#this is fine to post I’m nervous because crude language

[raysdrawlings]

He’s got a point though

#huskerdust #hazbin hotel #my art #like??? why doesn’t he wear a shirt? #he used to 🤔 #I think #this is fine to post I’m nervous because crude language

[strawberrysainz]

romanticism. charles leclerc

“ being charles leclerc’s assistant was a piece of work. you loved him though. ”

charles leclerc x reader

a warning — crude language, mentions of food, alcohol consumption, semi-mature scenes.

word count: 2.8k

“Do you want a biscuit?” He pointed to the box of red, racing-themed biscuits, mouth already full with one. “Please don’t tell anyone.” He added as an afterthought, and you snorted to yourself, setting down a notebook to take a gingerbread man decorated as him.

The instagram handle for the baker was loud and proud on the box, and you took a photo of the little Charles, making a note to post it later.

Qualifying hadn’t gone very well for Charles, hence the angry biscuit-eating. He’d ended up third, but an incident in the famous tunnel of the Principality had cost him three more places. His white suit was blinding in the tiny room, and his frustrated little huffs as he flung things this way and that made you slightly on edge.

You had been scrambling to catch up with him this season; you had been dealing with a family crisis until Miami, leaving Charles with some guy as his assistant for the past races. You had thought he was decent at first, but Charles was a precise guy; if he was relying on you to keep it together at work for him, then you’d better fucking do it the way he wanted. Even you didn’t mess with Charles on a race weekend. He was so nervous or upset or he was the happiest guy in the world - it didn’t matter, you just had to be consistent, comforting and take things as they went.

You swore he could’ve kissed you when you arrived on Monday.

But here you were on Saturday, still uneasy; Monaco had always freaked you out - you didn’t believe in the curse because Charles scorned it, but a part of you had anticipated that a stroke of bad luck would always have its way here. It was nine in the evening, and the crowds were still insane. You were prepared to walk back to your apartment at this point, even if it would take you about an hour with the blocked off roads. You handed Charles his clean clothes to change into after his shower, and you were about to go home for the night -

“Do you want to have dinner with me?”

You tilted your head. You knew Charles’ new girlfriend had arrived this morning, surely he’d do something with her?

He must’ve seen the look on your face, and his unsureness- the way he couldn’t believe what he were saying- made you embarrassed.

“No, it’s alright. Get a good night’s sleep. I’ll struggle to get back to mine anyway.” You said abruptly. “Must I make you an Instagram post while you’re in the shower?”

He nodded, unlocking his phone. You immediately went into Google Drive to get some pictures as he left, when a message from Alexandra came in.

You blanched; usually, bar your forgetfulness, you put the phone on the do not disturb function so that you didn’t see what he was getting sent- but the full stops and seriousness made you guiltily keep a finger on the notification.

You’re being ridiculous. I can’t give up my job to come cheer you on. I know it’s Monaco but I thought I made it clear. I can’t make it after all, C. My job is equally as important as yours. You’ll be fine.

You inhaled sharply; she was pissed. You thought she was reasonable, but you knew how much it meant to him to have people here; he struggled in Monaco, and even if he didn’t admit it he was so anxious to please.

I’m sure she’ll have a little fuckin hug and a kiss for you. I’m not a cheerleader, that’s her job, Charles. Watch her under the podium instead. Or maybe not after all- I saw you got P6

Talk tomorrow

Your eyes widened. Was she talking about you?

You were being too nosy. You selected the pictures and put them together, locking his phone on the caption section so he’d write what he’d like. As you opened the door to leave, he was there, his eyes meeting yours; and he must’ve known that you knew something because he lowered his gaze.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said quietly, patting his arm. “Sleep well.”

There was a desperation in his tone when he asked you again to supper.

Well, how the fuck could you say no? He was clearly desperate.

“I’ll invite Joris and Lorenzo, and Arthur.” He said quickly, and you sighed; “The usual?” It was a little tapas restaurant 15 minutes away.

You closed the door then, confused, and walked away, opening your phone to call Joris for a lift.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

You were in the front seat surrounded by the familiar smell of Joris’ car; you two had become good friends- always together, waiting, working because of Charles.

You were busy typing about the gingerbread man when Joris asked you about the lack of Alex (Charles had probably been talking about her first Grand Prix together with him).

You paused. “They seem to be having some sort of rift. Not sure. Ask him.” You said shortly; you tried to stay out of his love life as much as you could. You’d liked his previous girlfriend to an extent, but the final events leading up to their breakup made it awkward for you to say goodbye. You tried desperately to be professional but at that point you were a really close friend of Charles’.

Joris nodded. You two did enjoy a paddock gossip now and again, but when it involved Charles alone you really weren’t into it.

You ended up taking longer to get to the restaurant because you made him stop at your house - you weren’t going to turn up in Ferrari gear - and showered, put new clothes on and sprinted back to his car in the drizzle.

Walking through the restaurant to your table in the corner, Joris was busy chattering on about the home GP content he was busy with; you were fiddling with your hair, your bracelets, your clothes, irritated to be there. Trying to be normal around Charles in non-work situations like he didn’t fucking employ you always stressed you out.

Not to mention he was being so awkward as of late.

You slid into the bench next to Lorenzo, giving him a warm pat on the arm as Joris sat on your other side. Charles was smiling at the sight of you - you greeted Arthur, and then him, and you were presented with some iced tea (no one drank next to Charles on a Saturday before the race).

You were lost in the conversation between Arthur and Charles (Arthur hadn’t done so well in F2 today either) when Lorenzo caught your attention.

“How are you?” You adored the way he spoke French; it was low and comfortable, in the kind of way that reminded you of a warm hug.

“Alright.” You said, giggling, and he nodded seriously. He knew about your stress - he’d never raced as intensely as his two brothers - and you’d always found him a comfort.

He was busy telling you about something - a trip with his girlfriend - when you heard the distress in Charles’ tone and turned to him. He was staring at the paella in front of him.

Joris was silent; Arthur just looked lost.

“What’s wrong?” You said quietly, and you noticed a few stubborn tears in his eyes that he was dying not to let fall.

“I’m just not feeling good about the race.” His tone was terribly melancholic, and you felt a bit frozen. “I- Cha-“

Lorenzo was stiff; you blinked.

Charles sat up straight. “It’s okay. Sorry.” His tone indicated no more talking about it, and Joris launched into a conversation about something, Arthur hurriedly joining in. You made eye contact with him sternly; we were talking about this later.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

Supper had come and gone, the bill had been paid, and you found yourself alone in Charles’ car at 10:53 pm on the way back to your apartment.

“Please come in.” You had said to him, after he refused to go home immediately to sleep; promising a cup of tea before he got home.

You had dropped your keys by the front door and entered, your cat greeting the two of you. “What’s wrong?” You said, starting the kettle with a tenderness in your tone you could never replicate with anyone else.

Charles was just sighing, complaining, choking with emotion as he spoke of his fears - dear God, he was struggling - you poured milk and sugar, biting a lip, and eventually it became too much that you brought him in for a tight hug in the light of your kitchen, a song playing in the corner.

You pulled away, and to your surprise he was looking into your eyes softly, a gentleness in his expression that freaked you out. You felt your body soften as his hand met your hip, and you knew, despite yourself, you could never refuse him.

“Cha…” you murmured, gaze on his lips. Holy shit, this was so wrong.

He let out a little sigh that had you going insane, and you turned around to fetch the tea, overwhelmed; this was the only way you could prevent whatever what was happening, not happen.

He murmured your name again, and you turned around slowly, guiltily watching his beautiful face, certain feelings you’d suffocated return just like that.

His hand met your arm, gentle pressure prompting you to put the tea down. You gasped quietly as his hand on your hip brought you together, eyes wide and wanting.

He met your lips with his, and it was like a wildfire that burned, bright and haunting, kissing you everywhere, his touch burning, thigh in between your legs, arms and hands touching you everywhere, you were gasping and he was moaning, the desire in the air thick, scary, and his facial hair tickled you in a delicious way that made you shiver, eyes lidded, dark, and suddenly he was moving to take his shirt off and you stepped back, terrified, lonely.

“Charles, you have a girlfriend.” You said lowly, hair messy. You noticed your lipstick all over his lips and face.

He looked scared of himself. “Fuck. I have to go. I need to sleep.”

“And talk to Alex.” You said, scaring yourself with the heaviness of your tone, and he was gathering his things, tea forgotten.

When he left, you waved him out, mouth wobbling, and you burst into tears after closing the door, clutching your mouth, your sobs shaking you, sinking down to the floor.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

You’d agreed to lift Joris the previous night, so you were glad to ditch seeing Charles until you really had to - an hour later, you walked into his driver’s room; he was doing some exercises with Andrea while the social media intern videoed him. You stayed out of sight of the camera, leaning against the wall, trying to distract yourself from the previous night’s events.

You were wearing more makeup than usual to hide your puffy eyes from the tears last night, determined to act as if nothing had happened. You really hated that Charles had cheated on his girlfriend with you; you could put it down to him being vulnerable, but you were at fault as much as he was.

When everyone had left, Charles was left on the couch staring sheepishly at you. You crossed your arms, an invisible ocean separating you two, you two continents.

“I told Alex.” He said calmly.

“And?”

“She said she can’t be with me if I’m not being faithful and she’s not there all the time. We’ve only been together three months. She’s not into it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It was my fault. I made a move when I wasn’t meant to. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

From the way he was moaning yesterday, you weren’t sure if that was true.

“Okay.” You snort, moving to open the door. “Driver’s parade in 20 minutes. I’ll see you later?”

He nodded, waving a goodbye as you left.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

P6, like he started.

It was consistent, Joris had joked in your ear as you shook your head, trying not to laugh. He’d had a pretty good race, the team hadn’t fucked up, it was just the way it went.

He had been busy with press and much more before he ended up back with Andrea where you and Joris had been waiting for about three hours (you were also a bit drunk; you’d had too many glasses of champagne from Paddock Club).

“Hi!” You giggled, high-fiving him. “Good job.” Joris also cackled, and Charles shot you a glare. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” You said firmly, shaking your head. “I am very sober.” You said, and Joris nodded seriously. “We had a little bit of champagne.”

Andrea gestures to the bottle that was on the table beside you. “What’s that?”

“For Cha! A well done.” You beamed, and presented it to him. Charles couldn’t help but laugh. “I am going to have to drive you two back in her car, no? Put my bicycle in the back.”

You and Joris were squealing with laughter at the idea, and the two standing before you were laughing at you.

“Come, you fucking idiots.”

“No! You can’t insult me, you kiiiiissssed me,” you giggled, and Joris didn’t catch it, but Andrea did, shooting Charles a glare, who if looks could kill, would’ve shot you dead. He looked so pissed.

“Come,” he snapped, and Andrea said that he’d take Joris.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

He pulled up to your apartment. “Come in.” You said, and Charles scoffed. “Not for a long time now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You looked so vulnerable, rain falling on your head as you peered down at him. “Are you taking my car? I���ll come fetch it tomorrow.” You said softly. “Thanks for taking me. I’m sorry, I was stupid. I needed to relax for one fucking minute this week.”

Charles’ eyes softened, and he opened his mouth to say something before he closed it, nodding curtly, and drove away.

You couldn’t differentiate the raindrops from your tears, forcefully wiping them away.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

You knocked on his door at midday the next afternoon, wanting to thank him before flying to Spain. You hated the energy he’d given you since you’d kissed; it was wildly different and you loathed it.

He answered a minute or so later, glasses on and a scruffy jumper, eyes tired. “Hi,” you were out of breath all of a sudden; he was so terribly attractive.

He looked surprised to see you. “I came to say thank you. And get my keys.”

“Come in. Do you want coffee?” He said instead, and you felt a bit of déjà vu from two nights before, hauntingly familiar.

You loved his apartment. The red and white was a colour scheme you adored, and you sat on the sofa while he made you a coffee, one spoon of sugar and a splash of milk just how you liked.

“I want to say sorry for how weird I was this week. I just hate the Grand Prix in Monaco, you know?” You said hurriedly, and he set down the coffee, sitting down next to you. He laughed. “I know. I know.” It had been this way since 2021- when you had started working for him- and he kept having shit races here.

He held out his hand. You squeezed it. “Let’s move on from it.”

He smirked. “Am I such a bad kisser?”

Your jaw dropped, throwing your head back laughing. “Cha!”

He was dead serious. “Why do you want to move on?”

“I work for you?” You said, disbelievingly, and his mouth twitched. “Charles, come on.”

He picked up the mug and took a sip.

You quite literally wanted to die.

He set it down again, looking seriously at you. “I don’t regret the kiss, if you want to know.”

You stare at him. “It literally broke you and your girlfriend up.”

“I like you.” He shrugged. “More than her. More than I thought.”

You laugh, bringing the coffee to your lips. “And when I saw your lipstick on my face…” he trailed off, blushing, “Fuck.”

You swear you were as red as a mother fucking tomato at this point.

“Slow down.” You retorted, trying not to spit the coffee out.

“Kiss me.”

You stare at him again. Was he fucking delusional?

“What?” You hiss.

He rolls his eyes and kisses you.

You’re pulled onto his lap, breath gone, kissing him as hard as you can. Your head is thrown back as he goes for your neck, and the sounds he’s making make you moan.

“You’re really hot with glasses on,” you tell him, and he falters, giggling, before carrying on.

This time you let him take his shirt off, matching him.

You fall back onto the couch. Those eyes on yours, the eyes of your beautiful boy.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

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thank you, monaco 💋💋

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lorenzotl Padel boyssss

user i wish I had your job girl

carlossainz55 Please give me a shirt @charles_leclerc

maisonde.monaco ❤️‍🔥💋

user So glad to see you back in the paddock again!!

thanks for reading bestie ❤️‍🔥

masterlist

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fluff #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1

[agaypanic]

Hi!! I absolutely LOVE your James Maguire series! We really don’t have enough James love on the internet. Is it ok if I request a James Maguire x reader oneshot set just after the camping trip episode? Where they still go to the caravan and all the teens have to put the beds together and squeeze in one room and no one wants to sleep next to James so reader ends up there and they wake up cuddling? The others probably make fun of them so bad lmao (Maybe like a little extra from the fella series??) 🥺thank you so much if you do, I had this idea and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. If you don’t write it I understand thank you anyway xxxx

Squished (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: A stolen tent means less room. But the Derry Girls make do.

A/N: I’m gonna be posting this as a stand alone (so not on the fella masterlist), but I’m gonna write it using the stuff from the fella part 5. So this can be read by itself or as like a lil extra thing from the fella

***

It was a long while before the Derry Girls arrived in Portnoo. After hours of being squished in two cars, harboring what was most likely a fugitive, and getting Grandpa Joe’s friend’s second-best tent stolen, seeing the caravan felt like seeing Mother Mary herself. The only thing that stopped Y/n from rolling out of the car the second she spotted it was her baby sister, who had sat in her lap the entire journey.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Michelle almost yelled as everyone poured out of the cars. Erin gave her a remark about her crude language, in front of her family no less, but was ignored. “I’m allowed to be upset, Erin. I just lost the love of my life and was stuck in a car with you and your kookie aunt for God knows how long.”

“You didn’t even know him, Michelle. He was a criminal.”

Y/n handed her sister Anna off to James so she could get out of the car and stretch her stiff limbs. She tried to ignore the sight of James holding Anna because he seemed nervous to hold her but was still trying to entertain her while he waited for Y/n. It was just too cute.

“Okay, I can take her.” Y/n sighed, reaching out for her sister. James looked at her a little funny.

“Are you sure? You held her the entire trip up here; you don’t want a little break?” She supposed he was right, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like how he acted with her interest in mind.

“I mean if you don’t mind-”

“Of course not.” James smiled at her, and she would’ve been giddy if Erin and Michelle weren’t there. Anna babbled against James’ shoulder, grasping at his jacket. The two teens smiled at her, talking to each other while Erin eyed them, not that they noticed.

“No wonder Emmett thought she was their wain,” Erin muttered to herself as she grabbed her suitcase out of the car’s boot. She didn’t know whether to be disgusted or happy for her sister and the fact that she fancied their English friend.

***

“Jesus, it’s cramped in here.” Michelle groaned as she squeezed past the girls to throw her bag somewhere in the caravan the Quinn family had rented. They only rented one; they didn’t expect Erin and Y/n’s friends to accompany them on their annual holiday. Grandpa Joe, Gerry, and James were going to sleep in the tent that Joe’s friend had lent them, but those plans had gone south. But Joe insisted that they should still sleep outside.

“We’re men, aren’t we?” He had said. “We don’t need no damn tent.”

But one look at James, and the girls knew that wouldn’t work out well. He was already nervous around Joe and Gerry, mainly Joe, especially because he was the one who allowed Emmett to steal their tent. But living outdoors with them for who knows how long? No thanks.

The adults had gone to a close-by shop that sold camping gear to get another tent for them to sleep in. Grandpa Joe almost had a heart attack when the girls suggested that James sleep in the caravan with them, but then Mary calmed him down by saying that the girls would be fine because James was gay.

James was getting sick of correcting this assumption. But he didn’t want to sleep in a tent with the adults, so he let it slide.

“Okay, how are we doing this?” Y/n asked, looking at the somewhat cramped space. The girls’ things were either thrown somewhere in the caravan or clutched closely to try to create more room. Everyone looked around. “I know there’s a bed at the end.”

“I call it!” Michelle yelled, pushing past everyone to sit on the bed before anyone else could claim it. She looked smug, probably thinking that she wouldn’t have to share with anyone else.

“Fine.” Y/n sighed, moving Anna to her other hip. She was charged with looking after her while the adults were gone. James was going to offer to carry her, but then decided to take their luggage. “But you have to room with someone else in that bed.”

“What the fuck, Y/n?!” Michelle snarled.

“Look around you, Michelle.” James defended. “There’s six of us in here.” Michelle rolled her eyes at her cousin. Huffing in annoyance, she looked at everyone in the caravan.

“Fine. Clare, you’re with me, yeah?”

“Two down, four to go,” Y/n muttered, looking around. “There’s the two seats in the front, and then the sofa could probably fit two.”

“I’ll take the sofa.” James volunteered, moving to set his bag on it, but still holding Y/n’s for when she decided where to sleep. Erin smirked.

“Orla and I call the seats!” Y/n would’ve glared at Erin if she wasn’t in a room with James and Michelle. She had a sneaking suspicion of what Erin was planning. 

“Is that okay with you, Y/n?” James asked. He was still holding her bag, in case she had reservations about sharing a sleeping space with him and wanted to switch with someone else. 

“Yeah.” Y/n nodded, watching James smile as he dropped her bag next to his. “Fine with me, James.”

“Aye, James, it must be exciting to finally have a girl in your bed.”

“Shut up, Michelle!”

***

It was late at night when the girls finally decided to go to bed. They had spent most of their time talking about this and that or playing games. Everyone bid each other good night and went to their sleeping areas.

“So, how should we do this?” James asked Y/n quietly. Their gazes kept going between the sofa and each other, trying to figure out what to do. “I can sleep on the floor if you’d like. I’m fine with it.”

“No, James. Don’t be silly.” Y/n bit her lip, trying to figure out how to fit the two of them in this tiny space. “We could lay on our sides.”

It became awkward very fast. The two faced each other, noses almost bumping. They were stiff, trying not to disturb the other. Y/n tried to fix this by turning around so they wouldn’t face each other. She must’ve forgotten how small the sofa was because James reached an arm out to stop her from falling to the floor.

“Careful,” James said, arm wrapped around her waist to pull her further from the edge. Y/n couldn’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach, somewhat surprised that James had the strength to pull her. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She replied meekly, grateful it was dark so James wouldn’t see the blush on her cheeks even though he was so close to her.

“Want me to let go?” His grip loosened slightly, but she caught his hand before it could leave her.

“No!” Y/n cringed at how loud she was. “I mean, uh, if you don’t mind.” James’ arm settled around her.

“Of course not.” He adjusted himself slightly before letting out a deep sigh. “Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night, James.”

***

“Why is he all over her like that?” Michelle grimaced, joining the crowd of her friends. They all stood before the small sofa, looking down at a sleeping Y/n and James. In his sleep, James had wrapped both arms around Y/n and kept her close to his chest. She didn’t seem to mind, holding her hands on his to prevent him from moving. “Fucking disgusting.”

“Quiet, Michelle,” Clare whispered as Y/n stirred. When she stopped her movements, the group let out a breath of relief they didn’t realize they were holding. “You know what we should do?” Seeming to read her mind, Erin slipped her shoes on.

“I’ll go get Mammy’s camera.”

#james maguire x reader #james maguire #derry girls #derry girls x reader #agaypanic

[cuddlesslut]

Part Eight: Hope

Atsumu x fem reader , Suna x fem Reader, Hinata x Fem reader

A/N: I’m so sorry it took so long to put out this chapter I’m gunna try to do better on posting faster. I’ve had a lot of stuff happening irl. I love see so many of your write in for the poll 😂 I did not expect Sakusa to pop off! I hope y’all like this chapter. Again it’s still kind of short but I wanted to get it posted. Also you can’t convince me Hinata doesn’t use an all in one cleanser!

Warning: crude language, not much angst, some fluff.

Part Seven: Regrets

Hinata stared at his phone questioning whether he should message you again. It had been four days since you ran out of his apartment. You had yet to respond to any of his texts. As concerned as he is he knows no good will come from spamming you. Although he wants nothing more than for you too talk to him. He was so confused where you both stood. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that things couldn’t go back to the way they were before. He can’t go back to pushing down his feelings and pretending he doesn’t want to be more. That he didn’t want to call you his and show you off to the world. To take you out on dates try new experiences and make memories with you. He can’t keep acting like he doesn’t dream of waking up to you in his arms every morning. He wants to be there with you every step in life and support you no matter what. He wants to show you that you are the most amazing woman he’s ever known. As much as the sex is amazing it’s not worth holding back anymore. He knows you may still not be ready for a relationship and he wouldn’t think about pressuring you into one after how horribly your last ended, he’d gladly wait for you to be ready but he has to be honest with his feelings instead of torturing himself.

The sound of his alarm snapped him out of his daze. Time to get ready for practice, he groaned pulling himself from the comfort of his bed before heading to the shower to start his day. He shuffled in the bathroom hooking up his phone to his Bluetooth speaker starting up with morning playlist beginning his morning routine. He loved jamming in the shower. He turned the water on letting the heat build as he brushed his teeth before climbing into the steaming shower bopping his head to the beat of silhouette by Kana-boon having to refrain himself from attempting to naruto running in the slippery bath. He stood there for a moment enjoying the heat hitting his back and loosening his muscles. Losing himself in the music as he grabbed his three in one, body wash, shampoo and conditioner. He scrubbed his hair and body screaming the lyrics to the next song. “Sawaras nai kimi wa shojo wa na no Boku wa yarichinbitchi no osu da yo !!,” he was jamming out when the song was interrupted by the sound of a notification. He thought nothing of it figuring it was just Bokuto-San. When the chimes continue his curiosity won out as he peeked out passed the curtain still covered in bubbles to see who was spamming his phone. His eyes grew wide as he saw your name lighting up his notifications. He rushed for his phone loosing his balance and slamming the shower wall to keep himself from falling on his ass as he scrambled out still dripping and soapy as he stood in bathroom unlocking his phone.

YN-Chan 🧡: Hey Shoyo

YN-Chan🧡: you’re usually up by now so I thought I’d message you to say I’m soo soo sorry for how I ran out the other day.

YN-Chan🧡: honestly I should have messaged you days ago but I’ve just been dealing with a lot . It’s no excuse but still I’m sorry.

YN-Chan 🧡: look I totally understand if you don’t want talk to me after how I acted but if you do I was hoping we could get together and talk?

Hinata could see the text bubble at the bottom showing she was typing but he wasted no time pulling up the call button needing to here your voice. It rang two times before connecting. His heart clinched hearing your soft hello.

“Hey Sho,” you answered.

“Hey there YN-Chan,” he greeted back.

He could here a sense of nervousness in your tone. “Hey sorry if interrupted anything.” He realized how hard he was breathing from excitement and from nearly dying trying to escape his shower.

“Oh no no, its fine I wasn’t busy,” he feigned nonchalance. There was a beat of silence as you both searched for words.

“Umm you had said you wanted to talk?” He questioned. He was really concerned for why you ran off that day.

“Oh yeah but I’d much rather talk in person, is there anyway we could get together soon I understand if you’re busy,”

“I’m free tonight,” he cursed himself for how desperate he sounded, “uhh do you want to come over tonight?”

You chuckled at his eagerness. “If it’s okay with you maybe we could go out... to like dinner maybe,” his heart froze his mind reeling with excitement you had never gone out before. Always just opting to have food delivered and eating in. He couldn’t help but let his hopes rise.

“I know it’s not what we usually do so I get if you’re uncomfor-”

“I’d love to!” He cuts you off. Not wanting to miss this chance.

“A-awesome um is 7:30 good for you?” You questioned.

“Yep!” He could feeling his heart soaring as the plans started to solidify.

“Great well I’ll message you all of the details later, bye Sho umm I’ll see you tonight.”

“Goodbye YN-Chan, can’t wait!” He heard a small laugh leave your lips before the line disconnected. There is a wide smile spread across his face as leaning against the wall next to him not even upset that his shower water was now starting to run cold.

