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arkham-outskirts · 5 months ago

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PAPER CHASE... Pt. 2!

! SPOILERS for the scenario contained within the Call of Cthulhu: Starter Kit, Paper Chase !

Below the cut are the continued adventures of Nadine Greenwald and Louis Milch, as they continue their way to the Arkham Gazette.

GM: @jackgiggles Nadine Greenwald: @thevioletscout Louis Milch: @atorchzagreusandtris

Warning: Suggestive Humor, General Nonsense, Inappropriate Usage Of A Work Place Closet

Part 1: [LINK]

Driving down the streets, parking, they eventually locate the Arkham Gazette office building. It does it's own printing, so it has an entire 2-story building to itself, and quite newer compared to other buildings in Arkham. It is very bustling and busy, with people rushing around with papers and coffee mugs overfilled.

Nadine doesn't take long to notice a man matching the brief description Debra Snow has given them. A tall blond man, with a mustache. He was very animatedly talking to someone, an editor, about some recent gossip he's overheard about.

---

Nadine, ooc: I think Nadine is like- nervous about going up to him, and kinda tugs Louis' shirt and points to him. -laughter- Louis: Not a problem, Nadine! Let me just run on over there.

GM: Jo does immediately take notice of you, and his eyes look bright. He seems excited to finally talk to someone, cause it looks like he's been talking that other editor's ear off.

Nadine, ooc: Real fast, what does that other editor look like...? GM: Uh- a tall woman. Nadine, ooc, trying to look for Pepper: Ah.

---

Louis: Hello, are you Jo Winters by chance? Jo: The one and only! What can I do for you? I don't think I've seen you around- at least in the building. Louis: No, not the building- I'm Louis, and I'm here after checking out a library, and finding this article. Your cousin told me you might have a better version here?

Jo: ohh, Debra! I hadn't seen her in a while.

---

Jo starts asking them what it was about, Nadine piping up a few details they could recall/get from the article, and about why they were looking. Particularly, about the Kimball house.

---

GM: His eyes seem to glimmer at the prospects of a crime. -laughter-

Louis, ooc: He's looking to her like, Is this okay to talk about?? Nadine, ooc: He seems trustworthy, she'd think. GM: Nadine has probably also seen him at the speakeasy -laughter- Nadine, ooc: If anyone is trustworthy, it's the guy who comes in and flirts a lot. GM: A bit of a ~Manwhore~

---

Nadine describes the break-in, and Jo confesses he's heard a little bit about it from Debra a while ago. He mentions Douglas worked at the nearby University- Miskatonic- and it's clear Jo has some admiration of the place. Jo's father worked there as some minor cleaning staff, and would overhear all the strange things people talked about there.

This is where Jo got his occult interest.

Jo had to get back to work, but with his interests thoroughly piqued, he gave them a key to the backlogs to go search for their document.

---

Louis, ooc: I got... 85. And my library use is 20 percent. GM: Mhm. Nadine, ooc: I'm not far off too.

---

Nadine and Louis push their luck to try and find the article, and Nadine... failed again. And yet, they felt so close to finding that article they wind up staying there for... far longer then they originally thought they would. Digging, and loosing time.

They get a little carried away, that night began tipping over- doors closing, and the halls getting quieter.

The clock on the wall said 9 'o clock.

---

Nadine, ooc: Nadine like- opens the door to peek out. GM: The door opens- but there is just No one there. Louis, ooc: Oh fun-

GM: I want you to roll for navigation, since it's dark and you're not familiar with this place At All. Nadine, ooc: I got a 20, and my navigate is 30! Louis, ooc: Uh Oh- I got an 88.

---

Louis and Nadine are stumbling, Nadine manages to find the way to the front door... but Louis gets lost, and tried to feel around for any door that could be a potential exit.

---

GM: you're feeling around... when you heard something. Louis, ooc: Uh oh. I heard a thing. GM: It sounds like a thump. And low voices.

Nadine: Louis?? Louis, where are you?? GM: Nadine is looking for her emotional support himbo.

GM: Louis opens the door, that he could detect noises coming from- hoping its some sort of exit.

GM: It was a storage closet.

Louis, ooc: O H.

GM: It was very hard to see for a second, but then his eyes adjusted to see the very shocked faces of Jo, and another man he doesn't quite remember.

Nadine, ooc: *LAUGHTER*

GM: He's a bit burly, with red hair.

Louis, occ: OH MY GO- *LAUghting*

GM: You both have looks of shock, one of almost horror on the shorter man!

Nadine, ooc: Nadine has NO idea this is happening. Nadine, ooc: She's standing by the door like "Where is he?? Where'd he go??"

GM: The shorter man [Pepper] made an almost surprised squawk sound, and thROWS himself off of Jo, saying "AH! We're not suppose to be here! You're not suppose to be here! What are you doing here??"

Louis, all sad: I Got Lost QwQ

Nadine, loosing her patience: LOUIS, FOLLOW MY VOICE.

---

Jo and Pepper graciously lead Louis back to the front of the building

---

Nadine, ooc: Nadine as she sees like, the other two men come in and gets embarrassed- and looks away from them. She knows she's not suppose to be here.

GM: None of us are suppose to be here, technically!

Louis, timidly: Do you want some milk?? GM: Jo is... exhausted.

---

Suffice to say, none of them got that article and they left the Gazette empty handed, and all red faced from a variety of reasons.

---

GM: Jo's just mad he got cockblocked again.

Nadine, ooc: Nadine knows he's fruity.

---

The investigators decide to catch up with Thomas after the Gazette, and probably wind down from that incident.

---

Louis, ooc: I can just imagine Louis is sitting there like "I saw two men kiss! :'D" GM: Thankfully they had their pants on. Louis, ooc: Thankfully! GM: They hadn't got That far. Nadine, ooc: We didn't see his big dick. Alright I'll shut up.

---

They're back at the Kimball House, a little worse for wear, and Thomas doesn't seem to care. Louis is red in the face, and Thomas decides "I don't need to know" and doesn't ask anything.

Nadine starts asking about Douglas, though. Thomas goes on, while very tired, to explain what he can remember about his uncle. That he was the eccentric type, very reclusive even to the family. Douglas' sister, or Thomas' mother in any case, never really liked or approved of Douglas' fascination with the occult and being so evolved with the Miskatonic University.

The last Douglas visited them for holidays, Thomas was about 18. But he knew that the man was very kind.

---

Nadine: I'm sorry for asking but... do you think there would be any reason that your uncle would go missing on... purpose? Thomas, surprised but considers it: ... Well, I'm not sure. He was always a bit of a hermit, but I suppose it could be possible. I always hoped, it could've been more in his control, and not actual death... but seeking out something else.

Nadine: I'm sorry, and- don't put too much thought into it. Just a conspiracy theory. Thomas: All that we have, really. Theories. Thomas: But I guess the idea that he's out there, somewhere, is a bit comforting, I guess. Something I like to entertain.

---

Nadine confesses they hadn't managed to find much, at least in regards to the books.

---

Thomas: I thought as much. I thought this was worth a shot, at least. Thomas: It's just so odd. I don't know why of all things, these books would be stolen, when there are so many more valuable things to be taken! Thomas: Hell, the only person I could think would steal a book... *chuckling* Well, I guess it would be him, if he was bored enough.

Thomas: But, what a thought that'd be?

---

Louis is trying to reassure Thomas they'll find the books, and his uncle, and Thomas is amused by the enthusiasm. He's uncertain about if he wants confirmation if Douglas is dead or alive at this point.

---

Louis: It never hurts to hope a little. Thomas: I suppose not.

---

Thomas starts to head to bed, but before he does so he explains that if the investigators want to keep looking, they could- just to not make a ruckus. And he does warn them to also be careful, explaining that he's heard strange rumors surrounding the town at night. Weird animal calls and footsteps, though apparently these were all tall-tales that seemed to calm over the years before he moved in. Nothing identifiable.

And confirmed, there were rumors of strange people seen at the graveyard.

---

Thomas: That graveyard is very old.

-he chuckles, as if he remembers something-

Thomas: I visited here years ago, when I was young, for Christmas. My uncle told me stories of tunnel systems.

Nadine and Louis: O_O

Thomas: Yes, I'm pretty sure it was something he told me to let my mind run wild with make belief. Run around town, pretending to be a little thief in the night. As kids do.

Thomas: But- yes. Be careful of the graveyard, something about it gives me an uneasy feeling. Couldn't understand how he can stand to live in its shadow.

---

Thomas and crept up to go to the master bedroom, warning them to not cause a ruckus as Louis suggests they'd all better get some shut-eye from such a long and "exciting" day exploring.

However, as soon as Thomas is out of sight and in his room, Nadine immediately grabs a light and heads to the front door.

---

Louis: Where are you goin'?? Nadine: I don't want to wait 'til morning to check something! Louis: Alright, we'll then I should come with ya to make sure you're safe.

GM: Be a gentleman, be chivalrous.

Louis, ooc: He pulls out his knuckle-dusters from a secret pocket in his pants.

GM: We need some MUSCLES.

---

Right as they start heading towards the cemetery, they notice some misshapen tracks nearby the window to the study/library- Nadine only able to tell they're vaguely human-ish.

They continue forward up-hill towards the graveyard, and start locating the specific tombstone that Jefferson said Douglas frequented. It was a nice place to sit, and read a book. Very scenic, with willow trees and a nice view.

The tombstone is very old, to the point the name long since worn off.

With a spot hidden success, Nadine explores the area and notices there's more tracks around the tombstone. Roughly man-shape, though she noticed that they looked... odd at the ends. Like, cloven.

It was hard to believe that any disturbance could make them appear like that.

---

(Human-ish foot prints)

---

And of course, Nadine and Louis follow the tracks.

---

Louis, ooc: Louis follows her, wherever she goes! GM: He's like a puppy. Nadine, ooc: Nadine is just on a mission and just no longer cares! GM: She's WAY too curious now!

Nadine, ooc: I got like, a conspiracy theory. GM: Wanna share with the class? Nadine, ooc: She thinks that the uncle came back, and took the books. Louis, ooc: Oooo! GM, not confirming nor denying anything: Mhm!

Nadine: I know it sounds crazy, I've just... heard things before. Louis: I understand, understand 100 percent ^^ Maybe he's livin' in the mausoleum?

GM: As you follow the strange tracks, you start on a winding path, looks pretty illogical, to one of the older mausoleums.

Louis, ooc: Oh shIT- *laughing*

---

The mausoleum is very old, and like everything, all names worn away. And as they near it, they notice a... very weird stench starting to form in the air. Not strong, but on the back of the throat.

---

Nadine, ooc: What smell is it? Like, shit? Rotting flesh, fish??

GM: .... There's a black, strange sludgy mold on the stone door.

Louis: Ah. It's like curled milk!

GM: ..... Not entirely wrong! Probably smells as bad!

GM: You also realize there's a smaaaall little gap in the door.

Nadine, ooc: Has it been opened recently?? GM: The tracks end there.

---

With some strength checks, Nadine trying and failing with a valiant attempt- but Louis manages to easily hulk it back like a tank.

---

GM: He almost wishes he didn't, as the smell WAFTS out from inside! Louis, ooc: Louis immediately starts coughing and gagging. Nadine, ooc: Nadine covers her nose and DIVES IN. GM: OH you're going IN!

---

Louis passes his constitution check to not pass out, and both go into the mausoleum, Louis a bit afraid but follows her regardless inside. It was pitch black, but they realize as their eyes adjust- there was a tunnel. As if it were dug with someone's bare hands.

---

Nadine, ooc: Alright, into the mouth of Hell! Louis, ooc: Yep, and of course Louis follows after.

---

The tunnels were a winding maze, criss-crossing paths of the dug tunnel like it was dug out by large moles- bones and roots peeked out of the ceiling.

---

*navigate check*

Nadine, ooc: I got 100??? GM: OHH that is Critical Failure! Louis, ooc: *also failed* Ah SHIT-

---

They get lost, and as they go deeper there was almost no way to find an exit or familiar landmark. Nadine tries making marks in the walls with her nails to make landmarks, and notices the previous diggers and claws along the walls are much bigger then her own hands.

They were getting more and more tired the further they went.

They start slowing down, and Nadine apologizes for getting Louis into this mess. Louis may have claustrophobia, or at least gets it now.

They start passing out.

---

Eventually, they come too- and hear something. Foot prints, bouncing off the walls. And clearly, they heard someone walking away.

Louis scrambles, and tries to follow- hearing the slightest humming as he gets closer. Nadine is now catching up, and now they realize the path was starting to look familiar again, as they go up.

Whoever it was, it was a guide out of the mausoleum again.

Louis essentially lunges out, and collapses to the ground ala "I will never take advantage of the surface world again", hugging the ground and sucking in fresh air of the moonlit night. Nadine however manages to catch a glimpse of a figure, shadowed- average height. He's still walking, but Nadine noticed off-white hair, balding- and glasses glimmering in the light.

---

Nadine, ooc: I wanna look at his feet. His feet, Jack. What do they look like. GM:.......... They're hooves.

Nadine, ooc: NADINE RUNS AT HIM. GM: ... With what intent??

GM: Uhmmm... fighting (Brawl) because you're trying to manhandle him??

*Nadine fails her brawl check*

GM: He dodges, and makes an almost "Goodness Gracious!!" and runs off! Nadine, ooc: Nadine is like shouting- "No wait, I don't want to hurt you, just talk!!" and stuff.

GM: The man pauses, and turns to look at you, and you get a better look at his face. And it's quite frankly, horrifying.

---

His skin was rubbery, and hair was falling out more. And almost canine like teeth, but without doubt... it looked a lot like the man that's been described as Douglas Kimball.

Nadine, ooc: I Knew It.

---

Nadine: I'm Nadine Greenwald, I was hired by Thomas to find some books, taken from his house...? GM: The expression he made with the horrifying, canine mouth-

GM: -actually, I'm assuming Louis is not seeing any of this? Louis, ooc: He is currently crying like a little baby. GM: Just flat on the ground.

GM: Douglas nods, like- Douglas: Ah, I assumed something like that would have happened. Thomas was always the more curious fellow, I suppose it runs in the family. Yes, I am Douglas. And- that was because of me. Douglas: Apologies for any trouble I've caused you.

---

Nadine starts asking why Douglas went and done all this, and Douglas responded that he had a lot to do, and to read. He could only read the same books over and over so many times before he "lost it."

GM: He chuckled, finding irony considering his appearances.

So, he explained he went and took back some particular tomes before he left for good.

---

Nadine: What do you mean by that? Douglas, gesturing to the graveyard: Well, as you see, after my... metamorphosis, as you will, I have been gifted a new life. Douglas: Previously, I couldn't stand my mundane life of retirement. I knew of other worlds, both here and so far... given the opportunity I-

Douglas: Well, they don't like to linger for long. This place- it bores them, and it doesn't fit them anymore. And I wanted some keepsakes.

Douglas: You're being rather calm, for a appearance such as mine. Not many can look upon the face of a ghoul, and not break down.

Nadine: It's... a bit complicated.

-Douglas smiles, a horrifying thing even if its in good humor-

Douglas: Yes, the other worlds and... creatures, find their ways in the darnedest of places, don't they? Especially around here.

Nadine: And you don't... have any bad intentions, with those books?

Douglas: No, I assure you, anything concerning is still within the library. No, I wanted a historical text or two- or a romance novel by a friend, from one time.

Douglas: I'll read anything and everything, if its interesting enough. Or not, even -chuckles-

Nadine: Right- and I'm sorry for the trouble. Douglas: Not at all, it's honestly surprising it took this long to run across someone from the actual world, for lack a better term. And, the last I'll see of Windleigh.

Douglas: We leave tonight, and never to return. As you've seen by the tunnels.

Nadine; Yes, we are unfortunately familiar with them.

Douglas, amused: They're very confusing the first time... and y'know...

Douglas; if you are curious, you are welcome to come. They're, fascinating. To learn about other worlds.

Nadine: No, I- feel I'm already on a clock for that.

Douglas: Of course, just thought I'd offer.

Nadine: If you don't mind, would there be anything you'd want me to pass onto your nephew? I have to explain the books, but...

Douglas: All I can say is... don't reveal to him I'm alive. He's a curious boy, and I've managed to overheard the things he's said on his lonesome. I don't want to cause him more grief. It's better he thinks me dead.

Douglas: But, tell him. At least you think, that I'm glad he was the one to inherit the house.

---

It was then, in the distance they could see a hoard of naked, rubber-y skin looking creatures that looked far worse off then Douglas ever did. Canine in features, and covered in muck, slime and reeked of death. Nadine has to bite back a scream at the sight, and yet Louis-

GM: I remember reading, the dumber you are the more oblivious to the world you'll be. Smarter, you'll go "That's not possible!" and break down.

Louis, ooc: Louis is like- having a crying fit, he's not aware of what's going on around him! GM: His eyes are blurry from the tears so he can't see them! Nadine, ooc: He sees these weird demon things and goes "doggies".

Louis, ooc: CAN I PET ONE??

---

Nadine, ooc: She averts her gaze, and looks to Douglas since he's Comparability less unsettling!

---

Douglas explains they're much older, and transformed long before him. He bids them farewell, and starts following the hoard into the mausoleum, waving as he went. Nadine shyly waves back, and two ghouls linger back to grab onto the stone. With blackened claws, they start closing the large stone door with ease.

Nadine, ooc: She looks down at Louis, to check how he's doing. Louis, ooc: He is curled up in a ball, weeping. GM: He's not over the horror of the dark tunnels!

GM: Yeah the ghouls probably just- stepped over Louis to all clamber inside. Louis and Nadine, ooc: -WHEEZING-

---

Eventually, Nadine and Louis return back to the Kimball house and actually sleep. In the morning, Nadine fills in Thomas what she can of the situation- obviously excluding the fact Douglas was actually alive, as a ghoulish monster.

He appreciates the depths they went to try and investigate the books, and Nadine saying Douglas would probably be happy that Thomas was the one to inherit the house. They get paid regardless, and while still somber Thomas seemed a bit happier after the ordeal. Especially when no other books, or anything, goes missing as time goes on.

Things start... going back to normal. Normal as it can be in Arkham, anyway.

---

Nadine, ooc: Louis offered everyone milk BUT ME!!

#COC: Arkham Outskirts #Paper Chase #Nadine Greenwald #Louis Milch #long post

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minorisato · 10 months ago

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aspartame, a sweet dream

transformers / rodimags / wc: 613 / warnings: NA / notes: sequel to this! part of my gyaru au!

Rodimus’ room resembled her personality. Bright, hurt to look at, but you acclimate over time. Her bed had a large leopard print blanket draped on it, which was wonderfully soft, and there were many decorations strewn about which seemed almost tropical in nature. And then her desk, which- in contrast to Magnus’ clean, work-oriented desk- was entirely covered in make-up.

Rodimus had allowed Magnus to sit in her room while she changed in the connected bathroom. Dad’s at work, she’d said, so you can chill for a while, no fuss. Magnus, personally, found there to be a lot of fuss going on internally, which had only worsened when Rodimus came back into the room wearing pajamas. They suited her- bright orange shorts and a band-tee for a musician Magnus had never heard of.

Currently, (as Magnus was debating whether to excuse himself and leave like a normal person or jump out the window,) she was repainting her nails as she spoke. “I just really thought he was into me,” she sighed. “He was all like, wow Roddy, you’re the coolest girl I know, you’re totally going places, you have so much potential.” (Magnus assumed that Rodimus was embellishing a bit.) “But then I’m like, OMG, hey, we should totes hang outside of class, right? And suddenly I’m weird.”

“He probably didn’t think you were weird,” Magnus attempted to comfort, figuring that surely Rodimus would have known beforehand if the man found her strange. “What did he say?”

Rodimus gulped. “Okay, so like, I say hey we should hang outside of class,” Magnus nods along, “and he goes oh, so sorry, I totally didn’t get that you felt that way. I was just being nice, I didn’t know you liked me.”

Magnus grimaces. “Ouch.”

“Right?!” Rodimus exclaims, putting away the nail polish she’d been using and pulling out another colour. “And so I’m trying to backtrack basically, and be like oh no totally that is like soooo fine, I get it, and he has the fantastic idea to start telling me about the girlfriend that I didn’t even know he had! He even showed me a picture!”

“...Was she pretty?”

“She was SO pretty!” Rodimus cried. “She’s a total D-cup goth babe! She probably has a pet tarantula!” Tears started to well up in her eyes again. “I’m a B-cup, B standing for bimbo! I can’t compete with that!”

Magnus chose to ignore her comments about her own boobs. “Hey, hey,” he interjected, “Roddy, he’s one guy out of hundreds. You’ll find someone.”

“It won’t be him.”

“Because he’s busy missing out!” Magnus blurted out, causing both Rodimus and himself to recoil in surprise. Outbursts like that were… unlike him. “He might not see it, but you’d be a wonderful girlfriend, Roddy.” He paused. “You’re very beautiful, and a lot smarter than people give you credit for. Sure, you’re a little ditzy, but everyone is sometimes, and you’re a wonderful friend.” He grabbed one of Rodimus’ hands, minding the still-drying nail polish. “If he doesn’t understand that, then he’s missing out.”

Rodimus sniffled. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

The gal smiled gently, then let out a sigh, falling backwards onto a fluffy pillow that resembled the sun. “Maggy, you are way too sweet to me. I’m so glad I can talk to you.” She giggled. “Like, I wish I could be YOUR girlfriend. You even skipped class for me today! You never skip class! And you were so nervous but you came to a girl’s house! All for me!”

Magnus smiled in return. Yes, he was nervous, and no, he did not generally skip class. Rodimus, he supposed, was a special case.

#so this actually is technically the same story as the part i linked #i wasnt gonna post it originally bc i was embarrassed about it #but a friend convinced me to type it up so he could read it so like #if i already typed it i might as well post it yknow #🧃 i wrote something!#;; transformers #;; rodimags #;; hot rod / rodimus #;; ultra magnus #;; gyaru au

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sarambcreates · 2 years ago

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Lino prints and outcomes

As seen before here I made quite a few digital projections of pieces with the potential to be screen printed, variations of the results from both the printmaking and typography workshops. However it was incredibly hard to book for screen printing as it was full with both students from my year and others, so I decided to try another printmaking technique: lino printing. I am familiar enough for it and I can do it at home without needing to use the workshop. It would not allow for the transparency of some of the pieces I projected digitally, however for the window cleaning pattern in particular the medium is very effective. So to start off I decided to do several prints of that pattern and from there see what I can do with each successful print.

I first printed out the pattern and traced it so I could transfer it onto the lino. I did not need to do it twice as that would flip the image for me already in preparation of the print. Since there is so many lines and texture I only roughly outlined the main shapes/flows of line which would guide me when I came to carve the lines out in a more spontaneous, natural way.

carved and painted lino that was used for the prints

Being at home and without a press machine made the printing process a bit harder, however I tried my best to innovate things with what I had. I tried different techniques, from stacking books on top of the lino, to using my hands and leaning onto it to putting it on the floor and jumping on it. This resulted in a variety of different prints as I also tried to find the right amount of paint and thickness of the layer. I ended with 9 prints in total, where 3 I found to be the most successful.

I found the print by itself a successful outcome, so I decided asked someone else to help me order the top 3 from best to worst. The best would be left alone, the second best would be the backdrop for the typography piece, and the third I would improvise sketches with posca on top, inspired by the screen print visualisations I did not get to do.

For the typography piece I did the design online, playing around with the options and making sure it made a balanced triangle shape like my plan I did in the workshop. It ended up looking like this:

The free water font was picked as it was very curly and wavy, reminding of the wind and waves that the two words can evoke by themselves. The stay Hydrated was nice and big for emphasising, and the painterly stroke of the font helped it be balanced with the first font, as well as reminiscent of the original hand painted plaque in the pub.

Because I could not screen print, my second best was creating a stencil out of it. So I printed it onto thick paper so the stencil would be more sturdy, and cut it out. I tested first onto a blank sheet and blue tacked the most fragile bits, and tried it with posca, as this would allow me more control in the parts the stencil might fail, as well as easier polishing afterwards. Doing not all but most of the letters allowed me to have a significant result to make a decision if it was successful.

The result was very successful in my opinion, with the exception of two details: 1) the stencils made me lose the negative space inside some letters, but that can be easily fixed with layer other posca pens on top, 2) the second font lost a bit of its movement for losing some of brushstroke lines, but this is also something I can fix by painting on top. Furthermore I also reflected that I needed more blue tack reinforcement so that the stencil.s extremities and more thin pieces of paper do not move too much while I am doing it.

