the bus in the process.

Okay, that might be a little dramatic.

But he loves Koutarou and he’d do nearly anything to see him smile.

Koutarou kisses his neck, holding him tighter, “You’re my favourite.”

He shakes his head, “You’re a sap.”

“Umm..maybe.”

“No, one hundred percent.”

He can’t help himself though, pressing another kiss to his hairline.

“Say it back,” Koutarou says sounding serious.

“You’re my favourite too,”

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes, I have a reputation to uphold, I can’t that fall to shambles just because you ask, bro.”

“Awe bro, what reputation?”

“Haha,” he said dryly, feeling the smile pressed to his skin, making one fight its what out on his own face, not that it was much of a fight.

He picks off where he left off, letting their breaths lull him, the words flowing smoothly, Koutarou commenting once in a while in between, his heart feels full.

When his own eyes get tired, and his voice is too quiet to hear anymore, he lets it fall to the floor with a soft thump, Koutarou long asleep, he holds him tighter, letting his eyes fall shut, he drifts, not asleep but not with the wake either, Koutarou mumbling in his sleep.

He’s been lying there all day, yet it doesn’t feel like a waste of time, his time well spent with Koutarou always even when they’re playing video games, or eating toast for dinner because they ran out of food, curled up together on the bed with nothing but each other and their own thoughts.

He can’t imagine a world where that’s time spent unwell, the loneliness of sometimes being alone is all worth it if he’ll always get to come home to this or have Koutarou come home to him.

Sleep drags him down, and he wakes up to soft looks, and kisses, and take out, and at the end of the day, he falls into bed with the man he loves wasting more time together watching movies because they slept away the day.

#bokuroo week 2020 #bokuroo week #fanfic #fanfiction #haikyuu #my writing #my work #bokuroo #kuroo tetsurou #bokuto koutarou

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thatgirlonstage · 5 years

Note

how did i forget we share a birthday month HAPPY BIRTHMONTH TAL I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A GOOD MONTH

IT’S STILL APRIL FOR A FEW MORE HOURS I’M NOT LATE NOT YET

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLUE I HOPE YOU HAD THE BEST MONTH

PLEASE ENJOY SOME SOFT BOYS

(I played uhhh real fast and loose with any concept of the geography of UA’s campus but shhh I wrote like half of this on my phone between dog walks just accept the fluff)

—————

“Yo, Bakugou, there’s a package here for you!” Kaminari waved it above his head so Bakugou could see it from across the common room. Bakugou grunted an acknowledgment, catching it when Kaminari tossed it to him. He glanced at the return address, and dropped it on the floor beside him.

“Tch.”

“What’d you get, Bakugou?” Mina asked, leaning back from her perch on the edge of the couch to look at him upside down.

“Piss off.” He returned his attention to the textbook spread across his lap while Mina whined her disappointed curiosity. He scribbled away for a few more minutes, his shoulders visibly tense, before he looked back up with a glare. “The fuck are you looking at, Deku?” Midoriya squeaked and turned back to Iida, tearing his eyes away from the package. Bakugou scored through a line on his worksheet and slapped the textbook closed, scooping the package up under his arm as he trudged his way out of the room.

Kirishima knocked on his door a few hours later, after everyone except Jirou and Kaminari had trickled out of the common room and crickets were singing outside the window. A muffled “That you, shitty hair? Door’s open,” invited him in, only to get hit in the face with something plastic and heavy. His nose hardened on instinct and whatever it was bounced off, landing in his hands. He looked down to see a bag of sweets — no brand names, some kind of special order assortment.

“Give those to the sugar guy,” Bakugou said, not looking up from his book. He was sprawled across the bed, propped up on one elbow, flipping through pages one-handed too fast to be reading properly. “Just don’t tell him they’re mine.”

Kirishima pulled the door shut behind him, rubbing his nose. “Okay?” he said. He frowned, clocking the cardboard box open on the floor. “This was what was in the package? You’re not gonna eat them?” Bakugou blew out his breath in an exasperated sigh and dropped back on the bed, giving up on the charade of reading and staring at the ceiling.

“They’re gross,” he said.

“You didn’t even open them.” Bakugou made a dismissive noise.

“Don’t have to. My cousin sends them to me every year, nothing I say makes her stop. I don’t even know how she found out my UA address ’cause I sure as hell didn’t fucking give it to her. Must’ve been my stupid dad.”

“Every…?” Kirishima squinted at the box and caught sight of the card sticking out the side. “Is it your birthday?” Bakugou was silent for a moment too long before he answered.

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Kirishima dropped into Bakugou’s desk chair, setting the sweets aside. “How come you didn’t say anything?” he asked. Bakugou lifted his head up to give him a disparaging look.

“Because I’m not fucking six and I don’t need a birthday party,” he said. Kirishima put his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, sure, okay, I just meant — forget it.”

Bakugou dropped his head back. “That candy shit is cloying, it’s way too fucking sweet, but at least the sugar dude can do something useful with it,” he said, “and I don’t just have to toss it in the trash.” He dropped an arm over his eyes. “I’m going for a run early tomorrow morning,” he said. “You want to join me?”

“How early is early?” Kirishima asked.

“Early enough that I need you to piss off so I can go to sleep.” Kirishima shrugged and gave Bakugou a shark-tooth grin.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go give these to Satou. Come wake me up!”

It was his fault that Bakugou blew up his pillow, because he made the mistake of hitting Bakugou with it when he shoved his shoulder to wake him up — although in his defense, it was still pitch dark. He could have been a villain. A pillow was all the defense he had. Kirishima got dressed bleary-eyed and yawning while Bakugou slouched impatiently against the wall in the hallway. Kirishima followed him out of the dorm wondering if their curfew was even technically up yet.

The horizon was just starting to turn grey, the sun still a good half hour away from rising. Streetlights still flickered along the path as they started running, falling into a silent rhythm next to each other. It seemed wrong to disturb the morning hush with anything but the sound of their feet against the pavement and the huff of their breath. Kirishima let Bakugou take the lead, since he seemed to have a route in mind. They veered away from the main campus towards the training grounds, past USJ, curving up towards the wooded area that served as a buffer between UA and the nearby town. Bakugou turned sharply onto a side trail that Kirishima wouldn’t have even noticed, slowing to barely a jog on the uneven path, shadowy beneath the trees. The trail steepened and changed to switchbacks as the sky turned pearlescent above them. The trees thinned out and Bakugou slowed to a stop as they turned the corner of the last switchback and crested the hill. Kirishima stuttered to a halt a few steps behind him, bending over to rest his hands on his knees.

“You didn’t say — we’d be running up — a damn mountain,” he panted. Bakugou gave his shoulder a backhanded swat.

“That was barely a hill,” he said. “C’mon.” Kirishima steadied himself with a hand against the nearest tree and pushed himself forward the last few steps, and his breath caught.

They were on an outcropping that looked out away from UA, over the city. The world was cast in pale grey, light pink cloud streaks just above the horizon. Early morning held the world in suspended animation, unmoving, unbreathing. Bakugou dropped down on the flat expanse of rock that made up the outcropping.

“We have at least a few more minutes,” he said. “If you need to stretch or anything.”

“A few minutes until what?”

Bakugou didn’t answer, leaning down to reach for his toes. He stared ahead at nothing contemplatively. Kirishima dropped next to him, taking a drink from his water bottle before setting it aside and stretching out the hip he’d landed on during their last quirk training session. For a moment there was silence again. Kirishima pulled his sweaty headband off, leaving his ungelled hair to fall loose around his face. A moment later, Bakugou elbowed him.

“Now,” he said.

Kirishima looked up, and the first rays of sunrise spilled above the horizon. Bakugou sighed next to him, leaning back on his hands, eyes fixed on the sky. Kirishima folded his leg back under him and sat up straight.

“How’d you find this spot?” he asked.

“Trying not to run into Four-Eyes on his morning run,” Bakugou said, and Kirishima snorted. There was an odd moment of hesitation, where Kirishima could have sworn Bakugou was about to say something, but it passed in silence. “Don’t tell anyone else about it,” he muttered instead. “I don’t need the whole damn class up here.”

“It’s peaceful,” Kirishima agreed. The city was becoming blinding, sunlight bouncing and rebounding off of glass and steel. He tilted his head towards the sky, turning from grey to pale blue.

Bakugou tossed him an energy bar. “Stupid Deku’s probably going to announce to the whole damn cafeteria that it’s my shitty birthday if I go in there at the same time as him,” he said. Kirishima didn’t comment, just unwrapped the protein bar and took a bite. His breathing was starting to even out again, the air no longer burning quite so fiercely in his lungs. “I don’t need any more fucking celebration.” Kirishima paused at that, eyes sliding back to Bakugou, who was glaring into the sky like he planned to murder it later in the day.

“What d’you mean?” Bakugou pushed off his hands and sat forward, still not looking at Kirishima, looking daggers at the ground in front of him now.

“Tch. It’s not like I fucking did anything. I was born, whoo hoo, who gives a fuck. I’m sick and tired of being celebrated for just fucking existing, for having this quirk, for being drawn opposite a guy who wipes himself out in the Sports Festival.” He kicked away a pebble. “I fucking hate pointless victories.”

Kirishima was quiet for another moment. The sun was all the way above the horizon by now, too bright to look at directly. “I’m glad you exist anyway,” he said eventually. Bakugou looked at him sharply. Kirishima crumpled up the wrapper of his protein bar and stuck it in his pocket, then lay back, arms crossed beneath his head. “I like being around you, and I know you’re incredible and can do incredible things.” He blew at a piece of hair falling across his eyes. “Plus, we’ve all nearly died like six times since we started school, so if you ask me getting to your birthday is a victory.” Bakugou made a short and sharp sound that Kirishima could have sworn was a laugh.

“You know it doesn’t look quite as shitty as normal when it’s down like that, but you’ve still got hair for brains,” he said. Kirishima grinned at the sky. There was another moment of quiet. “Hey,” Bakugou said after a moment. Kirishima craned his neck to look up, and found the murder had drained from his face, leaving him looking out over the city with an unusually pensive expression. He glanced down at Kirishima. “I’m—” He stopped, pressing his lips together. Kirishima pulled a hand out from under his head and reached it over, fingertips brushing gently against Bakugou’s knee. Bakugou startled, looking down at Kirishima’s hand, and ever so slowly reached down and covered it with his own, gripping tightly after a moment.