Hinata’s day was instantly better with thought of seeing you tonight the Idea of having a date with you filled him with joy. Everyone could see the difference in the outside hitter today compared to the last few practices. It’s was like he was in the zone. He was all over the court making the cleanest receives and his spikes were just so on point. It was time for there first water break and stretch. He sat on the bench taking a gulp of water a big smile present on his face when he checks his phone to see a message with a restaurant address. His teammates shared a look at the way the ginger stared at his phone.

“What’s got you so happy Hinata?” Sakusa questioned.

“Yeah Sho you’ve been on fire today plus you won’t stop smiling at your phone!” Bokuto boasted wrapping an arm around his newest teammate.

“That obvious huh?” Hinata grinned. “Well uhh the girl I’ve been talking to wants to go on a date tonight!”

“Oh yeah?” Atsumu smirked “the same girl that’s been marking up yer back recently?” Bokuto and the Setter busted into laughter when Hinata’s faced turned red. Sakusa rolled his eye at the childish behavior.

“Uh haha yeah that’s the one,” he chuckled rubbing the back of his head.

“Well if you’re already fuckin her why are you getting all giddy over a date?” The setter asked

“We’ve actually never been on date before,” Hinata admitted.

“Damn Sho, first date! Why’d you wait so long dude?” Bo wondered.

“Really Hinata-Kun I didn’t take you for the casual sex type,” Sakusa stated

“She’s a friend but I’ve like her pretty much since we met but she’s just not ready for a relationship,” he explains “ she has some bad history but we kept fooling around as friends. I’m so excited cause she asked if I wanted to get dinner so I’m hoping maybe she’s starting to open up to the idea.”

“Ha well good luck then bro,” Bokuto smacked him on the back laughing. The rest of them agreed in the well wishes before the whistle blew signaling the end of their break.

They resumed their intense training. Right now focusing on their serves and some indurance training. The coaches were wearing them out today going over and over drills. Soon enough they were in the locker room showering up a bit and changing as they got ready for their lunch break before they’d have to return to practice. The locker room filled with chatter as they discussed different plays they wanted to work on or where they wanted to grab lunch. There conversation was interrupted when one of the coaching assistants poked their head in.

“Miya-San your fiancé is here to see you, she waiting by the gym entrance.” He stated before turning to leave. All eyes were on the setter when he dropped his phone a look of shock present on his face. His mind was going a mile a minute he was so sure he miss heard the man . There was no way you were here. He stood up rushing to finish getting dressed. There was a pressure in the room he was ignoring some of his teammates sharing a confused look.

“I didn’t know you had a Fiancé Tsumu?” Hinata asked excitedly as the team started following behind the setter.

“That’s because he doesn’t,” Sakusa stated bitterly. Atsumu shot a dirty look back at the wing spiker.

“She left him months ago before you joined the team Shoyo-Kun, she’s are really nice girl though always brought us the best snacks when she’d visit,” Bokuto explained his hungry mind straying as he thought back to her delicious cooking.

“Oh I’m sorry Atsumu,” Hinata apologized.

“Don’t he deserved it,” Sakusa scoffed.

The setter paid no mind to comment there was no point in getting angry with the neat freak he was completely right. It didn’t matter at the moment what mattered was seeing you. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. You were looking at your hands picking at your nails. He could see you were nervous. So was he. What was he supposed to say he knew he owed you an apology and much more but it felt like he couldn’t breath looking at you. You looked up at him your eyes locking. There was a look he couldn’t quite pin point. It wasn’t exactly a look of hated which it was what he expected but it also nothing like the looks of love he used to receive. He didn’t even realize the boys had stopped behind him watching the scene. His eyes only focused on you and nothing else.

That is until he hears a sharp breath from behind him as Hinata called out your name. Bokuto and Sakusa’s eyes snapped to the ginger some confusion present. Atsumu however didn’t look away from you not even when you gaze shifted from the setter to his teammate. This look in your eyes he could distinguish. It was one you used to look at him with. It shattered Atsumu as he realized right then you were the woman Hinata had been talking about. It obvious when he saw a similar look of happiness on Shoyo’s face. It felt like a kick to the gut. An array of emotions swirling through his mind. He was hurt to think you moved on. Disgusted as he thought back to his earlier convo with the man and how they had discussed the scratches on his friends back and now realizing how they were from you. He felt like he was going to puke thinking of his teammate with you in that intimate way. But he knew he had no right to feel this way not after all he put you through so he pushed those emotions deep inside. Returning to the moment.

“Hi Sho,” you gave a small smile as you shuffled nervously in your spot.

“I thought we were getting dinner? We can switched to lunch if you need to tho.” He stated.

Sakusa and Bokutos eyes grew wide finally coming to the same conclusion the setter previously had. Sakusa had to stifle a laugh as Bo muttered “oh shit” under his breath at the awkward situation.

“Um actually Shoyo, I’d still like to get dinner with you. I know this must seem really confusing, and I promise to explain everything tonight, but uhh.. I actually here to see Miya-San.” You explain sheepishly.

Atsumu tried not to flinch at the use of his last name.

You turned to the blonde with a stoic face. “Can we get lunch, we really need to talk.” He nodded not knowing how to use his voice.

You turned back to Hinata with a pleasing look. “I’ll call you later before our date, Sho.” Before turning to leave with Tsumu.

Hinata may be beyond confused right now not yet connecting the dots. But that didn’t matter he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping. Date. It’s a date. He wasn’t overthinking or wishing hopefully. It was an actual date with you! The woman he can’t get out of his mind. And that one little comfort was enough for him to trust the situation as he watched you walk away.

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[arminhug]

hello, pumpkin || annie leonhardt x reader: chapter one

MY FIRST FRIEND

series masterlist

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

I was never one to have many friends.

It’s not that I wasn’t able to converse with my peers as a child, but I rather preferred my own company. Nobody knew me as I knew myself; nobody took delight in my infantile games like I did and nobody understood the way my mind worked like me. In fact, up until November at the age of six, I don’t think I remember having a single friend.

I had made my way to school with mummy, gloved hand clutching her brown coat and book bag swinging in the biting breeze as I said my goodbye for the school day. The roar of my peers echoed through the tarmac and the decaying Halloween decorations had already been used for childish warfare; rotting leaves thrown in the air and crudely carved, sloughing pumpkins knocked from brick walls. Ever the bookworm, I had slid out my latest literary endeavour from my bag and was already devouring the words before my mother had even left the playground, slowly traipsing into the body of children playing, so engrossed in my story that I never had time to realise that a boy in the class above me had misaimed a split half of pumpkin until it smacked me square in the head and I was on the floor.

Despite the blow not hurting dreadfully, the combination of shock, impact from the gritty tarmac and my now crumpled book were enough to make me (only being six years old) wail. I barely had time to look at my culprit with rueful eyes before he too, was on the floor.

“You shithead!!”

I gasped at the curse word, surveying the scene; in place of the boy who had hurled the pumpkin at me was a shorter girl with ash blonde hair.

“Ouch, Annabelle! What’s wrong with you?” the boy snarled, clutching his leg dramatically.

“Don’t call me that!” the girl administered a swift kick to him, earning another howl drowned out by a shrill whistle.

“Annabelle, Timothy, what do you think you’re doing? Get up and come with me.” A teacher barked sternly. I remained silent as the two traipsed behind the teacher, following the girl with my eyes until she disappeared through the white doors.

I simply watched in awe, following her slight figure with my eyes until I could no longer do so. Part of me wanted to chase after her, speak to her, demand why she stuck up for me, a girl in the class below her whom she had never met. I had never felt such a visceral urge to be near another person in my life.

The next time I saw Annie, I had so fervently been searching for her that I am still sure to this day that I willed her into the playground. Of course, I didn’t see her until I heard “Hello, pumpkin girl” and I snapped around so fast that I almost fell on top of her.

“Annabelle,” I spoke with excitement.

“Not Annabelle,” she muttered, fishing in her bookbag, producing a copy of the same book I had been reading on the day before my unceremonious attack.

“My dad got me the same one but I didn’t like it. Here you go.”

“I can still read the other one, though. You can keep it if you like.”

“Didn’t you listen to me? I didn’t like it; besides, nobody wants to read from a shitty, crumpled book.”

The foul language, once again, shocked me at six years old. “You’re not allowed to say those words, Annabelle! If one of the teachers—“

“I told you not to call me Annabelle!” she interrupted, this time with more anger.

“Why not?” I questioned.

She paused, averting her gaze. “Just Annie. Annie is fine, I don’t like Annabelle.”

“Annie,” I mused, trying out the new name. “Annie. Annie, did you get into lots of trouble?”

“Not the worst. They’re calling my dad, but I told the teacher that I only did it because he hurt you.”

“I wish I could fight like that. How do you know how to fight so well?”

“You talk a lot.”

“No, I don’t. I like being on my own most of the times. But I like you, Annie. You can do cool kicks,” I interjected my rambling with a crude reaction of her fighting, which elicited a scoff from her.

“That wasn’t even close to what I did,” she retorted, demonstrating the kick with so much more elegance and strength that I was suddenly sure that she wasn’t a real girl but a character from a storybook.

“How old are you?”

“I will be eight in March.”

“Wow. I’m only six. Could you do that when you were six?”

She shrugged. “Probably. My dad teaches me everything.”

I hadn’t the time to interrogate Annie more before the bell rung and we were to return to our respective form lines. Being in separate years, we began to part, but not prior to me giggling and teasing her with “Goodbye, Annabelle!”, skipping to my line before she even had a chance to respond.

Even all of these years later, the name Annabelle still makes my heart ache a little. You would have thought that not seeing Annie in almost ten years, I would have forgotten my childhood friend, but the senses of incompletion, of longing and sticky sweet memories from my youth, still linger every time I pass the pumpkins in October, every time somebody dares to speak her name, every time I stumble across the book on my bookshelf which I should have given away years ago, but still remains nestled in a crevice among college textbooks and classic works.

.。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

a/n: here's the first chapter aaaa i am so nervous posting this!! i hope y'all like it,,, yes i did make annabelle her full name, i thought it'd be cute, also i wrote this in first person because i much prefer that over second person,,,, hope that's ok !! :)

#annie leonhart #annie leonhardt #snk annie #annie leonhardt headcanons #annie leonhardt imagine #annie leonhardt x reader #annie leonhart x you #annie leonhart x reader #annie leonhart x y/n #annie leonhart headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk x you #snk x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader #snk fic #aot fic #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #snk #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #armin arlert

[kurokoros]

meet messy | akaashi

Pairing: akaashi x fem!reader

Summary: Request “hear me out: Akaashi Keiji, roommates au! trope: meeting messy & prompt #30″

AN: my first official one-shot for hq is an Akaashi fic. who would have guessed. there’s some language and mildly crude humor in this one. it took me a hot minute to figure out how to do a roommate au + meet messy, but I think it turned out okay! also, I see Akaashi as the quiet teasing type, so I hope the characterization is okay!

also, I tried to post this earlier, but surprise surprise, tumblr didn’t put it in the tags. 

“What do you mean you’re running late?” you ask, glaring at your phone as you speed walk down the street. A mumbled curse escapes you as someone walks by and jostles your shoulder, nearly knocking the box you’re carrying right out of your arms. You shoot the man a sour look before turning back to your friend, irritation already softening into a pout. “Kuroo, I’m supposed to be meeting this guy in like ten minutes, what do I do?”

Kuroo’s lips twitch, looking torn between apologetic and amused as he tries to cover up a smile. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you, not for the first time. “And I would have been on time if someone hadn’t—shit!” Kuroo disappears from the frame, hissing what sounds like ‘demon’ under his breath as the camera shifts.

Suddenly, you’re staring at Yaku instead, his tawny eyes narrowed as he hunches over Kuroo’s phone. “Don’t believe his lies,” he says, scoffing when Kuroo grumbles something in response, voice muffled. “The only reason we’re late is because Kuroo—”

“Oi! Yakkun!”

Kuroo grabs at his phone, but Yaku is faster, ducking under his arm and barely managing to evade his former captain’s outstretched hand. The camera is jostled again, giving you a shaky view of the subway that has your eyes rolling. Even now they still act like bickering teenagers half the time. It’s as endearing as it is annoying, but you’ve known them since high school, so you really aren’t surprised.

It takes a few seconds for the camera to stabilize again, and this time you’re faced with the voice of reason among the three of them. He rubs the back of his neck, smile a little embarrassed as Kuroo and Yaku continue to bicker behind him.

“Kai,” you greet him, a smile automatically tugging at your lips in response to his. “I didn’t know you and Yaku were coming with!” You knew that Kuroo asked Kenma to come with—as expected, he declined—but you had no idea the rest of the former Nekoma third years would be making an appearance.

He shrugs with one shoulder, casually ignoring your friends arguing behind him. “We heard you might need help moving boxes later,” is all he tells you.

“Hopefully,” you tell him. “And thanks. The main reason I invited Kuroo was for the muscle anyway.” A muffled sound of protest comes from off to Kai’s left, but you know Kuroo is secretly preening from the pseudo compliment.

Kai only nods, smiling again. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. It shouldn’t take us more than twenty minutes.”

Before you can respond, Yaku shoves himself under Kai’s arm to pin you with a firm look. “If he tries anything, go for his—”

“Give me that!” The phone is plucked out of Kai’s hands and suddenly you’re staring at Kuroo again. He glares down at Yaku, eyes rolling, before he turns his attention to you. “Twenty minutes,” he tells you firmly.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, quickening your steps. Pulling your gaze from Kuroo’s, you glance up at a street sign and wrinkle your nose when you realize how close you are to meeting your new potential roommate. “You promise he’s not weird, right?” you ask suddenly, looking at your phone in time to see his brows furrow. “Because so help me, Kuroo, if you’re letting me move in with some creep, I’ll never forgive you.”

The only reason you even agreed to maybe move in with a complete stranger is because he’s a friend of Kuroo’s. Apparently, they’ve known each other since high school during their volleyball days, but you’ve never had a chance to meet before now. With his friend having an empty room and you being in desperate need of a new place to stay, Kuroo’s suggestion only made sense. And you trust his judgement. Usually.

The look Kuroo sends you is nothing short of offended. He presses his hand to his chest like you’ve wounded him, and you roll your eyes at his theatrics. Despite that, Kuroo is serious when he responds. “Do you think I would let you move in with someone I didn’t trust?” When you shake your head, he continues. “Akaashi doesn’t bite. I promise.” He grins. “Unless you’re into that.”

You make a face. “I’m hanging up now.”

He cackles. “We’ll be there soon. Be safe.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, glancing up at another sign, “just get your ass over here.” Yaku and Kai call out their own goodbyes before you end the call, your smile lingering as you shove your phone into your back pocket, still struggling with the box you’re carrying.

Of course, that’s the moment your morning goes from bad to worse.

You’re so busy working your phone into your pocket with one hand and juggling a box with the other that you don’t see the man hurrying towards you, also not paying attention to his surroundings.

You shoulder collides with his. You stumble. The box starts to slip from your grasp. “Shit,” you hiss, flinching as hot coffee splashes down the front of your shirt. It isn’t hot enough to hurt, thankfully, but it’s bound to leave a nasty, uncomfortably wet stain on your chest for the rest of the day. Perfect. That’s exactly what you needed five minutes before you’re supposed to meet your new roommate for the first time. So much for a good first impression.

The man who bumped into you grunts in surprise. He stumbles back as your eyes snap up, and you note with the smallest hint of smug satisfaction that there’s an equally dark spot staining his crisp, white button-up.

Dark blue eyes flicker up to meet yours, wide in alarm.

In any other situation, you might have taken a moment to appreciate the sharp angle of his jaw, or his stupidly pretty face, but right now you’re nervous, stressed, and wet, so all you do is glare and snap, “Watch where you’re going.” His lips part, but you’re already storming past him, mumbling “asshole” under your breath.

You’re already halfway down the street before he regains his bearings; you don’t notice his eyes following you until you disappear.

…

Fuck me, is the first thought that comes to your mind when you find yourself standing in front of your potential roommate’s apartment. There’s a post-it note stuck to the front door, telling you and Kuroo to let yourselves in because your new roommate had an errand to run, but would be back soon. This, of course, wouldn’t be a problem if Kuroo wasn’t late and wasn’t the one with a key to said apartment.

You aren’t sure what’s worse: having to stand here for the next however many minutes like an idiot until Kuroo arrives, or his friend coming home first and having to deal with that conversation without your moral support. Neither option is particularly appealing, but you’re staring to get odd looks from the neighbors and it’s really fucking hot outside, so you’d take the awkward conversation over waiting.

A brief text to Kuroo informs you that they just got off the subway, but should be here soon. You shift your weight from one foot to the next, biting your lip as you continue weighing your options.

Eventually you just say fuck it and slide one of the bobby-pins from your hair. No one has to know.

Unfortunately, picking a lock isn’t nearly as easy as you’ve been led to believe.

“Seriously?” you grumble, jiggling the doorknob and squinting at the pin you have jammed into the lock. Maybe this was a bad idea. Now you definitely look like a creep.

“Need any help with that?”

You lurch away from the door with a yelp. The bobby-pin falls out of your hand and clatters to the floor, only incriminating you further. Whirling around, your expression becomes one of horror when you meet a pair of questioning eyes.

Oh shit, he’s hot, is your first thought, your breath catching when you lock eyes with the most gorgeous man you’ve even seen in your life. Messy dark hair. Deep blue eyes. A sharp jaw. All lean muscle. Oh, yeah. Definitely a former athlete. Your eyes wander down to his chest where the top buttons of his dress-shirt are undone. You glance at his collarbone before moving lower, freezing.

Your second thought is, oh shit, I spilled coffee on this guy and called him an asshole. The stain on his shirt matches yours perfectly, and wow, okay, today really couldn’t have gotten any worse, could it? Not only is your new potential roommate hot as sin, but you’ve already made a complete ass of yourself in front of him, the breaking and entering aside.

He clears his throat, staring at you expectantly; you blush, face burning as you realize you’ve been gaping at him openly.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” you blurt, like an idiot. It’s exactly what it looks like. The way his right eyebrow quirks upwards tells you he isn’t fooled, and you’re surprised when he doesn’t call you out on the lie.

“You must be Kuroo’s friend,” he says instead, observing you carefully. The, admittedly correct, assumption makes you more embarrassed, if possible. You aren’t sure what the assumption says about you, or Kuroo for that matter, but right now you kind of just want to lie down on the floor and die a little bit.

You wet your lips, trying not to squirm under his intense gaze. It’s analytical, but not calculating, and your breathing hitches as he continues to stare. “I… yeah.”

It comes as a surprise when he only nods, eyes snapping away from you as he digs his keys out of his pocket. You step aside quickly as he steps up to the door, his arm brushing up against yours. You stiffen, but he doesn’t shy away from the contact. “Sorry to make you wait,” he says, pulling the post-it note off the door and turning towards the lock.

“It’s fine.” You grab your discarded box off the ground, holding it to your chest as he opens the door and gestures for you to walk inside. Your smile feels forced as you comply. With your head ducked towards your chest and your eyes on the floor, you don’t notice the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You should apologize, right? Yeah, you should totally apologize for spilling coffee on him and yelling at him in the middle of the street.

He follows you inside and shuts the door, meeting your eyes as you spin around to look at him. “I’m really sorry about—”

But he’s already shaking his head. “I wasn’t watching either,” he tells you, ending your apology before it can start. “Akaashi Keiji,” he says, holding out his hand for you to shake, like a normal person.

You tell him your name, trying not to shiver at the way his fingers wrap around yours. Fuck, his hands are big. Like, really big. And warm. You definitely wouldn’t mind having them wrapped around your—moving on.

The corner of Akaashi’s mouth twitches like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “So,” he starts casually, dark eyes watching you carefully, “when would you like to move in?”

#akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #and so far one for hq #hq drabbles

[ill-go-with-that-then]

A NEW ERASERMIC AU I'LL NEVER WRITE!

Imagine Aizawa works at Buzzfeed, and gets the idea to write an article about how Twitch streaming is stupid and pointless (because he’s a video game snob.) He chooses Present Mic’s channel to watch at random, because he’s super popular, but Aizawa immediately goes from undercover reporter to absolute fan. No middle ground. Just “huh, okay i was wrong” and subscribes.

He tunes in to all the live streams, because Mic is very funny and also very good at video games, and it’s cool to watch him play. He has skills, his commentary is A+, and Aizawa develops a little crush. But it’s not a big deal!! Mic is a celeb, Aizawa knows they’ll never meet, it’s harmless.

Sometimes the chat for the stream gets assholes in it, as you’d expect. Mic can’t monitor the chat too much, but Aizawa has no problems telling jerks where to stick it. And once, after a particularly egregious incident where some moron said something crude about women in gaming and Aizawa ripped him a new asshole, Mic sends him a personal message thanking him and asking him if he wants to be a mod, which of course, he does. He doesn’t know how to reply - this is his big chance to talk to Mic!! So of course he just says “sure” - no further conversation.

Aizawa has, of course, zero personal details on his Twitch account. No info, no icon, his screen name is a random string of numbers, he’s a ghost. The Ron Swanson of video game enthusiasts.

So Aizawa is working at Buzzfeed, living his best life writing articles like “10 Video Game Themed Products You Can’t Live Without” because journalism is in shambles and he drinks to forget, and one day his editor is like “hey, we’re gonna do a feature on Twitch streamers. Everybody is gonna go sit and watch a stream in person and get the behind the scenes info. Here’s a list of people who agreed.” And PRESENT MIC IS ON THE LIST

One of his colleagues reaches for Mic’s info sheet, rolling his eyes and sighing. “I can’t believe these are considered celebrities. Have you ever heard of any of them?”

Aizawa practically slaps the paper out of his hand. “Present Mic is a consummate professional and his content is high-quality and entertaining. I wouldn’t expect you to understand it since it involves technology more current than a compact disc.”

The room goes silent. Nobody’s heard Aizawa say anything nice about... maybe anything? Ever? But his editor, Kayama, pounces immediately. “WELL if you like him so much, Aizawa, that can be your interview!!”

Aizawa panics. On the one hand, he wasn’t going to let anyone else take that assignment. But on the other hand, now he’s going to meet Mic IN PERSON. During a LIVE STREAM. Is he supposed to tell him he’s a fan? Is that tacky? Will his crush be obvious? What if Mic sucks in person?? This is a double edged sword.

He only gets more nervous on the day of the interview. He’s tempted to dress up a little, look his best. Mic is a good-looking guy after all, and he’s always well put together when he streams. And even though Aizawa knows, knows he really doesn’t have a chance, he still doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

BUT he also doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard. That’s not who he is, and dressing up would be admitting to himself that he DOES want something more than a simple interview, even if it’s as little as Mic’s good opinion or positive attention.

He debates too long. While he’s still thinking about it, the alarm on his phone goes off, alerting him that it’s time to leave. He’s still in his pink sweatpants and he hasn’t shaved, and he realizes, just at that moment, that he probably should have tried harder at least for the sake of professionalism. But it’s too late. He has to go.

Mic actually doesn’t live all that far away. Just a short train ride, less than 20 minutes, and Aizawa is standing in front of his nondescript apartment. It’s a little odd - Mic is a very popular streamer, theoretically with income to match, and his style seems flashy. Aizawa had expected something a little more over the top. But this place is simple. Storing that information away for later, he knocks.

“COMING!!” He hears from inside the apartment, followed by the thud of footsteps. Aizawa just has one moment to brace himself because this is it before the door opens and there he is. Present Mic himself, all smiles. “Come in, come in!! You’re from buzzfeed right? Wow, this is so exciting!!” Mic ushers him in the door, taking his jacket and hustling him into a tidy living room before Aizawa can even respond. And of course, when he finally gets himself together enough to say something, the first words out of his mouth are “You’re... tall.”

He wants to smack himself. Yes, Mic is taller than Aizawa had realized from the stream, even a little taller than Aizawa himself. But those are thinking words, not speaking words. Certainly not the first words you use to introduce yourself to your celebrity crush. But Aizawa, a champion moment-ruiner, has made his bed, and now he must cry in it.

But Mic just laughs. “Yeah,” he says, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “I get that a lot. Sorry?” 

“Don’t apologize,” Aizawa says immediately, then wonders if he is, in fact, under some sort of curse. “Shouta Aizawa,” he introduces himself. 

“Hizashi Yamada, also known as Present Mic!” Yamada’s smile is friendly, like Aizawa hasn’t made an absolute fool of himself so far, and Aizawa has to look away from it. He glances around the room, which is tidy and clean, but cluttered with various objects that seem to have no connection to each other. There are books in a variety of languages, musical instruments, shelves of CDs, and an assortment of other things that have nothing to do with video games. 

“Quite a collection you have,” Aizawa says, because it is, and because he’s curious. 

“Yeah! I have too many hobbies but what can you do? Come on, I’m sure you’d rather see my workspace.” It’s not true, Aizawa has seen the office where Yamada streams before, and he’d much rather stay here and poke around, build up his mental picture about who Yamada is outside his Present Mic persona. But he’s not here for that. This is business.

But the streaming room is also not what Aizawa expects. Some things are familiar - the area visible to the camera is the same, set up and ready for tonight’s stream, but the rest of the room, the part that isn’t on screen, is PACKED. There’s a wobbly desk in the corner, covered in neatly stacked papers and binders labeled by month and year. The wall over the desk is a massive whiteboard filled with notes and ideas for upcoming streams. And there, in the lower right corner of the whiteboard, right where it would be even with Hizashi’s eyes as he sits at his desk, is a familiar string of numbers - his own Twitch username. And next to it is a little note - don’t forget. Good dude.

