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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 3 years

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The Problem with Perfection Chapter 10 spoilers!

Hey all! So, a couple people asked for this, so I figured I’d post it. It’s chapter 8 of the companion to TPWP, The Problem with Mondo, which corresponds with chapter 10 of TPWP. Yes, this confuses me a lot too, the fact that the chapters don’t align. -.-

Anyway! Don’t read this if you’ve not read TPWP chapter 10, since it will definitely spoil that chapter, ha. Warning for an overabundance of foul language and some sexualized thinking, as well as an absent thought of suicide, same as in TPWP. This chapter is super long, about 20,000 words, and I’m posting all of it because... why not, am I right? Ha.

I did cut a few sentences from this chapter because they might spoil things for later chapters of TPWP, but they don’t really contain anything major.

The chapter is below the cut! Hope y’all like. :-)

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Mondo is angry. Blindingly angry. So angry he doesn’t know why he’s angry, but honestly, what else is new? He just knows that he’s angry and the reason he is angry is that goddamn motherfucking kid and his goddamn motherfucking glasses-

“They! Are!! Glasses!!! Just!!! Wear them!!!” the boy grits out, thrusting his goddamn hand out towards Mondo, looking like he is about five fucking seconds from bashing his head against the goddamn wall. Mondo almost wishes he fucking would, to save him the fucking trouble! Unable to help himself, he scowls and crosses his arms, shaking his head firmly, so fucking pissed it ain’t even funny.

“No! I ain’t no fuckin’ nerd!” Mondo yells back, glaring like he was born to do it. Unfortunately, it seems so was Ishimaru, as the kid is glaring like his life depends on it, as fiery and beautiful passionate as ever. That goddamn motherfucking...

“Just! Wear them! The doctor says you need them! You don’t have to wear them all the time! Just when you’re reading! Stop! Being an idiot!”

“Me?! I ain’t no fuckin’ idiot, you’re a fuckin’ idiot! If ya think I’m gonna wear that shit, yer outta yer goddamn mind! Now get that shit outta my face, ya fuckwad, or I’m gonna bash yer head in!”

“Like heck you will! You’re all bark and no bite, Owada! Now just! Wear! The! Glasses! You said you were okay with them when you bought them! I will force you to wear them, don’t think I won’t!”

“Oh, you motherfuckin’-!”

“U-uh, g-guys?”

Mondo and Ishimaru turn, as one, to glare at the intruder on their private fucking conversation. Okay, so maybe they’re in the middle of the hallway outside their dorm rooms, but fuck! That don’t mean shit! Eavesdropping is a nasty fucking habit and if this goddamn motherfucker doesn’t butt the fuck out right the fuck now-

“Shut up!” the pair shouts in unison, before turning to glare at each other again.

Mondo doesn’t know why he’s so angry. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, or why he has been doing this for the past week and a half. From hot, to cold, to hot, to cold, again and again and again, never fucking ceasing. One minute he’s fine, relaxed as shit and not at all angry, maybe even feeling kinda good, and then the next...

And he doesn’t know why. Why he’s doing this. Why he’s fucking ruining this shit, like he fucking ruins every fucking thing. He... h-he just...

Things had been okay, you know? Between him and Ishimaru. At first. Sure, they weren’t really friends, evidenced by how they are still referring to one another by last name, but they’d been friendly enough. Mondo had taken care to keep his anger in check, and— to his surprise— it... it hadn’t actually been that hard. It seems that Ishimaru can be pretty fucking cool when they’re not at odds.

He’s also a great fucking tutor. He somehow manages to not sound sanctimonious and pretentious when explaining shit, instead looking so fucking earnest and like he genuinely wants to just... help.

Because of that, they’d gotten along pretty well those first few days. Ishimaru had been determined to get him brought up to speed before they started the fucking novel, so he’d taken care to spend a couple hours a day hanging around Mondo, at various times. The pair usually spent an hour or so in the library after class ended, but more than that, they just... they would walk together between classes, Ishimaru rambling on and on about what they’d just learned about in class. Mondo doesn’t know why he’d allowed it, usually not caring about shit like that, but somehow... somehow, it had been nice. Hearing Ishimaru talk about the shit they’d learned, the kid better able to impart knowledge in the ten fucking minutes they had between classes than the teachers were able to in the hour plus they had. It’s not at all the sorta shit Mondo would have expected himself to enjoy, let alone look forward to, but shit. There they were.

But then... Mondo got stupid. He overstepped his bounds and got fucking scared, fuck.

They’d been in Ishimaru’s room. Mondo doesn’t know why he’d made the offer to go to the kid’s room rather than the library, like they usually did, like was safe, but he... he had. And the kid had fucking accepted, and so there they were, sitting on the hall monitor’s fucking couch, sitting too fucking close. The kid was reading the short story Teach had assigned to the class, the pair realizing it was just... easier, while Mondo waited for the nurse to contact the eye doctor for him, since it turned out that yeah, his eyes were kinda fucked up, shit.

He had felt so fucking weird inside, the first time the kid had read to him, since they’d been in the library and he’d been nervous someone would see them and think Mondo was an idiot who needed to be fucking read to, but... shit. This time it had just been... different. Without the fear of being judged (since Ishimaru never fucking judged him, not ever, god fucking damn), he... he’d been able to listen to the kid reading without any fucking reservations. And he’d had to admit that- that he... he liked it. A lot. Like... fucking a lot.

So fucking much that it had made him feel relaxed for the first time... shit. Prolly ever. Ishimaru just had a nice sounding voice, ya know? It was strangely deep, at times, when he got lost in the story, his words not too fast but not too slow. He actually emoted when he spoke, too, the sound not a dull and dry monotone like so many fucking other people he’s heard read before. It just... made him feel so fucking calm inside, like the monster inside of him had been fucking purring.

And... and then...

Mondo had let his head drop down onto Ishimaru’s shoulder, eyes closing in contentment, the kid faltering for one split second, breath hitched, before he’d smoothly continued, like it had never happened. And with his eyes closed and his head resting on a warm, comfortable shoulder, hearing that wonderful cadence from that wonderful, beautiful mouth... he hadn’t been able to stop the thought. And the thought he had was...

God, his voice is so fucking nice, isn’t it...? Wonder what it would sound like screaming your name as you pound the fuck outta him. He’d prolly be loud as shit, so fucking passionate, clawing you to all hell, but damn if you’d mind. Shit... wouldn’t that be fucking nice...

He had been, to put it mildly, freaked the fuck out.

His eyes had shot open the second the thought had crossed his mind, heart fucking pounding as he wondered where the goddamn fuck that shit came from. Ishimaru had been startled, looking at him with his wide fucking eyes, lips opened softly in shock, voice faltering for the first time and Mondo... Mondo couldn’t fucking handle it, holy fucking shit.

He’d immediately stood and stammered out some bullshit about needing to check on his hog, before fucking bailing, eyes wide and heart an absolute mess. He had, indeed, gone out to his hog and rode around for a bit, not wanting to think, but he’d been unable to help it. To stop it. And it... it made him feel...

He’s not gay. Okay? He’s fucking not. There’d be no fucking problem if he were, but he just ain’t. He likes chicks, something he knows better than anything else, something he’s known since he was a fucking kid, goddamn. He’d even made sure to look at his porno mags that night, reassured when he felt his dick harden so fucking hard as he saw the tits and pussy that always made him so fucking hard to see.

So, he wasn’t gay. He fucking couldn’t be gay, and it’s not possible for him to like both, so he figured that the thought had meant... meant Mondo wanted to fucking pound Ishimaru’s head in, not- n-not any other meaning of the word that it could have meant. He guessed that he didn’t like being around Ishimaru as much as he had assumed and that he actually hated him, after all.

As freaked out as he’d been, he took hold of that idea and fucking ran with it. He told himself that he hated the kid, of course he hated him, his voice was fucking annoying as shit, not nice, not nice at all!

And so, the next day, he’d been cold to the kid. So fucking cold. And when the kid had tried to approach him after home room ended, looking open and earnest and so fucking cute-

Mondo hadn’t been able to handle it. His stomach had clenched, and his heart had fucking lurched, and he told himself it was hatred he felt, it had to be fucking hatred. And so, he’d snarled at the kid, telling him to ‘get the fuck away from me, freak!’ before he’d run off, heart aching so fucking stupidly.

He had considered skipping class, getting on his hog and fucking booking it, but he needed to give his girl a break, and he still kinda wanted to try the whole ‘giving school a chance’ thing, so he’d eventually decided to storm into class, even if he’d been five minutes late. He’d refused to look at Ishimaru, though, thinking that seeing his stupid fucking pathetic face would fucking destroy him infuriate the shit out of him, and as soon as class ended, he’d shot out, not needing to pack anything up since he’d not fucking brought anything, shit.

That had kept happening the rest of the day. Every class they had together (which was pretty much every fucking class, god fucking damn this school) Mondo would carefully keep his eyes off the kid, ignoring the feel of sad, hurt, bright red eyes as they bored into him. After the second class, the kid had tried to chase after him, tried to talk to him, but Mondo would fucking turn and head the opposite fucking direction of their next class, and he knew the kid wouldn’t dare risk being late, so he’d give up pretty quick. He’d constantly be looking in class, though, lips pulled down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Not that Mondo was fucking looking! Shit!

It wasn’t until Ishimaru had cornered him outside his dorm room that night, looking so fucking hurt and upset and not a little bit annoyed that they’d managed to resolve things.

In that Ishimaru had been so fucking annoying that Mondo had immediately started yelling, causing Ishimaru to yell back, his words bleeding hurt, making Mondo feel like absolute scum. They had been loud enough to garner the attention of most of their classmates, even fucking Togami gracing them with his condescending presence, which had made Mondo even more pissed, honestly, wanting nothing more than to be anywhere fucking else.

It was when the kid looked about ready to fucking cry that Mondo had had enough. His insides were squirming, and he felt so fucking scared, for reasons he still doesn’t understand, but he... h-he hadn’t wanted to make Ishimaru cry again. After spending several days interacting with Ishimaru, having a lot of fucking conversations that hadn’t actually ended in the kid’s tears, he... he hadn’t wanted to go back to that.

And so, with all the confused fucking emotions swirling inside him, he’d yelled ‘fuckin’ fine, ya goddamn bastard! I’ll fuckin’ meet you and do that goddamn fuckin’ assignment tomorrow! Now leave me the fuck alone!’ before storming into his room and slamming the door shut so loud it made even his ears ring.

He’d then promptly stormed into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it could go, the water fucking hurting, but he’d wanted it to. He just... he’d felt so... so...

Confused...

He’d never felt this way for anyone before. So angry and scared and confused and yet also so fucking happy, so bizarrely, stupidly happy. Ishimaru fucking... he made him happy. And he didn’t know how to handle that, because clearly, he still hated the kid... right? Right? What other option was there? Why did he want to hit Ishimaru (and he had to want to hit him, it was the only fucking option that made any fucking sense) if he didn’t hate him?

But he’d agreed— stupidly— to meet with the kid for another fucking tutoring session after class the next day. And while the thought had made his insides squirm, he... fuck. He hadn’t wanted to make the kid cry again. God, did he not want that. Even if he did hate him— which he must, he must— he... fuck.

He couldn’t make him cry.

He wasn’t his goddamn old man.

And so, when he got out of the shower, he’d resolved to contain his anger the next day. He’d push it down, keep it locked up tight tight tight, and he wouldn’t let it hurt Ishimaru. He’d gotten into bed (still hated it, but he was slowly getting use to the ridiculously plush material) and fallen into a fitful sleep, dreams full of wide, hurt red eyes, a sad voice begging him to explain why he was hurting him so. He’d woken an hour early with a start, heart pounding, and had spent the remaining time until he usually got up doing push-ups again and again and again, until he didn’t remember the dream anymore.

And then, when he went into class, carrying his supplies for once... he’d given the kid a small, sheepish smile, stomach roiling with all the emotions within it. He’d then spent the rest of home room doodling absently on the notebook Ishimaru had helped him pick out from the school store, doing his best to not think of everything and psych himself out. He’d even managed to feel almost calm as he let himself draw, something he rarely allows himself to do, but always has kinda enjoyed, even if he’s shit at it.

Once home room ended, he’d waited for Ishimaru at the door, telling him as casually as he could that the nurse had contacted him the day before, saying she’d scheduled an eye doctor (he still can’t remember the official name Ishimaru called the dude, shit) appointment for 3:00 the next day, hesitantly asking the kid if he had wanted to come along. He could tell that the kid was taken aback, clearly not having expected such a thing, but he’d still stammered out an acceptance, looking so flustered it wasn’t funny when Mondo turned to look at him with a small, soft smile. He’d not meant to look at the kid like that, but he’d just... been unable to help it.

The rest of the day had gone well, the tutoring session going nicely like it had before that stupid fucking bullshit two days prior. It had happened in the library again, which Mondo figured would be safer. He’d almost started to hope that things would stay that way, stay as calm and easy and nice, but then-

Mondo got angry. Again.

He doesn’t even know why, he never fucking does, but the kid had just... he’d been so fucking patient, helping Mondo pick out a pair of ‘reading glasses,’ since the doc had said he had pretty bad close-up vision and would be benefited from having prescription reading glasses, not just the over-the-counter stuff you find at drug stores. Mondo had felt so fucking lost, no idea what any of the bullshit meant, but Ishimaru had... he’d been so fucking helpful, explaining the complicated terminology and shit, helping him find a pair that didn’t make him look too much like a fucking nerd. And the pair he settled on was honestly kinda nice. It was a rectangular silver metal frame that had deep purple plastic on the sides, and it actually make him look kinda cool... if a bit nerdy. He’d given the salesperson his school insurance card and was pleasantly surprised to find he’d not have to pay a penny for the frames, since the school covers shit like that.

It was then, as he and Ishimaru exited the shop and the kid absently commented that the glasses made him look very smart that Mondo just... fucking lost it.

And he doesn’t even know why.

It just... it made him feel weird inside. Being around the kid. Being soft with him. And he was. Soft. Soft and kind and fucking gentle. And the kid was the exact same back. The entire time they’d been in the shop, Mondo had been thinking how nice it had felt. How domestic. The panic and fear had been slowly rising in him the entire time they’d been in the store, and he’d done all he could to push it the fuck down, but he... he hadn’t...

He’d left the kid standing there, looking so fucking confused, as he hopped on his hog and drove away. He’d not cared how the kid would get back to the school, he had refused to ride with Mondo since it made him ‘nervous’ anyway, so it wasn’t his fucking problem.

And that pattern just... kept repeating. Mondo would get angry, say something toxic to the kid, and storm away. The kid would wait a couple of hours, maybe try and talk with him after class or something, only to eventually corner him and force him to talk to him, looking so fucking fed up, but also so fucking upset and sad and confused. Like he didn’t know why Mondo was doing this to him. Like he didn’t know why Mondo was being so fucking difficult. Like he... he didn’t...

Didn’t know why he fucking bothered...

And… honestly? Mondo didn’t know why either. Why he kept trying. Why he was so stubborn, always chasing after Mondo even after Mondo fucking shoved him away, sometimes literally. Even when Mondo would get so fucking nasty, making tears build up in the kid’s eyes, frustration clear in his every movement.

For almost two weeks this occurred, again and again and again, and Mondo... Mondo doesn’t know why the kid doesn’t just leave him already. Why he doesn’t just say ‘the hell with it,’ realize Mondo isn’t fucking worth it, and leave his ass. Like every other person on the face of this goddamn planet...

It’s only a matter of time until he does, though. Leave him. It’s what always was going to happen, since Mondo couldn’t ever hope to hold onto someone so very, very good. So very, very nice. Mondo is poison. He’s gas. He only knows how to destroy and break and hurt.

He’s not allowed something nice.

He’s not allowed someone nice.

He’s just...

Not worthy of it.

Case in fucking point...

“Look. Owada-kun,” Ishimaru spits, hands clenched around the stupid glasses case that he for some reason has (Mondo doesn’t even know how he’d gotten a hold of them, shit), looking like he wants to crush them, shit. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this! You picked them out! You said they were fine! Why! Why have you changed your mind!”

Mondo scowls at the words, heart racing and swirling and hurting, hurting, hurting, and he doesn’t wanna be doing this, wants to stop, but he can’t, he can’t, he fucking can’t! He doesn’t know how to stop this, doesn’t know how to make this go away, all he knows how to do is break and hurt and destroy, destroy, destroy-

“I ain’t changed shit! I never fuckin’ agreed ta wear fuckin’ glasses, now get the fuck outta my face!”

It’s a lie. They both know it’s a lie, he can see the anger rising on Ishimaru’s face as he processes the abject lie. Mondo had, in fact, agreed on the glasses, had even kinda liked them, but he can’t concede that, can’t say he does, if he does then- then that means he’s okay with this, this weird thing he has going on with Ishimaru, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that, handle the proof that Ishimaru is so fucking amazing, the proof that Mondo doesn’t fucking deserve him, proof that... t-that he...

Mondo can’t take it. He can’t fucking take it! He tries to leave, to get away, to fucking end this shit already, but then Ishimaru is grabbing hold of him, holding so fucking tight, and Mondo tries to break free, tries to get away, but the kid just doesn’t fucking let go, and Mondo is so fucking freaked out, he just wants to leave, please god, let him just leave, don’t let him break this fucking kid again, god, please-

“You-! You are the most infuriating, pig-headed, arrogant... jerk I have ever had the misfortune to meet! If I never saw your face again, it wouldn’t be long enough!”

“Oh, I’m so wounded, please don’t call me anymore fuckin’ names like that, how the fuck am I ever gonna recover?!” Mondo snarls, sarcasm so thick he’s sure even Ishimaru will be able to pick up on it, wanting to stop but not being able to. “Grow the fuck up, ya cock suckin’ assfucker! Learn some better fuckin’ insults or don’t even bother tryin’ ta play!”

“Just because I am too sophisticated to resort to such foul language does not mean anything! You may be a lowly, classless heathen, but I, for one, refuse-”

“Oh, so now ya think yer fuckin’ better than me?! I told ya already, y’ain’t goddamn shit, Ishimaru! Ain’t no shit at all!”

“I am one hundred times the man you will ever hope to be! And if I’m not... feces, then you’re not even worth anything at all! Y-you’re... you’re an amoeba, so tiny and insignificant that it’s a miracle you think you’re relevant at all!”

“What the fuck did ya call me, ya son ofa bitch?!”

Mondo sees the kid open his mouth— likely to fire something back, barely any space between them— holding onto Mondo’s arm so fucking tight, like his life depends on it or something, looking so fucking pissed and angry and hurt and fucking beautiful, so fucking beautiful, god fucking damnit-

But before the kid can say anything, another voice pipes up, the same voice as earlier, making Mondo’s rage reach a paramount, oh god-

“Aw, come on! I thought you guys resolved things already, do you really have to do this?! Please!”

Mondo turns to the fucking eavesdropper, snarling at the beyond fucking average boy. Naegi turns super fucking pale at the look, but he doesn’t cower away for once. Mondo doesn’t care. He’s far passed the point of caring.

“I told ya ta stay the fuck outta this!”

Naegi frowns, but Mondo doesn’t give him a chance to say any other stupid ass thing before he’s turning back to Ishimaru, eyes practically spitting fire as he stares so deep into Ishimaru’s that it feels almost like a physical embrace. It makes Mondo’s breath hitch for some stupid fucking reason, his stomach swirling as he looks deep into the most gorgeous fucking eyes he’s ever fucking seen-

But he can’t feel things like that, so he pushes it firmly away.

He can hear their eavesdropper fucking sigh, soft and almost disappointed, and that should make Mondo even angrier, but something in Mondo is feeling so fucking weird now. G-god... he doesn’t even know how to begin to describe it, other than it feels like he’s on fire, but not even in a bad way. Ishimaru is staring at him, eyes wide, anger in them, but also something else, something Mondo can’t understand, no matter how much he fucking wants to.

He can’t let this end here. He wants to let it end, but he fucking can’t. He... h-he needs to figure out how to settle this, how to make this stop, how to not be as fucking pathetic as he knows he is. He... he needs to prove that he’s not as worthless as they both know he is, as weak, as nothing, so fucking nothing. Everyone knows it, knows he doesn’t belong here, knows that Ishimaru is so much better than him it’s not funny, but he- he needs to prove that he has something going for him, that he... he can do something, even if he’s worthless in every other regard, every other aspect, even if Ishimaru is better than him everywhere else he just needs to prove he can beat him at fucking something, god-

He’s issuing the challenge before he can stop himself.

And god, is he so fucking afraid.

“You think yer so perfect, don’t ya, Ishimaru? Think yer better than me? Well... well, yer not, an’ I can fuckin’ prove it. I bet I can beat you, hands down, any day of the fuckin’ week. Y’ain’t better than me, ya shit fuck. Y’ain’t nothin’,” Mondo hisses, lying through his fucking teeth. Ishimaru is better than him. He knows it. He’s always known it. He hates it, though. Not being good enough. Not being worthy. He... he wants to be. Good enough. For... f-for...

Ishimaru’s eyes are shiny again, even despite his glare.

Typical.

“What?! Y-you guys aren’t going to- to fight, are you? Guys-!”

Mondo breaks his stare down with Ishimaru to shoot that goddamn fucking bastard a single, solitary sneer, before turning back to Ishimaru, chest heaving with all the emotions he carries within him.

“Nah. Ground floor, there’s a sauna. Ya know it?”

Ishimaru blinks slowly, sluggish, before nodding slightly, looking very fucking confused. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are pulled down, and he looks so fucking cute stupid, god. After a moment, though, it seems he understands what Mondo is getting at, the challenge he is suggesting, as his face lights up, eyes bright and passionate once more, an honest to god grin on his face.

Holy fucking shit...

“Aha! A simple endurance challenge! If that is your gauntlet, then I happily accept! I will wipe the floor with you!”

Despite the anger that is still flowing through him, Mondo can’t help the small smile that passes on his lips, something about the enthusiasm so fucking... not cute, not cute, not cute at all, but maybe, a little, teeny tiny bit... endearing? He pushes it away, though. It’s not helpful, here.

“Yer fuckin’ on. And you,” Mondo points blindly to Naegi— who ‘eeps’ at the gesture, fucking coward he is— not able to look away from Ishimaru for a single fucking second, “will be our witness. Got it?!”

As intently as Mondo is staring at Ishimaru, he doesn’t see the other kid’s response, but he can hear how Naegi splutters, the kid clearly not as enthusiastic about the idea as Ishimaru and himself are. Bastard.

“W-what?! Now?! B-but it’s so late... g-guys, are you sure this is a- a good idea-?!”

“Yes, ya fuckin’ moron, it’s a fuckin’ great idea!” Mondo snarls, at the exact same time Ishimaru— eyes bright and feverish— exclaims, “yes! It is an excellent idea!”

Uncomfortable at their agreement, Mondo finally tears his eyes away, ignoring the churning feeling in his chest as he storms down the hall to where the bathhouse is, mere meters away. Ishimaru stares after him for a stunned second, but quickly spurs himself into motion, using his long-ish legs to catch up quick, head held high as they march determinedly on. God... he’s so fucking...

Shit.

When they reach the bathhouse a few moments later, Mondo firmly pushes aside the rational voice inside him that is screaming at him not to do this. He knows his limits when it comes to endurance. While he’s not the best at running, he has great endurance for other things, especially pain and discomfort. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~)

But Ishimaru... fuck. He’s so fucking passionate, so fucking determined, but who knows what his endurance is like? If he’ll be able to keep up? And it shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t give Mondo pause, but he... he can’t help the stab of concern that fills him as they enter the room, Mondo grabbing a ‘closed for repairs’ sign and putting it in front of the entrance, not wanting anyone to interrupt.

He hates the feeling and pushes it away as he turns to glare at Ishimaru, pointing a finger, not wanting to deal with such weakness, but he... he can’t quite manage to force it fully away...

Shit.

“Alright, here’s the fuckin’ terms. First ta tap out is a fuckin’ bitch ass loser who ain’t worth shit. The one who lasts the longest is the official winner. We ain’t allowed ta touch the other or do anythin’ ta them directly, this is strictly an endurance challenge. Oh, an’ we’re gonna do this fully clothed. What do ya say?!”

Mondo sees Ishimaru’s eyes widen when he gets to the last term, the kid fucking shaking his head sharply in denial. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. He’d added that last clause in last minute, realizing as he detailed the rules that they were gonna be fucking half fucking naked in there, and his mind had shorted the fuck out. He’s been in saunas fully clothed before, he knows he can handle it, but he isn’t fucking sure he can handle sitting nearly nude beside Ishi-fucking-maru...

But of course, the kid wouldn’t fucking agree. Of fucking course...

“I do not agree to that last term, but I agree to the rest!”

Glad his angry flush fully disguises the fucking embarrassed flush he can feel rising on his face, Mondo just nods tensely, sneering, as he storms over to the water cooler in the corner.

“Alright, whatever, fucker. Ya got five minutes ta prepare. Then, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this shit.”

With that, Mondo grabs a paper cup and downs some water, feeling so impossibly tense. He can feel Ishimaru staring at him, mouth partially open, but he gets spurned into action when Naegi shifts awkwardly beside him, chasing the kid away to one of the lockers, where he... he fucking...

Starts taking off his fucking clothes...

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Mondo is staring. Mondo knows he shouldn’t be staring, knows it’s wrong to be staring, but he can’t fucking help it. His eyes are like magnets, drawn to the kid, watching as he takes off all of his fucking layers, folding each one so neatly and carefully as he sticks them in the small fucking locker. The kid hesitates a little when he gets to his fucking tighty-whities (of course the kid wears that shit, of fucking course), but ultimately, he doesn’t take them off. Instead, he bites his lip and grabs a white towel, wrapping it firmly around his waist before putting the rest of his stuff away. Mondo firmly pushes down the stupid as shit rush of disappointment and tells himself to stop staring, to look away, but god, he fucking can’t. Ishimaru, he...

He’s so fucking gorgeous, so fucking hot, so fucking sexy-

Mondo feels himself heat the fuck up when Ishimaru turns abruptly and looks him straight in the eyes, looking fucking startled at something. Feeling strangely caught, Mondo looks away as quick as he can, pushing away the stupid as shit thoughts, marching over to a locker stiffly. Shit... he’s gotta fucking get laid one of these days. The tension is doing fucked up shit to his brain...

He takes his time putting some of his more fragile shit away, like his crappy cellphone and his key card. He does, honestly, consider taking off his uniform, or at least taking off his duster, but he just... shit. Can’t. Not with how strange he feels inside, his mind’s eye still stupidly forcing him to think of Ishimaru, his stupidly muscular back flexing with every move he made. It means nothing, fucking nothing, but he... shit. It prolly would be better to remain fully clothed, duster included, even if it does put him at a disadvantage. But ya know what, whatever. Doesn’t matter. He knows his limits and knows that he can last longer in the sauna than Ishimaru, even when fully clothed. Shit...

When the five minutes he gave them are up, he meets up with Ishimaru outside the entrance to the sauna, fully intending to slide it open and step inside, when-

“Owada-kun, you cannot seriously be considering entering the sauna fully clothed! It’s suicide!” Ishimaru exclaims, sounding fucking concerned as shit. His eyes are wide, and his brows are furrowed, and he’s biting his fucking lip, god fucking damn, and it’s messing with Mondo’s head so fucking much. Why... why the fuck would he care?! Huh?! They’re not fucking friends! Why would he care if Mondo did try and kill himself, huh?! World would fucking be better off for it, shit!

Deciding to definitely not say that, Mondo just sneers at the kid, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Just ‘cuz yer a fuckin’ pansy ass bitch don’t mean I am! Now, ya ready ta do this, or are ya a fuckin’ chicken?!”

His face flushed, Ishimaru doesn’t even bother to answer, instead just yanking open the door and entering the sauna with a stubborn tilt to his jaw.

Staring after the kid for a split second (pushing down the disappointment that he didn’t press the issue harder, proving to Mondo how fucking right he is), Mondo enters on Ishimaru’s heels, the heat not even bothering him one bit.

It’s nothing compared to the fire that constantly burns within him.

Sliding the door shut behind him, leaving Naegi outside to do whatever the fuck he wants while the contest takes place, Mondo marches over to where Ishimaru is sitting, taking a seat an arm’s length away. He can feel bright red eyes on him, but he determinedly pushes the feeling away, trading a few snide comments with the kid, not even feeling the heat really.

About ten minutes in, Mondo will admit the heat is getting to him a little, a thin sheen of sweat making its way onto his skin, which is more uncomfortable than anything. Ishimaru looks a little woozy, so Mondo taunts that the kid should just give up now. Ishimaru just laughs, saying how he never gives up, ever. Fucking pretentious bastard.

After half an hour, he can admit he is feeling kinda uncomfortable, the heat becoming somewhat unpleasant, but he’s still feeling pretty good, all things considered. Ishimaru looks flushed as all hell, though, his cheeks bright red and sweat clinging to his muscles. The kid tells him— unprompted— that he’s doing fine, and Mondo’s brain feels too stupid to allow him to do much else than glare, shit...

After around fifty minutes, the kid... he looks fucking awful. Mondo isn’t doing too hot, the uncomfortable feeling spreading to be extremely uncomfortable, but he knows he can handle it. The kid, though... he looks like he’s starting to lose it. Ishimaru mentions absently that he’s starting to feel cold, which honestly concerns Mondo, since he knows that shit is a bad sign, but his head is too stupid to remember why, so he just says it’s prolly not good. The kid doesn’t call it quits, though.

Instead, he actually... talks... huh.

“Y-you can take off your uniform... if you w-want... I- I won’t judge...” the boy mumbles, sounding super fucking exhausted. Mondo tries to snort, but it’s a lot harder than it should be, shit.

“N-nah... I’m... I’m... I’m good,” Mondo finds himself muttering back, looking at the kid intensely, wondering why he isn’t giving up when he so clearly feels sick. Mondo finds himself muttering about how red Ishimaru’s is, likening him to a hot spring monkey, of all things. The kid mumbles back about being born with a red face, which makes no fucking sense, but ya know what? He’s too tired to waste energy on this shit. He’s got a challenge to win.

After what he figures is an hour and five minutes, the warning bell rings, telling them they have five minutes until curfew. Mondo figures the hall monitor will end this now, since he wouldn’t dare stay out past curfew and risk breaking one of his ‘precious rules,’ but the kid doesn’t seem to even notice the bell had rung. S-shit... that... that’s not good, is it...?

Mondo gets distracted from his stupid as shit concern when a new voice pipes up, shocking Mondo. Huh... he hadn’t realized the kid was still out there. Shit.

“U-uh guys? It’s almost curfew, shouldn’t you... stop? I know you both want to prove how big of badasses you are but... don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

Mondo scowls at the meaning of the words, knowing that he sure as shit ain’t gonna back down first. He’s already so worthless. He’s gotta prove that he can at least do this, of all fucking things.

“Shut up!” he barks, at the same time Ishimaru does, making him feel fucking wigged out at how they’re both on the same page again.

Naegi replies back to them, saying something about it being nighttime, and a tie... it honestly offends Mondo, but before he can reply, the kid is... talking... saying something about how in a true competition, there are no ties. That you either win or you lose, and that... that’s the only thing that matters. It honestly kinda pisses Mondo off, even if he agrees fully, so he fires back how he will push the kid right up to the gates of hell, meaning it fully.

He tells Naegi to leave then, knowing that this might drag on a lot longer than he had anticipated. Shit. He knew Ishimaru was fucking stubborn as shit, willing to do absolutely anything to reach his goals, but this... this is just madness. Utter madness. As Naegi leaves, Mondo cannot help how he stares at the hall monitor, who looks so fucking sick right now. He does his best to ignore it, to wait the kid out, but when roughly fifteen more minutes pass and the kid isn’t tapping out, despite looking half dead, he... he can’t help the worry that he feels. And then, when the kid closes his eyes, barely breathing, Mondo... s-shit...

“Hey... man... are you... are you okay...? Ya don’t... don’t look so good...”

Mondo listens, getting really kinda freaked, when Ishimaru lets out a soft puff of air, almost like he’s trying to laugh but can’t find the energy. He lolls his head over to Mondo, the first movement he’s done in minutes, but his eyes are still closed, which looks so fucking freaky. It takes him far longer than it should to open his eyes, and when he does, they... shit. They look glazed, like the kid isn’t fucking in there, like he... he’s...

Already dead...

F-fuck...

It really does look like that, though. Eyes glazed, mouth partially open, chest so scarily still... o-oh, shit. Shit, what if he... what if he is dead...?! Y-yeah, he just moved, but he- he looks so still, it... Mondo...

But then the kid is speaking, and he sounds so very out of it, but at least he’s alive, thank god...

“I- I’m... I’m fine, I...”

Oh, shit... no, he... he’s not fine, is he...? Shit... s-shit...

“Shit... man... no, y’ain’t. I know my... my limits. I’ve got some time... left in me... but you... shit. Just give up, dude. Just... just give... up...”

It makes something in Mondo clench when he sees the kid’s face screw up, like he wants to cry but just has no tears left within him. And then he... he’s speaking...

“No... n-no, I can’t... I- I can’t... give up... I have to... have to...”

The kid stops, then, and Mondo feels so fucking confused, his head all stupid because of the heat, making it hard to think. What? He has to... what?

“Hafta... what? What... is so important... ta ya?”

The kid blinks, like he hadn’t expected to be spoken to, before opening his mouth and muttering words. It... it’s like the kid doesn’t even know he’s speaking, the words sounding so fucking slurred and soft. Mondo has to strain to hear them, even though the silence is oppressive between them.

“I can’t... give up... must... restore... honor... family... f-family name...”

Mondo furrows his eyebrows, his lips turned down in a frown, not... not understanding...

“Yer family... name? What… what about it?”

Ishimaru blinks, like he can barely understand what Mondo is saying, and fuck is that scary...

“I must... fix his mistakes. I must... I must bring honor t-to... to our name... my grandfather...”

Okay, that... that doesn’t make any fucking sense... his grandfather? The fuck? Shit... Ishimaru needs to stop this, he... he’s not making any sense...

“What? The fuck... the fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout, man? Shit... Ishimaru, yer ‘bout ta... ta fuckin’ pass out... why can’t ya just... just give up, man?”

Ishimaru isn’t looking at him anymore and is instead staring blankly at the steam that is billowing around them, looking like he’s not aware where the fuck he is. It makes Mondo’s stomach clench, the concern rising. He... he doesn’t wanna give up, needs to prove himself, but he... Ishimaru... f-fuck...

And then... Ishimaru starts talking again...

“It... it’s all up to me to fix it... t-to make it better... m-make it- it right-! I... I can’t... give up, I... I’m not... not allowed to... give up... giving up is- is wrong... and immoral, and- and I am not wrong! I... I’m not- not immoral... I... I’m better... better than my grandfather... better than myself... better... than...”

Okay. Okay. Okay, it’s official. Mondo is fucking freaked the fuck out. What... what does any of that even mean? He... Ishimaru...

“Fuck, dude, yer- yer scarin’ me... what the hell does… does any a’ that even… even mean? Yer the fuckin’... Ultimate Moral Compass... ‘course yer not- not... immoral...”

Ishimaru is shaking now, eyes still glazed, staring at the steam as if it holds the answer to life itself. And fuck... it’s so fucking creepy...