“Thanks for inviting me up here,” Kirishima said, looking skyward again. “It’s…” He trailed off, breathing in the fresh, cool air of the morning. He wondered how long they could stay here, how long before they would be missed from the dorm or from class, how long before their own consciences would drive them back down to school. The warmth of Bakugou’s hand and the newly rising sun brought a kind of peace he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before.

“Yeah,” Bakugou said. He glanced down. “Shitty Hair, did you fall asleep?” Kirishima jerked, startled, eyes flying back open.

“No,” he yelped. “I just— was maybe dozing off a bit—” Bakugou made that short, sharp sound again, except this time it kept going, and Kirishima stared incredulous as Bakugou Katsuki laughed.

“You’re an idiot,” Bakugou said, and Kirishima didn’t have time to process the affection in his voice before Bakugou was leaning down, leaning down towards him, and now he was close, now he was too close, and now he was touching close, and now they were kissing and all the breath Kirishima had recovered from the run fled his body. Bakugou tasted sweet and fever-hot, like that fire ran all the way through his body, or maybe that was just the lingering heat from their run, and his hand tightened on Kirishima’s until it was almost painful. Kirishima pressed up towards him, trapped awkwardly on his back with one arm still folded beneath him, unable to maneuver himself better before Bakugou pulled away. “That okay?” he asked, eyes fixed on Kirishima’s face.

“Right up until you stopped doing it,” Kirishima answered, pulling himself up onto his elbow and reaching for Bakugou’s neck as Bakugou laughed again. He wrapped a hand around the back of Bakugou’s neck, pulling him back in, as Bakugou’s free hand found its way to Kirishima’s back and lifted him up. They pressed hard against one another, mouths opening to breathe against each other’s skin. Bakugou lost the battle to gravity and pulled himself over to lay on top of Kirishima, knees straddling his hips. He wormed his arm out from under Kirishima’s back and fisted it in his hair instead, still kissing. Bakugou moved off Kirishima’s lips, nibbling at his jaw, while Kirishima’s hand slid off his neck and down his side, eliciting a shiver from Bakugou. He turned his head, searching out Bakugou’s lips again, pressing against them eagerly.

“Think we could just stay up here all day?” Bakugou asked. Kirishima squeezed his hand.

“It is your birthday,” he said. Bakugou pulled back enough to give Kirishima an exasperated glare, and Kirishima laughed, tugging at him to come back down, and Bakugou obliged, pressing against his lips again. “We have at least a few more minutes,” he murmured against his skin.

“Hey, shitty hair?”

“Mm?”

Bakugou pressed a kiss to the corner of Kirishima’s mouth. “I’m glad you exist too.”

#bnha #kiribaku #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #bakushima #answers #fluffyblue-artnwriting #sorry it's not nearly as good as the one i reblogged earlier today oops #but still #my writing

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the-amour-scientia-series · 4 years

Photo

What drives a story to continue? Is it the unanswered question, the unfinished quest? The long-awaited grand destiny that you have no idea when will start?

One of life’s greatest tragedies is when one misses out on life. It’s when you sign away your childhood to the attic after the split-second decision to protect the ones you love. It’s when you realize you were actually better off with the rebound than without. The hurt you brought on others in pursuit of your own healing. The common tragedy is that everyone’s gotta lose something right? So what happens if you lost everything?

What the fast-paced world usually doesn’t realize is that stories get told not because of the grand destiny, the dragon’s challenges, nor even the dame to be delivered from danger. They’re told simply because they were written. Someone took a step, fell, and flew. Someone set out to find the truth. The underdog rose when best fell short of greatness. It’s these stories of suffering that keep the bookmarks flitting, the mind wandering, the heart a-thumping. The fact that it was written is that it was meant to be read by someone, somewhere. Maybe not by you. Maybe not at this moment. But it never means the story is a waste.

The stories themselves are rarely all tragedies, regardless of how much planning is invested into them. But throughout my limited yet extensive existence in the stories of so many, I can admit my story cuts the closest to a rollercoaster ride.

As you can probably see, I always had a knack to think bigger than myself. Such even goes as far as jumping into (and winning) any academic competition or student election. Name it, I most likely got a medal for it, but I likely can’t show it to you without digging through drawers in our Awards Room back at home. Parents were never really much for displaying my or my sisters’ achievements. A simple abode is a treasure to behold, they always said. Besides, my then six-year-old prodigious brain had concluded, if they had been into framing our achievements, the certificates alone would quite literally wallpaper the whole house.

My apartment's wallpaper was a shade of powder-blue now, though, and was marked by newspaper imprints from where the painters too hurriedly abandoned their job. I haven't seen my parents for almost a year, after my still-prodigious yet sixteen-year-old brain had landed me a full scholarship in the reputable Preville Senior High. In a few months I’ll graduate and train to be a lawmaker in Central City, or an amour scientist in Allibourne Hall. I’ll be anywhere but here, and that was the plan.

What wasn’t the plan was to get dragged to the school’s annual music festival by my turbulent roommate and his fraternity friends. What wasn’t the plan was to stay there until late 10pm, and miss a long-awaited call from my older sister Desirée in Canada. What definitely wasn’t the plan was to bribe Nick with what remained of this month’s allowance, just so his friends would take their fraternity racket somewhere else.

And so that summer night found me, Deric Preminger, the black-haired immigrant and long-standing salutatorian, clenching fists in my pockets as I walked home alone, away from the noise of the musicfest.

I hadn’t even been able to gel my hair properly. Strands were already getting into my eyes so I held them against my head, exasperated.

Then I saw her.

Lorelei Marlowe-Monroe was marching on the sidewalk ahead of me—or was she skipping? Heel, flat, step; heel, flat, step; she was rhythmically gesturing as she bounced to a beat. I mentally kicked myself in the gut when I remembered how much we chatted last week about attending the musicfest together. I assumed she wasn’t as serious about it when we both went silent afterwards. Plunging into the noise of the musicfest hadn’t been part of any plan, but I definitely needed to apologize to her.

I called out her nickname. She didn’t stop. I tried her name but to no avail. I tried again, as loudly as the night would allow. She turned at a corner, and I saw why.

She was blasting music through earphones, just like what we do whenever we wanted to drown out our thoughts.

An uncalled-for realization surfaced from some regretful part within me. Was Lor also having thoughts she wanted to drown out?

Don’t think, I told myself, and broke into a run. She didn’t even hear the sound of my old sneakers slapping against the sidewalk. She didn’t even scream when my hand landed a little too heavily on her shoulder, in the process, pulling out an earbud by its cord. “Hey!”

What she did, however, was to stumble back when she turned and found our faces a few inches too close.

“Eric, hi!” she gasped. “Since when were you here?”

Seriously, this girl was hopeless against the world. Her purple-streaked long hair was pulled pretty into a low side-ponytail, barely obscuring the DON’T HATE, DON’T RAPE typography on her lousy shirt. But it didn’t mean she was street-safe in her dark jeans and doll flats, and everybody knew that.

She blurted when I said nothing. “Did you actually run after me?” Her green eyes showed no nighttime exhaustion, instead they posed the question like a challenge. I may have been caught with ungelled hair and cargo shorts, but I was never one to back down from a bluff.

“Don’t I look like I just did? I was calling for you before you even turned the corner! You should really stop wearing those earphones too much, you’re growing more deaf than you already are.”

She didn’t seem surprised by the sudden sermon. “Riiight. Say it again once you’ve done the same, you vile hypocrite, and we’ll see who’s even more deaf after a year.”

This girl was definitely in love with me. I felt an urge to smirk, and mentally kicked myself again. That was egoistic thinking. Battles of the brain shouldn't be fought by the heart, and Lorelei almost never let her guard down.

“Look,” I began, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to join you at the musicfest. Nick’s troupe got the best of me when then they swung by the dorm to pick him up. I didn’t trust him with that kind of company, and I… well, I couldn’t leave him to go off in the night, could I?”

Then I found myself unable to stop. “I actually saw you again at the student council’s refreshments stand and wanted to join you instead. But you know Nick…”

“Do you honestly think I'm leaving this early because of you?”

“Uhhh…”

She scoffed. I had to give her the win, though, for calling out my ego with so bluntly a retort. Petty arguments had always been part of our online and everyday exchanges, but rarely do we cut close to asking about how we affected each other's aspects. Maybe neither of us were ready to see past the other's facades. Maybe neither of us actually knew what lay behind all the bluffing, or why we always chose to bicker with one another. It rarely ever mattered until now, so…

“Whatever,” I spat, defeated.

A contagious smile stretched across her eyes and she laughed, punching me lightly on the shoulder as she did. “Anyway, now that I’m here, is there anything I can help you with?”

Lorelei was really reveling in the attention, wasn’t she? Just because I wanted to apologize for leaving her out when we’d made plans about going to the musicfest together —wait.

We made plans to go together. Did I just set up a date with her? And did I—did I just stand up on her on that?!

Disregard ego, that was not how a Preminger kept his word. I kicked myself again, as hard as I mentally could. Words spilled out before I could stop them. “D-do you want to go back to the musicfest with me?”

I saw myself standing before her, the expression of one with twisted intentions.

Then I woke up to my body screaming down there.

(to be continued) Photo by Luca Severin on Unsplash

#amwriting #novel writing #novelist #My writing #writers on tumblr #writing #chapter #work in progress #wip excerpt #wip #romance #ya #young adult #fiction

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scootsaboot · 5 years

Text

rhysothy western au from patreon a few years ago. follow up to this

It’d been nearly a year since Tim had escorted Rhys safely across the desert to what was left of his family’s legacy out in Eridium Blight. Rhys had easily taken control of the ATLAS mining facilities there; he’d gotten in touch with former employees who’d left after Rhys’ father passed, promising them things Tim wasn’t sure Rhys could really deliver on. Money, health benefits, a safe place for them and their families. It shouldn’t have worked, not after the brutal and bloody murder of Rhys’ father, Thomas Caplan. It’d been big and showy on purpose--meant to scare people away, to leave to ATLAS facilities free for the taking.

