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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Barbie and Ken 202

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 3.3 K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF Back in time, Young Rafa, Poetry, Rap lyrics, Angst, Cheating, lying, mentions of breakup, unprotected sex, Baby Dom Rafa (its so cute) oral sex (F receiving) SMUT. Not Beta’d.

A/N: This is a sequel to In and Out, ( here you are @nissameta1782 😊) and also a response to this ask:

Something with Rafa that is inspired by his song “Bottom Bitch”

One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do

LA, December 7, 2006

College has a way of focusing you. On what you want to do, but also what you don’t want to do.

After a year and a half away from home, you decided that you didn’t want to go back.

You went to LA, which was both far from the Bay physically and in mindset. You wanted to be brand new.

You joined active organizations on campus, the BSU and the Events Committee. And most importantly, you made the right kinds of friends in the right kinds of places.

Two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one

You also found a boyfriend who always paid. He was helping to host the Russell Simmons Def Poetry Jam that the UCLA Events Committee was hosting that evening.

“You and Stephen are so annoyingly sweet. I’m gonna get a cavity just being in the same room with you two.”

You smiled brightly at your roommate. You felt the same way, but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Well, Stephen will be able to help you with that. He will be applying to dental school in the fall.”

Michelle rolled her eyes again and made a gagging motion with her finger in her mouth as she called the hotel to make lodging arrangements for the talent, which was her job as VP of the Events Committee.

Michelle was blunt, but never wrong, and she always had your back. Which was perfect since you were her President.

Stephen came up to you and Michelle as you stood outside the Student Union. He held up a flyer for the event.

“Say, this one guy here.”

You groaned internally as you saw who he was pointing at.

“It says he’s from Berkley.”

Your mind was whirling as he asked.

“Aren’t you from that area? Berkeley’s right there next to Oakland isn’t it?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah. It’s all the Bay.”

“So, do you know that dude, the Casal dude?”

You looked him in the eyes. Might as well tell the truth.

“Yeah, I do.”

But you were my main girl and I was your man

“Oh, wow.” Stephen snickered. “You are almost a celebrity. Do you think he’d give you an autograph? Better yet, write a poem and sign it? An easy one, like a haiku?”

You flinched at his obtuseness.

“Haiku aren’t necessarily easy just because they are short, Stephen, and… Rafa might be all poetry’d out.”

You looked at Stephen. “You know, performing it all over the country and stuff.”

The thing was, some of his poetry was already about you. You’d followed him on YouTube once you found out that he would be performing. If you cared, it would made you feel some kinda way.

But you didn’t care.

Stephen nodded thoughtfully.

“Yeah, you’re right. He’s probably sick of rhyming all the time.” He laughed. “Get it? I rhymed…”

You were not amused or entertained, especially at MIchelle who was silently cracking up behind him.

“So ‘Rafa,’ huh? Do you know him well?”

You decided to tell Stephen a little white lie. It was for his own good.

You nodded your head slowly.

“Yeah, you could say that. We hung out.”

You never lied and I remember that shit girl

When Rafa gained the stage you were transfixed. He was there, holding everyone under his spell. You watched him with a mixture of pride and sadness. You missed him.

And when he performed that one poem, the one about you, the tears rolled down your face. The events of that poem ended things between you definitively; you didn’t have to look for an excuse.

You put that life behind you and you just wanted to start over.

You sat there, deep in your feelings as Rafa rifled through your darkest secrets.

When I hated all the rich kids cause they'd never be broke

You watched as Rafael came straight for you through the crowd. And he didn’t say a word, he just picked you up to spin you around. He wasn’t letting go and soon you closed your eyes and went with it, forgetting that anyone else was around.

“Hey Baby GIrl.”

“Hey, yourself, Rafael. You look good. As always.”

Stephen cleared his throat.

“Oh!”

You’d forgotten he was there.

“I didn’t mean to be rude, let me introduce you. Rafael Casal of Def Poetry Jam, this is Stephen Booker, UCLA. Stephen, Rafael.”

They stared each other down, pheromones about to make a show. You cleared your throat.

“Rafael is an old… friend, Stephen, and Rafael, Stephen is my….”

“Man. I’m her man.”

Stephen’s chest was swole and he was standing tall at his full height, a couple inches taller than Rafa.

Oh, shit.

Rafa chucked his chin up and went to give Stephen some dap. He awkwardly responded, not knowing what exactly to do.

Rafael covered a laugh with a cough and then stood back, looking at you and Stephen from a distance.

“Y’all do make a nice couple. The perfect picture. Barbie and Ken.”

Stephen, who had not been paying attention at all, beamed. He gazed down at you as you looked up at him, smiling but shaking your head at the statement that Rafa was making.

Ass.

Stephen responded. “Yes, we do look good together, don’t we? I think we could be iconic, like Ken and Barbie.”

“Yeah, you’d get an A+. You two look like you been studying up.”

The conversation was polite on the surface, but Rafa was insulting you to your core.

“I don’t know about studying, but she’s practically perfect in every way. We could get her in the gym a little more and work on that polish, but by senior year she should be there.”

You’d heard Stephen say some dumb shit before, but today it hit different. Rafa interrupted your thoughts.

“Oh really? I think she’s dope the way she is. Or, the way she was rather...”

You gave Rafael a withering glare. He returned it, not scared of you. You felt some kinda way.

“See you later, Baby Girl. Maybe we can hook up before we leave, yeah?”

You caught the double entendre in what he said, but Stephen was standing right beside you. You thought you were relieved when Rafa went to mingle.

But it was something else entirely.

Had plenty of random girls, but next to you they were none

You and Rafa orbited each other all night, always keeping each other in your periphery, but never connecting.

Rafael admired you from afar. You were more graceful, poised, grown up. More confident. It looked good on you. Those legs in that little pleated skirt were getting to him. That joker next to you didn’t deserve all that you were.

Rafa got sentimental.

You caught Rafael watching you when you weren’t looking, blatantly ignoring the fact that Stephen was by your side all night.

Once you looked at him, while he was taking to some poetry groupies who were fawning over him, and watched as he simultaneously engaged them in conversation and flirted with you.

You just laughed and shook your head. Rafa hadn’t changed at all. It only made you miss him more.

The end of the night came, and you were closing the student union, part of your job as President of the Events Committee. But of course the night wasn’t over.

Rafael came over to you, Stephen, and Michelle. He had a flyer and was writing something on it.

“So here’s my cell phone number, it’s new.”

Rafael looked pointedly at you, then your companions.

“We’re going to the Whisky tonight. It’ll be a movie.”

Stephen watched you put the flyer In your pocket. Michelle got excited, but Stephen spoke up.

“You don't want to go to West Hollywood. It’s trashy. And that club is mainly rock. I thought you were a hip hop head?”

Rafa stared at Stephen, opened his mouth to speak, then decided better of it and turned to you.

“See you later Baby Girl.” He gave you a hug and whispered in your ear. “Don’t let this be goodbye.”

You just smiled and waved as he walked out the door.

“I see why you wanted to get out of the Bay.”

Stephen was shaking his head.

Your blood was boiling.

Crashed parties and talked about life like we havin' a ball

You told Stephen you were going to bed, but as soon as he kissed you good night, only turned around and went to the Whisky a Go Go with Michelle.

“And that’s the problem, if you feel like you’re sneaking out of your mom’s house to go to a party.” Michelle responded when you told her how you felt.

”You feel like your boyfriend is your mom? That’s gross and so not cool.”

You just watched the road silently out of the window. Maybe she was right.

You arrived and Rafa found you right away. It was just like old times. You got wasted, and then went out for food with the crew to sober up a little. You wound up back at the performer’s hotel.

You walked Rafa into the lobby to say goodbye as Michelle waited in the car for you.

You gave him a long hug and he looked into your eyes as he said goodbye.

“I’m in room 1405 if you want to talk.”

The grin he gave you told you he wanted more than to talk. But you couldn’t do that to Stephen. You just shook your head and smiled.

“Bye, Rafa. Maybe I’ll see you around Christmas in the Town.”

Rafa winked and gave you another hug. Those lips grazed your neck and you could swear that he could feel your nipples through your shirt.

It was 2 in the morning and dangerous. You finally pulled away and walked out the door, looking back at him. He watched until you were out of sight.

As usual.

You walked back out to the car and got in. You rode to campus in silence, playing the scene back in your head.

“You good?”

Michelle looked at you funny. You looked back at her and took a deep breath.

I'm just takin' time to thank you for bein' my number one

You only knocked twice before Rafael pulled you into the room an hour later, barely making it inside before you two started grabbing at each other and tearing at each other’s clothes, both of you pulling each other’s shirts off.

“I knew you’d be back, but you took too fucking long Baby Girl.”

Rafa turned you around toward the bed and took control of your mouth, then kissed from your neck down to your cleavage.

“I’ve been missing the taste of your skin, beautiful. I often wake up with the memory from a dream.”

He could always expertly take your bra off with one hand; it made you wonder how much practice he’d had. But how you’d missed those words of his. They always got you there.

All thoughts of Stephen were gone.

Rafa pushed you back down onto the bed, and pulled your skirt up your waist slowly, trailing his long fingers down your skin.

His eyes took in the skirt around your waist and your white cotton panties and brown skin. He’d imagined fucking you like this all night. His hands lingered on your thighs, teasing you as his fingers stretched toward his goal.

He pulled your thighs open as you stared at him.

“I’ve learned some things too, while we’ve been apart.” Rafa was stroking you outside of your panties now, licking his lips as you watched you squirm. “I like fine dining now.”

That eyebrow and that impish look greeted you when your eyes got wide when you realized what he’d said. Rafael had been too much of a pimp in high school to go down on a girl.

“Shit, Rafa…”

Rafa leaned down and kissed your lips as his hands explored your body, reacquainting himself with your feel. His lips followed his hands, caressing and gripping your nipples and breasts, playing with them roughly, the calluses on his hands giving you extra sensation.

Your body curved into his touch, celebrating your reunion. Your pussy was quivering and flooding your panties, while you bit your lip to keep quiet.

“Let me hear you Baby Girl. Many a night I’ve gotten off to the wisp of a memory of those sounds you make when I make you feel good.”

Finally, finally, Rafa’s fingers reached inside your panties. It brought back a ton of memories, of the first time you let him get to third base, him reaching inside your panties to find you soaked for him.

Rafa chuckled in your ear as he felt you, wet for him as always.

“What? Stephen not putting it down?”

You didn’t respond and you wanted to shut out his words as he started finger fucking you just the way you liked. It had been so long.

He leaned up to look at you and he paused at the look on your face.

“Wait. Don’t tell me that you haven’t given Stephen any?”

You shook your head. Rafa scoffed.

“We’ve messed around a little, but he thinks I’m a virgin. Just… let’s stop talking about him…”

“But.. it’s been almost two years… I figured....” He looked right through you, eyes sparkling.

You huffed and sat up, wrapping your arms around yourself, cold.

“Don’t think I was saving myself for the off chance that I might see you again. I just wanted a new start. You know. After… after what happened.”

Rafa sobered up. What happened destroyed you and him.

“I get it. And I respect it.”

You looked into his sea blue eyes, trying not to drown in them again.

“I’m just glad that you came to my room tonight to share yourself with me again.”

That voice and that little boy smile warmed you. You smiled back.

“Are you gonna bless me, Baby Girl?” His charm was at 110%

You slowly smiled wider and nodded, arms down, leaning forward to kiss him, on fire again as he stroked your breasts.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Rafa… I want you…”

He started tugging on your nipple, your slick causing you to rub your legs together in anticipation.

“Ok. You asked for it.”

Rafa reached down and grabbed your thighs again, planting you on your back and spreading you wide, looking down at your cunt.

“So beautiful Baby Girl.”

He gave it a light kiss as you moaned and grabbed for him. He stood out of his reach as he took off his pants and brought out his dick, stroking it a few times. You made grabby hands for it and he just shook his head at you.

“Be a good girl and hold your legs open for me.”

You shivered at his command. He was what you wanted and what you needed.

You hooked your arms under your knees as Rafa went to his and started kissing up and down your thighs, playing in your slick with his fingers.

You were a moaning, shaking mess when he finally made love to your cunt with his mouth, gentle at first, then licking and sucking at your clit expertly.

You closed your eyes and thanked whoever taught him to do this. It was the shit.

You moved your hands so that you could grab his hair and your thighs wrapped around Rafa’s head. He didn’t mind, because his hands came up to caress your thighs as he continued to eat you out.

When he moaned against your clit, you came, moaning wantonly and causing Rafa to moan and grind his cock into the sheets. He kept sucking as you came, extending the sensation, then he grabbed your hips and flipped you over.

“I.”

Rafa smacked your ass to see it jiggle. Once. Twice.

“Have.”

He lined up with your crease, stroking his wet, fat head against your folds.

“Missed.”

He teased your hole, barely pushing inside.

“Thisssss ssshitttt! Ahhhh. Always so fucking tight.”

When he breached you it was almost painful, Rafa had always been big for you. But he always felt so right, and he was making you wet enough to make it pleasurable. Rafa’s noises caused you to clench around him even more so.

“But I guess, that’s because. It’s still mine?”

You shivered as you tried to deny it. But you couldn’t.

“Ol dude couldn't do this to you. Not like this… Fuck, Baby Girl.”

You threw it back on him as he kept talking.

“No. He can’t."

Rafa grinned as he pulled you by your hair so that he could bring you up against his chest and kiss you. It had never been as intense as this.

You leaned back against him while he grabbed your throat and squeezed. You ground down around him and sucked his finger like it was his cock.

“Ohhh I missed that mouth baby girl. But I had to have this pussy.”

Rafa’s fingers dug into your hip, sure to leave a bruise. But you didn’t care.

“Cum for me Baby Girl. Shit.”

He was trying to stay in control until you came again, but the way you felt around him was almost too much. So he moved his hand down to your clit, and circled it until you detonated, hips shaking uncontrollably around his cock.

Rafa savored it for a second until he pulled out, and you bent over so that he could finish on your ass. The sight caused his cum to spurt out forcefully, and he groaned as he released all over you.

You about passed out, and were awakened by Rafa with a warm washcloth taking care of you. He climbed into the bed and held you until you both knocked out.

A couple of hours later, you started looking for your clothes in the dark.

“Running away again, hunh?”

Rafa was awake, watching you try to escape.

You pulled your shirt on and looked down at your hands, then back up at him.

“I’m not running away. I’m just going back to school. This was never about you and me being a thing again.”

“Nah, it was about you getting your rocks off after two years…”

You stared at Rafa, hurt. You could tell he was too. But then he sighed.

“Come here.”

He stood up, clad only in sweats, and giving you a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, fighting the urge to cry.

“I can ride back with you in a cab…”

“No, Michelle let me borrow her car. It’s downstairs.”

“Ok. Let me put a shirt on and I’ll walk you.”

He let you go and you finished getting yourself together.

You watched each other across the elevator on the ride down, just smiling at each other. He walked you out into the lobby and toward the concierge. He waited with you for the car. When it pulled up, he hugged you again. You held on tight.

“You were always ride or die. I wanna thank you for that girl. Take care of yourself.”

You looked up at him, smiling.

“Maybe I’ll see you at Christmas?”

Rafa looked off. And now you knew that when he did that he was hiding his own emotion. It always used to irk you.

“Dunno if I’ll be home. But I will see you when I see you. Mad love, girl.”

He smiled and kissed you one last time.

“Love you too, Rafa. See you later.”

You finally let the tears fall when you got into the car. You saw him in the rearview mirror as you drove away.

One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do

Two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one...

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

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Sweeter than Strawberries | Jungkook

→ summary: at euphoria bakery, seasonal changes also bring seasonal menu items. when you find out that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake was phased out after the end of summer, it takes only one puppy eyed look from you for jeon jungkook to make it for you anyway—just don’t tell his boss about it, alright?

→ genre: bakery!au, s2l, fluff → warnings: none unless you count the fact that i’m writing shy!jungkook again :^D, we love mutual pining in this house ex dee → words: 4.5K → a/n: this was commissioned by @ihatemathanal!! i was super stoked to write this bc it’s really cute and sometimes it’s nice to just write happy fluffy things every once in a while (aka zee is turning into a fluff writer jfc) it got a lil longer than it was supposed to, but that’s bc i got carried away lol anyway i hope you guys enjoy!! (ps: this also works for the bgw bingo so... tyg for s2l fics!! let’s get it!!)

For the most part, the beginning of autumn is usually your favorite time of the year. When the tree leaves begin to yellow and the air gains a significantly colder bite, this signifies the end of pit stains and sweaty thighs and the start of sweater paws and chapped lips. Above all, you are most excited, of course, for an excuse to gorge yourself on steaming mugs of hot chocolate, paired with delicious mountains of warm gooey brownies.

For the most part, these are all things that often get you excited for the coming chill. What you do not think to remember, however, is that while these seasonal changes bring more good than bad, there still remains a little snag: a small oversight, if you will. As businesses all over the world begin the annual transition to the colder months, so does your favorite bakery across the street from your university. After all, summer ingredients grow scarcer as the year nears its end, so it’s understandable for bakeries to switch up their menu to keep up with both the supply and demand.

What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, long story short—

Your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake is about to get phased out. No, scratch that—it’s already been phased out, right from under your very nose, no less!

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. You have always known it was a specialty drink; your best friend had even been the one to introduce it to you just near the end of your summer classes:

“This is Euphoria Bakery,” Namjoon had said with a smile, waving cheerily at the two boys manning the till. You heard him chuckle in amusement when your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, staring longingly at the sweet treats and baked goods lining the display case.

Namjoon had stolen your attention away, however, when he pointed to the chalkboard menu on the wall. As it turned out, the bakery also doubled as a cafe, serving the usual coffees and teas while also making the occasional specialty drink for different seasons or holidays. The chalkboard was decorated beautifully, the menu items written out in neat cursive with tiny little doodles littering its margins. On one of the boards, there was a new drink item being advertised in bold pink letters—a great summer treat!—or so it said.

“Jungkook-ssi, can you get me and Y/N a strawberry shortcake milkshake? Extra whipped cream for me, please!” Namjoon called out to one of the boys, startling the younger of the two. The boy, Jungkook, must have been busy fiddling with the cash register that he hadn’t noticed your arrival.

“N-Namjoon-hyung? Sorry, I was just busy counting the money—” Jungkook stopped short in his speech, his tongue getting caught in his mouth when his eyes landed directly on you. He had made a strangled sound, like he had swallowed his spit too quickly and was struggling to regain his composure. “H-Hello?”

You realized belatedly that he must have been greeting you, as you had been distracted by his fidgetiness. His nervousness was cute, if a little bit contagious; you couldn’t help feeling anxious too, like your heart was missing every other beat, even though you had no reason to be. “Hello! My name is Y/N. It’s my first time coming here, but Namjoon says your new summer menu item is really good? I wanted to try it out for myself.”

Jungkook nodded, still staring wide-eyed at you as if in a trance. You expected him to start... well. You weren’t an expert on how bakeries or cafes are run, but you were pretty sure he should’ve started doing something after you had spoken, perhaps ring up your order on the register, or start working on your drinks. Instead, he’s still frozen in place, like he’d somehow short-circuited within the last two minutes.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed his odd behavior because the man working with him suddenly pushed Jungkook to the side, a brief smirk flashing across his face before it was quickly replaced by a more subdued, professional smile.

“Sorry about him. He’s usually my best baker, but sometimes he can get a little... distracted when he’s confronted with sweet things,” the man said nonchalantly, but it seemed that his innocent-sounding comment had embarrassed Jungkook greatly.

“Jimin-hyung!” Jungkook whined, stomping his foot not unlike a bunny. If you squinted a little bit, you could definitely see the resemblance.

Namjoon, who had been quietly watching everything unfold, chose that moment to pipe up. “Oh, I see. I didn’t know you had a type, but after thinking about it—” Namjoon shot a surreptitious glance at you, before turning back to Jungkook with a teasing grin, “—I can definitely see why.”

At the time, you had no idea what was going on, mostly confused as to why Jungkook had suddenly become so red-faced while Namjoon and Jimin giggled like a couple of high school girls. It seemed like you were somehow the main reason for his embarrassment, so you were quick to poke Namjoon in the stomach, effectively silencing him.

“Hey! Stop teasing the poor boy. He’s just being nice,” you said, pointing a soft smile back at Jungkook. “Sorry about him. I’m sure you’re an excellent baker, judging from how wonderful and cute all these cakes on the display look.” Somehow, your praise had only made Jungkook’s cheeks brighten even further. He cleared his throat as if to say something in response, before changing his mind and scuttling away to the back room instead.

“I’m going to start making your milkshake! D-don’t mind me!” He called out from behind the door, causing Jimin to finally break down into raucous giggles, nearly doubling over from his own mirth.

“Aish, that kid. He never learns, huh…” Jimin sighed, but the smile on his face is kind—the sort of fond look an older brother might have for his kid brother. He turned back to you and Namjoon with that lingering softness as he rang the two of you up, before chatting idly with you as you waited for Jungkook to finish making your drinks.

“I’ve never seen you around, Y/N-ssi. Jungkook—sorry, I meant I definitely would’ve noticed you if I did. You go to the same university as Namjoon-ssi, right?” Jimin asked, flipping a pen between his fingers with incredible dexterity. You were slightly distracted by that, faintly jealous of how his short fingers could somehow manage such a feat.

“I—yeah, I do. I’m assuming you’re also a student?”

“Yep. I actually met Namjoon-ssi when we took that one music theory class together. I was handing out flyers for this bakery after class and he happened to be one of the first people to actually come,” he said, winking at Namjoon. You watched with much interest when your friend turned a faint shade of pink, his hand coming up behind his neck—a signature tick of his whenever he was feeling shy or nervous.

“I-It was nothing… I mean, your seasonal drinks are always so good! I remember your old snowman-shaped donuts with the raspberry filling? I still dream of it sometimes,” Namjoon sighed, eyes going glassy for a moment.

Jimin laughed, his eyes crinkling into cute little crescents. “Oh, stop it! I remember how you’d come here even after we stopped serving that donut and you’d beg us to make them again.”

“And yet you never did, even though I know you have the ingredients to make them,” Namjoon pouted, but there’s endearment dancing in his expression.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I never pegged Namjoon as a sweet-tooth guy, so this is honestly all a very big surprise to me. I should be pumped for this milkshake then, huh? Hopefully, you aren’t just hyping it up and I’ll end up disappointed.”

Before either Namjoon or Jimin could retort, Jungkook had reappeared from the back room with two large cups in hand, almost tripping over his untied apron string but managing to get to the counter in one piece.

“Here you go. I hope you won’t be disappointed when you try it,” he said, gaze averted downwards when he hands you your cup. Your fingers grazed each other for a second, nearly causing both of you to drop the drink like it was on fire.

“S-sorry,” you laughed it off, feeling your ears get a little red from your blunder. You pointedly ignored Namjoon’s arched brow, no doubt enjoying your sudden shyness. Without waiting for him to get his own cup, you casually tear off the straw wrapper and take your first sip of the drink.

“So?” Jungkook asked after a while, watching with bated breath as you take a good gulp of the milkshake. “How is it? Is it worth the hype?” You don’t speak for a moment, further aggravating the two bakers as you carefully chewed on the bits of strawberry in the drink.

“This—” you said, speaking slowly for increased dramatic effect. You could hear Namjoon groan beside you, used to your need for unnecessary anticipation. Even as you paused for a moment longer, you could already feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to completely hide your giddiness. “—is fantastic. Show-stopping. Best thing since sliced bread! I could live on this shit alone.”

Jungkook released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, chuckling in relief as you began to completely devour the treat in mere minutes. “I’m… really glad you like it,” he said with a wide, toothy grin. You were so immersed in your drink that you missed the way he sighed softly, hand gently cradling his chest where his heart would be.

Namjoon had taken his own sip as well, sighing dreamily as the creamy and sweet flavor overtook his palate. “Truly the best drink in existence. If I was a Twitch streamer or some shit, I’d promote this regularly for free.”

His comment made Jimin giggle softly, but his gaze is trained on something else entirely. “I’m flattered, but maybe don’t promote Y/N’s cup, over here. We don’t typically have strawberries and hearts doodled all over our cups,” he said, smirking slyly.

Lo and behold, your cup did have small doodles littering its sides whereas Namjoon’s was just a plain white paper cup. “Oh,” you said, blushing furiously when you finally noticed. Your flush was nothing compared to the one on Jungkook’s cheeks, however. The two of you refused to make eye contact after that, both of you trying (and failing) to silence the amused snickers of your respective friends.

Despite that slightly embarrassing (and heartwarming) experience, that had marked the start of your love for the tiny bakery and their special strawberry shortcake milkshake. You returned to Euphoria Bakery as often as you could throughout the summer, even going to visit it without Namjoon most of the time. You would even occasionally go out of your way to visit the bakery, even after your summer classes had ended and there was really no reason for you to be around the area.

It also didn’t hurt that the boy behind the counter was especially cute, with his big doe eyes and melodic laughter that always got your heart beating erratically in your chest. It hadn’t taken long for you to admit to yourself that you had a not-so-tiny crush and every visit to the bakery only made you fall deeper for him.

Namjoon has assured you that Jungkook clearly has a crush on you too, but you’re quick to shut him down. It is one thing to be shy and awkward around a girl and another to have a crush on the aforementioned girl. As you visited the bakery more and more, you do notice that Jungkook is more reserved when it comes to other female clientele, although, dare you hope? He does seem a little bit more… nervous, when he talks to you, but that could be your lovesick eyes playing tricks on you.

