#and shrugged off any attempt of ours to contact you?

[shiniestcrow]

Good news of the day: Frechdachs is completely scratch-free at the moment!

Bad news: we are once again without a shower

[ellecdc]

Would you be willing write a Remus fic about that super blue moon that is supposed to be happening?? like maybe it’s so so bad for him and he takes it all out on reader and she’s really sensitive and you can go from there lol

that’d be great love but it’s okay if not, thanks!! <3

thanks for the request! decided to make this with our Black!sister reader since we've been having fun with her <3

Remus Lupin x Black!reader who he takes out his Super Blue Moon frustrations on [1.6k words]

CW: Remus was being mean/rude to reader but we don't really see the angst... just the consequences of the angst, hurt/comfort, big brother Sirius having absolutely NONE of the nonsense!

“Hey moons, have you seen my sister around lately?” Sirius asked nonchalantly as he entered their shared dorm room; noticing immediately the tension in Remus’ shoulders as he positioned his body away from the door. 

“How should I know?” Remus muttered darkly. “I’m not her keeper.”

And though Sirius had tried to be cool when he first realised his baby sister and best friend had less than platonic feelings for each other and vowed to stay out of their relationship, there were unfortunately some things that Sirius couldn’t let slide.

“Did she eat all of your chocolate?” He asked calmly, causing Remus to roll his shoulders in an attempt to pacify himself. 

“No?”

“M’kay.” Sirius agreed as he put his school books in his trunk. “Did she throw your books into the Black lake?” 

“Sirius.” Remus hissed warningly.

“Did she tell Snape to sneak out after curfew to the Whomping Willow one night so that he would come face to face with Moony, only for James to have to fight you off of him as Snape ran for his life? Oh, wait, that was me.”

“Fuck off, Sirius.”

“No thanks.” Sirius huffed as he closed his trunk with a thud. “Well, if she hasn’t done any of those things, why are you treating her like such an arse?” 

“I’m not treating her like anything, Pads. Stay out of it.” Remus nearly growled as he stood abruptly from his desk and moved towards his bed. 

“Shan’t.” Sirius refused, following his friend across the room. “You chose to date my sister, you have to deal with the consequences.” 

“Great bloody choice I made.” Remus muttered petulantly, yelping when a book hit him in the head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He hissed as he looked at Sirius who was staring him down defiantly. 

“If you know what’s good for you, Rem, you will never speak about my sister like that again, got it?” 

Remus seemed to relent as he laid back on his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to bring his boiling anger down to a simmer. 

“I’m the first to admit that Black’s are not often a good bunch, but if a Black could be perfect, she’s about as close as they would come. And I don’t like seeing her this terrified.”

Remus sat up at that, narrowing his eyes at his friend in confusion. “She’s not terrified of me.”

Sirius shrugged in disagreement. “She tenses every time you walk into the Great Hall and can’t seem to make eye contact with you, which usually only happens after a crucio or two from mummy dearest.”

Sirius watched the fight leave Remus almost immediately as he looked down at his lap in shame. “She’s…sensitive, Rem. We all are, we-” Sirius cut himself off as he stared unseeingly at the stone wall behind his mates head. “We can’t handle these kinds of moods as well as some other people can; tension and anger always led to pain and punishment growing up.”

“It’s not her, Pads.” Remus whispered. 

“I know it’s not. Somewhere deep down she might know that too but…”

“I know.” Remus offered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It’s this…this fucking moon, I- it’s driving me barmy.” 

“I understand that, but you can’t take it out on her; it’s not her fault.” Sirius offered gently before retreating from the dorm to allow his friend to digest what he said; he may not like the fact that his best friend and sister found their way to each other, but he also knew that both of you deserved to be happy. If he could help you both achieve that by being supportive, well, supportive he would be. 

。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。.。:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+*ﾟ

Remus felt shame course through his body as he walked through the library in search of you. 

Between his senses being heightened this close to the moon, the additional magic at play with the super blue moon, and the fact that he knew you were a creature of habit and had a table you often frequented, it didn’t take him long to find you. 

“Mind if I join you?” He asked quietly, feeling his heart crack painfully when you did, indeed, flinch at the sound of his voice and sat impossibly straighter in your chair.

“Okay.” You whispered in response, not looking away from your book as he moved to sit across the table from you, though he could tell you were no longer reading as your eyes remained glued to one spot. 

“I’m sorry that I’ve been such an arse, Dove.”

“It’s okay.” You said quickly, still not looking at him.

“No it’s not.” He argued softly.

He watched your jaw tighten as you repositioned yourself in your chair in obvious discomfort. 

“It’s this moon.” You explained breezily. 

“Which isn’t your fault, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you- dove, can you look at me? Please?” 

He watched your throat constrict as you stole yourself and brought your eyes up to his. They were glossy, but not like you were about to cry - glossy like you were hiding, like you were occluding. 

He hated it; hated that you were hiding from him, hated that you felt like you had to hide from him, hated that he made you feel like you had to hide from him, hated that you even knew how to hide inside your own mind at all. 

“Dovey, look at me.” He repeated gently in hopes that you’d let the walls down, daring to reach a hand across the table in invitation. 

He watched as your eyes flit to his hand and back up again and he tried to keep his face neutral; no pressure or force as he let you decide if you were willing to trust him. 

You placed your hand in his, but kept your gaze pointed at your joined hands. 

“I know better than to let my moods affect you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He pressed sincerely.

You scoffed and moved your gaze to one of the rafters above you. “I’m not some delicate flower you need to tiptoe around, Remus; I can handle a bad mood.” You shot back defensively. 

“I know…” He whispered as he rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

He knew you weren’t a delicate flower; on the contrary, you were one of the strongest people he’d ever met. 

You gave the entire Hufflepuff house a run for their money on who was the most loyal wix in the castle. You always looked out for your brothers, constantly playing referee, devils advocate, and a surrogate parent for the two young Black boys. You grew up making sure Sirius never acted too outlandishly or brought too much trouble onto himself, making sure Regulus wasn’t completely beaten down into nothing and grew up to be a semi-decent boy, and taking the blame when you were unable to do either of those things. 

And to top it all off, you put up with him; a foul-mouthed, poor, Welsh, anger-issue riddled boy who didn’t deserve you. 

“Baby, look at me, please.” He begged, reaching forward with his other hand so he was holding your one in between both of his.

You turned your gaze to him and it seemed to be taking everything in your power to hold his gaze.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” He whispered, bringing your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your fingers.

Your eyes tracked the movement before flitting back up to his.

You offered him a curt nod and chewed on your bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” You whispered, eyes turning glossy for a whole new reason.

Remus made a pitiful sound from the back of his throat and stood to move to the chair beside you, never relinquishing his grasp on your hand. 

“You didn’t upset me, dove, I was just upset. And an arse; don’t forget the part about me being an arse.”

You offered him a wet chuckle at that as you sniffed, returning his hold of your hand and giving it a squeeze. 

“I hate not being able to…help, to take any of the burden off of you, to make it at all less painful for you.”

“You do, sweetheart, you do. By being here, and being with me, and being patient even when I’m an arse, okay?” He insisted, punctuating each reason he was grateful for you with a squeeze of your hand. “I don’t deserve it but I’m so lucky to have you.”

“You do deserve it.” You murmured, bringing your eyes back up to his.

And he couldn’t help himself, really; he had always been powerless against the pull you had on him and this time was no different as he closed the distance between the two of you to press a lingering kiss to your lips. 

“The point of all this,” Remus said as he broke away from you and bumped your nose with his, “is that you didn’t deserve to be treated the way that I treated you this week, and I won’t let it happen again, okay?”

You gave him a sad smile and gave his nose a bump in return.

“How mad was Sirius?”

“Fuming.” Remus admitted immediately.

“Did he throw a pillow at you?”

“A book.” He corrected solemnly, earning him an astonished look from you. 

“Oh…you crossed a line.”

Remus nodded abashedly. “Honestly? I think it might be harder to get him to forgive me than it was to get you to forgive me.”

Remus relished in the surprised laugh that bubbled out of you at that, and he vowed to never ever let another moon cause him to go this long without hearing it again.

[paperultra]

mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

[briefalpacashark]

~Cowboys and Men~ Part One ~

Synopsis : The 141 have to play cowboys.

================================================

You sat along with the other boys of the 141 as you stared at Laswell. She had just delivered the news of your next mission.

“Well shit,” you grin widely. Why? The mission was right up your alley. You had personal experience practically having grown up in the thick of it. The boys, however. You were almost certain that none of them had even come close to anything like it.

The mission. Going undercover in an American rodeo. 

“So you want us to play cowboy?” Price asked.

“That’s right. Long enough till you find this guy and bring him in,” she stated tapping her knuckle on a photo of the target. An older man with a grim surrounded by gray hair and a killer mustache.

“Y/N you'll be the one participating in the rodeo. The boys will be your team,” Laswell explained simply. 

“Her team?” Jonny asked, jabbing his thumb at you. “Why can't I be the horse rider huh?” he asked.

“Can you ride a horse?” Laswell asked.

“Well no, canne be hard, can it?” his question had you chuckling.

“Its an invite only event, we've got a contact. You'll head out tomorrow to show him what you got. He'll slot you in where he can,” Laswell focused on you as she spoke.

“Sure thing boss,” you nodded.

“Honestly Laswell, I think I could do a pretty good job,” Jonny stated.

“The fact that you think a rodeo only involves horses proves how unqualified you are for it,” You stated.

“And you are?” Jonny asked.

“I grew up in the saddle of a horse, mate. You're looking at a genuine drover,” you gestured to your body with a smirk.

“The fuck is a drover?” Jonny asked the rest of the team. Gaz simply shrugged.

“Alright dismissed,” Laswell said. 

You were quickly dispatched to the good old US of A. You were dropped off in a random field via helicopter. Your team walked up to two men on horseback. The one on the left was tall and buff with golden hair to die for. The other was slightly shorter and stubbier. But they both had one thing in common. They looked like genuine cowboys. Hats and everything.

“Howdy!” Jonny called with a terrible American accent.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Forgive him. He's hit his head a few too many times,” Price stated.

“That stunt his growth too?” The blond asked. Your laugh broke through your lips as Jonny’s smile fell.

“The one you just shut up is Soap, that's Gaz, Ghost. I’m Bravo and that’s Doc.” he pointed you all out the cowboys, tipping their hat’s to you.

“Ma’am, I heard you're the only one with experience in the saddle,” the smile the blond gave you was slightly flirtatious.

“Since I was two. Grew up on a cattle station over in Australia,” You stated walking up to him to give them both a firm handshake.

“How could you choose the military life over one in the saddle?” he asked.

“Plan to get back to it one day,” you said your attention being grabbed by his horse that tried to nibble your jacket.

“He's gorgeous. Mustang?” You asked, reaching up to brush his nose.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. “Care for a ride?” he asked with a wink. You chuckled at his obvious flirting attempt.

“Sorry mate. Not planning in hoping in any saddle that aint my own,” you said, giving the horse a pat.  

“Alright, well, this is Sam, my name's Aurthur,” he stated.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Price stated spoke up drawing the attention off you. 

“Pleasures all ours, Come on by the looks of you, it seems like we've got some work to do,” he stated.

“Work of what?” Gaz asked.

“To make you a lot cowboys,” he said with a grin.