Aizawa sees his username and just - freezes. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mic thought of him at all outside of that one occasion he DM’d him, let alone that he considered Aizawa important enough not to forget. And the idea that Mic thinks he’s a “good dude” makes his face BURN in pleased embarrassment. He wants to say something but what? Is it weird? It’s weird, it’s too weird, and before he can think of how to do it, Mic is talking again.

“Okay, this is where the magic happens!! Actually, it’s more like weeks of frustration and repetition followed by 3-4 hours of intensely stressful streaming, but hey! People seem to like it!!” Aizawa wants to say something here - Mic is being a little too self-deprecating for his taste, but he stops himself. He can’t defend Mic’s honor to Mic himself - can he? The moment passes while he debates.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be on camera or not?” Mic says, tentatively. 

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” says Aizawa. “I’m more the behind the scenes type.”

“Totally, no problem!” Mic says, gesturing to his desk. “You can sit there, if that’s okay? The only other seat is by me.” 

Aizawa looks at the chair, then back to the small couch where Mic will be streaming from. “I think I’ll have to be closer to get photos for the article, if that’s all right.”

“You’ll be on camera,” Mic bites his lip. “I mean, maybe i could re-angle it, but then the screen-“

“It’s fine,” Aizawa says. “Journalism is about hardship.”

Mic snorts, and Aizawa can’t keep a little smirk off his face, proud that he got a laugh.

The stream goes smoothly - Aizawa likes it even more like this, without the chat to distract him, and close enough to notice things he’s never seen before. Mic’s feet twitch when he’s focusing hard, and his socks have cats on them. It’s adorable. Aizawa takes no notes - he doesn’t really need to, he’s seen enough streams to write this article in his sleep, and anyway, it’s not like he’s going to forget a minute of this.

Afterwards, once they’ve signed off, Mic talks him through his post show routine, everything from calculating how much he made and comparing it to previous weeks in a spreadsheet to going over the chat. “Huh,” Mic’s eyebrows crease as he looks at the chat logs. “Things got a little out of hand tonight.”

“Oh?” Aizawa says, shuffling uncomfortably. He suspects he knows why that is. 

“Yeah, one of my regular mods wasn’t on tonight. I hope he’s all right - it’s not like him to miss.”

“You have a lot of viewers,” Aizawa says, tentative now. “Do you know them all so well?”

Mic shrugs, embarrassed. “No, i wish I did! But this guy’s special, he’s really funny and he keeps all the trolls in line. I’d DM him to see if he’s okay but that’s weird, right? That’s weird. And anyway I tried to talk to him once before but he shot me down.”

“I didn’t-“ Aizawa says before he can stop himself. The curse is real. Mic stares at him, open mouthed, confused at first but then his eyes widen as he realizes what must have happened. Before he can say anything, Aizawa cuts him off. “Sorry. That i couldn’t mod tonight.” He mumbles, hand buried in his hair. He can’t meet Mic’s eyes anymore. “I’ll be back next week.”

Mic opens his mouth to speak, but Aizawa interrupts again, before he can. “And I didn’t - I didn’t shoot you down. I just didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. Why would you?”

Mic blinks, and Aizawa isn’t sure what he’s going to say. Will he be mad? Aizawa kind of lied to him. Is he disappointed? Does Aizawa not look like he expected? Has he been too silent? Too unfriendly? Does Mic not want to get to know him anymore? But when Mic finally speaks, what comes out is

“I can’t believe you made me memorize that stupid fucking username, we’re picking you a new one right now.”

#erasermic #maizawa #my writing #my ramblings #I have no explanation for anything I do ever

[the--blackdahlia]

The General’s Daughter Chapter 5

Title: The General’s Daughter Chapter 5

Summary:  Stevie Holstead was enjoying her time at a hospital in Seoul. She was there with friends, even with the ever-watching eyes of her father watching her. That was until Margaret Houlihan decided she needed help with the nurses. Now Stevie is heading to the 4077th, and a whole lot of adventure that she never thought she would see in her lifetime.

Series Warnings: Language, violence, war themes, later attempted non-con, sexual themes, later sexual scene, crude humor, and more that might come to mind later on.

AN: Thank you to @piratewithvigor​​ and @jaxl-road​​ for putting up with my never ending ideas, no matter how stupid they are. Anyway, here’s a new chapter. And there is a song linked later on. :)

Taglist: @traceyaudette​

Two months later

The first thing Hawkeye thought when he woke up was "why does my head hurt?". He groaned as he pulled himself from his turned over Jeep. He had been coming back from an aid station, filling in for a few brief hours to perform a surgery that needed to be done before the soldier could be transported to an evac hospital or a MASH unit. He had swerved to miss some kids who were playing in the road, because the road was safer than playing in the field by their house.

He had left Stevie behind at the 4077th, to “keep Trapper and BJ in line” before he had rushed out. He took his role as chief surgeon seriously when there were actual lives on the line, and when he knew it would piss Frank off to no end. He didn’t want an award for going to the aid station, like Frank would’ve. And now, here he was, laying on the side of a road, his jeep overturned, his head throbbing and he couldn’t get his thoughts together.

And suddenly, the kids that he had tried to avoid were dragging him into a hut to their parents. He was dizzy, he was tired, and he really just wanted to get back home. But, instead, Hawkeye just went with it, letting them lead him into the hut. He was too tired to fight.

****

“Where is he?” Stevie asked as she paced Radar’s office, looking up at the clock above the door. BJ and Trapper were sitting on Radar’s bed, watching her pace, while the clerk worked on the phones. She hadn’t been too fond of Hawkeye going to the aid station alone. She had tried to convince Henry that they needed a scrub nurse too, but he just wouldn’t send her. And now he was almost two hours past the time he was supposed to be back, and no one had heard from him.

“Stevie, sit down or something,” Trapper told her. “You’re making me seasick just watching you. Just relax.”

“How can I relax?” Stevie asked, turning to stare at the two surgeons. “We’re in the middle of a war, and Hawkeye’s missing!”

“He’s just fine Stevie. It’s Hawkeye. He’s always fine.” BJ told her, hoping to try to calm her down some. When he saw she wasn’t going to sit down, he stood up and wrapped his arms around her for a tight hug. He glanced over at Trapper when he heard her crying against his chest. Neither of them had seen Stevie cry before. They knew this was serious.

“What if he’s not?” Stevie whispered.

“He is. He’s got to be,” BJ told her, holding her close.

****

Hawkeye, through his scrambled mind and double vision, had managed to write out a note the best he could and gave it to one of the kids to deliver to the MASH unit in Uijeongbu. He had had faith, until the father questioned his pronunciation and suddenly, Hawkeye wasn’t sure if he had said the right place or not. He was in this hut, not sure where he was, with a family that looked at him like he was crazy and couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying. He would’ve given anything to have Stevie with him right then. He had heard her speak a little Korean before. He was sure that she would know what to say to this family. But, instead, he had done everything from singing and dancing to poetry in hopes of keeping himself awake and offering them some entertainment. He ran his fingers through his hair, like he always did when he was nervous, and they came away red.

“You know, I gotta get home,” Hawkeye told them as he walked around, rambling. “There’s a girl back there at camp. She’s got eyes that rival the bluest sky. And golden hair that almost glows when the sun hits it just right. She’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. Always willing to help, not hurt. And I really like her.” He knew that his rambles sounded like gibberish to them. They were just trying to go about their daily lives with this raving madman in their living room. In fact, they were probably wondering why they had let their kids bring him in in the first place. “Actually, somedays I think I more than like her, you know?”

He watched for their reactions, but nothing really changed. Hawkeye sighed and went to examine himself in the small mirror on the wall again.

“I make it out of this, I’m going to finally talk to her. I promise.”

****

Stevie was reading over a patient’s chart in post op, hoping to try to distract herself. BJ and Trapper were discussing a patient, while also keeping an eye on Stevie. They were worried about her and Hawkeye.

“Guys! This girl just brought this note to me!” Radar called out as he pushed open the doors to post op and ran in. “It’s from Hawkeye!” Stevie’s eyes snapped up from the chart she was reading as BJ took the note from Radar to read over it.

“He’s only a couple miles from here!” BJ announced, already heading for the door. “Radar, get a jeep and let’s go!”

“I’m going too,” Stevie told him, hanging up the chart and going to follow him. BJ shook his head, making Stevie frown.

“Stay here with Trapper.” BJ told her. She was about to argue, he could tell, but put up a hand to stop her. “Hawkeye would kill me if something happened to you while we went to get him. Just get ready for him, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Stevie nodded. “Just hurry up.” BJ kissed her cheek before he ran out of post op to the jeep Radar was waiting with. It was time to bring Hawkeye home.

It was only about twenty minutes later, but it felt much longer, when the Jeep finally showed back up at camp. BJ helped Hawkeye out of the jeep and into the hospital to examine him. Stevie gasped at the bruises on his face and the blood dripping down the side. He offered her a small smile of reassurance as BJ sat him on a chair in the lab. Stevie stood in the doorway while BJ looked him over to make sure everything was still functioning. BJ could feel he was being watched though, and once he was sure that Hawkeye wasn’t going to fall over and die, he stepped back.

“I have some things I need to do,” He told them. “Can you bandage him up?” He knew Stevie and Hawkeye needed to talk.

“Yeah,” Stevie nodded, gathering the supplies. BJ left as Stevie started gently fixing Hawkeye up. “You know, if you wanted to get out of Post-Op duty, all you had to do was ask.” Stevie told him. He hissed a little as she cleaned the blood off of him. “Sorry Hawk.”

“It’s ok,” He watched her for a bit. “Hey Stevie?”

“Yeah?” She asked, working on bandaging him.

“You know how when you’re about to die and your life flashes before your eyes?” Hawkeye asked, watching her.

“You’re not dying Hawkeye,” Stevie put the last bandage on his head and went to clean up everything.

“Out there, I thought I was,” Hawkeye explained. “And the whole time, I wasn’t thinking of my dad, or Maine, or anything else. I was thinking of you.” Stevie froze and slowly turned to look at Hawkeye. “All I could think of was your beautiful smile, or your gorgeous eyes, or the way you hold yourself in surgery.”

“Hawk, you don’t mean that...” Stevie told him.

“I do,” He gently took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think I’ve liked you since the day you stepped foot in this cesspool. But I knew for sure I liked you when you fell asleep on me during King Kong.”

“Hawkeye…” Stevie stepped closer to him. He reached up and cupped her cheek, brushing a calloused thumb in circles on her soft skin. “I think I’ve liked you the whole time too.” A smile spread on Hawkeye’s face as he leaned in and kissed her.

BJ walked in with Trapper and Radar right behind him, to check on them, and found the pair in a passionate lip lock. BJ and Trapper looked at each other with a smile while Radar’s eyes were wide.

“Let’s leave them alone,” BJ said. Him and Trapper stepped out, but Radar loitered for a bit before Trapper grabbed him and pulled him out with them.

****

To Stevie’s instance, Hawkeye went back to the Swamp to take a nap. A much needed one after the day's events. He woke up a little confused at first, expecting to see Stevie waiting for him, but instead, he saw Trapper reading a magazine.

“Well, well, well, the mummy lives,” Trapper closed his magazine and leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was in a Jeep accident,” He groaned. “Where’s Stevie?”

“She’s helping in Post-OP with BJ and Lt. Dunn,” Trapper told him. “We took turns making sure you were okay though. And she’d still be here if Margaret and Frank didn’t force her to leave.”

“Remind me to send them a fruit basket of pear grenades,” Hawkeye sighed.

“So, wanna talk about what we all saw earlier?” Trapper asked. Hawkeye looked over at him.

“What did you see?” He asked. Trapper smiled.

“You two finally did what we’ve been trying to get you two to do for at least a month now,” Trapper couldn’t shake the smile on his face. Hawkeye returned the smile.

"Yeah, we finally did," Hawkeye nodded.

****

Over the next few months, Stevie and Hawkeye were always together. Margaret made sure Stevie was always assigned to another doctor when it came time to operate, but even when they were on separate ends of the OR, Hawkeye still managed to flirt with her. It was obnoxious and annoying, but honestly, it warmed so many hearts to see them so happy.

One rare, quiet day found the pair lounging in Stevie’s tent. She was smiling as she read a letter from Michael, talking about how much he loved Japan and even including a photo booth image of him and Izzy.

"What are you giggling about?" Hawkeye smiled up at her from where he was laying with his head in her lap.

"I got a letter from Michael," she told him. "Him and Izzy love Japan. They're even talking about staying once their military career is over." She held up the picture so Hawkeye could see.

"Ah, so this is the famous Izzy," He took the photo to examine it. "He's so short."

"What does that make me?" Stevie asked, pouting a little.

"Fun size," Hawkeye laughed. Stevie shook her head, but leaned down and kissed him before settling back.

"Well Mr. Funny Man, what are you reading?"

"Letter from my dad," Hawkeye told her proudly. "He says hi and he can't wait to meet you."

“Wait, you’ve told your dad about me?” Stevie asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Hawkeye asked. Stevie was quiet and Hawkeye turned his head to look up at her. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

“I...don’t be mad,” She told him. “But I haven’t quite told my dad yet.” Hawkeye could tell that she was upset, so he sat up and cupped her face.

“It’s okay Stevie,” He told her. “You told me how your dad acted when he thought you were dating Michael. I don’t blame you for being nervous about it.”

“I’m sorry, I just know that he’ll throw a fit,” Stevie sighed. Hawkeye was about to lean in to kiss her when there was a knock on the door. Hawkeye rested his forehead against hers.

"Im gonna kill him," he whispered.

"What is it Radar?" Stevie asked, pulling away from Hawkeye to look at the door. She just knew it was Radar, and Hawkeye sometimes wondered if they were related and shared the same almost psychic abilities.

"Uh sirs, I mean sir and ma'am, I mean…" Radar was flustered and it made Stevie smile. "Colonel Blake wanted me to let you know that we have a visitor coming in. A general Samuel Holstead."

And there went Stevie’s smile.

"When Radar?" Hawkeye asked, seeing the blank stare on Stevie’s face.

"When what?"

"When is he supposed to be here?"

"Oh uh a few hours I guess. He didn't really say."

"Okay thank you," Hawkeye turned his attention to Stevie as Radar walked away from the door. "Hey, it's ok."

"He's going to try to get me to go back to Seoul," She told Hawkeye. "I just know it. He’s going to pull some damn strings of his and make me go back."

"Come on, let's go grab some food. You'll be so worried about what's on the plate you'll forget about that for a bit." He smiled and took her hand, leading her towards the mess tent.

"Hawkeye, I'm too nervous to eat," Stevie told him. He turned towards her and tilted her head up to look at him.

"It's all going to be okay," he told her, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips.

And that's when a Jeep sounded it's horn behind them. Stevie slowly turned around to look. And her fears were shown when none other than General Samuel Holstead was sitting in the Jeep with a Corporal Stevie knew as Gilby.

"Uh, general dad sir, I mean general Holstead," Stevie saluted him, and Hawkeye just waved.

"Captain, who is this?" Samuel asked, staring at the two behind his dark sunglasses.

"This is Captain Pierce, one of the surgeons." Stevie explained. Samuel directed all his staring to Hawkeye.

"Ah Captain Pierce. I've heard a lot about you. Disobedient, insubordinate…"

"Aw I'm so glad my qualities are being noticed," Hawkeye smirked.

"But you're a damn good doctor from what I’ve heard." Samuel added. He turned his gaze away from Hawkeye back to Stevie. "Captain Holstead?"

"Y-yes sir?"

"We need to talk. Alone."

****

Henry’s office was commandeered by Samuel as he marched into the hospital with Stevie. Henry had been in the middle of tying a new lure when the general came in and Henry had to make himself scarce. He waited in Radar’s office with him, and it just so happened that BJ and Trapper were passing through from post-op duty and decided to loiter around, and Hawkeye was waiting to send a telegraph to no one in particular.

"I agreed to send you away so you'd get over Sgt. McKagan!" Samuel yelled, easily being able to be heard through the doors.

"There was nothing between me and Michael!" Stevie yelled. “He was like a brother to me!”

"And now you're doing god knows what with him!"

"Hawkeye is a great guy dad!" Stevie defended.

"You two are in a war together! You see each other every day! It’s a relationship of convenience! But he’s just like any other GI. Once you get home and go your separate ways, you'll just be a fond memory when he's 50 or 60 that his wife won’t understand. I should know!"

"He's nothing like you!"

"That's your mother speaking right there!"

"I love him dad! And nothing is going to change that!"

Everyone in the office turned to look at Hawkeye, who had a satisfied smile on his face. But it didn't last long when the doors to Henry’s office burst open and Stevie came marching out.

"I'm not done with you!" Samuel yelled. Hawkeye didn't even stop to listen to Samuel's half-hearted apologies to Henry as Stevie ran from the office. He followed after Stevie.

"Stevie!" Hawkeye called out.

"Leave me alone!" Stevie cried. Hawkeye jogged to get in front of her and gently grabbed her arms to stop her.

"Stevie, it's ok," Hawkeye told her. Stevie sniffled.

"How much did you hear?" Stevie asked.

"Enough," Hawkeye told her. "Stevie, I love you too."

"Wait, what?" She looked up at him.

"I love you Stevie. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want to scare you off, "

"Hawkeye…" she buried herself in his chest, making him smile. "I love you."

"Hey, why don't we go borrow one of Radar's animals and go curl up someplace. I know how much the guinea pigs make you smile."

"That sounds good," Stevie sniffled. Hawkeye and her headed over to Radar's animals and Stevie picked up Babette. "Should we leave a note?"

"Hmm," Hawkeye took the pen he had in his pocket, a piece of newspaper from the ground and wrote "gone to cheer up a friend. Be back before dinner" and tucked it into her cage.

With that, the three headed back to the Swamp, where BJ and Trapper were waiting, ready to cheer her up.

****

"Blake, do you have kids?" Samuel asked as he paced Henry’s office.

"Yeah but not Stevie’s age," Henry told him. Samuel sighed.

"I guess I'm going to be pulling rank," he told him. "I'll just make her go back to Seoul."

"But sir, she's our most competent nurse outside of Major Houlihan! And she's almost as good of a surgeon as ours!"

"I don't care," Samuel told him. Henry was about to argue when Radar opened the door.

"Uh, sir?" Radar spoke up.

"What is it Radar?" Henry asked.

"Choppers," he said before quickly leaving. Not long after was the announcement about wounded arriving.

"Guess you can see how much we need Stevie," Henry told Samuel before rushing out of his office.

#the generals daughter #mash #fanfiction #guns n roses #hawkeye pierce

[hookedonapirate]

We Own the Night

Summary: It’s a shame she’s so bloody beautiful in her low cut, curve-hugging red dress and black high heels, her green eyes glinting with mischief and her golden hair cascading over her shoulders as she leans into him. It’s a shame how sexy she is while she flirts with him and how adorable she is when she giggles and whispers in his ear, almost marking him with her red lipstick as her hand gently caresses his bicep, the warm breath against his skin making his heart race. In ordinary circumstances, they’d be engaging in more enjoyable activities, but unfortunately, he has to arrest her.

A/N: This fic is a result of research for a different undercover cop au and an old post floating around on Tumblr that actually happened, from what I've heard. To avoid spoilers I can't say what the post was, but this fic is my own version of it. When I post the second part of this (there will be a total of two) I'll let you know what post I'm referring to.

Though this story is based on real events, I'm not an expert on undercover work, so please forgive me for inaccuracies.

Thank you @ilovemesomekillianjones for betareading!

Also Available on: AO3 l FF.N

Rated: Explicit for crude language and possible smut.

Part One/Two

Best pussy I ever had—Huntsman69 

 The derogatory remark is followed by numerous others, all very sexually explicit in detail of Huntsman69’s experience with a high-class sex worker named Buttercup. Comments like she has nice tits and gives an amazing blow job. Encouraged by other online Discord members, the host goes on to say that even though she enjoys men pulling her hair from behind as they fuck her, he prefers her in the missionary position so he can gaze into her forest-green eyes while he fucks her.

 How romantic.

 Killian rolls his eyes, but he really isn’t surprised by the language or the lengthy details. He’s been participating in this Discord server for the last few weeks, establishing a presence under the pseudonym CaptainHook by engaging with fellow Discord users who are all from Seattle and are johns or potential johns looking to buy sex. At first, it had been difficult to sound like a john, to get into that type of persona. Most of the men in this particular hub are crass and unashamed. It’s like they’re reviewing fast-food restaurants—she tastes delicious, very tight and wet, offers a free blowjob on the side, all you can eat, best piece of ass in the city. The objectification of women angers and saddens him, but as the mantra goes, to find a criminal, you have to think like a criminal. Or in this case, to find the seller, he has to think like a buyer.

 Fantastic. Where can I find her?—CaptainHook

 She works for Cinderella Escorts—Huntsman69

 Before Killian can respond, he sees that below his message, Huntsman69 is typing. A link pops up a few seconds later.

 She charges the big bucks but WELL WORTH!—Huntsman69 

 Thanks, mate. Sounds like a good bang for your buck :-P—CaptainHook

 Oh it definitely was ;-)—Huntsman69 

 Killian clicks on the link to the ad and braces himself for whatever obscene, demoralizing photos that might appear, but what he finds is neither obscene nor demoralizing. There’s a photo of a woman lying on a bed, clad in red lingerie. She is breathtaking. Soft forest green eyes like Hunstman69 had said, golden blonde hair, beautiful ivory skin. She’s dressed in red lace, and even though her lingerie shows off her lean stomach and a long, gorgeous pair of legs, it still leaves a lot to the imagination. She is a high-class escort after all, which means she charges more than the average street hooker. And based on her appearance and Huntsman69’s graphic depictions of the escort, her business is very lucrative. 

 Killian is fraught with emotion at the idea of this woman subjecting herself to such a lifestyle. One that involves selling her body to pay her bills or because she was coerced or forced into it. His heart breaks for this woman, for all of these women, but he has to shove his feelings aside and focus on the mission—to make it harder for pimps to sell sex and for clients to buy it. 

 Seattle, Washington is currently ranked as one of the top five promiscuous cities in the United States. In response, King County Sheriff David Nolan is behind an initiative, leading a series of stings coordinated with other jurisdictions over the course of several weeks to promote a permanent change in police practices. A permanent change on the streets of King County. Which means undercover cops from different locations swarm in, working two fronts—the streets and hotels—posing as either a prostitute or a client to target both the demand and supply side of prostitution. Killian’s particular job is to pose as a john to scour out sex workers in Seattle, arrest them, but not penalize them. Instead of locking them up, he is to offer them counseling and job training through Sheriff Nolan’s Women’s Justice Program. The clients will however be ticketed and heavily fined, but the ordeal will not result in a criminal record. Sixty percent of the fines collected from the clients goes to support the program.

 This undercover job is not Killian’s first, but it’s certainly the most perturbing one so far and will hopefully be the most rewarding. He is proud of being a part of something aimed at helping women and reducing solicited sex and human trafficking.

 Making up his mind that Buttercup is one of the women he will help, he fills out the form to request her services; he enters a date, time, location and which escort he prefers. He submits the form and is contacted less than an hour later and agrees to meet the escort tonight at Kimpton, a luxury hotel on Aurora Avenue.

 As he closes his laptop, there’s a knock on the door, and he gets up to answer it. He opens the door and is surprised to find his brother on his doormat.

 “Liam…” His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he scratches his head. He told his brother he’d be staying in Seattle for a job, but his brother never mentioned he planned on visiting him. Probably because he knew Killian would’ve told him not to. He has a job to do and doesn’t need any distractions while he’s here. “What are you doing here?”

 Liam’s smile fizzles into a frown. “Nice to see you, too.”

 Killian steps aside, pulling the door open to let him in. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you,” he murmurs apologetically.

 “I wanted to surprise you, little brother. You’re always gone, so I thought I’d pay you an unexpected visit.”

 “But, you know that I’m working, right?”

 “I know.” Liam pats him on the shoulder as he passes Killian, carrying a bag over his shoulder. “I just thought you could use some company.”

 Killian closes the door and sighs. He doesn’t need his brother here blowing his cover. “Listen, the job I’m doing is undercover, so my cover can’t be blown.”

 “Relax, I’m not going to break your cover. So, are you going to tell me exactly what the job is?”

 “Sorry, but I can’t.” Technically he can, but he doesn’t feel comfortable telling Liam he’s posing as a john because knowing Liam he’d want to ride along, and that was obviously not going to happen. 

 Liam pouts like a child but accepts Killian’s answer.

 Killian gets ready for the sting. He has to look like a rich, businessman since that’s the usual clientele of Cinderella Escorts, according to Huntsman69. He’s not sure how reliable of a source that is, but he supposes if a man’s going to pay a high-end escort service for sex, chances are he’s not some poor, homeless guy. So he dresses in a sleek, black suit, fixes his hair and adjusts his tie before heading out the door.

 ~*~

 Killian shows up at the hotel and walks into the bar where he’d agreed to meet Buttercup. Searching around the dimly lit room, his eyes fall on the only person at the bar counter—a woman in a red dress and long, golden blonde hair. Immediately identifying her as Buttercup, he swallows the large lump in his throat. She’s drinking champagne and one leg is crossed over the other, her tiny red dress showing off those long, silky white legs, and the shiny black high heels on her feet. His heart actually stutters. 

 He closes his eyes briefly, coaxing himself into thinking like a john and having that mindset. He is not a cop, he’s a lonely man looking for a good fuck with a gorgeous woman. 