Never mind the fact that he only ever seems to leave cute doodles on your cups alone, but that could just be a coincidence, right? After all, he can hardly hold a conversation with you when you try to speak with him, always eager to rush to the backroom to make your drink.

Your visits usually consist of making idle chit chat with Jimin after greeting both him and Jungkook. The younger boy often dips the moment he sees you through the glass door, automatically going to prepare your favorite summer treat without even having to ask for your order. He never stays to stick around long enough to make conversation, as he eventually excuses himself to do some chore or another. During one of your trips, you tentatively asked Jimin if Jungkook was avoiding you, to which the blonde boy just laughed heartily at your query.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. He’ll come around eventually; he’s just nervous. Don’t tell him I told you this, but…” he trails off, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Jungkook wouldn’t accidentally overhear him. When he turns back to you, the smirk on his face is equal parts amused and mischievous. He looks a little impish, though you aren’t sure if he’d take that too kindly. “Jungkook always stares out the door, waiting for you to arrive. I’ve caught him red-handed far too many times for it to be a coincidence.”

Your cheeks flush warmly at his words but don’t say anything after that. You suppose all you can do is wait for him to start warming up to you eventually, and you hope the day comes sooner as the summer days grow shorter and shorter.

Of course, that day does come eventually, but probably not on the day you wished it would happen.

Like all good things, summer comes to its close and so does the summer menu options offered at Euphoria Bakery. Jimin had already told you a week beforehand that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake would get phased out as soon as July hit, but you refused to listen. You had hoped that as his regular customer and friend, perhaps Jimin would make an exception and prolong the milkshake’s lifetime for your sake, but it seems that Jimin has made it clear that friendship and business are two separate entities that he will not allow to coincide.

“Please Jimin? Just one more time? I’ll even settle for a small size,” you beg, your entire body draped over the cashier counter like the pathetic plebeian that you are. Thankfully, since you have made it a habit to pass by the bakery when it’s close to closing time, there aren’t any other patrons left to judge your pitiful display. Unthankfully, that also means Jimin is free to flick you on the forehead with no holds barred, leaving a large red welt where his finger hits.

“I already told you that I won’t budge, not even if you licked my Balenciagas. Besides, we’re out of strawberries anyway.” Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes at your pained whines as you grasp your head in agony. “Oh stop it, will you? I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ, hyung.” Jungkook pipes up, startling both you and Jimin. Jungkook is usually content to wiping down the glass displays or tables while he passively listens to the two of you bicker, humming occasionally to indicate that he’s still listening, so it comes as a small surprise whenever he does decide to speak up. He must have noticed this too, as his ears quickly begin to redden as he scrambles to finish his sentence. “I-I mean, hyung might have small hands, but his finger flicks are no joke. You could break someone’s skull with that thing.”

“Who are you calling small, huh?” Jimin growls, but the playful smirk on his face tells you that he’s just teasing. He pulls Jungkook in a headlock, who surprisingly doesn’t seem all that bothered by the fact that Jimin is actively trying to block his windpipe with his strong forearms. “Take it back!”

“Never,” Jungkook wheezes, effortlessly removing himself from Jimin’s grip. He dusts himself off, not even breathless. “Also, why’d you lie to Y/N like that? We still have strawberries in the back. How else would we make our strawberry jam tarts?”

Jimin squawks indignantly, folding his arms. “How dare you sell out our company secrets! I could fire you for that!”

Jungkook scoffs, bumping Jimin with his hip. Jungkook must also not know his own strength, because he accidentally causes Jimin to stumble a few steps back, nearly toppling over one of their bread racks. “You’re joking. If you fired me, no one would be able to make the bagels in the morning because you never know how to proof them correctly.”

“Slander!” Jimin hisses, pinching Jungkook’s side in retaliation. You and Jungkook laugh at his childish pouts, but the older boy can’t hide his own mirth for too long. “Fine. You can stay. But you,” he points at you this time, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You better not seduce my boy over here to make your strawberry shortcake milkshake. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He drags his finger to the corner of the walls, where there is—

“There’s nothing there?” You follow where he’s pointing, but all you can see is a stray cobweb that Jungkook must have missed while dusting this morning. “Am I supposed to be looking at something?”

“Jimin is thinking of installing surveillance cameras soon. He’s convinced that someone is trying to steal his banana cream pie recipe.” Jungkook shrugs. He slings an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, glaringly delighted when their height difference becomes even more apparent while he stands close to him. “Anyway, I promise I won’t get ‘seduced’ by her, or whatever you want to call it. Why don’t you head home early for tonight? I’ll close up and I’ll try to convince Y/N to try our other pastries as a replacement.”

You open your mouth to try and protest, but Jungkook sends you a cheeky wink, making sure that his boss doesn’t catch him in the act. Bemused but interested to see what he’s up to, you decide to keep quiet and wait for him to continue.

“Don’t try and think you’re being slick here, buddy,” Jimin says, closing in on Jungkook’s personal space by pressing his chest against his. “If I see that you break the bakery code and serve her that drink… There will be consequences.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically as he gently pries the smaller man away from him. “Yeah, yeah. I got you. No funny business, I promise. Now get out of here, hyung. Leave the rest to me.”

Jimin gives him one last firm look before squinting warily at you, lips pursed tightly. “No seducing,” he repeats, wagging his finger at you. He unties the apron around his neck, throwing it haphazardly at the coat hanger on the back door where his jacket was hanging. He folds it over his arm and points at the corner of the ceiling with his free hand once more before exiting through the front entrance, the soft bells hanging above the doorway tinkling in his wake.

When he’s gone, you release a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. “Well, that was easier than expected. I didn’t think you’d be able to get him to leave. He must trust you a lot, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Nah. He’s just lazy. He hates closing the bakery and will jump at any opportunity to go home early.”

You nod. “Seems like him.” There’s a beat of silence. “So… How much seducing am I gonna have to do to get my milkshake, huh?”

Like you guessed, Jungkook immediately turns red at your words, spluttering and stammering over his spit for a few seconds before managing to come up with a reply. “O-oh, there’s no need for that. I was gonna make the drink for you anyway.”

“But what about the quote-unquote consequences?” you ask, still worried that you might be getting Jungkook in trouble. You’d rather have your arm cut off than have him get punished, no matter how small it might be.

“No need to worry about that. Jimin might pretend to be a prickly old man sometimes, but he’s mostly just full of hot air,” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “He’ll just make me treat him to some skewers or something. He’s just teasing.”

“If… If you say so? I just really don’t want him to get angry with you…” you say, voice turning small as you tried to reign your embarrassment in. “I know I made a fool of myself just moments ago and begged like a baby for the milkshake, but I was just exaggerating…”

“Something tells me that you aren’t, but let’s pretend for your sake that you are,” Jungkook says. You huff indignantly at his teasing, but you’re more overjoyed by the sight of his cute bunny smile. You had only seen it in passing a few times in the past, but seeing it directed at you is an entirely different experience. Because of you, your mind helpfully supplies.

He heads over to the backroom to begin preparing your drink, but he keeps the door open this time so you can see him even from behind the counter. You can mostly only see the large industrial ovens and bread racks filled to the brim with all sorts of pastries proofing for the night, but you do catch a glimpse of the sole blender near the back. Jungkook grabs the glass jar first and then walks over to the fridge just out of your sight, most likely to grab the ingredients needed for your milkshake.

The bakery is mostly silent, save for the sound of Jungkook moving and assembling everything. You rack your brain for some sort of conversation starter, as the atmosphere between the two of you has begun to return to its usual awkward state as you skirt around each other, unsure of where either of you stands. You might have known him for a while now, but today is the most you’ve ever spoken to him and the tension is palpable.

“So.” You clear your throat, heart beating a mile a minute in your chest. “I… guess this is going to be the last time I have this drink, huh?”

The sound of Jungkook chopping on the cutting board pauses for a second. You can only see his left shoulder from where you’re standing, but you can see it tense even then. “I… I mean, will you stop coming over to the bakery if it is the last time?”

There are so many things you want to say all at once, but the words somehow get caught in your throat. You want to say that you love coming to the bakery to see them (though it’s mostly Jungkook if you’re being honest) and that the strawberry shortcake milkshake had just been an excuse to visit for a while now. You want to keep visiting for as long as they’ll have you—but you don’t know how to say it without hot humiliation running down your spine. You don’t want to weird him out by confessing to him all of a sudden. And so, you clam up, not knowing how to respond.

When Jungkook throws in all the ingredients in the blender, he doesn’t turn it on immediately. He tilts his head to the side, not fully looking at you but giving you a view of his beautiful side profile. You see his Adam’s apple bob for a moment, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he speaks. “Because… If that’s how it’s going to be, then maybe… buying a couple of skewers for Jimin won’t be so bad.”

You freeze. “What? Are you saying that...”

“I’ll keep making the drink for you, even if it’s not on the menu anymore?” Jungkook finishes, turning fully to face you. There’s a shy grin on his face, coupled with the ever-present pink flush high on his cheekbones. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We’ll have to be sneaky about it, though. You’ll have to come to the bakery only when I’m closing so that he doesn’t catch us but otherwise…” He scratches the tip of his nose, looking embarrassed. “If… If you’re fine doing that, I mean.”

It feels like an eternity before you can remember how to function like a regular human being again. Your insides feel like molten lava and you’re certain that your internal organs have begun to self-destruct right after that super-effective hit from Jeon Jungkook, super baker boy extraordinaire. It’s mind-blowing how effortlessly cute he can be, making you realize belatedly that his quiet demeanor over the past few weeks had been a blessing and not a curse. If he had been this sweet with you from the get-go, you’d surely be melted butter on a sidewalk by now.

“I would love you—I mean, I would love it if you did that for me, actually.” You stammer, resisting the urge to punch yourself in the tit. You’re thankful for the lack of mirrors at the bakery, for you are positive that you must look like the devil’s blazing red testicles at this point.

“Great,” Jungkook smiles softly. He turns the blender off, pouring your drink into a paper cup. “Oh, before I forget…” He grabs a marker from the small tin can near the cash register, and you watch as he quickly scribbles a few hearts around the circumference of the cup. “There we go. Now it’s done.”

As Jungkook hands your drink to you, you’re hit with a moment of déjà vu when your fingers brush just like the first time you had met. You sense the same familiar shock of electricity when you touch, but instead of pulling away like before, Jungkook surprises you for the third time that day.

When he’s sure that you have a secure grip on your cup, he grabs your free hand with his, unfurling your fingers until he can get a hold of your pinky. He curls his pinky into yours, linking them together with a bashful smile on his lips. “There. Now we pinky promised to each other.”

“Y-yes. Of course,” you mumble, giggling lightly when he still refuses to let go. “I pinky promise.”

Five minutes away from Euphoria Bakery, Jimin sits quietly in his parked car, his figure hunched over the small screen of his phone as he chuckles loudly to himself. There is a tiny video of two people, a boy and a girl, with their hands held together. Despite the quality being grainy and warped, Jimin needs no confirmation as to who those people are; he’s always known, after all.

“All according to keikaku.” He whistles happily, already salivating at the thought of all the skewers Jungkook will have to buy for him.

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kiribaku-queen · 4 years

Text

A Little Taste of Love

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Fluff, cheerleader!AU

Word count: 2.4K

A/N: Something sweet and short to pass time by. I had this idea in my head for a while and thought it was sooo cute! It’s hard putting my ideas onto paper so I hope my ideas came across alright. This is something new I’m trying. No angst at all in this one. Let me know if you want more fluff or if you want me to stick with angst! ENJOY!

Summary: You and Bakugou can butt heads. A lot. But that doesn’t mean you don’t trust him with your life. Especially since he’s responsible for when you fall from lengthy heights. Can the feud between you two turn into something more?

“Bakugou! (y/n)! Can you please do the routine correctly?!” Mina, the cheer captain, scolded you two. This was the third time you were being yelled at, all because of a certain angry, blonde keeps getting in your way.

“Bakugou, I literally keep telling you. I’m gonna walk in front of you first so I can get to my spot faster,” you try to explain once again without getting heated but it was more difficult to hold your temper when he’s not even giving you the time of day.

“Maybe if you walked faster, you’d get to your spot on time,” he retaliated. God, does he make your skin boil! You gave him your dirtiest glare and sure enough, he was glaring right back at you. If you squinted hard enough, you could see steam coming out of both of your ears. But no one else on the team seemed to notice your little argument. Afterall, this was a daily basis for you two. Bakugou was your main cheer partner since you entered the squad and you would trust him with your life. But that doesn’t mean you don’t annoy the shit out of each other. Every practice, one of you would shift the blame on the other for either not getting the beats right or forgetting the moves. The whole team is so used to your constant screaming at each other that they literally just block you guys out.

“Stop arguing and let’s start the music again!” Mina cued the music and everyone was starting the dance off from the top. The dance was going perfect until it got to the point where you and Bakugou would often collide. You were stubborn. So you weren’t going any faster than you already were going to show Bakugou that he could try to cooperate with you for once. As you made your way in front of Bakugou, he managed to back up a little farther so you barely touched. When you two make it in your lines, you looked at him a little surprised and he has his regular frown on his face.

“Told ya,” you quickly mutter to him. You hear him scoff beside you and everyone finishes the dance off perfectly and elegantly.

“Nice! Okay, take a break!” Mina announces. Everyone sighs with relief and immediately either goes to take a drink or lay on the floor, exhausted. You and Bakugou did the latter. 3 hour of hard work to only get the dance right once? Fuck, you guys have so much work to do. But you were determined. Nationals was only a week away. This is the first time you’ve been to nationals so you had a burning passion to at least get top 3. Break wasn’t long, about 5 minutes then you had to get back to practice.

For the rest of practice, you, Bakugou, Kirishima and Kaminari were working on a few stunts. Kirishima and Kaminari being the 2 bases, Bakugou as the back spotter and you as the flyer. They were always your go-to team because the team’s chemistry always worked so well, at least most of the time.

“(y/n)!” Kirishima yelled. As you were high in the air, you lost your balance and started to fall. Quick on their feet, all three boys worked to catch you and you fell right in their arms. What a dream come true for most ladies.

“Dumbass! If you locked your knees, you wouldn’t have fallen!” Bakugou scolded you and you glared at him in response.

“Well maybe if you held my legs properly, I wouldn’t have fallen!” you retaliated right back.

“Okay let’s not-” Kirishima tried to calm you two down but it was too late. A string of insults and curses were thrown at each other and no one was able to stop the flow. Until the dependable cheer captain came along.

“Break it up you two. If you guys yell any closer to each other, you might as well kiss,” she said with a small laugh under her breath. Those around you chuckled but her comment didn’t faze you two at all.

“I’d rather kiss Denki than kiss her,” Bakugou pointed at the electric blonde. Denki was initially shocked at his statement but then his eyes lit up with stars and he reached his arms out to Bakugou

“Well why didn’t you say so!” Denki said enthusiastically and jumped on Bakugou to give him a good smooch.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” Bakugou screamed, pushing Denki away as far as possible but the other blonde was persistent. If it wasn’t for Mina, Denki would be regretting his life decisions.

“Get back to work you four,” Mina said before going to work with other groups. And so, you kept practicing and practicing until by the end of practice, your group got the stunt down, no problem. Everyone was about to change and leave for the day when Mina pulled you and Bakugou to the side.

“Before you go, I want to add this new move to the dance and was hoping you two would do it,” Mina asked. You were excited while Bakugou, on the other hand, didn’t have an amused expression.

“Why us?” he asked. Well, he could have asked in a nicer tone. You were honored that the cheer captain chose you out of all the girls on the team to perform this stunt but Bakugou acted like he didn’t give a shit. You poked him on his side, earning a small ‘what’ coming from him.

“It’s because you guys have the best chemistry on the team,” Mina continued, completely ignoring Bakugou. As she should! “Please?” she begged, giving, mostly you, the puppy dog eyes. How could you say no to that? So of course you agreed despite what your partner had to say.

“Do you have anything to do later?” you asked the man beside you. He shook his head and you sighed in relief. “Good, because we need all the practice we can get.”

The stunt required you to be in the air doing a scorpion and when you fall, you have to do a spin down and Bakugou would catch you in his arms. The only thing that made you nervous was that now, there’s only one person to catch you. Not that you didn’t trust Bakugou, you did. But you’re not the best at keeping your balance and the fact that you have to only balance on one foot is going to be tricky.

In order to do the stunt in the first place, you had to make sure you knew how to do the scorpion by itself first. You balanced yourself on one foot first and lifted the other leg up over your head. Phew, easy. Now can you do it while balancing on Bakugou’s one hand? You started off practicing with the mat so in case you fell, which you did a lot, so it would be a much softer landing. Bakugou got into position, lift you up to his chest. When you were stable and tight enough, he lifted you up fully, arms extended all the way out. Now it was up to you to do the rest. But as soon as you made it in the air, you tried to balance yourself on one foot, but you lost balance. You fall quite a bit so when you knew you were going to fall, you tried to make yourself feel lower to the ground so Bakugou could catch you easier.

“Sorry,” you apologized when you got caught.

“Try it again,” was all he said before getting back into position. Typical Bakugou response. Always straight to the point. Always the one who wants to get everything perfect. Time and time again, you kept falling over and over. Some times you got further than where you were before, but then some times it just wasn’t working.

“Tight, tight, tight,” Bakugou said over and over again to remind you to keep your body tight so that you don’t fall. He was looking up at you, evaluating every move that you made and making sure you were doing it correctly. Finally, you made it into your scorpion position. A little wobbly but you did it.

“Nice. Okay, I’m going to throw you now,” Bakugou continued to instruct every move and gave you a good warning before doing anything. You nodded, ready for the finale. He counted down and threw you in the air. You twist and turn, making your way into his arms. But your body wasn’t coming down straight. It was going way over to the side, catching Bakugou off guard.

“Shit!” Bakugou cursed under his breath and chased after you. He extended his arms out, barely catching you in the process. “(y/n), are you okay?” he asked, worried that you might have hurt something. He definitely caught you in his arms, but he fell in the process. Which led to him laying in the grass while you were cushioned above him. You looked up and started beating on his chest.

“Ah! We were so close!” you complained. You were about finished with the stunt and you couldn’t stick the landing. Now you have to keep practicing. To think the ending would have been the easiest part.

“Idiot, that’s not what you should be concerned about now,” Bakugou said, knocking you on the side of the head. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked. You looked at your body, felt your face and moved all your limbs. Looks good to you. It’s only then did you finally realize what situation you were in.

“No, I’m not. Shit, are you?” you asked him, already checking to see if he hurt or sprained anything. You couldn’t see it but with how close you two were right now, Bakugou couldn’t help but look away with blush running to his cheeks. You’ve always had to be close but never this close.

“I’m fine,” he says, getting up with you still laying on top of him. This caused you to sit in his lap, your faces still pretty close together. You both stared into each other’s eyes for a while, waiting for what the other person was going to do next.

“Hey dumbass,” Bakugou’s deep voice caught your attention and brought you back to reality. “Let’s do it again.”

Days on end, until the day of the competition, your team continuously worked on improving your routine and even added in the new stunt you and Bakugou worked so hard to perfect. It was now the day of the competition and your team got to the venue a bit early. So a representative led your team to one of the waiting rooms that was assigned to your school.

“Yes! Finally time to relax before the competition!” one of the other girls on your team cheered and made herself comfortable on the sofa.

“Make sure to stretch properly, drinks lots of water and eat before we go on!” Mina announced to everybody. There was still an hour left until the competition began. So an hour to kill. Bakugou was on one of the sofa, playing games on his phone. You went up behind him and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him and resting your chin on top of his head.

“What do you want?” Bakugou asked in an annoyed tone, eyes not leaving his phone for a second.

“I’m bored,” you told him. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and entertain you a little bit.

“Did you stretch?”

“Yes.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yup.”

“Bathroom check?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then fuck off,” he said, pushing your arms away from him. You pout and made your way around the couch to sit next to him.

“Bakugou!” you tugged on his arm but he still wouldn’t look away from his phone. “Cuddle me?” you looked at him with puppy dog eyes. It was then that he finally spared you a glance but no was still no. With deflated shoulders, you just sat next to him and watched him play his game. If he wasn’t going to entertain you, then you’ll get someone else to.

“Kirishima!” you called to the red head that was across the room. “Come cuddle me!” and you waved your hands over, inviting him into your arms. He smiled and started walking to you when Bakugou set your arms down, pulled you in close and forced your head to rest on his shoulder while his hand is snaked around your waist. The image on his phone no longer showed his game. Instead, he put on a video for both of you to watch. You looked up and Bakugou was focused on the screen. You tried to stop yourself from smiling but everyone in that room saw it. You shifted in your position to get comfy in his warmth.

In no time, you started to drift asleep. Eventually, you ended up taking a nap on Bakugou’s shoulder. Bakugou was quick to notice but didn’t stop watching the video. He let you sleep comfortably on his shoulder and tried not to move so that he didn’t wake you up.

“Hey, look. (y/n)’s asleep. Let’s mess with her,” Bakugou heard Kaminari whisper to Kirishima. Bakugou glances up with slanted eyes to see Kaminari already making his move. His hand was out, about to touch your nose. He knows this trick. He’s seen it all the time because Denki likes to do it to every person who falls asleep. He was going to plug your nose so that you can’t breathe and as a result, wake up panicking. Denki thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world. But not this time. Before the electric boy could touch you, Bakugou slaps his hand away. And his slaps hurt like a bitch! Denki silently screams, clutching his red hand. Bakugou glares at him, telepathically telling him that he shouldn’t even dare wake you up. And that went for everyone. He was going to let you sleep peacefully until the start of the competition. Everyone let you two alone at that point.

Bakugou looked down at your sleeping face. Your soft breathing and the drool coming out on the side of your mouth made him laugh a bit.

“Dumbass,” he whispered to himself, but it was more to you. He rested his head on top of yours and also started to close his eyes. Maybe he enjoyed your presence after all.

A/N: Let me know your thoughts and if you want more fluff in the future! Or if I should stick with angst :)

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou oneshot #bakugou x y/n #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #cheerleading au

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

a blip in the reader-verse

chapter 4: going once, going twice

summary: you meet an interesting character while attending a charity auction.

warnings: soft moments, angsty moments. asshole ransom, soft ransom. you’ve been warned.

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader, overarching steve rogers x reader

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: before anyone asks, i don’t really consider this cheating since it’s just steve in a different universe. but i’d skip this chapter if it won’t sit right with you!

p.s. i had to google translate some french, please don’t hate me if you speak french and it’s awful🥺

previous chapter / series masterlist

Sounds seemed to be the first thing you noticed as you entered a new universe. This was absolutely no different.

Well, except for the fact that the first sound you noticed was the announcing of your own name.

From the moment your eyes opened, you were met with a blinding yellow light, and the urge to stand up. You glanced over at the table that you’d previously been sat at, and received raised brows from Aaliyah, who’d been sitting at the white, round table across from you, along with a hand gesture that shoo-ed you away.

You timidly walked up to the small and raised platform of a stage, and stood next to a person who vaguely resembled your old boss from your main universe.

“Alright, ladies and gents! Our final lady of the night, well, not a lady of the night, is the gorgeous Y/N L/N! Starting at $1,000, do we have any takers?”

You looked out into the ocean of round tables, and watched a decently handsome man, with dark hair and a beard raise his paddle, “1,500!” he called out.

The man received a death glare from someone else at his table, and looked up at both the stage and you to raise his own paddle. “2,500,” he responded in a bored tone.

After getting over the extreme ego boost that was being bid over, you let yourself take a good look at the second man who’d offered the cash, and,

Holy shit.

It was Steve, but it definitely wasn’t Steve.

His hair was slightly darker, he was wearing a cream sweater and long, multicolored scarf that your Steve would never be caught dead in. He held an air of confidence and cockiness that you could see from miles away, and according to his bidding style, he was loaded.

After seeing him, you desperately wanted to find a mirror and find out if your own appearance had changed at all.

“Fine, $4,000,” the bearded man offered, glancing back and forth between you, and this alternate version of Steve.

“$5,000!” A new contestant jeered, this one a rather old man whom you could tell you wanted nothing to do with.

“Old fucking geezer,” the alternate Steve muttered. “$7,000.”

There was a gasp, and a silence throughout the audience.

“$7,000 for Hugh, going once, going-”

“15,” the bearded man lifted his paddle once again. You glanced over to Aaliyah, whose eyeballs seemed to be bulging out of her head at this.

“Fuck it, 30,” Hugh sighed.

The bearded man threw his hands up in defeat, and set his paddle all the way down on his table.

“45, final!” The old man called out.

“75,” Hugh glanced around the audience, a rather smug look on his face.

“Oh wow, $75,000 going once, going twice… sold to Mr. Hugh Drysdale! Miss L/N, is there something you’re not telling us about the nature of your date?” The auctioneer passed the microphone to you, and you laughed awkwardly into it.

“Nothing that I know of,” the rest of the crowd seemed to laugh with you at this, but you couldn’t help but feel the growing discomfort in your stomach.

“Well, I’m sure the folks over at One Mission will be very happy at this sizable donation. Can we get one more cheer for Miss L/N?” You gave a friendly wave before awkwardly stepping off the stage while the people around you clapped.

