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homomenhommes · 4 months

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STORY: Ups And Downs 32

Holidays and Holy Daze

Ron, Kim, and I stood up and greeted Tyler with hearty handshakes and verbal salutations. Tyler was known to all of us, and we were all delighted to know that he would be with us—at least for a while—though I was taken aback by the fact that Tyler had entered the room from Woody’s suite. Were the two of them an item? Was this the end of my chances with either of them?

“I persuaded Tyler’s boss, who also happens to be Mr. Block’s publisher, to loan Tyler to us for a few weeks,” explained Woody. “As you all know, Tyler lived here with us while he was getting his degree in English lit from UC-San Diego, so he’s very familiar with the place and our operations. We won’t have to spend any time bringing him up to speed.”

I spent most of the morning helping Kim make arrangements for the Thanksgiving dinner, which, I discovered, were actually two dinners. On Thanksgiving day, we would be hosting LGBT kids from local shelters and foster homes as well as some who were just living on the streets. The second party, the day after Thanksgiving, would be for college kids who could not go home for the holiday, either because home was too far away (as with some foreign exchange students) or because they had been disowned by their families. I was assigned the task of checking with those facilities and the local Pride organization to make sure that we had up-to-date head counts and that the necessary transportation was in place.

“Can you spare a couple of hours this afternoon to help me with some things?” Tyler asked me at lunch. Of course, I said I could. Apparently, Woody had dumped a load of work on Tyler—phone calls and correspondence that had been neglected for more than a month, appointments to be rescheduled or cancelled, travel plans that had to be rearranged, and solicitations to be accepted or rejected. Working side by side with Tyler was challenging. On the one hand, I was delighted to be so close to him; on the other hand, I was frustrated that I could not get even closer. My hormones were giving me fits.

After dinner, Tyler went back to his duties while I focused on my artwork.

That night after I stripped down and crawled into bed, my mind raced with thoughts of Woody and Tyler. For about 15 minutes, I just lay there stroking my rod gently as I fantasized about my two favorite men. Finally, I decided to get up and walk out on my balcony to see what might be going on around the pool below. As I watched some of the college kids fooling around and humping, I heard a knock on my door. “Come in,” I said, not even thinking about the fact that I was stark naked and sporting a hard-on—hell, everybody at the Block estate had seen me naked at one time or another, and most had seen me with an erection, either at a distance or up close and personal.

“Good. You’re up,” teased Tyler, grinning at my protruding manhood.

“Hey, Tyler. What’s up? Uh…what can I do for you?”

“I’m here to collect.

“Collect what?”

“Have you forgotten the night of your initiation here?” Tyler asked, walking toward me.

“Hell no!” I replied. “I’ll never forget that night.”

“Good,” he chuckled. “Then you should remember that you owe me one.” And before I could reply, he grabbed my dick with one hand, gripped the back of my neck with the other, and pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss that left me weak in the knees.

Since I was putty in his hands at that point, he lifted me off the floor, carried me to my bed, and threw me upon it, diving in after me and planting more wet kisses all over my face. Before I knew what had hit me, he was down on my cock, sucking it for all its worth. I moaned in blissful agony. Soon, his aggression turned to submission.

He rolled over onto his back, lifted up his knees, and commanded, “Fuck me. Fuck me like I fucked you.”

I didn’t need any coaxing. I rammed my stiff rod deep into his love channel and pounded like my life depended on it. After several minutes, though, I looked down at his beautiful face and remembered what had attracted me to him in the first place. It was his compassion. During my initiation, even though the sex was rough, it was also loving.

I didn’t stop fucking, but I did slow down, and with my dick high up his ass, I leaned forward and kissed him lovingly. I planted butterfly kisses all over his face, including his eyelids. I nibbled on his ear lobes and licked across his neck. When I returned to his mouth, he was ready for me, opening wide to allow my entrance. As we deep kissed, the passion flared, consuming both of us. I picked up the pace, driving my dick harder, faster, and deeper into his love canal. We didn’t just fuck, we made love, but we did it like two feral animals in heat. With no hands on his dick—neither his nor mine—Tyler shot streams of white cream all over his belly and chest. And I followed suit, blasting my love seed deep into his private sanctum. It was more than sex, it was a holy union.

I collapsed on top of him and quickly fell asleep in his arms. I thought we should talk, but when I awoke the, next morning, he was gone.

On the days leading up to Thanksgiving, he would slip into my room almost every night, but I knew that he was also sleeping with Woody. I was confused, but whenever I tried to bring up the nature of our relationship, he would change the subject or find other ways to evade the issues.

Thanksgiving was an absolute delight. The kids gorged themselves on the food, coming back for seconds and even thirds. Zac played holiday songs as the kids sang along or danced. Woody had hired a polar bear to play Santa Claus, who gave each kid a gift card for a shopping spree at Target. (Mr. Block had always been adamant about patronizing businesses that supported LGBT rights and avoiding those that did not, and Woody seemed determined to continue this tradition.)

The whole scene played out again the next day at the party for the college students. The only difference was that the college kids…well, they did what horny college students do.

Though Mr. Block was not able to attend either party, he sent his greetings, and Woody reminded everyone that even during difficult times, we were blessed to have one another.

On Saturday morning, none of us wanted breakfast; we were still stuffed from the previous two days. Tyler participated in all the festivities, but on Saturday morning he flew back to San Francisco to take care of his own personal business that he had been neglecting for two weeks. On Sunday morning, I was awakened early by a familiar, ominous sound—the shrill wrenching of sirens approaching the front gate. As I had done before, I raced down the stairs just to see EMTs loading a gurney onto the ambulance and Woody climbing in behind them.

Kim, Ron, and I busied ourselves cleaning up the place after the weekend’s revelry, but we thought of nothing but Mr. Block’s condition. Finally, a few minutes after 11:00 p.m., Woody came straggling in. We all rushed to meet him and receive news of Mr. Block’s health. “He’s gone,” Woody announced meekly. “He had another massive heart attack, and there was nothing the doctors could do.”

The news hit all of us like a ton of bricks. We all offered Woody our condolences before Ron broke down and Kim had to guide him upstairs to his room. Woody retreated to his own room, and I just wandered around the house bumping into furniture. Just before midnight, I found myself strolling into Woody’s room, where I saw him staring vacantly out his window. “Please forgive the interruption,” I said. “I just wanted to see if there is anything I can do for you.”

Without speaking, Woody just gestured for me to come closer, and when I did, he threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. I held him closely. “I know how much he meant to you,” I consoled.

“He was like a father to me,” Woody replied. “I don’t know what I’ll do without him.”

“What can I do?” I asked. Without saying a word, Woody took my hand and led me over to his bed where he kissed me, pouring his whole heart into the gesture. He removed my shirt and then my shoes, pants, and underwear. Gently seating me on the edge of his bed, he kissed a trail down my body to my crotch, falling to his knees and taking my dick into his mouth. Of course, I grew hard in no time.

Upon rising, he kissed me again and began removing his own clothes. I had always imagined that if we were ever to have sex, he would take me. Instead, he straddled my body and lowered himself onto my erect pole.

As he rode me vigorously, he placed his hands on my chest and then leaned forward, gripping my wrists and wrapping my arms around him. He wanted to be held, and I was happy to oblige—not for my own pleasure, but because I knew that he just needed someone at that moment. I was glad that I was able to be there for him, but I harbored no illusions. He might have chosen anybody to comfort him in this way. He chose me simply because I was there. As much as I might have wanted to mean more to him, I knew that it was not so and not meant to be.

Even so, he was immensely handsome and sexy as hell. The fact that he was so vulnerable at that moment did not diminish his attractiveness but enhanced it, stimulating me all the more. I tried to hold out for his benefit but could not hold back and shot my seed deep inside him. Despite the tears forming in his eyes, he smiled ever so slightly, lifted himself off of me, lay down beside me, nestling his head against my chest and again pulling my arm around him. We both fell asleep with him in my embrace.

The next morning, I awoke in his bed…alone. I comported myself back to my room, showered, got dressed, went down to breakfast, and took up my chores as I did every morning as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Upon hearing the news of Mr. Block’s passing, Tyler rushed back to San Diego and helped Woody with funeral arrangements and plans for memorial services. We saw very little of the two of them leading up to the funeral. Oh, they were around, but they kept mostly to themselves. Was Woody ashamed of having slept with me? Did he feel that I had taken advantage of him in a moment of weakness? Did Woody tell Tyler about our night together, and was Tyler thus avoiding me out of jealousy or anger? I felt very awkward and even questioned if I still belonged at the estate. Was it time for me to move along? After my dad had thrown me out, Mr. Block and Woody had been my salvation, but maybe it had just been a period of calm in the storm. Maybe it was time for me to fend for myself again.

Rafael flew back from Spain for the funeral along with Ambassador Papa and all the other men who had attended the dinner in New York. George Clooney, Chris Evans, and the actor introduced to me at the banquet as Brad were among the many Hollywood celebrities in attendance. “Are you still coming up to L.A. next weekend?” Brad asked me.

“Well, under the circumstances, I’m not sure—

“He’ll be there,” Woody interrupted, almost sternly, before walking away. Was he encouraging me, or was he just trying to get rid of me?

After the funeral, Woody called all of the staff into his office. “You may be wondering if things are going to change now that Arthur is no longer with us. The answer is no. The estate has been amply provided for, and that includes your salaries and benefits. He has left behind a number of paintings that have been scheduled for various art shows, and there are several unpublished novels, including some that will undoubtedly be made into movies. His commitment to LGBT youth will continue thanks to a trust fund that he established in his will. Of course, none of it will be quite the same without him, but he would insist that we carry on his work, and so we shall.”

The following Friday, I drove one of the Lexuses up to Brad’s estate in Los Angeles. I had thought of inviting Ron, Kim, or even Tyler to go with me, but they were needed to prep the estate for upcoming Christmas and New Year’s parties, so I took the piano-playing hunk Zac with me instead.

Brad’s Beverly Hills mansion was just what you might expect for a box-office star—a grand stairway that led from the foyer to the second floor and eight bedrooms to accommodate not only Zac and me but several other weekend celebrity guests. Original artwork, including several Brock Archers, adorned the walls.

Brad took an immediate liking to Zac, and when Zac played and sang for Brad’s guests, he practically became a star overnight. Several of the Hollywood elite asked for his phone number, either to engage him to play for their upcoming parties, to enlist him for their artistic endeavors, or to get him into their beds, and Zac was readily amenable to all offers. Since Zac’s brother Jack lived in L.A., Brad insisted that Zac call him and invite him over to join the party Saturday night. Many of the guests were definitely turned on with the prospect of having sex with the two gorgeous identical twins.

Like Zac, I had sex with several of those celebrities that weekend, but I also got a chance to show off some of my sketches, which proved to be very popular. I sold several pieces, and a number of people asked about commissioning works from me. I even got an offer from a movie producer to work on the art design for his upcoming movie—the same producer who recruited Zac to work on the music for that movie.

On Sunday, before returning to San Diego, Zac and I went to Tom’s House, the headquarters of the Tom of Finland Foundation and the house where Touko Valio Laaksonen, a.k.a. Tom of Finland, spent the last years of his life. Not only did I get to show off my sketches again, but I also got a tour of the place, including the extensive archives and the famous Pleasure Garden, and I got to meet the two artists who were currently in residence, a sculptor from Estonia and a mixed-media artist from Thailand. I invited them to our upcoming New Year’s Eve party, and they accepted enthusiastically.

Back at the Block estate, Ron and Kim greeted Zac and me warmly and asked us to relate the highlights of our weekend, especially the sexual escapades. We gladly shared those stories and even demonstrated some of the moves we had learned, much to Ron and Kim’s delight.

The two weeks leading up to Christmas were hardly exciting. Aside from carrying out my regular duties and assisting Ron and Kim with theirs when needed, I focused mostly on my artwork. There were always opportunities for sex, and I took advantage of them whenever I felt like it, but somehow it just didn’t seem quite as fulfilling as before.

Most of the planning was for the New Year’s party since no big event was slated for Christmas. Kim prepared a spectacular Christmas dinner for our little “family”—Woody, Tyler, Kim, Ron, and me. A few presents were exchanged on Christmas Day and phone calls were made to family and friends—the ones who had not rejected us.

The day after Christmas Woody called me into his office. Seated behind his official-looking desk and speaking in his “boss voice,” he started out by reminding me that my probationary period had come to an end, and then he stood up, walked around the desk, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “You know we have a very strict rule here: no fraternizing between management and staff. You broke that rule a couple of weeks ago. Consequently, I can no longer have you working here and living upstairs.”

“What? You’re firing me?”

To be continued

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an-idiot-in-fandoms · 2 years

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Dead! / Chapter 2: You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison

Chapter Summary: Some people just never find peace. You’re one of those.

“No, I told you,” you argued, phone pressed to your ear, as you typed frantically at the computer sat in front of you, “I’m not requesting extra money from the council because I want it, it’s because we need it. Have you ever worked in an orphanage before?”

Your best friend and coworker, Avneet, paused to watch you have a furious conversation with the Gotham committee treasurer’s secretary, as she put away a multitude of books that had just been worn down by the kids. She noticed how a few drops of nervous sweat dribbled down your forehead, splattering onto your desk, which made you even more tense. She wrinkled her nose at you, and lifted a warning finger, just as you were about to swear — you reluctantly held back on the cuss, and she returned to her duties, putting away the various stories for the next reading session. She rubbed her forehead, and let out a mild yawn as she kneeled down to stock up the lower shelves, wondering what to give the children for lunch.

Her thoughts were cut off from business as usual, when she heard you let out a defiant, “Fuck you! And your eyebrows!” before you hung up, and slammed your device on the table with an aggravated grunt.

Her frown deepened at your use of language, and she was quick to ask you dryly, “I’m guessing they didn’t raise our budget?”

“No,” you replied shortly, tapping your finger against your arm, letting out a long huff as you calmed yourself down. “I told you, it’s not worth it. The bitch puts me on hold, and then when he picks up, he wastes my time with six new reasons why they’re all immoral fucks.”

“Oh well. It was worth a shot,” Avneet assured you, as she got up, dusting down her trousers. “Thanks for trying anyway, even though you probably got us blocked with that last part.”

“Have you seen his eyebrows?” you defended, waving your hand around in a wild, unspecified gesture, “They look like giant, obese caterpillars!”

“Yes, but did you have to point it out?” she questioned with an exasperated smile.

You blinked, and then folded your arms over your chest in a silent motion of annoyance. Avneet couldn’t hold back a laugh at your face, and gave you a small, pitying pat on the shoulder as she passed, going back into the main hall; as the doors momentarily opened and closed, you heard the rambunctious screeching and giggling of the children inside, who were clearly entertaining themselves well with what you’d given them. For a second, you considered going inside, before simply standing up, and wandering over to the office window, letting your hand lilt over the chequebook, the spare laptop, and the meal planner.

Pressing your head against the glass, you stared out blankly at the street, darkened by the familiar clouds of Gotham above — you’d grown accustomed to the dreary weather by this point — there were a few cars on the road ahead, and across from you stood a block of poorly maintained council houses. You sighed miserably, a tense scowl occupying your otherwise neutral expression, and you could recall how Mrs Truham would’ve given you a reprimanding lecture on how a pretty face would make pretty acquaintances.

You had not only ignored her advice because you point blank detested the woman, but also because you’d thought with impunity that you didn’t need acquaintances; you’d mumbled, under your breath, after she’d returned to applying her blush, that friends were for preps, and then had snatched her mascara off the table to experiment with later. She’d grounded you after she’d found out, bursting into your room the moment you’d arrived home from school, screaming at you that it wasn’t ‘proper’, for somebody like you to wear makeup.

Fuckin’ stupid.

(You couldn’t be sure if you were referring to the idea she’d had of you, Mrs Truham, or yourself. In any case, the words played well with whatever scenario.)

A motorbike zoomed down the road, at a speed that you were certain isn’t legal, and you peeked over slightly to catch a better glimpse of the driver; you didn’t, they were long gone (like your parents—). You let out an unimpressed snort, though inwardly, you heard your fifteen year old self cry out with spittling slobber that it might’ve been Gerard Way on his way to film a music video. Oh, to be the young and carefree soul you’d once been — that was a wish that could never be fulfilled, and arguably, it’s what got you in this scrappy, scarring situation in the first place.

But you didn’t regret being a punk. Not one bit.

You’d rather you had that courage now; god knew that you needed it. Sure, you could tell people to fuck off, but it was more of out of fatigue and utter misery rather than rebellious spirit.

“You gonna help me out with the snacks?” Avneet called out to you, from the doorway to the main hall.

You shifted in your position, and looked over your shoulder at her — her long black, beautiful hair was certainly something to behold, and her glasses framed her face perfectly, matching her dark skin tone. Her Indian accent was slightly prevalent, (perhaps she’d been on the phone to her mother a minute ago), and she was holding a shaken cardboard box, marked bluntly as ‘food’; it was probably time to feed the little buggers, they got ancy without their dose of glucose.

With a small nod, you moved over, took the item from her grasp, and pushed the door open with your back, flexing slightly as you did. Avneet let out a small, “Wow,” with a playfully flirtatious smirk, “anything else you can do with those arms?”

“Snap your neck,” you supplied, though the remark was accompanied by a parched grin that crumbled like an old biscuit when you cracked it.

“That’s not funny,” she retorted, despite her amusement, “you’re built like a tank. Honestly, I don’t understand why you don’t join the Bat-gang.”

“Too tired.” T’was but half a joke.

A singular call from Avneet, after giving you a nudge, brought in thirty-or-so hungry minors, who were clambering over each other, half ripping their second hand clothes to shreds in their efforts to get the refreshments first. You snorted in a deadpan manner, recalling how you’d spent seven hours trekking from obscure store to obscure shop to find these little terrors something appropriate to wear aside from their shoddy street attire. But they’d been all each a very cheap price, so it wasn’t the biggest scandal of the century that they were getting messed up, and besides, kids liked to destroy things.

You knew you certainly had loved to ruin everything. Mr Truham had taken you into his office once, and once only, because as soon as you’d been alone, you’d thrown the printer to the floor, ripped the noticeboard off the wall and beat it like a drumstick against his computer; they hadn’t actually realised what was going on until they heard the desk being tipped over, and even then, you’d shoved it against the entrance so they couldn’t get inside. Then, you’d screamed loudly whilst overturning all the furniture, and ripping leaflets into snowflakes.

You’d screamed, and screamed, and screamed. You’d screamed that you wanted to go home, and that this was a dirty country full of liars and frauds.

When they’d got in, they’d found you half-crying, half-laughing on the ground. It didn’t stop you from getting a great big slap to the face when you arrived back at the house.

Oh well.

The sticky hands of the children ripped bags of snacks from the box, leaving it empty and mutilated; there was a brief chorus of ‘thank yous’, before they all hurried off to sit on the yellow benches, chattering about whatever internet meme had captured their little imaginations. Avneet smiled fondly at the lot of them, and you felt the smallest amount of comfort at their and her happiness.

She addressed you casually, “Could you take that out to the recycling? Oh, and we might need some extra food for tonight, could you get some instant food from the corner shop?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded absentmindedly, spinning on your heel, and wandering down the corridor, to the main entrance of the building.

Stepping out into the light, you squinted against the dull light of the clouds, and moved towards the bins at the edge of the pavement, before chucking the box unceremoniously into the green wheelie, before starting your trek towards the small convenience store at the end of the street. The lane was silent, mostly, apart from the occasional yowl of a catfight, or perhaps the cry of an unfed infant; the road was chipped and soggy with humidity and agony. Your hoodie felt oddly heavy against you, and you had to shake off the thought that somebody was watching you — though to be fair, this damned city always had something around every corner.

But you could dwell on the shortcomings of this hellhole another time. After a turn of a corner, you made your way down the sloped path, towards the lit up neon sign, run by a rather jovial woman by the name of Nicole; you remembered her vividly, because the night you ended up alone, you came here, and she gave you a bag of crisps for free.

Ah, such fond memories.

You were about to go inside, your thrifted shoes hitting the cement like the drums of Black Sabbath, when you felt a sudden sense of paranoia.

Slowly, you glanced over your shoulder, only to find nothing and looked forwards again — except that it seemed the shop was wavering. “That’s fuckin’ weird,” you murmured, starting to move to get a closer glimpse; but your system let out an inaudible shriek of protest, stopping you in your tracks, like you’d been shocked with a thousand volts.

The air around you became thick, and you coughed slightly. Must be the pollution… you put it down to. Gotta get inside, in that case—

As soon as you moved your foot, your knees buckled, with a pathetic crumple, and you felt your head spin in confusion, as you hit the ground with a resounding thump. At the mercy of gravity, your torso hit the melting tarmac, and fuck!— it hurt, it felt like a ruthless animal had torn open your lungs, and had bitten right into your spine! A shuddered gasp escaped you as your chest closed in and crunched, like the smashing of an old car.

You couldn’t even cry out; all you could fathom were colours, idiosyncratic patterns performing synchronised swimming in your vision, a pandering production to entertain your corpse. As your consciousness faded, and your breathing became weak, it left you nothing but pathetic.

Oh, god, you’re kidding me, your thoughts tried one last time to motivate you, I haven’t even handed in my fucking resignation for life yet. I wasn’t planning to do that yet — I wasn’t planning to go yet.

I wasn’t planning to meet Jason Todd yet. But maybe it’s about time I should.

If I end up in the same place as him.

Your body slumped, and nobody but Gotham City watched you corrode, alone.

Previous chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/an-idiot-in-fandoms/692241669722177536?source=share

Next Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/an-idiot-in-fandoms/694130289558110208?source=share

#jason todd #jason peter todd #jason todd deserves better #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #trust me it gets worse

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major2501 · 1 year

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Living in the Fray: Chapter 13

'RONSON! GET ME A TRACE ON THE LAST MOTHER FUCKER RIGHT NOW!'

Krieger was haring her way down the streets of the Port at breakneck speed with an ungodly sound coming out of her. Even the Chase drones were having a hard time trying to keep their cameras trained on her erratic movements, she genuinely looked like an escaped mental institution inmate being chased by a swarm of angry bees; arms flailing and random screaming. At the rate she was shifting, if anybody got in her way they were getting a random smack in the face and shoved aside with the force that only a tiny, steroid strength emulating, capricious cyborg woman could provide. At next years Chase, you could bet that there would be people wearing "I Got Mown Down By Krieger at the Con Chase!" T-Shirts. Krieger had this knack for having memes and weird merchandise made about her. She thought it was ultimately funny. And it brought in money which she thought was even better.

Ronson was trying his best in an attempt to locate the final con, Tobias Clement. He'd listened in on local CB and Police radio chatter which while it was still used; was a bit of a bust as most communications were via neural mod and weren't easy to hack in to. The CCTV cameras he had accessed weren't showing up much either and all on the streets of New Edo was relatively calm.

It wasn't until Ronson heard Erik who was sat at the station beside him, talking to himself in his native Swedish. Thankfully Ronson had upgraded his neural mod before the Chase had begun and his auto translate software was running quite nicely. He heard Erik mention something about the manufacturing district and a derelict building. He also spoke of a potential hostage, which was not good. Ronson then had the idea of bringing up recorded CCTV footage of the outskirts of the manufacturing district. The way Erik was talking made it sound fairly recent, so Ronson brought up the last hours worth of CCTV footage from the five cameras that were available and played them back at five times the normal speed. Nothing happened in the first forty three minutes of the footage but rolling in to the forty fourth minute; Ronson noticed a bit of a scuffle happening on camera number three which was indeed near the derelict Shimizu metal works which had closed down after a huge fire engulfed the building about a year and a half ago.

Ronson rewound the footage all of about ten seconds of it and played it at a slightly slower speed. Sure enough, Clement hurriedly walked in to the cameras view and aggressively yanked a young looking woman behind him by her arm. She had blood running from her nose and was screwing her face up in pain, blinded by tears. Clement soon yanked her arm behind her back and drew what looked to be a large knife to her neck before dragging her in to the loading bay of the derelict building.

'Cas, you need to get your arse down to the Shimizu building right now. Clement's taken a hostage and going by the time stamp it was barely ten minutes ago. I don't know why the Chase directors haven't blown his fucking head off by now.'

Krieger had instantly set off at full speed down the street in the direction of the Shimizu metal works factory, sparing nobody who got in her way after hearing Ronson in her head.

'They won't decapitate Clement, he's the last con you know what they're like. A bit of potential collateral adds to the drama.'

'Yeah well hurry up, it looks like Frank's got the drop on you.'

'AGH FUCK!' Krieger screamed.

The Chase drones were now working over time trying to keep up with Krieger who barely seemed to be hitting the ground with her boots, practically sailing through the air. She made the decision to go down main street unfortunately during the lunch time rush. The street was backed up with cars and people blocking up the pavements which made Krieger frustrated and filled with even more rage. She was now screaming and cursing, yelling at people to "get out of the fucking way." Trying to get past the people who were too busy literally getting in her way and gawping, Krieger launched her self on to the roofs of the cars in the bumper to bumper traffic. It made her journey easier now, jumping from car to car earning herself exasperated shouts from the drivers.

It took Krieger just a few minutes to get to the Shimizu building. Ronson gave her directions on what side to enter but she had already noticed one of the fire exit doors was wide open. She could hear the faint sound of sobbing and a voice talking calmly. Krieger crept quietly along the outside wall, stopping at a large window covered in cobwebs and dust and peeked in through a clear gap. Bionic sight and hearing had their advantages and while the incident in what made Krieger and her brother from another mother Ronson what they are today was disgusting and traumatising; she had to admit it was pretty cool. Like a human getting an upgrade that made you stronger, faster and a lot more indestructible. The only problem was the odd malfunction and the occasional crippling seizures that left you a dribbling, foaming mess.

A quick peek in to the building showed that it was quite empty save a few large, dusty machines, some random old furniture and loads of random stuff that look like it had been dumped there. In amongst all the crap and junk; Krieger could see Frank with his gaudy, heavily customised Beretta up and pointing at Clement who was stood clutching a partially clothed blonde haired woman in front of him. His body position clearly showed he was holding a knife against her neck.

