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seijorhi · 4 years

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Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

Me attempting a multi-part fic?? More likely than you think! I wrote this fic because this blog started with Hawks and Dabi and kinda got a bit of traction with soulmate au’s so to me it made sense to post it for my first anniversary. I hope you guys like it! 💕

Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x female reader, Keigo Takami (Hawks) x female reader

TW canonical character ‘death’, a little angst and maybe a slight hint of dub-con (if you squint your eyes a little)

Part I, II

You’re eleven years old when your parents take you by the hand, sit you down on the couch and tell you that your soulmate is dead.

It doesn’t make sense. There’s a hollow ache inside of your chest like something important is gone but you were with Touya only yesterday. You had the rest of your lives together, you were gonna leave with him, start something better…

You feel empty and you can’t understand it. He can’t be dead, that’s not how it works. You find your soulmate and you get to ride off into the sunset. You get to be happy, everyone knows that.

But it doesn’t sink in until you’re kicking and screaming by his grave and Endeavor won’t so much as meet your eye and your parents are pulling you back because there’s no body.

There’s nothing left of Touya Todoroki.

And there’s nothing left of you without him.

—

They call it the bloom. A simple touch, the first from your soulmate’s hand, and the mark appears on your skin like drops of ink spilled into water. You’ve always thought it beautiful, the delicate black pattern imprinted on your wrist.

You can still remember the heat you’d felt when it happened. Not the burning kind you knew him capable of, but like the warmth of a fire seeping through you. And you remember the way those bright, blue eyes had widened as you’d tripped and fell, taking him with you. His mark was over his heart; Touya always was stupidly smug about that.

You were just kids. Angry and scared and lost, but you had Touya and Touya had you.

(Not that that counted for anything in the end. He still died alone.)

They say it’s rare to find your soulmate before adulthood, but you’d been one of the lucky ones.

Lucky.

The word tastes bitter on your tongue now. It’s not that you disagree exactly – even now, years after his death you’re glad that you had time with him. You would’ve been grateful for a minute, for a mere glance at his face. Two and a half years with your soulmate was a gift, but having him, losing him so young only meant that you had more years of your life to struggle on without him.

And sometimes you catch yourself staring at your mark, lost in thought. Touya was the one with all the plans, you were always just the tag along, happy to go anywhere so long as he was the one leading you. You wonder what he’d think if he could see you now. Not the Hero you’d let yourselves imagine, though you suppose you both knew deep down that was nothing more than a pipe dream for someone like you.

Gazing around your cramped, messy apartment, debating exactly how badly you need this shitty, barely-enough-to-scrape-by job, you can’t imagine he’d be impressed.

God knows your parents are disappointed, but that’s nothing new. The Quirkless daughter of two mid rank heroes – well, the only thing you ever had going for you was being Enji Todoroki’s future daughter in law, and everybody knows how that one ended.

But part of you likes to think that maybe Touya wouldn’t judge you too harshly for it. You’re doing the best you can. You’re surviving, all on your own, that has to count for something, doesn’t it?

There’s a text message awaiting you when you roll over and grab your phone.

Happy Birthday x

Natsuo never forgets. The rest of the Todoroki’s – you ceased to matter to them the day they buried an empty casket for their son. Natsuo’s the only one who bothers to check in on you, make sure that you’re keeping your head above the water. It’s usually just a message here and there, and he calls you on Touya’s birthday. And on the anniversary of his death.

It’s painful for him, but you suppose you’re the only tangible connection he has left of his brother.

You stare at the message for a moment longer, a strange feeling tugging at your heart. Typing out a quick reply, you set your phone down and fall back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh.

Today of all days, you’d honestly rather just roll over and let the hours pass you by, but your boss isn’t that forgiving and as much as you hate to admit it, you need this job.

The hotel’s already abuzz by the time you clock in, your manager’s jaw tight, a frown pinching at his face. As much as you don’t like him, you can’t exactly blame him for the bad mood – in less than three hours, the ballroom will be filled with a media circus and a plethora of pro heroes. Some big promotional event before the hero rankings are announced; you honestly don’t care.

It just means that everybody’s on edge, you’re gonna spend all day stuck in heels, smiling blandly while you serve people who won’t so much as look twice at you.

And then there’s the real reason you’re dreading today. 6’4”, blue eyed, broad shouldered, currently burning holes into you from across the ballroom while you carry around a platter of canapés. The last time you’d seen Enji Todoroki in person was two weeks after the funeral, and he’d ignored you entirely.

That was years ago; you weren’t even in your teens. Half of you had hoped that in his infinite arrogance and the complete lack of care he’d shown since his son’s death he would’ve forgotten about you entirely.

From the way he’s spent the last twenty minutes staring at you while bulldozing past reporters, though, you’re not feeling all that confident.

And for the life of you, you can’t figure out why your presence seems to be disturbing him so much, considering you’re really only there to serve and then fade into the background. It’s not like you’re chasing after him, demanding an autograph much less any kind of acknowledgement – you’re not exactly thrilled to be here either. Things work just fine with the two of you pretending the other doesn’t exist.

Does he think you’ve planned this? Some big ‘fuck you’ to try and mess with what you’re sure will be an announcement of his retainership of the number one position? Even while Touya was still alive, his father didn’t have a place in your life – he was off training his youngest, you barely saw him and you were glad for it.

While he might have hated him, some part of Touya still idolised him, craved his approval, but Enji had never been anything to you but a selfish, unfeeling monster. A bully.

But now he’s staring at you, slack jawed and wide eyed like he’s seen a ghost and it’s harder than you thought it would be to keep that smile plastered across your face knowing he’s watching your every move.

Your cheeks feels hot, and it only gets worse when you realise that Endeavor’s less than subtle behaviour is slowly but surely drawing attention from others in the room. A few curious reporters have shot you odd looks, heads cocked for a moment before dismissing you as just another waitress, hardly headline worthy.

The other heroes are less quick to brush you off. Mirko, current number five, elegantly clasping her glass of champagne in a gloved hand keeps shooting furtive glances between you and Enji, Gang Orca’s beady eyes following you across the floor, a flicker of what you’re fairly sure is concern maring his face.

It’s mortifying. Your smile is stretched and painful, your throat tight and you feel utterly exposed, but there’s nothing you can do. The flame hero doesn’t seem to care about the attention he’s drawing, or that with every passing minute it gets harder and harder for you to maintain that professional, customer service demeanour you need for this job.

And you’re beyond caring if he’s embarrassed to find his firstborn’s soulmate has sunk so low in his absence, you just want him to stop staring so you can finish your shift in peace. But it seems like the flame hero has other plans, because you’re just beginning to seriously weigh up your chances of keeping this job if you just up and walk off right here and now when Enji’s limited patience finally reaches its threshold.

He doesn’t bother offering excuses towards the poor reporter trying to pry an interview out of him, he just abruptly sets his drink down and starts stalking towards you. Rationally, you realise that with all these people here, he can’t make too much of a scene.

It’s just that even the thought of having to talk with him, to look into those blue eyes that are so painfully familiar yet wrong–

You can’t do it.

Not today.

And so you spin on your heel, stomach lurching. The silver tray in your hands stacked high with champagne teeters and falls, crystal glass shattering on the marble floors drawing gasps from the crowd. Endeavor calls out your name but you block him out, desperately weaving your way through the stunned mass of people.

Most of them give you a wide berth, likely due to the oversized hero barrelling after you. He calls your name again, louder this time. It’s not a scream, or a yell – it almost sounds pleading, though you can’t possibly imagine why. Endeavor doesn’t do pleading.

Your cheeks are burning; there’s too many people staring and hot tears begin to prickle at your eyes. A flash of red blurs past your field of vision and you start, a sharp squeak slipping out as a figure lands before you, blocking your exit.

Handsome with bushy eyebrows, dirty blonde hair messily brushed back and golden eyes gleaming; the hero in front of you would be impossible to mistake, even if it weren’t for the sweeping blood red wings sprouting from his back. Hawks, the current number two pro-hero and the only man standing between you and your fumbling escape.

Your body’s slow to catch up with your mind though, and as you try to stop, backpedal and side-step him at once your foot catches on your ankle. It’s instinctive, the way your arms fly up, wildly trying to catch yourself before you fall on your ass.

Just like you suppose it’s instinctive for him to rush forward to do the same.

It happens in a split second, your fingers brushing the skin of his neck just above the collar of his shirt, his hand grasping at your waist to steady you. Beneath his gloved hand a familiar burst of heat warms your skin.

Time slows to a crawl. The ballroom, all the gathered heroes and the press, your co-workers, they all fade into the background as your eyes dart to your fingertips, resting gently on the side of Hawks’ throat. There, a soft, inky black mark begins to unfurl spreading up to his jaw, disappearing below the collar of his turtleneck.

Over the quiet hum of the classical music playing in the background, you hear his breath catch.

He has you dipped, the two of you frozen as if in a dance and for a moment you dare to meet those piercing golden eyes. There’s a clicking sound, a camera shutter you distantly register, but while it makes your heart jump, Hawks pays it no mind.

He stares at you with impossibly wide eyes; open, vulnerable and raw.

And then he blinks, and that glimpse is gone, his grip tightening as he slowly sets you right. He doesn’t let you go, however.

“Hawks,” Enji’s tone is low and gruff, a warning this time.

Tension, thick and crackling with electricity hangs in the air between the three of you, amplified by the crowd of onlookers. All those journalists, chomping at the bit with the realisation of a juicy story playing out right in front of their eyes. Your name’s called out again, not by Endeavor, but by the reporter he’d cut off before – eyeing you now with an eager leer that has you recoiling back into Hawks’ embrace.

It’s enough to jerk the winged hero into action. His mouth finds your ear, his thumb sweeping soothingly along your side as he speaks low enough for only you to hear.

“You wanna leave, baby bird?”

You don’t remember nodding, but you must have, because in the space of a single heartbeat Hawks has you hoisted up in his arms, those powerful wings spreading wide – and you’re flying.

—

“I don’t think I have a job anymore,” you laugh drily, staring down at the city lights twinkling on the horizon.

Beside you, Hawks snorts in agreement, “Hell of a way to make an exit, though.”

He’s not wrong. You can only imagine what the tabloid headlines will say tomorrow ‘Pro Hero sweeps hotel waitress soulmate off her feet’ ‘Hawks mates for life; Endeavor jealous?’ Even if by some miracle your boss wasn’t intent on firing you on the spot, you’re not sure you can even bear to show your face there again.

It’ll be a pain though, trying to find a new job while your face is plastered across every less than reputable news outlet.

Perched atop the rooftop of Hawks’ hotel, halfway across the city, the wind ruffling gently through your hair, everything feels… surreal almost. It’s your birthday, and instead of crashing through the door of your apartment, exhausted and aching before falling face first onto your bed and not moving for the next few hours, you’re here. With the number two pro hero. Who, incidentally, is your second soulmate.

Having more than one soulmate, it’s not unheard of, just… rare.

And your hand’s entwined with his, his gloves long since discarded, his fleece lined jacket draped over your shoulders. Touya’s mark, long since blossomed across your inner wrist lies starkly between the two of you, unignorable.

“It was his son, wasn’t it?” he asks eventually, breaking the fragile silence as he toys with your fingers. When you nervously risk a glance up, Hawks doesn’t look angry or upset or even that jealous. Those golden eyes study your face with an odd kind of curiosity, but there’s no trace of resentment there. “Touya, the one who died. He was your soulmate.”

It’s not a question, but you find yourself nodding anyway. A part of you’s almost surprised he put it together so quickly, but you guess being a pro hero of that calibre requires a little more than just having a strong quirk.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, because what else can you say?

You can’t possibly imagine how he’s feeling right now, what thoughts are running through his head. You’d accepted a long time ago that while you’d love Touya Todoroki until your dying breath, he was gone; that chance of a fairytale happily ever after going with him. Another soulmate wasn’t something you’d ever considered, much less wasted time longing for.

And yet here you are, another mark inked across your skin and it feels wrong somehow, yet also completely right. Imagining being on the other foot; putting yourself in Hawks’ shoes – a pro hero soulmated to some insignificant, quirkless waitress, and not only that, but finding out she has another soulmate, somebody she loved before you, a ghost of a memory you’ll always be competing against… you honestly don’t know how you’d feel.

“Look at me,” he whispers, calloused fingers coaxing at your chin. Heart thrumming like a hummingbird's you comply, letting out another soft squeak as Hawks takes the hand still entwined with his and lifts it to his neck, right above his mark.

He smiles, nuzzling into the touch as your breath stutters. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” Again, you find yourself nodding without even really being conscious of it. It doesn’t seem to matter to Hawks though, whose smile widens at the sight of it. He leans in closer, his breath fanning across your face as molten pools of honey drink you in. You wonder if he can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, mixed emotions warring inside of you as he cups your cheek.

“And I’m yours. That’s all I care about, baby bird.”

He’s drawing you into a kiss before you can even comprehend the words, soft lips moving against yours. Gently at first, but that sweetness gives way to a burning urgency as he pulls you closer, holds you tighter.