You’d had a decent idea at this point of what was going on, but you couldn’t quite piece together why this Hugh character had decided to bid so high on someone he’d never even met. You sat back down at your table, and slipped your phone out of your pocket to look at yourself. Yep, same you.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Aaliyah asked you, a mixture of confusion and excitement present in her tone.

“Hell if I know,” you sighed, and scratched your neck nervously.

“I mean, I get it, you’re hot. But the price of a luxury vehicle for a date? You’re gonna have to let him finger you at least,” she giggled.

“Shut up,” you groaned at the thought. You were still feeling pretty confused about the fact that the Steve in this universe wasn’t actually Steve at all. You so far, you’d only really met Steves that were well… Steve.

You internally lamented the situation, until you noticed someone plop down at the open seat at the table, causing you to turn and look at him.

“This seat taken?” Hugh asked, and you shook your head. “Great, now it is,” he quipped.

“I’ll give you two a moment. I’m gonna go find my own socialite,” Aaliyah bantered, slipping up from her chair and following through on her comment.

“So you must really love those kids you just donated to,” you awkwardly chuckled.

“Oh hell no. Fuck those kids. I just hate losing, and I absolutely was not gonna let those douchebags win,” he looked down at his hands and played with his pinky ring in an extremely bored manner.

“Oh, okay,” you nodded slowly. This man was a complete 180 to the type of Steve that you were used to. Your Steve was warm and caring, but this man seemed cold and apathetic. Your Steve would gladly lay his life on the line for anyone, and this man didn’t even seem to have the emotional capacity to hold the door for someone else. “So Hugh, what do you plan to do on our date?” You lifted up your glass of champagne and took a little sip.

“Call me Ransom, only the help call me Hugh. We’ll probably just go to Europe or something.”

You nearly spat out your drink at this. In fact, you felt a little carbonation in your nose. Then again, Ransom just spent ¾ of a hundred thousand on a date with you. “Jesus,” you murmured.

“Think you can head out tomorrow?”

----

Waking up in the bedroom of the apartment you seemed to share with Aaliyah taught you two things. One, you could apparently sleep in these universes and not wake up elsewhere, and two, the walls of your apartment were far too thin.

You glanced over at the clock on your bedside table, and noted the time. You had about an hour before you needed to be at the airport.

You quickly threw a mixture of clothing, a phone charger, a packet of birth control, and some skincare products into a suitcase before heading out to the kitchen to grab a granola bar. You chewed half the bar before hopping into the shower, then tossing on some ugly, but comfortable travelling clothes.

Maybe you spent a bit too long checking yourself in the mirror that morning with the newfound knowledge that you were now worth at least 75,000 dollars. Frankly, having multiple (attractive) men fight over you was the greatest boost to your pride that you’d ever been given.

Glancing down at your phone after the matter, you realized that you only had a few minutes to order an Uber to pick you up, unless you wanted to be late and miss your flight.

----

You had your baggage checked, stumbled through TSA, and showed the screenshot of your plane ticket a boatload of times to a multitude of people before you finally reached the lounge, and found Ransom sitting on a sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Why the hell are you dressed like that?” Ransom asked you as you approached, looking up and down at your outfit of a college sweatshirt and loose joggers.

“Because I want to be comfortable, you dick. Do rich people not like being comfortable?” You sat down beside him on the sofa, and slumped into the chair. Who knew travelling throughout the multiverse could be so tiring? “Besides, you have like seven holes in that sweater. I wouldn’t be talking about anyone else’s clothes if I gladly let moths have a four course meal on my things,” you scoffed.

That seemed to shut him up for a bit.

Eventually, your flight number was called, and you, along with the few other first class flyers piled into the plane.

You sat down next to Ransom in a soft chair that seemed to lower back into some sort of makeshift mattress, and slipped your phone out of your pocket to send your friends a message that you were taking off.

“You excited?” You asked Ransom while he began to slip a pair of Beats onto his head.

“Yeah, I like Nice,” he nodded, then grabbed his own phone to connect to the headphones.

“So you’ve been there before?” Ransom nodded, clearly trying to ignore you. “Do you have a plan on fun places to take me?” He shrugged.

You got the message, and huffed as you sat back in your seat. Right before takeoff, you received a message back from Aaliyah of a picture of her cat, and that was enough to bring a smile to your face.

——

About 7 hours into your flight, you noticed Ransom picking out a movie to watch, and you found the idea intriguing.

“What’cha watching?” You asked, leaning over a bit into his space.

“Nothing,” he said stiffly, and you rolled your eyes.

“Porn?” You joked, glancing up at him to see if it landed or not. It did not.

“You know what? You’re a lot prettier when you’re quiet.”

You slunk back into your seat at this and turned your head away from Ransom. The words really bit at you, considering that it sounded just like your Steve, and if you squinted enough, it looked like him too. But your Steve would never say something like that to you, right?

For a moment, you twisted the watch on your wrist consideringly, wondering if you should go to the next universe, where you might gain a little more respect from your partner. Yet something told you to wait it out. If this was still, in some convoluted way, Steve, he’d come around, right?

That alone gave you enough reason to stay.

----

You dragged your suitcase into a hotel room much too big for just two people after nearly 12 hours of an extremely awkward flight, and even more awkward cab ride to the hotel.

After plopping your things down into the bigger bedroom of the hotel, you stretched rather dramatically in hopes of waking up some of the stiff muscles in your body. In the midst of this, Ransom came up behind you, and set a hand on your back, scaring the life out of you.

“What the hell, Ransom! A knock or a ‘hello’ will do it next time!”

You turned to look at him, and became a bit flustered at his shirtless, short-clad figure. It was silly, because you’d seen Steve naked a million times before, and this was simply Steve in another universe.

“You coming to the spa with me?” He smirked as you blatantly checked him out. “Okay, yeah. You’re coming with me. I’ll meet you at the front door.”

You spent around an hour at the spa with Ransom, sweating yourself out in the sauna until you were likely majorly dehydrated, soaking in the heated pool until your skin became pruny and wrinkled, and ending the night with a massage that sent you straight to sleep.

Like, deep sleep. When you became even slightly conscious, Ransom was laying you in your pillowy soft bed. As your eyes opened the slightest bit at him, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Pretending to sleep, how cute,” he muttered sarcastically. You’d argue with him, but you were simply too exhausted to do so. In fact, you were convinced you’d just given him a whole monologue about how travelling makes people tired, but the most that had exited your mouth was a tiny squeak.

You watched Ransom leave the room, before your head collapsed onto your shoulder, and you fell back into a nice rest.

When you awoke, it was not on your own will.

An overly saturated light attacked your eyes from behind your eyelids, and came all at once, snapping you out of your dreamless slumber. When you glanced over at the harsh source, you noticed none other than Ransom by your window, with a hand on the drape.

“Time to wake up. It’s like, 3 PM, by the way,” he huffed before exiting your room, not even allowing you to reply.

You groaned in annoyance, having an off handed thought about how jet lag was kicking your ass, before rolling out of bed and trying to find something nice to put on.

By the time you left your room, Ransom was standing by the door, aimlessly scrolling on his phone. “You wanna go for a walk?”

“Sure, I guess. I’m kinda hungry though, so maybe we can stop somewhere first?”

Ransom shrugged and gave you what seemed like the hint of a smile, and you hurried to put on your shoes before heading out.

——

The two of you ended up on the patio of some local restaurant, your eyes skimming the menu while Ransom took sips of his complimentary water.

What seemed to be out of nowhere, a burly man came rushing over to your table, and appeared to be approaching Ransom, as he turned his head to look at the man, then quickly looked away.

The man, who you could only assume to be the owner, clapped Ransom on the back, and in return, Ransom slumped over in embarrassment.

You were definitely going to enjoy this.

“Où étiez-vous?, Ranny?” Where have you been?

“Occupé, Henri.” Busy, Henri. Ransom clearly had a dark red blush on his face now, and he glanced at you as if you could offer him some sort of assistance.

“Trop occupé avec la dame?” Too busy with the lady? Henri asked with a smirk.

“No!”

“Présentez-moi à elle,” Introduce her to me.

Ransom sighed dramatically, then sat up from hunching, “Y/N, this is Henri. He’s a family friend,” you couldn’t help but notice how pleased Henri seemed, “Henri, this is Y/N, mon rendez-vous,” My date.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Henri extended a hand out to you and you gladly shook it. He turned back to Ransom, and continued grilling him. “Est-ce votre cavalier ou votre petite amie?” Is she your date or your girlfriend?

“Mon rendez-vous!” My date! You don’t think you’d ever seen anyone become this flustered so fast.

“Hey Henri,” you interrupted, feeling a tiny bit left out, “any way that we could order first, then you could come back here and tell me all the embarrassing stories about Ransom you can remember?”

“That sounds fun to me,” he shrugged.

——

During lunch, you’d learned more about Ransom than you ever knew you needed to know. In the midst of it all, you couldn’t help but to think about how different he was compared to your Steve. His parents were extremely wealthy (no surprise there), he went to boarding school in Nice (which explained his ability to speak French), and Ransom was a bit of an art nerd (perhaps some characteristics could transcend universes).

Surprisingly, he was starting to grow on you. Which was why you were far from opposed to his suggestion of going sight-seeing around the town.

The first stop you took wasn’t too far from the restaurant. A quaint little gift store with tiny knicknacks lining the shelves, and a relentless, old, orange cat who did not seem to want to leave Ransom alone.

“You should pet her, Ran,” you suggested, leaning down to do so yourself.

“First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all, if you pet her once, it’ll literally never stop,” He glanced over at you from where he was standing at a set of tourist-oriented keychains.

“Are you speaking from firsthand experience?” You grinned down at the cat who was now aggressively rubbing its head against your hand.

“Yes. Luis may seem nice, but one second you’re petting his head, and the next, you’re carrying him around the store, the whole time he’s whispering in your ear for you to buy more things.”

You were a bit taken aback at this, for a second concerned that the man you’d impulsively travelled to Europe with had a few screws loose, since he was apparently hearing local cats speak to him. That’s of course, when Ransom broke into laughter. It took you a second before you laughed a bit too.

“That was so weird, man. Don’t do that again,” you lightly punched his shoulder, then went to pick up Luis who was more than happy to be transported around like an infant.

After buying a nice mug and a postcard to give to Aaliyah once you returned home, and parting with Luis who seemed to feel a bit, you suggested hopping in a cab to visit one of the many art museums Nice had to offer.

After a bit of bickering in the backseat, the two of you compromised on the Modern and Contemporary Art museum, and you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit excited.

Around two hours post-arrival at the museum, you realized that, maybe modern art wasn’t exactly your thing. But it certainly was Ransom’s. He rambled on and on about different pieces that seemed completely mundane to you. Who knew that someone could talk for nearly half of an hour about a canvas painted completely one color?

You noted a shift in Ransom’s attitude towards you. It was clear that you were willing to put up with his little antics, and as the day went on, he began to let down more and more of the tough guy persona he’d had up for so long. To your Steve, at least, art was something that made him feel a bit vulnerable, and you figured that Ransom held the same sentiment. This thought made you feel vaguely homesick, and go in for a half-hug from Ransom, who gladly returned it while he shamelessly effused.

It wasn’t the same, but for you, it was good enough.

----

You very much enjoyed the rest of your day with Ransom, hopping from interesting site to interesting site with him, and sharing a multitude of fond memories that you hoped would stick with you throughout your inter-dimensional travels.

You ended the night with him on the piano bench in the lobby of your hotel. He wordlessly played a Chopin piece while you mindlessly listened. It was a rather relaxing experience, and quite the finale of your day. You had a bit of a nagging feeling that this was the finale of your time in this universe as well.

“Today was really nice,” out of nowhere, Ransom began.

You hummed in agreement, “it was.”

“I guess I shouldn’t have taken you to all my favorite places on day one, but oh well,” he half chuckled to himself, and you pulled back to look up at Ransom.

“You took me to your favorite places? That’s.. Wow. That’s really sweet,” you glanced down at the piano, then back up at Ransom. He gave you a soft smile in return.

This was the moment, right? The silence that followed that was your perfect opportunity to be kissed. Yet, Ransom wasn’t taking it. So you decided to lean forward slightly, and do it yourself. Catching onto what you were getting ready to do, Ransom moved away from you slightly, and shook his head.

“Hey, I don’t really do that,” Ransom looked down at you, and bit the inside of his lip.

Deep down, you knew that this was just a man who looked like your man rejecting you, but the less rational side of yourself only told you one thing.

Steve was rejecting you.

He was leaving you again, he wouldn’t even kiss you. The thought of it put you somewhere between seeing red, and seeing nothing at all from the tears that were now flooding your vision.

The one thing that had once convinced you to stay, was now begging you to leave.

You reached down to your watch, and fiddled aggressively with it. Part of you felt bad for leaving a version of yourself to deal with the awkward aftermath of what just occurred, but another part of you just wanted to get the hell away from all of the distressing emotions you were feeling.

That part of you seemed to be stronger than anything else. You glanced down at your watch, pressed the button on the side that you were told could make you leave, and let nature take its course after feeling the soft vibrations run throughout your arm.

next chapter

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #ABITRV

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frillshark-fr · 3 years

Note

How do you get people to always buy your dragons? Genuine question

i was gonna say something like “haha i have no fucking clue” but that would be a lie i think about this a lot actually so i might have some insights i’ve been breeding dragons as my primary activity on FR since i started playing FR (in 2014...) and people have only started actually buying dragons from me consistently like, 5-6 months ago, despite 2-3 attempts at running a genuine hatchery onsite that always died due to lack of interest & not really being worth the effort.

so ive thought a lot about what the hell is happening now and why my dragons are suddenly consistently selling and I think ive come down to these being the main points of advice i can give: 1. make friends! be friendly! don’t be weird! be a cool and fun person to interact with! 2. post consistently. post your dragons consistently. post about other stuff consistently. just be an active member of the community 3. POST YOUR SHIT IN THE “#FLIGHT RISING” TAG. THIS IS PROBABLY THE ONLY TRUELY HELPFUL THING I SAY IN THIS POST 4. make pairs that are sexy as hell and be openly proud of them. make dragons and pairs that you like, not what you think will necessarily sell. people can tell when you like stuff and being genuinely passionate about something, whatever the fuck it is, will get other people passionate as well longer versions/explanations under the cut because man this got a mile long. i wasn’t kidding when i said i think about this a lot and i am so sorry if you wanted something concise and useful

1. to be a little glib. i am mutuals/friends with more clout in the FR community than I do kjdshfdsfdhjhkfdf shoutout to everyone who draws their dragons really good on a regular basis because i am riding on your coattails to sell my dragons. i love you this was never my intent, obviously! DO NOT BEFRIEND PEOPLE BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU WILL GET STUFF FROM THEM IT’S JUST A REALLY BAD THING TO DO TO PEOPLE!!! i wouldn’t be friends w/ people if i didn’t genuinely like and get along with them! no amount of pixel cash is worth putting up with people you dont like or abusing people you admire! but i’d also somehow feel wrong to just... neglect mentioning this factor. idk it’s probably a self-esteem thing sjdkgfhdsf i just Don’t feel like my #success has been totally out of my own effort because its not like im #hustling or whatever i just posted dragons and stuff happened

-----

2. being consistent! just. posting consistently! posting Every Hatchling I Have and Talking About Them On Tumblr! Once I had a couple nests just sell super fast likely due to aforementioned clout, i was emboldened to just post more of my nests more often and I swear this has more effect than anything else. i just needed the self-esteem boost to Start Doing That posting consistently makes ppl follow u for ur content which gets even more people to look at your dragons which gets more people to buy your dragons.

2a. Also just post a lot in general, even if you aren’t necessarily posting about your dragons for sale. it definitely helps! just be friendly and active and people will come

-----

3. post your shit in the tag. not in “#dragon-sales” or “#fr-dragon-sales” or anything weird like that because I don’t know if anyone actually looks at those, but people definitely browse “#flight rising”. no matter how many followers you have, more people will see your content if you post it in #flight rising than if you just chuck it into the void.

3a. however! do not put links into the post if you want it to actually show up in the tag. tumblr is cool in that it doesn’t actually matter that much when you post something, the same way it really matters on twitter bc twitter has algorithms that decide for you what it thinks you want to be seeing whereas tumblr just shows you everything in chronological order. if you post something into the tag at 1am... it will still be there at 2pm when people log on and start scrolling.

the only thing tumblr seems to consistently hide from a tag (and possibly a dashboard, but idk) are posts with links in them, as a half-assed attempt to limit spam. instead of linking to your sales tab/to the dragons directly in the post, reblog it with the links instead. to reduce latency between a post going up and the links being available, i type out the links in the initial post, cut them, post the thing into the tag, then very quickly reblog, paste the links, and post the reblog jdhfsdf. i don’t know if that benefits anything really? but it can sometimes take me a while to type links, so if i posted, pressed reblog, typed up all the links, then posted, it’d be like ~15 minutes where someone may see the post, think “oh i would like to buy those dragons”, then can’t find the link, think “oh well, i will just find it later”, scroll on, and just... completely forget about it. so uh. go quick?

3b. the armchair sociologist in me also thinks self-reblogging has the added benefit of like... you know how people are more likely to tip a barista when a dollar is already in the tip jar? or how people are more likely to take one of those little tabs on a flyer if one of them is already missing? i think that works with notes, too. i don’t know why i think that or why it happens i just swear once a post gets 1 note, suddenly it gets Even More Notes, and if it doesn’t get any notes for a while it will sit at 0 notes until the end of time. so giving yourself 1 obligatory note makes people more likely to interact. i think

-----

4. all of these are hard to quantify but this one is especially so: have cool and unique dragons. make your pairs sexy as hell. don’t put all your eggs (hah) into the one basket of selling dragons that are technically “popular”. we have all seen triple white/triple obsidian/triple orca/triple any other popular colors and cherub/pere/stained or wasp/bee/glim pthahlos or whatever. they’re pretty! we get it! but everyone has had one and everyone has had those pairs and market for dragons like that can be super oversaturated. try to break free from that and sell dragons that people can only get from you. I can’t tell you what to do though bc that rly depends on you. make pairs that you find exciting or interesting and people will feel that. i have a very specific theme and aesthetic that i don’t feel like is especially common on FR and i am genuinely very enthusiastic about it. marine shit is my Thing:tm: both on and off FR and dragons are one of my many ways of expressing that if you have a Thing:tm:, either some fr-centric aesthetic (like being super into plague or earth or light or something) or something more general (such as any of the -punks or -cores)... just fuckin roll with it honestly. if you’re goth? make got h dragons. like scene stuff that looks straight out of a middle school in 2010? rock that hot-topic lair. outdoorsey type? make dragons that look like you’d meet them on a hike in the woods. it really works with anything! people can tell when you really love something and i know that seeing someone really love something, even if it’s not necessarily MY thing, makes me really excited too!!

4a. never show fear. people can smell fear. never be like “well this one isn’t that good” because suddenly now you’ve planted the idea that it’s ugly in other people’s heads when they may have really liked it had you not accidentally suggested to them that it’s an ugly dragon. people are EXTREMELY suggestible to even VERY minor cues so be always a little bit bolder than you think you should be you’d be surprised at how many times ive been like “eh, this one’s kind of a dud, i’ll probably have to exalt this one when the auction expires” and then that hatchling is the first to sell. never ever ever ever decide what other people like for them. always act like your dragons are the hottest shit in all the land and Believe It. this is what people mean when they say “fake it till you make it”

- 4b. also, idk if it’s true of everyone but it’s really off-putting to see someone having serious pity-parties for themselves, on sales posts or otherwise. ive had bad experiences with people who are uncomfortably quick to self-depreciate (because they were using their genuine self-hatred to manipulate me or my friends), so i might be a little more trigger-happy about avoiding this behavior than others, but don’t weaponize your sadness to guilt people into doing what you want. it’s really not cool.

-----

okay i think that’s my entire manifesto on how i do dragon selling. anon i am so sorry im sure you were expecting like “believe in yourself :)” and here i am dissecting dragon selling like it’s a frog in a science class

edit: AFTER ALL THAT I STILL THOUGHT OF ONE MORE THING. It’s not really a Point, just a Reminder:

i don’t post about all the times i have to exalt dragons that don’t sell. you are seeing me being very selective about what i post. you dont sit and stare at my lair or click through offspring lists or check old sales posts. there are a lot of times where someone just doesn’t sell. even now when i’m selling stuff pretty consistently i will still sometimes have dragons that don’t sell for seemingly no reason. even dragons I think are sure to sell will sometimes just... not. and that’s ok! you gotta just be.. ok with that. it’s par for the course. i typically list dragons for 7 days on the AH, give them a couple more days after their auction expires (partially because i forget, partially to give them a grace period for people to pm/ask me about them), and then exalt them after that point. w/ some dragons that i don’t think got a fair shake for one reason or another (such as the sales post not showing up in the tag or something) i do a little clearance (like the halloween dragons i recently posted) but for the most part if they don’t sell, i just exalt them. 90% of the time i don’t even bother to level them up i just press the exalt button and call it a day. it’s fine

#if anyone is interested i can make a post about my process for finding new dragon pairs?#i’d just include it here but this post is long enough as it is oo;;#Anonymous

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spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 7

Saturday November 9th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was nervous.

Halloween night has been…interesting, to say the least. After Will had walked her home and tried to kiss her, she’d gotten into the elevator and started a quick, mad scramble of flailing arms and limbs about what had just transpired. She couldn’t believe it – how he tried to kiss her and she flat-out denied him – when every single fibre of her being wanted to kiss him back. But she knew she couldn’t, for her own sake and for Will’s sake, too. There was no way she would jeopardize her job like that, and there was no way she would jeopardize Will’s good standing with the club, particularly Brendan, who was fond of him. It was an internal fight she needed to win; reason needed to triumph over passion.

When she got back into her condo, she took off her costume, washed all her makeup off, and brushed her hair through. When she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror – really looked at herself. To try to see what Will apparently saw. The long, brown, wavy but frizzy hair; the thick eyebrows; the Greek nose; the pink lips with their cupid’s bow. She was pretty, somewhat, though she knew beauty was in the eye of the beholder. Not as pretty as Siena though, who inherited much of their father’s elegant Persian characteristics, so much so many people didn’t believe they were sisters; and not as striking as her brother, who was a perfect mishmash of Mizra’s Persian and Orla’s Scottish, with his olive skin and blue eyes. She wondered what Will saw in her to make him say “I want you”; what he saw to make him call her minskatt, his treasure, when she didn’t really believe so.

Her first text to him was that night. text me when you’re home safe please

A few minutes later, she received what she wanted. im home minskatt

Every time he called her that she couldn’t help but swoon.

But the show had to go on, and Aberdeen still had a job to do, despite what happened on Halloween and despite all her swooning. She still needed to be Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant. She still had to travel with the team when needed. She still needed to share charter flights with them, stay at the same hotels, and show up at the same continental breakfast areas. She still couldn’t let anybody know anything had happened between her and Will. And when she was on the job, running around and fetching coffee and Prada shoes and Gucci suits and organizing meetings and accompanying other teams’ general managers and presidents to Brendan’s office, while simultaneously trying to shield comments from Ethan, she was too busy for her mind to be constantly preoccupied by Will. But the second she saw him, in work out gear or a suit or in his jersey, she was done for. She tried not to let it show.

Though every part of her wanted to kiss him back that night, at the same time, she didn’t want him to get too close. Halloween had her feelings had bubbled to the surface. That wasn’t the problem, because she could suppress them, especially on the job. The problem was Will. He apparently couldn’t suppress them like she could, especially on the job. He started to flirt. Openly. Not in front of Brendan or anyone else in the office, but definitely in front of the team. And definitely more when they were alone. She knew it was part of his personality, to be an open flirt, but he’d started asking her how he looked in his suits walking into the arena.

So she’d have to come up with retorts.

Saturday, November 2nd, against the Flyers, he’d asked, “How do I look?” when he walked in with a perfectly tailored grey suit.

He looked fantastic. But nobody could know she thought so. “You look like you can save me 15% or more on car insurance,” she responded. His lightning fast wink wasn’t caught by anyone or any camera.

On Tuesday November 5th against the Kings, he’d asked, “What do you think?” as he walked in wearing a black suit that made his blonde hair stand out.

“You look like a honey glazed ham,” she responded. Jason, who was walking with him, spit out his water all over his suit.

On Thursday, November 7th against the Golden Knights, he’d walked into the arena with the most ridiculous ensemble she’d ever see a person wear in her entire life, and she went to school in downtown Toronto. He had a Sugo hat – from the great Italian restaurant on Bloor – secure on his head. Stubble. A more prominent moustache. Vintage eyeglasses on. A blue, yellow, and black throwback Reebok tracksuit jacket on, unzipped slightly to let his chest breath and just enough to show off his chains. Matching trackpants. Best of all, a pair of the most absurd looking Leafs Uggs. They were alone at that point – he was one of the first players in for the morning skate, and even arrived before the media – and she audibly scoffed when she saw him. “How do I look?” he asked, smiling.

She knew that he knew he looked completely ridiculous. She could do nothing but shake her head. “I don’t even have the words.”

“Find them,” he practically begged. That’s when she knew this would become a thing between them.

“Honestly? You look like my father when I see pictures of him living in pre-revolution Iran. Except blonde. And more facial hair.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked.

“My dad’s awesome, so take it as a compliment. But fourteen year old teenagers don’t exactly have the best fashion sense.”

