#I like to schedule my commissions a month in advance so I can try and plan ahead aaa | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bucci-cookies · 2 years

Text

Jealousy - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

This was a commission I did a couple months ago!

If you'd like to support me, please consider leaving a donation on Ko-Fi or commissioning me👉🏿👈🏿

Wc: 13,098

Ao3 version

Enjoy!

“You should be more considerate of the weather.”

You looked up at Bruno with a raised eyebrow. He simply sighed and pointed to your legs.

“Your skirt is too short, didn’t you hear the weather forecast today?” He shot you a disappointed look as he adjusted his deep red turtleneck. “You should have at least worn some tights.” He turned back to face the street ahead.

Yeah, he was right, maybe a short tennis skirt that cut quite high above your knees wasn’t the best option for such a windy day.

The wind blew harshly, causing the leaves of the large birch trees lining the pavement to shake and rustle against each other, adding a second layer to the bustling noises of the people around you. The working day was drawing to a close, cafe chairs were being folded and packed inside while various store owners locked up for the evening. Across the street you saw a flock of people, each holding the hand of a little kid, presumably coming from some sort of extracurricular club or birthday party.

In Bruno's hand was a white bag with several little tubs of ice cream, each with a unique flavour. Some were fruity mixes of various berries, while others were more classic, sweet flavours like toffee and caramel. They were for the rest of the team as the two of you had already had your fill at the dessert shop, indulging in dark chocolate cake and thick, soft pieces of cheesecake. Once a week, you would try to get together as a group to watch a movie, have dinner, or just sit and talk and both of you were usually on dessert duty.

The wind blew once more, pulling the hem of your skirt up slightly.

“Ah, but I have a sweater on at least!” You tugged on the pastel pink woollen sweater that shielded your upper body from the cold and shot him a wide grin, to which he shook his head and smirked.

“I guess it's better than nothing.” He pinched your cheek sharply with his free hand.

“But Brunooo,” You sang as you wrapped your hands around his arm, feeling his muscles flex under his thick clothing as you held onto his biceps. “I thought you said you liked my outfit.” You pressed up against his body as you looked up at him.

“I can like your outfit and also think it's very impractical for this weather.” He patted the back of your hands, not reacting to the way you hugged his arm and pushed yourself up against him.

But what did you expect?

For years you had been trying to get his attention, but every attempt just solidified the platonic relationship between the two of you. Even with all the hints, the advances, the not-so-subtle trip to the dessert shop where you sat so close to him that the scents of your perfume and his cologne mixed; he still didn’t so much as reciprocate an inkling of what you felt towards him. He was sweet to you, of course, you talked frequently, you knew each other like the back of your hands. But he seemed to treat you no different to how he treated everyone else. That busy schedule of his didn’t make it easier, he had cancelled more plans than fulfilled recently, but you couldn’t blame him. The higher his rank in this organisation, the more was expected of him and the tighter his free time became. Across the three years that you had been affiliated with the group, Bruno was always a hard and consistent worker, something that both impressed and infatuated you.

Any normal person would give up after the first few months of failed attempts, not wanting to still keep giving their time to someone who wouldn't see them as they wish to be seen.

But you liked Bucciarati so much, too much for your own good. He was just so beautiful, so sweet, so breathtaking, like the colours of the ocean that sparkled with a tempting allure that captivated everyone, but could never be physically touched. The first day you met him, he already caught your eye. The way he carried his lean body under the open-chested suit he wore, his perfectly trimmed hair that framed his jawline. His deep blue eyes were mesmerising, though not as hypnotic as that deep voice of his or that laugh that made your heart flutter. There was a perfect blend of playful youthfulness and maturity about him, he was 28, but the smoothness of his skin and the brightness of his eyes made him look no older than 23.

A sharp flick to your forehead snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Hey?!” You exclaimed, slapping Bruno’s fingers away.

He scoffed in response and opened up the passenger door to his car. “Would you rather walk all the way back?” You realised that you had been standing in front of his car absentmindedly for the past few minutes.

You smiled awkwardly and slid into the passenger seat, taking the bag from Bruno’s hand and placing it on your lap while Bruno closed the door behind you and made his way to the driver’s side. He placed a hand on the back of your seat and looked behind you as he backed out of the parking space. The car felt smaller as his arm brushed yours and the proximity made you nervous every time he reached to change gears.

You wanted to say something…anything…maybe just tell him that you have feelings for him, now was as good a time as any. Maybe invite him out again tomorrow?

"So I heard Mista saying that there's going to be a week-long fair next week." You said, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. "Something to do with donations for the Children's hospital I think." Bruno hummed in response as he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. "You wanna go check it out on Monday? See if there's anything cool?" You said, as nonchalantly as you could while you stared out of the window by your side, watching the kids cycling down the street.

Bruno clicked his tongue and hummed. "Ah, I’d love to…” A ‘but’ was coming . “But,” bingo “Giorno wanted me to oversee something.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” You sighed. Bruno told you he would be free this week, so this must have been a recent development. However, a big part of you already knew he would be too busy. “Maybe I’ll ask one of the others to go with me.”

The rest of the journey continued in silence as Bruno remained focused on the road while you focused on him in the corner of your eye. His large hands gripped the steering wheel as he tapped on it lightly with his index fingers. He tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear and hummed to himself absentmindedly.

Red suits him. You thought to yourself.

The deep scarlet turtleneck contrasted his cerulean eyes perfectly and brought out the tan of his skin. The thick material clung to his broad chest, curving around his defined pecs and cinching at his small waist. He shifted slightly in his seat which made it twist around his torso and reveal a mere glimpse of his abdomen in a way that made your face go warm. You looked away shyly and cleared your throat, choosing to focus on the birds flying between the trees that lined the street of your home.

It almost annoyed you how flustered he made you, especially without knowing. You were confident, articulate, beautiful, someone who knew how to grab the attention of a room with a glowing aura and a charming outfit. You weren’t a stranger to flirting or receiving compliments from other people. In fact, with the playfulness of some members of your team, it wasn’t unusual to innocently flirt back and forth with the others. But to think that one man, one excessively handsome, generous man, could make your knees weak and cause your stomach to flip inside out with so much as a hand on your shoulder, was embarrassing to you.

He pulled into your driveway, parking right by your door. You both got out of the car and made your way into your home, stopping off at the kitchen to put the slightly melted ice cream away in the freezer.

Like almost perfect timing, there were several raps on the door, the rhythm instantly letting you know it was Abbacchio. Bruno walked over to the door, swinging it open to reveal none other than the man himself.

“I brought drinks.” He raised a white plastic bag, the clear outline of a wine bottle poking through.

“Awh no cakes?” You pouted. Abbacchio always made the most amazing baked goods, they were always so light and fluffy with such sweet icing and creamy filling. They would almost melt in your mouth, especially when he paired them with a serving of warm custard or chocolate sauce.

“You know I’m not your personal baker right?” He said as he placed his shoes on the rack. “You should at least pay me for my services.” His purple lips curved into a proud smirk. Abbacchio wore a tightly fitted white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, revealing the prominent veins on his forearms. The top few buttons were undone, exposing his muscular chest, while his long hair flowed just past his shoulders.

He made his way to your fridge, placing the drinks in his bag on the bottom shelf, before pouring himself a glass of whiskey from your cabinet.

“Oh sure, help yourself.” You rolled your eyes as he sat down on your kitchen island, facing you.

“You barely drink it anyways, at this point, it's just for me.” He sipped his drink and leaned back into the chair. He was technically right, the bottle (and others) had been a present from a civilian you helped a few weeks ago, as you weren’t an avid drinker of whiskey, it sat at the back of your cabinet gathering dust. Abbacchio, on the other hand, immediately jumped to open it the first time he saw it.

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of Bruno’s ringtone coming from his pocket. He looked down at the name and sighed loudly. “Please excuse me.” He walked out of the room, presumably sitting on your staircase, to answer the call.

“So…” Abbacchio turned to face you, leaning on his hand with a playful grin on his face, you groaned internally, already knowing what he was going to ask. “How was your little date with Bucciarati?” Abbacchio asked, rotating his glass in his hand, making the drink swirl around the edge.

You poured yourself a glass of water. “It wasn’t a date.”

“But you wore this?” He said, eyeing your tennis skirt as you moved to sit on the island opposite him. “In the wind? Were you hoping to seduce him with your legs?” Abbacchio teased before drinking the last of his beverage and placing the glass on a coaster.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, clearly a little irritated by him bluntly pointing out your outfit, before taking a sip from your glass.

He placed both hands on the marble surface of the island and pushed himself to lean towards you. “Ooh, you did more make-up today.” He pointed at your eyes. “I like your eyeshadow, it compliments your outfit.” He laughed and sat back down on the stool. Your eyelids were a soft shade of pink that matched your sweater. Your eyes were lined neatly with bold black eyeliner and your lips were coated with a glossy layer. While it wasn’t unusual for you to have a light layer of make-up, this was a slightly flashier version of you, one that Abbacchio knew was reserved for Bucciarati’s attention.

You sighed heavily, not even bothering to play along and give an excuse or come back. Instead, you gave a brief smile and a slightly soured “thanks”.

Leone groaned and stood up, causing the stool to be pushed back with a scraping sound. “You should just tell him you like him, don’t beat around the bush.” He washed up his empty glass in the sink. “Bucciarati is too dense to know when someone’s interested in him.” He dried his hands and sat back down. “Don’t waste sex appeal on him.”

“And who are you to tell me how to deal with Bucciarati?” You snapped back, sharper than you expected, and placed a hand on your hip with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay sheesh.” He raised his hands in defence. “Didn’t mean to strike a chord.”

You let out a deep breath “No, it's fine. Maybe I’m just not his type?” You leaned onto the island, a dejected expression on your face.

A large hand patted your head before ruffling your hair lightly. “Oh come on…everyone loves a good femme fatale. You're very attractive, you're smart, good at packing a punch." You snickered at the last comment. "I think Bucciarati is crazy for not reciprocating those feelings back."

"If you say so…" You exhaled again. "I asked him to go to the fair with me next week."

"As a date?" Abbacchio’s voice perked up as he took his hand off your head.

You waved your hand. "He said no, he was too busy.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” Abbacchio patted your head once more. “I would go with you, but Bucciarati asked me to help him out with some stuff tomorrow.”

You sat up properly again and smiled. “No worries, I’ll ask Mista.”

Bruno returned shortly from his call and the three of you conversed, with Bruno sitting by your side. Not long after, another set of knocks on your door was heard, this time, it was Mista.

“Hey!” Mista hugged you from the side, placing a kiss on your cheek while he held the side of your face. “We got snacks.” He lifted a large green bag stuffed to the brim with a bag of popcorn poking out of the top.

“Hey, guys.” You kissed Mista on the cheek back. “No Giorno or Fugo?” You looked around for the blondes, expecting them to come in after Mista and Narancia.

“They couldn’t make it.” Narancia took off his shoes and placed them next to Mista’s. “Giorno said something family related, came up. Fugo was helping him.”

“I see,” You locked the door behind them. “Oh, Narancia!” He turned to face you. “I got you that ice cream you like, bubblegum and mango right?” Your words were followed by a loud ‘thank you’ from the kitchen as Narancia rummaged through the fridge looking for the tub.

Once everyone was settled and the lights were dimmed, the CD was placed in the player and everyone gathered around the coffee table. Today’s pick was “Cujo”, as suggested by none other than Leone Abbacchio. The man was an avid Stephen King fan, of course, he wouldn’t waste the opportunity to show the cinematic rendition of one of his favourites.

The sounds of the family screaming as the dog barked violently outside the door flooded the room, sending chills down everyone’s spines, sucking up everyone’s attention.

“Hey, Mista?” You leaned in slightly towards the male and whispered.

His eyes remained locked on the screen as he tilted his head up slightly to listen to you. “Hm?” He asked, reaching his hand into the bowl of popcorn.

“You free tomorrow?”

His head snapped round to look at you, before pulling a puppy dog face. “Are you inviting me on a date?” He pouted, placing his hands on either side of his cheeks.

“No silly,” You scoffed and ruffled his loose brown curls. “The fair, I would rather go with someone than go alone.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “I thought you wanted to go with Bucciarati?” When you and Mista talked about the fair, it was under the impression that you and Bruno would go together, Mista was merely suggesting as he knew him better than you did.

“He can’t make it.” You said through gritted teeth, emphasising the “t” at the end.

“Oh…” He paused and frowned before giving you an empathetic smile and patting the back of your hand. “I’d love to go with you.” He grinned widely. “I’ll pick you up at noon?”

“Mhm!” You smiled back before leaning back into the sofa as you were before.

The movie ended but the lights remained dimmed as you talked to fill the time. The bottles of wine were exchanged between everyone as its volume quickly diminished. Jokes were shared with light giggles, playful teases, and the occasional flush of the cheeks. Narancia’s head found its way to your lap as he sat on the floor and hiccuped under the influence of what seemed to be his 100th glass. Ordinarily, the idea of your home being littered with wrappers and crumbs would drive you insane, but the relaxing aura of being with your friends, especially with the stress of your work, made you forget about the mess.

You turned to the side and noticed that Bruno’s hair was tied up in a small ponytail with two locks on either side of his face.

Ah…he’s just so cute.

His lips were pouted in a cute expression as he pressed the rim of his cup against them. He turned to face you with a wide smile, before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close. You steadied yourself against him with a hand on his chest. The scent of alcohol in his breath would have bothered you slightly, if not for how flustered you felt against him.

“Cara…” His deep voice hummed in your ear as he buried his face in your neck. Bruno was quite a touchy person when intoxicated, not just with you, but with everyone, but of course, you were the only one to get so worked up. “I’m very drunk, I don’t think I should drive home, can I stay here tonight?” He moved to cup your face and pressed his face against yours. “Pleaseee?” He asked with such a babyish voice.

“Of course, you can, Bruno.” You patted his back. He gave you a long kiss on the cheek before standing up and wobbling over to the sink for a glass of water.

Abbacchio left first, planning on taking the bus back home as he was the least drunk and able to make his way to the station. Narancia and Mista followed soon after, they lived together, just a couple of streets away from you and were able to walk back.

That left you and Bruno alone. Of course, he had been in your home before, and you in his, but something felt different. You stood up and began picking up the bags of snacks, throwing away the empty packets, while clipping and folding the ones that weren’t.

Bruno joined you later as he helped discard the empty bottles and cans, leaving the last full bottle on the coffee table.

“You don’t have to clean up Bruno!”

He smiled sweetly at you as he brought the glasses to the sink. “It’s the least I can do to say thanks.” He turned on the tap and began washing up the glasses while you packed up the rest of the leftover snacks.

The two of you worked quietly as whatever soap opera played in the background and filled in the gaps. Once your living room was back to being spotless, the two of you settled on either side of your L-shaped couch, light glasses of wine in hand as you cleaned up the rest of the bottle.

Bruno swirled the deep red liquid in his glass, occasionally taking a sip. His right leg lay across his form with his ankle on his left leg. His arm stretched out across the back of the couch, fingers stroking the material and occasionally rubbing it with his hand as his eyes focussed on the television screen.

For what felt like the millionth time this day, your focus lay with Bruno. His hair was still tied in the same small ponytail as before and you suspected he forgot to take it down. Just a slight change in hair made him look different, he looked cute, sweet even. It brought emphasis to his soft cheeks that had started to flush a soft shade of pink as he poured himself another glass.

“What did Giorno want you to oversee?” You said, trying to initiate a conversation before the butterflies in your stomach drove you insane.

He paused. “A couple of guys were caught selling to kids,” Bruno replied with a slight frown, his voice less chirpy than usual.

“Ah, I see.” You knew how much the drug abuse epidemic bothered Bruno, especially when it extended towards those most vulnerable, like children and people who were just scraping by. You didn’t mean to dampen his mood and you tried to turn the conversation around. “I think it's great that you care a lot about things like this, you’re a really good person.” You shot him a smile as you topped up your glass.

He let out a short breath. “You’re flattering me too much.” He looked up at you with a soft expression as his thumb grazed the rim of his glass. You released a mental sigh, thankful that you managed to pull up the conversation before it spiralled into an awkward moment.

“I’m just being honest.”

He placed his glass on the coffee table and leaned towards you. “Well, you’re a better person than I am.”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head to the side.

He nodded with a wide smile. “You care a lot about other people, especially the people in our team. It’s nice that you also remember people’s interests a lot.” He remembered how you specifically chose flavours that everyone on the team liked. “I like that you have a big heart. It also means that you stand firm when people cross boundaries.” He looked down and played with his fingers. “You know how to make your presence take over a room and get others to listen to you.” He recalled how even the way you carried yourself, your walk, your expressions, could gather the attention of even the rowdiest people. “You’re confident in yourself and what you believe in, I think that’s very admirable.”

These words flowed out of Bruno’s mouth smoothly and naturally, as if it was nothing, but they had such an impact on you that you could feel them in the depths of your chest.

Of course, you would expect him to say something nice, you had been friends for years, but the idea of Bruno analysing and pointing out these specific sides of you was on a whole different level. Receiving such a spread of praise from someone as wonderfully put-together and admired as Bruno Bucciarati felt like the highest honour.

But a tiny part of you was hurt, upset at the fact that Bruno saw you in such a way and didn’t have feelings for you. Almost like it proved that despite how much you tried, Bruno may never have a romantic interest in you. He wasn’t misinterpreting you, nor was he viewing you just from the surface, he knew how you wanted to be seen, but that wasn’t what he was attracted to.

“And you say that I’m flattering you?” You scoffed as you felt your cheeks heat up and your stomach twist even more.

“I’m just being honest.” He gave a teasing smile as he mimicked your earlier phrase. He took a final swig from his glass and placed it back on the table. “Did Mista say he’ll take you to the fair?”

“Yeah, he did, though I’m sure the free doughnuts tomorrow are what’s making him go.”

The corners of his lips turned upward before flattening into a frown. “I felt bad about not going with you.” He exhaled.

“You shouldn’t, you’re just busy.”

“Well, I’m always busy…Does it not bother you sometimes that I have to cancel plans a lot?” Bruno leaned towards you.

“No.” You said earnestly. “You have duties to fulfil and those should come first.” You exchanged an understanding nod between the two of you.

Bruno looked up at the clock above your TV, realising it was already past 3 am.

“I should head to bed.” He stood up and stretched, making the bottom of his turtleneck ride up his body slightly. You nodded in agreement, before standing up and making your way to the kitchen to wash your glasses and dispose of the empty bottle. You switched off all the lights and made your way upstairs together before bidding each other goodnight.

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

You stirred your coffee idly, mixing in the two sugar cubes you added, as today’s weather report was read on the radio. Thankfully it was expected to be a relatively warm, sunny day, perfect for the summer dress you wore. It was a simple white dress with tiny black polka dots and puffed sleeves. The front was cut a little low, giving space for the pearl necklace you wore and you paired the dress with a pair of black platforms and a small purse.

“Good morning,” Bruno whispered as he walked into the kitchen, rubbing his head slightly.

“Morning!” You pointed to the coffee machine. “Care for a drink?”

He shook his head and sat by the island. “I’ll have one when I go home, thank you.” He looked up at you as you drank from your mug. “You look lovely by the way.”

You paused with the mug up to your mouth, slightly shocked by his sudden compliment. “Thank you.” You put your mug down and smoothed the sides of your dress.

“You have a very exquisite taste, your clothing and colour palettes always fit you so well.” He beamed, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Bruno…” You placed your hands on your cheeks. “You know, you can be a tease sometimes.” You waved a hand at him and resumed drinking your coffee.

“A tease?” Bruno tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Is it teasing to compliment someone for being glamorous?” He chuckled, pushing the seat back and standing up. It was times like this that you felt like Bruno just gave you mixed feelings, his words dangerously trod the line between playful flirting/compliments and genuine attraction.

“I need to head home now, so I’m not late.” You didn’t notice when he walked over to stand beside you. “Thank you for letting me stay,” He kissed the back of your hand and cupped the side of your face.

“It’s no problem, what are friends for?” You smiled back at him.

With a wave at the door, he was off.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you slumped onto one of the island chairs, the feeling of Bruno’s lips lingering on the back of your hand as you tried to finish your coffee. Once the white mug was empty, you walked over to the sink and washed it up.

The sudden loud honking of Mista’s car horn startled you slightly, making you jerk and drop the mug in the sink. You cursed out loud as the water splashed on your dress.

“Hey, beautiful!” Mista shot you a toothy grin as you walked towards his car.

You slid into the sleek black vehicle, taking in the overpowering scent of his cologne. “Beautiful?” You raised an eyebrow quizzically as you put on your seatbelt. “Since when were you so polite?” You and Mista’s relationship was built on anything but pleasantries like that, while he had joked around and called you things like “hot” or “smoking”, something as innocent as the word “beautiful” felt suspicious.

“This is how I am to all the girls,” He said with a proud tone as he pulled out of the parking space. “You should have faith in me.”

You pouted and put on a fake sad voice. “Oh, so I’m just like one of your other girls Mista?” You placed a hand on your chest and looked at him with puppy eyes. “And here I thought I was special.” The dramatic tilt of your head with the back of your hand on your forehead made him smirk.

“No no bella, you’re very special.” He pinched your cheek harshly with no regard for your pain. “You’re one of my favourite people.” He patted your cheek before returning his hand to the steering wheel.

“So does that mean I get to see what Guido Mista is like on a fake date?” You tapped your bottom lip.

“Maybe,” He turned to face you as he stopped at the red traffic light. “But I don't want you to fall in love with me. It might make it hard to work together, my charisma is too strong.” He patted your thigh and gave you an apologetic look. In as much as you were playing around, Mista genuinely wanted you to enjoy today as much as you could as he knew how badly you wanted to go with Bucciarati.

“Ha!” You snickered. “We’ll see about that.” You leaned back into the seat and watched the street pass by as Mista drove towards the coast where the fair was set.

The wind blew a little as you stepped out of the car. Mista held your hand in his, clearly going through with the idea of a fake date, and led you towards the entrance.

The sound of kids running around, enjoying the first day of summer as they pushed and tugged each other and ran from one attraction to another. Behind each set of children was a group of adults, hands full with various snacks, drinks and toys for the kids.

Mista pulled you over to a massive ride that swung the riders in circles on swings. It was currently in motion, causing the sound of screaming kids to spread through the air as it began to tilt side to side. “We have to go on this!” Mista shook your shoulders violently, more energetic than the kids around you.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and nodded in agreement. Once the current cycle was over, you rushed to get seats next to each other, close to the edge. Your hair blew in the wind as you spun around, the height of the ride giving you a view of the entire fair. Mista, on the other hand, was screaming throughout with a massive grin on his face.