Krieger had figured out what she should do. Frank was obviously trying to talk Clement down and convince him to let the woman go so that would buy her some time. If she went in through the open fire exit door and went in to stealth mode she could probably sneak up behind Clement and kill him quickly enough so he wouldn't harm the girl. She looked again through the cleanish gap in the window. Krieger had noticed that Clement was actually quite a bit taller than Frank and he was aiming his gun up towards Clement's head. And after another look, she saw that the girl was being held in an angle so Clement could hold his knife horizontally across her neck. The girl was also stood shivering in her underwear and had quite a few bloody cuts and grazes across her skin. Clement had probably started stripping and cutting her with his knife in order to do what ever sick thing he was planning before Frank interrupted him. It made Krieger's stomach turn.

'I could probably sneak in and use that machine as cover, creep up behind Clement then blast him right through the head. Frank's a fucking idiot he should've just shot him as soon as, but then again Frank's an idiot and would want to look like the hero so.' Krieger sounded out in her head for Ronson to hear.

'Do it.'

'First things first.'

Krieger sat down on the concrete outside the building and quickly took off her boots revealing her feet donning a pair of odd socks, one black and one purple. She quietly placed them beside the wall then quickly checked both her guns, deciding to swap the magazine in her left holstered gun she called Jake, with some really nasty hollow points. Letting out a bit of a sigh, she kept as low as possible and sneaked her way through the open fire exit door and behind some kind of massive industrial metal work lathe that was caked in dust. There were bits of broken glass and small shards of scrap metal littering the floor which were sharply making their way in to Krieger's feet no matter where she stepped but that didn't bother her in the slightest. She had to be silent and wearing her clumpy boots would not allow that. She could hear the sobs of the girl, the grunting of Clement and Frank's sympathetic toned voice as she shimmied along the lathe, but tuned all that out. At this angle she had a clear shot at Clements head as soon as she stood up and at this angle, Frank wouldn't get hit by any bullet leaving Clement. That was Krieger being considerate.

Krieger had however heard a few of the Chase drones whirring on their way to the building to film what was happening. She had seconds to make her move before anybody else heard them, or if Erik saw footage of Krieger literally yards away from Frank or Clement and warned Frank. One drone hovered and situated itself in one of the higher up side windows of the building that had been knocked out. Frank had noticed it focusing on him but hopefully Krieger wasn't in its field of view.

'Cas that camera can't see you but there's more incoming from your side. Do it no...'

Ronson never even got to finish his sentence. Krieger had already bounced up and fired the gun Jake drawn from her left holster. The single bullet entered the back of Clements head and pretty much took most of his head with it on exit. The hollow point bullet had done its job and shredded Clements head, splattering the now wide eyed and shocked girl with bits of brain and skull but more importantly; splattering the bloody mess all over Frank's designer ensemble and confused looking face. Both the girl and Frank had instantly shut up their sobbing and calm chatter respectively. Krieger just stood there watching them both, smirking as she lit a cigarette.

#cyberpunk #original story #fiction writing #novel writing #writing #cyberpunk aesthetic #scifi #original fiction #post cyberpunk #science fiction #strong female lead #strong female characters

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sharonspain6 · 1 year

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#coffee shop #the press room coffee shop

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shurisneakers · 3 years

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if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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streetlight11 · 3 years

Text

Strawberry Lattes

Summary: He always needs his morning caffeine to wake him up for his morning classes. He never knew what it feels like wanting to come back to a particular place again and again solely for one reason, until he met you. You were a full time barista and a part time university student. Despite the stress you get almost every week, your two friends have always been there to support you. What happens when your friends come to visit you at your workplace one day, only to find out that they were friends with the same boy who not only is your eye candy, but also your regular customer?

Genre: Super fluffy

Pairing: Kim Sunwoo x GN Reader

Word count: 5.5k

It was another dreadful morning after only 2 hours of sleep due to staying up all night hoping to finish at least 50% of the assignment. But this wasn’t an excuse for you to call in to work sick or unable to come for your shift. Hence, the reason why you were now forcing yourself out of bed to freshen up and get ready for work. You were a full time barista at a local café downtown just around the corner from your apartment, and also a part time student at Yonsei University.

The reason why you chose this path was because you wanted to further your studies but also earn a monthly allowance in order to pay for your school and house bills since you were living alone and didn't have the time to search for a roommate.

Despite the stress load you get every once in a while, you managed to cope and tried your best to pass each module. Today was no different, as you got ready for work and was out the door by 0730. You arrived at the café only to find your manager already preparing the coffee machines and restocking the cakes in the fridge beside the cashier. You greeted him good morning before he smiled at you.

You went into the back room to put your bag down and took your apron. Proceeding to head to the front where the cashier and coffee machines were.

“Did you get enough sleep yesterday?” Kihyun asked.

Before you could reply, a yawn left your lips as you used the back of your hand to cover your mouth slightly.

“Nope. But I’ll be fine.” You said. You could hear the heavy sigh that left his lips when he closed the fridge door and soon turned to you with a frown.

“(Y/N), you know you have to get some rest. It’s not good for your health.” Kihyun said, but you nodded.

“I know Ki, but I can’t fail this module.”

“Just… know when to take a break okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, he went to the back room to settle some paperwork while you stayed by the counter, refilling the powders into the containers. After you were done, a few customers had entered to buy their morning caffeine doses. 4 orders and 5 minutes of silence later, you leaned over the counter top with one knee resting on the stool in front of you that was hidden from any customer in plain sight.

You supported your head on your palm, slowly finding yourself drifting to sleep when the doorbell chimed, catching your attention. You looked up to see a guy walking into the café looking just as tired as you were but he had more life in him.

“Dang he’s cute.” You thought to yourself as you quickly wiped the pout off your face and soon replaced it with a warm smile.

“Good morning, may I take your order?” you greeted him.

He flashed you a soft smile before glancing up at the menu boards hanging above your head.

“Do you have any recommendations? I feel like trying something new.” He finally looked back down at you, only for you to feel as though your airflow got sucked out of your lungs.

“Personally I really like the Iced Matcha Latte with soy milk if I want a non-caffeinated drink. But if I want that espresso kick to start my mornings, I really love the Strawberry Latte, with two pumps of syrup and a light dash of strawberry sprinkles. It’s not too strong and it definitely gives you a sweet tangy balance to the bitter coffee taste.” You ended your speech with a light giggle after you realized how long it was.

The male only smiled fondly at you during that whole minute explanation but it was worth it. “Great, can I get the exact order for the second one then?” He said. You looked quite surprised but nonetheless smiled as you began to key in the order

“Choice of size?”

“Regular please.”

After you were done, you took the regular size takeaway cup and a marker, looking at him to ask for his name or initials.

“Sunwoo.”

The corner of your lips tugged upwards, writing down his name before setting the cup to your left beside the coffee machine and soon charged him for his order. After he was done paying, you returned him his change and gave the receipt before telling him to wait at the collection point. You made the drink exactly how you would make it for yourself. Smiling happily upon seeing your creation being prepared for not yourself, but this time for a customer.

After you had sprinkled the strawberry powder on top of the foam surface, you took the lid and secured it close before you went to the collection point and called out softly.

“Strawberry Latte for Sunwoo.”

He walked forwards as he took the cup, not forgetting to give you a smile.

“Thank you-” His eyes darted towards your name tag pinned to your apron before he looked back at you. “...(Y/N)”

You bowed to him slightly as you watched him leave the café. After he left, he didn’t forget to spare a quick glance into the café, only to see your smile soon disappeared. Replacing it with a small pout when you let out a sigh. Sunwoo chuckled as he continued walking to campus that was just 2 blocks away.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about you even after he made it to his first lecture. The small smile gracing on his lips didn’t go unnoticed by his friends as Kevin began to nudge Sunwoo’s elbow the minute he came to sit beside the former.

“Aye, why are you smiling like an idiot huh?” Kevin asked.

“Maybe he just sniffed a smiling gas.” Younghoon said.

“What the hell is that?” Jacob asked.

“I was being sarcastic you nimrod.” Younghoon said, making the former one growl.

“I’ll tell you guys later.” Sunwoo said as he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

2 hours passed and they were now heading to the food hall in the main building, when Hyunjae slings his arm over Sunwoo’s shoulder.

“So? Why were you smiling all morning today?” He asked, causing the rest to focus their gazes on him as Sunwoo sighed knowing he couldn’t run away now.

“Ahh, it’s nothing… I went to get my morning coffee and there was this really cute barista who attended to me. That’s all.”

A series of “ooh”s were heard as the boys got noisier by the second.

“Jeez, can y’all shut up? You’re embarrassing me.” Sunwoo said as he quickened his pace, only for Younghoon to grab hold of his backpack and pulled him back.

“Oh please, you should be thankful we even gave reactions to what you say.” Younghoon said, making Sunwoo scoff.

A few weeks later, you were just handing a customer her plate of pasta and a cappuccino at one of the tables when you heard the doorbell chime. The customer you were attending to, thanked you for bringing her orders to her, smiling and replied to her.

“Your welcome. Enjoy your food.”

With that, you began to walk back to the front counter when you saw a group of guys gathered in front of the cashier. Right when you were just about to walk past them to head behind the counter, one of them glanced towards his right only to lock eyes with you. It was Sunwoo. The same regular customer that came every morning before his classes. The same guy who you may or may not have a tiny crush on.

The moment you locked eyes, you could feel your heartbeat stop for just a millisecond later as he flashed you a soft smile. This was enough to make you blush as you smiled back to him shyly before quickly making your way behind the counter.

“Oh great, you’re back. Help me take their order will you? I have to prepare the delivery ones.” Kihyun said simply. You were about to protest but you had no choice since the other part timer was on his lunch break.

So you nodded defeatedly before you returned the tray back at the collection point before you went back to the cashier, only to see Sunwoo standing there alone.

“Hey.” Sunwoo said as his lips began to tug upwards.

“Hey. What can I get you today?” You asked with a shy smile. Your voice sounded much softer than usual. You didn’t miss the little chuckle that left his lips before he spoke up.

“There’s gonna be a bit more than one order today.”

“I can see that.” You joked.

“Can I get one regular iced mocha, two regular double chocolate frappe, one small iced americano, one regular iced vanilla latte, and my usual please.”

You keyed in his orders as he spoke, only for you to look back up at him to confirm if that was all he wanted. Sunwoo gave you a firm nod, proceeding to charge him for the orders and soon told him to have a seat, you will call out to him once the drinks are ready. Sunwoo nodded as he left, not forgetting to smile at you for the umpteenth time that day.

You soon came beside Kihyun and started to make the drinks. Sunwoo on the other hand, immediately got dragged down into his seat by Kevin when they began to make comments about you.

“You were right, they’re hella cute!” Kevin said.

“Do you think they’re attached?” Younghoon asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, they’re quite cute. It’s impossible they’re single.” Sangyeon shrugged.

“Not all good looking people are attached. Even some normal looking ones are attached. We can’t just judge from their looks.” Sunwoo said defensively, only for Changmin and Haknyeon to smirk.

“Or are you just saying that because you want them to be single?” Changmin said, causing the rest of them to agree teasingly.

“Whatever, they wouldn’t date someone like me anyway.” Sunwoo said.

Not long after he finished his sentence, your voice echoes around the café walls as you called his name.

“Drinks for Sunwoo.”

With that, Sunwoo got up and soon jogged his way to the collection point, only to find you standing behind the counter with the tray in hand. You smiled as you pushed the tray gently towards him.

“Be careful. It’s heavy.” You warned.

“Don’t worry.” Sunwoo said, couldn’t help but smile at him.

He soon came back to their table and distributed the drinks. Almost half an hour had passed, they were just talking about random topics when Sunwoo happened to glance towards the counter. Seeing you laugh at something your manager said.

He didn’t realize he was smiling until Sangyeon spoke up. “Sunwoo yah, if they make your heart flutter that much, why don’t you just go there and ask them out?”

Sunwoo whips his head to Sangyeon, almost pulling a muscle while doing that.

“What?! N-No!”

“Why not?”

“The last time I asked someone out, I got turned down harshly in front of everyone. I couldn’t sleep for days!”

“Sunwoo yah, you’re just thinking too much. Just try and ask them out. Who knows they’ll accept?” Haknyeon asked.

“I don’t wanna risk it.” Sunwoo said. Glancing back to the front counter.

“Why must I have a crush on the cutest barista working just two blocks away from campus?” Sunwoo thought to himself as he gently shook his head and went back into the conversation with the guys.

A few minutes passed, some of them were discussing their project work while some were doing their own stuff when Sunwoo saw you left the counter only to walk towards an empty table near the back of the café. Since the café was not so packed, Kihyun told you to eat at one of the tables. So as to not feel cramped in the back room.

You had a transparent cup filled with what seems to be strawberry latte and a plate of sandwich. Sunwoo was caught staring by his friends as Younghoon nudged his arm to gain his attention.

“This is your chance to talk to them.”

Sunwoo saw some of them nod in agreement as he glanced back at you who was just taking a bite of the sandwich while scrolling through your phone.

With much motivation, he finally got up and made his way towards your table. You were just looking at your Instagram feed when you saw a figure come to a stop on the opposite side of your table.

You looked up to see Sunwoo standing there with a nervous smile as he spoke up. “Do you need some company?” He asked. You giggled, locking your phone screen and soon placed it face down on the table.

“Sure, that would be great.” You said. He pulled the chair out and soon took a seat.

“You’re just having that for lunch?” He asked curiously as he looked at the plate in front of you.

“Mmm.”

“Is that enough to fill you for the rest of your shift?” He asks, genuinely concerned at how little you ate.

“Yeap! Don’t worry. I always get something heavy to eat before my night classes.”

Sunwoo paused only to raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“Night classes?”

“I’m a part time student at Yonsei U. That’s why I’m a full timer here.”

“Wow… Are you able to cope with work and study at the same time?”

“It can be tiring and mentally exhausting sometimes but I persevere.”

Sunwoo was shocked at this new information but nonetheless gave you some comforting words to help cheer you on. “That’s… a lot to take in. I hope you don’t stress yourself out too much. Please get some rest and don’t overwork yourself.”

You hadn't seen this side of him before but it was very sweet of him to even say all those things to you. You ended up chatting for a bit, only for you both to find out that he was a student at Hankuk U, you were the same age, you both loved sushi and many more.

Your lunch break was ending soon but you were dreading to say goodbye. “Well, it was really nice talking to you Sunwoo, but I’m afraid my break time’s almost over.”

You pouted sadly, only for him to chuckle.

“Do you have class tonight?”

You nodded.

“Hmm, don’t worry okay? I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Sunwoo said, making you giggle at his disclaimer.

The both of you got up only for him to speak up.

“My friends and I are leaving soon too. I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care, don’t forget to eat before you head to class!” He reminded you. Not forgetting to give him a nod.

A few days later, you had just ended your night class and you were almost burned out for the day, you could barely keep your eyes open. Only for your phone to ring. It was Eric.

“Hello?” You said into the line.

“Hey! Are you finished with class?”

“Yeah. I’m heading down now. Where are you?”

“At the parking lot. Me and Chanhee hyung decided to wait for you today.”

With that being said, you gasped lightly, unable to digest this information.

“Wha- Eric are you serious? You didn’t have to- omg.”

“No, it’s fine! Besides, me and hyung needed to discuss something anyway. Meet us at the parking lot okay?”

Before you could reply, he already hung up the call, making you sigh. You felt bad for making them wait for you since it was already half past 10 at night. But then again, they did it out of their own will. You arrived at the parking lot, only to see Chanhee and Eric leaning against the side of Chanhee’s car amongst a few other vehicles left just chatting away while waiting for you.

Just then, Eric glanced towards the entrance, only to see a very tired you dragging your feet towards them. You could barely open your eyes as you held onto your bag strap for your dear life. Right when you had just arrived in front of them, your vision blacked out, feeling your head pound against your skull. You let out a soft groan, falling forwards, just in time for Eric to catch you.

“Woah, are you okay?” He asked worriedly as Chanhee and him exchanged glances to one another.

“Mmm, y-yeah… I just blacked out for a bit.” You said, only to hear Chanhee sigh.

“How many times must we tell you not to overwork yourself and get some sleep?” Chanhee said.

“I did sleep...” You tried to defend yourself, but they knew you better than you know yourself.

“How many hours did you sleep last night?” Eric asked as he narrowed his eyes at you questioningly. You avoided their piercing gazes by answering their question in a hushed tone.

“An hour and a half.”

With that, your two friends let out a heavy sigh as Eric looked disappointed in his friend. It wasn’t because he was mad at you, it was because he was growing more and more concerned over your sleeping patterns and your health. You weren't just schooling, you were working as well so it would only be right if you maintained a healthy sleeping pattern and a balanced work/study time.

“That’s it. You’re coming home with me. I’m gonna make sure you get that sleep you so well deserved.” Chanhee said as Eric nodded in agreement.

“What? No, I’m fine. Okay, I promise I’ll sleep tonight.” You said.

“Yeah right.”

“You don’t trust me?” You asked with a pout.

“On this? No, I don’t.” With that, you scoffed as you knew you couldn’t fight back with them. So with that being said, you ended up following Chanhee to his apartment since he lived alone. Once you were back at Chanhee’s place, he told you to wash up. He let you borrow a loose shirt and sleeping shorts.

He told you to sleep in his bed and that he could take the couch. At first you rejected it, saying you could sleep on the couch but he refused.

Chanhee purposely placed your bag in the living room so that you couldn’t sneakily stay up all night and worked on your assignment. Chanhee’s body clock was never normal to begin with but to him, your sleeping pattern was more important than his.

Hence, the reason why he was still awake at 3am, watching the live broadcast of the World Cup. He was trying so hard to keep quiet to avoid waking you up as he eagerly watched the tournament. Just then, he thought he heard soft whimpers in his head.

“What the-” He mumbled to himself as he continued watching the game.

Just then, the whimper sounded again and it was a lot more distinct this time. With that, he lowered down the volume just to see if that sound would appear again. Not long after, he heard the whimper again and it seemed to have come from his hallway.

Chanhee got up immediately as he went to his bedroom, opening the door gently.

That’s when he saw you shifting uncomfortably in your sleep. He approached you in a rush as he saw you clutching onto the blanket against your chest as you had a frown on your face.

You were mumbling something in your sleep but he couldn’t really catch what you said.

“(Y/N)? Hey wake up.” Chanhee said softly as he placed a hand on your shoulder and lightly shook it. It took him 3 tries to finally get you awake when you jolted forward. Your breathing was heavy as you sat there with cold sweat running down the side of your face.

“It’s okay (Y/N), you’re okay. I’m here. It’s just a nightmare.” He comforted you while grabbing a handful of his shirt.

He pulled you into a hug, feeling your body shiver. They stayed like that for a while, only for him to tuck you back in bed. He pushed your hair away from your face as he looked down at you gently with a soft smile.

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Chanhee.”

He was about to walk away when you grabbed his hand.

“Thank you… for everything.”

Chanhee could only smile, gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb and soon spoke up.

“Get some rest, (Y/N).” You nodded only to let go of his hand. You fell back asleep a few seconds after as he went back to the living room, only to turn off the television and went to sleep himself.

It has been 4 months since Sunwoo first came to the café and you've gotten a lot closer than before.

However, Sunwoo still has yet to ask you out on a date.

It was a chilly Wednesday afternoon and both Chanhee and Eric promised to visit you after their lecture. The time was 35 minutes past 2 and the two guys had just entered the café, settling themselves into one of the empty tables beside the glass window after they ordered their drinks.

After making their drinks, you made your own drink and took one of the sandwiches from the fridge. Making your way to them for your lunch break.

“Hey guys, one iced mocha and one iced matcha latte for the two sweetest guys I’m lucky to have as friends.” You said, causing the two boys to smirk.

“Just friends?” Eric teased.

“Best friends.” You corrected yourself, only for Chanhee to laugh at Eric’s pained reaction.

“Ouch, never thought I’d be friend zoned this quick.”

You found yourself giggling as you spoke up to comfort your friend while you took a seat beside him.

“I love you, Eric ah.”

He couldn’t find himself being angry at you as he immediately melted and soon became a giggling mess. You were just chatting away, gossiping about the same stuck up girl in their class who keeps acting as if everyone was head over heels for when they’re actually not.

Just then, a familiar voice calls out to Chanhee and Eric from a distance behind you making your heart skip a beat.

“Hey! Hyung! Eric ah!”

Chanhee glanced past your shoulder while Eric turned to look over his own shoulder before they smiled widely and waved eagerly to whoever was behind you.

“That voice…” You whispered under your breath, only to slowly turn around. That’s when you saw Sunwoo walking up to your table along with his usual group of friends. However, you didn’t miss the look on Sunwoo’s face when he locked eyes with you. He was definitely surprised but also confused as to why you were seated with his friends.

“Oh? It’s the cute barista!” Juyeon said innocently. Flashing them a bashful smile. Just then, both Chanhee and Eric turned to look at each other simultaneously only for them to look at you and spoke up in unison.

“You’re the cute barista Sunwoo’s been talking about?!”

With that, Sunwoo gestured a punch to them signalling them to keep quiet. Only for him to look at you and ask.

“You know them?”

You could only nod as you told him the truth.

“I’ve known them since college.”

The rest of the boys gasped at the newly profound information. They couldn’t believe you were mutual friends with Chanhee and Eric. The 12 of you ended up sitting in two separate tables side by side whilst Chanhee and Eric began to spill the tea about Sunwoo.

“I can’t believe he’s been talking about you all these while.” Eric said.

“If I had known sooner, I would have set you two up on a date.” Chanhee said, causing you to glance at Sunwoo who was sitting opposite you. You cleared your throat and glanced down at your wrist watch before you got up abruptly to avoid any more awkward conversations.

“Oh look, my break time is ending. Nice talking to you guys. Thanks for visiting me today, my babies. More cakes for you? Yes? Okay.” You said in a rush. Quickly leaving the table, earning a laugh from the guys. Thinking that your actions are cute.

“Sunwoo, you really have a good taste don’t you?” Eric teased, making Sunwoo throw a tissue paper packet to Eric’s face, catching the poor boy by surprise.

You were in the back room, having a short break when your co-worker, Mingi called for you from the door.

“(Y/N), somebody wants to talk to you. He said he’s a friend of yours?” Mingi said, making you hum in confusion but nonetheless left the back room.

Only to be met with Sunwoo standing at the collection point.

“Sunwoo?”

“Hey, umm, I was wondering… Are you… free, this weekend?” You found yourself blushing as you tried to come up with a quick response.

“Uhh yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” Sunwoo didn’t expect you to say yes so quickly but it definitely made him feel slightly happy that he didn’t get rejected.

“Great. Umm, I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Okay.” You smiled genuinely.

“Okay… Well, I uhh, better get going. Bye (Y/N). See you.” He said shyly, his ears starting to burn red.

“See you Sunwoo.” You said, only for him to quickly leave before his whole tomato head explodes.

Weekends finally came and it was already 30 minutes past 7 and you were struggling to find a nice outfit to wear. You didn’t know exactly where he was taking you, all he said was to wear nicely. You were nervous to say the least. You haven't been on a date in like what? 2 years?

Ever since your last date where you got stood up, you decided not to go on any more blind dates. You would rather stay single for the rest of your life than being played with and getting your heart broken again and again.

Sunwoo texted you a few minutes later saying he was downstairs so you replied by saying you’ll be down in a minute. You soon left your apartment and locked the doors before heading down the corridor towards the lift lobby. Once you were at ground level, you made your way out, only to see Sunwoo leaning against his car door.

The minute he noticed your figure walking towards him, he looked up only to give you a one over. You stopped a few feet in front of him with a shy smile as he spoke up.

“Wow, you look really stunning.”

“Thank you. You look dashing.” You giggled.

Sunwoo was wearing a dark blue button down shirt tucked into his black denim skinny jeans, a pair of black sneakers and a few stainless steel accessories. He recently dyed his hair to a deep berry colour. He soon opened the door for you. Getting in before he walked over to the driver seat. Once he was in, he buckled his seatbelt and started his car engine.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“It’s a surprise.” Sunwoo said with a cheeky smile as you could feel your heartstrings pull.

The drive to the destination wasn’t as long as you thought, maybe because the journey was filled with jokes and laughter every now and then. Before you knew it, he finally pulled into a parking lot at what seems to be an outdoor movie theatre.

“Sunwoo yah… This is…” You paused as you got out of the car while he reached over to the back seat to take the blanket he brought to lay it down on the grass. He came back to your side after locking his car, only for you to continue from where you left off.

“So cute. How did you even find out about this outdoor movie?”

He smiled as you both began to walk towards the open space where quite a lot of couples were already seated down on their own blankets.

“My friend told me about this when he went on a date with his girlfriend the other day. So I figured why not give it a try.” Sunwoo said, making you blush.

You managed to find an empty space so he laid down the blanket and soon sat down. While waiting for the movie, you talked about almost anything. The movie soon started as everyone was starting to get excited. Halfway through the beginning of the movie, you were sitting beside Sunwoo with your legs extended out in front of you.

The night slowly got breezy, feeling the cool air blowing on you softly. Just then, he saw you straightening your posture, rubbing your arms to keep yourself warm. He felt bad that he couldn’t give you his jacket since he didn’t wear any.

However, an idea flashed across his mind, making him turn to you to speak.

“Hey, are you cold?” He asked. You turned to him with a small smile before you answered.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. It’s just a little chilly, that’s all.” Sunwoo wasn’t convinced as he saw your teeth clattering, making him chuckle softly.

“You know, I heard from somewhere that close body contact can keep us warm.” Sunwoo suggests indirectly to you, turning your head to him to see a playful smile on his lips.

You giggled as you looked at him with your brows raised.

“Are you okay with it?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t suggest it would I?” He asked, causing you to mentally facepalm at your ridiculous self.

“Right. You have a point.”

You heard him chuckle when he pat the empty spot in between his legs, gesturing for you to come over.

“C’mere.” He said.