 As he strides across the room, his stomach is full of nervous butterflies, for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. He’s spoken to beautiful women before, but he’s never been intimidated by them. Somehow he’s more intimidated than he’s ever been in his life, and he hasn’t even met her yet. He walks up behind her, praying his voice doesn’t give out on him as he places his hand on her back, speaking in a deep, husky tone. “If I’d have known there would be alcohol involved, I’d have joined you sooner.” 

 She trembles at his touch and turns her head to grace him with a soft smile. 

 Good God, her photo didn’t do her a bit of justice; she’s even more breathtaking in person.

 Placing the glass on the counter, she swivels the bar chair around, shifting her body toward him. Her soft smile transforms into something more seductive as her hand reaches for his tie, the pad of her thumb circling idly over the fabric. Her eyes roam down his body before connecting with his, and all the air escapes his lungs as he peers into her dazzling green orbs. “If I’d have known you’d be so handsome, I wouldn’t have felt the need to start drinking.”

 He flashes a big, toothy grin, slipping into the stool next to her, remaining within touching distance. He leans in close, resting his arm across the back of her bar chair, and licks his lips, his eyes scrolling down her body. Her breasts are fantastic, her decolletage showing off ample skin, and her dress is so short, he can almost see her panties between her legs, if she’s even wearing any. His heart is pounding as he boldly moves his hand to her thigh. She gasps at his touch, her legs shaking slightly, but as his eyes meet hers again, he can tell she’s not opposed to his touch. She welcomes it, her eyes glazing over with lust. Normally he wouldn’t be so brazen, but that’s the point. He’s not Officer Killian Jones, he’s a client who’s about to pay this woman a large amount of money to show him a good time. He’s going to milk this act for all it’s worth. 

 He leans in to whisper in her ear, his lips only centimeters from her skin as he tightens his hand around her thigh, his fingers slipping under the hem of her dress until his thumb is dangerously close to her center. “Trust me, love, you don’t need any alcohol to have an enjoyable time with me.”

 Her breath catches in her throat, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks. “I have no doubt about that,” she murmurs, a wicked smirk crossing her lips. “In fact, I normally charge $2,000, but since you’re cute... $1500 will do.” Her hand reaches for his thigh, her fingers roaming over his slacks until she’s inches away from his crotch and has a firm grip on him as she whispers in his ear, “I’ll even throw in a free blowjob.” Her voice is decadent, her words reverberating through him; he can feel it in his stomach. She pulls her lips away slightly and flicks her tongue along the inside of her cheek to make it look like she has his dick in her mouth.

 A low groan rises from his throat as he murmurs in her ear, “Mmmm, I’d love to have those gorgeous red lips wrapped around my cock.” His entire body shudders at the thought. “But truthfully, I’d pay more just to look at you.”

 “So, you mean, I could already be charging you?” she quips with a playful smile.

 “Perhaps,” he teases, smirking against her earlobe.

 She blushes, her hand moving to his chest, feeling his heart beating underneath her palm. Her touch is full of heat, even through his dress shirt, and he can’t help but enjoy their little banter, even if it is part of the job. At the same time, he can’t help but wonder if there would be so much heated tension between them if this were an actual date. If he weren’t undercover and if she weren’t a prostitute. 

 This whole situation is a crying shame.

 It’s a shame she’s so bloody beautiful in her low cut, curve-hugging dress and black high heels, her green eyes glinting with mischief and her golden hair cascading over her shoulders as she leans into him. It’s a shame how sexy she is while she flirts with him and how adorable she is when she giggles and whispers in his ear, almost marking him with her red lipstick as her hand gently caresses his bicep, the warm breath against his skin making his heart race. In ordinary circumstances, he’d be engaging in more enjoyable activities with her, but unfortunately, he has to arrest her.

 The thought pains him even though it shouldn’t, considering he’s basically arresting her for show, to scare her. He won’t actually be throwing her in jail. Hopefully, he’ll be able to help her on the path to a better life.

 “Come back for a nightcap, or shall I find someone else?” he asks, regretting the words as they fall from his lips, but he wants tonight to be over with. To rip off the bandaid so to speak. This woman is very enchanting, and he’s afraid the longer he’s around her, the more his resolve will weaken, and he won’t want to go through with this. Which is ridiculous because he’s doing this for her own good.

 She doesn’t appear to be offended though and instead dons a lascivious grin. “Trust me, you won’t find anyone better for the job.” With those words said, she slips from the stool and makes her way across the bar, adding a seductive sway in the movement of her hips. His eyes are drawn to her perfect little ass like a magnet.

 She turns her head, her eyes holding a come hither stare and her lips curving into a crooked smirk. “You coming?”

 He grins cheekily and stands up, quickly making his way to her. He places his hand on the small of her back, brushing his fingers over the fabric of her dress as he speaks in her ear, “Not yet, but believe me… I’m almost there.”

 She shoots him a satisfied smirk and they head up to her room, unable to keep their hands off each other. His hands on her hips and hers on his chest, their lips ghosting over each other, the heat rapidly rises between them. The evening is an act they’re playing out, as they’re both just doing their jobs, but the attraction between them is real, and even though he wants to get the night over with, he’s not looking forward to the inevitable end.

 They’re still clinging to each other once they’re in the room. Buttercup’s hands are latched onto the lapels of his suit jacket and his arms are still wrapped around her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

 “So, what are my limits, love? Because I’m imagining having you in every... possible... position,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to her lips.

 “For you… I’ll do anything you want,” she replies, fluttering her long black lashes as she eyes his mouth. “I’m all yours for the night.”

 “Am I allowed to kiss you?” He realizes it’s not necessary, but the heat between them is so addicting and his mind is foggy with lust, he loses himself in the moment. 

 Before she answers, he chases her mouth with his, but she pulls away and presses her index finger to his lips, a big, toothy smile gracing her beautiful face. “Easy tiger. First, there’s a matter of payment.”

 “Of course,” he says with a smile, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. He pulls out his wallet, being careful not to expose the police badge tucked inside as he fishes out the cash. 

 As he’s extending the bills to her, instead of taking them immediately, she’s pulling him to her by the lapels of his suit jacket, crashing her lips into his. He elicits a low growl and wraps his arms around her, still clutching onto the bills in his hand as she slips her tongue in his mouth to taste him. Overwhelmed by the heat surging through him, he deepens the kiss and tightens his hold. Her body is pressed deliciously against his and he’s sure she knows he’s as hard as a fucking rock.

 “God love, I want to fuck you,” he groans against her lips. Her mouth is sweet, she tastes like champagne and her tongue is soft and warm; he doesn’t want this to end, but unfortunately, it has to. The deal has been made, and now it’s time to bust her. The problem is, he can’t stop kissing her.

 So it’s probably a good thing when she’s the one to break it, leaving them both gasping for air. He chases her lips again, but she pulls away to take the cash from his hand. “Me too,” she breathes, her voice cracking as she licks her lips, her thumb running over the crisp bills as she studies them in her hand. “There’s just one problem...”

 “What’s that, love?” he asks trying to hide the panic in his voice. Did she figure out he’s a cop?

 She looks up again and leans in, her lips ghosting over the shell of his ear as she whispers, “You’re under arrest.” 

 Wait, what? That was supposed to be his line.

 His features cloud with confusion as he tries to process her words. Is she joking? Is she just into roleplay and wants to play out a fantasy of hers? Yes, he deems. That’s all her words had meant. “Sorry love, but you’re under arrest,” he shoots back firmly with a hard look, letting her know he’s serious.

 She laughs. “Nice try, buddy.” The door flies open and two guys with badges around their necks burst into the room.

 Before he’s able to process what’s happening, they’re pulling his hands behind his back and slapping cuffs around his wrists. 

 Buttercup pulls out her badge, showing it to him. “Officer Emma Swan.”

 Killian blinks in disbelief. She’s a cop too? His mind is reeling with the events leading up to this moment. How had he not figured it out sooner?

 ~*~

 Five hours ago (Emma’s POV)...

 “Best pussy you ever had? Really?” She's not asking out of curiosity, more like disgust.

 Graham shrugs, his features clouding with confusion as he logs off and shuts the computer down. “What? You told me to sound like a creepy pervert.” A smirk crosses his lips. “Besides, it’s not a lie.”

 Emma rolls her eyes, blush spreading through her cheeks. Okay, maybe she was a little curious as to whether he was being truthful or just baiting the fish.

 He chuckles at her reaction and stands from the desk chair. “Oh, come on, lighten up, Emma. It worked, didn’t it?”

 “I thought it was very creepy and pervy of you,” Ruby compliments with a flirty grin as the three of them head out of the apartment to meet up with Jefferson down the hall. When her brother had asked her to go undercover in Seattle, she rented out a monthly apartment with Ruby in the same building as Jefferson and Graham.

 Emma rolls her eyes.

 When Jefferson joins them, they head over to the hotel where several male cops gather in one of the rooms and several female cops, including herself and Ruby, meet in the room across the hall, dressed like prostitutes. 

 Emma’s made several busts already. Before she took this job, she’d never seen a grown man cry, but now she sees at least one every night in a mess of tears when he finds out she’s not actually a prostitute and she instead slaps him with a ticket and a heavy fine. Being a cop has hardened her over time, and now she’s looking forward to seeing CaptainHook on his knees begging her not to arrest him. When the men get on their knees and beg—that’s what makes the whole job worth it. A faint smirk pulls at her lips at the thought.

 ~*~

 Present (Killian’s POV)...

 “Wait a bloody minute,” Killian barks out in irritation, struggling against the cuffs. “This is a big misunderstanding. I’m a cop too.”

 Emma’s mouth opens in shock. After a few seconds of processing his words, she narrows her eyes, studying him carefully, trying to decipher whether he’s lying or not.

 “Check my wallet. I’m doing an undercover job for Sheriff Nolan,” he states.

 Her eyes widen as she glances between the two officers still holding him, before her eyes land on Killian once again. “You’re working for my brother?”

 The one on the left nods at Emma. “Check for a badge,” he instructs, speaking with an Irish accent.

 She reaches into Killian’s jacket, pulls out his wallet and opens the flap, revealing his badge. She sighs in exasperation, dropping her hands to her sides. “He’s telling the truth.”

 “Wait, you mean, we just arrested a cop?” the officer on the right asks, amusement laced in his words.

 Killian grins cheekily. “Aye. Officer Killian Jones at your service.”

 The other two men laugh as Emma lifts the wallet to study his badge again, shock and irritation still visible in her lovely features. “So, let me get this straight… this whole night was a waste?” 

 “Apparently so,” Killian replies, equally irritated. The night was not a complete waste though. He met Emma after all.

 She lifts her eyes, regarding him with a blank expression. “Uncuff him.”

 As one of the officers releases him from the cuffs, Killian can’t help but wonder whether she’s relieved he’s not a john or if she’s just simply annoyed. He mutters a thank you as he pulls his hands in front of him, smoothing his fingers over his wrists. 

 “Here, you probably want these back,” Emma says, handing him the cash and his badge.

 “Indeed. I had to fill out a ton of paperwork for this,” he says appreciatively, holding up the bills before tucking them back inside his wallet. He’s relieved Emma is not actually a prostitute, but he’s also thoroughly confused as to why she’d kissed him. Sure, he’d basically asked her to, but she didn’t have to go through with it. The cash was in his hand. He stares at her for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “So, tell me something, love—since you’re not actually a prostitute, why did you kiss me?”

 Killian can now see the officer emerging from his left, who has brown curly hair. He steps between Emma and Killian, his eyes darting back and forth from one to the other. “You kissed him?!”

 Killian suppresses a grin when he sees how jealous the man is. 

 Emma shrugs. “What’s the big deal? I was just really getting into my role. I don’t do things half-ass, you know that.”

 “You certainly don’t,” Killian remarks with a smirk. 

 Emma looks at him, smiling and blushing.

 The brown-haired man glares at Killian, blowing out a huff of air before walking away. Killian has to wonder if the man has feelings for her, or if they’re dating. If they are dating, the kiss with another man was definitely crossing a line. Especially since the kiss was unnecessary, and once again he wonders why it happened. But he’s not complaining. He shakes off the thought as another one crosses his mind. “So, how was your ad posted on Cinderella Escorts?” he asks Emma.

 “The website is fake. He designed it,” she says, pointing at the brown-haired cop. “The other girls on the site are also cops.”

 “And Huntsman69?”

 The jealous cop raises his hand. “That would be me.” Putting aside his petty jealousy for the moment, he lowers the same hand, extending it to Killian. “Graham Humbert.” 

 Killian experiences his own dose of jealousy as they shake hands, even though he has no right to be jealous. But he can’t help but wonder whether Buttercup—whether Emma was actually the best pussy he ever had. Has Graham actually experienced gazing into her eyes while fucking her?

 “This is Jefferson,” Graham says to Killian, introducing him to the dark-haired cop.

 “Nice to meet you,” Killian says, shaking his hand.

 “You too.”

 “Well, I’m done working for the night. Want to get something to eat?” Graham asks Jefferson.

 “Sure, I’m starving.”

 “How does North Star sound? I could go for a beer and a burger.”

 “Sounds great.”

 Graham looks at Emma. “You coming?” 

 She averts her eyes to Killian as Graham approaches her, awaiting an answer, ready to head out the door. Killian’s jealousy flares up in his chest again as the other officer places his hand on her back like he’s claiming her as his. 

 “Wait, can I speak to you a moment, Emma?” Killian asks, not only because he doesn’t want to let her get away so quickly, but judging by how uncomfortable she looked when Graham asked her to join him, how even more uncomfortable she looked when Graham put his hand on her and how relieved she appears to be now, he’s also doing her a favor.

 She nods and looks at Graham and Jefferson. “You guys go. I’ll meet you there.”

 Graham doesn’t appear to be too happy as he glares at Killian. “What do you need to talk to her about that you can’t talk to us too?”

 Emma rolls her eyes. “Graham, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

 Graham sighs in defeat. “Fine, we’ll get a table.”

 “Okay,” she responds, but Killian’s pretty sure she’s only agreeing to meet them at the diner so he will leave. After Graham and Jefferson are gone, Emma walks up to Killian and crosses her arms, waiting for him to speak. If she’s relieved Graham’s gone, she doesn’t show it, so Killian can’t help but wonder the question that’s been eating away at him.

 “Are you and Graham…” he pauses, immediately regretting the question before he even finishes it. He has no right to ask. “I mean, I know it’s none of my business, I was just wondering if…”

 “If I was really the best pussy he ever had? You’re right, it is none of your business,” she says curtly.

 Killian’s cheeks burn scarlet as he scratches behind his ear, stammering over his words. “I know… I was just… I was just curious is all. You two seem close.”

 “We used to date, but it didn’t work out, and I ended it. Relationships with colleagues never work.”

 Killian nods. “Ah, I see. I didn’t mean to pry…”

 “You did, but it’s okay,” she says with a shrug. “I can see why you’d wonder. He still acts like we’re together,” she sighs.

 “But still, I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry,” he apologizes with a small smile.

 “It’s fine.” She dismisses his words with a wave of her hand, walks to the square breakfast table and faces him, leaning her back against the edge of the surface. He’s relieved his question didn’t run her out the door. 

 “So, you’re David Nolan’s sister?” he asks, desperately wanting to change the topic for both their sakes.

 She nods, her demeanor softening as she looks at him. “Yeah, I was adopted by his parents when we were kids.”

 “Must’ve been a little awkward having your brother ask you to go undercover as a prostitute,” Killian chuckles, slipping his hands into his pockets.

 “Yeah, it was, trust me,” she laughs, and there’s an adorable spark in her eyes as her cheeks turn pink. As hot as she was as a fake prostitute, she’s completely adorable and cute as Officer Emma Swan. “Especially since he’s usually overprotective. Which is why I’m working fancy hotels instead of the streets and why he calls me every day to check up on me and give me several warnings about what to expect while I’m on the job,” Emma says, rolling her eyes. “It’s quite annoying.”

 “I can imagine, I have one of those too—a protective brother, I mean. David seems like a good guy though.”

 “He is, he’s always been there for me, so I really wanted to help him out when he told me about the initiative to reduce prostitution in the county. And hopefully, help women get out of the lifestyle.” 

 “Aye, love, it’s not the job I’d envisioned doing when I became a police officer, but perhaps it will be rewarding in the end.”

 She nods in agreement. “I’m sure David will get a good laugh when he finds out about this.”

 Killian blushes and smiles. “I’m sure he will.”

 “I would say we could just not say anything, but Graham’s probably already called to tell him.”

 “Yes, perhaps, but you know him better than I do,” he teases.

 “Yeah, unfortunately,” she retorts with a smirk. 

 He removes a hand from his pocket to scratch behind his ear, his stomach tight with nerves. Though a comfortable air has filled the room, he’s still nervous to be around her. Especially since he thought she was a prostitute about ten minutes ago. He moves to the table, leaning his back against it next to her as he crosses his arms. “I have to say, I’m relieved you’re not actually a hooker, love.”

 She turns her head, eyeing him with a raised brow. “Why’s that?”

 “For one, it’s not a life I wish on any woman. Two, you’re too pretty to sell yourself for $2,000.”

 Her cheeks are flushed as she averts her eyes. “Thanks, I think,” she laughs.

 “Relax, it’s a compliment,” he chuckles. “I have to admit though, you’re quite the actress. I had no idea you were a cop.” 

 “Yeah well, you’re not so bad yourself,” she says, playfully nudging his elbow with hers, making his heart flutter. “Maybe we’re in the wrong profession.”

 “Maybe,” he agrees with a soft smile, his voice cracked. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the effect she has on him and uncrosses his arms, bracing his hands against the edge of the table on either side of him. When his arm brushes slightly against hers, she doesn’t pull away, nor does he.

 “I’m curious about one thing though, love…”

 She looks at him curiously. “What’s that?”

 “The kiss was a little unnecessary, don’t you think? I mean, I was handing over the cash, so you could’ve just arrested me then, but instead, you kissed me…” Killian braces himself for her answer. He hopes he doesn’t piss her off, but judging by the shameless smile she offers him in return, she’s not the least bit upset.

 She shrugs nonchalantly. “As I said, I don’t do things half-ass.” 

 “That’s what you told Graham to appease him. So, what’s the real reason?”

 She lets out a small laugh, her cheeks flooding with blush. “You really want the truth?”

 “Aye.”

 Sighing in defeat, she leans toward him as though there are other people in the room and she doesn’t wish for anyone else to hear as she murmurs in his ear. “I thought you were cute, and I really wanted to kiss you. Is that bad?”

 Killian’s cheeks burn crimson, a smug grin pulling at his lips. “No, love, not at all.”

 “So, why did you ask to kiss me?” she retaliates, pulling away, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

 His grin widens if possible. “For the exact same reason you kissed me.”

 “The real one or the fake one I gave Graham?”

 He swallows thickly, gazing into her eyes, getting lost in them. “The real one.”

 Emma smiles and blushes profusely, either because she’s flattered by his confession, embarrassed by her own, or both. She pushes herself away from the table, quickly changing the subject as she turns around to face him. “So, was there something else you wanted to speak to me about or were you just curious about me and Graham?”

 “There’s something else...” Killian replies, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Perhaps tonight isn’t a complete waste.” 

 Emma studies him carefully, lifting a brow as she plants her hands on her hips. “I’m listening.”

 He taps his thumb nervously against the tabletop, his heart racing as he prepares himself to ask her something he’s wanted to ask her since he found out she was a cop. But he can’t seem to find the courage, so instead, he covers it up with another question. “What if we teamed up? Perhaps we can get more accomplished by working together?”

 She purses her lips, thinking about his offer for a moment. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually.”

 He pulls away from the table, closing the distance between them. “You heard of the Unicorn on Pike Street?”

 His question seems to grab her attention; she suddenly perks up, her eyes widening as she stares at him in slight bemusement. “You mean where they serve carnival food and magical cocktails? Of course I have. But aren’t we a little overdressed for that?”

 He shrugs. “Perhaps... but do you really think the night can get any more awkward than it already is?”

 Emma laughs. “Absolutely not.”

 “So, let me buy you a drink and a corn dog? Or were you actually planning on meeting Graham and Jefferson?”

 “You mean my possessive ex-boyfriend and his best friend?” Emma shakes her head. “I’ll pass on that gathering, thanks.”

 Satisfied with her answer, he playfully cocks a brow. “So, you’re saying you’d rather get sick on corn dogs and go into a sugar coma from an order of unicorn droppings and sweet alcoholic drinks with a cute guy you just met half an hour ago?”

 A big smile takes over her face. “Sounds perfect.” 

 A relieved grin crawls across his lips as he offers his elbow. She loops her arm through his, and they head out the door, both looking forward to working together and perhaps something more. 

#cs ff #cs ff au #undercover cop au #deals with prostitution #crude language\we own the night #my fic

[marmolady]

Like Old Times

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending (Rourke ending). Set after my previous Rourke ending fics, but probably easy enough to follow without reading them first. 

With attempts to rekindle the friendships lost met with minimal success, Taylor is in desperate need of a night off. No worrying about what she doesn’t have, just appreciating her small victories in the face of Rourke’s plans for her. But the boat dance might just stir memories in places she hadn’t expected...

Word Count: 7556

Warnings: the usual. Bit of coarse language and sexual references.

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @sceptilemasterr @bbaba-yagaa@edgydepressedchoicesthot@blightarts@princessstellaris@acidsugar0@taramitch96 @sapphovonchat @strangerofbraidwood@noeschoices @queerchoicesblog@kennaxval@queerchoicesblog@mrsmontoya @saivilo @mind-reader1 @ezramitchells

The sounds, the scents, the images of the pristine beaches surrounding The Celestial took hold of Estela as she carefully managed her breathing. In her meditative state, it was where she always ended up… the thoughts that overcrowded her tired mind fell away, and it was just peace. Her time on La Huerta had been chaotic, but had also given her the nearest thing to the opposite of that- something close to tranquility, that she’d ever known. It was her happy place. Cross-legged on the couch in their Hartfeld apartment, she might as well be miles away.

In the background, Taylor was helping Diego with his outfit for the boat dance, the social event of the season. They would all be going- at least, as far as she could tell. It had taken some convincing to get Zahra on board, but if all she was ready to contribute to their mission was just to passively be there, then she’d need to passively be there when it mattered. Taylor was convinced that the more they spent time together publicly, as friends, the more memories would trickle back to those as yet beyond her reach. And so, she’d resigned herself to doing Zahra’s share of the housework for the next month as payment for her cooperation.

“Are you sure I’m not gonna be the only guy in a suit?”

“Diego, it’s a dance. I’m pretty sure it’s semi-formal affair. You’re gonna look very dapper.”

Taylor hugged him. That he was brave enough to go along to an event that would no doubt be brimming with happy couples, in spite of how much he ached for Varyyn, said a lot. Diego really was something special.

“Well, that’s me sorted. You might want to bring Estela back to the land of the living, it looks like she’s falling asleep.”

“Yeah…”

It had come as a great relief to Taylor that Estela had found a way of easing the storm in her mind; she hated to disturb her. She did, however, have her own special way of gently doing so. Reaching out with her mind rarely worked except with receptive Vaanti, but with the receiver in a meditative trance, it seemed she could manage a sort of crude one-way communication. She closed her eyes, and focused, sending out imagery like a radio signal.

Diego watched intently. “What are you saying?”

“It doesn’t really work like that… it’s not like with Varyyn. It’s kinda… vague and wordless. A feeling. Like a weird, fluffy mind hug.”

“So, you’re not, like, sending her mind sexts?”

Taylor snorted; her concentration broken. “Diego! Get that head of yours out of the gutter!”

Slowly, Estela blinked back into the present, and stretched out her arms. “…Hey.”

“Hey. I just thought you might want to start getting ready. We’ll have to make a move in half an hour.”

It took a moment for Estela to recall, deep as she’d been within herself. “Oh, that dance you’re dragging us along to.”

Taylor made air quotation marks as she spoke. “Yeah, ‘dragging’. You can’t pretend to me that you haven’t been looking forward to it, just a little…”

To be honest, Estela wasn’t sure how she felt. It would be awfully reminiscent of the times they’d all shared on La Huerta, celebrating together in defiance of everything that kept on trying to crush them. But it wouldn’t be like that this time. Most of her friends were far out of reach, and to see it starkly before her would not exactly be enjoyable. Taylor was convinced that the opportunity to let loose would be good for them all, and Estela trusted her judgement. She was determined to have fun, to forget about… everything… just for one night. It was what Taylor needed after being a supportive rock not just for Estela, but for Diego and Zahra as well. However hard it might be, Estela would make sure her wife had the breath of fresh air that she so deserved. She shrugged.

“Fine. I’ll admit it; just a little.” Letting herself be pulled onto her feet, Estela pecked a kiss to Taylor’s cheek. “I guess I better go get dressed…”

______________________________

The boat was heaving when Taylor’s party arrived.

Zahra winced. “You’re gonna want to point me towards the booze, because I will not survive this sober…”

Taylor whipped around, and handed her a Dark ‘n’ Stormy. “I’ve already got you covered, babe!”

“Call me that again and I’ll cut you.” Zahra took a swig and forced a smile. “But thanks, I guess.”

A face in the crowd drew Estela’s attention; pale, surrounded by long mane of russet. Quinn stumbled away from the dance floor, and sat down on one of the plush seats around the edge, fingers visibly digging into the cushion even at a distance. Instinctively, Estela glanced around for Taylor, someone rather better at offering friendly overtures than she herself was. But now, she was nowhere to be seen- lost in the sea of students.