“But I am, I am... I’m worthless, I’m nothing... my grandfather... he’d done so many terrible things, had hurt s-so many people... he’d ruined... ruined Japan... e-everyone hated him... hated me... I have to do better... to be better... to fix... my grandfather’s... mistakes...”

His grandfather? Who the fuck is his grandfather? And why... why does he even matter? Even if he was so fucking terrible, Ishimaru... he ain’t... he...

“Dude... y’ain’t... ain’t yer grandfather... yer yer own person... an’ frankly... I kinda... kinda like... s-shit. Just... stop this, man. Just admit it. Admit it’s... too much...”

The kid shakes his head, and Mondo doesn’t know how he’s able to even hear him, as far fucking gone as he looks, but fuck, he’s clearly responding, ain’t he...?

“Nnnn- n-no! I- I... I can’t... can’t admit... weakness... god I’m so... so weak... pathetic... the children, they’re right about me, they’re all so... so right... I’ll never... amount to- to anything... I’m worthless... pathetic... scum...”

H-holy shit... Ishimaru he... he can’t fucking believe that... can he? No... n-no, he... he ain’t none of that shit, Mondo is, Mondo is, but not- not Ishimaru! He... he’s fucking... he...

“Ishimaru... Ishimaru, stop... s-stop! Y’ain’t... none a’ that is... is true... yer the best... goddamn person I ever... ever met, ya... ya never gave up on me... no matter how horrible I treated ya... ya just... wouldn’t leave... I tried ta make ya leave, why... why wouldn’t ya leave...”

He hadn’t meant to ask the question, voice so fucking soft, but he couldn’t help it. It’s been plaguing him for weeks now, wondering why... why Ishimaru bothered staying... why he didn’t just leave his ass... why he didn’t just... give up on him... like everyone always does...

“Me... leave? Why? Where would I... go...? I’ve n-never... had a friend... if this is... is friendship... then what else can I... do? I don’t... w-wanna... be...... alone.........”

Oh... oh, shit... suddenly, so many things make so much fucking sense. Why the kid always seems so fucking nervous and awkward around people, though he tries his damndest to hide it. Why he is always alone, never seen really talking to anyone, not without a reason. Why he always... always does his best to extend olive branches to people, offering to tutor or help or do whatever is needed to... to get them to talk to him... g-god... he never would have thought the kid would have no friends, even though it’s so fucking obvious when Mondo thinks about it. He’s just... he’s just so fucking bright and full of sunshine... Mondo can’t imagine people seeing that and not... not wanting to...

It’s right then, in that moment, brain stupid from heat, halfway gone but not fully gone yet, that Mondo... Mondo makes a decision.

If they survive this stupid fucking challenge... he... he will be Ishimaru— no, Kiyotaka, his name is- is Kiyotaka... he will be Kiyotaka’s friend... and he will be a fucking good one, the friend that the kid... that he fucking deserves...

If the kid even wants to be friends with him...

“Fuckin’... shit, man. Yer not... alone... I’m here. Ishimaru... Kiyotaka... I’m right... right here...”

The kid shakes his head, breath still shallow, but now it’s wavering, shaking... trembling... g-god... fuck...

“No... no... I’m alone, I’m alone. Everyone... always leaves... my mother... my grandfather... even my father would leave... if he could... he’s never... never understood me. No one... understands me... I don’t... even... understand...... myself..........”

Oh. Oh. Oh. This... this poor fucking boy... he... s-shit. Shit... this... they gotta fucking stop this... they...

“I... I understand ya. Yer... yer like me... ain’t ya? Shit. We gotta... gotta stop this, man... what are ya... tryin’... ta prove?”

Kiyotaka is shaking again, looking like he wants to cry but just... can’t. God... god... fucking... god.

“Everything. Everything. Every… everything… I have to prove them... wrong. I have to prove... that I can do this. If I... if I give up... i-if I let myself give up... then I fail. I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail. I c-can’t... fail, I can’t... g-give up... or else... what is... the point... of me...?”

Point? The point? Why... why does he have to have a point? Shit... he’s so fucking amazing, he... he doesn’t have to have a point... no more than just... just being...

“Ain’t gotta... have a point man... ya can just... be. Be... Kiyotaka. What’s so wrong... with that?”

The blank look on the kid’s face grows, his voice soft, weak. Trembling, like he doesn’t mean to say it, like he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Mondo has never heard someone sound so... so... dead before... h-holy shit...

“Everything. Everything. Everything. E-everything... is wrong with... me... I- I’m too... too much. T-too passionate... too vibrant... I- I hurt... hurt my own eyes... I hate... l-looking at myself... hate... b-being myself... if I could... be someone else... I- I would... gladly...”

No. No. No, fucking... no! Ish- Kiyo... Kiyotaka can’t fucking believe that... yeah, he’s so fucking passionate, so fucking bright, but that... that’s not a bad thing... he... he’s so fucking good... so fucking... amazing... and he... Mondo wouldn’t...

“I wouldn’t. Want that. Yer... fuck. Yer somethin’... somethin’ special... I thought I... I hated that ‘bout you, but... man you... you shine... I don’t deserve... someone as... as wonderful... as you...”

Kiyotaka is shaking his head again, barely breathing, looking so dead, so very, very... dead...

Oh, god...

“I- I’m not... wonderful. I’m not... anything. T-the children... they hated me... t-they all... hated me. My f-father... hates me. My mother... if she could s-see me... now... s-she’d hate me... too. Why... w-why do I bother... trying...? W-why... why don’t I just... g-give up...”

N-no... no, no, god, please... no... Mondo feels pressure behind his eyes, and he doesn’t think he has ever felt such pain. Because that... that sounds so goddamn familiar... he always has seen Kiyotaka as so different to him, so much better, so much brighter. But if the kid is to be believed... he... he thinks of himself like... like Mondo thinks of himself, and he... he can’t... can’t fucking stand that thought, oh god...

“Kiyo... Kiyota- Taka. Kiyo... Taka. Just... ya don’t hafta... give up... but yer... yer gonna kill yerself if ya... keep this up... s-shit...”

Mondo feels himself go cold when Kiyotaka responds, sounding half dead, looking so... so nothing...

“Kill... myself? No... I’m not- not that weak... not anymore... not... n-not again... but maybe... maybe... m-maybe it would be better. If I weren’t... weren’t...” a pause. “Alive...”

What?! No... no, no.... nonononononononononono-!!! He... he can’t... he can’t-

“What?! Dude... no... god... fuckin’... dammit! Ya can’t be... serious... Kiyo... Taka, ya can’t...”

“I am. I am. I- I am. If I wasn’t... so weak. If I wasn’t... s-so afraid. I know... k-know how to fix it... a-all of it. How to... t-to make it better. My father... would be happier. The children... w-would be happier. And I... I... I’d be... I’d be...”

A pause. Inhalation of breath. And then... softly, so fucking softly...

“Dead...”

No. No. No, fucking-! No. This... this is so fucking stupid, why is Mondo doing this, he... he has to stop this. This kid ain’t gonna stop, he can’t fucking stop, he won’t stop until he is fucking dead, and Mondo... Mondo can’t... he fucking can’t-

He can’t lose someone else... not during another fucking challenge that he fucking issued... he just... can’t.

“Okay. That’s it. This ain’t... fuckin’ worth it. If y’ain’t... gonna quit... then I! I fuckin’... I fuckin’ will. Ya... ya win... Kiyo... Taka... ya... ya win. Now, c’mon, man. Let’s… let’s get outta here.”

With all the strength he has left, Mondo stands and hobbles over to where Kiyotaka is sitting, looking like a puppet with its strings cut. He’s not moving, barely breathing, and his eyes are so glazed over Mondo doesn’t think he can even see right now. Mondo has never seen someone look so still before, and it scares the ever-loving shit out of him. Especially now that he... he knows that... that the kid has tried... or at least wanted...

Fuck.

But he doesn’t have time to hate himself for issuing this stupid ass challenge. He doesn’t have time to waste. Gathering all his strength, he bends down, and he wraps an arm around Kiyotaka, heart stopping when he feels how boneless he is, not moving at all. But then, as he starts moving towards the door, he feels the kid start to struggle. It’s weak and doesn’t sway Mondo even a second, but fuck does it relieve him. The kid is even able to walk a little, barely. It... it’s good.

The second he manages to get the door open, however, the cool air almost torture on his overheated skin, he feels Kiyotaka gasp, all the fragile strength he had gone as his knees buckle, making him deadweight. But Mondo hasn’t spent the majority of his life lifting weights for nothing, so he just adjusts his grip, taking on more of the kid’s weight. He doesn’t lift him, doesn’t have time for that, but he drags him bodily over to the bench, accidentally throwing him on it since he’s not really at a hundred percent himself. He sees the kid start to topple, then, and he immediately moves forward to steady the kid, the skin under his hands far, far too warm. Oh... shit, that’s not... not good, oh fuck...

“Goddamn shit. Ya look... fuck man. Why didn’t ya just... dammit. Ya need water... I’ll be right back.”

Mondo stand abruptly then, feeling clumsy and wrong. His chest feels so fucking painful, like it’s being sat on by an elephant, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more concerned for anyone. Well... other than one person... but shit, he can’t think of him, not now. Not now. Not when Kiyotaka needs him. He takes off his duster as he strides forward, tossing it carelessly on a bench, too fucking hot to deal with that shit. He needs to go quick, needs to... to get back to Kiyotaka... and he needs to drink some water himself, fuck, he’s so fucking dehydrated... fuck.

However... once he’s at the water cooler, filling up one of the paper cups for himself to drink, he hears the kid muttering again, the words making no goddamn sense, but damn if it doesn’t make his heart clench...

“...they won’t, they won’t, they won’t... I’m alone, again... all alone... everyone has left... everyone leaves me in the end... why would I expect anything different... why would I expect-“

Shit. Shit. Shit. Mondo quickly finishes filling the cup and downs it, filling the second one as quickly as possible while the kid rambles on about being alone again. As soon as the cup is full Mondo practically teleports back to the kid’s side, an odd sense in him that he never, ever wants to be anywhere else...

“Shit, Kiyotaka, I’m here. I just... had ta drink myself, shit. Now c’mon. Drink this. Please, man. Fer me. I can’t... ya can’t fuckin’ die on me, man... f-fuck...”

He carefully places his hand on the back of Kiyotaka’s neck, lifting it gently up, so he can get the kid to drink some water. He knows that the boy is prolly dehydrated as fuck, and he seriously hopes that’s the only thing wrong with him, because if it isn’t... s-shit. He can feel Kiyotaka struggle as he moves him, his lips moving, muttering those fucking words again...

“W-why am I so weak, I need to... to be stronger... to be... better...”

God, is everything this kid says gonna make his heart break? God... he’s not equipped for this, he doesn’t know how to be kind, to be gentle, but after all the shit he has done, all the pain and misery he has needlessly made this wondrous, incredible, sad fucking boy go through... he owes it to him to not only try, but to succeed.

Even if it fucking kills him...

“Shh... hey, it’s okay. Y’ain’t fuckin’ weak, man, yer goddamn incredible. Now c’mon. Stop fightin’ me. Let me take care a’ you. You... you’ve been so strong fer so long. Let me... let me help you...”

With that, he slowly presses the cup against the kid’s lips, and he feels as he struggles, whimpering softly, scared. Shit, he... he prolly has no idea what the fuck is going on, is so fucking disoriented...

He begins whispering to the kid then, not knowing what to say, but just... knowing he has to say something, something soothing. He hums softly as he decides to just... let the soft words that he’s been gathering for weeks now out of his heart, telling Kiyotaka that he is there, that he will always be there, promising that he’s not alone, that he’ll never be alone again, that Mondo will take care of him, he promises... he promises...

And then he... he says...

“Open up, Kiyotaka, shit. P-please... I’m beggin’ ya man... just... drink some water...”

The kid... Kiyotaka stops struggling then, and finally, finally opens his lips. It’s just a little, a small amount, but it’s enough for a small trickle of water to get passed his dry and cracked lips, which is so fucking relieving. But then... then the kid startles again, a soft sound of distress getting released as he panics, taking too much water too quick. Oh, shit...

So fucking scared, not knowing what to do but knowing he has to do something, Mondo lowers the hand holding the cup but doesn’t put it down, moving his other hand to rub soothing circles on the kid’s back, shushing him softly.

“Aw, shit. Slowly, man, slowly. That’s it, nice an’ easy... I’m gonna try that again, okay? Go slow this time. Idiot.”

With that, Mondo moves his hand back to Kiyotaka’s neck and brings the cup back up to his lips, praying that he will drink this time. He’s so fucking dehydrated and if he won’t drink, Mondo is gonna have to call an ambulance or some shit, because he needs liquid, and fast.

Luckily, this time when he asks the kid to open up, he does so immediately. And then, when he tips a little of the liquid into his mouth, the kid doesn’t panic and just... sips it. Slowly. Mondo can see his throat working, moving slowly, swallowing the water, and fuck... he’s never felt so relieved in his life, watching the kid drink some fucking water, god...

However, then the kid is letting out a sound of desperation, seeming to realize that he is so fucking thirsty or something. He sees the kid’s hands try to come up, wavering so fucking much as they try and force the water down faster, but Mondo stops him, knowing he needs to go slow.

“Aw, shit man, stop! Ya gotta go slow. Yer dehydrated, ya can’t drink it too fast... trust me, man. I got you. I won’t let you down. Not again. I… I promise.”

And he means it. He fucking means it. He has failed this kid so many fucking times, but he won’t this time, and he never will again. Because now he... he knows that this kid fucking matters. He’s always known that, from the minute the kid had run into him and knocked his world on its side, but- but he... he’s always been so afraid of it. Of the feeling. Of what it means.

But he’s not afraid of it. Not now. Not... not anymore. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, why this boy matters so fucking much to him, but it just doesn’t matter now, and he refuses to let his goddamn fucking nonsense ruin this shit anymore. This kid has faced some truly horrible fucking things, things that Mondo has barely scratched the surface of but can tell have damaged the kid so fucking much. He has scars all over his chest and back, which Mondo has noticed before, of course he’s noticed them, but now he’s really starting to realize what exactly they mean, and it just... it’s fucking him up inside, and all he wants is to bundle this kid up and never let him get hurt again, keep him safe from all harm, and Mondo has always felt like that, always wanted that, but now, for once...

He’s not afraid of it.

And he won’t back down.

Not unless Kiyotaka wants him to...

(But even then. Even then, Mondo will do everything he can to keep him safe. He won’t stalk the kid, but he will make sure that no one dares to lay a finger on him. He’s firmly under Mondo’s protection now. Nothing will change that. Absolutely nothing.)

Knowing that Kiyotaka needs to drink more, so he’s not so weak (physically. He’s so fucking strong emotionally, so fucking strong) anymore, he presses the cup back to the boy’s lips, his heart lurching softly when the kid immediately opens up and drinks, slowly, not even needing Mondo to remind him to go slow and steady. Mondo is so fucking proud of the kid, like a fucking mother hen, but he doesn’t care. This kid deserves all the softness in the world. If there’s one thing Mondo is sure of, it’s that.

It doesn’t take long for the cup to run empty, but the kid needs more, so Mondo gets up to refill the cup. But then he’s fucking crying, sad and pitiful, and Mondo immediately returns, holding him close, saying to him, “aw, shit, I’m just getting more water, alright? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And when Mondo is forced to leave again— though god does he not want to— he keeps talking. Promising that he’ll be right back, that he’s not leaving, that he will never leave again... promises that he will never break, and not just because he doesn’t break promises, but because he fucking means the shit out of them. More than any promise he’s ever made before.

He’s back soon after, bringing two cups with him this time, helping Kiyotaka drink, and drink, and drink. Mondo doesn’t know much about severe dehydration, just knows that it’s important for the person to be given fluids, preferably sports drinks, but since he doesn’t have that shit, water will have to do. If Kiyotaka doesn’t get better after the third cup, Mondo’s gonna try and see if he can take him to the nurse if the lady is still there. If not... shit. He’ll prolly have to call an ambulance, since he doesn’t think Kiyotaka could handle riding on his hog to the hospital, which is at least a ten-minute ride away. He’s hoping he won’t have to do that, though. Hopes that drinking the water will be enough to help him. He also hopes that it’s just dehydration that’s the problem... fuck.

The good thing is that Kiyotaka is drinking willingly. And the more he drinks, the more lucid he appears. He still seems very out of it, but about halfway through the third cup, he starts blinking rapidly, like waking himself from a dream. His eyebrows furrow, and he starts looking around a bit. He takes in the bathhouse and even looks down at his chest, like he’s just then noticing that he’s half naked. Mondo allows him to do this, but always makes sure the kid is still drinking, wanting to make sure he gets at least three cups in, since he had to have lost a lot of water while sweating. Mondo himself isn’t feeling too hot and knows he needs to drink more, too, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t ensure that Kiyotaka is okay before doing anything else for himself.

Mondo knows the exact second that things slot into place for the kid, since one second he’s loose and pliant in his arms, allowing him to hold his neck and give him the water, and the next he’s sitting ramrod straight, eyes wide. It startles Mondo a bit and he straightens up from the hunch he’d found himself in, so fucking relieved to see some lucidity in those bright red eyes. Fuck, but was that glazed look terrifying...

“Oh, shit. Are ya back? Ya really fuckin’ scared me there, dude, the fuck...? I was ‘bout ta take yer ass ta the nurse, consequences be damned. Shit, should I still do that...? Kiyotaka?”

The kid is just staring at him, his skin far too pale, his eyes moving back and forth over Mondo’s face as he seems to try to be figuring something out. They then widen somehow further and then-

“Aw, shit! Fuck, man, what the hell!”

Mondo stares wide eyed at the kid as he abruptly stands, his body shaking horribly, looking like he just saw a ghost, shit... Mondo is afraid the kid is about to collapse so he stands quickly, hands hovering to ensure he doesn’t fall, but the kid doesn’t seem to notice him. Oh... shit... he’s not better, is he? God fucking dammit...

“W-w-w-what... w-what... h-h-happened?! I... I didn’t... oh god...”

Mondo sees Kiyotaka sway then, looking like he’s about to faint, scaring the absolute shit out of Mondo. Rushing forward, he grabs the kid by his shoulders, holding him upright. Part of him wants to pull him close, to wrap him up and never let him go, but he can tell the kid is super fucking freaked out, and he doesn’t want to make him panic, shit.

“What the fuck... aw, shit, y’ain’t better. Okay, that’s it. I’m takin’ ya ta the fuckin’ nurse. Goddamnit...”

Mondo tries to move Kiyotaka, then, carefully guiding him over to the door so they can make the stupidly long walk to the nurse’s office, mind racing a mile a minute as he tries to determine if it wouldn’t just be better to call the ambulance now. On one hand, he doubts the nurse is still there, since it’s well after curfew, but on the other... calling for an ambulance means he might have to explain this shit, and he just... shit. But he needs to do right by Kiyotaka, and if that includes getting himself in trouble, he’ll fucking do it. He doesn’t care what happens to him, just as long as this wonderful, incredible boy is safe. Huh...

As distracted as Mondo is, he doesn’t expect any resistance to his movement, expecting Kiyotaka to be as pliant as he previously had been. As such, when the kid fucking pulls away from him, weak as it is, Mondo isn’t expecting it and thus is unable to keep his grip. And he watches, heart stopping, as the kid slams into the row of lockers, collapsing immediately to the ground with a soft noise of pain.

Shit!!!

“Shit! Kiyotaka, are you fuckin’ alright?! What the hell, man?! Stop bein’ an idiot and let me take ya ta the nurse, fuck!”

He doesn’t mean to sound angry or anything, he’s just so fucking scared, needing the kid to cooperate so he can just get better already and not make Mondo worry he’s gonna fucking die or something... but given the way that Kiyotaka glares at him (or tries to glare, Mondo can tell he’s still a little out of it and can’t quite put the usual amount of passion into it), he can tell the kid intends to be difficult, looking at him like he doesn’t want Mondo to come any closer or something. Mondo immediately says, ‘fuck that,’ though, and rushes to the kid’s side, kneeling down, his eyes bleeding with his concern. He watches the kid blink, some more lucidity rising within the red, as he opens his mouth to speak.

“W-wait! I don’t... dang it. I don’t need to go to the- t-the nurse! I’m just... confused. Give me... give me a moment to... collect myself!” Kiyotaka says, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking. Mondo looks at him firmly, ensuring the kid means it and that he’s not just saying random, nonsense bullshit again.

Once he’s satisfied that the kid is, in fact, lucid enough to make that decision, he nods stiffly, still feeling so very, very concerned.

“Alright... shit, fine. If ya say so. But ya gotta drink some more water, alright?! Slowly. I should drink more too, fuck...”

Mondo stands, then, and walks over to the water cooler again, hands tingling unpleasantly as he leaves Kiyotaka’s side. He quickly fills up two fresh cups of water and hurries back, handing the kid one of the cups as soon as he is by his side.

As soon as the kid takes it, Mondo flops down to sit beside him, so close they touch, and begins to drink his water, finding comfort in being able to feel the kid warm against his side. He is honestly thirsty as fuck, wanting to gulp it down again, but he forces himself to go slow, not wanting to be a hypocrite. He notices after a second that Kiyotaka isn’t drinking and is just staring at him blankly, eyes glazing over again, which scares him more than he is willing to say, fuck.

“Dude. Drink. Or I’m draggin’ ya ta the nurse, kickin’ an’ screamin’. Don’t think I won’t,” Mondo rumbles, startling the kid out of whatever fugue he’d entered into. The kid glares at him lightly, not nearly as strong as Mondo knows it could be, but at least he doesn’t try and counter him. He just brings the cup to his lips and drinks the cool water slowly, his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks hard about something. They don’t glaze over again, though, so Mondo lets him be and just drinks his water, every cell in his body so fucking aware of the kid sitting directly beside him. It honestly would scare him, how much he cares about this kid, if he’d not already decided to not care about that shit anymore. He cares about the kid. He doesn’t know why, he just does. End of fucking story.

Mondo doesn’t know how long they sit there drinking their water, and he doesn’t really care. He usually hates sitting still for so long, his skin crawling to get up and do something already, but strangely... he doesn’t really mind it too much. Sitting here, beside Kiyotaka. It... despite the worry he still feels, there’s also a strange calmness inside him now. Like... like something inside him that had been out of place and broken for years is just... gone, allowing him to breathe easy for the first time. It’s so strange but also... so very, very nice...

Eventually their cups run empty, and Mondo is about to offer to get them both some more water again when the kid speaks. His voice is low and shaky, but it sounds a lot better and more lucid than it had before, which relieves the shit out of him. But then he comprehends the words, and he...

“O-Owada... back in... in the, uh, sauna... I didn’t, um. Say anything strange. Did I?” Kiyotaka asks softly, looking very nervous. It concerns Mondo a lot that the kid apparently doesn’t remember what happened in the sauna, but he supposes it makes sense. He had been super fucking outta it...

He still takes his time to think about it. He usually just blurts out his words, no thought put into them at all, but this... shit. This matters. And he has to be so fucking careful if he doesn’t want to hurt the kid again. And god, does he not wanna do that...

Finally, he figures he’ll go the safe route and figure out what, exactly, the kid does and doesn’t remember. If he remembers nothing, then maybe... maybe it would be better to keep it that way, shit...

Ignoring the way his heart clenches at the thought, he sets his face into a carefully neutral expression, revealing nothing as he speaks, voice a low rumble.

“That depends. What do ya remember?”

Mondo watches, heart clenched strangely again, as Kiyotaka bites his lip gently, eyes unfocused as he thinks. They’re not glazed, though, so Mondo thinks he’s just concentrating, not zoning out. After a few moments, the kid glances up at him, expression open and searching. It makes Mondo want to gasp, everything in him swirling, and when the kid speaks, still looking at him, he... h-he...

“I’m… I’m not sure. It’s all... fuzzy. I can’t quite tell... what is real or not. I have no idea what I said during that last part, though... just fragments of old memories and thoughts.” Kiyotaka pauses, his hands shaking lightly. He looks away then, down at the ground, and Mondo feels so strangely bereaved... “But I... I remember you... you said... things. About- a-about me. Y-you... you called me... wonderful. Special. H-heh! H-how r-ridiculous! I must... must have been- been hallucinating! Aha!”

The kid sounds nervous, frantic, like he’s afraid Mondo will hurt him, like he’s afraid Mondo will laugh at him, will tell him that he... he’s wrong, that Mondo hadn’t said that, that he... he doesn’t believe that...

Which is bullshit. Because he did say that. And he’d meant it. Means it. Fully and completely.

Mondo consciously forces his shoulders to lose the tension that had entered them unbidden at Kiyotaka’s frantic words, sighing softly, a wry smile rising on his lips as he looks at the kid. The kid looks so fucking scared, so desperate, like he doesn’t believe that Mondo had said that shit, but that he wants to believe it.

And, shit... even if he hadn’t said it, he sure as shit would say it now. Because Kiyotaka truly is wonderful and special, ain’t he...?

Heh...

“Nah. That, uh. That happened. You really don’t remember what you said?” he asks as casually as he can, his head tilted in question, hoping he’s hiding the way his heart is racing well enough, but honestly not really caring if he’s not. He... he doesn’t want to keep shit from this kid. Not... not anymore... he watches as Kiyotaka shakes his head weakly, moving his eyes to stare at his hands again. It makes Mondo’s smile widen, eyes soft as silk. Heh. So... so fucking cute...

“Heh. Makes sense. Ya weren’t exactly all there, ya know. Kept mumblin’ bits a’ nonsense. Could barely make sense a’ ya myself, tell the truth. Somethin’... somethin’ ‘bout yer grandfather. ‘Bout needin’ ta right his wrongs. An’ then there was somethin’ ‘bout other kids? An’ hatred? Ya mentioned how yer da don’t understand ya, how he hates ya, or somethin’. An’ ‘bout how... how ya... ya hate yerself. Which I think is fuckin’ bullshit, ya shouldn’t fuckin’ hate yerself, yer incredible, but whatever. There was a lot a’ other stuff too. ‘Bout not givin’ up, ‘bout havin’ ta prove people wrong. Some other shit, too, but I don’t really ‘member it all, sorry. But... shit man. Is that... is that real? Did ya... did ya really mean alla’ that?”

Mondo doesn’t really mean to ask the question, knowing the kid needs to be allowed to rest and relax, not be asked stupid fucking questions, but he can’t help it. He’s not lying when he says he doesn’t quite remember everything. It’s all starting to blur in his head, and while he’s fairly certain he remembers the most of it, some details are starting to slip away, and he just... did the kid really say all that shit, or had he imagined it, too? Shit...

But then... then, after a moment, Kiyotaka, he... h-he...

“Aw, shit,” he mutters under his breath, which seems to just make the kid cry harder. It breaks Mondo’s heart so much, hating seeing his tears. God... this kid just always fucking cries around him, doesn’t he...? Shit... shit! H-he didn’t want to make the kid cry! G-god, he... he wants so badly to hold the kid, to keep him safe from the sorrow within him, but would the kid even want that? After everything he’s done, all he’s taken from him, would he actually want to be held in his arms? It’s his fault he’s crying, his fault he’s in this situation, and he doesn’t know if Kiyotaka would want to be anywhere near him, let alone in his arms! But he... he wants so, so badly to... t-to...

“Please, man, don’t cry, shit, I’m sorry! I... aw, fuck it. Come here.”

Mind made up, Mondo darts forward and— carefully as he possibly can— wraps an arm around the kid, pulling him gently to his chest, firm and tight. He can feel the kid struggle against him, and it kills him inside to feel it, especially when the kid starts frantically apologizing, like he thinks Mondo is going to hurt him or something. He thinks it might be best to let him go, to apologize and never touch him again, but he... h-he thinks the problem isn’t that Mondo is hugging him, but that the kid thinks Mondo is upset. So maybe... if he can reassure the kid that it’s okay, that he wants this, maybe... m-maybe he’ll stop struggling so hard... and maybe... m-maybe...

“Shhh. Shh, c’mon. It’s okay, Kiyotaka. I’m here. Y’ain’t alone. I got you. Ain’t got nothin’ ta ‘pologize fer, ya got it? Yer okay. We’re both okay.”

He keeps his arms steady on Kiyotaka, praying to any god that will listen that he’s doing the right thing, that he’s not hurting the kid more, that this is okay, and then... after a minute... after a minute...

The kid stops. Stops struggling, stops apologizing. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are still leaking tears, but he doesn’t seem distressed at Mondo holding him anymore. At least... Mondo hopes he isn’t. And then... t-then...

Kiyotaka buries his head in his chest, firm and present, hiding his face. His arms come up too, fists curling into Mondo’s tank top, clutching it like his life depends on it. And then he... he just...

Lets go.

The kid is crying so fucking hard, chest heaving, sobs loud and noisy, and fuck, does it hurt. Mondo feels so fucking helpless as he holds the kid, doing all he can to rub soothing circles on his back, whisper soft words in his ear, doing all he can to remember the shit Daiya would say when he was little and he still allowed himself to cry, not yet realizing it was wrong of him to do such a thing. He feels like it’s not enough, never enough, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s never seen the kid cry so hard before. Before he- he would always stifle it, keep it in.

Mondo hadn’t realized it at the time, but seeing the kid truly let go now, he can see just how hard he would fight to keep his tears and true sorrow contained, and he feels so much for the boy that he can’t even begin to describe it. It’s like... a sad kind of pride. Like he’s proud the kid was able to keep going despite the sorrow and despair he clearly feels, but also so, so fucking sad that the kid had to do it. That he had to keep this all in, unable to have anyone to share his burden with, to shoulder the pain and anguish he so clearly feels inside. Mondo... M-Mondo knows what that is like, what it’s like to have to always keep everything in, never let it out, and he... he hates that Kiyotaka knows it, too. The pain. The loneliness.

Maybe they really aren’t so different... are they?

Fuck... and who knows? Maybe that’s why he’s always cared so much about this kid. He... he just reminds him of him so goddamn much. Of... of the kid he used to be, before he built up walls so high around that child that he’d never see the light of day again. Of the scared little boy that he was, wondering why his parents hated him, why he was never good enough, why he didn’t fucking matter. He’d always been so scared and sad back then, so small and weak. Kinda like Kiyotaka is now, even with how fucking strong he knows this kid to usually be.

But...

But he had Daiya, didn’t he? Even when the whole world was against him, (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~) he... he always had Daiya. Daiya, who loved him. Daiya, who cared for him. Daiya who raised him, Daiya who taught him, Daiya who sacrificed fucking everything for him. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~). It didn’t matter that he was scared, or that he was weak. Daiya loved him regardless, and he always, always kept him safe.

Kiyotaka... Kiyotaka never had that... did he? He can’t say for sure, but the kid has never mentioned a sibling, either older or younger, which makes him think he’s an only, no sibs, bro or sis. Which means that he... he didn’t have anyone always on his side. Someone who would protect him no matter what. Or someone that he could protect, no matter what. His da is clearly not that great, if Kiyotaka’s words about him hating him were to go by, and his ma is gone, who knows for how long, or what his relationship was to her when she was around. He... he didn’t have someone to protect him... to keep him safe, from all harm... to... t-to love him...

Eventually the kid stops crying so hard, the desperate sobs petering out into soft, quiet ones, his breath hitching only slightly every few seconds. And then, a little while later he... he stops sobbing entirely. The tears have run dry, his body has stopped shaking, but he... he doesn’t move away. He just stays there, in Mondo’s arms.

Like he belongs there...

“Ya feelin’ better?”

The words are said softly. Gently. He doesn’t wanna spook the kid, knowing how fragile he prolly feels right about now. Mondo gets it. He hasn’t let himself cry fully in years, not even... h-heh. Well. Point is, while he’s not truly cried in years, he remembers how fragile it leaves you feeling afterward. How shaky.

And when he sees Kiyotaka’s eyes dart up, looking scared and afraid, Mondo doesn’t tense up. Doesn’t try and hide the openness on his face. He lets the kid see it. The softness. The care. The... the affection, because god, does he feel affection. He lets the kid see it, and he feels the kid settle against him, the fear vanishing, though the lingering sorrow remains. God... how Mondo wishes he could take that away...

“Yes. I... yes. M-Mondo... t-thank you. I... I’m sorry...”

Mondo can’t help the way he reaches out at that, hand gently grasping a warm, wet cheek. He realizes absently that that’s the first time the kid has said his name, and god is it making his insides squirm. And he can see the kid look at him with wide, watery eyes, lips open on a soft gasp, looking almost... dazed... shit...

“Don’t. Thank me. Apologize. Ain’t nothin’, got it? I... I didn’t mind. At all. So, don’t... don’t apologize. It’s alright. You’re... you’re alright.”

And he means it. God... does he mean it. It... it had felt nice. So very, very nice. Holding Kiyotaka. Comforting him as he cried, somehow not fucking it up as badly as he’d been fearing. He’s always been so fucking shit at comforting people, feeling like he has to be tough all the time, unable to comfort since tough people aren’t soft and sympathetic. But here, with Kiyotaka... h-he’d been able to be soft. Kind. Gentle. All the things he’s secretly yearned to be for so fucking long, but never was able to, since he doesn’t lead a life that is suited for such things. He always has to be so tough, so strong, but... but with Kiyotaka... with this wondrous, amazing, incredible, beautiful boy...

He can be soft.

And he will never be able to thank Kiyotaka enough for giving him that ability.

And when Kiyotaka smiles at him, wide, bright, unrestrained...? Mondo can’t help how he smiles back, wider than he’s ever felt it go before, heart beating so softly and yet meaningfully, feeling so very much for this precious boy. He... he’ll never be able to repay him for this... will he? For what he has given him this day... even if they are never this close again, even if Kiyotaka doesn’t want anything to do with him after this, he’ll never forget what this felt like. What it feels like to be soft. And gentle. And... and kind.

But... shit. Shit.

Now that they have this... now that he’s tasted this... what happens now? He... he doesn’t wanna...

“Shit, man. The fuck we do now? I... I don’t wanna go back ta how it was. I... shit. I was a goddamn monster ta ya these last few weeks... since we met, shit… I... goddamn it,” Mondo mutters, feeling his smile fade as pain fills him, remembering all the shit he has done to this poor, amazing kid. The shit he’s said. The way he’s acted. Kiyotaka gave him so much today, but he hadn’t earned any of it, had he...? He can see the kid shaking his head, looking frantic, like he doesn’t agree, and Mondo can’t help how he glares. Lightly, but it still makes the kid flinch back, proving how much he’s hurt him, and how much he can still, potentially, hurt him. God... he doesn’t wanna ever hurt him... not again… “No, don’t deny it. I was a fuckin’ moron. I just... I ain’t ever... I don’t get you, Kiyotaka. What I feel... when you- you look at me...”

And it’s true. He still doesn’t quite get it. What he feels. Why he feels it. It... he thinks he might kinda get it, might kinda realize what this feeling is, why he wants to protect this kid so badly, but it... it doesn’t quite feel like it fits. And he just... he just doesn’t know... but... if not this then... what else? H-heh...