You went on that ride 3 more times before Mista had enough and pulled you towards another ride, and another, and another. Somewhere during the House of Mirrors, you grew tired of walking around and latched onto Mista’s arm.

“Let’s get something to eat.”

Hand in hand, you walked through the various food stalls before settling on a food truck selling takeaway kebabs. You took a seat on one of the benches overlooking the sea as you ate side by side.

“I think I should give up on Bruno.” You sighed, picking at the salad in the box.

“Why?”

“I don’t think he likes me, or that he will anytime soon.” You took a sip of your drink. “I can’t keep getting hung up on him. But it's so annoying because I really do like him, he’s amazing.”

You found yourself venting to Mista, explaining all your feelings towards Bruno and how he acts in response. Mista sat quietly and listened to everything you said, occasionally nodding or giving a short response to let you know he was paying attention. Before you knew it, you had gotten everything off your chest.

“Urgh I’m sorry, you didn’t need to hear all of that.” You groaned, embarrassed by what you said.

“Don’t be.” He patted your back and hugged you. “I’m not that good with things like this, but I know that anyone would be lucky to have you, and even IF Bucciarati isn’t interested, maybe it's for the better. There are so many people out there and you never know your options unless you look for them. You are one of my dearest friends, the last thing I would want is for you to beat yourself up over this.” He cupped your face. “You can hang out with me, call me, text me whenever, I’ll always be free for you.”

“Mista…” You hugged him tightly. “When did you get so mature with words?” You mumbled into his shoulder. Mista was known for being nonchalant and high-spirited, you rarely saw this calmer, more mature side of him.

“Hey hey, don’t tell me you’re already in love with me, I warned you!” He teased and poked your back.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. You looked at your phone and saw that it was almost closing time for today. The brightness of the summer evening had masked how late it actually was. You looked around and saw that the area was almost empty and stalls had begun to close.

“We should get going.” Mista nudged you and stood up. “Actually, I have one thing I want to do.” He took you to a stall with bows and arrows and a row of targets along the back wall.

“ € 2.50 to play. Hit a target, pick a prize.” The owner stated, handing Mista a bow and arrow. “Three tries.”

To the shock of the owner, Mista not only hit the target three times, but one of his arrows managed to shoot right through the other. The owner’s jaw dropped as he watched Mista pick out three items from the stall, a stuffed octopus, a goldfish and a toy boat. He handed the octopus to you with a bow, to which you graciously accepted with a kiss on his cheek.

“Who’s the goldfish for?” You asked as you walked to the car.

“Been thinking about getting a pet.” He handed it to you as you got into the car. “Relax, I’ll take care of it, I’ll get it a nice tank and everything.”

“And the toy boat?”

“That’s just for the bath.”

You both laughed as Mista pulled out of the car park and drove you back home. You pressed your head against the window, reminiscing on today’s adventure. Excluding the talk with Mista, you hadn’t thought about Bruno all day…it felt… nice . Mista was a sweet person to you, you had been good friends for over a year, but something about today felt different, a good type of different. A feeling that you wanted to experience more of.

Mista took you to the market again the next day, and the next, each more fun-filled than the previous. Mista was good at getting you to relax and enjoy the day, washing your mind clean of stress and worry. The two of you had developed a routine. Thursday evenings were your trips to Rhode Island Coffee, a quaint cafe not far from Mista’s home, while Friday afternoons were for brunch at a large bed and breakfast with a surprisingly high-quality buffet for a very low price.

You and Mista had always been friends, he was the first person you met on the team, even before Bruno. He helped you loosen up, and you helped him calm down, perfectly complementing each other in the middle. But you felt like you were getting to know each other all over again, especially now that you found yourself with Bruno less and less.

Everyone had noticed that your time was slowly shifting from Bruno to Mista, but no one thought much of it.

Well,

Everyone but Bruno.

He laid on his back in bed, staring at his phone, the lack of activity making him frown.

She hasn’t said anything to me.

He thought to himself. Not just today, but in days . Usually, the two of you would talk every day, small talk at the minimum, but he hadn’t received as much as a “hi” from you. It left an uncomfortable taste in his mouth and a sort of discomfort he couldn’t pinpoint.

It wasn’t just the texting, it was everything. You would no longer hold onto his arm when you walked together, you stopped sitting next to him in Libeccio (now choosing to sit between Mista and Narancia). You never really seemed to want to hang around him, as much as you did with Mista. Of course, you weren’t Bruno’s pet, you had no obligation to be by his side 24/7, but the less you were around, the more Bruno realised how much of his routine consisted of you.

It felt like he was losing you and he didn’t know why.

Though it's normal to feel sad if two people drift apart isn’t it? He was getting worked up over nothing, this was natural.

She must be busy, she must be working on something.

He reassured himself, standing up from his bed and putting his phone aside. In fact, why was he waiting for you to message him, he should say something first. He was free today, all day, maybe you could visit that dessert place you liked again?

Hey, would you like to visit Brambilla’s today?

One minute passed, two, ten. No response.

His eyebrows furrowed, your profile said you were online. Maybe you left your phone online?

Or maybe you were just ignoring him, too busy having fun with Mista.

No, no.

Bruno shook his head, confused as to why Mista came into his mind. You were friends, you wouldn’t ignore each other out of the blue, he would hope that you would feel comfortable talking to him if you were going through a stressful time.

He locked his phone and attempted to continue with his day, helping himself to a nice lunch downstairs. His phone rang, just as he put a forkful of carbonara in his mouth, immediately he scrambled for the device and checked the name.

Oh.

It was Mista.

“Hey, Bucciarati!” He chirped in a completely different mood compared to Bruno.

“Mista…” Bruno felt a weird twinge in his side while talking to him, he ignored it and swallowed his food. “Can I help you?”

“Just wondering if you’re coming out tonight.”

“Tonight?”

The sound of Mista’s bed creaking was heard in the background. “Mhm…that club that guy…what was his name again?” Mista rubbed his chin and hummed.

“Puddu?”

“Yes, Puddu!” Mista exclaimed. “He invited us to that club, the VIP section.”

Clubs weren’t Bruno’s scene, he didn’t like the eardrum-bursting, migraine-inducing music, or the waves of drunk people cutting off the air and humidifying it with sweat. He was about to decline the offer until Mista spoke up.

“Y/n is so excited, it's cute.” He laughed. “She’s been dying for an opportunity to enjoy a VIP lounge.”

Bruno paused when Mista called you cute…it felt weird, it rubbed him the wrong way.

“So she’s going?”

“Yep, planned an outfit a week ago.”

“I’ll come too, just text me the time and address.”

“Sweet, see you later!” Mista said in a cheery tone.

Bruno hung up without a response and scratched the back of his head. There was an unusual…almost burning feeling, just below his chest that made him squirm in his seat. Maybe it was the regret of agreeing to go to the club.

Why did he even agree? Maybe because they would be in a separate VIP section? Away from the large crowds and in an area more enjoyable?

He shrugged his shoulders and accepted his fate as he tucked back into his food.

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

Evening rolled by, as did the event Bruno dreaded. He could just say no, change his mind and stay inside. But something in his heart told him he had to go.

Mista had sent the address and Bruno was already on his way. As it was summer, the streets were more crowded than usual, even for a Friday night, as more people decided to indulge in more late-night…activities.

The building was quite large and modern looking, sticking out in the modest neighbourhood. By the entrance was a large crowd, filled with various people dressed in a range of clothes, from casual clothing to more seductive outfits. Among the crowd were a few people donning high-end designer items, stepping out of luxury cars. Bruno assumed they too were guests invited by Puddu, the man was trying to rub shoulders with as many influential and powerful people as he could after all.

“Ah Bucciarati, right this way.” A woman in a low cut, sparkling dress held his arm, guiding him towards a room on the second floor. He noticed that this floor had its own bar and mingling space, smaller than the general area downstairs. She opened it to reveal the rest of his teammates sitting around a round table, small plates scattered across it. This room had its own stereo system set up, at least he wouldn’t have to listen to the trashy music being played downstairs.

“Surprised you came.” Abbacchio nodded at him, pointing towards an empty chair next to him.

“Well, I might as well see what he has to offer.” Bruno accepted the seat and looked at the drinks menu in front of him.

He scanned the list of cocktails, thumb pressed against his lips as he pondered what to order. He didn’t even notice the presence next to him.

“Narancia…how many of those have you had already?” You said softly, your voice catching Bruno’s attention. He looked up and saw you standing right next to him, leaning on the table slightly with one hand.

You wore a silk dress that hugged your body tightly, cutting low on your chest and held up with thin straps. The hot pink paired perfectly with your skin tone and eyeshadow. Your neck was adorned with a gorgeous gold necklace, and your wrists with matching bracelets. There was a certain allure about you, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it had to do with how he hadn’t properly seen nor spoken to you in a while. Bruno’s face turned a warm shade of pink as he realised that your cleavage was clearly in his view from this angle.

Bruno didn’t know what it was, but you looked different, there was something new about you.

It wasn’t unusual for you to dress in a way that caught everyone’s attention, nor was this the first time you wore anything revealing, but something about what you wore today made his throat close slightly as he tugged on the collar of his shirt.

“I haven’t had that many!” Narancia slurred, waving his hands in the air.

“When you’re able to separate your words, I’ll believe you.” You shook your head. You sat down next to Bruno, the only other spare seat. Bruno was about to turn and say something to you before Mista cut him off.

“Where’s the guy you were talking to? Did you leave him at the bar to wallow?” Mista leaned into you. Your conversation was unheard by everyone else as the music covered up any dialogue.

Everyone except Bruno that is.

“He’s charming…but I don’t know…he’s rubbing me the wrong way.” You folded your arms over your chest as you recalled the man that came up to you while you sat at the bar. He appeared slightly older than you, long black hair tied back, dark eyes, muscular build. He bought you a drink and took a seat next to you, revealing that he too was part of the organisation. You were usually quite good at spotting another person’s intentions just by looking at them, you explained to Mista that the look in his eyes made you feel unsettled, like he was hiding something from you behind that charismatic presentation. “But anyway, he went to the bathroom.”

Bruno felt that burning sensation in his body again, this time it spread up into his chest and neck, making his leg bounce under the table.

“Oh well.” Mista draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you close. “Plenty more fish in the sea, might as well enjoy yourself.” He stood up and held out a hand to you. “Let’s go dance!”

You took Mista’s hand without hesitation, letting him lead you out of the room.

Bruno didn’t notice how much he was staring as you left until Abbacchio slapped his back.

“Jealous much?” The older male scoffed before eating the piece of scallop on his fork.

“What do you mean?”

Abbacchio huffed and turned back to his plate. “No one stares at someone like that, with such an expression unless they’re jealous.” Bruno didn’t answer, instead, he poured himself a glass of water as Abbacchio kept talking. “Y/n this, y/n that.” The older male sighed. “Oh she hasn’t messaged me, she hasn’t spoken to me, she’s always with Mista, has she said anything about me to you?” Abbacchio mocked Bruno’s voice, much to his dislike. “Go tell her you like her.”

“I said I’m not jealous.” Bruno pushed back his seat loudly and stood up, an angered expression on his face as he exited the room.

“Bucciarati, I was only playing!” Abbacchio yelled back.

Well only partially playing. Abbacchio had known Bruno for 7 years, he could read Bruno’s expression like a book.

The private bar was busier now, more people gathered, ordering drinks and mingling. Bruno managed to squeeze himself onto a chair and ordered a drink from the bartender, trying to wash the sour taste Abbacchio’s words left in his mouth.

“Mista don’t!” Your laugh caught Bruno’s attention, just down the table, blocked slightly by the crowd of people, you were sitting next to Mista, grinning at whatever he said to you. His arm was draped once more over your shoulders, while his free hand held a dry glass with ice cubes in it.

Something in Bruno’s mind wanted to know what you were talking about. What was so funny that you had to give Mista that starry-eyed look you usually gave Bruno?

You rest your head on Mista’s shoulder, ordering a drink while you hugged his waist.

Bruno looked away, clicking his tongue. It dawned on him that this was probably the first time in a long time you had been at an event like this and the two of you had been separated. Normally, you would be sitting next to Bruno, arm in arm while you talked, making even an unbearable situation feel more hospitable.

“I’ll be right back!” Bruno heard Mista’s voice and turned towards you, watching him leave down a hallway. Without thinking, Bruno walked over to you, taking Mista’s seat.

“Oh hey…” You smiled, a little confused as to when Bruno appeared by your side.

“Hey.” He beamed, an expression that would usually leave you flustered and embarrassed. But this time it didn’t, the lack of time you spent around Bruno made it better to deal with your feelings towards him. You simply turned back to your drink and took a sip.

“I sent you a message this morning….but um…no reply.” Bruno cringed heavily on the inside, mentally face-palming himself. It made him sound so petty and needy to bring it up.

“You did?” You checked your phone, he was right. There was an unopened message from him. “Ah, I’m sorry, Mista and I were-”

“I get it.” Bruno cut you off and cleared his throat. “No problem.” The burning came back again, this time he could feel it in the tips of his fingers as he stared down at you. Was he angry with you? Upset? He couldn’t tell, nor could he fathom why he felt that way.

It was probably something in his drink.

Yes, of course. The drink. Bruno had ordered something called a “Poison Dart”, not knowing the ingredients.

Well, at least the name was fitting.

You were taken aback slightly by Bruno’s sharp response, the tone rubbing you the wrong way even though he maintained his usual outward composure.

“So you and Mista…” Bruno swirled his drink in his glass. “You guys seem really close.”

Your eyes lit up, making Bruno grit his teeth. “Yep! I’ve known him for so long, but it's nice getting to know him better. I think I understand why Narancia likes living with him so much!” You snickered.

“That’s…nice,” Bruno mumbled behind his glass, setting it down rather loudly on the bar table. “Though it seems that we haven’t had a chance to hang out in a while.” He tried to play it off as a light-hearted comment, but he could feel an unintentional weight to his words.

He should probably get rid of this drink.

“Yeah, I guess we haven’t.” You sighed, running your index finger around the rim of your glass. You weren’t ignoring Bruno, not at all, but after your conversation with Mista at the fair a few weeks back, you felt like you couldn’t force yourself to catch his eye anymore. While your feelings towards Bruno were still strong, it wasn’t fair to continue this one-sided charade.

You hoped that if he did have feelings for you, he would make them a little more obvious.

“Maybe we should-”

“Oh hey, Bucciarati!” Bruno looked up to see Mista standing behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Hey.” Bruno’s eyes remained locked on Mista’s hands, how they stroked your bare skin and how you didn’t so much as flinch under his touch. “I’ll leave you two be.”

“You’re leaving? At least stay and have a couple more drinks.” Mista tugged the sleeve of Bruno’s shirt. He would have left if he didn’t notice you looking up at him.

Maybe he should stay, after all, he was complaining about not being able to see you.

He sat back down and ordered another drink, making sure to avoid the Poison Dart and anything that appeared similar.

“I got tickets to that horror movie by the way.” Mista resumed his seat next to you, gathering your attention once more. “Previews!”

You grabbed his shoulders enthusiastically, making Bruno squeeze his glass. “Mista, how did you get these?!” Bruno raised an eyebrow, he never knew you liked those types of movies, you had never once shown any interest in them around him.

But somehow Mista knew all about you, knew everything about what you liked all of a sudden.

Suddenly Mista’s the one you like to share things with.

“Had to pull some strings, but it was worth it!” Mista’s words snapped Bruno out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the proud expression spread across his face. “I got them for everyone.”

“Ah but…” You turned to look at Bruno briefly before looking back at Mista. “Bruno doesn’t like horror fi-”

“No, I do!” Once more without thinking, Bruno cut you off. “I do like them!” He cleared his throat and sunk into his drink. He squirmed internally, realising he knew barely anything about the genre.

“Oh?” You looked back round at Bruno, tilting your head to the side. “You always told me you hated them, that they were all so unrealistic and had too much convenient plot armour.”

Ah shit.

Bruno nearly choked on his drink.

“That was before…I like them now!” He gave a wide smile, hoping, no, BEGGING for no further questions.

“Fair enough.” Mista shrugged before poking your cheek. “I’ve been making y/n watch all my favourites, I guess they’re rubbing off on her a little. You should come along then.” Mista returned the expression to him.

Though Bruno wasn’t looking at Mista…rather he was looking at how your fingers laced through Mista’s brown curls.

Bruno never liked people touching his hair, though, for some reason, it never bothered him when you did it.

The conversation faded into the back of Bruno’s mind as he watched the two of you engrossed in whatever movie you talked about. Mista said something to you that made you giggle and lightly slap his shoulder. He could tell from here that you were tipsy, not too much, but enough to make you more exuberant.

Ordinarily, this would be when Bruno would hold you up and take you home, letting you rest on his arm and lie in the back of his car as he drove you home. You would tug on his clothes and slur on every other word, in a way he thought was somewhat…endearing.

“Brunoooo.”

“Yes y/n.” Bruno smiled, moving you towards your bed.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, almost pulling him on top of you. “Yourereallypretty.” Your words rolled as one, making Bruno laugh.

“Well thank you, you’re very pretty too.” He pulled your hands off his clothes and kissed your knuckles. “But you should get some sleep now, you’ve had way too much to drink.” He ruffled your hair and tucked you into bed before leaving.

The memory brought a warmth that spread across his chest, a familiar fondness that made his lips curve upwards.

Too bad that warmth was quickly replaced with a numbing cold that spread to his head as he looked once more at you and Mista.

He didn’t like how closely Mista sat next to you or how focused you were on him. In his gut, he wanted to join in the conversation, say something so you could finally pry your eyes away from Mista. But he had absolutely no idea what he could possibly say.

Abbacchio’s earlier words returned to his mind, this time with a bitter taste.

He wasn’t jealous, absolutely no way. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, he wouldn’t be so petty over jealousy.

To Mista of all people, absolutely not.

As he said, he just felt a little off because he hadn’t seen or spoken to you in a while. You were both adults, he was 28, you 26 (the same age as Mista - though that didn’t matter), you were allowed to live your own life, as was he.

Did he particularly like the fact that you hadn’t been around each other as much? No.

Did he like the fact that Mista seemed to be everywhere like a leech? No.

But did that mean that Bruno had suddenly become jealous and had romantic feelings towards you? Definitely not.

Bruno dropped his glass with a loud bang on the table, you didn’t notice, not that he was trying to make you. He left silently for the bathroom, swatting out the guys smoking there. He turned the tap to cold and splashed water on his face, trying to get his head together. His brain was causing him confusion over nothing.

He rubbed his cheek slowly, fingers digging into his skin as water dripped onto his shirt. After a long, heavy sigh, left the bathroom, making his way back to the bar.

“Mista…”

The music was loud, but Bruno could still make out your voice, though softer than usual, and of course, you were whispering Mista’s name. He clenched his fists, and walked into the bar, stopping in his tracks when he saw you and Mista.

Mista’s hands were on you, one on your thigh, the other cupping your face, while both of yours were on his chest. But that wasn’t what caught Bruno’s eye.

No, what caught Bruno’s eye was your lips, your plush lips were pressed against Mista’s. Somehow in the few minutes Bruno took to clear his head in the bathrooms, you and Mista had started making out.

Bruno didn’t know what he felt, or how he should. It was a sting to his chest, the kind of sensation one would get from a stinging nettle. He didn’t say anything, and neither did he watch the two of you anymore. He silently walked past you and made his way back to the private room, only Abbacchio was there now.

“Bucciarati!” Abbacchio waved him over as he slumped over the table. Bruno pulled up a seat next to him and immediately Abbacchio poured him a drink of whatever it was he had been drinking.

“No, I think I’ve had more than enough to drink today,” Bruno said with a bitter tone through gritted teeth.

The tone didn’t go unnoticed by Abbacchio. “Have you accepted that you were in fact jealous?”

“No, because there is nothing to accept.” Bruno contradicted his word and chugged the glass in front of him. “I don’t know where you get these silly ideas from, you’re 29, not 19.”

“Ouch, no need to bring up my age.” Abbacchio placed a hand on his chest in a dramatic display of hurt making Bruno roll his eyes. “Besides, this has nothing to do with age.” Abbacchio picked up a piece of garlic bread from the centre table. “It’s to do with you being all mopey because y/n spends all her time with Mista and not you and now you’re regretting not saying anything sooner.”

“That’s absurd.”

“But is it a lie?”

Bruno paused and clicked his tongue before scoffing. “Whatever happened to two people just appreciating each other platonically? Everything has to be labelled as romantic.”

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with close platonic relationships.” The older male shrugged as he leaned into his seat. “But that isn’t really what’s happening though is it?”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink.” Bruno stood up, pulling Abbacchio’s arm simultaneously and dragging him out of the room. He made sure to not look towards the bar, in case you and Mista were still there.

“Hey look, y/n is a very beautiful woman, and the two of you are very close, there’s nothing wrong with having feelings here and there.”

Bruno completely ignored him as he waved down a taxi, neither of them was sober enough to drive all the way home.

The pair sat at the back, keeping the barrier between them and the driver up and the windows rolled down.

Abbacchio made it his personal goal to ensure Bruno accepted his jealousy towards you and Mista, hoping to play matchmaker and finally get the two of you together. He was well aware that you and Mista were platonic, but it was fun watching Bruno squirm and try to keep his cool.

He figured out Bruno’s true feelings just a week ago when Bruno complained yet again about you being with Mista. Everyone had gathered at a restaurant for dinner and when it was time to leave, you found out that your car had a fault and would need to be fixed the next day, meaning you couldn’t get home. When Bruno realised this, he jumped to your aid, offering to drive you home, but you told him that you were going to leave with Mista.

Now that was purely coincidental, Mista happened to approach you first. But Bruno didn’t know that, to him, you had chosen Mista over him.

He stared at you the whole time, watching you converse with Mista and get into his car, disappearing into the dark streets, with that pensive look on his face. From then, Abbacchio noticed more and more things about Bruno’s demeanour towards you and Mista.

Like how he had a scowl every time you hung out with Mista, and the irritated look on his face every time his name was brought up. Or the way Bruno’s eyes lit up when it was just the two of you together, his hands itching to hold yours and how he started copying Mista by giving you kisses on your forehead and cheek instead of the hand.

Bruno most definitely had feelings towards you, but Abbacchio couldn’t tell if he was being stubborn, or just plain dense.

Though the irritation on Bruno’s face from Abbacchio’s comments implied the former.

It would have been a lot easier if Abbacchio told Bruno that you had feelings for him and not Mista. But a. it wasn’t Abbacchio’s place to tell Bruno that and b. Bruno should be able to understand his own feelings by himself.

The taxi pulled up in front of Bruno’s home, but before he could leave, Abbacchio tugged on his arm. “If you want to keep lying to yourself, no sweat, but don’t complain if she and Mista get in a relationship.”