Tim could admit that he’d perhaps underestimated Rhys’ charisma, his ability to manipulate people into doing exactly what he wanted them to. Tim was still here, after all. He had the money Rhys had promised him, and then some, but every time Tim thought about moving on, maybe heading back to that little nowhere bar he’d grown so fond of, something stopped him.

Rhys’ hand wrapped around Tim’s arm, stopping him from climbing out of bed. “Don’t go.” Rhys said when Tim turned to look at him. His hair was ungelled and messy from sleep. It made him look soft, what with those pouty lips and that baby face. “S’too early.” Rhys murmured, craning his neck to press a kiss to Tim’s hand.

“It’s nearly eleven in the morning,” Tim replied, keeping his voice low in spite of himself. A quick look out the window showed the sun high in the sky, peering in through the drapes of Rhys’ lavish bedroom.

Their bedroom, Rhys always insisted on calling it, but Tim never could. This arrangement was only temporary, he told himself. He’d be on his way soon, start looking for work again. Real work. Being Rhys’ keeper paid well enough, but it wasn’t as if Tim was rescuing him from bandits. Anyone could do this job. Plus, Tim had some notions about the separation of business and pleasure. His relationship with Rhys hadn’t been professional for a long time now.

He let Rhys pull him back to bed. Tim rested his hand on Rhys’ boney hip and kissed his forehead. “Ten more minutes,” he said. “And then we’re getting up.”

An hour later, Tim and Rhys were washed and dressed and headed to Rhys’ office. The housing district was a ten minute horse ride from the mining facilities, and the path between them was well worn, with imprints of hooves and boots alike.

“So,” Rhys said once they’d made it inside, away from the noise of drilling. “I have some news.” He took a seat behind his large oak desk and leaned back in his chair, sliding one leg over the other.

“Good or bad?” Tim ask, slumping into the seat across from him. It wasn’t as nice, just a little cushion on hard wood. Tim was pretty sure Rhys kept the shitty chairs because he liked making the people who came to talk with him uncomfortable. It had to be a power thing. Rhys held all of it here in the heart of his little ATLAS compound, and if you asked nicely, he might make you think you had some too.

“Mmmm…” Rhys hummed, tilting his head to the side. “Bad.”

“Well, lay it on me, boss.”

“It’s your brother.” Rhys said.

Tim blinked, looking at Rhys’ face, met his eyes. He didn’t look like he was joking. Tim sat up a little straighter. “Jack?”

Rhys nodded. “I got a letter from Vaughn a few days ago. Jack was in Concordia causing some trouble, I guess. Some woman was with him.”

“What kinda trouble?” Tim asked with a frown.

“The murder-y kind.” Rhys said. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out what must have been the letter he received. Rhys unfolded it and slid it to Tim. “He killed someone called the...meriff?”

Tim laughed, couldn’t help it. “Yeah, that’s as dumb as it sounds. Sheriff and mayor all rolled into one. Can’t remember the guy’s actual name.” He picked up the letter and skimmed it, eyes trailing over Vaughn’s familiar script.

“Sounds like a tool.” Rhys said agreeably. “Anyway, Jack and his friend have killed a few other people, they robbed a bank…”

“That’s--I mean, that’s what Jack does.” Tim said, eyebrows furrowing. He put the letter back down without finishing it.

It was the truth. Jack had been a troublemaker since they were kids living out in Sanctuary. He’d only done petty crimes back then--pickpocketing, vandalism, stole a couple horses. Tim had even accompanied him on some of those sprees. As they’d gotten older though, Jack decided that he wasn’t happy with his lot in life. He wanted more. He wanted to be rich and powerful--he wanted to be everything a street kid wasn’t. He wanted to be a hero. Jack figured the best way to do that was to become a bounty hunter--though he never called himself that. He and Tim hunted bandits together for a few years, had gone what seemed like halfway across the globe chasing down dangerous men and women.

Eventually, that wasn’t enough for Jack either. He had a very single minded way of doing things, and when someone got in his way...well. Tassiter had been the first, but certainly not the last who’d tried to keep Jack on a leash. It didn’t end well for him. Tim decided to go out on his own not longer after. His brother was violent and unpredictable, to put it mildly, and Tim had decided that seeing him scoop out some poor fuck’s eyeballs one time was one times too many. He hadn’t seen him since.

“Why’s this important now?” Tim asked.

“Vaughn...sent something else along with the letter.” Rhys said, sticking his lower lip out. He looked concerned enough that it worried Tim, made him want to lean over the desk and smooth out the wrinkle between Rhys’ brows.

Rhys slid another sheet of paper across the desk. It was a poster, ripped and stained in a few spots, but easy enough to make out. Tim’s twin brother’s face was staring up at him, his usual smirk in place, one eyebrow quirked. Just beneath the picture it read in large, blocky letters:

Timothy Lawrence

Man With Two Faces

wanted Dead or Alive

For bank robberies and murder of Huxter T. Meredith

There was a reward listed for ten thousand dollars.

“This…” Tim started, staring at the poster, his hands tightening and wrinkling the paper. “He…”

“I don’t know if he’s been saying he’s you, or if there was a mixup with the marshal's office,” Rhys said. “But everyone in Sanctuary thinks you’re the guilty one. There’s no way Roland hasn’t sent someone to come after you.”

“Fuck.” Tim hissed, anger boiling in his veins. Fucking Jack. No way this was a mistake. Jack did this on purpose. He wanted Tim’s attention, wanted him to come back maybe. Tim set the poster back down on the desk with a little more force than necessary.

“Look,” Rhys drawled, “either way...I can’t have a fugitive hiding out at ATLAS. It’s bad for business.”

Tim looked up, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Rhys’ words were like a slap in the face. Tim didn’t expect anything from Rhys, didn’t expect his protection, but to be tossed out like yesterday’s paper? Tim thought...well, he’d thought Rhys liked having him around. He certainly pulled Tim into his bed often enough. Was Rhys tired of him?

“Oh stop with the puppy eyes,” Rhys said. “I’m not kicking you out, Tim. Well, I am, but I’m going with you.”

“You--huh?”

“Well, no one’s going to believe you if you go to Sanctuary and tell them it wasn’t you. So we go find Jack and turn him in and get your name cleared.”

Tim swallowed, feeling a warm flush crawl up the back of his neck. There was relief somewhere amid his embarrassment. Rhys didn’t want him to leave--Rhys wanted to help him. Tim pursed his lips.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He said. God knows what Jack had planned for when Tim caught up with him. It couldn’t be anything good. Tim didn’t want Rhys anywhere near his brother. “I can find him on my own.”

“I’m going with you,” Rhys said again. “End of story.”

And Rhys did go with him. They set out not long after that conversation. Rhys left his CFO in charge and had her tell his employees he was going on a business trip, which was probably one of the whiter lies Rhys had told this year.

They found Jack nearly two weeks later, in the heart of the bandit-town Lynchwood, under the blazing hot sun. Jack was sitting on the wooden step in front of a run-down looking inn, leaning his back against the post. He was twirling a revolver in his hand, snapping the barrel open and then shut again, over and over.

“Jack.” Tim said, resting his hand at his hip, over his own gun.

Jack looked up from beneath his wide-brimmed hat with an even wider grin. “Heya Timmy.”

Tim took in his appearance with a start. The scar was new, etched deep into Jack’s skin and carving an upside down ‘v’ into his face. His left eyes was a milky white where the scar ran through.

“What, this?” Jack gestured to his face when Tim continued to stare. “Ya like it? Makes me look pretty badass, don’t’cha think?” He rubbed his chin. “Might have to change my nickname though. Handsome Jack is kinda false advertising. You wanna trade me?”

“What happened?” Tim asked, stepping closer to his brother. Anger stirred inside him, at whoever’d done this to his brother. Jack might’ve been a violent outlaw, but he was family, and he and Tim had always had each other’s backs even when they were miles apart.

“Met the business end of a brand,” Jack said, his smile turning sharp. “That redhead bitch Lilith was holdin’ the other end. Ooohoo, don’t you worry Tim, she’s gonna get what’s comin’ to her.”

Jack’s eyes shone with dark promise. Tim felt Rhys step up behind him, his finger’s brushing against Tim’s. Jack’s gaze slid from Tim’s face and landed on Rhys, looking him up and down.

“Who’s the kid? Here I thought were just having a nice family reunion.”

“You know why we’re here.” Rhys said, coming to stand beside Tim. He stood nearly a whole inch taller than Tim, and he used that impressive height to look down his nose at Jack, his arms crossed. “And I’m not a kid.”

Jack tipped his chin up, not intimidated by Rhys in the slightest. “Sure, sweetheart.” He looked back at Tim. “Yeah, I know, that little mix up in Sanctuary. Don’t give me that look, baby brother.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “It wasn’t a mix up. You told them you were me.”

“Yeah, so what if I did?” Jack shrugged. “What’s the point in sharin’ a face with someone if you can’t trade identities sometimes?”

“They think I murdered the sheriff, Jack.” Tim’s hands tightened into fists.

“Meriff.” Jack corrected him. “He was the mayor and sheriff. Tacky son of a bitch.”

“Whatever he was, it doesn’t matter! Roland’s sent someone after me because of it. I can’t--I don’t--I have a real job now, Jack. A life.” Tim’s throat threatened to close around the words, around what he hadn’t known was true until he said it outloud. Something he wasn’t willing to give up. “I can’t have some bounty hunter knockin’ on my front door.”

Jack looked between Tim and Rhys again, something like recognition lighting behind his eyes. “Oh, I get it now. Pretty boy takes you home and now you’re too good for anything else.”

“Don’t even start.” Tim said. He pointed a finger at Jack. “You fucked this up, you’re going to fix it.”

“Yeesh.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your undies in a bunch. Look, Lilith oughta be rolling back into Sanctuary right about now, she’ll tell Roland the poster’s got the wrong mug on it, and you’re off the hook. Then you and your kid can get back to the dollhouse.” Jack puffed out a breath of air. “And it’s not like I’d be able to do it again.”

Tim...deflated, his shoulders dropping. “I’m...still mad.” He said with a frown.

“Sure,” Jack got to his feet, holstered his gun and brushed the dirt off his pants. “Come on inside, you can stay the night. Nish’ won’t mind.”

“Jack--” Tim tried, glancing at Rhys.