Sighing softly, feeling so confused but strangely not angry about it, Mondo allows a wry smile to rise on his lips as he presses closer to the kid, as close as he’s always secretly longed to be, since that first day when he held him but not ever close enough. One of his hands is curled loosely around Kiyotaka’s waist, while his other is still gently cupping his cheek and has been for a little while now. He notices dimly how they are almost bare, Kiyotaka wearing only his underwear while Mondo is in his thin tank top and loose black pants, and he can feel the kid’s heat as it presses against him, oddly intoxicating. Mondo’s hair is down from its pomp, having been knocked loose sometime in the sauna, and it’s been years since someone outside his gang saw him without it up, it makes him feel so naked to have it down, but he... he doesn’t really care. Not when it’s only Kiyotaka who sees it.

He... he wants Kiyotaka to see all of him... every last part.

Because he... he views the kid like... like a...

“It’s like yer my brother or somethin’. Like... my nerdy, dorky little brother. Someone I gotta take care of. Protect. Keep safe, from all harm. I never... shit. I had my brother, but he... he’s gone now. I can’t... I couldn’t protect him, fuck. An’ I… f-fuck. I can’t protect you, either, can I...? No, I… I can’t... I can’t... a-and why the fuck would you want a fuck-up like me, anyway? You... god, you could do so much better... why would you want someone like me as your brother, s-shit...”

The thought stabs Mondo through the heart, the realization that as much as he may want to have this with Kiyotaka, to have a brotherhood with him, they... they likely never will. Because Mondo has messed up too much. Because Mondo ruined their chance before it ever even had the opportunity to live. Because Mondo is so fucking broken and damaged that no one in their right mind would ever want him as a brother. Daiya was forced to have him, and he was so fucking amazing that he chose to love him anyway, but Kiyotaka... he doesn’t have to be stuck with him. He doesn’t owe Mondo anything, anything at all. In fact, Mondo is the one who owes Kiyotaka. So much. So very, very much. Kiyotaka wouldn’t want him. He just... he wouldn’t.

And as he feels the kid freeze against him, breath stuttering and harsh, he... he knows he’s right, isn’t he? S-shit... he shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have thought himself good enough to deserve such a gift. Kiyotaka, wanting him like that... wanting him at all... while he may have been soft and pliant in his arms a moment ago, seeming like he was at ease, that doesn’t mean it was because of Mondo or anything that Mondo did. He’d been through an emotional time and he’d needed comfort, and Mondo had just been the nearest warm body. Doesn’t mean he trusts Mondo or that he wants anything from him at all. He’d have to be the world’s biggest fool to think Kiyotaka could ever want him, want him at all.

And Mondo... he may be a fool, but he ain’t that big of a fool.

Heart aching painfully in his chest, Mondo can’t help how he pulls away, not wanting to force Kiyotaka to be near him when he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve it at all.

“Shit, I was right, goddamn it, aw shit! J-just forget I said anything, I- fuck!”

Mondo hands come up to clutch at his hair, then, the grip tight and painful but he doesn’t care. He wants it to hurt. To ache. It’s what he deserves for fucking this whole thing up, for being so woefully unworthy of being close to such a bright and beautiful boy. Maybe, had he been better— a better person, a good person— he could have been worthy of it. Had he never let his insecurities get in the way, had he just accepted what he felt as true the minute he felt it, not pushed it away in fear, maybe... maybe then, he could have had this. Kiyotaka, as his friend. Kiyotaka, as his brother.

But no. No, no. He had pushed it away. Had been afraid of it, so very afraid. Had let his fear turn to anger, like he was so wont to do, and ruined everything before it even began.

He deserves all the misery he feels for how stupid he’d been...

Mondo gets jolted out of his thoughts when he feels a soft, tentative hand touch him, his eyes wide and manic as he looks at Kiyotaka, who looks so fucking afraid, god. H-he scares the kid so goddamn much, like he scares everyone, because he’s a monster, a senseless beast that only ever hurts people. Breaks people. He’s not allowed nice things, not allowed good things. Not allowed to be gentle, or soft, or kind. He... he’s just not...

To his utter shock, he can see Kiyotaka smile at him. It’s soft, and hesitant, and... and beautiful... but it can’t be real. It... the kid is trying to be kind, trying to hide his fear to make Mondo feel better, because he’s so goddamn nice, so fucking good, shit-

“N-no! Don’t worry! I was just- not expecting that! But I- I feel- the same. I feel- the same! I would be honored, Mondo Owada, to be considered your brother! I’ve never had a brother, never even had a friend, but I couldn’t imagine a better one than you! Y-you... you’re incredible...”

He... he... does he really mean that...? Does he truly... truly wanna be Mondo’s... Mondo’s brother? The kid is so bad at lying, and it hadn’t sounded like he was lying, but... but it... shit. It can’t be true, it can’t... after all the shit Mondo has done, how could the kid ever see him positively, even a little? Mondo isn’t a good brother, he’d always been so shit to Daiya, taking and taking and taking and never giving. He’d taken everything from Daiya, never satisfied with what Daiya gave freely, so he stole the most important thing in the end.

H-he’d just steal everything from Kiyotaka too.

It’s what he does...

“Ya can’t mean that, Kiyotaka... I’m a goddamn mess... and you... you are... shit. You’re goddamn perfect and I’m hot dog shit, ya can’t... y-you can’t...”

And it’s true. Mondo has more to say, more to confess, but his throat is so thick, and he doesn’t know how to say it. To confess all his crimes to Kiyotaka, to let him know how unworthy he is. He- he hears Kiyotaka take a deep breath, and he doesn’t wanna hear what the kid has to say, doesn’t wanna hear him agree, but then he’s speaking, and his words... t-they...

“Mondo... I- I’m not perfect. I... I’m not. B-but that’s okay! I do my best, but so do you! I can see how hard you try and sometimes that’s all that matters! You’re not... dog feces! You... you’re so much more, Mondo...”

No... n-no, the kid, he... he doesn’t understand, he just- he doesn’t understand! Mondo, he has to... has to tell him. N-not all of it, he’s not strong enough to confess it all, he’s always been so goddamn weak, but he- he has to... a little. Enough so the kid knows. So he stops feeling pity for him and realizes that he...

He’s just not worth it...

“No. N-no, I ain’t shit, goddamnit, I...” Mondo has to stop, feeling so fucking conflicted. On one hand he wants to confess, on the other hand he wants to be selfish, and he just... h-he just...

But he can’t. Be selfish. Not... not about this.

Not with Kiyotaka.

With a soft sigh, he feels the tension inside him melt away, his body relaxing with the decision he’s made. All of his emotions— both good and bad— fade away until all he feels inside is... is...

Cold resignation...

“I hate myself. Always fuckin’ have. Heh. There, I... I fuckin’ said it. I love the gang, don’t get me wrong. I love bein’ with ‘em, bein’ a part a’ somethin’ bigger than myself. I love leadin’ ‘em, ridin’ my hog, wind in my hair... I fuckin’ love it. Even bein’ here, unable ta lead directly, I still like callin’ the shots from behind the scenes while my second in command implements it an’ shit. Means somethin’, ‘least. But... I dunno. Sometimes I’ll be in the middle ofa fight and I’ll just... wanna stop. Quit. Do somethin’... do somethin’ else fer a change. But I… heh. I can’t. I promised my bro... Daiya, I... I promised him I’d keep the gang together. He built it from scratch an’ I... I can’t leave that. I made a promise, a man’s promise, ta keep us together. So, I... I gotta keep doin’ that. Can’t stop. Ever. Not ‘til the gang is dead an’ shit, all the members movin’ on ta do better shit with their lives. An’ me… heh. Not much use fer me after that, is there?”

Mondo pauses, and then looks down at his hands, a small, sad smile on his face.

“But you? Yer gonna go places, man. Shootin’ fer the moon. Prime fuckin’ Minister, shit, man. Never met anyone with such high goals, really. Never met anyone who wanted ta do that sorta shit, change things from the inside. Heard ya in class, talkin’ ‘bout yer plans an’ shit. Wantin’ ta make the world a better place, havin’ such hope for this garbage planet. Ya... ya’ve got drive. Determination. An’ I know yer gonna do it, ya know. Succeed. More than any a’ the other chucklefucks we go ta school with, ‘least. Yer just so... determined. Got such passion. I... I admire that ‘bout ya, always did.”

Mondo pauses again, and he… he laughs. It’s sad, and pathetic, and it... he... h-heh...

“But that… heh. That ain’t me, Kiyo. Ain’t me. I ain’t got plans, ain’t got any fuckin’ clue a’ what I’m gonna do after school ends. They got me takin’ fuckin’ leadership classes an’ shit, but the fuck am I gonna do with that bullshit? I can lead a gang, yeah, but that… heh. That’s ‘bout it, Christ. An’ ya… yer gonna see that one day. And yer gonna leave me. And I’ll be happy fer ya, ‘course I will, but... sh-shit. God... goddamnit...”

Mondo doesn’t know where he’s going with this. He doesn’t know what he’s saying or why he’s saying it. His head is so jumbled, so scrambled, and part of him wants to tell Kiyotaka everything. About his parents. About his brother. About what he did, what he stole. He wants to confess so, so badly, to see the hatred and anger and rage on that kid’s face when he realizes how big a piece of shit Mondo really is, horrified that he’d ever felt pity for such a pitiless creature.

But...

He can’t. Can’t do that. He... he can’t burden Kiyotaka with his bullshit. And knowing the kid... he’d still try. To feel pity. To feel sorrow. He- he’s such a good person, so bright and shining. He’s the kind of person who would see a merciless and dangerous monster like him and think there’s something worthwhile in it. It wouldn’t be until his neck is snapped under Mondo’s uncaring hand that he’d realize he was wrong. And maybe... maybe not even then. He’d die, thinking Mondo was better than he was, even if it were Mondo who killed him.

God...

So, he can’t tell the truth. Can’t burden the kid like that. But he... he can’t let him get close. Even if he... he really wants to...

“I’ll just hold ya back. Ya don’t want someone like me, Kiyo. Ya don’t want someone like me at all. So... I ‘ppreciate yer words. But it may be best ta leave this here. Ta... ta forget ‘bout this all and just... move on. I’ll leave ya alone and ya won’t hafta-”

“No!” Mondo hears echo through the room, cutting off his words so thoroughly. It startles the fuck out of him, and he can’t help how he stares, wide-eyed, up at Kiyotaka. It’s weird, looking up to see the kid, but he’s sitting upright, almost standing but not quite, knees firmly planted on the floor. But seeing as how Mondo is crumbled pathetically on the floor, sitting back on his thighs, he has to look up to see Kiyotaka. And he looks... looks so...

Scared...

But...

Not... not of- of... of Mondo...?

“Mondo, please! I just... look. I- I try to be perfect, but I... I’m not! And I know you aren’t either! But... but maybe that’s okay! Maybe... m-maybe... maybe we can learn to be not perfect... together? I, ah. I don’t know! A-all I know is... I want to be f-friends with you, Mondo Owada. I don’t care about your flaws; I don’t care that you’re in a gang! I just... I want... w-we can be brothers. If you want... we can be brothers. I want... I would want nothing more than to be your brother! Your kyoudai!”

Brothers. Brothers. Kiyotaka wants them to be... brothers...

It’s too good to be true. Too fucking good to be true. Mondo doesn’t get nice things like this. He doesn’t get soft, kind, gentle things. He gets shit. He gets cruelty. He gets anger and hatred and rage. He gets angry fists and cruel words, and a suspicious look on his back at all fucking times. After all the shit he has done, the people he has hurt, the lives he has ruined, he... he doesn’t deserve... he just doesn’t...

But as he sits there, staring up at Kiyotaka with wide eyes and an open mouth, he... he remembers something. Something the kid had said, in the sauna. How he... he never had a friend before. How everyone always hated him. And it could have just been insecurity talking, the kid thinking people hated him when they really didn’t but judging by the scars, he... he would doubt that.

He’s never had a friend. He’s never had a brother. Someone to keep him safe. To protect him from all harm. Someone to hold onto, someone to tell him it is alright. That he is alright. He... he hasn’t had that.

And Mondo is the worst choice for a brother. He knows it, okay? He’s so fucking awful it’s not funny. But... but he... the kid doesn’t seem to get that. And Mondo is too weak to explain why he shouldn’t want it. And, as such, he... Kiyotaka wants to be friends. Brothers. With him.

Mondo is a mess. He messes everything up, ruining everything he touches. He... he doesn’t want to ruin Kiyotaka too. He doesn’t want to hurt him. He... he never...

But maybe...

Maybe...

It’s stupid. God, so fucking stupid. But maybe... if he tries hard, so fucking hard... if he is careful, keeps his anger in check, does all he can, he... maybe he...

He can be Kiyotaka’s brother...

And keep him safe...

It makes him smile. It’s small at first, tentative. Like a stiff wind will blow it away. But as Kiyotaka keeps looking at him steadily, earnestly, he... he feels the smiles strengthen. Feels as it grows wider and wider, until it fills his whole face, his eyes squinting with how wide it is. He’s never felt like this before, so scared and terrified, but also... also...

Hopeful.

“Ya... ya really mean that, Kiyo?”

Kiyo. Mondo doesn’t really know why he’s calling the kid that, nicknames aren’t super common in their culture, but somehow, he... he kinda likes it. He doesn’t know if the kid does, he should ask, but before he has the chance to, the kid is nodding. Enthusiastic and bright, a shaky grin on his face. He still seems a little out of it, but god, is he trying... fuck that kid is so amazing...

“Yes! Of course! I always mean everything I say! I would not lie to you, Mondo, I promise you that! We shall be the best kyoudai! You’ll see! Aha! This is fantastic!”

Oh, god... this kid is so fucking cute! God... h-he really shouldn’t be thinking that, should push it away like he always pushes stupid ass thoughts like that away, but he... he’s allowed to see his brother as cute... right? Or, well... his little brother. Though... fuck. Is Kiyotaka younger than him? He seems like it, as naive and endlessly optimistic as he is, but fuck, he doesn’t actually know. Mondo is usually one of the youngest in his class, since his birthday is at the end of the year, but he’s always felt decades older than the chucklefucks he goes to school with. Maybe it’s ‘cuz he was forced to grow up so fucking fast in order to survive, shit.

But you know what? Whatever. It doesn’t matter if Mondo is older or not. He’s the older brother regardless. That shit is felt, not necessarily determined by birth order. Daiya was his older brother in more ways than just because he was physically older, after all.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that... that Kiyotaka wants this. Wants... wants Mondo. And Mondo doesn’t deserve it, had never deserved it, but fuck, is he a selfish bastard. But he won’t take this shit for granted. Now that they are brothers, Mondo will go all fucking out. No fucking reservations. They are brothers, now, and Mondo is the big brother. The ani. It’s his duty and obligation to keep Kiyotaka safe from all harm, including (and especially) from Mondo himself. And he won’t. Hurt him. Not now, not ever. If he ever does, he will stab himself in the gut, commit fucking seppuku, he swears he will. He’d rather die than hurt this precious, amazing, incredible boy ever, ever again.

And so, Mondo grins, and he laughs, and he lets his arms reach forward and wrap around the kid, like he’s been wanting to do since he ripped himself away the last time. Part of him is afraid the kid won’t want it, or he’ll realize how stupid this whole thing is, but Kiyotaka doesn’t even tense at all as he goes willingly into Mondo’s arms, melting like warm putty against him. Like he... he belongs there...

S-shit...

“Okay. O-okay. Kiyotaka, I... I’ll do my best. I can’t promise ya anythin’, know I’m a goddamn fuck-up who ruins everything, but... but for you? I’ll try. That... that’s all I can offer... heh…”

It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but he feels Kiyotaka wrap his arms around him, holding on so very, very tight, and it... it feels...

Like coming home...

“That is all I could ever ask of you, my kyoudai! Y-you’re not a- a screw up! And- and your best is more than enough!”

Shit. Shit. No one... no one has ever told him that before. That the best he offers is more than enough. It’s never been enough, he’s never been enough. He’s a screw up. The unwanted kid. The person who is good for violence and anger and rage, and that’s about it.

But here, being held by this remarkable fucking kid... hearing him say that it’s enough... that he’s enough…

Maybe he’s inclined to believe him.

Wow... just...

Wow...

After a minute Mondo pulls back, knowing they need to talk about stuff, knowing he has to make promises, and it makes his heart sing when he feels the kid resist, arms refusing to let go at first. It makes him laugh softly, especially because he fully understands. But he doesn’t intend to go far. Just... he needs to look the kid in the eyes. He... he needs to see those beautiful as sin eyes...

Pressing his forehead to Kiyotaka’s, soft and gentle and intimate, he can’t help how he smiles, eyes shining with the light he feels inside. And Kiyotaka... he...

He looks at Mondo like he fucking matters...

“I’ll be good. Fer ya... I’ll be good. Promise, Kiyo. And ya can hold me ta that, got it? This is a promise between men. That means I gotta keep it.”

The kid looks stunned, eyes glazed but not in a bad way, breath hitched, and it... it makes Mondo feel...

“Likewise! I- I will do everything I can to be the best brother I can be! I promise! We shall be the best kyoudai in the world! That’s a Kiyotaka Ishimaru guarantee!”

The enthusiastic words make Mondo laugh again, and he pulls away to wrap an arm around the kid’s shoulders, ruffling his hair gently like Daiya would always do to him. He notices that the hair is a bit longer than it once had been, and fuck, does he like it. The sweat from the sauna had made all the gel run out and his hair is now soft as it dries, curling lightly around the kid’s ears and it just...

It’s so beautiful...

But ruffling the kid’s hair makes it fall in his eyes, which makes the kid let out an annoyed sound, adorable again, and Mondo can’t help the way he laughs. God, this kid makes him so goddamn happy... he’s never felt this happy before... never...

“Yer the absolute, goddamn best, kyoudai. Kiyo. Hey, uh... is it okay if I call ya that? Kiyotaka’s just a bit of a mouthful, ‘sall. Ya got any other nicknames I could use?”

He looks at the kid at that, Kiyotaka’s (or should he say Kiyo? Does the kid like it? Shit...) mouth pulled down in a thoughtful frown. A moment passes, and then-

“A-ah! Kiyo is fine! If you’d like! B-but... well... m-my mother. She called me... Taka. Y-you could use that, as well! If you’d like...”

Taka, huh? Taka. Taka. Yeah... yeah, he- he likes it. He likes it a lot! It suits the kid, and while Mondo still does kinda like Kiyo, he might like Taka a bit better. And if the kid wants him to call him that, then shit... who is he to deny him...?

Smiling, soft and gentle in a way he’s never been able to be before, he nods.

“Taka... heh, I like it! Alright, Taka. Mondo ain’t exactly got any good nicknames fer it, but ya can call me that, if ya’d like.”

Mondo watches as Taka blushes lightly, lips still partially open as he breathes in and out slowly. His eyes are kinda glazed still, but he seems present enough. Just... like he’s thinking of something. Mondo wants to reach out, wants to pull the kid into a hug again, wants to always, always be touching him, but he keeps his distance. Just... just for now. But later...

The kid shoots up again, interrupting Mondo’s thoughts, looking so enthusiastic again, eyes bright and smile happy. Holy shit...

“Oh! I can always call you kyoudai!! That way the whole world will know our manly bond!”

It makes Mondo laugh again, harder, and he can’t help how he reaches out to ruffle his hair again, needing to touch him at least a little. Kyoudai, huh? ... yeah. Yeah, he likes that, too. Daiya was always ani to him, the proper name for the big brother, and Daiya usually called him shit like ‘kid’ or whatever, so it’s not like Taka calling him that will bring up any bad memories or shit. It’s just... something for them. Their own, little thing, for them and no one else.

Him and Taka. Taka and him. Two... two kyoudai...

Incredible...

“Alright, Taka. If ya’d like. Now, it’s fuckin’ late. I ain’t even gotta look at a clock ta know that. Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get ya ta bed.”

Mondo stands, then, realizing how fucking late it is. The kid always gets up stupidly early, he remembers Taka saying that once a little while ago, so he knows they should be heading to bed soon. He feels strangely reluctant to do that, never wanting to part from this beautiful boy, but- but he’s the big brother. He has to keep his little brother safe and healthy, and that includes ensuring he gets a good night’s sleep. Even if it means they have to part ways...

As Mondo stretches, he sees Taka stand as well, his body flushing bright red as he looks down at himself and seems to notice his state of undress. Like he’d forgotten or something. Mondo hadn’t. Not... not for a single second. Shit...

He feels his eyes dart down to the kid’s chest, unbidden, and he feels the small smile die on his lips as he sees the long, jagged looking scar that goes from Taka’s collarbone to the bottom of his sternum, right over his heart. How... how the fuck did he get a scar like that...? It doesn’t look like one that would come from surgery or something, since it’s too jagged, and it also doesn’t look accidental. But... but how the fuck...

“How’d ya get that? The... the scar?” Mondo finds himself asking softly before he can stop himself, his hand rising absently to trace the length of it. Fuck, but it feels as jagged as it looks... angry and painful. H-he hopes it doesn’t hurt anymore...

“A-ah... that...” Taka mutters, his body flushing. It jolts Mondo out of the fucking fugue he entered, and he removes his hand quickly, feeling embarrassed. S-shit... he shouldn’t have asked that, it ain’t his fucking business. Yeah, they’re kyoudai, but that... that don’t mean he’s earned the right to hear the kid’s dark history. He still has to earn that shit. He knows that.

“Aw, shit! Taka, ignore me. Y’ain’t gotta talk ‘bout that shit. Uh, shi-shoot, I mean... stuff? Sorry… heh, know ya hate swearin’ an’ sh- stuff. Heh…”

Taka blinks at Mondo’s rambling words, which makes him feel strangely nervous. He doesn’t let it take over him, though. Doesn’t let himself get angry. But strangely... the anger he usually feels when embarrassed or nervous just... never showed up in the first place. Huh...

He watches, then, heart clenching, as Taka smiles at him, soft and gentle as ever. F-fuck...

“I... I don’t mind! It’s not exactly a pleasant story, but I trust you, kyoudai! And... I don’t mind you cursing! Much! It... it’s what makes you, you! Just as long as you don’t do it in class or in the halls!”

He... doesn’t mind him... cursing...???? After all those warnings, all of those detention slips, he truly expects Mondo to believe he doesn’t mind it when Mondo fucking curses?

But... huh. He can’t detect a lie in the kid’s words. He looks as earnest as ever, and it just... god. Mondo can’t begin to describe how he feels right now, just that it feels... soft.

Taka... Taka makes him feel soft. And fuck, is it not bad... not bad at all...

Unsure of what to say, what to do, Mondo just laughs again, since that’s the only thing that even slightly manages to express the softness that he feels inside, and he smiles at the kid gently while nodding. He should feel stupid, ridiculous, but he just... doesn’t.

God...

He watches then as Taka walks over to the locker he’d used earlier, seeming to want to no longer be partially nude. Mondo doesn’t mind it, has never minded being around naked dudes, but he guesses not everyone can be like that. As the kid dresses, he starts to talk. And the story he tells...

“It was one of my middle school bullies. I, er... wasn’t well liked, as a child! They never liked how I would get them in trouble, not to mention... ah. M-my, well. My grandfather,” Taka mutters, voice turning nervous as he talks about his grandfather, glancing at him anxiously.

Mondo still isn’t entirely sure what the kid’s deal with his grandfather is, but he can tell it bothers the kid, shit, so he does his best to not look at all judgmental, even though the fact the kid was fucking bullied makes his blood fucking boil... shit. He’d expected it, honestly, but it still fucking angers the fuck out of him, Christ…

Luckily, it seems his anger at that isn’t too obvious, since the kid continues then, voice less shaky and upset, even though the shit he says...

“One day, one of them was... particularly angry. I’d gotten him suspended, you see, for a week. It was his own fault, he was the one who had scratched profanities into the headmaster’s car, I’d just been the one to report it! Still, he was... angry. So, after school, he had his friends hold me down while he cut this into my chest. A reminder, he said, to mind my own business. I think he was going to do more but was interrupted by something. It was most unpleasant!”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Holy shit, holy shit!

What the goddamn shit?!

Some goddamn motherfucker... carved that shit into Taka’s chest...?! And how the fuck can Taka sound so casual about it?! Mondo has never felt so much rage directed towards someone he’s never met, but holy fucking shit, that goddamn bastard had better hope Mondo never meets him, or else he is fucking dead. The thought that anyone could ever hurt this wonderful boy in such a way is just so... insane to Mondo. How people can see him and not want to keep him safe from all harm is just... he doesn’t get it. Even when he told himself he hated the kid, he couldn’t bear the thought of actually hurting him. Not really.

And Taka he... he looks so fucking sad, right now. But also, just... resigned. Like he expects that treatment and, while it sucks, it’s just... life. Which is so much fucking bullshit, holy fucking shit-

Mondo unintentionally lets out a strangled noise, his anger and rage choking him inside. He sees the kid look up at him and sees panic rise in his face when he sees the anger Mondo so clearly feels. Oh, shit... shit, he’s not mad at Taka, he’s not at all, but he can’t make the anger go away, because... because...

“They fuckin’ what?! What the goddamn shit?! Please tell me ya got those fuckers expelled!”

He had to have... right? Taka is so gung-ho about rules and shit, he- he must have told on those fuckers and got all of them expelled... r-right?

Wrong...

“A-ah! N-not exactly! I... I never reported them! I rarely ever did, to tell the truth... it wouldn’t have mattered, see! The teachers didn’t like me much either; they only ever believed me if I had proof, and even then, only half the time! And they never much cared when I got hurt... b-but it was okay! I persisted and never let them break me down! My struggles made me stronger! Aha!”

W... what? He... he... oh, oh god... n-no...

“Y-you... what?” Mondo whispers, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands shaking. He has never felt so horrified before, a terrifying realization overcoming him. Because he... he was right, wasn’t he? This kid... h-he was abused. Horribly so.

By literally fucking everyone, holy fucking shit-!

“I mean... that’s just... how it was? I handled it, though! I never gave up! They... they did not break me!”

Oh. Oh. Oh, this... this poor fucking kid... his poor fucking kyoudai, having to go through that nightmare, actually believing that it was just... normal. Just... how it was. But he... he can’t actually... actually believe he deserved it... r-right...?

“Goddamnit... that’s why ya keep tellin’ me ta... ta punish ya, ain’t it? Taka, please tell me ya don’t actu’ly think ya deserved that shit?”

He can’t. He can’t. Please, god, he... he can’t...

Mondo watches, heart breaking so thoroughly inside his chest, as Taka looks down at his uniform jacket, the only piece of his get up he’s not yet wearing. He’s frowning gently, like he actually has to fucking think about it, oh god, no...

“I- I... I suppose so... I mean-! I... I don’t know. They all hated me... s-so... they must have had a good reason... r-right? To... to hate me. I... I must have deserved it... right?”

No. No. No. Mondo... he can’t fucking handle this shit. So many things make so much sense now, and he has never hated himself more. For not seeing it sooner. For not allowing himself to care about this boy all along. For maybe even reenforcing this goddamn bullshit, making the kid think he is right, when he sure as shit ain’t. He...

He can’t help how he moves. Swift and quick. He- he just needs to be near the kid, needs to hold him, reassure him that no, he didn’t. Didn’t at all. He needs to do what he should have done weeks ago, in the laundry room, and reassure that kid that no. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt. Not... not ever...

He stops, though, when he sees Taka look up at him, terror in his eyes, like he... he thinks Mondo is going to fucking hurt him. He wants to go forward, wants to hold the kid so fucking bad, but he doesn’t have that fucking right, so he stays where he is, all the sorrow he feels surely reflected in his eyes. And as the kid looks at him, he... he relaxes. He still looks upset, but he doesn’t look scared. That... that’s something...

Right?

“No. Fuckin’ no. Y’ain’t deserved any a’ that shit, goddamn, man… and I promise ya, Taka, I’m gonna make sure ya see that one day, even if it takes the rest a’ my goddamn life. And that’s a man’s promise.”

And he means it, fuck does he mean it. He had never meant anything more. He will spend the rest of his goddamn life ensuring that this wonderful kid knows how special and amazing he is, and that he never, ever deserves to be hurt. It’s his life’s fucking goal now, the one thing that fucking matters. He will take care of Taka for the rest of his goddamn life, even after the kid finally wises up and leaves his ass. He will watch from the shadows, keeping a careful eye on him, there to keep him safe from all harm. This kid will never know pain again if it’s the last fucking thing Mondo does. He swears.

As the kid looks at him, he sees the softest and most beautiful smile he’s ever seen lighting up the boy’s face. His eyes sparkle with it, and he’s looking at Mondo like he’s important again. Like he... like he matters. And Mondo...

He won’t ruin this shit. He just... he won’t.

This matters too goddamn much for him to let it slip away.

“T-thank you... thank you, kyoudai. I... thank you.”

Mondo smiles gently at the kid, moving forward to tentatively wrap an arm around his shoulder, squeezing gently, needing to touch him but not wanting to overwhelm him, god.

“Ain’t gotta thank me, bro. Now, we really should head ta bed. Got school tomorrow an’ I don’t want my bro ta be tired! Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get goin’.”

Taka nods quick and puts his jacket on, buttoning it with practiced fingers. The kid turns back to the locker, frowning gently at whatever he sees inside. Mondo watches as the kid reaches out and grabs it, his breath hitching when he sees the kid is holding the glasses case that started this whole fucking mess. He... he honestly had forgotten about that shit, to tell the truth, with all the drama that just occurred. But as he looks at the kid, who is looking so softly at the glasses case, like they’re precious to him, he... he knows he owes the kid for the shit he put him through earlier, for no fucking reason. He can’t quite find it in him to regret what happened, not when it ended up like this, but he... he has to make it up to the kid. All of it.

So, quick as a wink, Mondo darts his hand out and carefully takes the case from Taka, ignoring the startled sound the kid makes. He can feel the kid watching him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t let it stop him as he opens the case and— without a single moment’s pause— puts the glasses on his face, blinking at the foreign feel. It... it hasn’t changed his vision much, since this shit is only supposed to help with close up shit, but it... huh. He guesses it ain’t so bad...

“Huh... I guess they ain’t that bad... tell me, kyoudai. How do they look?”

He hadn’t really meant to ask the question, but he just... couldn’t help but remember the shit he’d done the last time he’d worn the glasses and Taka had told him what he thought. He... maybe he wants to show that it’s different, now. That he won’t get angry, not this time. To prove that he will never hurt Taka, never again. Not... not ever again.

He watches as the kid flushes bright red, mouth open slightly again, and- and god, is it an attractive look on him... s-shit... and then the kid is smiling shakily, giving a shaky thumbs up, and that’s even... even worse... or better, heh...

“You look amazing, kyoudai! They suit you well!”

A-amazing, huh? Shit... no one’s ever said he looks amazing before... he’s had a couple of people call him hot, or even sexy once or twice, but never... never amazing...

He adores it... adores... Taka...

It makes him smile again. Soft. Happy. So goddamn happy... he will never be able to repay Taka for the happiness he gives him... not even if he dedicates the rest of his life to trying. Which he will. He... he will...

But it’s late. So fucking late. They... they need to get to bed...

Even if Mondo never wants to part from this amazing kid...

“Ah, cool. I guess. Now, c’mon! Bed! Ain’t gonna be the reason ya can’t focus in class tomorrow, ya nerd!”

With that, Mondo turns to grab his duster off the bench he’d tossed it on earlier, shrugging it on carefully, before finally exiting the bathhouse, Taka on his heels.

Shit...

#The Problem with Mondo preview #Mondo Owada #Mondo's POV #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #Danganronpa #Danganronpa fanfiction #My fanfic #Ha hope y'all liked it #:-)

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contrabandhothead · 4 years

Note

Hi! I saw your post about requests! :) could I get some BOB head cannons of what it’s like to date them while also being is easy company? :)

I’m so so SO sorry this took so long, and I hope you like it 🤞🏻also, I couldn’t do all of them because school has been keeping me very busy. If you want to send another request, and i’ll do more for you when I have time 💕 Enjoy!

Dick Winters

generally very private about his relationship

mom and dad™ of easy co.

i want to say that he puts you on his team during missions, but i feel like he thinks it’s unprofessional

so he probably puts you on a team with someone he trusts and that he knows won’t take unnecessary risks *cough cough* Speirs *cough cough*

doesn’t mean he doesn’t get worried though

give this man a massage please, he’s stressed af

you’d never want to jeopardize his position though, so you’re generally okay with it

however, sometimes you get a little lonely

Dick notices this and tries to clear out a slot in his schedule in order to spend some quality time with you

treats you like any of the other men, except when you’re alone

king of stolen kisses behind crumbling walls before a battle

very healthy relationship overall 12/10 would be an amazing father

secretly wants to get married when the war is over

i’m not saying he definitely proposed on V-E Day but he definitely did it

cries at the wedding, especially since it’s been so long since he’s seen you all dolled up because of the war

also cries because he’s finally getting to marry the love of his life

drunkenly told Nix at his bachelor party about how amazing you would look at your wedding and then went on and on about the specific shade of your eyes

S I M P

Nix never lets him forget it

Lewis Nixon

this man

let’s be for real here

he has NO idea how to display affection at all, especially because of his past

so he does what any rich boy would do

showers you in gifts that you don’t need

it’s not that you’re ungrateful for them, you just wish he would understand that you don’t love him for his money

i feel like everyone forgets that he’s lowkey rich

can’t relate Nix

he will buy you anything he sees you look at for more than a second

always has them delivered by some random Private

the men tease you RELENTLESSLY for it

“hey Y/N, what did that overflowing wallet buy you this week?”

“Shut up Tab”

is always worried about you

especially since he usually isn’t on the battlefield since he moved to staff

you’re fine

you can definitely handle yourself after Sobel’s training what a fucking dick

takes you out on small simple dates when you guys actually have weekend passes

the guys always help you get ready for your dates (they see you as a little sister it’s really cute)

Ron Speirs

this man

oh wow

the flavor

never really got to see you until Dog Co. was basically absorbed by Easy Co.

definitely thinks he’s not good enough for you

when you first introduced the Easy Co. men to him, they thought the exact same thing (they changed their minds after a while though)

REASSURE THIS MAN. EVERY. STINKIN. DAY. THAT HE IS GOOD ENOUGH.

P L E A S E

secretly is a cuddle monster

will 100% sneak into your foxhole to cuddle and will slit anyone’s throat that mentions it

this man has arms and legs like an octopus when it comes to cuddling

will pull you back into his arms even if you need to use the bathroom and will not be letting go

steals you pretty things for absolutely no reason (Ron, no)

the man is like a freakin magpie

the men of Easy Co. grow to like him more when they realize how happy he makes you and how he doesn’t hurt you

he actually values their opinion on your relationship a lot

he knows Easy is like family and you’re like the younger sister

doesn’t show it though

pushes you away when he feels insecure

jealous™

surprisingly domestic

Carwood Lipton

wholesome but to the max™

you’re both so in love i feel like i’m going to throw up rainbows

signed up for the paratroopers together

i feel like Carwood is the type of person to marry his high school sweetheart

so yeah, you guys are that™ couple

best aunt and uncle of easy co.