Hawks kisses you like your lips hold salvation, and it’s frightening and thrilling and it feels like every nerve in your body is electrified when his teeth catch at your bottom lip and he moans your name.

There’s some part of you that realises that you’re moving too fast – soulmates or not he’s practically a stranger – but as you break for air, panting and breathless and Hawks looks at you with those burning, beautiful eyes; you’re helpless to resist.

“Keigo,” he tells you as he lays you down on his bed, crawling up between your thighs with a gleaming, hungry smirk that’s nothing less than predatory, “Call me Keigo.”

#yandere bnha #yandere hawks x reader #yandere dabi x reader #yandere keigo takami x reader #yandere touya todoroki x reader #tw character ‘death’#tw dub con #soulmate au #I’m not even sorry #except I am #lmao last one I promise

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shianhygge-imagines · 4 years

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Sundown 勿忘草 [Reno/Reader]{Final Fantasy VII}

AN: I’ve been wanting to write a Reno one shot, but never really managed to get my lazy ass into gear. This is a long one (though at this point, I’m just known for really long story posts... let me know if you think it’s a good thing or a bad thing). I was debating splitting it into parts, but you all know how bad I am with posting updates to any of my fics written in parts. Also, can anyone tell me why I keep seeing “#reno sinclair” in the Reno tags? Since when was Reno’s surname Sinclair? None of the Turks have last names that I recall.

Was hoping to get it to 10,000 words, but I’m around 2,200 short :P

Title is “Sundown Wasurenagusa” meaning “Sundown Forget-me-Nots; ”Forget-me-nots meaning “True Love” in hanakotoba (Japanese language of flowers)

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link|

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A heavy and tired sigh escaped your lips as you continued to read through the various reports scattered upon the table before you, scribbling down information into your work notebook that would act as relevant evidence to support your proposal for several structural upgrades to the plates. Though it was a concern that your boss, Reeve Tuesti, had brought up during various board meetings, it seemed that the executives of Shinra Electric Power Company would do nothing without a formal report containing sufficient evidence to support immediate action.

Already over worked from his other projects, Reeve had personally asked you to oversee the project proposal. As a resident of the Sector 5 Slums, you felt that it was your duty to do everything you could to make life for your fellow under city residents better. So, despite the fact that you would be working on the project alone, you accepted Reeve’s task.

Now, sitting at a corner table on the Relaxation Floor, you were almost regretting taking on the task alone. Outside the large windows overlooking Midgar, the sun had long since set, the city lights and mako lighting up the dark space below in a sea of various colors. Most Shinra employees had left the building hours ago, yet here you were, still working, dinner purchased from the cafeteria sitting off to the side and half gone.

After reading another set of reports, you paused in your scribbling to slam your head non too gently on the cafeteria table, “You’d think with all the complaints we’ve had about falling metal pieces from the plate almost killing slum residents, that the company would immediately do something.” No one responded to your muttering. Not that you expected an empty space to provide commentary to your misery and exasperation. So, you stayed in that position, debating whether to call it a night so that you could catch the last train home.

“Well, color me surprised, I didn’t think any of you pencil pushers liked staying after hours.” Just when you were about to relax, a sly and cocky voice decided to interrupt your solitude.

Jolting up with a twitch of your eye, you glared at the redhead who approached your corner table, suit and dress shirt unbuttoned and showing off an ample amount of chest. Had you not lived in the Sector 5 Slums for your entire life, you probably wouldn’t have recognized the man as a Turk. Besides, the people at Shinra liked to gossip. Red hair pulled into a weird ferret tail looking ponytail, goggles resting on the crown of his head, red marks under his eyes, and a severe need of a slap to the face… yeah, there was no doubt in your mind that the man steadily approaching your table was Reno of the Turks… and the Turk second in command.

Rolling your eyes, you sat up and began to straighten out the papers on the table, putting them into a pile to slip neatly into your briefcase. “Just my luck. The entire cafeteria is empty, Turk. Why are you bothering me?”

A little hostile, but you couldn’t help it. Having grown up watching these strange men in suits harass Aerith… you didn’t exactly have a kind opinion of them. Plus… they were unwaveringly loyal dogs to Shinra, something that didn’t sit well with you.

Reno feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand upon his chest, “Why the hostility? It was an honest question.” The redheaded Turk smirked and lifted his hand to raise his pinky, “Pinky swear.”

Reigning in your frustration, you huffed and propped your head upon a raised hand, closing your eyes in an attempt to calm down. “Yeah… yeah… Sorry.” After inhaling and exhaling for a few seconds, and listening as a chair was dragged out from the other side of the table, you opened your eyes to stare tiredly at the now seated Turk. “Uh… what are you doing?”

“Keeping you company, of course.” The cocky smirk widened as Reno leaned back and propped his feet upon the table, narrowly missing your half finished dinner.

Reaching a hand out to grab the remains of your dinner, you quietly started to finish said meal off, “Uh…huh… sure. I buy that.” You remarked sarcastically, eyes not leaving Reno’s form. “So Reno of the Turks decides to just randomly pop on by to keep a Shinra office worker company as they work overtime… sure…”

The grin didn’t falter as his blue eyes wandered to observe you, “It would seem so.”

“Right.” You muttered, finishing the last of your meal before standing up with your bag and tray, “Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a train to catch.” You weren’t sorry, but you still called out to him as you walked away, “See ya, I guess.” Hopefully not.

“You can bet on it!” Reno called back to you, watching as you threw away your trash and left the Relaxation Floor. As the doors slid close, you caved and turned around to look back at Reno, meeting his gaze just as the doors closed. Why did you feel like that was more than a promise?

…

…because it was.

The two days after were supposed to have been your days off. Yeah, perhaps you still had to structure your formal proposal a little more, but at least you were surrounded by fellow under city residents instead of Shinra employees… yeah, no, that was perhaps a little harsh of you. Not all Shinra employees were like the Turks and executives. But you were still bitter at how content the employees were with this company. It’s sickening.

When you left your home across from Leaf House on your second day off, you had fully intended to spend the day stocking up on groceries and helping either Aerith or Miss Folia. What you didn’t expect was to run into a duo of Turks when you stepped over the bridge to Aerith’s house. The duo had stopped to stand just outside of Aerith’s house, clearly speaking to one another and absolutely intending to enter the residence. The moment you’d cleared the bridge and walked into sight, you paused with wide eyes and gingerly took a step back, hoping to walk away without drawing any of their attention towards you.

You didn’t want to be seen outside work. Much less while you were wearing the sundress that Aerith had insisted you get for yourself. It was girly and feminine, and not at all professional. But still, Aerith had asked you to bring her flower baskets back home while she helped look for the Leaf House kids, who had all gone on patrol again.

Unfortunately, the bridge creaked under your foot, and two pairs of eyes were suddenly turned to stare you. “Uh…” you faltered for a moment before raising a hand in greeting, “Hi?” The end of the word pitched up into a squeak and you suddenly wanted to dive off the bridge and escape.

Recognition appeared in a familiar redhead’s eyes, “Pencil pusher! Didn’t think I’d see you here of all places!” The bald man with the shades coughed and glanced towards his coworker with raised brows.

Growling indignantly, you stomped a foot and approached the two Turks, “Don’t call me that!”

“And why not? You never gave me your name.” Reno pouted dramatically, “How’s it fair that you have mine, but I don’t know yours?”

Your expression doesn’t budge the slightest, “It’s Y/N. I work in the Urban Development Department. And I know yours because there’s only one redheaded Turk that draws in so much gossip.”

That infuriating smirk was back on Reno’s face as he pat the taller man’s shoulder roughly, “Ya hear that, Rude? The people know me.” Rude looked like he wanted to say something, if the slightest twitch of the brow and parting of the lips was any indicator. Unfortunately, the stoic looking Turk didn’t get a chance to respond before his partner opened his mouth again. “So… Y/N, huh? Cute name, cute face… it’s a wonder that I haven’t seen you in HQ before yesterday.” The statement seemed innocent enough, except for the strange look in his eyes.

For Shinra’s version of secret service, you already knew where this line of inquiry was leading to. So you stared at Reno dispassionately, “Yup, it’s an absolute wonder that a Turk such as you, who has to work outside the building most days, has never seen my face in the five years that I’ve been employed at Shinra. It’s not as if I’m just a faceless grunt among a few thousand office workers who are also cooped up in their offices during the work day.” Rolling your eyes, you continued forward, practically bulldozing your way past Reno when he didn’t move aside with his partner. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You waltzed up the front steps, raising the weaved basket in your hand, “I’ve got a basket to drop off. If you’re looking for Aerith, she’s not home, yet.”

There’s a sound of a metal baton snapping to full length behind you, “If you hurt her…”

Sighing in annoyance, you turned to glare at Reno, who seemed to look like he was going to charge at you with the stun baton. Rude, likewise, was in a combat ready position. “And why the hell would I hurt her?” You hissed, propping a hand on your waist. “Don’t just come to random conclusions. I’m simply here as a favor to her, she’s in the town helping Leaf House.” Waving your hand in a shooing motion, you turned to open the front door, “You Turks are all about the mission, right? So, go!”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so antagonistic… maybe you shouldn’t have turned around. Because the next thing you know, your arm is yanked backwards, and you’re suddenly pinned facedown to the front porch floor, arms restrained behind you and the painfully tingly end of the baton jabbed into your back. The scream that left your lips was one of outrage, fear, and pain. “What the hell!” You cry out, tears in your eyes as you try to struggle.

“Y/N!” The front door of the Gainsborough household pulled open to reveal Elmyra, who cried out in horror at the scene before her. Before long, the blonde woman had settled on shoving Reno off you, “Get off of her! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” Startled into falling off of you, Reno merely stared wide eyed at the enraged woman, who gestured for you to run as she laid into the jerk with her words.

With Reno no longer pinning you down, your limbs were able to finally take on a more natural position, though the stabbing pain from having them forced into an unnatural position still remained even as you clambered to your feet and sprinted away from the house. Rude didn’t bother to stop you, going so far as to step way off the path to let you through. You didn’t look back as you ran, not even stopping to greet Aerith as she crossed the wooden bridge.

When you were safe in your shabby second floor apartment, you did everything you could to get rid of the pain in your limbs, stretching them out and massaging them.

No such luck.

The pain remained, following you into the next day as you prepared to head back to work. Luckily for you, your job mostly consisted of office work. Signing and arranging paperwork, project reports, and other desk work.

Unluckily for you, you were the only person in the department with your first name. When you returned to your office from lunch, rubbing an aching limb, Reno awaited you, leaning against your desk. The moment you saw him, you paused and walked out of the office intent on avoiding the Turk that had caused you bodily harm.

From behind, Reno sprinted after you, “Y/N! Buddy! Wait up!”

“I don’t see you. I don’t hear you. You are absolutely, definitely not following me right now.” You muttered, not turning your head from its fixed position staring straight and down. If I can just get my ass to Reeve’s office, he’ll leave me alone. If I can just get my slow ass, in these stupid heels, to Reeve’s office, he’ll leave me alone.

Reno, for his part, had no problems keeping up with you, catching up and strolling along beside you, making you growl inwardly in frustration. “Y/N, c’mon. I’m sorry about yesterday. Slow down, you’re going to-”

An uneven part of the carpet failed to catch your notice until your foot caught it, sending you sprawling toward. Ah shit. This is gonna hurt. You muttered to yourself, bracing yourself for impact and closing your eyes… only for the impact to come sooner than expected… and less painful than you expected… I’m still upright? You questioned yourself, opening your eyes to find yourself being held up by Reno, face practically buried in his open shirt and his arms gently holding onto both of your arms.

“See.” The cocky expression was gone now. Only mild annoyance remained as he made sure you could stand on your own two feet, roughly kicking at the uneven carpet in an effort to smooth it down.

“I… thanks.” You finished lamely, slightly unsure as to what had just happened, but glad that you were saved a few bruises… and probably a more severe injury to your limbs.

Reno raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “Can we talk now?”

You wanted to say no, the memory of being pinned down and tasered still fresh in your mind, but by the Planet, the jerk had just saved you from further injury, hadn’t he? The heavy sigh and slump of your shoulder betrayed your reluctance even as you agreed to speak to the redheaded Turk. “Yeah, fine.”

The Turk second in command seemed surprised that you’d agreed, a breathy and relieved “Great” leaving his mouth as he followed your lead back to your small office.

As you walked the short distance back to your office, you kept a bit of distance from Reno whilst attempting to block out the stares from your fellow colleagues. I can practically hear the gossip spreading now. Oh, did you hear? Y/N’s in a relationship with Reno. Oh, Y/N probably got in trouble with the company if the Turks are investigating them. The thoughts only worsened when you entered your office and Reno closed the door behind him. And that’s my cue to put as much distance as possible between us. You thought to yourself, shuffling to stand behind the desk. Yes, because a waist high wooden structure is enough protection against a Turk…smart. Reallll smart.