Estela approached cautiously, going over in her mind what she might say. She’d talked to Quinn just the once since Rourke had implemented Project Janus, and it had been brief. To the demure redhead, she was good as a stranger. At least on La Huerta, there had been no need for awkward ‘getting to know you’ nonsense. Estela had focused on survival, on succeeding in her mission, and the friendships developed naturally, born of the experiences they’d shared. Shit, where was Cetus when you needed him? They’d have gathered together, kicked his scaly ass, and bada-bing bada-boom, they’d come out of it as friends… none of this awkward reaching out. Pulling herself together, Estela sat down beside Quinn. Should she smile? Quinn looked ill… surely, she shouldn’t look amused by that? But if she didn’t, would her serious gaze make Quinn nervous…? Where the hell was Taylor when she needed her?

“Hi,” she said quietly, at long last. “I just thought…” She cleared her throat. “I wanted to make sure you were all right… you don’t look so good. Can I do anything?”

Quinn smiled weakly. “Someone’s already getting me a glass of water.” Her eyes flickered over Estela’s earnest face. “You’ve probably got people to be with… but, if you don’t, I… I’d really like the company.”

The brunette sidled closer, by way of an answer.

“It’s Estela, right?”

A nod. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. How have you… how have you been?” The last time Estela had encountered Quinn, she’d found her to be frighteningly weak, everything about her had just been tired. Now, she was clearly not healthy by any means, but she lacked the heavy rings around her eyes.

“Actually, I’ve been good. I’ve been sick for a long time, but recently… it feels like I have a reason to feel hopeful. Right now, though? I guess the movement of the boat’s making me queasy. I’ve been on a treatment for a little while; it’s helping me, but my body’s fragile.”

“If you’re prone to seasickness, maybe going to a boat dance wasn’t the best choice of social event for you to make your comeback on…”

With a hollow laugh, Quinn shook her head. “’Comeback’ kind of implies that I’d ever really been fit for these parties. I just hoped… this new treatment, you know, that I might finally catch up on everything I missed out on growing up.” Realising she was talking to a near stranger, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry! You came out for a good time; you don’t want to listen to this. You barely know me…”

“No. But I’d like to.” Hesitantly, Estela put her hand on Quinn’s arm, and to her relief, the action was met with a grateful smile. “If it helps, I’ve never really done stuff like this either. I met someone, not long ago; she’s shown me a lot of things I didn’t think I’d ever experience. What I’m trying to say is… you might feel like you’re, you know… different, but things can get better, and you’re not…”

“…Alone?”

“You’re not alone.”

Quinn studied Estela thoughtfully. She’d called herself a ‘friend’, and although Quinn couldn’t place her, she was certain that she knew the serious-eyed brunette from somewhere. Estela must have made an impression, for her face had cropped up in strange dreams. The new medication came with vivid dreams as a side-effect, but it struck Quinn as odd that vaguely familiar faces just kept coming up. A sharp, sudden pain made her gasp.

“Quinn! Are you…?” Estela’s eyes grew wide in alarm.

At that moment, Michelle returned. Immediately drawn back to Quinn who was clearly in distress, clutching her forehead, it barely registered that Estela was there too. “Is it your head?”

Quinn winced and nodded. “I think that water’s exactly what I need; thank you.”

Michelle handed her the glass, and began to gently rub her back. “Just take little sips, all right? Are you sure you don’t want to get back on dry land? It’s just a dance; there’ll be others.”

A sad cast of shadow seemed to flit across Quinn’s eyes, and her cheeks puffed as her lips formed a small pout. Of course, no one could understand what this meant to her; they didn’t have a clue…

“You shouldn’t miss out,” Estela said, causing Michelle to flinch, truly noticing her presence for the first time. Though the reaction was hurtful, she let it go. “This is important to you. Maybe, if you did have to leave the boat, we could keep you company. I dunno… have our own party.” She glanced away the second she’d made the suggestion, doubting herself, but looked back again, knowing that she owed Quinn that she at least try. “It’s gotta be better than sitting around feeling like you’ll hurl your guts.”

For a moment, Michelle’s mouth hung open, as if in preparation to protest, but she floundered. Estela, that quiet, scarred creep, looked at her expectantly. Who the hell did she think she was to put her in that position? Then she looked at Quinn, and something within her was stirred. A protective instinct. Was it just the doctor in her? She would, of course, be a natural. But it wasn’t just that… it was almost familial, the need to care. Who was Quinn, anyway? And who was Estela?

The words formed before Michelle could even comprehend why she was speaking them; “She’s right. You’re not about to just sit here sick and miserable, not on my watch. Let’s got you back on dry land- at least for now. You’re going to have a good time tonight if it kills me!”

_____________________________

Taylor sat herself down with a drink in her hand, taking in the buzzing atmosphere on the boat, having lost Diego to the appetiser table. She felt a sad pang at the sight of Raj at the centre of a bustling, laughing cluster of revellers. Sean and Craig were there too, magnets for the university’s popular crowd. It was a world where Taylor was unwelcome, and as much as she wanted to go running over and put her arms around her friends, they weren’t on La Huerta anymore. She shook her head. No; she wasn’t going to get hung up over all that. This should be a party party, not a pity party.

“Are you okay, Taylor?”

When she looked up, there was Grace, her face a picture of kind concern.

“Grace, hi!” Taylor beamed, and scooched over, inviting her friend to join her. “It’s… really good to see you. Finally letting your hair down, with exams finished?”

Grace smiled, right to her eyes. “It’s really good to see you, too. I’ve been meaning to catch you for ages; it’s just… sometimes I think I’ll drown from the pressure. From everything. Tonight… it’s one of the first times I’ve let myself switch off for so long. I feel as though I’ve been holding my breath for months, and I was just so used to it I didn’t notice.”

Taylor put an arm around her. She’d tried to be there for Grace, but through all her attempts to connect, she’d felt as though she was just another burden. “Well, take a deep breath; you’ve earned it. And… before you go back under, do you wanna hang out?”

The two girls leaned on the boat’s edge, looking out at the water, sparkling in the moonlight. Taylor hadn’t expected this -Grace was not one to frequent social events. Grace’s amiable nature made her someone with whom Taylor had been able to easily form a comfortable acquaintance, but moving beyond that had been challenging.

“You look really gorgeous tonight,” Taylor said, admiring the glittering violet dress Grace was wearing. The whole time they were on La Huerta, she never saw her dress up like this.

“You too!” Grace replied brightly. “My mom bought it for me. I was supposed to be going along to this gala a few months ago.” She sighed. “It didn’t last long before I realised, I was there only as another sparkling accessory. Tonight, I’m wearing this for me. Who knows when I’ll give myself another night off?”

“Good for you. Between you and me, I think you’re absolutely rocking it.”

Grace laughed. It was true, she’d been missing out. Desperate as she was to meet the lofty expectations she was held to, there had been no time for friends. And Taylor, she’d realised, was a wonderful, wonderful friend. More than that, there was something there… something mysterious that was beginning to fall together.

“It’s funny, Taylor,” she said. “When I’m with you, sometimes I feel like I could be a whole other person; courageous, someone who would take on the world, someone who her friends could always rely on.”

“Grace… that’s always been you.”

Grace glanced away shyly, her cheeks flushing. “No one’s ever seen me in that way. I know my mother never has. For so long, I’ve been afraid that no one would ever truly see me, believe in who I am. You barely know me, but somehow, I feel like there’s so much beneath the surface. Perhaps some people were always meant to be friends!”

Her heart thumping wildly, Taylor put her arms around her dear friend in a gentle hug. Can’t you see that you know me? Everything we overcame together? Don’t you remember?

“I believe it. Some people you just can’t help but be drawn to.”

“…Taylor? Can I tell you something… strange?” Grace bit her lip nervously. This was something she’d not dared talk about, not to anyone. It was all so fantastical, almost beyond belief. “I know you won’t laugh at me.”

“Of course.” Taylor’s breath caught in her throat. Was this… did she…?

“I’ve had dreams. The same nightmares over and over; every night after I’d talked to you- sometimes even if I only saw you. It made me afraid of you, and I’m sorry. I knew all along that you only wanted to be a friend, and I so badly needed a friend…”

Taylor gave her hand a squeeze, trying to be reassuring, even though adrenaline was surging through her own body. “Oh, honey, don’t apologize! That would make anyone nervous…”

With a weak smile, Grace continued. “First I dreamed the same thing over and over… I was kept prisoner in this cell, all alone. There were guards… guards with metal armour… I never saw their faces. But what was frightening was that it felt real. I’d never had dreams so vivid. And they wouldn’t fade from my memory in the way dreams should do. It was the opposite, in fact. I’d get flashes, more and more, even after I’d woken up, as if I was remembering something that had really happened to me. Well, I was terrified of going back to that place… so cold, so lonely, so I avoided you. Until that day when you were looking for Estela… that night I dreamed it all again, but this time, I kept dreaming… and you rescued me. You… your friends, some other people I recognised and knew I knew… but it was you, clear as day. It was then that I realised that I need never be afraid of you; whatever these dreams -or are they memories?- whatever they’re trying to tell me, I knew you’d understand, that you’d want to help me.”

Her mouth dry, Taylor struggled to find the words. “We’ve all had dreams like that. Estela, Diego, Zahra… I’m sure the others have too.” She automatically glanced back to the dance floor, to where Sean, Michelle, Raj and Craig were laughing together. They had to be remembering something by now. “And I think, I mean, I know… they’re memories. Of a life we should have shared. I know it sounds crazy-“

“It does,” said Grace steadily. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen them myself. I kept on dreaming, you see. It was though I’d passed through a barrier and the memories could suddenly reach me. I kept a journal beside my bed, and wrote down everything I saw, everything I felt.” She gave a bashful smile. “I was very close to Aleister, wasn’t I? I’ve been too nervous to speak to him when I see him in classes, but sometimes our eyes will meet and something so happy bubbles up inside me.”

Taylor could scarcely dare to believe what she was hearing. Grace, her gentle, brilliant Grace, had opened that wonderful mind of hers and seen the truth of everything. With a weak laugh, Taylor nodded. “Yes, you and Aleister. You were such a pair. He so badly needed someone like you in his life. Do you… do you remember what happened?”

The relief that she was not, in fact, losing her mind showed on Grace’s face. The final pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “It was Everett Rourke, wasn’t it? He used technology beyond anything ever seen before… he used it to unravel time itself, to bend it to his will. It’s why he’s the Emperor today. Taylor… it’s all true? Everything I’ve seen in my head? My friends… our friends?”

“It’s true,” Taylor confirmed, voice hushed and threatening to crack with emotion. A tear fell from her cheek. “You’re a hero, Grace. Fighting to save the world. There was so much we could have never done without you.” She choked back a sob. “I’ve missed you so much…”

“I’ve missed you too. When it all started to come back, I felt so empty, like I’d been missing something important. All this time it was you… all of you…” Suddenly, she simultaneously laughed and spluttered with tears, and pulled Taylor into a tight hug. Not only was she not going crazy, she had friends… friends who appreciated exactly who she was, who’d put their lives on the line to see her safe. Frightening as those dreams had been, they’d also shown a kind of love she’d silently craved for as long as she could remember. “Oh my gosh, Taylor!”

They embraced, laughing and crying, sheer relief that their friendship was a fire that for all Rourke’s efforts, could not be extinguished. As Grace came away, lines of worry returned to her face.

“Most of us still haven’t remembered…” she said quietly. “Rourke… he’s treated time as his plaything, hurt so many people, and he’s just… getting away with it?”

Taylor placed her hands on Grace’s shoulders, and leant down just a little, so that she was eye-to-eye with the shorter woman. “He won’t. I swear to you, he won’t. This time, we’re not racing an apocalypse. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but… look at us. Back together; and Estela, Diego, Zahra… that’s already shown that we are so much stronger than he bargained for. I’ve gotta trust that the rest will come in time. And when the time comes, we’ll finish this. For good.”

There was something in the way she spoke that made Grace feel like it was possible. “When this is all over, you really ought to consider a career in motivational speaking.”

“We’ll see. First, let’s enjoy tonight, yeah? Like I said, you’ve earned it.”

__________________________________

“So, um… dancing?” Estela took Quinn’s hand and swayed awkwardly. Wait- she’s seasick! That’s not gonna help. Shit. Her cheeks suddenly bright red, she stopped in her tracks. There’s gotta be a way of doing this without making poor Quinn barf…

Quinn laughed. She was utterly intrigued by the brunette, who was clearly putting herself out of her comfort zone… for her… as if she really was a friend. When she thought about it, Quinn realised where she’d seen Estela before… the strangest dream. She was reaching out to a frothing sea monster, a great beast that towered over her… willing an object to rise out from its throat. And there, arms securely around her, holding her out of harm’s way… Estela. It was funny; she could almost feel those strong arms embracing her, as if it were a memory of something as real as she was standing there. What was even stranger was that she was certain she’d seen Michelle’s face too, in that very same dream.

“Dry land has done me some good; I’m up for a little dancing. Michelle?”

Still side-eyeing Estela, Michelle took Quinn’s hand. Something about this was familiar; spookily so. As much as she couldn’t admit to going along with Taylor’s crazy… there had been flashes of a different truth coming to her since they’d violently collided several weeks before. She’d fought it. Whatever madness Taylor had planted in her head was a distraction from what mattered; she had it all- the sorority, Sean, and she was killing it in classes. Everything right on track. She was still scared of Estela. Not because she was some creepy figure that the other girls would nervously giggle about, but because she was all that, and still Michelle couldn’t shake the growing urge to slap every idiot who said a word against her. It was the same thing that made her protective of Quinn; a deep knowing that she couldn’t understand. None of it made any sense. But, no. This was just a dance… hanging out with a sick girl. What the hell kind of doctor would she be if she didn’t show compassion for someone who clearly needed her? That was all this was, of that much Michelle was certain; she’d keep Quinn company, and at the end of it all, she could go back to keeping her distance… keeping the crazy, the madness that could throw everything she’d worked for into shambles, safely at arm’s length.

“If it means I can make sure you don’t over-do it…” Michelle started to bounce along to the music, and tentatively reached for Estela’s hand. The calloused palm was slightly rough in her fingers, the grip returned to her was strong yet gentle. This was all for show, she told herself, but still she found herself offering the dark-eyed brunette an encouraging smile. “I know this isn’t exactly your scene either. Just follow my lead, okay?”

It was awkward at first. Both Estela and Michelle gratefully took several opportunities to grab a drink between songs, loosening them up just enough that they could forget that they were supposed to be strangers. Reluctantly, though, Michelle found herself having fun- laughing even. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point she must have stopped flinching away from Estela, and her companionship was suddenly… easy.

While she twirled Quinn around, Estela remained quiet. This was well beyond her comfort zone… it would have been even if her friends remembered their relationship. Quinn was bubbly and bouncy, and Estela simply wasn’t. Her slightly tipsy party-goer self was far more self-conscious, stilted, than the average drunken student. Life had taught her to keep her guard up. But as Quinn took both her and Michelle by the hand and spun them in a wild circle, Estela was enjoying herself so much more than she knew how to show them. But that look on Quinn’s face, that look that was like sunshine breaking through the clouds, it was enough to tell her that she wasn’t doing too badly.

Some twenty or so songs later, Quinn collapsed onto the bench, her face happily flushed, sweat upon her brow. She’d pushed herself, perhaps harder than she should have done, but the reward had been what she’d missed out on for so long- a genuine human connection. It had, however, knocked the stuffing out of her.

“Wow, I’m wrecked.” She put her hand to her head, the troubling ache still present in intermittent twinges. It was bizarre, the strength of the complaint seemingly linked to feelings of closeness to the two women who’d put their own plans aside, for her. “Good wrecked,” she added quickly.

“Honestly?” Michelle sighed, sitting down beside her. “Me too. It’s almost like I caught your headache. I think exam week caught up with me.” It wasn’t the night she’d planned, but of all the parties she’d been to in her freshman year, this was the one she’d remember. “Hey, Quinn? If you wanted to share an Uber with me, you could crash out in my room. If you wanted to hang out some more?”

Her sapphire eyes widening at the first invite she’d received in… how many years?... Quinn couldn’t hide her surprise. “Oh, Michelle, you don’t have to. You should spend some time with your friends, I’ve kept you a long time as it is.”

“This isn’t me being nice. I don’t wanna go back in there and face Craig right now; my head would explode.”

Both Quinn and Estela laughed.

Michelle found herself grinning along with them. “And Quinn, you’re a friend. Shit- maybe I am being nice. What a night.” She offered Estela a glance. “I’m guessing you’re here with…” Crazy Taylor… “Taylor?”

“I am. I didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I called her over after… you know.”

Her cheeks suddenly very pink, Michelle was uncomfortable, and it showed all over her face. The last encounter she’d shared with Taylor and Estela had been memorable for all the wrong reasons. There may have been a slap-fight involved. She said nothing, but gave a small nod of acknowledgement that Estela had probably made the right call. The more she’d thought about it, the less Crazy Taylor seemed like a threat to her relationship with Sean, but it remained she who was the source of those insane stories, the ones that somehow haunted Michelle in her dreams. Bad news… that’s what Taylor was. But Estela seemed nice enough; creepy as all hell, but honestly… nice. Certainly not deserving of being treated like something slimy that had crawled out of a horror movie. How she, Michelle, had treated her.

Quinn put her arms around Estela, receiving an unsure, but clearly heartfelt hug in return. “You’re here with your girlfriend? I wouldn’t have kept you if I’d known!”

“It’s all right. You needed a friend. Taylor would get it; this sort of thing is usually what she’d do.”

“Wait- blonde Taylor?” Receiving a nod, Quinn beamed. “I know Taylor! Whenever I’m on campus and she bumps into me, she’ll stop and chat- every time.”

“That sounds right.” Estela couldn’t help but smile. Being a stellar friend was pretty much what Taylor was born for, and it was where she shone. It was a good thing, too, what with the fate of the world relying on their rekindling the bonds the twelve had once shared. “She’s got this pathological need to be friends with people. She latches on, and that’s it, she’ll care about you for life.”

It had been strange for Estela to take on that role. She hoped she’d risen to the challenge; it wasn’t like old times, but she’d felt comfortable with Quinn and Michelle, refreshingly so. “I should get back to her. She’s probably propping up a drunk Diego somewhere…”

“I think I’ve kept you long enough,” Quinn said, gratefully. She wasn’t sure what it was about Estela, but so quickly, the friendship that was blooming between them felt easy, natural. For the first time in her life, a friendship that might just have a chance… a chance of growing and not simply being snuffed out by the reality of her illness. “You say ‘hi’ for me, okay? We should all hang out sometime.”

Estela looked her steadily in the eye, her cheeks slightly pink. That someone would actively seek out her company… it was surreal. She could only hope Quinn knew what it meant. “I’d like that. Thank you. And I… I will.” She gave them both a small nod. “Get some rest, yeah?”

With that, she turned to head back to the boat, back to her wife, who would no doubt be wondering after her. She felt a hand on the crook of her arm, and when she looked back, there was Michelle, a bizarre expression on her face… as if surprised by her own action.

“Look, Estela, I don’t often make apologies; I’m sharp, and it’s how I survive. But I was a real bitch to you; you and Taylor. I’m sorry, all right? And you can pass that on to her too.”

“…Michelle…”

Michelle looked up, but still pointedly avoided eye contact, not realising how much it stung.

“Thanks…” Estela said, “you know, for helping keep Quinn company.”

“I’m not a complete asshole.” Michelle glanced upwards, meeting brunette’s dark, serious eyes at last, and gave her a small but genuine smile. “You’re welcome.”

_______________________________

In the middle of the dance floor, Taylor was hopping to the beat, a great smile plastered across her face. She was supposed to be going for top-ups, leaving Grace and Diego to briefly carry on their giggly game of charades without her… but how could she stop herself from dancing? Sure, she didn’t have the whole gang behind her, but buzzed as she was over the breakthrough with Grace, the usual hurt couldn’t touch her. Taylor was on cloud nine, on top of the world…

-crash!!-

“Heeeey, Crazy Taylor!”

Looking up from the floor on what she knew would be a very bruised rear the next day, Taylor held her hand out, letting herself be pulled back to her feet by the very solid figure she’d danced right into.

“Hey, Craig, having a good time? Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Pffft, chyeah… it’s a party, duh!”

“I can’t argue with that,” Taylor laughed. This felt good, natural. Or was she just drunk? Was Craig just hoping she’d start another entertaining fight? Her nerves returned. Easy, Taylor. Just let it come the way it’s meant to. He’s your friend; he’ll work it out eventually. “Food’s been pretty nice too…”

“Hey, where did your friend go? She hasn’t bailed already?”

Taylor followed Craig’s eyes to the seat where Zahra had been sitting earlier that night, glaring daggers out into the room while downing the finest cocktails on offer. A sinking feeling in her stomach told her that Zahra had indeed left. Immediately, she felt guilt. Caught up as she was in her excitement over re-connecting with Grace, she hadn’t checked in with her reclusive housemate. Zahra was hurt, much more than she cared to let on, by her history with Craig having been erased. It had been excruciating for her to open back up to him on La Huerta… to start over was too much.

“I think she went home,” Taylor said apologetically. This, she knew, would be one of the major hurdles in getting the group back together. As soon as Craig had started looking her way, Zahra had scarpered.

Craig’s face fell, but he recovered quickly. “I’m not, like, interested or anything! Not into nerds.”

“Come on, really? And you haven’t ever played a video game in your life? Between you and me, I’ve always found I was happier when I just rolled with what made me happy, not what might make me popular--“

“The hell you mean by that? You don’t know me!”

Shit. Abort mission; abort, abort!

Taylor briefly babbled, tripping over her tongue in panic. “I didn’t- I mean that… uh…. Shit. You’re right; I’m over-stepping. But if you wanna try something different, you should drop by our place sometime.”

To her relief, the indignant anger seemed to have faded from Craig’s face as quickly as it had flared up there, replaced by simple… curiosity, even in spite of himself.

Taking a chance, Taylor kept talking. “Yeah… yeah. We picked up a few old games last week, you know, retro… and honestly? I keep getting thrashed by Zahra. Y-you know… my friend you were asking after. She’s wicked smart; way too much for me to handle. And I dunno… I thought maybe you could help me take her down. Diego’s crap, and Estela’s plain not interested. I know it’s weird to ask, but I just got a feeling… you might have a good mind for that kind of thing.”

“Huh. Uh, uh, okay.” His face taking on a pink glow, Craig glanced hastily over his shoulder. “No nerdy wizard quest shit, though, aiight?”

“What, no! It’s uh… ‘Deadly Bloodsport’. And like I said, I keep getting my ass handed to me. You really should come around, bring a few beers or something.”

The strange nervousness fell from Craig’s face. “Now you’re talking! Why didn’t you say there was gonna be booze?”

Okay; good, good, now you’ve just got to track down one of those damn consoles… and hope that Zahra doesn’t stab me in my sleep.

As Craig walked away, Taylor realised she’d been barely breathing through their whole encounter, so terrified she was that she’d put her foot in it and make a difficult situation even worse. She chuckled to herself. Go let your hair down, girl! This is meant to be a night off from freaking out.

And, for the most part, it was. Taylor couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much, but it must have been back on La Huerta. It was almost as if… she’d stopped worrying just enough that things were starting to fall together on their own. She had her old Grace back, sweet and smart, and the friend she’d always been. And she could have sworn she saw something clicking in Craig’s head back there! The night, by her reckoning, was a roaring success. Something, though, something was missing…

“Estela-baby! There’s that badass love of my life!” Taylor leapt into a run, losing one of her heels in her exuberant rush to put herself in her wife’s arms. “I thought you’d fallen overboard or something! You haven’t missed all the food, have you?”

Estela was pleasantly flushed, glowing. “Sorry, I got caught up. I did eat though. Quinn was feeling rough on the boat, so I kept her and Michelle company on the marina for a little while. They’ve gone back to Hartfeld now, but I think having something to eat did Quinn some good.”

Doing a double-take, Taylor blinked rapidly for a moment. The last time Estela had been in contact with Michelle had been an absolute disaster. That look on her face now said that something had drastically changed. Taylor could only smile at her, big and broad and adoring.

“Estela Montoya, you are an absolute gem, you know that?”

She trailed her hands down until they settled on Estela’s hips, and pulled her closer, swaying gently in time with the music.

Smiling, Estela put her arms around Taylor’s neck. She leaned in and kissed her, letting feel of her lover’s lips, soft on her own, make the rest of the world fall away. The party was nice and all, but it didn’t compare to this- not even close. “Did you want to dance?”

“Is that something you do? Dancing?”

“No.” Estela shrugged. “Not really. But I figured we could work it out together. Is, um, one of us supposed to lead?”

“I think so? I don’t…”

They both stepped forward at the same time, and giggled as they crashed foreheads.

“God, you’ve got a hard skull…” Taylor laughed. “Hang on…” Tossing away her other shoe, she noticed that Estela was already barefoot, clearly having done away with the impractical heels at first opportunity. It made her smile all the more. “How about, you just lean into me, hold me… we’ll sway a little bit… and then…” She guided Estela’s arm upwards guiding her into a spin until she was flush against her chest once more.

“I guess we’re not so bad at this.”

“At least now we’re not. Helps that I’m not waddling around with one shoe like a complete doofus anymore.”

