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andraxicated · 2 years

Text

(virgin) killer tendencies

Pairings: mikey x f! reader w/ slight bonten/ran

pov: losing your virginity before becoming a netflix documentary

Tags: suggestive/smut | dark themes | yandere | stockholm syndrome

a/n: always stay safe when going out with your friends!

"Any message you want to give to your friend? Or to her kidnapper?"

The girl on the tv sobs, her beautiful face contorting, her voice breaking as she stares into the camera, crushing your heart. The last time you saw her was years ago, back when you drank, danced, and died. You miss her so much, you miss everyone so much.

Dreams of being successful women went all down the drain just because of that cursed night. You really can't blame anyone because all of those was your fault, everything that lead to this moment was all on you.

You and your heartbroken, party girl tendencies.

"I just hope she's in a good place now, it's been years-I-I don't know what to say to her. I wished I'd been more of a good friend." She grabs a tissue from the box in front and uses it to clean her nose. "And to her kidnapper...In this life, we might not get the justice (y/n) deserves but I know...that you will burn in hell—"

"Baby~" A hushed whisper tickles your ears that makes you stand up straight, your heart pounding against your chest from the nervousness and fear of the man behind you. He clasps his large against yours on the stairs, soothing the tension out of your body. He then presses a wet kiss on your neck, calloused palms traveling down to the hem of your sweater dress.

"I suggest we go back up before he notices you sneaking on him. Mikey is scary when he's angry isn't he?"

"Mhm. I'm sorry." You say before taking one last look at the people on the tv. All of them have sad faces, empty smiles, tired eyes and you feel so sorry for them. Sorry for ruining the plans and sorry for not being able to hear your messages to me. Most of all, the biggest apology should be toward yourself who sabotaged your own bright future. But at that time...everything was dark and bleak. Nothing mattered to you.

A trip upstairs lead to a simultaneous trip down memory lane. On that fatefully fucked up night.

Ran's hand on your back disappears along with the transformation of the scene before you. Your sweater dress changes into a red, glittery one, the hallway shifts into a loud bar, your face adorned with makeup, surrounded by friends and the smell of cigarettes; but the same dreadful feeling weighing you down stays the same.

-2 years ago-

You dreamed of being famous, but not this way.

The ear-splitting shatter of the glass onto the floor captures everyone's attention as you turn around in a daze. You see a girl's furrowed eyebrows and an annoyed expression etched on her as you look down on the spilt drink.

"Can you watch where you're going?"

Her anger was understandable so you had to apologize. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there. I'll pay for another drink-"

"Don't even bother." She crosses her arms and inches towards you, examining your face and your flaws. A smirk appears on her lips when she notices how familiar you look, an expression that you dread as you prepare yourself for her words.

"Aren't you the one who got dumped and caused a scene last Friday? The girl who-" She suddenly gets cut off when your friend from behind walks in front. Drunk as a skunk and she still has the power of her sharp tongue to insult people. You used to have that kind of attitude too but not when your inside is hollow.

"Shut the fuck up! She apologized right? Do you want a new bottle if you don't want a new glass?" Or do you want to be labeled this week's scene stealer?"

Your drunk friend retorts with an arm around your shoulder, her middle finger up to the people who backed down from her insults and chose not to cause a further scene.

Both of you chuckle at how pathetic and elementary the happening was and she guides you back to your booth. Her manicured nails encasing the glass bottle and overflowing the little shot glass she has. The liquor drips and you dodge in shock, preventing it from sticking to your legs and dress.

You get a tissue as your friend apologizes in a slurred speech. "I'm so sorry. I can't get my head right. I need water." "It's okay-"

The slam of the bottle startles you as you look at her glaring at you. It looks like the ones you get when she's about to get you an earful, acting like your personal life coach.

"Can you please stop apologizing? You turned into a fake ass meek girl just to please that now ex boyfriend of yours...do you even see yourself?"

Do you? You looked multiple times in the mirror to check on your blemishes, to check on your body and compare it to the ones he likes, so yes you always see yourself. And you full well know that you changed your personality and actions for him, only to end up getting cheated on with the supposed opposite of his ideal type.

Good thing you've never given him your virginity. It would be such a shame that an asshole got you first.

"I just want to go back to my free self." You lean onto the velvet material as you try to erase him out of your mind. Desperately creating a clean slate for a potential guy tonight.

"Then go back. No one's stopping you."

If you could only go back in time and just stayed in your room wallowing in self-pity...this would not have happened. You can't blame that advice because it didn't say you had to be that reckless. It was just your stupid drunken self driven by lust that got you in that situation.

You go outside for a breath of fresh air because the cigars are suffocating and you see a sleek black car blending right in the night alley. It looked so expensive from the exterior and the familiar brand on it, you could only wish to have the life of whoever owns that. You approach it to look into the window and see yourself, bending down to fix your messed hair.

"You want my car that bad?" Black haired, short, dressed in sweater and pants same color as his hair, tattooed neck, bloodshot eyes, and he reeks of danger. You should've ran when you saw him but little miss addicted to bad boys felt a butterflies in her stomach. That was all you could remember from the night you first saw Mikey.

His sudden appearance beside has you startled and standing up straight in embarrassment. You consciously drag down your dress as you might have flashed him with your panties, his eyes naturally darting over your action.

"I'm sorry. I was just looking for a mirror." You utter an excuse.

"Go on. That's not my car anyway."

What? You look at him with a confused face, silently asking who's the owner if he isn't. The man sees your questioning look and ponders on answering it before taking a crunchy bite of the taiyaki he's holding. You watch him chew, closed mouth and how his lips move, before looking away when he catches your gaze.

"Company car." He answers and you nod, thinking what kind of gigantic company this man works for.

Your train of thought suddenly gets cut off when he waves the fish shaped snack in front of your face, once again shocking you from how stealthily he moved; you didn't even notice him until then.

You meet Mikey's gaze on you and the taiyaki waving in front, deciphering his questioning eyes if you want to take a bite. If only you knew him years prior, you know he doesn't like to share his snacks especially the ones he like. But he found himself wanting to share with a random stranger wearing the sluttiest dress he's ever seen. Perhaps him catching wind of your black thong reeled him in as he lets his boner do the judging.

"Ah, I'll get some thank you."

Instead of taking a pinch with your fingers, you seductively leaned in and bit the head of the fish, parting the piece in your mouth from its body. Your upwards gaze to him was not assertive but rather meek, doe eyes subtly seducing the man while you pull away and chew. That phase of reading seduction books really helped when you glance down and saw the tightening of his pants, his shifting between foot, and the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

To know you were wanted and craved made you squirm while standing, a pressure forming on your center as your body gets tense.

"You have something on your lips" Mikey points out for you, his eyes fixated on your lips. A simple word that made you drop everything for you know what comes next.

"Where?" A coy question coming from your mouth even though you know where the dirt was. You could easily feel it hanging from the corner of your lips, yet you don't bother as you want to know what this man will do.

If he does exactly what you had in mind...then you're going home with him.

"Right here" He raises his thumb to wipe the red bean off your face. The sensation of a simple touch brought electricity to your body, making it more heated up and desperate for loving warmth.

"There's still some left" His voice drawls out lazily and you feel yourself getting lost in this dreamlike moment. He's intoxicated and you are too, he's lonely and so do you.

"Can you please get it for me?" And he leans to capture your lips with an openmouthed kiss, tongues dancing around each other for arousal. He grips your chin to move your head how he wants and you place your arms around his shoulder, pushing his head to a deeper kiss. Amidst shared breaths, you could feel how soft and sweet his lips were, lightly playing with the pleasing flesh. While on Mikey's point of view, yours was bittersweet. The red bean's taste and the previous bits of alcohol entered his system as he attempts to suck more of you.

It was passionate and heated, his hand already crept up to the inside of your dress, daring to feel your ass against the texture of the lace. That sealed the deal for the both of you to go home. You sadly pull away from the lack of breath as Mikey watches how smudged your lipstick were. You looked like a whore and it brought a smile to his face.

He had lipstick stains on his face too, scattered red like he got bombarded and played with. A chuckle leaves your lips and his eyes dart over to your smiling face. The corner of your cheeks pulling up and your eyes creasing. He felt like mimicking it as he forced himself to show you how happy he was. Mikey truly felt happy and alive in that moment, all the more to keep you by his side.

"You want to go for a drive?" "Maybe later" Your bold vixen personality reared itself as you push him against the car, biting his lip for a little tease before a messy clash of mouths occur on the dimly lit street. Oh and you remember; his finger that came back underneath your dress, teasing and massaging your clothed slit as you moan agape. Providing you with a bit of foreplay before introducing you to the main course.

-1:00 am-

As he drives onto a nearby hotel, you look out the window and see the lights passing by. A buzz comes from your phone to notify you that your friend has replied.

"I'm going to check in a hotel"

"Lol same. Stay safe!"

As you turn off your phone, you look at Mikey and question yourself why you're trusting a man who you don't even know. Someone you met minutes ago is taking you to a hotel, this was what people did right? In books, in movies, in whatever you've consumed, they just went with whoever they're with and had a one night stand.

A wrong move on your behalf.

He places his calloused palm to rest on your thigh, soothing then squeezing the flesh as you feel your core getting wet by the minute. A sly finger inches closer to your inner thighs, trying to pry your legs apart with his index and thumb and yet you chose not to budge.

"Playing hard to get?"

"Let me check your strength." You provoked and Mikey laughed, a stranger's rouse riling him up as no one dared to test his strength in years. The veins on his arms became prominent along with the tension on his fingers, it seemed like a split second where your legs were closed and now they were open. A spread palm in between and it clasps closer to your panties, holding the prize in a fit of victory.

"Satisfied?"

You were very satisfied with your first time. He brought you to a luxurious five star hotel, one that you've never dreamed of checking in. You were not dumb as you observed people's gazes on you, you're not some psychic who can read their minds nor an agent who can read body language. The timid girl on his arm could only wonder why those people were looking at you. That should've tickled your suspicion yet you brushed it off in the anticipation of getting fucked.

Well, it was worth looking forward to. Mikey had plans of treating you like a whore before you told him that you're a virgin. Wide eyed and brimming with tears, you're practically begging for him to take care of you. And so with a kiss to your forehead, his demeanor changes to that of a gentle lover.

"It's okay. No need to be scared" He coaxes you into his embrace as his fingers deftly unclasp your bra. Slowly pushing you onto the bed while he fixes his positioning on top of you.

Fragments of steamy memories flood your mind as you stare into another man's eyes. You thought you would look back on that night fondly because it was so intimate…a first time of a sacred act just between the two of you. But as you stare into Ran's eyes, a bitter smile creeps up when the realization struck you.

You were used and shared. You want to leave but your heart is too attached to the people of this house. When you finally get out…now what? The sinking feeling of despair gnaws at you as you realize outside of your little home, you were lonely. Just like the first time you ran away when you saw liquid red.

Ran's lips tickle upwards to your neck, kissing your jaw and capturing your lips with his own. Relying on your muscle memory, your legs automatically wrap around his waist, your hands clinging to his strong shoulders as he grinds his oncoming hard-on directly on your clothed cunt.