Lip worries about you just a littleee more than the other men

he’s just a worry wart in general

almost threw hands with Sobel once when Sobel insulted you

he will not stand for anyone insulting his gal

isn’t as private as Dick is with his relationship, but is known to hide it from superior officers other than Nix and Winters

aka Sobel

was 100% willing to get kicked out of the infantry to defend you from Sobel

thinks a lot about how good of a mom you’d be, especially when he sees you caring for the men

is also a cuddler, though not nearly as clingy as Ron

just a loose arm to tuck you into his side, especially during Bastogne

prefers having you on his team, not only because he cares about you, but also because he admires your skill and accuracy

you’re a damn good shot, and he’d scream it from a mountain for all to hear

so proud of his gal

George Luz

you’re either the jokester and the stoic couple, the shy kid and the jokester couple, or the jokester and the jokester couple

there’s no in between

cracks terrible jokes just to see you smile

still tries pick up lines even AFTER you two are dating (even the guys shake their heads)

you two are the entertainment for easy co. let me tell you

you’re also the only person that can get George to shut up

you must thank him in kisses he takes no other currency

clingy baby™

it’s like dating a 12 year old boy sometimes

he can be so immature but it’s kind of endearing at times

everyone is immediately accepting of your relationship because it just makes sense and you’re both good for each other

wants a hug and a kiss even if you’re just leaving the dining hall to go to the bathroom

just give the man what he wants or he’ll pout all day until you kiss his cheek

you guys once had a match of how long you could ignore each other once

he was surprisingly dedicated

but he broke

he snapped like a twig after everyone went to sleep

he dived into your foxhole and begged you to talk to him

he kept snuggling closer to you until you talked to him again

Joe Toye

rough on the outside, soft on the inside

brings you flowers when he asks you out (surprisingly very traditional and respectful when he asks you out)

everyone has a good time when Toye is with you, he loosens up a lot more

loves when you pet his hair and he can just stare up at the stars while laying in your lap

he’s just as bad as Speirs when it comes to cuddling

a cuddle bug but won’t admit it

actually might be worse than Speirs when it comes to cuddling because he can actually sneak into your bunk while you’re sleeping

also wants to fight Sobel when Sobel insults you and actually almost threw hands

he almost got court martialed and was 2 steps away from getting up in Sobel’s face before Guarnere and Luz stopped him

hands down the dumbest thing he has ever done

you were so mad at him for it

you didn’t talk to him for a week

you felt bad because he was always giving you those puppy dog eyes from across the dining hall

Joe gets teased by the guys for being sweet on you

“at least I got a broad! the rest of ya’ can’t really say that much.”

will not hesitate to let you win during arm wrestling

he’s not allowed to arm wrestle with you anymore because the guys know he’s just letting you win

you’re his #1 fan during arm wrestling

look at those arms tho

Joe Liebgott

y’all thought Toye was soft

OH BOY

the way Joe acts around you is definitely bullying material for the other guys

Lieb drinks respect women juice

thinks you’re so cool

would probably walk up to random people and be like “that’s her. she’s my girlfriend. can you believe how lucky i am?”

thinks it’s so cute when you show off your brand new jump wings to him

you just looked so excited

he wasn’t even staring at the wings when you started rambling about how happy you were, he was just making this stupid in love face

definitely grabbed your face and kissed you hard after that

he wants SO many kids????

ya know those lists that lots of girls have on their phones and it��s just a bunch of future baby names??? that’s Joe

this man has 8 names

4 girls names and 4 boy names

he plans to use every name

just wants to live the domestic life with you after the war

will freeze his ass off and take your watch just so you can get some extra sleep

another cuddle monster (they’re multiplying)

whispers really cute things in german to you until you fall asleep

has also almost fought Sobel for shit he said to you

David Webster

you help him fit in more with the other guys

please teach him the art of socializing

yes, the men have stolen his journal to read all his terrible poetry about you

still gets shit for it to this day

shares his chocolate bar with you

longing stares but from across the room

doesn’t actually take you out until the war is over because he wants to do it right dammit

has little to absolutely no relationship experience

please teach him

or better yet, struggle with him and get made fun of by all the guys

they actually accept Web more now that he’s with you

cuz Easy Co. loves you

sends letters all the time when he’s sent to the hospital

everyone teases him that he acts like he’s more likely married to Liebgott than to you

you’re the only reason the men will stop teasing him

definitely more badass then him

you radiate boss energy and that’s what easy co. likes about you

especially Web

everyone’s like “that’s my girl!”

and he just smiles in the corner with the rest of them

Bill Guarnere

DID I SAY SOFT???

S O F T

weak for his girl

arm wrestles just to get your attention (flexes all the time for pete’s sake)

also wants like a gazillion children and talks about it constantly with Liebgott

this man wants an army of little Italian kids

no one makes fun of you or Guarnere for his actions to get your attention because they don’t want his fist in their face

people who have almost punched Sobel for making fun of their girl: let’s add Guarnere to the list

you didn’t ignore him, you just told him off for being an idiot

if i could describe it, he sulked like a puppy that got told no more treats

so proud of you when you get your jump wings

probably makes a toast about it at the celebration

he was so drunk but it was so cute

literally will do anything for your attention

chugging three bottles of whiskey so Y/N will pay attention to me??? pass the bottle bitch

not a massive cuddle monster but enjoys PDA and the occassional ass slap

probably has slapped your ass in front of company before

this boy has no morals smh

don’t worry, you get him back though

Frank Perconte

worry wart but multiply it by 1000x

is always bothering you to brush your teeth

not because he’s scared your breath stinks, but because he cares about you and your oral hygiene

now gets bullied about oral hygiene and his relationship with you

ft Skip. “oh Y/N, take me away my princess. did you brush your little pearly teeth??? i would never want your perfect smile to be ruined.”

Skip has been chased multiple times around Toccoa for this behavior

will fight anyone that thinks you’re not a good shot

is amazed how good you are at darts (knows you’re better than Buck)

does share a foxhole with you

is NOT part of the monster cuddler club because he knows when to stop

has not arm wrestled for your attention but will if so needed

always needs attention

whiny 12 year old boy P.2

sometimes it’s like you’re dating Luz as well

Luz has purposefully third wheeled before

yes, you heard me

ON PURPOSE

likes spontaneous dates

would fight Sobel for you but isn’t stupid enough to almost do it

Buck Compton

realized he had heart eyes for you before his old girl broke it off with him

WAS RELIEVED WHEN SHE SAID SHE WAS DONE WITH HIM IN BASTOGNE

the other Easy men were like “dude, what the hell are you waiting for. GO GET YOUR GIRL!”

let’s you win at darts

is also stupid and needy enough to arm wrestle for your attention

actually wins though

wants you to kiss his guns (absolutely not sir)

jealous and protective

jealous af around Winters

gets teased a lot about it by the other men

but they can see why he’s insecure about it, Winter’s could sweep any girl he wanted to off her feet

indeed a cuddle monster

will only share a foxhole with you in Bastogne

no one else

radiator of heat and thus a good cuddler though

will only let you make fun of him without repercussions

wants you to move in as soon as the war is over

always demands to be in your unit during an attack

will keep you safe at all costs (and one of the reasons why he got shot in the ass again)

Floyd Talbert

THE ABSOLUTE SWEETEST BABY

people use to bully Tab for his condom shipments

now they bully him for the way he acts around you

tough guy??? no. absolute stick of melted butter when around you

thinks you’re a saint

so does the rest of Easy though, so I guess it doesn’t matter

they had everyone from Easy give him a pep talk just to ask you out (Trigger even barked at him)

he was actually worried you would reject him

no one will ever reject that man lol it doesn’t make sense

not necessarily a cuddle monster

DEFINITELY A PDA MONSTER THOUGH

likes when you sit on his lap

can’t explain it, it just makes sense

will also arm wrestle for your attention

will honestly do anything for you

you need me to bring you Jupiter in a jar???

sure babe I’ll be right back

has specific pet names for you

his favorites are buttercup, angel, and beautiful

Babe Heffron

P U R E

does not get bullied for being in a relationship with you because everyone loves him

not a single person in this company, including you, would hesitate to sacrifice their life for that replacement

whines a lot to you when you don’t give him attention

will arm wrestle for your attention and loses

has not had the chance to fight Sobel before but I feel like he could if he wanted to

will tear Dike to shreads if he even mutter one hateful word against you

cuddle monster #2323293

enjoys being the little spoon and the big spoon while in the foxhole

shares his food with you during meals

will not hesitate to get shot in the ass for you

also will not hesitate to get shot for you in general

is like an angry 6 year old baby when you don’t pay attention to him

is known to give the silent treatment when you’re too busy to talk to him for days

MAKE TIME FOR HIM DO IT NOW

wants you to meet his Ma in Philly after the war

has many hopeful dreams that include you after the war

will only share chocolate with you and Gene

give him a hug, even when he says he doesn’t need it

Eugene Roe

HOLY SWEET JESUS

FIRST OFF

NO ONE IN THEIR GODDAMN RIGHT MIND WOULD EVER MAKE FUN OF YOU, ESPECIALLY AROUND DOC

this man has so many pet names

he is not afraid to use them on the battlefield, especially if you’re bleeding out because he’ll know you’ll answer to them

“darlin’, mon amour, ma mie, ma belle, ma chérie”

please stop Gene, it’s embarassing but also like don’t stop

get us a defibrillator his heart stopped while he was looking at you and we need to do CPR NOW-

thinks you’re the most beautiful girl ever

is not dumb enough to arm wrestle for your attention

he just makes this grumpy or upset face and you catch on quickly

he’s also not dumb enough to fight Sobel

BUT HE WILL FIGHT ANY SOLDIER WITH THE AUDACITY TO INSULT YOU

is always worrying about you

especially in Bastogne

always jumping into your foxhole to check for any wounds

probably lost his sizzuhs that way

always has extra bandages just for you

treats you with tender care

Donald Malarkey

THE CUTEST COUPLE EVER

NOT EVEN SKIP HAS THE HEART TO MAKE FUN OF YOU

is not dumb enough to fight Sobel for you

doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to punch him though

is dumb enough to arm wrestle for your attention

it lowkey depends on the day though

i mean

he doesn’t need to arm wrestle for you to admire his arms

like, have you seen that gif of him taking of his shirt???

loves cuddles in your foxhole but is not a cuddle monster

he’s a big baby when he gets tired

loves it when you take care of him

has definitely fallen asleep once on your shoulder during watch

would run up Currahee with full gear 3 times just to see you smile

he needs a hug. give him one now.

likes to rest his chin on your head

also wants you to move in (and maybe get married) after the war

treats you kindly, but he’s still a sarcastic little shit

kiss his muscles

that was literally so long i can’t believe i finished

#dick winters #lewis nixon #ronald speirs #ron speirs #carwood lipton #george luz #frank perconte #joe toye #joe liebgott #david webster #bill guarnere #buck compton #floyd talbert #babe heffron #eugene roe #donald malarkey #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcanon

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happytroopers · 4 years

Text

A Knight in White Armor // pt. 3

Rex X Royal!Reader

nearly two years later, brought to you by the burning desire I’ve had to yell at the trade federation since I was 6 years old. I’m a SLUT for plitical drama and for Captain Rex

for those of you who are new here:

Part one Part Two Part three Part Four Coming Soon or possibly in two years.

Did i pull an all nighter to rewrite this bc tumblr deleteed it YES. An no, I don’t know why the formatting looks like that.

Uhhhm if I tagged you, it’s because you expressed interest recently so if you want me to leave you alone (or want to be included) lemme know.

So, taglist: @robotxtrash @mackstrut @clonewarsreturns @94pigeons @skdubbs and about ten other people who messaged me on anon lmao

Y’all know the drill, this sucks and its unedited blah blah b;ah

______________

A day and a half. That’s all you allowed yourself to wallow in self pity. After that, you forced yourself to remember that whoever sent that assassin only sent them because you were doing good work.

And once you reminded yourself of that, you were back in the spotlight like you’d never left. After you made some changes, mind you, like dismissing the maids they provided and bringing in your personal maids that you’d known since you were sixteen.Of course, Rex was by your side and more protective than he had been. With his formidable presence ever present, even the more hostile politicians were hesitant to get in your face. Yes, you were back, and more determined than ever to truly make a difference.

You were also grappling with other feelings. Feelings that you buried deep into your heart until you were alone. Ever since the first time he called by name, Rex had held a soft spot in your heart. You tried to be reasonable, tell yourself that he was only doing all these things because it was his job. He was only so protective because he was ordered to do so, only candid with you because you asked him to be, so on and so forth. Those things were easy to write off, to kill any hope of him returning your feelings.

But then, he’d go above and beyond his job. Listening to you complain about other politicians, offering you a steadying hand when you were going down steps in those cumbersome skirts you had to wear, laughing at something you said, staying with you if you felt uneasy at night, carrying food and water with him because you had an awful habit of forgetting to eat between engagements…. A particular memory that always turned your cheeks red was when you were posing for an official photo and your skirts got tangled up, before a maid could fix it, Captain Rex was on one knee expertly fluffing your skirt back out and laying your train flat. That certainly wasn’t his job. Those were harder to write off and any hope you previously squashed came back with a vengeance.

It was then you’d have to remind yourself it could never happen. On the off chance he did feel the same way, you knew that there had to be some terrible punishment- it probably fell under insubordinates. Additionally, no matter how persistent the butterflies were, you weren’t naive. You were a princess, royalty, top of the nobility, and you weren’t even the first born. It was only a matter of time before you were married off to satisfy some ally you’d never met before. You’d long since made peace with the fact you marriage would be arranged for the good of your people. As royalty, you sacrificed very few things and lived very fortunately, this was the price. Royals didn’t get true love. Besides, love was a bit melodramatic. You could content yourself with fluffy daydreams for the moment.

That being said, you hardly had time to day dream. Middle of week two (in the month of peace talks), and you were so busy you barely had time to think of anything but public policy, war treaties, and trade negotiation. Trade Negotiation being the first thing on your mind that evening as your maids flurried about, preparing you for that night’s engagement: an invitation from the trade federation to talk about your planet’s charters with them over a private dinner. You were reticent to accept the invitation, especially after Padme’s warnings about them. Even though you were young, you well remembered the siege and blockade of Naboo. But, after speaking to your advisors and parents (the reigning King and Queen), you decided to go. At the very least as a show of strength, and at worst to warn them off bothering your people.

Rex wasn’t all too happy with this dinner either. He’d heard of the trade federation blockade of Naboo from Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, and he’d read the HoloNet articles about the Blockade of the Pantoran Moon. Not to mention all rumors of kidnappings, Separatist ties, and assignation (attempts and successes) that surrounded the Trade Federation. He’d even heard rumors that the Trade Federation ordered a hit on your planet’s senator. Ultimately unsuccessful, but it didn’t make him feel good about you sharing a meal with them. Rex had a feeling that the Neimodians were just as slimy as they looked, and he made his opinion quite clear as he watched your maids assemble your look for the night.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to go. No one will think any less of you.” He assured you from his spot, leaning against the arm of the couch nearest you. Out of your sight, or at least they thought, (and without Rex paying attention), your maids shared a look, as if to say, did this soldier just address the princess by her first name?

You turned your head slightly towards him, but the maids quickly adjusted your posture, “They will, but it’s not about that, Rex,”

You paused, to let the maids know that you definitely saw the looks that time, they hurried back to their work so you continued, “I’m going so that they know that I won’t be bullied into a terrible deal for my people.”

Seemingly finished with your makeup, you watched as the oldest maid pressed your tiara into your hair. Pleased with your appearance, you stood straightening the skirt of the slip you were wearing (the youngest maid had tried to shoe Rex out, saying it wasn’t proper for him to see you like that before you assured her it was alright). They brought over the stiff, heavy, formal dress that would go over the slip, and unlaced the back. You held your arms up and allowed them to slip it over your head. Rex was still watching with an uncertain look in his eyes as they laced you up.

“They can threaten me all they want to, but I will not allow them to threaten my people because they think I’m too young and naive to notice.” You voice was firm, you hadn’t even raised it a decibel, but still commanded all the attention in the room. Finally, you turned to look at the Captain, and he finally understood.

While you always looked Royal, you generally weren’t overly fussy about your appearance, but tonight was different. If Rex understood your culture correctly, this was a modern, toned down take on traditional war paint and battle dress, what a princess or queen would wear in a time of war. You meant business tonight, more so than usual. There was no room for argument. Nodding, Rex slid his helmet on, “Then I’ll be right beside you the entire time, your highness.”

Once again, your maids shared a look, somehow using your formal title seemed more intimate than using your real name. Nevertheless, they finished off this look, quite proud of their work by attaching a long, dark, velvety cape to the shoulders of your dress with jewel encrusted clips that probably cost more than a starship. Finally, at the height of regality, you nodded to him and with a flourish of your cape you were out the door.

“Let’s be off then.”

__________

As it turned out, this dinner was not as private as you were promised. Having expected this, you enjoyed the look of frustrated shock when Senator Amidala entered the dining room. Rex nearly flinched as you took a sip of your wine, you’d been quite adamant in not having it tested for poisons.

(“If they’re stupid enough to poison me at their own table, let them dig their own graves.” You had told him, but this didn’t ease his mind. He didn’t trust these people, and Kix didn’t carry many anti-poisons with him.)

If you were worried about poison, you didn’t show it, only raising your glass to Lott Dodd, the republic representative of the Trade Federation. Since you were the only royal in attendance, you were sat at the end of the table with your host, Lott Dodd, on the other end, ten feet away. On your right, Padme, decked out in a tight, black dress with a large, jeweled neckpiece, sat confidently beside you. On your left however, there were two members of the technounion, and two other member of the trade federation. On the other side of Padme was a hologram of a Muun banking clansmen. Of course along the back wall were all of their security, mostly droids. Behind you and Padme, the walls were lined with Rex’s men and Padme’s own Captain Typho.

“I see you took the liberty to make this dinner not so private, I’m glad I always overdress.” You mused, eyebrow raised in challenge. As if wishing he’d tell Padme to leave.

“I could say the same thing about you, your highness.” Lott Dodd replied lowly with a sugary fake smile.

“The more the merrier, right?” You asked, flashing an equally as fake smile. The neimodian only nodded before taking a large gulp of his wine. If anything was to tell Rex how the rest of that evening would go, it was that interaction right there. As the first course was being served, you half listened to a member of the techounion, Trev, propose a partnership in the technounion and your planets Science Research Division and also his interest in your fuel reserves (which was suspicious all together because it was common knowledge that you planets top scientific priority was developing weapons and medical supplies/technology for the Grand Army of the Republic). Beside you, Padme was in an intense conversation about banking regulation with the Muun hologram. Rather quickly, this was brought to a halt as Lott Dodd gathered your attention,

“Princess, shall we discuss business now so we can get it out of the way?”

“Of course, I’d love to get it over with quickly.” You nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“I’m sure you read the earlier proposal I had delivered to you?” He asked, again you nodded but narrowed you eyes at you glass before lifting cold eyes to him. You could register the shock at your change in demeanor, so you just continued on.

“You mean the proposal to decrease the regulations on the good you import while you also increase the prices, and at the same time decrease the already low prices and taxes on the exports we sell to you?” You clarified, raising a defiant eyebrow at the representative. “I’m no economist, but I’m sure you know that a charter like that would crash our economy. We’ll have to renegotiate.”

“Perhaps our proposal was a bit heavy handed, surely we can find a way for it to work without resorting to unseemly measures. Young people like you don’t seem to realize how trying war time can be.” Lott Dodd tried to regain control of the situation without losing ground on his proposal, but you caught the way his brow ridge twitched and the hidden threat behind his words.

“Oh, like a blockade?” Senator Amidala couldn’t help but mutter into her glass. You breathed a laugh but didn’t comment, if the other guests noticed they didn’t either.

“Hmmm.” You hummed ignored the stammering of your host, instead turning towards the banker, “When money is involved, the banks always have an opinion, so tell me, what do you think of all this?”

The Muun was clearly uncomfortable with the sudden amount of attention on him, but cleared his throat before giving an obviously rehearsed answer, “The Banking Clan does not interfere with any business outside of our own, but no matter your decision if you should need a loan, the banking clan would be honored to work with you to draw one up.”

“How generous, and I’m sure you’ll be the first ones to hear if our economy does crash.” You mused, taking a sip of your wine as the banker gaped at you.

“I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.” He humphed, the blue hologram flickering. You offered a sweet smile.

“I’m sure you don’t.” The phrase was innocuous but the smirk on your face told everyone exactly what you meant. You even earned a chuckle masked as a cough from Rex behind you. Apparently, some of the other guests had had enough of you.

“Did your parents send you here just to mouth off?” One of the members of the technounion, the one you didn’t know, snapped, and the room went silent as you stared at him. You waited a moment longer than what would have been comfortable before laughing directly in the Skakoan’s face, or well, mask considering they wore those ridiculous suits.

Quieting yourself, you looked to the man who had snapped at you, not many were brave enough to openly insult you to your face, so you’d give him that,

“First of all, sorry I didn’t get your name,”

“It’s-“ He started but you just kept going.

“No, no, I didn’t ask it doesn’t matter, my parents didn’t send me. Since our senator is still recovering from an assassination attempt,” you paused again to flash a seemingly meaningless look at the Neimodian beside Dodd who flinched, before continuing, “Out of all my siblings and all the royal officials, I was appointed to come here, no, not to mouth off, you’re right, but to represent my planet’s wellbeing and interests. But mouthing off to people who give me dumb proposals sure is a bonus.”

The Skakoan stuttered for a moment before Lott Dodd drew your attention back to him, raising his voice and slapping a hand against the table, this caused Captain Rex to shoot his hand towards the holstered blaster on his hip. You simply reach back out of the other guests sight, not stopping until you hand found his armored knee, a silent show to let him go on. And go on he did.

“Princess (Y/L/N). I realize you're young, princess, but I’ll ask you to respect my guests.”

“Representative Dodd.” You mirrored, slapping the table lightly, "I’ll ask you to show me some respect. I have many drawbacks as a person, but my age isn’t one of them so I you insist on taunting me find something better. Furthermore, don’t assume I’m so young and naive to let you bully and trick me into something that will only benefit you.” “The princess is right, the senate won’t be pleased to hear about these contracts. If their economy crashes, the republic would lose its number one weapons and medical supplier.” Padme added before turning to the technounion member, “I’m sure the senate would also want to know what the technounion wants with their Science Division considering almost all their research is for the military. War time makes people paranoid, and I’d hate for anyone to assume anything too terrible”

Tension in the air was thick, and the trade federation was desperate to regain the upper hand. Feeling a storm coming on, you turned back to Rex and beckoned him down to you level.

He obliged as you whispered, “Could you move one of you men where they can get this whole table in the frame and tell them to video record until it’s over? I want to show my advisors exactly what was said and happened here tonight.”

Nodding, he set your plan into action as Lott Dodd tried a new approach, intimidation, “I’m not as radical as some, but I’m sure some in the federation will call for drastic measures if your planet doesn’t wish to compromise with us.”

“I’ve heard how well you compromise.” You challenged, before flicking your eyes around the table. The banking clansmen was listening intently and the Technounion members were glaring at you sharply from behind their goggles. These negotiations, if you could even call them that, were derailing. This time you voice wasn’t a challenge, it was firm, stern, an order. "Since this no longer concerns the rest of you, you may leave.”

The banker was the first to go, his hologram flickering out before your anger could be directed at him, Trev and his parter were next and they filed out with their security droids filing behind them. Padme gave you a look, and you nodded to her assuring her you’d be alright. With one last comforting hand on yours, she got up and gracefully exited but not before throwing one last glare at Dodd. Along the walls most of the droids had dispersed, so you decided to even the playing field. If he wanted to play the intimidation game, you’d play it, but you wanted him to be intimidated by you not your security forces.

Turning to Captain Rex, you loudly announced, “Captain, you and four of your men stay. That should be plenty to escort me back to my quarters when we’re finished. The rest can be dismissed.”

You could tell under his helmet his was not happy with your plan, so quietly you continued, “The trade federation is stupid, but not so stupid as to murder me right here. Besides, there’s maybe 5 droids-“

“6.” He corrected shortly.

“6 droids, you and your men should be more than capable of handling them if it comes to it, which it won’t.”

With a sigh, he carried out your orders and you watched as half the squad filed out before he returned to your side. With that done, you turned back to the three Trade Federation member that sat ten feet across from you.

Currently relaxed in your chair, you gave each of them a once over before adjusting your posture so you sat stick straight, elbows resting on the armrests but hands clasped in your lap, shoulders back and down, chest out, chin up, eyes narrowed. You managed to look down on them despite being ten feet away and a whole foot shorter than all of them. Captain Rex saw the change in your whole demeanor, you went from conversation to looking like a marble statue on a throne in the blink of an eye. He saw it long before he heard it in your voice which wasn’t far behind.

“Now, I sent them out so you could save face. I’ve shown you that kindness, you’re welcome.” Somehow even you voice had an edge to it, slightly lower than you usually spoke and had a certain coldness that he’d never heard from you. “With them gone, please, feel free to openly threaten my people. The propriety and pleasantries will keep us here all night, and I was hoping to enjoy better company this evening.”

Lott Dodd was stricken silent, so the shorter one next to him nodded fervently,

“Of course, your majesty, I’m positive we can wrap this up quickly if you-“

He was interrupted by Dodd snapping back to his senses, “If you agree to our proposals, I’m sure we can work out something for your people.”

“Stop calling them proposals, they are demands. They are ransom demands of my people which you haven’t even taken hostage yet.” You remarked, angry words but an icily calm voice.

“I’m not as radical as some of my fellow Tradesmen, but if you insist on bringing it into the conversation, blockades of planets that don’t meet the requirements in our charters are well within our senatorial rights. If you refuse, your planet can be blockaded and sieged until we work something out.”

“I understand I have two options.” You began.

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” The third tradesmen smiled, but you weren’t finished yet.

“First, I could sign this charter right now and by the time I return home, my economy would crash, people would starve, citizens would riot, and then, look at that, we’d have to take a loan from the banking clans to stimulate our economy. This lets my people starve and suffer. Second, I could say no to this ridiculous offer and you think you’ll blockade my planet which will again let my people starve and suffer.”

“I do not think, I know.” Lott nodded, finally speaking some truth. This time you shook your head.

“No, you think. First of all, if you blockaded out planet and kept the Grand Army of the Republic from getting it’s much needed supplies during war time under Marshall law- which renders that funny senatorial right of yours null- they have every legal right take care of you for us.” You paused, forcing a bittersweet tone, “War Times can be trying for all of us.”

“Things work so slow in the senate, that could take months. Your people could be with out food and supplies for months, and when politicians, even royals, fall out of favor, well I sure you remember last weeks dreadful incident.”

He was referring to the assassination attempt, there was a twinge of anxiety when you recalled the night but you pushed it down, “I find, actually, that politicians, even royals, are in most danger when they piss off other politicians. But I’m sure you don’t know anything about that, Representative?”

He cleared his throat, “Of course not, princess, regardless of public opinion, a blockade, even a short one, can do untold damage to a planet’s resources. I’m a humanitarian and I’d hate to see your people suffer- starvation, disease, shelter crises, riots… I hate to see that happen because you wouldn’t sign a treaty with us.”

That was the tipping point, you’d heard and seen enough.

Standing so fast, you tipped over your chair you were quick to cut into the Neimodian, “Even if the military doesn’t come to our aid, if you haven’t noticed every planet you’ve blockaded in the last decade have been crucially underdeveloped weaponry wise. That is not the case of my planet or my people, we will not be afraid to fight back. If you blockade our planet, we will be all too happy to use our ground-to-upper-atmosphere plasma cannons to shoot you out of the sky. So, please, I invite to you blockade my planet, it’ll give me great joy to see you efforts wasted.”

“Secondly, you think I’m so young that I don’t understand the thinly veiled threats on my life? The references to assassins? I’m not a senator, I’m royalty and a threat on my life is considered an act of war. And believe me, my planet will wage a war on the Trade Federate rage and determination, the likes of which, you very well have not seen before.” Words fell from your lips like venom, and though your voice was raised it was a controlled form a shouting that resonated through the whole room, and was honestly much more intimidating than if you were screaming. But you weren’t done yet.

“But, go ahead, threaten me and my life all you want. I simply do not care, but if you threaten my people with suffering like that again,” You stopped, hand falling to the table top and finding its target as your fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife, picking it up and burying it into the polished wood surface, "I will execute you where you stand by my own hand. I don’t relish in the death of others, but unlike others present, I don’t hire assassins, I’ll get my hands dirty for my people. And yes, not only is that a threat, that is, by my family’s name, a promise.”

You paused to take a breath, ready to continue laying into them but Rex placed a a warning hand on your shoulder as if to say, you’ve made your point, stop while you’re ahead. Nodding, though he hadn’t said anything, you observed your audience who were all staring at you in both awe and slight fear. Breathing slightly heavy, you took one long and slow breath.

“Now, you better be grateful I’m the person they chose to send because I’m far more understanding than any of my siblings. They would go ahead and cut all charters with the trade federation right this moment, but since I’m much more forgiving… First thing tomorrow morning, you will get a call from my planet’s chief economist and head financial advisors. With them, you’ll devise a new charter that benefits both sides, and I wouldn’t get too greedy considering how tonight went,” You ordered, eyes narrowing in on Lott Dodd, “Please do remember what I told you tonight, all of it.” With that, you turned naturally (re: purposely dramatically) throwing your cape behind you as you went. Your fury was only punctuated by the wind off your cape hitting the Tradesmen who only watched you stride away cape billowing and soldiers marching behind you. _________

Later, that same evening, you were pacing the length of your quarters while Padme reviewed the video you gotten from one of the troopers, Jesse his name was. You’d long since abandoned the cape, formal dress, hair pieces, tiara, and gotten rid of most of your makeup, leaving you in a lounge dress you deemed fit for company. Afterwards, you dismissed your maids for the night- it’d be a while before you could even think about sleep.

Captain Rex had gone to talk to the general’s about tonight’s events which left you alone with the Nubian Senator, not that you minded. You’d considered her a friend long before these peace talks, considering how close you were in age, she was only a handful of years older than you. Even with her there, you were still going over the earlier events. Even though your parents and advisors had already seen and approved your actions, now that the righteous anger had faded you were left with nervous anxiety.

As the video clip ended, Padme looked over to you (you had paced behind the couch she was on) and tried to assure you, “Some may say that you got a little carried away, but other than that I see nothing wrong with this.”

You only hummed in response as you turned and crossed the room again, “If you’re worried about the senate, the proposals were ridiculous and the trade federation is on thin ice after their Pantoran scandal, so the senate won’t look twice at this.”

This time you nodded as you turned on your heel, but this time, as you strutted past her, she caught you by the wrist and pulled you onto the couch with her. (Part of your head reminded you of how you’d basically put yourself on Rex’s lap to escape Kix’s disinfectant- on that very couch. But you cleared that funny memory before you even got the chance to blush.)

Despite her approval, the approval of every high advisor, and even your own parent’s approval, something still didn’t feel right but you couldn’t find the right word for it.

Fortunately, Padme seemed to sense this and put a comforting hand on top of yours, “I know how you feel. The feeling that you still have more you want to say, the feeling that you said too much, anxiety about the enemies you might have created, anger that they threatened your people’s safety, frustration you couldn’t do more, fear you didn’t do enough. I had the same feeling with the trade federation years ago, and I wish I had the confidence to talk to them like that, then. And if all this gets out and into the media, your people will be proud to see their princess standing up for their rights. You have nothing to worry about.”

Just like that, she put that feeling into words and somehow that made it easier to deal with. With a small smile, you took her hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you, Padme, your friendship means more than you know.” You admitted, she returned the gesture.

“For the look on Dodd’s face, I should be thanking you.” She joked to ease the mood, you remembered every single look on his face, and she was right, worth it. To your surprise, she actually leaned forward and hugged you. Returning the embrace, you relished in the touch, not remembering the last time you’d been hugged like this, it was nice. When she pulled away, she smiled again, “Now, you should get some rest, tomorrow is another mass peace discussion and you can’t walk into that with a tired mind.”

With that, she smiled once more before turning to leave. On her way through the door, she was met by Captain Rex who gave her a quick salute as he carried a small tray in. Once the door slid shut, the captain set the tray down on the table nearest you before plucking off his helmet.

“You didn’t eat much at the dinner before it derailed, so I thought you might be hungry. I asked your maid to find something suitable for you- all I had were ration bars and I’ll barely eat them.” He explained. You weren’t hungry at all, but you still thanked him sweetly for his thoughtfulness as you picked at the plate so it wouldn’t be for nothing. This level of thoughtfulness wasn’t part of his job, you thought to yourself before correcting that line of thought. Instead, you imagined the butterflies in your stomach being fumigated, watching him as he did his routine safety checks.

As if he could feel your eyes on him, he simply asked without turning around, “Something wrong?”

Your eyes immediately fell back to the plate, critically analyzing the color and texture of every piece of fruit in the fancy spread, “No, no, I was just worried about what happened tonight but Padme very helpful.”

“She’s a good woman, especially for a politician.” He nodded, checking the balcony doors. Even though you always encouraged him to speak candidly, sometimes his honesty caught you by surprise. You couldn’t help but laugh at his distaste for politicians, a subject that had come up before.

“Yes, she is. And a good friend.” You sighed, picking at the side salad as you shamelessly continued observing him as he checked your closets next. He was tense, something was definitely bothering him. So this time, it was your turn, “What about you, Rex, something wrong?”

Though it was only for a millisecond, you caught that look of I wish I kept my helmet on and the side glance he threw at it where it sat on corner of your bed. Sans helmet, it was much easier to read his emotions, even though he was fairly good at hiding them. You could see him debating on whether or not he wanted to tell you. And for a moment, you feared you’d upset him- you rarely gave firm orders, maybe he was upset you gave him orders at dinner?

Finally he looked over to you and ended your spiraling thought process, “Brave and Impressive as it was, the next time you wish to shoot off like that, please give me some notice. Further more, please keep in mind that one day you might yell at someone who carries a blaster.”

Oh, there was that honesty again. You felt a little hurt for a second until you caught his eyes, and then you understood his plan. Say something just harsh enough to distract you from what was really wrong. You’d play along, for now.

“Well, I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone threaten’s my planet’s security, Captain.” You nodded playfully, abandoning the picked over plate to move to your vanity. Scrubbing off the remainder of the makeup, you watched him move from your closet to the floor to ceiling windows, using the wall panel to close the blinds for the night.

“You know your security is my top priority, (Y/N).” He shot you a glance, half playful, half serious. You relaxed a bit at your name, it made everything less formal and stiff. He seemed to sense this too, so he just continued, “I thought Jesse was going to piss himself when you sassed that banker. We had a closed circuit conversation going during the dinner.”

He explained, and you just smiled taking your hair of of the braid and pulling a brush through it. Through the mirror, you saw his helmet. You’d often wondered about the sound proofing they hand, and now you had your answer.

“Glad I could be of entertainment.” You teased as he disappeared into your bathroom. He emerged shortly afterwards with a small smile.

“Hardcase asked me if you carried a blaster, apparently you seem like ’the type’, whatever that means. He assure me that ’the type’ is a high compliment, apparently Senator Amidala is also ’the type’.” He continued. You always enjoyed hearing him talk about his men, he obviously cared a lot about them, even if they drove him crazy sometimes.