“You wanted to wear the stupid things…” Estela rolled her eyes. “You know, if you had to make a quick exit in these, you’d break your neck.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “And you can run in heels? Oh, my darling, even walking in them you look like a drunk giraffe. Sorry, a simultaneously very cute and very intimidating drunk giraffe.”

“Uh… thanks…?” Estela leaned in close and nibbled her lover’s ear before whispering. “I think you know that when the shit hits the fan, I’d have the heels off and be stabbing someone in the neck with them in a heartbeat.”

“There it is. Adorable and terrifying. So glad I’m on your good side.”

Estela giggled against the crook of Taylor’s neck, warm and giddy. “Always.”

Her arm resting on her wife’s back, Taylor grinned like a Cheshire cat, all the while, still swaying gently to the music. These little moments made the angst, the heartache, the fear… all worth it. A hundred times over.

“This has been really nice. Like, so nice. But I’ve actually got something to tell you.”

Immediately, Estela looked up, worry creeping into her eyes. “Taylor, is something wrong?”

Taylor kept on smiling. “I was talking with Grace. She remembers. Stel, she remembers everything!”

“Wait- what? You took your time spitting that out! Where is she? Is she okay?”

“Well, I figured, we’d all be hanging out together the rest of the night. I wanted to have a moment… just us, first.”

“Oh my god!”

“I left her playing charades with Diego… they’re probably wondering where I got to with their drinks. Come on…”

“I love you, but I am not playing charades. How fucking drunk do you think I am?”

_______________________________

Several giggly rounds of charades later- and Diego remaining undefeated, seemingly able to pick a mimed pop-culture reference within two seconds- Taylor succumbed once more to the dance floor, swinging her friends around her until her feet could dance no longer. Several drinks down, and all four of them were feeling it. Perhaps too much- as they discovered when an over-excited Diego ran up behind Sean and gave him the biggest hug he could muster, too tipsy to recall that in this timeline, they weren’t actually friends yet. Rescued by Estela before he could inflict another social faux pas, Diego was thankful that even in the midst of a scornful popular crowd, Sean’s good nature shone through and he’d awkwardly returned the gesture.

Grace was more relaxed, at ease with the world and within herself, than Taylor could remember seeing her- perhaps ever; the relief she found in realising her truth clear to see. She’d kept an eye out for Aleister; but he never made an appearance. Taylor had explained that it might have been for the best; Aleister was kept just close enough to his father that it was safer they all kept their distance until the rest of them were ready to come together and take action. Everything taken into consideration, though, this was the nearest Taylor had felt to… to feeling whole since she stupidly allowed Rourke to take away the bonds that had been the making of her. When Grace hugged her, it was to be embraced by a friend… and damn, that felt better than Taylor could put into words.

“I’m absolutely exhausted!” Grace lamented, even as she kept on grinning. “I’d better go and get some sleep; I’m still on catch-up after exams.”

Taylor hugged her in return. “Trust me, you’re not the only one. I think if I dance for a minute longer, my feet will sue my brain.”

“You say the strangest things, Taylor. And yet, somehow, you always make sense.” Grace spoke with a laugh, one well-earned after running herself ragged in the lead-up to the end of the quarter. “I suppose I’ll see you when school comes back? We ought to have lunches together… I’m honestly so tired of feeling like I’m struggling through alone.”

Taking a step back, Taylor held onto Grace’s arms and looked her straight in the eye, hoping with everything in her that she understood just how much she was cared for. “You don’t have to go through it alone. Never again, yeah? Because we’re a family. Whatever happens, we’re in it together.”

Grace’s eyes glistened with tears as she held her friend’s gaze. Her smile was brilliant, her face aglow. “We’re in it together! I’ll see you very soon, Taylor.”

Another round of hugs, and Grace was gone, almost skipping as she went to get her lift. With Diego calling up their own ride, Taylor gleefully put her arms around Estela. She’d hoped the party would have been an opportunity for some long slow-dances between them, a chance for her to simply hold her wife, and let her feel at ease- something so rare when her very mind was at war with itself- but surprise encounters had put paid to her best laid plans.

“I feel like I hardly spent any time with you tonight;” Estela murmured, as if she were reading her wife’s mind. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be- as much as I might want to keep you to myself, I’m a very kind and giving person.” Taylor reached out for Estela’s hand. “Seriously, though. I know how hard all this has been for you. To reach out to them, after everything, and being your wonderful, caring self… I just love you so much.”

With her free hand, Estela traced her fingers over the side of Taylor’s face, delicately brushing away an errant lock of hair. She quietly admired the pink glow that had painted itself across those kissable cheeks, the contentment and affection in those blue, blue eyes, the enticing glisten upon those lips.

“You’re beautiful…” she whispered. “Taylor… beautiful Taylor.”

“You’re beautiful, my darling Estela.”

Glancing down, a little bashful, Estela moved in closer, nuzzling against Taylor’s cheek. The skin so silky soft, shifting beneath her lips in what she knew was the formation of a sweet smile, the kind that made her knees buckle.

“Do you think, when it’s over… we’ll do more of this?” she asked, softly. “Not just ‘cause we’ve got to get some kind of escape from the mindfuck that is our lives, but just… for the joy of it.”

“So, you like the dancing?”

“With you, yes. But you can stop smirking. You already knew I wasn’t so hard.”

“True, very true. And, yeah, we’ll do more of this. Dancing like we haven’t got a care, because someday soon the fight will only be a memory. We’ll be, like, insufferably happy. And we’ll get there, soon. I can feel it.”

“Taylor, you’re feeling the champagne.”

Maybe she was feeling it herself, but Estela couldn’t quite extinguish the new spark of hope that had ignited within, nor could she suppress the beaming smile that had painted itself across her face. She put an arm around Taylor’s back, hugging her tight to her chest, so that she could feel her heart pounding with exhilaration against her breast. To hold her was magic, plain and simple. She leaned in, parting Taylor’s lips with her own, tasting the slight bitterness left by the wine. The kiss started slow, tender, every smallest brush and press of their lips savoured, held onto as if sacred, before it deepened, both women powerless in the face of the heat and passion that surged between them.

Estela drew her face away, just a little, so she could gaze upon the woman she loved. In Taylor’s eyes was something like aching longing, as though mere inches between them was too much to bear. She sated her with delicate kisses, trailing from her forehead, back to her eager mouth.

“Hey, you guys!!!” came a ringing holler.

“Ugh,” said Taylor. “Rude.”

“Don’t worry, carińa, we’ll pick this up when we get home. I’m sure I can keep myself awake for another hour. For you.”

“For me?” Taylor giggled, and snaked an arm around her wife’s waist, holding her close as they reluctantly began moving to join Diego in the Uber back to the apartment. She felt a kiss pressed tenderly to her temple, lingering and sweet. It would have to be just enough… for the time being at least.

Estela reluctantly left one last kiss against Taylor’s face. “Come on,” she said, suddenly commanding. “The sooner we get home…” A subtle wiggle of her eyebrows was all it took to kick Taylor’s butt into gear.

They hurried, hand-in-hand, revelling in the rare assurance that in their small way, they were on their way to winning.

#it's a rourke ending fic!!!! #estela montoya #endless summer #estela x mc #grace hall #quinn kelly #michelle nguyen #queen fuckin meech #zahra namazi #diego soto #craig hsiao #playchoices #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #rourke ending #fluffy!

[orangeflavoryawp]

I really want to write really filthy smut but I get so embarrassed. I already have 2 decently smutty one shots on ao3, but do you have any advice for getting really really into it?

Okay, I feel like I’m the worst person to respond to this since I’ve only just posted my first smut piece, but I’m utterly flattered that you value my opinion on this, so I will do my best to be honest with you.

I’ve alluded to sex and sexual content in other fics of mine, so it’s not new to me, but I’ve always either done the ‘fade to black’ or only vaguely referenced sexual acts in a more ambiguous way, but I knew that eventually I wanted to be more explicit when the story called for it.

And all of a sudden, the story called for it.

I was incredibly nervous.  Unsure of my word choice.  Unsure of my pacing.  Unsure of even the believability of the scene even happening in the first place.  And you know what?

I said ‘fuck it’.

I wanted to write this.  I wanted to explore this.  I was fucking going to do it.

I told myself, if I’ve thought about this as often as I have, then others must have as well.  Just look at the explicit fics on Ao3.  We are hardly a minority.  But we’re trapped in our own insecurity and we sit here second-guessing ourselves and wondering if the world is out there judging us and you know what?

It isn’t.

It really isn’t.  It’s actually out there begging us for more.  Rejoicing in it with us.

And at the end of the day, it’s just sex.  Maybe harsher than we’re presented with in ‘acceptable’ media.  Maybe rougher or dirtier or more mindlessly wanton, but you know what?  It’s nothing new.  Not really.

I’m in a discord with fellow writers and when I went to them for advice, someone told me “Don’t worry about other people’s kinks.  Write what you think is hot,” and another member said “Have fun with it” and I honestly can’t stress those two sentiments enough.  One let me embrace what I thought I should be embarrassed about (because let’s face it, dirty talk is hot as fuck and I simply can’t be the only one who thinks that, let’s be real) and the other piece of advice reminded exactly what this was supposed to be.

Fun.  Writing is supposed to be fun.  We’re supposed to enjoy it.

So I grabbed a glass of wine (or several, okay, fine I admit to my Italian-ness) put on some sexy (in my opinion) music, and didn’t let myself stop typing until I was literally done with the whole sex scene.  Because I was in it.  Fully.  And you should be.  You should love writing it.  You should be taken by the moment.

I did some editing the next morning, and then I literally just threw it out into the interwebs to devour before I could second-guess myself.  That was the biggest part for me.  If I sit and linger on it, even past editing, I tend to retract from it.  I’ll file it away in some unknown folder and never visit it again.  

But that’s stupid.  Honestly.  And I can’t think of another way to say it.

So here’s the thing.  Write what you want to write.  Get yourself into a comfortable place where you can do that (for me, it’s with alcohol and sexy music and my papasan chair in the little reading nook of my living room).  And then don’t let yourself stop until you’ve gotten it all out of you.  You can always go back and fix it.  Put that wondering hand where it needs to be.  Replace that word you’ve been over-using.  Write in their eyes opening back up when you realize you never re-addressed them closing them in the beginning, lol.  But just... get it out.  Have fun with it.  Write every filthy fucking thing you want.  Write it all.  The crude terms, the obscene positions, the dirty language, the hot, smutty wrongness of it.  Write it all.  And then edit the technical part of it.  Just the grammar and spelling and prop placement.  And then publish that shit.  Get it out there.  Don’t let yourself sit on it and fester in insecurity.

Let me tell you something.  There’s an audience for everything.  If you think you’re writing the filthiest, dirtiest, most kinky sex there is and you’re afraid of how it’ll be received, let me tell you, you’re not the only one.  There are all kinds out there.  And they are wonderful, bold, brilliant, sensual kinds.

Long story short: I told myself “Fuck it, I like dirty talk.  I like really really seriously dirty talk, and guess what, so will Jonsa.”  And I just fucking did it.  I let myself feel it.

Tell you what.  You hit me up when you’ve got it published.  I will review the shit out of it.  I will rejoice in the filth with you.  I will be right there with you.

I can’t wait.

[pinkpoundcake]

DESERT DEVIL

CH. 1 THE HISS

All Might/ Reader as Female OC

NSFW AU ( Yes there’s smut)

4k+ words

Here’s the first chapter of something I’ve been working on during off time at school. I like writing drastically different AUs, because they give me a lot liberties. I intend for this to be a short series, so maybe two or three more chapters after this one. Hope ya enjoy if you read! 

I’m not sure if FF.net will allow second person, so I’m posting it here. I aint got no AO3. I also apologize for any mistakes! I’ll go back an’ fix as I see em. 

EDIT: Went back and fixed some things. Also, I changed the category of this fic. I’m warning the reader that you’re an OC! Kinda like you’re a preset character in a dating sim? If that makes any sense. Those be my only terms of free service. 

I.

Dusk had gone and night finally draped over the still view of the valley. You were a silly girl, really. No one in their right mind would pick now of all times to draw water from one of the wells. Maybe once upon a time they would have. It wasn't impractical to wait until the sun stopped cracking its infernal whip to get things done, but once upon a time, the valley had nothing to fear.

II.

You were walking quickly. You kept your wooly head low as you neared the crudely built structure. Only one bucket of water. No one would mind. You just couldn't go to bed with a clear conscience without finally giving your poor, overworked horse something to drink. You'd take the risk, because glory knows you hated having cottonmouth. It was cottonmouth season...all year round it felt, except for the few praise inducing weeks the sky would show mercy and weep. Dry mouth, dry eyes, dry coat, dry everything. Such is the way of the desert.

You gave your heavy water bag a hard yank to make sure it was sealed before you hightailed it back to your plot. The locust had stopped gossiping in the weeds, and it was making you nervous.

III.

You were the sort of gal who liked to blend in, but your talents made that hard. You had an ability, A Gift, as folks liked to call these sorts of things, that made you incredibly valuable for trade.

You engaged in it as well, because you had to, to get along, but it made you an easy volun-telling target for other croppers and craftsmen and all manners of citizens with business

“Could you chat with this fellow for me? He speaks...sumfin’. The hell if I know. He owes me money.”

“Tell that eastern cheapskate I won't go any lower on price!”

“Hey, goat girl, tell the front counter dame in the Apothecary she's welcome in my bunk any time of day~”

First of all, you were a sheep. Second of all...fine.

IV.

Your Gift was nice for the most part. You had your own upper hand when it came to sale. You could understand anyone, no matter the spoken language. Absolutely essential for such an oddly diverse patch of scorched Earth. You could even help filter a speaker to an entire audience if you held their hand. You didn't like to advertise that though, otherwise the mayor and sheriff and whoever else, would be breathing down your neck even more than they did now.

If no one around knew you, then they usually assumed your appearance was all there was to your Gift. So, what you loved most was eavesdropping. Conversations were mostly mundane in other languages. That's how talking worked, but there were days when you were served some pretty interesting dirt or juicy news by unknowing hosts.

They're going to start rationing water tomorrow. Some serious limits, I reckon.

I didn't think it would be this bad this year?! It rained just enough in the early season, didn't it? I wonder where it all goes.

You wonder the same. It gets worse and worse every year. Every year it's a point of serious tension. They don't call this valley Struggler for nothing. Struggling was this town's first, middle, and last time. Maybe it's old maiden name, too.

The commonality is, is that if you made it halfway through the desert, you stopped in this crowded, little town and clung to it for dear life. You personally knew what it was like. Everyone knew what it was like, to fear that you weren't going to make it to The Oasis at the end of your journey. After the promenade that chewed you up, and spat you out, you don't even try.

We don't have enough water for all the people we keep letting stay here!

But what kind of person could keep a cold heart here? What would it take to let someone waste away elsewhere, or worse, face the beast this desert had to offer.

The Hiss.

More chilling than a rattlesnake's warning.

V.

This broad blue sky. The hard clay and sand beneath his form, the cacti, the dry bones and evaporated watering holes. Every scavenger to circle overhead belonged to him.

The hard, hot wind. The mirages that danced in nauseating ribbons. They were his. He could lift his head, and think about howling to his old lovers, the stars, if he still had the singing voice. But he lost that a long time ago with one of his lungs.  He was getting old, too, but his bloodlust was getting stronger every year, along with a lot of puzzling urges.

He hated that he could only claim his seared kingdom at night, but it couldn't be helped. He was a partial coward who couldn't hope to understand himself. He still had a deep sense of decency. He was a hypocrite, in a sense. He didn't want to be a bother during the day, if he was such a big bother at night. But being a menace at night was to be a nuisance in the day, regardless.

And nuisance was...too light of a word. Far too light. Crows in his sunflowers were nuisances. Locust in his house were nuisances.

Him?

Oh, he was

VI.

“A killer...A fuckin’ killer!”

You watched as the town sheriff swore and covered the body of a, now former, foreman with a bit of canvas. Splotches of blood bloomed in the fabric over the inclines of the older man's face. From what you saw, he was mauled real good. Or...bad. A big bite right out of his jugular, clavicle, and most of his left shoulder. You weren't the only sick one in the crowd. You would have upchucked your breakfast if this wasn't something you were becoming accustomed to.

First it was Mr. Dandy, gnawed out chest, who used to rally up hunting parties with the German twins who could shoot right out of their fingers, no guns needed. Then it was Eclair, you didn't know her last name, who sold pungent perfume from her own sweat out of her tacky little shop. Y'all never found her head. Big Cat Capri from Cameroon, was torn in two. Though he was a menace with a forgettable Gift that wasn't much missed. Then there was another fellow. Japanese you think, but actually he was still limping around somewhere.

The only one to see The Beast and live… The fella's pretty busted up as far as you know.

Anyway, time for another funeral.

VII.

Speaking of that old Japanese fellow…

You didn't give him much of a glance at any given day, but you could see him  out of the corner of your squared pupils, watching you hand off chunks of unwashed wool to craftsmen who were probably going to fashion saddles or boots. It wasn't quite the right time to start plucking from your melon patch, or any of the desert dates, so you were selling off some old stock of your hair. Everyone knew it was your hair, and no one really cared.

God, you couldn't recall his name. You've never actually heard him speak, but the fella always sat at the posts near the trading square and just watched the street; waiting for someone with their hands full to need help lacing up their boots. Or for someone's goat to go astray so he could bring it back to them. Or to help some kid out on errands tether their family horse. You wonder why he would go through those little efforts on a limp. He walked with a cane, bright red like a dragon, with a yellowing cattle horn handle. He wore a big brimmed, leather hat so that he didn't catch perpetual sunburn, thick slacks, a poor fitting button up that used to be white, and strapped riding boots, too, but no spurs.

He was a strange sight, you noted with slight nervousness as he stood, and then made his way over to your shabby booth. He was a tall, tall, tall fella. Tall and skinny, like he didn't fancy eating much. You knew a couple of people who were like that. He had wild, blonde hair, he obviously didn't comb. And honestly, he had the prettiest blue eyes. At least you assumed they were. He was swallow enough that his eyes were sunk deep beneath his brow, but that blue struck out like an aimed double barrel. It made you wonder what he looked like when he was a colt.

“Afternoon, sir,” You cleared your throat. You watched his face to gauge how much he understood you. You didn't want to be rude. “No food. Just some wool today.”

The older man, squinted, seemingly thinking, and then gestured to your freshly sheared head with the handle of his cane.

“It's all mine, yes.” You laughed and scratched one of your horns to release some of your anxiousness.

“How...How much for it?” His accent was somewhat thick, but you were happy you wouldn't have to reach out and grab one of his massive hands to get on some equal ground.

“Five pieces for a small bundle. Ten for the big bundles there.” You watched the fellow consider which size, and then finally he made a decision. Slowly he lifted one of the large cottony wads, and then absentmindedly brought it to his nose. He gently inhaled the intriguing scent there.

You stared, perplexed, and confused. He seemed to pick up on your confusion, and righted himself. He gave you his own awkward smile, almost an apology for…whatever that was. He counted out ten small pieces for you, politely dipped his head with a thank you, and then moseyed along.

Strange…

VIII.

He was drunk. Absolutely drunk, and he'd never had a drop of liquor in his life. Tequila couldn't have been stronger than this. Your scent, your scent was so...He didn't know.

Good.

It made him hungry for things he'd forgotten the name of, forgotten how to describe. He didn't know what he was doing alone in the shack he called his home. Hiding his shame maybe. He'd locked the door with the big expensive chains and padlocks ( that were decor at this point) from the top shelf hours ago as night began to fall. He was paranoid, and feeling ravenous for a completely different, mysterious reason from what he was used to.

He held your wool in one hand, pressing it flush to his nose as he paced from one side of his home to the other. The misaligned floor groaned and weazed beneath his heavy, bare footsteps. His shadow, flickered from a candle or two, and swept the peach papered walls like a dark, lumbering menace.

What was it that he wanted now?!

He didn't understand himself anymore! There was no one to teach him his purpose.

He inhaled again, deep. His exhale emerged with a low rumble.  It rattled the chains strapping the front and back door, and shifted the glass in the kitchen window.

It was happening again much too soon.

There used to be a time when he could command the other half of himself. Where he could be whoever he wanted, whenever, but now he was stripped to nothing but incomprehensible impulses.

His wrath. His hunger. His pride.

Something new. His lust.

IX.

You just finished putting the blanket on Kissy, your horse, when the stars began to rub the long day from their eyes and glint down at you. Though still warm, the wind rolled over your fuzzy scalp and settled in the cooling sweat beneath your dark hide. You rubbed your arms, figuring you could use a blanket, too. Your draft's loud chewing in the stable cover was a calming background noise as it mingled with your thoughts. The flat distance, with it's mountainous levels was a pretty sight, despite being empty.

You've always wanted to roam at night, finally figure out what that fabled Oasis was on the other side of hell. You hoped it was heaven, or something close.  You wanted to explore more than your town, to see what was out there while the sun wasn't scheduling your funeral. You were bored of being too scared. Stressed with not having enough of the bare minimum essentials. Lonely, too. Kissy kept you company, maybe, but he wasn't all that good with conversation or cooking.

He wasn't good at stopping you from taking 'walks’ either. You found all sorts of excuses for yourself to roam at night. Kissy needed more water, or you needed to find some wild aloe for a wound, or you needed to find sand grubs for your greedy gossip of chickens.

Excuses, excuses.

Mr. Aizawa, was another Japanese fellow (you think), who wasn't the sheriff, but probably could have been. He'd tell you you were full of excuses. The town had a curfew of sorts to 'keep people safe’. Under what authority this curfew came from, you had no clue. If you were caught, the runner up sheriff hogg tied you with a lasso and a warning, and dragged your sorry, law breaking ass back home. Or fined you. Something like that.

He had an annoying Gift that kept others from using their Gifts to get away. You didn't know how he did it. Much to what was probably Deputy Aizawa's disdain, he was plucked out of the crowd the day he arrived. He had a scruffy grifter appearance, but the fellow was awfully strict, perfectly bilingual in relation to you, and knew  exactly what your own Gift entailed, so you couldn't pretend you didn't understand any of his honorary demands.

You didn't even give yourself a chance to consider he might be out and about on patrol. You didn't even consider where the hell you were going. All you knew was that you were:

Literally and figuratively hard headed.

And

Dumb as rocks because it was half past night noon, and anywhere beyond the aloe thicket was Hiss county.

The danger zone.

X.

A scent was a scent was a scent. Something to follow to a target. His prey were rotten. He caught the next foul stench on the hit list floating on the western wind. It filled his flared nostrils and made his mouth water with anticipation. His long, thick fingers were still raw and full of splinters from clawing his way out from his pathetic attempts at shutting himself in.

The night was a blur. He was unbothered by the grit he kicked up in his full run. Adrenaline pumped in his veins with the incredible accumulation of power that drove him. There was a roar in his ears. Something he rushed by sliced him; thin little scratches in several places, but he didn't notice. His heart thrashed beneath his ribs as he sensed himself drawing closer and closer.

Wait.

Suddenly, he came to a halt, giving the surrounding weeds severe whiplash.

Everything aside from his heart and his laboured breathing were still. Not a sound from any creature. Nothing was brave enough to disturb him.

There was something... something else on the wind he wanted much, much more that seemed to be coming from the same direction.

XI.

The last thing you wanted to hear was a voice while you were trying to be sneaky. You kept your body low and tucked your tail close to the full round of your bottom. It was going so nicely, your 'stroll’. You were going to take some notes in one of your books, maybe stuff some natural souvenirs in your pocket, and then head back home.

You held still for a while and used a few big, healthy stragglers of agave as your cover. You were hearing the voice again, now two voices. You didn't know what dialect they were speaking, so you closed your eyes, and used your Gift.

He's been shelling out a lot for this reroute. Keeping a lot of people's mouths shut. It's gonna be a lot harder to get this done without the foreman.

Yeah, I thought that, too. It's strange. I'm sorta...spooked. Mr. Dandy and now him. You’d think this whole thing was cursed.

Or someone knows…

They looked mauled, couldn't have been some poor bastard with a pistol.  What do they call the thing that's been chewing people up?

Depends on who you talk to. Yok... something. Yokay? Yokai? Chupacabra, though it's not gettin’ goats, that's for sure. Werewolf. Howler. Beast. Plain old monster.

I just hope it's a coincidence. I don't want to be next…

Now...what in the world we're these fellers talking about? You frowned while quietly slinking around to another perch. You watched your footing and hoped they would talk more, but now they were getting further and further away. Headed…somewhere.

Somewhere you kept your eye on. Might want to check it out next time you take a stroll.

XII.

The air pressure flipped like a coin  and cut through your moment of reprieve.

Bullseye.

You were so shocked you couldn't even scream. It was caught in your throat with a pinch of desert sand. Something massive and unyielding and menacing had ripped the ground from beneath your feet.

The sky was spinning round and round as the earth teetered wild on its axis. The moon was mocking you. The stars cackled as they danced, blurry streams trailing like faded candle lights behind them.

There was a black patch of sky that didn’t budge, and it only held two stars far above that didn't move either. Because they weren't stars,

they were vivid blue eyes.

XIII.

This was it. This was how you were going to die.

You were already nauseous from hitting you head, and now you were nauseous from hitting reality. You couldn't make a sound, could hardly breathe. Your throat burned like a shot of fireball. Your eyes were wide as you tried to make out the Beast's form. It was hard, with hot tears in your eyes, now shrouding the moon’s pale light. You could hear him, though, the hiss of death. It was high pitched, akin to the sizzle of a hot brand.