Throughout the process I realised little by little how many layers of posca I would actually need, due to needing a black outline to make the words pop out more, against the already blue background. This made me have to go over and refine it every time I made the outline thicker. I also did not realise I would need quite some layers of posca on the words as the first few kept activating the paint underneath from the print and mixing with it, but this problem was manageable by doing more and more layers upon the dried ones. The words still did not fully pop out so I had to freehand it with a wavy line that evokes the idea of running water, like I did in my original workshop. This was very hard to keep symmetrical and I had to rectify it quite a bit using more posca to remake the pattern underneath. Fortunately the rectifications are pretty seamless unless the eye is centimetres away from the paper so it is not too big of a concern.

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yuzukult · 3 years ago

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acquitted love || sjn & reader

title: acquitted love pairing: johnny suh x reader genre: fluff, angst, co-workers!au, lawyer!au, one-sided enemies to lovers word count: 8.7k warnings: some language/cursing, brief mentions of sex but there's no actual discussions or explicit conversations of the topic, but generally pg-13 prompt: you absolutely hate johnny suh. but when your boss pairs you two up together for one of the highest profile cases, you’re left working close with your enemy but he doesn’t seem to think that way of you. a/n: tada!! i wrote this for the @/ficscafe fic exchange event!! so @urlocalnctstan , hope you enjoy this !! i tried to write it according to what you put as your preferences, but honestly T_T it was so hard bc i was just not getting any ideas!! hopefully this is something you’d like :D enjoy !!

“God, isn’t he just… so attractive?”

Along with a click on your tongue, you feign a hit in Hyeri’s direction, whose reflexes have gotten so much faster in the past couple years of knowing you and it shows when she cowers underneath your arm. She gifts you that not-so-apologetic smile, full of mischievousness because she knows no matter how annoying she can be, you’ll still love her nonetheless.

“Why do you keep talking about Johnny? You know he’s banned as a topic of our conversations.”

Hyeri rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her white frilled blouse. You know that she doesn’t actually inhabit any romantic feelings for Johnny, but she has a problem of thinking without the usage of her brain when she sees a hot guy.

Not that you think Johnny is hot.

No.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s at least an ounce of smokin’ hot.” She’s unraveled her arms by now, poking your shoulder incessantly to grasp onto your attention as you're tapping on the buttons of the copier machine. “I bet if you asked him out, he’d say yes.”

You briefly glare at Hyeri. “You realize that he and I don’t get along, right? He keeps finding stupid loopholes in the system to win his cases. He thinks with his heart, not his head, and sometimes, with whatever that thing was in his pants.” And, not to mention that he walks out the court with that big grin stretched from cheek to cheek, giving the ‘good news’ to your well-respected boss (who you desperately seek the approval of but that’s a different story for another time). And every single time, she gives him that nod of appreciation, that ‘nod of approval’ if you will, when it should be given to you and not to some asshole who fucks his way to victory.

“But he’s so hot—”

You narrow your eyes at your friend, and with a stern voice, you call out, “Hyeri.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, though, he’s hella smart. He’s got a job here, and works under your boss. It’s Park, Kim & Associates—notice how Park is first, because she’s a fucking genius. She only picks the intelligent ones to work under her. Why do you think I’m still working for Mr. Kim?”

Park Seohyun and Kim Gonghyun—one of the biggest lawyers in the region, decided to join together to build their own law firm from the ground up. They were both highly respected in their field; Kim Gonghyun spent years of his life being mentored by one of the most famous judges, and as for Park Seohyun, she was, simply put, admirable because of the obstacles she has overcome to make her dreams of working in law to be real. Being a woman, young, and beautiful, she’s had her fair share of encounters with people who disregard her potential, that is until she met Gonghyun—who, admittingly is an old man who seems like he’d be traditional, sexist, even, but he proves to also make people realize how wrong they are with their impression of him.

But, as Mr. Kim is getting older, he’s gotten a bit… lazy.

In fact, he’s been slacking so much that he’s gotten a new rep in the office—if he was your direct supervisor, or your supervisor was under him, you were on the side of the office where all the easier, uncomplicated cases were assigned. Which meant that there was a slight possibility that your talents and skills weren’t as sharp and exceptional as you thought they were.

And well, Hyeri works directly underneath Mr. Kim.

Hyeri doesn’t want a heavy workload, despite the fact that there’s a plethora of files on her desk, stacked up one onto another as tall as her PC tower, and they were all open and closed cases—needless to say that she didn’t mind it.

“Okay, but you got offered a position under Seohyun. Do you really think you’re not wasting your potential?”

Hyeri scoffs. “Never. At least, not now. I’m still in my twenties, I’d like to enjoy my youth while I can, for your information.”

You quirk a brow. “And does any of that pertain fucking Johnny? The hot guy, so you claim?”

She immediately has her hand covering your mouth and you scowl. “Shhhhh, he works here!”

You bite the flesh of her hand and Hyeri instantly retracts. “You think I don’t know my archenemy works here? He sits directly across from my office—I get the best view of the guy and I’m not even one of his fangirls.”

“You’re not gonna be one of those girls who claim they’re different because they don’t like him but then end up falling for him anyway… are you?”

Your hand goes up and Hyeri crouches down.

“Stop it.”

“Seriously though! It’s the classic e2l love story,” she has her hands gesturing in front of her like she’s making an imaginary rainbow, “Two lawyers, constantly butting heads, accept each other’s differences and learn to love—“

“The fuck is an ‘e2l’?”

“Enemies to lovers.”

“Are you high? Stop spitting nonsense.” This time, you’re waving the stack of papers that finish printing in front of her face. “Meet me for lunch later. But if you keep talking about my archenemy and I falling in love, you can kiss a free meal goodbye.”

Hyeri gasps.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Maybe. Just maybe, Hyeri might be a tiny smidge right when she says Johnny is handsome. Just a bit though, because she can’t get credit for something like that.

He’s dyed his hair this shade of brunette that sort of reminds you of roasted chestnuts on a cold, winter day, sitting inside of a cooker outside of your childhood home, baking along with some sweet potatoes your mom had gotten from a farmer’s market nearby. Johnny has this focused gaze attached to the screen of his monitor; there’s a dip in the fronts of his brows, lips tightened into a straight line, and constant switching back and forth from the computer while taking notes down in a book that’s laid open in front of him.

You wonder what’s running through his mind, or well, you’re more interested in what files he has sprawled out on top of his desk.

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, you weren’t quite a fan of Johnny Suh and it’s mostly due to his work ethic. He’d been notorious for his reputation of sleeping around—especially with the opposing side—so it’s hard to convince yourself that he didn’t win the case because of his actual capabilities, but it’s because he pulled some strings.

And Johnny doesn’t put much effort into denying it either.

Albeit deep down, you were a teeny bit envious of his confidence. He struts around the courtroom with ease, and when he presents his position, there’s no staggering in his voice—it’s always crisp and clean, weighted with nothing but credence, and never straying from his initial perspective. It’s never a lack of poise, it’s consistently the look he goes for; from the hand gestures and the furrowed brows, to the rhetorical questions in the end of certain statements that has the speculators and jury sitting at the edge of their seat, Johnny had a talent for performing in the courtroom, but that doesn’t mean anything when the way he gets to the success isn’t ethical.

Just at that moment, his eyes lift from the screen and meet yours.

There isn’t any hesitation when you scramble to grab the remote controller, and the shades drop over the windows instantaneously.

“Fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, tossing the remote onto your desk and shaking your hands after. What if he thought you were admiring him? Maybe he didn’t see. Yeah. It was for a brief second, and with how close your offices were to each other, it would be common to accidentally lock eyes… right?

Interrupting your thoughts, the office phone rings and it nearly startles the living soul out of you. But before you reach for it, your head tilts to the side curiously because the extension number is familiar—it’s Park Seohyun’s, your boss.

What could she be calling for?

You don’t remember fucking something up—but to be fair, half the times, you never really know if you’ve actually fucked up until someone with steaming ears and a crimson face comes storming in. So… did you do something good? Again, you don’t think that’s right either, because other people would’ve made comments about it.

Deciding to swallow your nerves, you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Seohyun never fails to be bubbly, and you could never mimic her energy. You definitely had to be born with that kind of enthusiasm. “I have a favor. Hop into my office.”

Leaned back in her leather swivel chair, she had her fingers laced with each other while resting over her stomach. Johnny stands beside you (and you do your best to not look directly at him, especially after that weird staring thing), and you both feel like kids being lectured by parents from how still you are. Her office is huge, probably the size of both yours and Johnny’s combined; with ceiling to floor windows, cases of books that line the perimeter, not to mention the humongous ass couch that practically covers the other half of the room, and her desk was so wide, you estimate about four monitors would fit on there with still additional space for work. That wasn’t even the best part��the view of the city looks almost like a generic lockscreen of a Windows computer, and you’re not even sure why she goes home at night when she basically has a penthouse here.

“As you know, I have a favor.”

“Right,” Johnny retorts, mostly as a filler in the awkward silence. “So… what’s the favor?”

She pulls a box from her purse; square, black and made from a leather material with a lock pad stitched into it, something you’ve never seen before, and she slides the passcode in, then it pops the lid open. A key (a… very small one) sits in the velvety cushion, with nothing else occupying the space with it, and it looks comical. She uses this to open the very top drawer of her desk, and as she pulls using the handle, there’s another box inside, but this time, metal instead of leather, but still black.

What the fuck?

It seems Johnny shares the same thoughts, because he sneaks a glance over at you.

“You see,” Seohyun begins, pressing on the digital keys of the box until there’s a beep at the end and the case hisses open. “There’s a lot of security for this. Which means you understand the importance of it.”

Then, she picks up four manila envelopes and lies on the surface of her wooden top desk. “I have a family emergency to attend to this upcoming week. I’m boarding a flight tonight. So I’m leaving the Hwang v. Yoon case to the two of you.”

“Fuck—”

“The what?”

You and Johnny are sputtering out of shock. The Hwang v. Yoon case is the biggest case that the firm is involved in currently, and the only people involved in it have been Seohyun and Gonghyun. It’s been on every social media platform you could think of; from Facebook to Twitter, TikTok to Instagram—there’s even this weird website for emo/grunge teens or strange kids that like writing fanfic called Tumblr, and whatever that is, it’s discussed on there too.

“What about Gonghyun?”

Seohyun scoffs, closing the drawer and dropping the key back into her special box. Where do you even get a box like that? “He can’t handle this alone. So I’m kicking him off until I come back. I thought about letting the two of you work with him, but his ego is so inflated, it’ll get in the way of our chances of winning. It’s easier if it was just me and him, but seeing that things at home aren’t well, I’m going to need you two to step up to the plate.”

The room goes quiet. The only sounds you hear are the muffled noises of a typical bustling office outside the thick walls of Seohyun’s office, and at first, excitement rushes through your blood because Seohyun thought of you taking over a special, high profile case.

Albeit, another realization gets soaked up, and it’s that Johnny also came to mind, and that because it’s such an important case, the two of you would be… working… many… hours… together.

Maybe you should back out of it—but then again, this is such a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Imagine winning this— it wouldn’t be good for just the law firm, it’d be good for you too. Your name, in articles on these big fancy news websites, perhaps even on new channels, talking about how you, this amazing lawyer, won the Hwang v. Yoon case.

But then you’re snapped back into reality when Johnny leans over to take the envelopes from Seohyun.

If your name is on those platforms, so is Johnny’s.

God, this guy just ruins everything, doesn’t he?

“We’ll take care of it, Seohyun. You can trust us,” he says assuringly, a smile tugging on each corner of his lips with that dazzling gaze. “We’ll be at our best.”

Kiss ass.

If you had the option, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday night here at work, in one of those conference rooms with a long table in the middle, a big projector that displays on the wall, and a random black leather loveseat couch that lines the one corner in case there’s too many occupants.

Especially since the person who’s accompanying you is Johnny Suh.

There’s probably a lot of people who would kill to be in your position (Hyeri being one of them), but you dread it. Not to be that person, but what’s so special about him anyway? What? He’s tall, has some muscles, long luscious hair that he can slick back with that sultry stare—wait, what?

“Alright, moving on…” From what? You guys just started? It’d been clear with Seohyun that the mornings would be dedicated to other cases, but nights would be considered overtime and where you’d zoom in your focus on Ms. Hwang’s justice. “Let’s take a look at the facts here.”

Johnny slips off his blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as you’re seated in another, leaning back comfortably with an arm resting on the table. He loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt before folding up the sleeves, and that’s when you notice a little thing in the inner crook of his elbow—is that a fucking sunflower? Is that what he uses to reel girls in? That he’s soft enough to have a pretty little flower etched onto his gentle, silky and supple—

“Okay,” he says, interjecting into your thoughts with a laser pointer in his hand. He taps on the space bar of his laptop that mirrors what’s on his screen, but then, that’s when you realize what’s on the slides.

There’s a collage of pictures, mostly street, casually walking themed ones, but the common factor was that they were of Yoon Changmin, the man you guys were up against. They were all paparazzi-like photos, which begs the question, how did he get pics like this, and why did he get them?

“What’s the point of this?” you ask, voice laced with nothing but suspicion.

“We gotta get into the mind of the enemy.” You wanna get into the mind of your enemy, too.

You gesture to the one image of Changmin with an arm around his girlfriend and a finger up his nose. “Seems like he’s trying to reach inside of his head instead of us. These are just everyday pictures, Johnny. What’s that going to do for us?”

“Well,” he begins, turning to look at the wall of ‘evidence’. “You see—wait, holy shit.”

Freezing in the midst of reaching for your coffee, your head jolts in the direction of your partner. “What? What is it?”

“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “Hoooooooooly shit. Why didn’t I see this before? This changes everything.”

Furrowing your brows, you’ve given up getting your drink and dropped your hands onto the table. “Tell me, what is it?”

“This is a game changer.”

“Johnny,” you call out sternly, and his eyes link with yours before he instantly points to a particular picture with his red laser pointer.

“Look at that.” There’s pride saturated in his words, but when you look at what he’s indicating, your body slouches in disappointment.

Why the hell was he directing your attention onto Changmin’s thighs? Surely, there’s no denying that they were attractive—you recall that his alibi was at the gym that very night of the crime.

“What? He’s guilty for showing off his toothpick legs?” They were lean, you never said they were muscular.

“No,” he retorts, slightly irritated by your response as he rolls his eyes. “Look at his pants.”

“Okay…”

“They’re jean shorts.”

There’s a pregnant pause, but the expression on your face is so loud it can’t be hidden.

Johnny continues, “That’s a fashion crime.” He says it as if it’s an obvious fact known by many. “Not to mention that it’s fucking raw hem. He should be arrested.”

Suddenly, your opinion of him thinking too much with his heart dissipates because it seems like he’s thinking out of his ass instead. Did he win those cases out of pity? How did this guy even pass the bar? How about law school? How the hell did he even get into law school?

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, alright, just hear me out,” he’s got the palms of his hands resting flat on the surface of the table, doing his best to gain your full undivided attention. “Only assholes wear jean shorts. They flaunt that shit around like they own the place, but they’re horrendous pieces of clothing that should not be on a male’s body. I don’t care what you say, what your opinion is, because that is a fact.”

Puffing your cheeks, you feel at a loss. If Johnny is who you had to get this done, it feels like you’re not going to be finding much evidence any time soon.

“Okay, if… if that’s how you want to play it, then show me the evidence—other than those 2012 cut off denim shorts.”

He reaches over to hit his space bar again, then with a wink and a slide change, he leans closer to you and says with that deep, honeyed voice, “Gladly.”

You hate admitting when you’re wrong.

Ironically, you concede and will confess when you actually are, but it doesn’t mean that you enjoy it. For example, when Hyeri claims that the intern Mark had a crush on you, you quickly waved her off, stating something along the lines of, “I’m too intimidating; there’s better chances of him being scared of me than ever finding me attractive.” And then a week later, you owed Hyeri free lunch at that hip ramen place downtown because Mark had approached your desk that very morning with a bouquet of red roses flowers for you, a cheeky grin glued to his face with pools of hearts in his eyes, and ready to ask you on a date because it was the day after his internship had ended. Naturally, it wasn’t fun rejecting that poor college boy.

But, you won’t say you find Johnny interesting or handsome. Or that there’s potential when it came to possibly (just barely the slightest smidge) that you’d ever consider asking Johnny out. He’s your enemy here, you’ve mentioned that a multitude of times, and you stand firm on that very declaration, despite the fact that sometimes when he gets too close, your breath gets caught in your throat and you feel like you can’t get whatever’s lodged in out.

Albeit it’s not the whole “you guys are gonna end up together” comment that Hyeri makes and resulting in you denying it afterwards, it’s that Johnny might… be a decent lawyer.

He’s not the best one you’ve seen; the stupid revelation he had on the first day working on the case about the jean shorts is evidence for it, but it’s the days following that were slowly changing your perspective on him.

When you said, “He thinks too much with his heart more than with his head,” it was 100% correct.

When meeting with potential witnesses, you recognized that Johnny empathizes with people often; when they cry and start panicking from being overwhelmed, he's quick on his feet to put an arm around them, share reassuring words, and have them back to normal in record’s time.

And, well… you? You’re the one making them cry in the first place.

You don’t want to fully take the blame for being the cause of their tears, but people need to hear what’s happening, and the very detail that they can’t even handle this information probably means they’re not worthwhile as a key witness.

Johnny, of course, thinks otherwise.

He believes that these people should have a voice (although you’ve alluded that they might be more useless than helpful), and putting them on the stand with Yoon Changmin there would change the view of the jury to supporting Hwang Naeri.

“Listen, if we get these people to sign the form, we’d get witnesses and it’ll help Naeri,” Johnny claims, frantically moving his arms annoyingly as he talks, trying his best to express the gravity of the situation, “and maybe, maybe, money wouldn’t be how Changmin wins, but how he loses. We can’t have another person with jean shorts walking on the streets of our city like this—they deserve to go to prison.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Why does this always revert back to the jean shorts?”

“It always has to do with jean shorts,” he snaps back matter-of-factly. “Any straight guy wearing jean shorts with that much goddamn confidence has done some wrong in their lives.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure that the crimes he did are mainly the reason why he’s being prosecuted against.”

“Jean shorts are the windows to the soul.”

“I’m almost 100% sure that eyes are the windows to the soul, but whatever. If you genuinely believe that the women we met today would benefit our case, then… okay. Let’s bring them to the stand.”

On the contrary to you, Johnny doesn’t have a hard time convincing witnesses to testify. You see the way that he works; those kind eyes directed at the participants, the pools of chocolate were sweet, saturated in nothing but tenderness and warmth, then he does that weird thing where he reaches for their hands and cups them before the words that escapes from his lips are enough to swoon them to stand in front of a courtroom.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a method to his so-called madness.

Aggression and bluntness don’t work, it seems, because when you’re the one attempting to convince these people to go against the man that had done them wrong, they’re less willing to do it. Something about ‘moving on,’ and ‘not wanting to relive those memories again,’ but if it was you, you’d want justice. Then again, not everyone is like you, and not everyone thinks like you, and spending this abundance of time with Johnny is slowly getting you to ease into that perspective.

So… the initial impression you had of him may have been wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re developing some feelings for him, just as Hyeri predicted.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

His abrupt personal question is enough to have the coffee spill into your mouth to slide down the ‘wrong throat’ because you’re choking, hand on your chest as you’re tackling to regain your breath again and Johnny only stares in disbelief, blinking blankly. “Are… are you okay?”

You glare at him through a hooded gaze. “Well,” you clear your throat once more. “Now, I am.”

“Cool.” He nods, retracting his hand so he could rub your back soothingly, deciding it’s best to stay away. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Quirking a brow, your head tilts slightly in puzzlement. “Why are you asking this?”

Johnny shrugs. “Isn’t it weird that we’ve hung out with each other for a whole week—stayed here for nights and we both don’t know anything about each other?”

Tapping your fingers against the wooden top table, you sigh. Maybe he’s got a point; after all, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” right?

“No, I’m single.”

Johnny’s face suddenly brightens, ears perked, and his body straightens its posture in his seat at this revelation. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know that. You seemed busy in your personal life, so I, uh… was just wondering.” He looked anxious, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “I, um, I’m single too, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” You weren’t.

The plethora of cardboard and plastic boxes scattered across the table was a representation of the night. It’s been long, exhausting, and messy, mostly because it’s a Friday night, the hearing was on Monday, and the two of you were nowhere near close to having enough to present to the court. In fear of disappointing Seohyun, the two of you agreed to stay over the office for the weekend to cram work for the case. There’s no denying that the atmosphere is weirder on the weekends, especially since, well, no one really comes here on the weekends. Johnny had to use the bathroom earlier and ran into the cleaning lady and she nearly shit her pants because she didn’t think anyone was here, so she had music blasting in her headphones.

Johnny is… interesting. He makes you laugh—or well, want to laugh, but you don’t give him that sense of satisfaction—and he’s smart but in his own weird way. He’s not like the other lawyers you’ve met, or any of the law students you attended University with because he’s more lighthearted and free-spirited than the rest, taking life in strides instead of just overwhelming himself in the abundance of stress that work brings.

He’s entirely the opposite of you.

And maybe you could learn something from the guy, but there’s something in you that brews hatred toward him. Possibility that you resent how easy he makes being a lawyer seem when you’re struggling in your day-to-day life to make things work.

But it’s way too fucking hard when he’s just… like that.

Despite all of that, he’s very generous and kind toward you. On rough days, he delivers your coffee order, the one you always get because he remembers what you asked the intern to get for you the last time, and he’s good at identifying when you’re just having that kind of day. You eventually learn he has a photographic memory (fucking show off), so when he saw that crumpled napkin with scribbles of what you want in that dumb intern’s hand, it wasn’t hard to remember. Which, by the way, is how he’s able to get into the most prestigious school for undergrad, manage to pass the bar so easily, and get into law school effortlessly.

And knowing this information sort of angers you more.

You know this isn’t his fault—he’s been blessed with a trait that people desire, one that you also yearn for, but the lucky ones get handed a lot of things in life. You wonder if he’s the type of guy who wins girls easily after matching with them on dating sites because of this stupid ass ‘photographic memory.’ Does he sleep with them right after? Does it ever get serious?

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You shouldn’t even let these strange thoughts haunt you, especially when you don’t even like him.

He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.

So you’re left counting the remaining days until the trial so you don’t ever have to work with Johnny Suh this closely again.

Okay, well, it’s evident that bad luck is glued to your side because after you win the Hwang v. Yoon case for your law firm with that asshole, Seohyun is so impressed. So goddamn impressed that she insists that all the high profile cases are to be given to both you and Johnny.

To work as a team.

Together.

Jesus, this is Hell for you.

Surely, the promotion and raise that came along with it was definitely a plus, but it has you wondering if it’s even worth it. He’s been your unspoken enemy since the first day, and although you think you’re pretty forthright about your hatred for this guy, he can’t seem to read social cues.

When you’re pushing the double doors into the conference room the two of you often spend working on cases in, you expect Johnny to be ready for another day. But strangely enough, Johnny doesn’t have his laptop out or any of the notebooks sprawled across the table.

“Um,” you slide the strap of your bag off your shoulder and onto the spare chair. “Did you come late or something?”

He takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding back something. “We need to talk.”

There’s worry inscribed into his features; from the crease in between his brows, to his pursed lips, and eyes soaked in concern, almost like he’s got bad news to share and it has your stomach in knots. Was it that the case was thrown out? It couldn’t be, right? You both worked hard, presented your stance to the point that the jury and the judge were in awe with your findings. Sure, you had to cover Johnny’s mouth right before he was about to go off in a tangent about jean shorts, but overall, it was a good win, a hard one to go back on and pull out the wrongs of it. So what was it?

“I’m quitting our partnership.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures to the room with his hands as if there’s anything out to reference. “This thing. Our work. The big profile cases. The famous stuff. I told Seohyun that I won’t be doing it anymore and she can revoke the promotion and the raise.”

You’re still not catching on. “… Why?” Was it something you did? Yeah, you weren’t a big fan of Johnny either, but were you so bad that he decided to not go through with the raise because of you?

“Because,” he pushes his blazer back, hands sliding into the front pockets of his navy blue trousers. “There’s a policy put into place. Those who are on the same cases cannot have any personal relations with each other that extend past friendships.”

“We’re not even friends?” With confusion written across your face, your head tilts to the side. “I’m not… I’m not catching on here.”

“I like you.”

Startled, the words you want to say are stolen out of your mouth. You’re left with a mixture of perturbation and bewilderment, uncertain where to go from there because Johnny asked for the removal of both a promotion and additional money that could be so good for his career… and it’s all because he has a crush on you?