First order of business, if you were to pass for cowboys, you had to look the part. Aurthur generously offered to take you all shopping. Your choice was quick, picked out for practicality. A simple light blue button up. A pair of denim jeans, a comfortable pair of boots and your old hat. You pulled the beat up looking thing out of your bag. It was your simple cattleman hat shape, in a dusty brown colour. It was scuffed and dirty, but it was yours. Setting it atop your head, you smiled at the familiar feeling. Slipping on the dark leather jacket, you fixed the collar before stepping out of the changing room.

“Look out,” Jonny stated from their allocated seats, all gathered in front of the changing rooms.

“So how do I look?” You asked, giving them a little pose.

“Like one hell of a rider,” Aurthur spoke up.

“So so,” Gaz tilted his hand back and forth.

“Oh yeah, let's see you do better,” you said tauntingly.

“Watch a master at work,” Gaz stated. You all waited for his outfit choice. When he stepped out you almost died of laughter. Tassels, tassels and fringe everywhere. On his head sat a bright red Tom Mix hat.

“What you don't think it's good?” he asked jokingly. 

“You look like you'll fly away in a light breeze,” Jonny joked.

“Eat shit soap,” Gaz flipped him off.

“Nah, I'll show you how it's done,” Jonny spoke up. Yells of shock sounded from you all as he walked out in a pair of assless chaps. Only they weren't assless. In fact you saw a lot of ass due to the fact that Jonny only wore the chaps. Nothing else. He held a small bowler's hat in front of his privates as he pretended to act confused. He turned around, giving you a clear view of his rosy red cheeks.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, tipping your hat down to cover your gaze.

“You know, I don't think I put these on in the right order,” he stated. Even the Price cracked a chuckle or two.

“Might get a rash ridding a saddle like that,” Ghost stated.

“I like it,” you said. Jonny gave you a wink.

“Come on Captain,” Jonny encouraged Price when his ass was contained again. 

Price walked out in a good pairing. A deep red button up, a pair of jeans, some lovely light brown boots, a light brown fleece jacket and a white brick shaped hat. 

“Captain my captain,” You whistled.

“Where did you find that fashion sense cap?” Ghost asked.

“Quiet you,” Price warned playfully.

“You know those videos where a baby sees their dad with their beard shaved for the first time and they just break out crying,” You asked. Jonny hummed in acknowledgment.

“I feel like that with that hat he's wearing,” you whispered. Jonny chuckled.

“Alright Ghost your turn,” Jonny said slapping Ghost shoulder. Ghost slowly moved his eyes from the captain to Jonny daring him to hit him again.

“Alright, be that way grumpy,” Jonny muttered. “Guess it's my turn again,” he stated. With your help, Jonny walked out in a tight black long sleeve shirt, a denim jacket and jeans. Black boots and a brown rolled brim with a puncher crown. He looked alright apart from the obviously large belt buckle he wore. A picture of a bulls head engraved on it.

“Compensating?” you asked, nodding to the buckle, getting a bird flipped to you.

“At least his ass is covered this time,” Ghost grumbled. Gaz tried again, deciding on a cowboy version of a lumberjack. Plated shirt with a vest jacket, a dark blue pair of jenes and a black version of his original hat. 

“Careful Gaz, that shirt looks a little tight,” Jonny called.

“That's the point,” Gaz stated with a smirk flexing his biceps.

“They can try all they want. The look of a cowboy is something that comes naturally. A look, ma’am that if you'll let me say looks extremely good on you,” Arthur leaned down to whisper to you. You smirked, shrugging.

“I don't know, I think they're pulling it off,” you stated. You chuckled as Gaz tried to perform his best cowboy walk. Hand on his belt and slaughtering forward before making a gun motion with his hand. And Jonny, who pretended to slow motion, to doge said bullets.

“Yeah sure,” Arthur muttered, making you chuckle harder. As you continued to watch Gaz and Jonny make a fool of themselves, you failed to notice a certain pair of eyes set on you. 

“Careful Lieutenant, you glare any harder and he might just get the message,” Price smirked as he saw the slightly pissed expression hidden behind the skull mask.

“Don't know what you mean, sir,” Ghost grumbled before walking away. 

Noticing Ghost's missing presence, you went to look for him, finding him in front of the many hats on display.

“Having trouble choosing?” You asked, walking up to him.

“Any pointers?” he asked.

“Can't help you there. This was my uncle's hat. He lost it when I won a bet,” you said.

“But,” you trailed off, your eyes searching through the hats. You smiled, reaching out to grab one.

“Yeah, this one,” you said, placing it on his head. It was low and pinched a grayish black.

“Yeah, that suits you,” you stated simply with a satisfied nod before walking away. 

When you all returned to the ranch, Simon changed into his outfit. Black jeans, dark brown boots, a black leather jacket and dark grey button up. On his head sat the hat you chose, and he still wore his skull balaclava.

“Well hello handsome,” Jonny called as he walked out to you.

“Zip it Mc’tavish,” he grumbled. Jonny chuckled as he walked up to you. In the pen Arthur walked out a horse already saddled up. Spotting other ranchers gathering round to watch with eager grins, you quickly assessed what was happening. It was a bucking horse, or at least one they were trying to break.

“Alright, lesson one of being a cowboy. Staying on a horse that doesn't want you to stay on,” Arthur stated with a wide grin.

“Any volunteers?” he asked. You chuckled, shaking your head as Jonny raised his hand eagerly.

“Love the spirit scots, man. This here is Bessy,” Arthur said, gesturing him forward. You whipped your mouth as Jonny confidently made his way into the pen.

“Ello Bessy,” he smirked. 

“I'd say goodbye to your balls now Soap, while you have the chance,” you called out to him.

“Ah, away with ye. I'll be fine,” Jonny waved you off.

“He's gonna eat shit isn't he?” Ghost asked folding his arms over his chest.

“All five courses of it,” you chuckled, pulling yourself up to sit on the railings. 

“He has medical cover right?” you asked Price that only shock his head at his soldier stupidity.

“Alright Soap. hold on tight,” After Arthur gave him a basic run down and when Jonny was sat comfortable in the saddle did he stepped back.

“You're gonna set a timer, wanna make sure there is proof when I stay on longer than those bastards,” Jonny nodded back to you all, giving you a wide confident grin as the horse started to pad at the ground.

“Sure thing, champ,” Arthur grinned. “Go on, give her a kick,” he suggested casually, taking a few cautious steps back. 

“What like this?” Jonny asked, kicking his heels gently into her sides. 

You knew pigs couldn't fly, but Jonny sure could. One buck had the poor man was out of the saddle onto the horses ass, then the second buck had the man cartwheeling through the air before landing flat on his ass his legs split in front of him. You and Gaz was practically dying of laughter as Jonny rolled around in pain holding his manly jewels. After Jonny’s poor first display, the ranchers started to pass around bets. 

“Who's next?” Arthur asked, turning to you lot.

Gaz sat on the back of Bessy looking like he was about to shit himself.

“Ok what do I do?” he asked shakily.

“Hold on,” Arthur stated simply.

“I know that, but I don't know the first thing about horses. Do do I pat it?” he asked.

“Sure, it probably won't do you any good though,” Arthur shrugged walking back.

“Come on Gaz,” you called encouragingly.

“I changed my mind, I want to get down,” Gaz stated. As he shifted his weight in the saddle, Bessy fell into a fit. Bucking and kicking like crazy. Gaz lasted about four seconds before he was bucked off. 

“This is bullshit,” Gaz grumbled, limping back to you trying to remove the dirt from his mouth. 

“Are the betting on us?” Jonny asked nodding to the growing group.

“There ranchers, this is probably the best entertainment they've had all week,” you stated.

“Yeah well they should stop,” Gaz grumbled.

“Why? They're actually betting in your favor,” you lied.

“Really?” he asked with a small grin of hope.

“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head, Gaz's smile instantly falling.

“Your acting way too high and mighty or this,” Gaz stated.

“I think I'm acting the right amount of high and mighty for my skills,” You shrugged.

“Skills we haven't seen yet,” Gaz grumbled.

“I don't need to prove anything,” you shrugged.

“Well, if ye so confident in yourself lass. How bout a wee little bet?” Jonny asked.

“Depends on what it is,” you smirked. With the smirk Jonny already knew you accepted the bet. 

“If anyone of us can last longer than you, you owe us all a week of sick leave,” Jonny put the offer forward. In the military you need a doctor's note or your medic's permission to have a sick day. Which was practically impossible to get. You don't abuse your power but you didn't put up with their bullshit either. So they only ever got sick leave when they were actually sick. And not a man cold either, they had to actually be sick.

“And what do I get?” you asked.

“Bragging rights?” Jonny suggested.

“I'll settle for a picture of you in the outfit you rocked back at the shop,” you stated, pointing to him. Jonny grinned widely.

“Deal,” he said as you too shook on it. 

“You ready, boss?” Jonny asked, turning to Price.

“A week of sick leave, you said?” he asked, debating if he wanted to be a part of your shenanigans.

“Yes sir,” you nodded. 

“Right,” he muttered, pushing his hat further down on his head before slipping in the coral and shaking his jacket off his shoulders.

You had to give it to Price, he was pretty good. And he looked like he stepped right out of a cow boy movie. The mustache and the fit was just perfect. You sucked in a breath as he was thrown from the horse. Impressed cheers came from the others. He lasted almost ten seconds.

“Ghost?” Jonny suggested.

“I prefer to keep my balls unpopped,” Ghost grumbled.

“Guess that's me then,” You spoke up. Walking up to Bessy you smiled brushing her nose before walking round her to where Arthur stood.

“Need a hand?” he offered.

“Nah mate,” you said effortlessly, swinging yourself up onto the saddle and taking the reins in hand. The familiar creak of the leather saddle and the ruff feel of the reins was welcoming. You settled into the back of the saddle, leaning back slightly. You pressed your hat down far enough down your forehead that the only thing you saw was your hands and the horse's shoulder blades.

“Alright, lets fucking do this,” you whispered before gently kicking her. You leaned back as far as you could and pulled the reins tight as she bucked wildly. Your body was jerked about left and right back and forth, yet you held on. The boys had to admit they were impressed. The ranchers cheered as the seconds drew on. As you hit the thirty second mark you swore as the horse slammed up against the side of the railings. To avoid you leg getting crushed you lumped off, the force sending you flying over the fence, right into Arthur who just happened to be sitting stop it. The two of you hit the ground in a cloud of dust. A relatively soft fall for you due to you landing on the cowboy.

“Fuck you alright?” You asked as you quickly hopped off the poor man.

“Look at that, falling for you already,” he groaned, painfully accepting your hand to help him up.

“That line usually work?” you asked with a small smile. You had to admit he was kinda cute.

“Well I don't usually have pretty women tackling me off the fence but here we are,” he said. You chuckled, shaking your head picking up your hat.

“How long was that Jonny!?” You yelled across the coral.

“Too fucking long!” he yelled back. You grinned smugly making your way back over to the boys.

Gaz and Jonny were adamant on getting those sick days. Price opted in for a few more tries, coming only four seconds from your record before he called it quits.

“Not gonna have a go Ghost?” you asked nudging his side.

“Risk getting hurt before the mission, not likely,” he stated as you watched Jonny narrowly avoid a broken bone. 