Would it have ripping fangs when it bit you? We're those its claws digging into your ankles as it dragged you elsewhere? You were in a bit of pain, and you could sense the stickiness of blood on your back, but you were mentally preparing yourself for a lot more. Images of the sheriff draping canvas over your mangled body caused you to wretch.

You were so stupid!!!!! SO GODDAMN STUPID. HOW COULD YOU PUT YOURSELF IN THIS SITUATION? NO WEAPON. NO NOTHING.  THIS IS WHAT YOU GET. HOW COULD YOU-

It stopped.

You stopped.

Confusion boxed you good over the ears.

You were staring up into the face of a man now, and he was staring right back at you.

Your confusion subsided into renewed fear. He was just a man, but the most unnaturally large man you had ever seen. Large was the wrong word. He was...immaculate. A threadbare shirt was struggling to hold itself together as his massive chest flexed. He had a heavily shadowed face and unreadable, though somewhat tense expression. His golden hair stood upright on his forehead head, like a red bat's ears or jack rabbit. Pure, wild, chaotic energy wafted from the heat of his skin. He shifted slightly while sizing you, and your eyes darted to the massive, bear paw of a calloused hand on the other side of your head.

He could sneeze and snap your neck. You believed he could tear a man in two. Oh God in heaven, he did! And you were next!

The Beast made a sudden movement, and you shut your eyes. You clenched everything from your horned head, to your cleft, hooven toes, and waited.

You had no choice but to hold your breath as his big, otherworldly body pressed into yours. It felt like being pressed between something more solid than a rock, and a really hard place. His breath, that you realized was rushed, cooly ghosted your forehead. Was he going to take your noggin like Eclair and mount it over his fireplace?

Greedily, he was drinking in your scent. So much stronger, so much better right from the source. He had to sample more of you. Sip you. Lap you up.

Where was it?! Where was more?!

You didn't think you could tense beyond how much you were tensed now, but you did as his nose left your head to wedge its way up into your neck. You felt the unnatural rumble of his voice in the hollows of your bones, filling your throat and chest. You prepared for hard, life ending bites, but all you received we're moderately painful nips and what could only be described as sloppy kisses. He received the sensation of kissing your fur with intrigue and almost groomed it with a big, wide tongue.

You didn't know what to say, or what to do. He hadn't said a word. You didn't know if the brute mounting you was really human, or …Something. Was all of this even real? Or were you home, wet dreaming about a good rut in your bunk again?

He needed more! More! More! More! Where was more of you?!

He left you one last bite on your shoulder that you were ashamed made you bellow out like the animal you were similar to. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late, the sound excited him. His nose grazed you, his rapid breaths through his nose like the pumping steam from a piston, a panting dog, frantically looking for more of your tastes and smells. Your clothes were in his way, but he didn't have the patience or current cognition to remove them.

He rubbed his cheeks against your generous chest, nipped your stomach through your tattered apron, and then zipped straight to your crotch. You were shocked as he unashamedly, obliviously, pressed his face there and very audibly inhaled. There was another rumble, loud enough to buzz through your entire body.

“A-Ah!” You cried out. The sharp, pleasurable tingle and sting from his deep voice, the pressure from his cheeks, and the heat of his breath was sudden. You were so…you were…

You could end this year's drought right here, right now.

You bit your lip, desperately wanting to access the situation. To think! To sort out what in the HELL was happening, but he had ripped through your overalls with his teeth and was lapping at your plump pussy through your knickers. He'd sniffed out the wetness that had slickened the fabric and was eager to taste. You moved closer and hissed out a pathetic Yeeessss!

Whimpering, you tried to push yourself up on your elbows. Your shoulders hit some hard, cool clay and the back of your head scraped more of the rough rock there. He was suckling like a thirsty calf, drawing the fabric of your knickers into the heat of his mouth along with your long, throbbing clit beneath. The suction was strong, unrelenting, almost painful.

“H-hey, hey! Easy, partner!” Your thighs  involuntarily snapped around his head, but he was undeterred. You shoved your hands against his brow, trying to get him to release.

“Please!” You were relieved when he finally did, but it was only for some adjustments. The brute drew his hands beneath your legs and dragged you further into the shadow so he could keep his meal all to himself.

His mouth attacked you again and you wriggled and writhed. Your own breath matched his labored huffs. You bit chunks out of your sense of morality while you bit your lip. With a shaking hand, you brought your clawed fingers to your crotch. His thick tongue grazed your knuckles as you worked to tug the fabric aside and reveal your dark, generous lips, and generously engorged clit beneath. He immediately took what you revealed to him, going from hungry to downright glutenous. You couldn't tell if the additional wetness you felt was from your own cyprine or slobber on his chin.

XIV.

“GOD!! Who are you?! What is your name?” Now was not the time to be asking these sorts of questions, but again, you did say you were a silly woman. You gritted your teeth to attempt to contain your cries. He didn't respond at first. The only reply for several deliciously, agonizing moments was the thick, slurping sound of his attention between your legs. This stranger, no demon,  was trying to shove his tongue as far up your womanhood as he could, and at this point, he had your loud, keening permission.

“AH! AHH!” Your slapped the hand that wasn't buried in his hair over your mouth again. You couldn't contain yourself. You'd never felt something like this before. You were a maiden who could only daydream, and you weren't sure if you could consider this that, or a nightmare.

“I said!” Your voice cracked and your back arched from the ground as you racketed up to an orgasm. Your voice was weary and hoarse. You were shrieking “what is your name?!”

He still had yet to respond, but if he chose now, you wouldn't have heard him. You came for the first time in your little life ( bless your heart); your mouth stretched wide open, waiting to catch flies. But all you caught was a big, wet kiss.

You could taste yourself. Taste his breath. Your legs were shaking. You were high like you'd been huffing gasoline, so you didn't put up a fight when he lifted you to his chest.

Someone was coming…

He had to take you elsewhere.

The open night sky. The owl judging you both from the whole it ate out a cactus. The earth beneath his feet. The howl of the wind as he ran and you both became a blur.

And you, clinging to his chest:

Belonged to him.

--

Chapter 1 End

#all might #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #writing #DESERT DEVIL

[majestic-singing]

Cardboard Swords and Cat Puns - Chapter 1

Cardboard Swords and Cat Puns

Word Count: 3,108

Pairing(s): Romantic Analogical, Platonic Royality 

Warning(s): Brief mentions of past neglect, swearing (honestly I don't know if this needs to be a warning but ok), I believe that’s it but tell me if there’s more !!

Summary: Logan and Virgil Eddington decide it’s time to expand their family from two to three. After months of planning, they finally jump in the car and drive down to their closest orphanage. They find two very interesting children there however that catch there attention more than the other children: a boy with a prince costume that has no true volume control and a boy with crude cloth cat ears on his head. 

next chapter 

A/N: alright, hi! So, first off, a little disclaimer, I have no idea what it’s like to be in an orphanage or how it actually works, so this is kinda how I imagined it would be like?? I apologize if I’m way off. And second, if enough people I guess enjoy this on here, I wouldn't mind continuing on with this.Or even if one person wants me to continue, then I’m honestly done for it. Like making it multiple chapters kind of thing. I’ll probably post this on AO3 too, because I have like no following at all on here, so yeah. Anywho, enjoy the story!

Logan Eddington stole a quick glance to his left. In the passenger seat sat his husband, Virgil Eddington, who was anxiously twisting the wedding ring around his finger this way and that as he stared out the window.  Flicking his gaze back on the road, Logan took one hand away from the steering wheel to lightly rest it down on Virgil’s thigh, palm up and hand relaxed. Virgil took it almost instantly.

“Anxious?” Logan questioned.

“No.” Virgil replied, his voice quiet. Silence fell over the two for a few seconds. “Yeah.”

Logan gave a gentle squeeze to Virgil’s hand. “That’s what I thought. Do you want to talk about it?”

The man gave a dry chuckle. “What is there to talk about? It’s just the same things I’ve told you before.”

“Yes,” Logan said calmly, “but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt to voice them out loud no matter how many times you have in the past.”

Silence fell over the pair again, the only sound breaking it being the blinker indicating when Logan had to turn. Virgil’s knee started to bounce unconsciously. “You know the usual. I’m gonna be a shitty dad to whatever child we adopt and their going to hate my guts. I’m not going to be able to give them the right amount of love and affection, I’ll just be a complete bore.”

“The children at the orphanage have either come from abusive families, families who did not want them, their family could not afford to take care of them, or their family members have died and this is where they have been sent. To be a shitty dad, as you had said, you would have to either be abusive or neglectful. Would you be either of those?”

“You didn’t include that I could be dead.”

“You are not dead.”

“I could be.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Falsehood. You are not dead, abusive, or neglectful. You will be a fine father. This is a new experience for you, as well as me.” He pulled Virgil’s hand up to his mouth and gave it a very light kiss. “We won’t be perfect father’s, and it won’t be easy, but we will get through it together.”

Virgil smiled bashfully. “You sappy fuck.”

“I would also like to point out,” Logan said as he dropped they’re intertwined hands back on his husband’s thigh with a smile, “you are still using profanity that is not acceptable. I have told you the words you must use are-“

“Limited to crap and heck, hell on occasion, I know Logan. I’m using whatever the fuck kind of language I want till I become family friendly.” Virgil smirked, feeling his anxiety loosening up ever so slightly. Especially after his nerd of a husband let out a chuckle.

“As long as you don’t do it impulsively after this, then I suppose there is no harm in doing so.”

“Fuck yeah.”

+++

“These look pawsistively perfect, Roman!!” Patton squealed happily to his twin, the cloth cat ears on top of his head slightly cricked from his consistent bounces.

Roman chuckled softly, resting his hands softly on the other’s shoulder’s to hopefully cease a bit of the bounces. “Well, of course they are! They were made for you, brother!”

Patton giggled and quickly spun around, pulling Roman into a bone crushing hug. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the head of the orphanage, Ms. Baker, supplying Roman with cloth and a plain headband as well as helping him make the ears and everything, Patton probably might’ve just had some lame picture of a cat or something. Not like Patton would think it was lame, but it would be pretty lame.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Roro! I love them so much!” Patton’s grin was wide and bright. So bright it could probably rival the brightness of the sun.

Roman gave a few weak pats to Patton’s back. “Y-You’re welcome, Pat, b-but I can’t breath.”

“Oh, sorry!” Patton quickly let go, but his smile didn’t move at all. “Imma show Elliot my cool new ears! He’ll like to see them too!”

Roman straightened his prince costume and nodded his head quickly. “I will come with you! I must see his reaction as well!”

“Well, of course silly,” Patton giggled, “you made them for me.”

The bubbly boy grabbed a hold of his brother’s hand quickly and dragged him away from the mirror they were previously standing in front of. Patton led the way down the stairs and came to a stop in the room most of the kids all hung out. It was pretty much just one big playroom.

Roman felt Patton let go of his hand and he was off, running to the other side of the room to a dark haired kid in the corner. Roman was about to follow his brother when he heard the front double doors open. He quickly spun around, looking to see three adults walking in. One was Ms. Baker, while the other two were complete strangers, both male.

One of the men was wearing a sweaterswirt a few sizes too big for him with purple patches sewn on it. He was wearing black skinny jeans that were ripped in several places and his shoulders were slightly hunched. The man was very tall and lanky. A faint purple fringe fell over his face a little, casting a shadow over his eyes. The shadow caused his eyes to look black, but at a closer inspection his eye color was a dark brown.

The man next to him was about the same height and was also pretty lanky, if not just a bit more built. He was wearing a black polo shirt and a blue tie with khaki pants. Thin framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, causing his piercing light blue eyes to seem slightly larger then they probably were. Dude reminded Roman a lot like a school teacher. While the first guy seemed to be anxious and nervous, this man seemed very serious and intimidating. Cool and put together. Roman found himself staring at him longer then he wanted to.

The school teacher’s gaze shot over to Roman, and he felt his whole body freeze up. For the first time ever, Roman Hart felt exceptionally silly in his princely garments. Quickly, the boy spun around, and sprinted to where Patton and Elliot were.

“Alright, here is where all of the kids are!” Ms. Baker said, grabbing some of the kids’ attention, which included Elliot’s and Patton’s. Though what also caught Patton’s attention was his brother, who was pouting and not looking at the two adults near Ms. Baker.

“What’s wrong?” Patton said to his brother.

“Stupid school teacher,” Was all Roman had mumbled. He then looked up, catching Patton’s pale green eyes. “Do you want Mrs. Fluffybottom?”

Patton stole another glance to the adults and after a bit, gave a slow and hesitant nod. “If it isn’t too much trouble…”

“Nonsense! It’s no trouble at all if she helps you! I will be back before you know it, my good man.” Roman gave a salute, before quickly running off to their shared room where the stuffed rabbit would be sitting on Roman’s bed. It was technically the princely boy’s rabbit, but he let Patton hold her when people who wanted to adopt came around. He would get nervous and the soft plushie kept him calm.

“I’ll be right back, Patton.” Elliot spoke quietly, standing up. Patton gave a nod and a soft smile and watched as the quiet boy left. He stood alone silently, waiting for his brother to come back.

+++

Logan was a slight bit disheartened he had made the kid in costume high tail it by just a single glance, but he was quick to brush it off as the head of the orphanage, a jolly woman, went on to summarize what they could do.

“I suggest the best way to find the right kid for you two is to go up to one and try and get to know them as they play in this area! We find it is the most comfortable for children because they are in a place that is familiar to them and they feel more relaxed. They’re more inclined to act like themselves then!” Ms. Baker explained to the two, ushering them in. “I’ll be staying in the area in case of any problems occur or you have any questions. Or you find the perfect dream child!”

Logan gave a polite nod to the woman and gently took a hold of Virgil’s hand, which he noticed was shaking and slightly damp. “Sorry.” The anxious man mumbled.

“It it quite alright. Let’s just walk for a bit and you point out any kid you feel like you want to get to know.” Virgil gave a little nod and onward they went, crossing the room slowly. Most of the kids’ had looked up from their playing for a second to look at the new people, and some even gave excited waves to Logan and Virgil.

Virgil knew it was going to take a while for him to relax and would only cause the two of them to lap around the room a hundred times, so after the third time, Virgil decided to pick one of the kids farthest away from any other because fuck it.

This child was wearing a light blue collared shirt and jeans with dirty and warn out sneakers. He had glasses like Logan, except the frames where much thicker and adorably too big for the small tot’s face. Speckles of brown freckles littered his slightly tanned face. The boy’s skin was darker compared to Logan and Virgil’s very fair complexion. The boy’s pale green eyes where bright and curious, but they also seemed to be looking for someone.

Virgil stopped and motioned towards the kid with his head. “That boy?” Logan asked. Virgil gave a nod in reply. “You’re ready?” Virgil was a little more hesitant with his nod this time, but he nodded nonetheless.

Logan gave another nod back and, still holding tightly to the other’s hand, approached the boy. It didn’t take long for the child to turn his gaze in the direction of Logan and Virgil and once he did, the kid froze up like a deer caught in headlights. As they stopped a good bit closer to the child, he reached up with his right hand to play with his left sleeve and his left arm wrapped gently around his middle section. He looked nervous.

“Hello.” Logan greeted first.

The child caught Logan’s gaze and shot his gaze back down to the floor. “H-Hi.” He replied back shyly.

Alright, so far so good, Logan thought to himself. “My name is Logan Eddington and this is my husband, Virgil Eddington.”

The boy glanced up for a few seconds to look at Virgil before looking back at the ground, not saying a word. After a few moments of silence, before Logan could ask a question, the boy said in a quiet voice, “My names Patton. P-Patton Hart.”

“Like H-E-A-R-T?” Logan asked. Logan doubted that it was spelled like that, but it was a conversation starter for this shy boy Patton.

Patton shook his head. “No.”

“So, like the famous comedian?” Virgil asked. It was the first time he had spoken once since they arrived in the building, except for the small little “sorry” for his sweaty palms to Logan.

Patton’s head shot up when Virgil spoke. His glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose because of the force, but he didn’t seem to notice. “W-What?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “The comedian? Kevin Hart? Or are you too young to know who he is?”

Patton blinked a few times, then shook his head, quickly pushing his glasses back up. “N-No no, I know him! I-I was just- I-I mean- I w-was a little- oh bother, never mind. Yes, l-like the comedian.” At this point the boy’s face had grown a tomato red color.

There was a few seconds where nothing happened, until Virgil started to quietly chuckle, which did turn into quiet laughter. Hiding his mouth behind a sleeve covered hand, he leaned against his husband as he tried to compose himself. Logan’s eyebrow’s furrowed and he found himself looked over at the child. They’re eyes met, and they both looked very confused.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil managed between laughter, “I promise I’m not laughing at-“ He was cut off by a snort and then his laughter stopped completely as his eyes grew wide and blood quickly rushed to his face. Oh dear.

The snort from Virgil, however, had only brought a soft chuckle from his husband and a giggle from the boy, which did surprise the two men.

However, before anything else could really go down, a rush of mostly white and a dash of red zoomed by and stood next to Patton. “Patton, I have arrived! Here you go,” The boy, who was in a prince costume, handed a stuffed rabbit to the boy, completely ignoring Logan and Virgil. “How are you?”

Patton hugged the rabbit to his chest and smiled hesitantly, adjusting the cat ears that were on top of his head. “I’m feline okay.”

Virgil let out a huff of amusement while Logan looked, well, unamused. Deciding to just ignore it, Logan looked to the other boy, which he remembered was the boy from earlier. “Who are you?”

The boy looked up and this time kept Logan’s gaze. He puffed his chest out and stood up straighter, wrapping an arm around Patton’s shoulder and bringing him close. “I’m Prince Roman Hart, but you can just call me Roman! I am this puffball’s brother, so if you’re planning to adopt him, then you’re adopting me too.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone, not leaving any room for argument.

“Well, we had not even talked about-“ Logan had started before he was cut off by Ms. Baker.

“I see you’ve run into the Hart twins!” She said with a wide grin. Now that she had said that, both Virgil and Logan realized that the two were exactly identical, except for the clothing choice and Roman didn’t have glasses while Patton did. Virgil also realized that Patton had a blue barrette in his brown curly hair, probably to keep it from getting in his eyes, and Roman had no barrette, but a bobby pin. “Why don’t you boys run along while I talk to the Eddingtons?” She didn’t have to tell Roman twice. He quickly grabbed a hold of Patton’s hand and practically dragged him away from the adults as fast as he could, causing the other boy to squeal in surprise.

“What did you want to talk with us about, Ms. Baker?” Logan asked.

“I know you two were only looking for only one child today,” Ms. Baker started, a sort of sad smile finding her features, “I can understand why, kid’s are one big handful. They take up lots of energy, money, that kind of thing. I want to see all of these kids get a home, but… I really want to see Roman and Patton get a nice home.

“I’ve heard them talking during dinner before. All they want is parents that will love them, that’s it. There father had died at a young age for them and their mother was neglectful. They’re not perfect because of it, I’m sure you know. But they’re great kids once you get past that, I swear. You saw with Patton, he does have a shell that you need to break but he’s a very bubbly kiddo. And I know you haven’t been able to see much of Roman yet, but he’s a swell kid, I assure you!”

“Ms. Baker, I’m sure all of these kids here want a loving family and I would believe some would have a more tragic family experience in the past.” Logan pointed out, only to get a harsh elbow to the side from Virgil.

“That doesn’t mean shit. It was still a bad past nonetheless.” He hissed quietly. Logan’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat.

“Of course, my apologies. That was uncalled for.”

Ms. Baker sighed softly. “Just, consider it at least. I assure you they are wonderful kids.” With that she walked off, leaving the two adults to their thoughts and discussion.

+++

Roman and Patton both sat in silence, both fiddling with one of the ears of Mrs. Fluffybottom.

“I thought they were pretty neat.” Patton said after a while.

Roman’s head shot up, eyes wide. “What? Pretty neat? What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not planning on leaving you for them, Ro. I’m just saying they were neat people. I’m not going unless they adopt you too!” Patton noticed the off look his brother had and frowned. “What’s the matter?”

The prince picked at a stray string on the rabbit’s ear, his eyes on the hardwood floor. “Maybe it’s best you do leave without me.”

Patton gasped. “Roman, no!”

“You’ll be able to be in a family, Patton!” Roman retorted. “I’m just holding you back from freedom. You should just go talk to the Eddingtons and tell them they can just adopt you. It’s not a double package.”

“It is a double package.” Patton sounded very serious, and he let go of Mrs. Fluffybottom’s ears to grab a hold of Roman’s shoulders. “Look at me.” He didn’t continue till his brother had looked at him. “I love you. More than any family that could ever want to adopt me. We’re family, blood family. You matter to me more than anything in the world. And if staying with you and never leaving you means I never get into a family, then so be it. I don’t care. I love you too much.”

Roman could feel tears prickle the corners of his eyes and he sniffed. “I love you too, Patton.”

“Boys!” Ms. Baker called, bringing both of the boys attention to her. “Go up to your room and back your things! You’re going to a new home!”

Both the brothers’ jaws had dropped to the floor. “B-Both of us?” Roman had stuttered.

“Well, of course, silly goose! Now scoot! You don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?” The Hart brothers turned to look at each other and once everything sunk in, they jumped and cheered.

“YAYY!!” They practically screamed, catching pretty much all of the kids’ attention as they quickly bolted up the stairs to their room.

Boy, were those two excited little beans. A new home, a new family, a new life. They couldn’t wait.

#Thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fic #tiny sides #human!sides

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

Boob Tape and Annoying Boyfriend

Pairing: Jenneel

Warnings: *points to the title* + flying remotes! Language. Implied sexual harassment.

Square Filled: Fighting for the remote

Word Count: 2500ish (this was supposed to be a drabble….)

A/N: I blame @becs-bunker for this! 100% her fault! Thanks to @saxxxology for giving me a few ideas that added to this too. This one is written for @spnfluffbingo

Thanks to my Baby Spice @percywinchester27 for betaing this for me on super short notice since I needed to q it before work.

I was actually super nervous about this one so thanks to the amazing @sillesworldofwriting for giving me a second opinion too - also on short notice.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

It had been a long afternoon and evening. Danneel had never been a huge fan of red carpet events. Sure they had been exciting at first, but she had quickly started feeling like she was a zoo animal on display. She loved a chance to get all dolled up, but she could think of a million different and better reasons to get her hair and makeup done, than to waltz around in front of a bunch of flashing lights, trying her best to ignore the crude comments that always came from some of the men.

Today had been especially bad though. Not so much because if the red carpet event itself. Sure the crude comments had happened from some of the male photographers, but she had gotten used to that over the years. It still affected her of course but not to the degree that running into Mark Schwahn had done. Nothing had happened but years of bad memories and auditions being asked to basically strip in front of 5 or more people had rushed to the the surface. Memories and traumas she just wanted to forget.   

She knew she hadn’t have had to go alone this time. Jensen was home and he had offered to come with her, but their relationship was still newish, even if they had been friends for years. She wanted them to have a chance to just be the two of them for a while before the rumor mill started. It wasn’t like they were careful to not be seen together. They were both tv actors and they weren’t recognized that often, plus they were friends. They had gone out to lunch and dinner before they started dating, so she wasn’t overly worried about people finding out before they were both ready. If he had gone with her today, it would have been like announcing their relationship to the world and Danneel was scared what that would mean to the two of them. They had both been in public relationships before, but they were both very private people. Actually one of Jensen’s relationships had ended because the woman he was with didn’t share his views on what the rest of the world needed to know.

Danneel loved Jensen, and she wanted what they had just started building together to last. She didn’t want him to think she needed or wanted him for anything else than the amazing, loving man she knew him to be.

Right now she wasn’t thinking about Jensen though. She just wanted to get out of her damn dress, wipe off her makeup and relax with him on the couch. Well, maybe she was thinking about Jensen a little bit, but her annoyance with the zipper on the back of her dress that she couldn’t reach, was winning the competition for her attention at the moment.

“UUURGH!” Danneel exclaimed, kicking her bed. Her body was aching from unsuccessfully trying reached the stuck zipper at the back of her dress.  

“Honey, are you okay?” Jensen’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. Great! She had wanted to shower and order pizza before he showed. Why did he have to always be annoyingly punctual?

She knew she could talk to him and she might have if they had still just been friends. She might have broken down in tears and told him about everything she hated about this town, but he wasn’t just her friend anymore. Their relationship was still new and she didn’t want to lay all of this on him. She didn’t want him to see her as some poor girl he needed to protect. It wasn’t who she was, so she pushed it all down and held it in. Maybe someday she would tell him, but not today.

“I can’t reach the stupid zipper,” she sulked, not even bothering to say ‘hi’ when Jensen showed at her bedroom door, a cheeky smile spreading across his stupid, handsome face.

“Well, sweetheart, I happen to be an expert in undressing you,” Jensen drawled, making Danneel roll her eyes at him, but she turned around allowing him to help her out anyway. It was easier than to get a crick in the neck trying to get it herself.

“I would have come with you, you know?” Jensen’s voice softened as he worked on unsticking the zipper.

“I know. You didn’t have to… I’d rather just have a movie night with you tonight,” she sighed. “I just want to get out of this dress and get this damn itchy tape off and curl up on the bed,” she grumbled, trying to scratch beneath her boob, which didn’t make Jensen’s job with the zipper any easier.