“You know, I’m not going to hurt you, right?” Reno looked slightly put out and frustrated at the fact that you had immediately shuffled behind your desk. And you had to hand it to him… despite his reputation as a bit of spazz, his observation skills were fitting for a member of the Turks.

“Tell that to my poor arms.” You spat, rolling your shoulders in another unsuccessful attempt to alleviate the pain that remained from yesterday.

Reno deflates a little when you wince in pain, and lightly scratches his cheek. “Yeah… about that… my bad.”

“Your bad…” you mimicked back at Reno with a hint of disbelief. “Heck yeah it’s your bad! I mean what the hell! What kind of a reason did you have for assaulting a civilian!?”

“That’s uh… we were assigned to look after Aerith… and the way you were acting yesterday… I thought you did something to her.” The explanation that came pouring out of the redheaded Turk’s mouth was lacking, but you let him continue because oh boy did the man sound like a certified walking mess. “And um… I reacted too harshly… which is totally my bad. And I know that’s no excuse, and I’ve already gotten an earful from Elmyra, Rude, and Tseng, so… what I’m saying is… I’m sorry.”

…he looks like a kicked puppy. You muttered to yourself, heaving a sigh as you sat down at your desk and allowed your posture to relax just the slightest. “Fine, apology accepted, but my shoulders still hurt like I got trampled by a fiend. How the hell do I get it to stop?” Apology vaguely accepted, you just wanted him to stop giving you that look.

“I uh… figured that you’d still be in pain.” Reno winced before sheepishly slipping a hand into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful glowing green materia, “It might be overkill, but casting Cure will get rid of the ache-ah… if you’re okay with it?”

You wondered offhandedly what Elmyra had said to Reno for his behavior to have shifted so drastically towards you. Look at the Turk now, you figured that there was no harm in befriending the man. Besides, you probably needed more outgoing friends anyways. “If it’ll get rid of the ache, go ahead, Reno.”

The smile on his face was almost boyish as his arm glowed faintly, casting the healing spell on you. “One full body stress reliever coming right up!” Hm… maybe he’s not that bad after all. The spell was like a wave of relief, not only alleviating the pain from yesterday, but also taking away the tension from months and months of stress. “Feeling better?”

The groan of relief that escaped your lips was probably enough answer for Reno as you stretched, a smile on your lips appearing at the redheaded Turk’s chuckle. “Much better, thank you.”

A moment passed between the two of you until the silence was broken by the sound of Reno’s phone. You couldn’t see the caller ID, but by the way he picked up almost immediately, you guessed that it was his boss, Tseng. “Hey-” The redheaded man was cut off from his greeting as he listened, “Yeah, I just finished…” Blue eyes met yours as he mouth, ‘got to go.’

Reno started to move just as you gave him a farewell salute, smirking when the Turk simply winked back at you before the door to your office closed.

Although you initially didn’t expect the day to turn out so well, you went back to work in a good mood. I guess being friendly to Reno won’t be such a bad thing. As the day passed, your mind absentmindedly wondered when you would see him again.

December 11th… Twenty-four days and seven hours later

“Oho, staying late again?”

A familiar voice broke you out of your furious scribbling while you once again stayed late to progress further in the piles of maintenance reports on the plates. And while you were tired from staring at black and white letters all day, you pushed aside the cranky attitude to at least smile and greet Reno as he approached your usual corner table. “Hi, Reno.” You raise a brow at the drink tray in his hands and gesture for him to sit wherever. “Late night for you, too?”

Reno shrugged and took the seat just to your left, setting the tray down on a spot free of paperwork, “Turks are always on call.” He handed over a covered paper cup, “Coffee?”

“Oh boy, yes please.” You beamed ecstatically when the redhead handed you the heavenly drink. “I’ve been working on this project proposal for the past… I don’t know how long… and it’s just… so much.”

Taking a sip of his own caffeinated drink, Reno took a peek at one of the files sitting on the table. “Huh… ‘Maintenance Walkways In Hazardous State of Disrepair’…’Infested with Mako Mutated Fiends’… I forgot you worked in urban development. What’s Reeve got ya doin that requires so many late nights?”

Despite his asking, Reno made no further attempts at reading the papers on the cafeteria table. Pursing your lips, you eyed the Turk second in command for a long moment, regarding him with as much suspicion as he had directed towards you nearly a month ago. It was well known throughout Shinra that the corporation had bigger goals and aspirations than to serve the people. There were many in the company that truly believed in the work that Shinra did, but as someone who had lived in the slums all your life, and one of the project leaders within Shinra’s Urban Development Division, you held no such illusions of grandeur. With the exception of Reeve, the higher ups in Shinra had no qualms of neglecting the public, only paying attention to the people beneath their feet in order to satisfy their egos and prevent rowdy citizens from forming anti-Shinra groups like AVALANCHE. Reno, a Turk, had to answer to the President and Vice President of Shinra directly, and everything they do is by the will of the two highest powers in the company. If you told Reno of the plate restoration project… would it cause a negative reaction within the company?

“If I tell you, Reno… you have to keep quiet about it.” Despite being tired, you leveled the red head with a grave stare.

Reno raised his arms and displayed his palms out in a ‘I’m harmless’ manner. “If it doesn’t have anything to do with an assassination attempt or terrorist attack, my lips are sealed.” The Turk shrugged, “And if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I mostly came here to keep you caffeinated… and to ask if you wanted to grab dinner sometime?”

Well… that came out of left field.

The blush that rose to your cheeks made your embarrassment pretty clear to Reno, who hummed and leaned forward to observe you closer. “Huh… Red’s a good look on you.”

The wink that the Turk sent your way did not help you calm down. “That’s not… uh… why?” Why was Reno asking you out to dinner? You’d known each other for all of twenty something days… not that it was completely unusual for individuals your age to go on dates… if this even was a date.

“I figure you could do with a night free of worries.” Reno explained, now positioning himself to lean on the table towards you. “Plus I get to take a beautiful woman out to dinner.”

You raised a hand to stop his flirting, knowing the rumors that spread throughout the company of Reno’s flirtatious ways. “I accept, but it’s just dinner, okay? I shouldn’t stay out too late.”

The red head seemed happy that you accepted, but pouted nonetheless, “Well then… that’s boring. I was thinking of taking you out drinking with Rude and I.”

You gesture towards the paperwork all over the table, “I have to get the work done eventually, Reno.”

“Fine…” the sigh that left Reno sounded more like a whine than acceptance. The mischievous smirk did nothing to ease your concerns as Reno stood up to help you clean up the piles of paper and notes. “C’mon, the sooner we clean up here, the sooner we can get some grub into your growling stomach.”

“My stomach is not-” Gurrrggghhh… You blushed crimson when your stomach cried out for food.

“You were saying?” Reno raised a brow, mirth glinting in his blue eyes as you tried to act nonchalantly.

“…” Snatching the last of the paperwork on the table and shoving it into your bag, you sniffed in embarrassment, “We’re dropping this stuff off in my office before we go anywhere.”

The red headed Turk actually had the audacity to smirk and salute you.

… Twenty minutes later, you found yourself in a car heading towards Sector Eight… Although Reno had advertised the outing as a dinner between just the two of you, the two of you somehow found yourselves seated in the back seats of the vehicle while Rude drove and Tseng sat in shotgun. Glancing to the side at Reno, he seemed at a loss for words for once, blue eyes glaring sulkingly at the back of Tseng’s head.

“So, Y/N, as I understand it, you work closely with Reeve Tuesti?” Tseng asked, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror despite its angle.

Somehow, you felt like you were about to get interrogated by Reno’s ‘parents,’ if the groan of exasperation from the red head beside you wasn’t enough of a give away.

“Um… I would say closely enough. I’m one of his project leaders, but even that title can be grossly overestimated.” The explanation leaves your lips before you can so much as think, “Because I work on projects that focus on the slums, most of my time is spent doing research and putting together proposals for projects that urgently need to be addressed.” Not that any of my proposals have been accepted thus far. You left the last statement unsaid, and your bitterness at the company unheard. Still, the discontent must have shown on your face, as Tseng started to speak again.

“Do you not like your job?” Such a simple question, but not something you could answer simply. The pleasant smile on the Turk commander’s face, which you glimpsed from the side view mirror, told you that he was well aware that you would have to expand your answer.

Wincing, you turned your gaze away to stare out the window as the car pulled off the highway. “I don’t dislike it, no… but I took the job as project leader in order to help make a difference for my community. But every project proposal that I’ve drawn up and presented has been turned down by the people that have a say in the company.” The sneer that started to form froze before smoothing into a less intense expression as you took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“If you only wanted to help your community, then why take a job at Shinra? And why didn’t you simply quit?” Tseng was prodding at you, knowing that you knew what he was doing.

“Uh, Boss? Bit of a touchy subject, yeah?” Reno protested, sending very clear glares at Tseng’s way.

The Turk commander’s lips twitched in the slightest of smiles, “My apologies, Y/N. I didn’t mean to press you.”

Didn’t mean to press me, my ass! What the hell is this? Another round of ‘Y/N is a suspicious person?’ You thought with a lot of snark, outwardly shrugging, “You Turks certainly do live up to your reputation.” When Tseng rose a brow and Reno stared at your questioningly, you elaborated with another shrug, “The questioning… the false pretenses… you guys are very good at what you do, but…” Sighing, you shook your head and decided to shut your mouth, “Nevermind. Forget it. So long as you’re good to Elmyra and Aerith, I don’t give a damn if you guys restrain me and take me in for questioning.”

“…I thought I already said sorry for that!” Reno pouted, a wounded expression on his face.

The car stopped in front of a restaurant, but you were no longer hungry. Glancing down at your watch, you feigned a sigh, “Well, looks like I won’t be joining you guys for dinner tonight. I just realized that I had something to do in Sector 5.”

“Wait… hold on-”

“Would you like us to give you a lift?” Rude offered, cutting Reno off from his protests.

Bowing your head, you made to get out of the vehicle. “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine taking the train back. I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll see you three at work tomorrow.”

With that, you slid out of the car, shutting the door with as little force necessary before strolling down the street towards the train station. After turning the corner, you paused and sighed, shaking your head at the dinner plans. If you were being honest, you were actually quite excited to have dinner with Reno. He had turned out to be more thoughtful and intuitive than you had first pinned him as. Maybe we can have dinner alone next time. Suddenly hopeful, you resumed your gait towards the train station. If you hurried, you could catch the next train back and be in time to eat at the restaurant around the corner from your home.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called out to you, accompanied by the sound of sprinting dress shoes, just as you were about to enter the train platform.

“Reno?!” You stared at the red head as he sprinted the last few meters to stop in front of you, perplexed and worried that he’d run all the way to the train station. The people sharing the train platform stared at the pair of you even as the train pulled into the station. “I… um… thought you were going to have dinner with Rude and Tseng? Did you need something?” You asked, glancing towards the train as it opened its doors.

“Y-you…” Reno gasped, clearly panting for breath despite the fact that he was supposed to be used to this. “You don’t work tomorrow.”

Tilting your head to the side, you admired Reno for a moment, pleased with his listening skills during the times that you spoke. “You’re right. No, I don’t.” You watched as the passengers all started boarding the train. “Reno… I have to catch this train, what is it?”

“Let me walk you home!” the red headed Turk suggested, straightening up and gently taking your wrist in his.

“Wait… What?” What the hell-

“It’ll be fun.” Reno didn’t give you much of a choice, as he led you aboard the train, careful not to tug on your arm too roughly. Once the doors slid close, the red head smirked at your completely baffled expression, “I promised you a dinner date, didn’t I?”

Your turned red as you stuttered, completely conscious of the stares incoming from the other passengers. “But what about Rude and Tseng? How are you going to get home after?”

Reno grinned, “They’re the ones who ruined our plans in the first place, so of course I’m ditching ‘em. And if I need to head home, I’ll just head back with the infantrymen stationed in Sector 5. So don’t worry.” Then, as if realizing that your face was growing more and more red because he was now holding your hand and had moved just a breath away, Reno coughed and backed up. Letting go of your hand, the embarrassed Turk raised a hand to scratch his cheek in the same nervous tic that you’d noticed before. “Anyways, let’s find a seat, okay? It’s been a long day for you… so if you want to take a breather…” Reno’s voice trailed off as the two of you shuffled through the cart to find a pair of empty seats.

Once seated, you sighed and leaned back on the uncomfortable bench. “Five years ago, I was living with my parents in the Sector 7 Slums. My father was an infantryman in Shinra’s army, and my mother was just a regular housewife. Around that time, fiend attacks had mysteriously started to increase… and people started to go missing. My mother went missing one night, and my father was a part of the infantry that was sent to investigate.” The dull ache in your chest increased as you thought back to the events years ago. “Neither of the two came back, and suddenly I was alone. But… I wasn’t the only one who lost a loved one that day.”

“So, that’s when you decided to do something to help your community?” Reno muttered, having turned to pull you into a hug, “But why Shinra? The slums have neighborhood watches that you could have joined…. Oh… eh… but you don’t have to tell me if you’re not up to it.”