“You quit the best thing that could’ve happened to you because you like me?”

“Yeah,” Johnny states calmly, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment. “Ain’t that romantic?”

You scoff. “No. Absolutely not. You’re insane! Why would you do yourself dirty like that? Use your head, Johnny, you’re constantly thinking with that stupid heart of yours, and hate to break it to you, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Combing your hair with your fingers, you let out a sigh. “Go ask Seohyun for the position back. Say you made a mistake and—”

“I’m not asking her for the position back.”

Johnny doesn’t make any sense to you. “What? Why wouldn’t you do that?

“Because,” he laughs in disbelief, not because he thinks you’re funny. “I’m not going to force myself to work with a girl that I keep falling for. That’s self-inflicting, you realize that, right? You’re amazing, but you can seriously be so dense sometimes.”

“I’m dense? You just told one of the best law firms in the city that you don’t want to work on the important cases anymore because you have a stupid crush on your partner!”

“If we were on a team with more people, maybe it’d be different. But it’s just us two. You think I won’t fall any harder? That’s not easy. Every time I see you working, I swear I could be hopelessly in love with you one day.”

Your heart stops for a second.

This is Johnny Suh you were talking about here. One of the claimed best lawyers in your office, one of the most intelligent people that Hyeri has ever met, and Seohyun evidently backs this up because she’s given him so much recognition for his work. He’s the guy who worked with you to win the Hwang v. Yoon case, he’s the one who brought up the stupid jean shorts that seemed so far-fetched at the time, but they were a crucial detail everyone missed—it so happened that when Changmin bought those dumb shorts, there was evidence of at least one of his crimes in that store from the security cameras.

Any cis-gendered male who wears jean shorts can’t be trusted, according to Johnny.

And candidly speaking? You couldn’t even deny that. Your past two ex-boyfriends both wore jean shorts and the one cheated on you and the other one was caught money laundering.

“Listen,” he begins, interrupting your foggy thoughts. “I’m not asking you to tell me you like me back. I’m telling you because you should know, and that I can’t go on any further without letting you know. I’ll, uh, be in my office. Seohyun said she’d find a replacement for me.”

Hyeri is his replacement.

She’s great company and does a good job of helping you with whatever you need, but that was just it. Hyeri followed you, she never led with you, just as Johnny does. Agreeing with everything you say, mindlessly trailing behind everything you do—Hyeri was smart, but she couldn’t figure out how to think for herself when it came to these bigger cases because she’s never been given such a responsibility. But you couldn’t even blame her because it’s what she was told to do under Gonghyun.

“You said that you think Maeri snatched the bracelet?”

“No, I said if you watched the security video that the jewelry store submitted, it clearly shows that Maeri snatched the bracelet. Not that I ‘think.’ The proof is right there, Hyeri.”

She nods, resuming back to her work on the computer. Truthfully, Hyeri felt more like an assistant than a co-worker, someone to bounce ideas off of and to see from a different perspective. And as much as you hated Johnny, he had decent points. He had ways of making you put yourself into the shoes of people you never thought you were; although the guy was obnoxious, at least he actually was… good at his job.

Deciding you can’t take it anymore when Hyeri asks for the tenth time that hour about your beliefs rather than her own, you abruptly stand from your seat.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” you reply shortly. “I’ll be back.”

It was just a spontaneous thought. It’s after hours, and although there are some people who stay behind to get some work done, you had your doubts that Johnny would still be here. He seems to have a better grip on that work/life balance thing people talked about (unlike yourself), but it didn’t hurt to check his office, right?

It’s a good thing you went with it. Because right across from yours, there’s Johnny.

There’s one single lamp that shines over the tabletop of his desk, and the other sources of light in his office are from his computer screen and the ones from the city skyline from behind him. It has him seemingly angelic like this, so serene, calm, and collected, only focused on what’s laid out in front of him. The sun has gone down, people have gone home, but Johnny remains, hardworking as always, despite your previous observations that he’s a lazy, unprofessional guy who gets everything handed down to him.

With a knock on his glass door, he flinches, head raising up and eyes meeting yours.

Were his eyes always this sparkly?

Opening the door, Johnny drops the pen in his hand and crosses his arms before leaning back in his seat. “What’s up?”

“You’re here late,” you state the obvious, and Johnny only nods in return, without a rebuttal in sight. “You aren’t normally here late. At least, before the Hwang v. Yoon case.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But Seohyun dropped something on my desk this morning. Wanted to work on it. What brings you here?”

Inhaling in a deep breath of courage, your hands bundle up into a fist by your side. “Please come back.”

Johnny raises a brow. “What?”

“Come back,” you reiterate, this time, it’s less tense and releases with ease. Caving in isn’t usually this effortless to you, but something about Johnny makes you feel… comfortable enough.“Come back and work with me again. Yes, I’m not supportive of how you do things—”

“Then let’s go out on a date.”

You freeze. Legs rooted into the floors of Johnny’s office, you’re left immobile and diffident on how to react next. It wasn’t what you were expecting, although you weren’t quite sure what you were hoping to anticipate, but it most definitely was not this.

“I—”

“I said my terms,” he retorts, shutting the book in front of him before shuffling up from his seat. He’s leaving, you realize, and Johnny’s ready to head home for the night and you’re not sure if you could handle an entire weekend with Hyeri here. “And, I meant what I said. One date, and if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay on the case.”

Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, the next words that come out are out of character for you. “And… what if it does?”

A soft smile tugs from each corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll figure it out from there. Promise.”

This is… awkward. It shouldn’t be, but yet somehow, it remains awkward.

You’ve spent weeks with Johnny before, and those moments were in a room, in the middle of the night, and alone. Hours and hours were dedicated to work, yes, but it was just the two of you and nobody else.

So why is it so weird being in a five Michelin star restaurant with him?

Maybe it’s the atmosphere. The dim lights, the white clothed tables in lieu of the scratched up wooden one back at the law firm, and instead of leather seats, there’s a neutral beige chaise cushion for the dining chair, slightly less comfortable because it doesn’t recline like the one in your office. Instead of an array of photos and evidence disseminated in front of you, there’s a laminated menu with a multitude of options of what to have for dinner.

Johnny gets the steak with mashed potatoes and string beans, and you order something similar but seared salmon for the main protein. The waitress offers wine, babbling on about the age of the red, where the vineyard is located, and the dryness to sweetness—to be honest, you could care less; you’d rather have gin and sprite with a squirt of lime. A couple glasses of that and you can almost guarantee that the night would end with a deep slumber.

Oddly enough, Johnny seems nervous. Ever since he pulled up in his midnight black Audi in front of your apartment complex, he’s been acting strange. He keeps wiping his sweaty palms off the material of his trousers, occasionally swiping off the droplets that fall on the side of his face.

“Are you… okay?” you suddenly ask, adjusting your dress in your seat. Deciding to go with a black silk dress with a slit up the leg and your hair let down, it’s not a look you often sport but since you’re going on a date (one you haven’t been on in quite some time), you figured it would be nice to at least play the part.

“I’m, uh, honestly, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”

You quirk a brow curiously. “What? You’re telling me you never asked a girl out before?”

He lets out a bashful laugh with a faint nod, making an attempt to swallow his nerves after. “Honestly, I’ve always been asked out and not the other way around. Not to sound like that guy, but I never really had to put effort into trying for girls. They kind of just…”

“—Throw themselves at you?”

He beams. “Yeah! Like that. I don’t really know how to react half the time, but it makes the whole dating scene a little bit easier.” Geez, he called you dense, but he’s over here acting clueless.

Either way, it feels like whatever opinion you had about Johnny remained true. He never had to try when it came to the dating scene, and you could only imagine what that means for work and the relationships he has with the women in your career field.

“Mm, does that usually happen with work too?”

Befuddled, Johnny leans back in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you’re poking the meat of your salmon that falls off easily. After the first initial bite, the fish practically melts on impact when it touches the tip of your tongue, smooth like butter and bursting with flavor that couldn’t be described by any common person because it wouldn’t do the salmon justice. Johnny seemed to put a lot into this date, and you’re left pondering what the point of this was. Did he actually like you, or was he trying to get into your head? “Just seems like you get a lot of special treatment.”

“Are you jealous?”

“In what way?” you snap back.

“Are you jealous of me because I’m getting this so-called special treatment that you think I’ve always had, or were you jealous of the girls that seemingly got my attention?”

You’re left without anything to say.

It was a good observation he made because truthfully, you never saw it like that.

In actuality, you often saw Johnny as your rival. He climbed the ladder in the field with ease, and it wasn’t hard to quickly blame his success on the fact that he was a guy in a male dominated industry, but the fact that there’s a possible interpretation for your hatred may be from these feelings you might’ve been harboring for him this entire time… that can’t be it… right?

“I mean, look at where you are now,” you begin, trying to defend yourself. It can’t be true that the reason you’ve been bitter about Johnny was because of the girls that got his attention, and one of them not being you. “You got a high position from—”

“—From hard work,” Johnny interjects with his brows furrowed. “I didn’t get to where I was because I slept around, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I knew you sort of always hated me, but I’ve always admired you. I like your work ethic, I like your style, even though we’re both on opposite spectrums, I like the way you think and I wanted to know what it was like being partners with you. Getting to be on that case with you showed me more than just who you were as a lawyer, but who you were as a person. I like you, but I’m trying to put my finger on why you hate me so much.”

“So you noticed.” Sucking in your cheeks, your eyes trail elsewhere—from the fork that lays beside your plate, to the glass filled halfway with wine, to the little candle that sits in between the two of you that flickers the way he has your heart when he expresses once more how he feels about you.

“Yeah, of course I noticed. If you like someone, it’s kind to miss details like that about them. So… you really hated me because you thought I slept my way to the top, huh?”

“I mean…” shoulders dropping in exasperation, you run your fingers through your disheveled hair. “All those rumors—”

“Again, they’re just rumors. I worked hard to get here, you know. And I’m kind of offended that you thought of me that way.”

You scoff. “They’re rumors, Johnny, it’s kind of hard to ignore all the office gossip when that’s all you hear. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe either, with the whole flirtatious act whenever you encounter anyone who’s breathing and has a vagina.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“You need a book for dummies that elaborates on what’s flirting or not, because Johnny Suh, whatever it is you do with your body language in front of that chick who sits by the front door.”

“You mean Siwoo? The pregnant one who’s married to her highschool sweetheart? Also, how do you not know our receptionist’s name?”

You throw your arms into the air. “How am I supposed to know her name?”

He tilts his head to the side, genuinely baffled. “Do you… not talk to anyone outside of Hyeri?”

Your silence answers his question.

“I… honestly, I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be honored. You think I didn’t earn anything that I have now, you think that everything I have was handed to me. On one hand, it’s flattering that you think my looks and my bedroom skills could do that but at the same time… I’m offended because you think I’m incapable.”

“I never said you were incapable—”

“But you implied it.”

Hands falling onto your lap, it’s your turn to gulp. His words come shooting at you, but you’re without a shield to protect yourself, and with the new experience of working with Johnny, there comes the realization at times that Johnny is a hard worker. There are some things that he says and does that aren’t like the people you’ve encountered, and being put on new cases with Hyeri only proved it. He’s thoughtful in the sense that whenever you’d bring up your stance on something, he challenges you with what the defense might counter.

Johnny makes you want to be better. Not just against him, but to brush off the dust on your skills and enter into the battlefield of a courtroom to showcase them.

“Well, if you’re staying silent, I just want to say that I tried,” the crinkle in between your brows makes another appearance because Johnny is great at leaving you stunned and confused. “I really like you. I love how your head works, and I wanna be with someone like that but I also can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Why is it that when you’re in that conference room with him, you’re not afraid and never running out of things to say, but now you’re empty handed?

“I’ll pay for dinner. Grab you an Uber. I honestly thought I could overlook those things, and maybe your perspective for me has changed, but I could see it on your face. It’s the same.”

After that date with Johnny, his life turns back to normal.

Yours? Not so much.

Candidly speaking, part of you missed working with Johnny. You were wrong about him, so wrong, and even when you wanted to apologize at the dinner for what you thought of him, the pride in you was like a vicious plague that blackened your insides, preventing you from ever saying those words.

Oftentimes, you’d still be able to sneak a glimpse of him in his office with that same look on his face—full of concentration and nothing else in his mind other than the task at hand.

The cases you have with Hyeri entail a head like Johnny’s. Someone who could question you, to protest against your stance when there could be flaws in it. It feels like deja vu each time you think about it, each time you open a new case file and Hyeri sits there, perched in that seat beside yours, eyes sparkling with what you have in mind next, instead of what she has going on in hers.

Although you’ve tried convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, what you feel for Johnny is purely professional but when you see him standing by the water cooler with a couple of your coworkers, eyes mimicking the moon crescents in the skies, replicating the ways his lips curl in elation—it was beginning hard to believe that it was all platonic feelings.

So maybe you should be bold for once. Pull off that exterior that displays you as someone who isn’t just independent and assiduous, but someone who’s stubborn and aggressive in getting what they want—and not in a good way.

This time, you’ll show it in a good way.

Or at least, you’ll try.

Johnny is a routine kind-of-guy—he grabs an iced americano every morning at the coffee shop downstairs at the edge of the street, he does his daily 11:00AM drop-by at the water cooler to refill his Hydroflask (which was his prized possession, by the way), and parked in the same exact spot in the parking garage of your building, despite there being an abundance of places he could choose.

That’s why you decide to stand by his car after work that day. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shaking because it’s your turn to feel anxious. That blazer that once fit so comfortably in the morning suddenly feels tight and hot in the afternoon, and the weather hasn’t even changed. Your bag slung over your shoulder weighs ten times heavier than an hour ago, and you can’t stop your jaw from tightening.

Before your thoughts could spiral off all the possibilities of what the outcome may be when you tell Johnny how you feel, he’s already standing there, feet away from you with that dip in the fronts of his brows that you want to smoothen out the crinkles of with the pad of your thumb.

“Hi,” you greet, faint and peculiarly different from your other approaches. “Um, I just… was waiting for you.”

“Hey,” Johnny says back, the first few buttons of his shirt already unraveled, his blazer hung over his forearm and the sleeves are rolled up. “I see that. What’s up with you?”

“Um,” your leg was jittery, hard to control so you spat everything you had to say out as fast as you could before he could see right through you. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything. You’re admirable, kind, and I wish I inhabited those same characteristics you have. I think professionally, you’ve got great ideas, one that could be implemented into mine and what we did together for that case was just… yeah. We could do something big if we put our heads together.”

Johnny nods in agreement. The relationship between you two work-wise was obvious, he knew that much. “And what about… outside of that?”

“I like you,” you choked, barely getting the words out. “More than just coworkers, um, I guess, more than friends but I’m not really sure since you walked out on our first date,” inhaling in a deep breath of courage, you continue on, “and I don’t know how you feel now after I’m standing before you like this, asking for another chance and that I’m sorry.”

He stares at you blankly, and it leaves you unsure whether or not he accepts your apology. “You know why we ended that date early.”

“Well,” you start again, “can we… start over and try again? I promise I won’t tempt you to end the date early this time.”

And with that, there’s the signature smile that Johnny sports that swoons girls, makes their knees weak, and heart clench but this time… it’s just for you.

“I’d really like that.”

#ficscafe #nct fanfic #johnny x reader #johnny fanfic #johnny suh #johnny nct #nct 127 #nct 127 fanfic #suh johnny #gyukultfics #idk what else to tag #hopefully this does well :|

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bestiesenpai · 3 years ago

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The Language of Flowers - Toji Fushiguro

Who is ready for Toji Fushiguro fluff? This is a flower shop au + a kinda mafia au, so let’s see how it turned out, shall we? Gender neutral reader and no warnings :)

“Welcome in!” Fifteen minutes after opening your shop for the day, you got your first customer. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to come in so early, usually a senior citizen or a shop owner looking to spruce up their place with a fresh bouquet. But the person walking in as you rounded the corner didn’t look like the typical type of early morning client.

Smartly dressed in a suit with a large double breasted overcoat hanging off broad shoulders, the man that walked in had a much more serious demeanor than you were used to. Inky black hair with strands hanging in his face, a prominent scar on the edge of one lip and half-lidded eyes that seemed to stare right through you as they landed on you.

“Hello.” Even the smooth, deep timbre of his voice was out of place as he walked past tables full of bright orchids and petunias. He moved slowly, all the time in the world at his fingertips as he approached the counter.

“How can I help you today?” There was something unnerving about him but you pushed it away, gripping the edges of your apron so he wouldn’t see your hands slightly tremble.

“You make bouquets, right?” Looking over his shoulders a few times, his eyes settled on a few pictures on the wall of past arrangements. “I need one for a funeral.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be, he had it coming.” Chuckling to himself, the man tapped his chest a few times.

“O-oh.” Blinking away your shock, you gestured to the flowers on display. “Any particular flowers you’d like?”

“Lilies are funeral flowers, right? A handful of those and some glitter should be fine.” Digging in his pocket, the man pulled out a wad of cash and placed a few bills on the counter that separated you. “This should be enough.”

“This is more than enough, I can’t-” He’d put a few hundreds on the counter, all crisp and clean like they were freshly printed.

“Don’t worry about it.” Waving off your apprehension, he pushed the money closer. “Think of it as me repenting.”

“What do you need to repent for?” Slowly taking the money, you regretted asking as the man chuckled again.

“I’m the reason this funeral’s happening.”

Ten minutes later, the man - who’s name you’d learned was Toji - was walking out of the door with a fresh bouquet of white lilies. He didn’t say anything further while he was there, mainly because you hid in the back room as you worked. You could hear his dress shoes clicking against the worn hardwood as he perused the shop and every once in a while he stopped to sniff a flower.

The rest of the day went by without incident, your regular customers came in and you were able to forget about the man that had occupied the space in the early morning. Only when you emptied out the register and saw the money sitting at the bottom did you think about him, which brought a light flush to your cheeks. As intimidating as he was, you couldn’t help but find him a bit attractive.

A week and a half went by until you saw him again. It was a surprise to hear him come into the shop at the same time as last, wearing another suit with the heavy coat on his shoulders.

“Another funeral?” You asked when you saw him and your question made his lips stretch into an unexpected laugh.

“Not this time! I’m going to a wedding later.” Toji’s laugh warmed your cheeks, it was a rich sound that came straight from the barrel of his chest.

“Are you getting married?” Your eyes darted down to his ringless fingers.

“Nope, the boss’ youngest daughter found love.” Fishing a phone out of his pocket, Toji showed you a picture of a girl clearly ecstatic with her lover and a very large ring on her finger, a few men that looked like bodyguards lingering in the background.

“How precious! What’re the colors for the wedding?”

“Beats me, I’m not in it.” Shrugging his shoulders, Toji gestured to a few pink roses. “I think she likes pink, so maybe a bit of those.”

“You think or you know?” You snorted, rounding the counter and going over to the flowers. “Weddings are a really big deal, she might not like it if you clash.” Toji opened and closed his mouth like he was going to say a witty retort, but instead he bit back a sigh and nodded curtly.

“Pick whatever you like then, I just need a bouquet that goes well with a stack of cash.” Holding his coat away from him, Toji flashed a white envelope tucked inside his inner pocket, along with the tell tale handle of a gun resting in a holster to his side.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Licking your lips nervously, you fought to keep your eyes steady and not look at the gun. Turning back to the flowers, you mulled over them longer than necessary to avoid facing him. “You said she likes pink?”

Thanking you once again for your service, Toji left with a large bouquet in his hands and a congratulations card he had you write. He even promised to come back and show you pictures of the wedding and while you appreciated the returning patronage, the man before you was starting to make you quite uneasy.

“You still open?” It was five minutes to closing time and the bell above the door alerted you to another customer, the sound of the voice telling you exactly who it was.

“Toji, you really came back.” It was a bit of a shock to see him twice in one day. He was a little more disheveled, the coat on his shoulders was gone and he didn’t have a suit jacket on, with the black button up he had underneath clearly wrinkled and coming untucked at one side.

“Yeah, the wedding was in the afternoon, and I only had to stay until the newlyweds left.” Running a hand through his hair, Toji checked the watch on his wrist as he grabbed his phone. It was nearing eight and the sign on the door clearly stated you were going to close soon, so he had to make this quick.

Sliding his phone wordlessly onto the counter, he gestured toward the pictures on the screen. The wedding was massive, a lot of money had clearly been spent to give the smiling bride everything she wanted.

“Toji, she’s holding my bouquet!” Walking down the aisle, arm in arm with who you assumed was her father, the bride was carrying the bouquet that you’d made.

“Hm? Yeah, guess she is.”

“She didn’t have her own?” If you had known she would be carrying it down the aisle you would have made it more extravagant and lush.

“She did, but she liked yours so much she took it.” The statement brought a silly smile to your lips and Toji laughed to himself, swiping through more photos. Every single one had jovial people but you couldn’t ignore the men in dark suits with stern looks on their faces in the background and flanking the bride's father in a few pictures.

“Do you really need that many bodyguards at a wedding?” Looking at the bride more closely, she wasn’t recognizable to you as any celebrity or daughter of a politician.

“When you do the business we do, yeah.” Coming to the end of the pictures, Toji tucked his phone away. Giving him a curious look, you began to untie the apron around your waist. The clock hung on the wall rang eight and it was time to close up shop.

“What kind of business?” You pressed, slowly starting to turn off the lights to the shop and ushering Toji out as you walked to the front.

“Honey, I don’t think you want to know.” Standing on the sidewalk as you locked up the shop, Toji grinned as he looked over the street and saw the other small businesses closing up for the night as well.

Narrowing your eyes briefly at him, you did a once over of Toji. He was quite broad, with clearly defined muscles on every slope and curve of his body. There were a couple scars on his hands to match the one on his lip and you could see the outline of a gun tucked into his hip clear as day. It wouldn’t be that hard to guess, but did you want to take that leap?

“Well whatever it is, it’s certainly keeping me afloat.” Shrugging your shoulders, you gave the doors one last tug before putting the keys away and beginning to walk away. “It was nice seeing you, Toji.” It was nice seeing more of his body and talking to him, having his attention solely on you.

“Take care getting home, (Y/N).” Giving you a quick wave, Toji fished a cigarette out of his pocket. “I’ll see you around.” Waving back at him, the two of you went your separate ways with the heat of the day dissipating in the air and masking the light flush on both of your cheeks.

Coming to work the next day, the scent of Toji’s cologne still lingered in the air as you walked in. Putting your apron on and starting to prep for the coming day, you found yourself waiting at the fifteen minute mark to see if he would come in with another request. But the only one that came was a delivery man holding a bouquet of sunflowers.

Thanking him, you quickly snatched the card that was attached and read it.

How often does a florist get flowers? Can’t imagine it’s a lot. These are a thank you from me and the boss for that bouquet the other day, it was a big hit.

- Toji

P.S. These aren’t nearly as bright as your smile but they come close, don’t they?

A warm blush invaded your whole body as you read the last line, giggling to yourself as you reread it a few times and looked at the sunflowers. They were indeed a bright and vibrant yellow and as you transferred them to a vase, your mouth refused to let go of the large smile stretching your cheeks wide and it stayed for the whole day.

The next few days were slow, the weather had taken a drastic turn and rain pelted the streets and drowned out any potential customers. There was even the low, distant rumble of thunder rolling in as you began to close up shop one day.

“Shit, it’s really coming down.” Standing at the front door, you watched small rivers of water flow down the street. The street was empty save for the few people running past to get out of the rain. Worrying your lip, you were at a standstill. Your bus stop was only a five minute walk away, but the reality of having to wait in the rain and get your shoes utterly soaked was keeping you rooted in place.

“Maybe I can wait it out.” Mumbling to yourself, you closed the door and flicked off the open sign. There was probably some prep you could do for the following morning while you waited for the weather to hopefully ease up a little, a bouquet you could get started on a little early or plants that might need a little sprucing up.

Sweeping aimlessly, touching up a few displays, double and triple checking the incoming flower deliveries - all of it took less than thirty minutes to complete and the rain seemed to be coming down even harder now. Wandering to the backroom, you were just about to rearrange another drawer when the wind whooshed by and shook the front door in its frame.

“(Y/N)? You in there?” Except it wasn’t the wind and that was certainly Toji’s voice. He was standing at the door, cupping his face against the glass and peeking into the shop. Rushing to open it for him, he was dripping big puddles onto the floor as he came in.

“What’re you doing here?” For once he had his large overcoat on and properly buttoned up and his hair was clinging to his face with fat water droplets streaking down his skin.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Why?” Grabbing a few paper towels, you cast him a curious look.