That ought to do it!

Bruno stood in his driveway, his back facing the taxi as it continued its route to Abbacchio’s home, and his fists clenched tightly. First, he sees you and Mista kiss and now Abbacchio plants the idea of you and Mista in a relationship in his head.

He sighed heavily, dragging his feet into his home and up to his bedroom. He lay defeated on the covers, too tired to take a shower or change. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, the bright light blurred his eyes before focussing on the caller ID.

It was you.

Bruno answered without hesitation, putting his phone to his ear.

“Bruno!” You sounded relieved.

“Yes y/n?” He cleared his throat and answered.

“Ah I was worried, you left without saying anything, you’re okay right?”

He smiled to himself. You were worried about him? It made his lips curve into a wide smile. “I’m fine bella, Abbacchio and I took a taxi home.”

“Ah okay!” You exhaled loudly. “I’m glad you got home safe, sleep well Bruno.”

“You too.”

You hung up and he dropped his phone on his bed.

His head felt slightly clearer now as he pushed himself off his bed and changed his clothes. He found a cosy black sweater stuffed in the back of his wardrobe and tucked himself into his sheets.

Despite the comfortable sheets around him, Bruno lay awake in bed that night against his will. His mind was clouded by the conversation he had with Abbacchio.

He’s crazy

He thought to himself, turning over under the sheets.

He didn’t have feelings for you, you were his friend! You had known him for years, it was natural to want to be around each other.

You were friend material! You were nice to him, fun to talk to, adorable.

Adorable?

Well, that’s a harmless compliment, nothing wrong with being adorable. There are a lot of normal things that are adorable, animals, babies, clothes, it didn’t mean anything.

Bruno just thought you were cute, sweet, pretty, that’s all. Friends see the good in other friends, no?

You were stylish, confident, polite, all just admirable attributes. Nothing to do with feelings.

Yes, you had a lovely laugh that made Bruno smile, and there was a way you held his arm that made him feel calm and stable.

His mind drifted to the time he spent the night in your house, how generous you were for letting him stay with no sign of grudge or inconvenience, your generosity and hospitality towards the people you cared for was something Bruno noticed about you. It was then that he realised that it hurt him a little when you said you didn’t mind that he cancelled plans. It seemed that a part of him wanted you to care, wanted you to miss him, wanted you to enjoy his presence.

Ah, shit.

He pulled a pillow over his head in shame.

Abbacchio was right.

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

“Y/n this is amazing!” Narancia shouted, stuffing his mouth with a large forkful of cake.

“Really?” You smiled, a toothy grin lined with red lipstick. You gave a relieved sigh as you cut yourself a slice of cake. “I was so worried I added too much sugar.”

It was Giorno’s birthday, and while it was expected that the young Don of such a large organisation would throw a lavish party, he instead wanted something quiet, a day with friends having good food and pleasant conversation.

Part of your gift to Giorno, alongside a set of luxury, handwoven, silk neckties, was his birthday cake. He kept telling you not to make anything fancy, you of course ignored that and applied all the baking lessons Abbacchio had offered you to create an extravagant 3 tier cake covered in sky blue and lavender icing, decorated with edible gold balls and flowers. On the very top was the number “23” in large gold writing.

“No no, it's just perfect!” Giorno smiled, a pink blush on his cheeks as you pinched them. “But you really didn’t have to do this.”

You pouted and took your seat next to him. “Anything for you Giorno.”

Bruno sat opposite you that day, squirming in his seat because every time he looked at you he felt his cheeks flush.

Recognising his feelings for you should have made things easier, but instead, it just meant he got flustered anytime you were around him. He would trip over his tongue, his voice would crack, his palms would get sweaty and he would overthink any interaction with you. Having you sit directly opposite him, wedged between Giorno and Mista, wearing that fitted, long-sleeved black shirt and that short plaid skirt made him want to stare at you longer. Your jewellery was subtle, pulling more focus to your outfit itself and the way your hair was styled.

Bruno felt a nudge in his side, he looked over to see Abbacchio giving him a sly smirk.

“Don’t.” Bruno mumbled, bringing his glass to his lips.

Abbacchio snickered, stirring his glass of tea. “Well, I’m glad you’ve finally accepted it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So when are you telling her?”

“I…” Bruno hadn’t thought about that, telling you his feelings. “I don’t know.”

“Well do it soon, don’t let Mista steal your thunder.” He said in a sing-song voice.

“Guido, you got icing on your cheek.” You sighed as you wiped his face with a napkin.

“Guido?” Fugo raised an eyebrow, looking over at you. “When did Mista start going by ‘Guido’?”

Bruno didn’t even listen to your explanation.

You called him Guido ?

No no no, that was the only thing left that was special between you and Bruno. No one else called him by his first name, and you didn’t have a special name for anyone else.

Abbacchio was Abbacchio.

Narancia was Narancia.

Fugo was Fugo.

Bucciarati was Bruno to you.

And Mista was Mista not Guido.

Bruno ignored the conversation around him as he stood up and left the dining room, heading to the upstairs balcony of the Don’s home.

He sighed and pushed himself against the bar, groaning loudly at the knot in his stomach. Did this mean that you liked Mista? That the two of you were a couple?

He and Mista were complete opposites.

Mista was extroverted, Bruno was introverted.

Mista had curly hair, Bruno’s was straight.

Mista was hairier than Bruno was.

Mista was more nonchalant.

More playful.

Funnier.

Maybe that was just what you liked. He couldn’t fault you for having a type, after all, you can’t always control who you’re attracted to.

He rubbed his head, annoyed by just everything, embarrassed by how he overreacted over a simple word. He turned around and paused, surprised to see you behind him.

You smiled, waving at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He swallowed, watching you move to stand next to him.

“Are you okay? You slipped away without saying anything.” You asked, your fingers brushing against his hand.

He pulled away sharply, already feeling tense from being so close to you. “I’m fine, just needed some air, I think I ate a bit too much.” He joked.

“Ah okay.” You laughed awkwardly. “Guido-”

“Are you and Mista dating?” Bruno cut you off as soon as Mista’s name left your lips.

You were taken aback, stunned by why Bruno would even ask such a thing. Lately, your friendship seemed to be unstable, somedays it would be like Bruno didn’t want anything to do with you, other days, it would be like all he wanted was to be around you. He had been giving you mixed signals and that only made you more confused with the feelings you had towards him.

“Bruno, why would you ask that?”

He didn’t face you, instead, he scoffed and pushed himself up on the balcony bars and looked at the view.

“Maybe because you can’t help putting your hands on him and letting him touch you as you please.” Bruno would never say something like this to you, but there was a pain in his abdomen that gave him the confidence to do so. “Or maybe because you had his tongue down your throat the other day.” Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the comment.

“You saw that?”

“Everyone probably saw that.”

A chill went down your spine as you lowered your head in humiliation at the condescending tone in his voice. Bruno saw you and Mista kiss…

Ah, now he would never want to be with you.

He thought less of you.

If any of the other guys said this to you, you’d shut them down in an instant.

But this was different…this was Bruno for goodness sake. The guy you were head over heels for, the guy you looked up to the most.

Yes, you and Mista had kissed, but it was a drunken mistake, something the two of you laughed at and brushed under the carpet. It didn’t mean anything other than give evidence of what happens after you pass your limit of drinking. Mista was chill about it, he knew you liked Bruno and that you wished it was Bruno you kissed instead of him. There was no confusion, nor any mixed feelings regarding that night.

Is this why he had been acting weird around you recently, why he had that scowl on his face at the nightclub? Why he would swing from one extreme to the other? Because of Mista?

“Bruno,” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him. “It’s none of your business what happened that day and I see no reason for you to hold it over my head and look down on me!” You said through gritted teeth, not wanting the conversation to be heard downstairs. “We are adults Bruno! Shit like this doesn’t need to be a big deal and it isn’t, it meant nothing to either of us, there is nothing between us! I didn’t think my life would turn into petty gossip.”

Before he could answer, you left the balcony and went back downstairs. Bruno couldn’t hear anything from the dining room, but it didn’t take long for you to come out from the entrance and drive off.

Bruno cursed to himself, a hollow abyss forming in his gut as his ribs became heavy.

What is wrong with me?

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

Bruno had tried for 5 days in a row to contact you, phone calls, texts, hell, even emails!

But no response, nothing.

He didn’t blame you, not in the slightest, he would avoid himself too. But he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. Seeing someone he grew such feelings towards, completely cut him out like that, do everything in their power to not be around him.

But he deserved it, he had no right to speak to you that way and all he wanted to do was apologise. Today was his only chance to do so.

“Hey.” He waved at you as he stood by the booth. He noticed you sitting in at the back of a cafe as he ran errands. You were alone, which gave him an opening to talk to you.

You looked up at him briefly, not uttering a word.

Your heart was heavy, his words rang in your head and you felt a knot form in your stomach.

When you didn’t respond, Bruno decided to make the next move and sat opposite you, both hands on the table with tense shoulders.

She won’t even look at me.

The silence from your table managed to drown out the sound of the cafe as customers chatted away over cups of coffee and cakes.

“Y/n.” He mumbled, letting out a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” His hands tightened into fists as he looked down with a dejected expression. “It wasn’t my place to act that way about you and Mista, it was none of my business, I apologise for how I acted and for hurting you.”

You poked your slice of cake with your fork, nodding at his words. “Well, I’m glad you realised that.” You looked up at him. “But that’s not all, is it Bruno? Why did it bother you so much that I was hanging around with Mista?”

Ah…he was hoping that you wouldn’t bring this up. Bruno was still ashamed of his jealousy and how it made him lash out. It made him feel childish.

Well, he was childish.

“I talk to everyone here, but you only got annoyed when I was spending time with Mista.” You stirred your cup of tea with a spoon, prodding the teabag. “You’re meant to be my friend Bruno…I would like to think that you would be the last person to judge me.” You looked deep into his eyes. “You know I would never judge you.”

Bruno swallowed the lump in his throat, dropping his hands to his lap.

“The least you could do is offer an explanation.” You bit your lip, almost regretting what you were about to say. “Is it because you…had feelings for me?”

“How did you know?”

So it was true. Bruno did develop feelings for you.

“Well, you always told me I was good at spotting people’s intentions.” You scoffed, taking a sip of your drink. In reality, Abbacchio was the one that exposed Bruno. The day after Giorno’s birthday, you told him about the argument with Bruno and he explained how Bruno felt towards you. You were…shocked…to say the least. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” Your voice cracked a little.

“I didn’t know how I felt until recently.” Somehow his honesty just made you feel worse.

“But you know how that looks right? To me?” You dropped your mug on the table. “It makes it seem like you only started seeing me that way when I was around other people, like you just liked the attention I gave you.”

While all you wanted was for Bruno to see you as you saw him, if it was simply because he liked the attention from you, and not because of you as a person, you would rather you remained platonic.

“No no!” Bruno leaned forward, instinctively holding your hand in his. “That wasn’t my intention…I swear.” He squeezed them, trying to convince you that he wasn’t like that.

You could tell he was being sincere, there was a certain glint in his eyes. “Did you know how I felt about you?”

“How you felt?” His face morphed into a slightly bewildered expression.

“Jeez Bruno…” You rolled your eyes, slipping your hand out of his and covering your face. “I’ve liked you for years .”

“Oh.” Bruno’s jaw hung open, completely stunned by this news.

You liked him? For years?

Bruno’s mind drifted to times when it had just been the two of you. Times where you would hold his arm, play with his hair, and jump to sit next to him whenever the group met.

How could I be so stupid and not think there was anything there?

“Just ‘oh’?”

Bruno was snapped out of his thoughts. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Two years and you didn’t know I liked you?” You gave a weak smile as you dropped your hands.

“I’m not that good at interpreting feelings like that.” Bruno returned the same look. “Everyone thinks I am…but I’m really not, I’m horrible without direct approaches. I didn’t intentionally ignore your feelings, I wouldn’t do that.”

That glint returned, the one that assured you that Bruno was being open and truthful.

You snickered to yourself. “Abbacchio was right.”

“Hm?” Bruno cocked his head to the side.

“That you’re too dense to notice things like this.” You gave a teasing smile as you ate a forkful of the strawberry cake in front of you.

So Abbacchio knew you liked me? Does that mean everyone else knew too?

It made more sense now, why Abbacchio kept trying to get Bruno to admit his feelings. The tips of his ears turned pink at the idea of him being the only one out of the loop about this.

“I’m sorry for making you feel strung along.” Bruno rubbed the back of his neck.

“It's okay.” You wrapped your hands around your mug, the two of you staring into each other's eyes. Bruno’s finger moved to stroke the back of your hand, watching you let go of the mug and let him hold your hand in his.

“I really am sorry, I can’t imagine how you felt all this while, especially when I-”

“Stop apologising.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “But Bruno…can you promise me that something like that won’t happen again? I would like to think that you’re the kind of person that can be upfront about things like this and won’t lash out...I will also uphold the same standard.”

“I won’t let it happen again, I promise.” He meant it, he didn’t like that side of him, he found it ugly. If he ever felt that jealous or that annoyed, he would make sure to talk to you about it before it got too bad.

You nodded with a grin as the two of you sat in silence, Bruno’s body edging closer to the table. Your eyes closed slowly as his lips pressed against yours softly.

Once.

Twice.

Before his hands moved to cup your face, pulling you forward slightly. It was a tender kiss, one that only touched the surface yet made your heart race.

He pulled away, not forgetting to kiss your hand before leaning back into his seat. His nose and cheeks were a light shade of red. He looked away shyly, an endearing expression on his face that you just wanted to see again and again.

“Bruno…” You sighed, knowing that this would be as good a time as any. You knew how you really felt for a while now and kept it secret from anyone, wanting Bruno to know first. “I love you, Bruno.”

His cerulean eyes widened, and the blush darkened and spread from his nose to his cheeks while his heart felt like it was on the brink of explosion.

“I love you too bella.”

#bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno buccellati #fanfic #ao3 #bruno bucellati x reader #jealousy #jealous bruno bucciarati #jealous bruno bucellati #jealous bruno buccellati

478 notes · View notes

designsfromtime · 1 year

Photo

WANT TO LEARN TO SEW YOUR OWN COSTUME?

After a decade of back-to-back commissions, I’m shifting my focus from creating costumes to teaching my techniques and walking students through step-by-step on-line courses that will be available through Teachable.com.

I’ve been working without any substantial time off since 2013! The only time off during the year I took was the month of August to participate as a cast member at the Washington Midsummer Renaissance faire each year. That’s not really a vacation ya’ll! I direct a fiber arts demonstration group so while I wasn’t sewing, I was still working as an entertainer!

While I am SOOO grateful for the success I’ve had with a full commission schedule booked out one to two years in advance, I need to free myself to travel, finish writing my historical based novels and FINALLY publish them, and sew for the passion of it again! – Hell, sew for myself and my family again because I “want to” rather than have to! Americans are notorious for taking their passion and torturing it until you end up hating what used to bring you joy. So, I’m changing that!

At 63 It’s time for me to take my 50 years of experience sewing, and my 20+ years of historical costume construction, and pay it forward to a new generation! My courses will be very detailed, with step-by-step videos, printed handouts, and a private Facebook page for my paying students. I will be able to answer questions, post videos to answer questions when necessary, and my students can post pictures of their work and support each other.

While I’m not closing down my Etsy store, I have drastically pared back my listings and will only be taking commissions for projects that inspire my creativity.

I am currently booked out to January 2025, but after that I’m closing my commission books for a year or so to concentrate on teaching and writing. Once my courses are filmed and uploaded, I will open my books again but will only take a limited number of commissions every year - or not at all if my sewing courses take off. I’m leaving my options open!

I’m hoping to have the first course available by January 2024. If you’re interested in taking my courses, I recommend following me on Facebook. I will be posting information there as well as my TicToc and Instagram. I’m not on Tumblr very often but will ‘TRY’ to keep ya’ll posted.

My first class will be a 16th century kirtle (bodice and skirt) like you see in the picture above. I will be offering my students a custom drafted pattern for their kirtle bodice at a cost of $30. The listing is available on my Etsy store.

Other classes will include:

- 18th century stays

- 16th Century men’s doublets

- 16th century children’s clothing

- 16th century smocks

- And more! - - Tell me what YOU want to learn sew!

I will also be offering blackwork cuff and collars to my students, and I’m kicking around the idea of offering to embroider your fabrics for noble gowns - just the skirt facings, bodice front, sleeves and “maybe” the forepart (under skirt) - of course for a fee. Embroidery fees can be rather pricy, but I charge the industry standard of $1.00 to $1.50 per 1000 stitches.

So, stay tuned for more information and thank you for all your support!

#Historical Sewing #renaissance #renaissance faire #renfair #renfest #historical costume #historical fashion #historical clothing #costume design #costume #costume designer

52 notes · View notes

risingshards · 1 year

Text

My web novel writing process!

I was asked by a friend to share my writing process with them and I figure it'd be good to share here too if anyone is curious about how I handle web novels! For non web novels...I'm still working on a process for that 😅 My webnovels are here for Rising Shards and here for Rising Shards: Evy & Stella.

Before starting web novel:

Prototyping

Setup

During web novel publishing:

Note taking

Early scene writing

Outline

Roughs writing

Second draft

Before starting web novel:

Prototyping:

Basically me tinkering around with stuff to figure out what I want to write, what I'm able to write, what I have the most fun writing, because with a web novel a lot of content is needed to keep up with releases so I have to make sure what I write is something I can actually like *write* without it being a drain on me or something I get bored a few chapters into and give up. I try to build characters or at least start to around here to figure out how they "sound." I like to study the stories I like the most and ask myself what exactly I liked about them, what I'd change, and stuff I could be inspired from for my own stories. RS is kind of hard to say how long I was in prototype phase since it started as a tradpub thing but after working at a publisher and then the pandemic happened, I reallllyy took some soul searching on how to best release it and if I wanted to keep struggling against the woes of traditional publishing.

Set up:

This part is a bit out of order for the pre-web novel process because I want to have some stuff written before I start uploading; so with that in mind when I have a chunk of writing that I'm satisfied with that's at least a few months ahead to start up, then I think about an upload schedule, get a cover mockup or commission one, then tinker around with like the aesthetic I want for banners and such.

Note taking:

This one I do daily pretty much no matter what, basically just jotting every random idea down in a notebook, google doc, or a note app. My notes can be fairly incoherent from my handwriting to the ideas jotted down but I figure it out lol.

Early scene writing:

Sometimes part of note taking, this is usually me just trying random scenes which sometimes become something and sometimes don't, but are good practice for character voice. They're kind of like sketches but in writing form.

Outline:

I outline my stories a bit ahead, but also know vague points way ahead. I like to think of it as a hybrid of TV season, manga, and anime structure versus a print novel structure (though I suppose print novels could very well have this structure, tradpub is just more unforgiving to anything outside the beat sheet for debuts from what I've seen. I don't go too far ahead as the story can change in the writing (I too am gardener/plantser and plantser works well for web novel). Since I use a more TV season like format, I like to get a list of my episode titles in advance and move things around as I go, knowing where like the season premiere and season finales go. I find outlining that way is a lot easier for my brain than just the three act structure, and allows for me to play around more with how things happen. For example, an episode list of the first batch of Rising Shards:

Sometimes I'll have to adjust the episodes a lot if I move one way later to earlier for continuity, but doing them episodically let's me finish my thoughts a lot more easily and it allows for the best pace for my characters. My episodes are between 5 chapters and 12, but I think most are around 8-9.

Roughs writing:

This is where the bulk of my writing gets done. I set up a daily goal like "finish chapter 34.1" and map out my targets for a month, then get rolling and try to get around 1k words in a daily session, but not stopping if I get more chapters done, or getting too bent out of shape if I'm not feeling it that day. I'm a big "talk to your characters" writer, so I get kind of trancelike and just let them tell me where a story is headed when I'm in roughs writing. I mostly write chronologically but things that are tougher like big fantasy episodes, action sequences, and now...sex scenes *gasp* I try to write in advance so I can spend more time polishing them.

Uploads:

Once the roughs are finished, I upload them to my site Tapas, schedule their dates, and then make the banners, thumbnails, etc. I usually wait on descriptions because when I upload chapters at this point my descriptions are very "Character goes somewhere." and that's it lol

Second draft:

This is where I fix up the drafts and polish them to a more readable state, I tinker with chapters up to their upload date and then after too (I'm not full George Lucas special edition I swear I just catch typos and weird phrasings like a year later). Then after that I start outlining the next chunk of episodes, get excited about people reading scenes I really liked and also panic about the ones that are scarier (aka big twists I fear won't land, sex scenes *gasp*, really weird stuff I don't know how people will react to, etc.)

The whole process loops around so I'll be doing roughs on some main episodes, outlines on others, polish on others all going at once. I try to have at least a month ahead on uploads so I don't fall behind as well.

—Chiral

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #web novels #lgbt web novel #rising shards #chiral writes

4 notes · View notes

queen0fkingss · 2 years

Photo

(over-abuses my new header because I just think it’s neat)

Hey guys! So I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and decided that I should make a Patreon. It’s given me a much needed kick in the rear and will hopefully get me inspired to do more creative things such as art, writing, and more!

My first tier is $5USD, and gives you access to bonus exclusive content that won’t be posted anywhere else! As well as access to work-in-progress, Q&A, and commission livestream schedules.

My second tier is $10USD, and gives you all the perks of the first tier, as well as a week of “first call” to commissions slots when they open, a 25% discount on all commissions while pledged, as well as your name in credits of my videos and shoutouts from the ones that are voiced.

If you’re interested, Pledge to my Patreon here!

With the important stuff out of the way, I wanted to give you guys a big Thank You in advance. My current mental health situation dictates that I’m not likely to work full time at my job (gotta love retail). I do work anywhere between 30-35 hours, but even on that, my paychecks aren’t very high, and on top of that, I’m hardcore apartment hunting with my Girlfriend and a couple friends. Needless to say, I’d like to have another form of money coming in to help make up for what I can’t make.

I can’t promise it’s going to be very busy these first few months, but I do promise that I’m going to try to get stuff out - and regularly pause monthly payments if I don’t. I’m not one to accept rewards if I feel like I haven’t earned it.

That said, I’m excited to have a reason to get creative again, so I can finally start some projects that have been in my head for, honestly years at this point. There’s a lot I want to do, and I can’t wait to get started! <3

#patreon promo #artists of patreon #authors of patreon #artists of tumblr #authors of tumblr

2 notes · View notes

vampireantihero · 1 year

Text

Happy Spring Equinox!