“Won’t even charge ya for it.” Jack talked over him and held open the door to the inn. “Come on.”

Rhys met Tim’s eyes and after a quick, silent conversation, they both followed Jack to the door. As Rhys stepped over the threshold, Jack followed him with his eyes.

“Hey princess, you got a name to go with those long legs of yours?”

“Rhys,” Rhys said as he breezed past Jack without so much as looking at him. “Rhys Caplan.”

Once he’d stepped into the Inn and up to the bar on the far side of the lobby, Jack leaned in towards Tim. “You always did like the bitchy ones.”

Tim shoved him. “Shut your damn mouth.”

Later, after they’d met Nisha and she drank Rhys and Jack under the table, Tim and Rhys retired to one of the guest rooms.

“Your brother…” Rhys started, his words a little slurred, his cheeks pink from alcohol. “Is a real asshole.” He was struggling to unbutton his shirt, his fingers slipping on the metal.

“Mhmm,” Tim nodded in agreement and gently pushed Rhys’ hands away so he could undo the buttons for him. “He’s been that way forever. You get used to it. Eventually.”

“Ugh.” Rhys groaned. “Can’t believe we came all the way out here for nothin’...”

Tim slipped the shirt off of Rhys and reached for his pants--he folded them both and set them aside on a chair. “Think of it like a vacation,” Tim said, pulling his own shirt over his head and leading Rhys to the bed. “You needed one.”

“You needed one.” Rhys grumbled, stumbling over his feet before safely landing on the bed with a quiet laugh. Tim pulled him close under the covers and kissed his forehead. Rhys closed his eyes and settled in, curled up in Tim’s arms. Tim wondered how he ever thought he could walk away from this man.

Tim sighed and reached over to turn off the oil lamp, leaving the room dark. He tucked his face into Rhys’ neck and smelled the alcohol on him, the dust from their travels. No doubt he’d want a bath in the morning. He’d whine in Tim’s ear until he got one, with warm water and bubbles and one of those fancy soaps he liked so much. He’d whine about his hangover and he’d whine about breakfast. The feeling of fondness rather than annoyance at the thought maybe should have alarmed him, but Tim only pressed a kiss against Rhys’ neck and closed his eyes for sleep.

#rhysothy #man!! i tell u what rhysothy is a good ship and i miss it #scoot fic

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valeriianz · 5 years

Text

there aren’t enough enemies to lovers in this fandom so i spat this out, unedtited and of course in an office setting cos... you know why. Ao3 with smut included here!

“Connor.”

Connor looked up and wanted to groan, seeing his boss approach him.

“Yes?”

Oliver Hampton dropped a stack of papers on Connor’s desk.

“Get these reviewed for me by the end of the week, our client is not a patient man.”

Connor felt his jaw drop before snapping it shut, grinding his teeth.

“Sir, I already have a load of work to do for O’Connell—“

“Did I stutter?” Mr. Hampton snapped his fingers, the sharp sound making Connor’s brow twitch in irritation.

He walked away without another word. Connor watched him go, flipping his retreating backside the bird, keeping the digit up in the air as his eyes fixed themselves to Mr. Hampton’s ass.

“He’s such an asshole,” Connor grumbled to one of his coworkers one night, taking an angry bite out of his burger. “Who the fuck does he think he is?”

Wes took the bottle of beer away from his mouth.

“You know he only gives you so much work because you can’t keep your attitude in check.”

Connor did a double take. “What attitude? All that prick does is amplify my workload and turn my hair grey.”

Wes chuckled good naturedly, looking past Connor, down the bar, so he missed how Connor’s eyes glazed over, thinking about their boss. Thinking of all the horrible things he wanted to do to him, like piss on his desk, smash his computer in, or… tear off his jacket and shirt and shove him against a wall and bite his throat.

“You wanted to see me?” Connor brought his lips in, he almost called Mr. Hampton “sir” and tried, on principle, to never address his boss so formally. He didn’t deserve his respect.

Even though, on the outside, Connor could admit that Oliver Hampton did a great job with the company. His team was outstanding and they all got along (at least those under him, like Connor and Wes and everyone else). Whenever a conflict emerged Oliver was always there to sort it out or offer a teachable moment. Not that that made Oliver a good person, it was just an admirable trait to have, professionally.

“Yes,” Oliver started, looking away from his laptop and gesturing for Connor to have a seat across from him.

“The work on your last project was stunning. Jackson received a 10% profit increase since you took over the account, and in such a short time too…”

Mr. Hampton went on, talking about the logistics of it all and Connor found himself zoning out. Oliver was looking back to his computer, pushing his glasses up, turning the laptop to face Connor to show him something. His hands were so big, with long fingers that should’ve belonged to a pianist or guitar player. Connor wondered why he never noticed Oliver’s hands before, they were magnificent.

“That being said,” Oliver hesitated, unaware of Connor’s trailing thoughts. “We’ve seen this same formula over and over again in your work and feel you need a bit more originality, creativity to the process. So I’m assigning an intern to work with you…”

What?

“Wait, stop.” Connor shook his head, leaning forward. “I don’t want an intern.”

Mr. Hampton’s lips curled up in that condescending smile. “Well this isn’t about what you want, it’s what we believe you need in order to—“

“I’m fine alone. You just said my numbers are great—“

“Yes,” Oliver interrupted. “But the building blocks are the same, not every client is gonna want the format the last business implemented.”

Connor scoffed. “I do what they ask me to do. I always create drafts for them, but they like the old ways so I do it for them.”

“It doesn’t look good for our company—“

“If you’re dumping an intern on me, then I demand a raise.” Connor switched tracks, keeping his face straight, determined, as his voice rose over Oliver’s, ignoring the glare his boss sent him.

A sharp silence stretched between them.

“I can’t afford to give you a raise at the moment.”

“Oh,” Connor gave a derisive smile. “Like that raise you couldn’t afford for Asher?”

Oliver huffed, sitting back in his chair and bringing his hands to his lap. “That’s none of your concern.”

Connor stood up, placing his hands on the surface of Oliver’s desk and leaning over it to look down on Oliver. It made him feel powerful, and the irate scowl Oliver shot back at him only amused Connor.

“I refuse your intern.”

Oliver stood up too, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. Connor followed suit, annoyed that Oliver stood a few mere inches over him.

They stared at one another, Oliver obviously irritated but hiding it behind a carefully constructed mask of superiority (which Connor hated, Oliver’s face was too stupid and soft and cute to pull the look off), while Connor collected his expression into something cool and intimidating.

Connor didn’t know what he was waiting for, Oliver needed to say something… either accept that Connor worked alone or fight him some more… or fire him on the spot for standing up for himself.

His eyes got bored and traveled down without his consent, checking out how Oliver’s suit fit to his body, the blue checkered tie around his neck, down to the seat of his pants.

Connor’s eyes flicked back up, unknowing how his eyes had softened and his face relaxed into something casual and flirty, after studying how big Oliver’s penis might be.

Oliver blinked, suddenly unsure and looking away, which made Connor smirk in preemptive victory.

Then it was Oliver’s turn to lay his hands on his desk, leaning forward, getting just a little too close to Connor’s face, making the younger man’s head spin.

“Give it a couple weeks, you might like it.”

“… What?” Connor felt like his brain had been wiped clean. Oliver was so close…

“An intern.”

At once Connor remembered why he was mad and made a sound like a growl, turning away from those distracting brown eyes.

“Whatever.”

Having an intern wasn’t all bad, though Connor hated admitting that to himself. He mostly hated how his already small cubicle now had to be shared three times a week with some air headed college student. Connor usually used his time alone to plot horrible things to do to his boss, or how to get him to beg for mercy when Connor would take over his position… in a bed or in the shower. God, Oliver was so annoying, even invading his thoughts when he wasn’t at work.

The year was wrapping up though and luckily time with the company had ended with the internship and Connor was able to celebrate with the rest of the staff during the annual Christmas party.

The bar that was chosen to host the event was big and modern, with free food and discounted drinks to go around. Connor chatted amiably with his coworkers and tried desperately not to ogle how great Oliver looked in a knit sweater and blue jeans, holy shit.

Hours passed with who knows how many drinks and Connor thought about going home before he got too drunk, when Oliver approached him.

“Hey, a couple of us are gonna keep the party going downtown if you wanna join us.”

“Who’s us?” Connor asked instead of wondering why Oliver was talking to him like they were old friends.

Oliver gestured to the group of managers hanging out by the doors and Connor gagged.

“No thanks. If I wanted to brown nose, I’d pick a guy I didn’t know.”

Oliver turned halfway, maybe to hide his animated eye roll, but Connor caught it anyway, snickering at the reaction and taking another sip of his drink.

“This is why I can’t promote you.” Oliver leaned in close to speak in Connor’s ear. “You’re such a douchebag.”

“Me?!” Connor shrieked, drunkenly laughing. “You purposefully single me out and always put the most work on my shoulders, when you know I’m doing a better job than half of my department.” He jabbed a finger in Oliver’s chest, then two, just to feel again how firm he felt under that thick sweater.

“Stop that,” Oliver commanded, taking Connor’s fingers and holding them in his hand.

Connor looked at his fingers trapped in Oliver’s warm hand and up to his boss, curious at the longing expression in his eyes, and gasping a little at how his thumb began to caress up and down Connor’s hand.

Or maybe it was just his imagination.

“Wanna let go now orrr…?”

Oliver dropped his hold on Connor, shaking his head as if exasperated. Connor ignored how his heart thumped erratically.

“Go find yourself a stranger then.” Oliver began walking to the group, finding his coat draped over a chair and sensing Connor stumbling behind.

“Wait,” Connor grabbed Oliver’s sleeve, unsure why he was stopping him.

Oliver huffed and faced Connor once more, waiting.

Connor’s jaw moved wordlessly, staring at Oliver and enamored how the dim lights of the bar reflected off his glasses.

“Maybe next time?”

Oliver shook his head again, looking a little… distraught.

“Not outside a work function. You’re my employee, it’s unprofessional.”

Connor brought his lips in, nodding once.

“Not like we’d enjoy each other’s company anyway, right?”

Oliver’s face softened, watching Connor, studying him.

“Right.”