Once you have settled down between his legs, you feel him wrap his arms around your body, trapping your arms. Gently pressing your back against his chest. Warmth immediately engulfing you both as you snuggled deeper into his chest.

“Warm enough?” He asked, only for you to nod.

You stayed like that for the rest of the movie. Sacrificing his back if it meant keeping you warm throughout the 1 and a half hours of the movie.

After the movie ended, you went to get supper before he sent you home. You agreed to let him walk you all the way to your door. Hence, the reason why you were now standing outside your apartment door. You unlocked the door but then turned around to face him.

“Thank you for today Sunwoo. It was a fun experience watching a movie outdoors for the first time under the starry night.” You said as he smiled.

“I’m glad you liked it…”

“I hope we can do something like this again soon.” At that being said, his ears perked up, staring at you in awe.

“A-Again? Does that mean…?” He paused, causing you to giggle.

“Yes. I’d love to go on a date with you again.”

Sunwoo couldn’t contain his excitement as he smiled from ear to ear, his adorable toothy grin made your heart skip a few beats. He elicited a soft giggle, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

Just then, you decided to take it upon yourself by pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek. Sunwoo was frozen in place as you smiled up to him endearingly before you bid him goodbye. You quickly entered your apartment to hide your flushed face when you could feel the embarrassment starting to creep up on you. You leaned against the door. Trying to steady your heartbeat.

After what felt like forever, you finally pushed yourself off the door and was about to walk deeper into your apartment when there was a knock.

You turned around to open it and you were greeted by Sunwoo again, seeming he finally came into senses.

Without any words exchanged, he took one quick step forward, reaching up to cup your face with one hand before he gently pressed his lips against yours. You melted almost immediately when you felt him smile into the kiss. Sunwoo could feel his heart get weaker, snaking one hand around your waist while pulling you closer to him.

Your hands rested on his chest as he pulled away with a soft sound, only for you to keep your gaze on his collarbone. Too shy to look at him in the eye.

Sunwoo gently took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. Tilting your head up, making you lock eyes with him.

“I’m pretty sure that just proves to you how I feel about you, but I still wanna tell you in words. I really, really like you. And I would love to take you out on more dates and be able to call you mine.”

With his cute confession, you couldn’t help but giggle. Wrapping your arms around his neck before you spoke up.

“I like you too Sunwoo. And yes, I would love to go on dates with you, and for you to call me yours.” With that being said, Sunwoo smiled in victory. Kissing you again sweetly.

The next day, you broke the news to your friends as you got happy cheers and excited screams in the group chat. Sunwoo never thought he would date anyone after being rejected multiple times but maybe he was fated to meet you and be the person who orders the same drink every time at the café you worked in. Maybe now he could finally live his love life with more cuddles and Strawberry Lattes.

#the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz scenarios #kim sunwoo #sunwoo fluff #tbz fluff #sunwoo scenarios #kim sunwoo scenario #the boyz #sunwoo imagines #tbz sunwoo

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laketaj24 · 3 years

Text

Single in Staten Island: Tattoos & Kisses

Author’s Note: This is a three-part series I am going to do on Pete!! I am going to use the prompts I got in the second part! I talked with a friend about him—he does truly deserve a good girl or someone who won’t fuck him over. Taglist is here! Reqs are open, but I’m slow, no lie.

Warnings: None, just language.- Smut in the following parts.

Pairings:Pete Davidson x Reader

Masterlist

“What’s your order?” The chipper attitude they were supposed to have had left the day you turned in your two-week notice. This coffee shop had been the bain of your assistance. Fuck this place. Fuck these people and fuck their fancy, overdone ass orders. You leaned on the counter, giving the man in front of you a stern look.

He looked around. Clearly, you didn’t have an attitude with him. He’d just walked in the fucking place. “Uhm—,” his eyes found the menu, but there was an aloofness in him that triggered you.

“You’ve been in line ten minutes, and you don’t know what you want?”

“Yep.” He nodded and shot a smile. “Ten whole minutes. Still a fuck up.” His finger tapped on the counter, and he looked up at the menu. Nothing here looked worth seven dollars, especially not a coffee. “What’s good here?”

“Look, I don’t know. ”You sighed. “I’m about to go lunch, and you’re the last order.” You flourished the lack of customers behind him.

“You from around here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Your attitude is pretty fucked up; I figured you lived up the block.” He took a pregnant pause and chuckled. “An Everything Bagel, jalapeño cream cheese, and a grande black coffee.”

“What’s the name?”

“Pete.”

“Spell that.”

“You can’t spell Pete?”

“You from around here?” You quipped.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I figured your name is probably spelled all fucked up and shit.”

He laughed, which was not what you expected; you just knew this was the gasoline added to a shitty fire. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Kinda weird.” He shrugged. “You wanna go somewhere better than this on your lunch break?”

“Unless you have a gram and a beer, no.”

“I have a gram and some black coffee if the barista doesnt quit before she puts my order in.”

You snickered. “That’ll do. Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but fucking Staten Island.”

The ferry. It hadn’t been in the plans, but you were happy you said yes to the lean stranger. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette in one hand a flask in the other. It wasn’t precisely beer, but you had no complaints. “You want a sip?”

“Sure,” You took the flask without hesitation and chugged down three gulps before passing it back to him. It was gin, dry grade A gin. “That’s the kind of shit you bring on a ferry?”

“I thought I grabbed my tequila, but I must’ve drunk it all.”

“Drunk at 2pm on a Tuesday?”

“I’m not drunk; I’m enjoying a drink. Judge much?”

You shrugged and turned, resting your back on the railing beside him, feeling the cool breeze run through your hair. “So why did you invite me out here?’

“You looked like you needed saving, and I’ve been there. Shitty job with shitty people.” He flicked his cigarette ashes into the water below him. “Plus, you cussed me out on the job, which means your kinda badass.”

“I like to think I am.” You admit and nod your head. “You ever get tired of doing the same old shit?”

“yep, that’s why I get tatted.”

Then you noticed the tattoos spackled across his body in random places, and they were once more in a random fashion. Yet, you liked them; they matched him, odd and somehow insanely attractive. “Pete, I want a tattoo. Take me to your guy.”

“What do you mean to take me to my guy? Does it look like I have a guy?” Pete laughs. “I’m like a god damn coloring book; let’s find the first shop and just do it. I pick yours… you pick mine. Stranger tats.”

“Why not?”

“Your boyfriend won’t appear and try to beat my ass?”

“Unless you’re imaginary, too, I think you’re good.”

‘Fucking Brickhouse like you, single in Staten Island?”

“Single in Staten island is not a rarity.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. It’s the only way to be.” He said with a bit of sarcasm.

The conversation was random the entire ferry trip; you made wisecracks and rebutted, flirting with you but keeping his distance. “Tell me three weird facts about yourself.” You twiddled with your fingers and looked up to meet his brown eyes. “I’m sure you have more than three, but spare me the rest.”

“I like to be alone.” Pete looked back. “But I love a good party, but when I go, I hang out alone and watch people. People are interesting as fuck.”

“I find them to be boring.”

“That’s because you’re not looking for the right things.” He pointed to the woman about fifty feet away from the two of you. The older lady sat tired, sunglasses covered her face while the gray hair blew wild in the wind. “See Gladys there; she’s about to go home to a man she’s been with for thirty-five years. The best dick she ever had.”

Your face radiated with heat as you suppressed a chuckle. “Has to be to stay with it thirty-five years.”

“You haven’t had someone dick you down that makes you want to stay thirty-five years?”

“Not even make me want to stay a week,” You answered.

“That’s fucked up.” Pete smiled.

“That’s life, Pete. Unfortunately, people don’t always get good dick like Gladys.”

“Yeah, lucky bitch.” His phone rang, and he shifted, digging in his light denim jeans to retrieve his iPhone and answer the call. “It’s Pete.”

You turned, giving him some privacy and taking it all in. You didn’t plan to return to work, fuck that place and everything it entailed. You started a new job in three days; you’d take these three days to not give a fuck. That feeling started today; it started with your new friend Pete and this tattoo. The call ended after a few minutes; he didn’t talk about much, just a conversation with a friend and plans he had for a party later tonight.

“The shop is about five blocks from where we get off. Have you decided what I’m getting?”

“I want to see the designs first; I want it to be memorable.”

“Make it your number.”

“Is that your coded way in asking for it?”

“Not coded, I swear.” Pete leaned closer to you. “I kinda think if we are gonna get stranger tattoos, we should have each other’s number.’

“We won’t be strangers then.”

“Call them something else then.”

“I’ll let you know if you can have this number later… I haven't got an invite to this party yet.”

“You're totally invited.” Pete tossed his hands up. “Give me three digits.”

“847.” You snickered.

“Good, I guess I can work for the next seven.”

The shop was grimy, with dark walls and low lights. The smell of weed and liquor hit your nose, and you felt at home for some reason. Your legs ached; the walking didn’t bother you usually but pairing it with walking didn’t do much good for you. You sat in the chair across from Pete. “Don’t make this a dumb tattoo.”

“You’re talking to the king of dumb shit.” He pointed to the small elephant; it wasn’t dumb, though. It had a feminine line design, and it was petite, adorable even. “I’m sparing you today. You’re getting this,” He smiled. “An elephant, not dumbo but a distant hot cousin.”

“I like it.”

“Good.” His smile was sincere. “I hoped you would. When is she up?” He asked the artist.

“I can get her now.” He answered as he started to sketch the elephant onto the transfer paper. “Hop up, sweet cheeks, and it’ll be about ten minutes.”

Pete extended his hand like a gentleman and led you to the red leather chair. ‘Ever had one before?”

“I have three.” You admitted.

“I see none.” He looked you over quizzically. “Not a one.”

“They are hidden….” You answered, choosing not to tell him they were down your chest and down your thigh.

“Secret tattoos. I like it. I can dig it.”

“Sure. Where is this party tonight?” You asked.

“Back in Staten Island.”

‘Can I trust you, Pete?”

“I hope so; I feel trustworthy?”

“You answered that like you didn't know the answer.” You shifted in the seat and pulled your shirt over your head. You revealed the tattoo of the moon phases going down your chest. “Just because you can't see something does not mean it isn’t there.”

“They're fucking awesome, like the person they are on.”

“You only think I’m awesome because you don��t know me.”

“I know enough.”

It was not like you to kiss a stranger because instead, you wanted to admit it or not, Pete was a stranger to you; you didn’t care. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, and he responded immediately, kissing you back eagerly. His lips were soft, full, and applying just the perfect amount of pressure to yours.

“You two want to fuck or get this tattoo.”

You exhaled, pulling away from him. “Can we do both?”

To be Continued.

@honestsycrets @pyschiccreationtaco @opalsandlacemain @battbeans @placeoffreedom @daddyavesxx @niamandthings @honeyel @locht3ssmonster @itslovengie

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #pete davidson x black!reader #laketa j writes

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the-tiniest-one · 3 years

Text

Parenting Rock Lee with Might Guy :)

Note:@xemaliahrssx here ya go! I hope it tastes just like you dreamed it would!

Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Guy and Lee devour the dinner you made, had you feeling nostalgic... You watched with your head rested on your hand. It was the little family moments that you appreciated more than anything else these days. "Yeah! and then I caught him in a cross block!" Lee said, describing their latest mission, his mouth full of food.

"Haha yes yes (y/n) you should have been there, our Rock Lee is becoming a real force to be reckoned with, much like his handsome sensei" Guy said with a wink in your direction.

"Handsome indeed" you said with a grin.

Thinking back to the days when you were a little more of a workaholic made you laugh. If you told your younger-self all those years ago that you would be Konoha's worst helicopter parent in just a few years, you'd have never believed it. Guy was a perfect match for you in that regard. You two were a well oiled machine when it came to parenting.

While Lee could do no wrong in your eyes, Guy was a bit heavy handed in his discipline of Lee's skills as a shinobi. You kissed every bruise and scrape, while Guy was teaching him how to prevent them in the first place.

Rock Lee has had more than his fair share of the short-end-of-the- shit-stick his entire life. BUT One could be forgiven for not recognizing the true level of hardship the boy has overcome in his short tenure as a shinobi. Lee is a true underdog.

Lucky for him, you've always been a bit of a sucker for an underdog.

You thought back to those early days......

Even before Lee evolved to a mini version of your childhood crush, you felt the need to protect him. Watching him fumble and practice jutsu in vain day after day.....early in the morning and into the night. You would watch him from a distance while training your own team. One early morning, you decided to check in on the boy with long black hair. He kicked at a post, counting off as you looked on...10....11.....12.....his kicks were weak even for his young age. As he got closer to 50 he fell back, overwhelmed by the pain of repetitively beating his shins into the wood without chakra to safeguard his bones.

Clearly angry at his situation, the thought occurred to you that maybe he wasn't using chakra because he couldn't....the boy had tears streaming from his eyes. It broke your heart to watch a kid who couldn't be more than 10, cursing his life.

"A kid working that hard shouldn't have to feel that defeated..." you said to yourself.

You felt conflicted. Torn between wanting to step in and takeover his training...but feeling the weight of responsibility that would come with encouraging a child to chase a pipedream that would only lead to disappointment. You knew all too well what happens to weak ninja. The reality was that it would be cruel to encourage the boy to peruse a life as dangerous as that of a shinobi. You were no slouch when it came to taijutsu but ninjas are able to compete with one another because of the advantages that come with developing kakai genki.

Could a boy with no use of chakra stand a chance against the generations of those families of ninja who use fearsome jutsu and tactics like lightning...wind....wood or even hereditary gifts like the dreaded sharingan or byakugen? The real answer was sad and harsh. No. He couldn't.

You wouldn't be so irresponsible as to tell the boy he could be anything but a failure.

If he perused that path, he would die young.

So you stood back, restraining the desire to comfort and nurture the little boy out of what you told yourself was mercy. Day after day, week after week....you watched on....until it became too much. You couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't function on missions the same way. Always thinking back to him still out at those training grounds.....always struggling.

....

One morning it was pouring rain. You called off training that day for your team and headed out to the place you knew he would be. He was there of course. He was doing his best to catch a cold while practicing hand signs to no avail. After watching him for a few minutes you finally asked, "What's your name kid?" speaking loud to project over the rain. Startled he looked up to where you stood, perched on a post a few feat away. "I...Im Rock Lee" he said timidly. You laughed at his shy but sweet face, "Im y/n" you said.

"Your kicks look like they could use some work", holding your palm about chest high, to show him where his blow should be landing. The boy grimaced...clearly angry with his lack of direction in training. You laughed and the both of you worked on his kicks for the duration of the morning.

"I think you'll be a splendid ninja someday" you said as you offered him a bit of lunch you packed. The boy looked up at you with the most heartbreaking fear in his eyes, "I can't use chakra" Lee said barley above a whisper, clearly ashamed to tell you the truth.

You ruffled his hair. "Look kid, life is shitty sometimes. But I can tell you are someone who will never quit. No matter the odds, and that is something worth more than all the talent in the world." He instantly smiled up at you, melting your heart for what would be the first of a million times. Laughing and showing you also first time you saw that shiny smile that you would come to love more that anything on earth.

From then on he was your responsibility. Your chest burned with pride in his concrete determination. Feeling instantly the protective burn and feral instinct to insulate him from anything that would hurt him.

....

It was about a year later when things evolved. You and Lee had become close. He, being an orphan as you found out he was, had taken your invitation to live in your spare bedroom. It wasn't long before you were nagging him to be sure and eat breakfast before class, take baths every night. You were often hearing your mothers voice echo in your own as you guided the child to a structure he lacked.

You even went to his parent meetings at the Academy, much to the surprise of Iruka (because he himself was 2 years older than you and had known you since you were smol) laughed when you asked to see Lee's reports.

----

Then one hot summer day you got the order... your team was dispatched on your first extended mission with your new genin. 3 months on a C rank mission to Suna. Your heart sank as you remembered Lee's graduation exam was in just a few days. Before you left, you kissed his forehead and promised a tearful Lee who had become just as attached as you over the last year, that would bring him back a graduation present.

You just knew he would finally pass.

....

Returning to the village near midnight you couldn't wait to see Lee. After giving report to Lord Third, you quickly made your way home. Quietly cracking the door to his bedroom, you peaked in to see his sweet little face. The snoring boy looked peaceful.

"He cut his hair?" you thought puzzled..."he must have done it himself, it looks a little odd." You laughed at the thought of him using a bowl to cut his hair.

Then your eyes traveled to the headband still around his forehead, "He passed!!!" you quietly celebrated, careful not to wake him up. You placed the promised gift on his dresser, a brand-new set of num-chuks you'd had made in Suna.

The next morning you were up before sunrise making a celebratory breakfast when an extreme round of knocking came from the apartment's front door.

You quickly answered, immediately flustered when on the other side was none other than Might Guy....the same Guy you'd had the hots for over a decade.

"Y/N!, I must have the wrong address! I was looking for one of my students!" Guy said in his familiar boisterous cadence. Laughing nervously you started to respond, when behind you Lee pushed his way through the doorframe. Your eyes widened at the sight.

The haircut made sense now, Lee stood side by side with his sensei. He was wearing Guy's jumpsuit... they could have been father and son.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side in front of you for the first time gave you the most jarring sense of dejavu.

"Guy sensei! Look what Y/N brought me from her most dangerous mission!" Lee brandished the weapon, beaming up at his teacher who laughed and winked in your direction. "Ah, a great choice! Only the most skilled ninja know how to use such a fine weapon! We must enlighten you at once Lee my boy!" With that the handsome jonin and your sweet Rock Lee were off to train.

You had known Guy since he was still struggling to gain entrance to the Academy, you knew that the man who radiated confidence today, only earned that ability through blood, sweat, and tears.

You apprehensively accepted that Might Guy was a good match to be Lee's sensei.

"Be careful!" you called, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of your sweet baby boy training with such an admittedly impulsive man. Feeling a small tug of sadness as you watched the two of them disappear down the street.

"Lee's getting tall..." you though as you closed the door.

....

Over the next few years Lee had grown into a strong young man. You felt such extreme pride in everything he did. Even though you being in your mid-twenties were not nearly old enough to be Lee's mother, he had taken to occasionally calling you mom.

Lee was never embarrassed of you as he grew into a teen like some of the other kids his age. He was always just as willing to give you a hug before a mission as the day you met him.

It would be a lie to say that the relationship you and Guy shared hadn't also matured along the way. Although you weren't Lee's biological parents, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you were. Everything you had admired about Guy, his hot-bloodedness, his devotion to youthful perseverance, his love of his village had been passed down to your surrogate son.

It was only natural that you and Guy would become a team in raising Rock Lee. Over time after a few years of dinners, training sessions, birthdays, holidays etc...Guy decided to propose to you.

It was a literal dream come true. You couldn't say yes fast enough. But as required when two shinobi become married, when you went to sign the paperwork to make your marriage official, requesting a stamp of approval from Lady Tsunade....she extended to you a folder with a second set of forms.

Guy beamed as you read the contents. Adoption papers with Lee's name printed at the top in bold.

"He will always be our son. Since we are making it official... why not add one more?" Guy said with a laugh. The tears began welling in your eyes. "He's 17" you laughed, "I love you" is all you could think to say in response to the most kind gesture you have ever witnessed.

Guy held his trademark thumbs up high as he replied, "Lee will always need his mom, no matter how big he gets!" His words like music to your heart...

You'd never felt so complete as you walked hand in hand with Guy, on your way home to surprise your sweet son with the news.

Upon telling Lee what the two of you had done, he looked from the papers back to you. Confusion spread across the sweet ravenette's features. "But I do not understand" Lee said with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you not always been my mom?"

The innocent look in his eye and profound sincerity in his voice made tears well in your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. You laughed and swept he and Guy into a hug that didn't last long enough. "What's for dinner?" the two men asked in unison and in that moment you knew you were the luckiest person in the world.

#rock lee #might guy x you #might guy relationship #naruto imagines #naruto #naruto fanfiction #might gai imagine #might guy fanfiction #rock lee fanfiction #parenting with maito #rock lee's mom #maito guy #rock lee imagines #rock lee x y/n #team gai

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makoodlesarchive · 3 years

Text

when i was young i fell into a river

pairing: kirishima x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: none, really! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff i guess?

notes: hello, it's me, back again with some writing! it's been a long time and i'm very sorry about that, but i've finally gotten around to writing and posting my spirited away au! i'm v stressed with college so this turned out more vent-y than i had originally intended, but hopefully it's enjoyable anyway! thank you all for being so patient with me, i am endlessly grateful for you

The dream is the same as always, comforting in its familiarity.

A salt-scented breeze cools your sweat-soaked brow as you pause behind one of the sliding screen doors, the rice paper windows doing nothing to block out the chatter of the other workers. The bubbling noise of the bathhouse is constant, and the quiet little moments you steal away for yourself in the middle of the working day is the only solitude you’ve gotten since you came here. The work is physically back-breaking, but you know that you’re working towards a goal. It’s just a shame that you can’t remember exactly what that goal is.

One of the other girls calls your name, and you sigh as your unofficial break comes to an end. You slip back into the room, ignoring the way the frog spirits snicker and hold their noses as you pass. They like to complain a lot about your human stench, but it doesn’t stop them from threatening to eat you every time you make a mistake. Fear, you’ve found, is an uncomfortably successful motivator.

The days bleed into one another, full of scrubbing dark wooden floors and the rich earthy scents of the herbal mixes they use in the baths. The spirits that frequent the bathhouse, that once inspired so much awe and fear in your heart, become so commonplace that you hardly spare them a glance anymore. From the cackling masked spirits that always travel in threes to the grinning cat spirits to the sombre, unspeaking river spirits, you only go as far as to offer them a polite bow before scurrying out of their way. They never spare you any attention, anyway -- most of the time, the spirits’ eyes seem to look right through you.

All but one, that is.

He looks to be a boy around your age, but appearances can be deceiving around here. His red eyes are often dull and blank, but even so they have a certain ageless quality about them that no human twelve-year-old could ever possess. His scarlet hair sticks up in gravity-defying spikes, and his skin is as smooth and clear as running water. His face is often stuck in a carefully cultivated blank expression; the only thing about him that doesn’t seem intimidatingly otherworldly are the deep purple shadows under his eyes.

He helped you once, when you first came here. The rare act of kindness had stuck in your head, made even more remarkable in the face of the following weeks and months of harsh work and cruel co-workers. You wonder if he remembers; he doesn’t often look at you, but sometimes when he does you swear you can see a flicker of something in his eyes.

Two of the girls start yelling at each other, arguing heatedly over the way the work is being divided. A foreman appears to break up the fight, but then they both start shouting at him instead. You take the moment of distraction to relax, wincing at the pull of your tired muscles in the back of your neck. All the other girls working at the bath house are older and bigger than you, which means you need to work twice as hard to keep up with them and prove that you’re worth keeping around.

In the brief moment of rest, your eyes are drawn slowly to the corridor, where guests and workers alike bustle past as they travel to the treatment rooms and bathtubs deeper into the bathhouse. As if you’ve conjured him just by thinking about him, the boy stands in the doorway.

You straighten up on instinct, suddenly self-conscious of your sweat-soaked body and dishevelled uniform. He’s not even looking your way, preoccupied with the two girls who are still yelling at the frog foreman. Slowly though, his eyes began to travel the room, and you take a deep breath and hold it as his dull ruby gaze lands on you like a physical weight. You crack a nervous smile, feeling the muscles in your cheeks that have gone unused for weeks ache at the strain, and raise a hand to give him a tiny wave.

For just a moment, that blankness in his face seems to quiver and fall away. He smiles back.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily and coated in a light sheen of sweat. You’ve had the same dream, or some variation of it, regularly ever since you were twelve years old and while it’s become familiar to you, you still find yourself feeling vaguely panicked when you wake up after it, as though you’ve forgotten something very important.

Once your heartbeat has calmed down a little, you pull yourself out of bed and trudge into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. The weak, milky light of dawn filters in through the windows, lighting your apartment up just enough so that you don’t have to turn on a light to make your way around. You take your tea out to the balcony and sit, gazing out at the purplish early morning sky.

Most of the time when you wake up from those dreams you feel blessedly lucky to be living alone with no one to question or bother you, but sometimes you can’t help but be overcome by overwhelming loneliness. The dreams are silly and most of the time they don’t even make any sense, but in the aftermath of them you’re always left with a vague sense of unfulfillment, though you can’t put your finger exactly on what it is you’re missing. You always end up exactly like this; sitting outside on your balcony in the early morning light, drinking tea alone and desperately wishing for something more.

You sigh, and go back inside.

The dream is the same, but different.

The garden is in full bloom, greenery overlaid with bursts of beautiful bright colours. Camellias, rhododendrons, and oleanders wave and shiver gently in the warm breeze, and apple blossoms hang heavily from a nearby tree. The flowering garden is enormous and maze-like, and you have yet to see it in any state other than fully flourishing.

It’s a beautiful place, especially after the hot, cramped working quarters of the bathhouse. You inhale the sweetly fragranced air and feel the knot of tension in your spine unfurl; it feels like the first time that you’ve been able to breathe all week, but that’s not the only reason that you’ve found yourself outside.

At the bottom of the garden, the grass drops off into a sheer drop. The cliff face overlooks a seemingly endless ocean, and you perch a safe distance from the drop before leaning back in the grass. The sky is an almost surreally deep blue and you watch as enormous fluffy clouds float by, looking as though they’ve been painted on a jewel-blue canvas.

It’s not the first time you’ve had this dream, and you know what you’ll see if you keep patiently watching.

It doesn’t take long — it never does. You time your lunch breaks precisely, all so you get to see this sight.

The clear blue sky makes it so much easier to spot the shiny white scales, flashing jewel-bright in the sunlight. The dragon writhes in the sky, streaking through the air like a great serpent caught in the wind. Even from this distance, you can see the knife-like teeth, the great sharp claws that gleam like pyrite, and the twisting horns that erupt from his head like daggers made from calcified bone. He looks deadly, a living weapon that swims through the air like a salmon in open water, but the sight of him makes something settle in your stomach.