“Fair enough,” you muttered. The boys could not beat your best. With bruised bodies and prides you all retired to your a few spar rooms in the bunkhouse.

The next morning, you all gathered before dawn. Arthur said you were gonna learn how to ride. The boys walking a bit slower than they usually would. You were all assigned horses. Ghost and Price and Gaz were going well after some instruction. And Jonny. Well let's just say he wasn't built to ride horses. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Loud laughs sounded as the horse started to trot slightly, sending your little scotsman's bouncing rapidly in his saddle.

“Fu-Uck En H-EL-LL,” he said through bounces as his head bobbled around. You rode up to him gently pulling on the rains to get the horse to slow down.

“Come on Mate. your ancestors road these guys into battle,” You said.

“Nah, these are American horses. If it was a scottish horse I would be grand,” he stated definitely. Amused by his logic, you just shook your head. To your surprise, Simon pulled up on the other side of Jonny. “Having a bit of trouble there?” Ghost asked smuggle. “Fuck Ye LT,” Jonny grunted, trying to glare only for him to slid sideways in the saddle. You reached out holding his jacket to keep him steady as he readjusted. Ghost smirked before trotting forward. You rode up to his side looking over his posture, one hand resting on his thigh, the other holding both the reins. 

“You’ve done this before,” you stated.

“When I was a kid,” he muttered.

“It shows, You're a natural,” you said.

“Not as good as you,” he said.

“Oh stop it, you'll make me blush,” you grinned. He glanced over at your smile, grunting in response.

“So this is your dream, huh?” he asked. Your grin turned into a fond smile.

“Yeah. I want a nice plot of land in the tablelands,” you stated.

“Table lands?” Ghost asked.

“I'll admit you guys have some nice green pastures in England. But the tablelands. Man, it's something different altogether. Rolling green hills right out of a picture book. It's high up, lots of rain, and rainforests. Fog will roll over the hills in the cold mornings and arvos. I'll have five horses, shit ton of chickens and cows. Maybe a goat or two,” your shrugged. “Two dogs. One working kelpie and and little staffy,” you continued.

“A big old cottage that I built myself. Oh, it's gotta have a basement. Definitely a secret passage. Maybe a fake skeleton chucked in there.” your words had Simon smiling as his eyes settled on you. Settled on the sparkle of your eyes as you described it all.

“Oh and there will be this big ol tree. If I have a family I'll string it up with fairy lights and lanterns. I'll invite you boys round for week long adventures. Big ol fire place next to it,” you reminisce of a life that you possibly might never get to live. After all, your job wasn't necessarily safe.

“Oh so I’m a part of this future huh?” he asked. The instant your gaze turned to him he realized what he said. His face flushed as your smile became impossibly brighter.

“Of course,” you stated simply. Only when you did think of all those things you left out one key part. Whenever you thought about your future, the annoying prick in front of you would pop into the frame. Helping you build the cottage. Putting one of his masks on the fake skeletons. Him in the tree hanging up the lights. Him sitting next to you around the roaring fire. Clearing his throat his face flushed deeply as he looked back to the path in front of you. You didn't see the flush though. You simply saw him avoiding your gaze. For a moment, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He thought it was the only explanation for his rapid heartbeat.

“Were going for a run care to join?” Arthur called back to you.

“Sure,” you called back. 

“So you ready to show me just how good you are?” You leaned over to Ghost with a taunting

“Perhaps,” he grunted.

“First one to the tree up on that ridge,” you suggested.

“Are we betting anything?” he asked.

“Bragging rights?” you shrugged. “On three?” you suggested.

“Alright, three,” he stated kicking his horse into a gallop. An excited grin stretched across your face as you did the same. The cantering group let out exclamations of surprise as you two zoomed past them in a full gallop. Even with his headstart you quickly caught up to him. Riding would forever feel different to everything in your life. It felt like flying, but so much more magical. As you were neck and neck you looked over to Ghost who looked to you. With a wink, you dropped the reins, opening your arms out as the horse pulled forward. You won by just an inch. 

The next day it was game time. You were strapped up and dressed up for your rodeo. You left a little earlier than the boys. You were hanging around beer in hand playing the part as Arthur introduced you to a few people. Chucking your watch you glanced at the time.

“They should be here by now,” you muttered.

“Speak of the devils,” Arthur muttered nodding behind you. A low whistle left your lips as you took them in.

As everyone took them in. Women, buckle bunnies and men had their eyes set on the group. They looked like a master piece of hot manliness. And you had to admit they looked good enough to have anyone's panties dropped with just a word. There boots kicking up dust as they strutted through the crowd. You swore the music was perfect of their entrance, looking like a scene out of a movie.

“Boys,” you nodded to them as they approached.

“Anna,” Price nodded to you. Your cover name for the mission.

“Come on, I've got to introduce you to someone,” Arthur stated beckoning you all over. You sucked in a small breath as he took you all to the target. 

“Tommy,” Arthur greeted the man like old friends.

“Arthur, how are you, my boy?” he asked. He was an older man, a true cowboy.

“Good Good,” Arthur nodded as they embraced.

“So you're the one Arthurs has been speaking about. You should know outsiders aren't usually welcome here,” the target stated as he turned to you.

“What scared of the challenge?” you asked with a teasing smile. The man paused a beat before breaking out into laughter.

“She's a spunk fire all right. Name’s Tom, everyone calls me Tommy,” he greeted holding his hand out to you.

“Anna,” you introduced yourself.

“Anna, you dont look like an Anna,” he said.

“Oh yeah, what do I look like?” you asked.

“Some real classy name. Like Evangeline or somethin,” he stated.

“Well, you certainly look like a Tommy,” you said.

“Why thank you ma’am,” he tipped his hat to you.

“And who are these fellas?” he asked turning to the boys.

“I'm her manager, Cole,” Price introduced himself. “These boys are on the team,” he stated, pointing to the rest who gave nods.

“I see, well fellas I'll see you out there,” he stated giving you another nod before walking off.

“So we grabbing him?” Jonny asked.

“To many people here,” Price mumbled.

“After the main event you'll have your chance, that's when he goes home,” Arthur said. You nodded, glancing around you. Fancy profession buckers were walking all round you. 

“Nervous Darling?” Arthur asked. The boys gaze snapped to him, some pissed of some surprised. The way American men say darling is just something different.

“I'm about to strap myself to a state of the art bucking horse. Of corse im fucking nervous,” you muttered.

“Don't worry. Come on, there are some other events before. Let's get you warmed up,” he stated. You needed to keep your mind occupied, so you agreed. Steer wrestling and roping was your go to. You didn't place first in anything but you didn't do too bad. The boys looked at you in a different light as you rode beside a young bull, jumping off your horse to wrestle it to the ground, flipping it over and tying its legs up. 

“God damn,” Jonny whispered as you stood to your feet holding your hands in the air.

“She's good, really good,” Arthur stated as he stood by the boys.

“That's our girl,” Price stated simply.

“So, what are you lot to her?” he asked.

“What?” Gaz asked squinting at the man.

“You lot seem real close. I know you're a team but I don't want to step on anyone's toes, I'm a gentle man like that,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean step on anyone's toes?” Price asked, his arms folding over his chest taking on the protective dad stance.

“Look if she's spoken for I'll back off. But I don't see no ring, and she calls you all by name. No pet names,” Arthur trailed off before turning to Ghost.

“So I guess im asking what are you to her,” the question was pointed at Ghost the boys quickly catching on. Ghost turned fully to him tucking his hand under his arm pits where his guns sat, hidden by his jacket. Although he made a point to let the smooth metal peek out.

“I'm the guy that fucks you up seven ways to Sunday if you hurt her,” his voice was deathly low, shaking Arthur up a bit. Yet it was Simon's glare that had the man really scared. 

But he also got the answer he wanted.

“So she's available?” Arthur pointed out with a grin.

================================================

=Cowboys and Men = Part Two here=

================================================

~COD Master List Here~

================================================

[antiquarianfics]

Don’t Think About It

Maybe admitting how you feel isn’t the worst thing?

a/n: this is so unproofed, but who cares? daddy made you some content; it’s your favorite. open wide. (i’m sorry for calling myself ‘daddy’)

warnings: none?

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Bucky groans and clicks the TV off, throwing the remote on the coffee table unceremoniously as he leans back into the loveseat. You raise an eyebrow at his dramatics, an amused smile pulling at your lips.

“You alright there?” You tease, poking him in the shoulder.

Bucky gives you a pointed look, but his lips tick up in a tiny smile when he looks at you.

“I’m just sick of watching your ‘news.’” He does air quotes with his hands around “news.”

“Why’s that?”

“Uh,” he starts, looking around the room as he gestures widely. “It’s dumb, doll.”

“Hey!”

“It is,” he says curtly. “It doesn’t matter if two random celebrities are being seen together, or if one famous person unfollowed another famous person, or if that one offhand comment a singer made was actually a secret easter egg for a new music video.” He rolls his eyes. You scoff dramatically in mock offense.

“How dare you! It’s not stupid! It’s entertaining.” You nod your head and try to put on an expression of the utmost sincerity.

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, how so?”

“Sometimes they talk about us.”

This gets his attention—his interest.

“Us? Us, us?” His eyes lock in yours.

“No, the Avengers,” you shrug. “It’s kind of funny the things they think about our lives. Either way, though, I kind of like hearing about what celebrity is mad at who, which celebrity is crushing on who.” You sigh. “It’s fun.”

“Crushes are dumb,” Bucky says. It’s abrupt and matter of fact. It takes you off guard, but you find yourself going along with it without thinking much about it. Truth is, though, you will go along with a lot Bucky says without really thinking your words over first; it’s as if your desire to impress him and attract his attention takes over.

“Oh, yeah,” you scoff, “for sure. Crushes are so dumb. They make me act so stupid in front of people I like.” You laugh.

“You always act stupid, though,” Bucky teases, shoving your arm a little with his hand. The cool of his metal arm feels nice in its brief contact against your skin.

“Yeah,” you chuckle nervously, rubbing your arm where he pushed you. “I wouldn’t think too much about that.”

Bucky gives you a look, blue eyes piercing your person; you feel your cheeks heat up as you attempt to keep your attention on anything but him.

“Why not?” Bucky asks, breaking a long silence.

You make eye contact with him, shrugging nonchalantly.

“No, no. Doll, don’t backtrack now. Why not?” Bucky pushes, shifting in his seat so that he’s properly facing you.

“Let’s just say I don’t act so stupid in front of Sam and leave it at that, okay?”

Bucky fights a smirk off his face. “You act stolid in front of Sam, though.”

“If you saw me act stupid in front of Sam, then I wasn’t alone with Sam, now was I?”

“So I make you act stupid?”

“I’m responsible for my own actions.”

“And you act stupid in front of people you have a crush on.”

“I admitted to that.”

“So that must mean…”

“2 plus 2 is 4, yes.”

Bucky grins. “Sorry, Doll. I’m not great at numbers. Mind putting that into words for me?”

You glare at the man in front of you, your face feeling unbelievably hot.

“I act stupid in front of my crushes, and I act stupid in front of you.”

“Go on.”

“Because I have a crush on you.” You swallow and look anywhere but him.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly, his hand cupping to it cheek and turning you to face him.

You say nothing, just stare at him, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. He smiles before leaning in and kissing you softly, the coarseness of his stubble tickling your face. His lips are soft, and is lips move expertly against yours. He doesn’t pull away until you’re both out of breath.