“You look amazing, if it helps,” Jensen tried, but for some reason it only added to her annoyance. He was the one person she wanted to impress wearing all of this, so she wasn’t sure why his words rubbed her the wrong way. Right now everything just seemed to get to her. She stepped away from him when she felt the zipper slid down her back and away from the kiss he was pressing to her shoulder.

“I’m not in the mood, Jensen,” she glared back at him, ignoring the confused look on his face. She barely heard his apologies, telling her he wasn’t trying to do anything. She was too busy worrying about the part that was bound to come next. Getting off the damn tape.

Danneel was comfortable around Jensen. And her little outburst aside, she knew that he wouldn’t mind her undressing in front of him. He never expected anything from her the way most other men she had dated did. She knew he loved her and that it wasn’t just about how she looked. Subconsciously, that stayed with her even if she was in a bad headspace at the moment, so she didn’t think twice about dropping her dress to the floor and stepping in front of the mirror.

She took a deep breath preparing herself, but before she could start removing the tape from hell, Jensen’s voice sounded again. “You need help with that too?”

Danneel’s head whirled around to see Jensen playfully wiggle his eyebrows at her. Had it been any other day, it would have made her smile. Blush even. But today his remarks and flirty behavior only seemed to anger her.

“Could you stop? You’re not actually Dean, you know?” Danneel hissed at him and Jensen’s face instantly fell.

“Dee are you okay?” He enquired, but she was still too worked up and caught up in her own head to hear the genuine concern in his voice.

“I’m fine. I just hate these fucking things,” she grimaced as she slowly started peeling at the side of the tape, not really paying attention to her boyfriend any longer.

“Come on. It can’t be that bad,” Jensen spoke, and Danneel practically felt like fumes were coming from her head now.

“How about I tape your balls and you tell me how it feels removing it, Jensen?!” Danneel snapped, as she stared him down through the mirror. The logical part of her knew he was trying to help and cheer her up, but it wasn’t the logical part of her that was in control at the moment. She was furious but not with him. It had just been a bad day and he was the nearest target. She wasn’t being fair and she knew it. She was simply too angry to care.

Jensen subconsciously covered his crotch with one hand as he stared at his girlfriend like she had been possessed by a demon. “You wouldn’t….” he started but was cut off by Danneel grabbing the roll that was still on the vanity.

“Try me, Ackles!” she warned, waving it at his face. The small smile that appeared on Jensen’s face only served to anger her more. She knew he found her cute when she was angry. He had told her time and time again, but right now she didn’t want to be found cute. She wanted him just stop trying to make her feel better and let her be pissed.

“Oh come on, honey. That’s not the same. I got hair down there,” Jensen grinned and Danneel rolled her eyes so hard they actually hurt.

“Yeah and I am just pulling my skin clean off here. Can you get out! Order a pizza or something,” she threw the roll back onto the table and went back to ignoring him. Jensen sighed, backing up towards the door but couldn’t help chuckling at her carefully peeling the tape.

“Just rip it off babe. It’s like a band aid. You’ll…” he started but was cut off when the remote that had been on the nightstand beside her vanity, crashed into the wall next to his face. For the first time, Jensen seemed to actually react. His face went from complete shock to anger in seconds. “Jesus Christ, Danneel!”

Danneel felt the tears press against her eyes and she wanted to run to him and apologize. She had no idea what had come over her. She hadn’t been thinking and she most certainly never wanted to do anything to hurt Jensen.

“Can you just leave?” Her voice was frail now and as much as she wanted to be alone she hoped he wouldn’t go. She hoped he would stay; pull her into his arms and promise her that everything was going to be alright between them. Only, he didn’t.

“Don’t worry. I’m going,” Jensen sent her a hard glare before he walked out the door and down the stairs.

By some miracle, Danneel managed to hold herself together long enough to get the damn tape off her body. Not without a few sobs escaping her, but at the very least she didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. Not until she stood under the hot stream of the shower and everything hit her. She had been such a bitch to Jensen, when all she had really needed all day was to be with him. She had taken her bad day out on him, when he had tried so hard to cheer her up. She couldn’t lose him. He was her best friend and the love of her life. Even in the few months the two of them had been dating she had come to not being able to picture a life without him anymore. She cried, no longer over the stares and crude comments at the red carpet event, but over the fact that she had taken everything out on the one person that never treated her or anyone else with anything other than complete respect.

Her eyes were still puffy and red when she emerged from the bathroom, only wearing panties and one of Jensen’s shirts he had left at her place. She was drying her hair not paying attention to anything in the room. The least thing she had expected was Jensen sitting on her bed waiting with her favorite beer and pizza on the table next to him. So when he spoke, she jumped and a small scream fell from her lips.

“This is my favorite look on you just so you know,” Jensen quickly held up his hands when she was startled by his voice. “Sorry.”

“Jay…” Danneel’s voice broke and she teared up again at the sight of him. She didn’t hesitate for one second to drop the towel she was holding and run across the room, jumping into the bed when he opened his arms inviting her to him.

“C’mere.”

Danneel wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder. Jensen held her tightly against him, running his fingers through her still moist hair, trying to soothe her. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

She felt Jensen give her a small squeeze, before pulling back to stroke the hair away from her face. “Don’t worry about it,” he said honestly, before a teasing grin spread across his face, “you got terrible aim, Dee.”

“Shut up,” Danneel pouted and gave him a small shove, making Jensen laugh. This time it was contagious. She cuddled back up to Jensen, letting him pull her to lie down on the bed with him.

“Rough day, huh?” Jensen rubbed shooting circles on her back as she clung to him. She nodded quietly. She didn’t want to relive it right now. She just wanted to be with Jensen. She needed to be in his arms and to forget that the world outside her front door existed for the evening.

“I thought you left.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and tears pressed against her eyes once again as she spoke. The fear of losing him still lingering within her.

“I did. To get pizza and let you cool off,” Jensen answered, looking down at her to realise just exactly what she had meant. “Hey no,” Jensen wrapped his arms tightly around her again, resting his chin on top of her head, letting her sob against his chest. She needed to get it all out and he knew it. “I won’t leave you DeeDee. I love you. It was a stupid fight. Barely. You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” he spoke softly, while she cried. He tenderly pressed a kiss to the top of her head and one to her lips as she looked up at him.

“Jensen I am so sorry. I was way out of line. How I am feeling is not your fault. I know you tried to cheer me up and I… I could have hurt you,” she rambled, before Jensen shushed her, softly pressing his lips against hers.

“I know. It’s okay. We’re fine,” he said looking deep into her eyes, letting her know that he meant it. “Besides, a pretty girl promised me movie night and making out in bed,” Jensen teased trying to lighten the mood. He her blush like he often did and smile through her tears.

“Well she broke her remote,” Danneel muttered, playing with his shirt. Jensen chuckled, giving her another soft squeeze before pushing both into a half sit, so he could reach the remote on the bed stand next to him.

“Well her awesome boyfriend fixed it while she was in the shower,” Jensen winked, loving how she lit up.

“Really?”

“Really. Does this mean I get to pick the movie?” Jensen asked, playfully trying to keep the remote from her reach but she moved faster than he had expected, easily snapping it from his hand.

“Not a chance in hell, Ackles,” Danneel grinned, feeling better with the prospect of an evening in Jensen’s arms, watching chick flicks and eating pizza.

“That’s my girl,” Jensen grinned proudly, pressing a kiss to her cheek, before moving the pizza to rest between them and opening the beers as she started looking for movies. No matter what the world might throw at them, in that moment they both knew they would make it through. Their love and care for one another would always be there. Their love was one of a kind and they would do whatever it took to make it last forever.

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Padackles Tag Team (Jenneel and Jarevieve)

@mrspadalackles @roxyspearing @blacktithe7 @atc74 @mogaruke @crushing83 @theoriginalvick @jensen-gal @mysterious-398 @ericaprice2008 @adriellej @ashleydivine @percywinchester27 @becs-bunker @queen-of-deans-booty @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @smoothdogsgirl @ryantherandomhero @sillesworldofwriting @docharleythegeekqueen @mysupernaturalfics @evansrogerskitten @mrswhozeewhatsis @carryonmyswansong @thelittleredwhocould @super100012 @opeeta @cassieraider @lonelygoldheart @jayankles @ambermei @oneshoeshort @grace-for-sale @speakinvain

#spnfluffbingo #jenneel #Jensen x Danneel #jensen ackles #danneel ackles #danneel x jensen #jensen imagine #danneel imagine #jenneel imagine #spn imagine #spn rpf

[beautiful-bau-beau]

The Proposal Final Part

Anon: WE NEED MORE PROPOSAL. PLEASE OUR LITTLE ANGEL WRITER, please please. We would love it dearly

Anon: When is the next part of the proposal gonna be posted

After 8 MONTHS, I’m finally finishing my Proposal series. I’ma  little sad but hopefully everyone enjoys it!

The proposal masterlist

-

You never really liked the hospital. The wash-out lights, ugly tile floors, the white everywhere you looked. You remember coming in a few times as a child but it was never a peaceful experience, obviously. At the moment, you sat in the waiting room with your sister and her husband, counting the dots on the floor to try and stop thinking about...everything.

"He'll be fine." Your sister consoled you, one arm draped over your shoulder, the other hand of hers holding on to yours. "He's a fighter." You weakly smiled in response.

"I don't think it's me you have to worry about." You pointed to your mother who was practically hysterical as she talked to the woman at the front desk. You knew she was terrified, and so were you and your sister but you had to stay calm. What good was worrying going to do?

"My husband had a heart attack! You have to let me see him!" The nurse eyed the white-knuckled grip your mother had on the counter and took a deep breath before responding.

"Ma'am, as I've told you before it was a *suspected* heart attack." You could tell the nurse was trying to be as patient as possible but your mother had a way of getting to people when she was upset.

"My husband was clutching his chest, he was gasping for breath and red as a lobster!" Your mother screeched. The nurse opened her mouth, eyes narrowing and you knew it was your cue to step in.

"I'm sorry.' You apologized to the woman, placing your hands over your mother's shoulders, steering her back to where you and your sister sat. "Mom, you have to let him rest, heart attack or not."

"You're right, you're right. I'm just so worried about him." She sighed heavily as you sat her down, intertwining your fingers with hers. "I...I called Spencer."

"You what?" You groaned, wincing. He was the last person you needed to see right now. *If* he even came. He was probably busy with Mattie anyway. Thoughts of the two of them together made your stomach tighten.

"Honey I know but...it felt like something that needed to be done." Your mother gave you a sad look and you sighed, nodding. Your sister however, was perplexed to say the least.

"What's the problem here?" She asked, brows raised. You ended up filling her in the fake engagement, how you ended up falling in love with Spencer and about your last argument.

"He hates me. I insulted his girlfriend-"

"Reasonably so! I remember Mattie and she was indeed, a human mattress." Your sister interjected, jumping back when your mother scolded her for such language.

"It doesn't matter, he was happy or...he *is* happy with her. The least I could do for him was to be excited for him after he had done so much for me. And isn't that what love is really about? Being glad someone even if they're better off with someone else."

"Oh honey..." Your mother cooed, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. You had to convince yourself you were fine because what could you do? Cry about it? Apparently so because the next thing you knew your shoulders ere shaking and tears were running down your cheeks. You were so preoccupied with your meltdown you didn't hear the sound of hurried footsteps approach your party.

"Look who actually showed up, wow." Your sister crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "Looks like you forgot to bring your trashbag with you." /Oh god/ was that...?

"Y/n!" Spencer cried running over to you. "Are you okay?" Unaware that you had essentially 'spilled the beans', he kept up the fiancé façade. "Darling I was so worried when I got to the house and everyone was go-"

"Save it mister, we know everything." Your mother interrupted, releasing her hold on you. When you sat up you started wiping your eyes, sighing heavily.

"Why are you here?" You asked, voice warbly. "Shouldn't you be off with Mattie?" He opened his mouth to answer when your sister shot up out of her chair.

"Yes, shouldn't you be off with /Mattie/? I bet she's amazing." Your sister's voice oozed sarcasm. You tried to tell her to be quiet, but she wouldn't relent. "So amazing right Y/n? Like that time she locked you in the janitorial closet and they found you 6 hours later? Or that time she cut off half of your hair? That monster tortured my sister, my sister! She may just be another one of your 'girls' to you Mr. 'FBI Hotshot'-

"No, no, that's not true!' He tried to calm your sister down. He had been silent up to that point. "I-I love her!" He didn't even looked surprised while he blurted it out.

"You love me?" You asked, bewildered. This wasn't right, no no no, he was in love with Mattie right?

"Yeah, I do. I do, I love you Y/n." You stared into his eyes and what followed felt like you had no control of your body. You watched in practically slow motion as your fist connected with his face and how he immediately fell to the floor, unconscious.

- (Spencer's POV)

He had approached the hospital with a sick feeling in his stomach. He had treated you so horribly and he was ready for your rejection, he didn't believe he deserved your love.

His heart pounding in his ears was in tune with the echoing of his footsteps through the hospital. He asked every nurse and doctor he saw about the Y/L/N family.

When he did find you and your family, he saw that you were crying and his heart plummeted. Did something happen to your father? Why were you upset? Why were you crying?! The your sister started with the comments and he couldn't say anything because as crude as they were, they were true.

But then he blurted out that he loved you. So, there he was, lying on the ground, head pounding as he was slowly coming to.

"Give him space!" A doctor ordered, shining a light in his eye. After a moment of analysis, the doctor stood, putting the little light back in the pocket of his lab coat. "He'll be fine, he just needs a little ice, I'll make sure a nurse comes by." He addressed you, the most nervous person in the room.

"Spencer!" You laid on your knees, cupping his face in your hands. "I'm so sorry I have no idea what happened! I-I-I don't know what's wrong with me! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to punch you!"

"Can you help me up?" He groaned, trying to open his eyes. Once he stumbled to his feet you stared at the forming bruise on his cheek. You really knocked him out.

"You still love me?" You tried to tease but it seemed to increase the tension. The tip of his ears and his cheeks pinked, rubbing behind his neck sheepishly.

"About that y/n-"

"I mean how did...when did... w-why?" You asked. "I thought you were in love with Mattie." Your voice dropped to a whisper, arms crossing to try and somehow hide yourself.

"I want to start off by apologizing. You were completely right about Mattie and I can't explain my behavior. Please accept my apology..." He paused until you nodded, continuing. "I guess I didn't realize that I love until a few minutes ago. Falling in love with you is as easy as breathing or blinking. Everyday we've spent as a couple has been effortless. I never thought that with the business I was in that I would ever meet someone, let alone fall in love. But I guess the childhood crush I had on you never really faded away." He took a deep breath, falling on one knee.

Your mother and sister gasped while you assumed you looked crazy, eyes wide and jaw open enough for the flies to come into your mouth.

"And I don't want it to. I don't ever want to fade away. I want to continue waking up next to you and spending meals with you. I want to be able to continue to argue with you over Star Wars and Star Trek, I want you to make fun of me for chopsticks and I'll make fun of you for your celebrity crushes. I want you to be my wife." He swallowed nervously. "I still don't have a ring, but I can offer you my soul, my heart and everything that I am. It's not much, but it's all I have and all I can give. Please accept, I know that I don't deserve your love after everything that I did to you but Y/n y/m/n y/l/n will you please do me the honor of being my wife?"

"Yes." You agreed, nodding your head and wrapping him up and a gigantic hug. "Yes, I'll marry you." You leaned in for a kiss, just about to touch his lips when....

"What the hell is going on?" Your dad's voice interrupted, causing the two of you to split apart. He sat I front of you in a wheelchair, nurse alongside him. "Did I have a stroke? Didn't this already happen?" The two of you laughed, looking back at each other before moving to kiss again. - Epilouge to follow!

@crowleyshellhoundproductions  @xinhaleredveinsx @clairese1980 @nerdaspe @valynsia @childrenofthegun @huniblood @amarislestrange @marieannfandoms @dontshootmespence @lizettepalomares  @teacupdreams @traceyaudette

#the proposal #beautiful-bau-beau #Criminal Minds #Criminal minds x reader #Criminal minds x reider #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal minds fanfictions #Criminal minds fanfics #Spencer Reid #Spencer #spencer reid x reader #Spencer x reider #Spencer reid x reider #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid fanfictions #Spencer reid imagines #Criminal minds imagines

[kurokoros]

hear me out: Akaashi Keiji, roommates au! trope: meeting messy & prompt #30

my first official one-shot for hq is an Akaashi fic. who would have guessed. there’s some language and mildly crude humor in this one. it took me a hot minute to figure out how to do a roommate au + meet messy, but I think it turned out okay! also, I see Akaashi as the quiet teasing type, so I hope the characterization is okay!

“What do you mean you’re running late?” you ask, glaring at your phone as you speed walk down the street. A mumbled curse escapes you as someone walks by and jostles your shoulder, nearly knocking the box you’re carrying right out of your arms. You shoot the man a sour look before turning back to your friend, irritation already softening into a pout. “Kuroo, I’m supposed to be meeting this guy in like ten minutes, what do I do?”

Kuroo’s lips twitch, looking torn between apologetic and amused as he tries to cover up a smile. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you, not for the first time. “And I would have been on time if someone hadn’t—shit!” Kuroo disappears from the frame, hissing what sounds like ‘demon’ under his breath as the camera shifts.

Suddenly, you’re staring at Yaku instead, his tawny eyes narrowed as he hunches over Kuroo’s phone. “Don’t believe his lies,” he says, scoffing when Kuroo grumbles something in response, voice muffled. “The only reason we’re late is because Kuroo—”

“Oi! Yakkun!”

Kuroo grabs at his phone, but Yaku is faster, ducking under his arm and barely managing to evade his former captain’s outstretched hand. The camera is jostled again, giving you a shaky view of the subway that has your eyes rolling. Even now they still act like bickering teenagers half the time. It’s as endearing as it is annoying, but you’ve known them since high school, so you really aren’t surprised.

It takes a few seconds for the camera to stabilize again, and this time you’re faced with the voice of reason among the three of them. He rubs the back of his neck, smile a little embarrassed as Kuroo and Yaku continue to bicker behind him.

“Kai,” you greet him, a smile automatically tugging at your lips in response to his. “I didn’t know you and Yaku were coming with!” You knew that Kuroo asked Kenma to come with—as expected, he declined—but you had no idea the rest of the former Nekoma third years would be making an appearance.

He shrugs with one shoulder, casually ignoring your friends arguing behind him. “We heard you might need help moving boxes later,” is all he tells you.

“Hopefully,” you tell him. “And thanks. The main reason I invited Kuroo was for the muscle anyway.” A muffled sound of protest comes from off to Kai’s left, but you know Kuroo is secretly preening from the pseudo compliment.

Kai only nods, smiling again. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. It shouldn’t take us more than twenty minutes.”

Before you can respond, Yaku shoves himself under Kai’s arm to pin you with a firm look. “If he tries anything, go for his—”

“Give me that!” The phone is plucked out of Kai’s hands and suddenly you’re staring at Kuroo again. He glares down at Yaku, eyes rolling, before he turns his attention to you. “Twenty minutes,” he tells you firmly.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, quickening your steps. Pulling your gaze from Kuroo’s, you glance up at a street sign and wrinkle your nose when you realize how close you are to meeting your new potential roommate. “You promise he’s not weird, right?” you ask suddenly, looking at your phone in time to see his brows furrow. “Because so help me, Kuroo, if you’re letting me move in with some creep, I’ll never forgive you.”

The only reason you even agreed to maybe move in with a complete stranger is because he’s a friend of Kuroo’s. Apparently, they’ve known each other since high school during their volleyball days, but you’ve never had a chance to meet before now. With his friend having an empty room and you being in desperate need of a new place to stay, Kuroo’s suggestion only made sense. And you trust his judgement. Usually.

The look Kuroo sends you is nothing short of offended. He presses his hand to his chest like you’ve wounded him, and you roll your eyes at his theatrics. Despite that, Kuroo is serious when he responds. “Do you think I would let you move in with someone I didn’t trust?” When you shake your head, he continues. “Akaashi doesn’t bite. I promise.” He grins. “Unless you’re into that.”

You make a face. “I’m hanging up now.”

He cackles. “We’ll be there soon. Be safe.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, glancing up at another sign, “just get your ass over here.” Yaku and Kai call out their own goodbyes before you end the call, your smile lingering as you shove your phone into your back pocket, still struggling with the box you’re carrying.

Of course, that’s the moment your morning goes from bad to worse.

You’re so busy working your phone into your pocket with one hand and juggling a box with the other that you don’t see the man hurrying towards you, also not paying attention to his surroundings.

You shoulder collides with his. You stumble. The box starts to slip from your grasp. “Shit,” you hiss, flinching as hot coffee splashes down the front of your shirt. It isn’t hot enough to hurt, thankfully, but it’s bound to leave a nasty, uncomfortably wet stain on your chest for the rest of the day. Perfect. That’s exactly what you needed five minutes before you’re supposed to meet your new roommate for the first time. So much for a good first impression.

The man who bumped into you grunts in surprise. He stumbles back as your eyes snap up, and you note with the smallest hint of smug satisfaction that there’s an equally dark spot staining his crisp, white button-up.

Dark blue eyes flicker up to meet yours, wide in alarm.

In any other situation, you might have taken a moment to appreciate the sharp angle of his jaw, or his stupidly pretty face, but right now you’re nervous, stressed, and wet, so all you do is glare and snap, “Watch where you’re going.” His lips part, but you’re already storming past him, mumbling “asshole” under your breath.

You’re already halfway down the street before he regains his bearings; you don’t notice his eyes following you until you disappear.

…

Fuck me, is the first thought that comes to your mind when you find yourself standing in front of your potential roommate’s apartment. There’s a post-it note stuck to the front door, telling you and Kuroo to let yourselves in because your new roommate had an errand to run, but would be back soon. This, of course, wouldn’t be a problem if Kuroo wasn’t late and wasn’t the one with a key to said apartment.

You aren’t sure what’s worse: having to stand here for the next however many minutes like an idiot until Kuroo arrives, or his friend coming home first and having to deal with that conversation without your moral support. Neither option is particularly appealing, but you’re staring to get odd looks from the neighbors and it’s really fucking hot outside, so you’d take the awkward conversation over waiting.

A brief text to Kuroo informs you that they just got off the subway, but should be here soon. You shift your weight from one foot to the next, biting your lip as you continue weighing your options.

Eventually you just say fuck it and slide one of the bobby-pins from your hair. No one has to know.

Unfortunately, picking a lock isn’t nearly as easy as you’ve been led to believe.

“Seriously?” you grumble, jiggling the doorknob and squinting at the pin you have jammed into the lock. Maybe this was a bad idea. Now you definitely look like a creep.

“Need any help with that?”

You lurch away from the door with a yelp. The bobby-pin falls out of your hand and clatters to the floor, only incriminating you further. Whirling around, your expression becomes one of horror when you meet a pair of questioning eyes.

Oh shit, he’s hot, is your first thought, your breath catching when you lock eyes with the most gorgeous man you’ve even seen in your life. Messy dark hair. Deep blue eyes. A sharp jaw. All lean muscle. Oh, yeah. Definitely a former athlete. Your eyes wander down to his chest where the top buttons of his dress-shirt are undone. You glance at his collarbone before moving lower, freezing.

Your second thought is, oh shit, I spilled coffee on this guy and called him an asshole. The stain on his shirt matches yours perfectly, and wow, okay, today really couldn’t have gotten any worse, could it? Not only is your new potential roommate hot as sin, but you’ve already made a complete ass of yourself in front of him, the breaking and entering aside.

He clears his throat, staring at you expectantly; you blush, face burning as you realize you’ve been gaping at him openly.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” you blurt, like an idiot. It’s exactly what it looks like. The way his right eyebrow quirks upwards tells you he isn’t fooled, and you’re surprised when he doesn’t call you out on the lie.

“You must be Kuroo’s friend,” he says instead, observing you carefully. The, admittedly correct, assumption makes you more embarrassed, if possible. You aren’t sure what the assumption says about you, or Kuroo for that matter, but right now you kind of just want to lie down on the floor and die a little bit.

You wet your lips, trying not to squirm under his intense gaze. It’s analytical, but not calculating, and your breathing hitches as he continues to stare. “I… yeah.”

It comes as a surprise when he only nods, eyes snapping away from you as he digs his keys out of his pocket. You step aside quickly as he steps up to the door, his arm brushing up against yours. You stiffen, but he doesn’t shy away from the contact. “Sorry to make you wait,” he says, pulling the post-it note off the door and turning towards the lock.

“It’s fine.” You grab your discarded box off the ground, holding it to your chest as he opens the door and gestures for you to walk inside. Your smile feels forced as you comply. With your head ducked towards your chest and your eyes on the floor, you don’t notice the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You should apologize, right? Yeah, you should totally apologize for spilling coffee on him and yelling at him in the middle of the street.

He follows you inside and shuts the door, meeting your eyes as you spin around to look at him. “I’m really sorry about—”

But he’s already shaking his head. “I wasn’t watching either,” he tells you, ending your apology before it can start. “Akaashi Keiji,” he says, holding out his hand for you to shake, like a normal person.

You tell him your name, trying not to shiver at the way his fingers wrap around yours. Fuck, his hands are big. Like, really big. And warm. You definitely wouldn’t mind having them wrapped around your—moving on.

The corner of Akaashi’s mouth twitches like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “So,” he starts casually, dark eyes watching you carefully, “when would you like to move in?”

#haikyuu!! #akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu #hqdrabbles #hq drabbles #Anonymous