A moan then escapes from the shockwaves.

"Ah! Mikey!" You thrash with shaking legs, his harsh thrusts producing obscene squelches of your cum down below. There was no strength left on your lower half or your torso, you could only follow the ripple of your body as he uses it like a toy. A medium for all the frustrations in life.

Staring into the ceiling with drool coming out of your lips and cries between intervals, Mikey finds your sweet spot and his cock experimentally knocks on it the first few times; he looks up and sees your eyes blown wide.

"Found it" He smirks and starts fucking into you while watching your troubled expression. You were so cute and so expressive, you even permitted him to cum inside for your first time.

The splash of his warmth inside made your toes curl as he grinds a few times and closes his eyes in ecstasy while you close yours in exhaustion. The toy needs her rest after all.

You hear someone saying "Wake up"

...

"Fucking bitch—wake up!"

You open your eyes to the surprise of seeing yourself crisp and clear. The familiar mirror meets your confused face on the bed, a tripod and a camera standing in front, and your scattered mind trying to register what's going to happen.

"What-" You halt. And if you were sleepy before, then your whole body jolts awake to see the pink-haired psycho over your shoulder. He laughs upon the confirmation of you being scared of him, and so he rests a hand on your head, patting it like a pet.

"Don't be scared~" He coos, his attempt at comfort just brings a shiver to your whole body. What kind of sick kink does he have today?

"So before we start…" Sanzu's voice trails off as your ears block out every word he says. Your eyes look at everyone in the room through the mirror, counting the figures until your gaze lands on someone in the corner of the room.

Leaning against the wall while watching you, he seems to have seen you through the mirror too. You don't know why your heart still beats for the man who doesn't care.

You wished he would comfort you, you wished he would take you away, you wished he would be possessive and have you all to himself. But all of those dissipates when Mikey smiles at you, despite it being an empty one. Anything he gives, you take like a loyal dog.

You love him still.

"Any message you want to give to your friends? or to your family?"

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maxwell-grant · 2 years

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Any thoughts on the recent Street Fighter 6 News from Tokyo Game Show?

Oh GOD okay there's way too much stuff to go over and I don't really pay attention to the gameplay / competitive side, but some impressions

I'm still actually kinda shocked that they are really, 100%, not even half-assed or full-assed but ten-times-the-assed, taking Street Fighter to the future, coming off of IV and V. In retrospect, those games now feel like stepping stones necessary to get the franchise (and fighting games as a whole, because they all gravitate around Street Fighter's rises and falls and always have) back to a place where a project this massively ambitious could happen, and I'm still very much scared to get my hopes up even though every single trailer exceeds expectations.

I really cannot think of the last time, or any time, where a fighting game or Capcom game has been this upfront and downright brazen about all the stuff that's gonna be in it. They're not drip-feeding us gameplay modes or character reveals, the latter of which being, what, the main source of hype generation every fighting game's coasted on since IV revived the scene (or since Smash Ultimate broke sales records). It's like they are very well confident in what they're building up to here.

A small thing that I didn't notice until now but makes me really happy: All the character wallpapers in the website get their names written uniquely. Every character gets their own font on top of unique visual effects! I love this! I really, really love this, ever since I saw it in Marvel Super Heroes and MvC1 I have always wanted this to be a thing for more fighting games and more things in general. Blanka gets goofy electric monster font! Juri's looks like sinister Korean handwriting, while Dhalsim's looks like Hindi cursive. Ken gets The Batman title font mixed with Guy Fieri fire and it's a complete 180 from Ryu's calm paintbrush logo. I have never been able to gush about this before because I'd rarely seen this outside of those MvC games I listed and I love it so much, it's just, such a small thing that gets taken for granted so often. I love and always will love font choices being picked to reflect characterization.

A big thing that this trailer's highlight: Putting aside the character customization of it all, which is very cool don't get me wrong and definitely a long time coming for the series: You get to train with the World Warriors and this, more than anything else so far, really cements how seriously they're taking this. The World Warriors growing from competitors to champions to masters is something the series has been teasing and building up to for so long and only kind of living up to with some of them, so having ALL of the original World Warriors fully-fledged masters now and treated as such is already incredible, but the fact that now you get to actually train with them as part of a story mode?

It's everything, man. Everything I wanted, everything I needed, everything they should do and should have done, everything and more. It feels like they had to wait for the potential of game development to progress to this stage in order for this to possible, to actually progress Street Fighter into the real next big breakthrough for the series after SF2. This feels like the ideal world version of Street Fighter 3 more so than any of the SFIII games ever did and I say this as someone who likes SF3 and didn't just start calling Third Strike the best SF game ever after watching one EVO clip like the rest of you posers.

Couple of roster thoughts I missed the first time: I like Kimberly! She's super fun and expressive and well-animated, she's got a pretty cool gimmick, she matches really well the feel the game's going for, and she's a pretty inspired modernization of Guy's urban ninja shtick. I imagine she's gonna be an obnoxious nightmare to fight against because that's how it usually is with characters like her. I don't like her pants though and I'm kinda frustrated that we were like, this close, to finally getting a black female character in a Japanese fighting game that wasn't weirdly sexualized to some (or a thousand) degrees but, fine, the character works well and made a wonderful impression regardless and I'm glad she's become an instant fan favorite, debuting along the other fan favorite nonetheless.

Little to say on Juri other than she rocks, she looks the best she's ever looked, the new facial animations works WONDERS to sell her personality, I'm glad they scrapped everything about her V design other than her bike and phone, and her new design is brilliant. It goes back to everything that worked about her IV one but looking like that design got taken through the shredder. It's like 10% Taekwondo uniform and 90% punkass k-pop fetish maniac. Could not be more perfect for her.

We all caught you slipping those gratuitous feet shots in her trailer, Capcom. You can’t be blamed for giving this character’s fanbase exactly what they want, but you ain’t that slick.

Kinda goes without saying that all the characters are looking better than ever but, man, E.Honda looks great! I like E.Honda! I don't think most people like E.Honda and they never give him interesting things to do but I like him and I think the series would be worse off without him. I'm loving his change of outfit and oh man he’s another character who’s really benefitting from improved facial animations, LOOK at that kabuki scowl.

Love the new weight to his animations, how it looks like they’re emphasizing the kabuki side of his design more, as well as playing up the idea that he’s this jolly freak holding a title way below his skill level, who loves fighting and globetrotting and making friends and promoting his bathhouse too much to realize how thoroughly he’s undermined his own mission of making sumo a world-renowed sport by breaking every single sumo rule there is and could be.

E.Honda is the equivalent of a world-class chess player, diehard chess fanboy and globally-famous chess promoter who was never crowned chess champion, because he fought every chess match he ever played by eating the board and playing checkers instead. I will never get tired of having this big beautiful idiot around.

AEEEEEEEEEEEHOOOO BRASIL-SIL-SIL BLANKA HD MAIS BONITO DO QUE NUNCA

I don’t wanna get my hopes up too much but I really, really love that Blanka wasn’t left out as one of your story mode masters, and that you will in fact get to learn how to fight like him. I love his new gorilla-esque design (and he’s dressed in the Brazil flag colors too), I’m so glad that apparently we’re leaving behind the days of Blanka being the side character to Sakura and Dan. LOVE that his new voice actor is latino, and that so far the game’s marketing has done so much to emphasize Blanka as a big goofy sweetheart. Also love that the Blanka-chan dolls are a part of his gameplay now.

I love so much that Blanka’s grown up and gotten a job as a jungle tour guide, and that they took basically his joke storyline from V, with him getting cheated with mass-produced Blanka-chan dolls until finding a way to kinda sell them in Japan, and developed it into an actual story and extension of his growth across the past games: He’s trying to get famous with those dolls and his new job so he can provide for his mom as best he can. It’s adorable and sad at once and I can’t wait to see what his story role looks like.

KEN I’M SORRY ANYONE EVER DOUBTED YOU INCLUDING ME

EVERYONE PEGGED YOU FOR A DIVORCED JOKE BUT YOU WERE OUT THERE PUTTING EVERYTHING ON THE LINE AND FIGHTING TO KEEP YOUR FAMILY (AND RANDOM DOCK WORKERS) SAFE WHILE ALSO BEING A MILLION TIMES COOLER THAN YOU EVER WERE BEFORE

(thank god they finally fixed your fucking hair)

WE ALL KICKED AN AMERICAN HERO WHILE HE WAS DOWN

KEN PLEASE EXPLAIN WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED WITH YOU AND WHY DID YOU STEAL BATMAN’S FONT AND WHAT IS WITH THAT SICK-ASS BLOOD SPLATTER IN YOUR OFFICIAL ART

I NEED TO KNOW MEL AND ELIZA ARE SAFE

KEN

KEN WHO DID YOU KILL

#replies tag #street fighter #sf #sf6 #capcom #fighting games #fgc #juri han #e.honda #blanka #ken masters #kimberly

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits, but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu

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lazysublimeengineer · 3 years

Text

i tasted life

Title: i tasted life

Summary: He could say thousands of words laced in silky threads of affection and sweet encouragement. But he wasn’t made that way. Words were not his forte.

Character/s: Ryuuguugi "Draken" Ken, Hanagaki "Takemitchy" Takemichi, Kawaragi Senju

I tasted life

- Emily Dickinson

His jet-black jacket glistened sharply under the moonlight as they traversed back to their residences after that meeting with the Brahman. Takemichi was uncharacteristically silent as he stared straight ahead on the road. The normally bubbly and boisterous blond was reticent as he walked beside Draken who had his hands in both of his pockets. Takemichi was still processing the earlier events that had happened at that meeting which frankly looked like an underground fighting ground that reminded him of that unsanctioned street fighting led by Kiyomasa during their middle school years.

After the official announcement made by Senju about him now being a member of the Brahman, that’s when it finally hit him. He really was risking everything on the line including his life again to make Mikey’s future great and peaceful along with them. Nevertheless, Takemichi didn’t feel any anxiety or doubt within himself. He felt that he was doing the right thing and everything was falling into the right pieces.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that wanted to crawl outside of his being.

“Oi. Takemitchy.”

Draken’s familiar deep and baritone voice jolted him out of his thoughts and looked up at him. Those sharp yet concerned obsidian irises were trained on him as if trying to decipher his innermost feelings and thoughts with that single gaze alone.

A warm feeling started to creep inside his chest and Takemichi resisted the urge to smile like an idiot in front of him.

“Yeah Draken-kun?” Takemichi gazed back at him curiously.

“You okay there? I can almost hear your loud, running thoughts you know.” He commented noncommittally but there was a tinge of concern beneath his nonchalant tone.

It made Takemichi chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ah, sorry about that Draken-kun. I got lost in my head again. Sometimes.” He smiled sheepishly at him.

It made Draken paused and just stared at Takemichi’s figure who was now walking past him. But the blond had noticed that he stopped walking and turned back to him.

“Draken-kun?”

Draken didn’t know what kind of face he was making but Takemichi looked at him with his tender, blue eyes that were devoid of malice and were just watching in genuine predilection and goodwill.