Leaning your head to rest on Reno’s shoulder, you chuckled, “You don’t have to worry about walking on eggshells with me, Reno. I mostly gave Tseng a hard time because he was being too nosey.”

“Well… that’s good to know.” The Turk gave a light hearted laugh of his own, relaxing in his mannerisms. “Felt like I was standing on trial for a moment there.”

Rolling your eyes, you elbowed Reno in the side lightly. “Drama queen. But anyways, after mom and dad disappeared, a SOLDIER and his protege were assigned to hunt down the fiends. Before they started their hunt, they made a point to visit all the families that lost someone from the fiends attacks. It was sweet of them, taking the time to check up on us. And it’s because of them that I decided to work at Shinra. That if those two truly believed in the company that employed them, that I would be able to make a difference if only I had those same resources.” The smile on your face turned bitter once you started to think about those two. “After three years, I found out later that both mentor and mentee were quite popular in Midgar… and that they had died.”

“I think I know the two you’re talking about.” Reno muttered, gaze taking on a far away glint. “It’s good to know that they left behind a legacy.”

“They left behind more than a legacy.” You whispered with a fond smile, “Zack’s fanclub became the inspiration for Sector 5’s neighborhood watch. They all wield wooden replicas of Angeal’s sword.”

“A new generation of heroes, huh?” Reno smirked and closed his eyes, “I bet Zack would be ecstatic.” Blue eyes suddenly meet yours, a brightness in them as Reno addressed you, “Be honest, were you part of that fanclub?”

“And if I was?” You raised a brow, glad that the tone of conversation had shifted back to something light hearted.

Reno pouted and slumped in his seat, pulling you along as he playfully whined, “Where’s my fanclub? I want groups of people singing my praises, too!”

“Now you’re just being silly.” You chided, amused by the man’s antics. When Reno continued to pout, you rolled your eyes, playing along. “Fine. Then from now on, you can count me as your first fanclub member.” You raised your head to look him in the eye, “Happy now?”

The hug tightened, but Reno stuck out his tongue in reply. “Eh… I don’t think I can handle having a fanclub. Too much noise. Nah. I’m good.”

This time, you didn’t bother holding back your strength when elbowing him.

…… Around twenty minutes later, the pair of you departed the train with the rest of its passengers, and found yourself seated at your favorite noodle restaurant in Sector 5. Although it was thirty minutes before closing, the boss and chef knew you well enough to take your orders without much of a fuss. While the food was being prepared, you and Reno swapped stories about work and random weird stories.

“-I’m serious about the doomrats! They’re always appearing in Sector 7, stealing random shit and everything! My entire childhood was spent with threats of doomrats coming to steal my toys! My friend, Eli, her entire toy house was taken when her side of the sector was overrun with the pests!” You laughed in between bites of noodles.

“But that’s nowhere near as bad as having to deal with Hojo!” Reno protested, a string of noodles slipping out of his mouth to hang against his mouth. “The guy just takes things without telling anyone and somehow it returns with a bunch of stains on it! It’s like he has no regard for anything outside of his research.”

Your brain brought up a memory of passing Professor Hojo in the hallway once, and you let out a full body shiver. “Ugh… yeah… he does give off that whole… egotistic mad scientist vibe… sometimes, I wonder what the hell is so important that we have to devote so many floors to his research lab.”

“Y/N?” Reno’s humor suddenly disappears.

You blink, startled by the change, “Yeah?”

“No matter what happens… stay away from Hojo, okay?” There’s some concern in his eyes and tone, but he doesn’t elaborate.

You don’t know how else to respond to a somber Reno than to reluctantly nod your head, “Yeah. Okay. He gives me the creeps, so that’s not a problem.”

“I mean it, Y/N. If anyone in the company tells you to bring something to Hojo, you refuse. And if it’s a higher up, you come to me first.” The intensity in his stare is startling.

“Got it, Reno.” Not knowing what to do, you reached out to lightly poke his cheek, “C’mon, I know you have your own reason to be concerned, but I work in urban development. There’s little to no chance that I would have to cross paths with Hojo. So, let’s finish our noodles and stop worrying, okay?”

Reno pauses for a brief moment, taking in a breath and letting it out, a small smile making an appearance again. “Okay. Fine.” Reaching into his pocket, Reno pulls out more than enough gil for your meal and stands up, leaving the money on the table and offering a hand to you, “Let’s getcha back home, okay? It’s gettin late.”

Trailing after the red headed Turk, you stared at his back with a questioning stare. Though you pretended like the sudden shift in attitude from Reno hadn’t alarmed you, your thoughts kept shifting to linger upon the warning that Reno had wanted to make sure you understood. I feel like… something bad will happen if I don’t listen to him… When Reno stopped just outside your apartment building across from Leaf House, you tilted your head to the side, “Why am I not surprised that you know where I live? That’s kind of creepy, ya know?”

Reno startled, spluttering excuses as he let go of your hand and backed up, the warmth from his palm instantly being missed. “I ugh… You know it’s my job-and I just wanted-cause Tseng’s super paranoid about people close to-I’m just gonna shut up now.” The Turk second in command stopped his muttering when he noticed the teasing glint in your eyes, “Oh, ha ha. Very funny.”

“C’mon, Reno. You think I was going to miss my chance at teasing you?” The grin on your face was infectious, prompting Reno to return your easy-going smile.

Gesturing to the two story building, Reno bowed, “I will rest easy knowing that you got home safely, my lady.”

“Oh my!” You gasped, a hand raised to rest against your chest in mock surprise, “What a gentleman!”

There was a silence before the two of you burst into laughter that was probably too loud for that time of night. From down the street, you could hear one of the residents open their window and shout, “Fer cryin out loud, would ya lovebirds shut up! People are tryin ta sleep!”

Stifling your laugh, you practically danced towards the metal stairway leading up to the second floor apartments. “I guess that’s my cue to get inside.”

Reno’s eyes glinted as he stared after you fondly, “Yeah…” There was brief pause before he spoke up again, “Hey, Y/N? Let’s go out for a proper date… maybe, tomorrow or the day after?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You smiled as the agreement fell from your lips without much thought except the want to get to know the man before you better. “I’ll be at my friend’s place celebrating her birthday tomorrow, but I don’t have plans for the day after.”

“Great!” Reno gasped, seemingly breathless as he took a step towards you, “I’ll pick you up at 10, then?”

“Ten works for me!” You agreed, watching the red headed Turk as he closed the distance between the two of you, closing your eyes as you expected something to happen, only to feel a hand rest on your cheek before pulling away.

Confused, you opened your eyes just in time to catch Reno’s smile as he turned away. “I don’t kiss on the first date.” A wink is sent your way as he rounds the corner, disappearing from sight. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You don’t know if you want to squeal at the gesture, or punch him for leaving you hanging. Biting your bottom lip in a manner befitting anticipation, you turned to climb up the rest of the stairs with a smile, very much looking forward to the next two days.

When Reno returned to Shinra HQ for the night, Elena would make note of the stupidly happy grin on her senpai’s face… even when he was handed a datapad containing the plans for the next night’s operation.

December 12th

The following night…

You grinned as you watched your friend, Selene, open up her gifts from each member of your friend group. She had just been accepted at her dream career of being a planetary conservationist, and was due to move away from Midgar tomorrow. Though her apartment was empty, you and your friends had brought enough food for the lot of you while you all celebrated and bid your goodbyes to a long time friend.

“Let us know if you meet any handsome guys where you are!” you heard someone joke, patting Selene on the back with a teasing grin. “City men aren’t romantic at all!”

“Hey! I resent that! We’re not all bad!”

“No… she’s right. We’re not romantic.”

Maybe it was the good vibes and laughter that prevented you all from noticing when the ground started shaking. Maybe you had all indulged a little too much on the alcohol. Regardless, no one was laughing when a large steel beam crashed through the apartment roof and landed on top of where Selene had been standing with her parents.

The room descended into shocked silence as all eyes stared at the metal beam…the crumbling ceiling…the limbs sticking out from under the mess of rebar, concrete, and wire…and the blood… All of your faces went pale at the realization of what happened. And then, the panic.

“Oh god!”

“Selene!”

“Someone call emergency services!”

“Help me lift this thing up!”

“So… much blood.”

Stumbling backwards, your eyes darted from the rubble to the moving bodies in the apartment before looking at the hole in the apartment ceiling. The beam could only have been from the plate… But how had it fallen? Had a piece been loose this entire time? …Had this been your fault? You were in charge of the plate maintenance project… you hadn’t read any reports about structure integrity over Sector 7… but maybe there had been something hidden. You shook your head in denial. No, the project proposal was sitting on your desk at Shinra HQ, nearly finished except for the conclusion. There had been nothing irregular about the plate above the Sector 7 slums. Not even when you’d gone personally with the inspectors to investigate.

And then, above the shouting voices and confusion within the apartment, you heard it. Helicopters and gunfire… people screaming outside.

“No…” you whimpered, eyes wide as you sprinted for the front door, throwing the latch open and ramming yourself into the metal door in your rush to get out onto the apartment balcony hallway.

Now that the door was wide open… now that you stood with a view of the Sector 7 Slums, the cacophony of screams and noises reached your ears with no problem. The plate above groaned as explosions detonated along the underside of its structure, sending larges pieces of debris crashing down like meteors upon the residential buildings below. You could see several Shinra helicopters flying away from the plate pillar, where the explosions seem to have originated from. Down in the streets below, the residents of Sector 7 scramble in different directions to avoid being crushed by the seemingly crumbling night sky.

“The plate’s falling!” You cried out to your remaining friends before making a break towards the stairway down to the ground floor, ensuring that the path was clear before waving your friends over. Just as you stepped off the stairs, another massive explosion rumbled violently from above you, the sheer volume of the noise popping your ears and throwing off your balance. A random civilian ran in your direction, screaming and flailing his arms, knocking you down in his haste to get away from another falling metal beam.

You’d landed on your arm wrong, but the adrenaline running through your body kept you moving as you stumbled to your feet and trailed after your friends. Behind you, another giant piece of the plate crashed into Selene’s apartment building with such force that the ground beneath your feet shook as the structure caved in on itself. You watched as people fled from their homes, as fires started and spread. You watched as people begged to be rescued, their limbs trapped under flaming metal and wood. You continued to stumble forwards even when rubble rained down upon you all like hellfire, crushing the unlucky many on the path ahead of you and blocking you off.

You wanted to cry… or maybe you were already crying. All around you, the plate continued to fall, blocking you off from any means of escape. Your ears rang from the magnitude of noises. Your arm had begun to ache from your fall. The flames consuming the houses rose in intensity, scorching your surroundings while you fought to maintain your balance. Trying, among the chaos, to find a way out of this impossible situation. But no. If you went one way or the other, you would be burned severely. Any other way would require you to pick through pieces of metal that were easily ten times your body weight.

Another explosion, this time coming from the direction of the pillar, sent you crashing to the floor from the force it left in its wake.

I hope you all made it out of here. You prayed to the Planet that your friends had gotten out of Sector 7. Looking up towards the falling sky, you could only sob as it fell too fast for your liking. Resigned, you brought out your phone, intent on calling a certain red headed Turk one more time.

“Hey, Reno. It’s me, Y/N…” you dry swallowed and held back another sob, hand raising to muffle your cries of misery. “I just wanted you to know that I’m glad that I met you. I’m really annoyed that you didn’t kiss me yesterday night, and I-” the line on your phone beeped to signal a disconnect, and you pulled the phone away to stare hopelessly at the screen.

No signal.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you bent forward, pressing your face to the cracked glass screen. A shadow swallowed your figure whole as the last of the plate fell down. “Reno…”

“I was really looking forward to our date.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

#shian imagines #reno #ffvii reno #final fantasy vii reno #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy vii #ffvii #ffvii remake #reno x reader #mentions of other characters #rude #ffvii rude #tseng #ffvii tseng #x reader angst

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let-it-raines · 6 years

Text

Another Bad Christmas Movie (1/2)

Summary: Emma Swan’s life is not a Christmas movie. Sure, there are some aspects of it that are similar, but that’s true for everyone who has a pulse and has ever heard All I Want For Christmas is You (don’t lie, you probably sing along to it). So maybe she’s a little frustrated and annoyed with some holiday traditions, especially the cheesy ones in the movies, but Killian Jones is going to help change all of that.

Rating: Mature-ish to err on the safe side but mostly just holiday fun.

Also found on ao3 | here |

Part Two will be posted tomorrow or on the 26th since this was too long to just be a one-shot. But it’s a gift and Christmas, and I’m not leaving everyone hanging as much as usual.