Hello changelings, I hope you had a fantastic week last week! Last week was a bit of a wash for me as I wound up feeling unwell most of the week, but I’m feeling better now and I have quite a schedule of things to tackle in order to hit my goals this week!

Here’s this week’s schedule:

As you can see, I set the Twitch streams up to be wildcards, because I don’t want to put pressure on myself to come up with a theme if I have other work that needs to get done. I have 17 illustrations to finish this week; that’s a lot of work to do in one week, but a lot of them are in various stages of completion. I’m hoping to be done with the artwork for the mood and composition class by the end of the day on Wednesday; we’ll see how far I get with that or if I need to add more time to my timeline.

Classes

After the mood and composition class is done, I think I may take a break from doing some of these long-form classes. I still want to teach, and I’d love to be able to continue doing them. These take a lot of work to put together, and I’m also trying to focus on updating my portfolio and improving my skills further. I’m not quite comfortable enough with my own skills yet to teach someone more advanced topics, which is why I’ve been sticking to these fundamental ideas. Don’t worry, I’ll still be doing tip videos and smaller topics! I’ll likely be talking about my decisions for my portfolio as well throughout the next several months, both as a vlog and as tips to keep in mind while you’re compiling your portfolio.

Portfolio

My portfolio currently is only a series of illustrations. Right now, I’m trying to redraw my portfolio and make a cohesive thing that shows my range of abilities, how I approach design work, and what I’m trying to accomplish with my career. I realized that I love creature design, but I rarely draw creatures. I also really enjoy architecture and landscape, so I’m building my portfolio with these focuses in mind. This is going to take me a while, and I’d like to take you all on this journey with me.

Commissions

After this week, I’ll likely be tackling my commission structure to make it easier to follow. I’ll also be adding limited commissions to my website shop in order to cut out the middle man of having to reach out to me, you’ll just need to fill out what you want for the commission and adhere to the rules that I do my work with. I’ll also be re-adding my commission terms to Ko-Fi in order to make the list more shareable. I’m hoping that this makes my commission structure less convoluted and easier to understand.

So, I’m a little brief this week, but these are the plans for the week and coming up in the 2nd quarter of the year! As always, I hope that you take care of yourselves this week. Drink your water, and do what you can. I love you all. (Friendly reminder that if you’d like this newsletter directly in your mailbox, you can sign up here.)

#weekly schedule #weekly newsletter #newsletter #my stuff #art streamer #artist #streamer

0 notes

shankss-magnificent-ass · 2 years

Text

🌟Welcome🌟

WIPs Coming soon Request Rules Alphabet Requests

About me and this blog:

Hi, I'm Zephyr, I'm a 27-year-old artist and writer. I started this blog in 2018, I think, that's the date of my earliest post. It started out as a Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit blog and has morphed into a One Piece blog in the last year. This blog is really just a place for me to post stuff about my latest favorite show(s) and to make friends. So if there's anything you want to know about me go ahead and drop whatever questions you have in my ask box.

I queue up most of my posts about a month in advance, except for my imagines which I do the week before, but I'm moving to post them on Patreon once I have finished writing them. Imagines are released at noon pacific standard time.

I'm also actually pretty shy about interacting with others, I'm usually worried I'm bothering people, so I just don't try. But if you want to be friends, that's cool, you'll have to make the first move though. Also, be aware, that I'm bad with small talk and social cues and tone.

Master list

Rules

I don't have too many rules, they're very simple.

Be nice, if it's not something you'd like someone to say to you, don't say it to me.

You can only be mean to me if you become a diamond patron on my Patreon

please be over 18 when viewing my blog, minors looking at my content makes me uncomfortable due to the adult nature of some of my content

These are the only things that come to mind at the moment, if you have something specific you want written drop it in my ask box, and we'll see where it goes from there.

Commissions

Support

I release most my work on Patreon as soon as I'm done writing it for patrons, and it becomes accessible to everyone on Patreon the same day it gets posted here

my Kofi

how to support me at no cost

subscribe and come to my streams

Stream Schedule

twitch_live

You can also follow me and interact with me on Twitter or Instagram and ao3

#from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma navigation

106 notes · View notes

nishinoyawn · 2 years

Text

{ELECTRIC FEEL}

[MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY.]

— Genre: nsfw (minors dni or ill bite ur head off <33), slight fluff littered throughout

— Scoville scale: spicy ramen, slight soft soba

— Word count: 3168

— Warnings: fem!reader, use of petnames (angel and princess), exhibitionism, handjob, cursing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, slight dubcon if you squint, awful electric puns because I can’t stop myself </3

— A/N: my Secret Santa fic for the planet oshun server for the very lovely @keizos !! I had more planned but my computer went out of commission right before the holidays and threw everything out the door 😵‍💫 hope you enjoy this !! You deserve nothing but the best so here you go! Love you and Merry Christmas beloved 💗

Being pro-hero Chargebolt’s secretary is a difficult job.

You arrange his hectic schedule everyday while working around conflicts.You take hundreds of phone calls which means taking the brunt of angry callers. You write up his tedious paperwork while still chasing him around to sign last week’s. You fetch him his morning coffee: a medium iced coffee with almond milk, liquid sugar, and 4 pumps of hazelnut. On top of that, you even have become his pet sitter, checking up on his two black cats when he’s away on a long mission.

Every night, you come home exhausted and tired trying to keep everything afloat without falling apart. But despite all of that, the most difficult task is trying to ignore his flirty comments and more-than-friendly actions.

Chargebolt, or Denki as he lets you call him, is a known ladies man among all the heroes. It’s easy enough to find him cozying up with an interviewer or flirting with his fans. He’s just a charismatic and cheeky person so it’s no surprise at all.

However, that is what made you skeptical of his advances at first. Sure, he’s attractive, witty, hilarious, and one of the top ten heroes in Japan but you just didn’t want to be another one of the people he flirted with causally. You didn’t need to be toyed with, especially not with your own boss.

But try as you might to ignore him, it’s too hard when he’s always trying to grab your attention, no matter how subtle.

It started off with small compliments and even pickup lines like, “Looking good, doll!” or, “I lost my number. Can I have yours?” which you just rolled your eyes at ignoring completely.

Then, it grew into closing the space between you two whenever you’re near. He’s always chalked it up to being unable to hear you properly even in the quiet of his office.

Now it’s quickly evolved into lingering touches whether that’s a hand on your back as he scooted around you in the elevator or his hands slowly running down your arms after he pulls away from a hug.

Every single touch sets your skin ablaze as your cheeks burn and your heart catches in your throat, leaving you almost on a high every time.

However, you refuse to be the only one suffering, which is how you’ve found yourself rubbing his cock through his pants under the table during the yearly holiday party.

It wasn’t supposed to escalate this quickly; it was just going to be flirting back with him and maybe ‘innocent’ touches across his chest and thighs. If you were feeling bold, maybe press up against him while you both danced. Nothing too crazy considering you were at the biggest event where everyone was invited and showed up.

Your plan was meant to be a slow build up of driving him crazy over the next few months. But, all that got thrown out the window when you told him you finished up everything on your to-do list before the holidays. Denki thought the best response was to lean over into your ear, his hand resting on your inner thigh and whisper, “That’s my good girl.”

You had sat frozen in your seat as he pulled away, the biggest grin plastered on his face. You felt your body warm up, your mind hazing over at his words and actions. He had pushed the envelope a few times but this ripped right through it, his praise and touch eliminating all rational thought.

So, that’s how you ended up with your hand pressed against your boss’ straining cock at the farthest table at the party.

Denki clears his throat as he shifts in his seat with his hands folded on top. His knuckles look stark white against the red velvet tablecloth as he tries to keep it together.

Your eyes scan the crowd as your hand works him through his clothes, trying to make sure you both don’t get caught or your coworkers would never let you live this down.

“Shit,” he mutters when you rub particularly hard against the tip. “Just couldn’t wait, huh?” You could imagine his smirk clearly in your mind, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“That’s cause somebody couldn’t keep it in their pants.”

He snorts quietly, laughing a little to himself. You couldn’t help but find it endearing despite the situation you were in. “I did and I still am. Can’t say the same for you.”

Now, it’s your turn to laugh, leaning on your free hand as you finally look at him. You can barely make out his features in the dimly lit room but you can always recognize his big, goofy grin.

Honestly, you’re a little pissed he shows no signs of distress except for the small beads of sweat forming on his forehead. It was taking everything in you to not press your legs together and slightly relieve the tension there. Yet, he stays all calm and collected like the big-shot hero he is.

If only you could wipe off that stupid grin.

You hum quietly, your finger tracing the outline of his hardening cock when an idea pops into your head. His body jerks slightly at the sudden change in pace, his leg shaking with anticipation. “Last I checked, I still had my clothes on sir,” Your eyes lock on with his, a smirk playing at your lips. “But you, on the other hand—“

His eyes widen as your hand slides up to the waistband of his slacks. You feel your heart nearly beat out your chest as you start to unbutton them. Butterflies fill your stomach as all the pent up energy for the past few months finally releases in an explosive flurry. Before you could even think about where you were, your hand slips underneath, your fingers wrapping gently around him.

You swallow hard, mouth falling open at the realization of how thick, how heavy he feels. Your mind starts to wonder at how he’d feel inside you, feeling yourself clench at the thought. Though, your thoughts are interrupted when you hear him grumble out a small ‘fuck’.

Your eyes snap to his face to see his once cool, cocky demeanor gone and replaced with a disheveled expression. His eyes shut tight, his breathing labored and quick, and his voice trembling as he speaks, “Please.”

A surge of confidence rises inside you, the corner of your mouth tilting upwards as you watch him stumble to catch his breath. “Please what, hmm?”

“Please move— fuck.” He hisses out as you start to stroke him, his head falling forward slightly. You know you should be watching out for anyone coming up to the table but you can’t take your eyes off him. Not with the way his eyebrows furrow, his gaze fixating on a spot on the table. You could tell he was trying so hard to not give away what you both were doing right now. That in itself made something inside you bubble, made you want to push him even more.

You lean in closer to him, your breath mingling with his. “Huh, not so talkative now? Where’d all that bravado go?” Your thumb presses against his head, your ego swelling as you watch him fall apart. “The big bad Chargebolt taken down by just a measly handjob? Who would have thought?”

Surprisingly, he snickers at that, his eyes snapping to yours. All the confidence you acquired vanishes as the intensity of his gaze overwhelms you, forcing you to pull back from him.

You had only seen this look a couple of times, mostly during his fights you’d seen on film. He’d be hunched over, nearly beaten black and blue, his chest heaving. In these situations, it always felt like the odds were stacked against him. It had seemed that no matter what he did, he would always be on the losing end.

Yet, he’d stare down the villain with this look as if to say, “You think you’ve won? Got another thing coming for you.” And now, as you’re on the receiving end of this same look, a chill runs through your spine as you realize this is a battle you were never going to win.

You were so hypnotized by his eyes you didn’t even realize he had removed your hand and buttoned himself back up, brushing off his pants.

“Alright, let’s get outta here.” His words bring you back to your senses, your eyes blinking to readjust to whatever the hell just happened. You look up to see him standing with his hand extended, the same intense glare smoldering behind his eyes.

Unable to form words as you’re still too stunned to speak, you nod wordlessly and take his hand.

However as you start to walk towards the exit, he pulls you back to stand in front of him. His eyes peer at you, his gaze far softer than before. “As much as I’ve been waiting for this moment to happen,” Concern etches itself on his eyebrows as he squeezes your hand. “I need to hear your consent, verbally. I need to know you’re okay with this.”

A small smile spreads across your face, your heart fluttering at his words. Even when you had your hand wrapped around his dick, he still made sure you were comfortable and that you wanted this.

You bring the back of his hand to your lips, pressing gently, “Yes, I’m all good. No need to worry, Denki.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, kissing your own hand before prompting you to grab your belongings. Once you’ve gathered your purse and sweater, you both speedily walk to the door hand in hand, exiting out into the hallway.

You trail behind him, the music from the party fading as you both move farther down the hall. The sounds of your heels clicking against the tile fill the silence between you two, your mind racing through everything that has just happened.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t realize you’re standing in a dark and oddly familiar room. When you’re about to ask where you are, Denki appears before you in a flash, pressing you against the cool wooden door. Your breath is knocked out of you as he cages you in, your skin warming at how close he is.

The high of earlier had worn off, leaving you completely vulnerable to him. He’s so magnetizing, the way he draws you to him, leaving you speechless. You think he can hear your heartbeat as his signature playful stretches across his face, the tilt of his head pissing you off, “Let’s finish this where we started, yeah?”

The confusion must have been clear on your face as he steps back a little, finally showing off the dim room. His trophy case glints in the moonlight, shiny and clean as ever, while the bubbling of his aquarium covers the sound of the loud AC.

You can’t help but laugh at the cheesy gesture, despite everything leading up to it had been anything but cheesy. The butterflies in your stomach buzz around once more, engulfing your body in an electric current of sorts. Your skin is so hot, so sensitive that you can’t wait any longer.

“Cheesy little shit,” you mumble as you tug on his shirt, pulling him towards you and slotting your mouth over his.

He tastes like the peppermint mocha frappuccino from the party, a cooling relief to your feverish state. Though, the refreshing feeling lets for a second before his hands slide up your body, leaving behind trails of fire in its wake.

He overwhelms you almost instantaneously as his hands touch every part of your skin, moaning into his mouth when he cups your tits. Your nerves and senses are sent into overdrive and you are nothing but putty in his hands when he pulls down the straps of your dress as far as they can go.

A squeal rips from your throat when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, feeling the dampness between your legs grow. “Ah, shit, ‘m sensitive,” you mumble against him, your body arching towards his touch.

You try to rub your legs together, trying to relieve the pressure but his leg is quick to block the action. He chuckles as you whine in protest, his mouth pulling away from yours to kiss the exposed skin of your neck.

“Not so fast, princess,” his teeth graze your pulse before sucking gently. His tongue laps at the bruised spot, your whimpers filling the empty room. “Or you’re already boutta cum, hmm?”

You’re about to tell him to shut the hell up when his mouth latches onto your breast, the words dying at the back of your throat. Your hand laces through his hair, pulling him closer to your chest as your head falls back against the door. His tongue circles around your nipple and carefully sucks on your soft, fleshy mound, your brain nearly short-circuiting.

With everything building up from months ago to the events of the past hour, also including the fact you hadn’t had a decent fuck in months, you were super sensitive, body and mind working separately as he continues to give the needed attention to your tits. Before you can process the tightening in your stomach, you cry out his name as you cum hard, your nails digging into his skin.

You don’t even realize you’re grinding down against his leg until he stills your ministrations, your mind still dizzy from the high. It was intoxicating, something your body was already craving, addicted to the feeling, and he was the only one who could fulfill it.

As if working autonomously, your lips move to his ear, nearly mewling, “Please, want you inside, now.”

All you can recall is his slight snicker before you find yourself laid down on his desk, the cold metal chilling your burning body. In a flash, he’s removed both his pants and your underwear, tossing them aside to somewhere on the floor.

The moonlight spilling from the window casts some light onto Denki’s features, allowing you to finally see him. You’re sure he reflects the way you look under him: crumpled clothes, mouth slightly ajar, pupils dilated, and sweat dripping down.

He appears just as overwhelmed as you, something that pleasantly surprises you. You thought maybe he had just been flirting with you just because you were the closest person to him. You thought it was just surface level feelings, nothing more than sexual tension he needed to get rid of. But seeing him like this, looking at you with much more than lust in his eyes has you pulling him down to taste him once again.

All you want to do right now is just to feel him, to have him fill in every sense of the word, to have him engulf and submerge you in everything that he is.

As if noticing your desperation, his hand moves down to grasp himself, his tip rubbing up against your folds. Your breath hitches as your nerves come alive, buzzing through your body when he slowly pushes in.

You pull away as your eyes drop down to where he had pushed your dress past your hips, watching the way he stretched you out. You knew he was thick when you held him earlier but nothing could prepare you as you saw your pussy trying to accommodate all of him. The ridges of his cock press against your walls, your mind nearly numb and empty at the feeling.

When he finally bottoms out, you both release a loud sigh. You have never felt so full, so stuffed, already clenching around him as you didn’t want it to end.

As you finally adjust to him, loosening your muscles, you nod to give him the go ahead.

He breathes on one last time before pulling back and pushing in again, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. You could tell he was holding back as he rocked against you, his muscles tight as his grip nearly bruises your skin. Your heart warms at the gesture but now is not the time for that.

As if reading your mind, he picks up speed in a matter of seconds, the sounds of skin on skin and the desk scraping against the floor drowning out any other noise.

You claw at his back, moaning, when his thumb frantically circles your clit. “Fucking- shit. You’re so good, you’re doing so good,” the praise fogging up your brain as the words spill out of his mouth. “Clenching around me so nice, fuck. So good.”

The familiar coiling knot in your stomach resurfaces already, whimpering out his name. “C-close already.”

He chuckles as he watches the way your eyes glass over, mouth open with drooling dripping down your chin. The sight could have almost made him cum but he holds himself back, wanting you to come first as his priority.

His pace and ministrations nearly become erratic, sloppy almost he tries to help you reach your high. He leans down to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, “C’mon, cum for me again. Cum all over my cock. Just like you wanted.”

The flick of your clit, his deep, raspy voice, his praise, and his fat cock overpower you, exploding your nerves and frying all your functions.

You cry out his name once more as you cum for a second time, the feeling washing over you like a tsunami and hitting you square in the chest as stars formed in your eyes. Denki follows soon after, moaning out your name and something else you couldn’t catch as he shoots his load into you.

He continues his pace to help you ride out your high before you whimper out that you’re sensitive.

Your eyes finally go back into focus when he gently cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. He stares back at you with delicate eyes, something hidden behind his hazel eyes. Was it adoration? Was it fondness?

Was it love?

Before you could even try to decipher his expression, his words break your concentration, “You good, angel?”

You heave out a slow sigh, nodding your head. As you slowly come down from your high, the reality of the situation hits you.

You try to pull away from him but he’s already crushing you into a hug, “I hope this isn’t a one time thing.”

His words sink into your mind, not fully processing until he pulls back, his eyebrows drawn together. Nervousness creeps into his voice, “I mean unless you want it—“

“God, you talk too much,” You laugh out as you kiss him. This time it was more tender, that softer feeling mixed into it. You pull back, leaning your forehead against his. You don’t know where this is going to go but you’re just here along for the ride, for this electric feeling.

Silence surrounds you two as he settles on top of you, his arms tightening around you. You hear him let out a snort, feeling his laugh vibrate against your chest, “Man, you really could say I decked your halls.”

“Denki!”

#bnha smut #kaminari denki smut #denki kaminari smut #denki smut #denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x y/n #boku no hero smut

127 notes · View notes

ebookporn · 3 years

Text

What “Finished” Means To An Author: Diana Gabaldon

Diana Gabaldon is the New York Times bestselling author of the wildly popular Outlander novels.

As my husband often remarks, "’FINISHED’ is a relative term to a writer." This is true! I thought y’all might be interested in Just What Happens to a book after the writer is "finished" writing the manuscript: (NB: This is the Standard Operating Procedure (SOP). When there’s a tight Production schedule—such as there was for MOBY and THE OUTLANDISH COMPANION, Volume 2--a lot of these steps can be done concurrently, rather than sequentially, and a few repetitive steps may be skipped. But by and large, this is how it works.) 1: Books don’t go directly from the author to the bookstore. A. Books go from the author to the Editor, who i. reads the manuscript ii. discusses the manuscript with the author, and iii. suggests minor (we hope) revisions that may improve the book B. The book goes back to the author, who i. re-reads the manuscript ii. considers the editor’s comments, and iii. makes whatever revisions, emendments, or clarifications seem right. C. The book goes back to the editor, who i. reads it again ii. asks any questions that seem necessary, and iii. Sends it to D. The copy-editor. This is a person whose thankless job is to i. read the manuscript one…word…at…a…time ii. find typos or errors in grammar, punctuation, or continuity (one heck of a job, considering the size not only of the individual books, but of the overall series), iii. apply “house style” to things like numbers (e.g., do we write “two” or “2”?), and iv. write queries to the author regarding anything questionable, whereupon E. The book comes back to the author—yes, again— who i. re-reads the manuscript ii. answers the copy-editor’s queries, and iii. alters anything that the copy-editor has changed that the author disagrees with, and iv. adds things inspired by the copy-editor’s comments that seem like a good idea. After which, the author sends it back to F. The editor—yes, again!—who i. re-re-reads it ii. checks that all the copy-editor’s queries have been answered, and sends it to G. The Typesetter (aka Compositor, these days), who sets the manuscript in type, according to the format laid out by H. The Book-Designer, who i. decides on the layout of the pages (margins, gutters, headers or footers, page number placement) ii. chooses a suitable and attractive typeface iii. decides on the size of the font, leading and kerning iv. chooses or commissions any incidental artwork (endpapers, maps, dingbats—these are the little gizmos that divide chunks of text, but that aren’t chapter or section headings)—or, for something like the OC II, a ton of miscellaneous illustrations, photographs, etc. that decorate or punctuate the text. v. Designs chapter and Section headings, with artwork, and consults with the (NB: people always want to know how many pages the book will be. This depends entirely on the Book Designer’s decisions, so there’s no telling ahead of time. The font, leading, kerning (leading and kerning are, respectively, the amount of space between lines and between letters) and page layout will all affect how many words fit on a page.) I. Cover Artist, who (reasonably enough) designs or draws or paints or PhotoShops the cover art (this often happens earlier in the process, but I put it here for convenience), which is then sent to J. The Printer, who prints the dust-jackets—which include not only the cover art and the author’s photograph and bio, but also "flap copy," which may be written by either the editor or the author (I usually write my own), but is then usually messed about with by K. The Marketing Department, whose thankless task it is to try to figure out how best to sell a book that can’t reasonably be described in terms of any known genre <g>, to which end, they i. try to provide seductive and appealing cover copy to the book (which the author normally approves. I usually insist on writing it myself). ii. compose advertisements for the book (author usually sees and approves these—or at least I normally do). iii. decide where such advertisements might be most effective (periodicals, newspapers, book-review sections, radio, TV, Facebook, Web) iv. try to think up novel and entertaining means of promotion, such as having the author appear on a cooking show to demonstrate recipes for unusual foods mentioned in the book. v. kill a pigeon in Times Square and examine the entrails in order to determine the most advantageous publishing date for the book. L. OK. The manuscript itself comes back from the typesetter, is looked at (again) by the editor, and sent back to the author (again!), who anxiously proof-reads the galleys (these are the typeset sheets of the book; they look just like the printed book’s pages, but are not bound. (NB: of recent years, galleys are often provided in electronic form)), because this is the very last chance to change anything. Meanwhile (Somewhere in here, recording begins on the audiobook, which is normally released at the same time as the hardcover. Ideally, the narrator is given a version of the manuscript that’s pretty close to the ultimate printed form, but they may get earlier or partial versions from which to prepare their performance (choosing accents and pacing for different characters, for instance).)) M. A number of copies of the galley-proofs are bound—in very cheap covers—and sent to (NB: This is SOP, but we haven’t been doing it for the last few books, owing to the fact that the book itself is coming out on the heels of Production; there’s no time to distribute ARCs (Advanced Reading Copies).) (NB: These days, it’s often PDF’s, though paper ARCs are still used, too.)) N. The Reviewers, i.e., the bound galleys (or PDF’s) are sent (by the marketing people, the editor, and/or the author) to the book editors of all major newspapers and periodicals, blogs, website, and to any specialty publication to whom this book might possibly appeal, in hopes of getting preliminary reviews, from which cover quotes can be culled, and/or drumming up name recognition and excitement prior to publication. Frankly, they don’t always bother with this step with my books, because they are in a rush to get them into the bookstores, and it takes several months’ lead-time to get reviews sufficiently prior to publication that they can be quoted on the cover. O. With luck, the author finds 99.99% of all errors in the galleys (you’re never going to find all of them; the process is asymptotic—vide the typo in the very last line of MOBY…), and returns the corrected manuscript (for the last time, [pant, puff, gasp, wheeze]) to the editor, who sends it to (The ebook coding happens somewhere in here.) Q. The Printer, who prints lots of copies (“the print-run” means how many copies) of the “guts” of the book—the actual inside text—are printed. These are then shipped to R. The Bindery, where the guts are bound into their covers, equipped with dust-jackets, and shipped to S. The Distributors. There are a number of companies—Amazon is the largest, but there are a number of smaller ones, and the large publishing houses have their own warehouse facilities, too—whose business is shipping, distributing, and warehousing books. The publisher also ships directly to  (1) Arrangements are made in this phase for ebook distribution through retailers like Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books-A-Million, etc..) T. Bookstores, but bookstores can only house a limited number of books. Therefore, they draw on distributors’ warehouses to resupply a title that’s selling briskly, because it takes much longer to order directly from the publisher. And at this point, [sigh]…the book finally reaches U. You, the reader. And we do hope you like it when you get it—because we sure-God went to a lot of trouble to make it for you.