“Well…” Dabbing off his face, Toji took a glance at you before closing his eyes and wiping off his hair. “Just wanted to check on the shop, ya know, make sure it was holding up in this weather.” Toji’s cheeks turned a bit rosy and he wiped at his face a little more.

“I would say it’s holding up pretty fine.” Shrugging your shoulders, there wasn’t much you could do against the weather outside.

“Great, that’s...that’s great.” Toji trailed off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around the shop. A loud crack of thunder broke the steadily growing tension, making you jump and shuffle a bit closer to him.

“This weather is awful.” You mumbled. Your fingers just brushed against the material of his coat and you wanted to cling onto it, have Toji open it so you could snuggle close to him and drown out the sounds of outside.

“Do you have a ride home? I notice it’s a bit past closing time.” Taking a glance at his watch, Toji looks at you with a raised brow.

“No, I ride the bus. I was hoping the rain would ease up so I could leave soon.”

“The bus? You can’t take that in this weather.” Shaking his head, Toji dug around in his pockets. “Wait here, I’ll give you a ride.”

“But you-” There was no car parked outside the shop and as you followed Toji to the door you didn’t see any waiting either.

“I parked around the corner. Lock up the shop and wait for me.” Patting the door frame a few times, Toji ducked his head and ran down the street. Watching him for as long as you could, you hurriedly turned the lights off and closed the door right as a shiny silver sports car pulled up.

Running out, you practically dove into the passenger's seat as soon as the door was opened. Toji had the heat cranked up, chasing away the nipping cold air that had followed you in. It smelled even more of Toji’s cologne in here, a scent you hoped would linger far after you left the car.

“Which way home?” He asked, pulling out into the street.

“Take a right up here and then go straight.” Doing as you said, Toji fiddled with the radio and let the low sound of music fill the air along with the rain. Driving down the slick roads, Toji came to a slow stop at a red light.

“Would you have seriously taken the bus if I hadn’t shown up?” Making a face at the weather, Toji clicked his tongue when he watched you nod.

“Or I would have just slept in the backroom.” Your comment made him laugh, an abrupt bark that came from his stomach and had him leaning forward a little.

“Really? Made a pillow among those pretty flowers?”

“I’m sure they’d be quite comfortable.” Laughing as well, you looked out the window as he began to drive again. As the laughter turned to soft chuckles, you felt the urge to speak again and keep the conversation going. It was easy to talk to Toji and despite your apprehension upon first meeting him, you could see yourself becoming friends with the man.

“Well this is just great.” Coming to a grinding halt, Toji let out a soft groan and gestured to the traffic filled road ahead of him. “Did people forget how to drive in the fucking rain or something?”

“Maybe…” Leaning around in your seat, you could see the tell-tale flashing of emergency lights. “I think someone got into an accident up there, I can see an ambulance.”

“They had to choose tonight to fuck their car up?” Rolling his eyes, Toji sunk into the driver's seat, drumming his fingers against the wheel and taking a peek in the rearview mirror. “Seems like we’re stuck here, there’s too many people to turn back now.”

Turning over your shoulder, you blanched at the sight of all the cars suddenly behind you. The road you were travelling on wasn’t particularly busy to begin with but it seemed the inclimate weather had other plans.

“Guess we wait then.” Sinking down to match him, you watched the rain smatter against the windshield. The soft jazz Toji had chosen fit the atmosphere nicely and the heat coming from the vents kept any chill away from you. The longer you sat in the comfortable quiet, the more tempting it seemed to close your eyes and take a nap.

“Hey.” A hand curling around your knee and fingers digging slightly into your leg jostled you awake. Taking a sharp, sudden inhale of the cologne scented air you jolted upright and blinked away the sleep in your eyes.

“W-what?” Looking around, you had made a significant distance on the road and it seemed you were past whatever was blocking you.

“You fell asleep on me, sweetheart.” Toji chuckled, letting his hand slide from your leg and back to the steering wheel. “And I kinda need your help to get you home.”

“Right, sorry.” Quickly clearing your throat, you pointed down the street. “Uhm, at that next light you can take a right.” With just a few more turns and straightaways, you successfully guided Toji to your home without falling asleep again.

“Hurry inside, don’t want you getting soaked.” Turning to you as he put the car in park, Toji flicked his chin toward your home.

“I will.” Smiling at his concern, you gathered your things and put a hand on the door handle. Taking one last whiff of his cologne, you nodded to him. “Thank you so much Toji, I’ll see you later.”

“See you.” Waving you off, Toji stayed until he saw you go into your house and close the door, only pulling away when he was sure you were settled inside.

That night you listened to the radio station Toji had on as you took a bath to wind down from the day, curling your own hand around your knee and imagining what it’d be like to take a bath with him instead of alone.

As you walked to work the next day, avoiding big puddles and dripping eaves, it was embarrassing to admit that Toji was still on your mind. A silly crush on the scarred man was blooming in your chest and making you more and more giddy with every step.

“Special delivery!” At midday, a delivery driver waltzed into the shop with a massive bouquet, all sorts of pinks and purples and reds filling your field of vision as they approached.

“I’m sorry, are you sure you have the right place?” The arrangement looked too extravagant to be something Toji would give you on a whim.

“Are you (Y/N)?” Showing you the postage, clear as day it had your name on it.

“Oh, yes that is me.” Signing for the flowers, you struggled to hold them in your arms. The petals tickled your cheeks as you smelled them, plush against your skin and soft to the touch.

Putting them in a vase, you made sure they were prominently displayed at the counter for all to see and every so often you would stop to look at them, letting a gentle sigh of happiness leave your lips.

Another bouquet came the next day as well, just as big and beautiful as the first, and attached to it was a note.

Hope you like the flowers, (Y/N). I got called away on a business trip, so I thought I’d give you something so you wouldn’t miss me too much while I’m away.

- Toji

Tucking the note into your apron as a few customers walked in, throughout the day you took it out to reread it and look at Toji’s messy handwriting scribbled onto whatever florist shop he’d bought the notecard from.

Everyday without fail, for nine days straight, there were flowers delivered to the shop. You weren’t always there to collect them but your neighbors certainly were, gawking openly at the multitude of flowers in vases now crowding the store and threatening to push out your actual inventory.

On the final day there was a note attached to the bouquet as well, this time a dozen red roses with the thorns snipped off.

I’m coming home today, keep the shop open for me? I promise I won’t be too late.

- Toji

This note was clearly typed out, it didn’t have the familiar scratchy lines and jagged edges that you’d memorized from Toji’s previous note. Glancing at the time and looking around the shop at all the vases, none of the happiness that getting them brought you could compare to the feeling threatening to burst your chest open at knowing you’d see Toji soon.

All day you kept an eye on the clock, working faster than you ever had before just to make sure you had no customers waiting in case he came in early. Sweeping and dusting a hundred times over, you’d practically mopped a hole in the floor as you counted the seconds down until you could lock up the shop.

Locking the door and sitting eagerly at the counter, you tried to make yourself look busy. There wasn’t anything you could possibly do, no papers needed to be straightened up and there certainly wasn’t anything to clean, so you waited what felt like ages for a knock on the door.

Walking around in circles in the backroom to try and stave off the anxious energy building inside you, you jumped nearly two feet in the air when there was a loud knock at the door. Wiping your sweaty palms on your apron, you took several deep breaths before rounding the corner and laying your eyes on Toji.

“H-hi.” Opening up the door in record time, there was a harsh heat burning your face as you let him in. You could barely meet him in the eye and instead looked at his bloody knuckles as he stepped past you. “What happened to your hands?”

“Don’t worry about it, I fell on the way here.” Taking out a handkerchief, Toji wiped the blood off his hands and as you took a look at him you noticed there weren't any traces of dirt or dust on his clothes.

“Come wash your hands at the sink.” Guiding him over by the sleeve to a sink at the corner of the shop, you got a whiff of the cologne you loved so much. Watching Toji wash his hands, you were aware how close you were standing to him, pressed snugly against the counter while he lathered.

“How’ve you been, doll?” Toji let a smirk stretch his lips and he glanced at you, his own cheeks getting a bit pink.

“Good.” Looking out at the shop and all the flowers he sent, you let out a little laugh. “Really good.”

“You liked the flowers?” Turning around, Toji leaned against the edge of the sink and chuckled at the sight before him. “Looking at it all now, I think I might have gone a little overboard.”

Your arms were pressed against each other, Toji’s clearly more muscular and much larger than your own. He didn’t have an overcoat on or even a suit like he usually did, he was dressed in a pair of loose pants and a very fitted black t-shirt, one that you had to keep yourself from ogling as it clung to his body.

“You know why I sent them, don’t you?” He asked, cutting through the silence and your daydream. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out why he was sending you so many flowers but you felt too nervous to say it aloud in case you were wrong, so you only nodded.

Fiddling with his damp fingers, Toji bit his lip and grabbed onto your hand with both of his. Engulfing your hand, he squeezed it and brought it up to his chest where you could just barely feel the rapid beat of his heart.

“So, if I asked you out on a date would you say yes?” Speaking with his lips pressed against your hand, Toji peeked at you from the corner of his eye. You stood there, locked in a staring match as both of you refused to even breathe too loudly and break the tension.

“Yes, I would.” You finally spoke, nodding your head and trying to calm the shaking in your body. Breaking out into a full smile, Toji let your hands go and clutched at his chest.

“Geez, you had me fucking worried there for a moment!” Taking a few deep breaths along with shaky laughter, Toji shook his head and forced himself to calm down, square his shoulders and look at you properly. “(Y/N), will you go on a date with me tonight?”

“Yes.” Only able to meet his eye for a moment, you giggled bashfully and put a hand over your face in embarrassment. There was a moment of silence filled with only your giggles and Toji’s relieved sigh, and then he snapped his fingers and tugged on your sleeve.

“Alright, get your stuff and lock up, I’ll grab the car.” Fiddling with the keys in his pocket, Toji quirked a brow when you gave him a curious look. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you walked? You said you fell on the way here...” Walking slowly to grab your things, you felt even more confused when Toji laughed.

“Yeah I fell and some idiot was lucky enough to catch my fist on the way down. Now let’s get going, there’s a ramen shop I wanna take you to.” Getting to the door, he leaned against the frame and waited for you to walk up before fully exiting the store.

“Toji, did you get in a fight?”

“A fight? What? No way!” Waving you off, Toji began to walk down the street to where he parked his car. “A fight implies that the other guy even stood a chance!”

“What?” You shouted back, surprised he could say something like that so casually.

“Don’t worry about it, honey, it’s all in the past.” Stopping and turning on a dime in the middle of the sidewalk, Toji gave you a grin. “(Y/N), I should get you flowers for our date, shouldn’t I?”

“I never thought I’d say this but no Toji, I don’t want flowers for our date.” Laughing at the absurdity of the question, you watched Toji pretend to think about what you said for a moment.

“Right, anyway, I’ll stop at a florist on the way.” Nodding to himself, Toji began to walk away again. “Another dozen roses sound good, maybe I’ll make ‘em pink this time.” Looking over his shoulder, Toji winked at you. “And maybe I’ll get a kiss too.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

Note

I would like to request! Can I request? Well I wish for you to consider what type of person/what kind of situation would cause the brothers to make a pact with someone. Maybe even what they would request in exchange? This can be before or after they met MC. With that out of the way, I totally binge read all of your works after my sister gushed to me about the True Form series, and just thank you??? It made me really happy reading them and it's always impressively detailed and well thought out.

Awww thank you! I’m glad it’s rave-worthy! I plan to add to it soon bc it was an absolute riot to write and research for lol

And wow this one is a toughie! I’ve actually never thought of what would make them want a pact! Hope ya like it!

Lucifer- Pact of Success

Absolutely the hardest brother to do business with, but that is probably a good thing. He is incredibly selfish with his contracts. Sure, they’ll benefit from his pact mark, but he will get the most out of it. Aside from MC he only takes requests for contracts from the human “elite”. They make wonderful feathers in his cap.

But also he takes some enjoyment in breaking them. They always get so cocky with his contracts thinking that they have him on the ropes and at their beck and call. It gives him a good chuckle, humans are so brazen considering their very short lifespan.

He destroys them slowly over time- all the little minutia he peppers in his legal bindings adds up. Not that his normal clientele ever read the fine print. But he designed it that way to make sure they don’t. All their requests are the same and so simplistic. Big boats, fancy cars, climbing the proverbial ladder faster than their friends or enemies - blah-blah-blah. At least the paperwork is easy to complete.

Very rarely does he find a contract he is excited to make. Those contracts are given to artists and craftsmen he sees potential in. He loves good art, and every artist should take pride in their work.

When it comes to the “price” of his pact it is worryingly simple. All he wants is some of their time. It sounds simple, and it is. Which is why it’s dangerous. The contract doesn’t specifically say how or the rules of it. How he takes your time is completely up to him.

Sometimes he simply comes for a drink and to ask how business is going. Or with the pacts he gives a damn about- he pops in to see progress on their artist visions or listen to their latest musings.

Other times if he grows tired of his pact holders’ ever-growing demands or ludicrous requests he comes and takes time right out of their lifespan. His visits leave them weak and fatigued though they can’t place why. He is a slow siphon of death and they are too foolhardy to notice. If he is feeling especially cruel, or sentimental he takes memories, things that a demon generally wouldn’t want.

Time with family, the first time they met the love of their life, a child’s birthday. He takes them all and leaves them with only a blurry recollection in his wake

When MC crosses his path though he is very apprehensive. He doesn’t want a pact or anything that could jeopardize Diavolo’s upcoming plans. But they make his skin itch with want. He doesn’t want them to be another trophy on his wall. He wants a mutually beneficial pact, one that almost leans in their favor and it grates him. Should/ when a pact is made he won’t use his powers on you as then he would have to take something in return. Instead, he takes his time and coaches them to be successful by their own right, though if he has to eliminate some obstacles- well they don’t need to know that.

Mammon- Pact of Riches

I love his man with all my heart, but even when he isn’t losing bets or getting tricked into pacts he still isn’t the most selective with who he conducts business with. He is the avatar of greed, after all. I guess it comes with the territory.

He scouts for already wealthy humans or people with a good head for numbers and is money smart. Some are too smart to deal with him, knowing that whatever monetary gain they are granted from him will backfire in the end (or their mama’s taught them not to make deals with strange demons). But a sucker is born every minute, and he has nothing but time on his hands.

His pacts are pretty simple and upfront. Sign on the dotted line and they get some of his wicked gamblers’ luck and more riches than one human life span could do much with. While he gets a glorified accountant and a nice percentage of their profits. It’s a win-win… for him.

See he forgets to mention that there are two sides to every coin, and his flip side is particularly detrimental to one’s health. He just so conveniently glosses over that his luck will wear out over time depending on how frequently the pact holder uses it.

But the hunger for more doesn’t. If anything that particular sensation grows into an all-consuming fire in the pit of their pitiful guts. It forces them back into the seedy basements or griming gambling halls. One more roll, one more stack of bills, just one more time and they will hit pay dirt surly! But the losses just keep coming. If one of his pact holders ends up face down in a ditch after one too many bad hands and uncontrollable greed… well ain’t nobody’s fault but their own.

He has a softer spot for humans that seek him out and treat him like a living being instead of some tool to be tossed around at will. It’s refreshing. He will actually take some care with these pacts and tell them to temper their use of his magic so they can get the most out of it in the long run. They still might run into misfortune and he is genuinely sorry for that but there is only so much he can do in the end.

With MC he doesn’t even tell them about what his pact can do or how to use it. He doesn’t want anything bad happening to his human. If they want something tell him he will do it himself no magic or pact summoning required. He wants to keep them happy and healthy for as long as his lifespan will allow.

If MC should find how to use his pact mark he will get pissed. Not so much at them but the situation in general. He’ll be upfront about the whole thing, judge him how they want but he refuses to let greed consume them too. He focuses a lot of time and energy on learning how to reel in his magic with them so they get some of the perks but none of the major downsides. Unlike with his other pacts where he lets it all just run wild (just means they use up their contact faster and he can move on to even bigger fish).

Leviathan- Pact of Wisdom and Skill

Surprisingly, despite his antisocial tendencies with “normies”, he gets around when it comes to contracts. Perhaps it’s jealousy at his other brothers or perhaps he finds collecting contracts a bit of a game on its own.

He has a small niche of people interested in his pacts. Pacts with him give people a strategic advantage in nearly any situation. Seemingly overnight his humans turn into near tactical geniuses. Because of that, he is very popular with military leaders and humans with dangerous careers.

He also makes mini contracts with foot soldiers and humans with dangerous oceanic jobs. They just want to make it out alive and he gets that. With contracts like these, he is more lenient and doesn’t ask for much. Make an offering of fancy food to Henry 2.0 or wait in line for a rare human figuring he wants. Wam-bam thank you ma’am kinda business.

This is completely different from his larger contracts. With the military contracts, he expects them to continue with their duties until they die in the field. Simple as that, he doesn’t mince words in his contract. It’s what he would do as General so he expects it from them. Should they try to define him he will get rid of them.

He takes delight in defiant contract holders. They think they are as clever as he is now. But they forget that they are using his magic. He could take his magic away right after they defy him sure...but he won’t. He lets them stew for a bit, thinking they have had the last laugh on envy. If they wish to play games with a General then he will make sure it’s good.

With MC he plays on easy mode, granting them insight and little touches of his magic during exam week or when playing a game against his brothers. He wants nothing in return from them but some quality hangout time.

Satan- The Pact of Retribution

As the only pure-blooded demon out of the seven, he does these pacts out of necessity like most other demons. While the others do it more so out of monetary gain and an obligation to the crown. Or if you’re Belphie, sheer enjoyment.

He does it because he hungers, it a hole in his very self that he is trying to fill. He hunts for one reason only- relief from his cardinal sin. He will never feel the calm after a storm of rage naturally. Patience and tranquility are the antitheses of his very creation. So he gets it artificially through his contracts.

He looks for the downtrodden, angry, and the most bitterly despondent humans he can find and gives them the chance to seek vengeance. He is very upfront with what his pact entails. Once the vengeance is complete his rage will consume them and they will become another soul for him to consume.

He isn’t cruel about the process or tries to trick a human into a mark. Very few of the ones he approaches turn him down even after hearing the details. It is possible that humans once shot to get even and he gets to feel bliss, to feel calm. He finds out that the longer or more obscure the plan for retribution is the sweeter the outcome is for Satan.

If he is feeling super ornery he will go after people affected by the outcomes of Lucifer’s pacts. They are easy prey and almost as wrathful as Satan himself. Bonus it aggravates Lucifer to no end when he has to go out of his way to clean up the mess Satan’s contract made of his own. Anything to piss him off makes Satan feel all the better.

With MC he doesn’t need to use his pact magic. Mostly because they are always around him in the Devildom, and no one is stupid enough to mess with someone Satan favors. If someone or something does irritate his MC he will take it out before it can fester into something his magic will try to latch onto. Keeping you calm and happy makes him feel almost tranquil as well.

Asmodeus- Pact of Gratification

Another very popular pact to try to get, and how could it not? He is fabulous~ But as much as people try to find him, he only goes for a certain type of contract. He has his perfectly manicured fingers on the pulse of the fashion and beauty industry.

His name is a whisper among the up and comers in the business. Many-while not looking for a pact - at least want to see him at least once. Many never will, they get cut from their agency or quit before they could get a foothold. It happens, and he hates to see it. Everyone deserves to feel gorgeous, or at least get a chance to be in the same room as him!

But for the ones the perceiver and climb the ranks get invited to one of his many parties. They can only get invited by someone wearing his mark. He trusts them to know who would be amenable to his contract.

His pact grants its bearer a glamor that can’t be broken by any meer mortal or mage. It makes them absolutely irresistible. How they wield that power is completely up to the user, he won’t judge or intervene.

Once they sign the contract all his holders see him frequently. He absolutely loves dropping in on their shoots or fancy dinners to say hi or get a recap on how they are fairing. Not because he is a nice demon or just super friendly (though they would like to think so). No, he just likes to watch.

His payment is slow, methodical and no one sees it happen until it is already complete. In exchange for beauty and the graduation of getting whatever their little hearts could as for he gets their ability to love, whether that be familiar or sexual. Asmo loves the feeling of being loved; he wants it in all ways possible.

Some pact holders don’t have an issue with this. They got their looks, a successful career, and people to manipulate to their heart’s content. Not having strong contentions with anyone works in their favor. But others don’t and while they search for him to try and get that little slice of humanity back he is long gone. He got what he wanted anyway.

MC is his darling. He can and will make a special contract just for them (reviewed by Lucifer). A beautiful new contract for a beautiful soul! He wants you as unchanged as possible because this MC is the one he fell for.

Beelzebub- Pact of Prowess

His pact is a very elusive one as he isn’t keen on going and looking for one. Beel isn’t a big fan of these trades, but he needs them every once and a while. Nothing is more filling than a contracted soul.

His trade is basic, make a pact and you get his strength. He, like Satan, is upfront about what his payment is and what side effects will plague them. He sees no reason to lie about it. The more they draw on his power the more the host's body gorges itself. Their bones will collapse in on themselves from the stress of it- the magic feeds on anything in the host bodies. It will deplete the iron in the blood, go after the calcium in the bones, sink its teeth in their muscle system.

It’s all rather gruesome and Beel does feel bad about it. He tells though who are still adamant about binding with him ways they can negate some of the side effects by taking supplements and augmenting their diets.

But it is like patching a deep cut with a bandaid, it just won’t work. His stomach is near bottomless- humans most certainly aren’t. They simply can’t eat enough to sustain their body like he can.

It surprises him that people still seek him out. To some, the pros outweigh that very huge cons. Some really do believe that they can find a loophole or find the right mix of medication to offset it.

He doesn’t get beaten up about it anymore but it gets on his nerves how obstinate humans can be about his very clear warnings. When his magic finally consumes them he takes both the body and soul back down with him and feasts on both.

With MC he keeps an eye out on them. Consistently checking in, making sure they don’t skip a meal, and join him at the gym often. He wants them to be strong and healthy enough to not ever want to use his pact. Though he does speculate that their angelic bloodline buffers both his and his brother’s magic a good bit.

Belphegor- Pact of the Visionary

Dreamers come in every shape and size and from different walks of life. But they are are all suckers to Belphie. He is known as the Lord of Decet for a reason.

He will promise them everything and anything their heart desires. That invention that will change the world? Done. A patent that is long overdue. Easy enough. A sudden rush of ingenuity to complete that nagging project. He is a devil of his word, it will be done. It- just won’t be done in the way they would want it.

See manipulating the physical realm is hard work. Like a lot of hard work. More than he would ever do for some stupid little human. It’s a lot easier to control outcomes in his realm.

The moment the contract is signed his hosts fall under his control and he takes it from there building a perfect little dream world for them to frolic in and believe they are getting what they want. He feeds off of them here, taking little sips from their energy and exploring these new fresh dream worlds. His dreamscapes get boring every once and a while, so having a new human under his influence is always refreshing.

While his humans thrive inside their minds their bodies waste away in bed as his magic draws them further and further into an endless sleep.

He doesn’t see anything wrong with his contracts. Who would argue with him that the dream realms aren’t real in their own sense? Did his humans not accomplish their goals in the end? He doesn’t think of the outside effects of his magic and pacts. Belphie really doesn’t care about what families he broke apart or lives he inadvertently affected.

MC is different to him though. He doesn’t keep them under his spell hardly ever (maybe if they are spending too much time with Dia or Lucifer. But he doesn’t push it with them.).He still walks into their dreams whenever he feels but he comes just to visit, not to change. He simply just enjoys keeping you company and relaxing in the little mini paradise you always seem to create in your dreams.

#obey me #request!#obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #headcanon

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 23

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

It doesn’t feel real until she sees the flutter on the ultrasound, the grey and white pixels flashing erratically confirming a healthy ten-week pregnancy. The doctor gives them a due date of September 17th, and she explains to Mulder repeatedly that the due date is only an estimate, that the baby will most likely arrive sometime in the two weeks before or after that day. Nonetheless, he prints little numbers in the corner of each date on the calendar, counting down.

She is lucky to experience very little nausea, but the time saved clinging to the toilet is instead allocated to bursting into tears at every tiny inconvenience. Mulder comforts her with a confused expression when she cries because she can’t find a Tupperware lid that fits, or her latte has too much foam, or she realizes she can no longer see her toes. She cries because she’s crying, because she feels out of touch with her own body and thrown off by her own emotions. They marvel at the growth of her belly as well as her breasts, which are even more sensitive than they were before. Her libido kicks into overdrive at the same time that she becomes incredibly self conscious about her protruding belly, her fuller face, her swelling feet. This leads to more tears as she grapples with both wanting desperately to be touched and not wanting him to look at her.