Connor busted in through the double doors, breathing heavy and taking the stairs to his department. He was late. His one-night stand was being the clingiest bitch and on top of that his car wouldn’t start so he had to order an Uber and of course he accidentally picked the Uber Pool option which made him extra late for work and Kathy at the front desk didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic when Connor called to say he’d be late.

Connor clocked in with sweat dripping down his back and ignored the stares people sent him as he trudged his way to his desk and collapsed into it, pulling a hand through his ungelled hair.

Connor thought he’d gotten away with it, coming into work 40 minutes late, when near the end of his shift, a manager informed him that Oliver wanted to see him in his office.

Putting on his best bullshitting smile, Connor stood and made his way to Mr. Hampton’s office.

Oliver was waiting, instructing, as always for Connor to close the door as he made his way in.

“Have a seat.”

“I’m good standing.” Connor’s fake smile hurt to maintain but he liked the irritation it made flash across Oliver’s face.

After a moment of confrontational silence, Oliver finally sighed and pulled out a slip of paper from his desk.

“This is the third time you’ve been late in the past three months. I’m issuing you a write up.”

Connor huffed. “I’m not late on purpose.”

“I’m sure you’re not, but today was 40 minutes and that’s just ridiculous.”

“My car wouldn’t start,” Connor made his way to Oliver’s desk. “I called Kathy—“

“That’s not my problem.” Oliver slid the paper towards Connor. “Sign this and you can be on your way.”

“I’ll stay an extra hour to make up for it—“

“Connor.” Oliver spoke loudly, voice stern and commanding Connor’s attention. “I don’t make the rules, just enforce them. If you can’t kick your fuck buddy out of your bed in time for work that’s got nothing to do with me.”

Connor’s jaw clenched. He collapsed his elbows onto Oliver’s desk, his brows narrowing as he spoke with venom in his voice.

“I bet you’d like that to be about you, huh?”

Oliver pushed back in his rolly chair, hands gripping the edge of his desk as he propelled himself up, clearly over Connor’s back lashes.

“God I can’t stand you,” Oliver began, getting in Connor’s face, who stood up again to be eye level. “You really think you own the place, like you can just get away with anything. Coming in late, sassing me, demanding a raise. I’ve had enough of you thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Oh,” Connor dramatically placed his hand over his chest. “I don’t think I’m better, I know I am. And so do you. You get so angry when I finish the extra work you shit on me, and never have anything positive to say to me unless it’s immediately followed by criticism, as if I don’t already know my strengths and weaknesses. You just like the excuse to bully me.”

Oliver looked affronted. “I do not.”

“Yes you do.” Connor was breathing hard, his heart rate accelerating, his cock hardening. “You like being above me, like bossing me around is some kind of weird kink. I bet you get off on it every night.”

“I—“ Oliver started, getting a finger in Connor’s face, but cut himself off, mouth open uselessly.

They were both breathing hard, fierce eyes shaking as they watched each other, waiting in the alarming silence for the other to speak again.

Instead Oliver brought the hand that was already pointing at Connor and secured it around his neck, pulling him in for a harsh kiss that Connor immediately reciprocated, moaning brokenly in his boss’s mouth.

“Oh, fuck.” Connor whined, grabbing onto Oliver’s lapels and pulling him as close as the desk would allow, shoving his tongue down Oliver’s throat and groaning appreciatively as Oliver’s fingers tightened in his hair in response.

They wildly made out, kissing, biting and touching frantically before Oliver tore himself away, stumbling back a few steps and nearly falling back into his chair.

Connor was backing up too, distractedly keeping his eyes on Oliver as he reached the door to his office, looking back once to get his fingers on the lock and flicking it secure.

“No, hold on…” Oliver started, panting heavily, eyes flicking up and down, between Connor’s mouth and the tent in his pants.

Connor started walking back, shedding his jacket and pulling at his tie as he did so.

“Yes, sir?”

That snapped something in Oliver, making his eyes go dark and all he could do was watch Connor come back, around his desk, one hand sliding up Oliver’s chest and the other going down to palm him through his expensive slacks.

“This- this isn’t going to get you out of the write up,” Oliver gasped sharply as Connor pushed him against his desk, leaning in to bite his bottom lip.

“I didn’t think so…” He slotted his groin against Oliver’s, both moaning softly as their erections brushed. “But I’m still gonna fuck you.”

A grin escaped Oliver’s lust fogged brain as he pulled Connor impossibly closer, arms winding around his shoulders. “Make it quick.”

#coliver #connor walsh #oliver hampton #htgawm #i needed this lol #i cant focus on Chase rn #im very probably gonna write the smut that happens #and post that version to ao3 #look forward to it my dudes #my writing

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slothgiirl · 6 years

Text

Little Red Riding Hood

theo raeken imagine (smut)

theo goes into heat and it’s all your fault.

crossposted on ao3

With only the vaguest plan to find Liam as soon as possible, you set out to find the only other person who might know where one of your best friends and pack mates was, Theo Raeken.

He and Liam had been getting along now if very tensely and most of their time spent together was them both working off their aggression and breaking each other's noses. And now you were desperate to find Liam, desperate enough that you'd go ask Theo for help.

The only times you'd ever talked to him had been around other people, never like this, never alone.

You hesitate outside of his apartment door, Derek having turned his old abandoned warehouse into decent housing in between alpha pack attacks and hunters. He probably already knew you were here, heightened senses and all, but you couldn't bring yourself to knock on his door now that you were standing outside.

Would he even help?

You shake your head and knock loudly. It doesn't matter. You'll make Theo help because Liam needs it. Because Liam's running wild in the middle of a heat and he could get hurt or hurt someone and he'd never forgive himself after.

“I was starting to think you'd never knock,” Theo says as he opens the door, leaning against the doorway with his shit eating smirk in place. No matter how good of a liar he was, that smirk was always on the verge of giving him away, his lips always lifting up ever so slightly.

Of course Stiles has caught on.

You don't bother with pleasantries, “Help me find Liam.”

Instantly he tenses, “hunters?”

“No,” you hastily add, “nothing that bad. He's in heat and gave us all the slip this morning. Kira fell asleep while on watch. Now we don't know where he is.”

Theo snorts, “why didn't you just chain him up. He told me that Scott locked Hayden in Lydia's basement.”

“Yes well,” you said with a shrug, feeling awkward as you stood in the hallway without being dismissed or invited in, “If there's no unbonded werewolves around, a pack is enough to keep a werewolf in heat in control. Or at least that's what Lydia and Deaton were on about. Besides when does chaining someone up ever work around here. Liam always breaks free.”

“Scott's too soft,” Theo says without any real bite behind the words. He isn't a threat anymore you remind yourself. And if he made himself one again Stiles wouldn't hesitate to murder him regardless of Scott's stance.

He'd saved Liam’s life.

“then you’ll help me?”

He shrugged, “I don't see why I'd be more help then-,”

You roll your eyes, not willing to waste another second exchanging witticisms with Theo, “think you asshole or track him down with those heightened senses of yours,” you tell him as you turn an walk back down the hallway, not bothering to check if he's following. “We're on preserve duty.”

He laughed, catching up to you quickly, “are you always this bossy.”

“When it come to my friends safety then yes,” you say, glancing over at him as you both make your way down the stairs. His eyes are the deep blue of oceans that are only ever seen in documentaries, unscathed by civilization as they meet yours.

“Should you even be out looking for him,” Theo questions, “he is in heat after all.” The slight upturn of his lips gives him away.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, not in the mood for Theo and his games. Unlike Scott, you'd chosen to believe Stiles’ hunch about Theo. “We’re pack and it's Liam. He would never hurt me. We’ve been friends since our moms met at those maternity class things.”

Theo simply arches a brow but says nothing as he leads you both to his truck, cleaner inside than you'd expect from a teenage boy.

It's daytime so there's actually people in the preserve. Not many, but those people who exercise and actually go into the woods to enjoy nature and not track down the latest supernatural threat.

What had your life even become.

You don't even pretend that you can keep up with Theo. It's something you'd come to terms with quickly. Your pack but going up against a werewolf or whatever head on would never work. So you improvised.

Without you having to say anything, Theo slows down, keeps pace with you. It's nice.

The sun is shining but it's not hot and the trees provide plenty of shade.

But no Liam.

“Do you hear anything,” you ask, glancing over at him. The plan was to split up and cover as much ground as possible as fast as possible, but the preserve was huge.

Theo closes his eyes, head tilting to the side as he focuses. Being a chimera his senses aren't as heightened as Liam’s or Hayden’s but they're still much better than yours.

The act of focusing has softened his features, shit eating smirk gone flat, the arrogance and patronizing expression that is all Theo is gone for once. You know he's hot, you've always known that. But the way the sun hits his face, he looks like a boy you might kiss.

You look away. It's Theo. You can't think like that about him.

He opens his eyes back up, looking down at you by his side, sighing, “I don't hear or even smell anything. Are you sure he'd come here?”

Shrugging and aggressively ignoring how close to him you were standing you respond, “we have no clue where he'd even go. Mason’s at his house and Corey went to go check at his old school. Malia and Lydia are on Hayden duty. Stiles is checking in with the station. Kira's at the school. And Scott's running around town.”

“Your his pack,” Theo states patronizingly, “shouldn't you know where he'd go.” Anyone else and you'd be offended but much like Malia’s bluntness, Theo’s always being a smug little shit.

“That's kind of his problem,” you retort, “he doesn't have anything to anchor himself or did you forget what you did so quickly.” You don't mean to sound so harsh, it's just not in your nature to stay angry for long, but you’re frustrated. Liam and his IED while in heat sounds like a ticking time bomb.

Flatly, Theo replies, “No,” before turning around and continuing down the path.

He doesn't wait for you to catch up, just keeps walking.

Now you've done it. If he does anything stupid in a temper tantrum it'll be your fault.

God.

“Theo,” you call out breathlessly, nearly running to catch up to him, “Theo I didn't mean it. It was a shitty thing to say especially after everything you've done since then.”

He stops abruptly and you nearly run into him. “But that’s what your always thinking right? No matter what I do that's always what you all will think of me. Right,” he spits out his hands gripping your arms.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. It doesn't feel like nearly enough.

“Don't,” he says coldly, still holding you in place, “don't apologize for saying what your thinking.”