#authors #writers #writing #writers life #librarians #literacy #booksellers #reading #Diana Gabaldon

94 notes · View notes

kaiowut99 · 3 years

Text

GX 65 - Video Frame Editing Help?

Looking for a little help on an animation edit I’d like to work on for my finalized episode 65 subs--I’m trying to correct an error where they showed Mad Dog Inukai’s Multiple Slime in Defense Mode despite it being in Attack Mode, entailing a few frames’ worth of editing to remove the Slime (as I’ve already masked it out to slap onto the fixed frames), so you’d just need to replicate the floor and cage bars over it.

I was in talks with someone who I hoped would be able to help, but unfortunately between their work schedule and maintaining their YouTube channel, that’s fallen through.

Details here; if you’re good at Photoshop/etc and might be able to help with this, it would be much appreciated--I’d credit you in the episode’s end credits, but can also commission the help if need be. Shoot me a DM if interested; would be great to make this fix happen if possible. There wouldn’t be a huge rush, though if you’d be able to work on it within the month or sooner, that’d be great, as the wait trying to work with my contact has delayed this episode for over three months now, lol. (The wait hasn’t been too bad, since I’ve been able to get a jump on giving my finalized episodes thus far a final revision [and I’m up to the Seven Stars episodes now], but yeah)

Thanks in advance! 🙏🏽

(Reblogs for visibility would be appreciated~)

#GX #yugioh #yugioh gx #ygo #ygo gx #subbing rambling #yu-gi-oh gx #yu-gi-oh! gx #figured i'd make a new post along with the earlier reblog so it shows up in the tags #worst-case i guess i'll leave it but it'd be nice to do #really am surprised with how many of these errors don't get fixed on the DVDs #c'mon now animation staff #yugioh+gx

15 notes · View notes

palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Moniker

Hawks Week 2020 - Prompt: Rebirth

Character: Keigo Takami - Hawks

Warnings: Angst, some adult language, the drama of growing up

Word Count: 5433

“They need you to pick a name, Keigo. You’re old enough now and the data has shown that you’re learning how to control your quirk. The advancements we’ve seen in the last few months have been outstanding. The HPSC wants you to start making a name for yourself, publicly. We’re hoping, in six or so years, you’ll be operating on a professional level.

So, look over those names and pick one. Once you do, you’ll no longer go by Keigo Takami. No, that name will be expunged from the records.”

Why? He’d wanted to ask. Why can’t he keep his name? Does it really matter? What were they going to do with him? Why was he even in this program?

There were so many questions racing through his mind. But, he just nodded and looked out the window. What good did it do to ask? They weren’t going to tell him anything. This was all just another manipulation. They always tried, so, so hard to let him feel like he had a say in his name, in his life, in anything.

In reality, he was just their little puppet, floating along on a tight string.

Notes: Part of Hawks Week 2020, Day 7 - Prompt: Rebirth.

This fic, like my Shigaraki exploration, Phantasma is part of a smaller series I’m calling Hopscotch. There’s a ton of kids in the BNHA universe that just need a freaking hug, man. But, all this trauma does give me some nice topics to write about...Not beta edited, so all mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

Moniker mon·i·ker /ˈmänəkər/ noun a name.

Keigo Takami is a ward of the Hero Public Safety Commission.

He’s been a ward for most of his life. He’s used to the routine: the daily drills, the daily training, the daily lessons, the daily lectures, the daily monotony of it all.

He’s never alone.

There’s always a few of them hovering. They, being the agents who are assigned to his daily care and maintenance. They’re like black spots, bleeding out against the clean, crisp linoleum floors. He’s shuttled around like a chess piece. As if he needs a shadow to guide him. He knows this building inside and out. He knows just where to perch if he wants to avoid the cameras and he knows the secrets of at least five or six of his handlers.

They blurt stuff out around him. People never think kids are listening. Too bad for them, cuz, he’s got enough dirt to take them straight to the top if he wanted to. Not that he wants to. Some of the handlers are nice, but Keigo has learned that sometimes nice is another way to say: manipulative.

So, he imagines that he can flex a little control over them, too. He’s got the information, he’s just not sure who to take it to. He’s never seen the head of the HPSC. They remain an enigma. The leader of this whole thing is the one piece he hasn’t slipped onto the puzzle. No, whoever they are, they’re mysterious. He only knows they exist because he’s seen their hen scratch of a signature on his progress reports and monthly, “how are you doing Keigo,” emails.

Despite the mystery, the head of the HPSC is the one constant in his life. He can’t say the same of his handlers. Most of the people who surround him shift and change. They’re like a tide.

When he was younger, his father used to take him down to the beach. Keigo was always fascinated by the pull, the drag, of that dark blue water.

Yeah, these handlers of his moved in and out like a tide. Every month it was someone else. One or two might be familiar faces, but they never told him their names. Well, not their real names at least. No, no one ever revealed those. Keigo was accustomed to the secrecy of it all. It was kinda boring.

But, most days were.

It was just him and the various adults who were tasked with his lessons or training schedules. It was a never ending circle, a rotation of sameness that made his teeth ache. There were no other kids at the base. No, lucky him, he was the only one selected to receive this special training.

When he was smaller he’d been a little more excited. He’d wander behind the dark suits, clutching his Endeavor figure to his chest, his eyes scanning every room, every person, every crevice.

You can never be too careful Kei, his father had told him, his golden eyes winking down at him. Always keep your eyes and ears open.

“It’s a special program, Keigo. Starting today, you need to say goodbye to your name. You’re going to become a very special hero, okay?”

It was a younger man who had talked with him that afternoon. He can remember looking down at his toy, the plastic heavy, sticking to his clenched arms. Keigo can recall his small voice asking the man two questions: “Can I be like him? Can I be a hero who beats the bad guys?”

At the time, they had felt so, well, important to him. They were all encompassing, vital queries that needed to know the answer to back then. He disliked them now. They were stupid questions. Besides, what self respecting adult takes the word of a six year old seriously?

He’s eleven now. He’s way past those childish dreams. And, they still hadn’t taken his name from him. Oh, they hinted at it. He’d even caught sight of one of the lists.

The lists were the long rows and rows of potential hero names for Keigo. Not that he was asked much about any of this. His opinion didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He’d only managed to see one of the lists a few years ago. His handler hadn’t been expecting him back so fast.

He wasn’t supposed to use his wings unless he was in the training facility. Little did they know, he’d been practicing. How could he not? He could feel each and every tiny thing with his feathers. It drove him insane. If he was drifting off to sleep he would feel the electricity humming through the walls. When he focused hard enough he could hear the distant conversations happening on the floors above him.

It was an endless march of noise, emotion, and sensations. He felt like he was overstimulated all the time, his skin too heavy for his bones. He wanted to scream some days: get these off me, I can’t, I-I can’t take it. But, he had to learn how to grapple with his quirk. It was part of him.

Still, sometimes he wished he was someone, anyone else.

‘Turn it off’, they said, ‘dampen the urge to reach out with your feathers’.

Yeah, right. Let them slip into his quirk, see how much they liked the all consuming sensation of it all. It was too much, too intense. Some days it’s a fight to make himself get out of his bed. Everything is just...too close, sometimes.

He’s just a kid, he wanted to tell them. Like that would grant him a reprieve. No, he already knew what answer they would give him. The HPSC had selected you for a purpose, a reason, Keigo.

They fed him such vague, well, bullshit. Yeah, he knows he shouldn’t say words like that, whatever. They shouldn’t be doing this, er, whatever it was that they were hoping to achieve with him. But, it’s not like the confirmed acknowledgement of their preposterousness would stop them. No, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open. It was the best way to survive the endless march of days and weeks. He would nod, practice, and then practice a little more in secret.

It’s his quirk after all. If he could perfect it, maybe they would loosen his leash.

His wings were still a little stunted. They could grow to longer points, but it took a lot of time and a lot of concentration. It was like his body knew exactly what he could, or could not, in this case, handle. More feathers meant more sensations. More sensations meant less sleep, less control, and, worst of all, less autonomy. There would be more tests, more training, more, more, more.

Still, he worked at it. It was a double edged sword. He both hated, and loved, the improvements he saw within himself.

Despite his impeded wing growth, Keigo could flap himself along now. He could even hover in the air for a little while, but his back would protest the strain after forty minutes or so. It hurt to hold himself up. His shoulders just weren't broad enough to maintain his weight. He’d been hoping that eating a little more would help. You know, beef him up a little.

He’d brought the subject up with one of his handlers, one of the ones he actually knew. The man had nodded, his curly blonde hair bobbing around his ears. And, with that, his food rations were extended. He was also given some other choices too. Some steak, veal, higher protein foods. He’d stubbornly stuck with chicken. He liked the taste. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Keigo took advantage of the larger portions and he gorged himself on the succulent meat.

Four weeks later, he hadn’t grown much. Maybe what, half a pound? Nah, most of that energy must have been consumed by his quirk. But, the more he ate, the easier it was to focus on it. Meh, still a win, win. At least from the HPSC’s viewpoint.

He mentioned that there are never any kids around the HPSC training facility, right?

Adults? You couldn’t swing a dead cat and not hit at least 4 or 5 of them, at any given moment. Keigo didn’t mind. He was used to adults. By nature he was quiet, observant. It was his habit to position himself in the corners of rooms. It let him see anyone and everyone who entered or left. He likes watching. But, he’s done that his whole life. Even before the HPSC picked him up he’d learned how to hone that skill.

Now, the trainers and handlers were trying to break him of that tic.

‘You need to curb that Keigo’, they’d say. ‘If you’re going to become a successful hero you can’t just sit in the shadows. We already have plenty of agents who are trained for that. No, you need to be more gregarious. Speak up, talk with people. You’ve been drilled in this skill, now show us what you’ve learned. We want you to be a hero’.

So, he myna birds what they ask. They’ll leave him alone that way. Sure, sure, he’s rewarded with gifts, with praise, with extra free time. But, it’s all so calculated. He can smell their intentions a mile away. He’s seen the books some of them read. They were books with titles like: The Psychology of the Child, The Developing Mind, Playing and Reality.

If that wasn’t obvious enough, he’d heard some of the conversations they passed as they handed off their shifts, the words lilting back and forth, like secret notes.

“Ignore his minor tactics. It’s just him responding to the attention. Only praise him when he’s behaving.” Or, “Give Keigo labeled praise. You know, build his self esteem. He’s so quiet, it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. Pack a snack for him. That way when he opens up to you, boom! Treat in hand.”

Do they not realize how much he can hear? God, adults are dumb. Smile and give them what they want, or, say what they most need to hear and they’re eating out of your hand. Meanwhile, as they’re congratulating themselves on a job well done, they had no idea what thoughts were racing behind his golden irises.

No, Keigo is motivated by other things. One motivation trumps all the others: he wants to get outta this place. Just for a day, heck, he’d take an hour. Keigo is tired of the same walkway, the same lunch hall, the same dreary views of the city.

It’s springtime in Japan and Keigo can make his feathers molt. It’s a newer skill, one he’s withholding from his handlers for the time being. Maybe if he feigns a cough, he can pretend to be sick? He’s gotten pretty good at acting now. That was another one of his classes. It was like a, how to deceive someone 101. Actually, it was prolly called something like ‘Espionage for Tots’.

It was fun. He liked the smiles and serious faces he was asked to make. They should have slapped a big: “please, Keigo, don’t use these skills to deceive us” disclaimer on the door. He liked the guy that taught it, too. He was a short, unassuming man, but he would genuinely grin at Keigo each time he walked through the door for his session. Oh, wait. Was that just an act? He’d have to ask him. Boy, he’s good if it was. He needs to shore up his own skills…

He could always pretend that an imaginary sick day was part of the lesson. Look! My poor feathers, they’re molting, how sad. Also, cough, cough, I feel ill. No, ill is a bad choice of words. Ahem, I mean, I don’t feel so good. Can I lay down? Maybe prop open my window, for the fresh air. Oh no! I accidentally swooped out. Cough, cough.

Keigo isn’t even sure what he’d do with himself if he could manage to sneak out. It’s not like he’s not noticeable. He’s sporting at least 7 feet of ruby red plumage now. Well, if he’s gonna plan an escape, he might as well do it-

“Keigo,” it’s a sharp voice, and it startles him out of his musings. It belongs to one of the head handlers. Kaori? Yeah, that’s her name. Eh, the one she’d given him at least. She’s nice enough, a little rough around the edges at times, but she’s fair. Maybe, oh, maybe he can ask her about-

“Are you listening, Keigo? We need to go. The provost was expecting us over an hour ago. Where have you been? Mai couldn’t find you so she asked me to look for you.”

“I was up there.” Keigo points, his chin lifting to follow his movement, wings fluttering against his back. Despite her tone, Kaori doesn’t seem too upset. Her heartbeat is normal. But, that didn’t mean much around here.

“Up there?” Kaori’s tone is faint and a little awed. She turns her violet gaze to his, pursing her lips into a thin line. “Since when?”

“It’s been, ah, three months and sixteen days since I first made it to that perch. They didn’t like that I went so far. Eiichi said he was going to document it though. I mean, it ain’t too far. Guess I can go for a lower spot next time. I just like that I can see more up there, it makes it-”

“No, no. It’s fine Keigo. Don’t say “ain’t,” it’s slang. I suppose it has been awhile since I’ve seen you. How old are you now? Ten?”

“Eleven,” Keigo replies, his back straightening, wings arching beside his head.

“Mmm, eleven. Gosh, you’re growing up fast,” Kaori’s reply is sharp, practiced. Keigo rolls his eyes. She wanted to spark a reaction out of him. See if he’ll puff up with joy or grow sullen with her mistake of thinking he’s younger than he is. It’s easier to assign him extra training than really deal with him. At least, that’s what some of his handlers seemed to think.

“Have you seen the news?” Kaori asks, violet eyes resting on his amber ones. “There’s a mission coming up. Endeavor’s agency is taking it on.”

Keigo feels his wings lifting again, but he quickly suppresses the motion, his shoulders hunching forward. He never, ever, wanted to seem too eager. Not when they’d primed him for such an obvious tell. It’s not like they didn’t know what heroes he admired.

Yeah, Keigo had seen the news. He was permitted two hours of television each day. Most blocks were taken up with watching the latest developments. Sometimes he would shift the channel to a cartoon, but the television time would be lessened if he watched nonsense for too long. No, the tv was for educational purposes only, not for leisure or fun. He’d heard that line enough to have it memorized.

“What about it?” Keigo asks, falling into step with Kaori. She’s taking the long way back to his next lesson. Clearly, she’s wanting to glean something from him.

“Well, I was thinking it might be beneficial for you to observe the mission.”

“What, like on CCTV or something?”

“No. In person. We would need to fit into the crowd, but this mission has been widely publicized, it’s a miracle the villain’s haven’t heard about it.”

“That, or they want the fight.”

Kaori laughs. “Very good, excellent observation. You’ve improved Keigo. Consider this a set date. I will personally escort you to the mission viewing point. At the end of the exercise, I would like to hear your opinion on the matter.”

Keigo bites his tongue.

It’s too slick again, too obvious. The mission Kaori mentioned fits the profile of a raid, not the everyday, run of the mill, villain sting. Endeavor’s agency had been squaring up with the lower level fighting rings for months now. This was just another day for him. The number two hero promised to clean up crime and he was following through with that assertion.

So, why take him to see it now? Why did it matter if Keigo saw it in person? The data and video would be uploaded the next day to the HPSC database, he could just watch it and take notes then.

Why is she doing this?

Keigo chances a glance at her face. She’s pale, stern and stoic above him. Her heels click on the tiles and her back is ramrod straight. A few feathers bristle, feeling, listening, nah, her pulse is steady too. It’s hopeless. Maybe this is the challenge? Something to test him, to try and see if he can get a read on the unreadable?

“What’s the point of me going? What good does it do? My data sheets haven’t slipped enough to call for anything like this.”

“Don’t be so critical of everything Keigo,” Kaori scolds him, her purple eyes lingering on his spreading plumage. “It’s not a test, it’s not a drill. I just...I can remember what it was like to be a teenager and be trapped doing something I didn’t want to do.”

Again, Keigo is silent after her declaration. He’s not really sure how to answer. Pragmatic, logical, even angry responses, he’s used to those. This? What is this? Some kinda misplaced empathy? He never would have placed an empathetic bone in Kaori’s body before today.

They pause at the provost’s doorway and Kaori places an arm on his shoulder, demanding his attention with her strong grip.

“Let me know by tomorrow.”

And, with that, she’s gone, pacing down the long hallway, her heels tapping a sharp tattoo against the flooring. Keigo narrows his eyes, avian pupils dilating, focusing. Sure, maybe it was just an opportunity, a chance for him to get out of the headquarters for a while, but there’s always a catch.

******

The email comes a few hours later.

Keigo is sprawled across his bed, his wings tucked safely along his shoulders as he flips through his textbook. He lifts his head from his pillow and sighs heavily at the familiar chime from his computer. It’s either more geometry problems or it’ll have something to do with what Kaori was discussing: The Endeavor mission.

His wings shift and rustle as he stands. He’s agitated, on edge. He dislikes being maneuvered into a corner. No matter what the email is over, he’ll feel obligated to say yes. Even if it’s by default.

Keigo steps up to his computer, his long fingers racing over the keypad, typing in his encrypted password. As he waits for the screen to load, his eyes fall to the battered figurine beside his monitor.

It’s the Endeavor toy. He’s kept it all these years, safe and sound, in each bedroom he’s moved to. The flames are dull and his bright blue uniform is more mottled than cobalt, but it’s still a tiny piece of his other life.

His father had given it to him. It was years ago. He hadn’t thought he was going to get anything for his birthday, but then, his father had flown in, his own plumage glimmering against the dying sunlight and presented four year old Keigo with the toy. He had clutched it to him, his eyes shining and bright.

“Dad! Ah, how did you know?”

His father had beamed at him, his eyes softening at the sight of his son’s genuine smile. Keigo didn’t smile a lot back then. Their life was too tumultuous, too chaotic. There was too much at stake. His father had gathered him up and pressed the button that activated the toy’s internal voice box. Keigo had squealed with delight and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck.

Now, Keigo traces a single finger along the top of the Endeavor’s head, running along the dimmed flames. He’s seen a decent amount of coverage on the number two hero lately. He’d even gone as far as studying his moves. Not that it mattered. His quirk would never be a match for the flame heroes skills. But, he had to admire the guy.

He was constantly overshadowed, outranked and outclassed by All Might. Still, Endeavor pushed forward. He’s the only one who really tried to overtake the number one hero. It was both impressive and, well, kinda pathetic, desperate even. All the same, Keigo kept hunting for news of the number two. Once you have a favorite, Keigo reasoned, you tend to stick with them.

Tearing his eyes away from the little figurine, Keigo clicks on the new email. He blinks a few times, even rubs his eyes. No, no way. He spreads his fingers along the computer’s trackpad, enhancing the words. Yeah, no, it’s really there.

It’s the list.

Remember? The one with all the HPSC’s approved names for him?

It’s, well, it’s even more anticlimactic than he was expecting. Damn, it’s over three pages of the most asinine, inane bullshit. Two bad words, oh no, and in one sentence. In his defense, this crap deserved a whole string of curse words.

There are names like: REDWING, Darkbird, Vulture, WINGMAN, Canary, Condor, RED Condor, Northwind, Zauriel, Red jay, WING. God, it’s just page after page of trash. Whomever they paid to create this, well, they needed a new day job. Might as well just call him: BIRDBOY or something. Sighing, Keigo clicks out of the email, his plumage lifting and lowering, feathers rustling again, perturbed. Yeah, he’s got wings. So what? That’s not all he is.

Keigo is about to pace back to his bed when another email chimes in. Groaning, he doesn’t even look at the sender before opening it. Oh.

It’s from Kaori and the head of the HPSC. They were wanting to confirm the viewing of the Endeavor mission. Both felt that it was a good use of Keigo’s time and the HPSC’s resources. They just need his answer.

Funny, Keigo thinks, tapping a quick reply, they always like to pretend that he has a say in things.

******

He’s never been a tall kid. He’s not sure if it’s his quirk or something genealogical. Quirk makes the most sense. It’s hard enough to lug his own tiny body around, he can’t even imagine trying to pull someone like Endeavor into the air.