“Still think my ‘news’ is stupid?” You tease. He shakes his head, chuckling, and leans back in for another kiss.

[uluvjay]

Unexpected- W. Smith

Will Smith x Hughes! Sister

In which your brothers were not expecting to find a boy in your bed when they came to visit

Warnings?; cursing, anxiety, judgmental brothers, fluff, sorry for any errors!

“Dude just use your key.” Quinn grumbled to Jack as he continued to knock on your apartment door.

“I don’t want to invade her privacy.” Jack huffed.

“She came into our apartment to surprise us that one time.” Luke shrugged reminding his brother of the time they came home to find you on their couch.

“What if she’s like-i don’t know..not decent?” Jack cringed.

“Oh my god-move, I’ll just use mine.” Quinn huffed as he pushed his younger brother out of the way.

The boys had been texting you nonstop attempting to get an answer from you especially after their consistent knocking hadn’t worked and Quinn was tired of waiting.

Jack and Luke played the bruins in two days and having a short gap in his schedule Quinn decided to join his brothers on a surprise visit to their baby sister before he had to return to a hectic season.

Pushing open the sleek door of your apartment they were met with your natural vanilla scent, by the door was your messy shoe rack, umbrellas, coats, your keys on a hook, and hockey sticks-wait, why the hell would you have that many hockey sticks?

“Why does she hav-ow what the?” Luke began but was cut off as his foot came into contact with a hefty hockey bag and he went stumbling forward.

“Umm..why the hell is there usa hockey bag in her entryway?” Jack questioned, looking between his brothers with a raised eyebrow.

“The fuck are you asking us for?” Quinn spoke quietly.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because you dumbass her keys are here, which means she’s probably sleeping still.” Quinn replied.

The boys looked around your apartment a bit more, keeping quiet as they walked through the living room area and kitchen.

Jack and Quinn knew the layout well as this was their graduation gift towards you, they felt unsafe with you living on campus and despite your protests when you opened the box revealing keys, you had been living here since the fall.

“Uh guys..there’s a gold medal on her living room table.” Luke choked.

“What?” Jack asked as he rushed in from the kitchen.

Meeting his brothers in the living room his eyes met the good medal that was in fact sitting pretty in the middle of your coffee table.

“Usa bag, sticks, and a gold medal? Shes dating one of the Bc guys that just won at world juniors. She has to be.” Luke laughed looking up at his older brothers.

Jack was the first to take off down the hall and towards your cracked bedroom door, both defensemen following closely behind him.

Quietly pushing your door open they found you asleep on your back, a Boston college hockey shirt on, thank god Jack thought.

And on your chest was a head of blonde curls, one of your hands resting on the boys shoulder peacefully while one of his arms was thrown around your waist.

Retreating to your living room the three men huddled together.

“He looks familiar.” Jack spoke up.

“His name is will something, he just got drafted.” Luke confirmed remembering his face from the draft.

“It’s Will smith. He went fourth overall to the sharks.” Quinn spoke showing his brothers the boy’s Instagram page.

“What do we do now?” Luke questioned, not sure where they should go from here.

“We wait.” Jack smirked and moved to make himself comfortable on your large sectional.

-

A little over an hour later they heard soft voices coming from your room, quite good mornings and the sound of lips connecting.

“Breakfast?” They heard you question and will confirm with a soft yeah.

Making your way out of your bedroom and down the hall you felt your heart drop into your stomach and a scream escape at the sight of three large figures sat on your couch.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” You shrieked once you realized it was your brothers.

“Came to see you, why? Is there something your hiding from us?” Jack smirked as his eyes dropped from you to gold medal on your table and back to you.

You followed his eyesight and worry filled you as you remembered that your boyfriend, who was fresh out of Sweden had all of his things here, the boyfriend your brothers also have no idea about.

“Shit. J-just give me a second.” You groaned as you turned around and pushed a curious Will back into your room before shutting the door.

“Everything okay?” He questioned as the noticeable worry etched on your face.

“My brothers are here.” You spoke quietly.

“Your brothers? As in all three?” Will asked.

“Yep.” You spoke popping the ‘p’ before continuing.

“Came to surprise me, turns out they were a bit more surprised when they found all of your usa stuff.” You laughed.

“Wh-what uh, what are we going to do?” He coughed.

It’s not that Will was necessarily scared of your brothers, he’d already met your parents and talked to your dad regularly about hockey. But brothers are different, especially your brothers. You four have a bond he’s never seen before and the protectiveness they have over you is strong.

“You’re going to have to come out and meet them.” You shrugged.

“Right now?”

“No tomorrow at four. Yes right now will! They’re literally sitting in my living room waiting.” You spoke.

“Okay.” He breathed.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s do this” he nodded confidently.

“I love you and you know I wont let them kill your right?” You laughed as you took his cheeks into your hands.

“I know, I love you too.” He smiled and you placed a light kiss on his lips before turning around and leading him into your living room.

To say the sight In front of him wasn’t intimidating wouldn’t be a lie, despite being around the same height as all three men their broody stance snd interrogating stares had will feeling a bit nervous.

The three nhl stars were dressed in all black, hoodies, joggers, and beanies as they stood around the living room table looking Will up and down.

“Boys this is my boyfriend Will, Will these are my brothers, Jack, Quinn, and Lukey.” You smiled.

Despite the circumstances you were happy to have your brothers here and it felt good to be back in their presence.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Will smiled as he reached a hand out.

All three looked at his hand but Quinn was the first to move in and shake it, locking wills hand in a tight grip.

The other two followed after Quinn, their grips just as if not tighter around Wills hand. You could see the gears turning in Luke’s head and that soon questions would be flying out left and right, and before you started to answer them you needed food.

“Why don’t we talk over breakfast? There’s an amazing place down the street.” You suggested and thankfully everyone agreed to a nice meal.

-

Forty-five minutes later you were all gathered at a table at the small restaurant down the road, coffees in your brothers hands while you and Will both chose a nice glass of Oj.

“So” Quinn coughed, “how’d you two meet?”

“Izzy is dating his friend Ryan, they introduced us and we hit it off pretty well so we exchanged numbers and went on a few dates. The rest was history after that.” You smiled.

Izzy was your best friend from back home, the boys knew her so well she was practically another sister to them and she was a big contributor to your decision to come to Boston college instead of Umich.

“Hmm, where’d you take her for the first date?” Luke spoke up.

“Mini golf, got my ass kicked though. Didn’t realize someone could be so good at it.” Will laughed at the memory.

“Y/n is an amazing golfer, she does it quite a bit over the summers.” Jack nodded.

“Best in the family i’d say.” You smirked.

“Okay don’t get ahead of yourself now.” Luke scoffed.

“So you’re a sharks prospect right?” Jack asked.

“Uh yeah, they drafted me this past spring.” Will smiled.

The questions kept up until the food came, but they began to get more relaxed and generic after a while. The boys began to asked will more about school and how it was a world juniors and soon they were all sharing laughs.

“You know, that wasn’t really the way I wanted to find out my baby sister had a boyfriend but you’re a cool kid Will.” Quinn smiled.

“Thank you, she’s amazing. Out my league really.” Will blushed as you elbowed him in his side.

“That’s true, but as long as you treat her right and make her happy then we like you.” Jack spoke softly.

“But don’t think we won’t flatten your ass out on the ice if you ever hurt her.” Luke smirked.

Will nodded with a winded expression and and awkward silence crowded the table before the ringing of Quinn’s phone broke through.

“Oh, it’s mom.” He smirked right at Will and it took everything in you to hold down your laugh.

“Hey mom!” He greeted her warmly.

“Hi sweetie, just checking if you got into your sisters.” She spoke.

“Oh yeah we got in, found quite the surprise to.” Jack laughed.

“Oh really? What happened.”

Quinn turned the screen around to show your mother Will and while they were all expecting her to freak out their expressions dropped the second they heard her voice.

“Will! How are you doing honey?” She asked excitedly.

“I’m good Mrs. Hughes, how about you.” Your boyfriend smiled.

“Oh I told you to knock that Mrs. Hughes off! I’m good though honey thank you for asking.” She smiled.

“Let me find Jim really fast, he’ll want to say hi.” Your mother spoke up.

You released a giggle at the shock and confusion that was written on your brother’s faces. Their eyebrows were all pulled together as they shared a look of confusion.

“Will! How are you buddy.” Your father greeted.

“I’m good Jim, how about you?”

“I’m good son, my boys haven’t given you and my girl any trouble have they?”Your father questioned.

“No, it’s been okay.” Will laughed.

The conversation kept up for a moment but your mother ultimately decided to hang up when Jack kept whining about her not telling them you had a boyfriend.

“I can’t believe they knew!” He groaned.

“I told them first, wanted to make sure they liked him.” You shrugged.

“This is unbelievable.” He pouted and that’s how the rest of your day continued until your mom apologized and offered to bake him his favorite homemade goods the next time she visited.

-



[novaursa]

hey, hope you're doing well, i saw the request are open, and i just have to use my chance to send in an ask. i was thinking about aemond targaryen and a reader from a different house, she's sticking up for him and defending him. after that he trusts her, wants to get to know her and falls for her in the process. maybe you like the idea and consider it.

thank you for all your great stories, really love them. have a great rest of the week.

Quiet Hearts

- Summary: When you stand up for him against his brother and nephews, Aemond sees you in the new light. 

- Paring: reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: The reader is one of Helaena's ladies in waiting.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The hall is alive with chatter and laughter as you stand near Princess Helaena, who is engrossed in observing a beetle crawling along her palm. The other ladies are engaged in their own conversations, but your attention is drawn elsewhere. Across the yard, you see them—Prince Aegon, Jacaerys, and Lucerys—gathered around Prince Aemond, taunting him as they often do.

“Still no dragon, Aemond?” Aegon’s voice carries easily across the courtyard, dripping with mockery. “Perhaps we should find you a pig again.”

The laughter of the boys grates against your nerves, and you notice the way Aemond’s shoulders tense, his fists clenching at his sides. His face is a mask of stoic restraint, but you’ve seen that look before—an attempt to hide the hurt beneath.

Jace smirks, his tone mocking. “Maybe if you asked nicely, one of us would let you ride our dragon for a bit. Just so you know what it feels like.”

Lucerys giggles, nudging Jace with a grin. “Aegon’s right. You should get used to something with four legs and a saddle.”

A flush of anger warms your cheeks as you listen to their cruel jests. You glance at Helaena, who is lost in her own world, seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding nearby. But you can’t just stand by and watch this happen again.

Without a second thought, you step forward, your voice ringing out clearly in the quiet courtyard. “That’s enough!”

The boys turn, surprise flaring in their eyes as you approach. You can feel the eyes of the other ladies-in-waiting on you, but you push aside the discomfort.

“Aegon, Jace, Luke,” you say sharply, your gaze moving between them. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Is this how you show your strength? By belittling your own blood?”

Aegon’s smirk falters, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, and what’s this? A lady defending a dragonless prince?”

“More than you’ve ever done,” you retort, not breaking eye contact. “Aemond may not have a dragon, but he has more honor and courage than any of you do right now.”

Jace and Luke exchange uncertain glances, but it’s Aegon who scoffs. “Honor? Courage? You’re speaking of things you know nothing about, Y/N.”