You pull away and he lets you go. His features are twisted into bitter anger, but you've known Liam your whole life and you can see the hints of disappointment in Theo’s eyes. “Don't say that,” you tell him softly, like you would a wounded animal, “I wouldn't have asked for your help if I really thought that. I wouldn't have asked for your help if I didn't trust you.”

Neither of you says anything, merely studying the other.

You meant what you said. It's surprising, but it's true. He can't change the past, what he's done, but since coming back from wherever the skin walkers sent him, he's helped.

And that had to mean something. It had to or all Scott believed, all you believed about people being able to change, about choosing to do the right thing was wrong and you just couldn't accept that.

“Let's go,” Theo finally says, “Liam’s not here. I would have caught his scent by now. He's in heat after all.”

“Do heats really smell that bad?”

He smirks as he looks down at you, “I wouldn't say bad-just distinctive.”

Theo’s turning the key when he shouts, “I know where he is!”

You raise a brow, “where?”

“The old zoo.”

You shake your head. Liam hates it there. It was where he'd go when he felt so angry and didn't want to hurt someone before he was diagnosed. “He wouldn't go there. He gets triggered there.”

Theo shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, ungelled for once. You wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through it. “He's there.”

“No.”

“Just trust me on this,” he says quietly, subdued for once. It's jarring enough that you nod.

“Okay.”

The drive is short and tense. You want him to be there. He could be there. God, you need to find Liam and no one’s texted yet so no one has any leads.

Malia has been a nightmare when she was in heat before bonding with Stiles. She had smashed a television and rolled around half naked in the woods before Scott and Kira had been able to find her.

What state would Liam be in?

“Split up,” you ask as you go to step into the horror movie waiting to happen that is the graffiti covered zoo.

Theo grabs your arm, “be careful and call for me when you find him.”

You roll your eyes but end up smiling anyway, “right back at you,” and then you take the stairs by twos. Your feet automatically carry you to all the spots you've found him in before.

God it had been so scary. Liam’s hands bleeding and unable to do anything. At least you'd had Mason to talk to.

Mason who ultimately convinced Liam to go to therapy like his step-dad wanted him too.

The further in you go the more you’re reminded of why you hate abandoned places. It’s dark, with only the light peaking in through the cracks. Every sound sounds sinister as it echoes throughout the passageways.

You really hope you find Liam soon so you can get the hell out of here, pulse raising as every shadow takes on a terrifying form like the ghost riders before them.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Liam is siting on the dirt coated floor, hugging his knees to his chest, eyes glowing in the dim light. There’s dried blood on his knuckles and you feel all of nine years old all over again, helpless when your friend needs you most.

“Liam,” you say as relief floods your body, “come on let’s get you back to Scott’s.”

“No,” he utters, shaking his head as he looks up at you, hair curling around his ears. Mason and you had been making fun of him for weeks now about getting a haircut. “No. You shouldn’t be around me. I’m-“

“If you think I’m leaving you here alone you’re insane,” you state before he can finish. You sit down next to him, wrapping your arms around his body, holding him close.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he whispers, sweat gleaming off his skin. He’s feverish hot against your body.

“You won’t. Just let me call the others,” you tell him, feeling for your phone as Liam finally relents and hugs you right back. It’s honestly gross because his shirt is damp and you don't want to think about that too much. “You’re going to be okay. And if you think about it,” you say shifting so you’re sitting next to him, making yourself comfortable on the cold ground, “this is so freaking funny. Like now you know what having a period is like but like ten times worse.”

“You’re the worst,” he mutters back, but his eyes have stopped glowing so progress. “This isn’t funny,” he protests as you shake from silent laughter.

“It kind of is.”

“Y/N-.” He stiffens, eyes glowing as he growls. “You brought Theo!”

You shrug, “Beacon Hills isn’t the type of town to go wandering around alone. I mean we could give Derry Maine a run for their money.” If you thought you could ease the tension you were wrong because Liam just gets angrier, teeth lengthening into fangs.

“Liam?”

He roars and you scramble back and away from him, not being able to help but flinch. “Liam,” you cry out, “stop you’re scaring me Liam.”

“Why did you bring him!” He says as he grips the rusted bars, hands warping the metal as he tries to keep himself together, claws cutting into his own skin.

“I thought he could help,” you respond as edge to the exit, reluctant to leave but also terrified of one of your closest friends. He’d never been this bad before. “And clearly I was right Liam! You’ve got to calm down. We’ll go to Scott’s and chill until this is over. It’ll be just like with the full moon. Spending it with your pack’s way better then spending it in chains,” you say with an uneasy smile.

“No,” he snaps, making to grab your arm as you scramble back and away from him. “Y/N,” he growls.

“Liam,” you say meeting his burning gaze with more confidence then you actually feel, back against the wall. Maybe if you don’t back down he will. Isn’t that how you train dogs? Just show them who’s boss.

He roars and make to grab you again. You scramble out of the way, running for it and hoping to buy time and figure something out.

The sound of bone cracking echoes throughout the hall and you stop, turning around.

Theo stands over Liam’s body, limp on the ground. He looks up and meets your gaze, “your welcome,” he says so smugly you could hit him.

Heart still pounding in your chest, you reply, “We need to call Scott,” after swallowing thickly. You’d never been scared like that before. Not with the berserkers, not with the ghost riders, not even with la bete. This time it had been your friend and somehow that made it a thousand times worse.

“I thought I told you to call me,” Theo says, turning his back on Liam’s passed out form to reach you.

You curl your hands into fist to stop them from shaking. “We need to call Scott,” you repeat, gaze pinned to the ground.

“Hey,” Theo says, his hand tilting your chin up so you’re looking at him, “it’s okay,” voice softer than you would have thought possible for him. “That wasn’t Liam. He isn’t in control. He’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” you snap back, because you do. You aren’t scared of them. You aren’t. “I know he wouldn’t, but knowing and,” you take a deep breathe, “I’m okay Theo.”

He studies your face for a long moment before pulling away and grabbing onto Liam who’s started stirring, his fist cracking once more against Liam’s head. “I called Scott. They’ll be here soon.”

You've been stress baking, pouring over all the online recipients you've bookmarked and meant to make but not really because once you read through the instructions it seemed like too much work when you could spend five dollars and have a whole box of cookies in hand.

But the past week has been rough what with Hayden going into heat which started a chain reaction in the whole pack and you've still not talked to Liam mostly because he's been avoiding you instead of apologizing. He's dumb like that.

Any day now, Mason will invite you both over to his house and you'll end up playing fallout or mario cart for hours like nothing ever happened.

But for now you have way more bread, muffins, and cookies than any sane person could need or eat before they went bad. So you decided to drop them off to someone who could eat that much and deserves all your hard work because Stiles is an ungrateful little shit. Theo.

He's not one to accept or even ask for help in the first place but seeing as he had helped, he'd probably accept you're bagful of bread without argument.

And if you were being honest, you wanted to see him. Had been thinking more about him then you had in all the past months combined. Heart speeding up in anticipation as you walked down the hallway to his apartment door.

Derek really had done a number on this place, not resembling anything like it had the last time you'd been here with Scott and Mason to chain Liam up for the full moon.

This time you didn't hesitate to knock on the door, sound echoing out in the hall.

Theo opens up after a long moment where you contemplated just leaving the bag outside his door and hoping he wouldn't immediately think hunters and just avoiding him for the rest of your life. Maybe running away to canada and becoming a caribou farmer. That sounds very canadian.

“Y/N,” he says through the crack of the door, not fully opening up or coming out. His hair is a mess, some of the strands falling into his face, a slight sheen of sweat on his skin. “Don't tell me you lost Liam again,” he says with a smirk.

“Nope,” you reply easily, “He's all better and just in time to help deal with Scott.”

“Well fuck.”

“You can say that again,” you say with a sigh. You loved your close knitted friend group, your pack, but they can be a lot to handle. Especially when you and Kira went out with Malia. There was no telling what she could get up to after spending years as a coyote.

“I baked way too much bread after the week I've had and thought you might want some. You did help with only minimal complaints,” holding out the bag.

Theo reaches out to grab the bag from you, your fingers brushing his warm hand as you do. “Thanks,” he mutters, but doesn't meet your eyes.

“We can't all have enhanced metabolisms and I worked too hard to have it all go bad just because I can't eat it all,” you add, trying to play down anything Theo might be reading into.

He swallows thickly. “Want to come in?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You weren't expecting to be invited in. Theo doesn't seem like he gets much visitors but he could have a very rich social life for all you know.

“Okay,” you respond and follow him inside, closing the door behind you.

His apartment is sparse. An old couch but no tv. There's no table from what you can see and it doesn't have anything that makes it feel like a home.

It's sad.

“I finally made that monkey apple caramel pull apart bread that looked heavenly fucking good in the photos and I can say that it's as good as it looks if a lot messy,” you say just to fill the awkward silence.

Theo doesn't respond just places the bag on the countertop.

You go and make to open the bag because it's awkward and you hate that. You hate feeling awkward and are not on a one person mission to fix that because last time it had been easy and now it's not and you didn't fret over what to wear for a full hour just for this.

“Y/N,” Theo groans as you step into his space, your shoulder against his side. You can feel his whole body tense up.

“Can you just let me do this thing for you and say thanks? It's not that hard man,” you tell him.

Instead he takes a deep breathe, “Y/N, you need to go now. I only have so much self control.”

“Theo,” you utter his name, unable to keep the hurt out of your voice. “What's wrong?”

“Get out,” he states again flatly, leaving no room for argument. Too bad you can be stubborn as hell.

“What's wrong?”

“Y/N!” His gaze is hard as he stares you down.

“Theo,” you say, meeting his gaze, refusing to take a step back from his side even as he steps back. “Just tell me why?” You thought you two were getting somewhere.

“I’m in heat,” he finally admits, subdued, as he looks down at the wooden floors. “You need to go because there's only so much I can take when all I want to do is fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. But your feet are rooted to the floor. You don't even know where to start, how to even begin to respond.

“Y/N,” he finally says with a sigh, “just please go.”

“Shit. I’m sorry Theo this is all my fault isn't it,” you start to ramble despite yourself, “if I hadn't asked you to help you'd be fine and-,”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand caressing your cheek as his other hand settles on the small of your back, pressing your body against his. Theo’s lips are soft against yours even as he kisses you hard.