Surprise @searchingwardrobes I’m your @cssecretsanta2k18! 🎅🏻 I got my little message with your name and immediately thought, huh, I got another Southern girl! I have no idea how much you knew about me to begin with, and it was so, so hard trying to be anonymous without giving too much away but still letting you know me a little. I’m sure you figured it out anyways. Getting to know you has been an absolute joy, Melanie, and I hope you have the merriest of Christmases! I also hope that you enjoy this story! You were pretty broad with what you like, but I may have done some stalking on you during this last month to help guide parts of this story! I think you’ll find some little Easter eggs (or more appropriately Christmas ornaments) just for you. ♥️🎄🎁

Tag List: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma

“I think Christmas magic can heal everything,” Annabeth swoons to William, her body wrapped up in a festive red and green coat with a white dress underneath. She takes a step closer to William, her hand tentatively and appropriately placed on his shoulder, fingers squeezing the slightest bit. “I think it can even heal someone like you who doesn’t believe in Christmas.”

“You know, Beth,” William smiles, his own festive hat on top of his head shielding him from the snow falling down, “I think you’re right. But it’s not just the magic of Christmas.”

“No?”

“No,” he shakes his head, the smile on his face growing brighter, “it’s the magic of your love.”

“I love you, too,” Annabeth grins before pressing up on her toes and chastely pressing a kiss against Willian’s lips before the camera zooms out to show all of the townspeople milling around town square, white Christmas lights strung between the buildings with William and Annabeth somehow standing alone right next to the oversized Christmas tree. Right before the screen fades to black, the star on the top of the tree flickers before the credits roll.

“That’s a load of crap,” Emma groans, throwing a piece of her popcorn at the television screen like she’s Reese Witherspoon in that one scene in Legally Blonde where she calls Brad Pitt a liar. Emma’s always related to that scene more than most of that movie, and if anyone were to ask her, she’s only seen the movie once or twice and not dozens of times.

“You only say that because you’re the Grinch of Storybrooke, Emma,” her mom chastises, and isn’t she too old to be chastised by her mother?

“That’s not true,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and sinking further into the couch, wondering if she can just disappear and somehow get out of this conversation she’s very clearly just walked herself into it. Maybe she’s a bit of a Grinch. For tonight at least.

“Yes, it is, sweetheart. This movie is romantic, and yes, it’s a little bit cheesy but that’s part of the appeal.”

“First of all, it’s November, so why the hell is Hallmark even showing Christmas movies? Shouldn’t they be showing Thanksgiving movies or something like that?”

“What’s a Thanksgiving movie?”

“A movie where they romanticize the Thanksgiving holiday.”

She’d like to see a movie where they fall in love over preparing a turkey. They pull all of the innards out together and then that little tag thing at the end. It’s disgusting, and not nearly as aesthetically appealing as baking perfectly done Christmas cookies or making pies that are family recipes that date back centuries. Excuse her if she doesn’t believe that Annabeth’s great great grandmother was making a blueberry pie with snowflake shaped pie crust and Bluebell ice cream one hundred years ago.

“Thanksgiving just doesn’t have quite the appeal of Christmas. I mean, look at this. There’s snow covering the ground as the two of them fall in love again over hot chocolate and baking together. Isn’t that the dream?”

“Oh, yes. I’d love to fall in love with my high school boyfriend again, Mom. He was a gem.”

Mary Margaret smiles at her, and Emma already knows the words that are going to come out of her mother’s mouth. Yeah, she definitely walked right into this one. She has no excuses other than the inability to not shut her mouth.

“I’d like you to fall back in love with him, too. Wouldn’t it be so nice to be with your first love? It’s like your father and me. There’s nothing quite like it.”

“Mom, I get that you romanticize everything, but you have to stop romanticizing my relationship with Neal. He was, still is, an asshole. Just because your first love worked out, doesn’t mean mine has to. I don’t know why you can’t understand that first loves aren’t who you have to end up with. I swear it’s like we have this conversation every time you see him in town.”

“Emma, I’m – ”

“Save it.” She gets up from her seat on the couch and goes to wrap herself in her jacket, fluffing out the hair that gets stuck under the collar. “I’m going to the Rabbit Hole. I’ll talk to you later. Enjoy the next movie.”

As soon as the front door slams behind her and she feels the first gust of cold wind hitting the bare skin of her face, her ears reddening already as her entire body shivers, she knows that she’s messed up when it comes to her mom. She’s just too stubborn to open up the door and go back in to talk about it like the adult she is, instead wandering down the street from her parents’ house to get something to drink and then go home to the quiet paradise that is her apartment. She loves her mom. She really does, but some things she just can’t stomach anymore. Her high school boyfriend, Neal, was a cheater and a liar and an all around horrible human being, and her mom constantly thinks they should get back together because “they were so cute together.” It’s sickening sometimes to see someone so idealistic about the world, and while Emma knows that all Mary Margaret wants is for her to be happy, she’s got to stop pushing her together with people who she doesn’t want to be with. If she wants to find love…well, she doesn’t know what she’ll do. But it’s not going to come from her mother’s naïve pushing.

It’s freezing tonight, and she wishes she had something other than her red leather jacket to keep her warm. She needs something made of wool along with her gloves and her beanie, but she wasn’t exactly planning on walking through the late night air to go to a bar by herself. She doesn’t usually go into the Rabbit Hole. It’s…seedy at its best, and if she goes, she never goes alone no matter how crime free Storybrooke usually is.

All thanks to Sheriff David Nolan, of course.

When she opens the beaten down wooden door, a rush of warm air hits her that allows her entire body to practically sigh in relief as her boots cause the hardwood floors to squeak and one or two men at the pool table to look over at her. A different kind of shiver runs through her body at their stares, and even if she can handle herself, she hurries to one of the many empty seats at the bar. It’s quiet in here tonight, more bare than she’s ever seen it before, but she’s also never been in here on a Tuesday this early.

“What can I get you, lass?”

“A whiskey sour and an explanation as to why the Deputy Sheriff is serving me a drink tonight.”

Killian laughs before turning around and quickly fixing her drink, sliding it over to her before propping his arms on the bar counter and scratching behind his ear as his lips quirk up to one side.

“It seems that my brother has come down with a cold, and,” he motions to the practically empty bar, “he couldn’t give up all of the potential business that he guaranteed would come from tonight.”

“Yeah, it’s super crowded in here. Really a booming business. Everyone must be out committing crimes because the Deputy Sheriff is otherwise occupied with all of these bar goers.”

“Ah, ah, love,” he chuckles, inching a bit closer to her before flashing her with one of his grins that she knows so well, “your father is on parole tonight, and no one pulls the wool over his eyes. So our lovely little town should be crime free, especially since two of my five customers are Will and Leroy.”

“That’s a very good point.”

“So tell me about all of your woes, darling.”

“I’ve never told a bartender about my woes before. I think you watched too many movies before coming in here to fill in.”

“Aye, but you look like something is bothering you. I’ve known you long enough that you’re a bit of an open book.”

“I am not.”

“You are. Also, not to take away from Ruby, but we both know I’m your best mate. You’re going to tell me your woes sooner or later. Might as well do it now.”

He makes a good point. She was going to call him after she got something to drink. She probably should have called and asked him to come get something to drink with her, but all she wanted was to be alone for a little while. Then she saw his face behind the bar and was thankful for this little stroke of luck at already having him here. They might as well do the whole cliché bartender thing where she fills her body with alcohol and spills her guts to him. Yet here, in this situation, the bartender already knows most of her woes. He’s been there for pretty much all of them, and she can’t lie to him if she tries. She might have her superpower with lying when it comes to, well, everyone, but Killian Jones has one when it comes to her, something that happens when you’ve known someone since you were five and he was seven.

That’s…twenty-three years of personal information.

“My mother and I got into a fight because she thinks that my life should be a Hallmark movie like hers.”

Killian leans forward again, propping his chin on his fist and changing his soft smile into a cheeky grin before shrugging his shoulders. “Is your life not a Hallmark movie? A beautiful woman living in an idyllic seaside town working as a freelance artist and living down the street from your Sheriff of a father and elementary school teacher of a mother who are the perfect examples of good and kind people. That sounds a bit like one of those movies to me.”

“You forgot the biggest part.”

He raises his eyebrows, waggling them like he’s done ever since she can remember. How does he even do that? She can move hers ups and down but not like that. It’s some kind of weird facial thing, and he’s always used it to his advantage to make her laugh or tease her.

“I didn’t forget. I just think there’s more to your life than having a man love you. It’d be nice, and that’d be the luckiest bastard in the world, but it doesn’t define you, love.”

“Yeah, well, my mom doesn’t see it that way. She’s got this fixation that I should get back together with Neal.”

Killian raises an eyebrow (there he goes again) in shock or confusion or something. “Why the bloody hell would she suggest you get back together with the man who slept his way through town while he was still dating you?”

“Because my mother is an idealist who thinks that your only love can be your first love.”

“No offense to your darling mother, but that’s rubbish. I wouldn’t get back together with my first love for all of the money in the world.”

“I’m glad someone in this town is sensible. Even Neal tries to ask me out sometimes, and I just don’t understand that. He betrayed my trust, and he thinks that just because ten years have passed, I’m going to jump back into bed with him? Like, what the hell?”

She ends up staying to talk to Killian for the rest of his shift, keeping him company into the late-night hours. She doesn’t drink any more than her one glass, and by the time it’s two in the morning, she’s completely forgotten about her fight with her mother and her distaste for Hallmark movies. She hadn’t seen Killian for a week, something unusual considering how he lives in her building and works for her father, so they used the time to catch up, telling tales of the adventures of his work at the station as well as the weird things people ask her to paint (she is not going to do a nude portrait of Granny no matter how much the woman offers her…maybe a lifetime of free grilled cheese sandwiches and onion rings…maybe). Of course, as they always do, they fall into reminiscing on their childhood, tonight getting caught up how much trouble they got in when they were in elementary school and prank called residents from her dad’s phone at the station. She’d been eight and Killian ten, and it was the first time either of them had gotten grounded.

Now, though, she’s twenty-eight to Killian’s thirty, and they don’t get grounded for any of their shenanigans, mostly because the most they do is each eat their own box of pizza while drinking rum in one of their apartments.

But also because they’re adults.

After locking up the bar and making sure that Will and Leroy get home safely (a police officer is never off duty, love), Killian walks her to her apartment – okay, so hers is two floors up and a fire escape away from his so he was going that way anyways – his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his beanie on top of her head to keep her warm. His little elf ears are tipped in red from the cold, his new shorter hair cut showing them off, and she has to stifle her giggle so as not to laugh at them. She thinks a lot of the cheesiness of Christmas is crap, but if every elf was like her best friend, maybe it wouldn’t all be bad.

“G’night, love,” he whispers after getting her inside her apartment door, the coolness of it after a day of nonuse almost as bad as the chill outside. “You bringing your dad lunch tomorrow?”

“I am before I have to go buy new paints.”

“Good,” he takes a step back, snatching the knit hat off of her head, “I think I’d like a toasted sandwich with some of that tomato soup from Granny’s, if you’d be so kind.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say that he can buy his own damn lunch before he’s jogging down the staircase at the end of the hall and heading to his own apartment. She hears a few muffled curses before she closes her front door, and the goofball most definitely just tripped on the stairs.

Her week passes quickly, a surprising amount of people asking her to take last minute Christmas card photos or commissioning her to edit the photos they’ve already taken and making them into themed cards. She mostly deals with painting because that’s what she loves, but she’d go broke if that was the only thing she did. Storybrooke isn’t exactly an expensive town to live in, but a girl’s got to live in some place other than the shady apartments down past the docks or with her parents. So she takes photos to live. She’s done everything from weddings to Christmas cards to family portraits to portraits of pets. That last one is her favorite. If her apartment allowed dogs, she’d get one, no question. She had a border collie growing up, sweet Wilby, and she’d love to have another precious companion like that.

Maybe someday.

She’s just finishing the edits of Anna and Kristoff’s Christmas cards, the two of them wanting a bright, colorful card while Anna’s sister Elsa wants a card of whites and icy blues, when she hears muffled curses and a loud bang out on her fire escape.

It’s either a burglar or…

Killian.

Sighing, she rolls back in her desk chair and goes to her living room window, unlocking it and lifting up the glass pane to see Killian’s head pop up through the gap for the ladder, his black hair covered in a red and white Santa hat, and when he pulls himself up on the metal platform, she sees that he’s got several brown paper grocery bags.

“What are you doing, Killian? You know I have a front door? And you have a key to it, by the way.”

“Aye,” he grunts, scrambling to his feet and through the window, handing her the grocery bags so that he can more easily get inside, “but Ms. Roberts is sitting on the staircase, and I’d rather not get roped into her trying to set me up with her daughter again.”

“Why don’t you want to date her again?”

“Well, she’s seventeen for one, and I find myself liking adults.”

“You make a valid point.” She takes the bags and walks them the few feet to her kitchen counter. Her apartment is basically one room with a bedroom and bathroom down the hall in the back, and she can get to anything she needs in just a few steps. Shuffling through the bags she sees sugar, eggs, milk, icing, sprinkles, everything one would need to make…cookies.

“Killian, did you get a sudden urge to make cookies? You don’t even like cookies that much.”