You hold his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. “And you, Prince Aegon, are speaking like a boy, not a man. If this is how you intend to do your duty, by mocking those you see as weaker, then I pity the realm.”

A stunned silence follows your words, broken only by the rustle of Helaena’s skirts as she looks up, blinking at you with wide, curious eyes. Aegon opens his mouth to retort, but something in your expression makes him pause. He turns away with a dismissive wave, muttering something under his breath before stalking off. Jace and Luke, looking thoroughly chastised, follow after him.

You turn back to Aemond, who is watching you with a strange expression. His eyes, usually guarded and cold, hold a flicker of something you can’t quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or maybe something more profound.

“I… thank you, Lady Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice steady but soft. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You offer him a small smile, shrugging lightly. “Someone needed to. They were out of line.”

Aemond nods, his gaze lingering on your face as if seeing you for the first time. There’s a subtle shift in his posture, a gentling of his demeanor that you’ve never witnessed before. “You are braver than most men in this court,” he murmurs. “And kinder.”

The compliment, simple as it is, warms you more than it should. You glance away, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “I just don’t like bullies, is all.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and surprisingly pleasant. “Neither do I.”

For a moment, the world around you fades, the bustling court and the murmurs of the other ladies disappearing into the background. You meet his gaze again, and there’s something different in his eyes—something that wasn’t there before.

Admiration.

You don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t matter, because Aemond gives you a small, almost shy smile before he inclines his head. “I’m in your debt, my lady.”

You shake your head, waving a hand dismissively. “You owe me nothing, my prince. Just… perhaps, be kinder to yourself.”

He blinks at that, surprise flickering across his features. “Kinder?”

You nod. “You don’t need a dragon to be worthy. You already are.”

His eyes search yours, as if looking for some hidden meaning in your words. Then, slowly, he nods, a faint, thoughtful smile playing on his lips.

“Perhaps,” he says softly. “I will try.”

As he turns and walks away, you feel a strange flutter in your chest, a sensation that lingers long after he’s gone. You glance back at Helaena, who is watching you with a knowing look, her lips curled in a faint, enigmatic smile.

“Something has changed,” she says in her soft, lilting voice.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling your heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

Helaena’s smile widens just a touch, her eyes drifting to where Aemond has disappeared. “You’ll see.”

You don’t know what to make of her words, but you can’t shake the feeling that she’s right. Something has changed, and as you turn back to where Aemond had been standing, you can’t help but wonder what this means for the both of you.

Most of the court has retired for the night, leaving the castle unusually silent. You relish the solitude, savoring the stillness that contrasts so sharply with the usual bustle of the day.

You find yourself in the library, drawn to its peaceful atmosphere and the rows upon rows of books, each holding a world of its own. You run your fingers along the spines of the volumes, considering which one to choose, when a voice behind you breaks the quiet.

“Lady Y/N.”

You turn, startled, to find Prince Aemond standing a few paces away. His presence is almost ethereal in the dim light, his silver hair catching the glow of the torches, and his violet eyes trained intently on you. Your heart skips a beat, and you offer him a small, surprised smile.

“Prince Aemond,” you greet, inclining your head slightly. “I didn’t realize anyone else was still awake.”

He steps closer, his movements measured and deliberate. “I often find the night preferable to the day. It’s quieter… more reflective.”

You nod, feeling a strange tension in the air. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s unfamiliar—charged, almost expectant. “I suppose we share that preference, then.”

His lips quirk into a small smile, something warm and genuine that you’re not used to seeing from him. “Indeed, we do.”

Silence falls between you, but it’s not awkward. Rather, it feels like the beginning of something, a moment suspended in time. You clear your throat, glancing at the books lining the shelves. “Did you come for a particular book, my prince?”

Aemond shakes his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “No. I came to find you.”

The words hang in the air, and you blink, taken aback. “Me?”

He nods, taking another step closer. “Yes. I wanted to speak with you… if you have the time.”

There’s a vulnerability in his expression, a hesitance that you’ve never seen before. It’s disarming, making him seem less like the sharp, intimidating prince you’ve come to know and more like the boy you saw enduring the jests of others, alone and wounded.

“Of course,” you say softly, curiosity piqued. “What is it you wish to speak about?”

He hesitates, as if searching for the right words. “I wanted to… thank you. For what you did that day. Standing up for me. Not many would dare to challenge my brother or the others, but you did.”

You smile, a gentle, reassuring expression. “You don’t need to thank me for that, Aemond. I did what anyone with a heart would have done.”

He shakes his head, a small, almost bitter laugh escaping him. “You give them too much credit. Most would have turned a blind eye, afraid to get involved.”

You can’t argue with that, and so you simply nod. “Perhaps. But I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. It was wrong, the way they treated you.”

Aemond’s gaze softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as he studies you. “You’re… different, Lady Y/N.”

The intensity of his words sends a shiver down your spine. You take a small, steadying breath, unsure of what to say. “Different how?”

He moves closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his presence, the scent of leather and books lingering around him. His voice is low, almost intimate as he speaks. “You see me. Not the way they do, not the way most people do. You see me—not just the prince without a dragon, not just as the second son of the realm.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his tone, the raw honesty that he’s never shown before. “I do see you, Aemond,” you murmur. “And you are so much more than what they say. You are strong, intelligent, capable… worthy.”

His breath catches, and for a moment, he looks as though he doesn’t know how to respond. Then, slowly, his hand rises, hovering near yours, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“You don’t know what that means to me,” he whispers, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand something he can’t quite grasp. “To be seen like that.”

You swallow, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. “I’m glad it means something. You deserve to be seen, Aemond.”

His gaze drops to where your hands are nearly touching, then back up to your face. “I’ve been thinking of you,” he admits softly, the confession tumbling out as if he can’t hold it back any longer. “Ever since that day. I can’t seem to stop.”

Your breath hitches, your own emotions swirling in a confusing, exhilarating storm. “Aemond, I—”

He shakes his head slightly, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to know.”

His finger, long and gentle, finally brush against yours, a tentative, questioning touch. You don’t pull away. Instead, you let your hand rest against his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his presence.

“I’m glad you told me,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His eyes searches yours, and there’s a depth of feeling in that gaze that takes your breath away. He looks at you as if you’re something precious, something he’s afraid to lose.

“Would you… would you walk with me, Y/N?” he asks, his voice soft and tentative, as if he’s offering you something fragile.

You nod, unable to find your voice for a moment. “I’d like that.”

Aemond’s smile, small and tentative, transforms his face, and as he turns, offering you his arm, you take it without hesitation. Together, you walk through the quiet, torch-lit corridors, the world around you fading into the background as you talk softly, sharing thoughts and dreams and quiet laughter.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel something warm and hopeful bloom in your chest, something that tells you this is only the beginning of whatever is to come between you and the prince who, against all odds, has found his way into your heart.

[nahoney22]

Hello there!

Can you do a fluff request with Tech please.

6. Dance with me? And 13. Shut up and kiss me already.

Your writing is amazing and so very inspiring x

Choices 🌊

🫧 Pairing: Tech X Female Reader

word count: 1.6k

Prompts:

“Dance with me?”

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

Summary: When a date stands you up, Tech finally takes the chance to make a move.

Warnings: Safe for Work, Fluff, Reader gets Stood Up, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing, Female Reader.

Authors note: Thanks for the request and kind words! Enjoy 😊

You twirl the ice cubes in your nearly empty glass with your yellow and pink striped straw, the thumping music of the club fading into the background as the realisation sinks in: you've been stood up.

You had decided to navigate the dating scene to which had been a rollercoaster. After realising your feelings weren't going to be ever reciprocated by the one you truly loved, you decided to broaden your horizons. Maybe taking your mind off him. So, you signed up for a dubious dating site on the holonet which only yielded disappointing results, to put it mildly.

Match after match failed to impress. They either droned on about themselves, were impolite to the staff, or made cringe-worthy remarks that you just don’t say on a first date. It was a string of bad experiences. And now, the guy you'd been chatting with for weeks had ghosted you.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you signal to the service droid. "Could I have another one of these, please?" you request, motioning to your empty glass. The droid beeps in confirmation before attending to your order.

Sighing, you slump your head into your hands, regretting the effort you put into dressing up for this date, only to end up drinking alone. But, your solitude is short-lived.

As you're about to pay for your drink, a hand intercepts yours, and you look up in surprise to see a familiar pair of goggles and eyes, offering to foot the bill. "Allow me."

"Tech? What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you since you didn't respond to any of our messages," Tech explains, settling onto the stool beside you and leaning forward on the bar. "Where is he?"

You pause, considering whether to lie or not. After all, it was Tech whom you truly loved. Despite your attempts at flirting, his lack of response or reciprocation left you hesitant to confess your feelings.

Others would advise you to tell him straight rather than hint but the fear of rejection loomed large, so you let your emotions for him simmer but never fully blossom. "He didn't show," you finally admit with a sigh, tracing your arm with your fingertips.

"Oh," Tech responds, and you nurse your new drink, the silence between you turning somewhat awkward.

"Thanks for the drink, by the way," you say, breaking the quiet, and he offers a light smile.

"Not a problem. I apologise about your date not turning up. It is his loss," Tech says, his words eliciting a flutter in your stomach that you try to ignore.

You offer a dry laugh and a shrug before taking a sip through the straw. "Thanks, Tech. I'll probably finish this and head out."

Tech pauses, glancing around. "There aren't many patrons here. I’m relieved your date didn't show. It is not ideal to be in such a quiet club with few witnesses if something were to go wrong."

You pull a face at his caution. "Why say that?"

"You never know who you might encounter on the holonet. Choosing a very quiet club isn't the safest option," he explains, prompting an eye roll from you as you take another sip of your drink.

Then, you ask him, "So, where would you take someone on a date?"

He falls silent, his gaze drifting into contemplation. "I have pondered, in theory, that if I were to pursue someone, I would opt for a restaurant. Establishing eye contact is pivotal, followed by discussions about our lives. Then, perhaps, a stroll."

You hum softly, resisting the urge to picture yourself as his date, seated across from him, indulging in delectable cuisine as he shares his sentiments, followed by a romantic walk. "That sounds lovely. They’d be very lucky."

"I'm pleased you think so. Now, I pose the same question to you, as I doubt this club aligns with your idea of a first date," he counters as he does a brief scan of the area, prompting a laugh from you—he's not entirely wrong.

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. It depends on whether I like the person or not. I'd prefer to be with someone I enjoy doing something with, rather than doing something with someone I don't," you admit, reminiscing about the countless hours you spent simply conversing with Tech in the cockpit.

A smile graces his lips at your words. "That's endearing."

You take another sip of your drink, emptying it in a few swallows before sighing and preparing to depart. "I should be on my way."

"Very well," Tech nods, but a sudden surge of courage overtakes him as he grasps your upper arm, halting your departure. "What about dancing?"

You glance at his hand on your arm, then up at him with furrowed brows. "What about it?"

"Do you... enjoy it?" he asks, his apprehension palpable as he carefully selects his words.

"I can't say I've had much experience with it. Why do you ask?" you inquire, feeling your heart quicken as he rises and steps closer.

"Dance with me?" he proposes.

You? Dance with Tech? Was this some bizarre turn of events, or perhaps a dream induced by something that Droid had put in your drink? "You don't dance," you blurt out, puzzled by his unexpected request.