“Maybe I’ll get to meet him and see that picture one day,” he quipped.

“No chance, William Nylander.”

Tonight, on a Saturday Hockey Night in Canada, the Leafs were facing the Flyers again, the second time in a week, back to back Saturdays. This time, however, the Leafs were at least at home, though everyone had to get on a flight after the game to head to Chicago for a game tomorrow. Busy as usual, she walked into the staff kitchen to warm up the snack wrap she’d bought to get her through the day. When she walked in, she saw Ethan making a tea.

“Hello,” she greeted him, trying to be polite to him though he had never really been polite to her.

“Hey Girl Friday,” he said. He wasn’t even looking at her, so she had an opportunity to roll her eyes. “What brings you into the kitchen? Shouldn’t you be fetching coffee?”

“I’m heating up a snack wrap,” she said, walking over to the microwave and popping it in for a minute.

“Should you really be eating that?”

Aberdeen’s back stiffened. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Do you really need it?” he said, finally looking at her after he finished making his tea. “Nobody likes a piggy working for a hockey team with some of the most in-shape guys in the league.”

She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. Her jaw dropped open as she couldn’t find the words to respond to him. “W…What?” was all she could muster out pathetically.

“Seriously Girl Friday, do I really have to spell it out for you?” he asked. “Your clothes might be stylish but I can see right through you,” he said, leaving her hanging as he walked out the door.

Aberdeen couldn’t believe what had just happened. The words that Ethan just said. Commenting on her snack and the fact she was eating. She couldn’t believe he had the gall. He’d used the word piggy. PIGGY! What man in their right might would say something like that to another human being, let alone a woman? She looked down at her body, covered by a black cable-knit sweater and skinny black plaid pants. Did…did she really…

No.

Ethan Baker was just being a colossal fucking asshole.

Instead of getting low on herself, she got angry. She had been nothing but nice to him, and had succumbed to his stupid hazing and initiation, and he still treated her like shit. What else did he want from her? Why was he so incessant on making her life a living hell?

As the microwaved beeped to signal it was done, Aberdeen felt a buzz from her phone in her pocket. It was, of course, from Brendan. Please go meet Cliff Fletcher at the entrance and bring him to my office.

She left her snack wrap in the microwave, taking the elevator down to the main floor and walking towards the entrance. On cue, Cliff was getting out of a black SUV. She opened the door for him. “Hi Mr. Fletcher,” she said. She tried her best to conceal the anger and annoyance in her voice, but she could hear it. She wondered if he could. “How are you?”

“I’m great, Miss Bloom. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she said as they walked towards the elevator together. She pushed the button and waited for the light.

“Excited about the game tonight?” he asked.

“Sure,” she shrugged her shoulders. The elevator pinged and the doors opened. They got on and the doors closed, with Aberdeen pushing the floor button. “Hope that we don’t have to play Philadelphia for a while after this.”

“Why not?”

“The jerseys. They’re awful. Their home jerseys at least are awful. That hideous orange,” she made a face, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “Imagine having to wear that all the time? Who’d want to be general manager?”

“My son, actually,” Cliff said, chuckling slightly.

Aberdeen’s face dropped. Oh, shit. Here we go again. Aberdeen just had to go and open her big mouth again. She just had to let her emotions get the best of her; had to let Ethan Baker get the best of her. “Are you for real?”

“I am for real,” Cliff mimicked her, smiling. “My my, Miss Bloom. You’re really keen on speaking your mind.”

“Mr. Fletcher, I’m sorry—” she said as the elevator door opened.

“That’s quite alright, Miss Bloom,” Cliff waved her off as they stepped off the elevator together. “It’s quite refreshing to hear your take on hockey jerseys, but if I can give you a word of advice, be careful about who you speak your mind to. You never know when their son could be a general manager of the team with the hideous jersey,” he winked. “Or, conversely, if that general manager’s father used to be in charge of the Maple Leafs.”

“Mr. Fletcher—”

“I’ll see myself to Brendan’s office,” he said, making her stop dead in the tracks. “I’ll see you during the game, Miss Bloom. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you in the box and hearing more of your thoughts.”

***

“Aberdeen, can you come in here for a minute?” Aberdeen heard Brendan call out as she sat at her desk outside his office, busy entering some new appointments and meetings into his Google calendar. She stood up from her seat and walked into his office. He was standing near one of the windows, moving eventually to lean against the frame.

“Yes sir?”

“I just had an absolutely wonderful discussion with Cliff,” he began. It was a normal start, but Aberdeen noticed that he hadn’t corrected her like he usually did when she called him sir. That automatically made her nervous. “We talked about his time here, we talked about how the kids were doing, his son who is somewhere in this building…and then we talked about you.”

Aberdeen gulped. He was going to absolutely annihilate her, just like he’d previously done. “Mr. Shanahan—”

“Do you know why I hired you?” he asked, interrupting her. “I always hire the same sort of person. Male, workaholic, of course…worships the team. But so often, they turn out to be – I don’t know – disappointing and, well…stupid,” he began. “So you, with that impressive resume and the big speech about your intelligence and your so-called work ethic…I – well, I thought you would be different. I said to myself: go ahead. Take a chance. Hire the smart girl who knows nothing about hockey. Hire the girl with immigrant parents who grew up in an old bungalow in Etobicoke,” he used her own words from that disastrous interview. “I had hope. My God, I love on it. Anyway, sometimes you end up disappointing me more than…more than any of the other silly boys.”

She bit her lip. She didn’t even care that her eyes were watering and he could see that she was about to cry in his office. “I really didn’t mean t—”

“That’s all,” he dismissed her coldly.

Aberdeen turned and walked out of the room. She didn’t even bother going back to her desk. She didn’t want him to hear her cry. But instead of going to the staff kitchen, instead of going to the women’s bathroom or outside or just anywhere else that wasn’t the office, she found herself walking directly towards Kyle Dubas’s office. He wasn’t her therapist. He was barely her friend – hell, barely her acquaintance. But for some reason, she gravitated towards his office because she knew, at some level, he would listen.

Kyle watched as she walked in to his office, and he could automatically see the redness of her eyes. He didn’t put his pen down or close his laptop. “Everything alright, Aberdeen?”

“He hates me, Kyle.”

“Who?”

“Brendan. I don’t know what else I can do because if I do something right, it’s unacknowledged. He barely says thank you. But if I do something wrong, he is…vicious.”

He knew what he had to do here. He knew his role. “So quit.”

Aberdeen looked at Kyle, furrowing her brows at his words. So simple yet so direct. “What?”

“Quit.”

“Quit?”

“I can get another person to take your job in five minutes. One who really wants it,” he said with such confidence it made her worried.

“No! I don’t want to quit! That’s not fair!” she raised her voice. The notion, to her, was completely ridiculous. “But…I…you know, I’m just saying that I would like a little credit for the fact that I’m killing myself trying.”

“Aberdeen, be serious. You are not trying. You are whining,” Kyle deadpanned. She stared at him, surprised that for such a soft-spoken and articulate guy, he was laying down the law. “What is it that you want me to say? ‘Poor you. Brendan’s picking on you. Poor you’? Wake up, Aberdeen. He’s just doing his job,” he said harshly. “Don’t you know that you are working at the place that housed some of the greatest and influential athletes of the century? Bower. Clancy. Sundin. And what they did, what they created in this city, was greater than the sport, because you looked up to them,” he said. He stopped momentarily. “Well, not you, obviously, but most people,” he fixed his mistake. “You think this is just a company, hmm? Just a hockey team? This is not just a hockey team. This is a shining beacon of light for…oh, I don’t know, let’s say a young boy growing up in Sault Ste. Marie who couldn’t continue playing hockey because of concussions but worked his way through the offices until someone like Brendan had faith in him and gave him a chance. You have no idea how many legends have walked these halls. And what’s worse, you don’t care. Because this place, where so many people would die to work you only deign to work. And you want to know why he doesn’t kiss you on the forehead and give you a gold star on your homework at the end of the day. Wake up, sweetheart.”

He was right. God, she knew he was 100% right. He was wrong about nothing. And for him to be so open with her – she knew he was referring to himself when he spoke about the young boy growing up in Sault Ste. Marie. She was being a complete suck. “Okay, so maybe I’m screwing it up,” she acknowledged. Kyle cocked his head to the side in agreement. “But I don’t want to. I just wish I knew what I could do.”

“Well, for one, you need to walk into this building everyday knowing and understanding the history of this hockey club beyond just the surface level and what Brendan tells you. But you already know what to do, Aberdeen,” Kyle said confidently. “You just need to find it within yourself and do it.”

***

Aberdeen didn’t know where her mind was for the rest of the night. Kyle told her she already knew what to do, and that she just had to do it, but she didn’t know what that was. At least not yet. It occupied her mind for the rest of the day, until the team started walking in and she greeted them all before they went into the locker room.

When she saw Will, he was on his way up the stairs with Auston Matthews. Word had gotten around the locker room that she’d been saying these things – that she had a wicked sense of humour – and now everyone wanted to hear it for themselves. The game-time roast of William Nylander. She saw him wearing a tan wool coat. His face was red from the cold wind outside. “You like what you see?” he asked.

“You look like a Costco hot dog.”

Auston almost fell over. His shriek was so loud she closed her eyes from the noise. “Jesus Christ, Auston,” she pretended to plug her ears.

“I always knew you had it in you, Aberdeen,” he said, shaking his head and wiping the tears that fell from his eyes from laughing so hard.

“What’s it?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It,” he looked back at her before walking into the locker room with Will.

Now he was in on it too. She had it inside her? What the hell were he and Kyle talking about? She didn’t think she was anything special, especially in the world of hockey.

***

Instead of winning in a shootout like last week in Philadelphia, the Leafs lost in a shootout at home. It was dumb, and she knew the players hated the shootout. Aberdeen and Brendan arrived at the locker room at the tail end of Mike Babcock giving them a stern talking to about something they did wrong during the game, and after he was done, the boys dispersed and began to take off their gear as they always did. She watched quietly as Will pulled his jersey over his head and began unstrapping his gear.

Brendan was looking down at his phone when she looked at him next. He was furiously typing something. “Can you go pick up guests at the door, please?” he asked, not looking up from his phone. He was probably still mad at her for earlier.

She nodded her head and began walking down the hallway, only for Will to show up beside her, his hockey socks still on. She figured he was being deliberately annoying, taunting her knowing that Brendan was in the same room and in close vicinity. “Get out of here,” she mumbled.

“You get out of here.”

She rolled her eyes, reaching for the door handle and opening it. She was greeted with a man and a woman. The man was tall and bald, already with a smile on his face, a grey polo shirt and slacks on; the woman had long blonde hair and striking blue eyes, wearing a simple pair of jeans and a Leafs jersey. “Hello,” she greeted them politely. “You’re here to see Mr. Shanahan?”

“Actually…” the man began, smiling at Will.

“Hi mama, hi papa,” Will said, smiling from ear to ear, leaning in to hug both parents.

Aberdeen’s face dropped. She took another look at the man and the woman. Of course. Of course they were Will’s parents. He was a carbon copy of both of them; a perfect mix of his mother’s blue eyes and his dad’s smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Nylander! Hello!” she said, suddenly nervous. When they were finished hugging their son, she extended her hand. “I’m Aberdeen Bloom. I’m Mr. Shanahan’s executive assistant. It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Aberdeen?” Michael said, smiling slightly. “Det här är flickan som du berättade för oss?” he switched to Swedish as he looked at Will. [[ This is the girl you told us about? ]]

“Ja.” [[ Yes. ]]

“Så hon var varför du var älskar sjuk hela sommaren?” Camilla asked her son. [[ So she was why you were love sick all summer? ]]

“Jag var inte älskar sjuk,” Will furrowed his brows slightly at whatever Camilla said. [[ I wasn’t love sick. ]]

“Säker,” Michael rolled his eyes. [[ Sure. ]] He focused his attention on Aberdeen again. She’d been looking in between all of them speaking Swedish, trying to pick up on any semblance of word that sounded like English. “It’s very nice to meet you Aberdeen,” Michael smiled. “Will mentioned that Brendan had a new assistant.”

“There he is!” Aberdeen heard Brendan’s booming voice from down the hallway. She looked behind her to see him making his way towards them, a giant smile on his face. “Nice to see you guys! Come in, come in!”

“William was just introducing us to Aberdeen,” Camilla smiled, motioning to her.

“Ah yes, my new executive assistant,” Brendan smiled at her. She smiled nervously. “Come come, let’s take a walk. We need to catch up. How is Jacqueline?”

As Michael and Camilla followed Brendan down the corridor, completely ignoring their son and Aberdeen now, Aberdeen and Will were almost alone. She felt him grab at her elbow gently. “You don’t actually think I look like a Costco hot dog, do you?” he asked.

She snorted, biting her bottom lip to stop from letting out a laugh and having Brendan, Michael, and Camilla look back at them. “You really are no thoughts, head empty, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you have no thoughts going on in that little brain of yours,” she smiled.

“I think about one thing…two things,” he clarified.

“Hockey’s one,” she knew that already. “What’s the other one?”

“You.”

The revelation hit her like a tonne of bricks. He had to know by now that he couldn’t just say stuff like that and expect her to have a normal reaction. “You just love to see me squirm, don’t you?” she asked.

“I just love to see you, minskatt.”

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #william nylander fan fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs fan fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #the president wears prada series

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

boeuf bourguignon

pairing: chef!bucky x plus!reader

warnings: fluff, domesticity, like two minutes of angst

word count: 2470

description: chef!au; you and bucky move in together

just a taste masterlist

“What’s the first thing we should make?” You asked, curled around Bucky on the mattress on the floor. The decision to move in together was easy after spending so much time together and missing each other in passing because one was too tired to go to the other’s apartment. And it’s economical, you both figure. He hummed, the vibrations coming through his chest, fingers tracing patterns on your bare back.

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to eat?” He asked, dozy and almost asleep. Your memory flits back to last week when you’d watched Julie & Julia while packing. And with half closed lids you mumble back,

“Boeuf Bourguignon.” He lets out a sound that almost seemed like a laugh, too tired to recognize,

“Okay baby.”

It was a cute little brownstone smack in the middle of his restaurant and Stark Tower, a compromise that had to be reached over many small arguments, too old, too new. Too far. Have you seen the neighborhood? Sam even input on a couple apartment complexes that would be good for the food truck. But it was settled that Bucky didn’t want the restaurant that close to him.

You ate pizza in between fixing small cosmetic cracks in the wall and painting. Chinese while you arranged the furniture the way you wanted. And you enjoyed curry from the Indian place you loved that just so happened to be down the street from where you’d moved while unpacking the dishes and putting clothes away.

“What do you think?” He asks, you’d left the kitchen up to him, the layout and how he wanted it organized. The copper pans were a brilliant contrast for your very white kitchen that had been partially the selling point for you. The gas stove top and double oven was the selling point for him. A knife rack on the wall, hanging pots and pans, and a double door refrigerator. It was the compromise for the cracked walls and the floors you’ll need to get redone soon, with some new varnish and spackle you figure you could get a couple more years out of them.

You smile at him, he looked proud, and leaned against the door frame, “It looks really good.” He met you in the doorway, and placed his hands on the door jam, leaning in to kiss you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Steve was finally free and coming back to New York so they were moving the opening date for the restaurant to the week that he would be there. Which means it was time to put some vacation days in.

A knock on your office door, Tony Stark himself. A smile on his face, “What is this I hear about you needing a week off?”

“Tony I literally just sent the email five minutes ago.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

“I was already on my way down.” He examines the picture on your desk, a photo taken of you and Bucky. The food truck artfully posed in front of the restaurant, the sign had just been put up, your face was buried in his neck and he was laughing at some dirty joke Sam had just said. “Just wondering when you’re going to be inviting me over for dinner now that you’ve settled into your new place.” You sigh and lean back in your chair, he was giving you a knowing smirk. Natasha.

“Well we are having a little dinner party to celebrate the opening of the restaurant,” You cross your arms as his smirk widens, “Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, I never thought you’d ask, I’ll be there at 7? I’ll bring drinks.” And just like that he’d left, seconds later an email in reply approving your time off request.

Bucky wasn’t happy.

“You invited Tony Stark?” Shoulders rolling, kneading dough on the bar top.

“Nat mentioned it to him,” You defended, “How could I tell my boss that he’s not allowed to come?” He gave you a look,

“This guy runs you all hours of the day,” dough slammed and rolled, dusted with flour and kneaded again, “He calls you all hours of the day.” Dough cutter, cutting the bread dough that would soon be dinner rolls, into eighths. “And the one time you actually ask to have time off, he wants to be involved in some way?”

“You love Howard Stark.” You roll your eyes and steal a strawberry out of the small container that he was marinating them in. Soaking in Grand Mariner. “He’s basically the same person.”

“He’s not,” Bucky shakes his head, “Howard Stark was a revolutionary inventor, Tony Stark buys properties and gentrified neighborhoods.”

“He’s putting in rent controlled housing for low income households.” Bucky sighs and leans back.

“Partially,” He says, “I know that Pepper Potts is the one who organizes his charitable giving and covers for him.”

“You’re literally grasping for straws here,” You scoff, “We’re working on a way to get rid of fossil fuels all together and you’re upset that he’s only signing the checks, it’s still his money.” Bucky glares at you, sighing heavily. “He pays me a lot of money to do the job that I do, and just because you think I should be doing something else doesn’t mean what I’m doing right now is bad.”

It was no secret to you that Bucky wanted you to take the leap on trying to get your book published. But this job was what paid your bills currently. You’ve read articles about people getting on the best seller lists having only made 12k on their book, and while you’d hope you would have a best seller, 12k isn’t going to support you.

“I just want you to do something you love.” Which was easy for him to say because he was doing something he loved. He loved cooking, for you and for others. He loved making people happy, those cherish-able moments of making something for someone you love, that tradition. He loved it.

“Okay,” You step behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head on his back, “This week I’ll print a bunch of copies and I’ll mail them off to publishers.”

“I don’t want you to do it because it’s something I want you to do.” He sighs, “I want you to do it because it’s something you want to do.”

“I do want to.” Mumbled into his back, he smelled so good, having just taken a shower before working on the proved dough. “I’ll do it this week.” A flower dusted hand brought one of yours up to his lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Steve was charming, but shy. Very serious. An american flag pinned to the lapel of his suit jacket that had been quickly discarded when Sam and Bucky gave him shit for wearing a full suit to dinner. The pair of them in a button down and slacks. Wanda and Natasha were also in attendance, with Tony showing up at 7:30 with four bottles of wine and a full bottle of Macallan.

You’d watched Bucky make it. Boeuf Bourguignon. You felt guilt in the fact that it takes five hours to make, but he said, “That’s what you want,” A kiss to your forehead, “That’s what I’m gonna make.”

Thick bacon cut into cubes and browned in a pan, a couple pieces plucked and tasted, just to make sure they were good with only a minor scolding from your boyfriend. Patted dry beef browned in a pan with olive oil and left over bacon grease. Onion and carrot softened in the same pan, fat poured off and the whole thing was thrown into the dutch oven, sprinkled with salt and pepper, and oddly enough a little flour.

It cooked for four minutes, was mixed and cooked for another four minutes. Then it was covered in beef stock and Bordeaux.

“You’re so handsome.” You sigh, watching him place the dish back in the oven after simmering it on the stove. He leans over the kitchen island, dish towel over his shoulder, a kiss to your cheek and then lips.

“You’re very beautiful,” A softer kiss, “But I need you to get out of the kitchen.”

You were in the way, you knew that. But faked upset as you left the room to finally get ready, ass being met with a whip from the dish towel on your way out.

Wine was poured as Bucky served the first course, salad, bruschetta, roasted artichokes, and bacon wrapped dates you’d have to convince him to make you again, very soon.

“I hope you’re treating my girl right, Barnes.” Tony joked, the conversation having steered from Steve’s job, something he couldn’t really talk about, to the new house. You could see Bucky’s jaw clench from across the table, but he sipped the gifted wine and replied,

“My girl gets treated very well at home,” placing the glass on the table, “Can’t say the same about work.”

“Who’s ready for our mains?” You interrupt.

“I think that’s a good idea.” Natasha smiled next to you, placing her fork down. You shot her a small glare, and she sipped her wine with a smug grin. She was never satisfied with things going smooth, always craving a little chaos.

The boeuf bourguignon was incredible. The meat tender and juicy, the mushrooms and sauce robust. With the first bite you were whining and looking across the table at Bucky who was smiling. “This is incredible.”

“It really is.” Sam agrees. A silent table is a sign of good food, conversation not starting until plates almost cleared, Wanda starting with,

“So the restaurant opens Friday night, which gives us all Friday morning to make sure we are fully prepped.” They’d set the hours to only open for dinner, if the restaurant does well they figure they can change the hours to be open for lunch as well, but they were working on the conservative side. “Y/N and I will be helping out at the host stand.”

“I can help in the back if you want.” Steve offered. Sam laughed,

“Doing what? Dishes.” A glare as a laugh sounded at the table.

“I could stir a pot or something.” He laughed.

“How has advertising been?” Tony asked. Bucky and Sam shrug,

“We’ve been handing out flyers at the truck for weeks,” Bucky said, “We have a good following so we are hoping that might gain us some ground.”

“The sign has been up for a while too,” Sam agreed, “We’ve had people stop by to ask us when we are opening.” Tony nods, but you know the look on his face, obviously up to something. He winks at you. An exchange that doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky who then clears his throat, standing from the table you help him clear the dishes, ready for dessert.

“Does anyone want coffee?”

…

“We need to get one of those big, industrial dishwashers.” You moan, heels kicked off as you unload the dishwasher after the first load. Bucky scrubbing at the pots and pans in the sink.

“What was the wink about?” Bucky had been quiet since dinner ended, a tight smile as Tony wished a friendly goodbye. You sipped on Macallan, loading the dishwasher back up with plates while you answered.

“He’s planning something most likely,” You cringe at food smeared onto your hand by a dirty spoon.

“Are you sure?” His shoulders tense, pan dropping into the sink with a clang.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, shutting the dishwasher and pressing start. He looks over at you, exasperated.

“He just seemed a little too friendly.” Bucky tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, you sigh, rubbing your forehead.

“You’re joking.” It was a sore subject. Months ago, before you’d moved in together, Bucky told you about Vivian. Pretty Vivian. A scar from a past relationship where Vivian cheated on him, constantly, and he was dumb enough to go back to her every time.

“She used me for stability,” He shrugged, “Then slept around with everyone else.” He was insecure about it. Which was stunning to you because you couldn’t believe Bucky was insecure about anything. It broke your heart.

“I’m not joking.” Anger laced his voice. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the sink, “It would make sense, him calling you all the time, late into the night.” Dish towel thrown down next to him, “You staying late at work.”

“I would never cheat on you Bucky.” A little snip, “I can’t believe you would even think that I would do something like that.” His jaw is tight.

“I didn’t think Vivian--”

“I’m not Vivian! I would never hurt you Bucky, and if you think I would maybe there’s something wrong here.” It seemed baffling to you, like maybe you were the one who was supposed to be afraid of Bucky cheating but it was the other way around. He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry,” He groans, “I know.” He looks at you, upset and emotional, “I know you wouldn’t, I’m sorry, I was just--” You stepped over to him, placing your hands on his crossed arms.

“You have to trust me.” You said, “If you don’t trust me--” He leans forward to press his forehead against yours.

“I know,” He sighs, “I’m sorry.” You lean up and meet his lips.

“I love you.” His hands come to meet your hips, bunching up your skirt. Your tongue pokes out, tracing his bottom lip, his mouth parting for yours, breathing heavily.

“I love you too.” Your ass meets the kitchen bench, his hands palming your bare thighs to lift you onto the counter, pans forgotten. “I’m sorry.” He whispers against your lips, moaning as you palm him through his slacks.

“I forgive you.”

Tony’s planning, his little sneaky wink, was him sending out a mass email to the entire staff that if they show up at Bucky’s restaurant opening weekend that he’d personally reimburse them for their money spent. Something Bucky half resented, but half appreciated. The restaurant opened busy and stayed busy. ‘An overnight success’ one critic said.

Wanda helped you man the host stand, directing the girls where to take people, seasoned servers, people who Sam and Bucky had known from their days working in other restaurants helped them open. And as far as chaotic restaurant openings are, it wasn’t half bad. Especially when, sitting in the office after hours going over the numbers for the day there were six beautiful digits staring back at you.

“So I guess we are opening for lunch.” Bucky mused, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“I guess so.”

taglist // @93generation @technicallykawaiisoul @bookish-shristi @saturnki @jennmurawski13 @geeksareunique @the-soulofdevil @tinmunky @gifsbysimplysonia @alwaysbenhardysgirl @beck-alicious

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #chef!bucky #plus!reader #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #steve rogers #natasha romanov #tony stark #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 2

Word Count: 3,430

POV: Sidney’s

Warnings: Adult Language

Notes: Here’s part 2 in the Crosby saga. Thanks to everyone who read it and sent in encouraging words. Glad you all enjoyed it. More to come soon!

It seemed like a decent plan, avoid (Y/N) at all costs; though it proved to be harder than you anticipated. You walked into the practice arena, early as usual, and there she was, all bright-eyed and smiling. She was standing there on her cell scrolling through something. It was hard to take your eyes off her as she was wearing a cute pair of leggings with a jacket all the coaches wore, though she had sneakers on instead of skates. The sides of her hair were pulled backed, but her long waves flowed over her shoulders and your fingers itched to touch it and find out if it was as soft as it looked. Shaking yourself, you looked away to regain some composure, and that's when she saw you.