It made something inside of him break. He could say thousands of words laced in silky threads of affection and sweet encouragement. But he wasn’t made that way. Words were not his forte.

But what he lacked in words made up for the simplicity of his actions and for him that was enough.

He walked quietly towards Takemichi and stopped right in front of him. Before the other could react, his arms enveloped him in a firm yet gentle hug.

“You’re wearing that kind of face once again Takemitchy. For once, I gotta tell you to stop looking like that cause you’re not alone in this fight. Not anymore. We’ll save and bring Mikey back together. Understood?” His whisper was a gentle caress around Takemichi’s being that promised a brighter future and a dazzling ray of hope.

However, why did it feel different for Takemichi?

Why did it feel like a veil of a passing bell under the gloomy skies hung around them?

“Yeah…” Takemichi choked out a response, trying to swallow back his tears but his eyes glistened slowly. He could only return back his hug tightly as if he was afraid to let him go.

Takemichi couldn’t afford to break down and cry now even if he was on the verge of wailing like a lost kid. He promised himself that he wouldn’t lose his resolve and would just keep on fighting to make things better for all of them. Although he felt like his entire being was drowning away in quicksand, just being in Draken’s arms and firm grip seemed like a strong foundation that he can lean on.

“Thank you Draken-kun…” He whispered back and the other could only hug him back tighter in response.

“No. Thank you Takemitchy. For saving me and everyone. I’ll make sure that this will be your last mission for us.”

Takemichi’s heart quavered loudly inside his chest at his response and he wasn’t sure if it’s a good or a bad thing.

Takemichi inserted his keys into the keyhole of the front door of his house and turned on the knob. After his brief but lingering moment of respite with Draken on the road, exhaustion finally crept inside of him. All he wanted to do was to fall back on his bed and sleep the night away since he knew that he had to be prepared for the next day to come. He went inside and turned on the lights, flooding the living room with a brilliant spark of the white light.

The silence was deafening inside his house but it was nothing new.

He got used to living alone and greeting no one since his parents were busy with their own careers and lives to pay attention to him anyway.

The numbness inside his heart was growing but he chose to ignore it and just headed straight to his room upstairs when he paused all of a sudden, blinking a few times when he heard a noise.

A shiver ran down Takemichi’s spine before he steeled himself and continued making his way upstairs cautiously.

As he got nearer, he could hear someone singing. It’s like a song being played. Was the radio on?

A long, long time ago

I can still remember how that music

Used to make me smile

And I knew if I had my chance

That I could make those people dance

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

It was a smooth voice of a male singing an English song that Takemichi knew nothing about. But the tone of the song had a funny yet melancholic vibe to him for some strange reason.

He was now standing in front of his doorstep to his room.

But February made me shiver

With every paper I'd deliver

Bad news on the doorstep

I couldn't take one more step

I can't remember if I cried

When I read about his widowed bride

Something touched me deep inside

The day the music died

Takemichi swallowed thickly. His heart was hammering wildly inside his chest as his hand reached out to turn the knob of the door to open it and what greeted his line of sight made him froze and mind blanked out for a second.

So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singin', "This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die"

In front of him was a phonograph, playing a vinyl.

And a blond male sitting in a chair with his wide eyes open and his mouth dripping with blood that went through his shirt and painted it a dark shade of crimson.

It was him.

He screamed and shot up from the bed all of a sudden. Takemichi looked around. He’s inside his own room and in his pajamas. There’s no phonograph that sounded like a death knell.

And there’s no dead doppelganger in front of him.

He was awakened from his nightmare which was dressed like a daydream.

“Hanagaki!” Senju hollered at him when he successfully tackled her on the ground and shielded her away from the bullets that the masked man shot in front of them.

“Are you alright Senju?” He asked worriedly.

“Eh?” Senju could only look up at him, still taken aback by what he did.

“I can’t let you die.” Takemichi said determinedly, staring at her intently which made the other gawk at him in silence, a slight blush marring her cheeks.

“Die Hanagaki!” The masked man screamed at them and shot at them again with his gun.

Takemichi could only close his eyes tightly as he waited for the bullets to land on his body.

But it never came.

“You good Takemitchy?” Draken drawled out as he glanced at him before approaching the masked men who grew fearful of him and dropped their guns, running away.

It made Takemichi opened his eyes and stared at Draken with wide eyes.

“Thank you so much Draken-kun…” There was gratefulness behind his voice.

Draken smiled wryly before he kicked the gun away. “They got the nerve to attack with such dangerous weapons.”

After Takemichi made sure that Senju’s completely okay, he went towards Draken’s spot and quickly leaned closer to his ear to whisper something.

“Let’s keep us it between us, but… Just now, I was able to foresee the future.”

It made Draken’s eyes wide for a fraction of a second.

“In that future, I saw Senju protecting me. I’ve prevented that outcome.” Takemichi continued to whisper seriously to him.

Meanwhile, Senju was looking at both of them with a curious yet perplexed expression on her face.

“What are you guys whispering about?” She asked.

“It’s all thanks to you Draken-kun. We’ve successfully changed one future!”

“Is that so…” Draken had a wistful smile on his face afterward. “Then I’m glad.”

“Hey, I think we gotta go! We’ll be in trouble if someone gets here!” Senju cut off their whisperings towards each other with a worried reminder.

Takemichi immediately sprang into action. “Ah, you’re right!”

They’re both running now when Takemichi noticed that Draken was just standing there and not doing anything.

“Draken-kun?” He paused and called out hesitantly.

His back was still turned to him when Draken spoke his words. “Takemichi… Please tell this to Mikey…”

“Huh?”

“Don’t cause too much trouble…”

“What are you talking about?! You tell him yourse-.”

He stopped midsentence when Draken crumpled down to the ground like a ragdoll.

Takemichi felt like a cold bucket of water was spilled on him as his eyes grew wide as saucers and stood frozen for a moment.

“I’ve done all I can do.” Draken murmured with a peaceful smile on his lips as his eyes watched dazedly on the raindrops that pelted on his body.

I started singin', bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singin', "This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die"

(A/N: The day I own these characters is the day that my fanfic is the bestselling novel on the market which will never happen. Inspired by the events from chapter 221 of the manga. Senju lived. Mikey finally appeared. But at what cost? Also, I was listening to the song American Pie by Don Mclean when I was writing this fic and it fits since behind that upbeat yet lazy tone of the singer, the lyrics and the message of the song are quite tragic. Which honestly fits into the latest chapter of the manga. Lastly, where the hell is Wakasa? He only appeared for 2 chapters and I missed him already. I need to see him in the next chapter to free me from the angsty land of the latest chapter. Reviews are entertaining. So, let me hear them from you.)

#tokyorevengers #fanfiction #spoilers #manga spoilers for chapter 221 #doratake #drakenmichi #angst #character study #relationship study #takemichi hanagaki #draken #kawaragi senju #takemitchy #senju

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #ironstrange x reader #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark fanfiction #stephen strange fanfiction

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pixelwisp-archive · 3 years

Text

Itadakimasu!! | Part 11: I'm Sorry (Written Chapter)

word count: 3.1k

The Mixtape: Thinking of you | CA, 1979

The music that pooled out of Onigiri Miya was anything but what you expected. A small smile crept up onto your face - despite your best efforts - and with a featherlight touch, you crept into the restaurant, silently thanking the soft jazz for drowning out the creaks as you pushed the door open in search of a certain chef.

Osamu stood at the sink, hands working some leftover dishes from the work day. He hummed softly along to the music, and it surprised you just how nice he sounded - how his deep hum complemented the honey voice that dripped through the speakers; rich, thick, and soft like velvet. You padded into the kitchen, clutching the wine and apron closer to your frame so as not to bump it on anything that could give you away, and allowed yourself a few minutes to listen and appreciate before ultimately ruining the moment.

“I didn’t know you could sing, Miya.” You brought a hand up to suppress a giggle as he stiffened and dropped the plate he had been washing with a loud clatter. Osamu bowed his head and cleared his throat, loud enough to drown out the music for a brief moment before it ultimately pervaded the kitchen once more. He grabbed the nearest towel to dry his hands before reaching for the remote, the music ceasing with a quick click. Once he turned around, your eyes immediately fell on the dusted pink that settled onto his cheeks, and you did your best to ignore the warmth that ignited in your chest at the sight.

"So, Etta James, huh?" Osamu coughed awkwardly, turning his attention back toward the sink to finish up the last few dishes that lingered in the basin.

"Ya know Etta James?" An affirming hum left your lips as you placed the bottle of wine and your apron on the island, eyes flitting over the rustic kitchen in search of wine glasses.

The kitchen was a decent size, the bright wooden counters and cabinets a stark contrast to the dark iron of the appliances, but it complemented each other and suited the space well. The soft ivory paint on the walls kept the overall area from being too loud compared to the rest of the restaurant, and you wondered if Kita was behind the greenery that added a lush, vibrant addition to the otherwise plain shop. Your eyes landed on a modest pile of cookbooks stored neatly in the corner, and you let out a huff of victory as you made your way over to the wine glasses that sat in a windowed cabinet above them.

"My parents were big fans, they've always had a funny fascination with America," you explained, and from the corner of your eye you saw him nod. The two of you relished in the, for once, comfortable beats of silence that followed, and you were surprised when he - for a second time since you had met him - decided to be the one break it.

"My Ma used to have this busted up, old, mix tape that she would play every night when she made dinner. Got it at a flea market when she spent a semester abroad in California. She always talked about how she wished she could visit again." The fondness in his voice made your heart squeeze. You busied yourself, listening intently as you placed two wine glasses onto the counter and filled them generously. "Eventually the cassette broke from years of abuse, but I managed to find the songs and make her a playlist. She still listens to it, every night, and I guess I got so used to it that it feels almost...wrong, to cook without hearin' it in the background, even though I'm not home anymore." You slid one glass over to him and he raised a brow at it, a soft smile pointed your way.

"I think ya skimped me a bit," he joked, and you chuckled sheepishly, a hand coming to scratch the back of your neck.

"What can I say, I like my wine." He chuckles as you reach for the small remote.

"You didn't have to stop it, you know. I love me some Etta," you said, and his smile widened ever so slightly as you pressed play, the smooth voice fluttering through the speakers once more, softer this time as you adjusted the volume. You lifted the wine glass to your lips, taking a tentative first sip. The second the bittersweet liquid hit your tongue, you closed your eyes and sighed into the familiarity. It flashed you back to Tokyo; the seemingly endless nights on the balcony with Tendou and Semi, your drunken laughter rivaling the music in volume as Semi sang along with fervor - but, really, does anyone sound good when they're nearly a bottle deep?

Reality slammed into you like a meteor, and you were instantly struck back into the present moment, meeting Osamu's eyes as he watched you curiously. You felt the warmth crawl up your neck from the embarrassment, and you cleared your throat in the hopes that you could divert his attention to literally anything else.

"So, are you gonna teach me how to properly make some Onigiri tonight?" His eyes fell on the apron you brought, the one he gifted to you, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as his lips settled into a playful smirk.