“Well, I think I should know how to fire a blaster before I make a habit of carrying one around.” You thought aloud as you went through the process of putting serums and creams on your skin, a ritual usually reserved for your maids but you were just as capable. Out of your eye sight, Rex cast you a funny look before remembering normal children weren’t brought up learning to assemble, aim, fire, clean, and disassemble every type of firearm the military had access to.

Instead, he offered, “If this place had the facilities, I could teach you.”

You both knew it didn’t, so you just smiled, “Or perhaps, I’ll just try not to get shot.”

“Yes, that works too.” He nodded with a grin, “Well, rooms all clear so you’re free to go to sleep whenever you want to. Unless you need anything else, I need to speak to my men before dismissing them to get some rest.”

He was already walking away by the time you called back to him, “Actually, Rex, before you go, you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

He stood wide eyed for a moment before you explained yourself, “Rex, it doesn’t take a Jedi to see that you're tense.”

He stayed silent for a moment longer that you felt comfortable with, so you hid the hurt in your voice with, “Alright, if you really don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Goodnight, Rex.”

But just as you could read his emotions, he had gotten rather good at finding what you really meant from what you said. He could easily hear the disappointment in your voice, so tried to remedy it with a rushed, “No it’s not that, it’s just that I-“

He paused again, so you turned around to fully face him and prodded him to continue, “You what?”

“I’ve... developed some unprofessional feelings during this assignment… for you. And, please don’t take this as a negative light on my men or the Republic. I would never act on it, or let it interfere with this job. I’m not expecting you to do anything or reciprocate anything,” He paused to look away, “You’ve made it very easy to forget who you are, who I am. Made it easy to forget that even on the impossible chance you reciprocate these feelings, that we could never be anything more than what we are right now. But tonight, seeing you command a room like that, as Brave, and amazing, and stunning as that was to see, it was a painful reminder of every reason why it would never work. So, I didn’t want to tell you because it would only hurt the two of us more. ”

You barely heard the last part over the pounding in your ears, sweaty palms balling up your skirt- he was right, knowing but not being able to act on it, especially hearing it from his lips, hurts worse than wondering. He took your silence as the only answer he need as he turned to leave again.

“I, uh, understand if I’ve offended you or made you uncomfortable. So if you’d rather not see me anymore, I can send someone else to be your personal escort for the remainder of this assignment. Just send a maid to tell me by morning.” He instructed stiffly before the door swooshed open. It took a moment for everything to process, but then, before you could stop yourself, you bolted off after him. Catching him by the wrist, you pulled him back into your quarters. It took a moment to gather your thoughts, but after an awkward pause of you just holding his wrist, you stammered, “That won’t be necessary, Rex, because, these feelings you have, they, uh, don’t bother me because, well, because I’ve felt the same way for a while now.”

For a singular moment, you allowed yourself to forget about your responsibilities. Allowed yourself to think like a normal young woman and be happy you just found out the man you fancied returned you affection, and in that moment that regular young woman threw her arms around his neck and hugged him like her life depended on it. Felt his chin stubble against her face and how his armor poked the softer parts of her body. Slowly, he brought his arms around her waist and held her there, silently enjoying the touch for a long as she would allow herself.

When you pulled away, Rex subconsciously kept a hand on your hip as you looked up to him and pressed one tentative kiss to his cheek- all you dared to do. This time you pulled away and put a bit more distance between you and him and wrapped your arms around yourself to keep from reaching out to him- any closer and you weren’t sure you would say what needed to be said. In the pause, you reminded yourself of every reason you weren’t that regular young woman.

For a moment, you stared at the Captain with sad eyes truly debating if you had to stop yourself. Firmly, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities, but Rex already knew you had made up your mind. Still, he let you speak, knowing it was more for you than for him.

“I’m sorry, but you were right. Even though we share these feelings, nothing can come of it- we both have responsibilities.” At first you tried to keep you voice clear, as if you were addressing the public, but that didn’t work so you switched back to you normal tone, softer and just for him, “Rex, I don’t even want to know the punishment for this, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me. So, you’re right let's just end this before we both get hurt, and just carry on as we were before, right, Rex?”

You’d never asked for guidance, and Rex considered being selfish, but he knew he couldn’t do that to you. You were asking because you needed him to tell you that you were doing the right thing, and if you needed his strength he’d give it to you.

“Of course, we’ll carry on and get through this just like we have been.” He assured you, which even though you knew it was the right thing, it was the exact opposite of what you wanted to hear. Rex turned to leave after a quiet goodnight and this time you let him.

“I just never thought you‘d be-“ You started with a sad smile, but the door cut you off, Captain Rex never even heard you over the door closing, separated the two of you physically as you had just done metaphorically, you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing though, “the first person I loved.”

You comm unit beeped on your nightstand, Rex’s voice immediately followed, “I’m sorry did you need something, I thought I heard you say something.”

You quickly answered, forcing a nonchalant tone, “No, just talking to myself. Goodnight, Rex.”

“Goodnight, your highness.”

Somehow that stung worse than ending something that never had its chance. But that’s the price of royalty.

#captain rex x reader #knight in white armor

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

Text

Happiness Begins

Part 24

Chapter Summary: Jared sets his plan into motion. Elsewhere, the reader works on coming to terms with her struggles over these past few months.

Word Count: 2.6K+

Warnings: Language, discussion of mental health struggles,

Author’s Note: Only one more part after this!!! AH! I am tremendously blessed and constantly surprised by all the love and support I have received for this crazy little series. I couldn’t have done it without y’all, so enjoy the fruits of your labor. xo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and find more works by yours truly over at Alexandra’s Library!

The sun was malicious as it beat down on the small Austin country club. It was normally packed on beautiful Sundays and this one was no different. Jensen was cruising down a hill in his golf cart, one of his old high school buddies riding shotgun as they played a full eighteen. It felt nice to get out and do something again for a change. It had been so long since he had any free time, seeing as he was between projects right now, and he wanted to soak up all of it before the next one came along.

He slowed the cart down as they reached their hole, putting it in park on the flat grassland. He hopped out of the cart and searched his bag for a putter.

“I don’t understand how you keep beating me. I’ve been practicing for months.” His buddy laughed, Jensen joining in along with him. He opened his mouth to comment, only for another voice to pipe up first.

“Yeah, he always was the one to beat.” Jensen tensed as he recognised the familiar voice coming up to him and his friend. Jared was alone as he approached the men, but he was smiling brightly. Confusion was evident on Jensen’s face as he tried to determine what was happening.

“Hey, Jared, good to see you again bud.” Jensen’s friend held out his hand for Jared to shake.

“Likewise.” He nodded before turning his attention back to Jensen. “It’s good to see you too, man.” Jared pulled Jensen in for a hug, stunning his fellow actor before he returned the sentiment.

“Can I talk to you?” Jared pointed his thumb behind him, indicating to Jensen that he wanted to talk in private.

“Uh, sure.” Jensen was hesitant. He wasn’t sure what Jared was playing at yet. Especially considering the last time they talked outside of work, they were in a screaming match. But he followed him a little way away from the cart nonetheless.

“What’s up?”

“I figured you’d be here today.” Jared started.

“So are you following me?”

Jared laughed. “No, no nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s... well it’s about Y/n.” Jared ran a hand through his hair, pushing the long locks out of his face. He had a smile on his face, but Jensen could read the pain that hid behind it.

“Jared…”

“No, just listen. I want you to know, I’m sorry. I fucked up, okay? I was selfish and stupid and I should have seen it sooner. I guess I couldn’t believe that you weren’t just using her to pass the time because it was easy.” Jared admitted. “And I hate myself for ever thinking that. I know you better than that. I think it was just my protective older brother coming out. You know she hasn’t had the best track record with guys, and I just couldn’t see past that for some reason.” Jared sighed. “You two, well, you guys are actually pretty perfect for each other, no matter how weird I may feel about that. And I’ll be honest, I do still feel weird. But I’m working on it.”

Jensen sighed, rubbing his hand across the full beard that adorned his face. “That’s great Jared, really I’m glad, but I think it’s a little late.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Y/n doesn’t want anything to do with me. I hurt her. I took back every promise I made to her. I don’t deserve her forgiveness anyway.” Jensen didn’t go into specifics, Jared would get the picture with what little he had offered.

“Yeah, she is hurting. She’s hurting something fierce. I’ve honestly never seen her this way and it scares me. I overheard her tell Gen she is thinking of selling her business and moving to New York. Got some big offer from a huge beauty conglomerate. Didn’t even feel like she could tell me about it either.” Jared explained. Jensen’s head snapped up, his brows coming together on his forehead.

“No, Y/n would never do that.”

“That’s what I thought too. But she’s been offered some huge deal to sell her shares and be a VP for this new company. And she is seriously thinking of accepting it.” Jensen adjusted the ball cap on top of his head.

“Why would she do that?” Jensen’s words came out in a sigh.

“Do you really have to ask that question?” Jared put a hand on his hip when Jensen scoffed at him.

“Come on, you can’t put that on me.”

“I’m not blaming you, I swear. Y/n is hurting though, and I don’t think that anyone else will be able to talk her out of it.” Jared said honestly.

“So that’s why you’re really here, to beg me to convince your sister to not run away because of me.” Jensen rolled his tongue behind his teeth, biting back the urge to yell. That would never get him anywhere.

“I meant what I said. I am sorry. But I also know that she won’t listen to me. She may however, listen to you.” Jared jumped to the defensive the second the angry words left Jensen’s mouth. “Look, I’m not saying you two should pick up things where you left them, not that I would care either way, but she loves you in a way that I have never seen before, and that has to count for something.”

“It did, at one point. Now, I’m not so sure.” Jared frowned at his friend. In one way, he did need his help, but at the same time he understood his hesitancy. They didn’t have the greatest history where his sister was concerned.

“Just let me get you two in the same room. Then we can let it happen naturally. What do you say?” What could Jensen say to that. As much as he was hesitant about tricking her into something, he didn’t want her to go. Danneel’s words had been haunting him since he had returned from LA. Jensen had been on the fence about whether he should take her advice and go after the woman he loved, and if he let her run off to New York, he may never get his chance. Y/n deserved to have all the facts before she made such a huge decision. She needed to know that he wouldn’t let her go without a fight.

“Ok, Jare.”

****

Gen’s words were still ringing in her head as she carried her tired body up the stairs to her apartment. Having babysat the three littlest Padalecki’s for the night, she was more exhausted than she had been in a while. She had forgotten how wild they could get sometimes, and she just had to be the fun aunt and cave when they begged for cookies. Three kids hopped up on sugar was, in hindsight, a bad idea.

In the end, she was thankful for her time with family. Being able to spend real time with them had what Gen said to her affecting her more than she thought it would. She had all but made up her mind about going to New York, but the more she thought about it, the more the idea actually scared her. It was a big step to take, and she still had at least one more person to talk to before she called Mr. Baltussen back.

The next morning, when she rolled out of bed, the sun was already high in the sky. She had slept far past her normal time, but for the first time in a while, she felt rested. Maybe it had to do with her plans for today. Or maybe she had truly needed to exhaust her body in order to get a truly restful sleep. Either way, she saw it as a bright sign. It was her reason to keep moving forward.

Seeing as she slept in a little later than normal, she had to make quick work of showering and getting dressed before her appointment. Y/n plucked her favorite pair of converse from the stand near her front door and plopped down on her couch to put them on. As her weight settled in the middle of the couch she felt something bump her hip. She turned, her brow scrunched together on her forehead to find her laptop falling into her hip.

“Seriously,” she huffed to herself. After all the time she spent looking yesterday, it had been on her couch all along. She could have sworn she checked the cushions, but apparently not as well as she thought. Y/n picked up the device and set it on the coffee table so she would be sure of where it was later, before bouncing out the door.

Nothing had changed about the small office she once again found herself in. The walls were still the same soft shade of green she used love some time ago. They still held the same paintings and the plants that had once threatened to overtake the room were still alive and strong. Even the couch that she had hated sitting at was still full of accent pillows that tossed a splash of color into the otherwise neutral room.

Y/n took a deep breath, allowing the essentials oils diffused into the space to ground her. It was like she had never left, and there was nothing she was more thankful for at this moment. When Gen had said she should talk to someone, she didn’t know Y/n had already scheduled this appointment. She had fallen so far from being a reasonably functioning human being. Just seeing Jensen and Danneel together and admitting out loud she wanted to sell her business, had sent her into a tailspin. Y/n had reached her breaking point, and she wasn’t hesitant to admit that she needed help.

“Please, take a seat.” Dr. Hawkins stood up from her place behind her desk as Y/n entered, picking up her notepad and taking a seat in the armchair across from the couch. Y/n complied to her request, making herself comfortable on the soft furniture.

“It’s been a while since we talked last. Where do you want to start?” Y/n bit her lip as she contemplated her choices. It truly had been a long time since she had been to see her therapist, and with everything that had happened in her life, she could build her way up or just jump right into things. “How about we start with work?” Dr. Hawkins suggested after a moment of silence.

“Work is hectic. Things are really hitting off, not to mention I just spent the last few months juggling my business and working on set with my brother.” Y/n fidgeted in her seat, a movement that did not go unnoticed by Dr. Hawkins.

“Yeah, and how did that go?”

“Not at all how I expected.” Y/n was gnawing on her lip again. She wasn’t sure why she was hesitant to talk. After all, that was the whole reason she was here in the first place. Hell, she might as well just jump right into it. Y/n took a deep breath. “Long story short, I slept with Jared’s best friend slash co-star slash guy he considered his brother. All behind his back, for months.”

“And why do you think you did that?” Y/n scoffed. She should have seen that question coming, she just expected more of a reaction.

“Because I’m an idiot. Because the guy made me feel safe, and beautiful, and loved. I think I was lonely after clashing with my mother at Christmas about my dating life and also being stood up. He fed me every line I wanted to hear and for some reason I believed him.”

“What makes you think he was lying to you?”

“He told me he was all in. That he loved me and wanted to be with just me. He said it wasn’t just about the sex. But then Jared found out and things got bad. Jared punched him and wouldn’t talk to either of us. For weeks.” Tears were brimming in her eyes. Recounting everything was harder than she thought it was going to be. Admitting it out loud to another person broke her out of whatever bubble she had put herself into. It all sounded so ridiculous coming out of her mouth. “When things got tough he just bailed.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Dr. Hawkins pushed.

“He said that we ‘all needed a break’.” Y/n made air quotes with her fingers. “His reasoning was that he wanted to give me my brother back and he knew I could live without without Jared.”

“Was he wrong?”

“You know me. Family is everything to me. He just failed to see that I can’t live without him either.” It was hard for her to admit that out loud. After all, she had promised herself that a man would not define her life. Yet here she was, a broken shell of a woman because Jensen left her. It was a constant battle inside her head, a seesaw bouncing back and forth against her skull. Most days it was just exhausting.

“To me, it sounds like he didn’t lie to you. He may not have gone about things exactly like you wanted, but that doesn’t mean that he was ever insincere with you.”

“What about me seeing him with his ex fiance all over the media? He told me he was over her, but they are out in L.A. together having dinner.”

Dr. Hawkin’s lips curled up in a small smile. “Are they still friends?”

“Not that I know of. I mean, she was at his birthday party a few months ago.”

“So what is to say it wasn’t just two friends getting together? Who says it had to be romantic? Was there any indication they were intimate?” Oh, she was good. Y/n scrunched her nose up, shaking her head. Of course her broken heart had soaked up what the media had fed her to fuel its own story on things.

“You know, I understand now when people call therapists ‘common sense filters’.” Dr. Hawkins chuckled along with the messed up woman across from her.

“So, let’s say that he truly did love you. Perhaps his leaving hurt him just as much as it hurt you. Maybe he needed a friend to talk to? Isn’t that why you are here, to talk to somebody?”

“Yeah.”

“And did you patch things up with your brother?”

“We are working through things.”

“It sounds to me that he made the right choice.”

Y/n bit back the tears. “And me and him? Where does that leave us?”

“Do you forgive him?” Y/n nodded. Of course she forgave him. She would be lying if she said she didn’t. Somewhere deep down, even as pathetic as it sounds, she forgave him the minute her and Jared started talking again. “Then as cliché as it sounds, if it is meant to be, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

“You’re right, that does sound cliché.” Both women laughed, the moment lifting from Y/n’s shoulders.

“You know, it is okay to mourn your loss. Because that’s what this was. It was a loss, Y/n. All that matters is that you don’t let that grief run your life. And that’s something I tell all my mourning patients. You are a strong and smart woman. I know you’ll get through this.” Dr. Hawkins pushed away her notepad, her full attention on Y/n.

“Yeah, I see that now.” Y/n smiled, allowing more of the weight on her shoulders to dissipate. Right now, she was kicking herself for not coming back sooner. But that’s what happens, life gets in the way sometimes. What matters now is that she found her way back. Her way back to Austin, to her family. And she would find her way back to happiness, even if it isn’t in the way she expects. More than that, she would find peace.

Part 25 (Final)

Forevers: @spn-impala @22sarah08 @turtlepad @callmekda @chaldei @hobby27 @cowboysnwinchesters @tranquility-or-chaos @pikabootoyouchu @dawnie1988 @grease222 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @polina-93 @clarinette07 @moonlight-babeh @suckerforfanfic @witandnargles @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @geeksareunique @akshi8278 @superfanficnatural @malfoysqueen14 @deanwanddamons @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl @hillface89 @arses21434 @thevelvetseries @sslater34 @mrsirishboru @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @encounterthepast @facadeformyrealblog @supernatural-bellawinchester @screechingartisancashbailiff @rebeccathefangirl @squirrelnotsam @heartinmyhead1 @1d-killed-me @samsgirl93 @deans-baby-momma @deanmonandnegansbitch @woodworthti666 @supraveng @onethirstyunicorn @heartsaved @know2grow @littlewhiterose @surprisinglysarah @stoneyggirl @carryon-doctor-lock @thebookisbtr @youaremyfiveever @kalesrebellion @lilulo-12 @winchester-fantasies @vicmc624 @supernatural3002 @winchester-writes @maralisa124 @therollingstoners @parinarain @kaz11283 @charmed-asylum

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angelaiswriting · 4 years

Text

The Contest (1 of 7) | some R6S guys x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Bandit / Blitz / Glaz / Jäger / Tachanka x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Dominic Brunsmeier can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut when it comes to eating pussy, and that’s how Y/N found herself being drafted to be the judge of this pussy-eating contest. (Straight out of a dream @kind-wolf had)

✏️ A/N: I... ehm, am a hoe, whoops 🙊 y’all, enjoy! Thank you, Alice, for always having great dreams and for letting me write about this. 🥰 The first actual part is coming soon, I just want to write a bit more of part four to avoid dishing everything out now and making you wait for the rest.

✏️ Warnings: nothing yet, but still 18+ only for sexual themes (oral sex f/r) being discussed.

✏️ Word-count: 1,937

✏️ The links to the other parts are in the masterlist linked in my bio.

THE CONTEST | >> part two: elias >>

When Y/N entered the lounge room, the conversation was already flowing and as she was already tired from the testosterone-filled day spent at the practically almost empty base, she didn’t make much of an effort to join it. She simply reached the alcohol cabinet, poured herself some whiskey, and sat down in one of the empty armchairs, ready to allow her drink and her friends’ voices in the background to fully relax her.

The day she had ahead was another one of those boring days. She was base-bound for the time being: other teams had been sent on various missions and only a bunch of operators had been left behind “on hold”. It wasn’t that bad: it meant having some days off, but those days often felt way too long and their emptiness brought up a heavy boredom she didn’t always know how to banish.

Her head had just leaned back against the cool faux leather of the armchair when her ears picked up bits of the conversation the boys were having and her eyebrows furrowed.

“Eating pussy is not a hobby,” Glaz was saying matter-of-factly.

Y/N’s eyes shot open, and the sip of whiskey that was halfway down her throat almost choked her.

“That’s something someone who doesn’t know how to eat pussy would say,” was Dominic’s reply. His eyebrows were knitted together and his lips almost pursed in disbelief at what his friend had just said. But then, when his gaze swept over and settled on Y/N, sitting right opposite him with the low coffee table separating them, his expression relaxed and his free hand, the one not holding his beer, came up to stroke his beard. “Have you ever eaten pussy so good you start considering learning how to breathe out of your ears?” he said and although he wasn’t talking directly to her, he was talking about her. He had told her just that a couple of weeks ago; he had groaned those words right against the chafed and tender skin of her inner thighs as she was still shivering with the aftershocks of her umpteenth orgasm, and she had breathlessly chuckled out loud at the mental picture that concept had painted in her mind.

At that, Marius laughed, a sound right from deep down his throat as Elias coughed in the attempt not to choke on his own drink. “You know no discretion.”

“Of course not! This motherfucker just said eating pussy can’t be considered a hobby!” Burning with disbelief, Dominic took a long sip of his beer and as he did so, he settled better in his armchair and allowed his ankles to cross as he rested his feet on the coffee table. “You learn how to eat delicious, juicy pussy, Glazkov,” he continued, the corners of his mouth curling upwards, “and then we’ll see if you still don’t change your mind.”

Timur groaned something in Russian and Alex cackled next to him. “I already know how to eat pussy, Christ. I bet I’m even better than you at it. You’re just boasting, but it’s all smoke in the eyes.”

Alexsandr proclaimed his agreement with a raise of his drink and before Dominic had the time to speak again, Y/N intervened, hoping to put an end to the discussion.

“Are you guys really arguing about your oral skills?” she scoffed, pulling her knees closer as her head leaned back against the headrest of the armchair. “How old are you, fifteen?”

“Listen, you know I’m right.” Dominic’s insistence threatened to make her smile, but hiding it was easy behind the rim of her tumbler. “You have to get down eye-level with your woman’s pussy and give it your fucking best. If you don’t go down on her like that’s the best thing you’ll ever do in your days, then you better leave the room to the pro.”

“Who, you?” Marius scoffed, eyeing his friend up and down before rolling his eyes at his Well, yeah, of course.

“Oh, fuck off. What are you, the self-proclaimed Cunnilingus Lord?”

“I don’t see anyone else worthy of that title here, so yeah, sure.”

There was a sudden uproar of “You clearly haven’t seen my women with me between their legs,” and “I’m sure you don’t even know where the clit is,” until Glaz’s voice seemed to drown out the others.

“You’re so full of bullshit, Brunsmeier.”

“I won’t let a child with his mom’s milk still on his upper lip insult me!” And while everyone’s words felt heavy and tense in the silence of the base, they all knew it was just a way to tease each other in the vain attempt to liven things up in these days’ placidity. Maybe an impromptu fight was just what they needed to have some fun.

But then, as Timur and Dominic stared each other down, Y/N’s soft laughter catalyzed the men’s attention onto something else. “I can’t believe you’re really about to fight over this. Why don’t you just sit in a circle and jerk each other off? The tension in here is palpable. When was the last time y’all had an orgasm?” She smirked and when she turned and caught Alex’s almost-shocked facial expression, something she never thought she’d one day see at the mention of sex, she chuckled some more. “You should place bets, and then come back and see who’s actually the best. The winner wins the money and the title of Cunnilingus Lord.” It was a joke, one she didn’t think would have a follow-up.

Silence ensued, and she would swear she could hear their brains work at maximum capacity as they mulled over her words. She knew how filthy-mouthed and filthy-minded these men could be — and she had spent more time with them than she had ever done before the past week — but it was still somewhat surprising to catch them red-handed as they fought about who had it bigger — or, in this case, who ate pussy out the best.

“What about a contest?” was Alexsandr’s proposal. He was sitting with his legs spread open and his hands in-between them, still holding onto his shot glass.

Everyone seemed to agree on his proposal and for a moment, as they spoke their minds, Y/N let her eyes close once more: if they wanted to challenge each other to a stupid contest, let them. The peace didn’t last long, though, because at some point, just as she was contemplating a nice bath instead of a shower before hitting the sack, someone called her name, and her eyes shot open just in time to see Dominic’s mischievous grin before it disappeared for good.

“I was saying,” he spoke up again, voice slow and measured as his feet came to rest on the floor and his legs spread a little wider, catching her eye, “that you would make an excellent judge.”

“And a partial one,” complained Marius, to which Dominic complained with a But she loves getting head! “We all know you two spend more time in the same bed than you do in separate rooms.”

She scoffed at that, more annoyed at the thought that someone would think she’d make someone else win on purpose than she was at the fact that she had just been brought into such a game. “Just because I’ve seen his dick more than I’ve seen yours doesn’t mean I don’t know how to judge good oral skills.” She frowned.

“It’s settled then.” Timur was grinning and his eyes seemed to twinkle under the lights of the room. “We eat you out, and you proclaim the winner.”

“Slow down, I never said I’d participate in your silly game.”

“But you also didn’t seem that opposed to it a second ago,” Dominic remarked. He was smirking again, and she knew he had something in mind. “You make the rules, and drop out if things start getting uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, no hard feelings,” Elias smiled, trying to look more innocent than she knew he was. “We care about you; you know we’d never push anything that could cause you discomfort.”

She eyed them all, one after the other, pondering the pros and cons of having these five men’s faces between her legs and not because of some chokehold during training. She had no problem saying yes to Dominic — she had been saying yes to him for longer than she could actually recall, and he had never disappointed. But it still felt rather weird to know that while it was just sex and they weren’t exclusive, that man was okay with that. He knew how to be possessive, but he wasn’t exactly jealous, and although they had never talked about it, she had never thought of him as someone who would share so willingly.

Unless his ego was at stake, though, apparently.

“There won’t be any dick involved,” she decided eventually. “I don’t know about clothes yet, but if I say you must keep them on, you will keep them on, understood?”

There followed a chorus of Yes, Ma’am and although her body relaxed against the leather of her armchair, she found herself squeezing her thighs together.

“No toys allowed, but fingers are fair game,” she added. “Scratch that, their use is highly encouraged. We can do it anywhere you want as long as it’s somewhere private. But absolutely no exhibitionism: there’s only going to be me and one of you in the room at a time. Only one person in a day, for God’s sake, I have other things to do other than being the judge for your stupid game.”

“Deal,” was Elias and Timur’s rushed reply and they exchanged a look at the simultaneity of the action.

“I’m not done,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “I’d say the rule is only one orgasm per participant but if you’re good at it — and you’ll understand it from my reaction —, you have free reign to give me another.” It was a plain attempt at riling Dominic up because it had been clear, just a few moments ago, that he thought he was the best, la crème de la fucking crème when it came to giving head to a woman, and a sick part of her wished she could be able to challenge him that tad bit more. “I don’t care about the order you decide to follow, that’s your business. I’d just like for you to let me know at least the day prior, so that if I’m busy with something Rainbow, we can reschedule.” She sat back for a moment, thinking of something else to add, but she came up empty-ended. “Now, if you accept these rules, you’re in, otherwise forget about getting close to my pussy.”

They all agreed, and they all promised they’d be good boys and behave.

“What’s the final prize?” Alexsandr inquired after a while, almost absent-mindedly.

“The knowledge that the winner is the best in this room at eating pussy? I thought that would be enough,” she laughed. “You can bet real money, that’s your business. But,” and she stared right in Dominic’s eyes as she prepared herself for what was to leave her lips, “another go between my legs could be put up for grabs.”

Dominic’s That’s out of discussion! put the others’ exclamations of jubilee to silence. “You go down on her only once, you fuckers. That’s it.”

Her grin at his reaction only widened when Timur spoke up again.

“What are you worried about?” And then, to the others, barely holding back his laughter, “Maybe the expert isn’t really that great after all.”

Feedback is always welcome if you want to drop old me a line 💛

Original pic used: https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-clouds-and-blue-sky-4870972/

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ASK)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892 @mblaqgi @becs-bunker

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eddiemunsonssoulmate · 4 years

Text

Make love, not war: The anti- OBX drama edition

Okay kids, listen up.

I’m too old for all of this drama and I’ve been on this hellsite for way too long to just keep watching it in silence so this is gonna be my only, long ass post about this mess that has occured/is occuring. I’m trying to get my thoughts out and and maybe talk some sense into the last three braincells some people have left.

These are my thoughts. My opinion. It’s totally fine if you disagree but if you feel strongly offended or called out by this, you might be part of the problem.

I’ve been watching the drama for a while now and normally I’m just someone who’s on the quiet side, grabbing a box of popcorn and watching how y’all tear each other to pieces but seriously?

Some of you really need to get a life.

Fandom life isn’t always easy, fandom life can be messy, some people are not what they seem, yadda yadda.

But seriously, did you lose all the respect you had when you’ve signed up on this website or social media in general?

First: The Rudy “drama”

Someone, a really sweet and nice to everyone person, stated a theory based on an anon ask who based their ask on a social media website. A theory. A worst case scenario of what might have happened. They wanted to be nice and answer to every anon they’re getting but guys.

Guys.

It was a theory. A mere idea of what might have happened because someone asked, nothing else. It was not facts, there was no evidence and the ask that caused all of this was not based on facts either. It can totally be fun to speculate about things. You’re allowed to believe what you want. Rudy’s a dick, Rudy’s a sweet angel, Rudy is a blue alien in disguise, everyone is allowed to have an opinion on something but oh my god.

Don’t make facts out of theories.

Don’t look at three emotes and be like “oh my god they have to be dating!”

Don’t make a drama out of two actors not liking each other’s posts on Instagram like what the heck.

When did Social Media take over your life so much that you interpret everything in those little things? There’s a real life out there, ya know?

We don’t know anything for a fact so let it go. Wait until someone says something official which probably won’t happen.

More importantly, stay out of actors' private lives as much as you can. Seriously. You’re welcome to state your opinion about them, make theories, stuff like that but tbh, it’s better to stay out of it because at the end of your day, it’s none of our business. Celebrity stalking is not and never will be cool. Don’t waste your time and energy of trying to figure something out they clearly don’t want you to see. Best example for this are like, baby news.

I know it can be exciting to figure stuff out. I know you can be totally curious because you like that person and want to find things about their life but don’t blow it out of proportion.

Actors are humans. Actors are not their characters. They have their own private life and if they want to share, that’s cool. If not, then that’s also cool. And tbh, the OBX cast is feeding us a lot more way more than other actors from other shows/movies, god bless them.

But who the fuck do you think you are that you’re sending them, the actors or the people talking about it, hate based on a simple theory on a website that has a life on it’s own and things that happen on here should stay on here? That’s not cool, it’s a shame for other people in the fandom. Why would you want to make a person feel bad because I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like to feel this way either.

They’re grown ups, they can do what they want. You don’t have to like it but for the love of god:

Have some respect for a human being.

Second: The Chase Thing aka #chasestokespartyisover

That last sentence totally applies here too.

Have respect for a human being.

Boy made a tweet over ten years ago where he said something that was problematic. Was that cool? No. Did he apologize? Yes. Is it time to let it go? Totally. Was his hacking excuse true or not? WE DON’T KNOW.

You know what’s not cool tho? Some people taking their time to scroll down TEN YEARS AND MORE on a timeline to get some tea on them that you can use and complain about.

I know quarantine can get boring but jfc guys. There are more things to life than obsessing over an actor, ya know.

We all said shit in our youth, that’s a fact but people change. They grow. Don’t compare a teenage boy with a grown ass man.

You know what’s also totally 100% not acceptable? People photoshopping fake screenshots to show what a big mean white boi Chase is, trying to fuel the fire of hate. What the fuck is wrong in those minds?

Cancel Culture is a toxic phenomenon that should be the only thing getting canceled. You can’t cancel people, ya know. It’s fucking toxic to say something like that and just...don’t, man. I barely have any words left to describe this stupid thing.

Make love, not war. Spread love, not hate.

Fandom is not a place to rip each other to pieces. Not everything in this world is about race, sex/gender or problematic things. Just because someone doesn’t reblog a lot about Madison it’s mostly not because of racism or because she’s queer. Sure, that’s probably the case for some people but you know, those people aren’t worth it then.

Fandom is not a place that should spread hate around, especially not on anon, sending people asks filled with hate. There’s a bunch of younger kids on here, especially in the OBX fandom from what I’ve seen so far and it’s not okay to tell a 15 year old girl to tell her to go kill herself because she likes Rudy more than JD or shit like that. It’s never okay to something like that but it hits the younger ones even harder. Maybe it’s their first fandom and people ruin that experience on the spot, feeling powerful while on anon.

Fandom should be a place where we come together and have fun. Make friends and share things. Gifset, fanfics, theories about the new season, things like that. It should be a place to freak out over new teasers, new pictures from the set, the cast sharing stuff on their platform of choice and just things we enjoy.

There are different ways to block and blacklist on Tumblr, especially if you’re using it in a browser on your laptop/pc. Use that to block toxic people, tags you don’t wanna see and create your own little bubble where you’re happy in. Do this in case you feel uncomfortable with some people around here, so you only see what makes you happy.

Please remind yourself about the fact that behind all those blogs, there are real people. People who all have their own lives, own opinions, own ideas. Same goes for actors. They’re not there for your personal entertainment, they don’t have to share their complete private life with you. They’re human, just like you and me and it’s unacceptable to send them hate, no matter what they’ve done. You don’t have to like them but keep it to yourself or talk about it with friends, I don’t give a shit but leave it out of their sight.

Please remind yourself that we want to have a good time here and especially during times like these where we spend more time on here than we probably should *laughs*

If you made it to the end, thank you for your attention and taking your time and remember:

Be nice to each other, the world is cruel enough.

-Captain out.

#outer banks #obx #obx netflix #rudy pankow #chase stokes #madison bailey #jonathan daviss #madelyn cline #drew starkey #obx cast #this is just a massive brain dumb with lots of swearing lmao

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

Note

Hey luv! It's been a long time since we've talked! Hope you're doing fine!

Led astray

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x ReaderRating: PGWarnings: Angst, sadness, being bumped, anger, Seb’s a bit of an ass in this one, curse words Word count: 1,441Notes: Requested by the very lovely @chrisevansthedoritobastard I’m so very sorry it took me over a year to get this written out. But better late than never right? *looks hopeful* Hope you enjoy sweetie. The idea actually came from listening to the radio one very early morning. The local station has a segment called ‘2nd Date Update’ the rest as they say is history.

Forever:

@winters-buck @angryschnauzer @feelmyroarrrr

@aquabrie @fandommaniacx @supernaturallymarvellous @smoothdogsgirl @becs-bunker

This story: @not-another-fangirl

You’d given it thought, rolled it over in your head for the last few days, asked friends, hell even your sister, all agreed that this idea would come back to bite you in the ass. But you just had, no needed to know and hopefully understand why he hadn’t returned your calls or texts. Sure the same old thoughts came to mind, he’s busy, sick, working or just plain dodging your calls. Enough is, enough you needed answers and this seemed to be the only way to get them.

Though now as you wait for the host to come back your nerves start to get the better of you making you pace the short distance between the kitchen island and stove. Cell pressed between your shoulder and ear, hands wringing like a wet washcloth, till a male voice comes back to the line.

“Good Tuesday morning to ya this is Jason Douglas joined by my cohorts Megan Wright and Michael Masters on 93Q country. It’s 6:45 just this side of the dawn, on a fine morning and we’re bringing you 2nd date update.” There’s a slight twang in his voice while speaking, flipping switches and taking a sip of his coffee. “Morning Y/N thank you for joining us this fabulous morning.”

Clearing your throat, “You’re welcome,” swallowing to try to coat your dry throat once more, “Thanks for having me.”