He tells her each day how beautiful she is, her hair growing longer and thicker, her skin glowing, her rounding belly housing the perfect little life that they created together. When he’s home, he rubs her feet every night, fetches her countless glasses of water and then helps tow her out of the bed so she can pee ten times in the night. When he’s on the road with Monica, he calls three times a day, asks Missy and her mother to go by and check on her, calls in dinner to be delivered so she doesn't have to cook. As her due date nears, he stops going on out-of-town cases, needing to be close enough to be by her side immediately when she goes into labor. He will not risk missing the birth of his child.

The apartment becomes cramped with a bassinet, changing table, pack n play, and various other baby gadgets. They consider moving, but the idea is too overwhelming for Scully so they decide to stay put until the baby becomes mobile and they really need more space. Mulder breaks the lease on his apartment and moves his fish tank into the living room, putting the rest of his furniture in storage until they buy a house. Priscilla breaks in all the baby gear, sleeping in the car seat and jumping into the swing, covering the tiny onesies with her black fur and making Scully cry yet again. Mulder refuses to let her scoop the litter box, even though she insists it’s safe if she wears gloves and washes her hands afterward. Other tasks she’s forbidden to complete include cleaning the toilet, carrying in the groceries and hauling laundry to the washing machine. When he’s on the road, she misses him as much as she is relieved to be able to be independent, not much caring for being treated as though she’s made of glass.

For the majority of her pregnancy, Scully insists that she doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby, that she wants to be surprised. Mulder respects her decision, even though he would personally like to know, and they create two lists of potential baby names, Scully crossing off “Lisa Marie'' each time Mulder tries to add it to the “girl” column. When she reaches 39 weeks, her pelvis widening as the baby drops into the birth canal, she is so miserable that she has a change of heart, needing to feel connected to this thing that is destroying her body and stealing her sleep. They call the doctor together on a Thursday afternoon as Scully sits on the couch in tears, having woken that morning to find angry red stretch marks marring her previously lily-white belly. When Mulder relays the doctor’s message that the baby is a girl, she sobs harder, and he’s not sure whether it’s because she’s happy or disappointed.

She wakes him at 3:00 am on September 21st, the irregular Braxton-Hicks contractions she’s been feeling for weeks having taken up a predictable cadence, now ten minutes apart almost on the dot. He starts rushing around, scrambling for her hospital bag and his shoes, and now it is her turn to provide comfort, to let him know there’s plenty of time. She doesn’t want to go to the hospital until the contractions are five minutes apart, and so they wait. The progression to nine minutes, then eight, then seven is alarmingly fast, and by the time she agrees that they should head to the hospital she’s starting to feel pressure low in her pelvis. Mulder drives too fast, the streets thankfully still quiet in the early morning, and she is wheeled into labor and delivery with not enough time for an epidural, much to her lament.

Molly Katherine Mulder has blue eyes and a dark shock of nearly-black hair. She barely cries at her entrance to the world, instead searching the room with a curious gaze, squeezing her daddy’s finger with an impressively strong grip and latching like a pro. They are able to go home the following day, Scully wincing as she moves gingerly from the bed to the couch, rinsing her tender stitches with a bottle of warm water and bleeding through entire packages of overnight maxi pads in a day.

Mulder takes off work for two weeks and they spend blissful days curled up in bed with the baby nestled between them as Priscilla curiously sniffs around her, licking her hair with a rough tongue and making them laugh. Each time Scully wakes at night to nurse, Mulder insists she go back to sleep while he changes the baby and walks her around the quiet apartment until she is asleep, singing softly and lulling them both.

When Mulder returns to work, Scully insists that he get a full night's sleep and let her wake up with Molly, reasoning that she can take naps during the day. She does not, of course, take naps during the day. Instead she tries to keep the apartment clean, the clothes washed, the diapers taken out to the dumpster, the litter box scooped. She does too much, and he sees it each day as she grows more and more weary, more and more defeated, the bags under her eyes deepening in color and her mouth rarely hosting a smile. He begs her to let him do more, to ask less of herself, but she is stubborn and strong-willed, the very things he loves about her now keeping her from properly taking care of herself.

They struggle through sleep-deprived arguments over who left the breast milk out on the counter all night, why it matters if he changes the baby on the floor instead of the changing table, why Scully doesn’t want to supplement with formula so he can take some of the night feedings. Her doctor releases her as medically clear to have sex after six weeks and she cries as she tells him that she doesn’t feel ready, that she can’t imagine anything worse than sex right now, and he holds her as he tells her that he doesn’t care, that she should take as much time as she needs, that he can wait.

They struggle, and they thrive. Moments of absolute unadulterated joy are punctuated by intense despair and overwhelm. The gain of a family against the loss of a life where you could pick up and go, stay out until 2:00 am and make love in the middle of the day. They are happy, and they are stressed, and they face it together.

On a Saturday in December, Mulder wakes early and takes care of every conceivable task in the house; the laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, scooping the litter, buying the groceries. He checks every item off Scully’s to-do list and then takes Molly for a long drive, leaving Scully alone with nothing to do in hopes that she will rest for once. When they return from their excursion, he creeps into the quiet apartment with a sleeping baby in his arms and sets her in the bassinet by the couch. At first he thinks maybe Scully has gone out, but he finds her in bed asleep with soaking wet hair, Priscilla curled up behind her knees. He watches her for a bit, affection clutching at his chest, then changes into sweats and kicks Priscilla out so he can snuggle up behind Scully. It feels so infrequent that they just lay like this anymore; one of them is always about to get up with the baby, about to get ready for work, or doesn’t want to be touched after a tiny person has clung to them all day. He pulls in a deep breath, smelling her lavender bubble bath and feeling the rise and fall of her ribs against his chest. He doesn’t want to disturb her, but he can’t resist pressing a tiny kiss to the side of her neck.

“Mmmm,” she hums in response, twisting her body around so they are face to face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers.

“It’s okay. Where’s Molly?”

“She’s asleep in the living room.”

She sighs and snuggles closer to him, pressing her forehead into his chest and pushing one of her legs between his.

“This feels nice,” she says contentedly, and he brushes his hand softly up and down her back.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Tired. Frumpy. Like I haven’t put on real clothes or a stitch of makeup in three months,” she laments.

“Well, I’ll give you tired,” he says softly, “but I can’t agree on frumpy. I think you look very beautiful.”

She scoffs against his chest.

“You don’t have to placate me, Mulder. I know I’m a mess.”

“Maybe so, but you’re my mess,” he retorts, pushing his fingers into her hair to gently scratch her scalp.

She tilts her head up to look at him, appraising his face with a skeptical eye.

“Is this what you thought it was going to be like?” she asks, her tone open and vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.”

She sighs. “I just wish I knew when I might start to feel like myself again,” she says sadly. “I can’t help but feel like you’re not getting what you signed up for.”

“What do you mean?” he asks with a concerned frown.

He sees her eyes growing glassy, dampening with impending tears. “I mean the woman you asked out in the autopsy bay isn’t the one you’re with now,” she whispers, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

“That’s not even a little bit true,” he implores, cradling the back of her head with his hand. “You are everything you were then, and more. I’m amazed by you every day.”

She closes her eyes, a tear rolling across the bridge of her nose. He feels his chest ache; the need to make her understand is overwhelming.

“Hey,” he says, pulling the blankets back, “come here.”

He pulls her into a sitting position and slides off the bed, towing her along with him to sit on the edge of the mattress. He kneels on the floor between her knees, his hands on her hips.

“If you think for one second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I don’t care if you wear giant milk-stained T-shirts and have spit up in your hair for the rest of our lives, Scully. You’re it for me, okay?”

She pulls in a shuddering breath and wipes at her eyes, but won’t look at him.

“Stay here,” he commands, and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. When he comes back, he returns to his post kneeling at her feet.

“We knew this was going to be hard,” he says tenderly, holding one of her hands in his. “You said it yourself before Molly was born, that it would be the hardest time in our lives, and that we’d be at our worst. And I’m telling you that if this is your worst, sign me up, okay? It hasn’t changed how I feel about you.”

He holds up his other hand, a diamond ring perched between his thumb and forefinger.

“If you’re not ready to say yes yet, that’s okay, but I need you to know that I still want to marry you, Scully. I’ll wait forever if that’s what you need, but there hasn’t been a single day since I asked that I haven’t still meant it.”

Her tears have stopped, though her eyes are still wet and the tip of her nose is red. She looks from him to the ring and back, her eyebrows stitched in contemplation.

“I didn’t hear you ask me a question,” she says quietly, and he picks up on the slightest lilt of playfulness in her voice, which makes him break out into a smile.

“Dana Katherine Scully, love of my life, mother of my child, will you marry me?”

She smiles then, and he thinks his heart may burst right out of his chest.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she answers, and he takes her left hand, slipping the ring on her finger.

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him repeatedly, soft pecks devolving into lingering smooches as he shifts up slightly, pushing her back gently to recline on the bed. He moves over her, kissing along her jaw and down her neck, not going any further, not wanting to rush her.

She brings her hands to his hips, letting the tips of her fingers slip under the waist of his sweatpants, and his cock stirs. It’s been so, so, long, and he wants her desperately, but not until she’s ready. She pushes her hand down the front of his pants, gripping him as he grows hard under her touch. It’s overwhelming in the best way; he feels like a teenager being touched for the first time.

“I wanna have sex,” she breathes into his ear, the words rushing out quickly as though she’s afraid she might change her mind if she waits too long to say them.

He pulls back to look at her. “Are you sure?” he asks, and she nods, bringing her palm to his cheek before glancing at the ring on her finger and smiling.

They move slowly, though still with a sense of urgency that a baby sleeping in the next room brings. He pushes her shirt up and she lets him take it off, then slips the yoga pants off her hips, leaving her in basic black cotton briefs. He sees the hesitancy in her eyes as he looks at her body, now softer than it was before Molly, curvy in different places, purple streaks running from below her belly button to disappear under her panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing her chest, her breasts, her belly, running his tongue along the grooves of her stretch marks. He loops his thumbs under the waist of her panties and tugs them down slowly, quickly undressing before he rejoins her in the bed.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” he asks with a serious expression, and she nods, letting her legs fall open as he settles between them. He lines himself up with her entrance and pushes in achingly slowly, watching her face raptly. Her mouth opens slightly, and she takes in a sharp little breath. He’s about to ask her if it hurts when she closes her eyes and her mouth drops open further as she breathes out “oh,” in a way that he knows means pleasure, not pain. When he’s all the way in, their hip bones pressed together tightly, he stills and kisses her for a while, feeling like he could melt into a puddle for how good everything feels. His heart, his mind, his body, he is all wrapped up in her and it’s exactly where he wants to be.

He begins to move, and she responds with an arch of her back and a little gasp, her hands clutching at his shoulders. Little by little, he increases his pace until he knows he won’t last much longer.

“What do you need?” he asks, and she brings her hand to her breast.

He dips his head, flicking at the hardened bud of her nipple, and feels her clench around him. He plays with the level of pressure, licking and sucking, pleasantly surprised that she is enjoying it even as her breasts have taken on a purely functional role these last few months.

She pulls in a huge breath, arching her back and pressing her head into the mattress and he groans as he feels her tighten around him. She emits a single piercing cry when she comes, stifling it with an arm slung across her mouth. He pours into her, burying his face in her neck, clinging to her like a life raft. She is, in fact, all he needs to survive.

Resting half his weight on the mattress beside her, he stays inside as they both come down, panting and smiling, brushing hands over each other’s skin, reconnecting.

“Ah!” Molly yells from the living room, and Mulder laughs.

“You’re being summoned,” Scully says with a tender smile.

He withdraws from her, handing her his T-shirt to clean up while he slips on his sweatpants and retrieves Molly from her bassinet.

“Guess what, Goose?” he says, using his special nickname for her, “Mommy and Daddy are getting married.”

“AH!” She squeals, flapping her arms.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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dearcat1 · 4 years ago

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Hi there! I absolutely adore Xanxu's parenting adventures, but I could only find 8 & 9. Is there a tag I can check out for the others? Sorry for the bother, super excited to read it! Thank you for writing it!

Screw it hahaha that tag is not working no matter what I do about it. I'm just going to post everything that's already published here. So: sorry about the long post.

And for anybody who's interested in reading it, I'm putting the next ones under "parenting adventures au". That should be a better tag.

I hope you like it! I meant for it to be cute.

[Xanxus’s terrible bad day]

Part 1 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

Xanxus does not, in any way shape or form, appreciate mad scientists. He spits out the blood, cleaning up the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. The other hand keeping a tight grip on his remaining x-gun. Irritated, he just keeps glaring at the toddler whimpering in front of him.

Seriously?

What the fuck!

How is this even his life, Xanxus doesn't know but he demands a fucking raise. And all the goddam alcohol. All of it. Every single fucking drop.

This is ridiculous. The enemy is dead and even Xanxus feels a little uncomfortable with the amount of blood and dead bodies surrounding a two-year-old. Or what looks like a two-year-old, in Xanxus rather uninformed opinion.

Brat picks himself up, eyes still watery and then… oh no, oh no, no, no. He makes grabby hands at Xanxus. Xanxus sneers, uncomfortable but the newly miniaturized Sawada just pouts stubbornly, stumbling on wet sticky blood as he tries to make his way to the older Sky.

Xanxus's reaction is pure instinct. He lunges forward, grabs the kid by the back of his overly large hoodie and pulls him up. Brat settles on Xanxus's hip, tiny face hidden against Xanxus's shoulder and the Wrath stands there, feeling more than a little awkward.

Alright, then, he thinks. Fuck it. So an armful of mini-mini-Sawada in one arm, a gun in the other hand. Base full of dead people who are either already dead or soon to be. Because Xanxus is through like that.

Clearing his throat, Xanxus hoists the brat up a little more and stalks out of the room. Cleaning up the base is easy enough, finding Byakuran's little note on the desk should be more of a surprise than it is.

"Have fun on your vacation! You can bond now ~ :3"

Right, Xanxus needs a raise, all the alcohol, and a marshmallow enthusiast killing season.

[Cabin by the sea]

Part 2 of Xanxus's Parenting Adventures

Finding the little cabin by the sea is easy enough with the handy map the marshmallow freak left for them. Mini-mini-Sawada is a surprisingly obedient toddler so Xanxus is still uncomfortable but at least he isn't deaf from crying fits.

The only time the brat had cried, it had been silent sad tears that managed to make Xanxus feel like an ass when the brat confessed to being hungry.

Note to self: brats need food.

So Xanxus had settled in in the little cabin, laid the brat down on the smaller bed for the night and thrown himself to his own bed, intent on waiting this shit out.

Except that he'd been woken up in the middle of the night by a toddler sneaking into his bed and now Xanxus can't sleep because mini-mini-Sawada is tiny. As in smaller than Xanxus's chest tiny and Xanxus is not a good man, he's not a kind man.

But there's a toddler sleeping on his chest, all trust and far too delicate limbs and Xanxus finds himself terrified of falling asleep because what if when he does, he moves and crushes the little brat under him? Then the brat would suffocate and die.

And yes, Xanxus could, potentially, just pick up the brat and return him to his own bed. But what if he doesn't wake up the next time the brat sneaks in? Because if Xanxus has learned something these last couple of days is that mini-mini-Sawada might be mellow but he also has a stubborn bone that won't be reasoned with.

In the end, Xanxus ends up staying awake all night, staring at the ceiling with a hand keeping the toddler in place, just in case he rolls over and falls to his death or something. He waits until the hour changes from absolutely ridiculous to marginally decent to leave the bed.

Doing stuff with a toddler on his arm is easier now that he has practice, his morning routine is no different. It's just when he reaches the point of taking a shower that he finds himself at a loss. They stink, they need to wash. Xanxus has no idea how to clean a brat and he's pretty sure that toddlers don't wash themselves.

Xanxus looks longingly at his phone and snarls, ignoring mini-Tsunayoshi stirring in his arm. "Fucking dimension without YouTube. What the fuck."

[Watery warfare]

Part 3 of Xanxus's Parenting Adventures

Xanxus decides on the bathtub for practicality. It seems like a bath would be easier to handle with a toddler than a shower. Especially a sleepy, clingy toddler. Except that the second Xanxus set the brat down, brat went absolutely fucking insane.

Watching bemusedly as the brat slaps the water around, Xanxus ignores the mess it's making on the floor and chuckles. "Yeah? Show it who's the boss, shitty brat."

Tsunayoshi just screams louder, cackling like a maniac.

"Yeah, yeah." Shrugging, Xanxus sits down on the tub, ready to wash himself. He'll clean up mini-mini-Sawada after.

Mini-mini-Sawada has other ideas, however. As soon as Xanxus settles down, the toddler reaches for him and Xanxus helps him sit beside him, lest he falls down and drowns. "What? I thought you were in the middle of a war, trash. Can't just abandon that, you know?"

The toddler just sticks his fingers in the shampoo Xanxus has just poured into his hand.

"No, that's not for you." Xanxus rolls his eyes, scrubbing his hair and ignoring mini-Tsunayoshi watching him curiously. Ok, so maybe Xanxus might be developing a bit of a soft spot for the toddler. Maybe. It's just… the brat's flames might still be dormant at this age but that doesn't change the fact that whatever is still there… it resonates with Xanxus.

And that's a relief. It is, because it means that Xanxus might not be Timoteo's but he's still Vongola enough for this. Besides, the resonance helped Xanxus get over his initial 'ew, baby' aversion and is probably the reason the brat was so quick to trust Xanxus.

He wonders if it'll translate to the grown Sawada, once he returns.

There's just something about mini-mini-Sawada, so small, so breakable and so trusting, that makes Xanxus feel a little protective.

[Shopping trip]

Part 4 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

It takes Xanxus about a week to concede that this won't be a quick matter. Which means that they need clothes. Xanxus could, in theory, keep washing his uniform daily and it wouldn't be a problem. Except he's fucking tired of doing laundry and the brat can't keep wearing the same oversized hoodie for days on end.

He turns to look at mini-mini-Sawada, who is curled up in Bester's flank, fast asleep, and sighs. It seems they're going shopping.

Which is easier said than done. Unearthing the wad of cash and credit card the marshmallow freak left behind is easy enough, taking mini-mini-Sawada is easy as well. As long as Xanxus doesn't put him down, they're alright.

No, the issue comes from the clerk who is watching Xanxus like he's wondering whether he should seek the police on him for kidnapping. But Xanxus is still a Sky, no matter that he doesn't do the polite charming shit that Tsunayoshi and Cavallone are so fond of.

"We had a little accident," Xanxus shrugs, gruff. "He needs clothes."

Still, the clerk seems unsure until mini-mini-Sawada straightens in Xanxus's hold to point at something in the store. "Ansus! Beste! Look, Beste!"

Bester, Xanxus knows, is back in his box but he turns to look all the same. He takes a good look at the white cat plushie and laughs. "Yeah, that's Bester alright."

Ignoring the now bemused clerk, Xanxus makes his way to that rack and offers Mini-Tsunayoshi the plushie. The toddler grabs it instantly, cuddling it to his chest and Xanxus snorts, catching a look at bath toys down the ail. Well, fuck it. They're spending Byakuran's money anyway, might as well treat themselves.

"Come on, you need ammunition for your next bath."

It is entirely possible that Xanxus got a little shopping happy but he gives about zero shits, the tiny shirt with a printed 'Mini-Boss' on it is Xanxus's absolute favourite.

He buys his own clothes quickly and makes a bee-line for the cabin, mini-mini-Sawada cheerfully waving goodbye to the shopping mall.

[Nap]

Part 5 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

What the fuck, Xanxus thinks, bemusedly. It should have been fine. The weather had been nice and the cabin has a nice piece of beach right there so Xanxus had taken the brat out and yes, maybe, Xanxus took advantage of the nice weather to take a nice nap.

But it should have been fine, Bester had been napping with the brat. Covered by the shade. And the brat never wanders off anyway. Bester would have woken Xanxus up if something had happened or handled it himself.

And yet, here they are.

Xanxus wakes up to find Tsunayoshi sitting next to a hole, definitely of Bester’s making and lapping the water from it?

He has questions, Xanxus has so many questions.

First, how did they get water inside the hole? Where does this water come from? Also, why? Bester looks too damn proud of himself, Xanxus adores him but right now, he’s not sure he trusts the liger. Tsunayoshi laps the water again, makes a disgusted face and repeats. “What the fuck?”

Laughing helplessly, Xanxus stands up, patting the sand off of his clothes. “What are you doing, you little shit?” He picks mini-Tsunayoshi up, settling him on his hip.

The brat tries to reach for Bester, “juice?”

“No,” Xanxus chortles, gesturing for Bester to follow. “That’s not juice, trash. That’s seawater at best. What the fuck.”

“Fuck!”

“Shit,” Xanxus picks up their stuff with their other hand and makes his way back inside the cabin to hunt down some juice. “Your parents are going to lose their shit over that, aren’t they?” Toddlers usually don’t use curse words, he knows that much. Then, he remembers that the father in question is fucking Iemitsu and shrugs it off.

[Tuna-fishy]

Part 6 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

They get returned to their original universe about 4 months in, to them at least. It looks like they’ve been gone for barely a week on their own. Xanxus doesn’t care about that, he’s more concentrated on the strained little smile Byakuran is sending to mini-mini-Sawada.

“What!?” Xanxus snaps, ignoring the toddler’s face hidden against his neck. Brat is shy, that’s all.

“Aaah, yes,” Byakuran shifts uncomfortably, sending a bemused look Xanxus’s way before looking back down to Sawada. “That wasn’t part of the plan?”

“Are you fucking asking?” Xanxus ignores mini-mini-Sawada trying to share his crumpled snack and twitches, debating the virtues of calling Bester or seeking his elements on this moron.

Iemitsu, apparently, decides that’s his moment to shine. Bastard has been starry-eyed since the second he caught sight of the toddler in Xanxus’s arms. And no, Xanxus is, in no way, shape or form, annoyed by this. The consigliere steps forward, big goofy smile on his face, “Tuna-fishy! Come to papa!”

And mini-Tsunayoshi loses his shit, loses it completely. As in loud screams and tears and a grip hard enough on Xanxus’s shirt that the Wrath wonders for a second whether he’ll rip it. Xanxus reacts on instinct because he’s been looking after this tiny brat for months now.

He shifts his weight to put distance between his toddler and the idiotic blonde and points his gun directly between the asshole’s eyes. His elements react with him, of course, and Xanxus finds himself bracketed between Squalo and Lussuria, all traces of humour lost.

“What the fuck, trash?” The question is met with silence but all of them saw the way the toddler’s mostly dormant flames recoiled from the man.

Byakuran steps forward, hands up in placation. “Now, now, no need for this.” He lays a restraining hand on Sawada’s shoulder, “I do believe it might be sweet Tsuna’s nap time?”

Xanxus takes the out, pivoting from his spot but not holstering his gun until he makes it all the way to the car. The brat is still making his best impression of a limpet and Xanxus sighs, cleaning some of the tears off the kid’s face.

“Fuck, Ansus,” the brat mutters sadly into the fabric of his plushie.

“Yeah, yeah, what the fuck.”

Somewhere in the background, Lussuria coos.

[Apple Slices]

Part 7 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures.

Xanxus wakes up with a tiny brat nestled on his stomach and Bester stretched out by his side. Right. He starts the morning routine without thinking much about it before he remembers that they’re not in the little cabin by the beach anymore.

And by remembers, he means he gets forcibly reminded by Squalo breaking down his door with a “voi! Wake up, shitty boss!” Lusurria trailing happily after the swordsman with breakfast in hand.

“You trash!” Xanxus growls quietly, “if you wake up the little brat, you’re dealing with the pouting!”

Luckily for all of them, the toddler has migrated to Bester’s flank while Xanxus went around preparing the things needed for the bad and is now busy sleeping away, face buried in his plushie.

“And get more napkins,” at Lussuria's odd look he adds, "brat's a messy eater."

Though now it seems like they'll be eating before bathing which is actually more practical. Why hadn't he thought of that? Doesn't really matter, this is how they will do things now. He picks up his own plate and eats quietly, ignoring Squalo's attempts to get Xanxus to do paperwork with the ease of long practice. Only once he's done he goes to pick mini-Tsunayoshi up, settling the sleepy toddler on his lap.

Tsunayoshi is more asleep than awake but he’s docile enough. “Juice?”

Xanxus’s mouth twitches up, “yeah, sure.”