“Eh,” he protests, reaching up to scratch at his ear before moving down to rub at his scruff, “I like them on occasion,” he pats his stomach, “but I do like to keep in shape by avoiding a lot of sweets.”

“So why the sudden penchant for baking?”

“Because, darling, I was thinking – ”

“That’s never a good idea.”

Killian rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue. “You’re being awfully cheeky, Nolan, when I’m about to change your entire world.”

“With your baked goods?”

“Is that an innuendo?”

“How could that possibly be an – ” she slaps his chest when the realization hits her, and he simply waggles his eyebrows and gets and cheeky grin plastered across his face as well, “ – you’re so gross. So how are you going to rock my entire world?”

His left eyebrow raises even higher, and it only takes her a few seconds to realize where she’s messed up. “I mean change my world. How are you going to change my world?”

“I’m going to make you believe in the wonders of Christmas!” She peers into the bag again, her skepticism rising with every moment that passes. She gets frustrated baking with the cookie dough that comes pre-cut. She can’t imagine how annoyed she’ll get having to make them from scratch. How the hell does Killian even know how to make cookies from scratch? And how is it going to make her believe in the wonders of Christmas? She already believes in the wonders of Christmas. She just doesn’t believe in some of the overly cringe-worthy Christmas activities they do in Hallmark movies where the people somehow fall in love in a month. It’s unrealistic.

“Through cookies?”

“Cookies, among other things, aye. I was thinking about our conversation at the bar the other day, and while, no, life isn’t a Hallmark movie, there are some things I think we could learn from them. So you and I are going to partake in as many cheesy Christmas traditions as we can.”

“What the hell? Why?”

“Because I was thinking that you deserve to love Christmas, Emma. I know you don’t hate it or anything, but not every tradition is bad. And I don’t want you to be so bitter about your relationships in the past that you can’t have fun.”

“Aren’t most of these activities romantic? I mean, that’s what those movies are about. I’m not bitter by the way. I was just pissed at my mom.”

“Aye, but they don’t have to be romantic.” Okay, so he’s just ignoring her protests then, unpacking all of the ingredients and placing them on her countertops. “Come on, love. It’ll be fun. I’ll make it fun, and it’ll be so much better than us slopping around in our apartments doing nothing.”

Killian has apparently never once made cookies from scratch, so it takes three hours and five batches before they finally get a cookie sheet full of oddly shaped (he brought Christmas shaped cookie cutters to really round out the fun, and they do not work in the slightest) sugar cookies. Her entire apartment is going to smell like sugar for days, and she’s pretty sure that their super is going to yell at them for how much trash they put down the shoot. Killian also yelled at her for trying to sneak a cookie fresh out of the oven, so it’s really just par for the course at this point.

“They have to cool, darling. We’re decorating them.”

“Do you know how to decorate cookies?”

“No, but you’re a painter. You can figure it out, can’t you?”

It takes a trip to the grocery store (and a detour for Granny’s grilled cheese) to get piping bags and more decorating tools, and another three hours later, her kitchen countertops are all filled with highly festive Christmas cookies. She may have gone a little overboard and made hers look like something you see in stores while her rejects and Killian’s look more akin to something a child would make, smeared icing and mixed colors that make what’s supposed to be a white angel look more like a greenish-gray blob.

If she puts a side by side comparison of their decorating skills on Instagram, no one has to know.

Okay, so all of her followers have to know. She’s pretty dang proud of her cookies.

And a little bit proud of Killian’s, too.

“You know,” Killian muses as he takes a bite of that very same greenish-gray blob of a cookie, the two of them sitting on the kitchen floor, backs against the cabinets with her jeans completely covered in flour, “just because something is ugly on the outside, doesn’t mean it tastes bad on the inside.”

“Is that supposed to be philosophical?”

“It’s supposed to a point about how my cookies taste just as good as yours.”

“That’s what she said,” Emma mumbles under her breath before reaching up on the counter only to pull down one of Killian’s cookies. This one is definitely very green and very much a Christmas tree. The ornaments on it, however, are a different story. At least she thinks they’re ornaments.

“Darling, you know I love a good innuendo,” he purrs, his voice lowering so that she has no choice but to look over at him only to see his dark brows dancing across his face while his lips twitch, “but you and I both know that we would not have the same type of cookies. You’d likely be a ginger cookie, sweet but a little snappy, while I’d be more like a yule log.”

“A yule…” she slaps his chest again as laughter bubbles inside of her own. He’s an idiot, but he’s a damn good friend. “You’re such a weirdo. An inappropriate weirdo.”

“Aye, that I am. I don’t mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the cookie-baking team.”

“Why would that upset me?”

“Well, maybe because you enjoyed your time partaking in a cheesy Christmas tradition.”

She did, but she’s not going to admit that to Killian. At least not yet. He’d be far too smug for his own good if she told him that, so she simply shrugs. “Keep thinking that, Jones.”

He helps her package all of the cookies up, and she doesn’t fail to notice when he puts some of the more neatly decorated ones in his Tupperware container instead of simply taking the ones he decorated himself, the thief.

It’s not How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

It’s How Killian Stole the Christmas Cookies.

Okay, okay, so maybe she’s as bad at naming movies as the people in charge of the Hallmark channel are as well.

Eventually Killian has to leave, citing her dad making him work the night shift tonight, and she sends him off with his travel mug of coffee (one sugar with the tiniestbit of milk) and his container full of cookies. He’s still teasing and taunting her, telling her to just admit that she had a good time this afternoon, but she won’t simply because Killian wants her to. Then, right as he’s about to step out the door – and not the fire escape – he reaches forward and swipes his pointer finger over her lips, the sensation causing her cheeks to tingle.

“You’ve a bit of icing on the corner of your lips, love,” he explains, and when the man licks the finger with the offending icing, his tongue flickering out as he hums, her stomach starts to flutter, the pinpricks matching the ones in her cheeks.

She doesn’t know what’s happening, what this unfamiliar sensation is, but she doesn’t like it.

“You and icing, Nolan, a batch made in heaven.”

And then Killian walks out of her front door, leaving her, but those pinpricks still remain.

Emma thinks that the cookie incident is going to be a one-time thing, that she and Killian are going to go back to normal and just drink beer and eat pizza while binging Netflix shows far into the early hours of the morning when Killian doesn’t have to work the next day. But no, he sticks to this whole little scheme of making her enjoy the very things she complained about at the bar.

That’ll be last time she ever spills her guts to Killian Jones…okay, so she knows that’s not true.

During the first week of December, they go shopping for decorations for her apartment, Killian loading up the shopping cart with red, white, green, and patterned ornaments as well as several boxes of colored lights.

“I don’t have enough space for all of these lights.”

“Trust me, love. You’re going to have space.”

“I don’t have a tree for any of this either.”

He winks. “We’re getting there.”

After her apartment looks like some kind of winter wonderland – well, one that’s still packaged up – with various Christmas scented candles, including her personal favorite Mountain Lodge. She doesn’t know what it is about it, but when it’s lit, the wick gently flickering and the scent permeating throughout her apartment, it makes her feel like she’s wrapped up in something comforting, like her father’s hug or one of Killian’s sweatshirts from the police academy, the frayed edges falling across her thighs. It’s ridiculous, but her life is nothing but ridiculous at this point.

Killian drags her to a Christmas tree farm, one filled with evergreen Douglas Firs and Blue Spruces. There’s apparently a few other kinds, but she can’t remember the names of them now. She didn’t even know the first two until Killian told her. She just kind of thought they were all Christmas trees, not really realizing there were so many different…breeds. Is breeds the right words for Christmas trees? Is it the same as dogs? Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Okay, so it apparently matters to Killian.

Snow hasn’t quite hit Storybrooke yet, surprisingly enough. The white powder is usually coating the town at this point of December, usually even during November if the stars align, but there’s only the slightest dusting of snow, more like ice than anything else, causing the air to be brisk enough for the need to be wrapped up in warm clothes to go outside. So she and Killian trudge through the rows of trees, passing families all bundled up in their puffy jackets and knit hats, little pom poms bouncing of their heads that likely match the one on Emma’s beanie. Emma may be the so-called Grinch of Christmas (which, so not true, Mom), but at least she dresses festively (and practically). They’re picking out a Christmas tree, and Killian is in his normal head to toe black, the only concession he’s making to his red and gray plaid shirt, unbuttoned of course, because God forbid Killian cover up his chest hair.

“Aren’t you cold?” she ponders as the trees start to get taller, almost to the point of what she knows is her ceiling’s capacity.

“I’m from London, darling,” he concedes, running his hands along the green limbs, little bristles falling with each of his touches, “this Maine weather is nothing.”

“First of all, you haven’t lived in London for twenty-three years. Second of all, you’re a liar. The tips of your ears are red.” She stands on her toes to grab at his ears, wiggling them, and they’re like ice underneath her touch. “Where’s your beanie?”

“In my coat pocket.”

She presses down on her feet, the dried grass crunching underneath the heels of her boots before she reaches into his pocket and pulls the gray knit hat out, the material soft against her fingertips. It only takes her a moment to press up onto her toes again and pull the beanie over Killian’s hair, making sure that his ears are covered before pulling back and patting him on the shoulders.

“There. Now you won’t lose your ears to the cold.”

He smiles at her, a small little closed lipped thing that causes his eyes to crinkle and her breath to unexpectedly catch, the white puffs not passing through her lips for a moment. “I’m made of tougher material than that, Emma Nolan. Not all of us have to be bundled like we’re in the arctic.” He reaches over to pull at the fuzzy ball at the top of her hat, tugging it before patting her head like she’s some kind of child, and all of the pent-up breath releases in an exasperated sigh. “Let’s go get you a tree.”

It takes several hours, a shocking amount of cursing passing through Killian’s lips, help from Leroy, who apparently works at the tree farm and Belle – the poor woman passing them as they tried to get the tree into the entrance to the apartment – but they do eventually get the tree inside, positioning it in the small space next to her bay window. They’d had to move her furniture around, making everything cramped, and cut off a little of the tree, but now she’s got a fully decorated Christmas tree lighting up her apartment, making everything glow in the reflection of the multi-colored lights.

Sighing, she flops down onto the couch, propping her feet up in Killian’s lap while his are propped up on the coffee table.

“So, Jones, why didn’t we get one of those for you too since you’re the great holiday elf?”

He’s messing with her socked toes, the mismatched polka dots and stripes bright against Killian’s dark jeans. “Figured I didn’t need one.”

“Why the hell not? I thought we were experiencing all of the magic of Christmas.”

“Aye, love,” he squeezes her foot before resting his head on the back of the couch and smirking, “but I’m over here more often than I’m downstairs. Figured there wasn’t a need for two. Plus, what fun would it be getting the tree into my flat when we had to walk it up four floors for you?”

“So basically what you’re saying is that you’re trying to torture me with all of these activities?”

“Exactly.”

The next week Killian is busy at the station while she seeks out last minute commissions for Christmas gifts, walking around town and asking everyone she knows if they’d like Christmas cards, personalized stationary, any paintings for gifts. Storybrooke is a small town, one of those places where you know almost everyone, and it’s likely the only reason she doesn’t have to pick up a regular job, though she will occasionally fill in for Ruby at the diner. By the end of her first day seeking out extra jobs, she had enough to keep her busy for the week – or the entire month though she doesn’t have that long to work on them – and for her rent to be paid with enough left over for Christmas gifts.

The week isn’t filled with as many Christmas activities, and Emma wonders if maybe Killian will calm down on his quest and realize that he doesn’t need to be doing all of this just because she was frustrated with her mom and the Hallmark channel on one night.

On Thursday night she’s just snuggling under her comforter, the fluffy white blanket keeping her warm as the temperature continually drops to almost unbearable levels. As soon as she boots up her laptop, scrolling through emails to look for discounts to buy her mom some new sweaters, she hears her front door slam. Her body tenses, self-defense mechanisms kicking in, and just as she starts to throw the covers off of her legs, Killian comes barging into her bedroom, his cheeks red and his chest heaving.

“What the hell?” She tosses her pillow at him, her own chest heaving as she tries to regulate her breathing. “Why are you barging in like that?”

“It’s snowing.”

“And?”

He doesn’t answer, instead rifling through her closet and throwing sweaters at her along with some of her sweatpants, before moving through her drawers, only hesitating when he gets to her underwear drawer and turns to look at her.

“Nolan, you have a hell of a lot of red lace in here.”

“Shut up. Why are you even looking in there?”

“I’m looking for the socks that go with your wellies.”

“Bottom drawer.”

He closes away her underwear drawer (her face is now undoubtedly as red as that lace) before rifling through the bottom drawer to find her socks and tossing those at her as well.

“Get dressed, love. We’re going on an adventure.”

“Are you bringing snacks?”

He rolls his eyes before putting his hands on his hips and tiling his head to the side while he stares at her. “I’m not an idiot. I dare not force you out into the cold without providing you with food.”

“Good.”