“So I hear you went on a date a few weeks ago and the guy hasn’t called you back?”

“Yeah, yes,” rolling your eyes at how stupid you sound thinking this may be the disaster everyone warned you about. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”

“Don’t be, we’ve had many people call wanting help trying to find out why calls haven’t been returned. It’s only natural,” pops in Megan, voice bright and cheery for how early in the morning it is.

Nodding though no one can see, you’ve finally sat down on a barstool, cell in hand now. “I thought we’d hit it off, the conversation flowed, we laughed, shared things about each other.” Shaking your head not wanting the tears to come and clog your voice. Had you been wrong about him?

“Tell us more about your date and how the night went? Did he seem put out by how the date went? Had you done something to offend him or him, you?”

“NO,” the one-syllable comes out louder than intended laced with a small amount of anxiety. “I mean I don’t think so like I said it seemed to me the date went well. For my part I thought we hit it off from word go. It’s why I’m so confused as to why he hasn’t called me back.”

“Well alright then let’s get this settled and call up Sebastian,” flipping a few more switches, Jason brings up what he needs. “Now remember Y/N you’ll be listening in try not to say anything till I cue you. He won’t know until that moment so if you want answers, you’ll have to be patient.”

Nodding, realizing they couldn’t see you, your voice cracks as you answer, “Understood.”

“And we will get to that call right after a few words from our sponsors,” sitting back the three of them talk while you’re on hold hearing nothing but elevator music for almost two minutes.

Weather finished up and Jason comes back, “Time is now 6:55 and we have Sebastian on the line, welcome sir and good morning to you. I’ve got my cohosts, Megan and Michael with me.”

Both give him a welcome before Sebastian himself speaks, “Morning.”

“Do we have your permission to talk with you and ask a few questions? This is on air and being recorded of course so if you aren’t comfortable with that speak now or forever hold your peace.” a soft chuckle leaves his lips at the corny joke he makes.

Puzzled and curious as to what the radio station could want, Sebastian gives consent knowing he might get in trouble with his agent and manager later for this. As there are no movies or TV shows to promote at the moment. So that little voice in the back of his mind keeps poking. Saying this could bring trouble to his door.

“Can I ask what this is about? I didn’t win anything did I? Especially since I didn’t enter,” he jokes seeing the confused looks from his friends beside him.

“Well, it seems there’s someone out there that thinks you’re amazing and wanted to let you know. Do you remember going on a date with someone a few weeks ago?”

Thinking over his schedule, everything he’s done in the past few weeks, he remembers one and wants to smack himself. “There’s one that comes to mind.”

“Y/N?”

Sighing, running a hand through his hair, Sebastian steps away from the group to make the call a little more private. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“You don’t sound so happy to hear the name, did something happen?” Megan chimes in.

All the while you’re listening to the conversation trying to keep yourself from interfering, wanting to have this answers to put this behind you.

“No, nothing happened; Y/N’s a sweet girl I just didn’t feel any sparks with her. The thing I regret the most is giving her so much hope by agreeing to the date.”

Shaking his head, Michael speaks, “I don’t follow you, dude.”

Not wanting to sound too harsh but knowing the truth is always better than a lie, “We met at a party one night, thought she was a nice girl that we could have chemistry, I was wrong. We talked on the phone for a couple of nights before agreeing to a date. In that time I learned from a friend of mine that she’s a very clingy person, needy and always wanting to be the center of attention.”

“What the f*ck,” you couldn’t hold back your tongue anymore and let slip a curse word that Jason told you wouldn’t be allowed. “I’m sorry Jason it slipped out.” Breathing deep to regain yourself, “If your friend told you all that about me then why did you even agree to the date you asshole.”

“Yeah sorry Sebastian, Y/N has been listening in the whole time we’ve been talking,” butting in to explain just making sure to bleep the curse word.

Shrugging to himself, “Thought it would be fun, you’re a sweet girl Y/N just not my type is all. Besides you did talk way more about yourself than I did, I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise.”

“That’s a lie Stan and you know it you jerk. Why make up stupid crap like this if all you truly wanted was a good fuck. That’s what it truly was about, man up and tell the truth.” Anger building now as you jump from the stool sending it backwards to pace the floor, “And here I thought you were a better man than that Sebastian Stan.”

“Whoa, whoa there is this true y’all had sex and what that wasn’t good enough for you Sebastian?” Megan asks wondering if they were talking to who she thinks it is.

“Listen she called my cell, no blew it up more like it with calls and texts, every half hour wanting to know when and where we’re going back out. I told her when she left that morning, things wouldn’t work,” trying to push the problem in your lap, making things your fault rather than his.

“You know what fuck you, Stan, your dick wasn’t big enough anyway to satisfy a goldfish,” done with the whole thing you don’t wait for any answers. Instead deciding to hang up on them, grab the pint of Ben and Jerry’s you stashed for times like this and headed to your bed to cry it out over Pretty Woman and other chick flick movies.

Clearing his throat to get the shock out, “Well then, I take it there will be no second date huh?” laughter clearly in his voice as he looks at his cohosts with a shake of his head. “I guess being an actor and trying to find love isn’t as easy as people would have you believe.”

“So not funny asshole,” hanging up Sebastian shakes his head going back to the main part of the gym to finish his workout and forget the stupid call even happened.

“You know they air that shit on the radio these days? Your fans are going to hear it,” one of his friends states a smirk on his lips.

“Who listens to radio anyway?” is his comeback while flipping his friends off to lift weights.

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #request #its been a long time #angst

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years

Note

Faith and Faust have been on my MIND lately. Thinking about him starting to get more protective over her like him waking up to her curling into his side and he has his arm sling around her. Or at a party when one of the rivaling band dudes tries getting her to sleep with him. He ends shit quick.

Previous Faust x Faith imagines here (x)

Note: This drabble got looooong. Over 3K. I think it might qualify as a one-shot, but oh well. We’re super close to the smut I’ve been teasing y’all Faust fans with. Enjoy!

Warning: 18+ drug use/drinking/violence/death threats etc.

Faust watched joy unfurl on Faith’s face. What was once her standard smile brightened into a beam so incandescent he had to look away. She jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms about his neck. If he took a step, surely she would have remained stuck on him like a cluster of chattering burrs.

“You really want me to come? Like, really? It’s not just a pity invite?” Faith asked.

“I’d never invite you if I didn’t actually want you there,” Faust told her.

“I know! I’m just so happy! I can’t wait!”

As fast as she exploded, a sudden and cold realization snuffed her enthusiasm. Faust saw her eyes, once wide and spirited, turn wistful.

“What is it?” He asked, feeling her disappointment as she slid off him.

“My parents will never let me go. Not for an entire weekend.”

Faust clicked his tongue. “You’re an adult, Faith. You can do whatever you want.”

She shook her head, teeth pulling her bottom lip inside her mouth. “Not if I want to live there. As much as I’d love to be on my own like you, a minimum wage job at a bookstore barely covers rent. And I don’t know anyone around here who’d be my roommate.”

Faith assumed her disclosure would throw the same gloomy shroud over Faust’s expression, but he smirked and snorted. “Just tell them you’re going camping with Jessica and her family.”

“My dad will demand to meet her parents. There’s no way they’ll let me skip church for a camping trip without meeting them. Trust me, I know my parents. There’s no way to pull it off.”

“What about a phone call? What if Jessica’s dad talked to your dad on the phone? Would that work?”

Faith drew breath in through her teeth. When she looked up at Faust and saw his air hadn’t tainted with the sourness of defeat as hers had, it gave her a glimmer of hope. She’d do most anything to go away for a few days with Faust and his band.

“I’m not sure. It’s risky. And if he doesn’t buy it, I’ll be screwed. He’ll never let me out of the house.”

“It’s stupid that your parents still control everything you do. Do they expect you to suck the teat your whole life? What about when you go off to university? Are they gonna monitor you every day?”

“No, but then I won’t be under their roof,” said Faith, her cheeks warming from his distaste.

“Just tell him you’re going to Jessica’s for the night, then call the next day and say you’re staying another night.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. They’re already questioning me about her. Asking when they get to meet her, what’s wrong with having sleepovers at our house... My dad is catching on, I can feel it.”

Faust grunted his aggravation. “I feel like I’m dating a ten-year-old. You have to get permission to do anything. It’s fucking stupid.”

His frustration stirred up a whirlwind of emotions in her chest. On one end, Faith loved to hear him admit they were a couple, but on the other, Faust’s scorn reminded her of the infantile rules she had to follow and her father’s distrust. She was an adult, and there was no reason she shouldn’t be allowed to go away with her new boyfriend for a few days. Dejected and without hope, Faith’s eyes watered.

“Don’t you think I know how stupid it is without having you reminding me all the time? I don’t want to be me, but I am. If I don’t listen to my parents, they won’t let me choose my school or anything. They’ll put me in a private school. You don’t understand what it’s like to have parents like mine.”

“Thank fuck, I don’t.”

“So, I guess I’m not coming with you.”

Faust sneered and motioned at her purse. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m calling your dad.”

Faith clutched the strap of her suede bag, the thought of a staged conversation between her secret boyfriend and her father causing a lapse in any rational thought process. Though she stood rigid, Faust urged for her phone. She held her breath after relenting, a faint whisper of sweat dappling her nape. He held the phone to his ear and, noticing Faith’s paleness, turned from her to not crack a laugh.

Faith longed to hear her father’s voice, whether he spoke in a monotone or smelled the bullshit reeking off Faust’s words. Before she leaned in, Faust laughed through another bite of conversation, thanked the man and hung up. He tossed the phone to Faith and winked.

“That’s how it’s fucking done, babe. You’re coming.”

“What? Really? You did it?”

Faust wished not for her praise, so he stooped quickly to kiss her, but she pulled away, astonishment hanging off her jaw.

“Wait, what did he say?” She asked.

“He said yes, obviously.”

“No, but, like, what did he say?”

“A whole bunch of shit. I don’t know, but you might want to start thinking up a new imaginary best friend because he’s keen on meeting Jessica and her bullshit parents soon,” Faust guffawed.

~*~

After Faith climbed into the back of the band van — a rust-bitten, grey clunker of a machine — Faust gave her a bare introduction to the rest of the passengers. The group wore clothes of all black, patched denim vests, leather boots or white high-top sneakers and sported varying lengths of shaggy headbanger hair. Faith felt vibrant as a rainbow with her floral summer dress on and a glinting gold chain suspending a cross pendant between her breasts. She hoped her fashion choices wouldn’t harrow Faust’s reputation as the broodiest member of the band, but when he held her hand in the back seat as they took off, all self-consciousness flew out the cracked windows.

They pulled up to a squat apartment building where two girls stood waiting. Similar black clothes, dyed hair, illegible band patches, ripped fishnet tights and metal jewellery reminded Faith of how different she must have looked. She was the outcast in this group of like-minded individuals. The girls piled into the van, throwing their backpacks into the mess of camping gear while one lit a joint and passed it to Ola, the guitar player, who’d taken up a third of the space in the van by lying length-wise across the floor. The second of the pair noticed Faith and scrutinized her with two heavily lined blue eyes.

“Who’s that?” The girl made a general inquiry, avoiding eye contact with the newest presence in their group.

Faith hesitated a breath and then answered. “My name’s Faith.”

The duo exchanged smirks and giggled. “Okay. Did you find this one at Sunday school, Faust?” The blue-eyed girl asked.

A frosty mask of distaste tainted the drummer’s neutral expression. “Fuck off, Anika. Not everyone’s cunt doubles as a sewer. Nasty bitch.”

The girl named Anika scoffed, smacking Ola to prompt some defence, but received a chorus of snickering instead.

“Fuck you, Faust,” sneered Anika, imploring Ola’s intervention with a glare. “Are you just gonna let him talk to me like that?

Ola shrugged his shoulders, pulled his hood up over his mop of long blond hair and lowered his sunglasses. “He’s got a point.”

Anika turned her attention back to her friend, conveying some wordless message, and scoffed again. “We’re already off to a great start. Faust’s dating Mother Teresa and Ola’s being a little bitch.”

Mordy, the bass-player and driver, glanced into the rearview mirror, cynical eyes pinning on Faith before a curve in the road demanded his attention. She recognized him from the party. He was a quiet man with long, brown curls tied into a ponytail that nearly dusted his tailbone. Mordy shook his head and turned up the stereo to drown out the voices with walls of assaulting guitar riffs.

To Mordy’s right, the singer of the band — if he could be referred to as a singer — slouched into his seat, cracked leather boots perched up on the dash. Faith forgot his name, but didn’t worry over figuring it out until later. The passengers bobbed their heads in time with the music as they carved through the countryside and came to a dirt road that stretched for miles. She worried Faust’s friends would never accept her, but when he took up her hand again and held it in his lap, she leaned her head on his shoulder and decided it didn’t matter. Faust liked her, maybe even loved her, and that was enough.

The spot they chose was no more a campsite than the forest was a trailer park. Faith thought they’d never stop hiking until they came upon a small clearing, far enough away from civilization it was unlikely anyone might chance upon their tents. The group set up their gear while Ola and Mordy argued over who got to start the bonfire.

By the time Faith unrolled her sleeping bag and changed into more comfortable clothes, the sun was minutes from disappearing. Mosquitoes caught their scent, ignoring the citronella torches doing nothing to keep them at bay. Faust insisted she douse herself in bug spray and did the same before rolling a felled log from the forest to use as a seat next to the crackling fire. Once the group gathered around the flame, out came the beers and weed. Several joints came around the circle, one of which Faith took a puff of before Faust plucked it from her fingers.

“You’re gonna give yourself the spins,” he warned.

Anika glared at the drummer. “Let her smoke if she wants to, Faust.”

Shocked by Anika’s change of heart, Faith gave her friendliest smile. Perhaps it was the alcohol smoothing over her prior judgments, or maybe she was always crass with newcomers, but soon, Anika and her friend Sam urged Faith over to their area, offering her sips of hard lemonade between pulls from a shared joint. Faust watched from the corner of his eye as he poked at the embers with a stick.

“Um, where do we go to pee?” Faith asked an hour after sundown.

Faust spread his arms wide, gesturing all around the site. “The forest is your toilet.”

She blushed and turned to her new girlfriends.

“Don’t worry, Faith. I brought toilet paper. I’ll get you some,” said Sam.

Equipped to trudge through the forest to find a suitable spot to relieve herself, Faith heard the boys howling from afar and giggled. She found a log large enough to provide her some cover even though the night was black as pitch and the tops of the trees filtered out most of the moonlight. She could still see the fire flickering in the distance and headed toward it after she finished her business.

Twigs snapped underfoot as she ducked under low-hanging branches, intent on cutting straight through despite many obstacles. But before she reached even ground, a black figure stepped out from behind a thick walnut tree. It was the singer whose name she still couldn’t recall.

“Lost?” He asked.

“Nope,” Faith giggled, feeling the effects of both the weed and alcohol mixing in her bloodstream. “The campsite is right over there.”

“Right over where? I think you’re lost,” he said, taking a step forward.

Faith’s breath hitched in her throat. She tried to peer past him to spot Faust, but he cut off her line of sight.

“Don’t worry about ol’ frosty Fausty. He’s busy talking to his ex-girlfriend. I’ll help you find your way out.”

She took a step back, and he matched it with a pace forward. Soon there was hardly a gap between their chests.

“I see the way you stare. You want me,” the singer claimed.

“Um, I think you’re mistaken. I’m with Faust.”

The man laughed, then took a drag of a cigarette Faith hadn’t noticed burning away between his fingers. He flicked the butt away and touched her shoulder. She snapped back, her heart plummeting from the unwanted contact.

“Can you not? I promise whatever you think you’ve read, it’s wrong. Faust is my boyfriend.”

“Man, for someone who dresses like a prissy smart-ass, you sure don’t know how things work. And you’re dumb to think Faust will settle any time soon. Trust me, I’ve known him since grade school. There’s no chick in this world good enough to hold him down. Least not for long. He’ll tire of you just like he did with Anika, and you’ll become another band-whore. Sticking around the guys to try your hand at being picked. I’ve seen it happen, and you don’t want that.”

Faith didn’t have much of a temper, but what underlying rage she harboured stoked beneath the scorching air of his words. It brought to light all the reasons she thought up to explain why Faust had yet to have sex with her. Perhaps what the singer claimed held truth. Maybe Faust was using her to gain shock points from his circle of friends.

“Me, on the other hand... I’d treat you right. You’re too pretty for him, anyway. What’s a girl like you even doing sniffing at his heels? You’re not exactly his type.”

“I guess that means I’m not your type either,” Faith bit back.

“You’re most definitely my type. And I think you know it.”

“I’d like to go back now,” she whispered.

“Come on. Just think about what you’re doing. Faust will rip your precious heart out. You’ve no idea how many of his rejects I’ve had to comfort after be humps them and dumps them. What makes you think you’re any better in his eyes?”

“Faust loves me.”

“Oh, yeah? Has he told you that?”

“No, but... He doesn’t have to. I know he does. Otherwise he wouldn’t have—“

“Invited you here?” The figure chuckled. “Yeah. Right. This is where we bring all the band-sluts. Best not to think yourself wife material. You’ll only be disappointed.”

“Why are you doing this? Aren’t you his friend?” Faith asked.

“Yeah, sure we’re friends. Best friends. Which is why you should take my advice before you end up hurt—“

Something knocked the words from his mouth in a flash. One second he was upright, and the next he was on the ground, groaning from impact. Faust stood in the darkness, arms hovering at his sides to prepare for what he’d do next. Faith hadn’t realized she let out a yelp until voices from back at the campsite started calling out their names. Faust stooped, grabbed hold of the singer’s ankles, and dragged him a few steps.

“Get the fuck off me! What are you doing? Get off!”

Faith looked on with utter panic as Faust hauled him through the brush toward the campsite. She followed. The others gathered at the edge of the treeline until they noticed Faust’s hulking form and took steps back to clear his path. The drummer raked his hand through the singer’s hair, lifted him by the belt and tossed the man toward the fire. Before he could scramble to his feet, Faust was at his throat, fingers tangled in his hair again to force his face close to the roaring fire. The rest of the group looked on in horror as the singer’s moustache and eyebrows singed. Inches away from the licking flames, he let out a howl that nobody but they reeled from.

“If I ever catch you talking to my woman that way again, I’ll find you. I’ll find you and nail you to a fucking crucifix, douse you in gas and set you on fire.”

“Faust!” Ola snapped from his shocked state and lunged for the drummer before he caused permanent damage.

It took both Ola and Mordy to wrestle Faust off the other member, and when they did, Faust spit on him as the girls huddled together. Anika curled a protective arm around Faith’s shoulder as Sam stepped in front of her. Both girls wailed for them to stop, but their cries went unanswered.

“You hear me, motherfucker? Go near her again and I’ll murder you with my bare hands. You know I will!” Faust screamed.

“Fuck! My face! You burned me, you sick fuck!”

“Next time, I’ll slaughter you!”

“Faust! Faust, stop! Stop with the death-threats, okay? Enough! We came out here to have a good time!”

Faust shrugged his friends off, but they kept proximity in case the drummer took a swing. When they were sure Faust made his point, they let him go to Faith, who rushed into his arms and buried her face under the flap of his leather jacket.

“Are you okay, Sven?” Mordy asked the singer as he stumbled to his feet.

In the firelight, the group stared at Sven, shorn of all his facial hair, brows and eyelashes included. The wind swept the stench of burnt hair away as he swiped his hands over his face, coming away with oily smears of his singed moustache on his fingers.

“Does it fucking look like I’m okay, Mordy? This fucking psychopath almost killed me! That’s it... We’re kicking him out of the band. I’ve had enough of his shit!”

Ola and Mordy exchanged strained looks, then turned back to Sven, both laboured with regretful grimaces.

“It’s not your band, Sven,” Ola mumbled.

“So what? Didn’t you just see what he did to me?”

“What happened back there?” Asked Anika.

“We were just talking!” Sven yelled. “I was just talking to her before this crazy fuck sucker punched me!”

“I heard what you said. And I should have known you’d try to pull a fucking move on her because that’s what you do. You try to fuck everyone’s girlfriend because you can’t find your own. It’s gonna earn you a tombstone, asshole!”

“Faust, come on. I think he’s learned his lesson,” Ola tried again to diffuse the tension.

“If anyone’s out of the band, it’s you. You won’t play in this town ever again.”

Faith tightened her arms around Faust’s waist, and the move worked to ground him. He realized then how scared she was, wheeled her about and guided her away.

They left the group, not stopping until they descended a slope and came to a small river. Faust took out his cigarettes, lit one, and exhaled more than just smoke. Faith watched, stiff and unable to give voice to her racing thoughts. All she could do was cling to him until he was ready to address the situation.

“Sorry,” said Faust.

“Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“For scaring the shit out of you.”

“It wasn’t you who scared me.”

“I know, but still. Fuck, maybe I should have handled that a bit better.”

Faith noticed her hands shaking as Faust kicked rocks into the water, hauling on his cigarette until he burned filter. If she was honest with herself, Faust’s reaction had frightened her, but showed her all she needed to see.

“I... I love you,” came her wavering reply.

Faust looked up as though she’d let out a scream, eyes wide and lips pressed together. She shook her head, immediately regretting what she said until he went to her and pressed her to his chest again. He kissed the top of her head.

“I know you do. And I feel the same way, I think. But you have to let me do this at my own pace. All right? I don’t want to fuck this one up.”

A tear rolled down from her eye, but Faith smiled. Oh, how she smiled, clinging to him in the blackness, the trill of the stream drowning out the arguing back at the campsite. His heart thumped against her cheek. The beat erased all Faith’s fears of him growing bored with her. She would wait for him as long as he needed.

#faust x faith #faust stuff #valter skarsgard fanfiction

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notanacousticsetcal · 4 years

Text

girl crush (lrh) - chapter one

request - nope! but my requests are now open.

summary - luke is 19 and 5sos is at the top of their game. daisy harlow is a solo artist becoming more popular by the day. daisy and luke “date” for publicity but some real feelings start to spark during their forced time together. the only problem? luke has a girlfriend.

warnings - brief mention of an abusive father, not great relationship with her mom either, mentions of lonliness and she’s just kind of in pain? some anxiety.

word count - 1.7k

a/n - i’m planning on making this long so it might permanently move to wattpad for updating but i’ll let y’all know. also, its not clarified in this chapter but daisy’s mom is native hawaiian (polynesian).

My platform boots clack against the hardwood floors as I make my way to the stool perched center stage, a microphone resting expectantly atop it. I mentally curse myself for not touching my manicure up before the show as I stare anxiously down at my chipped nailpolish. I ring my fingers out before grabbing the mic and sitting down. I cross my legs and get comfortable as I wait for the musicians to get situated around me. It’s so quiet, you can hear the quiet chatter among bystanders in the hall. I stare at the ground uncomfortably. No matter how many times I perform, every single time without fail my hands shake and my mind races with the what-ifs. What if I mess up the lyrics and the band can’t follow me? What if I don’t take enough breaths and get all choked up? What if my voice cracks? What if I can’t hit the high notes? But once the melancholy guitar kicks in, I’m whisked away in the same chords I strummed that night on my apartment floor. The notes were a lot more choppy when I was playing them, my teary eyes obstructing my view.

“Trying not to hold dear to my safety.”

My hands shake. I think about my father’s face twisting in anger. I wondered what I had done this time. It was always something. That house was never a home. It was sewn together by my screams and my father’s bitter resentment. Things built on fragility crumble quickly.

“Prisoner to my miracles, save me.”

I’m transported back to those stupid commercials. My mother dragged me all around Hollywood, passing me script after script. ‘Chin up, tamarii,’ she would say. ‘Smile big for the men in suits.’ When she found out I could sing, I was never allowed to close my mouth again. Whatever made her money. Whatever got her away from my father. At whatever cost to me.

“From the roof that I built myself, gave me.”

The day she left, so did I. Do you grieve for someone who is supposed to put you above all else? Whose job it is to keep you safe, but who fails? I left and I didn’t spare a second glance to that rickety old house. The last one on the right with the peeling yellow siding and splintered red door. The one that kept me safe and dry from the storms outside, but never the storms inside me. Or the storms inside my father.

Everything I have now, I made myself. My mom took every cent she used me for with her, but she couldn’t take my music. And she didn’t take me.

“Only thing that I didn’t want more of was the feeling I couldn’t escape it.”

Physically, I would never have to see them again. So why wouldn’t they leave me alone? Not even my thoughts were safe.

“Waiting tables at a minute complaining that the phone would start ringing.”

Six months ago, I was waiting tables at Rico’s wondering when I could support myself doing what I love. Part of me wishes I could go back to the simplicity. I’ve never felt more alone than I do now.

“But lately, my soul’s looking for a better way to deal with all the little changes that keep freaking me out. Wouldn’t hurt to figure out a better way of imitating so I don’t let me down. Sitting in the middle of a city with a million strangers and it's getting too loud.”

I let my voice express the emotion I’m feeling. Living in LA on my own has been a lot lonelier and colder than I expected. And what if this whole thing doesn’t work out? What if by tomorrow nobody likes me anymore? But above all, the person I’m most worried about disappointing is myself. Maybe because I’m all I have left.

“Wouldn't hurt to figure out a better way of imitating so I don’t let me down.

So I don’t let me down.

Got no time to be overthinking. Can’t let thoughts in my head beat the demons that wanna drive me away for believing in the things that I was so sure of.

Had to lie, end the fight, be my savior.

Emphasizing the light to my failures ‘cause it's not black or white in its nature.

When the plane lands I’m still looking for a better way to deal with all the little changes that keep freaking me out.

Wouldn’t hurt to figure out a better way of imitating so I don’t let me down. Sitting in the middle of a city with a million strangers and it's getting too loud.

Wouldn’t hurt to figure out a better way of imitating so I don’t let me down…

Cause I keep thinking when the sun gets better, I’ll be dancing on my fears from yesterday…

And no, I can’t keep thinking when the sun gets better, I’ll be dancing on my fears from yesterday. Cause I’m still looking for a better way to deal with all the little changes that keep freaking me out.

Wouldn’t hurt to figure out a better way of imitating.

So I don’t let me down.”

The last note carries for a moment more as I open my eyes to the small crowd in front of me. They applaud loudly, turning off the flashlights I didn’t notice they had on. I smile as they cheer, laughing at their unexpected enthusiastic nature. With that, the band begins to pack up and I stand to shake their hands, mine no longer trembling but instead, steady as a rock.

I walk off stage, reveling slightly in this short burst of confidence I get after performing. I’m led to a back room with TVs tuned in to the show. A commercial for OxyClean is playing. I miss Billy Mays. My manager is sitting on the couch with some middle aged man with a scruffy beard and a baseball cap. Once I catch her eye, she waves me over excitedly. “Daisy! Babes, come here. Got some exciting news.” Mariah pats a spot on the sofa next to her and I sit on the plush red material.

“What’s up?” I ask hesitantly. I love Mariah to death -- the woman treats me like her own -- but she can be a little out there. I’ve had to turn down her extravagant ideas on more than one occasion. Once, she wanted me to perform while hooked into a harness, flying over the fans. Sounds more like something Gaga would do (and rock it), but it's just not me.

Her signature red velvet lipstick is painted pristinely across her lips, per usual. She smiles warmly at me. “This kind man is Mr. Wilson. He’s the manager of a band called 5 Seconds of Summer! I’m sure you’ve heard of them, right doll?” She blinks at me expectantly and I smile politely.

“Of course. I’ve heard some of their stuff. They’re great.” Mariah giggles excitedly.

“I’m so glad you think that, Daisy. Jack and I -- excuse me -- Mr. Wilson and I have been talking for a few weeks now about maybe arranging something between you.” Her expression turns nervous.

“What do you mean? Like a collaboration? Well, their stuff tends to have more of a punk edge, but--” Mariah cuts in, waving her hands dismissively.

“No, no, not a collaboration. Though that might not be a bad idea for the future,” Mariah raises her brows, nudging Mr. Wilson with her shoulder. “We were thinking something more like hanging out with them. Particularly… the lead singer Luke.” She looks apprehensive, like she suspects I might not like this suggestion.

“By hangout… you don’t mean as friends. Do you?” My tone is extremely unamused. I begin to stand, sick of Mariah’s insane ideas. “Mariah, I can’t deal with--” Mariah tugs me back down by my sleeve.

“Daisy, please hear us out,” she pleads. “You won’t have to even see him in private. Everything will be for the paps. For publicity. Both you and the 5sos boys are releasing new music and… well, Mr. Wilson and I have an inkling that this little stunt might be really good for sales.” Mariah nudges me suggestively and places a hand on my knee. “Look, sweetie. I know this isn’t your kind of thing, but you know Mama Riah is always looking out for you. It’ll only be a 2 month thing. A little fling!” I gasp audibly and push Mariah’s hand off my knee.

I shake my head. “2 months? I thought we were talking a few pictures together max! Mariah, I love you but you’re insane.”

“Daisy, please think about this. 2 months of your life. That’s it. We’ll make it look like you're an item, but short and sweet. We’ll make the break up messy. Lots of news coverage just in time for your new single and the boys’ new album. It's genius!” She grabs both of my shoulders, shaking me with every syllable. I sigh, defeated. She was really fighting for this. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. A few extra sales for a couple months with some random boy. Sounds manageable.

Mariah could see me mulling it over in my head. Her shoulders tensed, awaiting my response. “Alright, alright. I’ll do it.” She squeals in excitement, throwing her arms around me and pulling me into a tight hug. I struggled to breathe through her poofy curls and choke a little on her intoxicating fruity perfume. She pulls away and takes my face between her hands, careful not to claw me with her long, red nails. “This is gonna be fantastic, Daisy, you just wait.” She gives one more excited squeal and turns to Mr. Wilson. While they chat excitedly, I slump back into the soft, velvet couch, losing myself in the oversized cushions.

The show came back from commercial break and I watch as the next musical guests take the stage. A boy with multicolored fringe straps a guitar over his body while the boy behind him sits himself at the drum kit. Another boy with dark hair walks out with a bass hanging from his shoulders. The last boy to take the stage makes his way up to the mic stand, pulling a pick from it. He slings his guitar comfortably over his shoulders and turns to converse with his bandmates. That blonde is Luke Hemmings.

Boy, am I in for it because he is gorgeous.

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings x reader #luke #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos imagines #5sos x reader #5sos x you #calum 5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of smut #5 second of summer imagines #calum 5 seconds of summer #luke 5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #ashton 5sos

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jjsjuiceboxx · 4 years

Text

FORTH OF JULY WITH JJ AND THE POGUES WOULD INCLUDE-

SUMMARY- just a head canon of your fourth spent with the pogues.

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️: cussing.

A/N: let me know what y’all think should I do more ??

☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎

- JJ waking you and the pogues early to get supplies because John b forgot and JJ isn’t good at planning ahead nor is he good at thinking on the spot “you guys no I’m not good under pressure I get duressed”

- At the store he picks up anything and everything that is food ( he smoked weed on the ride to the store and now has the munchies ) “JJ we do not need 5 bags of m&ms and 3 family sized bags of chips”

- Back at the chateau where you all are organizing the food and drinks and other important parts to a 4th of July bash and JJ is rolling blunts up for everyone and putting them in a mason jar

- “Let me help you roll that, it’s a lot that’ll take you forever” “no Pope it has to be perfect and precise or else it won’t light correctly”

- deciding this was just a thing for the pogues and no kooks or tourons allowed so that meant a private beach spot “guys I know a great spot on the beach no one would find us at” “JJ I swear to god if it’s you and Y/N’s sex spot I’m going to hurt you” “it might be....dont think about it”

- you going to help Sarah carry one keg while pope and ki get the other and JJ not wanting you to get hurt such as dropping the keg on your foot and breaking your toe ( yes you’ve done that and not more than once so JJ isn’t risking it ) “I got it for you baby, Sarah I’m a strong man you let go let me carry it and show you how it’s done” JJ would say flexing his muscles

- once everything is set up a camp fire, portable grill, s‘more stuff, all the food and drinks, a table for drinking games, a tarp and buckets of water with soap to make a home made slip and slide, corn hole ( JJ made it especially for the 4th of July and let you paint it how you wanted out on the dock while y’all had a pic nic, his idea of a date it was simple but so cute and beautiful when the sun started to set )

- once the sunset JJ handed you a beer cracking it open for you and then doing the same for himself he pulled you into him and raised his beer into the air to say a toast “you guys are my family and I just wanted to say you’re my favorite people to get wasted with” JJ said, you all knew that was JJ’s way of saying he loved you guys and would always be there everyone knew that too and put their beers in the air and saluted and yelled a bunch of booyahs JJ leaned into your ear and said “I love you and I always will” then he would kiss your cheek and let it linger for a bit “I love you more” you would say sincerely and making eye contact that you held for awhile so he really knows and sees you mean that so deeply

- you guys brought an old ratty table and solo cups to play beer pong of course I mean is it really a party if there isn’t beer pong? Pope and JJ were on one side of the table while you and John b were to the other when playing beer pong you and John b were always a team because you work well together and almost always can tell what’s on his mind without asking and vise versa. “Babe you’re so going down John b and I have this in the bag” “in your dream sweet cheeks” he’d wink at you Sarah was everyone’s cheerleader “GO POPE DEEP BREATH IN AND LET IT OUT AND TOSS” “Sarah you’re my girlfriend” “sorry babe I don’t like picking sides” “ooouu babe a little to the right and you got it” “wow thanks” when JJ shoot 3 in a row you and Sarah both cheered “good job babe” “thank you but love you’re not supposed to cheer your opponent on” “oh right aww boo” that made everyone laugh you and John b won one and then JJ and Pope won one Sarah and kie didn’t but better luck next time

- because of beer pong and the drinks you had before you guys were tipsy which makes the slip and slide THAT Much more fun you pored buckets of water and dish soap on the tarp that was on a hill you guys brought boogie boards and stuff to slide down with Incase you didn’t want to slide on your stomach or back “I’m going first since I’m the pro” kie said grabbing the boogie board and running down it then landing on the boogie board on kies way down she was laughing and squealing, because she had a boogie board when she hit the water she kept going a bit further out “oh my god you look like a skipping stone” JJ would laugh at her John b went on his stomach saying he wanted to see what being a penguin was like Sarah went right after John b making them crash into one another at the bottom and Pope would fall in the sand laughing, JJ grabbed your hand and you guys would run so fast then jump onto the slip and slide and JJ would not let go of your hand even on the way up he still held it and would look down at you smiling so wide you loved when he looked that happy with out a care in the world. Pope went last because he wanted to calculate his move like a weirdo. “Ok so I calculated my speed and where I need to jump at to gre-“ “just got already Pope” “ok” pope stepped back and took off towards the slip and slide and jumped slightly but stayed standing as if he was surfing or skateboarding he made it all the way down that way we all jumped up and cheered him on “dude that was soo cool” “good job Pope that was awesome” “man I wish I thought of that” you guys went down the slip and slide some more

- once it was dark out you guys made a bonfire and started to cook the hot dogs of course you burnt some of them but it’s ok because you brought extra thanks to kie you guys ate dinner and drank some more and talked.