You wonder what it would feel like to fall through the air with nothing but the wind to break your fall. You imagine it must feel like freedom.

The dragon flutters through the air, buoyed by the gentle sea breeze. If you didn’t know better, you might almost think that he was showing off — his movements are hypnotic, dreamlike, more like a dance than anything. His scales glow pearlescent in the midday sun, otherworldly and earthly all at once.

You could happily stay and watch him skim through the sky forever, but already the bell is being rung to call all workers back into the bathhouse. You heave a sigh so deep it feels as though your chest is about to crack with the force of it, before hauling yourself to your feet.

Your break is over, and now it’s back to work.

Sometimes you find it difficult to tell when you’re dreaming and when you’re awake. It feels as though everything is always happening all at once, in the present tense, forever. You don’t get to rest when you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, because the dreams just keep coming and coming. Sometimes you don’t feel like your life is real when you’re awake.

Riding on the train has always been therapeutic, especially at this time of the early morning. The sun rising lazily over the horizon sends milky threads of purple and pink across the cloudy sky, and you cradle your chin in your hand as you gaze out across the moving landscape. You love these little trips, feeling more at home in the creaky, overfull train carriage than you do in your own bedroom sometimes, though you can’t quite work out where that particular feeling comes from.

You know sometimes that stories end with “And then I woke up — it was only a dream”, but in your experience the story simply doesn’t end. You cannot fully wake up without the tail-ends of your dreams clinging to you for the rest of the day, and you never fully sleep. You just dream, dream, dream.

Sighing, you lean your head back against the seat that you’re slumped in. The train carriage is too full, and you were lucky to get a seat in the first place — from your vantage point, you watch as people sway in tandem with the motion of the train. It’s almost hypnotic, how they undulate back and forth with every turn, brushing against each other only to be pulled apart again by the lurching train.

Through the sea of bodies, you catch a man’s eye. It breaks the monotony of the morning commute and your own spiralling thoughts, and your spine straightens unconsciously. He quirks an eyebrow briefly, slightly, in such a way that no one would be able to safely accuse him of having done it.

You look away, startled for no good reason. Do you know him? He feels familiar in a way that you can’t quite put your finger on. The train rattles on, and it takes several long minutes before you work up the nerve to glance the man’s way again. He’s still watching you, but you’re ready for it this time. His attention isn’t such a shock, and you allow your eyes to wander over his face properly.

You must know him, you think. Your eyes track over his features as though they’re winding over a well-worn path, admiring the curve of his nose and the fullness of his lips and the arch of his eyebrows over his intense, watchful eyes.

He smiles at you, and it feels as though you’re sharing a secret from across the crowded train carriage. You smile back — it’s just a small tug of the corners of your mouth, but it’s the most you’ve smiled in months. Longer, maybe.

In the middle of the carriage a woman laughs at something her friend has said and sways backward, blocking your view of the stranger. It feels like a loss.

The train trundles onwards, and the carriage gradually empties out. You watch people step off the train with friends, with their heads ducked low, lost in thought, arguing over the phone, distracted with their book bags. By the time it comes to your stop, the man is gone.

You try not to feel disappointed as you step off the train — it’s silly, after all. You don’t know the man, and whatever you thought you felt as you looked at each other was surely all in your own head. Your head has been awfully full, recently.

As you step off the train you grapple with your bag, side-stepping a businessman who is busy shouting down the phone at some unfortunate coworker. You’re distracted, which is the only reasonable explanation for how long it takes you to realise that the man from the train is standing in front of you.

“Oh.” You blurt, startled. You had already begun to resign yourself to never seeing him again, so you can’t help but feel distinctly caught off guard at the sight of him standing before you. “Hi.”

“Hello.” The man says. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you have no idea what he’s waiting for — as it is, you get completely distracted by his eyes. You hadn’t noticed on the train, but now that he’s up close you see that they’re a truly unusual deep burgundy. He tilts his head when you remain silent, and bites his lip. Now that you’re really looking, you notice how sharp his teeth are. “You’ve barely changed at all.”

You blink at him. “Er…” You trail off nervously. You don’t recognise him, but you feel like you know him. Clearly, he thinks that he knows you.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? Meeting again on a train?” He smiles, and it’s an impossibly knowing expression. You don’t think you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a look that intimate in your life, though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Someone collides hard with your shoulder and you stagger for balance. You only look away from the man for a mere second, but it’s enough; when you look again, he’s gone.

You take to walking. There’s a wooded area behind the town, and you enjoy traipsing idly through the trees. Ancient roots erupt out of the dirt and fan over the ground like hairs, and the moss that covers the trunks of the trees is such a deep green that it almost seems like paint pigment. It’s soothing, being surrounded by nature like this. It reminds you of childhood — the simplicity of being able to jump over tree roots under a canopy of pale green leaves, of being able to leave all your thoughts and stress at the boundary of the forest.

It’s where you come after waking sweat-soaked and disoriented from a dream that clings to you like a burr, where you walk among the ferns and the needle-leaved weeds until you manage to shake the last vestiges of memory from your mind. You need it, especially in the mornings where you wake up with the acrid scent of herbal cleanser stinging in your nose or the bite of hard calluses on your palms from non-existent rough cloths. On mornings like that, you walk and walk until you no longer feel as though you’re more alive in your dreams than you are in reality.

Deep in the forest is a great red facade, painted a flaking, faded red. You wander by it frequently, admiring the overgrown greenery that crawls up the walls like reaching fingers, the mossy stone guardian that stands sentinel amongst the cracked flagstones that lead into the tunnelled entrance. You’ve asked around in the town, curious about what exactly this building was for, but most of the locals either don’t know what building you’re talking about or admit that they’re not sure. One man told you that the facade was built for a theme park in the 90s that had ended up going bust in the recession, and that the building only looked old.

You remain unconvinced on that front. The building has the kind of presence that only very old things have; it feels like it’s watching you.

For the most part, your walks in the forest are peaceful. Recently though, you’ve found yourself plagued by an insistent, irritating sense of deja vu. You don’t know where it’s coming from, and it hits you at the strangest of times — when you’re making tea, or in the bath, or cleaning your apartment, or on the train, or admiring the sky on a cloudless day.

The man from the train is the boy in your dreams. It takes you weeks to come to that realisation. You just wake up in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday, with wide eyes and clammy skin and his name slipping from the forefront of your mind.

It shouldn’t be possible, but once it dawns on you, you’re certain of it.

Even stranger is that once you realise it, it feels as though you see him everywhere. You see flashes of red hair when you’re walking down the street, when you’re grocery shopping, when you’re walking home late at night. It’s only ever the barest glance out of the corner of your eye, just overt enough for you to know it’s him, but subtle enough for you to question yourself immediately after.

One night, you travel to a local city to meet some old school friends. At night, the city seems to pulse. The music from seedy clubs spills out into the neon-lit streets, muffled shouted arguments echoes from alleyways and apartments alike, and the streets are peppered with people either scurrying or stumbling home, with very little variation. Though the perpetually overcast sky hides any trace of the moon or stars, the streetlamps reflect in the ever-present stagnant puddles littering the street, lighting them up in varying shades of sickly yellow.

At night, the city seems alive. Chronically ill and struggling to breathe, maybe, but clinging to life all the same.

The way the neon lights flicker in the gloomy darkness, just barely illuminating the shadows of people hurrying through the streets to get in out of the rain, reminds you of something you can’t quite remember. It sits in the back of your mind like a sour taste, but no matter how much you reach for the memory it remains just out of reach.

You spend most of the night staring out of the steamed up window of the pub, entranced by the sight of the night streets and frustrated by the memories that seem to dangle just out of reach. You know that it doesn’t make for good company, and you feel guilty for that. Your friends don’t seem overly surprised at your detachment. You’ve been drifting away for years, and though tonight was supposed to be all about reconnecting it seems clear that it’s not going to work.

When you eventually stand up to leave, with forced smiles and awkward goodbyes, you can’t help but feel melancholy settle over you like a second skin. As you slip out of the pub and onto the dark streets, the thought crosses your mind that you’re not used to being alone like this. It’s a silly thought, really; you’ve been alone for years. But sometimes, in those liminal moments between waking and sleeping, you swear you can hear the gentle drowsy breaths of dozens of people sleeping all around you, as though you’re surrounded on all sides. On those nights you wake up hot and claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but never feeling lonely.

It is probably your own fault, you reflect as you drift down the sidewalk like a ghost. It’s difficult to make an effort to know people when you feel as though you don’t know yourself. You don’t know how to bridge the distance between yourself and other people. You think sometimes that you’re missing chunks of yourself.

You pass an open shopfront that’s serving street food, and glance briefly in at the kitchen. The cook is illuminated only dimly in the smoky room, standing out as a shadow figure more than anything, and for a split second you could swear that he has six arms. You look away quickly and carry on walking — you don’t want to look again only to be proven wrong. You want to preserve that little second of magic strangeness for as long as you can.

The puddles on the street seem like they’re glowing with the light reflected from the neon streetlamps, and you weave your way carefully around them to avoid getting your feet wet. The night has a strange quality about it, almost as though it’s holding its breath.

Considering the combination of your pensive mood and the expectant air of the evening, you don’t feel surprised at all when you look up from the wet cobblestones to find the man standing only a few feet ahead of you.

He smiles like he’s nervous, his gaze tracking carefully over your face. In his hands, he’s holding flowers. Camellias, you think. It’s the first time since you first saw him on the train that hasn’t been a fleeting glance out of the corner of your eye— he’s here in front of you and he’s real and solid and sturdy. He seems more substantial than the streets around you, than your friends back at the pub had been.

“Do you remember me?” He asks, voice soft as though he’s afraid of the answer.

“Remember you?” You croak. It feels as though the words are catching inside your throat. “No. But I’ve seen you every night in my dreams for years.”

If that’s the answer he’s expecting, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking at you, your face, your body. You wonder exactly it is that he’s seeing. “These are for you.” He says eventually, holding out the flowers. “I didn’t- I wanted to bring you something, when I saw you again. And I know that you always liked the garden.”

He’s talking as if the places that you’ve dreamed about are real. It doesn’t come as the earth-shattering surprise you might have expected — rather, it feels like a key turning in an old lock. A click, and then a sense of yes, that’s right.

You take the flowers, and clutch them to your chest. They’re a fleshy pink, with a vibrant yellow centre. The petals are as soft as velvet. Holding them feels like holding a safety blanket. “Thank you.” It’s the only thing that you can manage to say right now. Your thoughts are too full, and nothing else makes it out of your mouth.

It’s rather startling, the feelings that bubble up in your chest. It feels like something has just been unlocked, as though you had stored away all this emotion somewhere deep in your ribcage and then forgotten about it only for it to resurface at this precise moment, for this precise person.

“Eijirou.” You croak. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

His whole face brightens, and his eyes sparkle. “Yes. That’s me. You do remember!”

They’re not quite memories, you don’t think. They come in dreamlike flashes — the garden, an ocean, train tracks, the feral snarling of a dragon with sharp teeth, hard work and hot food, friends.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Kirishima is saying, his face open and earnest. “But I told you that I’d come and find you again, remember?”

You do remember, sort of. A flash of a warm hand holding yours, pushing you forward over a boundary between one world and another, and a goodbye whispered behind you that sounds like a promise.

“You saved me.”

Kirishima laughs, though his eyes look a little shiny. “It was the other way around, actually. I would have stayed trapped in that bathhouse forever, if it weren’t for you.”

“The bathhouse.” You murmur, wide-eyed. It was real, real, real.

“Things are different now.” He edges closer to you. He’s large and imposing and taller than you, but he’s hunched slightly in an attempt to make himself unthreatening. “That’s why it took so long for me to come for you. Things were changing. Me and Katsuki run the bathhouse now.”

Katsuki. In your mind's eye you see a boy with wild blond hair and a dangerous look in his eyes, a boy who gives you extra rice when he can manage and takes over parts of your chores when you get so tired that you’re fit to pass out.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait.” He says quietly, and the tide of emotion that you had just barely been holding at bay comes crashing over you. Before the first tear has welled over the edge of your eyelids, Kirishima has stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. The flowers are crushed between your chests as you cry.

“I didn’t even know what I was waiting for.” You cry into his silk suikan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m not going to leave again.”

You don’t release your grip on him. You’re not willing to take the chance.

After a moment, Kirishima speaks again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” You echo, finally pulling away. “Go where?”

“Home.” He says, and he means the bathhouse. He means the spirit world.

“You want me to work for you?”

“I want you to help us run it.” He corrects. The distinction is important for both of you — though the memories are distant, you both know what it feels like to have your names and voices erased so cleanly that it makes you wonder if you ever existed fully at all.

“I don’t know anything about running a bathhouse. Especially not one for spirits.” You say, but Kirishima just laughs.

“You were always a hard worker. You’ll learn as you go. That’s what we’ve all been doing.”

You want to say yes. The word beats in your head like a drum, and you can’t think of a good reason to say no. The bathhouse. Home. The chance to feel real and awake at the same time.

“Okay.” You say on a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. “Stay with me, this time.”

When Kirishima’s face lights up in a smile, it’s the first time that you think you can accurately describe someone as incandescently happy. “Good luck getting rid of me again.”

You laugh, feeling nearly delirious with relief and joy. It’s real. He’s real. He’s come back for you, and now you’re going back with him. You think you should probably feel nervous or hesitant, but this brief encounter has felt more solid and right than the rest of the night spent with distant school-friends made uncomfortable by your silences.

“So, how do we get there?” You ask, but Kirishima just grins at you like you should already know the answer.

The train station is tucked away down an alley just off a busy main shopping district.

“It’s easy to miss if you don’t know exactly where you're going.” Kirishima tells you with a sharp smile, and it’s easy to believe. The red brick building that housed the train station is unmarked, and the trains couldn’t be seen from the main street. The alley itself is home to many curious sights -- paper lanterns bob overhead (though they don’t seem to be suspended by anything in particular), a yellowed flyer from the 1950s advertising Marlboro cigarettes drifts along on what seems to be a breeze despite the noticeable lack of wind, and three magpies sit on a wall wearing little golden timepieces on chains around their necks and caw in time with the ticking.

“Ready to go home?” Kirishima asks quietly. In his hand, two train tickets flutter in a non-existent breeze.

A family of mice scamper past your feet, pulling a miniature suitcase between them. A tall, thin woman wearing a blank white mask assists them onto the train.

You laugh at the whimsy of it all — it feels as though you’ve stepped into a fairytale, into a dream, into your childhood. “Yes,” You grin, “I’m ready.”

Kirishima beams back at you, and holds out a hand to help you onto the train. Finding a seat was easy — despite all the passengers you had seen boarding, the carriage was oddly empty. As soon as you’re seated, you sigh. It feels as though you’re sinking into an old overstuffed armchair, comfortable and familiar. When the whistle blows and the train starts moving, you turn eagerly to watch as the train begins to pick up speed. Within moments, you find that you can barely recognise the landscape blurring past the window — It seems that you’re zooming passed a beautiful sea-view, despite the fact that the city the train station was located in was conspicuously land-locked. You sigh happily and lean against your seat.

You still don’t remember everything about your experience in the spirit world all those years ago, but you think you remember hearing someone telling you “Once you meet someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return."

You make eye contact with Eijirou, who smiles back at you so fondly that it nearly hurts to look at. He’s changed so much from the boy in your dreams, in your memories. His eyes are no longer glassy and distant — now they’re shiny and expressive and so bright. His hair is longer too; still spiked and wild, but longer and curling softly over the curve of his neck and shoulders. He’s the boy your remember from all those years ago, but he’s also a man now. Grown, like you have, but smiling at you gently just like you’re ten years old again.

Through the window behind his head, the sunrise begins to bathe the water in delicate pinks and yellows. You’ll wait for as long as you need to for the memories to return, but even if they don’t that’s alright. You can just make new ones.

#this is so cheesy lol but whatever i've been staring at this doc for too long and i want it out of my sight #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #kirishima eijirou #ghibli au #kirishima eijiro fluff #kirishima x y/n #mha x reader

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satendou · 4 years

Text

⟼ full circle

previous: roundabout | 2/2

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: osamu/reader

⇢ au: aged up!au

⇢ summary: learning to trust again is a hard thing to do, if it’s even worth it

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: angst, insecurity, smut, unprotected sex

⇢ word count: 8652

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: is this an unrealistic representation of making up? probably. is it how every man should act? yes. anyway i love osamu i hope you guys like this.

The next day, you wake up with a minor headache and surrounded by a confusingly familiar smell. It all slams back into place in a rush and your eyes pop open to find Osamu beside you, his arms wound so tight around you that you have no hope of escaping without waking him up, so you still. You spend an untold number of minutes just staring at him, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks, eyelids twitching as he dreams. There are dark circles under his eyes and his lips are turned down in a frown. The longer you stare the more anxious you become, specific memories and revelations swirling around you confused mind.

Osamu showing up, admitting that Kana was cheating, admitting that he still loved you-- the last one hurt the most and was the most dangerous. You had told yourself everyday since he left that he hadn’t loved you, because it had been easier than the alternative. Believing that he loved you but had loved her more was somehow worse, and suddenly you couldn’t stand laying there.

Pushing at his chest, you watched his eyelids flutter open, soft brown hazy with sleep. He blinked a few times, brows furrowing before he looked at you and panic overtook everything. It mixed with hurt, fear, and more confusion, and he let you pull away to sit up.

The two of you sat there in a tense silence for a few minutes, neither of you wanting or knowing how to broach the subject of how you ended up in this situation. You stared down at your lap, chewing on your lip as you picked at your nails while Osamu gazed up at the ceiling, his arm resting across his forehead.

The moment stretched to a breaking point, a taut line of things that needed to be said, and you took a deep breath.

“What’re you gonna do?” you asked, and felt him tense beside you.

He sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand as he said, “I guess I’m gonna go get my stuff from Kana’s. I need ta talk to ‘Tsumu about stayin’ with him fer a while.”

At the mention of going to her place, you froze, a myriad of thoughts bouncing around inside your head. “Alone?”

He knew what you were asking, could hear the unspoken question in your words. What if you see her and change your mind?

“I’ll get ‘Tsumu and Bokuto ta help me. Can’t move all my stuff alone anyway,” he said, reaching out to you. His fingertips came to rest on yours, a gesture of comfort and a promise.

I’m coming back.

Well, it didn’t matter what he said. He would either keep his word or he wouldn’t, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You pulled away.

His face flashed with hurt and he rolled over, picking up his phone.

“You said Kana was cheating on you,” you said, and watched his eyes widen when the screen lit up. Against your better judgement, you leaned over to see.

He didn’t even try to hide it, and your heart skipped a beat at the number of missed calls, voice mails, and text messages from Kana. The texts didn’t seem to surprise him, starting off with apologies and pleas for him to come back, slowly devolving over time into threats and curses. One in particular caught your attention and you looked away, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you mulled it over.

‘i know you’re with her. i knew you would run back to that bitch just as soon as things got tough. i saw you were texting her too, don’t think i’m stupid samu. but that’s okay, you’ll come back to me just like you did last time.’

That was the last message she sent at around 4am, a few hours after Osamu showed up at your door.

Your fists curled into the blanket and you stared blankly at the door, a whole new flood of insecurity sweeping through you. She was probably right, you were just a backup, just like before. He would never love you the way--

“Hey, _____, don’t,” he whispered, his hands cupping your face and tilting your head up to look at him. “I told ya I’d prove it, and I will. Just give me a chance.”

What choice did you have, really? It had always been Osamu, and it always would be. He said jump and you asked how high.

He left soon after that, promising to call-- if you wanted-- once he was done getting his things. You nodded, watching him walk out the door with an impending sense of unease and a pounding heart, wondering if you could learn to trust him again. Following the soft click of the door closing, you whipped out your phone and dialed Hana, who sounded none too pleased to be woken up at such an ungodly hour on the weekend.

At least until you told her why you were calling.

When Osamu called later, you could hear Atsumu and Bokuto whooping in the background and he sighed around his laughter at them. There was a shuffling noise over the line and what sounded like a door closing, then his soft voice was back, crackling as he said, “I know we got a lot ta talk about, so do ya wanna meet up for lunch? ‘Tsumu wanted to go over to Kana’s to rub it in ‘er face that I’m leavin’ ‘er so I’m--”

“Hungry, I know,” you said, laughing softly. “Aren’t you always?”

There was a beat of silence, then he laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, guess I am. So, food?”

That was how you found yourself sitting across from him in a hole-in-the-wall diner ten minutes from your apartment. The air was still thick between you and you kept stealing glances at him over the menu. He was still staring at the menu even though you knew he already knew what he wanted.

The waitress came over to take your orders, and then there was nothing left to use as an excuse. But still, neither of you said anything, staring out into the rest of the diner or down at your fingers or up at the posters above your head-- anywhere but at each other.

“I blocked Kana,” Osamu said, startling you from reading the back of the “house brand hot sauce” bottle in the basket. He would have laughed if his heart wasn’t in his throat.

The way you looked at him made him nervous because he couldn’t tell what you were thinking. Contrary to what you probably believed, he did know you and, if he did say so himself, rather well at that.

Thanking the waitress when she set another glass of soda down beside you, you turned back to him. “How did it go, getting your stuff?”

He shrugged, swirling his straw around in his drink. The ice clinked against the glass, knocking beads of water loose to roll down the side, and you watched it pool at the base. “She wasn’t happy, I promise ya that. Screamin’ ‘n hollerin’. The neighbors were probably ready ta call the cops by the time we got outta there,” he said, lips curling in amusement. It was an empty gesture, devoid of mirth, and you responded with a frown.

“How-- I mean, you said you knew Kana was cheating on you at-- at Bo’s party, right? How did you know?” you asked, stumbling over the reminder of his garbled, drunk texts from that night. If the flush on his cheeks was anything to go by, he hadn’t forgotten that either.

“Ah, yah, sorry ‘bout that. Dunno why I-- anyway, she was probably foolin’ around with him still even when we got back together.” Quieter, he whispered, “I was so stupid.”

It was hard for him to be so candid about the whole thing with you. It had to be hurting you and he would much rather spare you the sordid details, but he knew that open honesty was the only thing that was going to win you back-- if it didn’t push you away first. So he would answer your questions and watch your face twist in disgust and pain, just hoping it wouldn’t be the final straw each time.

“How long? How long were you seeing her before--” You hesitated, pretending to examine an imperfection in the laminate table top. “Well, you know.”

His stomach twisted into knots as he hid his face in his hands. It hadn’t been long, but what did that matter when it happened in the first place?

“Not-- Not long. Uh, about a month,” he said, muffled by his hands.

A month. It was like a sock to the gut. Only a month and--

“A year. We’d been together for a year, had moved in together not two months prior and you-- and you-- a month. Wow,” you whispered, raking your fingers through your hair. You didn’t even wince as you snatched the tangles out of it. The room was spinning as fast as your thoughts and tears burned at the corners of your eyes as you stood up suddenly, knocking the table closer to Osamu, who looked up at you in confusion. “I need air. I can’t do this.”

With those words you were gone, and the waitress approached the table a moment later, confusion etched on her face as she asked if he needed a box for your food.

He nodded, resting his head in his hands to stare down at the dull tabletop. He deserved that, he knew he did, and he didn’t have a right to be hurt by your reaction. It was warranted, it was valid, and he hated himself for it.

He texted you an apology later on, which you were kind enough to at least respond to, and he left it at that. He knew pushing you too far would do no good, would only push you further from him. He still checked his phone every few minutes anyway, so much so that Atsumu snatched it from his hand and sat on it.

“Stop yer mopin’, ‘Samu. She ain’t got nothin’ ta say to ya, so get over it,” he said, giving his twin a pointed look. He had told Osamu more than once what an idiot he was over this whole thing, and he would continue to say so until he died. You were a hundred times better than Kana had ever been, had even tried to flirt with you at one point, but he had been erased from the equation as soon as Osamu had entered the picture.

He was a bit of a blindspot where you were concerned and Atsumu knew that you would forgive Osamu eventually-- provided he kept his head out of his ass for more than ten minutes. He wasn’t about to tell his brother that though. He needed to suffer a little for hurting you.

Softening at the forlorn look on his face, Atsumu sighed. Quieter, he said, “Look, just give ‘er some space. Can’t believe I have to give you relationship advice, but that’s what happens when ya do stupid shit. Remind me why ya ever thought Kana would be better’n _____ again?”

A pillow thumped him upside the head, knocking him over and the phone he was sitting on was snatched back. When he sat back up, Osamu was typing at light speed on his phone, the swoopy noise of a text sending out playing through the speakers, and then the phone was shoved in his face.

“Don’t ya know what dark mode is, ya pleb?” he grumbled, squinting at the brightness. Then he smiled and nodded, clapping Osamu on the shoulder.

‘i’ll give ya space, if that’s what ya need. i’m here when you’re ready to talk.’

A few minutes after they had returned to playing Madden, Osamu’s phone lit up again, his lips quirking up in a sad smile at what he read.

Atsumu leaned over to read the text and mirrored him, sympathetic brown eyes meeting with twin ones filled with pain, nodding. “It’s the best ya could hope for.”

‘Thank you, samu. I’ll talk to you later.’

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Miyu asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. You were standing across from her, swirling a wine glass in your hand, staring at the rich red liquid. Your eyes were puffy from a bout of crying, which had started shortly after you left the diner. All but running, you had headed towards her apartment without hesitation and pounded on her door until she opened it, looking more than a little alarmed.

When you had spilled about everything that had happened over the last two days, she sat down on her couch and called him too many names for you to remember before leveling a glare at you.

“You’re gonna forgive him, aren’t you?” she asked, sighing when you looked away.

Falling to the couch beside her, you wiped your eyes clear of the residual tears as you stared up at the ceiling. “I really don’t know. I want to, but I’m scared. A part of me knows I shouldn’t but--”

“Yeah, yeah, but you love him. Typical romance movie garbage, I get it.” She sighed and mimicked your position. “What if he does it again?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stifle the prickle of tears again and shrugged. “That’s like, the whole problem, isn’t it? Is it possible to trust someone again after they cheat?”