"Hey, Sid." Her smile was as bright as the sun and part of you wondered why she didn't hate you after that first night.

"Hi (Y/N), you're here early."

"Yeah, I didn't think it would make a very good impression to be late on the first day." She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, obviously full of excitement. It was both adorable and somewhat contagious. "Speaking of which, do you have that paper from yesterday?"

Shit! You'd honestly tried to fill it out last night, though every single time you looked at it; you thought of the way she looked standing in the film room, or how her eye sparkled just like they were now. "Uh…well umm."

"Don't worry, you can always bring it to me tonight?" You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, not at the comment, but the fact that you'd be seeing her every day until the end of the season.

"Yeah, I'll do that." Somehow you didn't want the conversation to end just yet, so you found yourself saying, "So how do you like things so far?"

"Well, it's still early, considering I think I've only technically been on the clock for like thirty minutes." She giggled and you found yourself smiling at the sound. "But so far so good. I really think it's going to be a lot of fun." Fun for her maybe, because right now you were in sheer torture, just being in her presence.

"Ah…that's good, really good." You adjusted the rim of your hat, before adding. "Well you know if you need anything you can always call me." Ugh, why had you just said that? You were willingly volunteering yourself to help her out, that was anything but avoiding her like you originally planned.

"Awe, thanks, Sid. I really appreciate that."

You stood there for a full minute not knowing what to do or say before you heard someone come up behind you. "Wow, Sid, you're not on the ice yet?" It was Flower's teasing voice that caught both yours and (Y/N)'s attention, and he was right, by the time he usually showed up, you'd normally done a few warmup laps.

"Oh wow, I'm sorry Sid. I didn't mean to keep you." (Y/N) was really too sweet and part of you hated to see the interlude end, but Flower's words reminded you that she was nothing but a distraction.

"You didn't...I mean I'm just as much at fault."

"Here's my form (Y/N), I may not have been the first one turning it in," Flower said while nudging you. "But I at least hope I get an A for punctuality."

"Well, you just so happen to be the first, so I'll give you an A+." She said with a cute little wink to the goalie. Suddenly, you were wishing you'd done that paper last night.

"Woah, you mean to tell me I beat Mr. Perfect here. Where's your head at man?" It would be wrong to say daydreaming of the woman in front of you; so you just shrugged and headed off to the locker room.

You were just finishing lacing your skates when Marc-Andre entered, having finished his chat with (Y/N). "You've got it bad; don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on man, don't play dumb with me. I know all the signs." He was shoving his bag in his cubby and throwing on his equipment. "Stupid ass grin on your face. Fair off look. Do you want me to continue?" You rolled your eyes at him while making a pfting noise. "You can't fool me. I know you like (Y/N). But what I want to know is why didn't you call her at the start of the season?"

There was no way you could lie to one of your best friends, he'd see right through you. It was just easier, to tell the truth. "She's too much of a distraction man. I just need to focus on hockey. Besides, playoffs start in a little over a week."

"Well, you should've got her out of your system before now, because we are going to be seeing a lot of her from here on out." Flower was right, you were definitely going to be seeing a lot more of (Y/N), and since avoidance didn't seem to be working; you were definitely going to need a new plan.

You blew out a long breath. "Any ideas what I can do?"

"Hmmm…if it was me; I'd channel that energy into hockey." If it was only that easy. "Skate a little faster or hit the puck a little harder when you think of her." Well, it was an option, and hopefully, it was one that would work.

"It's worth a try." Thankfully, when you headed back out to the rink (Y/N) was nowhere in sight, which made focusing on hockey a bit easier. She appeared about midway through practice and instead of concentrating on her, you did exactly as Flower said. What was surprising, was that it seemed to work. Your passes were a little crisper, and pucks seemed to find an easy way into the net, maybe this wasn't going to be so bad.

Well until you were running the last drill and saw her talking to Beau again. It took every ounce of will power, not to break your stick in two. It seemed like every time there was a get-together, Beau was always by her side. It grated on your nerves and you found yourself, attacking the puck with a bit more force than normal. By the time practice was over, she was again gone, to your relief. There were only four more games left in the regular season, and the last home game was tonight. You kept telling yourself if you could just make it through this initial period of adjustment, you'd be fine since playoffs would literally consume all your time.

It was about five hours later that you were rethinking things again. Of course, she was at the arena when you arrived, only this time she wasn't sporting her cute active look. Dressed in a short black skirt and matching jacket, she belted the outfit to accentuate her curves. She either had on a black lace cami underneath or black lace bra, whichever it was it had you dying to see what lay underneath the fabric. A pair of black heels showed over her legs to perfection as she walked down the hallway, looking more like she was ready to take the boardroom by storm than to watch a hockey game.

"Hey Sid, did you happen to bring that form?"

Fuck, that damn paper was the bane of your existence at the moment. "No sorry, I forgot it again."

"No biggie, if you could just give me who you want to be called in case of an injury that's the main thing I need."

"Yeah sure…I mean definitely my parents."

She handed over her phone then for you to put in their information. "Don't worry I'll only call them if necessary, just don't want them worrying."

"Oh yeah of course." You handed the phone back to her, vaguely wondering if your number was in there and how at the same time you could get hers.

"Well, I won't take up any more of your time." She said, patting you on the shoulder. "I know you have pregame rituals and all. Good luck tonight."

"Thanks," and with that she headed off, leaving you standing there, still hypnotized by her. The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air and you found yourself just breathing it in a minute longer before moving to the locker room. Focus, you told yourself. You were not going to be distracted by her.

Once more of the guys started filing in, it was a bit easier to forget about the gorgeous woman, roaming around the arena somewhere. It seemed to be business as usual. You made yourself the same sandwich as you always did, got taped up and played a little warmup soccer. It was only when the ball bounced out of the circle, and you turned to retrieve it, knocking your hat off in the process, that you saw her again, as the ball landed at her feet. "Wow, my grandma can play better than that boys." She teased, dropping the ball only to kick it with her heeled feet back into play. She bent down and picked up your lucky hat in the process as well. Everyone knew that your snapback was pretty much sacred and didn't touch it. It was also disgustingly filthy as you never washed it being the superstitious fuck that you were. "Wouldn't want to lose this." She stated, handing it back over with a cute little wink, as her hand touched yours.

"Uh, yeah…thanks." There was this electricity when she touched you and for a second you didn't want to let go. But then you pulled back suddenly as if you'd been burnt. Luckily, she was called away by one of the social media staff and went back to the soccer game. Normally, you'd be freaking yourself out a bit after the whole hat fiasco, but instead, you kept thinking of Flower's advice and how you would just channel everything into the game.

Halfway through the first, you thought you were fighting a losing battle and that (Y/N) had really jinxed you, in more ways than one. Everything changed though, on a hooking penalty to the Flyers. About thirty seconds into it, on a great pass from Phil, you took all that pent-up frustration out on a slap shot, sending the puck into the back of the net. From there the rest of the night was a magical ending to the regular season at home, where the Pens came out victorious.

As you stepped off the ice, you kept looking for (Y/N) but she was nowhere to be found. You weren't sure why you wanted to see her, maybe it was the superstitious side of you, feeling as though you had a new ritual where she had to touch your hat in order for you to have a great game, or maybe there was just a part of you that really wanted to see her. The latter being something you didn't want to examine too closely, yet she was nowhere around. You finished up your post-game interviews and then headed home for the night, as you had to be up early for a flight to Ottawa.

You were actually surprised that she wasn't at the airport before you in the morning, though she wasn't far behind you. It seemed she had a penchant for being early, just as you did. As she entered the plane you could see her hesitance as to where she should sit, and part of you was a bit disappointed that you had a standard seat with Flower for every away game. Of course, it was Beau who offered her a seat beside him and before the engine started you could hear the two of them laughing about something. The sound grating on your nerves.

By the time the plane landed, you were cranky and irritable from straining to listen to the two of them. You couldn't imagine, why (Y/N) was getting off the bus first once you were at the hotel. Normally, one of the staffers went and got all the keys, and then you just grabbed one as everyone went inside. It must be a new part of her job or something. She hopped back on a few short minutes later, walking down the aisle, handing certain keys to people. It seemed strange, but you didn't really question it.

Finally being allowed off the bus, you headed up to your room, and upon entering flung yourself on the bed and took a nice long nap. You'd been too keyed up from the win to get a good night's sleep, and planned on napping on the plane. Only you'd constantly heard Beau and (Y/N) chit-chatting the entire time. It was about three hours later when you headed down for a meeting with the team. Everyone seemed to be talking about how great their stay was so far, which didn't really make a ton of sense to you. You'd stayed in this hotel dozens of times over the years and there wasn't anything remarkable about it.

Phil and Rusty were discussing just this subject when you sat down at the table. "So what did you get in your room?" Phil asked.

"What?"

"You know, like what did (Y/N) have in there for you?" Christ, what was he talking about? You'd literally walked in, threw your bag down, and slept. It wasn't as if she'd left a present in there for you. The confusion on your face must have given you away, for Phil kept going then. "Well, she had extra pillows in there for me, so I didn't end up having to call down like I do every time and there was a special box filled with my favorite protein bars and stuff."

"Shears and I got extra towels because the guy uses like twenty, no lie; and then she had peanut M&M and stuff in there for me." Rusty chimed in. "Didn't you have one?"

"How would she even know what I like?"

"The form man, didn't you fill it out?" Rusty countered as if you actually knew what was on it.

You grabbed your neck, hoping to stop the blush that was creeping up, before saying. "Um…no. I kind of forgot about it."

Phil just shook his head at you, giving you a side smirk at the same time. "Did you even look at it?"

"Um…not really."

"What's the deal with you and her anyway?" He added.

"There's no deal there."

"No kidding, but you've been giving her the cold shoulder ever since she took this job." This time it was Rusty who called you out.

"I'm just not falling all over her like some people are." Well, maybe you'd tried your best to avoid her at first, but you didn't feel like you were snubbing her by any means.

"Wow, no need to get all defensive," Phil commented and you realized your voice might have been a bit harsher than you intended. "We're just pointing out that you haven't treated her like you do other new staffers."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well when Sara started as JR's new secretary, you sent her flowers. I noticed you didn't do that with (Y/N)." There was no way you could argue with Rusty because it was true; you didn't send flowers to (Y/N) as you had in the past to welcome new recruits. You usually signed it from the entire team as well. "And before you even ask, I know because there weren't any in her office when I dropped off my form." Now you felt like an ass, though it wasn't like you could rectify the situation on the road. "Luckily Kelsey sent her something from us."

"A couple of the guys and I were talking about taking her out to dinner in DC. Sort of like a welcome to the group kind of thing."

"Perfect, I'll just tag along with you guys, Phil." He raised an eyebrow at you and so you added. "And order the flowers when we get back."

"Deal, but since you fucked up; you can pay."

"Fine." It was really the least you could do crashing their dinner and all, plus it would be easier to be with (Y/N) in a group setting than in a one on one environment.

"Oh, one more thing." You cocked your head at your teammate. "You can invite her."

Fuck. It was really the only thing going through your mind, as you groaned inwardly. "Alright."

"No better time like the present," Rusty said, motioning to the doorway where (Y/N) just walked through. Phil elbowed you as well in order to get you to go over to her. Reluctantly, you got up to ask her to dinner with everyone.

"Hey (Y/N), can I have a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?" She moved off to the side and you couldn't help but notice the sway of her hips.

"So um…like…I wanted to know if you wanted to…um…go out to dinner when we get to DC?" God, that was horrible. You sounded like a babbling idiot, and you forgot to mention it was with other guys on the team and that it was to welcome her.

"I really…" She started to answer and you cut her off short.

"With the team, to welcome you of course." Did that even make sense?

"Oh well, yeah sure that's really nice of you guys. It's not really necessary though."

"I want to…I mean we want to." Why did you feel so tongued tied all of the sudden around her? You had stumbled a bit around her that first at Flower's but then things had gone so well. Then again, you weren't afraid of her throwing you off track of all your goals then.

"Ok, it sounds like fun."

"Great, we can work out the details later." You made a move to leave because just being around her, you found it hard to breathe, but she stopped you.

"Sid, I hope you're ok with your room and stuff. I wasn't exactly sure what you liked since I didn't have your form."

That damn fucking form was literally going to be the bane of your existence, and the fact that you hadn't paid attention to anything in the room didn't really help. "Oh yeah, it's fine. Thanks. I'll get that form to you, once we get back."

She shrugged and cocked her head to the side as if somehow reading your thoughts. Though she didn't voice what those were. "No problem, just get it to me whenever. Let me know if you need anything." With that she walked away, seeming somewhat annoyed.

Had you said the wrong thing to her. An uneasiness settled in your stomach; it was something you didn't want to explore. As soon as the meeting was over, you headed back up to your room, to see exactly what she had done. You unlocked the door, looking at the room with a whole different view. The bed was still a mess, but you could tell that there was an abundance of pillows there; it was something that you didn't notice when you'd napped before. Going into the bathroom, you saw that just like Rusty, your room had extra towels in as well. As you wandered back into the main room, you saw a basket sitting on the desk. The inside was filled with some of your favorite things. Candies from your hometown in Novia Scotia, your favorite protein bars and drinks, and so much more. Though one thing stood out above everything else, a book on Egyptian history. It was something you both talked about that first night. There was also a handwritten note tucked inside.

'Sid, I wasn't exactly sure what would make your away games a bit easier but thought maybe some of this would help. Hopefully, the view will relax you before the big game. If not I thought you'd enjoy this book on the Pyramids as much as I did. Let me know if you need anything at all. - (Y/N)'

Now you knew that it wasn't an annoyed look on her face, but one of disappointment; for you truly felt like an asshole for not having noticed any of the special things she'd done for you and the entire team. You were going to need more than just dinner to make things right with (Y/N) that was for sure.

#Not So Dangerous Liaison Series #Sidney Crosby #sidney crosby imagine #Sidney Crosby Imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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stormyweaver · 3 years

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Borrowed Time || Chp. 1

So my latest hyperfixation has been this show on Netflix called ‘Swee/t Home’. It’s a live-action South Korean adaption of a webtoon comic, and seriously if you’ve never heard of it before, at least watch the first episode. If you aren’t hooked, gosh, I don’t know what could make a person want more! But you don’t have to have seen the show to enjoy this I think, but again I’d highly reccommend checking the series out. I adore every single character and I’ll probably be writing more about them all, but for now I’m focusing on Pyeon San/g-wook because h-he’s my fave... He’s basically a mysterious drifter who dolls out justice in his own badass way, and he’s amazing and a super complex character.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR EPISODE FIVE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED:

This is after Sang-wook kills the pedophile he was hired to find, and then drags his body outside while bringing two other victims who had died to a monster inside the apartment building. It was pouring raining and my brain instantly went: how can you have a out-in-the-rain scene without sickness? BLASPHEMY! Anyway hope y’all enjoy!

The timing might have been slightly comical if he didn't have a splitting headache. Or, was it a concussion? That... nurse had mentioned something similar, but he truly hadn't paid her any mind. Why would he give someone so prying the time of day in the first place? He hated being touched without his permission, no matter the reason; maybe she had simply been trying to help, but there was absolutely no way in hell he was going to let her continue treating him as if he was some weakling.

No, he only... felt weak, due to all of the stress. He would bounce back eventually - he inevitably did. Though he could never fully comprehend why, his body had an uncanny ability to heal faster than most, and bestowed him with a strength that most people only ever imagined themselves possessing. It had served him well over the years, made him capable of surviving on his own for as long as he'd needed to, aided him in carrying out the tasks others simply didn't have the stomach for. It had of course, had it's downsides - there were injuries and ailments he simply couldn't knock in a matter of hours, and those instances where he'd been forced to finally allow his body to rest were intensely irritating.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he staggered through the dirtied hallway and, sensing that he was finally alone, allowed himself to lean bodily against a flyer-littered wall. His breath was coming in short, harsh pants, almost bordering on wheezing, though his teeth instantly grit at the idea. He wasn't weak-- damn it, if Jae-heon had just left him out there to die, he wouldn't be feeling like utter, completely useless shit right now. The zealot likely loathed him just like the rest, if not fear then at the very least an intense dislike. Only his 'vows' or whatever meaningless word of God had made him keep the gate open. He swallowed- or rather, made an attempt to, and was unsurprised to find that the action was mildly painful. Pair that was the throbbing near his sinuses, the malaise, and the general feeling of being lethargic, it wouldn't take a medical professional to inform him that he was unwell. What was that old saying? Something about only fools catching a chill from standing out in the rain? Nonsense. But... well, he wasn't about to start pondering old proverbs with a pounding headache. At least he wasn't getting a nose bleed. Just a stuffy one. It took Sang-wook longer than he would have preferred to stand up straight again and continue limping down the walkway, but eventually he did, coming to a stop on the corner of a vacant room. He could practically hear his limbs creak as he perched himself on the edge of a step, and one hand automatically slipped into his jacket pocket. Some habits were harder to break than others. And if ever there a time he truly needed a smoke... With the lit cigarette between his lips, he began to ponder what his next move would be. He had technically finished his business there; no other reason to remain other than the fact that fucking monsters were roaming the city. Of all the positively inconvenient bullshit - monsters. Not that he had any real plans after taking care of matters. He never did. Being a drifter meant not making attachments, not allowing himself to get roped into anything unless it was related to his main task. And yet there he was, with an apartment full of people who either saw him as a thug or a threat or, for some irritatingly insane reason, a person to be pardoned. A laughable concept at best. He didn't even want to be pardoned - he didn't regret the things he had done, to begin with. And wasn't that one of the key steps to getting into heaven? Being repentant for your sins? Well, that was already one big strike against him. Just how did that damned nosey priest expect him to continue on, then? Why had he been so adamant about "saving" him? Why? A trail of smoke filtered past his nostrils, nose absently wrinkling as the thoughts only served to frustrate him all the more. What the hell was he going to do... He brought the stick to his lips again, but his breath caught pre-inhale, mouth forming a deeper frown than normal. A small pin-prick had been stinging the back of his nose ever since he'd woken up, but so far he'd been able to ignore it. Until now. He sniffed harshly, once, twice and, thinking that was that, but the moment he closed his lips around the cigarette, he inhaled harshly through his nose. "hH'KGSHHh!" The sneeze jerked his head down sharply, though he managed to keep it relatively quiet. The last thing he needed was some passerby hearing and having the guts to try and approach him. Though containing it hadn't done his headache any favors, and his teeth had nearly snapped the cigarette in half. Hell, he couldn't even smoke in peace. What was the point of still being alive, again? "You shouldn't be smoking," Ah, there it was. Sang-wook didn't need to glance up in order to place the voice - he could smell the self-righteousness from a mile away. Or, he would have, had he been able to smell anything at the moment.

Resisting the urge to sniffle, he made no attempt at offering even a semblance of acknowledgement towards the other. Not that it would stop him from poking his nose where it didn't belong, so it came as no surprise when Jae-heon stood directly in front of him, gradually lowering himself until he was seated similarly to the other with a soft grunt. Sighing, Sang-wook plucked the useless cigarette from his lips and tossed it to the floor, swiftly crunching it beneath his boot. "I'm not,"

Jae-heon hummed in acknowledgement. "I don't say it to judge," Sang-wook wasn't sure why he felt the need to clarify, but his gaze did flit over to the other's general direction for a moment. He could see the glint his blade gave off out of the corner of his eye. Curious. Although he didn't doubt the other's skill, he just didn't see a point in taking it with him everywhere. But that was ultimately his choice, and he didn't have the mental capacity to bother pondering why he did so. "How are you feeling?" The scarred man barely lifted his eyes to Jae-heon, who gestured with his chin towards the direction Sang-wook had originally walked from. "Yu-ri took a look at your head injury, right? Is it serious?"

The only response he gave was a meager shrug. Sang-wook wouldn't willingly give information about how he was feeling when it didn't matter in the long run. Whether he was fine or slowly bleeding out, what difference would it make? You shouldn't be alive in the first place; why does he care? God, thinking made his head throb. Couldn't he just be alone in this god forsaken complex for more than a solid minute?

He heard Jae-heon sigh, noted him shift slightly, but still kept his gaze glued to the floor. "What you did... I can't agree with your actions," Sang-wook almost scoffed aloud. Was he really expected to listen to a lecture about right and wrong? His attention was already split, anyway. The itch sparked in his sinuses still burned, not having been satisfied with the weak excuse for a sneeze, and every facial muscle was tensed as he worked to smother the sensation into submission. At least he always happened to look stoic, so he doubted the other would notice. Still, hearing Jae-heon gear up for a sermon of sorts didn't bode well for his waning resolve. "But I do understand why you did what you did. The others might not - they might still see you as something that you're not-" "What would you know about what I am?" Sang-wook interjected sharply, a scowl evident on his features. Admittedly, it hurt to talk, and he internally cringed at the trace of hoarseness in his voice. But he didn't like anyone thinking of him as some misunderstood wretch worthy of some kind of redemption. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't a villain, not good or evil - he simply was, and he never needed to be more or less than that, didn't need to satisfy anyone's opinion of him. Jae-heon glanced down momentarily, looking as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. Speaking could come as easily as breathing at certain times, and yet there were moments were every point of diction managed to fail him. "I'm not here to pity you. And I wouldn't claim to understand you. Every person has their reasons for what they do - and every person has to stand with those reasons before the almighty. I'm not here to judge," The scarred skin beneath Sang-wook's eye jumped slightly. "Then what are you here to do? Whatever it is, you're wasting your..." He had to pause, throat constricting momentarily before he sighed unevenly through his nose, "... breath. You should be more concerned about yourself," Jae-heon couldn't help but quirk a miniscule smile at that. "That isn't God's way. Besides, I wouldn't still be alive if I had decided to be selfish," His thoughts shifted to Hyun-su, Mr. Han, Ms. Im and Ji-su - he had all of them to thank for his life, for making it this far. People who, while they may not have shared the same faith as himself, had believed that sticking together and looking after each other was the way to survive - was the right path. No matter their differences, they chose to be selfless, and that was what had led them to finding the other survivors. Sang-wook didn't reply, mainly due to the fact that he wasn't sure he could safely do so without breaking his concentration. Though it didn't matter - Jae-heon continued anyway. "You didn't have to bring back Min-Ju and Su-ung. I won't ask you why, because to me, what matters is that you did. That means something," When Sang-wook didn't respond again, Jae-heon opened his mouth to continue, only to be silenced when the other opposite him took in a sharp inhale and twisted off to the side. "hH'GKxnt! h'HCHGnt!" Jae-heon blinked for a moment, not really startled by the sneezes but seeming to examine Sang-wook with a little more scrutiny, to which the the other flashed him a glare. Unfazed, he continued to gaze at the other. "You look pale. You should be resting," Sang-wook simply scoffed, cringing at the phlegm lining his throat. He desperately needed to sniff back the moisture threatening to breach his nostrils, but his pride held the action back as Jae-heon continued to press the issue. "You're up and about after having passed out - and you were in the rain for a good while. You might be getting sick," And if he was? What the hell did it matter? Sang-wook wanted to press both heels of his palms against his eyes and grind until the pressure behind them lessened at least a little. He was exhausted, and fatigue suddenly swept over him like the storm clouds still raging outside. Everything felt heavy and sluggish which, for someone with normally such sharp senses, was more than off-putting. It felt wrong. He felt wrong. Why was the good Christian wasting time worrying about whether or not he was ill when there were literal monsters still roaming the apartment? As if sensing his turmoil, Jae-heon finally moved to stand back up, katana blade resting by his side. "You should go see Yu-ri - at the very least she can give you something for your head," He began to turn away, paused, then uttered something that made the skin on the back of Song-wook's neck prickle uncomfortably.

"Take care of yourself," Jae-heon’s retreating footsteps seemed to echo unusually loud, and it wasn't until he could no longer hear them any longer that Sang-wook finally indulged in a thick, pitiful sniffle and allowed his head to drop into his waiting hands.

#greywrites;#shweet home;#still working on part two but i make no promises lol #unless... heh #borrowed time || part 1

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wevegottogetaway · 3 years

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Whirlwind Part II - Bora

DAY 2

Echoes are bouncing within the sturdy walls of the San Diego Marine Corps Air Station's main hangar. Blackshoes are in the middle of pre-flight logistics runs and equipment set-up before the launch of Top Gun program's first training mission. Aircrafts are being carefully escorted outside towards the runway, the sound of their roaring turbines whelming Harry's ears but he doesn't let that disturb his self-reflecting musings. His body is leant on the metallic hinges of the warehouse's entrance as his absentminded gaze doesn't shift from the take-off runway.

He is about an hour early but the upcoming events of the day have had him on edge since he reluctantly draped the cool bedsheets off his body that morning. How could he possibly get a wink of sleep knowing he was, at last, going back amongst the clouds for the first time since the accident? For the first time without his best friend. For the first time without is partner by his side (or rather behind him) watching out for hidden threats and targets in line. Jonathan had always had his back but from this day forward Harry would have to rely on Aella to keep them both safe.