- after dinner you decided it’s dessert time which of course is smores it isn’t a bonfire without it you pope and kie would say when John b asked if it was necessary, JJ looked so confused at all of you using sticks and putting the marshmallow on the stick then into the flames “j what’s wrong?” “N-nothing I’m good” “oh my god JJ do you not know what a smore is???” JJ would pout “shut up kiara of course I know what it is” “if you say so” you would continue talking when you felt a slight nudge you looked over and saw JJ looking at you then his marshmallow on the stick “aww j it’s ok if you have never made a smore before this makes this so much more cute and I’ll teach you” “ok baby, it’s just no one ever showed me or made me a smore before ever” he would say looking down you put your hand on top of his hand that was holding the stick and put it in a flame “the fire will cook and melt the marshmallow you can let it burn it so it’s black and crispy or have it so it’s slightly burnt” you said rotating his hand and stick around to get all sides “how do you like yours done” “I like mine burnt so I just let it catch fire then a few seconds later blow it out plus it is a lot more faster” “then I want mine how you do yours” you put y’all’s hands out further letting it catch fire you pull it closer to you so you can blow it out “ok now hand me a block of chocolate and two graham crackers” he gave them to you and you put the chocolate on one side then put the stick between your thighs and You squeezed your thigh together to keep the stick still you put the marshmallow between the graham crackers mushed them together and pulled the marshmallow off the stick then handed it to JJ “voila a smore made out of love for my love” you smiled and then did a chefs kiss JJ smiled and giggled at what you said “why thank you my lady” he said then took a bite of the smore you saw his eyes light up “oh my god oh my god this is so fucking good this is my favorite thing, I can really taste the love too” he would say smacking his lips around. Every one stopped to look at JJ who had chocolate and marshmallow all over his face you all busted out laughing and JJ realized why quickly laughing too you went to kiss his lips then pulled away and licked the mess off his face then kissed him again “that was so gross” “you’re just jealous popo” “I’m not responding because that is not my name Y/N” “it is now” you would shrug. After you ate the s’mores to the point you would explode. JJ was a mess he has so much chocolate and marshmallows on his hands so he started to chase everyone with his sticky hands “JJ I swear to god if you get your sticky gross fingers on me I will drown you in the ocean” “JJ don’t I just bought this top” “JJ don’t get Sarah’s top gross” “oh my god are you 5?” “4 actually” “that’s fan-fucking-tastic”.

- you could see the fire works from figure 8 you were a good distance away but they were still super close and big “I can’t believe it was 20$ to go to that thing” “yeah you’d be stupid to do that” “we are geniuses we get a free fire work show and we have such a good view of it” you guys all watched the show in aw of how beautiful it was and how it would reflect off the ocean you took pictures of the view for a bit then cuddled into JJ for the rest he would hold you very tight and make sure you had enough drink and food ( chips ) and made sure you were comfy and warm enough.

- it was dark enough to do fire works so Pope, John b, and JJ decided they would be the ones lighting the fire works because “we don’t want our girls to be blown up in the face” all three boys would say. After you guys did your fireworks which were shitty cheap ones you did sparklers “guys someone take pictures” “Sarah we have to live in the moment” “if Sarah says we take pictures we take pictures” “I want to make photo frames for all of us so you can each have one in your room” that ended up being a valid reason so the boys didn’t mope around when they were told to pose.

- the last fire work was a message that read out “Sandra will you marry me?” You all could hear the cheers from where you stood then you heard what you assume to be Sandra shout “oh yes Steve I will” which lead to louder shouts and cheers Sarah mumbles “wow congrats Sandra, thanks for making my parents drag me to more kook gathers” “oh fuck that means me to doesn’t it?” “Of course it does John b” you could hear pope and kie arguing over how fire works ruin the planet when JJ whispered into your ear “one day I’ll have a fire work show for you and it’ll have words and everything because I love you so much and I want everyone in obx to see it they’ll be that big” you smiled up at JJ and kissed him “I love you JJ since you’re doing a fire work show I’ll do something else but it’ll be HUGE don’t worry” “I don’t doubt that” you went to kiss again and were startled apart by more fireworks from kooklandia as you and the pogue refer to it you all laugh at everyone’s scared faces but you turned back to JJ to kiss him again you heard a few clicks and some flashes you pulled apart and kie and Sarah were taking photos “now my photo obsession isn’t so stupid anymore is it?” “Yeah you’ll thank us later when you have such a cool and cute shot of y’all locking lips with the ocean and fireworks in the back” you and JJ just rolled your eyes but by this time next week when you all got the photos back you knew you would for sure thank kie and Sarah for the photos.

#jj maybank imagines #jj maybank outerbanks

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simple-heroics · 4 years

Text

Snowy Nights in Tokyo

Part 1 of the “Let Me Take Care of You” mini-series Fuyumi Todoroki X fem!Reader (alternating between she/her and they/them pronouns) Word count: 11,919 someone stop me

Not to get too gay on main but @floof-reppu opened my eyes with their Fuyumi fic. Which inspired some assertive!Fuyumi. Everyone say thank you to her for helping me the NSFW scene. It’s my first one and tbh I still have a lot to learn in writing smut but here it is.

Me being me, I’ve also gone overboard and now have to make a mini-series for Fuyumi. I don’t even care that I won’t get a lot of notes for this. It just...feels like I need to write it, you know?

Anyway, this is dedicated to all the eldest daughters in the world who have had to take care of everybody but themselves.

Content warning: Hyper vigilance, alcohol, references to drunk adults, references to high stress work environments, mild Quirk play (not previously negotiated), brief orgasm denial, possible naked book clubs, and VERY consensual sex between two sober adults. Emotional, intense topics brought up before, during, and after sex. It gets heavy, y’all. And a little awkward because surprise, surprise. Sex with a virtual stranger isn’t always all that sexy.

“To y/l/n - for kicking ass and finally taking a night off!” Your friend toasts you. Similar cheers echo her as shot glasses clink together.

Rolling your eyes, you throw your head back and take your shot. You are well-acquainted with burns but the shochu is an unfamiliar one in the back of your throat, making you cough. Your old schoolmates laugh, jokingly asking you when you last actually drank. A second later, you remember to laugh with them. The sound scratches itself out of your throat, hoarse from the recent burn of liquor.

It feels...off.

Even if you weren’t on shift, even if you were having fun with friends and tossing back a couple of well-deserved drinks, you couldn’t help being hyper aware of everyone in the room: The group of salary men, somber when they first arrived, now laughing hysterically. Some girls’ night out, tipsy women giggling over cocktails. Random tourists in the back going nuts over sake bombs. You watch it all on the mirrored wall behind your friends.

Eventually, your eyes wander to your unsmiling reflection next to your friends and realize… You look older than them. Your friends glow with this vibrancy, this carelessness, that made them feel younger to you. You listen to them talk - about classes, about apartment hunting in Tokyo and midnight convenience store runs, about dating. A whole different life than the one you live now. You’re the same age as them, have known some since high school, but you somehow feel ten years older. A part of you always feared your friend group growing apart as you all got older. But you never expected you would be the one to age so quickly ahead of them. There is too much weighing on your mind, too much you’d seen.

You close your eyes and the images are vivid on the back of your eyelids. The memories sweep over you, drowning out the surrounding laughter and clinking drinks. Phantosmia clogs your senses like smoke. The taste of ash soots the back of your tongue.

“Seriously, though. It’s been forever!” one of them exclaims.

You jerk back to the present, blinking.

“Does your new boss own you or something?”

You stiffen.

Another friend nudges her, shooting her a reproachful look.

“I actually don’t see him that often,” you say, tone sharp. You don’t want to kill the mood, not when it’s been so long since you’d seen any of them, so you try to lighten it. “He’s busier than I am.”

There are few people you respect as much as your boss. It’s a privilege to work under someone with so much experience and skill. You worked your ass off for years before you became qualified to even apply, and that was only the beginning. If you couldn’t keep up with the team, you weren’t needed. Too many lives at stake. The only person held to higher standards were the ones your boss set for himself.

“Right, right,” says the friend who made the sarcastic joke. “And we’re grateful to him, really. But...”

“But we really do miss seeing you, y/l/n,” another chimes in, sincere.

Your best friend intervenes. “Besides, he’s not all bad if he let you and that cute coworker of yours off for the night. Speaking of…”

Knowing what they’re getting at, you check your phone. “She says she got caught up in...something.”

“Really? Even the salary men over there are taking a break.”

Your table looks over to see the middle-aged men, completely sloshed, start their own improv karaoke. Your friends immediately crack up and imitate the off-key singing.

While you laugh with them, a part of you itches. You think of your coworker and the ongoing case. It feels strange, almost wrong, to be joking with your old schoolmates and making fun of drunk salary men while they were risking their lives.

Maybe you are becoming something of a workaholic, you privately admit. But it’s good work, important work. You help so many people everyday. You love your job.

But what’s the point of if you don’t have someone of your own to protect? a voice whispers, the same quiet voice that speaks up when you leave the bunks for your own lonely apartment.

Now’s a good time for another drink.

Ignoring the teasing requests for another round from your friends (“C’mon, y/n, we know you’re getting paid more~!”), you slide through the small crowds until you find an open space at the bar. The bartender’s swamped with orders piling in from a sprawl of college boys. Some sports team, you think as you subconsciously size them up, too rowdy to be an academic club. Harmless but stupid.

Still, you watch them from the corner of your eye.

“Could I get the matcha highball, please?”

Her voice should have been too soft to hear in the loud bar but somehow it rings out clear as a bell. Everything slows down. Your eyes widen, snapping to look at her.

At about average height, she stands out among the bar patrons in her modest white blazer and high-waisted jeans. Her soft-looking hair is white like the snow outside, vermillion streaks ribboned throughout the light strands. She shifts from foot to foot, full hips swaying with the motion.

You stare.

“Oops~”

You snatch the college boy’s wrist before he could “spill” his drink after he purposely bumbled over. The boy (really, he could only be a year or two younger than you) jolts, gawking at you.

With a stony expression, you look him dead in the eye. “Careful.”

“Oh!” The woman startles at the sudden commotion. She turns and you still.

Her face is cuter than you’d imagined it: a pert nose, soft jawline, and pretty pink lips that look like they’re made for things like smiling and laughter and other nice, soft things. Large, bright eyes like a winter sky framed by glossy eyelashes blink at you behind glasses.

The entire world around you just...freezes. The only conscious thought you can think is her, her, her, her. The inner mantra matches the tempo of your heartbeat.

“Uuh...hey?” the college boy speaks up. You realize that you haven’t let go of his wrist - oblivious to his attempts at pulling away from her vice grip. And that you’ve forgotten to breathe.

Feeling your face turn warmer than usual, you swiftly look away from her. It’s pure autopilot that allows you to say, “Be a little more careful. We don’t want any ‘accidents’.”

Driving your point home, you squeeze just a little - a silent show of your strength - before abruptly letting go. He stumbles back slightly, nearly bumping into another person, and stutters, “Y-yeah, whatever. Sorry.”

Partially to avoid contact with pretty turquoise eyes and also to drive the intimidation home, you stare after him stoically until he disappears.

“Thank you.”

You take an extra second to breathe, willing the concerning heat in your face - and the rest of your body - to lower before you face her.

Then she smiles at you.

The heat returns tenfold. Damn.

Light-headed, you quickly realize she isn’t merely cute. This stranger was so stunning that she knocked the air out of your lungs with just a look.

“No problem,” you croak.

The bartender saves your life. “Matcha highball!”

You have exactly 5 seconds to breathe and get your shit together while she gets her drink. You flounder for something, anything, to say. You could bench press the bar counter itself but you can’t talk to a random (beautiful, alluring, breath-taking) woman at said bar counter. But would that be weird? Would that make you no better than the creep deliberately spilling drinks on people?

Drink in hand, she turns back around and smiles again. It’s just as debilitating the second time around. Your knees weaken. “Thanks again.”

“You come here often?” you blurt out. And promptly wanted to blast yourself.

You expect her to lift a dainty eyebrow and walk away, pretending your existence never happened, but instead she honestly answers your terrible cliche. “No, not really. I’m...usually at home around this time. But some work friends told me I couldn’t skip out on happy hour again.”

Given her the simple sincerity of her answer and the way she completely missed the near “spill”, you deduce that she doesn’t come to bars often or at least doesn’t have much experience with the nightlife. You almost want to ask what a (beautiful, damn near ethereal) girl like her is doing in a place like this but thankfully quash the impulse.

“Me, too,” you say quickly, straight-faced. “Except they’re not so much work friends. More like actual friends. Not that friends from work can’t be actual friends but they’re my friends outside of work. Except I haven’t seen them in a while. Because I work. A lot. Not that I’m a workaholic or anything. It’s just an intense job. But I’m not intense. Well, kinda. Some people say I can be. Only because it’s important - the job, not me. Um. Not in like a self-deprecating way but like in a self-important way - which I’m not. Or I try not to be. I just care about people which is kinda a requirement for my job. Mostly. Or at least it should be. Some people, you know? And I’ll just stop talking now.”

It’s a wonder steam doesn’t hiss out of your ears with how hot your still stoic face is. You almost wish a villain would tear through the bar and knock you against the wall right. Now. Damn it, y/n.

Yet miracle of miracles, her polite smile slowly widens into an amused one - and one of those genuinely nice ones, without so much as a trace of mockery. “It’s like that with my job, too.”

How is she still here after that? And was she really...making conversation?

You swallow and try not to seem overeager when you ask, “What do you do?”

Her face lights up. “I’m a teacher.”

You can’t help the rare, almost timid smile that wobbles onto your lips. A teacher. Of course the angelic-looking woman is also a sweetheart with a sweet job. God, that sounds so precious. “Yeah? What grade?”

“Third.” Thinking about her class, her smile broadens. Your first impression was dead on: her face was made for smiles.

“Third grade…” you repeat. Not just a teacher, an elementary school teacher. No wonder she seems so - wholesome? Patient? Kind? You damn near melt at the mental image of her working with little kids.

She tilts her head, bangs moving with the cute motion. You try not to get distracted. “What about you?”

“I - “ You hesitate. It always feels weird when you tell people your vocation, almost like you were bragging. Besides that, another part of you - the increasingly paranoid, always on guard part - is cautious. “I’m a civil servant. Public safety.”

She makes a small noise of interest. “That does sound intense.”

“It has its days. But your job is probably a lot harder.”

Something in her eyes flashes. “You think so?”

“Mm.” You nod. “Teachers have to take on a lot, right? You’re not just teaching kids - as if that’s not a big enough responsibility, teaching the next generation. You’re also their counselors, social workers, referees, lawyers, motivational coaches. Sometimes even surrogate parents.”

Her expression softens into something more thoughtful. “Yeah… Yeah, sometimes.”

Whereas before you were hyper aware of everything, now your entire attention is narrowed in on her. It’s the first time in a long time you weren’t subconsciously counting every head in the room or checking for emergency exits. And she’s quiet, considering you. The two of you spend an unusually long time analyzing each other.

She licks her lips. You try to keep eye contact but can’t help yourself, gaze flickering at the deft movement.

“My name’s Todoroki. Todoroki Fuyumi.”

You briefly linger on her familiar but common family name before zeroing in on her given name, Fuyumi. Fuyumi. As in winter beauty. You inwardly applaud whoever chose her name; they had the right idea.

You bow politely. “Nice to meet you, Todoroki-sensei.”

She laughs a little, cheeks flushing pretty and pink. Her returning bow is shorter, a little awkward with a drink in her hand. “Please, you don’t have to call me sensei. I’m off the clock.”

“What should I call you then?”

“How about…” She seems to internally debate this. “Fuyumi? We’re about the same age and besides, hardly anybody calls me Todoroki outside of work.”

“Fuyumi-san…” Your lips naturally curl upward while saying her name.

Her eyes flicker away and back, catching your own. “And yours…?”

“Y/l/n y/n. But y/n is fine,” you say, an almost lie. No one but your closest and dearest call you by your given name. But you can make an exception for this stranger at the bar, for Fuyumi. A small, greedy part of you simply wants to hear your given name in her voice, see how those pretty lips move around it. And besides...

Something tells you it won’t be long before you can count her in the small, tight-knit circle anyway.

“Nice to meet you as well. Please take care of me.”

“Of course.” You pause, realizing what you just said. “Uh…

Her rosy cheeks brighten but she’s still smiling, still looking at you with those bright eyes. “Can I get you a drink, y/n-san?”

Yeah, your name definitely sounds good - really good - coming from her. Almost as good as her own name feels on your tongue.

“I’d love that, Fuyumi-san.”

Another kneecap-shattering smile is sent your way.

Cool it down, y/n. Cool it. Down. You tug on your collar to alleviate the growing heat under it.

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

Despite their earlier hassling over you not spending enough with them, your friends are more than okay with you (temporarily, you insisted, lying to them and yourself) ditching them to talk to someone new. They seem almost more excited than you are -- “almost” being the operative word. You feel like you’d been hit by someone’s electric Quirk, and the feeling persists the longer you talk to Fuyumi.

You find a little two-seat table near one of the windows of the bar. It offers you both an open view of Tokyo, bright and alive in the dark winter night, where flurries of snow roll through the neon-lit streets. A nice sight, you’re sure, but you’re all but ignorant to it in front of Fuyumi who sits across from you. White blazer draped over the back of her chair, she wears a form-fitting black turtleneck. A simple gold band glints on her wrist as she fiddles with her glass, tracing the rim with an elegant finger. You notice that despite having gotten her drink sooner, the ice cubes remain perfectly intact while your own drink is now a watered down version of your original order.

Not that either of you are really drinking, consumed in conversation - in learning each other.

You learn that Fuyumi is 22 years old. Less than a year ago, she completed her bachelor’s in elementary education at Showa Women’s University. This is her first year teaching, and she loves it. She adores her class. You listen attentively as she talks with her hands and a brilliant smile, describing one shy student’s increasing confidence and another’s improved reading score. You learn that your earlier deduction was correct: she isn’t much of a nightlife person, preferring smaller get-togethers and home-cooked meals. You learn that she loves the weather outside, attention sometimes drifting to the falling snow outside. You learn that she loves to read but is weak to the same soap operas you are. You learn that she’s kind and smart and passionate.

And that if you look directly at her for too long, you forget how to breathe.

Your conversation delves deeper. You both talk about your work, how a passion for helping people brought you to your chosen professions and how it's that very passion that sustains you through the hard parts. You talk about the constant paperwork, tracking every incident and expense and flickering concern, in order to protect the people you look after and yourselves. Fuyumi quietly expresses her frustrations with the Ministry of Education, the intense focus on academics and Quirk development, and how she can already see the pressure on her young (too young) students. Expression grave, you tell her about the moral concerns in your job, how people - people who have it hard, people who are just having a bad day - are practically dehumanized for their mistakes and how your colleagues treat even milder, non-violent cases like they’re scum of the earth.

You and Fuyumi both lament over the bureaucracies that get in the way of actually doing your jobs. You talk about what it’s like to be in that weird “in-between” age, feeling too old around people your own age who don’t have the responsibilities which your jobs demand yet so young - naive - next to most of your colleagues. Compassion fatigue is common in both your fields, you find. It’s just as fulfilling as it is utterly exhausting, taking care of people. You talk about how tiring it is to work for the public, how underappreciated you sometimes feel, how helpless some cases are.

“And then after all that, coming home at the end of the day can just be so…” Fuyumi cuts herself off, covering her mouth.

“Draining,” you finish, solemn.

She slowly lowers her hand, turquoise eyes wide and serious behind her glasses. “...yeah.”

You tap the edge of your cocktail glass, contemplative. You hesitate before saying, “Sometimes it’s hard seeing people I really care about…after taking care of people all day. I know my loved ones need me, too, and I want to be there for them. But sometimes it’s too much on top of everything else. Somedays...I feel too tired to care and caring’s the whole reason I even got into this job.”

You didn’t realize how true this was until you said it. It’s an ugly truth, hideous as it lingers in the air, but the truth nonetheless. You wonder if this is the real reason you don’t go out with your friends anymore, why you rarely saw your family as of late.

You also wonder about the intent look Fuyumi wore. Intelligent blue eyes meet yours behind rectangular frames and you can’t bring yourself to look away. You don’t know how long you two stared at each other, only that you’d stopped breathing entirely.

Pop!

“Aaaayyy!”

You shoot up and whip around, physically blocking Fuyumi - an automatic shield. Your hand goes to your waist and of course - of course you aren’t wearing your tactical belt. You’re off duty.

You start to activate your Quirk, let it hum unseen but ready under your hot skin. Off duty but still - .

But still, it was just the crazy salary men anyway. All drunk off their asses. One of them bought champagne, hence the pop. The man must be in his forties yet there he is, drinking straight from the bottle. The college athletes nearby start to chant and soon the rest of the bar is joining in. Somewhere, you hear your friends (the hooligans) cheering among them.

A gentle hand touches your arm, cool fingertips pressing against your wrist. Her touch sends off an immediate spark at first contact.

Electric Quirk?

Turning around, Fuyumi’s face is gentle but her eyes burn with an unexplained fervency. It kindles something in your stomach, makes you swallow.

“Let’s go outside for a bit. Get you some fresh air.”

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

With the din of the bar behind you, you exhale and watch your breath condensate in the cold night air. It’s quieter here. Only a few other bar patrons mill about, one smoking several feet away and others waiting for a rideshare. The warmth from nearly activating your Quirk slowly seeps out enough to bring you back to a safer, more civilian-appropriate temperature but it’s still enough to keep you warm in your simple leather jacket.

You glance at Fuyumi. The falling snowflakes surround her like a vision, bright against the dark of turtleneck but blending in with her hair. “Aren’t you cold?”

She smiles, pushing her glasses up. “I’m fine.”

“Quirk thing?” you guess wryly, curious but also avoiding directly asking about her Quirk. It’s fine as a kid but as people get older, outright asking people about their Quirks is something of a social taboo. It would be more polite to ask what her bank statement said.

“Something like that. What about you? Are you cold or is it a ‘Quirk thing’?” When she speaks, you notice that her breath doesn’t come out in a misty cloud. Trained to automatically identify hints of what a person’s Quirk could be, you pick this out. Ice Quirk then, maybe snow? It suits the winter beauty.

The corner of your mouth twitches. You tuck your hands in your jacket pockets and lean against the building behind you. “Something like that.”

You both stand in companionable silence. It’s easier to breathe outside with the city lights to distract you, though you sneak occasional glances at the way the blue and red neon lights reflect off Fuyumi’s snowy hair. The red streaks glow burgundy under the lighting.

“About what you said earlier…”

You say nothing now, simply pressing your lips together and staring obstinately at a distant flashing billboard: First a soda commercial, then some car insurance ad. You glance away when you see an ad for Burning Coffee and the familiar face with it.

“I get it.”

Schooling your expression into a neutral one, you look at her from the corner of your eyes.

Fuyumi tucks a stark white strand behind her ear. You try not to get distracted by the way she bites her lip. “Even before I started this job, I…I have two younger brothers. I love them a lot but it's - I…. I’ve had to take care of them for a long time now.”

You mull over this for a moment. “Because someone had to, huh?”

“Someone has to.”

You nod slowly. “Caring for other people is why humans are here but it’s hard. There are limits.”

“Yeah, there are...” That intense light in her eyes appears again. “But someone has to care, even when it’s hard. Someone has to bring people together.”

What about your parents? You want to ask, want to know who left her alone with such a heavy responsibility when she was so young. Something dark simmers in your stomach at the thought of a small Fuyumi burdened with the care of two little brothers while a child herself. But you bite your tongue.

Instead: “Who takes care of you?”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Who takes care of Todoroki Fuyumi?”

“Who… I - “ Her face is pink from the cold, you vaguely notice. Which is odd, if your hunch about her Quirk is right. “I... My brother does. The older one, Natsuo. He…”

You realize too late that you’re raising your eyebrows, high and skeptical in your otherwise neutral countenance.

“People care,” she finishes lamely. At your unimpressed stare, she turns her head away. The gesture is as bashful as it is stubborn.

“...there’s a difference between caring for someone and taking care of them,” you say softly.

Lifting her face, Fuyumi meets your gaze. You step closer without breaking eye contact. Her lips part, and you’re undeniably staring now - more than staring. You’re leaning closer, into her space, and she tilts her head back.

“Te ni shitai hikari ga aru kiiiimiii wa ima yorube mo naku hitori de kiro niiii tatsu~”

You both jerk away.

“Sorry,” Fuyumi mutters, covering her mouth. You catch a pink flush before she turns her head away.

Clearing your throat, you fumble for your cell. “No, my bad. Uuuh, hold on. Lemme just turn it off.”

Even saying that, you habitually check the caller ID and immediately turn serious. You look at her apologetically. “It’s work.”

Still pink-faced and cute, Fuyumi waves a hand. “It’s fine!”

“One sec…” Praying it’s not an emergency but prepared nonetheless, you answer brusquely, “Talk to me.”

“Woah, there, y/l/n. No need to sound so serious. You’re off the clock, remember?”

“Are you?” you retort.

“Yeah, just got off and on my way. Your friends still there or you guys get bored waiting for me? ‘Cause I also know this one place in Shinjuku with some cute girls who maaay bat for our team if yanno what I - “

You nearly choke on your own spit. “Uuh, no. No, that’s not necessary.”

“Y/l/n, you need to get laid. Like, I’m pretty sure boss man gets more than you and - “

“Hey!” You cover the receiver, as though fearful Fuyumi would hear about your sad (lack of a) sex life. Also you never want to hear anyone talk about your boss like that. It’s worse than if someone were to bring up your father in that way. You shudder at the thought. “I do not want to think about that. Do not put those images in my head!”

Your coworker cackles. “Then get out and get some! Pretty sure with the overtime you pull, you got some cobwebs down there.”

“I will report you to HR,” you warn, too low for Fuyumi to hear.

“See? This is why he hired you. He needed a bigger wet blanket than him in the office to make him look chill in comparison.”

Ha. Your boss. Chill. Even you can privately admit that’s a good one.

“Then he owes me a raise,” you grumble. After some thought, you also add, “...besides, Shinjuku isn’t necessary.”

“Wait. You met somebody?!”

Hyper aware of a pair of pretty blues on you, you choose your words carefully. “We just received word from Team Lambda that things were...unexpectedly successful.”

“SHIT IS SHE WITH YOU NOW! Why are you still talking to me?!”

“Do you still require back up at the agreed location?”

“Pffft. Y/l/n, you dork. Nah, I’m good. I’ll swing by for a drink and say hi to your cute friend but you do who you gotta do.”

You clear your throat. “I’ll do my best.”

“Damn right you will. With how diligent you are, you’re bound to be a good lay.”

“I do have HR’s number saved on my phone,” you deadpan.

“Of course you do, you stick-in-the-mud. Now get off the phone and talk to your girl!”

Even when she abruptly hangs up on you, you can’t help the sudden grin while you silence your cell. Your girl.

That has a nice ring to it.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself.

“Is everything okay?” Fuyumi asks, tipping her head. She looks at you with such concern your heart flutters. “You sounded real serious.”

Your voice comes out half-strangled and high-pitched. “Fine. Ahem. Everything’s fine. My coworker was just checking in. We were supposed to meet up and, uh…”

“Oh.” Fuyumi lowers her eyes. She adjusts her purse over a dainty shoulder. “My coworkers are probably waiting for me, too. We should…”

No!

“Something came up,” you say quickly.

She pauses mid-step.

“Do you want another drink?”

“I think I’ve had enough to drink,” she admits.

“Oh…” You visibly deflate despite your attempts at keeping up a nonchalant demeanor. “I...I understand.”

“...didn’t you come here with your friends?”

“I met someone,” you say bluntly. You pin her with a look, one that sears through Fuyumi and says ‘you’. “They’ll understand.”

That pretty blush returns tenfold, rising in her cheeks and spreading all the way down her neck. You want nothing more than to discover where else it goes. “Oh.”

You tuck your hands in your pocket to hide how they shake, try to relax your body but even you can feel the intensity in your own gaze. “And your coworkers?”

“They’ll understand, too…” She fiddles with her purse’s strap, shifts her weight from foot to foot. Again, her hips sway with the motion and you start to wonder if there’s anything Fuyumi could do that wouldn’t attract you. “But I still think I’m ready to leave this bar.”

“Just this bar?” You peer at her from under your eyelashes.

If just looking at her wrecks your breathing, the way she bites her bottom lip will be your absolute end. “Just this bar,” she confirms quietly.

“Hm.” You step forward, edging closer but just shy of her personal space - maintaining a respectful distance but near enough to feel the energy passing between you two, the intense and immediate chemistry. It’s strange and unfamiliar and gravitational.

Fuyumi stands completely still but she’s tighter, tenser, with a white-knuckled grip on her bag and fair skin brightening to new shades of red. There’s a light in her eyes that keeps drawing you in, like a moth to a blue flame. They dart heatedly between your own darkening gaze and your mouth.

“Do you have plans for the rest of your night, Fuyumi-san?” Maybe at least a dinner, you hope, somewhere warm and cozy and private. Something you think she would like.

She shakes her head, blushing yet unhesitant.

You swear you can feel your own heartbeat in your throat. “Any younger brothers to take care of tonight?”

After some deliberation, she says, “They’re 19 and 15. I think they’ll survive one night without me.”

“Yeah?” you ask breathlessly.

“Yeah,” she says, just as quiet, and she just...looks at you. Really looks at you.

Then she steps closer and suddenly she’s right in front of you. A cloud of vanilla-and-jasmine fragrance surrounds you. You do nothing, say nothing, simply let her come to you. You watch her with a deliberately calm mien. Fuyumi lifts up a delicate hand and brushes through your hair. A whirl of snowflakes scatters around you.

She sees you shiver and whispers, “You’re going to catch a cold out here.”

Her hand lingers in your hair. The touch is light but it’s like being connected to a live wire. A second more passes. Then her hand flutters back to her side.

“Then I guess we should find some place warmer.”

“Y/n-san…”

“Let me…” Let me call you a rideshare. Let me walk you home. Let me take you home. Please. Just let me stay with you a little longer. You swallow all those other words, better words, and come out with, “Let me take care of you.”

Those impossible blue eyes widen. “What?”

Face much warmer than you’re used to off-duty and braver in ways you’ve never had to be before, you ask her softly, near pleading, “Can I take care of you tonight, Fuyumi-san?”

Fuyumi’s lips part. Then slowly, shyly, they curl into that heartbreakingly beautiful smile. “Okay.”

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

You nearly trip over a chair on your way over to your friends’ table.

“Aaww, did you strike out?” your best friend teases you.

You let out a shaky laugh, pushing your hair back. “Actually, I came to say bye real quick.”

This earns you a chorus of jeers and whistles around the table.

“That’s my teammate!” a familiar voice crows behind you. You catch tendrils of green flames from the corner of your eye before you see her.

“Kamiji!”

Kamiji moves easily between the tables, as graceful as a cat and grinning like one, too. “What are you still doing here?” she teases while pulling you into a side hug. “Didn’t I tell you to clean out some cobwebs?”

You add a little heat to your embrace - enough that would have made anyone else flinch away but with Kamiji, with anyone in the Flaming Sidekicks, it’s more like a playful punch. “I’m calling HR on Monday.”

“They’ll be the only ones you’ll be calling if you don’t catch up with your girl,” Kamiji retorts, nudging you away with a discreet flicker of flame at the tip of her finger.

Your girl.

“Look at that grin! Just an hour ago, she was moping over her shots,” a friend teases.

“I can count all the times she’s smiled at work on one hand and still have fingers left over,” Kamiji says, joining the min roast session. Her eyes gleam. “Introduce me to her later, yeah?”

“We’ll see,” you say non-committedly.

“Pfff - get outta here. Some people need a drink.”

“I gotcha,” your best friend volunteers. You notice them already making eyes at Kamiji and silently congratulate yourself on introducing them.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you say with a quick wave.

“How much later?” a friend snarks.

“Have fun!” another offers, waggling their eyebrows.

“Be safe,” one teases, a joke coming from a civilian.

“For real,” Kamiji adds. From her, regardless of her playful demeanor, it’s definitely not a joke. “Call me tomorrow morning. Or afternoon. Whenever you wake up.”

“Sure.”

It’s a good night, you think as you wander back to the entrance to meet Fuyumi. You have a feeling it’s about to get better.

So caught up in her, you miss your best friend and Kamiji lingering on their way to the bar. Both are curious to see who could possibly catch their overly serious workaholic of a friend’s attention. They exchange sneaky grins, instant co-conspirators, as they shadow you.

“Y/l/n’s usually the first to pick up when we’re being watched on stakeouts,” Kamiji confides in your friend. “Either she’s had too much to drink or this girl is something.”

They snort. “A couple of us literally walked by their table five times and she didn’t so much as glance our way. You literally came by the one time this entire evening where she’s taken her eyes off her.”

Kamiji’s sharp canines glint in her grin. “Oh, really~?”

She peers over at the door to take a look at your mystery girl and...stops. Her grin drops like a stone.

“Oh, shit.”

Your friend quirks a brow. “What?”

“Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit,” Kamii mutters. “Y/L/N! HEY, Y/L/N!”

The bar’s noise drowns her out.

“Fuck.” Kamiji whips out her cell and dials your number. When she goes straight to voicemail, she tries again. And again. She sends you a barrage of texts.

“What’s wrong?” your friend asks. “Do you know her?”

There’s no humor in Kamiji’s caustic laugh. “Pretty much everybody at the agency knows her - except our newbie apparently.”

“At the agency? Is she a villain?”

“Worse.”

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

On the way to your apartment, you check and double check if this is what Fuyumi wants. She laughs a little as she reassures you. You insist that she texts someone, anyone, and give her your address ahead of time. You even ask her to sing the English alphabet backwards to make sure it’s not alcohol’s decision rather than her own certain and sober one. Between your protectiveness against...well, in this case, yourself and her laughter, you two trade giddy glances and secret smiles throughout the entire drive.

You’ve never seen anyone who looks so...pretty in the city lights. You’d long lost any awe over Tokyo’s shining lights but find yourself gaining a new appreciation for them. They look good on her, reflecting off her hair and fair skin and glasses. It’s like Fuyumi is made of light and glass and something so bright that comes from within you can’t even fully fathom it.

And holy hell, she agreed to come to your apartment. Is this actually happening?

Your fingers tap a nervous rhythm in the middle seat. Suddenly, a cold hand slips over them - halting them. You jump, glancing over. She smiles and squeezes your hand, reassuring you even with that blush and her own fidgeting.

You’re the one who's supposed to be taken care of right now, you think.

But now you’re so focused on leveling your breathing you can’t risk looking at her. You do, however, lace your fingers through hers.

And it just fits.

When you arrive at your place and slide out of the car, you’re the one to reattach your hands while you jostle for key with your other hand. You’re suddenly entirely too grateful to have a first floor apartment.

Reality socks you in the stomach when you’re inside. With Fuyumi.

It’s strange...seeing her in your apartment. You can’t remember the last time you had anyone else in your home, hardly in it yourself between patrols and paperwork and stakeouts. But having Fuyumi here? With you? Barely visible in the dim light of your entryway, hair bright like a halo and face barely visible?

It’s like a dream.

But it’s not. Your heart wouldn’t be hammering like this if this were a dream.

Fuyumi still hasn’t let go of your hand. If anything, the situation seems to dawn on her, too, going by how she clutches it. You both stand together in the dimly lit genkan, quiet, a little awkward. But the small space between you is purely electric.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Fuyumi admits quietly.