He chuckles at your incredulous expression and your swift observation of his lack of dancing skills. "No, I do not. But, I don't see why we both can't give it a try together."

Part of you hopes that you detected a hint of nervousness in his demeanor, perhaps stemming from the fact that he's asking you to dance rather than his own dancing abilities. So, you offer a shy smile and nod. "Okay then."

His smile widens, his eyes gleaming behind his goggles as he releases your arm and gestures for you to lead the way to the main dance floor. The music pulses softly, with a gentle rhythm that invites movement. The deep purple strobe lights dancing off your bodies.

Neither of you seem entirely sure of what to do next, exchanging uncertain glances until he clears his throat and extends his hand to you. Your cheeks warm while your fingers slip into his as he draws you closer, his other hand finding its place on your hip as yours rests on his opposite shoulder.

You initiate a small side step, and Tech follows suit, occasionally glancing down at your feet before meeting your gaze. "This is unexpected... but nice," you murmur softly, even as your whole body tingles with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

A part of you cautions against letting your hopes get the better of you, reminding you that this shouldn't be happening. Yet, as you lock eyes with him, he holds your gaze, a rare silence settling between you. And he always has something to say.

Drawing you closer than before, your cheek rests against his chest as the two of you sway to the music, his chin gently resting atop your head. "May I ask you a question?" he ventures after a minute or two.

"Uh-huh," you reply, your eyes fluttering closed as you savour the moment.

"Why did you not choose me?" he inquires, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it reverberates in the stillness of the moment.

Your eyes flutter open, and you tilt your head back, peering up at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. The dim light of the club casts a soft glow on his face, illuminating the earnestness in his gaze. "What do you mean?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper, hardly audible over the pulsating music.

He bites the inside of his cheek, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he readjusts his goggles with a practiced hand. "You've... flirted with me on numerous occasions," he explains, his tone careful and measured, "yet you chose to pursue someone else."

His words leave you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to comprehend the implications of his confession. He knew about your attempts at flirting? The realisation sends a shiver down your spine. "Tech," you begin, meeting his gaze with furrowed brows, "you never indicated that you wanted me to stop, or that you felt the same way. I just assumed..."

"That I did not share the same feelings you have for me? That I could not?” His voice is soft, yet it carries a weight that hangs in the air between you.

"Do you?" you whisper, feeling the flutter of anticipation in your chest, your heart pounding against your ribs as if seeking escape from the intensity of the moment.

He nods solemnly, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. "I didn't know how to tell you," he admits, "Expressing emotions is not exactly second nature to me. It was not until the others pointed out your advances that I realised it was too late to respond."

As he starts to explain, his words tumbling out in a rush, you can't help but notice the warmth spreading across his cheeks, the nervous energy that radiates from him. It's endearing, seeing him flustered like this, and it emboldens you to take action.

Releasing his hand from your grasp, you reach up to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. "Shut up and kiss me already.”

Tone soft but resolute, a playful glint dancing in your eyes has him leaning into you without a second thought.

His lips meet yours in a tender and hesitant touch. Warm. Soft. They were everything you had imagined. Everything around you seems to vanish, just you and him caught in the moment. Then, you can feel him smile against your lips as he draws you near, body flushed to his as his lips move along with yours with a gentle passion.

As he pulls away for a breath, both of your heartbeats shattering your eardrums, he smiles lovingly at you. “Do not hesitate to tell me to shut up and kiss you again.”

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[mssorceressupreme]

Your Touch

Pairing: Minho x Reader

Summary: Minho gets turned on when you accidentally touch him.

Warnings: spicy content :)

——

Lunchtime in the glade was a noisy, bustling affair. I was slowly getting used to the routine, finding my place among the gladers after a few weeks. Newt had invited me to sit with him and the rest of the track-hoes at lunch today, to which I replied which an immediate yes. They were the sweetest bunch in the whole glade.

“…And then Zart’s pants were entirely covered in mud, but we went around telling the others he klunked his pants!” Jake chortled, high-fiving Jay as they recalled the prank they pulled on Zart this morning.

“And they were my favourite pair of shorts!” Zart sulked.

“You only have one pair of shorts!”

“Hence, my favourite pair of shorts!” Laughter emerged at our table, it was never a dull time sitting with my fellow track-hoes.

“Oh look, your boyfriend is back Y/N.” Jay teased, yes, everyone at this table knew about my crush on Minho, which was so damn embarrassing.

“Shut up! People are going to hear—” I grit my teeth while fake smiling at Jay.

Minho and Thomas jogged over to our table, I straightened my posture and avoided eye contact with Minho, shifting my attention to Frypan’s delectable stew in front of me.

“You guys are back early.” Newt remarked, “nothing new I’m assuming?”

“Yeah, and he wouldn’t slim it about how hungry he was.” Minho scoffed, while Thomas chuckled.

“Well I don’t know about you but more stew for me!” With no hesitation, Thomas rushed over to Fry. He then proceeded to sit beside Jake, who was across me.

I froze when Minho sat beside me. Our shoulders brushed against each other and I began to feel my body get tingly. If I was already getting flustered just by his shoulders, I couldn’t help but imagine his veiny arms and how they would feel on my skin.

“Barely touched it.” Minho whispered in my ear.

“What?!?” I jumped in my seat, earning the attention from everyone at the table, including Thomas who was indulging in his much craved stew.

“Your stew. You’ve barely eaten.” Ohh.

“I’m not that hungry. You uh- can have it if you want.” I slide it over to him. He shrugs and accepted my offer, even eating from my spoon. Indirect kiss nice. Sorry what? Y/N pull yourself together!

“You should have some bread, it pairs nicely either way the stew.” Jake suggested to Minho, “Y/N pass the bread down to our runners.”

I glared at Jake, the bread was closer to him so why couldn’t he pass it to them himself. Regardless, I half stood up and grabbed the basket filled with buns. As I attempted to pass them to Minho, Jake moved his legs, kicking me slightly, making me loose balance from under the table.

The buns flew everywhere, crumbs landing all over Minho’s blue shirt and harness. My glare was enough to shoot invisible lasers at Jake, while he smirked, this is not how wingman’s behave.

“Oh my—” immediately, I began brushing off the crumbs from Minho’s shirt and pants, “I’m so sorry, it was an accident!” I leaned closer to him, trying to get all the crumbs from tiny dips and areas in his harness.

There were more crumbs than usual, so I continued wiping Minho’s body. It hadn’t registered how close I now was to him, or WHERE I had been dusting, especially his crotch area. I wanted to run into the maze and never be seen again.

I lightly chuckled and backtracked into my respective space, “All done.” I let out, but only a whisper came out. I glanced at him, catching a flicker of something in his eyes before he quickly looked away.

As lunch continued, the occasional accidental touch—his knee brushing mine under the table, his arm against mine as he reached for a drink—began to feel less accidental. I laughed and joked with the others, but every time Minho’s skin grazed mine, it sent a shiver down my spine.

Everyone was their usual selves, except him. He didn’t reciprocate any banter, nor participate in the conversations as much today. Oh no, was he upset about the bread incident. It was truly an accident. A pang of guiltiness circulated through me.

“…Right Minho?” Thomas looked to Minho for approval on something he said about the maze, as Thomas attempted to ignite hope among his friends.

Minho, lost in thought, was snapped back to reality with Thomas’s question, “Uh right!…”

Feeling guilty, I put my hand on his shoulder, “You alright?”

He bounced slightly, “I’m fine.” He leaned away. “Excuse me everyone.” He stood up hastily, rushing away from the dining hall as swiftly as he could.

I followed soon after, “I’ll go check up on him.”

——

“Minho!” I called out, doing my best to keep up with him. Boy, he sure was fast.

“Not now Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, if this is about the bread incident, I really didn’t mean to. I’ll even wash your shirt for you—”

Minho finally stopped and turned to face me, we were deep in the deadheads now, no one was around. “What’s going on, Minho?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his eyes dark and intense. “You really don’t know, do you?” His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a thrill through me.

I shook my head, confusion and anticipation swirling inside me. “Know what?”

He took another step, closing the distance between us until we were almost touching. “The way you touch me…even by accident…it drives me crazy.” His breath was hot against my skin, his eyes searching mine for any sign of rejection.

Before I could respond, his lips crashed onto mine. The kiss was urgent, filled with hunger that took my breath away. I melted into him, my hands tangling in his hair as I kissed him back with equal fervour. Every pent-up emotion, every unsaid word was poured into that kiss, so much so that I could feel himself growing harder beneath me. I needed him so badly.

Minho’s hands roamed my back, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. The forest around us seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of us and the heat of our kiss. He pressed me against a tree, his body pining mine, and I could feel the hard lines of his muscles against me.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath ragged, “You have no idea what you do to me.” His voice was hoarse, filled with raw honesty that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Then show me,” I whispered, my voice shaking with desire.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His lips found mine again, more urgent this time, as if he was afraid this moment would slip away. I could feel his arousal pressing against me again, and it only fueled my own need. Our kisses grew hungrier, more desperate, as our hands explored each other’s bodies with an urgency that couldn’t be denied.

We broke apart only when were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. “Minho,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with love and desire, “Will you officially be mine?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve burned for you,” I confess, resting my head into his chest. “Of course.”

We stayed there for a moment longer, the forest around us silent, the only sounds our heavy breathing and the pounding of our hearts. I knew then that everything had changed, the man I loved had become mine.

[mrs-kodzuken]

Can I have a timeskip!Ushijima comfort fic? Like Ushi doesn't understand the concept of skinship like holding hands and hugs so he often shrugs off reader's attempts in skinships, which of course made reader feel sad ㅠㅠ

Thank you and have a nice day! <3

Understanding you ♡

Pairing: Aged up! Wakatoshi Ushijima x fem!reader

WC: 1.6k

Genre: slight angst to comfort/fluff

CW: fem!reader, inexperienced in relationships!Wakatoshi, slight angst from ushi :( , fluff and comfort all in the end :)) , maybe some self deprecation from reader, best friends with tendou, communication is always key

note: thank you for requesting this! I hope it’s up to your expectations, sugar!! <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Being the girlfriend of the Wakatoshi Ushijima was something I didn’t expect would hurt this much. As his girlfriend, I understood the importance of volleyball since it quite literally is his career path. However, being in a relationship is a whole other aspect to think about.

There never really was anything that really stood out to me about his wrongdoings. He always made it to every dinner plan, he didn’t forget the classic month to month anniversaries, he seemed like he was just a gift from heaven.

I knew it was too good to be true when I realized we, or I, was severely lacking in the physical department of our relationship.

Ushijima and I never really got closer within touching or skin-ship distance. That really sucked for me and hurt my feelings since he aced every other aspect of our relationship, no pun intended.

I wasn’t sure if he was just uncomfortable with touching me or if he had some kind of weird feeling about touching me. However, with physical touch being my number one priority of love language I wasn’t sure how to go about telling him my feelings.

Giving Wakatoshi free rein to plan out his schedule, except for date nights, was a must. He is a grown man and I’m not his mother, but I always felt bad when there was something important, like this, to be talked about.

I couldn’t help but to bite my lip as I stared at our private text messages. His contact name, ‘Ushi baby’ stared right back at me whilst I tried to work up the courage to send a text.