He doesn't know what to make of that, what to make of her. There is no questioning her skills and capability, one could never join this program without those...but two highly proficient flyers don't necessarily equal one flawless unit. Especially since they know so little of each other. Be that as it may, the fellowship that binds two pilots flying the same aircraft is indispensable to their success and in those life-of-deaths seconds, when it feels like the sky is closing in on them and the next move can make or break them, it all comes down to one thing: the entrustment between him and her.

And he wants to. Wants to take his trust out from the jetted pocket of his uniform, lay it on the palm of her hand and enclose her fingers around it to keep secure. But it doesn't work like that, does it? Trust is not so much a choice as it is a spontaneous feeling immune to rational thinking. And for a reason he doesn't want to mull over too much, Harry can't help but feel wary of her in a way. He's seen her fire; the night before last when she made a fool out of their most redoubtable opponent. Recognized the same flame that used to inhabit his best friend's eyes and make him the warmest being Harry ever got to be around. It doesn't sway him as much as it scares him. Fierceness is a good trait in the Navy world, but too much of it can be deceitful. Harry experienced it first-hand.

He doesn't dwell on it too much for now though, and makes his way to the back of the warehouse where his "classmates" have started to huddle while waiting for the superiors. Most of the promotion is there, the usual inner-groups appearing clearly to Harry as his eyes takes in the scene: herdsman Rex and his sheeps on one side while the other crews enjoy one last round of banter before their sternness is summoned for the first mission of the program.

Harry takes note of Aella's absence just as someone calls out to him. "Styles!" It's his callsign tumbling out of Dean Marshall's mouth. Harry used to have another, but the only person who was allowed to make use of that one special letter, is no longer able to claim it.

Dean and his partner Emmet Iggersman - or as they are commonly addressed to on base, Dazzler and Tigger - complete the other half of Harry and Aella's team. The four of them fly in tandem to form a section and hopefully fulfill the missions' objectives before the others do. Harry has flown many a time with these two guys and he's glad he'll be able to count on them as well should his new pairing go south.

"Hey Daz, how's it goin' ?" his greeting is followed by a good-natured handshake.

"S' goin' awesome, thanks for asking! My boy just started walking like a penguin on steroids right before I left. I swear the little champ is takin' the helm to keep his mum on her toes while his father's gone!" The proud smirk teasing Dazzler's lips triggers a contagious chuckle from his peers as they all take in the sheer bliss coloring the new-dad's face.

"That's grand man! Send my prayers to Catherine, sounds like she might need it, yeah?"

"Will do Styles, but enough 'bout me, how are you holdin' up? I can't deal fo' you man, what with Fox gone and this new partner thing..." There's a painful tug at Harry's chest at the utterance of Jonathan's callsign, the nickname born from his tangerine-like hair though Harry always believed it was more reference to his best-friend incredibly cunning mind. He ignores it in favor of a more tempered and diplomatic answer than what his heart was crying out.

"It'll be an adjustment fo' sure, yeah. But overall I'm just glad to be back in the game"

"As we all are Styl-" Tigger has just placed a comforting hand on Harry's broad shoulder when he is interrupted by none other than Rex's disdainful voice.

"Hey girls! How's the BFFs reunion going?"

Dazzler doesn't hesitate before stepping forward and firing back "Just about a punch away from properly kickin'off. Why? are you offerin'?"

"Wooo I'm shaking" Rex replies with a fake tremor. Then he seems to spot something - or rather someone - coming up behind Harry and Tigger. It's Aella, head kept down as to not attract any attention. She's seen the despicable man interacting with her new crew so she tries to reach the makeshift classroom (mostly just chairs aligned in a couple of rows in the middle of a hangar) as inconspicuously as possible. The déjà-vu impression is not lost on her.

"There she is!" Aella tilts her head up, knowing she's busted. "Miss James Bond Girl in the flesh! C'mere sweetheart, come show these suckers who wears the pants in this team!" The disdain within her levels up a notch (as if possible) but Aella doesn't know what she hates the most about this nonsense. The fact he is ridiculing her once again or the fact he acts like none of the after James-Bond-Girl-debacle two nights ago ever happened. As if she didn't put him in his place like the badass she is.

Or maybe it's the affectionate pet-name coming out of his repugnant lips and directed to her... Anyway, she doesn't have the time to prepare a comeback before a second round is launched, this time at her new partner.

"Better watch it Styles! Next thing you know you'll be the one in the freakin' kitchen..."

"Cut it out, Rex-" Harry starts defending his team but a stern and humorless voice overpowers his.

"I don't reckon anyone asked for your moronic opinions. So please pack your ignorant bullshit away and leave us the fuck alone" She keeps her countenance as she tells him off but Rex is not budging an inch and neither is the insolent smirk hung on his face.

"Damn Harry, quite the mouthy one you have here. Sure you can handle her?"

"For Christ's sake, please shut the hell up and go back where you came from Rex or by God I swear I won't hesitate to have you weep on the floor for your momma like a baby, again."

"Again?" Dazzler perks up with a smiling frown just as Rex's smugness fades away to be replaced by unadulterated contempt.

"You're delusional if you think I can be scared of you Lonethorne" he spats out while backing away, head up mighty high. "Stupid cunts" he adds under his breath as he turns around to rejoin his buddies.

Aella knows she's worked herself up but she can't help but call out to him one more time. "Oh and Rex?... How's the hand doing?" He doesn't give her the curtesy of a respond but Aella is satisfied with the flare of his nose and the twitch in his eye.

Meanwhile the three men still at her sides are left speechless, Dazzler and Tigger still processing the heated exchange while Harry seems lost in his own thoughts.

She'd done it again. Let the fire out and turned Rex's crudeness into ashes before they could scar her skin. There was no attempt of taming the beast before she went in guns blazing. That didn't help assuage his worries one bit. She's too impulsive is playing in his head over and over like a broken record. Because while Harry agrees Rex is the worst kinds of knobheads, he's always believed responding to antagonization was pointless. Better to look the other way and let the jerk waste his energy on petty words that will never reach aim. And because all in all, there are dogfighters, but that endeavor is reserved in the air, not on land.

"My my, darling. You just pimped the shit out of the least pimpable man on base. I think I'm in awe." Dazzler says after regaining his senses.

"Please don't call me darling" Aella retorts softly as she knows he doesn't mean it in any condescending way.

"Sorry. Aella, is it?"

"Yeah, that's me. And you are...?"

"Dazzler, so very nice to meet you" he smiles widely accepting her handshake offer. "And just a heads-up dear Aella. After you tell me all about weeping Rex, you and I are gonna be besties, I can feel it" She chuckles lightly as his enthusiasm and decides she'll not only welcome his affection but also return it. Before she can reciprocate the sentiment however, the room falls suddenly quiet and a second later the reason, or rather 4 reasons, come into her view: Commander Berks, Lieutenant Rogers and two other officers that have yet to be introduced.

"Morning everyone, I can tell some of you over-indulged in Induction Rave. If you could put the same amount of devotion you put at getting faced into your training, I would be eternally grateful." Berks earns himself a full house of laughters, before compelling the room back to sobriety. "Time to be serious now. ACM training was not invented to entertain you and make you look pretty up there. As an era where the potential of confrontation is constantly rising, air combat excellence is now more than ever a vital technique to the protection of our country. And don't you forget that: you are above all defenders of the nation. Not heroes, not athletes. I say again: protectors. Best be at you sharpest then." The Commander pauses after his inspiring tirade.

"Now, let's talk about this first assignment. Just plain good old-fashioned dogfighting to give you guys a foretaste of what's coming. Today it's gonna be 4 units at a time against 4 of ours. Your goal is to target any one of the instructors' units while trying not to be shot yourself. I'll say it now, we won't go easy on you. This exercise is meant as an assessment of your current skills, so don't get too cocky up there, just do your ex-Commanders honor. First one to reach its target or last one to be shot wins the mission. Remember, there is no points for second place in this program." He pauses and starts grinning. "Show me what you got."

With that Aella tries a small glance in Harry's direction but his eyes are fixed towards the horizon with a permanent frown shrouding their luminescence. She sighs.

Fully equipped of her G-suit, helmet and headset, Aella is making the last adjustments on her seat at the back of the cockpit. She's not unfamiliar with the radar intercept officer position though she's usually the one at the commands. She's also used to flying alone.

The panel in front of her intimidatingly takes up all her front view with a couple of screens and numerous switches and tuners. Her perspective is limited to a peripheral vision on both sides of the cockpit but she wouldn't be relying on a full panorama to spot target and threats anyway. No her job is to accurately keep tract of all flying elements within the largest range and most anticipated time possible. There's no point in crying out for enemy presence when they're already at your six and firing away... Along with relaying their position to Harry, Aella can also suggest tactical maneuvers based on the predictions she draws from the opponents' moves.

Speaking of Harry, they haven't exchanged a word since their brief introduction two days ago. Now they're both tightly harnessed to their seat about to navigate a near-thirty-tons engine beyond the speed of sound. Aella's never been a religious one but as the technician gives her one last thumb up to signal their operational status, she's praying to all deities that the awkwardness between them on land is nothing but the result of a subliminal force destined to counterbalance their incredible chemistry in the air.

The canopy of the cockpit locks them into silence before Harry speaks up. "All good?" The mediocre quality of the microphone's transducer makes his voice even raspier than usual through the headset tucked over Aella's ears.

"Yeah all good. You?"

"Same."

She thinks their conversation is over but then she hears a hushed voice. "Let's kick the tires and light the fires." She figures it was more so for his own benefit though, so she doesn't comment.

All too soon they're propelled forward, backs pinned to their seats because of the tremendous speed pressure. It can be a small-scale body trauma for some but Aella has never felt more comfortable. A tingle of the fingertips later, they are welcomed in an infinite azure dotted by a few scarce clouds, the runway long gone behind them. Both pilots enjoy a couple peaceful seconds to take in their new panorama and then they snap: it begins.

"I've got a six strobe. I think he's locked on us." Aella starts reading out the incoming movements entering her radar scope.

With a switch on his radio transmitter, Harry reaches out to Dazzler and Tigger as they are flying in a parallel tandem alongside them. "Tigger, you spot it?"

"Positive. It's Rogers, looks like he's a single." Tigger who endorses the same role as Aella quickly reports, before she pitches back in for a few more precisions.

"Contact at 900 knots closure. He's gaining speed."

"Daz, it's split time." Harry announces.

"Copy that Styles."

After Dazzler's approval, the two aircrafts are both sharply veering outwards in a defensive split, leaving a Y-shaped trail of smoke after them. The move comes through as the chaser is contrived to choose one direction to follow, but to Harry's dismay they get the short end of the stick.

"Rogers coming left, eight o'clock high." Aella signals immediately.

The scenery below them is a mix of wild purples and pale magentas, with fields-worth of lavender adorning the dry soil so characteristic of Californian lands. Peace and nature prevail on these grounds slightly remote from the bustling life of the city but the same cannot be said ten-thousand feet above where Harry is caught in a tedious game of zig-zag trying to escape his pursuer.

"He's tailing us. Watch your six!" her pulse quickens every time Rogers' unit manages to lock its position right behind them. There is no more vulnerable position for a pilot than to have an enemy flying at their six. It usually means incoming fire. It's why Harry is relentlessly jerking the TomCat in a rapid and unpredictable manner, the constant change in direction making it near-impossible for Rogers to lock, aim and shoot them.

"No shit Sherlock, why d'you think I'm jinxing so much?" Harry is starting to see spots on his peripheral vision from the gravitational pull, and he can only hope his tailgater is experiencing the same. Beads of sweat dotting his hairline and starting to dribble along his temples but it doesn't put a damper on his concentration. He can't relent or he becomes an exposed target.

"Goddamn, he's not budgin.'" Harry tries with all his might to leave his frustration out of the cockpit but the situation is not looking up.

"You got new contact ahead, 2 o'clock." Aella perks up at the discovery.

"Imma bit preoccupied with Rogers up my ass, if you haven't noticed." She should have known pointing out a potential target while they were heavily pursued themselves was not what Harry wanted to hear, but she already had a plan all mapped out. That's what Aella is best at after-all: reading a situation and coming up with a strategy in .2 second flat, no reflexion needed, just the numbers, the physics and the sky on her side.

"I didn't mean it as a target. You can use them as a shield if you keep Rogers high enough right before making a dive under them." She explains her vision to him, desperately wishing she could be the one on the front executing it.

"He'll just go above and back to tailgating us."

"Not if you barrel-roll right after the contact, he'll just overshoot." His lack of response betrays his skepticism so she insists further, brushing off the way he's second-guessing her.

"At the least, it'll give you leeway and buy you some time." This time her argument weights enough to tip his scale in favor of her plan.

"'lright then." Harry reluctantly agrees, tilting his chin slightly to the side as if he couldn't believe himself he was going through with her move. "'s gonna be snug timing."

"Just trust my cue." Aella's words are left hanging between them like a desperate echo thrown in an empty ravine. Does he trust her? Does she? It's definitely not the moment to reflect on it, much less have a discussion about it, but neither of them are oblivious to the eerie silence filling up their space like a faux smile greeting a bad joke. Then the aircraft is once again yanked to a blunt left and Aella is snapped out of it.

"That's it. Target at 1 mile abeam 40° on your right." She's got the fellow fighter in her line of view, both on the radar and through the bulletproof glass of the cockpit's canopy. "Keep high, keep high...3, 2, 1, drop!" Harry immediately complies, the aircraft nearly skimming the underbelly of its twin above, before shooting right back upwards, nose pointing at the sun. The trajectory describes a half loop leaving them upside-down for a milli second before Harry rolls them back to normal, in the end effectively realizing a vertical U-turn. Rogers skillfully avoids a fetal collision with the third wheeler but doesn't anticipate Harry's sudden volte-face, in accordance with Aella's prognosis.

"Fuck, we're losin' airspeed." Because of such a twist of direction, they are indeed relegated to a lesser speed which Harry is not too enchanted about.

"He's losing some too." Aella reasons, before jumping to another matter. "2 incoming bogies ahead. I think it's Berks tailing Dazzler." She's barely finished her sentence that two familiar aircrafts flash passed them at such high speed, Harry has to crane his neck backwards to watch his friends in the same predicament he was mere seconds ago.

"I have to cover them." His instinct takes over.

"Fly your needles Harry, it's too late for them." Aella objects to it straight away. Her mind is unbiased, she knows going for them would be pointless.

"Like hell I'm gonna sit tight, they need cover." Harry's voice is categoric like he couldn't ever fathom a world where he would leave his friends stranded for the sake of a mission.

"They already lost, Berks' gonna turn for us now."

"You don't know that." He replies adamantly despite her warning.

"Except I do. Daz was loosing speed, it's over for them." Now she's the one trying to stifle her frustration with all her might. She just wishes he would listen, but instead they're doing yet another 180 to follow Dazzler's trail to the rescue. She has no choice but to adapt and keep calling the positions.

"Contact ahead, four hundred, coming down. He's gonna turn."

"Not if I nail 'im first." If she weren't so bitter about being ignored, she might find his determination admirable. Admittedly she can't deny Harry is an amazing pilot, as are proof his excellent accuracy in space and timing as well as the ease with which he performs each maneuver. But alas, the git won't take her words for it, no matter how knowledgable she is. Talk about eyes rolling...

Meanwhile, Harry is desperately trying to aim for the TomCat launched in his direction, but his opponent is using the same tricks he used against Rogers.

"Shit, 's not stable enough to fire." Aella can't believe he has to audacity to groan about it to her. DIdn't she warn him?

Any shot is missed as the two aircrafts cross trajectories, nearly grazing each other

"Don't lag, he's gonna come around high at your five." Instead of commenting on his failed attempt, she communicates her best educated guess.

"How'dya figure?"

"Cause he was lagging too." Her retorts are getting sharper and drier as her annoyance grows the more he questions her. Her eyes take a rest from the screens on her panel to lay on the Californian landscape flowing passed them. They've wandered quite the distance away from the base, the relatively greener scenery of the seafront giving way to a craggy turf redder and drier by the meter.

"Fuck." Harry suddenly swears, the quality of his voice could rival the roughness of the ground Aella was just observing, and she's effectively brought back into focus.

"Damn it, I told you!" She indulges with an expletive of her own once she spots the fast-approaching signal of Berks unit on her AMDR (Air and Missile Defense Radar).

"The fucker got in my blind spot, I'm doin' my best." Harry is quick to defend himself but the damage is done: they're being chased down once again.

Aella thinks she's starting to reach her disgruntlement threshold. The fact Harry isn't much receptive to her ideas doesn't alleviate her growing frustration at her lack of control over the damn carrier. "Well step up before we get wiped." She spits.

"I swear to God Aella, now's really not the time"

"If you just listened to me for- Watch out! At your six, closing fast!" She desperately wants to tell him off. Wishes she could go on a rant about how much of a dismissing jerk is being, but her duties reins her in when a loud signal starts beeping frantically on her board. Berks is locked at their six, a press of a finger away from shooting them.

"I hear that" Harry grunts as he gives a sharp jerk at the control stick in order to dodge Berks' line of fire. He keeps jinxing the aircraft in all axis but Berks follows suit and matches all his moves.

"He's too fast, I can't get out of his fire range." Harry's heartbeat skyrockets as the situation becomes more dire by the second. He doesn't know how long he can maintain the zig-zagging going, for the sake of both his energy and the carrier's. Abrupt moves are what's currently keeping them safe but these are sadly the greediest in kerosene.

Then all hell breaks loose when Aella is hit by one of her craziest ideas.

"Try a complete thrust reversal of the turbofan engines."

"' the fuck?! Are you nuts?! It'll send us spiraling." Harry's livid. He knew it. He fucking knew she was impulsive and reckless on the edges. She held to much fire in her hands for him to put his trust in them like he wanted to.

"Precisely." His harsh reaction doesn't deter her confidence. "If you're out of control, he can't anticipate your moves, can he?"

"Are you even listening to yourself? That's a stupid idea if I ever heard one."

"It's not. You just have to switch back off the burners for a sec and you'll get the control back."

"And what if I don't?" She knows her calculations are foolproof but Harry won't have any of it. He can't think past the boldness and near-arrogance of it all.

"You will, just trust me." Once again, the words leave a bitter taste in her mouth, even more so because she knows he won't likely follow through with it.

"That's suicide mission Aella. I'm not doing it, that's final." The last two words are categorical, a way for him to officially close the conversation.

"Damn it!"

The theory of it was beautiful really, but Harry thinks in practical and surefire moves he knows won't send him six feet under before his time. Aella, on the other hand, has always relied on her infallible knowledge of astrophysics to enhance her flying experience. She's followed the same motto ever since she stumbled across a quote that inspired her beyond grasp. It goes something like "aviation records don't fall until someone is willing to mortgage the present for the future." And while she would never even entertain the idea of a reckless and immature move, her self-taught philosophy gave her access to a whole world of potential tricks most pilot couldn't even conceptualize.

Aella is in the middle of an attempt at regulating her breathing when she starts noticing the spinning arrow on her altimeter. Her head swiftly tilts to the side to get a brief snapshot of the crimson soil of San Diego's wasteland. They must be pretty far in the land if the upcoming sierra of rocky mounts is anything to go by. That's not what is retaining Aella's attention. No, she's more puzzled by the lack of space between her and the ground, the carrier grazing over pebbly elevations and lorn cactuses.

"Flathatting? That's your idea? Christ Harry, the trees won't save your ass." She figures if he doesn't bother being civil then she should drop her filter too.

"Leave it Aella. Just do your job."

"I'm trying!" She fires back.

"Just trust me on this."

Blank.

"Fuck you Harry, that's a two-way street." She's actually fuming. He had the balls to call her out on trust when he hasn't been returning the same courtesy. If she had the time to worry further about it now, Aella would be questioning if coming to Top Gun and partnering with Harry was really a life-changing opportunity. So far, she's had very few upgrades from the grim world she's been privy too.

"There's a split trail 3 miles ahead on the left." She was under the impression they'd stop talking in tacit consent but the rasp of Harry's voice through her headphones is no mirage. "I can lose him there. Can you read the positions please?"

She's tempted to give him the silent treatment but the fervid pilot in her wouldn't let her jeopardize a mission on such petty grounds. At least he was polite about his request this time. "He's closing on 300, nose up. Going by 800 knots."

"Roger that" Probably the closest thing to a thank you she'll get from him.

They're currently speeding through a gorge, tall cliffs of maroon stone fencing them on either side. Aella starts to question Harry's move as it restrains their room for maneuver but then he makes an extremely obtuse left turn and she gets it. The intimidating mount on their left actually split into two narrow canyons. At the speed they were going, one is most likely to take the second channel whose angle isn't as sharp as the one Harry chose. Only someone with previous knowledge of the surroundings would know how to successfully make that turn. It's then Aella realizes Harry has more insight on the environs than he lets on. His trick proves to be conclusive as Berks falls into the trap and enters the other passage.

"He's out."Aella simply confirms, before Harry veers upwards and back towards the base.

"Hunky-Dory." He utters in the same whispered manner he used before their take-off. "Now let's bug the fuck outta here."

The moment she has her two feet on the tarmac, Aella is scurrying over to a furious-looking Harry. Nostrils flaring, daggers in the eyes, they're both squaring their shoulders once nose to nose, or rather nose to collarbone. She doesn't give him the time to even part his lips before she's jabbing her pointer finger at his taunt chest.

"You prick! I got better things to do than to fill some empty space at the back of your stupid plane. If you don't want my insight you can shove it where the sun doesn't shine."

"Insight? You call that insight?!" He starts laughing jeeringly. "'s fuckin' madness is what it was. I can't believe I passed the mission with someone like you!" Harry doesn't even care to temper his disdain anymore. He's seen enough to make up his mind about her. He doesn't like her. Doesn't want to find out about the person inside because he doesn't like the pilot that she is. It reminds him to much of futile losses and irreparable hurt.

"Someone like me?" Aella's face turns sour and if it didn't make her look so sentimental, her eyes would be hosting a few pearls. She really thought he wasn't like those sexist jerks back home. Maybe not the warmest but at least respectful of her talent enough to appreciate her place in the Navy. Now she hates herself for entertaining the fantasy of ever having an ally flying by her side. "You're an asshole Harry, and certainly no better than Rex." Then before he can reply she storms off, too angered not to lose her wits.

And really, her last words don't sit well with Harry, because he knows she's not referring to the jerk's flying skills.

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles series #pilot!harry #harry styles #Whirlwind #part2 #ofc #enemies to lovers #harry styles angst #creative writing

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nochuuuenthusiast · 5 years

Text

neighbor

hello everyone! i’m back with another post :) i’m sorry for not posting anything on jungkook’s birthday :( i was writing this scenario based on his birthday, but i didn’t have the time to finish it so i guess it’ll be in my drafts for the next couple of days... anyways, this was a request that was sent in a couple of weeks ago (?) i think (?) so thank you to @sgrnii for submitting! i hope this is the fluffy content you wanted! and if anyone else wants to send in a request please do so~

request from @sgrnii: Hii could you write a scenario like "Jungkook as next door neighbor" and how would he meet the reader? 🥰

plot: neighbor!jungkook is succesful in finding (y/n)’s lost puppy

genre: fluff (of courseee)

pairing: jungkook x reader (neighbor!jungkook, nonidol!jungkook, collegestudent!jungkook)

rating: pg-13; warning(s): few curse words

word count: 1213

You were so screwed.

It’s only been the second day of moving in to your new apartment in your college town and you had already lost your dog. Being a fairly new puppy, it wasn’t surprising that he had wandered off by himself with a mind of his own, venturing into the vast unknown. You were sweating excessively from the immense heat of the summer sun and the fact that you weren’t familiar with the apartment complex was not helping at all. It felt like you were walking up and down the same set of staircases over and over again, in a vicious cycle and frankly, you were starting to lose hope.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your landlord had specifically told you that pets were not allowed in the complex and that if you were caught raising one, there was a possibility of getting evicted from the apartment. So yes... you were evidently stressed. Sitting down on one of the staircases and heaving as you wiped the new layer of glistening sweat on the top of your forehead, you had enough and closed your eyes. You decided that it might just be better to go back home and start printing some lost dog posters since it had already been an hour since you started looking for your dog. Sighing, you got to your feet and headed back downstairs.

[10:30pm]

Your head was spinning from all the stress that you were experiencing. You were currently sitting in front of your small printer, praying that you wouldn’t run out of ink while you were printing the last 50 “lost dog” flyers. Despite putting up the other flyers in front of the doors of the apartments in the complex, it had been nearly six hours since your dog ran away. Because you ran out of flyers to put up, you decided to continue printing and putting up more of them until someone was kind enough to call you about your dog.

Your head was down, resting on your limp forearm... and your eyes were starting to close, sleepy from your lack of energy. You felt yourself dozing in and out of sleep, surrounded by all the full moving boxes that hadn’t been unpacked yet. It was when you were about to fall asleep that you felt the small synchronized vibrations coming from your phone. Your head instantly jerked upwards and your eyes grew wide from the unexpected feeling in your hand.

Please, please, please, please, please.

You crossed your index and middle fingers as you nervously picked up the phone-- a habit that you picked up ever since you were in elementary school... believing that completing this action would actually bring you luck and good results. You bit your chapped, lower lips as you slowly swiped left, desperately needing to know whether your dog was safe or not.

“Hello??” you spoke softly into the phone.

“Uhh, hi... I found your puppy in an alleyway of the back of the apartment complex while I was taking out the trash... do you mind if I come over to drop him off?”