Lussuria squeals, offering him a glass and Xanxus just knows, with one look, that shit is going to get messy. He accepts the apple slice being shoved into his mouth and says nothing. Luss can deal with this shit. "It's good," Xanxus approves, giving the brat another.

Mini-Mini-Sawada bites half of it off and then promptly falls asleep, slumping bonelessly to the side. Xanxus catches him before he can fall off, caught between incredulity and laughter. "The fuck?"

(Juice)

Part 8 of Xanxus’s Parenting Adventures

Xanxus stalks into his office with mini-mini-Sawada on his hip. The Varia as a whole are smart enough to know that if he has one arm tied up in keeping the toddler in place, it means he still has one hand free to shoot them dead. “You trash,” he growls at the closest grunt, “bring me my wine!”

“Juice!” Mini-mini-Sawada adds, waving happily.

“And juice,” Xanxus adds, patting mini-mini-Sawada’s head agreeably. He lets the brat down on the floor inside his office, eyeing the paperwork. Fuck that thing, honestly.

By mini-mini-Sawada’s side, Bester chuffs gently, picking the toddler up by the back of his shirt and settling him between his paws. Mini-Tsunayoshi turns to hug the liger as best he can, happily waving his stuffed toy around and babbling up whatever comes through his head.

Toys, Xanxus decides, they're going to need those. Is two years old too young for a toy gun? Hmm… Well now he has google, doesn't he? Oh look, Timoteo's weekly ridiculous requests. He picks them up with a snort, fishing for some pencils in the drawer. "Here," Xanxus offers them to his brat, "this is your portion."

Mini-Mini-Sawada has taken to imitating everything Xanxus does. If Xanxus indulges him, it's simply because it makes things easier and no other reason whatsoever. He ignores the happy little squeal, smirking at his paperwork. When Squalo comes to pick up their finished piles, he makes a face at the brat's handiwork.

Xanxus glares, absent-mindedly cleaning the toddler's face after their snack.

Squalo just huffs, irritably pushing his hair out of his face. "Voi, FINE! Don't complain to me if they bitch!"

"Fuck that trash," Xanxus doesn't care about what they want.

"Trash!" His toddler smashes his juice box in agreement. Xanxus lips twitch. Ok, so he's a little fond.

(Strategy)

Part 9 of Xanxus's Parenting Adventures

Timoteo knows something is going on the moment that the door opens for the Varia's scheduled paperwork drop and it's not only Squalo coming through it but also Mammon and Lussuria. He has half of the Varia in his office when it usually takes months of cajoling to get so much as one other than Squalo. And even then, for this very same dropoff.

But the Varia are a lot like cats, there's no use in pushing them too much. You have to dangle the bribe and wait for them to come to you. So Timoteo doesn't show hesitation, he simply settles in to give their paperwork a quick check. There's never any blood but he does get a kick out of seeing the progressively more ridiculous fake signatures over the line with his son's name.

This time, it's a toddler’s handprint in ink so strong that some of the text is no longer legible. Timoteo blinks once, twice and then looks up at the gleeful faces of the Varia Officers. "What is this?"

"The mini-boss," Mammon begins, smug and greedy, "is living up to his name,"

Oh, Timoteo realizes, thumbing through the paperwork with new eyes and finding the sort of drawings he hasn't seen in over a decade. Iemitsu had been over yesterday, Timoteo had listened to his ramblings with half an ear but now it's starting to make sense. It hadn't been Iemitsu's usual delusions, Tsunayoshi really is a toddler now. Carefully, Timoteo picks the drawings from the rest of the papers. "Name your price."

Squalo smirks, "vacation. One week, full expenses covered, anywhere we want."

"Done," Timoteo stretches his hand, waiting patiently while Squalo looks inside his bag and comes up with a little plate. Tsunayoshi's small palm is etched on it, colourful kid's drawing decorating the outer sides, under it, in Xanxus's elegant writing, it's Tsunayoshi's name in perfect japanese.

"It's perfect."

"Whatever," Squalo snorts. "Voi, nice doing business with you." Squalo turns on his heel and walks out the door, his two tag-alongs following behind him.

#fanfiction #khr #katekyo hitman reborn #xanxus #sawada tsunayoshi #ask #anon #parenting adventures au

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terrified-spider · 3 years ago

Text

Elder Scrolls Headcannon Dump

I’m working on a quick comic featuring my Oblivion player character, Elidal, to practice making pages and drawing characters in environments. As I complete panels and pages I will show them, but until some are ready, here’s a bunch of the headcannons I’ve been thinking about while drawing.

I’ve only played Skyrim and Oblivion, so I may contradict stuff in the other games. Also, some spoilers for the Dark Brotherhood stories in both games.

Werewolves and Vampires:

Both have heightened senses of smell. However, the change for a werewolf is permanent, while a vampire’s will become more powerful as they go without feeding. Vampires also have to deal with the sun as well, as their eyes become more sensitive.

Different races taste different, and it’s not uncommon for someone to have a preference between them. Some vampires avoid the beast races, as their scales/feathers/horns and fur can make it difficult to get a clean bite. Argonians taste like fish, and the undead tend to taste like ash.

Unless healed quickly through magic, sunburns and wounds from silver weapons take a while to heal, and often scar badly.

If not a khajiit, who’s eyes already do this naturally, becoming a vampire will cause a vampire’s eyes to reflect light like a cat’s.

Argonian Werewolf Transformations:

Unlike the other races, they can’t grow fur.

Instead, their horns, spines, or webbing will become longer, and extend down the back, and occasionally along the forearms.

Feathers cover the shoulders, back of the head, and chest.

Similarly to khajiit, they already stand hunched over, so when transformed, it is faster and easier to move on fours, rather than standing.

They tend to look like buff drakes (flightless dragons that range in size from a large dog, to a large horse).

General Dark Brotherhood:

Both vampires and werewolves have their place within the family. However, vampires are a bit more prevalent.

Overall, they’re a bit more subtle. Sure, a werewolf’s transformation may provide a different type of terror, but they tend to attract unwanted attention from witnesses and guards.

After the destruction of Falkreath Sanctuary, none of the survivors are fond of flame-based destruction magic. New recruits are encouraged to use ice-based magic instead. Not only is it cold like the void, but it won’t burn anything down. Babette is the most fond of this change.

Unlike other restoration spells, the Night Mother’s Caress, from Oblivion, doesn’t warm the caster. Instead, it numbs their fingertips, and chills their wounds. The loss of feeling can make it one of the least painful healing spells, but the caster is left shivering for a few minutes after.

The Keeper and members of the Black Hand each have a black hand print somewhere on their armor. Usually it is over the heart, but some members will put it around their wrist, on/near their shoulder blade, or just under their collar bone.

Beyond just the sanctuary guardians, the Dawnstar sanctuary often has past members of the Brotherhood helping their living family, training and teaching them about the traditions they often died for.

Lucien Lachance:

Before he died, he planted and tended to a number of flowers and mushrooms around Fort Farragut, for alchemical ingredients. Over the years the plants grew wild, and the ruin is now a great place for beginner alchemists to find materials.

After Death:

When he’s not summoned, he still watches over the garden, watching for potential recruits, and will guide candidates to join the family.

As he tires, the wounds from his death become more visible.

It’s subtle, but a werewolf might notice that he and other spectral assassins carry smells relating to their life and place of death. Lucien smells like rotten apples, melting snow, and mud.

The Night Mother sent him to watch over Cicero as he traveled to Skyrim.

Vicente Valtieri:

A few years before the HoK joined, he meet Babette, who had been turned a few years prior. The two were close, and they met in person a couple of times. Babette eventually learned how to summon him as a specter, and summons him regularly.

Trained new recruits, and was the one to give Teinaava his enchanted sword.

In order to feed regularly, he relied on other members bringing back blood from their contracts. If work was slow, the others would have to give up a bit of their own.

edit: just a small typo.

#tw death #dark brotherhood #skyrim #tesblr #oblivion #elder scrolls #night mother #vicente valtieri #lucien lachance #werewolf #vampire #babette #cicero #headcanon #not art

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softer-ua · 4 years ago

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i can't be the only one who wants izuku to get fucking pissed at his situation, at all might, start questioning what the fuck is going on with OFA.

because if you're going to trust a fifteen year old with something like OFA and bind them to the life of a symbol, you do not get to withhold information. deku was not told he'd be dealing with an enemy like AFO when he got the quirk, nor was he told that basically its whole point was not fighting some vague concept of evil, but fighting a very tangible very dangerous villain. he wasn't told that up until all might, inheriting this power was guaranteed suicide, and even after all might you only have a vague chance of survival. to be offered such a life altering "gift", Izuku should have been warned of everything. from the start. and if not then then from the very moment izuku started seeing vestiges, or at least when AFO resurfaced. WHY IN GOD'S NAME WOULD YOU HIDE ANY, ANY BIT OF INFORMATION ON A QUIRK THAT IMPORTANT?????

no because, if you look at it cynically, All Might took this kid who had nothing and who looked up to him as effective god. He took this kid who he knew had no sense of no self-care or self-preservation. This extremely reckless kid who he saw putting his life at risk three times (sludge v1, hanging on to AM as he jumped, sludge v Katsuki) within 24 hours. He picked this kid who he knew would give everything (because Izuku had "nothing", and therefore nothing to lose) and "gifted" him with a ticking time bomb. Of course Izuku is willing to break himself if it means using OFA to max potential. So much of his self-worth is based on OFA. He's said time and time again he isn't sure if he deserves it, that it's a borrowed power. If you've taken this kid and given him everything practically overnight, of course he'll go to self-destructive lengths to prove himself worthy of it. Who'd want to go back to being nothing after all?

And this is a logical conclusion. Someone like Izuku, someone like All Might probably used to be in his youth and still kind of is, they're perfect to be put on this kind suicide mission. They're a perfect vessel. Sure they're heroic and brave and selfless, but most importantly they're willing to die for the cause. OFA the quirk knows this. Literally two seconds after Katsuki sacrifices himself telling Deku not to do shit alone, Deku renders said sacrifice useless by doing exactly what Katsuki warned him not to😭 And the quirk and vestiges encourage him. They don't give a shit about repercussions and Deku's chronic pain or possible arm paralysis. They just want to beat AFO. You go son you break those arms 🤠

Doesn't it all feel a little bit exploitative?

Look at it like this. A kid is born with no power. This kid wants to be great, but the world says he can't. He meets his hero, and the hero says he can't either. Then the kid acts heroic, but reckless. The hero sees an opening. This kid is good and doesn't care one bit about his well-being? Jackpot! He offers the kid a deal. Great power, an extraordinary gift at surface layer. But one with so many more hidden strings attached that hurt and break and haunt the kid, that he was never warned about or taught how to deal with. But he can always give it to someone else! Can he, really? Can he go back to being nothing? With a personality like his, well nope. And that's why you pick the overly selfless reckless ones. The ones that will feel indebted to you to a ridiculous degree.

Isn't it like dare I say... like a deal with the devil?

As we progress more and more into the lore of AFO and OFA, I can really see why Katsuki's started to view it as a cursed power. And with how wildly different from expectations (at least mine) + far more nuanced the Todofam drama has revealed itself to be compared to what it seemed upon first intro, I'm inclined to believe there's more to the OFA story than clean cut, young bro good guy vs mean big bro oppression.

TL;DR - All Might is the metaphorical devil jr who gave Izuku a passed down deal, and neither he nor broccoli boy read the fine print.

Bakugo’s ghost sent me this ask 💀

Lol but seriously, these are all excellent points and I’ve been sitting on this ask until I had time to answer it because you’re absolutely goddamn right

This shit is explotive af, and I’ve got a suspicion as to why

I don’t think Deku was a random choice, there’s a layer of fate/mystic woven into the bnha world that gets over looked.

Sir had insane fortune telling abilities that were never once wrong about anything except when it came to the 2 OFA users fates. Deku even specifically says he’ll smash any fate in his way, and I think on some level he knows he can because he has a different destiny.

The vestiges break him from Shinsos hold, meaning the can have some level of control over Dekus body. You think AM noticed every time something like that happened? AM didn’t even notice Bakugo internalizing all the blame for his retirement even after watching his mom force him to apologize for it??

“I keep forgetting that your still a child” AM, sir, this is the third time you’ve admitted out loud that you were just gonna let Bakugo suffer his own fate 💀 please stop indicting yourself and at least pretend you care about Bakugo outside his relationship to Deku jfc

Also what are the chances you get nine random holders and none of them turn out to be corrupt or at least too self serving to die for the cause??? Slimmer than the pages bnha is printed on.

There’s something pulling some strings here, and I think it’s the true power of First users quirk.

What would be the point of transferring a quirk if that’s it’s only power?

What would be the point of this quirk being essentially password locked?

What would be the point of this quirk being able to forced on to someone?

There’ wouldn’t be any.

But what if that’s not what the quirk is?

What if the quirk is actually passing something along, and that’s why it’s dna based, it’s the transfer of an integral part of them.

Something that would change a person if forced on them but would possibly eradicate someone if stolen. Something like a souls desire? That could be a dangerous thing to give to someone else especially if it’s something they didn’t want, now they suddenly have to?

Then you give this quirk a strength enhancing quirk?

Now it’s got some juice, how much stronger did it get? Can it sense others with a similar goal, can it make its host gravitate towards those people?

Is the firsts quirk purposely finding exploitable heros, like Nana AM and Deku. All people who were/are willing to give up everything for the cause. How much of the first is in there, how much sentient power does this quirk have?

We know that Nana gave up her family, her child, for the cause. AM never bothered cultivating a family and pushed away Sir and anyone else who is anti him dying, and now we’re seeing Deku do the same.

Deku who had no friends to begin with, a dad who’s out of the picture, and an already slightly strained relationship with his mom?

Is this quirk capable of learning? Does it know that having people you care about slows you down from sacrificing yourself?

Does this quirk compound with the other users goals make the drive stronger each time?

Idk but there’s a glimmer of hope that Deku isn’t doomed to be a glorified meat puppet, and it exists in the form of Kacchan.

No one else had someone so deeply rooted to them, who could fight right along side them. Bakugo is an outlier in this story, almost the exact opposite kind of hero OFA wants, his connection to Deku breaks the cycle.

Deku would never give up on Katsuki, and even if he tried Endeavor will start coughing up ice cubes before Bakugo lets him. He couldn’t leave Deku alone when he was convinced he hated him, there’s no way he’d do it now.

Dekus story will be different from the other users that’s for sure.

#get it?? cause endeavors quirk is hell fire 😀😀😀#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #kacchan #deku #izuku midoriya #all might #OFA #AFO #oneforall #allforone #nana shimura #softy answers #am i on to something #or have I just officially lost my mind?

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the-crows-typist · 4 years ago

Text

Thank you for you patience on this, here is the first installment of the Valentine’s event with Jade and the word ‘Chocolate’ which was requested by @takumipineapplexd. Enjoy.

CW: For potential OOC and Slowburn with small bits of Angst

Word count: 6378

A Heart from Me to You

“Welcome to the Sweet Tooth, may I take your order?” Deuce says as the customers enter the café in an excited hurry. From your position behind him, you couldn’t help but smile at their reactions to the confectionary seen within your shop; they were your creations, after all.

“I’ll have the lovers’ bite with some black coffee…Oh, and a tuna sandwich with some extra chips.”

“Alright, please take a seat and your order will be with you shortly.” The young man motions them to a nearby table with comfortable chairs and when they giggled to themselves, Deuce got to work on the order given to him. Just as the loud clatter overtook your hearing, you looked away, drowning the voices out to concentrate on the batch of brownies that had been cooking in the oven, the smell of chocolate wafting through the air and mingling with the smell of roasting coffee. You were proud of your achievements and you were proud of the atmosphere you’ve cultivated through your hard work.

“Ah, come on. Let me pay this time!”

“No, let me. I was the one who took you out on a date.”

“That’s not fair! Why don’t we pay half?”

“Eh, but—?”

But through your hard work, you ended up skipping on the life most people your age have. While you created beautiful pieces of art with sugar and meat, couples young and old enjoyed them. While you went out to get supplies, others spent time with people they wish to build a life together with. You couldn’t be angry at them, they deserved the happiness they found, but there was always that pang of jealousy and longing of what might have been had you just looked away from your work for one second.

You shrug your shoulders, hearing the timer ring. Then again, things wouldn’t have been any different.

“Deuce, can you clean up table 3 for me after you deliver the orders? I’ll be preparing the brownies.”

He smiled and nodded his head enthusiastically “I’ll go right to it.” and got to work. You were grateful to have him by your side, though you often felt guilty for the times you asked him to work alone during the days you needed to restock and resupply. Despite his insistence that he was fine, you could see the small tinge of exhaustion in his eyes.

You let the brownies cool on the counter and watch the small business thrive on the love of your heart. You are happy to see it flourish but you couldn’t help the biting bitterness of a love you yearned in return. Shaking the feelings away, you go back to work and grabbing a bar of chocolate, some milk, and hot water. The brownies aren’t gonna garnish themselves.

The next day was relatively quiet, the two of you replenishing the stock of your products and making small talk between each other. Deuce talked about his family while you gave your own opinions and listened. It wasn’t until near completion that customers rolled around. Two tall waltzed into the café, both of them wearing apparel far too expensive for a visit to a small establishment.

“Welcome to the Sweet Tooth, may I take your order?” You took to the counter prompting Deuce to continue the restocking by himself. They looked like identical twins, only distinguished by their eyes and blank hair strands against messy and neat teal hair.

“Let’s see.” The one to your left said, his hand coming to his chin to think as he browses the menu. “I’d like a chocolate lava cake, the hamburger steak set…and some mint tea. What about you, Floyd?” He turned to his twin who had messier hair and droopy eyes. A small hum and he shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll have…french-fries. Ah, there’s flavors available, right?” Floyd leaned down and his towering figure making you falter but only for a while.

“Yes, we currently have cheese and sour cream at the moment.”

“I’ll take the cheese, then.”

With a motion of your hand, you guided them to one of your plush seats. “Please have a seat and wait for your order, thank you.” As they went, you look to Deuce who had the same expression of fear and surprise on his face. The two of you congregate together while working on the orders. “I could feel my heart leap outta my chest, they look so scary.” He whispered to you.

“Shh, don’t say it too loud.” You chided, bumping his shoulder lightly. “But you have a point.”

Deuce pulled out the fries from the fryer and let it cool just as you began setting up the hamburger set carefully and slowly heated the lava cake. “I don’t know what business fancy-looking guys have with our café but…Profit is profit. Are the fries ready?”

“Just gonna put the cheese powder. The water for the tea is ready.”

“Good. Clean up the area, I’ll be the one to deliver the order.”

“Sorry for the wait. Here’s the hamburger set, a chocolate lava cake, mint tea, and cheese fries.” You set the food down onto their table and set two small pieces of chocolate. “We have a special promo today that if you order a certain amount of food, you get one of our premium chocolates.”

“That’s wonderful, thank you.” The neater looking twin said just as his brother began eating the fries. You nod your head and gave him a polite smile. “Please enjoy the meal.”

The twins ate quietly, their eyes looking over your creations with healthy scrutiny. Floyd’s tongue slipped out of his mouth as he ate his fries and Jade took a bite from his hamburger. They both hummed, looking at each other as if communicating through their thoughts.

“My, such flavor.”

“Does that mean Jade likes the food?” Floyd leaned closer to his brother with a giggle. “We’ll have to see. Let’s finish this up, shall we? Would you like to split the cake, Floyd?”

Floyd stuck out his tongue towards his brother again and grabbed a fork. “Okay~. It looks pretty yummy too.”

The small cake was split between them and the aroma of chocolate hitting their noses.

“Jade, this is…”

“Indeed. Let’s finish up this meal and report to Azul, shall we?”

“I believe this will cover the payment.” Jade offered a card to you, allowing you to input the amount. “May I ask, do you create all the food you here?” As you give the device to him for his card number, you nod your head. “I do. Well, except for the core ingredients and bread I make everything I sell by hand with help from Deuce.”

“Just the two of you?” The receipt prints out and he takes his card.

“Yes, just the two of us. We are a small café, after all, so we don’t expect a long line of customers compared to more corporate and well-known shops.” You let out a small laugh, a hand to your cheek. “Though I wouldn’t mind a small line one in a while.”

Jade laughs along with you, his voice soft and calm yet smile so practiced. “I hope that it would one day happen.” He slips his card back into his wallet then produces another card, handing it to you carefully and respectfully. “I am Jade Leech and this is my brother Floyd, thank you for the wonderful meal.”

You take the card from him and he gives you one last smile before he leaves with Floyd waiting for him by the door. “We’ll come by and visit again one of these days.” Jade gives you one last smile and both you and Deuce were left alone in the empty café.

“The Octanivelle Co.” You read the card out. “Have you heard of this, Deuce?”

He drew a little closer and hummed. “No, not really.”

The two of you walked to the table the twins ate on and found the plates were empty save for a few crumbs of cake and cheese powder. The two of you exchanged looks and couldn’t help but smile. “Looks like they enjoyed the food.”

The door’s bell rings suddenly and an old couple looks at them from the counter. “Can we order some tea and cookies?” One of them asked with uncertainty and you quickly let go of Deuce and walk towards them. “Of course, what kind of tea would you like?”

Deuce looked at you with a smile, seeing your face now vibrant and happy. Just as he went back to his duties, he took the card into this hands and looked at the name. Jade Leech. Octanivelle Co. Why does it sound so familiar?

“We’re back!” Floyd announced just as he entered through the apartment door with Jade following close behind. Azul Ashengrotto had been reading some papers by the coffee table before hearing the two come in. He got up from his chair with a smile, a warm blanket over his shoulders, and clothes baggy and drooping. He looked quite tired. “Welcome back. How was the small trip around town? Did you find anything interesting?” Jade hands him a single piece of paper, a flyer. The young man’s eyes arched.

“The Sweet Tooth?”

Jade’s smile remained pleasant while Floyd plopped onto one of the comfortably plush chairs. “While we did go to the restaurants you asked us to sample, we chanced upon a small café with a wonderful array of pastries and confectionery. I had a nice chat with the owner who makes all their products from scratch.”

Azul brought a finger to his chin in thought. “And what of the food?”

Floyd leaned back on the chair with a hum. “I took a look at them while cooking. They’re pretty careful with food prep and had the right equipment on them.” He looked to the side, remembering how he stared at the owner as a way to look beyond what was allowed to be shown to him. “The assistant reminded me of a mackerel, always flopping around but pretty strong when it comes to it.”

“While I enjoyed the flavor, I think it would be best that you have a taste of it yourself, Azul. Perhaps The Sweet Tooth’s menu is exactly what we’re looking for.”

Azul looked at the flyer again. Its design was basic and borrowed and printing style, it was not at par with those used by more popular cafes. “I’ll take your word for it, thank you. Let’s schedule this for the end of the week.” The smallest of the three set the flyer down on the coffee table.

“Here’s your order of assorted chocolates, a cream and strawberry cake, and some black coffee.” Deuce put all the food into a plastic bag and set it for the customer to take. “Thank you for shopping at The Sweet Tooth, please come again soon.” Sighing, the boy leaned against the counter to stretch his stiff neck. With the last customer on the line gone, the shop was now silent; a cold object hit his elbow and you smiled at him, handing him the cold soda. “You look like you need some refreshments.”

He gratefully took the can from you and popped it open to take a swig. “I’m just happy that I got everyone’s orders to them on time. I know we can handle it but boy does my arms hurt.” You stood next to him and shrugged your shoulders. “Cakes can be deceiving, can’t they?” He nods his head and continued to drink the soda. “But now that it’s the end of the week, I can surmise that we’ll get a few more customers.” You whisper to yourself then look over to Deuce. “Why don’t you take a break? I’m sure you’re tired.”

“But…”

“It's fine a good ten minute rest won’t hurt, right?”

Just as Deuce was about to say something, the bell rang as the door opened, three people entered your establishment. Two familiar and one not. He wore clothes that both fit and hid his figure, his hair neatly styled and white, his blue eyes scanned the quaint shop he just entered. “What a lovely aroma.” He commented. “Is that chocolate?”

Nodding your head, you took your position by the register. “Indeed, sir. Ah, I think I remember serving your friends a few days ago.” You turned to the one with slightly messy hair. “Mister Jade Leech, right?” The three of them chuckle and Floyd pointed to his brother next to him. “Wrong Leech.”

“It’s quite alright. The two of them have told me about your shop and I’ve decided to try some of your food out. I’ve heard nothing but praise from the two of them.” Your cheeks flushed and your heartbeat was sudden, a smile formed on your lips. “Ah, I’m so happy you think that!” you exclaimed but quickly clear your throat when the twins chuckled at your reaction. “Might I suggest our roast beef sandwich? Oh, and a nice slice of chocolate cake??”