You kiss him right back. Hands resting against his firm chest.

“Y/N,” he utters, breathe heavy as he pulls back but doesn't let you go. “You really need to leave. It's not your fault. It would've happened sooner or later.”

“Theo,” you manage breathlessly, heart beating rabbit fast in your chest and wanting more, “just kiss me again.”

He laughs bitterly, his hand tilting your chin up tenderly as he rests his forehead against yours. “I won't be able to stop myself. Do you understand that? I don't want to hurt you.”

His admission makes your knees weak. Theo Raeken who had done so much harm, who cared about no one but himself wouldn't hurt you. Because he cared, he'd just admitted as much.

“I want to stay,” you say before pressing your lips against his, skin growing hot in anticipation because staying would mean-

Theo kisses you back hard, pulling you lip with his teeth. You open your lips up to him, fingers clutching the soft fabric of his shirt as you kiss him back, his tongue warm against yours.

True to his word he doesn't stop when you pull away for air, his lips trailing kisses down your throat, nipping at the crook of your neck. It leaves you whimpering his name.

“Theo.”

He pulls you along with him, leading you to his room as his hands push your shirt up, sending your heart racing as his fingers trail over you skin.

“Y/N,” he whispers against your skin before coming up to kiss you again, your lips meeting his again. You’d be content to lay in his bed, so low to the ground being just a mattress, and kiss him for hours. His hands on your sides.

There's a softness to his face that you normally never see. It makes you weak, heat pooling at your core. “Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he asks with a slight whine to his voice, eyes hungry as you lay down and pull your shirt off.

You hadn't even bothered to wear a bra.

“You're just saying that because you're in heat,” you say instead. You've never really felt pretty, not with Lydia around. But you'd at least managed to stop caring.

He smirks down at you, pulling his own shirt off and tossing it aside. “I might be in heat,” he tells you all arrogance that used to annoy you but now just makes you want to laugh, “but I still wouldn't fuck just anyone. I want you.”

You do giggle as he leans down, pressing his body against yours, the skin on skin contact driving you mad as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Wow,” you tell him, “just what everyone wants to hear right before they sleep with someone.”

He shrugs under your arms, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your collarbone. You moan, “Theo,” as he rolls you nipple between his fingers, his hips grinding against yours, so fucking hard your toes curl up.

“Mhm,” he groans against your mouth, hand caressing your breast.

You whine, digging your fingers into his shoulders, “let's just fuck already.” You can't take much more of his teasing, you just want him already.

Theo leans back, easily breaking out of your hold on him. “What was that,” he says with his usual shit eating smirk on his lips. Same old Theo. Too bad you know how hard he is.

Reaching up, one of your hands goes to undo his jeans while the other palms his dick through the fabric of his jeans, your own smirk meeting his as you feel him twitch in your hand.

Theo’s eyes flutter closed as he moans loudly.

You swallow hard, hand trembling as you help him out of his jeans. It’s quick work and then his own hands are on your shorts making quick work of them, his lips meeting your own even as his other hand brushes over your core with his fingers, so warm and not enough and you writher under his touch.

You need him.

Now.

“How are you such a little shit even during sex,” you mutter as your own hands pull at the hem of his boxer briefs, which isn’t surprising.

You gasp as he slides a finger into your wet folds, just deep enough to tease in the worst way, your fingers dig into his hips, pulling at him, need friction, wanting him to get on with it.

“Ah,” he says with a laugh against the shell of you ear, “but you love it. Look how wet you are for me.”

A shiver runs down your back at his words, his breath tickling your skin. Your hot and bothered and this boy isn’t fucking you already, skin burning with desire.

“Yes,” you manage, as he nibbles on your ear lobe, “now are you all talk or are you going to put your money where you mouth is?”

Theo growls, his eyes glowing gold as his hand grabs yours both by the wrist, pinning them down, his other hand ripping your underwear and tossing the fabric aside before turning you over.

Your body buzzes with anticipation, Theo moves behind you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His hand grips your hip, his cock hard against you and then Theo pushes into you, your hands clutch at the bed and you both moan.

“Fuck,” Theo groans, “Y/N.”

One hand on your hip, the other holds you against him, resting on your chest, Theo thrusts into you roughly, groaning as he does, his face buried in the crook of your neck. It hurts in the best way as he stretches you, his thrusts rough and hard and quick as he fucks you against his mattress.

Fingers digging into your hip.

Your chin tilts up to give him more access to your neck, bruises blooming across the sensitive skin, as you whimper against him.

“Theo,” you utter, voice shakily as you finally what you’ve been wanting. Theo against you, Theo in you, “harder.”

He complies, a growl emanating from his chest as he does. His thrusts growing faster and sloppy as need overwhelmed thought, his hand pressing you back against him as he thrusted forward.

Your arm reaches behind you, curling into Theo’s soft locks. You preferred them to his usual gelled style, not that you’d ever told him as much.

Theo whines against the crook of your neck, “Y/N.” His nose rubs against your skin and your insides turn to mush.

You wish you were facing him.

Theo.

“Just like that,” you urge him on as he thrusts against you, grinding once he’s balls deep in your soaking wet pussy.

“Mine,” Theo states breathily against you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “you’re mine.”

You shiver at his words, a heavy longing you hadn’t even know was there shaking through your skull, body tense as you await release, and respond, “Yours. Only your Theo.”

With a roar he comes, his fangs elongating against your neck and you don’t have a chance to do much before Theo bites down into your shoulder.

You tremble, pain and pleasure overwhelming you, blending into each other and you come, clenching around his cock, eyes squeezed shut as the built up pressure finally seeps out of you, exhaustion and satisfaction that make you feel light as air, a high so deep it reaches your bones, blissed out.

Sharp stinging pain emanating from the crook of your neck, Theo’s body warm again yours as he collapses onto of you, spent.

You ride out your own wave of pleasure, feeling too hot and sweaty and gross the way sex always is.

His fangs retract and you whimper in pain, warm blood slowly oozing out onto your skin. “Did you have to bite me with your fangs,” you groan, but you don't have it in you to be mad at him, your body exhausted and wanting nothing more than to close your eyes and sleep.

His answering smirk is sheepish, his eyes closed as he rolls off of you, the light casting a golden glow onto his skin, “I did say I wouldn’t be able to help myself.”

You roll your eyes, smiling slightly to make sure he knew you were only teasing, “freaking werewolves.”

“Chimera,” he says, chest rumbling, the gold returning to his eyes as Theo pulls your body towards him, careful with your shoulder as every movement causes the bite to throb, already half hard again.

You curl into him, resting you head against his well defined chest, his arm pressing you close. “How are you already hard again,” you mutter, you body still limp from before. He was going to be unbearable later when he realized how much your thighs ached from how hard he’d fucked you.

And still wanted to apparently.

“I’m in heat,” he teases.

“And I’m exhausted.”

With a laugh, Theo responds, “Then let me put you to sleep,” and rolling you both over, sliding between your thighs.

You giggle, “god you’re such a dick.”

“Ah, but you like my dick.”

It just makes you giggle more. He slides into you, kissing the corner of you lips as you grip your fingers into his back, digging in as he pounds into you erratically, your body throbbing with pleasure that sends you squirming under him, eyes squeezed shut.

It’s too much.

Your still too sensitive from before, skin feverishly hot.

Over stimulated and you come again, seeing starts in the base of your eyelids, crying out Theo’s name, fingers digging into his back.

It leaves you breathless.

Theo’s own thrusts grow sloppy, hips pressing desperately against yours, as he presses soft kisses against the bite on the crook of your neck, so carefully his lips are no more than a whisper over your skin.

Your hand caresses his jaw, the slight scruff tickling your skin as you do, bringing his up to you, pressing his lips against yours, hungry for the taste of his mouth on yours.

Theses a desperation and neediness to his kisses, wanting to claim you in every which way, as if he could kiss you hard enough to make you his forever.

You pull away for air, Theo resting his forehead on yours, your body trembling with too much pleasure coursing through you like a live wire, his blue eyes deep pools you could drown in peering down at you.

Your fingers trace over his features, sending his eyes fluttering shut and you feel the hitch in his breath, the jolting in his muscles as he comes again, against you, collapsing on top of you once more.

You prefer him like this, where you can see him, see the way his face moves as he’s overwhelmed, ecstasy etched onto his features.

Neither of you move for minutes after, the sound of his heavy breathing lulling you ever closer to sleep.

“Y/N,” Theo finally utters, gaze soft as he caresses your cheek.

“Shh,” you reply, “let me sleep.”

He smiles as he watches you curl up on your side, ready to drift off into dreamless slumber. “I’m sorry about biting you. I shouldn’t have.”

You shrug which sends you wincing in pain, “shit.” You take a deep breath, “it’s fine,” you feel him. “It’ll heal and don’t laugh but it made me orgasm.”

The bastard laughs, lips twitching up into a slight smirk, far too pleased with himself and you find your self smacking his muscled arm.

“Don’t laugh,” you protest, “I’ll call Stiles and he’ll finally get to make good on his crazy specific threats.”

“I’m more worried about Liam.”

Your nose scrunches up, “don’t talk about Liam after we’ve fucked. He’s like my brother.”

“Does he know that?”

“Are you jealous?”

His jaw tightens as he swallows.

“Oh my god,” you say, trying to smother a laugh, “you are.”

“Shut up Y/N.”

“It’s funny,” you say as he pouts, “he’s like my brother. It’d be weird. Trust me, Liam’s only been crushing on Brett right now.”

“Good,” he mutters, scouting over so he can pull you into his arms again, tucking your head under his chin, “because your mine.”

#theo raeken #theo raekan imagine #theo raekan x reader #theo raeken imagine #teen wolf #cody christian #theo raeken x reader #mine

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cupidmarwani-archive · 6 years

Text

It’s Not Too Late (Barisi)

Summary: Rafael wants to believe that it’s not too late for Sonny.