Deciding against it, I threw my phone onto my bed and sighed loudly. He was at practice and had a game tomorrow so I didn’t want to bother him or cloud his mind with meaningless things like what I need to talk about.

I couldn’t help to wallow in my own pity. The clock on my white painted walls doing nothing but making the sound of ticking throughout my room which eventually annoyed me enough to leave.

It was around the time for Ushi’s practice to be over and I really wanted him to come over, I just didn’t know how everything would go.

Whenever we had first started dating I got introduced, and interviewed, by Wakatoshi’s best friend, Tendou. And now, Tendou was one of my closest friends so I decided to call the Chocolatier himself for support.

After the phone had rang for three seconds it picked up, “Hello! Hello!” the familiar voice sounded throughout my kitchen.

“Hey Ten! I am in need of advice and company.” I admitted due to the facetime call revealing his apron on with some stains of colors on it.

“Oh really?” He asked, drawing out the ‘really’.

“Yes, really. I need to talk to Wakatoshi, I’m just not sure how. Any ideas?”

“That depends on what you’re going to talk to him about. Saying the wrong thing could make him easily misunderstand what you mean and vice versa.” Tendou tried to poetically explain, as if I didn’t already know that.

“Yeah, thank you so much,” I rolled my eyes, “I’m feeling a bit.. lonely in our relationship lately. I need more physical affection from him and I’m not sure how to really bring it up because times that’s happened before.”

That little spill from me made memories pop up into my head of Ushijima rejecting my attempts for physical love.

I could only remember how he shrugged himself away from holding my hand or kissing me after I brought him a well-balanced lunch meal one day during practice.

I never felt more embarrassed or ashamed in my life. My own boyfriend rejected my advances to give him, and to receive love from him in front of his entire team.

It wasn’t the only time that that had happened. I tried doing it behind closed doors just in case he didn’t like publicly displaying affection. However, that didn’t work either when he moved away from me one night after being out to dinner.

From that point on it’s just been messaging, very little facetime, some phone calls, and occasionally visiting each other’s apartment. I wasn’t sure how to proceed with this, and I certainly didn’t think it was anywhere near enough to breaking up.

However, that doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt my feelings nor have been continuing to hurt them. Whether on purpose or not.

With Ushijima being a member of the Schweiden Adlers, I knew some of his teammates and occasionally talked with them about how my boyfriend was doing time to time.

However, I couldn’t help to not reach out to them within the last couple of weeks. I didn’t have the courage to confidently ask about him.

Tendou’s voice brought me back to where I needed to be, which was having this conversation to communicate my needs across to him.

“And since knowing him for a while helps my understanding, I think a simple conversation would do the trick. Honestly, I’m not sure why you called if you knew that too?” He questioned me, eyes peering dangerously close to mine through the tiny phone screen.

I bit my lip, “It’s just… he has a game tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin that by spouting dumb nonsense about how I’m not feeling this or that from him.”

Growing up, I’ve always considered other peoples thoughts, opinions, feelings before mine. It was just the kind of person I was, and now it hurts me the most when I need to express myself.

“Girl. Fuck that game.” He rolled his eyes at me.

“Yes Wakatoshi loves his career and it’ll always be there but you’re something in his life that can disappear at any moment. I think he’d want to know,” Tendou tried reasoning with my dumb logic as he pointed a wooden spoon in my direction.

I gave up. I knew in the back of my mind that Tendou was definitely right and I wasn’t but it was my own self that was keeping me from doing what I needed to do.

“Alright, I think I’ll ask him to come over tonight then.” I tried to say confidently after I made up my mind of what needed to be done.

“Great! When I’m in Tokyo next I’ll be sure to bring a little something for you and him.” Tendou winked at me before ending the facetime call.

That only left me to do one thing, text my boyfriend. I quickly sent him a text asking if it would be okay for him to come over after practice.

My nerves were all over the place as I waited for the tall, olive haired man to show up at my place.

Soon the door bell brought me out of my mind trance and when I opened the door I saw the one and only Ushijima.

“Hey Toshi, come in,” I widened the door after taking a good look at him.

It seemed like he came here right out of practice, he was still in his whole practice uniform. His usual stoic face didn’t change once I sat down on to my living room couch.

“Is something the matter, (Y/n)?” He bluntly asked, getting straight to the point with me.

I took a deep breath to prepare myself, “Yes, Toshi. There is something the matter. My feelings are hurt and have been hurt for a while due to the lack of physical touch in our relationship.” I paused for a moment to look over his face.

He seemed to be intently listening on every word I was saying which gave me the impression to keep going.

“I just want more skin ship with you like hugging, kissing, hang holding, or even just sitting beside you with arms touching. I feel deprived of that because you seem to always move away when I try to initiate it. Is there a reason or..?” I trailed off, finishing what I was saying and asking a question to see his side.

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way, (Y/n). I don’t understand the idea of that. It makes you feel more loved than usual?” He asked, trying to work around in his head of what I had mentioned.

“Well, yes. Without it I feel upset or rejected by you sometimes.” I hung my head low a bit, it was embarrassing having to discuss this. However, I was always one to get embarrassed or ashamed at anything I needed.

“I will try, for you.” He promised, his large hand reaching over to me and placing it on my knee. He was very warm and it traveled through my body.

I smiled a bit, “Thank you, I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

I scooted closer to him on the couch and he gave me his one million dollar small smile that I love. His arms wrapped around my shoulders whilst I hugged his torso. His lean but built, very built, body touched my soft one, I loved this feeling.

We stayed like that for a minute, nothing heard but the low volume of my living room TV and our breathing.

“Thank you, Toshi. I really appreciate that you’ll try for me.” I pulled away, already missing the hug but needing to say that to his face.

“Of course, love.” His hand came up to caress my face and I leaned into his touch.

The aching in my heart and body went away after discussing that with him. It was all just a bit miscommunication which was easily fixed after I expressed what I needed to.

I couldn’t be more content.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: I hope you enjoyed anon!! I’m terrible at writing for Ushijima but thank you for helping me extend the people I can write for :))

you all know my header rules, if not see pinned post!!

[drabblesandimagines]

Code Pizza

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Established relationship, fluff 1,531 words

“Can’t you go any faster?” The barrel of a gun is pressed against the already tender spot from where they’d oh-so-kindly whacked you round the head earlier and you wince, losing the slight flow you’d managed to build up on the keyboard – Leon’s words echoing around your head.

“Promise me you won’t ever do any of that self-sacrificing bullshit,” he’d mumbled in your ear, arms wrapped around you in bed. He’d got back from a mission that afternoon – been awful quiet about what it had entailed, what had happened and you hadn’t pressed.

“Me?”

“Mm. Like, if… If someone’s forcing you to do something – do it, we’ll sort out the mess later. You make sure you’re home and alive at the end of the day.” His voice sounded almost strained. “Just promise me, sweetpea.”

“I promise.”

Not exactly sure if this scenario was exactly what Leon had had in mind, but there’s a gun and a threat, so you’re typing… or at least attempting to.

“She’d be faster if you’d untied her hands.” Hunnigan grumbled from behind, seated in an office chair with her hands zip-tied behind her back. Yours are bound in front of you, keeping your wrists crossed, and essentially cutting one hand out of action entirely.

“Is that true?” Your minder – A, you decide to call him - leans forward into your peripheral vision, though his face is obscured by a ski mask – as is his companion’s – B - standing over Hunnigan. They’re geared up to the nines, spare ammo dangling off tactical belts, part of a larger operation in order to gain access to DSO HQ and you, apparently. The doors are locked down due to the emergency protocol, though the HQ works on a skeleton crew at the weekend so it’s possible that no-one even knows you and Hunnigan are in.

“100 words per minute at my best.” You shrug, eyes skimming over the code you’ve managed to get through so far. “I’m probably working at… 15 and less. So, yeah, it would be faster.”

“Nice try.” B states. “You’re writing code, not a novel.”

“Novel, no. Poetry, maybe...” You trail off. It would be a lot easier if you did have both of your hands, weren’t being held at gunpoint and not suffering from a raging headache.

You weren’t even supposed to be working, it being a Sunday. You’d been in yesterday working overtime on a project, but this morning had been spent catching up on dull chores around the house – laundry, going to the store, cleaning - and then the plan had been an afternoon of video games on the sofa, ordering a pizza for dinner, accompanied by a bottle of wine. Leon had been away a couple of days on a need-to-know basis and you didn’t have a date of when he’d be back, though he did always try and give you a couple of hours’ heads up on his impending arrival.

Early afternoon, just as you’d sat down, controller in hand, you’d got a call. Not from your boyfriend, however, but from one Ingrid Hunnigan, extremely apologetic but there had been urgent developments – vague, as always – and she needed you in ASAP. You’d agreed, couldn’t really refuse her, but you’d decided in a slight show of protest you weren’t getting changed into your more professional work wardrobe. If it truly was an emergency, they’d have to deal with you in your jeans and t-shirt…

..which had led to the nasty bruise on your temple when the intruders had burst in, taking you as a civilian to be subdued. When you came to, hands now bound, head thudding, fingers being snapped in front of your face to get your attention, you were wheeled in front of the computer terminal and given your objective.

“It’s faster in the movies.” A comments, waving the gun lazily now at least.

“We’re not in the movies.” You grumble back, irritated. “I’m writing a bespoke code to get into this system.”

B comes to stand at your side, then. “Well, our contact promised us that you were some sort of genius at this sort of stuff.”

“Maybe when I’m not concuss-” You’re cut off by him slamming his fist on the desk besides you, making you jump and your heart pound.

“Enough lip, enough excuses. Concentrate.”

You shuffle in the seat, repositioning your hands and continue on with what’s been demanded of you, Leon’s words echoing in your mind.

Your phone emits a jingle from your pocket – speak of the devil…

“What’s that?” B demands, looking around.

“It’s my phone – just a text.”

“You were meant to search her, you idiot.” B chides his companion. “Where is it?”

“Jacket pocket.” It chimes again.

“Someone’s popular.” You bite your tongue as he crouches down besides you, placing a hand unnecessarily on your thigh as he dips his hand in your pocket, fishing it out. “Who’s LSK?”

“My boyfriend.” You don’t need to turn to know Hunnigan’s trying to hold in a grin.

“Says he’s on his way home, wants to know if you’re there.”

“Can you tell him I’m working late and he should order pizza for dinner? I haven’t been grocery shopping yet and I was meant to.”

“I’m not your secretary,” B scoffs.

The phone chimes again. You’d set Leon’s messages to that obnoxious sound to be sure you heard it, not wanting to miss a chance to text with him whilst he was away. If he had time on his hands, his texts often turned to stream of consciousness until he got a reply.

“You ignoring me, sweetpea? God, he’s a bit needy, isn’t he?”

“He’ll just keep doing it unless I text back,” you pause in your typing, “Or I can do it…”

“Ah-ah, keep working.” B replies, tapping at your phone’s keyboard.

It chimes again and B sighs.

“He wants to know what you want.”

“Er…” You hesitate a moment, pretending to doublecheck a string value. “Veggie. Extra jalapenos.”

He taps again and sends, before placing your phone down on the desk out of reach. His hand squeezes your shoulder and he leans in. “Keep coding like a good girl, and we’ll make sure you get home for that pizza.”

--

You don’t know how he managed it with the protocols in place – surely it means there’ll be another security review - but a mere 45 minutes later after ordering your pizza, Leon comes crashing down from the ceiling, taking out A and B with single, effective shots in the chest as he does.