"Who said anythin' about 'teach'? I said I'd show ya how I make it; I didn' say nothin' about teachin' ya."

"And miss out on learning how to make Onigiri Miya's signature dish? No way." Osamu scoffed as you grabbed your apron and began tying it around your waist. His arms folded in front of him, his lips a thin line. You couldn't tell if he was thinking or already disapproving.

"This was meant to be an apology, you know," he started, but you cut him off.

"I know! And what better apology than by helping me perfect my shaping?" The resigned sigh that followed meant a victory for you, the grin proof enough for both of you that you had won. "So, what are we making today?"

"I figured I'd keep it simple tonight. Ya like fatty tuna?" Of course you do. Who doesn’t? "Great, let's get started then."

To be honest, you weren't expecting Osamu to be as patient with you as he was. Even though you were decently acquainted with the 'art form' that was Onigiri (as so eloquently and dramatically described by Osamu), you decided to entertain him and pretend to struggle with every step - over shredding the tuna, spilling the spices, adding too much mayo - in the minor hope that you could catch him stressed and maybe a bit frustrated - but to your somewhat disappointment, mostly pleasant surprise, every effort to get at least a furrowed brow or a groan was met with a warm smile, sometimes a breathy chuckle, and a strong pair of arms gently guiding you through the correct steps.

It was as equally frustrating as it was endearing.

"Now ya wanna dip yer hands into the dish of water I left on the side for ya, yeah, great, that's it - now grab a pinch of salt - not too much, just a pinch, and ya wanna rub it into yer hands to prep for the rice."

"What if I have a cut somewhere?"

"Do ya have a cut?"

"Well, not that I know of, but what if there's a cut I don't know about?"

"Well then I guess we'll find out soon, won' we?"

You huffed, but nonetheless pinched the tiny mountain of salt and collected a modest amount before tentatively rubbing it into your hands. Your shoulders were stiff the entire time, prepared for the sudden sting on the off chance the salt decided to acquaint itself with an unknown wound on your hand. You heard Osamu stifle a laugh, and your eyes met his as he smirked at your cautious form.

"Stop staring at me, focus on your own stupid rice ball." He laughed - loudly, beautifully - and you felt your hands tremble the slightest bit as you tried to put all of your focus on making a stupid, dumb triangle out of some stupid, dumb rice.

"Need some help?" You merely grumbled in response as the little bundle of rice and filling crumbled in your hands, despite your feeble attempts at shaping it. He set his own, perfectly shaped, onigiri aside and scooched over to you, his arms reaching around your form, chest pressed lightly against your back. "Yer pressing in too softly, so the rice isn't holding. Cup yer hands like this-" he cupped your hands within his own "-just like that. Now press a little firmer, like this." You were trying your best to pay attention to what he was showing you, you really were - but you couldn't help but marvel at how soft his hands were. You expected them to be rough; calloused from years of cooking, volleyball, and the handyman side hobby, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What kind of lotion did he use to make them feel so smooth? Probably some fancy homemade Aloe Vera lotion Kita made for him, you thought with a scoff.

This new revelation had also made you hyper aware that your hands were not, in fact, soft - countless burns, cuts, and other various acts of carelessness in the kitchen have given your hands a battle worn texture that no amount of hoity toity, all natural Aloe Vera would be able to soften up. He must have been cringing inside just having to touch the absolute burlap that is your haggard looking, stupid hands, oh god-

"Nice job, yer doin' great." The gentleness in his voice plucked you from your inner turmoil, effectively grounding you back to the task at hand. What was once a crumbling mess of rice and tuna now stood a beautifully crafted onigiri, the plump triangle nestled snuggly in between your hands. A gasp left you as you beamed at the finished product, and you whipped your head toward him, twisting slightly within his grip so you could face him properly.

It was then that you realized just how close he was to you.

Whatever words you had planned to say to him died in your throat as your brain tried to comprehend why the hell his face was so close to yours. Osamu seemed to be in a similar state of shock, eyes wide and mouth emulating a fish, opening and shutting when the words weren't coming to him. From the way your own mouth gaped, you imagined you shared a similar expression.

Simultaneously, almost comically, you separated yourselves and severed eye contact, Osamu finding something above you particularly interesting. What exactly, you weren't sure - you were too busy eyeing every minute detail of the remarkably plain tile flooring.

Like an awkward embrace from an old friend you never truly vibed with, the uncomfortable silence settled between you two once again.

It would have almost felt nostalgic, if you didn't hate it with a seething passion.

'And my arms need someone, someone to enfold'

The playful jazz number cut through the silence, and you mentally cursed Etta for clearly not reading the room - your arms were certainly not looking to enfold anybody at the moment, and you imagined it was likely that Osamu felt the same.

You spun back around toward your work station, a quick roll of your shoulders the only indication that you were gonna keep working, because you sure as shit didn't trust whatever would have come out of your mouth had you chosen to open it. Lucky for you, he seemed to get the hint and moved back toward his own work station, making quick work of shaping what he had left, while you continued to struggle, albeit far less than before.

Not a word had been uttered in the moments that followed, the music filling the awkward rift that split between you.

To be honest, you felt guilty that nearly every interaction between you two inevitably dissolved into a dense, unbearable tension; the once lighthearted mood suddenly cracked open like a fault line, the quiet settling between you like dust, and it always felt so thick that trying to bring the moment back its old, enlightened state seemed to take such an immense amount of effort - effort that neither one of you appeared to want to put forth.

You wondered if Osamu shared a similar sentiment.

While you finished up the last of your onigiri, you allowed your attention to flicker to Osamu as he eyed the leftover tuna filling with seemingly great interest, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he scooped the mess onto his finger, putting obvious effort into keeping it balanced as he brought the teetering pile to his lips. Right as he went to close his lips around his finger, the tiny mountain fell, smearing onto his chin and landing on the counter with the saddest little ‘splat’ you'd ever heard. The disappointment he exuded at his misfortune is what ultimately broke you, and you laughed - a bright, gleeful sound that dispelled the suffocating air in an instant, and made you feel like you could finally breathe again (which was ironic, considering how out of breath you were from the incessant giggles that sprung free with absolutely no regard for your lung capacity).

Your hand flew to your mouth in an (admittedly failed) attempt to stifle yourself, as well as possibly save the last shred of rapidly waning dignity Osamu was probably holding onto for dear life. You folded in on yourself, laughter bouncing off the restaurant floor and - again, probably - stabbing directly into Osamu's crumbling pride.

Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, Osamu's loud, beautiful laugh cut through your own, and at the sight of his uncharacteristically bright smile, accompanied with the little smear of mayo on his chin, you realized that, maybe, probably, he was actually doing just fine; and that this - laughing with him - was something you'd never been given the chance to do before, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't something you wished you could do more often.

You hoped that, maybe, Osamu wanted that, too.

"So, I take it they didn't teach you how to make onigiri at your fancy schmancy culinary school?" He smiled as you bit back a groan. It was embarrassing, how ugly your onigiri looked next to his. Sure, you were joking about your incompetence in the beginning in the hopes to rile him up a little; but when it came to actually forming the balls, well - there's a reason the spite onigiri you made were small and round.

"You win this time, rice man." He boldly plucked one of your creations and plopped it onto his plate, while you opted for one of his. You knew yours were gonna have too much mayo and way too much seasoning, and you weren't about to subject yourself to that.

You took a bite out of the rice ball and audibly moaned - how is something so simple so delicious? He chuckled, lazy smile draped across his features as he watched you eat. The little sparkle in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you, and you felt a tiny tug on your heart at how excited he was that you were enjoying his food, even if he wasn't being outwardly showy about it like you tended to be.

"'This time'? Does that mean we're doing this again?" You reached for another one of his as you hummed to yourself.

"Hmm, maybe. Maybe I'll force you to bake me some macarons." You were kidding, of course - you wouldn't wish that upon even your worst enemies - but the way his eyes brightened and he agreed with a small but noticeable lilt to his voice had you wondering if maybe making macarons wouldn't be all that bad if you made them with him.

He bit into your onigiri, taking a far more generous bite than you would have, and you snickered at the obvious attempt to conceal the grimace he had involuntarily made upon swallowing. The way he tiptoed around his critique of your failure was incredibly endearing ("It's not bad, just...mayo-y." "You don't have to eat it, you know." "No no, you worked hard, I'm gonna eat it."), and you felt the first little crack form in the walls you had begun to keep up around him ever since the curry incident.

The longer you enjoyed the food, wine, and - surprisingly - company, the harder it became to ignore the guilt that had settled onto your heart earlier in the evening. What started off as a mere twinge had become a sizeable weight in your chest, growing each moment you spent with him that didn't make you want to launch him off the summit of Mount Fuji.

"I'm sorry," you said, quiet and out of the blue. He shot you a confused smile.

"Pretty sure that's my job right now," he pointed out, and you offered a meek chuckle in response.

"I shouldn't have sold the dessert onigiri. Seeing just how passionate you are makes me realize the gravity of what I did. My ego was a little bruised and instead of being an adult about it, I openly insulted you and Kita by making a mockery of your business. I took it too far, and I'm really sorry about that. I'm sure it goes without saying, but I'm gonna stop making them so you don't have to worry anymore." He was quiet, staring at you in a way he hadn't before, and it made you feel far too exposed, playing with the rice crumbled on your plate as you waited for a reaction.

"I'm sorry, too. I only said those things because the idea of you expanding yer menu terrified me. Yer an amazin' chef, and I honestly think ya could run me out of business one day." His voice was soft, too; and you felt the crack grow considerably wider, your vulnerability peeking through pinched brows and hands that you couldn't seem to keep still. "I've always wanted to open up a location in Tokyo, and expand the menu. Onigiri made sense because it's always been a source of comfort, but as much as I love makin' em, there're others things I wanna make, too."

The air between you was...light. The weight that usually settled itself into your shoulder blades seemed to have dissipated, and you couldn't tell if it was the wine, the time, or Osamu. Maybe it was all three.

"I...I like it better when we don't hate each other," you said.

"I never hated you," he said.

"I never hated you either," you admitted.

"Does that mean we can stop pretending we do?" He looked you, and you saw hope.

You smiled.

"Yeah," you said. "We can."

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Fun facts -

Osamu listening to old 60′s love songs just did something to me ok, especially my girl Etta

Kita is 100% responsible for the plants

Osamu’s mom kept the tape, even after it finally broke beyond repair. It reminds her of Osamu’s father, who she met that summer in Cali

he was another exchange student from Japan. They had a summer fling and inevitably said their goodbyes when the summer was over and he had to fly back home.

They ended up bumping into each other a year after she moved back - and fate has been a big theme for the Miya’s ever since.

Osamu has always felt a little funny about it - it feels too convenient, and he doesn’t like the idea of not being in control of his own path.