Keigo’s seen the number two plenty of times. God, hundreds and hundreds of times, really. But, he’s not prepared for the hulk of a man that is standing before him. Enji Todoroki, that’s his real name. Most heroes don’t hide their civilian names. No, they’re all listed in the databases of the HPSC and open for public scrutiny. Keigo shifts on the balls of his feet, his toes tapping against the pavement. Apparently, that’s not going to be an option for him.

Kaori had sat, prim and proper, next to him in the long black car as they drove to the mission site. Her violet eyes were dull flints of purple as she relayed the news:

So, look over those names and pick one. Once you do, you’ll no longer go by Keigo Takami. No, that name will be expunged from the records.”

Why? He’d wanted to ask. Why can’t he keep his name? Does it really matter? What were they going to do with him? Why was he even in this program? There were so many questions racing through his mind. But, he just nodded and looked out the window.

What good did it do to ask? They weren’t going to tell him anything. This was all just another manipulation. They always tried, so, so hard to let him feel like he had a say in his name, in his life, in anything. In reality, he was just their little puppet, floating along on a tight string.

Keigo looked over the police tape to Endeavor again. Even the number two hero got to keep his name. What makes Keigo so different?

“They’ll be rushing the entrance soon,” Kaori says, her arms crossed, her pressed suit dark against the bright sunlight. “You might be able to see it a little better if you move to the other end of the street.”

Keigo looks up at her, his eyes impassive. Kaori, sensing his gaze, blinks down at him. “Don’t go far. Consider this a small reward for good behavior. I know what I told you in the car can’t have been easy to hear. Don’t make me regret giving you a little more freedom.”

For a long moment, Keigo is still.

He wants to dash off. He’s never done that. It would be nice to place a little distance between him and his handler. Plus, he’s outside. It’s a beautiful day, just puffy clouds and the fresh, clean smell of springtime. Well, and the hustle and bustle of the raid that is unfolding across the street. He looks up at Kaori and her violet eyes lift away from him. She shakes her head and a small smile creeps across her lips.

“Go on, you better hurry. Endeavor’s about to enter the building.”

It’s all the prodding he needs. Like a shot, Keigo is dashing through the crowd. A few people clamor around him, their voices distant, complaints and admonishments ringing over his golden head. He rounds the street corner and his wings lift, testing the air, trying to tug him into the skies.

Amber eyes flash as he looks for the perfect spot. Ah-ha! There’s a low, tiled roof across the street. If he can get up to the second story he should be able to see into the back of the compound Endeavor is conducting the raid on.

His back aches, muscles tired and straining, but he ignores the sting. His wings lap against the warm air and, just like that, he’s landing on the roof, his sneakers bright against the dark tile. Keigo turns back to the compound. Yes! Perfect! He can see everything. His wings settle along his shoulders, still lifted as he crouches down, the plumage vibrating, listening.

Keigo can hear some of the transmission between the heroes. Their radios are switched up and the static sound makes his nose wrinkle. It feels fuzzy, almost like he’s stepped on a live wire. Apparently, Endeavor is about to move into the exposed courtyard and Keigo sits up straighter, his wings spreading, cupping under the low wind. He’s so focused on catching sight of the number two that he doesn’t hear the warning cry.

No, he only notices the danger when it’s too late.

His feathers bristle, arching, quivering, reacting as a set of talons rips into his delicate plumage. His wings throb. It stings and he feels the anger, the rage that is coursing through the culprit that’s attacking him. Their screams make his ears ache and he rolls away, his hands instinctively covering his head, protecting himself from the sudden onslaught. His golden eyes are narrowed and searching. What the hell-

The pieces fit into place when he sees her.

It’s a hawk. She’s already taken to the skies, her dark wings wheeling her back to the roof. She lifts upward, the strong winds carrying her high, against the clouds. Then, she’s diving, her feathers bracing along her sides, propelling her at a terrifying speed.

She’s headed straight for him.

Keigo, unthinkingly, rolls out of the way, his own wings flaring open and flapping him a good ten feet or so, hopefully placing him out of range. The hawk pulls up, another scream echoing across the sky. She wheels around, her sharp beak and eyes trained on him. Keigo’s foot slips against the uneven surface of the roof and he bites his lip, his ankle twisting painfully.

“Hey! Keigo! Oh, there you are. Come on! The raid is wrapping up, we need to get back.”

Kaori’s voice shudders up his spine, his oversensitive wings making her sound like a foghorn. Wait. The raid is over? He whirls back to the compound, his eyes scanning, flashing in his agitation.

No. No, no, no.

She’s right. Endeavor and his sidekicks are already back at the front of the building, he can’t even see them clearly from here. He’s missed his chance. Damn it.

It’s not fair, he thinks, a misting of tears clouding his sight. He’d been so close. And now? Now, he’s gotta go back to that stupid building. Now, they’re going to take away his name and force him to do even more training. Who knows when he’ll get out again. It’s just, it’s not freaking fair.

Keigo wipes his arm against his eyes, pulling the moisture across his sleeve. He can’t let Kaori see him cry. He hasn’t cried in years. He’s not going to give them the satisfaction of knowing that he still...wait...what’s that?

Across the rooftop, close to where his original perch was, is a nest. It looks clumsy, like it might fall off into open space at any moment. It’s held together with a spattering of twigs and sticks, but there’s movement. Keigo lowers his arm, his wings lifting again, feeling. There’s one...no...there’s two chicks inside. They feel soft. Their heartbeats are fluttering, like a butterfly’s wing.

He looks down at Kaori. She’s standing on the street corner, shielding her eyes from the sun as she peers up at him. Keigo lifts his hand so she can see, one finger raised, silently asking her for a little more time. Kaori groans, he can hear her exhale from here, and nods, lowering her gaze, one hand propped on her jutted hip.

“Be quick about it, Keigo.”

He lets his wings bevel over his shoulders and he hops, carefully, slowly, across the tiles. As he gets closer, two pairs of yellow eyes peer at him, half hidden in the tangle of twigs. He grins and leans up, wanting to look a little…

The hawk, quick as lightning clatters in front of the nest, shielding her chicks from his curious observation. Her wings flare at his proximity, her beak open, sharp. She clicks a warning, her feathers spreading. Keigo mimics her display, his own wings fanning out and the hawk tilts her head, surprised. Her eyes blink, the dark orange shifting from agitated to quizzical. Slowly, her wings lower, draping along her back. Talons shift against the tiles and she chirps at him. It’s a different sound, less challenging. It's almost like a question.

Keigo lifts one of his hands, his fingers balled into a fist and gingerly extends his arm, his shoes sliding closer. She lifts her wings and glides a little nearer, her head still tilted in that exaggerated way. She chirps at him again and lowers her head. If he reaches out a little further he could stroke a finger down her feathers. Just a bit…

“Keigo!”

The sound of his name startles him and the hawk. She yanks from his touch and launches herself back into the skies. Keigo watches her, fascinated by the ease, the grace that she moves with. As he’s admiring her fluidity, a single feather flutters to his feet. He almost misses it. The wind starts to catch it, pulling it away, but he snatches it up, his fingers careful to not crush the barbs.

“Keigo, I’m not going to ask again...”

He uses his wings to help him down the side of the building. The verdant plumage is swelling, arching behind him. It feels different. Keigo lowers them against his back, mirroring the way the hawk had draped them, the feathers close to his skin. It helps. They don’t feel like something that he’s untethered from when he holds them like that. He’s still basking in his discovery when Kaori steps toward him, one brow arched.

“You know better than that, Keigo. Didn’t I ask you to not make me regret giving you a little more freedom? Come on, we’re overdue. What’s that in your hand?”

“Nothing,” Keigo replies, tucking the hawk’s feather into his jean pocket. She was so pretty, fierce and quick.

“You put any thought into any of the names on the lists? We were thinking your hero name should be-”

“Hawks,” Keigo replies, his wings stretching behind him, shimmering in the bright sunlight. “I wanna be called Hawks.”

Notes: bb Keigo is too cute, I couldn’t resist.

Tags: @hawksweek2020, @spicy-skull,

#hawksweek2020 #hawks week 2020 #bnha hawks #hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #hopscotch #hopscotch series #bnha #boku no hero academia #hawks-centric #little hawks #bb keigo

106 notes · View notes

minghaocouture · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung X Gender Neutral Reader Genre: Modern Magic AU, Fluff Warning: Language WC: 4K+

A/N: @svtxsoju HAPPY HOLIDAYS BINU!!! I know it’s a bit late but here you got <333 I wub you sooooo much and I hope you have a happy new year!! Also this is the last of my simper council holiday gifts so once the new year starts i’ll go back to working on my actual requests!

“That’ll be $24.78” The rather small vile in your hand held no more than 8mm of the shiny silver liquid. It was strange, and almost looked like glittery dish soap if you had no clue what you were looking at. It wasn’t a surprise to you when your customer gasped, shocked at how much such a small amount cost. His open palm slammed down harshly on the counter that separated the two of you.

“That’s ridiculous! Vetra’s shop was selling this for $10!” At his words, you wrapped your fingers around the small vial and pulled it away from him.

“Then go buy it at Vetra’s place, half the price for half the quality.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at the man’s attempt to have you lower your price. “Some of us actually put in the labor to make these potions, and I’ll be damned if I slaved over these vials just for some ass wipe to try and get me to dock my prices. So either buy this for $24, or get out of my shop.”

It might have seemed harsh, but you weren’t one to put up with bullshit. There were quite a few potion shops around town but very few actually made their own stock, many just buying it online and reselling it in a different container. Not you though, you put energy and so much magic into your work and you weren’t going to be haggled. At least not by some low rank vampire trash who thought he was better than everyone.

The male bared his fangs towards you, causing you to roll your eyes. Your free hand subtly reaching down below your register and grabbing a small pure silver dagger, just to prepare for a fight just in case. Vampires were usually the ones who tried to start something, so it was left there as a precaution for yourself and your employees.

The vampire growled, his eyes flickering over to a display of yours and you felt your heart sink. With a speed you could barely see the male had thrust his arm out, knocking the carefully put together display from the counter before he stormed out of the store.

“Get out of my way!” You heard him shout, shoving past a customer who was trying to enter the building.

You called out a small welcome as the door shut but didn’t bother to identify the new customer as you got to cleaning up. It wouldn’t be terrible but it was very annoying and exhausting. Placing your dagger back into its usual position before pulling your wand out of your back pocket.

“Novis Tempus” You muttered, flicking your wand into the direction of the mess now covering the linoleum floor of your shop. You felt the magic slip from your core, travel through your fingertips, down the mahogany of your wand and seeping out from the purples and blue of the fluorite perched at the end of your wand.

Your spell slipped through the air, a small light pink aura circling the mess that had spilled. Slowly it began to change. The liquid from the spilled vials slithered back into the glass, the shattered vials stitching themselves back together, and the wood from the broken standee returning to its rightful positions. It took a few seconds but you always loved watching as it happened, and soon your display was once again perched on the countertop where it had previously been standing.

Despite being a rather seasoned witch, the spell was advanced and took quite a bit of energy which left you rather exhausted. You were pretty grateful that your cover, a younger and much less experienced witch, named Christopher, would be arriving within the hour to take over so you could recoup the spent energy.

“Looks like I missed a party!”

The familiar voice instantly brought a grin to your face, your eyes flickering over to be greeted by the bright shining face of your favorite customer.

“Soonyoung! I thought you weren’t gonna make it in today, you’re later than usual.” You replied, making your way over to where you kept your...commissioned items. It was rare for you to get werewolves in here, most of their species didn’t really try to tone down their transformations, they enjoyed letting out their beast once a month. Not to mention how dangerous, time consuming, and expensive making a wolfsbane potion was, which definitely made them...one of your more pricey items that you would only make if requested, so most werewolves couldn’t afford it even if they wanted to. (though if someone was really desperate and you had the time you’d probably give them the first one for free. You’re not completely heartless.)

The male jutted out his lower lip at his words being ignored, it was kind of ridiculous how adorable he was when he pouted like that. Maybe that was why you poked his buttons like that, or at least the buttons you were aware of. Despite his monthly visits, you hadn’t tried to meet him outside of work before. A shame really.

As you crouched down to the bottom shelf where you kept requests, you heard the male start up. His voice always brought a smile to your face, his mood must just be contagious.

“I uhh missed my train?” Obviously a lie, but you weren’t going to point it out. After all, it wasn’t any of your business; he was just a customer. A very funny and endearing customer but a customer nonetheless.

Pulling out the large circular bottle, complete with a wooden cork shoved into the neck. The light blue liquid swirled in the glass with an almost eerie glow. You doubted that you would ever get used to the aura that the wolfsbane potion gave off. Bottle in hand, you returned to your register where Soonyoung stood with a small almost nervous grin on his face. Placing the bottle down on the marble countertop, you slid it forward with a single finger.

“Well, you better head out then, before you miss your train home.” You joked, watching as the tension seemed to drift away from him. At least he seemed more comfortable now. “Same thing for next month? Doing another early payment?”

You watched Soonyoung grab the fragile bottle and slide it snuggly into the backpack he was carrying (you were honestly surprised it survived the trip home considering how you’d seen the young man run.) As he did so, he pulled out the familiar pale blue wallet that he kept inside.

“As always! You already know my schedule so well!” He said happily, pulling out a bundle of cash and handing it over to you. “It’s on the 25th next month and I can come grab it on the 21st. Is that enough time?”

His question caused you a brief pause, filing through a mental category of your stock. You were almost out of moonstone after the last potion so you’d need to restock and then powder that, but nothing extreme so you confirmed this with a nod and a finalization of his payment.

“Well, I’ll see you next month then!” Considering this had been your routine for the past few months, you expected a small farewell before the bleach blond bounded from the store. So you pulled out your inventory book and began writing notes about his potion. Today was different though, as he lingered. You could feel his piercing eyes on you for a moment, just watching before he spoke up once more.

“I was...actually wondering if you were free anytime today?” You froze, your pen hovering over the parchment as your brain processed what had just been asked of you. Weighing the pros and cons of being honest with him, on one hand he was kind and you had just been thinking about what it would be like to actually befriend the male but on the other hand, this could have been a long game plan if he was some crazy killer. It was unfortunately, but you had to think of things like that, especially with the recent surge of missing persons cases.

“No pressure! I know it’s super weird and suspicious that I’m asking buuut, you’re pretty cool and I’d actually like to get to know you! Not to be a creep, but like as a friend.”

It was sweet, and the smile on his face was definitely inviting enough. So against your better judgement, you let out a small sigh.

“I get off at 5, think you can wait til then?”

If his neutral face was bright, then his cheerful one was blinding. His grin stretched from ear to ear and you watched as he pumped a fist into the air out of excitement. It was honestly really sweet and made your heart flutter that he was that excited to spend time with you outside of work.

“Yeah! I’ll hang around the district and come back when you’re off!” With that the male literally bounded out of your shop. As the door slammed shut behind him, silence surrounded you and couldn’t stop the joyful laughter from spilling from your lips.

You helped out a few more customers before Chris arrived, but once he did you quickly got to work on preparing to leave. Doing things like going over inventory, and rearranging some things that customers had decided to touch, with just a bit more pep in your step than usual. Which Chris definitely noticed.

“Someone’s in a hurry. Usually I have to push you out the door, just so you’ll go home and rest.” You had known Chris for a few years and he of course had seen right through you. Because of this you saw no reason to defend yourself.

“Yeah, you know that Werewolf regular?”

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah, him. Well, he asked if I wanted to hang out after work,” You explained, trying to keep casual about the whole ordeal despite how excited you were. Finalizing your inventory check, you slid your work book back under the counter and when you stood up once more, Chris was smirking in your direction, rather smugly in fact. “What?”

“I was wondering when this was going to happen. He’s always making eyes at you whenever he comes in. It’s right cute.” He teased, and you were grateful that no one else was in the store to hear this. Feeling a heat rush to your face, you rolled your eyes at the male.

“Come off it Chris, He does not.”

“He does! He’s always like this!” He exclaimed, before quickly adjusting his position to show an example. Leaning one elbow on the counter he placed his cheek in his palm and just began staring at you with a sweetly intent look. You hated to admit it, but you had caught Soonyoung staring like that...once or twice, but you weren’t going to tell Chris that.

“Maybe you need to go get those eyes checked out, cause you’re seeing things.” You declared, slipping past him into the break room that was hidden past the door behind the counter. You almost cheered in relief as you heard the familiar bell ring through the store, signaling a new customer entering. Which meant that Chris wouldn’t be able to follow after you and the embarrassment would be over.

That was...not the case when you heard Chris’ cheerful voice greet the customer.

“Soonyoung! Nice to see ya! It’s been a while, you usually come in when I’m off.”

You mind blanked and you quickly got all of your belongings together, shoving your phone in your pocket before rushing out of the break room. Only to find Soonyoung and Chris laughing cheerfully as they spoke to one another. You almost let out a physical sigh of relief when you realized it was just a regular conversation and Chris hadn’t strayed the topic over to you.

When Soonyoung saw you though, his eyes lit up like it was some sort of holiday even though he had just seen you about an hour ago. Honestly, nothing had probably even changed about your appearance since then and yet he still looked at you like you...radiant.

“See ya later Chris, you have my number if anything happens. Don’t burn down the store!” The male in question quickly formed a mock salute that was almost as serious as a real one, if it weren’t for the intent purpose of making fun of you.

“Aye aye, Parental unit!”

Rolling your eyes, you gestured for Soonyoung to follow you and soon the two of you were gone. Off on an adventure that would be the first spark in a well lit fire.

***

When you left with Soonyoung, you were expecting the typical things that a guy does when he takes people out. What you got was...much different.

He started off by taking you to get a bite to eat, you were pretty hungry after your shift and so you were pretty grateful for that. The place was pretty small, a little mom and pop shop run by some friends of his named Seungkwan and Seokmin. If you thought Soonyoung was funny, then him with his two friends was absolutely hysterical, especially when he would tell stories of their adventures and imitate his two friends. (Seungkwan was not happy about that later part).

That’s when things took a turn.

Instead of a typical, let’s go see a movie, Soonyoung suggested a nearby gym area. Now it wasn’t really a ‘gym’, it was more of an entertainment location. It had things like rock climbings, a large number of trampolines, and even some feats of courage where you would try to jump from a singular platform to a large punching bag looking object while you were at least 20 feet off the ground (or at least that’s what it felt like once you were up there).

Which is currently where you were, harness strapped snuggly around you and a helmet placed firmly on your head. Eyes staring out at the large gap between you and your target, your hands pressing firmly against the cold metal of the pillar that you had just climbed up.

“Going to be completely honest, Soonie! I don’t think I got this!” You called out to the male who stood below with the service tech. He was suited up quite similarly as he was preparing to go right after you, but had dared you to try it first since you’d never been here before.

“I thought you were a witch, don’t witches fly?” He called back, confusion lacing his voice. It did provide a small laugh from you.

“Flying on a broomstick, and jumping crazy distances are two completely different things! I really don’t think I can do this!”

“Yes you can! Just scream Horanghae, it can take away all your fears!” He shouted back, earring him a rather confused look from you.

“Horanghae??”

“Horanghaaaaaae!” His voice almost tripled in volume as he confirmed the rather strange phrase, you probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it if he were like...a were-tiger, but he wasn’t. He was just full of surprises.

Taking a deep breath you heard him chant the phrase as you steeled yourself. With one last intake, you leaped forward with a loud scream of, what seemed to be, his favorite word. To your surprise, the distance was quite small once you were in the air and you latched onto the tube like a koala. Your was heavy and your heart was throbbing, but hearing Soonyoung go absolutely crazy below in excitement made it all worth it.

The two of you didn’t stay too much longer after that, going out into the now dark city. You hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten until you exited the building and were on your way to what Soonyoung was referring to as the ‘last bit’.

Now here you were, laying on your back in the middle of a park and staring up at the stars. Soonyoung was going on and on about the stars and these different constellations that his friend Wonwoo had shown him. It was...sweet, but you were only partially listening. You were conflicted, you really really liked him but...he was a customer. Wouldn’t it be weird to be crushing on a customer? Wouldn’t it?

“And that one is my favorite because it looks like a tiger! Isn’t it cool?”

Your eyes drifted over to him as he stared up at the night sky with those bright cheerful eyes that seemed to envelop your whole being with joy. His pale blonde hair gently brushed against his forehead with every small gust of wind. The light in his brown eyes was enchanting to see, and his smile...well it was radiant.

“Yeah...it’s beautiful.”

But you weren’t talking about the stars.

***

“And every time he’s around my heart is racing and It’s like all I can think about is him! Do you know how hard it is to help other customers when he comes into the store? It’s impossible.” It hadn’t been your intent to rant to Chris about Soonyoung, yet here you were. He had just asked if you were hanging out with the wolfman today and that sparked a 20 minute long tangent about the last 6 months that you had been spending with Soonyoung outside of work.

“You’re in love with him?”

“Chris you can’t just say the L word out loud!” You exclaimed, slapping a hand over Christopher’s mouth as if his words would call the male into the store. Chris rolled his eyes and peeled your hand off of his face before taking a grip on your shoulders.

“Just confess to him, it’s not like he doesn’t feel the same way. I swear you could dump boiling hot soup on his lap and he would thank you just because it’s you.” Chris declared, which was absolutely ridiculous. No one would thank someone for pouring soup on them, that was a dumb analogy.

You shrugged off his hands, and propped yourself up on the countertop since there were no customers in the store. Crossing your arms over your chest and letting out a frustrated groan as your gaze lifted to the ceiling.

“He’s still a customer, wouldn’t that be weird.” Out of the corner of your eye you could see Chris fixing you with a rather confused look. So you continued. “I mean, like what if he doesn’t like me and then it’s super awkward and he feels uncomfortable coming back into the shop? Not only would I just get to deal with a broken heart, but he could also like report us? Right? For like, being inappropriate?”

Chris snorted in disbelief at your ridiculous statement, so you turned your gaze to him and shot a glare in his direction.

“He wouldn’t report you, dumbo. I’m telling you, just go for it. You might be pleasantly surprised with his response.”

Before you could retort, claiming that Chris was being way too optimistic for his own good, the doorbell rang and the two of you turned to greet the new customer.

“Soonyoung! What a surprise, we were just talking about you!” Your heart sunk at Chris’ words, and you shot him a dirty look, jamming your elbow harshly into his side. Which caused him to let out a loud yelp as you greeted Soonyoung.

The male in question didn’t seem to notice anything was odd, and just beamed at the two of you as he sauntered up to the counter. The weight in your back pocket felt heavy as you watched him. It was a few days before his birthday and the two of you decided to hang out together since you wouldn’t be able to take the whole day off for his party (yes you were the boss, but it was just you and Chris and you weren’t gonna leave the poor guy alone all damn day. You weren’t heartless). He greeted Chris with a grin before turning his attention solely to you.

“Ready to head out?”