“Dunno. Never been cheated on before. Or...if I have they hid it better. Yikes.”

You laughed at that and closed your eyes, a smile remaining on your face as you thought-- about Osamu, about Kana, about the two of them, about the two of you. It was hard to imagine the two of you together again, the way you were before. There was a fracture in the very foundation of your relationship and you had to decide if it was worth trying to repair.

“He blocked her. He didn’t do that last time,” you said after a moment, and Miyu huffed beside you.

“Who are you trying to convince?” she asked, and you laughed again. More softly, she said, “Look, I know you love him, so I won’t be surprised if you go back to him. But I don’t wanna see you get hurt again like that. That was awful and I wanted to kill him. Just...I don’t know. Do you think you can learn to trust him again?”

That was the million dollar question. The next one was could you learn to live with the distrust that would be there even if you did forgive him? And for that matter, did you want to?

The little voice in the back of your head whispered yes, yes, and yes-- and it was a traitor.

All of that had led to where you were currently, leaning against her counter, sipping more cheap wine a week later while you stared down at his name in your phone.

Parting your lips, you thought better of answering, instead hitting the send button on your message, and she sighed.

“I really, really hope this doesn’t end badly.”

Osamu’s heart was in his throat as he walked into the restaurant you had suggested, giving your name for the reservation, and he was led to an empty booth. Before the waiter even came back with his drink, you showed up, dressed cute but casual, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Hi,” you said, and Osamu was pleasantly surprised by the shy smile you gave him. It reminded him of his first date with you all over again, when you hadn’t been able to look him directly in the eye. That was also the night the restaurant he had intended to take you to had shut down due to health code violations and, when he mentioned going somewhere else, you had pointed out a popular food truck across the street. Dressed in nice clothes, you had ordered your food and found a bench, laughing at the mess you made as you ate and Osamu knew he was in deep right at that moment.

He smiled at that memory, eyes softening as he stared at you, and you tucked your hair behind your ear as you asked what he was thinking about.

“Our first date. We never did go back ta try that restaurant,” he answered, resting his head in his hand.

You laughed at that, open and light and it made his heart stutter in his chest.

Picking up the menu, you said, “Yeah because I didn’t feel like picking cockroaches out of my food, thank you very much.”

“They cleared it like, a month later. I’m sure it’s fine now,” he said, chuckling at the feigned grimace you gave him.

“No thanks, but I wouldn’t mind finding that food truck again,” you said, scanning the list of pastas.

The waiter returned a moment later and took your order, silence falling between you again when he left. Before, it wouldn’t have been awkward, and Osamu would have reached out to take your hand in his as you stared at each other.

But that was no longer something he could do. So instead he said, “Thank ya for givin’ me a chance. I know I don’t--”

You cut him off, expression suddenly serious as you said, “I don’t know yet if you deserve it or not. That’s for me to decide. Osamu, if I so much as think you’re talking to her again, I’m done. Completely and totally done. I can’t go through that again.”

There was something unsaid in your words, a ‘but’ lingering in the air, and he tilted his head as you bit your lip. “That’s totally fair, ya know? I said it before and I’ll keep sayin’ it ‘til I prove it, but I won’t hurt ya like that again, I swear it.”

Instead of responding to his words, you said, “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, ‘Samu. I’m not...sure if I can trust you again. I just want you to know that before things get too serious again.”

He nodded, but had to wait for the waiter to set your food down before he said anything more. Your words made him nervous, but at least you were trying. He couldn’t ask for anything more, could he?

“If-- If that’s what ya decide is best for ya, I’ll understand. But I mean it, thank ya for tryin’ anyway,” he said when you were alone again. He gave you a half-hearted smile and you gave him your own shy one in return.

He allowed himself, for that moment, to hope.

Over the course of the next few months, Osamu made it his mission to keep his word, so much so that even the others noticed.

Flowers and dates abounded, and he made an extra effort to see you whenever he could between classes. He kept seeing Kana around in the halls, and you would tense when you caught sight of her before glancing at him. Whenever she happened to pass, he made sure to keep his expression neutral or to smile at you, whichever he felt would be better.

She made an attempt to talk to him the first time she saw him after that, asking if she could speak to him in private. He could see the burning jealousy in her eyes as she stared at you, red painted lips quirking up just the slightest bit at the corners and he could see you were ready to panic.

When you tried to pull away from him, his grip on your hand tightened, drawing you behind him, placing himself in front of you as a shield as he snapped that she had nothing to say to either one of you. Your fingers curled in his shirt, hiding your face as people in the cafeteria stared.

Good, he thought as people started to whisper. A spectacle was exactly what he wanted, a public display to show you he was seriously done with Kana and her shit. The way you looked at him when he pulled you into his arms just after that, tilting your head up to stare into your eyes as she stormed off, was an exasperated mixture of amusement and embarrassment, but you couldn’t force a smile.

She kept her distance after that and, though Osamu wanted to put on a show every time her eyes would alight on the two of you, he refrained. This wasn’t about her, it was about you. So instead, he would squeeze your hand a little tighter and look at you, willing you to believe he only had eyes for you.

His attempts seemed to work.

Ever so slowly-- so slowly he didn’t realize until it smacked him in the face one day-- you stopped looking so alarmed whenever she came into view, squeezing his hand in a deathgrip before you would look to him. He rejoined his group of friends for lunch and Friday nights out-- or in, if that was what you all decided. Things felt right again, the warmth of your palm against his, fingers intertwined where they rested on your knee as you laughed along with something the others were talking about.

They seemed to have forgiven him too, at least after Miyu had chewed his ear off after cornering him one day.

He was reminded, from time to time though, that things weren’t as perfect with you as they were before, and each time those reminders felt like a slap to the face. A well deserved slap, but it stung nonetheless.

“Who...is that?” you asked, looking at the girl he had just parted from. He had been talking to her as he walked out of the classroom, smiling and laughing with her. For just a moment, paranoia and suspicion flooded your system. Your hands curled into fists, your heart pounding in your chest, causing Osamu to quirk a brow at your question.

He was confused by the wary look on your face and the glimmer in your eyes as you watched her walk down the hall-- then it clicked. His usual go to would have been to tease you for being jealous, laughing it off but--

“Jus’ someone in a group for class. We have ta make this huge presentation and she was askin’ for some help with an icin’ recipe. Said she jus’ can’t get it right an’ I offered-- but I can pass it off ta someone else, if it--” he was rambling, his hands already cupping your face and guiding you to look back at him. He was already thinking of Hikaru when you shook your head.

“No, I-- It’s alright, I guess. I don’t want to get in the way of your group project or anything,” you said, but even you could hear the insecurity in the words. You hated that something as innocent as this was enough to make you paranoid, but it was a reaction you couldn’t help.

Osamu shook his head, pushing your hair back off your face and leaning down to kiss your forehead. “No, it’ll make ya feel better. Hikaru has the same notes I do, so he can help ‘er. Why don’t we go get something to eat?”

You trailed along behind him, staring down at your intertwined hands and wondered, not for the first time, if you would ever feel secure in your relationship again. Every time you saw him with another woman it was like this, the paranoia and insecurity welling up and clouding what you believed. And every time, you would ask the same questions-- who is she, how do you know her, what were you doing with her?

It was taxing and you thought each time that Osamu was going to finally throw it in. It had been months now and you still couldn’t trust him to do something as innocent as talk.

Which was why it was a relief when guilt would flash in his eyes as he reassured you, pulling you into his strong arms, answering you without ire-- it was the only reason you could bring yourself to believe him. You never knew that learning to trust someone again would be so hard and you wondered how long it would take-- if ever-- for you not to flinch whenever you caught him with someone else.

“Hey, _____? Ya don’t have ta say it back, and I know ya won’t believe me just yet,” he said, breaking through your melancholic thoughts. He had pulled you to the side, a little ways down a mostly empty hallway. Crowding you against the wall, he was staring down at you with what might have been pain. “But I love ya, and I’m not gonna hurt ya again like that. I promise.”

His words were like a balm on the pain in your heart, soothing the ache that your insecurities brought on, and you nodded. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, but you let him hold you for a moment as students moved around you, some giving you strange looks as they passed by.

When you pulled away, it was you who took his hand and rejoined the flow of students leaving the building, dragging him towards your favorite restaurant.

Maybe, you decided, it wouldn’t be so hard to trust him, so long as he kept his promises this time.

The biggest milestone to Osamu was when you asked him one Friday evening if he wanted to come over instead of going out, and his room seemed to tilt 180 degrees. He was typing an agreement before he even realized it and launched himself off his bed.

“Goin’ ta _____’s, don’ wait up,” he practically slurred as he passed through the living room.

Atsumu shared a glance with his flavor of the week after the door had shut, snickering at his expense.

When he knocked at the door twenty minutes later, you opened it and laughed.

“Did you run over here, ‘Samu?” you asked, staring at him bent over with his hands on his knees.

“M-Maybe,” he snapped back, grinning as he panted. When he had caught his breath, he stood up straight again and shot you a lopsided grin. “Why wouldn’t I race over here ta spend the night with my pretty girlfriend?”

Your eyes widened a fraction, your smile falling a little, and he winced at his slipup. You had never labeled what the two of you were in the aftermath of everything, preferring to let it exist as it was.

Then you gave him a half-smile and gestured him in.

“I, uh, thought maybe we could bake something or, y’know, something,” you said, leading him into the kitchen.

There were ingredients all over the counter, interspersed with bowls and measuring cups, and Osamu instantly recognized what you were after.

“Cinnamon rolls?” he asked, smiling at you. You flushed a bright red, letting him pull you in close so you could hide your face in his chest. “Yer too cute, _____.”

“Well, I missed cooking with you, ‘Samu,” you whispered, linking your fingers together behind his back.

You sounded sad as you said it, and he rubbed your back to soothe you. “I missed it too, princess.”

The name slipped out so easily he didn’t even realize he had done it at first, but you nuzzled closer instead of pulling away like he expected. His throat closed up as he stared down at you and believed, for the first time since he had showed up at your apartment months ago, that things were really going to be okay.

“So, _____ wants som’a my cinnamon rolls,” he said, letting you go. You turned to face the counter and he studiously ignored the way you wiped at your eyes, instead examining the ingredients in front of him. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Do you remember when Atsumu and Bokuto tried the Cinnamon Challenge?” you wheezed a little while later as Osamu choked on some of the fine powder. He had been eyeing it in the measuring cup and sneezed, causing it to puff up into his face. He glared at you as he coughed, eyes watering while he pounded on his chest. You were supposed to be getting him a glass of water, but your hands were shaking so bad you couldn’t do it.

“Yeah, and I understand now why it’s so unpleasant,” he croaked, nudging you out of the way so he could get his own glass. “I can’t believe those idjits tried it twice.”

“Oh can’t you?” you asked, taking deep breaths to recover. The image of them spitting out clouds of red cinnamon all over the kitchen would stick with you forever, and you snickered again. “Those two have one brain cell between them and Sakusa owns it.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as moisture returned to his mouth bracing himself up on his hands beside you, staring up at you with a mixture of amusement and feigned aggravation. “Remind me ta never trust ya to save my life again. I almost died and ya just stood there laughin’.”

“Well, it was pretty funny,” you said, tapping your lip as you thought about it. It was Atsumu all over again, and you giggled. “I’ll try harder next time, I swear.”

“There won’ be a next time, ya brat,” he grumbled, moving around you to stand in front of the mixing bowl again. “Now, are ya gonna help me or not? If ya don’t pull yer weight, I’ll eat all these by maself.”

Faking a shocked gasp, you crowded in beside him, picking up the measuring spoon he had dropped. “Pig.”

A little while later, the apartment was filled with the rich, warm aroma of baking sweets and you were curled up on the couch beside Osamu. Your legs were in his lap, his warm hand skimming up and down your calf while you watched Big Hero 6, much to his amusement.

But you seemed to be distracted, tensing up under his touch from time to time, your eyes unfocused when he would look over at you. At long last, you sighed and sat up, pulling your legs from his lap. Sitting cross-legged, you looked up at him and his mouth went dry.

“Uh, what’s up?” he asked, giving you his full attention. Whatever it was, you were serious about it and he was nervous.

Your heart was thrumming in your chest, even though what you were going to say was supposed to be good. But your insecurities cropped back up again, causing the words you thought you were ready to say to stick in your throat. Sure, neither you nor any of your friends had seen him so much as look at Kana since he broke up with her and, yes, he had made a valiant effort to keep his promise, but was it enough?

You had thought it was, until it came down to saying it. So you were just sitting on the couch, staring up at him with slightly parted lips, and understanding dawned on his face.

His eyes softened as he reached out, grazing your cheek with his fingertips. “It’s okay. If ya aren’t ready-- I’m here anyway.”

His words were like magic, warmth stilling the tidal wave of negative thoughts crashing inside you, and you leaned into his touch. His hand smoothed out, cupping your face, smiling when you did.

“It’s...okay, if you wanna call me your girlfriend again,” you said, staring into his eyes.

His smile turned into a smirk at that, and he pushed your face away. “What else should I call ya? My little brat sounds more fitting for ya, don’t ya think?”

You scoffed and lunged at him, getting caught by the wrists before you could do anything. “I’ll show you who’s a brat, you jackass. Here I am trying to be cute and--”

“Well, ya’ve succeeded. Want yer prize?” he asked, wrestling you down into his lap. He was far stronger than you could ever hope to be holding you close with one arm.

You squirmed anyway, pushing at his face as you laughed. “I don’t remember you being this smooth before. You’ve been hanging out with ‘Tsumu too much.”

He snickered at that, finally letting you up only to be knocked down to the couch. He grunted in surprise as you straddled his hips, smirking down at him in triumph. Resting his hands on your thighs, he said, “I’ve always been this smooth, princess. Maybe I just dazzled ya so much ya missed it.”

“You are the worst,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. Osamu sat up underneath you and you looped your arms around his neck, the air growing thicker as his breaths mingled with yours.

Mischievous brown eyes dipped down to your lips and back up, a brow quirked in question. When you only cocked your head with a grin, he sighed and asked, “Mind if I kiss ya now?”

Instead of answering, you closed the distance between you, relaxing into his arms when your lips met. He groaned low in his throat, fingers tightening on your hips as your tongue delved into his mouth, tangling with his.

You were breathing heavy when you pulled apart, forehead coming to rest on his, and he gave you a lopsided smile. “Damn, I missed that.”

It was never like that with Kana, who was all about getting hot and heavy. Osamu realized that as he kissed you, lips soft against his, wearing one of his t-shirts that you had stolen again at some point and leggings, sitting on the secondhand couch the two of you had got from your parents.

You returned his grin, fingers carding through his hair, tilting his head to the side to kiss him again.

The sound of the timer interrupted you, and you giggled when he pushed you backwards off his lap, shouting, “Rude!” at his retreating back.

The smell increased tenfold when he opened the oven, and you spent a good twenty minutes decorating the rolls with homemade icing, half of which ended up on your faces as you fought.

“I can think of better places ta lick this off,” he said as his tongue dragged over the smear of icing on your cheek, leaving a trail of drool behind.

You squealed, pushing his head away while swiping at the sticky wet path with the back of your hand. “Don’t push your luck, romeo. Keep it up and I’ll make you go home.” Osamu’s eyes lit up at that while yours narrowed. “What?”

“So ya were already plannin’ ta let me stay, huh?” he asked, advancing on you until you were crowded against the counter. There was still a dab of icing on his nose, and he smirked when it touched yours.

“Wha-- I-- I didn’t say that,” you said, but you sounded oddly unsure as your fingers curled in the collar of the hoodie he wore. “Maybe I would have let you sleep on the-- on the couch…”

His lips had latched onto the side of your neck, nipping and sucking his way down to the curve of your shoulder, and he grinned in triumph when your breath hitched.

His lips were hot against your skin, warmth erupting between your legs as he zeroed in on one of your pleasure spots, your back arching into him.

“Doesn’t sound like I’ll be sleepin’ on the couch tonight, princess,” he said, smirking as he trailed back up to your ear. Flicking the shell, his voice dropped, gravelly in you ear as he said, “I’ll bet ya the bed I can make ya cum in five minutes.”

“You’re on,” you said, your voice shaky. He was on his knees before you even stopped speaking, your leggings were all but ripped off by the time you were done.

He didn’t waste any time, flinging one leg over his shoulder and latching onto your clit, groaning around it as he suckled. His lithe fingers slid through your folds, gathering up the slick there and he pulled back for a moment to growl, “Already so wet for me, princess. Yer makin’ this too easy.”

“Shut up and-- fuck,” you moaned, one of his fingers slipping into your needy cunt. It pumped in and out of you, seeking out your g-spot with laser precision before you were filled with a second one. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging roughly as he fingerfucked you with abandon, building the pleasure pooling in your gut.

He was moaning around your clit, lapping and sucking as he praised your taste and how good you felt while you whined at him, rocking your hips in time with his thrusts.

“‘Samu, please,” you begged, back arching as your head thumped against the cabinet.

He groaned, focusing on the swollen spot inside you, and said, “Cum for me, princess.”

You wailed, drenching his face as you came, thighs clamping down on his head and he just kept going even when you pushed at his head.

“‘Samu, ‘Samu, please,” you whined, hips squirming in his hold.

He grinned up at you from between your legs, chin covered in your slick and a smug look in his lazy eyes as he said, “Guess I get ta sleep in the bed after all, huh?”

“Ha, I guess so. I’ll just sleep on the couch then,” you panted, pulling your pants back up.

Osamu stood up as well, licking his lips in a satisfied manner before wiping his face clean with a paper towel. “Fine by me, princess. Better than sleepin’ beside ‘Tsumu’s room.”

“You are such an asshole, Miya,” you said, pushing him back down onto the couch. He landed with a grunt and was quick to yank you down with him so that you were straddling his hips like earlier. “What, you think it’s your turn?”

He laughed at that, fingers tangling in your hair and guiding your lips to his. “Maybe I do, or maybe I just wanted ta kiss ya. It has been six months since I got ta. Gotta make up fer lost time ‘n all that.”

You moaned into the kiss, tongues fighting playfully in your mouth as your hands slid up into his hair and pulled. He let you dominate without complaint, letting his hands wander up your sides to cup your breasts and back down to your thighs again.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you murmured, even though you were doing nothing to stop his sneaky hands. “I never said you could--”

He pulled back, hands suddenly finding your face. He was serious all of a sudden, and you were confused. It cleared up with a rush of warmth when he asked, “Ya are okay with it, right? We don’t have ta do anything if ya aren’t ready, you know that right?”

It was like your first time all over again, when your boyfriend was constantly worried about if you were comfortable, causing you to giggle. “Yeah, ‘Samu. I’m okay with it. I’ve missed you so much, I just want--”

You squealed when you were picked up, legs locking around his hips while he held you up in his arms. He was littering your neck and jaw with soft kisses, broken by a whisper of, “I’ve missed ya too, _____. So fuckin’ much.”

You landed on the bed with a thump, bouncing once before you were pinned under his weight. He wasted no time in stripping the both of you, letting your clothes hit the floor without care, and then he was sitting up on his knees to admire you. Rough hands slid over your knees and down your thighs as he stared down at you with a warmth in his brown eyes that made you squirm.

Then he snickered and leaned over to kiss you, tongue slipping into your mouth again as his fingers finally found your clit. He swallowed the soft noise you made as he slipped inside you, walls still soaked from your previous orgasm and easing the way for his fingers.

“‘S-’Samu,” you moaned, pulling away from the kiss. Your hips rocked up to meet his thrusts, touch far too gentle to bring you anywhere near your orgasm, but you didn’t ask for more. “Feels so good. I missed you.”

He hummed against your cheek, hiding his smile against your skin as his heel rubbed against your clit. You clenched around him, fingers tugging at his hair when his lips found your nipple, rolling and sucking the taut bud between his teeth. Between moving to the other one, he breathed, “I missed ya too. Missed these too. So fuckin’ pretty.”

He pulled off your tit with a wet pop and withdrew his fingers. You whined at the loss, just basking in the attention he was lavishing you with even if it wasn’t enough to make you cum. You just wanted to be close to him, and your arms locked around his neck as he pulled your legs around his hips.

His lips were on yours again as he guided himself inside you, your pussy parting easily around him. Your back arched as he stretched you, moaning out his name as your fingers tangled in his hair. His warmth surrounded you, caged in his arms, chest brushing yours as he hilted inside you.

“Yer so damn tight, princess. So wet, feels so good,” he groaned, snapping his hips out and back in, feeling you squeeze around him. “Missed this so much.”

Your nails bit into his scalp as you held yourself to him, lips parted in pleasure as moans spilled from you. “‘Samu, ‘Samu, feels so good,” you babbled back at him.

He swallowed your sounds with a kiss before whispering, “Shh, princess, I got ya. Gonna take good care a ya from now on. I won’ let ya go again, I promise.”

He couldn’t tell if the tears were from how good you felt with his hips grinding into yours or from his words, but you hid your face in his neck and whined, “Don’t let me go, ‘Samu, please.”

At those words, he sat back on his heels and pulled you up with him, laughing when you clung to him as he slid back inside you. Pressing your forehead to his, you rolled your hips into his, bouncing on his cock.

“‘Samu, I love you,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. “Please, please, don’t leave me again, I--”

He cut you off with a kiss, teeth colliding with yours in an effort to convey that he was there, he wasn’t leaving, wouldn’t leave you again. Tears were rolling down your cheeks now and he wiped them away with his thumbs, holding you as close as he could.

Pulling back, he whispered, “Never leavin’ ya again, baby. I swear it. Never want anyone but you again.” You whined at that, capturing his lips again before he fell back to the mattress, letting his hands guide the way you moved against him.

Every roll of your hips was dragging your clit across the curls at the base of his cock and he could feel you squeezing tight around him, moaning his name with every pass. He was lifting you up, helping you bounce as your fingers dug into the blanket on either side of his head. You were so beautiful to him with your cheeks flushed and lips parted, the feel of your tight cunt around him driving him towards his climax.

Braced on your hands, you hovered over him, eyes half-lidded as you focused on the way he felt inside you, brushing over the sweet spot as he pounded into you. “Gonna cum, ‘Samu,” you moaned, collapsing to your elbows. Your legs were shaking with the effort of moving and you found yourself flipped onto your back.

“Me too, pretty girl,” he whispered. He was on his elbows, hips pistoning into yours, cock twitching as you spasmed around him. “Come on, cum for me.”

Angling his hips up just right, he grazed your clit and you fell apart, back arching up off the bed as your nails dug into his arms. You wailed his name, legs locked around his hips to keep him in place and he choked as he came inside you. He rocked into you until you lay limp beneath him and even then, he didn’t pull out. Not that he could, with your arms around his neck pulling him down further, until he was fully resting on you.

Your pants mingled together and he nuzzled your nose until you gave in and kissed him. There were still tear tracks on your cheeks which he kissed away too, basking in the warmth between you, the feel of your body against his.

Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how worried he was that he would never get the opportunity to be this close to you again. Letting out a shuddery breath, he kissed you again, and again, and again, until you were breathless all over again.

“I meant it, I’m never lettin’ you go again,” he whispered between each one. You made a small noise of contentment in the back of your throat, trying to pull him even closer, though there was no space left between you. “I love ya, _____.”

Fresh tears were in your eyes and he kissed them away as they fell, his heart banging against his ribs as he tried to decide if that was good or bad. Probably a mix of both, that he had even made it necessary to reassure you of his affection in the first place. He would fight everyday to prove his words were true, no matter how many times you doubted him.

“I love you too, ‘Samu,” you whispered hoarsely.

You stayed like that for awhile, until your breathing started to even out, at which point he lifted himself off of you.

Whining at the loss, you reached out for him again only to be pulled into his arms, your head tucked into his neck while he rubbed your back. He chuckled when you squirmed closer and said, “I forgot how needy ya got after sex. It’s still adorable.”

“‘Samu, shut up. ‘M tired,” you mumbled, tangling your legs with his. His hand came up to cover yours and you listened to his laughter rumble in his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

“Tha’s not what ya were sayin’ earlier, princess,” he said, earning himself a smack.

“I’m going to smother you if you don’t shut up right now,” you said, pulling on the pillow behind you.

He caught your wrist before it connected with his face and said, “Careful, princess. Yer gonna get me goin’ again.”

As if to prove his point, you could feel him against your thigh, half-hard, and groaned. “Why are you like this?”

“Gotta make up for lost time, don’ I?” he said, rolling over and pinning you to the bed again. “Better get ready, princess. We got all night.”

“Wait, you’re what now?” you asked, pausing mid-sip to stare at Osamu across the table. “Paris?”

He nodded, watching your reaction carefully. Your eyebrows furrowed, your lips turning down as you set the glass back down on the table. “Ta study culinary arts. I’ve found someone willin’ ta teach me there, and it’d be a good opportunity.”

There was a brief flicker of something across your face, maybe insecurity, maybe fear, but it was gone in a flash, leaving Osamu to wonder whether he imagined it or not. You nodded, stirring your straw and staring into the swirling drink thoughtfully. “You’re right. It’s an amazing opportunity, ‘Samu. You’re gonna take it, right?”

He watched you still more closely and finally picked up on what he’d been afraid of, that little glimmer of doubt that you were trying so hard to hide. You were putting on a brave face for him, but even after almost a year, he still caught the signs of insecurity in you. It had eased up, for which he was thankful, but it still twisted him up inside to see it at all.

“I want to,” he said, evading giving you a straight answer. He didn’t want to see the fear that he knew would come with his revelation, though he knew he would have to face it soon enough. “I haven’ decided--”

“You should take it,” you said, cutting him off. His eyes widened at the blunt tone, but he didn’t find the doubt he expected, and you didn’t stumble over your words. “You’ll come back, right? You shouldn’t pass up an opportunity like this because of me or anyone else. It’s always been your dream, so you should go.”

His mouth dropped open but no words came out, his thoughts tangling up in his head as he tried to process what you were saying. Of course, he had expected you to tell him he should go, but not with such assuredness. “Are ya-- Are ya sure? Yer not upset or--?”