He thought your ugly rice balls were disgusting, obviously, and he was sure to eat his own after the first one lmao

A/n - when you haven’t updated in so long you have to look at past chapters to remember how you formatted 😭. BUT ITS FINALLY DONEEEE, this chapter KICKED my ass oh my god but it feels so good to be finished and we’re finally moving into new territory~ I’m very excited for the next few chapters!! I hope you guys enjoy this latest chapter, please don’t be afraid to shoot me messages if you have questions!! I have a LOT of behind the scenes content that doesn’t make it into the fic sometimes and I’m always eager to share 🤩✨💛

Taglist (bolded cannot be tagged!)-

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid @keiarma @cherriechurros @halesandy @k3nma-fairy @jewlmin @tabipleats @kaleidoscopekai @confusedturtle @vintagexparker @hoeevern @syaziahvg @hallothankmas @lilith412426 @aurorahoneybuns @oikawakuns @reina-de-tay @prettyinblack231 @snowyseungs @darlingkuroo @chloji @1sillylittlething

#Itadakimasu!!#osamu smau #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya smau #osamu miya #osamu x y/n #haikyuu smau #haikyu smau #hq smau #hq!! smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x you #haikyu x reader #hq!! x reader #hq x reader #osamu x you

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heir-of-talon · 3 years

Text

Another chapter with my favourite ship. But maybe I should wreck it?

HEIR OF TALON 3

Warnings: explicit/underage

Summary:

Garret and Ember spend a day together trying to have fun.

Boy of summer

Garret

I woke up aroused and confused entangled in Ember's warm body. She was asleep, with her thigh carelessly thrown across my hips, her arm resting on my chest with the palm over my rapidly beating heart. I laid motionless for a while enjoying the touch of our bodies, feeling her breath on my neck and wishing that we could stay like this forever. But how could we with all the work awaiting us? This was not a good life for a young girl. Not that I knew much about it, yet still I could see her fading away, every time I saw her she was less lively, less herself and more tired, sad or angry. She insisted that this was what she wanted, that this was important to her. But the Order was less and less important to me. With each group of survivors emerging I could see, that the Order of St George was founded on values, that I could no longer share or excuse. I only continued as their commander to ensure, that the Order will not bounce right back and attack the dragons. But maybe being away in order to protect Ember from a change of hearts in the Order I was failing her in other ways, that were just as important. There, bleak thoughts chased away excitement and pleasure. I needed to get up and get active to clear my head.

I tried gently to wriggle free of Ember's limbs when she tensed and a pair of green eyes snapped open pinning me with intense gaze. The tension and expression melted away almost immediately and she smiled lazily. "Good morning commander" she said raising on one elbow to gaze down at me. Her fingertips slowly traced irregular patterns on the bare skin of my chest sending sweet thrills into my stomach. She pouted her lips and my thoughts strayed to another time, when she was touching me like that, a cargo bed in a clearing in some forgotten end of woods. I wanted her so much, I gathered her closer to my chest with my one arm. "Good morning ma'am, any special wishes for your humble servant?" She giggled and patted me mockingly. "Don't! Think if somebody hears us now? That would ruin the alliance. They would think I have you in thrall." She teased. "Maybe you do?" I said solemnly. "I do what?" She asked. "Have me in thrall. Because I feel that I would do anything for you without giving it a second thought". I looked deep into her eyes letting the joke and the truth sink in. Ember smiled and kissed me, pressing her body closer to mine. I ran my hand down her back and ass and felt heat kindling again in the pit of my stomach. She felt my cock pressing at her thigh and purred with delight before she straddled me grinding her breasts and belly against my upper body. I held her and kissed her, tasting her tongue and breath. I wanted her, my loins were on fire aching with desire and she was right there on top of me, warm and eager. I wanted her to burn me again, if she must. I just needed to be as close as possible. Some part of me seemed melting and running into her already. I felt my heart burning for her when my hands slipped under her t-shirt and stroked her back and sides of her breast, that were pressed tightly against me. I gripped her ass with my other hand. We needed to get her out of these clothes. I peered into Ember's eyes to tell her that and my voice caught in my throat. I could feel blood chilling in my veins. The impression was there and gone but I suddenly felt strange premonition and a thought crossed my mind, that she could just as well be on another planet the way things were. As if some illusion got dispelled by whatever I found on the bottom of the smiling green eyes. So I took her face in both my hands, kissed her briefly and asked. "What do you want to do today?"

"How about nothing?" She said. "I should probably go to my office and grant a ratification of Viper's agreement." She mused, her forehead creasing. "What are you going to do?" She asked. "I'm taking a day off to maintain my dragon girlfriend" I said smiling. "She can literally breath fire and bite my head off and I've been rather neglecting her lately..." Ember smiled happily and kissed me. "Deal. I cannot believe it is the soldier who talks me into skipping work!" She laughed. I rolled to the side making her to lay down beside me and kissing her. We kissed and touched for some time and it was great even though some of the strangely unpleasant feeling lingered in my chest. At last Ember declared herself famished and we decided to leave the bed and seek some breakfast.

*****

I walked towards the waterline with my newly bought and waxed surfing board. Ember let herself woo into buying a new high-tech board that doesn't require waxing by the attendant at the surfing shop and course centre by the beach. Then she proceeded to huff and puff and roll her eyes when I waxed mine with the attendant giving me tips and talking about how fine the weather was for surfing. When I was finished she ran towards the water and now waited for me in shallows beckoning for me to hurry. "Come on Garret! What is it? Are you regretting our bet?" She grinned. I said nothing watching distant surf ahead. "Don't worry, I'll treat you kindly when you lose." "How generous of you." I answered and started deeper into the water. I was exhilarated I could almost feel the vastness of the ocean surrounding me, the freedom calling to me. I looked at Ember and could see, that she had the same revelation. She was grinning madly with her eyes shining, there was nothing left of the exhausted girl in crumpled suit from yesterday. She might be CEO of Talon but she looked more like an overworked intern. It was quite a swim to reach the swells, but neither of us complained. Finally we were there and the wave was coming. Ember's attention focused completely on getting ready to catch it, so I decided to strike back. "How much money?!" I shouted. "What?" She seemed confused her eyes still focused on incoming swells. "How much money you bet on me being pounded more than you?!" "Million dollars soldier boy, you are going down!" She shouted and made to stand up anytime. "I cannot match that!" I teased her. "Million dollars against a daim!" She grinned madly and tried to stand up. I followed her suit and after wobbling a bit went tumbling off into turquoise waters. When I emerged and got water out of my eyes I saw Ember already recovering her board visibly enjoying herself.

Her enjoyment was somewhat diminished when, after three more approaches, where we both got wiped out, I managed to catch the wave and ride it without falling. The experience was almost overwhelming, after months of running, fighting and then managing what was left of the Order, I have almost forgotten, what it is like to do something for the sheer feeling of it. Three more rides and Ember was scowling, she fell off every time and finally, I could not enjoy this anymore. "Let's call it a day!" I shouted to her. "No! You don't get to win this easily!" She seemed close to tears and I could not stand the thought, that I have somehow caused this. I could not remember Ember being such a sour loser. I waded all the way to her and hugged her tightly. "Ember, it's not fun anymore. Let's go and get something to eat." Food managed to lift her spirits nine out of ten times. She looked at me as if she was about to say something nasty, but then she seemed to relax.

We got out of water, changed into dry clothes and drove to a steak house not far away. Over a steak that could cover her whole upper body Ember seemed to cheer up a bit. I watched amazed as the enormous piece of meat disappeared fast in this slip of a girl. It was fascinating, how could I ever have missed this ravenous appetite?

"Go on. Mock me. I deserve it." She said. "Come on Ember, can't we let it go? Or maybe agree on best out of three..." I did not care a bit about this wager, and it definitely was not worth Ember's discomfort for me. "No! I've lost miserably and now have to explain to Archivist, why exactly we have to transfer one million dollars to you." I was dumbstruck. "Don't even think about it! I wouldn't accept it. I didn't mean it seriously." She must have hit her head. "A bet is a bet. You might not have meant it, but I did." She said. "Why? Why would you want to bet a million to a daim on anything?". I was incredulous. "Because I was sure I'd win? Because I have all this millions and apparently can't use them on anything that would bring me joy..." Ember was tearing up again, it pained me to see her so fragile, she was definitely not well. I stood up and slipped into our booth on her side of the table. I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to my chest. "I don't want your money Ember. I love you. I want you to be happy. I know you feel that changing Talon is your responsibility, but maybe someone else could help to administrate the changes?" She looked at me doubtfully. "If you have that much money, maybe pay uncle Liam and aunt Sarah to take care of you in Crescent Beach until you turn eighteen? You could surf every day after school with Lexi and Calvin." I stopped seeing her gaping at me. Then she started to laugh, somewhat joyless, until it turned into sobs and she was weeping and I had no idea what to do other than to hold her.

At last she came to herself. "Oh Garret, how wonderful this would be. But it's impossible." "Why? Why is it impossible Ember? I am sick of the Order. They are adults, let them clean their own mess. We need to do other things in our lives than their bidding. Isn't that why you've rebelled in the first place?" She watched me in silence. "I would gladly leave the Order. Even if that meant I'd have to go to school and work at a gas station. If it meant that I could be with you." I stopped having said all I had to say.

"Oh my! Garret, you truly mean it?!" She said at last. Then she looked very conflicted. "They will never let us go Garret. I don't know if I can live a normal life. This is too much!" But I could feel that she was considering it, so I said. "You don't have to decide right now. Just think about it. I want very much to be with you. Even if you stay in Talon. I could be your bodyguard." Finally Ember's gaze softened. "You would do that for me? Leave the Order?" She said. "I already did. Something just got messed up underway and we ended up exactly, where we started." I said. I have been thinking a lot about our current situation and with each day, when I was away from Ember, fighting Order's battles in a war where there was neither honour nor fortune for me to win, I saw clearer how life was slipping through my fingers. It was possible that it would take more than human lifetime to change the Order and Talon. And even though I was granted extended life by Riley I felt, that this time would be wasted just as well. We would not be as we are, to move on, once the process is advanced enough to let it continue on its own. Ember was already changed beyond recognition after mere months of this life. I caught myself more and more often at hating the Order of St George and Talon and all the mess I was handling on the behalf of both. We had a choice. We've made this choice once, we could make it again. So I put my arms tightly around her and said. "I want to be with you Ember. You've told me, I can live for centuries. But my mind and heart are still human. I miss you. I feel I'm wasting my life being away and struggling to keep control of an organisation, that I'd rather leave. We could be together. I would take care of you while you're taking care of your business." Ember twisted in my embrace putting her arms around my waist and pressed her face to my chest, hugging me tightly. I held her feeling once again the rightness of this, this was where I was supposed to be. This was what I should be doing. At last she looked up at me with shining eyes. "I want that Garret. I miss you too. And Talon can be too much. But I'm afraid that if I just cash out few millions and leave, I'll wake up surrounded by Vipers some time soon. Talon must be at least partially dismantled before it's safe to leave it alone." She started frowning her look vacant. "Then let us work towards this together." I said. "Okay, let's do this together." She said calm now.