The small man nods his head. “As well as some tea, for three please? Mint will do.”

“Understood. Please take a seat while we prepare your order.”

“Thanks for waiting.” You set down the order on the table along with the tea and three cups. Azul lets out a hum of approval when he smells the food. “It’s as Jade says, it smells very good.” The other twin, Jade, chuckles. “They used their spices quite well, don’t they? I have to doubt in my mind that it will be an enjoyable meal.”

“Ah, shucks, I don’t deserve such high praises. I’m just following the recipe.” You say sheepishly, scratching the back of your head as Azul took a bite of the sandwich. “Recipe? Did you get all these outta some cookbook?” Floyd wondered. “Most of the food here is my Uncle’s. Ah, but, the sweets are mine.”

“Are you a family business?”

“Yup. The business went to me after my Aunt retired, I’ve been running it ever since with Deuce.”

Azul swallowed his food and licked his lips. “Interesting. This Deuce person is your assistant, correct? Is he a recent hire?”

“No, he’s my cousin. We’ve been working together since the business was passed down. As for assistant…Honestly, we’re each other’s assistants, sir.”

Jade leaned back against the plush seating, his long legs splaying out. He looked like a model with his clothes on, the way his dark turtle neck defined his face and his light-colored long coat accented his look further. Oh geez, you felt yourself staring and decided to look to Azul. You could hear him chuckle at your movements and you felt this petty frustration boil in you.

“That’s all we wanted to know, thank you,” Azul said to you and catching himself. “Ah, where are my manners? Please, call me Azul. Might I ask for some extra water for the tea?”

“Of course!” You take the teapot from the table. “One moment. Please enjoy your meal.”

Once you were out of sight, Azul took a bite into the cake and his eyes went wide.

“What do you think?” Asked Jade while Azul continued to eat.

“I think we found it.”

“The meal was lovely, thank you.” Azul reached into his pocket and produces some bills. “I’m surprised you don’t have customers coming to you in groves.” Shrugging your shoulders, you input the amount and slip in the bills. “I wish for that to happen but I don’t think Deuce and I can handle it with how we are now.”

You hand Azul the receipt and he looks through it, quiet for one moment. “Say, do you do catering?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Shame.” He pouted but moved to take a card out of his pocket. Azul Ashengrotto. Octanivelle Co. Your eyes widened at the familiar name. Was this Azul working with Jade and Floyd? “Come along, you two.” Just as the two walked out, the resting area’s door burst open with Deuce clutching his phone to his chest and face full of surprise. “You gotta see this! I can’t believe—!”

The trio left as Deuce approached you quickly. “I searched for Octanivelle Co. Look at all this! Their brands, the events!!” He pushed the phone to your face which you swatted in surprise. “The CEO’s name is Azul! That was him, right? Azul Ashengrotto?! He ate here!”

You moved quickly and ran outside the shop in your uniform, chocolate stained apron and all, to find the three. Oh, you should have known! You should have known!! You turned the corner to the nearby train station and soon as you moved to turn another side, your eyes collided with a dark-colored wall.

“Oops.” Said the person you bumped into, a pair of hand-holding your shoulders lightly. “Are you alright—Hm, aren’t you…?”

Jade Leech tilted his head down at you and you pulled yourself away. His shocked expression turned into a knowing smile. “Ah, I see.” He says and you’re sure you’re starting to feel the strong urge to pinch this man’s cheek…If you only you could reach him. “Azul, someone is looking for you.” He said to someone behind him as he let go of your shoulders.

“It’s you. What a pleasant surprise.” Azul’s smile was just as conniving as Jade’s but you could save the petty anger for later. “You asked about catering, right? I’ll do it.” You breathed in again. “But I need to know what you’ll need first.”

Azul’s back was straight and head held high as if he was triumphant in battle. “We need your food for my sister’s wedding.”

The shop was closed for the day as per the suggestion of Azul, the two of you using the time to discuss and plan, to add and remove, to agree and disagree. “Okay,” Azul began, tapping his pencil on the table. “My sister loves strawberry shortcake so that will be the flavor of the wedding cake. The other finger foods will be the smaller version of the—.”

Deuce stood by the counter away from the two and watching Jade and Floyd rummaging through the kitchen and adjusting themselves to the environment. “When will the wedding be?” he asked, looking to one of the twins. Floyd pulled out a can of condensed milk before looking at him. “In few months, three or four, I think. Enough time to get the order done.”

Jade sets down some cups of tea and tea leaves. “When Azul sees something he likes, he won’t stop at anything until he gets what he wants.” He pours some water into a prepared teapot and added the leaves. “He has enough resources to make his vision a reality.”

“But with just the two of us…” Deuce’s words trail off as Azul continued his speech.

“I’ll have Jade and Floyd help you with your preparations.” Your eyes widened and you looked to the two twins standing at the ready, Jade smiling at you while Floyd waved. “They are fast learners and have been trained in many culinary techniques, just show them the ropes of your establishment and they’ll do the rest.”

You could feel yourself flush at the sudden act of kindness. “T-thank you very much, Mister Ashengrotto. I won’t let you down.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He leans to look at the twins, nodding his head. “Jade, Floyd. Be here first thing tomorrow morning, you’ll be learning The Sweet Tooth’s recipes to perfection.”

“Understood.”

“Got it.”

The twins smile in unison, your heart feeling the heavy pressure of the responsibility put onto you while Jade poured each one a cup of calming tea.

Training the twins and running the shop took a bit of time to get used to. You made sure the schedules lined up and two people were always available at the counter at any given time. In the kitchen, you stayed with each twin and made sure they understood the recipe.

Floyd was a natural but often very flimsy when something different catches his attention. You often had to pat his back and tell him to be careful with adding ingredients. “Add the sugar in little by little. Good. Now mix until you’re to make ribbons easily.” You say, guiding his hand by holding his wrist.

“This takes a lot of work…My wrist is starting to hurt.” He complains and you pat his back. “The molds are the fun part. Just a little more and we’ll get to that, okay?”

Just as you move away from Floyd, Jade had just come out of the walk-in freezer with his mold in hand. “Ready for the testing?” You asked as he carefully set down the flimsy material and turning it over to let the pieces carefully slip out. Jade’s work was the polar opposite of his brother with actions precise and instructions followed to the tee.

“As I’ll ever be.” He says, handing a piece to you.

As you chewed, you felt the burst of chocolate hit your tongue and you let out a small noise of approval but there was something in his creations that unnerved you. It was perfect. Too perfect. “It’s good…But it lacks.” You say and Jade’s eyes widen a small bit. “I do remember adding all the ingredients as per the recipe.”

“No, no. It’s not about that. Your handling of the ingredients was perfect and precise but…” You take another bite of his chocolate and continue to chew the piece yet feeling nothing in it. You backtrack a little bit, scratching the back of your head knowing that your next explanation was going to sound stupid to those who don’t understand the concept. “Ah, how do I explain this? It isn’t just the balance of sweet and bitter, you need to put your feelings into it.”

The silence that followed was nerve-wracking and you couldn’t help but cough into your hand. “I-if that made any sense.”

Jade’s smile was what brought you a small ounce of relief and his hand on his chest. “I understand,” He says. “I’ll improve on that as we work together.”

“Hey, chef, can you taste this for me?” Floyd called out to you from behind. “I can’t get the balance right.” You turned around and hurried over to him with a spoon. “Let’s have a taste—Ack, it’s so sweet! What did you put in this?”

Jade’s hand never left his chest, his palm feeling the steady and soft beat of his pusher. “My feelings, huh?”

“It’s quite festive outside.”

Deuce grunted, setting down a box full of milk and following Jade’s eyes to the crowds of people gathering and walking outside. “Ah, yeah. The town has a special night market that pops up once a month. Even people from outside of town come here to check it out.” Jade begins piping the cream covered cake and carefully decorating its top. “Really?”

“Yup. They like it since it’s a nice time to relax but recently, it’s become a place where people like to have dates.”

Jade laughs and begins adding the strawberries on top and sprinkling powdered sugar. “I’m sure the two of you have had your fair share of dates then?” Deuce scratches his chin, remembering his dates. “I have a few times.”

He looks to his cousin, watching them laugh with customers. “But I get guilty having to leave the store to them while I’m out having fun.” He hands a carton to Jade which he stores overhead. “They keep saying they’re fine but I can tell they get tired. They’re not very good at hiding it.” Deuce sighs and takes the box again and moves to the freezer. “They always put the shop first and I’m happy it’s still up and running. I just wish they knew that it was okay to have fun.”

The air was cool and the roads silent, you took a deep breath in after staying in the café for so long. Just as you were about to take the in the signboard, a pop of color and voice of awe distracted you from your activity. Fireworks colored the sky with bright colors, the wind blow again and offered you comfort after a long day. To your left, a couple held hands as they watched and you forced yourself to look away and begin to take the signboard from the ground.

“Good work out there.”

Something cold touched your cheek and Jade stood over you with a glass of water. “Thanks for helping out too. You and Floyd were a big help.” He took a sip of water just as more fireworks flew into the sky. “Do they always do this?” He asks and you shake your head. “Not often. But it’s beautiful to look at, huh? It’s been a while since I’ve seen the fireworks.”

Jade looks to you just as another rocket soared into the sky, the colors of pink and blue, red and green, illuminated the sky in a grand finale. Its colors reflected in your eyes, the shine of the light against your skin that cast a different glow to your sweaty face, he blinks then looks back to the people with their loved ones clapping their hands.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You look down at your cup of water and chuckle bitterly. “It is.”

“You didn’t have to accompany me on a supply run, y’know?” You say as Jade helps load butter and sugar into a basket. “I would but your cousin was worried about you being tired so I decided to tag along.” He smiles at you in the most cryptic way imaginable, you couldn’t tell if he was making this all up or Deuce was trying to set you up.

“Besides, we’ll be working together for a while so it’s only right that I get used to the routine.” He took another look at the list and reached for the fruits too high up for you to take. While his height had been a bane, it was also a kind of blessing for reaching high places. “Now, what should we get next?” You look through your list and nod your head. “That’s all of it. We can grab a quick bite to eat before heading back.”

Once leaving the store will all the bags in tow, the two of you walked the streets. “How come you didn’t go to the night market yesterday?” He asked, your eyes looking to him. “You let Deuce go but he eventually came back to help.” Shrugging your shoulders, you look away with a pout. “Someone needs to look after the shop, that’s all. Can’t have the business suddenly tanking because of monthly market.”

“Besides…” Jade’s eyes widened slightly, seeing such an embittered grin on your face. It seemed that you had been hurt by this before. Your brows furrowed and eyes closed in a weary smile. “With all I’ve done, I don’t think I have time for that anymore.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—.”

“It’s fine, it’s just personal experience on my part. Let’s go back to the shop, Floyd and Deuce are probably wondering where we are.”

Jade continued to walk beside you but his eyes never watching as the bitter smile relax to one of content and nostalgia. He looks forward, thinking of something to say yet wondering if he should say anything at all.

“And that should be the last piece.” You say, popping the last chocolate strawberry into the container and sealing it. Floyd takes the box and chucks it into the freezer. “This warrants a celebration, don’t you think?” Deuce nudges Jade’s arm. “I hope you got everything prepared.”

“Of course. It’s only your company that’s needed.”

Your confused expression is what prompts Jade to motion you to follow him to the back. “Follow me.” The four of you walk deeper into the shop and you begin to smell a charcoal grill and hear the crackling of a fire. A small party area had been made. A clay grill and some meat laid out to be cooked.

Floyd let out a noise of happiness and you looked to Jade. “Surprised? Good. Let’s enjoy the meal.”

The four of you were merry as you ate your fill of meat and assorted vegetables, Deuce and Floyd sharing their own stories while you and Jade listened. At first, you didn’t think the two would get along but seeing them be so comfortable with each other made you smile.

“Will I see you at the party?”

Jade had poured himself a cup of tea and looking at you expectantly; your stunned silence was what prompted him to explain a bit more. “It is only right that you attend, you did agree to supply delicious food for the wedding.”

“Oh, uh…I suppose I can go. I might need to get a wardrobe check first.” You took a bite of the meat and chewed. “Though, parties like that tend to get wild as the night progresses right? It’d be nice to see you getting wild.” He took your tease in stride and chuckled. “My, is this an excuse not to see you at play as well? I’m certain your hand and eye coordination in sweets making will extend to your ability to dance.”

You hit his shoulder slightly, cheeks flushed yet smile wide. Your dancing skills weren’t anything to be proud of but you could keep a beat. You swear on that!

Jade laughs, his brows furrowed and shoulders shaking. “What I mean is, you’ve worked all this time. It’s time for you to have fun.”

Fun. Your shoulders hunch over with a smile on your face. Jade sets down pieces of meat on the grill while you think. You had spent so much time at The Sweet Tooth making things from the bottom of your heart. You had spent so much time skimping and ignoring what could have interested you for so long that it made you question if you deserved it? The fun most people you know have, the happiness they found and cultivated.

“Ah, I almost forgot.” Jade reaches down and pulls a box. “You did say that my work lacked a certain something so I’ve been practicing with the help of Deuce and Floyd.” Opening it, the smell of chocolate hit your nose. “I think I’ve perfected it.”

You pop a piece into your mouth, the sweetness and bitterness mingled and taste whole and honest. As you chewed, you tasted the memories and the conversations you had with Jade up until this point. His teasing remarks and his honest comments. It was perfect.

His look was expectant. “Well?”

You swallowed the sweet morsel and smiled at him, nodding your head “Well done.”

The wedding was beautiful, the ceremony was solemn and the dance floor was filled with people dancing together. You were dressed in your best attire and nursing a drink in your hands. “There you are.” Azul’s voice pushed through the noise, behind him was his newlywed sister. “This is the owner of The Sweet Tooth, they’re the ones who made all the sweets,” Azul said with the bride, his sister, next to him. “Your sweets are the best. Everyone loves them!” She says, taking your hands in hers. “Your strawberry cake is delicious, I couldn’t stop myself from taking another slice.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” You say, smiling at the infectious sweetness of the newlywed bride’s smile. “Please, enjoy the food to your heart’s content.”

She nods, shaking your hands. “Enjoy the party! You’re welcome to dance with us if you’d like.” Azul chuckled as his sister ran to entertain the guests. “That girl, always too excited for her own good but I’m glad she’s happy. Thank you for helping, I really appreciate it.” You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s not a problem, Mr. Azul. Just seeing people happily eat my creations is enough for me.”

Nodding his head, he moves to step away. “Do enjoy the party.”

The music shifted to a slow beat and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sudden shift of mood as the guest scrambled to dance with their respective partners. Your loneliness wouldn't sit for long when Jade took to your side. In his hand was a plate of strawberry cake.

“Enjoying the food?”

“I’d be lying if I wasn’t.”

He continues to eat while you watch the people dance in the center, the bride and her groom waltzing it away in the center with foreheads connected and smile wide. “Would you like to dance?” Jade looked down at you, his hand at the ready. You hesitated for a moment before taking it and walking with him to the dance floor.

The music was slow and so were your movements. Jade’s held your hand as you spun around slowly, the distance between you and him growing smaller and smaller. “Having fun?” He asked just as the lights dimmed to match the mood of the floor. “You always ask lots of questions, Jade.” You said, leaning your head to his chest. “I can’t help but be very curious, that’s all. I only want to make sure everything I do is satisfactory.”

You spun again, changing sides. “So you’ll only act if the person likes it, then?” He chuckles, eyes furrowed and sharp-looking teeth showing. You never admitted to it but, seeing him this way made him look so cute. “When you say it that way, you’re making me up to be some kind of boot licker.”

“Ah, c’mon. There’s no harm in making people happy. But you gotta think for yourself.”

“How ironic of you to say that.”

You stuck out your tongue at him in defiance and he laughed again just as the song shifted to one more intimate. “But…If I were to have things go my way.” He pulled your hands a little closer and letting go to let them settle on your waist, rocking you side to side. “I would want you to stay a bit longer.”

Your foreheads connecting and your noses almost touching. “That’s what I want.”

The hands on his chest bundle into fists, your cheeks quite warm. “I-if…If that’s what your heart desires.” Did you really deserve this kind of happiness? You asked yourself that millions of times yet never thought to answer it yourself. Did you deserve the singing feeling in your heart after ignoring it for so long?

“Then, will you dance with me again?” He asked, your body shivering as he held you close to him,

“Yes.”

The wedding ended and the guests began to leave. You stood at the edge just as the taxi you flagged down came to a crawling stop. Jade stood behind you with his hand holding yours. “Well,” You say, turning to him with a smile. “This is goodbye, then. The wedding is done and the customers are happy with the food. A perfect run, don’t you think?”

“Indeed.”

The two of you stood together for a while before you spoke to break the silence. “Thank you for tonight, Jade. I had lots of fun.”

Your heart soared remembering the dances you had with him but it soon plummeted to your stomach knowing it would probably be the last you’d do that with him. “I’m glad.” That was all he could say, “I’m glad you had fun.”

Nodding your head, you turned around and opened the car door. “Yeah. Real fun. Goodnight, Jade.” He nodded his head and your hand slipped out of his hand you. He put his hands behind his back and watching you speed off home, his tall figure growing smaller and smaller as the distance between you grew.

“Where to?” Asked the taxi driver.

You sniffle, looking away with a sigh. The moment of happiness you felt became a distant memory to come back to. The answer to the question you’ve always asked yourself was all too clear to ignore. You spared no second in answering.

“Baker’s Street.”

The new day had started and you thought it couldn’t get any worse. You had slept through your alarm and Deuce was nowhere to be seen. Hastily donning your uniform, you sprinted your way to the shop only to see loads of boxes being hauled in. Deuce watched by the door.

“Deuce, why didn’t you wake me up? What’s going on here??”

Your cousin gave you a questioning look that turned into realization. “Didn’t Azul tell you? He was planning a visit after the wedding.” Azul and his sister, as if on cue, walked out of the store. “Good morning, sorry for the mess we’ve caused.”

“N-no, it’s not a problem really but what are you doing here?”

“Everyone loved your foods last night and thought to have breakfast here before leaving. Deuce told us you were short on hands so I had the twins help out.” Deuce chuckled and scratched his head. “You looked so tired that I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Azul, everything’s ready.

Jade came out, his apron stained with oil and hair slicked back. The two of you alock eyes with one another for a split second. “Right. Let’s have a nice meal, shall we?” He and his sister went back in and leaving you alone. Deuce was quiet with his exit, only letting out a small laugh as he left you alone with Jade.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” You scratched your cheek with a small laugh. “I didn’t expect to see you again so suddenly.” He drew closer, taking your hand in his. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?” In your hand was a piece of chocolate, the very first thing you taught him to make.

“I just wanted to make sure everything is perfect.”

You popped it into your mouth and chewed. The morsel was not too sweet and not too bitter, the memories of the both of you making your heart soar to the heavens. “What do you think?” The hold on his hand never left yours.

“I think you’ll know what I say.”

He chuckles, moving with you to enter the shop. The bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue for longer than it should. Your fingers intertwined as you turned the sign over, signaling a new day of business at your shop. This was your happiness.

#works from the typewriter #twsited wonderland #jade leech #g/n reader #jade leech x reader #jade ficlets #valentines event

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

Note

From the angst list: "I never loved you" with WinterIron if you're up for it? :)

Bucky takes a long look at the screen.

“Why me of all of us? Why can’t Nat do it?”

“You’re the closest to his type, whereas I am not,” Natasha says, looking particularly miffed. “At least, that’s what Bruce said.”

“And I’m the smart one on this team for this one,” Bruce says, sliding his glasses down his nose. “Stark likes tall, dark, and handsome. Also potentially someone who could kill him.”

“I can kill a man! You’ve seen me do it dozens of times!”

“And as satisfying as it is each time, still not who we need,” Bruce says. “You can be part of clean-up.”

“Why exactly are we doing this again?” Bucky asks. “Not saying it’s not necessary, but I’m assuming we can get past security.”

“Ix-nay on that,” Maria says, frowning. “We’re getting Tony out of the weapons distribution game. He’s been selling under the table to a group called Ten Rings, and we need that shut down. Also, his security is impossible to break into. Trust me.”

“Even past government level?”

“Especially past government level,” Bruce says, admiration laced into his voice. “Government level is stupid-easy to hack compared to Stark Industries. Theirs is like breaking into Heaven itself.”

“Or Hell, depending on your outlook,” Maria says.

“If their security is good, then it means I’ve been had,” Bucky says. “I don’t think they’re gonna bypass this face and go ‘oh yeah, perfect for the job,’” Bucky says. “Which, by the way, am I just seducing him or getting a job?”

“Seduction,” Natasha answers. “Bump into him. Disregard his status as a billionaire. He’ll swoon. Rich guys always do.”

“Good to know next time my rent is late,” Clint adds, actually writing it down.

“I have no idea why you always grumble that we never send you on missions when you do this,” Steve says. “But back to the subject.”

The plan is this:

Bucky runs into Tony as he’s out walking. For a billionaire, Tony is surprisingly easy to track down. Maybe it’s because he knows he’s built up a tech empire and if anyone does kidnap him (and they try) his tech quite literally saves him.

They’re theorizing if Bucky is an outlier, a chance encounter, they might have an upper hand.

He’s not sure, but hey. What the hell. Gets him out of the house.

Tony frequents a coffee shop that is unfairly tacky, has lemon-blueberry muffins, and Bucky is ordering an iced latte.

He bumps into Tony, sending him off-balance.

The man is tinier than anticipated.

Bucky all but lunges to make sure his head doesn’t go right into the glass windows.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “Wasn’t thinking that hard, sugar.”

Tony calls all of his friends by pet names. They figured he’d appreciate it.

Judging by the small smile making its way onto his face, he does.

“No harm done, not if I get to see someone as gorgeous as you,” Tony says, all but purring. “I’m a regular here, and I’ve never seen you before.”

“Just moved back to New York,” Bucky supplies smoothly. “Work opportunity.”

He buys Tony a coffee for the trouble.

Buying a man with all the money in the world, coffee.

He gets a number printed in blocky, engineering script on a napkin with a promise to “call for a date, if you want.”

He calls the next day, heart jack-hammering out of control.

It feels awkward to have Steve and Nat right there, egging him on to take him on a simple date.

They go on a picnic. The weather’s nice, Bucky’s nervous, and Tony grinning at him is not helping.

He feels...guilty. He’s pulled undercover work before, hell even gone down the same line of thinking.

But this...this is different. Tony doesn’t seem to even acknowledge that he’s the most well-known person in the world. Sure, there are the signs. Allusions to business, Obadiah Stane “killing” him so to speak, if he doesn’t get a weapon done in time.

Tony Stark is far more different than Bucky had expected. He wears old t-shirts and jeans that have definitely been in his closet for a long time, doesn’t always remember to style his hair, and definitely enjoys having Bucky around.

The terrible thing is that Bucky actually really enjoys the man’s presence. He’s casually affectionate, unaware that Bucky could kill him if he was feeling particularly bored.

Tony tells him about his day. About the little things in life, like that he discovered that he likes a certain kind of creamer or a funny thing Rhodey said.

His friends are guarded, but nice. They don’t trust Bucky, and for good reason.

(After all, Bucky’s just another one in a long list of people that have dated Tony for something.)

And he hates it when his eyes light up because he’s excited to see him, or when Tony pecks him on the cheek when they get to Bucky’s place (and it’s not his place, it’s a safe house that he had to personalize a bit), and just...

“You catching feelings?” Natasha asks.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Good.”

They both know it’s not good.

In order to maintain a cover and not have it blow up in your face, you need to feel a little bit. Or be a hell of an actor.

Bucky’s not the type to be nominated for an Oscar. .

When he’s lying in bed, he remembers that Tony is the one who’s selling under the table. He’s causing needless deaths and it’s a shock to the system.

Because Tony can’t even kill a spider. He gets a napkin and shrieks as he flings it out into the patio garden he has. He coos when he sees a dog walk past the breakfast place they tend to frequent in fair weather.

Tony goes to farmer markets early and buys bouquets and hands out the baked goods to people on his way home.

He complains that he needs a pinstriped suit but nowhere makes it right. He puts his head against Bucky’s shoulder after a long day at work, and is very tactile. He puts Bucky’s hair into buns and is so delicate.

And it all is a lie.

It is a lie when Bucky pushes that one unruly curl out of the way when he kisses Tony on the forehead. It is a lie when he gives him fun space socks and laughs when Tony’s first action is to slide on the wooden floor.