“Me, neither…”

“Work?” she guesses.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “You?”

“School. Then work.”

You force a smile through your nerves. “And taking care of other people?”

Her words are hushed. “Yeah… That, too.”

“Guess we both missed out on the crazy party phase other people our age got,” you say dryly.

That earns you a soft laugh. “I guess so. Never looked all that great anyway.”

You snort. “Yeah, I’m not too upset that I missed out on all my friends’ college hangovers. But when was the last time you got to just...let go? Not care what anyone thinks or says?”

You yourself could at least count some fond high school memories.

Fuyumi, however…

She says nothing, bangs covering her eyes.

Tonight, you decide. Tonight is her night.

And suddenly, something clicks into place. You’re not nervous anymore.

“In that case...” Hands still connected, you step out of the genkan. “I think it’s about time someone took care of you.”

Her eyebrows furrow in concern. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But… Aren’t you tired from caring so much?”

I don’t think I could ever get tired of caring for you.

Gently, you bring your intertwined hands to your mouth and smooth light, unhurried kisses over her fingers. Your lips trail along her knuckles until they press against her wrist and linger there over her pulse. You look at her through hooded eyes. Her breath catches.

Then you drop your hands.

“Trust me,” you say, your voice low in your own ears. “This is as much for me as it is for you. But only if you want it.”

There’s an unspoken question there.

Fuyumi meets your gaze directly, heat rising in her eyes, almost like blue fire in how they scorch you with a single look. You start to rethink your original guess about her Quirk.

“I want it.”

You. I want you.

Sucking in a long, slow breath, you smile at her. “...then come get it, Fuyumi-san.”

She stumbles forward, as though in a trance. Shaky hands land on your strong shoulders, seeking stability, and she steps into you. Your chests brush against each other, and you’re submerged in her creamy vanilla and jasmine perfume. That gravitational pull tugs at you but you stop yourself just shy of her lips.

Hers. This is her night, her decision.

Her cool breath fans across your lips. Starlit eyes peer into your darkening ones.

You wait.

“May I?” The words vibrate against your mouth.

Your heart melts.

“Of course.”

Fuyumi closes that last centimeter of distance and presses her trembling lip to yours. She tilts her head, mindful of her glasses. The kiss is slow and careful, closed mouth, testing the boundaries. Even with your verbal consent, it asks, Is this okay? You follow her lead, tenderly coaxing her lips along your own. Warm and welcoming and reassuring her yes, yes, yes. This is okay. This is perfectly okay.

I want you, too.

Her hands tighten on your shoulders. Yours slide into her feather-soft hair. You tug out the ponytail holder and delve your fingers in the tresses. You pull away, separating you with a soft pop, and watch the silky strands float to her shoulders.

Breathing hard, Fuyumi is still clutching your shoulders. Her face is flushed, roses blooming in her cheeks, and her pupils are blown wide.

“Whoever named you had the right idea,” you mutter, completely dazed.

You don’t get a chance to recover.

Fuyumi surges forward, grabbing your face, and pulls you to her. You slant your head just in time to meet her kiss, eyes fluttering shut. Her lips are soft, soft yet pleasantly chilled. And they move fervently along yours. Currents spark from her to you, tingling down your spine and electrifying your senses. You meet her passion with your own, shaky and reverent hands moving up to grip her blazer.

Without breaking the kiss, she steps out of the genkan and strides forward - backing you into your own apartment. Her hands slide from your cheeks and into your hair, tugging. You gasp, startled, and Fuyumi’s tongue is like ice in the warm cavern in your mouth. You groan. She uses her grip on your hair to angle you just so, completely taking over the kiss, and you let her. You want her to.

You move your hands up her back, into her hair - earning you another tug in reprimand - and down again until they find her full hips. You squeeze, enjoying the plush give under your fingers. Fuyumi hums, low and appreciative. You smooth your hands over her curves, slipping your thumbs under the shirt and rubbing circles against her hip bones.

Fuyumi breaks the kiss just long enough to slide off her blazer, lets it fall to the floor with a muffled foomp and your leather jacket joins it soon after. Then she’s on you again, looping her arms around your shoulders. Pressing close, closer, her full breasts soft against yours. Her lofty exhale condensates in your warm apartment, chilling your lips. Your eyes flutter.

Gripping her hips, you kiss her - kiss her like you wanted to from the moment she first smiled at you. You kiss her like you want to consume her. And Fuyumi meets you, passion for passion, ice for fire.

You slide your hands further up her turtleneck and skim along cool, soft skin with heated palms. Fuyumi arches, making soft appreciative noises that falter into disappointment when you remove your hands. Next you wind your arms around to fully embrace her, crushing her to you. Fuyumi moans.

You pull back enough to land several pecks on her smiling lips, making her giggle, and then shower the rest of her face in kisses. Your eager mouth finds her swan-like neck and becomes more sensual, mouthing along the arch. Kissing and sucking and just breathing her in. Fuyumi leans her head back to accept your affections in full.

“You’re so warm,” she sighs happily.

Your brain dies and comes back to life. And then you promptly realize the full implication of her words.

Panting, you pull away. You’re still foggy and lost and looking at Fuyumi, Fuyumi with that glazed over expression and slightly parted lips, certainly does help. But you have to check yourself - make sure you’re still in control.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Just wanted to look at you,” you say. Not a complete, as your gaze sears up and down her body.

“Don’t just look then.” Fuyumi tugs you forward by your shirt. You lean back at the last moment and grin at the frustrated sound she makes in the back of her throat.

“Y/n-san…”

You kiss her, a quick peck, and dart away before she has the chance to deepen it.

Her nose scrunches up. You kiss that, too. She chases after your lips but you dodge, her lips landing on your cheek instead. You snicker.

“Y/n-san.” There’s a warning in her tone. The sternness in it, the sudden assertiveness, makes you light-headed and eager to obey.

Damn. You make a mental note to explore this later.

“Just wanted to be extra sure this is what you want,” you say breathlessly.

“I told you that I wa - “

You catch her open mouth in yours, kissing her longer, deeper. Your lips smolder against hers. Her responding hum shoots straight to your core.

When you go to move away again, Fuyumi snares your bottom lip between her teeth and pulls you back in. A hand on your waist slips under your shirt, teasing the skin it finds there. She palms the small of your back. Pushes you closer. You squirm at the unexpected cold, inadvertently pushing yourself closer. She uses this to pull you into her, hands skating up your ribs, palms freezing, touch burning. The air grows hot and humid, a perfect clash between your Quirks, and you’re shivering from something far beyond temperature, beyond arousal.

“Oh, god…” you eke out as she sucks on the corner of your jaw. You’re too far gone to process it, lost in a strange space between too much and not enough.

It’s only Fuyumi’s mercy that allows you to catch your breath. She pulls back, leaving our lips kiss-swollen and red and panting. You gawk at her.

Her demure smile isn’t kind; it’s the calm before a storm. “Where’s the bedroom?”

A small, pitiful sound - a whimper - escapes you.

This woman is going to be the death of you.

Wordlessly, you grip her thick thighs and lift her up enough to wrap her legs around your waist. Fuyumi yelps. She winds her arms around your shoulders, beaming down at you. You grin up at her adoringly, even when she laughs at you when you bump into your own furniture in your own damn apartment.

“I can’t remember the last time anyone’s carried me,” she says.

Nudging your door open with your foot, you hum thoughtfully. “I can’t remember the last time I had a pretty girl in my arms.”

Fuyumi hides her burning face in your neck. “...you, too.”

“Mm?”

“You’re pretty, too,” she murmurs, burrowing in your shoulder. She nestles into you endearingly. “Prettier.”

You press a kiss to the side of her head, nuzzling into her hair and breathing in her conditioner. You whisper, “Don’t get in a fight over who’s prettier with me, Fuyumi-san. You’d lose.”

Then you promptly drop her on your bed.

Yelping, Fuyumi bounces on the mattress. She’s still smiling and giggling even when she tries to glare at you. “No, I wouldn’t,” she protests.

Amused, you place one knee on the bed. “Yes. You would.”

“No. I wouldn’t. Have you seen yourself?”

“Occasionally,” you drawl, raising your other knee to fully kneel in front of Fuyumi.

“But you’re so fit and strong and - “ She bites her lip again, face tinted pink. “You’re gorgeous.”

You take your sweet, sweet time looking Fuyumi up and down. Body half sprawled across your bed, her beautiful hair fans out like a halo. The hem of her shirt is partially pushed up, revealing her pale stomach where a diamond navel piercing gleam and the full flare of her waist.

“I don’t compare,” you say simply, bending down to crawl over to her.

Fuyumi rises up on your elbows to meet you halfway. You straddle her hips, having to stretch out your thighs to fully seat yourself over them. Damn. They’re so solid and soft underneath you. You never want to sit anywhere else again.

Fuyumi’s breath hitches, staring up at you as though entranced. Her hands slip over your thighs. “I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“I think you,” you carefully slide off her frames, removing the one thing between you and the intensity of her gaze, “need new glasses, Fuyumi-san.”

You fold up her glasses and lean over to put them safely on your side table. The movement moves your hips, unintentionally grinding. The small friction makes you release a stuttery breath.

Hearing it, her own breathing starts to get heavier. Fuyumi tightens her grip on your thighs and pushes back. You groan, long and low in your throat. You start a slow rocking motion, core grinding down. Fuyumi’s hips meet you movement for movement. Her hooded gaze flares.

You place your hands on top of hers, looking down at her with half-lidded eyes. Taking all of her in hungrily. “Fuyumi-san, when you say you haven’t done this before…”

“I mean going home with someone I just met,” she murmurs, caught in the rocking motion. “This isn’t - it won’t be my first time.”

Her earlier ferocity - and the current undulations of her hips under yours - suggested as much, but it’s always good to check.

You brush your fingers over her slim wrists and up her arms and down again. Feather light. Your touch ghosts over her exposed stomach and then up her lower ribs, pressing fully against her velvet skin.

Fuyumi arches her back, eyelashes fluttering. Her lips quiver.

She’s already starting to sweat, slick under your palms. You slide your hands back down and curve over her waist, kneading the bit of fat there. Her fair skin pinkens where you touch her. A small, desperate sound escapes her.

“God, I love the sound of your voice,” you rasp, grinding harder. “From the moment I first I heard it.”

She laughs a little. “I’m surprised you even heard it. The bar was so loud.”

Rather than respond, you scoot down her thighs in order to bend down and nip a hipbone.

“Y/n-san.”

You groan at the sound of your name before trailing your lips from one hip to the other, your tongue briefly circling around her piercing. Throughout your loving ministrations, you push your hands further up her shirt to her heavy breasts and squeeze softly. Fuyumi arches her back, crying out.

Eventually, you push her turtleneck up. Fuyumi sits up and you help pull it over her head. Your mouth dries.

Her beautiful hair is a beautiful mess, red tangled in white. Darkened blue eyes stare at you hazily. You finally learn that her flush extends from her round cheeks to her sternum, rosey and warm in the ivory of her skin. Her simple black bra barely restrains her heaving breasts. She’s all curves and supple skin and vanilla-and-jasmine perfume and -

“How did I get so lucky as to bring you home with me tonight?”

In answer, Fuyumi kisses you. Her insistent lips move from your needy mouth to your neck. You gasp when she finds the sensitive place behind your ear. Her chilled breath makes you tremble.

“How did I get so lucky as to end up in your bed?” she croons. Then she sucks your earlobe into her frigid mouth.

“Ah!”

She wrangles your shirt off and sends her mouth down the valley of your breasts. You wrap your legs around her waist, squeezing her between your thighs and pressing her into your aching core. Your head lolls, hair falling back. Your breathing is heavy under her. Her fingers tangle with the back of your bra and unclip it with ease.

Peppering your shoulders with chilled kisses as she slides the straps over them, Fuyumi tosses your bra over the side of the bed and pulls back to admire. You shiver at the dark, glassy look in her eyes. And then put up absolutely no resistance when she pushes you down on the bed.

Freezing hands caress your breasts, making you hiss and raise your back, as they come in contact with your sultry body.

“Sorry,” Fuyumi says, not sounding the least bit put out. “Quirk thing.”

Your chest heaves. “S’fine. Do whatever. Just - just keep touching me.”

Her eyelids lowered, and that demure smile returns. “That’s not a very polite way to ask for what you want, y/n-san.”

You’re not a proud person, and you know what you want. “Please, Fuyumi-san, please keep touching me - aah!”

Fuyumi leans down to circle a nipple with her ice-like tongue, sucking it in with a lewd suctiony sound. Glacial fingers pinch the other. Her other hand trails down, breezing across your ribs, until they find the hem of your pants and toying with the zipper. You pant, grasping at her shoulders for purchase. Forgoing the zipper entirely, Fuyumi cups you through your jeans - fingers rubbing tantalizing circles against your heat.

“Fuyumi-san!” you whine.

“Such pretty noises…” Fuyumi murmurs against your breast. “And you looked so stoic and serious at the bar. But look at you.”

Fuyumi grinds the heel of her hand into you. You squirm helplessly underneath her wintery body. It feels so good but so intense. You wonder if you’d somehow managed to lure a yuki-onna to your bed.

“You just fall apart at the simplest of touches.” She bends her head over your other breast, biting down gently. She continues to palm at your throbbing core.

You buck your hips, desperate for more friction. “Please…”

Then, in retribution for your earlier teasing, she removes her hand out from between your trembling thighs. You whine. Making direct eye contact with you, Fuyumi pulls back with your nipple still pinched between her teeth. Only after you let loose a satisfactory whimper does she release it. Your other nipple, however, she continues to roll leisurely between her thumb and forefinger.

“Apologies. You seemed to like how assertive I was earlier. Was I mistaken?”

You don’t deny it. Instead, you say weakly, “Didn’t expect this from an elementary school teacher.”

Smiling amusedly, Fuyumi nuzzles into your too-warm cheek. “I can’t be nice, patient sensei all the time.”

“So you like to get back some control in the bedroom,” you say dryly.

Fuyumi’s answer is scraping her teeth down your throat and sucking a mark into your collarbone. Cold hands seize your breasts, squeezing. A knee slips between your thighs to push against you. You cry out.

“Based on that lovely reponse…” Fuyumi croons, running her hands up and down your sides, “and your clear deflection from my original statement, you like to let go of control in the bedroom. It’s a release.”

Somewhere in the haze of your lust, you catch on. You raise an eyebrow.

She sighs. “Let me guess: high stakes civil service job, demanding work environment, lots of pressure, extremely stressful. You have to be in complete control at all times on the job, always alert, and need your phone on even after hours just in case.”

“...maybe.” She has a scarily clear cut understanding of your “civil service job”, even without the full details such as what exactly it is.

She smiles understandingly, though there’s a strange twist to it. “I noticed how..alert you were at the bar. Even though you came with friends. You really don’t let yourself relax, do you?”

You turn your head, averting your eyes.

Gentle fingers pinch your chin and bring them back to meet Fuyumi’s compassionate gaze. “It’s okay, y/n-san,” she soothes. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place - “

“No, you’re right,” you cut her off, voice hoarse. “I - it’s just I… I love my job.”

“I know,” she murmurs, caressing the side of your face.

Your draw in a breath. “I’m lucky to have it. Especially being a woman. It’s what I’ve wanted since I was a little kid. And it - I get to help so many people. Every day. I feel like I make a real difference, you know? But it’s not easy.”

Fuyumi strokes your hair. “When was the last time you took some time off?”

You scoff, covering your eyes with a forearm. “I just transferred to a new agency a little while ago. I still have a lot to prove.”

This makes Fuyumi frown. “They chose to hire you. You shouldn’t have to prove anything!”

“Fuyumi-san,” you drawl, “you’re taking care of other people again. Didn’t I say it's your turn to be taken care of tonight?”

“Is you taking care of me just ‘helping people’ like you do everyday?” she asks.

“No. Is you asking about my work life and the personal toll it has just another way of asserting control?” you deadpan.

Fuyumi sputters, turning red. “N-no! And how’s wanting to help others ‘control’?”

“‘Help is the sunny side of control,’” you quote, bone dry.

Semi-amused, you watch realization dawn across Fuyumi’s face. “That’s - I never thought about it that way. That’s...quite insightful. Did you come up with that? Or is that from somewhere?”

“Anne Lammottt,” you say dryly. “She wrote this sorta half self-help, half memoir on hope and how to find it when things are at their bleakest. My therapist recommended it. I’ll lend you my copy.”

The bed creaks as Fuyumi sits up, straddling you. Poker faced, you make a herculean effort to keep your gaze directly on her face rather than stray to...well, the gorgeous half-naked body on top of you.

“You have a therapist?”

“High stakes job with heaps of pressure and stress, remember?” you quip. “It would be irresponsible of me not to take care of my mental health. Like skipping a dental cleaning or a vaccination.”

“Yeah…” Again, Fuyumi has that intent, searching look in her eyes. The same one she gave you after admitting how tired you were, how draining caring can be. Without her glasses, it’s only about 100 times more intense.

And there you are, titties out, laid out like a spread eagle underneath Fuyumi like you’re her personal throne. Not a bad position to be in, of course, but a little odd when her face looks like she’s trying to solve the world’s hardest math problem and not contorted in the throes of passion as gifted by yours truly. You wait it out, though. It seems important.

It’s a nice view anyway.

Finally: “You’re really something, y/l/n y/n.”

You smile up at her lazily. “Thanks. You’re something special yourself, Todoroki Fuyumi.”

Fuyumi smiles down at you like a real life Madonna icon. You’re suddenly reminded of your recently developed Fuyumi-related asthma. And how her luscious thighs are actually a little warm after hugging your body for so long.

You drum your fingers against them, enjoying the feel even through her jeans. “Hey, Fuyumi-san?”

“Mm?”

“How did we go from the hottest foreplay of my life to talking about our mutual tendencies for compulsive caretaking?”

Fuyumi slaps her hands over her reddening cheeks and groans. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, y/n-san!”

“It’s cool,” you say, nonchalant. “We can do a naked book club instead, if you like. Anything you wanna recommend?”

“No! No naked book club - well, maybe later. Wait!” She drags her hands down her face and half-heartedly glowers down at you. Somehow, that stern look makes you throb. “You’re making fun of me.”

“A little,” you admit. You stroke her thighs soothingly. “But I’m also a little serious. If you’d rather do something else, that’s okay. I think I have some puzzles somewhere.“

Snorting, Fuyumi shakes her head. “I want to keep going. I do, I really do. But if I made it too weird or - “

“Great. I want to, too,” you state bluntly.

“I didn’t make it weird?”

“Sex is weird sometimes. Besides….” You look up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, feeling your desire thrum back to life at her bold reassertion. Your voice turns smokey when you speak next. “I want to make you feel good, Fuyumi-san.”

Fuyumi shudders above you.

Gripping her thighs, you slowly sit up to avoid jostling her from your lap. Warm hands smooth up her thighs, following the curves of her wide hips and her waistline. Fuyumi shivers when you linger on the sides of her plump breasts. You trace her bra’s outer edges up to the elastic straps and unhurriedly lower the right one. You press a kiss to her bared shoulder, as soft as the newly fallen snow outside.

“I want to make you really, really good.”

You feel how the exhale shudders out of her. “Y/n-san…”

“Will you let me? Will you let me make you feel good, Fuyumi-san?”

She laughs softly, hugging your shoulders. “How do you do that? “

“Do what?” you mumble, sucking at a beauty mark you find.

“Just - mmph, right there - just turn the situation around? It was so a-aah! Awkward and now it’s like this again.”

You laugh huskily. “A little trick I learned on the job.”

“Seducing people?”

“Are you seduced?” you purr.

“Y-yes. But seriously...”

“Let’s just say... I learned how to assess a situation and Turn. It. Around. In my favor.” You kiss up her neck with each word, breathing in deeply.

She gently scratches down your back, soft lines that make you shudder. “Mm, you’re a good civil servant.”

This draws a smirk from you. “Thanks. Now...back to my question.”

“Mm?” Fuyumi’s eyes flutter.

You whisper hotly against her ear, “Will you let me make you feel good?”

“Yes, please.”

Grinning, you kiss her ear and set to work.

You unsnap her bra clasp, sliding the silky undergarment off and lazily letting it fall from your hand. Her supple breasts fall free with gentle bounce. Hand on her shoulder, you lightly push her onto her back and Fuyumi goes down willingly. Lips parted, you stare down at her darkly.

Expression hazy, she smiles up at you. “Please take care of me.”

“I’ll try my best,” you promise, voice low and gravelly.

You cup her breasts, relishing the soft weight of them in your hands, and rub slow circles over them. Then you bend down to tongue a slow circle around a dusky nipple before sucking it into your eager mouth. Fuyumi sighs, cupping the back of your neck. You hum, then go to turn your attention to the next. Gently heating your lips, you press gossamer-like kisses all over her flushed chest. From there, you kiss down her sternum and down her chest.

“Y/n-san,” she calls softly as you leave marks along her stomach.

You sink blunt teeth into he left hip and she gasps. Trembling underneath you, Fuyumi grips your hair and moans.

You slip a finger under her jeans, looking to her with lifted eyebrows. At her nod, you unbutton her jeans and - in return for her icy teasing - unzip the fly with your teeth. She gasps. You tug at the loosened denim, to which she lifts her hips, and you slide down her jeans past her hips where you kiss and suck and nip. Then you pull the jeans down her thighs. You swallow at the sight of her pink panties, pupils dilating at the dark stain over her folds.

Still, you take your time - gently pulling her jeans off one creamy leg at a time. You kiss every inch of new skin revealed, reveling in Fuyumi’s increasingly shallow breathing. You watch her chest rise and fall, breasts heaving.

She’s easily the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

Not looking away once, you toss the jeans to some far corner and settle between her thighs. You’re not even aware of where you are, so consumed with the sight and smell of her.

“Y-y/n-san,” she calls.

“Shh, darling,” you murmur, landing a kiss on the inside of her knee. You trace your lips down the soft skin of her inner thigh. “I know, I know.”

“Hurry.”

“Almost there. I’m going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

She moans, the precious noise pitching louder when you press your lips to the sweet wetness pooled between her thighs. You flick the full length of your tongue over her. Delicate fingers grip the back of your head, cold and insistent, and you groan. The vibrations send her hips rolling and you follow along with the motions, licking and sucking through her underwear, breathing through your nose, tenderly thumbing circles into her hip bones. Despite the delicious press of her clenching thighs against your ears, you hear her call your name - broken between a plea and a command. And you obey.

Without wasting another moment, you pull away and hook your fingers under the hem of her panties. You slide the garment down her hips, groan at the pearly strands of her essence clinging to her puffy inner lips, and pull it down her lush thighs.

Impatient, Fuyumi sits up enough to shove her panties the rest of the way off. Then her hand returns to the back of your head which she immediately guides to her cunt. You grasp her thighs, spreading them open for better access. You latch onto her hot bundle of nerves and suck into your mouth. Encouraged by her cries, you lave your tongue between her folds while your thumb continues toying with her clit.

Nails scrape against your scalp, sending shocks of pained pleasure through you and inciting another moan. You bury your tongue inside her, reveling in the full taste of her. A mewl rewards your efforts. Chin shiny with her juices, you pull back only to return to her clit. You press a kiss there, two, three, before sucking it back into your hot mouth. Your fingers slide inside her; velvety walls clench around them, pulsing rhythmically as you slide in and out.

Lashes fluttering, you lift your gaze to meet Fuyumi’s piercing blue eyes - bright and demanding above the flush of her cheeks and her neck and her heaving chest. Her grip tightens in your hair. You close eyes, blissed out, and delve your tongue deeper inside her until your nose is pressed against her clit. You delight in the wet friction.

Her legs tremble, one hooked over your shoulder. Her cries rise - higher, higher, pitching into the dark ceiling. The sweetest of noises. You whimper when her thighs clench around you, following the undulations of her hips. Your own squirm against the sheets, arousal pooling in your underwear, as you listen. You feel it before she cries out: hands grasping, thighs shaking, labia twitching, her inner walls clenching around you.

Ecstasy. Pure ecstasy. All because of you.

Fuyumi calls your names.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes -

Cold.

Cold, cold, cold.

Under Fuyumi’s hands, ice coats your shoulders and spreads down your back. Your hair is stiff and frozen. Where her juices coated your lips and chin, now frozen. Even the tip of your nose has frost.

You blink.

Fuyumi gapes at you, horrified.

“You know...when the weather forecast said snowy night in Tokyo, this isn’t what I expected.”

“I am SO sorry!”

You burst out laughing.

She hides her bright red face in her hands. “I’m sorry, y/n-san! Do you have a hair dryer? Let me -- “

“Nah, I’m okay. See?” You channel your Quirk, focusing on the warmth always present in the center of your chest, and let the heat spread throughout the rest of your body. Steam rises from your skin as the frost melts, not leaving so much as a droplet of moisture behind.

Hands lowered, Fuyumi’s jaw drops. “You...you have a fire Quirk.”

“Opposites really do attract, huh?” Eyes crinkling, you laugh.

It’s the only sound in the bedroom.

“...Fuyumi-san?”

Speechless, Fuyumi stares at you with wide, wide eyes. The climax-induced flush is gone, bleached from her skin. She covers her mouth with a shaky hand.

You immediately recognize that expression. It’s the look a civilian had before they were saved, before help arrived. Fear. Seeing it on her face makes your stomach turn. It reminds you of the time you rescued a child from a burning building after a villain set off an electrical fire - the initial relief on the boy’s face evolving into sheer panic when you activated your own flames to fight the villain off before back-up came. You’d hated yourself for reigniting that fear so soon after the initial trauma.

And now? You’re bewildered and cautious.

“Hey...you alright there?”

“I - yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Fuyumi swiftly looks away, shrinking in on herself. She brings her arms up to her bare chest.

Resisting the urge to frown, you put up an air of calm. You wordlessly lift a sheet and - avoiding sudden movements - wrap it around her shoulders.

She blinks at you.

“A lot of people have had bad experiences with fire,” you say, non-judgemental. You smile softly. “I get it. It can be pretty scary sometimes. But I can guarantee you that I have better control over my Quirk than most people. Haven’t had an accident since I was 10.”

“I’m not - that’s not it, y/n-san.” Even saying that, Fuyumi pulled the sheet tighter around herself.

You lifted and lowered your shoulders in a languid shrug. “It doesn’t matter what it was or wasn’t. And you don’t have to explain it to me, either.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “Y/n-san - “

“Fuyumi-san,” you say, hushed. “It’s okay.”

You won't lie to yourself, though: It hurts. But you recognize a trigger when you see one. If years of general wariness of your flames didn’t teach you that, your training certainly did.

It’s that same training that allows you to smile at her reassuringly. “Hey… Look.”

You hold your hand out, palm side up. Watching her face carefully, searching for even the slightest flinch, you focus the heat under your skin to converge at the center of your palm: A spark, then a shimmer, and a small flame comes to life. No bigger than a birthday candle, it casts a soft light across your face.

Fuyumi’s eyes flicker between your tender expression and the tiny fire. Your own gaze doesn’t waver from her face, even as you slowly twist your hand and will the flame to move sluggishly along your palm, your wrist, over your knuckles, and between your fingers. Fuyumi watches all the while.

You urge the flare to your to the very tip of your index finger and hold it up to your mouth. You purse your lips, not unlike a kiss, and extinguish it with a small puff. You wink at her. “See? Perfect control.”

While she is still hunched under the sheet, it at least earns you a small, wobbly smile.

You hold out your hand, again palm side up. She immediately looks at it, clearly expecting another flame. The corner of your mouth twitches and you wiggle your fingers a little.

It’s a relief when she accepts the silent offer, placing her small hand in yours. Your fingers wrap around hers. Tenderly, carefully, you brush your over her knuckles. Like you’re holding something infinitely precious.

“I was a pretty stupid kid, you know. You would’ve hated having me in your classroom,” you say suddenly, still fixated on your joined hands.

Fuyumi looks almost offended. “No, I wouldn’t!”

It makes you grin a little. “You’re right. You’re an amazing teacher - one of those saintly ones with tons of patience for even the brattiest of kids. I can tell. But trust me, even little me would have given you a run for your money. I was pretty full of myself, just because of an accident of being born with some flashy Quirk. Always showing off and playing around with it.”

At this, your smile fades into a grim line. “But you know what they say about playing with fire. ‘Cept I can’t burn but others sure can. I learned that the hard way...at someone else’s expense.”

“...the accident when you were 10,” Fuyumi recalls, voice faint.

“It was someone I really care about,” you say. Your mouth twists into a self-contemptuous sneer as you shake your head. “I knew how to start fires but hadn’t yet learned how to put them out. So much for the little show off.”

Suddenly, her hand squeezes yours. You blink.

“You were only a child, y/n-san,” she whispers. Her eyebrows scrunch together and without her glasses, there’s nothing between you and those fierce eyes. “It was an accident.”

“Doesn’t matter. Someone else paid for it,” you say, uncompromising. She opens her mouth to protest. You raise her hand to kiss her knuckles which immediately snaps her mouth close. “And I’ve been a whole lot more careful since then. I promised myself that I would use my Quirk to protect people, not hurt them. Especially not someone I care about.”

At that, you press your lips to her slim wrist. You gently suck at the blue-ish veins beneath delicate skin, kissing the heel of her hand and then her own palm and finally the tips of fingers. You look up to see Fuyumi’s cherry red face.

“Are you hungry?”

“W-what?” She sounds half as breathless as you felt most of the evening. Payback, sweetheart.

“I promised to take care of you tonight, remember? So. Are you hungry?”

Fuyumi stares at you, taking in your still half-dressed state and kiss-bruised lips. “What about you? I didn’t...you know.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. Lemme get you a glass of water at least.”

After her near panic attack and the sudden turn in conversation, you figure she might not be in the best headspace to...reciprocate. Besides, nothing dashes the libido quite like your partner almost freaking out at your Quirk.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stretch your arms out, oblivious to Fuyumi’s sharpened stare where your back muscles ripple with the movement. You push your hair back, lightly scratching your head as you lazily search the floor for your shirt.

“Wanna watch a movie or something? I think I have some popcorn. We could - “

Cool hands smooth over your waist, meeting in the middle of your stomach. You feel the swell of her breasts against your too-warm back, tight nipples on your shoulder blades. Chilled lips brush the junction of your neck and shoulder, following the curve of your neck. She catches your earlobe between her teeth and tugs.

Your breath hitches.

Her hands trail up your abdomen, leaving shivers in their wake, before cupping your breasts. You arch your back, consequently pushing yourself further into her. Her thumbs smooth twin circles around your nipples, her natural chill sensitizing them.

“Fuyumi….” Her name is a weak moan from your mouth.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” comes her wintry whisper. “Let me return the favor, okay?”

“A-are you sure? A-ah! Fuyumi!”

“I told you, y/n, I want it. And I’ll take it if I have to.”

There is a higher power and apparently, that higher power fucking loves you.

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

It’s habit that wakes you up in the early morning. Drowsily, you blink up at your ceiling and then turn your head on your pillow to find Fuyumi’s face inches from yours. Her cheek is squished against a pillow, snowy strands caught in her mouth.

You stare at her in silent awe.

Eventually, your stomach reminds you of your basic needs and by extension Fuyumi’s eventual needs as well. Breakfast then. You sit up slowly, taking care not to wake her. You swing your legs over the bed and pad your way around fallen clothes. You pick them up, sorting out which were whose. Your cell drops out of your pants.

You remember your promise to Kamiji. Turning on your cell, you grimace at the low power and then pause at the many...many messages on it.

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: RED ALERT RED ALERT

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: YO Y/N PICK UP

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: As GREAT as a time you’re having right now...pick up.

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: Yl//n.

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: Y/l/n.

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: Y/l/n y/n.

Frowning, you press “call” on her contact. A few rings carry on, setting your nerves at ease. You know that if it really was an emergency, she would be awake and pick up immediately.

A groggy voice answers. “Must’ve been a fun night.”

“Kamiji, what’s up?” you murmur.

“Did you take that girl home with you?”

“Uuh…” You glance at Fuyumi’s curled up form. The sheets drape over the curve of her hips and tangle between her legs, leaving her mostly bare. Her arms stretch out above her head, feathery hair a tangled mess, carmine streaks vibrant in the sunrise. A few of your marks stand out, red and violet, on the fair skin of her waist and chest. Perfect matches to the ones all over your chest.

You don’t realize you’re smiling like an idiot until you hear your name repeated, louder and louder. “Y/l/n… Y/L/N! HEY!”

You scowl, soundlessly slipping out of bed and snatching a robe on the way out. You muffle your phone against your collarbone until you’re safely in the kitchen where Kamiji’s yelling won’t wake Fuyumi up.

“Yes, Kamiji, I took her home with me and now I’m going to make her breakfast. There a problem?”

Coffee. You need coffee.

“Well, at least you’re treating her right. Hopefully that’ll work in your favor.”

“What are you talking about?” you grouse, getting your coffee maker ready. You mentally go over what you have in the fridge. Do you have enough to make something? Or should you run to the cafe to grab something? Would you get back before Fuyumi wakes up? Maybe you should wait and see if she’d want to go with you...

A dark laugh from the receiver. “You really have no idea who she is, do you?”

You freeze. Tightening your grip on the phone, you glance warily at your closed bedroom door. “...why, is she a villain?”

“You wish.��

Your brow furrows. “What?”

“You’re completely fireproof, right?”

“Yes,” you say, frowning. “It’s pretty much why Endeavor hired me.”

Kamiji makes a small, aggravated noise. “He hired for more than that, y/l/n. But we’ll get into that later - before our boss gives a whole new meaning to firing you.”

“Fire me? For what?”

“What’s his name, y/l/n? His actual name?”

You really do not like where this conversation was going. “Todoroki Enji?”

“And who did you take home with you last night?”

“...that’s not funny, Kamiji.”

“I’m not joking.”

“It’s a common last name,” you protest, “and they look absolutely nothing alike - “

Except.

Except for the red in her hair.

And the color of her eyes, the curve of her nose, the angle of her eyebrows...

The same family name.

Her reaction to your fire Quirk.

You even met at a bar close to the Endeavor Hero Agency.

“No.”

“Yeeeaaah. You slept with the #2 hero’s only daughter.”

For the first time since you were 10, you lose control of your Quirk - setting your favorite robe aflame.

“SHIT!”

Kamiji’s laughter is barely heard over the smoke alarm. Burnt cotton fills the kitchen air and you tear off the robe to throw it in the sink, immediately turning on the faucet. And then there you are, wearing nothing but a few love bites, as you fight with the smoke alarm to shut it up.

Having taken the batteries out, you snatch up the phone and hiss, “I slept with our boss’s daughter? Our boss boss? Endeavor?”

“You work for my father?”

You swear you feel the blood draining from your face. Slowly, mechanically, you turn around. She stands just outside your room, a vision in white sheets. The girl you met last night, the girl you’re pretty sure you fell a little in love with at first sight. The one you took home with you.

Todoroki Fuyumi.

Endeavor’s only daughter.

The higher power fucking hates you.

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

Note: When Fuyumi says “Please take care of me” during introductions with reader, it’s actually an English translation of “Yoroshiku onegaishimasu” which is more of a concept than a direct translation. Cool explanation here for my fellow language nerds.

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