She and Killian make their way to the docks, passing all of the boats (“some are ships, love”) only to climb the stairs of the lighthouse, her legs burning and her breath heavy by the time they reach the top. When Killian nudges open the door, having to push his shoulder against it while she pushes to get the rusty hinges open, she’s suddenly hit by a rush of chilled air and a view that she’s never seen before.

Storybrooke looks enchanting, the roofs covered in white with red and green lights reflecting off the streets, the snow only making it brighter. She can see a few people milling around the Rabbit Hole, the neon lights reflecting off the snow from it glaringly obvious compared to the Christmas lights adorning the roofs of the neighbors. She wonders if Liam is working tonight. She’s sure that he is, and that Graham will most definitely get a call for drunk and disorderly conduct. She might not work at the police station, but between her dad and Killian, plus days working there as a teenager, she may as well be a deputy. Everything else is closed down, Storybrooke not a place to stay up past midnight, and she thinks that she’ll have to come back to look at it all when some lights from the houses are turned on so that parts of the town don’t seem blacked out.

Twisting her body, she looks out at the ocean, the waves crashing against the snow-covered sand that matches the crests of waves that are slowly rolling in. There’s not a soul to be seen walking along the shore, a place riddled with more memories than she can count – some she’d care to remember while others she wishes would wash away and sink into the depths of the ocean – so the snow and sand remain untouched, like a perfect white blanket next to the deep blue of the water. There’s one ship near the horizon, the lights from it making it visible to her eyes, and her heart constricts looking at the sheer beauty of Storybrooke from above. She’s lived here for the entirety of her life, minus the one year she moved to New York because she needed to get away until Killian brought her home, but she’s never seen her home look quite like this.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Killian agrees before wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in closer so that his warmth envelops her, but an unexpected shiver still runs through her, her entire body lightly convulsing so that Killian’s arm tightens around her shoulder and his chin rubs against the top of her head.

“How did you know to look up here?”

“Simple. It’s the highest point in town, and I knew that you’d like the landscape view.”

She hums before pulling herself further into Killian and resting her head against his shoulder. He’s warm, and it’s freezing out. She loves the snow, loves the way it looks, but it’s cold and wet, often turning into mud and causing more issues than it causes beauty.

“So you said something about snacks?”

He rustles around in his coat pocket with his free hand until a foil package is placed in her eyeline, what’s obviously grilled cheese now obstructing her view of the town.

Or possibly making it better.

“God,” she groans, just thinking about how good that’s going to be even without being hot, “you’re the best.”

“So I’ve been told.”

They stay up at the lighthouse for a few more minutes before a chill wracks her body and she can’t be outside for much longer before she freezes to death. Killian’s body heat helps, but it’s not exactly enough, so she has to beg him to go home. Walking down the lighthouse steps is a hell of a lot easier than walking up, but by the time they’re at the apartment and she sees the staircase leading up to her apartment, she doesn’t think her legs can carry her any longer.

“I’m not doing it,” she whines, sitting down on the bottom set of stairs while Killian takes two at a time and is already at the first landing.

“You’re being pathetic.”

“I’m tired. I went running this morning, and then you made me climb so many stairs. It was so manystairs, Killian.”

Killian bounds down the stairs, his footsteps heavy until he’s squatting down in front of her, this stupid annoying look on his face while his eyebrows dance across his forehead. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“Would you really do that?”

She normally wouldn’t do this, but her legs feel like they’re on fire and about to turn into very heavy weights. Plus, she doesn’t think Killian will actually do it.

“Up to my apartment, but that’s it.”

Oh, so he will do it. She’s so distracted by that fact that Killian’s about to carry her up the stairs so that her next words slip out without her thinking. “Fine then. I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

“Well, love,” Killian grunts, pulling her up off the stairs before hooking his hands under thighs and picking her up like she weighs nothing, “I’ve been waiting for that for years.”

“Shut up, you goofball. I meant I’m just going to crash at your place.”

“I know, I know.” He takes the first few steps before loosening his grip around her so that she almost falls, her shriek so loud that she probably woke the neighbors, before wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing so hard that she’s probably choking him. He deserves it for making her think she was going to fall.

“What the hell was that?”

“You have to lay off the cookies. Couldn’t hold you up.”

“Yeah, well, when we get in trouble for waking up the neighbors for being too loud, I’m blaming it on you.”

“I’ve always wanted to wake up the neighbors because you and I were being too loud.”

He’s absolutely impossible, and she’s absolutely not going to dignify that with a response. He’s being cheeky, and all she wants to do is go to bed. So he continues to carry her upstairs, this whole charade ridiculous, and after unlocking his door, he walks her inside and drops her onto his mattress, the springs moving underneath her. She doesn’t bother getting up, shucking her boots and socks while Killian ruffles through his drawers and throws her a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt while he heads into his bathroom to change clothes.

This is a routine they’ve done one too many times for her apartment to be upstairs, and after she’s changed her clothes and brushes her teeth with her toothbrush, she settles underneath Killian’s comforter, pulling the blankets around her body and keeping them to herself even as Killian slides onto the other side of the mattress, only tugging over the slightest bit his comforter.

She knows he’s not asleep by the way that his breathing is irregular, so she turns on her side, rolling a bit closer to the middle and throwing some more of the comforter this way.

“Thanks for tonight. I had fun.”

“Me too, darling. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Sorry that I’ve made your legs useless.”

She chuckles into her pillow before stretching out of leg and running her foot against Killian’s calves, making him yelp before rolling away from her and off the bed.

“What was that for? Why are you an icicle? You just made me scream at bloody two in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve always wanted to wake up the neighbors because you and I were being too loud.”

#cssecretsanta2k18 #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #another bad christmas movie

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alteriius · 6 years

Note

3.I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that? with prompto and ignis? o: (if i may haha)

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XVPAIRING: Prompto/IgnisWORD COUNT: 1,878LINKS: AO3 | Prompt Post / Tag

The words come tumbling from his lips so abruptly that even Ignis himself isn’t expecting them. Prompto is the least prepared when It comes abruptly. It’s too eloquent, which isn’t out of the norm for Ignis, but the rosy hue that highlights the horizon of freckles across pale cheeks is something of a point of pride to the man.

Years ago, when he’d met Prompto, he’d never considered this as a possibility. The concept of marriage or even just dating was a foreign one. His priority had been Noctis for so long that these feelings for Prompto had crept up on him with precious little warning.

Prompto was different in ways that verged on impossible to describe. From leading Noctis into mishaps that started and ended at occasionally skipping class to following them all into the heat of battle without a single thought for himself, Prompto was no longer the wayward teenager he’d met five years ago.

Yet even after all this time, he still had the same radiant glow that he shared only with the sun itself. To this day, he was still able to foster a smile on Noct’s face that no one else could. To this day, his mere presence was enough to do the same to his own face.

“What?” Prompto asks finally, after an agonizing silence that felt longer than he knew it to be. He was glad to be free of it, reminded him of the nights where Noct or Gladio held their tongues against their tempers and made the silence too uncomfortable for words.

But perhaps saying he was enamored by him was a bit too much for the lad.

So this time, when he repeats himself, he chooses simpler words: “I like you.”

He knows he should continue when he sees Prompto’s mouth open because he knows all too well what’s likely to fall from chapped lips. He was going to do his best to misconstrue Ignis’s words into something his low self-esteem can more readily believe; he was going to laugh it off, call himself “just a pleb” or “nothing special” like the former meant he was unworthy of such affections and the latter was no grand underestimation of himself.

More than once, Ignis had fought back the desire to correct him, wanting nothing more than to navigate the constant reminder that it wasn’t his place.

But Prompto doesn’t make a peep, his silence stretching on for a moment like he’s struggling to determine whether he’s even heard him right before he can ascertain whether or not he’s understood him properly.

“You, uh… You what?”

There is no immediate denial—no thought to correct—and it’s so foreign to be without any problems to solve that he finds himself thinking first about a way to avoid making eye contact. It’s the first time in a long time that he feels his cheeks grow hot, dyed with an unfamiliar tropical hue that makes his embarrassment plain as day. It’s childish on his part how he fishes a cleaning cloth out of his back pocket and tugs the glasses off the bridge of his nose to clean nonexistent smudges off the lenses.

“You’ll have to excuse me. That was inappropriate. Forget I said anything at all.”

But Prompto is still staring at him, doing anything but forgetting and Ignis can only find it in himself to stare at him through the blur of his compromised vision. No matter his expression, Ignis fears the sight of it, doesn’t want to familiarize himself with anything but Prompto’s brilliant smile that he sees so often.

Yet Prompto isn’t put off by the hazy look in the eyes of a man that can’t see him properly. He closes the distance between them, makes it impossible for Ignis not to see bright, violet blue eyes, even without the glasses held between his fingers.

“You like me?” Prompto asks, disbelief evident in his voice, though Ignis doesn’t know why he would adopt such a tone for his sake. He doesn’t want to consider that those are eyes are shining thanks to feelings he returns .

“A more appropriate question would be: Who doesn’t?”

A rosy hue covers freckled cheeks, hiding the constellations formed on his skin from years of exposure to sunlight that didn’t stem from the depths of his bright personality. Who couldn’t fall deeply in love with such a man?

“You’re, uh, you’re exaggerating, Iggy.”

“I am merely being honest, Prompto,” he says, choosing not to disclose that the reason for his assertion lies with the knowledge that both Noctis and Gladio have spent just as much time pining over Prompto in the past. “You’re very special to all of us.”

“I, uh…” Prompto says, struggling with words he can’t quite put together, thanks in large part to his unfortunate lack of self-confidence. Oh, how Ignis desperately wishes he could see what everyone else did.

“It’s not necessary for you to reciprocate.”

This time, Prompto looks up at him, eyebrows arching upwards. An oddity, certainly, but not one that would raise alarm with Ignis unless—

“Dude, how could I not ?” Prompto says, causing Ignis’s expression to mimic Prompto’s own. It was preposterous, in Ignis’s eyes, that Prompto would feel the same—though perhaps both their confusion was as mutual as it seemed their infatuation was. “You’re so cool . I’ve had a crush on you since like… freshman year.”

“Prompto, that’s the entire duration of our acquaintance.”

“Uh, yeah , I know.”

Finally, Ignis slides his glasses back onto his face, though the close proximity no longer makes it necessary. It’s only a momentary distraction as he tries to wrangle his emotions, willing away the blush that long ago settled across his cheeks to no avail.

“So, uh… can I…?”

Prompto pauses, like his lack of continuation should suggest something to him. It doesn’t.

“Can you what, Prompto?”

“Ya know, can I, uh, kiss you?”

That’s enough to make Ignis freeze, to cause his limbs to lock up and mouth to fall agape in surprise. More of a shock than the question is how Prompto doesn’t take it back, doesn’t revoke the statement. He makes no move to turn around and run away without warning before he can perceive a hint of rejection in Ignis’s posture.

Ignis knows the position he’s in; he knows that he shouldn’t even consider accepting the offer, no matter how much he wants to. Yet the logical part of him is pushed aside as he watches Prompto’s eyes turn downcast, like he’s overstepped an invisible boundary that the illogical side of him is desperately trying to erase.

There was nothing he wanted to do in this moment more than kissing Prompto, to meet the lips of personified sunshine with his own.

If he could have that single slice of heaven for but a moment…

“Not even gonna answer, Speccy?”

It’s a poor attempt on Prompto’s part to sound confident. Ignis has known him for too many years to miss the way his lips pulls back into a half-hearted smile that’s better called a grimace than a grin, but perhaps that says too much about what his gaze is fixated on. He’s heard his voice too many times to not recognize the way his voice pitches upwards like the bark of a small, frightened dog that’s looking for a desk to hide under. He’s familiar with these things, yes, but the lure of a more intimate understanding proves too tempting.

When Ignis nods, the movement is so slight that he recognizes the doubt in Prompto’s eyes and now he fears that Prompto might revoke the offer, convinced that he’s somehow hallucinating Ignis’s agreement.

If this were a hallucination, it’d only be that much easier. More than once, he’d wished these feelings were little more than an exaggeration on his own part. Maybe years of being fixated on Noctis had led to a misconception on his part, born from the opportunity to finally tend to someone other than his vegetable-hating charge.

Prompto had sparked something in him that was a rarity, no matter how he tried to rephrase it, how he tried to minimize his feelings and focus on his job .

Just like his overactive imagination had suggested more than once, a kiss from Prompto doesn’t come without a modicum of hesitation. He can see his hands shaking before he feels them, understands well the grip that anxiety has on him by the cool touch of his fingertips gliding across his cheeks.

Gods, Ignis wished with all his might that the way Prompto pushes up on his toes a second later didn’t stir the ever-present smolder in his heart, bolstering the flames into something nigh uncontrollable. When their lips meet, he can feel a swell of affection so great that he would swear days from now that he had swayed like he’d been stuck on a boat lost out at sea with the only man in the world that mattered in that moment.

It’s a moment he’s living in already, so he can’t deny himself what he already has. He couldn’t stop his hands from moving even if he had half a mind to, so there’s not a thought in his mind when his hand rests along the nape of Prompto’s neck a moment, snaking around the back to anchor him in.