The voice on the receiving end of the phone was unfamiliar yet soothing... shy yet distinct.“AH! Of course! Thank you so much! See you in a bit!” You were thrilled. Not only were you glad that your puppy would safely be in your embrace soon, but you wouldn’t be faced with a death trial by your landlady. Your excitement and relief peaked as you hung up the phone and quickly stepped into the living room to wait for the glorious doorbell to ring, signaling the arrival of your lost puppy.It had only taken three minutes for your doorbell to ring and the instant you heard the repeated bell chimes coming from the main door, you practically jumped to your feet.... your anticipation built to its maximum. And right as you opened your door quickly, you were shocked by the sight.

A boy, who seemed to be around the same age as you (so you were assuming he was a fellow college student) and looked around 5′10. Maybe it was just the lighting from the all-too-bright LED light instilled on the ceiling hanging before your door or the delusion that seemed to cloud your mind from a day’s worth of stress, but you swore his irises glistened as if there were millions of stars within them. He stood there, gripping your small puppy in his arms... his shirt seemed loose yet accentuated his muscular biceps and small waist perfectly. His hair was parted straight down the middle and looked a bit too fluffy to seem true. You blinked several times, trying to stop yourself from drooling over this stranger in front of your doorstep, but you found it difficult to stop yourself from gazing at him. His eyes wrinkled and the corners of his mouth were upturned as he smiled as he unraveled his arms, trying to hand you your puppy.

“Hi.. we talked earlier on the phone?” His voice was a little shaky... Ah, so you’re shy...

“Yeah! Thank you so much, by the way... you don’t even know how worried I was the entire day...” you sighed, relieved as you received your puppy into your embrace.

“Don’t ever run away from me again...” you pouted as you proceeded in your failed attempt to scold your puppy and make eye contact with it.

He smiled, endearingly and you shifted your focus back to him.

I just want to know your name.

“You’re a student at (*insert university name here*), right? Well... I’m just assuming... because you look so young and hands---”

Shit.

Your eyes grew wide and your mind went fuzzy, knowing that you just humiliated yourself.

There goes my chance.

You smiled awkwardly and played with a few strands of your baby hair as your cheeks flushed bright red. You were trying to cover up the moment with something equally as awkward so that your crisis could be avoided. You were unable to make eye contact with him again and knew that the boy probably never wanted to talk to you again.

“Hahahaha, well what I meant was... I-- er,, you’re youth is evident, ummm.. haha... I just assumed that you were, uhh...”

He smiled as your stumbled with your words, trying to recover the damage that had already been done.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, eyes formed into crescents as a result of his faint smile.

“Umm... well, I--”

“Well good, because I think you’re pretty.”

Your eyes widened for the nth time, not expecting that response at all. You looked up at him, your cheeks still tinted with a reddish pinkish hue.

“Do I get a reward for finding your dog?” he asked calmly.

“No... sorry... but if there’s anything you want, I could get something for you...”

“Then it’s set!” His smile grew wider and those beautiful glistening irises seemed to disappear. “I insist a date... Saturday. 7pm. I’ll pick you up from your place.”

And with that, he was walking away from the door, leaving you even more flustered and shocked than you were when you first met him. You smiled to yourself as you slowly closed the door behind you.

So... I guess I didn’t fuck it up.

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ashis2gay4u · 5 years

Text

A Different Kind of Magic For My Poor Heart

Prompt: Write about how magic is the norm. Some excel at it, some are only okay, and others are against it completely, despite being able to use it. Your main character is the latter.

A/N: I used SAGA instead of LGBTQ+ due to the fact that I once saw a post referring to how it should be the official name instead of LGBTQ+ due to the fact that it's all inclusive, and I personally loved the idea.

Nico di Angelo glared at his reflection, staring himself down. He noticed how his black eyes flitted across the mirror, taking in every little imperfection of his face.

He noticed the bags under his eyes, his extremely pale skin with majorly contrasting freckles, the way his chapped lips looked too feminine for his liking, how his eyes were such a dark brown they were almost black, and not to mention all the scars lining his bare chest and shoulders, the long-lasting bruise around his neck like a choker he can never seem to get rid of or cover up.

A hard knock at his door had him spinning around, quickly putting on his black Punisher t-shirt, pulling his black Joker themed beanie tighter over his long black hair before grabbing and adjusting his leather jacket.

He opened the door, gripping the strap of his Three Days Grace satchel tightly in one hand as he beamed at his crush, Percy Jackson.

"Hey, dude! You ready for our magical adventure?" Percy asked, his sea green eyes brimming with excitement.

Nico inwardly cringed at the word "magical". He hated magic, especially his own. He felt uncomfortable whenever his friends used their powers, even when Percy did.

Magic was a common thing in this world, but at the time and age he came from, it was looked down upon to use it in public. He still wasn't used to this time and age, his mind was still stuck in that time when magic users, people of color, and people of the SAGA community were all shunned and abused and used.

Nico nodded, exiting his cabin into the cold fall air, pulling his fingerless gloves tighter, hoping to cover more of his slightly exposed wrists.

Camp Half-Blood was a summer and year round camp for "disturbed" children and teenagers, according to the flyers and advertisements. In reality, it was a camp built to help young children and teens learn to better control their powers.

When he was ten, Percy and his best friend Annabeth had found him and his older sister Bianca and brought them here. Bianca instantly jumped on the train, and ended up abandoning him to join an all girls camp. He hated her for it for a while, but then he learned to accept it all.

Except for the fact that he was forced to use his magic everyday in order to keep himself from becoming homeless. That was the only downside.

He shuddered when he remembered how hard it was to survive without using his magic when he had ran away from camp.

He followed Percy to the borders of camp, where Argus, a mute man who has the magical ability to see everything around him, was waiting for them by the camp van.

He nodded at them, and Percy nodded back. Nico felt like a hundred eyes were staring down at him in disapproval, and due to Argus' nickname being the "Hundred Eyed Man" among campers, he wouldn't be surprised if it was the man himself.

He climbed into the back of the van next to Percy, only to have a pair of thin yet strong arms wrap around his neck.

"BABY BAT WINGS!" an excited voice shouted in his ear.

Nico rolled his eyes, "Shut it, Repair Boy," he said, turning to glare at one of his best friends, Leo Valdez.

He noticed that the others were already there, and Nico glared at Jason Grace, who was wiggling his eyebrows at him.

"Awee, but Neeeeeekssss~!" Leo whined, earning a light slap from Jason's girlfriend, Piper McLean.

"Leo, leave the poor boy alone. Look at him, he has depression!"

Okay, low-blow, McLean.

He groaned and sunk further into his seat, clutching his satchel to his chest.

Finally, the door to the front opened, and in a second, one Annabeth Chase became visible.

Nico hated her power most of all. Invisibility, one of the most hated magical abilities from his time period. It was most common among thieves and murderers back then. Worst part is, it's all of both Athena cabin and Hermes cabin that have the ability, and they're both filled with people most likely capable of committing these crimes.

He doesn't like Jason's or Piper's either. He doesn't mind Leo's and Percy's. It still bothers him, but as he knew Leo before camp- he met him when they had both ran away from their respective homes at the same time-, and he has a crush on Percy, it doesn't bother him as much.

But Annabeth... He didn't like her much. She was always nice to him, but he could tell she liked Percy too, and he disliked her for it, because although Percy may be bi, he tended to lean more towards girls than guys.

Not to mention, he knew she could murder him in seconds if she wanted to, so there was also that.

Nico huffed as Annabeth signed to Argus effortlessly, and he responded just as easily.

Miss Perfect, Percy's little Wise Girl.

He put his bag down at his feet and managed to pull his knees up to his chest, earning a strange look from Percy.

He smiled at him, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless, and Percy smiled back so warmly and brightly Nico swore he was from the Apollo cabin, with magical abilities as bright and pure yet dangerous as the sun.

Nico flinched and blushed a deep red when Percy swung his arm over his shoulders. Whether the older boy noticed or not, he didn't say. Nico had to fight the urge to snuggle up against him.

Lo and behold, he didn't have to hold back for long, because Leo- who knew about his crush on the water-bender- decided to be a very unwanted wing-man and climbed to the middle seats where he and Percy sat and sat down next to Nico, pushing him against Percy's side regardless of what his pride and dignity demanded of him.

He could feel Annabeth's grey eyes watching him from the rear-view mirror, and instantly cursed every single god he could think of for this cursed fate.

This... Was going to be one long-ass field trip.

Nico huffed as he face planted onto the bed of the hotel room in New Rome, the camp on the opposite side of the US.

He still didn't know who he was bunking with, because as soon as he saw the key-cards he grabbed one and ran, dragging his bag behind him.

He sat up and turned to face the opening door, only for his face to drain of color.

"No, you can not be my bed-mate!" Nico cried, glaring Percy down.

Percy looked taken aback, "But... Leo is staying with Frank and Hazel, Annabeth is staying with Reyna, and Jason is bunking with Piper. I've got nobody else to bunk with, and we only booked four rooms..."

"Who the fuck authorized that?" he demanded.

"Jason did?" Percy said, although it sounded more like a question.

"DAMMIT! I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE COME HERE!"

"...Am I that horrible?"

Nico's head shot up at the cold, angry voice Percy was using. He's never used it on Nico or Grover, but he's directed it at everybody else, including Annabeth, at least once.

"What?" he asked, confused.

Percy's hands shook slightly, and Nico knew if he got anymore angry than he was, toilets and sinks and tubs would start exploding and flooding the place.

"Am I that horrible that the mere idea of me sharing a bed with you makes you wish you never came along? Do you actually hate me that bad? Do I make your skin crawl because I'm not afraid to use my magic? Is that it?"

"N-no-"

"Then what the fuck is it, Nico?!"

There went the sink, two more to go before instant flooding of the hotel room.

"I-I-"

"You, you? You what, Nico?"

The toilet exploded then. One more before doomsday.

So, naturally, Nico lost his shit, and went crazy-mad first.

"I DON'T WANT TO SHARE A ROOM WITH YOU BECAUSE I LIKE YOU, YOU STUPID MERMAID!" Nico finally snapped, wanting to get away. He could feel his own magic run rampant, the room temperature dropping to below freezing, shadows clawing at his clothes and the walls. He could feel the skeletons trying to break free from the ground, trying to come to him.

Percy froze, before making his way over to the bed.

Nico cowered, and put a hand out. Shadows shot from his palms, wrapping themselves around Percy's legs and knocking him down, "S-stay away. I-I know I-I'm disgusting. You like Annabeth, obviously, you always tended to favor her over me before. Sure, you've been really nice lately, but... You always fall back to her and Grover, a-and-"

He let out a hiccup, wiping at the tears he didn't even realize until now he had been shedding, and retracted his hands, the shadows retreating back into his body like clockwork.

The sink and toilet stopped flowing as Percy just sat there, sprawled on the ground still, staring up at Nico, who was now full-on sobbing.

"A-an' I know you don't want a... A pathetic k-kid like me... Somebody w-ho d-doesn't even like magic... And... I just wish you'd l-leave me alone because all I w-want is you but I can't have you and..."

Nico let out a light gasp as he was pulled against a warm, well-built chest.

Percy's chest.

'He smells like the ocean...' Nico thought, feeling all the strength he had leave his body.

He broke down, majorly. Wailing and all.

"Hey, hey... It's okay, Neeks... Come on, look at me..." Percy mumbled softly, rubbing soothing circles into Nico's back.

Nico let out a small sob, and managed to force himself to look up at Percy, who was looking at him with concern.

Great, now you're a charity case.

"W...Why are you still here...?" he asked in a small voice, trying to keep himself from falling victim to a panic attack.

"Because, Ghost King, I like you too," Percy replied, smiling softly.

Nico stared at him in utter shock, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure you liked me back, not to mention I'm older than you by three years, and..."

"You... No... I... What...?"

"Awe, I broke your poor little brain," Percy teased, and Nico let out a small laugh.

"In your dreams, Seaweed Brain."

"Hey, only Annabeth can call me that."

Nico instantly soured. "Sorry," he spat, "Mermaid-Man."

Percy's face instantly turned into one of apology, "I'm sorry, I-"

Nico laughed, "Now look who got fucked over! HA!"

"You little fuckin'-" He was suddenly cut off by Nico, who had pressed his lips against Percy's in a short, gentle kiss.

He was satisfied by the fact that when he pulled away, Percy was blushing madly.

"So ah... What now?" he asked sheepishly, and Nico grinned.

"One, be my boyfriend. Two... Go on a date with me?"

Percy nodded, "YES!" he shouted, only to seemingly mentally reel himself back in and say, "I-I mean, ah, yes, that sounds lovely."

Nico laughed again, smiling brightly as he wiped away the rest of his tears, "Great, let's go."

"Now?"

"Right now, yes. There's still daylight."

Percy smiled back, nodding as he stood up, helping the other boy to his feet as well.

He didn't let go of Nico's hand afterwards.

They went off, laughing and smiling and exchanging sweet kisses.

Nico may not like magic, but he enjoys how magical the trip turned out to be, he enjoyed how magical the sparks of each kiss he shared with Percy felt, and how magical the tingling of his fingers entwined with the older boy's felt.

He may not like the magic he's accustomed to, but the magic of Percy's hand in his, of knowing Percy is his, makes him hate magic a little less.

Just a little.

{La Fin}

~Ashton Bende

#heroes of olympus #percico #nicercy #percy jackson #nico di angelo #magic!au

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sethrine-writes · 5 years

Text

Devil-sitter May Cry, Ch. 2

Pairing: Dante x F!Reader, Vergil x F!Reader (Undecided)

Words: 2853

Warning: Lots of Fluff, Some serious tones

Story Summary: Low on cash and desperate for a job, you reply to a flyer for a babysitting position. Little did you know that the opportunity to watch over two special boys would bring your life so much mayhem and adventure…and, perhaps, a chance at a family of your own.

A/N: We get to meet the boys!! Also, thank you guys so much for the absolutely wonderful response to the first chapter! I’m so happy you guys are enjoying it, so far, and I can’t wait to see where the future chapters will lead us!

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Chapter 2 - Specs of the Job

The inside of Devil May Cry wasn't really anything to gawk over, but it did hold a particular charm to it.

Above all else, it looked and felt like a well-used establishment with clearly patched wooden floors and worn but sturdy furnishings just in the main area. Only a few spaces on the walls were decorated with relics and some questionably large weaponry, perhaps niche items pertaining to the business, but they looked nice, clean and well-maintained like everything else.

Just to the right was a staircase leading up to the second floor, the wall there curiously decorated with kid drawings and stickers, and you were suddenly struck with the realization that the building wasn't just a place of business - it was also a home.

Dante led you to the farthest end of the room where a cluttered desk resided, piled with messy stacks of papers and other small odds and ends. He rounded the desk, taking a seat heavily in the armchair present and sighing rather loudly. You stood on the opposite end, waiting for only a moment as Dante made himself comfortable.

"So, I take it Lady already put you through the ropes, like questions and background checks," he began as he leaned against the heavy wooden desktop, "but I have a feeling she wasn't very clear on exactly what this particular babysitting job would entail."

"I'm prepared to accommodate in whatever way I need to," you replied eagerly, though the husky chuckle Dante gave at your words felt more mocking than amused.

"Do you know what we do here at Devil May Cry?"

The question, though not entirely unwarranted, caught you off-guard, enough that you faltered in giving an answer straight away.

"I've...heard things," you admitted. "You hunt demons, right?"

"That's our specialty," Dante said, "though we've been known to help out with some otherworldly beings, as well. To put it simply, what we do is dangerous work, and it puts a target on our backs. Unfortunately, that includes the business, as a whole, as well as that of our sons."

The conversation had taken on a very serious tone you hadn't been expecting. If you were honest, it was beginning to make you a little nervous in wondering what he was trying to get at.

"I feel like there's a big reason you're telling me all this."

Dante's smile only quirked up one side of his face before disappearing altogether, his crystal blue gaze narrowed and serious.

"There's no way to sugarcoat this, so I won't. Demons have attacked this place, before, and there's always the potential for it to happen again. I need to know that you'll take care of the boys above all else, should the hypothetical shit hit the fan."

You stared back at Dante, flabbergasted as you blinked several times in shock. It wasn't something you had really thought about, but you were now much more aware of the possibility of a demon attack during your potential employment as a sitter. Of course there would be some sort of danger involved, given that the owners were literal demon hunters - why wouldn't there be?

Now that you understood the implications, however, was the job still even worth it?

There were definitely much safer jobs out there, but nothing good was coming out of the many applications you'd filled out. Dante was guaranteeing you one month, however, and he was still giving you an out, if you thought it would be too much to handle.

The implications of what you were getting yourself into were just barely beginning to come to light, and though you had an odd feeling there was more to what was being implied, your mind had already been made up.

Had it been any other job, the payment simply wouldn't have been enough to even entertain the thought of sticking around. You were far too underqualified to take on literal demons, should any have decided to stop by and fuck up your entire day. You barely knew how to handle a gun, for crying out loud!

Knowing that you would be defending children from potential harm, however…

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything less," you answered honestly. "You're hiring me for a reason, to watch over your children and keep them safe, and I take that very seriously. I may not be well versed in fighting demons or using a weapon, but their safety matters most, and I'd do anything I could to keep them out of harm's way."

Dante's gaze was scrutinizing for several long seconds before he relaxed into that easy grin of his, a pleased smile you were coming to really like on the rugged man.

His eyes suddenly flicked to something behind you, a hint of amusement lighting his features.

"You get all that, Verg?"

Turning to follow his gaze, you gasped and nearly jumped at finding someone standing right behind you.

He was tall and handsome, with slicked back hair and a piercing, icy-blue gaze that had you frozen in place. Most surprising was his uncanny resemblance to Dante, almost a mirror likeness, and yet in your few seconds of being within the man's presence, it was clear that he was nothing like Dante at all.

"Every word," the man standing before you uttered, and in that moment, you were distinctly aware that he held perhaps the most menacing presence you had ever encountered.

"This is my brother, Vergil," Dante supplied helpfully from behind, giving your name out to his twin in introduction.

"I-It's nice to meet you," you stuttered out quickly, thrusting your arm forward and holding out your hand. It wasn't the same greeting you gave Dante, but it was what you believed to be the most appropriate for the moment.

Vergil barely gave the motion a glance, not even so much as entertaining the idea of reaching forward. You quickly pulled back your hand, smiling almost awkwardly before fixing your gaze on anything else you could, such as the broken down jukebox you had somehow missed when entering the building.

And you thought you had been nervous before!

"That friend of yours needs to learn when her ideas are welcomed and when they aren't wanted," Vergil spoke, words edged with disdain, and you were aware enough to realize that he wasn't speaking to or about you.

As subtly as possibly, you took a step to the side so as not to be between the conversing brothers.

"Give her a break," Dante eased, "Lady's just looking out for us and the boys."

"More like meddling in our business," Vergil groused, arms crossing over his chest and eyes narrowing at his brother. Dante looked nonplussed at the action, a testament to how often he dealt with such a domineering sibling.

"Relax, she's just trying to help us out. Besides, you know she's thorough. She wouldn't send just anyone our way."

Dante stood then and moved from behind the desk, coming up beside you and placing his hand on your shoulder as he looked to Vergil.

"We've got one month with our new help, just to test the waters. Let's give 'em both the benefit of the doubt, eh?"

Vergil looked between Dante and you, his eyes piercing in a way that had you wanting to look away all over again. You held your ground, however, staring back as confidently as you were able, but almost sure you looked two seconds from backing out of the whole thing. You weren't scared, per say, just extremely intimidated.

After a moment, Vergil's eyes closed, and the barest hint of what you believed was a smile made itself present.

"One month, then," he agreed, ensuring he caught your eye, "if she can last that long."

Vergil looked to Dante one last time, communicating something you didn't understand, then turned away and moved toward the base of the stairs.

You promptly let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, nearly laughing out of nervousness and feeling silly because of it. A firm squeeze at your shoulder had you glancing back up at Dante, who seemed well aware of why you felt such a mess.

"He's not as scary as he seems," he said, voice carefully low, though you had a feeling Vergil could still hear it as easily as you could. "Big ol' softy, that one. Just, you know, under all that cynicism and smoldering-"

"Dante," Vergil spoke as a warning, and Dante was quick to separate from you with a mischievous sort of smirk, attention moving to the top of the staircase.

"Boys, come on downstairs for a minute!"

Silence followed Dante's shout for all of a few seconds until tiny, hurried footsteps broke the quiet. Two heads of shockingly white hair appeared from around the corner not but a moment later as the tykes rushed their way down the stairs. You lost sight of one of them from behind Vergil's visage, but the other you recognized immediately as the little boy you had met earlier, Nero.

He paused just beside his uncle, his eyes focusing warily on you a moment before he rushed toward Dante and immediately hid behind his leg. Dante's hand was just as quickly in his son's hair, giving the short mop a comforting ruffle.

"It's alright, Nero. You're not in trouble," he assured, which must have made Nero marginally more confident, because he was peeking at you from around Dante's leg, trying to be sneaky in his observation.

"You've already sort of met," Dante continued, "but this is my boy, Nero."

"Hello there, Nero," you greeted with an easy grin, "I'm happy to see you again."

Nero kept pretty close to Dante, but made the effort to face you fully while still holding steady to his father's leg.

"Hullo," he said, voice low and unassuming. All you could think of was wanting to wrap him up in your arms and hold him close.

"He likes to play bashful," Dante mock whispered aloud, even holding his hand up as if to hide his mouth from Nero's gaze, "but give him some time to warm up. He's a rambunctious thing with lots of energy. Just keep him fed, give him a chance to run around, and he shouldn't be too much of a handful."

"Good to know," you mused, smiling at Nero as he shyly stared up at you.

Your attention was suddenly pulled over to Vergil, who was now approaching with a little one beside him. One of his hands was occupied with the much smaller one of another little boy with longer hair and the sweetest little smile adorning his pale face. You could definitely see the resemblance between him and Nero; the family likeness was a strong one, it seemed.

"This is my son, Vitale," Vergil informed you, his tone more authoritative as he spoke, "though you may call him V. He possesses a delicate immune system as well as weak lungs and requires a clean environment to thrive in."

"Which means he gets sick easy - and watch out for dust bunnies," Dante supplied helpfully, earning a half-heated glare from his twin.

"I've been diligent in maintaining his fluctuating health needs. I expect nothing less from your care."

"Yeah, I mean, of course! I'll keep that in mind," you replied with a nervous nod of your head, looking down to have a better look at V.

Right off the bat, he seemed like a little sweetheart, his smile melting your heart within seconds and those bright, vivid green eyes filled with curious wonder making you want to coddle and coo over him.

As soon as he noticed your stare, he gave a happy little wave of his hand, and you were absolutely done for.

"Hello there," you greeted gently, giving a little wave of your own as you gave him your name.

"Hello," he answered with a smile. "I like your necklace. It's very pretty."

Your hand immediately came up to touch the pendant resting against your skin, momentarily caught off guard at having it brought to attention. It was a small purple gemstone surrounded by tiny, intricately carved golden loops and swirls, an antique-inspired gift of sorts given to you many years ago. It had become an extension of your very being, so much so that you never went a day without wearing it.

"Oh, thank you! Would you like to have a closer look at it? If it's alright with your dad, that is."

V's eyes lit up at the possibility, wide as saucers as they moved to plead up at Vergil in hopeful anticipation. Whatever he saw in his father's gaze must have been confirming enough, because he was pulling away from Vergil's hold with ease and eagerly shuffling over to you.

The clasp was easy enough to undo, and once you had reconnected the delicate chain to ensure the pendant didn't slide off, you knelt down to V's level and held out your hand to him. He seemed to understand and copied the motion, watching carefully as you placed the jewelry within his palm.

"Be very careful," you gently urged, "that necklace is very important to me. Kinda like how you are important to your dad. It's a very special gift."

You looked over at Nero then, who had moved to the other side of Dante's legs, trying to peek over at what you were showing V.

"You can come have a look, too, if you like," you encouraged, though the invitation seemed moot with how hesitant the boy had been with you this far.

V took the initiative by moving over to Nero, instead, gentle as could be as he took the other boy's hand and showed him how to maneuver it. He then carefully passed your necklace over to his cousin's palm, who was nothing short of astonished as he admired the colored gemstone.

"Look, Nero, it has stars in it," V proclaimed in amazement, pushing Nero's hand up towards his own face. It took a bit of searching, but you could see the exact moment Nero noticed the tiny speckles that twinkled within the gemstone.

"Like a space galaxy," he murmured in wonder. Then, in a surprising turn of events you didn't see coming, Nero turned to you and gave you the biggest, toothiest grin.

"Does it have a moon in there?" he asked excitedly.

"It's too small, I think," V replied critically as he continued to peer into the purple gemstone, his thin little fingers pressing lightly against Nero's cupped hands to keep them steady.

Above them, Dante looked rather proud at Nero finally coming out of his shell. It was a rather quick transition, you had to admit, but he didn't seem all that surprised. You wondered, briefly, if Nero's bashfulness was actually just a wary approach to strangers.

"Alright, alright," Dante said with a clap of his hands, "why don't you boys give the necklace back and go wash up for dinner? We're making spaghetti tonight, remember?"

Both boys gasped in unison, smiling at each other excitedly. Much to your surprise, Nero came to you and held out his cupped hands, offering up your jewelry without any hesitation of being close to you. You picked up the delicate chain and thanked him for returning it to you, earning yet another grin before he turned back to V and grabbed the boy's hand.