It is a lie when they go to the art museum with hands interlaced and make fun of modern art. When Tony whispers that he loves Michelangelo, and everyone says he should like da Vinci, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

“Michelangelo painted and sculpted what he saw, and that was strength in people,” Tony says. “He used everyday models. He created a sense of pride in creation. And I never forgot that, that pride of creation.”

And Bucky swallows and it’s hard to breathe for a moment because creation is not something he would say.

Obadiah Stane knows about Bucky. He doesn’t approve of him because he is yet another distraction that pulls Tony away from work.

“You’re a golden goose, boy,” he says, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Bucky can’t help but be uncomfortable in his presence. He calls Tony “boy” and maybe that’s from knowing him from such a young age, but that doesn’t feel like it.

“Well this golden goose likes going on dates with his love,” Tony says, pecking a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. He smiles on instinct.

“Sorry, sir,” Bucky begins. “But he’s only human.”

Stane doesn’t like this Barnes guy. There’s something off about him, something that’s too...close.

He looks into Bucky Barnes.

Had some military service, was MIA. Almost declared KIA until a guy named Captain Rogers brought him back from somewhere in Eastern Europe, somewhere that Stane was familiar with.

He calls two numbers.

One is to inform the military of a surprise cancellation on a weapons demonstration regarding the Jericho missile.

The other is to a man who he hadn’t dined with in quite some time.

“Pierce, how do you feel about lunch on Saturday?”

Alexander Pierce is a man who is quite easy-going. He can do a lunch on Saturday, particularly with Obadiah Stane.

“Good to see an old friend again,” he says, taking his wine glass. “What do I owe an occasion for? Did you finally get Stark to agree to marry one of my nieces?”

“Not quite yet,” Obadiah says, smiling at the waiter. “Could I get the sirloin, medium-well? Thank you so much.”

“I’ll take the grilled salmon,” Pierce says, handing his menu over.

“How are the kids?” Obadiah asks as the waiter’s gone.

“Fine, fine. You know how the younger generation is. Think they know everything when they get to college. Samantha wants free college. Thinks we didn’t pay for anything back in the day.”

Stane laughs.

“They’ll do that, for sure. Tony comes back with all sorts of ideas in his head about medical fees and do-good-community-bullshit.”

Pierce takes another swallow of wine.

“I assume you don’t want to just know about my kids.”

“No, no that’s not all. I need to know how much you know about one James Barnes.”

Pierce stills.

“What do you know about him?”

“Tony has a new...partner,” Obadiah says, “and he goes by Bucky. I saw that he was nearly declared KIA. Can’t imagine that that was satisfactory for you.”

“It still isn’t. You know where he is?”

“I can point you to his apartment.”

“Excellent. Are we splitting the check?”

“I’ll get it, you get the other thing,” Stane says. “And don’t make it too big of a thing, okay? Dramatics aren’t what we need.”

“Got it. Thank you.”

They enjoy the steak and the salmon.

Stane tips absolutely nothing.

What Obadiah doesn’t know but probably should have is that Tony was sleeping over at Bucky’s place.

He would not have sent Pierce there at the time that he did.

He’s lucky that Bucky still remembers how to kill a man and gets out of the bed, knife already in hand.

Tony is clutching the blankets, frozen.

“You...what.”

“Do you have anyone after you to kill you?” Bucky pants.

Another guy comes up, and he’s not even looking at Tony.

Well. Looks like Stane looked into him a little bit.

“Babe, what the fuck is going on?” Tony asks sharply. He’s scrambling to get under the bed, yelping as he finds what is either the handgun or the machete. He thinks he put the handgun on the opposite side.

Tony pops out with the machete.

“I may or may not have not told you some things,” Bucky says, throwing the guy against a wall.

“Like fucking what?”

“I might have been a secret agency’s weapon for at least a year,” Bucky says. “In my defense, I remember nearly none of it except for sometimes.”

“Except for sometimes?!” Tony yells, brandishing the machete.

He’ll have to remember that he has the handgun on the other side.

“Darlin’, I need you to go to the kitchen and grab my cellphone. Call Nat, tell her you need help.”

It’s a whole clusterfuck is what it is. Bucky’s dealing with three different men all in varying states of pain in his apartment, his boyfriend (well, kind of a boyfriend, he doesn’t know he’s not one) is on the front lawn, and Bucky is in his room debating on redecorating tips and panicking.

“Why the fuck would someone send people after you?” Natasha hisses. “Who knows?”

“Stane, most likely,” Bucky says. “Got suspicious. Hated that I would take Tony out for dates.”

“Why, he homophobic?”

“Among other things. I think I cut into Tony’s productivity time.”

“Oh my fucking god, seriously? You took Tony out for ice cream and that’s what did it?”

“Most likely. Rhodes and Potts didn’t suspect a thing. I’m thinking Stane knows Pierce, probably made contact. But it begs the question as to why. Because he could get around my timing.”

“Maybe it’s not Stark who’s selling,” Natasha says, “and that means we’ve wasted a fucking year with this whole shtick.”

Tony is standing outside the door.

“You...so you were exactly like the other ones?”

Bucky’s chest constricts.

“I--I can’t say no.”

“So you never loved me?” Tony asks quietly. “Every single time you got me a present, it was just to lead me away from something else? Every single time you picked me up for brunch, it was an act?”

“Tony--”

“So after all this,” Tony says, gesturing to the framed pictures and the set of drawers that were specifically for him in mind, “you were gonna look me dead in the eyes and say ‘I never loved you’?”

“We thought you were selling weapons under the table,” Natasha explains. “We needed to get close without tripping any alarms.

Tony freezes.

“Well. You did your job. Now I’m getting the hell out of here. And I’m taking the fucking machete.”

Tony tears apart Bucky’s tires on his way out.

That’s fair.

Bucky was not expecting to feel like absolute fucking shit.

Or try to apologize to Tony.

He calls and texts and even shows up to the tower, but Jarvis says if he comes in then he’ll be obliterated to pieces.

“Does it help if I don’t care that I die?” He asks hopefully.

“I do not want to bother our cleaning services with something so trivial, Barnes,” Jarvis says.

Even his AI is mad at him.

Existence is a curse and a prison. He is definitely writing his own eulogy and telling everyone it was Bruce’s fault that he sent him instead of Nat. Nat probably could’ve done it. And not fucked it up and gotten feelings and now feel like drowning to Lana Del Ray.

“You’re so fucking sad,” Sam says, poking Bucky in the leg. “Stop listening to sad shit, I think it’s affecting Bruce. You know how Bruce is when Lorde comes on.”

“Yeah, he gets all mad and tells us we’re disappoints to natural worlds,” Steve calls out. “Bucky, you want a grilled cheese or are you gonna deny yourself a functional dinner and eat two pretzel rods later tonight?”

“Aren’t we out of pretzel rods?” Bucky grumbles back.

“I’m making you a grilled cheese now then. If you don’t eat it I’m going to tell you all about my day, and I had to wait in a really long line at the DMV.”

“Ugh,” Bucky groans. “How is your life sadder than mine at this point?”

“His life isn’t sad, it’s just boring,” Sam answers. “Steve, you’re boring.”

“If I’m so boring, then why the fuck am I still here?” Steve asks. “You never call Bruce boring when he rants about nineteenth century art and elitism.”

“That’s because I’m right and I called Cezanne a ‘punk bitch’ and made it funny,” Bruce says. “You are around for entertainment value and aesthetics only. Also because occasionally you let Sharon visit and I love her.”

Despite his best efforts, Tony is crying on a Friday afternoon at 2:34 p.m. This should not be happening, but it is.

Pepper says he shouldn’t have his desk face the door, it’s kind of sad.

“Just...god I hate that I like him!” Tony exclaims. “I hate that I know he kind of didn’t mean to do this, except he did, but he thought I was a criminal! And I still like him! Even though objectively what he did was bad but I haven’t talked to him!”

“You’re a sad little man,” Pepper says.

“If you call me a ‘little man’ one more time I think I might go unhinged and destroy the fourth floor,” Tony says. “And I know that you store your and Rhodey’s favorite coffee there because they don’t mess with cabinets.”

“You monster.”

Pepper reshuffles her papers.

“Well, while you sign these--and you willl, stop pouting--I’m going to tell you something.”

Tony starts signing.

“While I think that Bucky is questionable at best, I don’t quite think he was there because he wanted something. Other than you in jail, but like. I don’t think even that.”

“Should I be consulting a therapist about this?”

“Probably. Are you going to?”

“I’m me. No.”

Pepper snorts. She gets one signed form back.

“He felt guilty taking your gifts. He liked baking you desserts so when you got back home the house would smell like cookies. You’re not the only one who misses that, by the way.”

“So are you saying I should take him back?”

“At least talk to him. Decide if you want him back or not. Keep in mind he can’t come to family dinner for a hot minute.”

“Understood.”

Bucky gets a text asking about dinner.

He says yes.

Obviously.

They go to a restaurant neither of them know. Tony still passes an old dinner favorite, and remembers that Bucky had hated the fish.

Bucky passes by a breakfast favorite. Or late night favorite.

He remembers making little pyramids of the coffee creamers and Tony figuring out how to get creative with the tin foil for leftovers.

The restaurant has a fucking wait list.

Fifteen minutes.

So they’re standing there and making the most awkward small-talk available because it’s not like you can ask if someone is doing fine after they were attempted to be killed and you also found out they thought you were the criminal mastermind.

At least, you can’t ask it while you’re on a wait list at a restaurant.

They get seated at the bar because Tony is a gigantic pushover and Bucky doesn’t mind bar seats.

They order drinks and then Bucky orders an appetizer and it occurs to Tony that for the first time in a long time, he’ll have to ask to split the checks.

“How have you been doing?” Bucky asks.

How have you been doing. What a fucking sentence. What a damn question.

“Are you asking me how I am doing?” Tony responds. “When I found out that my boyfriend was faking it, my uncle was basically Claudius from Hamlet, and I also have to revamp my company entirely from scratch and fired the most amount of people I think I’ve ever done because of said-tragic-uncle? Oh James, I’m doing just absolutely peachy.”

Oof, James.

Bucky orders a martini.

“For the record, I am very sorry,” Bucky says. “About everything. I shouldn’t have done all that I did, and I probably should’ve just asked you if you were selling weaponry.”

“You think I would’ve told you?”

“Well no, but you’re the worst liar on planet earth,” Bucky says. “You said you liked my cardigan. You never did.”

“It was a monstrosity and you know that,” Tony argues. “I hope you burn it.”

“I’ll let you burn it,” Bucky says.

“Are you serious?”

“Course I am.”

They order from a very nice waitress who most likely has no idea the amount of shit they need to talk about, or the epic level of just...drama.

“How are you doing?” Tony asks, stirring his lemonade. “Still being a weird conman?”

“I usually am not the conman,” Bucky answers. “I’m usually the guy who’s long-distance.”

“What the fuck do you mean long--oh. Oh. Never mind, I don’t wanna know. Nope.”

“Well other than that, I’m fine. You know. Making coffee. Getting up in the morning. All that fun jazz.”

(Tony politely does not mention that all of those activities are not “all that fun jazz.” They are not fun, nor particularly jazzy.)

They sit awkwardly. Tony checks his phone.

“I still like you. And I want to hear your side of things,” Tony says. “I’m...open option.”

“You did not just say open option like you’re a college tour guide.”

“Get to the point,” Tony says.

“We thought you were the one double-dealing under the table,” Bucky says. “So we decided that I would go in. We couldn’t surpass your security, Jarvis is too good.”

“He’ll be glad to hear that.”

(This is because Jarvis is a Smug Bastard. Just like his dad.)

“And so I was introduced to you. Bumped into you completely by accident, or so it seemed. Sincerely didn’t mean to drop coffee.”

“Okay.”

“I was to get to know you in a way that didn’t involve anything with the company so that there wouldn’t be added security measures. You vetted me as a romantic interest, not a threat. You didn’t do deep digging.”

“Good to know,” Tony murmurs. “I did it after all of...that. You have an impressively mysterious background, Bucky.”

“I tried my hardest,” Bucky says.

“Continue with your story.”

“Somewhere along the line, I started...well I was conflicted. Because Tony, I don’t mean this as a way to sugarcoat, but you are genuinely one of the best people I’ve ever had in my life.

And I just...I couldn’t stop hurting myself every single time I saw you because I thought you were this person who put profit over people, and then you weren’t. And I completely fucked that up. And I was a terrible person who manipulated you. That wasn’t okay.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Tony says. “But it also should be said that I let the wool get pulled over my eyes. I wasn’t personally checking in on the company that I own. And if there were under-the-table dealings, the CEO should know. And I was just compliant with whatever Obie was doing because I thought that he was good just because I knew him. That was...stupid of me.”

They order food. It’s kind of awkward. They are both pretty sure the waitress has caught on that something is up with them.

Bucky decides to eat his mac n cheese.

Tony is looking at it.

“You want some?”

“Better not. Your appetite is always huge.”

“Yeah but you like mac n cheese.”

Bucky scoops some of it onto Tony’s plate. In usual circumstances, Tony would’ve just swooped in with his fork and stolen it like the gremlin he is.

But this is not the usual circumstance.

They split the check. Get the wrong bills. Pay them anyway, because they are nothing if not nice and slightly desperate for each other.

“I’ll..see you soon,” Tony says. “It was nice talking to you.”

They get to know each other as people, after that amazingly awkward lunch.

Tony finds out that Bucky really, really loves getting up early in the morning. He has a ritual that he rarely strays from. Bucky also likes working on cars and bikes, and that’s something they enjoy together.

Tony loves quoting old movies and talking in the very stupid but very adorable transatlantic accent.

They find new restaurants to try. They figure out that they both would prefer to not go into sandwich shops. (Varied reasons, all stemming from events from 2004. Do not ask.)

Bucky gets Tony a series of old movies and movie posters, which Tony adores. Pepper and Rhodey approve.

“You’re no longer on the kill-list!” Pepper exclaims brightly.

“I think Bucky here could kill you if he wanted to,” Tony defends.

“I could not,” Bucky immediately counters. “All of your friends terrify me on a level that shouldn’t exist.”

“I’ll keep this in mind the next time I want late night pizza,” Rhodey says. “You should not have shared with the class, Barnes.”

“Like you wouldn’t have found out anyway,” Bucky answers, snorting. “You found out where to find my middle school pictures and blow them up on Stark Industries’ presentation boards. What else couldn’t you find out?”

“Bruce’s phone number,” Rhodey says, sighing.

“Oh, I have that,” Tony says.

“And you didn’t tell me?” He screeches. “I could’ve been taking him to brunch by now!”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“You’re so dramatic. I have no idea where you got that from.”

Rhodey flips him off.

Pepper delicately sighs, picking her plate up.

“I’m turning in the for the night. Rhodey, I’d suggest you do the same.”

It’s not subtle at all. They all know that Tony and Bucky are going to talk.

They’ve been doing this dance for a couple of months now. Going on dates, leaving each other at the door and kissing on the cheek goodbye. Only recently has Tony restarted activities they used to do. It still sends a zing to Bucky’s heart when Tony kisses him on the cheek before he leaves.

“So.”

God, what a great start. Really and truly. Their best one yet, of course.

“Listen,” Bucky says. “I don’t have a lot that you don’t already know. But what you should already know is that I will and can die for you. Doesn’t matter what the circumstance is. And I know you’d do the same, I can always tell. But I know that you dying for somebody is different from me because you carry the world on your shoulders and I don’t.

And these months have been rough, I know they have. I’m beyond grateful that you got that lunch with me and we agreed to actually date and have no secrets--except for the time you used the last of my blackberry preserves--but that’s okay. You can use all of my jams and preserves for whatever you want as long as I get to see you for the rest of time.”

Tony stills.

Because he wasn’t expecting this many words. He had actually prepared a whole speech. Even practiced it in front of his mirror.

(Also he was not expecting to be in his ratty old workshop t-shirt, but here he is.)

Tony melts.

He crawls into Bucky’s lap, sighing.

“I’m never leaving.”

“Really? After all that, and all I get is cuddles?” Bucky sighs dramatically. “The folly of man.”

“You get cuddles for the rest of time,” Tony says, “plus a little more. Discounted rate, of course.”

“Oh, a discounted rate?” Bucky says, cackling. “Debit or credit?”

Tony grins, laughing. He pulls Bucky into a kiss.

“Missed that.”

“Me too.”

They won’t miss it anymore. At least, not for as long as it was.

#lovelyirony writes #winteriron #bucky barnes #tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #bruce banner #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #sharon carter #clint barton #steve is a little shit in this and i LOVE it #i need to write him like that more

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blee-bleep · 4 years ago

Note

Though I disagree vehemently about your take I'm also very curious of your arguments for why you think Akko is such a bad character?

Anon, you have no idea what you just fucking asked of me. Time for a review! This is going to be hella’ long.

Vanilla Character that insists that she has personality

So the one thing I’m going to start off with is; The Relatable/Vanilla Protagonist Syndrome. This is the syndrome that is used for most main characters in order to have a clean-slate character that is basically the audience in order to promote the world-building in the series by having them absolutely no clue of what is the world around them. That is what Akko exactly is, and that is what Trigger abuses her out of.

Little Witch Academia is an anime that focuses solely on world-building, so much so that they’re willing to pile over their characters in order to show what magic can do.

(And apparently for Trigger, world-building also means learning who the author of a 200-yo Twilight spinoff book is and who was Holbrooke’s dad)

But the point is, the anime is a pile of boring trash fire that focuses on world-building, even from its original exposition of the OVA. It uses the pattern of ‘theme/problem of the week’ in half of the series with arcs going nowhere for a while and suddenly rushes an epiphany in the last few episodes. *cough ep 15*

The point with world-building serialization is that it needs a way to be promoted, and what way for it to promote is to get Akko to fuck around with it. As her job as the protag, that’s exactly what she does for more than half of the series. She’s like a stretchy character that is carried by the plot with gross insistence from the show that she has character (which is being stubborn and clumsy that is written off as ‘passionate’).

What’s worse is Trigger has all these ideas yet none of them are polished to its fullest (like the political divide between witches and modern government) or is overlapped by some bullshit to add because Japan. (seriously, a hunting-themed episode with cool lore, and yet a third of the episode is all about robots and building it? What the fuck?)

See, that’s why I think Akko is a horribly written character, not her character itself (if that were the case then I would’ve ditched the show the first episode) but because how she’s executed with it for the show. She’s constantly pulled by different bullshit the show comes up and makes her pull the answers the episode needs out of thin fucking air just because the writers said ‘fuck you’ to development and that they need to end the problem at some point right?

If characters can’t be tied correctly to the worldbuilding then there’s a chance that the character themselves would break, because it just can’t often work with what you’ve already placed in the previous episodes you’ve set up in the first place. Arcs overlap with each other and LWA doesn’t do shit for that until it needs a banging climax.

Akko is constantly renewed and she learns nothing from what she learned (or at least hints of it), except for the metamorphosis bullshit and Shiny Rod. Which brings me to my next point on why Akko is such a horrible character.

Shiny Rod is a Leech

This thing is basically the plot device that Akko is so tied to. If there’s ever an episode where it solely focuses on Akko herself, it’s often related to either Shiny Rod or Chariot du Nord, which is the shittiest way to limit a character with so much exposition with everything the series has thrown at her. The only other way the series doesn’t do this to her is Diana in episode 12, but it isn’t even focused on her, it’s focused on the cabbage and her Draco Malfoy syndrome.

Anyways, were an episode be connected to Akko in some way, it’s always limiting to her duty as the holder of the Shiny Rod and the occasional situation from Chariot. Not from her friends, who she clearly relates to and has more history with, but with the Shiny Rod and Chariot.

The series lazily signs this as Akko’s resolution to her character by the last episode (FUCK THAT) and does nothing else with her relationship with other characters outside of Diana and Chariot. Honestly, you’d expect that after going through Sucy’s mind and visiting Lotte’s hometown, she would’ve grown as a better character and more than being a two-dimensional ‘chosen-one’ character who only gets an episode if it focuses on the plot-device that pulled her in the magical world in the first place.

But no, Trigger is still insisting pies, weird shops, and other boring stuff needs to be shown for the series to make it interesting, and dumps the idea to the next. An arc is never properly made for all the shit they let Akko go through because the series is so fast-paced in the wrong places. And when it does focus on what is important (more important than finding about Nightfall’s author), it’s usually done spontaneously thus eliminating the suppose suspense that the single important thing is supposed to do *I HATE EPISODE 15 WHAT THE FUCK*

The point is, Akko is just a ‘believing heart’. A holder of Shiny Rod, who managed to get under Chariot without her knowing. It’s like she’s Midoriya (My Hero Academia) but much watered down and if you take that away from her, she has nothing, when out of all the stuff she could’ve had.

What LWA’s writers hadn’t realized is that what they actually wrote for Akko is what could’ve been her focus but Trigger insists for the world-building theme is that Akko’s arc should only come in the climax and the filler episodes are for her friends because you know, it won’t be more interesting that way and now they have a main protagonist that’s actually interesting beyond their design and suppose-personality.

Thus I’m next to my last bullshit:

Akko, the Wasted Potential™

I recently rewatched Citrus lately, and though the show is much narrow than LWA’s world of magic, I realized what actually makes it better than it in ways that the latter fails. And it’s their protagonist.

I know you guys will trash about Yuzu being a simp and all, and I absolutely agree with that, but what makes Yuzu better than Akko is not because she’s more down-to-earth, but she has a three-dimensional mindset, a mindset which is the very thing kept away from Akko.

While Yuzu may not have been pushed into a world of magic by the neck and gets dragged by the plot as violently as Akko (and the two very different themes of the two shows of course), but if you pull those away, their passion are nearly built the same. What differs them both is that Yuzu actually acts out what she needs to do and builds a steady relationship with the other characters around her, even if it’s very subtle and small. (Like, Harumin being her wicked hot sidekick? God yes, top-tier Gyaru)

Akko, on the other hand, literally goes into one of her best friend’s mind in a poison-induced coma and gets shoved into her other best friend’s culture by visiting her hometown. You might think she’d grow from that and realize what it takes to be a better character, right? WRONG.

Of course, Trigger uses these things as filler episodes and nothing more. It doesn’t reflect on Akko’s character because she’s not allowed to think like it should. Though the show would insist she has personality, it does the opposite when Akko’s only character is only used as ‘believing heart’ for the Shiny Rod and nothing much else, because the only times when they do get her a new attitude is dropped off right after.

It would’ve been cool if they dropped the world-building theme for a bit and focus on how they should make the characters much more interesting than having their personalities as the root problems of episodes.

When I first watched LWA, I had so much more expectation for the characters themselves, especially Amanda O’Neill after her introduction in episode 3. But came episode 5 and then she… didn’t really matter that much despite being in half of the episode. And she didn’t have another one not until 11 episodes later. Imagine making and hyping up such a unique character and barely giving her screentime of three episodes! That’s one of the grossest things you can do in baiting lesbians, Trigger!

And it doesn’t stop at Amanda; it applies to almost every other character. Chariot is the pink-print disappointment of a hyped character that didn’t have enough time. She’s a plot-device character that everyone was anticipating but she’s barely given the after of a shitty episode 14 (that has another completely different problem altogether). Episode 15 was literally the worst you could’ve done to make a twist because a) the development leading to that revelation was undercooked, and especially shitty because the show basically used Croix as a plot device, b) it’s done nearly towards the end of the series so the timing for her hype was weirdly placed, and c) Chariot’s personality from that episode is being used repeatedly just to let Akko become a sitting duck.

So yeah, Trigger was so focused on the concept of world-building and making magic look as interesting as possible that the idea that maybe the characters would flat-out look bleak was not in their cone of vision. Akko was fundamentally a boring protagonist because she keeps getting pulled apart and has not ingrained anything in that, and to rub salt into the wound, she becomes so used to it that when Croix set her up with the Wagandea trap, Chariot has to intervene and at the cost of her flight powers, which does not help their characters one bit.

Akko is a shitty protagonist Trigger shredded apart just for their sake of world-building and she has learned nothing from what the show has thrown at her because the writers didn’t think she needed it, because, in the first place, it’s not about her. It’s about the Shiny Rod and completing Chariot’s story (which is half-assed in its own way). Lord knows how they botched her to the point she’s blank. She’s nothing more than a ‘believing heart’ and if Trigger just keeps there, that’s forever what she is. And that, in itself, is why I think Akko is a horrible character.

#LWA #little witch academia #atsuko 'akko' kagari #citrus #yuzu aihara #chariot du nord #shiny rod #bleewrites #pluggin in the notes so yall see this mess

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