Then you smiled and he could see the sadness blighting your security, but you shook your head. “It’s been hard, ‘Samu, you know it has. Trusting you again has been really tough, but I can’t, and don’t want, to hold you back for selfish reasons. Promise me you’ll come back, and we can deal with the rest as it comes, ‘kay?”

He just stared at you, blinking rapidly, and then--

“Come with me.”

The words poured out before he could think them through, and it was your turn to blink.

“Pardon?”

“To France. To Paris. You’ll have graduated by the time I leave, so why not?” he said, quickly catching up to what his brain had decided. You were still staring at him with confusion, then you hummed.

Resting your head in your hand, you said, “Paris, huh? You plannin’ something while we’re there, Miya? It is the city of romance, after all.”

Osamu chuckled at that, settling against the back of the booth. “We got enougha that already, doll. But if a Paris proposal is what ya want, all ya had ta do was ask.”

Your laughter filled his ears, and he could finally see that you were really thinking about his offer. It was a serious thing, moving across the world for someone who had hurt you once already, and he would be hurt but not exactly surprised if you didn’t want to risk that. He waited with baited breath as you hummed again, staring up at one of the posters hanging above your head.

“Paris would be pretty nice, I guess. I wonder if I’ll be able to find a job there,” you murmured, and jumped when Osamu gasped.

“Wait, ya mean--?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not? A fresh start for us might not hurt,” you said, laughing when he jumped around the table to sit beside you.

Peppering your face with kisses, he said, “Yer the best, babe. Ya won’t regret it, I promise.”

The waitress came by at that moment with your food, smiling lightly at the way Osamu was acting, and you flushed red.

“I already do. Get off me before we get kicked out for indecency,” you said, poking him in the side.

He smirked at that, thanking the waitress before whispering in your ear, “Oh, we’ll be indecent soon enough, but I can wait ‘til we’re home, at least.”

Groaning, you hid your face in your hands while he laughed, feeling at last like things were falling into place the way he’d always wanted. As he looked at you, your shoulders shaking with laughter into your hands, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“I love ya, _____. Always will, if you’ll have me.”

⇥ masterlist

⇥ taglist: @sluttony, @visaintes, @yunhosblackgf, @super-noya, @byebyes-world, @newfriendjen, @atsunakaashi

#osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #.fullcircle

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fruitpunchninja101 · 3 years

Text

Flowers For You

After a small spat at the merchants assembly, Levi was determined to avoid Hange and her flower shop at all costs. Unfortunately, The funny thing about trying to avoid someone is that you have to have a rough approximation of their daily routine. And so, his quest began.

Written for LeviHan Eggschange 2021 @levihanweek

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Hello my dear giftee! I’m sorry if your gift took a while! I hope you'd enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed making it. Keep safe!♥

“Every plant can do this fundamental process, and we call this Photosynthesis.”

Cheery voices of kids boomed in celebration as soon as they finished singing.

Ever since summer break started, the flower shop in front of his store started a “Horticulture Camp” for little kids. At first, He didn’t really pay much attention to the cacophony of loud cheers and noises but as days passed, customers would leave little comments like “Sure does sound like a daycare in there.” or “Your neighbor sounds like they're having a lot of fun in there huh?”

The thought about confronting the owner of the flower shop did cross his mind, but there's a little problem, they had a little bit of a spat at the shop keeps assembly last month.

Okay, he'll admit it, maybe It's not just a spat, It's more like a full blown passive aggressive squabble. His memory of the event was a little hazy but he recalled raising his concern about the dried leaves that keeps blowing over his store. Something about her nonchalance about his concern and something about his word choice led to a disastrous mistranslation of what he really wanted to say which somehow escalated to a kerfuffle. "You and Hange will be the hot topic of the whole merchants block for a good while." Erwin warned him after the assembly. Tch! He certainly didn't need that kind of attention.

Since then, Levi kept his distance from that damn flower shop and focused on minding his own business. He is determined to avoid this Hange at all costs! Unfortunately, The funny thing about trying to avoid someone is that you have to have a rough approximation of their daily routine. And so, his quest began.

Hange's schedule was never consistent.

Sometimes she'd open her shop so late that her students would start rough housing by the sidewalk waiting for her arrival. Their parents would wait by her store too and they were seemingly too charmed by her to get annoyed about her tardiness. By the time she gets there the kids would immediately run towards her climbing on her limbs but she never seemed to mind. Those kids eyes would shine so bright at her , he’s pretty sure he’d go blind if he kept on staring at them.

She never seemed to eat lunch for some reason. Sometimes, the son of the deli owner at the corner of their street, Moblit , would come by to bring her food. There was a time when he thought the guy was courting her but he can tell by that sad longing stare he gives at her when he leaves her shop that Hange had no fucking clue about his intentions.

She never brings an umbrella even when it rains. She just runs across the street donning a hoodie. Which she would continue to wear all throughout the day. She’d definitely get sick if she doesn't dry herself up properly. If the rain is still pouring by the time she closes up her store, Hange would spend a good minute to stare at the night sky marveling at the little droplets like its the first time she ever saw one in her life. Nights like that , he would close up a little late to make sure she's gone before he leaves.

Observing her became a routine at this point.

During warm sunny days, she would wear a brightly colored shirt underneath her overalls. Unfortunately, the shirt seemed to be the only thing she changes regularly. He can tell it's the same overalls because it still has all the stains in the same place as the day before. Her best record was 5 days without washing the damned thing and he can't tell if that's impressive or disgusting.

When the kids aren't around, Hange would dote on her plants until late hours of the day. He'd watch her methodically arrange flowers and pour all her love and care to every bouquet she makes. All the while ignoring the fact that she haven't had food at all. ( He knows because Moblit recently got a girlfriend and since then , he only drops by the flower shop to pick up orders for his new love interest.) All he ever see her consume are cups of coffee and not even the good stuff. Just the regular instant kind from the grocery. Days like that , he hopes that she would at least stop by a convenience store to pick up something to eat.

It didn't take too long for him to consider that maybe Hange isn't an asshole at all.She's just one of those people who gets easily preoccupied with things that pique her interest is all. To hell with her health, appearance or even basic cleanliness. Its frustrating but at the same time its a relief to know that underneath all that nuttiness is a seemingly good person.

He was just closing up shop one night when he noticed her still sitting in her store as she practiced playing the Photosynthesis song on her guitar.She was surrounded by an array of beautiful flowers and in that dim light, he could've sworn she looked like a scruffy forest diety.

And it was at that point when he realized that a smile is creeping up his lip. What the fuck was that about?

As if hearing his thoughts, Hange's head perked up from her guitar and turned towards him. He froze as soon as their eyes met. She gave him a tight lipped smile and at that, Panic shot through him. He immediately turned away from her and rushed to turn off the lights and closed his store.

Days after that encounter, Levi had to resist the urge to spare even a peek over her shop. he didn't like that sometimes his mind would wander to images of her that night. He probably overdid his little investigation is all! He had to stop watching her schedule anyway , he had all the information he needs at this point.

However, her presence never seemed to leave him. He'd still overhear the rhythm of her guitar and the rambunctious laughter from her little campers. Even Eld and Gunther are starting to warm up to it. "There's something about the sound of children having fun that puts me at ease." He heard Eld reason out to Gunther the other day. Even Oluo who once mentioned his irritation with the constant singing is starting to absentmindedly hum the damn song.

He's ready to let the whole thing go but when a loud crashing sound (which is probably another pot broken by a child.) caused Petra to make a small uneven line on her work , he knew he had to do something. Even if these type of mistakes are easily fixed, precision is utterly important in his business and he can't have random nuisances ruining his reputation. He'll do it tomorrow. NO! He'll do it tonight! There's no use to delay the inevitable.

Odd enough, he did wonder if she even knew his name.

Tch.

Levi was just closing up his shop that night when he heard someone open the door. Accepting late night jobs Isnt new to him but he did commit to speaking with Hange about his concerns so he let out an absent minded “We're closed” warning before realizing who entered his shop.

It’s her.

She wore an oversized green overalls paired with battered up chucks that he bet was once white. Her brown mop of hair was tied messily up on her head. He didn’t miss the huge ass bouquet tucked in her arm as she struggled to get through his door.

“A little help?” She said, as if they didn’t had a spat that literally had them screaming at each other infront of other people. Levi paused cleaning his tattoo gun and hurried to help her. ”What are you doing here at this hour?” He asked genuinely out of curiosity than irritation.

”I just wanna give you these.” She beamed as she let go of the huge bunch for him to carry inside. “The kids got a little carried away with their flower arrangements today and I’d feel awful if I have to throw it out.” She continued.

“You think dumping this monstrosity to me is the solution?” He asked, immediately regretting his word choice.

“Monstrosity?!”Hange placed her hand on her chest playfully feigning mortification and shock.

He rolled his eyes at her and was a bit surprised that Hange chuckled at him and leisurely walked past him to take a seat at one of the stools by his register and started innocently looking around his shop seemingly waiting on him for a conversation. "Neat place you got here." She said.

"Thanks?" He said genuinely confused what she's doing here. Although, He did wonder if it has something to do with that awkward encounter they had the other night. He really hoped she already forgot about that. “What are these for?” He asked as he opened the cupboards hopelessly trying to look for a vase somewhere in his shop.

“I was gonna ask you for a favor.” She replied.

He scoffed. “what makes you think I’d help you.”

“It’s for a good cause! Plus,I was thinking it’s your opportunity to make up with that whole assembly incident we had.”

He paused and glared daggers at her. She still have that goofy smile on her face. “That dumb assembly incident was not something I want to make up with.” He said stubbornly.

Hange rolled her eyes at him. “Oh please you were angry over a few dried pieces of leaves in front of my store it’s hardly even your business.”

“Your leaves are blowing over my store front so yes it was my business.”

“You know I run a flower shop right? These things happen. I cant just wait outside my store and catch all the falling leaves for your convenience.” Her voice slightly raised as if she’s explaining something so obvious to him. Of course he knows these things happen, he’s not an idiot. All he wants is for her to take responsibility and not be so nonchalant over it.

“You don’t even...” He closed his mouth. She's starting to get a rise from him and it made him queasy. It's not even worth it. He closed his eyes to calm himself.

“Look, the favor isn’t even for me.” She started. Her tone of aggressiveness gone. ”Just hear me out please?” Her voice sounded gentle and warm this time. She’s so hot and cold it’s starting to drive him insane.

He opened his eyes and was met with her brown orbs that shone bright behind her dirty glasses. “Go ahead.” He said defeatedly avoiding her pleading eyes and proceeded to turn back to his cupboard. He should just let her say her piece and move on.

“It’s for one of my campers actually.”

“Hn.Which one? the brunette kid that shouts a lot?”

“Oh you know Eren?”

“He always sticks his snotty face up on my window how can I forget.”

“Yeah, That kid adores you you know , he asked about you and what you guys do here a couple of times before. He even threw fits because he wanted to get a tattoo from you.”

He scoffed. ”How is that my problem?”

”You see, his little friend Armin loved the camp but is a little too shy for his own good. He won’t attend sessions without Eren who sort of refused to attend til you tattoo something on him.”

“So you want me to tattoo a child? ”He turned from his fruitless quest for a vase on his cupboard to raise a brow at her.

“Not a real one, just one of those temporary tattoo stickers.”

He scratched the back of his head and let out a sigh. It would be easier to complain to her about the noise of she owed him some sort of favor. Right? "Alright." He said.

She surged out of her seat and gave out a small yelp startling him. "You'd do it? Really?" Her eyes seemed brighter now.

“Yeah sure." He said as he marveled at how expressive her eyes were. He willed himself to tear his eyes from her damn face. "Is there anything else?” He asked.

“Yes.” She replied enthusiastically.

“You are really pushing your luck here four eyes.”

She chuckled at that and pushed her glasses a bit higher up her nose. ”Don't worry, this one isn't a favor. More like a friendly advice."

He raised a brow at her. "What?"

"Put those in cold water. They'd last longer that way.” She said pointing at the bright colored bouquet at the table which certainly looked out of place against the black and gray interior of his shop.

After exchanging details about their little activity tomorrow, Hange gave him a final enthusiastic wave before taking off his shop leaving him in awe.

Ah. He forgot to mention his noise complaint.

The next day, nine little children were lined up orderly marching up infront of his store led by Hange. She carried a red flag to remind everyone where she is at all times. They all wore a silk screen printed shirt that says plants rule in front and some sort of a plant pun at the back.

Hange's shirt says. 'Someone has been adding soil to my garden. The plot thickens.'

Ah. That was pretty good...and also pretty dumb.

“Are you sure about this boss?” Oluo asked as he worked on a cover up on a customers shoulder.

"No." He answered earing a chuckle from Eld, Gunther and Petra at the back.

"Good Morning Underground Ink!" Hange enthusiastically cheered as she opened the door.

"Keep your voice down four eyes!"

“Oh! Sorry!" She mouthed at him before turning back to her campers. "Kids say good morning to Mr.Ackerman!” She beamed.

“Goodmorning Mister Ackerman!” The kids said in unison in a sing song tune. He gave them a small nod of acknowledgement then proceeded to cut out the temporary tattoo sheet into small pieces. The kids immediately scattered around the store to take a look at the reference books laid on his lounge. He glowered at Hange. "You said they'd behave."

"They would I promise! They're just a bit excited with our little expedition."

"If they break anything, I swear you're gonna pay ten times the price."

"Oh don't be such a grump!" She said slapping his arm. "Ouch! You didn't tell me you work out."

"Tch." He clenched his jaw and focused his eyes on the tattoo sheets he's cutting up. Damn four eyes and her mouth.

"Hey Kids! Gather over here Mr.Ackerman will show you how to put on a tattoo."

“Is this gonna hurt?” Eren innocently asked.

“Not if you’re brave.” He answered. The kid involuntarily recoiled at that. He can tell that Eren's starting to have second thoughts and struggled to put on a brave face. Eren immediately sought out Hange seemingly asking for help and at that, she immediately stepped up and ruffled the kids hair. ”I’ll get my tattoo done first.” Hange hopped on a chair and presented her wrist to Levi.

Levi held her hand to keep her arm steady. His eyes darted at her as if asking her if the touch was permitted and he was met with a sweet smile. He immediately avoided her eyes pushing down the thought of her playing her guitar surrounded by flowers...a scruffy forest diety. he recalled the exact words that formed on his mind that night.

He bit the inside of his cheek to ground himself to reality. Levi held the damp towel against her wrist and she let out a little yelp. He immediately pulled away hoping he didn't press too hard while his mind wandered to silly memories of her the other night. "Gotcha!" Hange teased chuckling at him. "Ass!" he said playfully throwing his towel at her face gaining another laugh from the brunette. The kids huddled around them giggled at them.

"Ms.Hange, What's an ass?" A little girl munching potato chips asked.

"It's another term for a donkey." A small timid blonde kid answered.

"Thats right Armin!Very good!" Hange said. The blonde kid blushed at her praise and glued his eyes on the floor.

"What's a donkey?" Potato chip girl asked again.

"It's like a little horse" Armin answered.

"Why are you calling Ms.Hange a donkey Mr.Ackerman? She doesn't even look like a horse" A kid with shaved head asked.

"...unlike Jean over here." Eren added and a kid with elvish features (which he assumed is Jean) stepped up and hit Eren by the arm. Eren was ready to retaliate when Hange spoke.

"Kids, we promised Mr.Ackerman no rough housing inside the store." Hange reminded them calmly and the kids immediately pulled away from one another.

There was a brief moment of silence and wondering gasps from children around them as he worked on Hange's tattoo.“So does anyone have a question to Mister Ackerman.” He immediately frowned. He said yes to tattooing kids not chatting them up. Nothing would have prepared him for the set of questions that came rushing in after Hange's open invite.

Eren is the last one to get his tattoo. He disinfected his arm with alcohol and his eyes drifted to Hange who was blushing at the sight of a kid adorably putting on a brave face.

Levi had to look away.

At the end of the session,all kids merrily walked back to her shop comparing all their little tattoos. Hange then thanked him for playing along with her little activity.

His whole afternoon was a blur. Between those kids who won't stop asking him and Hange's constant teasing smirks he was out of it. He scrubbed the side of his tattoo gun a little harder.

“I see you put my flowers in a bucket.”

Levi almost dropped his tattoo gun as Hange's merry voice boomed around the shop.

“Its the closest thing I have to a vase.” He said wondering if she’s offended that he chucked her precious flowers on a bucket, but that endearing smile she had on her face says otherwise.

“I had just the thing!” She rushed out of his shop and came back with a huge crystal vase.

“What's that?”

“Its a vase I inherited from my gram-gram.”

“I can see its a vase.”

“Well with the horticulture camp and all I'm scared this would get knocked over and you seem like an organized responsible sort of guy. Maybe you can take care of this for me for a while.”

She’s certainly getting a little too comfortable with favors now. ”What makes you think I wouldn’t knock it over to get back on you for that assembly mess.”

“Because you’re nicer than your letting on.” she says as she procured a small rose from her back pocket and gently tucked its stem behind his ear. He compelled his hand to swat her arm way but his body didn't cooperate. He stood there frozen wondering if she truly was some sort of a scruffy forest deity and she's punishing him from his insolence at that assembly.

Okay, that sounded dumb...What the hell is wrong with him?

"Did the kids asked you to give me this?" He forced himself to reply.

"Nah, That one is from me." She said. Her eyes were bright and her face were slightly flushed. He wondered if he'd never seen anyone look this gallant and handsome before.

"You don't like it?" She asked cocking her head to the side.

"No! I-ah...I'm just..." He stuttered trying to find the right words without sounding pathetic. His hand raised to touch the flower on his ear. He never got flowers before. He felt a smile coming up so he forced a frown.

“Why are you frowning? Don't tell me you're still upset about that assembly thing? I thought were past that?”

“Tch! No were not!” Levi recoiled at how loud his reply was.

”You see, I would be threatened but I just watched you spend your afternoon tattooing a bunch of kids even though you are not paid for it so...Yeah...I guess water under the bridge right?”

“Who says I'm not charging you? I thought you came here to pay up.” He smirked finding calm at her retort.

At that, Hanji laughed. She fucking laughed! The woman even clutched her arms around her stomach and doubled over. She practically radiated with warmth and a familiar sense of home. “Alright you got me, I don’t want to owe you anything so how about a cup of coffee sometime? Although, you seemed to prefer tea”

He scrunched his face. "How do you know I prefer tea?"

"You see, the funny thing about a huge glass storefront window is that, if you can see me, that means I can see you too."

”Wh-What are you on about? I don't...” Fuck! She knows. He internally panicked and wondered what would the appropriate response be.

"Oh calm down! Don't worry, I don't mind you ogling at me." She smirked evidently teasing him.

"Tch. Fuck you four eyes!"

"I wouldn't mind that too." He froze and It didn't take her too long to realize what she said. Her face immediately flushed in a very flattering shade of red. "I'm sorry I got carried away." Hange slightly turned away and tucked a little piece of her hair behind her ear.

He wanted to say something...flirty maybe? But chances are he's gonna run his mouth and say something about him thinking that she was a scruffy forest deity or how he hates that she never opens her store on time or how he knows her best record for not changing jumpsuits is 5 days. So he kept his mouth shut and let silence engulf them.

“Well, I’m next door just in case you wanna take me up for tea. I’ll see you around I guess.”

"Wait!" He called out.

Hange whipped her head to turn to him and he rushed behind the register to grab one of his spare umbrellas he keeps for emergencies. "Take this."

"What for?" She asked scratching the back of her head.

"You'd get sick running around in rain." he said plainly, hoping she didn't find him too creepy.

Levi didn't know it was possible but he swore her eyes shone a little brighter, a small smile is now etched on her face. "See you later Levi." She took one last glance at him lifting an arm to wave as she ran back to her store.

“Later, four eyes.” He whispered beneath his breath and although he felt pleasantly sunny inside, he sensed that he forgot about something...

Ah, he forgot to talk to her about his noise complaint.

#levihan #levihaneggschange2021 #levi ackerman #hange zoe #snk

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bumblebee-moreno · 3 years

Text

Awkward meetings (GN!reader)

Request: "Awkward first meeting for all the boys" and "Awkward first meeting and You lost something very important to you and they’re helping you look for it with Frankie Morales" for @luminescentlily

(Boys included are: Din, Javier Peña, Agent Whiskey, Frankie Morales, Max Phillips, Marcus P, and Marcus M.

Warnings: None?

A/N: Sorry this took so long to write. I had to leave a few boys out due to writer's block (Ezra, Tovar, and Zach Wellison), and I wanted to get this posted rather than continuing to stare at the screen in hopes of my brain miraculously functioning. To make up for my lack of inspiration at least a little bit, I added Marcus Moreno. Hope that's ok :)

Din Djarin

You feel a tug at your pant leg. Looking down, you are greeted by a pair of large watery eyes and big green ears. “Well hello there,” you smile, crouching down to be closer to the small child. “Where’s your family?”

He simply responds by lifting his arms towards you. You take that to mean he’d like to be lifted up. Scanning through over the crowded marketplace, you search for someone who the kid might belong to. You really have no idea what you’re looking for, having never seen anything like him, but you search nonetheless.

“Hey!” an angry voice calls out behind you. You whirl around, and before you know what’s happening, the child has been torn from your grasp and there’s a blaster to your head.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him I swear, I was just trying to find his family,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender.

The figure in front of you doesn’t respond at first, keeping his blaster pointed at you while he inspects the child for injury.

“Why did you have him?” The voice from under the helmet demands.

“I just found him by himself and I wanted to make sure he found his family,” you explain, voice shaking. “Are you his… Does he belong to you?”

“… yes.” He cautiously returns his blaster to its holster.

“I’m sorry,” you relax. “I didn’t mean to scare you. He’s just so… small. I didn’t want him to stay lost.”

The Mandalorian clutches the kid close to his chest as if he’s afraid they’ll be separated again. “Thank you.” He nods his head just enough for you to see the motion.

Javier Peña

“Shit, I’m going to be so fucking late,” you mutter to yourself, walking as fast as you can without sending the tall stack of papers in your arms flying.

On your way down the hall, you start going down your mental checklist.

‘Closed the window so the cat doesn’t escape? Check.’

‘Turned off the lights? Check.’

‘Locked the front door? Fuck.’

You stop in your tracks. How could you forget to lock your front door? You spin on your heel and run back towards your apartment, your one free hand switching between searching for your keys and adjusting the unstable tower balanced on your other arm.

In your haste to get your apartment locked so you can get to work on time, you fail to watch where you’re going.

Your body smacks into another. You fall backwards, losing your grip on the meticulously organised files. They scatter across the floor, completely losing the order you’d spent all night putting them in. The wind is knocked out of you for just long enough to hear the man you ran into grumping about how you should watch where you’re going.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m running late, I should’ve been paying more attention.” You pull yourself to your knees and start gathering your work off the floor. You’d normally stand and make sure the man you ran into is okay, but things at work are tense as it is, and being even later than you already are isn’t going to reflect well on you. Especially now that all of last night’s hard work needs to be done over.

You expect him to get up and walk past you. After his reaction to being practically tackled, you wouldn’t expect him to give you more than a second thought. But then a stack of papers lands on top of the one you’re already holding.

Your eyes shoot up to meet his. “You okay? You hit the ground kind of hard there,” Your neighbour asks.

You swallow thickly. “y-yeah, I’m fine,” you give a shaky smile. “How about you?”

“I’m all right, just running a bit late,” He offers a hasty smile before helping you to your feet. “I gotta get to work, but um, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, momentarily forgetting how late you are.

Agent Whiskey

‘Ugh I really needed this day off,’ you type underneath the photo before pressing send.

You place your phone on the edge of the tub before relaxing back into the warm water.

It isn’t long before your phone buzzes. Your eyes widen in horror at the response:

‘I think you’ve got the wrong number, darlin’.’ It’s paired with a photo of a man you’ve never met.

He is kinda cute though. You’d never think the whole “unironically cowboy” thing could ever work but… No. No. You can’t be thinking that kind of stuff. You just texted a stranger a photo of you in the bath for fuck’s sakes, you can’t be attracted to him after that!

You frantically scroll up to examine the photo you sent, breathing a sigh of relief when you confirm that the photo you sent didn’t have anything too revealing in it; between the angle of the camera and the bubbles in your bath, nothing too embarrassing is visible.

‘Shit, I’m so sorry, that was meant for a friend ’

You pick up the shred of paper your best friend scribbled their new number on while you were at lunch with them yesterday, to figure out what happened.

‘not a problem, It’s a nice distraction from this god awful meeting I’m stuck in’

You frown. ‘You’re in a meeting and you’re texting a total stranger?’

You return your gaze to the phone number in your hand. “what in the fuck,” you say aloud to yourself. The second to last digit. It’s supposed to be a 4. Not a 9.

A shaky photo appears on your phone. It’s obviously taken from peeking just the camera of his phone over the edge of the table.

‘Damn, that looks like a serious meeting, shouldn’t you be paying attention?’ If you were texting at work, especially in a meeting, you’d have your ass handed to you unless someone was dying (and even then, it would depend on what kind of mood your boss is in that day). And this guy is just casually texting you, a stranger, during a meeting with people who look like they make more money weekly than what your whole car is worth.

‘I’m a bit more concerned that I don’t even know the name of the person who texted me such a lovely photo 😉’

‘It’s Y/N.’ you send. ‘And please delete that picture, that’s kinda private’ you ask, crossing your fingers that he respects that.

‘Already done. Mine’s Jack, since you obviously weren’t going to ask 🤠’

A soft smile appears on your face. Maybe it is kind of okay that you accidentally typed in the wrong number. Or… it will be after you (lovingly) cuss out your friend for having such bad handwriting.

Frankie Morales

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself, searching through your pockets. “shitshitshitshitshitshitshit” You swear you just had them. Or… maybe you left them on the counter back at the library?

You turn around to run back, rifling through your bag. You only make it a few steps before you’re knocked backwards to the ground.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you blurt the moment you catch your breath again. Barely sparing a glance towards the man you ran into, you start gathering your books.