I moved back to sit in front of my cold food. Fortunately I have eaten enough before Ember started crying. We ordered waffles with softice for dessert and headed for Ember's apartment. In the car Ember spoke suddenly. "I think I'll give you the million anyways... don't protest. You don't have to use it if you don't want it. Think about it as something you're keeping safe for me, should I ever need it. Like an emergency trust found." It did not sit well with me. "Only if you consider my offer." I answered. "About Crescent Beach." "Deal, I'll think about it." She answered a bit too smugly. We drove back to city listening to old rock songs playing from the radio. Sun was slowly setting and the world was cast in this unreal light, that made it look like a place from a fairytale, like anything was possible.

***

We tumbled onto Ember's white sofa right after entering the apartment. Any weariness from being pounded and peddling for hours left me instantly. Ember pulled off her t-shirt and I cupped her warm soft breast in my hand feeling her heart beating wildly inside it. I bent to kiss it, tasting her skin and hard pointy nipple when my phone rang.

Only two people had this number, it was only to be used in case of emergency. "Ember it's emergency number." I said apologetically and fished the phone from my pants. It was Tristan. It could wait. I put it on silent and moved to lay between Ember's legs again when she braced her hand on my chest. "If it's an emergency shouldn't you check it?" She asked. I should but I don't want to. I thought, and aloud I said. "It's Tristan, he probably wants to know when I will be back." "Still you should check." She said pulling on her t-shirt and pressing her knees together leaving me with few other options. I groaned with disappointment and nestled in another corner of the sofa.

"What is it?" My voice was raspy and my tone was slightly impatient. I cleared my throat. "Have I interrupted something commander?!" Tristan sounded uncharacteristically sour. "Yes, get to the point." I was sure my discomfort could match whatever he felt. "An hour ago commander Knight, six of his people and his wife and daughter arrived. He claims to be commander of some southern chapterhouse, that I have never heard about. He says they're top secret intelligence team. Anyways he's already questioning alliance with dragons, threatening us all with persecution for treason and claiming command over Western Chapterhouse including you and me. So you better get here before he executes someone commander." Shit. Apparently I could not catch a break either.

I quickly reported news to Ember. "You should go right away Garret." She said solemnly. "This sounds serious and dangerous.... for our plans. You and Tristan are the only people inside the Order of St George, that I can trust. We can't risk you getting sidelined by some conservative bloodthirsty commander." As more and more blood circulated in my body I could see her point and had a few of my own to add, but I hated leaving her like that. "I don't want to leave you." I said. "You are not leaving me. You go away to make preparations for our escape." She gave me a brave smile and I kissed her hungrily, letting my hands roam her body, trying commit to memory as much of her as possible, the touch of soft warm skin, the taste of her lips, scent of her hair. I was about to suggest we wait with it till the morning, when she pulled away. "Go Garret. Call me when you know more. I'll help you any way I can, remember." She kissed me again. "I love you Garret. Even though I can't surf anymore." She added and followed me to the doors where she kissed me once more and stood watching, when I waited for the elevator.

#ember hill #fanfiction #julie kagawa #talon series #talon saga #garret xavier sebastian

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lobster-peach · 4 years

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The Girls Bathroom

•••

Part 2

Part 1-

This is a short story I wrote for my 10th grade creative writing class and I thought I'd share:)

*trigger warnings*

Eating disorders

Mental disorders

Drug/alcohol use

Violence

Child predator/abuse mention

Implied suicide

After a while she started getting reckless. She had left her cocoon of hiding, and wanted to numb the pain now. Night after night, party after party, she drowned herself in the adrenaline.

He eyes were constantly held heavy with dark bags, and he step wasn’t always centered. She started missing more and more of our talks, but she would still call me once she got home to let me know she was safe.

It was Friday, and Vanny had showed up to the bathroom. My heart leaped a little when I saw her sitting there. She looked up at me entering the stall. She smiled bigger than I had ever seen her smile before. Then I noticed her eyes. They were completely bloodshot. My smile back at her faltered a little, but I still kept it. She mumbled my name and urged me to sit down with her.

“You won’t believe what’s going on tonight!” she said excitedly.

“And what would that be?”

“Well, Travis is throwing a party at Amy’s house while her parents are away on a romantic getaway which is both sweet and disgusting but anyways-”

I stopped paying attention after she mentioned a party. It just wasn’t my thing. I didn't know these people, I didn't want to know these people, and I didn't care about these people. I started to zone out until a waving hand in my face interrupted.

“So do you?” Vanny asked.

“Do I what?” I said, legitimately confused by her question.

“Go to the party with me siiiiiillllllyyyyy!” she drew out the last word in an exaggerated way.

I again was confused by this. I knew we were okay being seen together, but a party? Did she really want to be officially declared the "weirdo's" friend?

“Won’t your friends ditch you if you’re seen with me?”

“Well we wouldn’t show up together, we would just meet up at the party! Everyone will be drunk anyways and they won’t notice.”

My heart sank a little at that. But it was sensible.

I looked into her eyes and sighed. If anything I could just keep an eye out for her and make sure she didn't drown in more alchohol than she already has.

And so, I said yes.

...

I could hear the music booming from across the street. Each step closer to the house was dreadful. Every ounce of my being was begging me to turn around and drive back home. But I persisted. The yard vibrated with bass, red cups littering the blades of grass, and teenagers lied face up towards the sky, laughing at nothing.

I became overly aware of my body when entering the massive house. It felt like every move I made was wrong. Every move, every look, every breath.

I tried to stay close to the walls, not daring to enter into the madness of the make-shift dance floor in the middle. I let my head smack against the wall in a heavy breath. Checking my phone I noticed 3 texts from Vanny.

“Tell me when you’re here”

“Are you here yet?”

“I’m gonna be on the dancefloor:”

I shot her a quick text telling her where I was and that she could come find me. Hitting send, I relaxed back into the wall. It felt like eternity until I felt someone grab my hand, pulling me away from the comfort of my wall. I was about to protest when I saw that it was Vanny who was pulling me. I let out a soft laugh and let her whisk me away.

In less than a minute I was dancing in the middle of the dancefloor with the head cheerleader. We laughed at the moves we both made, trying to out-weird the other. But then, everything fell into slow motion. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the music, but when I looked at the girl dancing in front of me, I could have sworn I had never seen anything more beautiful. The way she moved to the rhythm of the now slowed music, the way she messed up her hair, the way she was so focused on the music that it looked like she was in another world.

She was breathtaking.

I knew she was intoxicated, but I moved closer to her, copying her dance. She grinned at me and took my hand for a second time that night. We danced in sync, our bodies moving together like they were made for this dance. She held me close, her hair smelling like coconut shampoo. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. I could feel her breath fanning my lips. She had her eye open, staring at me in a some sort of haze.

And then... she kissed me.

And I did something I never thought I’d do-

I kissed her back.

...

It felt like time had stopped. All I could focus on was the taste of her cherry lip gloss, mixed with vodka and peppermint. Together, it sounded revolting but I couldn’t get enough of it. Each movement fed my new found addiction. Until she pulled away. And time started again.

She looked at me right in the eyes and smiled. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. It felt as if the whole room let out a breath with me. Not even that, but the world.

It was almost like everything had led up to this moment. And all this time, we had just been waiting.

Vanny and I held each other the rest of the night. Dancing to every song that came on until we collapsed. Liquor flowing through our veins like waterfalls. And it felt good.

Just to live in the moment, to forget about all of my troubles, and dance with a girl who embodied perfection. And that's all everything really was. Perfection.

But the morning was not so generous to me, or my head. Everything hurt. My whole body felt like a frozen mess of pain. Like I had been lit on fire, and this was the aftermath. I couldn't remember the ending of last night, but I knew what had happened.

The kiss.

Was this going to consume my every thought? Was this going to be all that roamed my mind till I saw her again? I didn't know but I didn't care. Because that kiss was worth remembering.

The weekend felt like years. And for once I was waiting for school to start on monday, hell, I was even excited. But when it finally came around it wasn't how I thought it would be.

When I walked into the building it felt like everyone's eyes were on me. Like bugs, glued to whatever sweet they could get. I didn't understand why. Why all of their disapproving eyes focused on me. That was until after the second period.

I headed toward the girl's bathroom when I was grabbed, and pushed into an empty classroom. A large hand covered my screams and I was slammed into the wall. I didn’t want to open my eyes.

I wanted to disappear, I wanted disappear, I wanted to disappear.

But my eyes ignored me and opened. And what I saw was horrific. Vanny was being hit by a group of guys. She was crying. She looked at me screaming she was sorry. I didn’t get it. What was she sorry for? what’s going on? Who are these people? Why are they doing this?

Why is no one else here?

How can no one hear this?

Before I could think of any more questions I was grabbed up by my hair. Some of the bulky guys had come over to me once they had noticed I had opened my eyes. I took a kick to my stomach, to my ribs, everywhere. I was so focused on the kicks I didn’t hear what they had all been saying.

“You better take this, we are just preparing you for what’s coming. You think you could get away with all of this? You think you’d be safe? You’re so sinful it blinds you, f*ggots.”

My eyes widened in horror. The kiss. This was about the kiss. My heart beat faster than it was before, which seemed impossible. I thrashed my limbs in an attempt to stop the kicks. My ribs were broken by now. But by surprise, the kicking stopped. But not from my attempts. An adult voice had come in screaming for the boys to stop. But the world went black before I heard anything else.

I woke up to fluorescent lights, and the beeping of a heart monitor. My parents were sat across from my bed, asleep. I tried sitting up but i was stopped by pain searing through my chest and torso. I winced, and laid back down. A nurse eventually came in to ask me how I was feeling and take my vitals. At that my parents woke up, and stared at me with a blank expression. We thanked the nurse and she left. My mom rushed to my side once she had left, and my dad kept staring.

“They called us right after it happened.” she said with a watery voice,

“ you were already out when we got there but your… friend, Savannah, explained what had happened.”

She pulled back after Vanny’s name was mentioned. They knew. My mom started crying harder, and my dad had finally turned his head away from me. Now it was my turn to cry.

The car ride home was silent. A painful silence that kept on cutting and cutting and cutting my heart.

When we got home, they surprisingly left me alone. I went straight to call Vanny. waited for her to pick up. I needed her to pick up. But she didn’t. I tried 4 more times, but there was no answer, I slipped to the ground, and cried, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. And there was this feeling in my gut that I couldn’t explain. And I just couldn't get rid of it.

I didn’t leave my room for a week. I kept calling and texting Vanny but she still never answered. I didn’t understand why, why she would just ignore me like ths, after everything that had just happened. How could she do this?

When I finally went to school, I was determined to find her and speak with her. I didn't know what I'd say but I just needed to say something.

Walking into the brick building I was greeted with solemn faces, sympathetic looks, and quiet. It was so unexpected but I figured the administration had told the school about the attack, so I carried on.

My first period wasn't any better. We sat in silence doing our work and nothing else. I wasn't complaining however, I liked the quiet. I did jump however when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The teacher. Her face looked hollow, eyes empty. She didn't say a word other than "I'm sorry." And handed me a slip to the principal's office.

I was more confused than ever now. Why was she apologizing to me? I tried not to overthink it, but the thought lingered in my mind all the way to Mrs. Randall (the principal)'s office. She was wearing a black pantsuit, which was unusually for her. She tended to lean towards brighter colors, like yellow,blue and such. I slowly sat down in front of her, waiting for her to say what she wanted to say.