“Almost I’ve still got to fin-”

“Yup, they’re totally ready!” Chris exclaimed, shoving you towards the gap in the counter as he cut you off. “I’ve got everything under control here! Have fun kids!” Honestly it felt like he was your parent sending you off on your first date which made this all the more embarrassing.

Soonyoung seemed to notice the conflicting words and a bright laugh left his lips, his eyes slipping shut as his smile grew with his laughter. It only took a moment for him to recover and then extend his hand towards you, and without even thinking about it you took the offered hand. You could practically feel Chris’s eyes boring into your skull, the smug look on his face saying ‘i told you so’, as the two of you left the store.

You lead Soonyoung by the hand over to your car and he quickly climbed into the passenger side of the car. You followed much slower, pulling his gift out of your pocket before sliding into the drivers seat.

Not bothering to turn the car on yet, you turned to face him. The small black box held tightly in your hands, as if it were the only thing keeping you cemented in the moment. You almost wished you had taken one of those courage potions you sold, maybe you’d be less anxious right now, but you wanted this moment to be true to your feelings and the potion would have just muddled that up. Giving you a false sense of strength when you needed to find it on your own this time.

“Happy Birthday Soonie.” You flashed him a small smile, passing over the tiny box. He gasped and took it from you quickly, pulling open the lid to reveal a necklace. The cord was made of leather, which would be smoother to wear than a metal chain, and a gem at the center. A piece of Tiger’s eye with a shiny golden wire wrapped intricate around the stone which kept it in place.

“It’s not much but that’s a Tiger’s eye. It wards off negative energy, dispels fears, and helps bring good luck. I mean, it had more uses than that, those are just some of them. I figured it’d be good for you since you said you were worried about starting that new job, and it’s also a tiger’s eye and I know you really like tigers, and i like you so obviously i remembered that about you. “ You continued to ramble on as Soonyoung pulled the necklace out of the box and stared at it as if you had just gifted him the most priceless gem in the world. Your heart ached as you watched him slip the cord over his neck and turn to face you. Your heart sputtered as his eyes met yours and you felt yourself practically melt in your seat when he took your hand once more.

“Was that a confession I heard? You really like me? Like...like like me?” All at once you realized what you had done, Chris would never let you hear the end of this. It was probably the worst confession in the history of confessions.

You tore your gaze away, your eyes firmly planting on the sight of his hand gripping yours.

“I mean, yeah what’s not to like. You’re hilarious, sweet, and honestly really hot too. It’s almost ridiculous how perfect you are, and I jus-” You felt your words trail off as his free hand reached out and cupped your cheek, forcing you to look up at him once again. You almost completely combusted at the sight of his watching you as if you had hung the stars just for him.

“Would it be cheesy to say that cast a love spell on me.”

“Love spells are highly illegal.”

“Just let me be cheesy!” He pouted, but his eyes never lost that loving spark. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours and you felt like time had completely come to a stand still. You knew what you wanted, and from what he said you were hopeful that he wanted the same thing.

“Soonyoung, will you...kiss me?” As soon as the question left your lips, he had taken them with his own. It was like something clicked into place as he kissed you, his lips pressing firmly against your own as his hand slid to gently grip the back of your neck. Everything was perfect, he was perfect.

When the moment passed, he pulled away and let out a laugh.

“Best. Birthday. Gift. Ever.”

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #kdiarynet #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt scenario #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung imagine #soonyoung scenario #hoshi x reader #hoshi imagine #hoshi scenario

52 notes · View notes

cherryonigiri · 4 years

Note

helloooo! i’d love to know what you think ushijima would be like with an artsy s/o!! express whichever way you feel suits (hcs, a drabble etc) rlly love your handle name and writing x

A/N: hiiiiii omg thank you for the complement on my handle name - I love cherry blossoms and onigiri is one of my favorite foods (+ onigiri miya is CANON now yayyyyy) as previously stated i always have a soft spot for Ushijima I decided to do a bunch of headcanons. Enjoy :) P.S. I’m planning to do a part 2 with a small scenario - probably will post that soon.

FYI this is an Aged-Up AU where both the reader + Ushi are done with university!!!

Part 2 is here!

You are well on your way to becoming a professional musician, but you also have a soft spot for visual art / DIY

Sometimes you do commissions for paintings/crafts - it’s a great way to destress whenever your musical career starts becoming very high pressure

Your shared apartment with Ushijima is filled with paintings, sketches and watercolors that you’ve created and little DIYs that you’ve made throughout the years

Overall it has a very cozy/homey vibe - and its soothing for you to return home after hours upon hours of rehearsal, lessons and practice

Over the years you’ve lived together you’ve filled the place with plants and little trinkets & momentos from dates you’ve gone on with him (think ticket stubs, seashells from beaches you’ve been to, etc.)

There are also some paintings/sketches you’ve done of your athletic boyfriend - using midair shots taken by sports photographers as reference

Ushijima’s favorite thing in the entire apartment is the t-shirt quilt you made - using his old jerseys from middle + high school, U-19, university, the olympics etc.

You gave it to him on one of your anniversaries and he definitely didn’t cry had such a big smile on his face awwwww

You both lead very busy lives - you’re often out until very late because most concerts/performances happen in the evenings

However, your schedule is slightly more flexible during the day - and you take advantage of that to watch some of his games/practice matches/practices

Although you aren’t the loudest cheerer, Ushijima always appreciates the cute homemade banners/posters you bring to his games

Will always make sure he sees you face to face after his games - either to give you a quick hug before you have to zip off to rehearse/perform or waiting for you so you can both go home

Ushijima makes every effort to attend whatever concerts he can, sometimes he can’t help it if he’s at an away game or overseas for volleyball, but you bet your ass he does is absolute best to be there and support you

I mean he’s super rich mans is in the v-league after all and doesn’t mind spending the $$$ on tickets to support his s/o’s career

Whenever you have a late night because of a performance he always cooks for you when you get home (or prepares food in advance) - it’s probably something super healthy + delicious

When you work from home - you have your own little music studio that you two invested in soundproofing + an art/DIY room

Ushijima helped you soundproof your music studio + surprised you by converting the study/extra room into a DIY/art space for you (inspired by Zach from the Try Guys when he surprised Maggie with a DIY room)

Domestic Ushijima is my shit so you both take turns doing chores/cleaning up etc. If he’s coming back from an away game you always make sure to have a hearty meal waiting for him + pick him up at the airport

Bi-weekly couple days - you two always make sure to set aside 2 full days each month that are reserved for each other

Sometimes you’ll surprise each other with reservations to a fancy restaurant or day trip to the countryside

Other times it’s a stay at home day - netflix and chill ;) and you two will cook/bake together

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu hcs #hq imagines #hq hcs #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #shiratorizawa #schweiden adlers

104 notes · View notes

anyu-blue · 3 years

Text

Busy as a bee

*sigh*

I had this big long thing typed up.. it's all gone now. That's twice it's happened. Let's see if third time's the charm.

It was about my trying to figure out how to talk about the shit I've been going through without just dumping it all on someone and having it be totally unjustified too...

I'm mad at my dad. I'm mad at Tevs... I'm mad at myself.

Basically...I'm frustrated that I'm seen as so much lesser than everyone else.

I know it's like 'no you're not!! You only think you are!! They love you!!' ... I've been smacked both literally and figuratively for saying 'you guys treat me different/unfairly compared to x'... But.. gods at this point I. Just. CAN'T keep believing them or telling myself that when the evidence is right in front of me. I feel like I must have done something REALLY BAD and BIG for everyone to pull away so hard... But at the same time... I... Can't figure what it is or how. I've asked too, but the closet I've gotten to an answer is 'You're too much, Meek.'

I know I sorta... Became a worse recluse than I was (kinda I'm response to that. Trying so hard NOT to be too much)... But I kept telling and telling and telling I was available and offering what I could and more... I kept trying to deal- if I need something I would provide in return, just name the price... Did I forget or fail to follow through with something? Or something? No one can think of anything to tell me that didn't have a legitimate reason if ever I did (as good as or better than they have given me) that I shared up front and sometimes in advance with them. I even went into detail about what might happen if I am asked for help on a bad day- I tend to be a bit grumpy if woken up, but will still be there to help and will apologize for any harshness as I am going about it. I do that- but... Nothing.. and every single person has offered and practically forced (in W0lfie's case) all of the stuff I've asked for onto anyone but me. Need help finding/getting a good word in for work! Sure!! *Gives me links to indeed and Job service sites I'm already on/refuses to say my application is in the mix for positions at their workplaces or downright says they don't know if I'm a good worker even though I gave them my sick day and late count and all that fun stuff to pass off or downright doesn't tell me there's a good opening they know about*

Oh such-and-such is happy where they're at? So-and-so Can't hold a job because they keep quitting? *Gives information about good jobs and puts in a good word for them and sticks their neck out to get them hired.. is surprised when the offer is rejected by the family that says they're already okay with their current work or the unreliable friend they got hired quits*... Oh woe is me, I need help and there's no one to turn to!! *Refuses to call me knowing I have the day off, have my phone on, and have said I'm free that day... Asks literally every other person even the ones that demand payment for the job or can only do a part of it.. or just ends up doing it themselves by dropping another important obligation instead of calling me*

The most common excuse for that last one is. 'oh I didn't want to make you more stressed.'

Um... I offered? I was here the whole time? What...?

*sigh*

I suppose I wouldn't be thinking of that stuff or be so upset by it all except for the fact I'm told these things and then I'm shown (and told) this last week people think I'm EXTREMELY lazy...

My dad and everyone else wants me to/thinks I should work more than 3 days a week... Or should get on disability if it's 'that hard.' Obviously they've never tried and seen THAT shit show... I have looked into it. Not only have I gotten treated like something to be disgusted by friends, family, medical professionals, and jobs alike (because it's oh so despicable to be on social security while young and spry- even though I have medically frail on my damn chart I'm apparently 'young and spry'- fuck you) when I've tried to pursue it, also being on it ISN'T a cake walk.. the restrictions. The WORK you have to do (and the work you can't do!! I'm right in the middle and technically can work too much for disability, but not enough for getting by on my own). The shit you have to go through... My own therapist told me some programs I could pursue would put me further behind where I am and I could possibly never get out... And she was the one that pushed me to get foodstamps, so it's not like she thinks they're hooey...

My dad thinks me working 3 days a week and refusing to do more lest I break down all the time is just.. lazy.. unfortunate... Stupid. He wants me to take all these homeowners and car buying and loan classes... Like I'm EVER going to be able to afford a single one of those things.. or think it's a good idea to throw down $25-$150 a pop for a class, let alone spend 8 hours taking one (I'd love to and think they're amazing things, but uh...)... Like somehow it'll 'convince' me to 'work harder'.

DUDE.

What.

The.

FUCK.

Is WRONG with you?!

I get it... I seriously can't work more days a week. If I do, I completely spiral out of control from the pressure as well as the guilt from spiraling and and.. you get the idea. I just do. I know I do. And I found my balance in 3 days on.

It's pretty easy to think 4 days off are, well.. 4 days off. 4 days to play. 4 days of freedom. But... I make things... I've made two blankets already. One more I'm working on.. usually AT work because I'm so busy. Birthday gifts. Christmas gifts. Holiday gifts. Trying to do commissions too to get more money in. Also.. em... I'm usually awake during the day to.. make appointments because my health is just a mess.. helping the friends that HAVE asked for help... Running errands because I can't at night (partly due to Covid changing everything's hours)... Or if I HAPPEN to get to.. I'm sleeping because I'm on a night schedule.. at night if anyone had need of me I'd be right there!! But guess what, THEY are sleeping. If I actually have a night off (which I haven't in nearly a month now because I CAN go over to my friend who needs help's house at 5 in the morning.. after I drop W0lfie off at work or I'd be there sooner.) I'm DOING things. Wednesday itself happens to be dedicated to FIXING my sleep schedule that I screwed doing everything my sisters need or want me to do during the day... It's up to ME to screw MY sleep so THEY can get or have what they need/want... Never mind they refuse (with legitimate reasons) to do the same for me (though I have legitimate reasons I could say no as well, but ooooh I'm the 'bad guy').

*rubs face* I'm so busy my mind and body is screaming at me in pain. Sooo lazy 🙄

But yet I'm shit because I refuse to work more.

Idk what it is, okay? I. Don't. Know. Maybe it's the fact that I'm Autistic and something overloads that hasn't been address like ever and so has only gotten worse (this is my guess), or the PTSD is doing something (my therapist's guess--- which not to derail but WHO ELSE IS IN THERAPY IN MY FAMILY?! you want to guess? That's right, NO ONE... No one is even TRYING to deal with theirs, and I don't just mean the pandemic. Big sister had it as bad, if not worse than I did. Refuses. Dad and step mom knows they do. Little sister scared. Little bro disinterested. 'There's no time' or 'costs too much' despite several having free sessions available to them via their job and Heath insurance- with multiple options- and everyone but little sister making more than they ever have in their lives on top of relying on others to pay any bills they can't keep up on... GRR).. or something else that just makes me become such a wreck. I hate it more than anyone else, you know.. because I have to live with it AND everyone telling me how lazy and lucky and entitled and how 'much' I am.

...

And you want to know what sparked all of this?

Tevs worked a 12+ hour day that ended up having me woken up by the cats that hadn't been fed.

Let me explain... Tevs and I got into it badly after I was continually deprived of sleep because she was working so much and blaming me for 'making' her deal with stuff at home I didn't even know were problems. She continued to explode and explode and treat W0lfie and I TERRIBLY after work as well AND continually told our other friends and family she so desperately needed a vacation and LESS work, and just kept pulling 10, 11, 13 hour days she didn't have to... All while not eating or drinking or having bathroom breaks... and I was DONE with it. I have and had offered to do more, just need to be directed on what needs to be done that I can do while they're asleep (duh) so she had no leg to stand on there... With the rest... She promised to not work more than 10 hour shifts (agreed upon because I have a 10hr shift at work with no breaks too) AND to either let us know in advance if she was going to be late so I could feed the cats, or have someone do SOMETHING to get the cats fed so they weren't deliberately jumping on me to wake me up... You know.. communicate a little more. Do a little better so she wasn't killing herself working. She promised.

Well..

Apparently (new information to me) a promise and Tevs giving her word.. are two different things. Promises don't matter. Giving her word had weight.

What. The. Fuck.

So MY getting upset this last week that not only was she working more than 10 hours... Not only did she not tell anyone about it.. not only did the cats come to wake me up (after I had FINALLY fallen asleep a short while before due to just how BUSY I was that day, and it was Wednesday 😭)... But she also REFUSED to speak to ANYONE and tell her where she was/that she was safe- completely and deliberately ghosting everyone... Until she showed up at my dad's house 12+ hours after the start of her shift in which she didn't eat, didn't drink, and didn't use the bathroom for the entirely duration..

...

I was told to back off. That my upset was unfounded. That I was just like our horrible mother and I was just trying to control her life.

Does that sound right to you?

It does to my dad. I would wager my step mom. All of their friends. And of course Tevs.

Nevermind that W0lfie was just as freaked out and upset... That she actually has a front row seat as to what I go through now/how hard I try to be kind and careful and respectful and relaxed and NOT controlling and finally gets it... And that she's now directly effected by all of it too... And agrees this is MESSED UP as hell...

No.

I'm shit. I need to work more. I need to move out and be on my own. I need to not rely on anyone. I am 'too much'.

Where did it all go wrong?

I now understand exactly why I felt and still do feel unloved. It's because of this stuff... I got smacked and told I was never alone or on my own.. that I had so much support and help... but.. well.. yes I was. My mind and abilities and more belittled or looked over in favor of others to bring up. Everyone is guilty of doing this to me in my family. I won't go into details because it's a lot. Many times.. many bad ones... Often I was told my reality wasn't the truth too. How is that supportive? I appreciate every bit they have ever done for me, but trying to point out where they fell (just like all people do).. I'm suddenly the most ungrateful thing ever.

My own parents rely on each other AND a third party (their son) to pay the bills... My dad's siblings both live with his parents... My step mom's family members live with each other and rely on one another to get bills paid.... Not a single one is forced or really suggested to go room with randos if they can't do it on their own. It was brought up to W0lfie that it's an option for her this last week... But guess fucking what she got that I didn't AS WELL as that.. "We'll always have a place for you here."

I did get that when I was younger and nearly kicked out for refusing to tell my mother I was Trans. I eventually caved, but, HA they didn't believe me. That mess was sorted out.. messily and I got to stay... Lucky me... Not to mention the fact that only NOW I might finally be able to just accept it and not closet myself for the sake of everyone else because I'm THAT done.. yay therapy. I'll accept being non-binary because I can never actually be a man the way anyone around me will ever accept or believe.. but I'm not accepting 'being a woman'. Screw you peeps XP

...

I don't get that kind of support because I'm their eyes.. I'm too much. Should be able to do it on my own. Too lazy. Too awful as Tevs has managed to paint by completely omitting important details.. I can't say things in a few words. I just can't. Because this is exactly what happens... But regardless.. that's all she ever shares. Just enough I'm a monster. I'm sick and tired of it.

Reminds me...

My dad and mom and the rest of our family would never get birthday gifts or holiday cards or anything if I wasn't around. Same with our siblings. I remember. I make. I remind. I push. But... They don't even know about that. About what I try to do for them that gets twisted to look like it's all Tev's doing because I often can't make it to deliver it myself... And when I do idk.. I guess I do it wrong or something because it's so... Blah of a response.. like they think I'm NOT responsible for it and just taking credit... That hurts. A LOT.

...

I'm going to try. One more time. Once more. With Tevs. Give her one more chance to make and keep her word. To not bulldoze and make excuses and talk me up like some sort of unreasonable monster if/when she doesn't... And one more chance for my parents to hear me out. Get the full story. Get my feelings and experiences in return. On Monday I might have a chance to lay it all out. Maybe. I want to try. And if I get the same treatment.. well.. I think they might just be cut out of my life if I finally make it out on my own like they want. (Hopefully something income based will open up for me.. hopefully... I'm considering looking into a different city altogether to well and truly get away from them.. but that would depend on getting a job too.. bluh)

Ah that's a another thing too though.. the thing is.. I CAN work. I CAN pull 7 days a week, 16 hour days without spiraling!!! Making. I am a crafter. If making dresses or cosplays or embroidering or making blankets or trinkets or... If I was able to do THAT.. I could work and work and work no problem... Maybe even drawing..

But with the stress of this job and my other obligations, I can barely touch those things to even get started... Stick in the rut.. and materials are so expensive if I need anything extra I hit a roadblock... Totally locked in... And it breaks my heart...

I'm not lazy... I'm in the wrong job 😞

#personal #random #life in general #stress #life #long #rant

1 note · View note

jadekitty777 · 4 years

Text

The Miraculous Tales of Luckybug and Qrow Noir

Anyone ready for an onslaught of fics from me for the next week? Because that’s what’s happening my friends.

(I apologize that my blog will also be running on super speed for the next week as I reblog stuff. I also apologize in advance that I won’t have time to read many, if any, fics. My own still need to be edited and finalized. Aaah lil’ stressed honestly).

Day 1: Flirting

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 5600

Ao3 Link: The Miraculous Tales of Luckybug and Qrow Noir

Summary: In the daytime, he was Clover Ebi. Just a normal college student, with a normal life. But there's something about him no one knows yet. Because he has a secret. A miraculous secret.

(AKA: The Miraculous Ladybug AU no one asked for)

“Voici, À Bientôt!”

“Merci beaucoup. Bonne journée!” Clover replied, taking the box from the smiling cashier.

As he stepped out of the bakery into the busy streets of Paris, he gave a sigh of relief. Though he’d been living in France for the past two months now for his Spring Abroad program, he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious every time he had to converse with the locale. His accent wasn’t the best and some words he just couldn’t remember the right inflection for.

Then again, as he got to Green Belt Park and took a seat on one of the empty benches, leaning back to enjoy the stunning view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, he figured being in such a beautiful city was a good excuse to remain speechless.

He set his bookbag down beside him, opening the flap, and then the top of the box, revealing two small slices of cake. “Okay Ruby, you can come out. It’s safe.”

In a flash quicker than lightning, a red streak zipped from his bag and into the box. A moment later, the kwami looked up at him with starry silver eyes and asked, “You got me two?”

He tapped her on the head, right between her antennae. “The strawberry is for you. The other is…”

“For Qrow, right?” As she looked up at him, he decided that the paragon of heroism should not have such a shit-eating grin.

“It’s not-!” He knew his face was getting hot. “We have to work on the sociology project this evening so I thought he’d appreciate it.”

Not fooled for a second, Ruby said between bites of cake, “You should just tell him.”

“I don’t think I should be taking love advice from an immortal being that transcends time.” He craned his head back, watching the thin clouds above drift along the sky. “Besides, it’s not that easy. Qrow is, he’s just so-” He pictured the other man, all dark hair, captivating red eyes, and shy, personal smiles wrapped around a gruff voice that belayed layers of emotion. Clover sighed longingly, “Wonderful.”

Even without eyebrows, Ruby rose one. “Ah-huh. I can see how you’re having trouble.”

He cracked up. It was nice to have her sensible perspective around. He had to wonder how different his life would have been if he never picked up that little black box with the note ‘You’ve been chosen’ left underneath it.

Having come into his life around the same time Qrow had, she’d been privy to a behind-the-scenes look to how his relationship with the other man shifted from strangers to close friends. She was the only one who heard his secret thoughts as that bond grew into intense feelings.

“I really mean it though. It’s always best to be honest with your heart.” The kwami told him.

“I know you’re right. But is it what’s right for Qrow?” At her head tilt, he explained, “He’s got a crush of his own, remember? The one he’s so vague about?”

“Maybe he’s so vague because it’s you?”

He snorted. “Only if he knows I’m Luckybug. He’s got blue eyes, remember?” That was one of the only things he’d been able to pull out of him, besides the gender. Which, after a simple process of elimination, meant it was either Qrow’s best friend Taiyang or James, the leading RA in their dorms back home. Well, or rich and prissy Jacques, but he knew Qrow had better standards than that.

“He could be colorblind to green?” Ruby offered hopefully.

He gave her another pat on the head. “I don’t think it works that way, but thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

She made a soft noise, before floating up from her bed of crumbs to sit on his shoulder instead. “He hasn’t mentioned this person the entire trip though, right?”

Clover started in surprise. She was right, he hadn’t – which was a huge change from the near weekly aside he’d give about whatever his ‘prince charming’ was up to. “You think it’s fading away?”

“I’m not sure.” She said, looking towards the city’s prized monument. “But I think it might mean this trip could be an opportunity to tell him how you feel. What better place to do that then the city of love?”