“No, no. I’m sorry,” the man insists. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He helps to gather your books.

“You okay?” he finally asks.

You look up at him and freeze. He’s really cute. In the ‘I give the best hugs in the world’ kind of way.

“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. “I just think I lost my car keys at the library, and I’m running late for lunch with a friend.” You mentally kick yourself. You just ran over the only attractive man you’ve seen since moving here, and then the first thing you do is overshare?

“Oh, did you want some help looking?” he immediately offers.

“I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugs. “I’ve got lunch plans I’m desperately trying to find an excuse to get out of, so you’re helping me, really.”

“Okay, um… sure,” you nod. “an extra set of eyes looking wouldn’t hurt.”

“Cool. I’m Frankie.”

You introduce yourself and shake his outstretched hand.

The two of you make your way back towards the library.

“so…” you break the uncomfortable silence. “Lousy lunch plans, huh?”

“…yeah,” Frankie falls silent for a moment. “A couple of guys I used to serve with invited me out and I didn’t really have an excuse to say no.”

“Don’t get along with them?”

“We used to be friends, but I’m kind of rethinking that lately.”

“Oh,” you debate asking more questions. But then again, he doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to, right? “Did… did something happen?”

“Convinced me to go to South America a while back, which would’ve been fine, except we kind of got stuck there, and my wife was left alone with the baby.”

Your stomach dropped at this. You’re not even sure why; you just met the guy, you really have no reason to be disappointed he’s taken.

“Was she at least understanding?” You ask.

“huh?”

“Your wife.”

“Oh,” Frankie chew his lip for a moment. “no. When I got back, she was… possessive. Searching my phone, never letting me go out with friends, that kind of stuff. Separated a few months later.”

“Oh,” you try to ignore the fact that your heart skipped a beat; you can’t be excited—that’s insensitive. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, actually. I was helping you find your keys, and here I am ranting about my whole tragic backstory as if you actually cared.”

“I don’t mind.” You actually like listening to him. But you keep that to yourself.

“You shouldn’t have to listen to all that though—”

“Shit!” you interrupt him. “I’m such an idiot.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Frankie looks like he’s assuming the worst.

“…I didn’t lose my car keys. I walked here. And lunch with my friend is next week.” You chuckle bitterly. “I was so lost in my head I completely forgot she rescheduled. Sorry I wasted your time.”

“It’s okay,” Frankie laughs. You can’t help but smile at his lopsided dimple. “Hey, since you don’t have lunch plans and I want to get out of mine… Can I take you out? You can tell me your life’s story since you already know mine?”

“Sure,” you smile, though half of you is screaming to just leave the country to escape the embarrassment.

Max Phillips

“Ew, no.” you scrunch your nose.

“Hey, you’re the one that lost the bet.” Eva insists.

“I am not kissing a random stranger.” You sweep your gaze across the crowded café.

“It was your idea.” Eva sips her tea.

“That was because I thought I was going to win.” You cross your arms across your chest.

“You don’t get to opt out just because you’re a sore loser.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know them, what if they have a disease or something? Gross.” Your stomach turns at the idea.

“Okay, fine.” Eva sighs. And, for a fleeting moment, you have hope that she’s given in. “Kiss that guy then,” she points.

You turn. “Oh my god, Eva. No.”

“What? He doesn’t look like he has a disease,” Eva shrugs.

“He looks like a frat boy.”

“He’s cute though.” Eva leans in a not-at-all-subtle way to get a clearer view of him.

“I hate you.” You stand up. “And when I’m done, you’re buying me an entire bottle of vodka to wash my mouth with.”

“Yes!” Eva cheers triumphantly. A few people shoot her expressions of annoyance at the outburst.

You storm over to the man and pull him in by the collar. His lips barely brush against yours before you’re stomping back to your friend. Though, for a moment, you actually consider staying to talk to him. Eva was right, he definitely isn’t hard on the eyes.

You push the thought from your mind and collapse back into your seat, scowling at your friend.

“You’re literally the worst human being on the planet,” you huff.

“You’re just being dramatic,” Eva laughs.

“Am not.” Okay… maybe you are, but Eva can’t know that.

“Fine. We’ll go get you a drink once I’m back from the bathroom.” Eva skips off, still laughing about your reaction.

She’s barely out of sight before her seat is filled by the stranger you just kissed.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I lost a bet,” you don’t look up at him, instead choosing the glare at a stain on the wooden table.

“I figured as much.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “I also figured I have the right to at least know the name of the person who just kissed me.”

You reluctantly introduce yourself, still refusing to make eye contact with the man.

“I’m Max. And, if you want to apologise for kissing me without my consent,” he throws a napkin with a phone number scribbled in red sharpie onto the table in front of you, “You can call me.”

Marcus Pike

You hum quietly to yourself, unable to stop smiling. It’s been so long since you’ve gone on a real date. You turn on your shower, but instead of water coming from the showerhead, it starts leaking from the base of the hose.

That can’t be good. You turn off the water and fiddle with the shower. Maybe it just came loose.

You reach for the handle to try the water again. But before your hand can even touch the cool metal, the entire shower head disconnects from the wall and clatters to the shower floor.

Letting out an exasperated groan, you start gathering your clothes into a bag. You really don’t have time for this today. Crossing your fingers your neighbour is home, you head next door.

You’ve never actually talked to him, but you figure he’s probably a safer bet than the crazy old neighbour on your other side; the way he looks at you whenever you run into him gives you the jitters. And not the “he’s a creep” kind of feeling you get when anyone else stares for too long. More like the “he’s probably got a taxidermy cat in his living room and a human body in his closet” kind of feeling. So the neighbour you’ve never even introduced yourself to will have to do.

Your knock echoes through the quiet air. Shifting from foot to foot, you wait impatiently for an answer.

The door clicks open, leaving you face-to-face with your neighbour, who is way cuter up close than you expected him to be.

“…hi,” He greets you as if he’s startled by your presence.

“…hi…” you bite your lip and tear your gaze away from his face to examine your shoe. “I… Well, I live next door, and well—”

“I know,” he interrupts.

“I-What?”

“I’ve seen you… around. We get home from work at the same time, so…”

“Oh.” You chew on your lip for a moment. “Look, my shower broke, and I have a date I have to get to, and well…” you drift off. Are you really asking your irresistibly adorable neighbour who you’ve never met if you can use his shower?

“Oh. Okay, did you want to use mine then?” You pretend not to notice how pink his face has turned.

“Would you mind? I just—I’m running late and I don’t have time to figure out what’s wrong with mine before I leave and still have time to get ready to go.”

“Sure, Come on in,” He shuffles out of the way to allow you space to enter. “Down the hall, second door to the right.”

“Thank you so much,” you smile awkwardly. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You walk as quickly as you can without breaking into a run to get to the bathroom, leaving Marcus frozen in the doorway.

This is not how he imagined meeting you. Not that he imagined that at all. And he definitely hadn’t spent hours trying to figure out how to ask you out. Because that would be weird.

And he just let you use his shower to go on a date with someone else.

Fuck.

Marcus Moreno

“Excuse me,” a voice speaks up from behind you, just barely audible over your music. You turn around to find that the voice belongs to a young girl.

“Hello,” you greet taking out your headphones.

“Do you see that guy over there?” she asks, pointing across the cluttered bookstore to a man struggling to balance a tower of books while skimming the shelves for more.

“The one in the glasses?” you confirm.

“That’s my dad,” the girl nods. “He thinks you’re cute, but he’s too afraid to talk to you.”

“Oh,” you say, unsure whether you should be flattered or amused.

“He says it’s ‘cause he doesn’t want to weird you out,” she elaborates, “but I think he’s scared you won’t like him back.”

The man glances up, and, upon seeing his daughter talking to you, rushes over. He pauses only briefly when he trips over a box of books placed in the middle of the walkway.

“Oh, here he comes, act natural,” the girl whisper-yells just before her father arrives. “Oh, hey dad,” she greets him nonchalantly.

“Missy, what did we just talk about?” he scolds.

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “I shouldn’t go up to strangers and tell them my dad thinks they’re cute even when he totally does.”

Missy’s dad freezes, a look of horrified embarrassment washing over his face. “You… You told them what?”

“I’m going to shop some more,” she walks away, winking at you.

“Hey, you get back here, young lady,” he calls after her, struggling not to raise his voice above a murmur in the middle of the peaceful book shop. His daughter ignores him.

He groans under his breath. “I’m sorry about her,” he turns back to you.

“It’s okay,” you laugh. “I’m Y/N,”

“Marcus.” He looks down at his armful of books. “I’d uh… I’d offer a handshake but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile. Marcus smiles back. You allow a moment of uncomfortable silence before speaking up again. “So… you think I’m cute?”

“What? No! I mean, Yes. I mean…” Marcus’ face scrunches up in embarrassment. “Yes? But not… not in a weird way. I wasn’t like… admiring you or anything. That’d be… weird.” Marcus hangs his head with an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll just shut up now.”

You smile again at the flustered man in front of you. After a moment, you pull a pen from your sweatshirt pocket.

“Well, here’s my number,” you say, writing as clearly as you can across his forearm. “You can text me if you decide you do think I’m cute… In a weird way.”

You walk to the counter to pay for your books, sincerely hoping he decides to text.

---

Taglist:

@pascalisthepunkest @trashbin2 @anatanotegami @beesting77 @northernpunk @pumpkin-stars

#Din djarin #Javier Peña #Agent Whiskey #Frankie Morales #Max Phillips #marcus pike #marcus moreno #gender neutral reader #gn reader #pedro pascal

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vannyvancan · 3 years

Text

"mr assassin" Roommate!Shinsou Hitoshi X F!Reader Part 2

Part 2 of your Roommate/Assassin!Shinsou is here! First of all I wanna thank y'all for liking the first part so much! In this part we go deeper in darker theme of it, so just a fair warning.

my masterlist. Hope you have a great day and happy reading!

Tw for : Assassin!Shinsou theme, female reader, gun usage, slight insecurity, NSFW for the most part on the later chapters, drug usage, corrupt government talk, harrasment

Day five of living with your new roommate. He hadn't shown much of an interest in harming you...

That was swell.

You huffed out a breath of relaxation when the realization hit, but not also that, things weren't as bad as you expected! The thought you'd get a nasty roommate who would leave much more bigger mess than you was on the mind... but he seems to be the one who cleans as well? A welcome surprise indeed.

Shinsou was an enigma, waking up early at five am, neatly sorting his clothing and coming back late at 11 pm, he didn't seem restless, which could only mean he probably has a second accommodation where he rests and eats as well. It also explains why he only had one bag with him which you had decency and never saw what was inside. Besides...

He had given you a glare yesterday when you stared at it for long with those white pupils of his.

Even though he was soft spoken, he always managed to find a way to poke fun at you before he left. Granted, you were quiet surprised when he made you a french toast every morning! He barely knows you, but you were grateful to have found a roommate that in one way or another showed his gratitude. Afterwards, you felt obligation to one up him and return the favour. Now dragging your dear friend out, you giggled at the phone text from Uraraka as she immediately started spewing jokes about your potential 'future' with him.

„What an idiot.“ You grinned to yourself, walking down the street to the meeting place, you were about to go shopping with her, you still had to supply yourself with comfortable winter clothing.

„Y/N!“ Uraraka's voice reached your ears.

„Hey! Long time no see!“

„Very long time indeed!“

Uraraka rushed her step to give you the biggest hug there was. She was the sweetest friend and was always there for you no matter the circumstances. Now both of you dragging yourselves in the clothing store

„You just got off from work right? How was it?“ She asked, looking at time, it was now 5 pm.

„Tiring, its even worse because they fired colleagues before summer so now all of us have extra hour of work.“

„Oh no. But at least you will be rewarded more no? More hours equal more pay.“

„Nope, it's the same job in the end, they just extended work time.“ Frowning at the work contract on the mind, it was a very high chance it will drastically change soon as well.

„It's very... bad.“ You nervously laughed as you walked together.

„One time they fired someone from storage, only to replace them with boss's relative. By law its forbidden, but they made up a name for the new position that does the same job in storage. So it seems valid, but its not.“

„Ah... it happened here as well, but uhm.“ Uraraka started

„Hmm?“

„There's been some disappearances from our parent company, we are having a bit of a rescheduling on our own as well.“ Uraraka nervously chuckled and scratched the back of her head, it was quiet obvious there's been some action going on on her end as well.

„But enough about that, how's Shinsou~?“ She teasingly leaned in and poked her pink cheek.

Your mind shifted to the now roommate, the intimidating figure had you stuttering for a second. Obviously, Uraraka shouldn't of hung out with Mina so often back in college days, because it was so obvious she wanted to pull out some flustering on your end as well. Her curiosity especially hit the peak since she heard your voice hit higher notes when talking about him.

„I-I.. U-um. Okay, fuck! I can't!“ Both of the palms now covered your face to hide the embarrassment.

„Ahah! Is he that hot? You didn't react like that for so long!“

„Shut up!“ You huff out „It's enough that he made a toast for me yesterday, now I don't know how to return the favor. I want to get close to him, but he's unapproachable.“

The brunette put a finger on her lower lip in deep thought.

„Maybe if he's so busy, you can make him little lunches in a box, since he's so busy.“

„Uraraka, that's so childish.“

„It's not! You have to show him your soft side! Poke around, maybe he likes it.“

„My soft side?“

Grimacing as she advised, you were afraid of getting your feelings hurt. Now hesitantly picking up shirts and pants from the shopping stand, you managed to pick decent clothing for the upcoming winter before the prices skyrocket, it was expensive already but you managed to find something cheap. Your eyes trailed to find a plain white scarf, it was really nice quality, and rather cheap, but the sudden thoughts redirected to Shinsou as fingers tried out the material.

Maybe its not a bad idea to try and open up, you'll try but there should be equal effort on his end as well. Now snatching the scarf from the stand, you both bought your things and left the store, suddenly being nudged on the shoulder by the pink cheeked individual, you let out a relieved laughter while walking home for today.

...

„No, no! Please, Spare me!“

„I'm afraid job's a job.“

„No, please! My wife-!“

-SNAP-

„... Operation successful, returning to the main area. Prepare for body disposal.“

„Roger that Mindjack.“

On the broad daylight, Shinsou had eliminated yet another target for today, this time it was a business man whose life spiraled down in gambling addiction, the man who had hired him said he owned too much and knew too much to be kept alive.

Drugs and gambling went hand in hand, it was no different that the client probably had some shady stuff going on on their end as well. Shinsou had to keep his eye open on this one as well.

„Dispatched him quickly?“ Shoto came by side to Shinsou while adjusting dark gloves on.

„Yeah.“

„Good. Let me help you up.“

Several moments later, a truck came by to pick the dead body up, Kirishima's disguise as a trash driver made both of them cringe for a moment, but quickly brushed it off as Shoto and Shinsou threw it away. The cleanup crew should get rid of their traces now, all he has to do is get away as fast as possible from here. Shoto and Shinsou entered in the truck and drove in silence.

„You blocked the spot quiet nicely Shoto! Made a nice clearing for Shinsou to execute.“ Kirishima praised

„I merely blocked the parking lot. I don't see it being worth a mention.“

„Man, but missions like these always for newbies rely on stalking and timing. And this was perfect.“

„Nothing is perfect in this line of business.“ Shinsou ripped off his gloves and cracked his own neck to relieve tension. „Karma will hit you back hard if you don't know what you are doing.“

„Yeah yeah, it isn't very manly if you're in it just for cash, I mean... I'm rooting for justice and y'all, don't go thinking I am blind to what you guys are doing.“

Shoto and Shinsou fell silent. It was hard to swallow the truth, the car ride to the safe house wasn't long, soon Kirishima hit the brakes and came to a stop to the small abandoned storage house on the outskirts of the city. Shoto jumped out to take care of the body while Shinsou assisted with it, after they were done, Kirishima checked the contract for the job well done and handed the payment. A block of dollar bills now in their hands, the digital transfer of money would raise eyebrows in eyes of banks, so the money transfer was best if it was physical.

„Here you go boys! Boss says that the next contract is gonna be handed out tomorrow, you are free for the rest of the evening.“

„Tomorrow already?“ Shinsou asks.

„Yeah, what did you mean with that question?“

„I was thinking of looking into the client of the previous contract. Do some research and possibly eliminating him.“

Kirishima clicked with his tongue while Shoto huffed out and fiddled with the block of money in his hands.

„Sorry man. Solo contracts wont get you money, and gateways like us wont help you since we put too much at stake. You are on your own if you are gonna kill someone who is off the list.“ Kirishima explained

„Why would you even do it?“ Shoto asked, „Its not like the guy did you anything bad.“

Before Shinsou could answer Kirishima pat his back two times before turning on his heel to store his equipment away and head home himself for today.

„Mindjack has always been like that, even before you started working with. He sorta goes off on his own at times, seeking who needs killin' and who doesn't. That's why we hired you Shoto.“

„Can't blame me for doing what I think its right.“ Shinsou lowered his head, „All I need is time, That's why I was taken aback when a new contract was announced for tomorrow.“

„Alright alright, Mr. Assassin. You'll get your time. Someday. For now, this handsome manly man is going to go home for tonight! I'm going to get myself some hot bath.“

„See you Red. I'll be going too, Goodnight Mindjack.“

The departure was short, Shinsou took his bag and changed clothes before heading back, the bad smell could of easily rub off on him and he didn't want you to start speculating things. Even though he mostly ends his victim's lives in a way where no blood can be shed, it was a close call when she started eyeing the bag yesterday. He hated it, but he had already planned out way's to kill the roommate he was living with for any situation if she found out his true work.

'I don't need any of you to help me in my solo hunt.' He thought to himself, putting his black leather jacket on and helmet, he checked out his surroundings before revving up his bike and driving away.

The evening was busy as people were going back from work, it was 6 pm after all and he was stressing out on the fact that he will have to see his roommate. Maybe he could take a spin? Or start investigating on his own, but he didn't have time, he needed it. Rumbling of the bike eased tension he had from the committed crime, but only barely. As he came to a red light he slowed down and realized he was shaking badly, he knew it was not only from the setting sun and chilling air slowly creeping in, but also of stress. The realization that he might get caught always hit him harder after it settled in his mind. He inhaled deeply and eyed the nearby passengers. His eyes land on a woman in distance he never thought he would run into.

It was you, and you have been on your way to the flat with things you've gotten. The fact you saved up on the flat made you relax and indulge in the little shopping spree with Uraraka and groceries. You smiled from ear to ear nevertheless the tiredness creeping on you from the day.

„Mm...“ You sighed and rolled your shoulders.

„Maybe I'll make the thing she told me.“

You honestly looked like a happy child after realizing now that you have a roommate who pays for half of the expenses, you have extra cash to buy for things and make food at home. It wasn't a big deal to go out and buy something since it was cheap to buy a box of instant meal, but you wanted to cook your own food for a long time now. As you looked in the grocery bag and already beginning to think of the recipe you'd think for it, you suddenly bumped onto a stranger who didn't quiet follow his surroundings either. The harsh impact almost made you fall behind flat on your backside, but you managed to find balance. 'How rude-!' you thought.

„Ah-! S-sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you sir-„

„Watch where you are stepping wench-! I swear, women like you need to fucking know their place and stay at home.“

Excuse me?

Since when did this idiot have any right to find you to get his frustrations out?

You frowned at his sentence, knowing better not to engage with a random incel on the streets at evening hours, whose breath reeked of beer and bad hygiene, you decided to clutch your bags and pass by him hurriedly.

„Don't fucking ignore me!“

„Hey! Let me go!“

The man captures your wrist harshly and doesn't let go, now pulling you towards himself, he makes your belongings and your body stumble forward. His other hand wrap around your waist and starts dragging you along with him. Trying to shake yourself away only resulted in him recapturing you. He started laughing and you only now realize he quiet probably meant to bump into you.

He was trying to kidnap you-

„I said you are a bitch! Now you'll know your place-!“

„Let me go!“

Closing your eyes, the strong grip bruised your wrist and you yelped in pain, Your eyes veiled with tears as his disgusting sweaty hands found their way on your thighs to try and attempt to carry you, but the hold that was on you was suddenly broken free and a strong impact of a punch made the man fall flat on the ground. You were quiet sure you heard something broke as well.

„Agh! Son of a-!“

The adrenaline spiked in your veins and you immediately snapped out of it to see what was going on. Another hand rested on you almost protectively, you raised head to see a dark dressed figure that was very familiar. You were quiet shocked to find Shinsou held you close to his chest, wasn't he supposed to work until very late? You hear his quickened heartbeat and deep breathing as he gazed into the eyes of an attacker. Clutching onto him, you immediately felt more sorry for the drunken individual that had attacked you. Hooded eyes with dark eye bags were visible with blood rush, he stared down at his victim like a prey.

„I honestly can't believe how uncool you are, attacking a woman.“ He tilted his head on the side „Piss off before I do anything worse.“

The drunkard scrambled to his feet, he held onto his nose, groaning in pain inflicted by just his one punch.

„You fucker-! You broke my fucking nose!“

He charged again at Shinsou and you. This time, Shinsou quickly dispatched him by a high kick in his stomach, stealing all the air from his lungs. He hunched over and fell flat face forward, deeming him now unconscious. Your mouth went agape at his form, even though there were no visible passerby's, the drivers could certainly call police and at any moment and both of you would get caught.

„Shinsou!“ You panicked, finally reacting at the scene.

„Come on, lets get the hell out from here. He's bad news.“ He pat your shoulders and helped you scramble the bags that were on the ground.

He led you to climb on his bike that you were quiet hesitant to get on at first, he didn't let you get acquainted as the time was limited and you let out a noise of protest at first.

„We have no time, grab onto me.“ He revved up his bike and it rumbled.

„You just gonna escape like that!?“ You asked „What gives he's not gonna blame it on us? The police-“

„Police is not going to do shit.“ He glared at you „Unless you want to call them right now and deal with this sort of mess on Thursday evening, be my guest.“

You whined again, thinking thoroughly on his words you knew he was right so you followed his orders. If anything Shinsou was a witness if both of you ever end up getting caught. Holding onto the bags in your hand, you decided it was a better option to leave. Now climbing on you adjusted yourself in back of seat, the view in front of you were of his back, now starting to get illuminated by the street lights. He smelled nice, despite it being closed off by the leather jacket, his vibrant purple hair was flattened by the helmet, and you couldn't shake off the thought that you were about to hold him. You let your left hand slip around his stomach while your right one grips his shoulder.

Fuck, he was solid.

The gas made you back up a bit and grip on him tighter as he violently sped forwards to escape the scene. You hid your face in his back and held onto dear life. You weren't acquainted with bike's, most of your life was spent driving in cars and public transport, but you were quiet thankful to have him tell you when to lean on sides as you took turns.

„Just like riding a bicycle“ He claimed.

You relaxed after he talked more about it, there was something about him being calm in this situation made you very thankful. If he hadn't shown up...

Well, you wouldn't like to think about it.

He slowed down and stopped as the lights turned orange, then red, he took this opportunity to check on you. Shinsou leaned back and turned to you.

„You okay?“

„Y-yeah, still a bit shaken up about it. I... think I'll be fine. What about you?“

„I'm good.“ He replied shortly, his curt expression not giving anything else away.

In his mind, there wasn't anything he could do to help, the thought of comforting a victim was very alien to him. He could manage dispatching the person quickly, but he would rather much leave a therapy session to others. There was something about how he emotionally closed off himself that helped him do what he was working for, but it was never in favor when someone needed emotional support, like you right now.

His thought process was interrupted by a white scarf now gently falling around his neck.

„Your facial expression doesn't quiet match your body language Mr. Shinsou. Here, have this, your body is shaking.“

„What is this?“ He asked, tenderly reaching for the soft white fabric and letting the warmth of it settle around his neck.

„Its a scarf... I was planning on giving it to you. You are a good roommate to me.“

His eyes lit up at the realization, his knee was thumping up and down in nervousness from what he had been overthinking about, whats wrong with this woman? Is she going to be the one giving him the therapy session? He better not go soft now. The light turned green and you took a last turn to your place and he parked nearby. Both of you got off and he helped you by giving you a hand and with the bags.

„You didn't have to.“

„That's not true, I had to! I know work's probably putting a lot of strain on you just like mine is, and I know you mean only well, hell, you've been cooking an extra toast just for me.. and now you saved me.“

Both of you came to a stop as you entered the building. You sighed a little bit as words of gratitude escaped you

„And I just want to say.. Thank you."

Wide eyed like a kitten, he seemed so innocent if he didn't act so suspicions all the time. But this time you were so happy on seeing your roommate warming up to you. He was speechless for a solid second, he raised the scarf just a little bit to hide his mouth and nose.

Was he blushing?

"You really think that huh?" He asks, it was a simple question, but it got you stuttering madly and you looked onward, taking big steps as suddenly your flat was the lifeline of a place to be in right now. Shinsou himself didn't want to admit it but looking at you being cheerful after the events set his mind at ease.

"O-of course! A-and don't think that that you are ever a bad person, whoever is telling you bad things at work... They are wrong, because you are actually a really nice person... I think." You said without looking back.

„Now you are just sprouting nonsense.“ He chuckled and followed closely behind.

„Come on! I'm gonna cook us dinner. We are gonna feast.“

#bnha shinsou #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #mha shinso x reader #mha shinsou #shinso #shinso x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou #bnha reader insert

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oksana-moods · 3 years

Text

Ghost of you - Part 5

Summary: When your answers doesn’t fill in the blanks properly, the only option is to move forward. A/N: Two in a row, ‘cause I’m nice like that. Thanks for those who left comments and likes, reblogged and gave me any kind of support. You’re amazing! I mentioned that this would be slow burn, right? Trigger Warnings: Violence, language, mentions of death… If you find others, let me know.

“And all the things that you never ever told me.”