"As you know, the attack that happened was unacceptable, and the boys who did it have been expelled."

I nodded my head in response. I would have gotten a lawyer if that hadn't happened.

Mrs. Randall continued saying

"I would just like to personally apologize for your loss however."

I made a a sound between a laugh and a scoff. My eyebrows furrowed. But she didn't look like she was joking.

"Pardon?" I managed to say.

Her eyes started to water a little, and she finally spoke.

"Savannah Lancaster… I'm so sorry, I knew you two were.. uh" she cleared her throat and finished with "throat."

Something dropped in my heart.

"What are you talking about…" I said my eyes widening a little and my words coming out in a slow, straight line.

Mrs. Randall held a hand to her mouth.

"I'm so sorry I thought you knew, I shouldn't have been the one to tell you, I'm so-" I cut her rambling off.

"What. Happened. " I choked out.

"She took her life a day after the incident." She whispered.

No.

No!

This couldn't be happening. I felt my chest grow tight, and water stream out of my eyes.

I got up and ran to the bathroom on the second floor, hoping she would be there. I ran, crying out "no" repeatedly. I threw open the stall door to find it empty. She wasn't there. I screamed out her name. But no answer.

My knees gave out from under me, making me crumple to the floor.

I couldn't see from the tears in my eyes. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to die. My face was hot, and my lips were bleeding from where I had chewed them while I sat in the principal's office. The tile of the floor was like ice on my cheeks. Giving a sting to my position. My ribs still hadn't healed, and bruised in my sprawled out form. I hit my head on the ground, over, and over, and over again. I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to stop. To stop existing. To stop breathing.

But nothing I could do would change the fact that she was gone.

She was gone.

And I just wanted to be too.

#lgbtq #lgbt art #lgbtqa #lgbtqia #lgbtq community #lgbt representation #lgbt moodboard #lgbtpeople #lgbt #wlw post #wlw mood #wlw blog #wlw aesthetic #wlw advice #short story #love story #series

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chrisemrysblog · 7 years

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Poker Pair Week: Day one

Hello dears!

So as the title implies, I’ve decided to participate in Poker Pair week this year! Then again, I wasn’t yet a fan of DGM last year. But when I saw the overall theme of Travel, it reminded me of my roleplay with @thenoahfamily and so I just had to write.

I will do my best to post a chapter per day for this week, and I do mean chapter, because this will end up one big story and each new chapter is a sequel to the one before. It is also good to know that once the week ends, I will post on FFnet and AO3 all the chapters as one big one-shot! I will also use the tag Poker Pair Week 2017 (the link gives to the posts in chrono order) on my blog!

Settings/Summary: Set in Searching for AW, but before Johnny and Kanda find Allen. A story of how Tyki and Allen meet again, end up travelling more or less together, and found themselves forming a bond that might not be just friendship. Note: The Allen in this story is similar to the one I write in Meet me halfway to the end! Mainly, this means similar characterization (which is also similar to how I rp him), but also that he is 18/19 years old. Meanwhile, this is my first time writing Tyki.

I hope you enjoy!

Day one prompts: Accommodations; Safety; Language; Sunshine.

Silver eyes gazed down at himself with a wince as water dripped down from his coat. Timcanpy peeked out from his shirt, somewhat dry thanks to having stayed under the layers of clothes, and Allen glared for a second at the very amused look the golem had. Then, he lifted his head with a sheepish smile as the inn's owner came to him. Or so he thought when he had heard the steps.

His smile fixed itself as instead, the one that had approached him was revealed to be Tyki Mikk in human form, one eyebrow arched and golden eyes taking him up and down. “Well, this is a nice surprise, Shonen. Who would have thought we would meet here, with how you have been avoiding us.”

Allen's expression hardened for a second, gaze drifting to the window, as if considering walking out. But it was not just rain outside, it was a storm. He could tell even Tyki had been surprised by it, he wore only a dress shirt and pants, short hair still a bit wet. He also missed completely the flash of concern as Tyki noticed the intent behind Allen's gaze.

“I don't know about you, but I would rather not get drenched again.” Tyki started casually, little smirk showing as the white haired male looked back at him. The Noah didn't miss the shivers of Allen's body. Silly boy. “And fighting here is more than likely to get us out.” He paused, letting the younger man take into the meaning of his words, and feeling smug when the calculating look shifted into hesitation. “So you should get yourself a room already, or else you're just asking for a nasty cold.”

Allen's eyes sharpened into a small glare, but he knew Tyki was right. There was no way it would be safe for him to go outside right now, and if he got himself sick, who knew what would happen if the Noah inside him decided he wanted out? Beside, he felt how he started to shiver hard. So with a sigh that betrayed resignation, Allen started to walk toward the inn's owner.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him as he was about to pass Tyki. He stopped short, glancing to the side, and meeting Tyki's serious eyes. “The Earl really wants you home.” The white haired tensed under the hand, but the man only patted his shoulder, looking out the window. “But I don't have orders right now. He only asked us to take the Fourteenth home; but I'm not seeing him.”

This was as close as Tyki would come to let Allen know he would be safe tonight, even with the Noah's presence in the same inn. It made warmth show in his chest, which he pretended not to feel. “We're two travellers trapped by the rain.” Truce accepted.

Tyki returned his gaze on him with a smile, feeling the way Allen relaxed under his hand. The younger man didn't know it, but he looked tired, even relieved and grateful. It had been an impulse, really, to decide he would rather have Allen stay safe inside, but he couldn't deny it had come from the desire to not see Allen run away from him. He had helped him escape, let him escape, and it was not as if there was a real rush to get him; instead the Noahs were keeping an eye on him.

So really, Tyki was just looking out for Allen by making sure he didn't go back out. The little voice that told him it had hurt when Allen's first reaction had been to look for a way out, away from him, could get silenced. Because Allen had still accepted to stay.

And so Allen finally went to get his room. Tyki watched him for a few seconds, then went back to the table he had been occupying, finishing his drink. In a way that both knew to not be by chance, he ended up going back to his room just as Allen went to his. But neither of them commented on it, though Allen rolled his eyes and Tyki grinned.

As it was, the rainstorm didn't stop after the first night. Or the second. For two days, after an initial attempt at staying on his own, Allen ended up with Tyki sticking around. Not that he minded, because of course poker had ended up their choice of pastime, and poor Tyki had believed he might figure out how to out-cheat Allen.

He also had made the enormous mistake of saying the loser would pay for the next meal, the first day. Tyki kept his words, but Allen only smirked knowingly when Tyki didn't make the same promise the next day.

A curse left Tyki when he lost again after a few rounds, in a language that Allen didn't recognize right away. Someone else did, from a close table, and called out in pleased surprise in the same language. Two things happened then: Allen identified it as Portuguese, and a shiver ran down his spine when Tyki replied in the foreign language that seemed to roll naturally from his tongue.

Allen didn't understand much of it, as he had barely been in Portugal before, though it was clear that Tyki soon ended the little conversation. Still, the few words he recognized, and the expression, told him a lot about what went between the two men. It was obvious Tyki had been offered to come, and Allen had shifted on his seat at the glance toward him, pretending not to notice the mocking edge. And it was easy to do, when he spotted the annoyance that flashed into Tyki's eyes and the way his words were clipped.

Allen had to bite his tongue to not let a smug smirk show as Tyki finished with a wave of hand that was dismissive, not even looking long enough to see the way the other man's ears reddened and instead giving back his attention to Allen. “Want a drink, Shonen? Though I haven't seen you touch alcohol. Not old enough?”

Allen didn't even change his expression despite the teasing tone. “I'll have you know I am over eighteen. But I'd… rather not drink alcohol.” He noticed Tyki's curious look, borderline determined, and Allen had a smile way too sweet all of the sudden. “I will rob you of all your clothes and not give them back this time, if you even try spiking my drink.”

“… Fair enough.” Tyki would have liked to believe he wouldn't be stupid enough to bet his clothes after that, but he also knew that smile meant trouble. Better not test if Allen could really follow with his threat. “You didn't answer my question, though.”

“Well, if you offer it, I won't say no. I think something hot might be nice.” Indeed, now that Tyki put the idea in his mind, Allen felt that he would be happy with some tea. Or maybe even hot chocolate.

It was once they were sitting side by side, with hot cups in their hand, that Allen finally asked, “So you speak Portuguese? It sounded rather… easy for you.”

Tyki grinned. “Fishing for informations?” He laughed in a low manner at Allen's short glare. “It's my native tongue, I would hope it sounds easy. I'm surprised you recognized it, though.”

“I have been close to Portugal before, but not long enough to pick more than a few words.” Allen admitted. “That's one of the few European languages I can't really speak.”

“I could teach you some of it.” Tyki offered, to which Allen was quick to look at the man.

“Why?” It left his mouth before he could really control it, which surprised him. Since when did he feel comfortable enough around Tyki that he could slip?

But Tyki only let one elbow rest on the counter, placing his cheek on his palm as he gazed at Allen. “Because I can. What other reason should there be?” His smile was turning predatory. “Or would you like me to say it's because we'll spend more time together?”

Tyki knew he made a mistake when Allen's left hand clenched hard enough around the cup to destroy it. Or maybe it was when pain flashed in his silver eyes just before he turned his gaze away, faint redness over his cheeks.

Oh. That's exactly what he wanted me to say, and he might not have realized it.

A surprised shout came from Allen, though at least, his left hand was more tolerant to temperature. The owner was quick to come, but Allen waved concern and apologized with a smile that Tyki knew to be fake. Before the owner could reach to check Allen's left hand in well meaning worry, Tyki did it first, catching his left wrist.

“Let's treat that. Thank you for the drinks, and sorry for the mess.”

Before Allen could react, Tyki had placed the money on the counter and was tugging Allen away. The white haired followed, a little taken by surprise, but he felt again the same kind of warmth he had felt when Tyki had offered the truce of sort. He had no doubt, after all, that Tyki had just prevented his left hand being seen.

They also ended up in Tyki's room rather than Allen's. “You didn't burn yourself, did you?” Tyki asked not long after the door had closed behind them, while still getting Allen's hand closer to his face.

“N-No, this was nowhere near hot enough to do anything.” Allen replied honestly, and couldn't help pulling back when Tyki started to remove his glove. Or tried to, because Tyki's grip was too strong.

“You should still remove that glove.” Then he lifted his gaze to pin Allen with his golden eyes. “Why this face, Shonen? I know how your hand is.”

It was then that Allen realized his expression had slipped, and that he had shown the wariness bordering on fear that he still felt whenever his hand could be exposed. It had lessened in the Order, but after being on the run, it had returned with a vengeance.

Meanwhile, Tyki had finished pulling the glove, gaze softening even if he had wanted to not show it. “It's good it was your left hand that took it all. You could have gotten cut or burned otherwise.” He paused, finally lessening his grip, though felt some contentment at seeing Allen didn't do anything at first, only letting his hand drop slowly after a second or two.