He mulled that over. When he found out his university offered abroad studies during junior year, he had been so excited. He’d always wanted to travel, but the prospect of going alone was also nerve-wracking. Qrow, facing much the same enthusiasm and inhibitions, had struck a deal that they would go together. That also meant they had been spending an exorbitant amount of time together, living together in the shared home with a few other students. Shared a room, even.

How many nights had they spent together, just talking about nothing and everything? Mapping out plans over train and bus schedules to fit in as many big sights as they could on their free weekends of tourism? Walked along the Seine at night, the city lights reflecting off the water, where Clover would inadvertently get lost staring at how gorgeous Qrow looked in the casting glow?

Maybe… he could…

“Clover, the sky!”

The sudden alarm in Ruby’s voice had his head jerking upwards. To his horror, the space above the tower was turning black with red lightning streaking across. The telltale sign of Omen at work. But she couldn’t be here!

But sure enough, from the depths of the portal, a large, winged Grimm appeared. It looked like a giant raven, with terribly sharp claws and razor-tipped feathers.

His kwami looked to him, determined. “We need to transform.”

He nodded and grabbed his phone, sending a quick message to Qrow, before stuffing it and the bakery box in his bag. After a cursory glance around, he ducked into the shadow of a tree trunk. “Alright Ruby, charm on!”

The clover-shaped brooch on his chest glowed and Ruby collided with it, and in an instant, he felt his civilian clothes disappear, replaced by a skin-tight, red and polka-dot suit and a mask that covered his eyes. His hair lengthened, his normal, spiked quiff falling into a messier comb over, some of the bangs tickling against his forehead. As the magic of the transition faded, he plucked the yo-yo off his belt and went racing across the park, throwing it at a rooftop, feeling the end latch onto a chimney. With a pull, it retracted and he went flying through the air, landing at the top in one smooth motion. He paused only long enough to leave his bag behind before he went racing along the rooftops towards the emergency.

“I don’t understand. How is Omen here?” Clover asked to no one, feeling panic begin to rise. Did something happen to the team back home? The thought made him sick.

Maria had been very strict about how many miraculous he could put on the field in his absence, not wanting to have another fall into the wrong hands like the Pegasus miraculous had. So, he – or more specifically Luckybug – left Yang the Dragon with Tai and Sun the Monkey with Elm, giving both specific instructions to protect San Francisco in his absence. He’d only called for their assistance a few times before when things got really hectic, so he was hoping Noir would be able to balance the less experienced miraculous users out.

But to think Omen may have defeated all three? That was too awful to imagine.

He looked up at where the bird was circling the tower, dread settling into a hard knot in his gut.

How was he going to do this alone?

“Your stinky fish, madame.” Qrow presented the sardines with a flourish.

Blake lit up immediately, diving for the can and fishing one out for herself.

He left the rest of the can on the desk in easy reaching distance, before setting back into his chair where a very blank word document was staring back at him. He gave an agitated huff. He’d been hoping to at least come up with a few research topics for their paper before Clover got back from his lecture in International Affairs. Which was, Qrow mentally reminded with a fond eyeroll, not a required course for the program they were a part of. But Clover just couldn’t help himself, saying it might come in handy for his GPA score as he signed himself up for the class.

Tch, overachiever.

The distinct feeling of being watched sent a shudder down his spine, and he gave the spirit beside him a look.

The cat kwami stared back, unblinking.

“Blake you’re freaking me out again.”

Her ears twitched and she went to fetch another sardine. “I was just waiting for you to get that dreamy look on your face again.”

He flushed. “D-Dreamy?”

“Mmhmm. It kind of looks like,” She gave an exaggerated sigh, placing a paw against her cheek and fluttering her non-existent lashes.

“I never look like that.” He deadpanned.

“Whatever you say.”

“I don’t! And, anyways, what’s it to you?”

She didn’t reply, taking the time to munch into her fish instead.

He sighed, focusing back on his laptop, switching over to the internet to check on the feed from back home. No new reports of any attacks on any of the news blogs. It was like their enemy had decided to take a vacation at the same time he had.

When Qrow had first became Noir, Maria had told him to be very careful with what information he gave, even to other miraculous holders. He intended to vaguely tell Luckybug he would be out. So, it had really been a stroke of luck when Luckybug announced first on their last mission together that a family emergency was going to keep him out of commission for a while – but that he’d left Tatsu and Timber in the wings in case he needed help. So, he never shared his own intentions. Instead, he placed Kali in charge of Weiss the Bee until he returned, knowing that the power team Lucky had left behind would need a more versatile and calculating fighter in their midst.

(The role he normally filled, he thought with a sense of pride).

He’d been checking on things back at the home front regularly, knowing it only took minutes before social media was trending any new crisis, but it had been unusually quiet. He was sure Lucky was doing the same, wherever he was.

His heart clenched up, thinking about him. They’d been fighting the good fight together for over a year now, and it hadn’t taken much for Qrow to become smitten with the mysterious, masked hero. He’d thought he was everything he ever wanted; strong, daring, ambitious, with a dazzling smile and a baritone voice that was to die for. He was certain their time apart would be torturous.

Yet, it hadn’t been.

They said distance made the heart grow fonder, but it was more like his heart had forgotten. He couldn’t pinpoint when it was exactly that he’d become so preoccupied by Clover. How he’d grown to appreciate his gentle gestures and thoughtful words, his hearty chuckles and sincere expressions. It was as if stepping out of the war woke him from a stupor and gave him a chance to see things he’d missed, even when they were right in front of him.

Qrow sighed, placing his chin in his hand.

“This is my favorite part.”

“Huh?” He looked down at Blake, recognizing that mischievous gleam in her yellow eyes.

“The best story I get to witness is when one of my hosts falls in love.”

“I-I’m not falling in love!” He said immediately. “I have a crush.”

“Really.” It was her turn to deadpan.

He shoved himself away from his desk, offense all over his tone as he echoed, “Yes, really. You know how I feel about Lucky.”

He paced the length of the room, coming to stand by the window, staring down at the busy streets below. A moment later, he felt her weight on his shoulder, almost nonexistent, but there.

Her whisker tickled his neck as she turned her head towards him. “What do you know about Luckybug, really?”

Qrow leaned his arm along the glass, meeting his own reflection’s eyes. “I know he’s smart and funny and he’s always willing to put everything on the line to do what’s right.”

“But what do you know of him specifically? What’s his favorite color? What’s his family like? Does he like anchovies on his pizza?”

He snorted at the last one. “He’s my romantic interest, not yours.” His smile slipped away. “I know what you’re getting at. Unless we reveal who we are to each other, this can’t go any further.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know that. But it still feels wrong, somehow. Are… my feelings that fickle?”

“Not fickle.” She levitated, hovering by his face. “They just had no room to grow. These things have to be nurtured, but if there’s nothing there to care for it, they’re only bound to wither away.”

That had been way too scripted. He gave a laugh. “That’s it, I’m not downloading anymore trashy romance novels on my phone for you to read.”

Her ears flattened. “If you make me sit through your boring lectures, I’ll break the sprinkler above your head.”

“Alright, I fold.” He held up his hands in surrender. Though he was almost positive it was an empty threat, he didn’t want to tempt fate with the kwami of destruction.

She softened. “Anyways, I think with-” She abruptly cut herself off, suddenly darting against the window. “What’s that?!”

He jerked around, spotting where the sky was darkening on the horizon, turning a deep, inky black. He’d seen it so many times before, the magic was unmistakable.

“You don’t think…” Blake trailed off.

“Omen.” Qrow finished, features smoothing into one of rigid resolve. He turned to the kwami, her expression matching his own.

He lifted his hand, the jeweled ring glinting back at her. “Blake, luck off.”

Clover landed in the courtyard, shouting as he ran. “Everyone, clear out!” He desperately tried to remember whatever French he could. “Fuir! S’il vous plaît!”

“Chanceux!” One of the locals cried, desperately trying to find their phone.

“Non, fuir!” He repeated.

A screech from above made him cover his ears, looking up to see the giant bird climbing down the Eiffel Tower, the vertical walk down unnerving somehow. He backed up as the bird landed on concrete, its impressive height daunting him. His fingers clenched around his weapon, backing up as the bird lowered its head. Its beak was big enough to swallow him whole if it wanted.

It seemed that, at least, was enough to make the people around him finally start to flee.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?”

The voice had him looking higher, spotting the speaker mounted on the beast’s back like a queen in her bed of feathers. Omen walked forward until she stood on the bird’s crown, lowering her sunglasses just enough to reveal crimson red eyes as she stared over the tops of the rims at him.

“What are you doing here?” Clover asked, pulling the yo-yo’s line out as a warning.

She only smiled patronizingly, as if he were no more a threat than a child. “That’s none of your concern.” She pushed her glasses back up, flipping her raven-haired braid over her shoulder. It fell like a horse’s tail along her back, between the wings the Pegasus miraculous granted her.

He felt bad for the imprisoned kwami being forced to do her bidding.

“Tell me, where’s your cohort?” Omen asked, giving a cursory glance around as if Noir would just pop into existence.

“I think I’m more than enough for you.” He instantly realized that had been the wrong thing to say as she laughed.

“You’re alone.” Fuck. “Well, that makes this even easier.” She gestured to the bird she stood on. “But as I’m a fair opponent, I’ll give you a choice. You can hand over your miraculous now, or you can resist and my little Nevermore can have a bit of fun first before I take it.”

As answer, he only started to rotate the yo-yo at his side, the device whooshing audibly as it swung in fast, heavy arcs.

Omen’s dark wings stretched open. “The fun way it is.”

She shot up into the air – but he didn’t have time to worry about her as the Nevermore immediately struck forward, beak opening to snap him in half. He jumped backwards, throwing his weapon out with a yell. It nailed the bird right in its head, the creature giving a sharp cry before it shook it off and straightened up. It opened its wings, the span of them covering a third of the courtyard, and gave a few hard flaps.

It was like being blasted by hurricane winds. Clover yelped as he was thrown off his feet and went tumbling across the concrete. The Nevermore, able to make up the distance in one bound, was on him in an instant. The wind whooshed right out of his lungs as a taloned foot came down on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He grunted, bracing his right arm between him and the appendage trying to crush him while sticking his left arm between its toes.

The bird jerked its head down for another strike, the razor-pointed beak filling his vision like a guillotine.

He swung his left hand upward, the yo-yo flying high and it was by pure luck he got it right in the eye.

The Nevermore gave a pained cry, hopping back. Suddenly, Clover could breathe properly again. He jumped to his feet, slightly lightheaded, throwing his line out again in hopes of tying the creature up and bringing it down.

Instead, with exact precision, the bird caught the end of the yo-yo in its beak, pulling it taut, and then threw its body around, bringing what was on the end of the line with it. Before Clover could process it, his body was yanked forward and he went flying through the air. Everything around him blurred into a mesh of greens, blues, browns and whites, blending together into a sickening cacophony.

He braced himself for the impact.

It was softer, and warmer, then he expected.

“Not having a great day are you, lucky charm?”

He gathered his bearings, realizing who had caught him and jerked his head up in surprise. “Noir?!”

Noir grinned back roguishly, winking one green eye at him. “You know, if you wanted to fall into my arms, you just had to ask.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clover pushed a hand against his face, rolling out of his grasp to stand on his own. He retracted his yo-yo and studied his surroundings, taking note that he’d been tossed so far, they were underneath the Eiffel Tower. “What are you doing here?”

His teammate didn’t get a chance to answer, the bird giving another of those deafening screeches as it tried to shove itself between the legs of the tower. They both jerked away, before twisting around and running the other way.

“Could ask you the same thing!” Noir shouted over the noise. “Where’s Omen?”

“Lost track of her.” Which meant she was playing her normal A-game: Exhaust them by making them fight her pet so that it would be child’s play to steal their miraculous. Their goal was to defeat it – because if he could purify the contaminated feather within the creature, it would act like a direct attack against Omen, usually enough to weaken her into fleeing.

“Alright let’s – Watch it!”

Both of them jumped back when the corvid was suddenly in the path of their escape route, its gigantic foot missing them by inches when it was thrust under the tower, claws raking over the ground.

That was no good. Clover looked around, before pointing towards the ceiling of beams above them. “Up.”

Noir gave a nod, reaching out to grasp him around his waist and taking out his quarterstaff. He tapped it to the ground, and within seconds it shot them upwards as it extended. When it was high enough, they leapt onto the first section of metalwork, protected in the shell of crisscrossing steel. Noir compacted the weapon back into baton length, turning to him, “Alright, now what?”

“Now we just-” He started to say, raising his yo-yo, when the whole tower rattled as the Nevermore clamped onto the side they were hiding in. It gave a few wild cries, slamming its beak between the spaces as it tried to get to them.

Noir watched it warily before he called, “We’re safe for now, do it!”

Not wasting a moment, Clover threw his weapon up in the air with a cry, “Lucky charm!” The end of the yo-yo began to glow with the magic of creation, until it held the brilliance of a star. Then, with a pop, an item materialized, falling back down into his waiting hands.

It was a fishing rod.

Noir gave it, and then him, a dull look.

Clover was grinning. “Well, looks like-”

“Don’t-!”

“I’m giving fly fishing a whole new meaning.”

His partner groaned audibly. “You are worse than Tatsu.”

“No one is worse than Tatsu.” He joked. Tai’s never-ending set of puns really did fit the bill for cartoon-y superhero though.

Another slam from their enemy had dirt raining down on them from above.

Getting serious again, Clover rose both the rod and the yo-yo, saying, “You knock it off, I tie it up, and we end this.”

“Got it.” Noir nodded, pointing his staff towards the bird. “On your signal.”

He threw both lines upwards, yanking himself to a higher vantage point, running along the metalwork. They were so high up, it was like he was running towards the sky. Just as he got to the end, he yelled, “Now!”

At the same moment he jumped, the pole extended, slamming into the Nevermore’s chest. It was thrown off with a cry and both of them flew parallel to one another. He wound both weapons back then swung forward, the hook of the fishing rod and the ball of the yo-yo twisting around either wing of the bird. Flightless, it plummeted with another screech to the concrete, slamming down hard enough to shake the earth.

Clover’s landing was much softer, falling onto its chest and using the momentum to leap off of it like a trampoline, landing again several meters past its head. He held both the lines fast, ensuring it couldn’t get free.

“Cataclysm!” Noir came soaring out of the tower next, the power of his own destructive magic having taken shape at the end of his baton, glimmering black like an obsidian gem and curved like a scythe. As he came down, he swung it around, impaling the sharp end in the center of the monster bird’s chest.

It gave one last croaking cry, the ends of its wings curling up before falling flat as its body turned to dust, leaving nothing behind but a single, black feather. Clover threw out his yo-yo for it, the ball end splitting open like the shell of a ladybug’s wings, before snapping it up. He pulled it back in, hand open to catch it.

An arrow struck the end, knocking it off course.

In quick succession, another two arrows were shot off as Omen bared down for them, swooping in like a Nevermore herself. Clover swung the fishing rod, deflecting the one coming his way. Noir did the same for the one aimed at him with a quick spin of his staff, before using one end of it to vault himself upwards and meet their enemy half way.

As they grappled in the air, Clover took the chance to yank on his weapon in. With a flit of his fingers along the yo-yo’s surface, it glowed white, purifying the feather.

Omen gave a pained cry, before slamming the limb of her bow against Noir’s head. Clover’s chest tightened in panic, rushing forward as his partner fell like a stone from the sky. He just barely made up the distance in time to catch him in his arms, relieved to find him still conscious. They both looked up as they heard a scoff.

“Tch. Eventually your luck is going to run out. Nothing will stop me from creating a new world.” Omen sneered. “Until next time, boys.”

She shot an arrow above her, another red and black portal opening up. With a flap of her wings, she flew into it, gone as quickly as she had come.

Clover sighed, looking down at his partner. “You alright?”

“Ugh, gonna be feeling that one tomorrow.” Noir grunted, pressing a hand to his head, one of his leather cat ears being pushed down. His injury didn’t seem to hinder his ability to realize their position, because that telltale smirk overtook his face. “Though, guess I’m the one falling for you now.”

“I’m not above dropping you.”

“Are you always this mean to invalids?”

He loosened his hold just a smidge.

Noir clung to him. “Okay, message received.”

Clover set him on his feet, seeing the people starting to trickle back in to investigate the scene.

Time to go.

Once they were safely hidden on the rooftops, hidden in the shadows of a chimney, Luckybug turned to him with that million-watt smile. “Thanks for the assist. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Qrow lent back against the brick. As he spoke, his normally rough voice came out even rougher around the edges; the way it always did when he was Noir. “I’m sure you woulda figured it out lucky charm.”

“I’m glad I didn’t have to.” He replied, averting his gaze down. He spun the white feather between his fingers, frowning in consternation. “I still don’t understand how she got here though. Her portals shouldn’t be able to reach this far.”

Any other time, he would have been eager to ponder over the details of this latest attack with him, but he knew his time was running short and something more important was on his mind. “Could say the same about you. You got family out here?”

The frown became more defined. “Noir, you know I can’t-”

“Tell me, I know.” He waved off the excuse. “But that could change, if you told me who you really are.”

Lucky sighed, placing a hand on his hip. “Okay, what brought this all on again?”

Qrow met that blue-eyed gaze he’d once fallen in love with, feeling like everything between them was as thin as the wire of the other’s yo-yo. Uncertain and easy to break. If he wanted to make it stronger, he needed something more.

Now or never.

“Look, all that flirting I do? It’s not for show.” He pushed off the wall, clearing the few steps of distance between them. His heart raced in his ears. “I like you. A lot. I want to get to know you, the real you. But, I need to know if I even got a shot.”

“Noir…” He knew the answer before the other even spoke. It was all over his face, etched in his sad smile and downturned brows. “I’m sorry, but my heart’s already with someone else.”

“Oh.” He turned away.

Funny, he thought it’d hurt more.

A tentative hand rested on his shoulder. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Qrow replied, surprised that he meant it.

Before more could be said, both their miraculous started to beep in warning.

The hand slipped away. “Guess time’s up. I’ll… see you around?”

Qrow nodded, hearing Lucky retreat along the roof. Before he could leap away, he called, “Hey, that person of yours. Do they know?”

“I, uh.” Gravel crunched underfoot as his teammate shifted his weight anxiously. “Not yet.”

“You should tell ‘em.” He looked over his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Lucky’s eyes widened, and then he was smiling back. “Thanks. Someone’s going to be really lucky to have you too, one day.”

Qrow reached for his staff, heading his own way. “Well, duh. I’m incredible.”

The other cast his line, flying away with a laugh. Qrow watched him go, before dropping down into the alleyway. He ducked down behind some boxes just in time, the leather bodysuit falling back into his normal wear.

Blake collapsed into his hair with a sigh. “I’m going to need about fifteen more sardines.”

“Glutton.” He got to his feet, knowing his nest of black hair would hide her just fine as he headed for the sidewalk.

“Qrow? Are you okay?”

Answering it the second time around wasn’t any harder then the first. “Yeah. I just needed to know for sure. Now I know it’s okay to let him go.”

She didn’t respond verbally, but he felt the way she nuzzled his head, though whether it was meant to be for comfort or encouragement was hard to say. Maybe both.

It took about fifteen minutes to get back to the share house he and a half-dozen other students were living in for the duration of the program. When he stepped inside, he found it oddly quiet, the only noise a slight shuffling in the kitchen. A glance revealed his twin sister was there, hunched over the counter, nursing a cup of tea in one hand as she pressed her forehead into the other.

Heh, maybe she felt him get clonked in the head earlier. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” She mumbled. “Just a migraine.”

He lowered his voice, “You the only one here?”

Not up for talking more, Raven merely nodded.

Strange, Clover should have been back by now. “Okay, I’ll make sure to tell everyone to be quiet when they get in. Feel better, sis.”

She offered him a weak smile. He ducked out of the kitchen, heading back for his room. As Blake floated down to her still open can of tiny fish for a much-needed recharge, Qrow snatched up his phone to send out the group message, only to find two missed messages from Clover.

The first one was from nearly an hour ago. Sorry, running late!

On my way now. You won’t believe what happened at the Eiffel Tower. That one was from just a few minutes ago.

Qrow quirked a smile. If Clover only knew…

He tapped back a reply. I know. I went out to try and get a view of it. Forgot my phone.

He could see the other was replying, but he switched to the group text in the meantime, sending out a warning to be quiet for his twin. He’d just hit send, when another string of texts came through, one right after the other:

How do you forget your phone? You’re supposed to get photographic evidence!

Anyways I’ll be there in a few.

Also, noted.

Qrow headed for his bed, flopping across the sheets with a groan. The aches of the day were starting to set in, and he felt ready for a shower and a nap. He buried his pounding head into his pillow, shutting his eyes.

He didn’t open them again until he heard the bedroom door click shut. He rose up on his elbows, scanning the room quickly. The sardine can was gone, as was Blake.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Clover asked as he crossed the room, dropping his bag on his bed.

“Wasn’t asleep.” He ran a hand over his face, adding, “Much as I wanted to be.”

“You doing alright? You look pretty beat.”

Beat up was more like it.

“Been a long day.” He offered as explanation. It did little to wipe the concern from the other’s face. “I’m fine Cloves. We got that paper to work on.”

Clover ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Sure we do but we can take it easy for tonight. Can’t say I wouldn’t mind to turn in early myself.”

“You? Mr. Extra Credit?”

“Haha, very funny. I mean it. I have this terrible crick in my neck. Oh!” He dropped his hand so he could go digging into his bag. “But hey, I did bring you something that just might cheer you up.”

That got Qrow to finally sit up, trying not to seem too eager as the other procured a small, white box and held it out towards him. He reached across the space between their beds to take the gift. Once it was safely on his side, he pulled open the top.

“It probably got a little smooshed, but it’ll taste the same.” Clover was right about that – the cake had fallen on its side, and smears of icing clung to the top and sides of the box.

Qrow swiped a finger across one of them, gathering just enough to take a taste, and his eyes lit up. “Double German chocolate? You’re too good to me.”

“Nah, I can be better. Because I have… a fork!” Clover waved the plastic utensil around, winking his way. “What would you do without me?”

“Probably have less dorky interactions to deal with.” He replied, reaching out again.

Instead of grabbing the tines, he curled his fingers over where the other’s held onto the handle.

Qrow deliberately met his gaze, smiling as suavely as he could. “Thank you, Clover.”

Though his cheeks turned a little pink, Clover met him match for match with his own charming smile. “Anytime.”

As they both pulled back, they couldn’t help but think this was the start of something good.

Underneath their beds, unbeknownst to them both, Ruby and Blake shared knowing smiles.

#clover ebi #qrow branwen #fair game #fairgameweek2020 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

76 notes · View notes