A soft squeak of a noise slips from Prompto’s throat, muffled by their joined lips and Ignis would fear what that simple sound of approval would do to him, if not for Prompto’s hands slipping down to his chest, gently pushing him away, establishing a much-needed boundary that Ignis wouldn’t mind crossing, were he willing.

The first thing he notices when Prompto pulls away, rolling back onto the heels of his feet, is the familiar flush of cheeks mere inches from his own.

“So, uh… You like me.”

This time, it’s no question. Ignis is grateful for it; he’s not sure he’d be able to come up with a response with any semblance of dignity, but it’s plain to see that Prompto expects a response in the way his eyes find interest in every inch of their surroundings, save for the gaze he was trying so desperately to avoid.

Not answering isn’t an option, no matter the lack of an inquiry that would typically warrant it.

“Very much so,” Ignis manages to say at long last, watching a wobbly smile spreading across Prompto’s gaze as he meets his eyes.

Gods, this boy could drive them all mad with such ease, if only he knew what a treasure he was.

“So… Boyfriends?”

There’s nothing appropriate about dating your fellow Crownsguard. It was a liability and they were at war, only three of them separating the Niflheim army from the last line of Lucis, but no matter the threat from Niflheim, Ignis finds the war with himself to be much more convincing.

Though he’d begun this expecting nothing but a quick rejection and hopefully an end to years of affection that he’d never been able to put aside, that wasn’t what he’d gotten. Turning him down now would be cruel.

Nothing about this suggested it would work like they wished and yet…

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Maybe—just maybe—they could make it work.

#final fantasy xv #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #promnis #percevall #allen writes.#i finally finished and edited this #i'm sorry i take a billion years :'D #thank you for the request allison!! <3

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the-lupine-sojourner · 6 years

Text

Love in a Latte [Doctor!Human!Markus/Barista!singlemom!OC]

This was supposed to be for @writinginstability‘s 500 followers challenge, but I (to be honest) completely forgot to post it, then spaced it altogether til now! I am SSOO sorry! ;^;

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

It was as if the sun only came up when he walked through the door that day. I swear, every single customer was incredibly rude and short with me, no matter how polite I was.

Then along came this amazing man. Perhaps it was simply that he was the first person to genuinely smile back at me.

Or perhaps it was the heterochromia, the left eye sapphire blue and the right eye reminding me of amethyst or jade.

Whatever it was about him, it was like a breath of fresh air and the entire room seemed lighter. “Hello.” I greet. “What can I get you?” I ask, like always. He stifles a yawn in his hand.

“Sorry, um...I would like a, ah, medium vanilla latte, if you don’t mind.” I nod, suddenly eager to make sure that lovely smile stayed on his face.

“Absolutely.” I reply. “Anything else?” He yawns again.

“Sorry, again. Uh, n-no.” I ring him up and tell him the total. He nods, trying to disguise another yawn as a sigh and hands me a $20. “Keep the change.” He adds with a wink, then goes to sit and wait for his caffeine.

Blushing profusely and hoping the manager didn’t suddenly decide to come out of the office, I slip the change into my pocket, grab the cup, and begin making the vanilla latte. On impulse, I added the classic leaf art, but small enough that I could also put in a smiley face. Blushing again (if I had ever stopped blushing), I set his cup on the counter with the lid beside it and waved him over. “You’re really quick.” He muses, then his eyes go wide as he takes in the latte art.

“I’m sorry!” I squeak, trying to keep it quiet, entirely mortified with myself. “I’m not good at it, but I try.”

“No, no!” He’s quick to assure me, but I don’t entirely believe it. He’s just too nice to admit it’s horrible. “It’s lovely. I just haven’t had latte art to start my day in a while. It’s great!” He says, blowing on the coffee and sipping at it. No one was in line, so I watch and wait for his reaction.

“I swear this is the best latte in Detroit.” He breathes, his eyes, those delightfully unique eyes, alight with joy. I exhale a breath I barely remember holding and grin.

“It’s just that we get good coffee beans and roast them slow.” I whisper, daring a wink. He laughs, and it’s like a cool summer breeze.

“Thank you. Now, I have to go to work for twelve hours.” He grumbles good-naturedly. I can’t help myself and open my mouth.

“Where do you work?” I ask. He smiles.

“The hospital. Detroit Receiving Hospital.” He replies. I smile.

“Oh, sorry. Um…” He scratches the back of his head.

“Right. I’ll be going now.” He mumbles, then turns awkwardly and leaves. Then turns at the door.

“Thanks again, ma’am.” He calls, waving and heading out. I then felt guilty about low-key flirting with him without even introducing myself. I suppose I figured he’d read my nametag.

But now he was gone and I’d likely not see him again. Ah, well. My stupid brain had gone and gotten attached to him and he was gone.

Regardless, I had to pull myself together; I was almost due to go home and be with Lachlan the rest of the day. North couldn’t handle him all day.

=#=#=#=#=

Turns out, he was something of a regular, but I didn’t work but a few days this week, since I’d worked nearly every day the past week. It was a trade-off that worked well.

Anyway, there I was, Thursday afternoon, almost five days since I’d seen Mystery Man last. And there he was, once more lighting up the room with his smile. “Hello again.” he greets. I smile.

“Hey there!” I return, immediately wanting to abandon ship and bury myself in embarrassment. I’d just made an utter fool of myself! “Medium vanilla latte?” I ask coyly, trying to recover myself, at least a little. The guy grins.

“Sure thing…” He sneaks a none-too-subtle peek at my name tag. “Alex.” He says, reaching into his wallet phone case and retrieving a debit card. “I didn’t have cash.” He confesses meekly. I roll my eyes.

“Either way works.” I point out, chuckling and swiping the card. He shrugs.

“I suppose, but I liked tipping you.” I blush.

“O-oh, I don’t think it’s ‘tipping’ if you ‘tip’ more than the drink is worth.” I counter automatically, then blanch in horror. “I mean- -”

“Relax, I getcha.” He says, then frowns. “Oh, geez!”

“What?”

“My name’s Markus. I’ve completely spaced it til now!” It’s finally his turn to look mortified and five shades, at least, redder than normal, though his dark skin made it hard to tell exactly. I flush. That was precisely the kind of name I’d expect. He seemed professional and upper class in a way, despite his energetic, goofy-at-times personality...like a Markus. I grin.

“Nice to meet you. Now, I’m gonna get your drink.” I reply, forcing myself to walk away. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time. I nearly dropped the cup so many times, it was sure to ruin whatever reputation I had with him and my coworkers. Markus is patient, but I hated making anyone wait. I have to take several breaths before attempting a tree as the latte art. It actually turned out okay. Markus’ entire face lightens, softening at the sight of my shitty tree latte art.

“I don’t know why, but I actually missed your latte art. The other baristas don’t bother.” I blush harder than I should and grin wider than appropriate, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“I’m so glad you like it!” I chirp, clapping, then instantly remember where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing; not making a fool of myself in front of a customer, regardless of any attachment I may foolishly have developed. I sober myself and begin wiping down the counter for what must be the hundredth time today. Markus smiles, then goes to set his bag down, drawing out a sketchbook. “Got the day off?” I ask. It was an incredibly slow day today, and I use my boredom as an excuse to continue talking.

“As a matter of fact, yeah. I usually work on-call. I live really close to both here and the hospital, so I can come and go whenever they need me. Also helps that I’m good friends with the Chief of Surgery.” He explains with a wink, sipping his coffee again. This man, Markus, must have some superpower or something; the power to make me blush practically on command. I tuck hair behind my ear in a nervous tick.

“Well, I’ll leave you to - -”

“Mama!” I flinch at the boy’s volume, but grin at him as he runs up to the counter, barely missing Markus. Right. Lachlan was being dropped off to wait for me. It was a half-day for me, so I was almost off.

“Lach, you know you can’t shout in here.” I scold. He nods meekly.

“Sorry, Mama, but Aunt North and I were just at the park and I found a really cool frog!” I grimace, sticking out my tongue.

“Don’t tell me you brought it here.” I grumble. Lachlan shakes his head, giggling.

“No! We have it in a box in Aunt North’s car!” I face-palm.

“That’s kinda the same thing.” I grumble. Markus laughs, and Lachlan seems to just now notice him.

“Oh!” He squeaks. “I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t see you!” I was godmother to an amazing child, I realize, for the millionth time since...since Daniel died, caught up in a hostage crisis that went south. He and his wife had been killed, along with nearly every other hostage. Markus, however, kneels down and smiles at Lachlan.

“It’s alright.” He assured Lach, who steps aside.

“Did you want Mama?” He asks. Markus clears his throat, standing and...is he blushing?

“Ah, I, uh,” He sighs. “No. I have my coffee.” Lachlan nods in reply, then grins.

“Wanna see my frog?” He asks giddily. Markus chuckles, and before either North or I could protest, Lachlan is tugging Markus along. Markus himself smiles back at us as he’s marched outside. I sigh heavily.

Thankfully, not many people were here to witness that.

“Who’s the cutie?” North asks teasingly. I blanch.

“J-just a customer.” I reply weakly, then clear my throat. “He’s something of a regular.” North nods.

“You ask him out yet?”

“North!” I snap, swatting at her arm, but miss as she’s across the counter. She cackles and moves out of range.

“It’s true!” She replies. “Everyone can see it!” One of the employees, Josh, had just come out of the back.

“Wait, what’s going on?” He asks.

“Nothing!” I exclaim, mortified. North’s grin spells my doom, however.

“Alex and the regular Lachlan’s looking at a frog with.” North counters before I can shut her up or cut her off. Josh looks out the window, grins, then turns to me.

“Honestly, subtlety is really not your strong suit at all, Alex.” I blush horrendously.

“Josh!” I whine, hiding my face in my hands.

“Go on. I’m your replacement.” I sigh in defeat, handing him my apron and cap.

“And here I thought we were friends.” I pout dramatically. Josh laughs.

“I am, and I want you to be happy.” He retorts, pushing me out from behind the counter. I head into the back, clocked out, and headed outside.

“Alright, kiddo. Let’s see this ‘really cool frog’.” I call. Markus grins as I walk over. Before I realize what’s happening, Lachlan positions me so I’m all but ground against Markus’ chest, pointing into a small cardboard box to reveal a neon green frog that croaked a few times before Lachlan tried to hand it to me. I shake my head. “Lachlan, honey, you know I don’t want to hold amphibians.” I remind him gently. Lachlan then offers it to Markus, who sighs and holds out his hands. North comes out, and ruffles Lachlan’s hair.

“Hey, kid. We’re gonna take the frog back now.” She says, and Lachlan nods, taking the frog back and plopping it back in the box. The pair are gone almost before I can say goodbye.

“So...he’s your son?” Markus asks, and I wonder why there’s sadness in his eyes.

“In a way.” I reply softly, sighing. “I’m his godmother.” I elaborate. Markus inhales, wincing. He’d caught my subtle explanation.

“I’m so sorry.” He murmurs. I sigh.

“He was almost two. His parents got caught up in a hostage situation that didn’t end well.”

“Oh, Alex.” Markus murmurs, and I find myself drawn to him once more, those teary eyes of his seeming to suck me in and hold me tight even as I let my arms wrap around him. “I wish there was something I could do.” He whispers, and I could tell he’d give me the sun, moon, earth, and stars, if he could. I draw back, smiling and wiping the tears away.

“Getting along with Lachlan is a start.” I reply, unsure why I was trusting this man, virtually a stranger still, with such personal information. I did know, however, that those beautiful eyes don’t deserve to hold tears. Suddenly, he’s leaning in, and I panic, leaning back.

“Unfortunately,” I squeak, panicking, “I’m really not good at kissing!” Dear God, what was that?! I scold myself internally. I have never wanted to be suddenly swallowed by the earth more than right now. “I mean, I’ve never done it, and I- -Mmhh!” He cuts me off by gently pressing his lips to mine. I fall deeper into the kiss than I mean to and it takes serious willpower to slowly draw away. By the time I’ve finally broken the kiss, however, I’ve forgotten why. “Wow…” Is all my intelligent mind can come up with. Markus bites his lip, bashful.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, head hanging in shame. “I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that. I’m sorry.” He stands and makes to leave, but I grab his wrist.

“Did I say I didn’t want it?” I ask rhetorically. “Did I resist?” Markus blushes another few shades darker.

“I still should’ve asked.”

“Well...I guess, but I’m saying you can kiss me now, if you want.” I reply, smirking. Markus slowly sits back down.

“Are you sure? I mean, we hardly know each other.” I grin.

“Watching you play with Lachlan gave me a pretty good idea. Most guys I meet tolerate Lach, but not many actually play with him, much less genuinely care about him.” Markus looks sunburnt with the intensity of his blush.

“How- -how can I not? He’s a sweet kid.” I grin proudly.

“Yeah, he is.”

#markus x oc #markus #dbh markus #detroit: become human #fanfiction #Markus x Original Female Character #this is supposed to be for a challenge but I completely missed the deadline

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