“Yeah, well, only my left hand is strong enough to break a cup. It's a miracle the owner didn't question it.” Timcanpy, who until now had been hiding in a pocket, flew out and hovered close to his left hand, as if worried despite knowing his master would be fine. It made Allen smile, giving an excuse to have his eyes drift to Timcanpy.

He could guess, after all, that they were circling around the matter of why Allen had broken his cup. And he wasn't sure he was ready to admit, to think about, how he had grown to enjoy Tyki's presence in such a short time spent without the need to fight. How part of him had hoped Tyki did, too.

“So… We can start now, if you want.” Tyki crossed his arms with a grin when Allen snapped his gaze up in confusion. “Your lesson in Portuguese. Desculpe ter te provocado, for example.” His arms dropped, then one hand came scratch behind his head. “That means, I'm sorry I teased you.”

The golem now on Allen's head showed a grin. Tyki ignored it. So did it Allen. Instead, he crossed his arms, tilting his head with raised eyebrows in a silent, elaborate.

Tyki put his hands on his hips, leaning forward a bit with a smirk. “Spending more time together is a good reason to teach you, which you seem to feel strongly about. Enough to break a cup.”

So, maybe he shouldn't have teased Allen again; Tyki mused as he watched Allen's eyes turn murderous even though his mouth formed a sweet smile. But the faint fluster that the young man couldn't quite control was so worth it.

Even when Allen cracked his knuckles, left hand then right hand. “Oh, Tyki, I didn't realize you wanted us to spend more time together. But don't worry! I have also an idea of what we can do.” His smile widened, sweeter. Tyki felt sweat form. “Would you like to train?”

“… Shonen. Let's stop teasing each other, yeah? I don't think the inn can handle it.”

“Who said I'm teasing?”

Tyki chose to be untouchable right there and then. Too bad Allen remembered about it, and punched with his left hand. The Noah could hear Allen's sudden laughter even as he went right through the furnitures, and stuck halfway out the wall.

Maybe it was still worth it all, to have teased Allen. Because it was the first time he heard Allen's laugh; and he would lie if he said it wasn't a good sound to hear.

In the end, thanks to the good mood the sight gave Allen, he let it slide when Tyki managed to get himself back inside and promptly offered a second drink. Though, that didn't stop him from demanding a meal instead, smiling innocently while Tyki paled even as he accepted.

The mood remained light after that, but also warm, warmer than they had been the past two days. So, when the next morning, they noticed sunshine showing as they took their breakfast, Allen felt he could not blame the spark of sadness.

“Seems like this is the end of our little truce.” Allen commented in a soft voice, once they had both cleared their room, standing outside with Tyki beside him, and heart thumping hard.

“I still haven't seen the Fourteenth. Have you taught him whose the boss?” Tyki returned, not looking at Allen, instead casually liting a cigarette.

Allen shifted his eyes to the man, then back to the sun showing more and more, the corner of his lips lifting a smile that still had trace of his sadness. “Everyday.”

Tyki inhaled, then blew out smoke. “But he still fight you.”

Allen hummed in agreement, though unsure what exactly Tyki was saying.

He didn't notice how the man watched him, watched his sad smile, from the corner of his golden eyes, contemplative. “So you still need to know what you want.” His gaze went forward before Allen noticed it, pretending not to see as Allen glanced at him. “I let you leave once because of that.” And I'll let you leave once more.

For the first time, the smile that formed on Allen's face, the one for Tyki, was genuine. He closed his eyes, and rested his head against the wall. “Run off and figure yourself out, eh?” He chuckled, and heard Tyki do the same. “Should I call you when I do?” He joked.

“No need, I will be there already.” Tyki replied, serious yet warm.

Allen opened his eyes, and whatever look he might have meant to show, it vanished in surprise when he realized Tyki was not beside him anymore. He straightened, looked around, but he did not see him. Then again, he reasoned, this was the Noah who could pass through anything he wanted. For all he knew, he might be under. Or above, he mused as he glanced up. Still, he didn’t catch any sign of the man, and so he guessed Tyki had simply phased off as soon as he said what he wanted.

His lips curled into a soft, pleased smile as he allowed the warmth he had felt twice in his chest to blossom a third time, fully taking over his chest. Timcanpy sat on his shoulder, watching him as he started to walk, absent-mindedly petting the golem and humming a happy tune.

Not noticing the form in the shadows of an alley, letting his cigarette drop and crushing it with one shoe, watching until the white haired male could not be seen anymore, and finally walking off in the same direction.

You silly boy, you just couldn't admit you are lonely. And that isn’t a good look on you.

#poker pair week #dgnetwork #poker pair #tykillen #d gray man #Poker Pair Week 2017

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littlespoonevan · 8 years

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If you are taking prompts (and feel so inspired...) I would love to hear your thoughts on how Isak and Even have evolved over the past 3 months. Does Even have a key to kollektivet yet? Has Isak introduced Even to his parents? How has living in the "now" and not being fake anymore changed Isak? I miss watching them learn and evolve together and I'd love to hear your thoughts on how things have changed!

oh yes i love this idea, let’s talk about this!!! (i have already written about isak meeting even’s parents so i didn’t include it but you can read it here)

december is a lesson in learning to be

with the circumstances of how they got together and the resulting pain that came from misunderstandings and even’s episode, their relationship had hurtled forward into something very serious very fast

and it’s not necessarily easy to go back from that

when you’re put in such a situation that makes you realise you would go to the ends of the earth for someone you can’t suddenly forget that just because things are settled again

but isak had meant it when he said minute by minute

so they make a fresh start of sorts

they focus on dating and tentatively becoming boyfriends

it’s offset somewhat by the fact that even still spends most nights in isak’s bed and the fact that beneath the excitement of starting a relationship there’s the undeniable warmth of unwavering love to cushion them

but they have their first date the week before christmas: a simple dinner and a movie type scenario

and this would seem boring and cliche, maybe, to someone else

but not to isak

because even loves movies and isak can’t think of a better date idea than getting to watch him bounce excitedly on his heels as they wait in line in the lobby, to hear his little intake of breath when the lights go down inside the theatre, to watch the way he stares at the screen with rapt attention for the entire film, to listen to him ramble all the way home on the tram and then for another hour while they’re getting ready for bed and then in bed about all the camera work and the themes of the story

eventually even seems to realise their conversation has been fairly one sided and he cuts himself off with a sheepish expression. “i’ve been rambling, haven’t I?” he asks, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment

but isak just smiles fondly, expression half-buried in the pillow. “I don’t mind,” he whispers. “i like listening to you talk about this stuff.”

and even is just so- floored. bc he doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have this boy in his arms

he kisses his smile into isak’s mouth before asking, “so do i get a second date?”

isak hums as he pretends to think about it and murmurs a soft, “i think so.”

they go on seven more dates throughout december

they still see each other almost every day, still hang out with their friends and kollektivet together, but their dates - those are the times reserved just for themselves

dedicated to making steps in their relationship and telling each other stories about their families and their pasts that aren’t always serious, that are sometimes just tidbits and anecdotes to make each other smile because they’re nice memories and they feel like sharing them

by the time they reach new year’s eve isak feels like they’re stable

they’re on the right track

they’ve managed just over four weeks of being boyfriends and it’s working

they’ve found their footing now; they can keep moving forward

january and the return to school poses an entirely new challenge

things have settled between them now and isak had spent most of christmas break getting used to being affectionate with even around his friends

not overly so, but the small touches - leaning into each other, an arm around a shoulder, a kiss on the cheek - they’ve done them all and isak feels okay

feels good

because by some unspoken rule his friends seem to be able to tell that making a big deal out of it would make him uncomfortable, they know he’s not ready for playful teasing yet

so instead they don’t react at all except to perhaps offer a smile

but now they’re going back to school and even is feeling so much better than he was before they broke for christmas and they’re settled

and isak needs to learn how he wants to act with even in public

the first day back to school is terrifying and isak hesitates at the gate with even by his side because he wants his life to be real and he wants to live in the now but his old insecurities are still very much real and the thought of people staring at him, at them, makes his stomach churn

even waits patiently beside him while he decides what to do

(the truth is even is nervous too, he hasn’t been to school since his episode and he’s still unsure of how people are going to treat him)

it’s this knowledge, that even is also afraid, that makes isak react

“hold my hand,” he says, eyes still trained anxiously on the crowded school yard

even blinks at him in surprise, “what?”

“hold my hand,” he repeats. “i’m not brave enough to hold yours but if you take mine i won’t let go.”

even watches him a moment longer, the words ticking over in his head

but then isak looks at him and whispers, “we both need it,” and even’s taking a deep breath and sliding their palms together, fingers interlocking and gripping tight

they walk in together and isak holds his breath until they reach the boys but when no one seems to be paying them any attention he feels his hold on even’s hand relax slightly

even squeezes his hand once in acknowledgement

the first week is made up of little touches: knees knocking under the table in the cafeteria, shoulders brushing as they walk down the hall together, private smiles and hands lingering when they say goodbye in the morning

and by the end of the week isak feels- better

no one really bothered to look at them besides the odd glance on the first day back

he figures most people saw them at parties over christmas break so the shock must have worn off by now

that doesn’t magically make him comfortable because his insecurities are still rooted deep inside the depths of his mind but when they walk into school the following monday he takes even’s hand and his heart is pounding in his chest but he feels proud

slowly he learns how to sit with even during lunch how he sits with him when they’re at his kitchen table having pre-drinks with the boys - casual touches, limbs overlapping here and there, comfy

by the second week back even starts kissing his cheek as a hello or a goodbye and isak is surprised at the fact his only reaction is the same giddy fizziness he gets in his tummy whenever even does anything sweet

the day he kisses even’s cheek when they’re saying goodbye at the lockers he blushes to the high heavens and even is grinning like an idiot when he steps back

kisses on the lips are reserved for secluded hallways and empty classrooms but on one of the last days of january even kisses him goodbye when there are still a few people lingering in the hallway and isak doesn’t flinch away

he leans into it, just a little, and smiles shyly when even murmurs a goodbye

and the world keeps on turning

february is routine

it’s dinner with even’s parents every wednesday night

it’s even being given a key to kollektivet and his name being written next to isak’s on a shelf in the cabinet and being added to kollektivet group chat because “i know you don’t live here but you live here”

(”oh my gOD eskild shut up”)

it’s saturday night date nights because parties are always on fridays and they’re usually too tired on sundays to do anything

it’s after school coffee dates

it’s designated friend time because it’s important that they don’t get lost in each other and forget the rest of the world

it’s the two of them desperately trying to cling to “minute by minute” when their heads are already thinking about weeks, months, and years from now

they’ve been together long enough to know they’re in this

they’re in love and they don’t plan on stopping any time soon

plans are made taking one another into account

and when they think about the future they undeniably see one another in it

and it’s not always easy

isak is still learning about even’s mental illness and even’s still trying to help isak work through his own self-acceptance and there are bad days

and days where it’s fucking hard

but they take care of each other and they stand by each other and they hold each other

because it’s been three months and isak is now sure of two things:

life is now

and they’re an us

#evak #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #evenbechnet #skam #mine #this above all #asks #this one got loooooong

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