You watched while replacing the pendant around your neck as both boys rushed back up the stairs. Nero was much quicker to reach the top, but he patiently waited for V to meet him and even chattered about something or other while V took a brief moment to catch his breath.

The whole interaction had solidified your want to be their babysitter. You were so terribly endeared already, your heart practically soaring within your chest from the short meeting.

"Is there anything else I need to know about his health?" you asked suddenly, turning to Vergil with more confidence than you'd had the whole time being within his presence. "Any medications or necessary procedures during the day that are important to go through?"

Vergil was almost genuinely surprised at your questions, perhaps even pleased you had even bothered to ask.

"He has an inhaler, should he become short of breath, as well as several exercises he goes through twice a day."

"Alright. Oh, are there any restrictions, as far as food goes? Any other allergies I need to know about for either one of them? And is there a set routine you follow - though I guess that depends on when exactly you need me to babysit, doesn't it? Oh, and what about-!"

"Whoa, take it easy, there, eager-beaver," Dante cut in, and you at least had the sense to feel a bit embarrassed for jumping the gun so quickly.

"Sorry, I'm just...nervously excited. I want to make sure I'm prepared to take care of them."

"We'll get to all the nitty gritty details, don't you worry," Dante assured, "but before all of that...how soon can you start?"

Apparently, 'first thing yesterday' was an appropriate, and rather amusing, answer.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc Dante #dmc Vergil #dmc Nero #dmc V #dmc au #kid nero #kid v #babysitter au #reader #reader-insert #female reader

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fanfux · 4 years

Text

The Start Of Something

The heroes are auctioned off to the highest bidder for 24 Hours!

A/N: Hey, hi, welcome! This is the first piece of fanfic I've written in a while. It’s the first piece of fanfic I've written on this side, so i’m kinda nervous. I know my writing style’s kinda whack, but that’s what practice is for! Feel free to clown, but please be gentle.

The repurposed library was awfully empty, considering the charity event had already started. People milled around in the lobby, talking to friends or scrolling on their phones. Sighing,Casey pushed the double-doors of the main hall open and immediately saw why everything was so sparse.Half the decorations weren’t up. The food bar was practically empty. Barely any staff were present. Most importantly, none of the advertised heroes were up; it was a bunch of b-listers and sidekicks. The audience looked to be filled with small time reporters, small business owners and community leaders. Looking back, the flyer did mention that the wildly popular heroes, like Deku and Red Riot would be on in the afternoon. No excuse not to get a good seat, though. Finding a place, they plopped down and began catching up on some neglected manga.

It was already 11 am and Casey was well into the third main arc of their new favourite manga. Not many people had shown up, and the ones that did immediately left after seeing the state of the room and who was being auctioned off. Next to them was a plate of some of the bleeding fruit and a cold bagel, with some barely-warm and over sweetened coffee that they snagged from the paltry spread the event staff put out. Their immersion was suddenly broken with the announcement of a name they’d been waiting to hear. A quick glance around the room showed nobody in the room seemed particularly interested, but one of the store-owners seemed to be considering it. Casey tried to hide the tremble in their hands when they lifted the betting paddle. It went once, twice, thrice and was sold. The auctioneer went onto the next hero, and Casey tried to steady their excitement.

The warm, midday summer sun baked Casey’s legs through their jeans. Heat radiated off the hoods of the cars. They were leaned up against the outside lobby of the building, anxiously tapping out the rhythm of a song they couldn’t clearly remember. Their eyes darted over the faces of the people milling in the lobby, looking for the person they betted on. It’d gotten much more crowded, and the place looked much nicer; Cutouts, posters and banners were plastered along the walls, and people posed for pictures with mascots. Vendors were selling merchandise as well. Casey was clutching a small plastic bag, with a smiling chibi Deku on it. Finally, they found the person they were looking for. A smile spread across their face, and they waved to get the person’s attention. The pro-hero noticed and made his way over, and wow he was tall. None of the posters or camera angles did him justice. He looked like he could match All Might in height! Casey stopped their wandering eyes and focused on the hero’s slightly off-put gaze.

“Um… hello? Tentacole?”

“ Hey, You can just call me Shoji for now” one of his appendages said. You’re Casey, aren’t you?”

They trilled nervously. “Uh, yeah! Do you um, wanna get going?”

The hero made a motion of agreement, so Casey pivoted and headed towards the door, moving way too fast, but the guy was like, two feet taller than them, so it’s not like he’d have trouble keeping up and there he was, keeping pace, not even bothered.

Right. Now wasn’t the time to be freaking out. They had twenty four blessed hours ahead of him with this man, and it was mission imperative to keep calm.

They were two blocks from the event centre before anything happened. Shoji was the one to break the silence.

“Um...pardon, but where are we going?”

They stopped and turned around to look at him. He shifted his weight from one leg to the next, a sign of uncertainty.

“...The grocer’s? I gotta get a couple things right quick.” they paused.” Something wrong?” They fiddled with the flimsy bag in their hand.

“Nah, just kinda curious, you didn’t really say anything.”

“ Oh, sorry. Do you want me to talk? I tend to ramble, though.”

“You’re all good.” His appendage mouth smiled.

Casey did their best to relax.

“ Umm, okay! Cool.” They smiled and did their best to relax.

For the next two blocks and five minute bus ride, Casey talked about… everything and nothing. Movies, manga, the latest hero drama and international mess were all extensively elaborated on. Shoji quipped in here or there with the odd tidbit here or there, but it was mostly all Casey.

Finally, they arrived at the grocery store. The odd pair mulled about the isles, Casey goofing off occasionally, to the amusement of their companion. They cashed out and left, with Shoji carrying all the bags, despite their protests.

“Your place next, right?” Shoji cocked his head. “ I’m sure you don’t plan on carrying these around with you all day.”

“Yeah! It’s just down the street from here, actually. Really convenient and close to work.”

“Must have been a steal.”

The pair set out once more, with Casey leading the way.

“Not really? It’s kinda run down and full of shady people but I promise it doesn’t look like shit on the inside and all the tenants are really nice! You probably shouldn't look at them for too long, though.”

“Oh. Um. I don’t know how I feel about that.”

They snorted. “ Relax. It’s not like they’re all Yakuza. I think.”

Shoji shot them a side-eye. “ I don’t want our next reunion to be when I’m breaking your door down.”

Casey laughed and unlocked the door. The apartment wasn’t that bad, to Shoji’s eyes, just kinda old. It certainly showed in the decor and architecture. He eyed the place, and tried to not notice the keycode Casey was punching in.

_____

Casey’s apartment could be mistaken for a miniature nature display. It was covered wall to wall in plants and replica animals and insects. The pro-hero admired the decor while Casey unpacked. His trance was broken when they called for him from the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway; there was a spread of ingredients on the counter and his handler was in the middle of tying an apron around their waist. They looked up, startling slightly.

“Hey! Um, wanna bake some stuff with me? It’ll be fun, and I kinda know what i’m doing.”

Slightly confused, Shoji entered the small kitchen and let Casey put an apron on him. They began the process, with Casey directing and Shoji following their lead. The pair worked wordlessly, with the scraping of utensils and the quiet jazz mellowing to create a comfortable atmosphere. The brunette was greasing a large bowl before he spoke again.

“This is nice, not at all what I expected to happen.”

Casey tilted their head towards him.

“I was told that- uh, to expect something different than, uh...this.” He motioned to the counter and swallowed thickly. There was a beat before his partner replied.

“You mean they told you to expect to-”

“Yeah. That.” He tossed the damp tea towel over the bowl and pushed it to the side and Casey nearly choked on their spit.

“Oh! Nononono, I’m not into that kinda thing. You’re good, fam.”

He shrugged in response, but visibly relaxed. Casey continued.

“You mean that people bid on y’all with the intention of doing that? Is that even allowed?”

He shrugged. “ There was a contingency plan for anyone feeling the need to perform a task outside of the norm, so I guess? I wouldn’t be surprised. Have you seen twitter lately?”

Casey shuddered. “Sacrilege.”

___

The baking goods filled the small space with a wonderful smell. Shoji was sprawled out on the too-small couch, playing Breath of the Wild on a Switch that wasn’t his, while the owner was hunched over a small table, completely immersed in a piece of art. ‘ It’s supposed to be abstract’ was what Casey said ‘but i can’t seem to really get a proper grasp on abstraction, if that makes any sense’. Shoji thought it was plenty abstract. The window was open, and the cool summer breeze wafted into the apartment. The pro hero was finding it harder and harder to stay awake.

“Um” he started “ Not to ah, look a gift horse in the mouth, because it’s been fun, but.” He paused. “You could have done anything you wanted…”

Casey stopped moving. Shoji thought they didn’t hear him, and was about to repeat himself, when they finally replied.

“I don’t know? I see you guys running around, protecting us all, and I think it’s gotta be really tiring. I don’t think you guys get enough time to relax. Y’all are in the prime of your lives, and you’re spending it doing some of the most stressful and dangerous jobs in all the country. And, i dunno” they laughed nervously “ I kinda have the urge to take care of you? Wanted to give you the chance to slow down a bit, y’know? Um...yeah. That’s why.”

Link made some questionable sounds and pseudo-words and the Hero opened his mouth to reply, but Casey continued.

“I mean, I know how awful it is to work and work and never have any breaks. I um, slacked off in my Senior year. Almost failed.My family left me for that one, not that they were really there anyways? All of my friends left me behind, and I had to go the um, less standard route. Hard as hell. And i’ve got the job I have now, right? But it was hell getting here. I’m not really done either, since i’ve still got my dreams that I wanna accomplish, right? But, um… Yeah. I wanted to help someone that was going through the same thing.”

Casey half turned around and Shoji was Staring At Them. So intently that they could feel holes being burned into them.They couldn’t make eye contact. The silence was pregnant before the other person spoke.

“ I..think I understand. That’s very sweet, actually. One of the nicest things that’s happened lately.”

Casey’s head shot up in alarm.

“I mean, yeah, people are nice to me, but it’s partially because i’m a hero. And y’know, people say nice things all the time, right? But that’s all it is. And uh, it’s nice to have someone actually do something nice to me for once. Thank you, and i’m not just saying it because.”

Casey couldn’t stop the grin spreading across their face, or the warmth blooming in their chest if they tried. Shoji’s arm-mouth smiled back.

“You’ve very much welcome, Tentacole.”

Neither of them said much until the bread finished baking. They both watched in awe as steam wafted gently off the hot loaves.

It rounded four o’clock before anything else really happened. Casey suggested that they go to the arcade not too far from here, and the half-asleep Shoji agreed. The sun had baked everything in the street, and the heat was oppressive. On a whim, they’d pulled their companion into a hole-in-the-wall drink shop for refreshments. Unsurprisingly, the shopkeep recognized the hero and gave the pair their drinks for free. Both Casey and Shoji tried to pay them anyway, but the owner wouldn’t budge. After a fair bit of haggling, the two left.

“Is it just me or do you feel kinda bad? I should have gone in alone, I think.”

Shoji swallowed before replying.

“I do feel kinda bad too, but it’s not like we were robbing them. I didn’t really like the way they did it, but i’m not saying no to free boba. Plus it’s super good. I’m coming back when I can. As for you, you should learn to accept things.” he ruffled their hair, and despite their whining, there was a smile on their face. The two finished their drinks and entered the arcade. After a quick tour and some mild teasing, they settled on the DDR machine. ‘We both suck at dancing, so why not?’ Shoji argued. Casey had no retort.

Fifteen minutes later, they were both sweaty and panting. The screen displayed a horrific score for both participants. They both agreed to do something else, and over the course of four hours, hit every machine in the store. Shoji, unsurprisingly, excelled at rhythm and accuracy games. Casey shone in speed and racing games.They were shoving some of the overpriced greasy food down their throats when Casey pitched the question.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where’d you go and why?”

The response was instant.

“Naminoue Shrine. My parents took me there when I was little, and I remember it was very beautiful. I’ve been dying to go back, but I never have the time.”

He finished eating his chili dog and shoves the soggy cardboard container into the overflowing trash container. Casey finished their grilled cheese, and the two walked out into the still-warm 8 p.m. air. The city’s nightlife was just beginning to stir, as could be seen with various bars and adult establishments beginning to open their doors. It had rained while they were inside, and the pungent smell of wet concrete and the fainter smell of garbage saturated the still-warm evening air. The sun was casting its dying rays, and they made a stark contrast with the monotone gray business buildings and faded advertisement signs.

“Hey, do you have the day off tomorrow?” Casey asked. It was an innocent enough question.

“Nope. Patrol first thing after we’re done, actually. It’s kinda sad. I feel bad for my companions. “

Casey laughed.

“Why, you think some of them are gonna get their backs blown out?” They snickered “Or are they gonna be wandering around in post-nut clarity?”

Shoji laughed, this time from his mouth. It was loud and hearty and filled Casey with warmth. They wanted to bottle it and keep it forever.

“I know at least three people that are gonna be in that post-nut clarity haze for sure. Not naming them for uh, security reasons. Work is going to be fun tomorrow.”

“Oh, I can imagine.”

The pair were rounding the corner onto the street where Casey lived, and Shoji was about to tell his companion about the one time one of his co-workers had somehow found himself involved in a flash vampire harem and got absolutely drained, both metaphorically and physically when he was abruptly pulled into an alley. His back slammed into the cool brick. Confusion muddled with fear in the pit of his stomach.

“Close your eyes.” Casey’s frame betrayed their strength. The light from the street made Casey’s face look inhumane.

“Whu-”

“Shhhh, just close your eyes.” Casey slapped their palm over the exposed part of the hero’s face, forcing him to close his eyes. His world turned into disorienting, nauseating kaleidoscopes of colours. The ground beneath him turned into a vortex and as soon as it began, it was over. He collapsed on his hands and knees onto the ground. Casey hovered nearby.

“I’m sorry. I hope you haven’t lost your lunch? We did kinda spend a lot of time on it.”

The hero struggled to look up. His arms had become rubber. “What” he strained “The hell…”

More apologies ran off Casey's tongue. They hurried to Shoji’s side and helped him stand up. He leaned heavily on them, still heavily disoriented. The ground still swam beneath him, but he began to regain his legs. He stuffed another gag back down his throat. Finally, the wave of nausea passed, and he looked up.

And stopped.

Deep blue ocean, accompanied by the gentle crashing of waves on the cliffs created the perfect backdrop of the shrine. The sinking sun made everything look covered in gold. He remained on his knees, but the feeling keeping him there was awe. The shrine was beautiful, to say the least. Memories of past visits came flooding back to him, and now he was on his hands and knees. The feelings he’d filed away that had been bubbling under the surface all day were Right Now pouring out, pressing at and breaking through the seams. Shit, he hadn’t felt this much in years, with his appearance making friendships and work and romance and everything else so much more difficult. He wasn’t ready for-any of this really. This entire day had been a slow, methodical tearing down of all the walls he’d put up to protect himself and now-

He didn’t realize he was crying until there was a cloth dabbing at the space between his eyes and his mask. Casey was apologizing- they needed to stop doing that so easily -and had tucked his hair behind his ear. The laugh that came from him was shaky and rattled in his chest. He grabbed the hand that was wiping away at his face and squeezed it.

“Thank you. You don’t have to do that anymore, i’m fine now.” He laughed again, this time more stable. Casey stopped and sat beside him, wordlessly. Technically, the shrine was closed to the public, so the area was almost unnaturally quiet. The sunset was beautiful.

___

The train ride back to Musutafu was quiet. Teleporting back was unanimously decided to be a rather bad idea, prepared for it or not. The carriage was empty and Casey had fallen asleep half an hour into the train ride, so Shoji had the luxury of some time to reflect.. In the short amount of time he’d come to know them, Casy had made more of an impact on him than the three years he’d spent at Yuuei had ever had. It’s not that he hadn’t been friends with any of them, just that some of the louder personalities had dominated the class life and he’d been..left behind? Not to say that he hadn’t had any friends, just that they’d grown more distant once their careers hadn really taken off. That was understandable of course, but that didn’t make it any less lonely. The auction event was supposed to be a bit of a joke, something to laugh over with everyone else at work, maybe a conversation starter. It certainly wasn’t supposed to turn into...well, this. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been this close to anyone in basically forever why he was feeling like this. He watched the rise and fall of Casey's chest as they slept and it took him a minute to realize he was smiling. Whatever the feeling in his chest was, it was too early to say. For now, though, he was going to enjoy the moment.

Casey shot awake, slightly panicked and very disoriented. The fucking sun was shining into their eyes like it had a personal fucking problem with them. The blanket that had been previously tucked around them was Really Hot. Caset cringed when their arm audibly unstuck when they lifted it. They fumbled around for their phone, before finding it on the bedside table - fully charged, mind you- where they literally never put it. Intentions to check the time were forgotten, however, because sitting on their screen, front and center was a message. From Shoji. Yesterday’s events came flooding back to them and they groaned. They almost didn’t want to open the message, but they’d have to if they wanted to apologize for yesterday’s stunt. Christ, how cringey could they be? Hesitantly, they unlocked their phone and clicked on the notification. To say what they found was unexpected would be understating it.

Shoji: Hey, it’s me. You fell asleep on the train and I didn’t want to wake you, so I brought you home. I made sure your door was locked when I left, so you don’t have to worry. :) I wanted to clarify that me crying yesterday wasn’t because of anything bad you did. You mentioned feeling left behind by everyone in your life, and the trip to the shrine brought up some things I needed to deal with, so thank you for that. I really enjoyed the time I spent with you, and I wouldn’t mind hanging out again, if you’ll have me. Let me know if you ever need a scoop and I'll do my best to hook you up.

Shoji: Also I stole one of the bread. They were too good to pass up and my fridge is kinda empty.

Casey snorted. This man was too sweet for his own good. It was no use staying in bed any longer, plus they had work to do. They smiled. Yesterday was nice. Not quite what they’d been expecting, but nice. Maybe they’d take him up on his offer.

A/N: Hey, you made it! Thanks for reading this mess of a fic. I don’t know what this ending was supposed to be either, but there it is! I like the dialougue, kinda, so I think i’ll keep it. I’m more than happy to recieve any feedback you may have, so send ‘em in.

#bnha #mha #mha shoji #mha mezo #shoji #mezo shoji #shoji mezo #reporter!reader #shoji mezo x reader #shoji mezo x nb #shoji mezo x gn #shoki mezo x reporter!reader #auctioned!shoji #bnha auction #mha auction

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kanerboo · 5 years

Text

okay so... i’m just kind of needing to work out my thoughts about the blackhawks in writing for a bit, so everyone can ignore this or choose to disagree or whatever, I just need to kinda get things out of my head and get my thoughts down in some order.

1) our recent performances: the thing about this, which is something i’ve kept reiterating, is that apart from that horrid game against the flyers, we have actually NOT BEEN PLAYING AS BADLY AS OUR SCORESHEETS SUGGEST. this is the main thing that’s so baffling to me. on paper, this team is not a bad team. on ice, this team is not playing like a bad team either. and YET!!

an example below, from the carolina game yesterday, after 2 periods of play. all of our possession metrics were positive (from this tweet). and yes I know corsi is not a great stat, but it also kinda lined up with my eye test where we actually weren’t playing badly, at least for the last half of the first and throughout the whole of the second.

and yet we couldn’t buy a goal to save our life. we came close a number of times. kirby hit iron. saad came close a few times. we had a flurry of chances from the top line, and during a PP, and from nylander. and through it all mrazek, who is, let’s put it that way, not such a great goalie, was making himself look like fucking brodeur or roy with some crazy saves. when carolina was up just 1-0 through a PP goal, we literally could have pulled even or gone ahead any number of times. and the puck just was NOT GOING IN.

I DO. NOT. UNDERSTAND.

and how many times have I seen this story happen already in fewer than 10 games? it happened against the caps where we played really well and lost because we were up against a goalie standing on his head. it happened against vegas where we played our best game of the season, possibly the best game i’ve seen them play in a whole year, and still lost because of a goalie standing on his head, and to me it’s just like, how long can this go on before the players start getting demoralised that they’re doing everything right and they’re working hard and nothing is going their way? and the worst part is, that point might be happening NOW, especially based on what patrick said in his postgame last night.

2) our special teams: ok it makes absolutely zero sense to me why our special teams are so terrible this year, when we shored up our PK in the offseason and we had the league’s best PP from like what, mid-january? I know we couldn’t continue the way our PP had and eventually it’d regress towards the mean, but this isn’t even their “mean”, it’s back to the putrid days of Q. there are times it shows signs of life, like a couple of sequences against carolina, but again, when that happens, we can’t find a goal. I still don’t understand the rationale between putting nylander up on PP1 and demoting dylan to PP2 - I feel like if we had success with that particular PP1 unit last season with 19-88-17-12 then maybe we should try that? I do get maybe they’re trying to create some balance across both PP units since saad and kubalik are firing now and putting dylan there gives them some additional firepower, plus the PP1 unit had such a huge chunk of TOI during last season’s PPs and it was getting pretty unbalanced there, but come on. at this point something HAS to be done already.

as for our PK - stanbo made some really good moves in the offseason, and acquiring carpenter has been one of them. he has been great on our PK - and we know this PK can be amazing, we’ve seen them kill four minute minors and we’ve seen them score shorties - and then there are times they just completely seem to collapse. I DO NOT FUCKING UNDERSTAND.

3) brings me to my third point. the coaches. specifically, marc crawford.

i’ve always liked jeremy colliton. I was a supporter of him when he first came onboard. he proved me right by leading us to the league best PP and league best points total from january onwards? something like that, I don’t remember exactly. anyway it was clear to me that by the end of last season the players had bought in to his system, they were settling into it and learning to play it well, and he’d earned their respect. and the hope was that with a full training camp he’d be able to get the team doing a lot more.

then they brought in crawford and i’m gonna be honest I hated that appointment from the start because he didn’t have a good rep with players and teams. there was an article I read about him, I can’t remember where and I can’t find it to link now, but he apparently used to treat players really badly, had shitty player management. and I didn’t like that.

and ever since he came in our lines have been fucked, our players look demoralised (but in all fairness this could be from that pattern of playing-well-and-not-winning - although if the lines and systems are instituted by crawford then fuck yeah he IS demoralising them anyway), and our special teams have gone down the drain. and from what I’ve learned, crawford is in charge of the PP and PK, so you know. you do the math.

you could argue colliton is still the head coach and therefore he should have the final say over his lines and systems. you wouldn’t be wrong either. but I personally find it hard to believe that a guy who managed to get us those PP and points in the second half of last season, who has shown serious hockey smarts and good leadership while managing the team during that time, someone usually intelligent and thoughtful when it came to his pressers and systems, is behind ALL of this bullshit.

HOWEVER. I will add that I don’t like the way he’s conducting pressers nowadays. it makes me feel like he’s throwing the team under the bus and I don’t like that AT ALL. and like I said it really surprises me because I find it hard to believe there’s such a difference from last season and this year. and I still really don’t think it’s a coincidence this season is fucking up with crawford behind the bench.

4) they need to play 91-19-88, they should have played 1988 together since at least three games ago, stop fucking experimenting with the top lines. we have two perfect, ready-made chemistry pairs that can feed off each other easy and play with almost anyone on the other wing. put them back together especially when this got us so much success last season.

I appreciate that with the emergence of kirby as a center, possibly a second or third line centre, and that solid third line of ours, dylan has been kind of moved down the pecking order. but dylan has something no one else seems to have, and that’s chemistry with alex. I mean if I could I wouldn’t want to touch the third line either, and putting kirby on the fourth line is stupid when he’s so good and he’s not a grinder and he’s actually been holding up well even when centering patrick, but it’s just. i’m never the doom and gloom type when it comes to my team, but this, this I feel is dire. maybe because of the way we play hard and play well and can’t seem to score. but just throw 1988 and 1712 back together for a few games and see what happens. it’s also not a coincidence that once 1988 got put back together they started generating offence and SOGs - which they both weren’t in previous games.

5) just to end my word vomit: I hate all the stupid fucks who are saying to “trade toews” or “fire bowman” lbr here stanbo brought in some really good trades last season and in the offseason, and like I saw one of the beats say, one of the worst parts of this whole situation is that the people he’s brought in have actually been playing well and made a difference, but the team as a whole just can’t pull out a win. and the people saying to trade jonny? lmao yeah of course because the troubles of the whole team lie on ONE MAN’S shoulders, i.e. our captain who has been actually working his ass off? i’m tired of all the shit being thrown at jonny all the time. people expect him to score 100 points when he’s not that kind of player. he’s not patrick, never has been, never should be, they’re two completely different types of players, and people NEVER seem to get that. it’s like they think oh 88 gets 100 points so 19 should too. but 88 also doesn’t play on the PK or have to forecheck and backcheck and play a hard-wearing defensive shutdown game in addition to his offensive responsibilities. the fuck? sometimes I wonder if these people actually WATCH hockey, because they don’t seem to get this and haven’t for years.

ugh, needed to get that off my chest. sorry if you actually bothered reading the whole way through ig! i’m just sad and angry and really really want my blackhawks to do well. i’m still holding out hope - i’m not giving up on this team - but I really need them to show some results. oh, and maybe for marc crawford to get fired.

#hockey #chicago blackhawks #I have thoughts and feelings so let me spew them at you #pls ignore this if you have to #It literally is just my stream of consciousness word vomit

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