My encounter with Fury left me felling scarred and open. I knew a name; I knew who I used to be. I knew things about me, but they felt so foreign, like they belonged to someone else. Maybe, because it did. I wasn’t Lara, but was I Ghost? Later that night, I was assaulted with the woman’s… no, Carol’s crash, Carol going away scenes once again. My head was an utterly turmoil. It became obvious that my memory from Carol leaving, our brake-up, came after the accident and not in the sequence that Hydra played in my mind. Bastards. They led me to believe that I was useless. That all I was authorized to feel was void, emptiness. What did I feel, now? Besides this rage masquerade as fire, what was left to feel? What was permitted?

I looked at the door as soon as I heard the locks. Romanoff enters my accommodation and I get up, not too fast to not startle her. “Miss Romanoff, fancy seeing you here without bodyguards.” She glares at me. “Thought didn’t worth the effort to protect them.” She’s flashes me a tide smile. “It came to my attention that you’ve met Fury.” I nod. “So, how should I call you now?” She takes two steps closer and leans at the table. “Lara? Or do you still prefer Ghost? I shrug “All of them makes me uneasy. None of them seem to fit.” “Hm. Maverick then.” “I never said that this one was good either.” “Well, we need to call you somehow.” A grin is scaping her lips. “We?” I blinked and she was looking at me from the door frame. “Come. I’m afraid that you’re starting to rust.”

Agent Romanoff didn’t want revenge, but she definitely wanted payback. And God, that woman is almost too fast for me to keep up. Almost. After being in my accommodation for so long, I was indeed a bit rusted. However, my muscles loved the exercise, and it did wonders to my brain. Fighting against such good opponent kept me focused on our spar. First time in days that I stop to think and overthink about my misery. Romanoff came with one of those Widow’s combos that I menage to dodge and block a few, but one kick reached my shoulder while her elbow found my temples.

All of a sudden, I’m standing in a bar. My mind’s eye was caught in something like a foggy screen and oh my, is this a memory? I had a drink in my hand while the other one was resting in a sling. I was feeling like shit, so much sorrow coursing through me, all I could… I feel a slap in my good shoulder. I look up to see a tall man offering me a pool cue. ‘Come, the winner gets free beers.’ I look at my drink while I say. ‘Thanks, I’m good. I’m not in the mood.’ He nudges me. What part of mood, he didn’t catch? He speaks. ‘Oh c’mon, Mav. Danvers’s accident is tragic and all, but c’mon… or are you just sad about your injured arm?’ Fire starts to spread throughout my chest. ‘Excuse me?’ He leans in the counter. ‘Look, all I’m saying is that you guys weren’t even friends, none of us were. She was too cocky. Guess Miss goody two shoes couldn’t even drive a car, let alone fly a jet.’ The fire was consuming, was bursting out of me until it reached its peak. Complete forgetting about the sling, my hand moved to the back of his head so, so fast. Next thing I knew, I was knocking his head in the counter. He looks up with his nose covered in blood. ‘Bitch!’ He charged at me. He knocked me down and my head hit the floor, but I needed to put this fire out, I wouldn’t stop now, I needed to vent my rage. I failed in protecting her from dying, but I sure won’t fail in protecting her memory from this scum. After exchanging punches and kicks, I held him in a chokehold. ‘Never, and I do mean never talk about her like this, Specht.’ I looked up to see an audience. ‘I’ll kill anyone of you who dares to speak of her.’ I let go of him and left the bar. When reality finds me again, the first thing to reach my ears is Romanoff’s voice. “Maverick, are you alright?” “Yeah, I’m good. Why?” She scoffs. “I hit your head and then you stop fighting, kept looking nowhere, like in a trance.” “Oh. I… I’m sorry.” Her voice is softer when she speaks again. “What happened? Do you need me to call, Bruce or Dr. Cho?” “What? No, no. I’m fine. It’s just… I had a vision, I don’t know.” I rub my temples to ease the pain in my head. “I think that I saw a memory, after you hit me, in a moment I was here sparing with you and the next I was in a bar having a bar fight with a man.” “You were a fighter even before, huh?” She joked and I shrugged. “Are this visions or memories assaults a common thing?” I frown trying to make it simpler. “I’ve never had another memory except being left behind and the Crash in a loop. Guess I’m just confused. Do I need specific triggers to remember things or is this my brain fighting Hydra’s brainwashing?” She gives me a look that I can’t decipher. “I’m sorry all of this happened to you. Let us help you.” “Help? With what? Will you guys erase my memory again?” “How long will take for you to start to trust us? We won’t hurt you.” Trust? Her question caught me off guard. How can I trust, when I don’t know what trust is? “I want to believe in you but all that I know is Hydra. Guess I’m afraid of this being just smoke and mirrors.” Her brows were so furrowed that probably hurts. “It’s not. And I’m here to help.” I narrow my eyes at her “Why are you being nice to me?” I open my arms to show the sparing room “Bringing me here, offering help… I’m the enemy, Miss Romanoff.” She shakes her head. “No. You were a victim who were weaponized, yes. Nothing, but another casualty.” I’m still not convinced, and she knows. “Look, Fury trusts you and I trust Fury. Remember all those Hydra’s bases and facilities that you gave us?” I nodded. “We paid a visit to a few of them, the intel you gave us matched so far.” “Does this mean you’ll let me go?” I asked. “Do you really think that you would be safe out there?” Her green orbs are boring into mine. I sign, looking away. “Stark’s Tower is one of the safest buildings in this world.” “Then, what are we?” What am I, prisoner with benefits? A smirk makes its way to her lips. “The enemy of my enemy…”

Surprisingly enough, Romanoff led me to the tower’s kitchen and offered me a sandwich for lunch. I’m a bit uneasy with this interaction, don’t know how to act, don’t know what to expect. I take my surroundings to mentally calculate an escape route, she knows the place, but I believe that I could fight with her if she tries to kill me with a butterknife. She doesn’t try to make small talk and I’m glad. To fight, survive and punishments are the only interactions that I’m used to. I don’t know how to function in a normal life, if that exists.

I recognize a newcomer, Captain America in all his glory. Romanoff puts a plate in front of me while speaks. “Hi, Cap. Joining us for lunch?” “What is she doing here, Natasha?” “Everything she told us matched so far, Fury trusts her. Since she’s helping us against Hydra, I’m willing to give her the benefit of doubt.” “If Black Widow is willing to trust you...” He offered his hand for me to shake. “I’m Steve Rogers. Captain America if you will.” I took his hand in mine. “It’s a pleasure, Sir. I’m… hm.” I let go of his hand, suddenly I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. “I don’t know how to introduce myself.” A humorless smile grace my lips. “Guess Hydra never taught me that part.” “I think we should call her by her call sign. Maverick.” Widow supplies With a shrug, Rogers says. “It’s catchy. And if I called you Major, you’d outrank me.” He whispers the last part “I wouldn’t like that; Tony could use you against me.” The Redhead sitting next to me let out a heartly laugh which is soon joined by Rogers’s and I’m mesmerized. So, this is how people function in daily basis. I always wondered if being caged in a dark room waiting to be called for missions was only my reality or everyone’s. Guess that seeing them here, so relaxed having a meal in a wide kitchen with a meaningless conversation was answer enough. I’m amazed how light, how comfortable they seemed to be with each other. I wonder…

“Mav?” I’m brought out of my reverie by Romanoff’s voice. “Sorry, what?” “I said that your intel about anti-aircraft weapons were crucial to help us reach Hydra’s bases unscathed” Rogers says. “Didn’t thought they would have so many.” “As I told miss Romanoff before, everyone was paranoid. Even with all the guns, defenses, and secret locations. Nothing could ease their fear. Now I know that they were afraid of you.” I chewed a bit. “Have you guys closed all the ones I gave you, already?” “Not yet. We’re looking for something. So, we’re choosing our targets according with your intel and ours.” I looked at him. “What are you looking for?” This was a sensitive subject, if his subtle shift was any indication. He was uneasy to share this with me. Couldn’t blame him, though, I was still enemy. An acquaintance enemy, but still. “It’s a high-tech device. Extremely dangerous, especially in their hands.” I didn’t miss the way he chose the word ‘their’ indicating that I wasn’t part of ‘them’ and I appreciated the gesture. This device tough… “There is a lot of facilities build for experiments. Those were the ones always exchanging data, research, personnel…” I was deep in thought. “But there was this one in Sokovia. They were always asking for more subjects, or volunteers as they called.” I wet my lips. “I was ordered to be the stealthier that I could, my hole unit stayed there. I was the only one to come back.” I looked up to him. “Have you guys tried that one, yet?” “Sokovia?” He repeated. “No, there’s little to none about Sokovia in our files. Isn’t an old building with ancient, abandoned equipment and vehicles?” “There’s nothing old and abandoned in Sokovia, mister Rogers.” I rest my fork in my empty plate. “On the contrary, they are the busiest. They’re just keeping an incredible low profile.” He turns to Romanoff. “Nat, contact the team. We’re going on a trip.” “Don’t forget your jacket.”

---------------

Apparently, Sokovia was a huge success with a very big H, because I was invited to a party, by Tony Stark himself. Now, my dilemma was increased, if I didn’t know how to act in a simple conversation. How do they expect me to function in a party, with their friends and a lot of them knows who I am. Plus, I’ve never been in a party. This is bound to be a disaster.

Yep. I was right. There was a crazy robot giving a speech about Avengers being nothing more than killers. Then, all hell broke loose. I’m fighting killer robots in a fancy party room. Without thinking, miss Hill handled me a gun. Guess that ‘the enemy of my enemy’ is really a thing around here. In the end, my metal arm did more damage. As soon as Thor’s hammer crashed the last robot, the party was over.

#cap marvel #captain marvel #carol danvers #carol danvers x original character #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x fem!reader #captain marvel x reader #age of ultron #ghost of you #infinity stones #natasha romanoff #Ghost #original female character #original character #marvel fanfic series #marvel x reader

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

I’ll Handle This (13)

In Which There’s Cheese

Ao3 | FF.net

Trigger or Squick warning: Man has done some messed up stuff in the pursuit of perfect cheese. And what is cheese but moldy, rotten milk? This chapter contains some very foul and nasty descriptions of actual cheese that people eat. So if eating rotting food makes you uncomfortable, best skip to the end of this chapter.

(Spoiler: Plagg gives Lila really gross cheese. She eats it, and has to run out of the room to vomit.)

“—so the best way to level up is to get a skill up to 100, and then legendary it back down to 15, so then you can use the skill perks on another ability that’s harder to level up. That’s where I’m at right now. I’m on level 106 and trying to fill up all my skill trees by using smithing, speech, enchanting, lock picking, and blocking.”

Day three of Lila’s torment, and there was presumably no end in sight.

Had she known from the beginning that Adrien Agreste was this big of a nerd and completely socially inept, she wouldn’t have talked to him at all.

Funny how people looked less attractive the more annoying they got.

And she had tried. She had sincerely tried to get him to shut up. She told him, “I’m sorry Adrien, I’m just not that interested in this video game.”

“Well, you’ve just never played it before! You should come over this weekend—no, actually, I think we should go to your place. When you aren’t grounded anymore. Your mom seemed to really like me!”

Of course she did. Her mother likes anyone who’s a ‘good influence’ on her precious baby. And nothing like Paris’ golden boy to fill that bubble.

Her mom probably preferred that Adrien was so naïve and oblivious.

The bell rang for lunch, and Lila was up and out of her seat without another word. She was tired of the games. Skyrim, Magic: The Gathering, and trying to salvage a friendship with the dumb blond. But Adrien usually ate lunch at home or with Marinette, at least he had been, so lunch was her time to recharge! She’d take her place in the throne room that was the cafeteria and have everyone’s attention. With an hour of that, she could certainly put up with whatever Adrien had to tell her the next half of the day.

In the cafeteria, most seats were taken. The two open seats were at a table with Alya, Nino, and Marinette. Of course Lila wasn’t thrilled with Marinette, but she’d leave eventually, and someone else would hear her tales and come to sit with them.

“Hey guys! Do you mind if I sit with you?” Lila smiled, all friendly-like.

“Not at all, Lila, take a seat!” Alya welcomed.

Marinette and Nino kept their poker faces as she sat down.

“So Alya, I had this amazing idea for an article for the Ladyblog, and I bet I could get some quotes from Ladybug for it too.”

“Or really?” Alya squealed. “That would be amazing! So what’s the idea?”

“Basically—“

“WHO WANTS SOME CHEESE?!” Plagg sang as he took his spot in the last remaining seat, right next to Lila.

She wanted to die.

“Cheese?” Said Nino, intrigued.

“Yeah! I have been dying to give you guys a cheese tasting, and wouldn’t you know it? All my best buds are all together! So it’s perfect!”

Lila cautiously relaxed. Cheese tastings were just as fancy as wine tastings. Maybe this would be a break and a peek into Adrien’s refinement. She could handle this.

“Okay, so for you three,” Plagg gestured to Nino, Alya, and Marinette, “I have some more...beginner cheeses. They’re still extremely tasty, but more mild for a less refined palette.”

“You calling me unrefined?” Nino glared.

“I see what you eat. And yes.”

“Touché.”

“And for you, Lila, you mentioned that two weeks ago, you had dinner with Wolfgang Puck himself. I assumed you could handle more advanced cheeses.”

Advanced cheeses? “Oh, well, yes of course. I’ve done a few cheese tastings before. Maybe not with the same quality of cheeses as you have...”

“Then this will be a walk in the park.” He unzipped the lunchbox he had brought with him, and handed out three orange cubes to the ‘beginners’. “Alright, so first, we have a whiskey cheddar. Whiskey is fermented in oak barrels that can only be used once. So they’re sold to beer, coffee, and cheese makers. The cheese is stored in the barrels and the remnants of the whiskey seep in and give it almost a spicy flavor.”

They all took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, humming in content.

“Oh wow, I think I can taste the whiskey! That’s really good!”

“I’d put this on crackers and eat a whole box! This is really good!”

“I’m not a huge fan of cheddar,” stated Marinette, “but maybe I just haven’t been trying the right stuff, because this is awesome!”

“I’m glad you like it!” Plagg beamed. “And for Lila,” he opened a container and a smell emanated immediately. It smelled like rotten armpit. “This is finely aged Limburger, aged to three months. It’s imperative that you take in the scent of the cheese first, before eating it. Don’t waft it, just breathe it in.”

Lila took the offered container, sparing it a withering glance before she inhaled.

If her face could have melted off, it would have.

“It…smells like rotten feet.”

“Ah yes, Brevibacterium linens. This is a smear-washed cheese that gets a fresh coating of bacteria that prevents mold and helps the maturing process. As a food connoisseur, you’re getting the peak time of maturity. I usually let it mature longer than this still, so it gets really runny, like camembert~…” At the very name, Plagg moaned in a way that was inappropriate for young ears. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I got swept away in the moment. Oh right! Limburger, you eat it with your nose. Take another whiff!”

“I’m good.”

“Another whiff I say!”

Lila inhaled, and her whole body shuddered.

“Perfect. Now you can eat it.”

She popped the sample in her mouth, and swallowed quickly, shuddering the whole time.

“Good?”

“Hmm mmm…”

“Oh! I forgot to mention, the bacteria that that cheese is smeared with is the same that grows on your feet, that’s what makes the cheese stink!”

Lila made a face of disgust and turned a little green.

“Great! Round two!” He placed little samples in front of the other three first. “Okay, so this is a little more advanced. This is scamorza, which is much like Mozzarella, but it has a distinct smokey flavor. I think it tastes kind of like wood fired pizza.”

“It does!” Nino cried, savoring each little nibble. “Oh my god this is so good!”

Alya took a bit of tomato out of her sandwich and ate that with the cheese. “Oh, that is just like wood fired pizza. I’d love to try this warm! You have to get more of this!”

Plagg grinned. “And you, Marinette?”

Marinette was still chewing, and just nodded with closed eyes and a contented sigh.

“Awesome! I personally think scamorza is too mild, but it’s still very good. So for Lila I have another advanced taste.” He took out another sealed container and popped the lid. The smell wasn’t as brutal as the Limburger, but it was still potent. “This is Casu Marzu, a Sardinian delicacy. So it should sound familiar to you, since you’re from Italy and all. It’s made from sheep’s milk. Oh! And it’s illegal, so this sample is from a ‘friend’ who will not be named.”

Lila held the container a little away from her face and peered at it with hesitation. Her lip curled up in disgust, before she gave Plagg an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Adrien. It looks like this cheese has gone bad.” And she pushed the container back towards him.

He looked in it. “It looks fine to me. They’re alive. That’s a good thing.”

“Adrien, those are maggots.”

“Cheese fly maggots, to be exact,” he corrected. “They’re introduced to the cheese to help break down the fat in the milk.” He pushed the container back in front of her. “I mean, it’s not any more gross than escargot, or caviar, or grasshopper, or tequila worms, you know?”

She looked back at the worms, her lip trembling. “This is a delicacy?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t bring bad cheese in for a laugh.” He took out a spoon and scooped out a little cheese, worms and all, and spread it on a piece of flatbread. Then he ate it. “Ohhh that’s good!”

“I…” She cast one more look at the container and confessed, “I’m sorry Adrien. I just can’t do it. It’s too gross for me.”

“Oh,” said Plagg, with genuine sadness in his voice. “Okay I guess...anyone else want to try?”

Marinette, who was always looking for a chance to show up Lila, offered up, “I’ll give it a try.”

Plagg’s eyes widened with glee. “You will?!”

“Sure. Even if it’s gross, I can say I tried it. Not everyday you get to eat illegal cheese. And you ate some, afterall.”

“Yes! I promise it’ll be worth it! You just have to thoroughly chew it to kill the maggots.”

Marinette scrunched up her nose. “Can I...kind of eat around the worms?”

“You can try.”

So to Marinette’s credit, she did eat some of the cheese, though it was picked through, and she scraped what she could off with a knife. Then she spread a little on a larger piece of bread, more bread than cheese obviously, then chewed her sample thoroughly.

“Well?” Asked Plagg, bouncing in his seat. “I think it’s kind of like Camembert and Gorgonzola had a baby. A rotten, decaying baby.”

“Mmm hmmm.” Marinette nodded, her lips shut tight. Once she swallowed, she downed a huge swig of her water, swishing around in her mouth first.

“That bad, huh?” Asked Alya.

“No no, it actually tasted really really good. And I couldn’t feel the worms or anything. I just couldn’t get over the idea that they were there. You know?”

“It’s scary!” Plagg assured. “I know it freaked me out when I was a kid, but if it wasn’t worth it, they wouldn’t make it!”

“You’re wicked brave, Marinette.” Nino patted her on the back.

She chuckled. “Alright. Do you have any more samples so I can cleanse my palette?”

“Oh yep! Last round!” He set out three more samples. “So this is Cantal. It’s from Cantal, France, obviously. And it’s often thought of as a dessert cheese, as it’s got a sort of spicy sweet taste, or like hazelnuts. Oh, and you’ll want to eat it with these apple slices. This is a young wheel, only two months old.”

Contented hums filled the air as the three munched on the sweet, buttery, fruity delight.

Plagg felt extremely pleased that he convinced Adrien’s friends to eat cheese. And he was especially proud of Marinette for eating the best, most amazing cheese of all time. If casu marzu wasn’t an absolute pain to get ahold of, and if it were more portable, he’d demand Adrien to get him that instead of Camembert.

But, as it was, they had to go with more convenient cheeses.

“I think I’m all cheesed out...” said Lila.

“Dude, you only actually had one sample. You can’t bow out now!”

At this point, especially after the maggots, a small crowd had assembled around the table to observe the tasting. And if anyone would cave under peer pressure, it was Lila.

“Well, I suppose I could try one more...”

“Perfect! Because this last sample is really special!” He placed the little white flecked square in front of her. “This is my take on pepper jack cheese.”

“Wait, you made this?” She asked.

“Yep! I figured that if I love eating cheese so much, I should make my own!”

“So what’s it made of?” Lila asked, hesitant.

“You have to guess! I want to see if you can guess the milk and the pepper. It’s part cow milk, obviously, but I wanted a different flavor that you don’t get with most semi hard cheeses.”

“And there’s no bugs in it?”

Plagg laughed. “Nope, no bugs!”

Feeling a bit better, Lila brought the sample up to her mouth. The smell was subtle, a little spicy, a little milky. Not at all like the last two.

She bit the sample in half, and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s...kind of sweet...but the spice is...” she blinked a few times, her face turning red and eyes watering. “It’s hot. It’s really hot!” She ate the other half, and then regretted it. “Ugh! I shouldn’t have done that!” She swallowed and downed her little carton of milk, but the heat wouldn’t leave. It kept getting worse and worse!

“What did you put in there?! What was that?!”

Plagg looked confused. “It’s really that spicy?”

“My mouth hurts!! It hurts to talk!”

“All it is is Carolina Reaper and Breast Milk.”

Lila was up and out like a bolt, running to the bathroom to hurl.

Marinette likewise, had to leave the room, as her uproarious laughing at Lila’s suffering would have looked really bad.

—

(If you were looking for the cheese free section of the chapter, this is it!)

Lila didn’t return to class immediately. In fact, it was two periods later when she finally returned. Her face was flushed and her eyes bloodshot, and she had a wet spot on her shirt. Before everyone settled in, she claimed Adrien’s old seat, right up front.

“Sorry,” she croaked, her voice hoarse after retching so much. “Vomiting usually exacerbates my tinnitus. I hope you don’t mind if I sit up front, Adrien.”

Nino answered, “oh dude, you can have my spot. That way you and Adrien can still sit together!”

Lila’s eyes widened slightly in horror, but before she could protest, Alya slid into the spare seat. She was unfortunately not in on the plan, and was picking up all the blatant body language Plagg was ignoring. “I think Lila needs a little girl time, after her rough lunchtime experience.”

Marinette silently scooted over into Alya’s spot, so that Plagg could sit right behind Lila. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. Nino gave them both a silent thumbs up and took the open spot in the back of the room.

Lila let out a sigh of relief.

“You okay, girl?” Alya asked.

“Yeah.” She said shortly. Lila was done with the day. She would have gone home if she thought her mom would believe the cheese story, but as it was, she was already in hot water. She just needed to make it through the last two periods, and she’d be okay. Maybe she could convince her mom that she was sick and stay home tomorrow? I would be worth a try. She just needed some time away from Adrien. He was much too much.

As if reading her mind, Plagg leaned forward in his seat and spoke softly to her. “So I wanted to tell you about Stalhrim. It’s a material they added in the DLC, and you can learn how to craft with it, but it’s triggered by a quest. The first time I played the game, the person who was supposed to give the quest was killed by a lurker. Hold on, let me backup, so there are these huge monoliths call Standing Stones, and they all give you special abilities, like the Steed Stone let’s you carry things and the Apprentice Stone lets you learn magic quicker—“

As he talked, Lila’s fingers curled into the surface of the desk. His words didn’t even make any sense anymore, it was just this droning sound that wouldn’t stop.

“So in the DLC, the stones are totally different, right? And there’s this bad dude named Miraack and he’s also a Dragonborn. You remember what a Dragonborn is, right? Except this one is bad and he’s brainwashing the people on the island of Solstheim. Oh right, the whole DLC takes place on a separate island—“

The whole two weeks had been a camel. And each little rant or pushed boundary Adrien forced was another piece of straw piling up. Just then, it was like that fragile spine snapped, and something in Lila went from ‘playing the long game’ to ‘MURDER’.

“SHUT UP!” Lila screamed, pounding her fists on the table. “OH MY GOD JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!” She stood and whirled around to glare at him. “Adrien, you are the single most obnoxious person I have ever met! You just don’t know when to shut up! Are you dense? Are you retarded? How can you not see that I literally cannot give a flying eff about anything you say?! I was trying to be your friend because I thought it would be an easy way to fame. Then I felt sorry for you because of how awkward you are. Now? It’s not worth it. It’s not worth pretending to think you’re interesting when you aren’t. It’s not worth trying to ease back and deal with everyone wondering what happened. Everyone in class would wonder why we weren’t talking anymore, and I’d have to come up with more lies to get away from you, and I just don’t want to deal with that! You’re not worth it, okay? You are so selfish and annoying! Is this why your dad kept you home schooled all your life? Because he needs to lock you right back up! You are a menace!” She swung back around for a moment to gather her belongings. “I can’t even be in the same room as you anymore. I’m so done with you and your stupid rants about stupid video games! And what kind of weirdo is that obsessed with cheese?! You ate maggots for Christ sake! You’re disgusting! If you weren’t attractive, I bet your father would have regretted having you, if he hasn’t already!” She moved to the door quickly. “I’m asking to change classes, effective immediately. I suggest everyone run while you still can!” Then she caught Marinette’s eye. “Listen, I dislike you almost as much as him, but you don’t want him, Marinette. He’s an absolute freak. Look at him! He’s wearing that stupid ramen themed sweat suit! You know what? Forget it! I’m out!” And she left, slamming the door behind her.

No one had the nerve to speak after she left. It was just too big of a can of worms, no one wanted to open it.

The silence was broken by a high pitched whine, followed by a sob.

Though Marinette knew it was Plagg faking it, the sight of tears on Adrien’s face made her heart hurt.

“Oh Adrien...”

“You still like me, right Marinette?” He blubbered.

She hugged him. “Of course, Adrien. I love you.”

That seemed to be the words to break the spell and the classmates descended on him like vultures.

“You’re not annoying, Adrien!” Someone protested.

“You’re the coolest!”

“I love talking video games with you!”

“That cheese testing was really fun!”

“Who cares if you struggle with social cues? We all do! You do better than most, even for being homeschooled!”

“Lila admitted she was in the friendship for fame, her opinion doesn’t matter!”

Marinette whispered in his ear. “Nicely done, but I was not expecting that blow up.”

“Thanks, I was hoping she’d crack soon. That was just as violent as I had expected of her.”

“You okay? Those look like genuine tears.”

Plagg wiped his face as the rest of the class started to back off. “I’m okay,” he whispered. “Just hurts to hear someone be so cruel to my kitten.”

He glanced at the ring, hoping to see the final pad gone, and the one minute wait to switch back initiated.

But alas, no. The third pad was still there.

Lila wasn’t finished yet.

#miraculous ladybug #I'll handle this #fanfiction #adrien and plagg #plagg #adrien agreste #adrienette #ml #chat noir

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