Warnings: fire, death mention, murder mention

A/N: this is kinda AU? It has canon elements woven in. Suffice to say Sonny has some superpowers that he uses in a not so super way

WC: 2260

The man standing in front of Rafael is not the same one he used to know. Sure there are some familiarities, like the ungelled mess of blonde hair and the blue eyes inset with smile lines. Thin fingered pianist’s hands that move too quickly do the same thing now that they always have despite the fact that what they cause is nowhere near the same that it used to be. No stiff suit pressed flat with a matching tie and a neat coat, badge and gun on hip either. He’s dressed in heather sweatpants and a ratty well-loved maroon hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, barefoot on the concrete ledge. Soot stains his face and clothes like smears of pencil from a poor erase job. The skyline burns in the distance, reflecting back on his face in shades of orange and yellow from the mess that creeps out from the epicenter on the terrace of crumbling rocks and overgrown plants. Plants that haven’t been pruned in a month, maybe more, but still flourished under the rainy weather that the city is really missing now that the sky has dried up and has no relief to offer for the fire, destruction, utter chaos that has overrun the once bustling site.

Downstairs, outside the building, hostage negotiators stand with a fall pad at the ready in case someone falls, is pushed, or jumps. Not that either of the men up here would do any of those things. Rafael is lucky that he was allowed up here, because he knows that anyone else or a practiced phone call would have just angered the man standing and staring at what he’s done with nothing on his blank face. Apathy makes him even less the one Rafael used to know. Not too long ago, but what feels like an eternity, he had been one of the most empathetic people Rafael ever knew. He was sweet, innocent, perhaps even a bit naive. The kind of man who smiled wherever he went and brought food for his coworkers every Wednesday and tucked a blanket around Rafael when he fell asleep on the couch. He was a good man. Deep down, he still has to be. That all doesn’t just vanish, and there’s no way it was an act this entire time.

“Low of them to send you to execute me.”

“They don’t want you dead, Sonny. In fact, they’re a little scared you’re going to jump.”

Sonny tilts his head to the side in a gesture reminiscent of a golden retriever. Before all of this, he had said that he wanted one. He’s always been a dog person, had begged and said he would take care of her (it’ll be a her, Raf, I just know it), only to spend a week sulking over the reality that they just weren’t home enough to take care of a dog and give it the love and care it needs. Both worked late, sometimes unpredictable hours. There was a running joke that Sonny is basically a puppy anyways, excitable energy and doe eyes.

“Right, I forgot. They can’t experiment on me if I’m dead.”

He spits the word experiment out like it’s a vile thing tasting bitter in his mouth like the coffee he never liked. Rafael drinks too much of it and always has. Sometimes, Sonny complained about it. He said that subsequent kisses tasted too much like it. It’s been too long since Rafael has heard that gripe against his shoulder on the early morning of a rare day off. He misses those mornings, the easy ones where everything was okay, even if it was just for a little while. Asking for a kiss now is crass at best, dangerous at worst, but the temptation is there in full force. One more taste of the kisses that used to make getting out of bed in the morning worth it seem to be a fair trade for that of his life, which is practically over anyway. He was the catalyst that started the whole spiral, saying that he needed time apart because he had made such an irreparable mistake in that hospital room, acquitted or not.

“So who’s down there for me? FBI? ESU? NYPD? Who do I dedicate my suicide to?”

Deadpan humor sounds wrong in the Staten accent that Rafael has come to associate with home. While Sonny’s sense of humor has always been dry and sarcastic, it’s never been outright morbid or delivered in such a flat voice. The only way to tell he’s not serious is the step he takes away from the ledge. He doesn’t really want to die, not here, not now. All he wants is to fix the world. If he’s dead, he can’t watch it become okay. But still, he’d rather die than become a human guinea pig, Rafael knows that. It’s a discussion they had the night he learned about what Sonny is capable of.

The memory is so vivid. Sonny’s bare hand open in between the two of them, flames licking up and down his skin like something alive. No explanation between the two of them, but a childish grin on Sonny’s face at showing something he could never tell anyone but had always been proud of. They roasted marshmallows over it at his insistence, turning them to a goopy mess with a crunching brown shell that tasted like heaven in a s’more (it’s blasphemy you’ve never had one, Raf, really) or five. For forever, they sat there and played with it, cooking things and warming Rafael’s cold hands over it because winters in the city are brutal, especially at the turn of the year with the heating broken and the offices closed as scraps of Christmas were swept away to make room for frothy champagne. Back then, it had seemed like the craziest thing Rafael would ever experience.

“All three. Technically the FBI is in charge, but everyone else is on site to help.” Rafael takes a hesitant step closer to Sonny, but freezes at the animalistic expression it earns. Lips pulled back to expose angry, growling teeth. Feral, angry, damaged. “The squad are down there too. Liv, Amanda, Fin. Your family’s waiting at the police tape begging them not to hurt you.”

“If I wasn’t useful, they’d put me down like a dog.”

He hesitates because he promised once upon a time that he would never lie. “We can still walk away from this. Just take my hand, and we’ll walk downstairs together.”

His words must be the wrong ones, because Sonny turns away and pulls his sleeves down, letting the edges come over his hands. He purposefully bought the hoodie too big because it’s comfortable, he had explained, and then spent an entire movie marathon tucked up against Rafael’s side chewing on the sleeve. When upset, or anxious, he had a tendency to do that. But only in the one hoodie, too conscious of ruining his nice clothes. That must be why he’s wearing it now, because he needed the comfort and he didn’t want to damage his suits. As if he would ever be able to wear them after this. Rafael wants to reach for him and hold him, despite knowing that it would do more harm than good.

“What happened to you?”

“What happened to me? What happened to the world, Raf? It’s full of the kind of people who rape and murder and torture and abuse. Cartels and gangs and psychopaths. It’s a dirty place.” His eyes are a little crazed when he turns back to Rafael and comes so close that he can smell the traces of ash and sweat and faint detergent off of him. “I’m cleaning it up. It’ll be a fresh start, like Noah’s arc when God wiped the Earth clean of sin, right? I- I want- it’s not too late. We can start over together.”

The hand he holds out has dirt gathering in the creases from climbing the decrepit building that had once been beautiful and settling himself on the rooftop terrace, surrounded by the little remaining life. In the distance, if he listens hard, Rafael can hear a child crying. Young, maybe six or seven. Over and over, sobbing ‘Mommy’ and screaming for help. Must be from the apartment building next door, with smoke just beginning to pour out of the windows from what can only be Sonny’s handiwork. The people on the ground so dizzyingly far away have to see it, help that little kid whose voice grows weaker by the second. They don’t sound like they’ll survive very long unaided, a fact that reminds Rafael of the body toll he’s facing right now at Sonny’s hand.

Anger speaks before his brain does. “Do you think you’re some sort of God? You’re a murderer.”

Shock, then horror, then fury pass over Sonny’s face in a matter of seconds. He yanks his hand away from Rafael. Too upset now to argue, but undoubtedly not considering any good options anymore. “Rich, coming from you. What about Drew? The baby you killed? One murderer to another, Raf, don’t play the holier-than-thou card on me.”

“That was different. Don’t compare that to what you did.”

He remembers what it was like in that hospital room. If Sonny had been there, if he had seen. The flowers and the music and the weeping mother and the awful shudder-hitch of the machine that breathed for a baby that was brain dead from the moment it came into the world. That’s not something that can be understood without being there. But for Sonny to compare that to mindless slaughter of innocent people on the streets is unthinkable and makes Rafael even angrier. The man that he loved would never do this. Would never watch people die and have the corner of his mouth twist up in that infuriating smirk that used to be reserved for when he would correct Rafael something minute. A little smug, a little proud. They aren’t the same man anymore but some small part of him wants to believe that the Sonny he knew is still hiding behind the heaving ribcage and frigid words.

One small step forward that has Sonny taking one back. With the plants a cushion around him, he looks like a work of art. Despite it all, he’s still beautiful. Carved out of marble and ice and gifted with diamond inlays, he looks like someone who belongs in a museum. Rafael’s fascinated by the fire that slowly begins to glow from Sonny’s hands that curve like wicked claws now in their desire to produce a white hot burn that Rafael can feel caressing his face even at such a distance. An old animalistic desire to touch makes him almost reach forward before he stops himself. Cuts that away, just like the emotions that he realizes have taken control of him. Maybe that was part of Sonny’s plan the whole time. He’s here to talk Sonny down, not get into a spat that they should have settled when they stopped talking only a few short weeks ago.

“Sonny.” No reaction. “Sweetheart.” Bright eyes snap to his, seemingly pure white in the reflection of the fire in his hands that cuts through the warm colors the burning city has painted them. Despite the fact that it’s midday, the sky has gone an ugly orange-brown-black from the smoke. “I know you’re still in there.”

“This is who I am.”

“It isn’t.”

This time, Sonny lets him come closer. Progress. Every little bit is something, especially when he’s fairly certain the authorities are coming closer and within minutes, will have reached the stairs up to the roof. They don’t trust him, not with his past and Sonny’s, but they were willing to give him leeway. Only so much, however. He knows they don’t have enough time, but he might be able to keep Sonny from resisting arrest. That way it’ll be easier for all of them. Rafael wants to touch, feel like he hasn’t in a very long time. Run his fingers through Sonny’s soft hair. Feel the smooth skin over his cheekbone. Hold him and never let go. Fantasies, dreams, little more than memories of what he used to do when Sonny was upset (you’re too good to me, Raf). Bad days used to be close calls on the job and blood speckling on temples, not standing so close to toppling off the roof.

“You’re not the monster you’ve tried to make yourself.”

He wraps his hands around Sonny’s wrists and holds them like he’s holding together a man built from scrap metal and a lot of hurt. Now that he can see Sonny up close, he sees that the only thing keeping Sonny in one place is anger because it’s all that’s stronger than pain. Rafael only has to look into his eyes and it’s over. He nearly loses his footing from the force with which Sonny falls into his arms, crying. Crying hard. The kind that has gut-wrenching sobs and makes him shake and shiver. A child, Rafael thinks. Sonny cries like a child, the one in the apartment building next door that has gone silent, now that he thinks about it. He shushes the broken man and tells him it’ll be just fine. It won’t, but he finds comfort in saying it anyways. Repetition made lullaby until police arrive and drag Sonny away in cuffs.

“Rafael, don’t let them take me!”

“You’ll be okay,” Rafael says.

But he isn’t so sure.

#barisi #rafael barba #sonny carisi #rafael barba x sonny carisi #mine #fic #angst

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