He forward rolls out of the impact and gets to his feet with a flourish.

“Sorry for the wait, ladies, pizza’s free since it wasn’t 30 minutes or less.” He grins, heading to Hunnigan first and cutting through her restraints.

“Do I even want to ask?” Hunnigan quirks an eyebrow, rubbing her wrists. Leon walks over to you next, crouching down in front of you and cutting your wrists free. “Wait, extra jalapenos?”

“Bingo.” You reply, though unable to tear your eyes away from Leon – he looks tired, not unusual after returning from a mission, in need of a shave. He cups your face, fingers gently brushing over the tender spot on your temple to assess the damage. “It’s a dumb code, we know.”

“No, it obviously worked. Good thinking.” Hunnigan nods, getting to her feet and approaching another terminal, sliding in her keycard to overrule the emergency controls and release the doors. “I need to call this all in – get it tidied up. Did you gain access?”

“No, couple of lines away, though.” You look at the lines of code on the screen. “I did spend a lot of time to make sure it had a real nice interface for when I ran it, for extra pizazz.”

“Good work – both of you.” Hunnigan turns to face Leon directly then, “Make sure you keep an eye on her - took quite a hit.”

“I will. Thanks, Hunnigan.” He remains crouched at your feet, your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Good. And don’t come into tomorrow – either of you. I’ll deal with… this.” She strides out with purpose, shoulders back, nothing alluding to the fact that she was a woman who’s been held hostage for the past however many hours.

“You good, sweetheart?”

You smile, staring deep into those blue eyes you adore. “I’m good. You?”

“Won’t lie, not quite the homecoming I expected. Come here.” He pulls you up out of the chair and against his chest, wraps his arms around you and kisses you frantically, though you know it’s in relief.

“Had me worried with those jalapenos,” Leon admits, softly.

“I kept my promise.”

“Mm, not quite.” He pulls back and grins – you know that grin – but you still let out a squeal as he hooks an arm under your legs and picks you up in his arms.

“Leon, I can-“

“Nah, your promise isn’t kept and my mission isn’t over till you’re home. Allow me to give you the full hero experience.”

You roll your eyes, before pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Fine. But we’re still getting pizza.”

“Took the words outta my mouth, sweetpea.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[darknight3904]

Freedom

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇɢʀᴜᴅɢɪɴɢʟʏ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴀᴏʏᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀɢᴏ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴊᴊᴋ ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ. ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ. ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇx. ᴏᴜᴛᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴢᴇɴɪɴ ᴄʟᴀɴ ɪᴅᴇᴀʟꜱ

ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴢᴇɴɪɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6ᴋ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ @starryparkrr ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴀᴅᴠɪᴄᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɴᴛʟʏ.

ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ! ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ…ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴜʟᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴄᴜʙᴇᴅ ᴏᴋᴀʏ?

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

2018

November 4

The light is the first thing you can register when your eyes open again. You want to yell at Satoru for not shutting the curtains before falling asleep. Of course, you can't, the room you wake in is foreign yet familiar at the same time.

"Jeez, finally." An all too familiar voice says

"Where am I?" You mumble while the voice laughs at you

"What's supposed to be our shared room after we marry."

Your eyes snap open immediately. you know that voice, how could you ever forget it?

"Naoya." You greet, sitting up from the futon you had been tucked into

"Good, you have your memories." He smiles from his seat across the room.

"Why wouldn't I have my memories?" You roll your eyes

"Dunno, that doctor said the meds she gave you were heavy. I thought you might've been on death's door or something." He shrugs

Naoya is surprisingly calm. What the hell was up with him? He still hadn't attempted to insult you.

"You should thank me." He says

"Excuse me?" You ask baffled

"Those higher-ups wanted to execute you for being a collaborator for whatever happened in Shibuya." He explains

"Why the hell would I be a collaborator?" You ask

"Your relationship with that white-haired fool must've tipped them off." Naoya says, "Don't cut me off again"

You want to tell him to shove his words up his ass but he seems deadly serious and your head is hurting terribly, you doubt could take him in a fight right now. So, instead, you just roll your eyes and he seems content with that.

What even happened? The last thing you remember was Nanami pushing you away from that curse...

"I stepped in of course. Our engagement contact came in handy for once, by the way. I said you'd retire from being a sorcerer and marry me. Pop out a few brats and live the housewife life."

You want to run across the room and tackle him out of that dumb tatami chair he's sitting in.

"Before you freak out, don't worry I didn't marry you in your sleep." He smiles, "Now can I get a thank you? After all they wanted to appoint that Yuta Okkotsu kid as your executioner. He's stronger than you if I'm correct?"

"Yeah, he is." You admit, thinking of the kind-hearted dark-haired boy who had been sent off to Africa with Miguel.

"Right, so a thank you then?" Naoya smiled

How annoying he was today. Of course, it could've been worse, He hadn't insulted you or called you any rude names, yet.

"Whatever. Thank you." You say quietly

Naoya smiles with glee, and then motions for you to join him at the table.

You shuffle your way across the room to him. Your body was incredibly sore. He said Shoko had given you medicine but they didn't just use her technique to heal you? You felt like a bus ran you over.

"That doctor wasn't allowed to use her technique on you. The higher ups were hoping you'd die of your head injury. I had her cook up some drug cocktail and the Zenin doctors have been in to see you and to stitch up that stomach wound," Naoya says as he watches you stiffly sit next to him, "Attendants have been feeding you this disgusting soup that's supposed to help you recover quickly. I tasted it earlier, its basically dog shit."

"Alright, cut the bullshit." You glare, "Why're you in such a good mood?"

"Me? I'm always in a good mood." He says, " Although I guess I am being nicer than usual."

That was the understatement of the year!

"My father died last night."

Naobito? Didn't that mean Naoya was officially the head of the clan?

"The injuries he got from Shibuya were too much for him. And the reader of his will is due to arrive soon. I'm certain I will become head of the clan." He smiles at you

Naoya reminds you of a child, giddy for a present like it was Christmas morning. Except the present is his father dying and the fortune that the family sits on.

"Why should I care about any of this?" You ask, wanting to lay back down

"Once I'm clan head my first act is to dissolve this stupid contract," Naoya says, pushing a folder to you

You don't even have to open it to know what's inside. You know it's the engagement papers both of your fathers drew up years ago.

"I'd do it now but only the contract signers or the clan head legally have the power to end it. I doubt your dad will be interested and mine just kicked it." He explains

"Why do you want to do this? I thought there was some genetic advantage to us having kids." You say, skeptical

You remember the night you were told that the engagement was finalized. Your mother had sat you down and told you that because you and Naoya were the strongest sorcerers of the family, you'd most likely create amazing kids.

You had stopped speaking to her after that night, not interested in a mother who would sell you like a piece of meat.

"Oh, there is. But I don't want to be chained to you for the rest of my life. Even if it does mean my kids would be amazing. You're disgusting. I doubt you'd walk three paces behind me and your ass certainly isn't big enough. Not to mention you've been broken in by Satoru Gojo of all people."

His words are wildly insulting and normally you'd want to punch him in the face for his insults. But, for once your imperfections are paying off.

"Thank you." You say "For letting me go."

"I'm not doing it for you, woman. I'm doing it for myself." He says

Before you can tell him to die, a knock sounds and the door slides open. Ogi and Jinichi Zenin enter. Ogi is sporting a long ponytail that seems to have doubled in length since you last saw him on a visit to Maki. As for Jinichi, he's as rough-looking as ever, the whispers about Toji being the better-looking son were certainly true.

"You've been sitting around with your fiancee instead of mourning your father? What's wrong with you?" Ogi scolds

"Why would anyone want to mourn him?" You say

"You haven't taught her to hold her tongue? I'm surprised Naoya." Ogi says, ignoring you

"She doesn't listen to me. She's right though, why would I want to mourn? I'm the next head of the clan. You haven't amounted to anything, Ogi." Naoya laughs, "As for you Jinichi, you're just..."

Naoya trails off like he isn't quite sure what to say.

"You're too ugly." You blurt out

Oh crap. You shouldn't have spoken up.

Jinichi grunts out of anger, and you see him lunging for you. Your instincts are dulled. You're reacting slowly, a side effect of all the medication from Shoko? Ah, he's going to tackle you to the floor. Jinichi's smelly self is going to crush you.

"Now can't we get along? What if she's the one sitting by my side? Don't you want to get along with my wife?" Naoya says, easily pinning Jinichi to the floor before he can reach you.

Jinichi's ugly face is a few inches from your feet and your brain says to step on him. Something wasn't right though. Why did he decide to stop Jinchi? And why was he pretending he planned to marry you?

A clink of a sword is heard as Ogi draws his blade to press it to Naoya's throat.

"I'm in mourning! You wouldn't kill a man whose daddy just died would you?" Naoya smiles, sitting back down next to you, a bit closer than last time.

Your eyes widen as he reaches and pulls you close so his lips tickle your ear when he talks. To the two old men in the room with you it probably looks like two love birds whispering to each other.

"Keep your mouth shut. These two will kill you if they find out I'm not interested in you. The higher-ups put your execution notice out, if you're not with me you're dead. I don't think you're in a condition to fight, Miss Special Grade."

Of course, he tells you that now...

Sure, he was right about the whole not being able to fight. You're pretty sure even Miwa from Kyoto could knock you out right now. God you wished you could figure out reversed curse technique.

"Flirt on your own time, Naoya." Ogi scolds as a small man with glasses enters the room.

"Oh, I plan to." Naoya smiles, tossing a big arm over your shoulders, which you shrug off and shoot him a glare that could kill him.

"Good, you're all here. I am Furudate. I have Master Noabito's will. I will read it now."

Naoya's lips quirk up in a triumphant smile as Furudate delivers the news that he is to be the head, and is set to inherit every asset the Zenin family has.

"Freedom awaits." He says, with a whisper to your ear

So close. You wished he'd back off, of course, you understood he had a role to play. You weren't interested in fighting Ogi or Jinichi.

"However, if Satoru Gojo has become incapacitated in any way...A written agreement concluded with Toji Fushiguro will welcome Megumi Fushiguro into the Zenin Clan...where he shall become head of the Zenin Clan...and all assets shall pass to him."

Oh shit...

"What?"

You quickly scoot away from Naoya, suddenly more interested in the floor. Ah, what a lovely shade of brown!

"Where is Megumi?" Naoya asks

"He is searching for Yuji Itadori in Tokyo." A female attendant says

"Who's that?" Noaya asks

"Sukuna's vessel." She says

Please do not let this be going in the direction you think it is...

Naoya shoots a glance to Ogi and Jinichi and motions for you to follow him out the door.

Who does he think you are? A dog?

You follow him anyway though, worried about his sudden interest in Megumi and Itadori.

A beat of silence follows as you fall into pace with an angry Naoya. You have no interest in following his stupid three-step rule like the attendant does.

"Tell the higher-ups that I will kill Sukuna's vessel for them...I'll kill both of them." He says and the attendant nods.

"They're kids, Naoya. Megumi doesn't even want to be the clan head. I'm sure he will hand it over willingly if you just talk to him. " You try to reason with him, worried for the kids' safety if he goes after them.

"Make sure she doesn't leave my quarters. There's the drugs from that woman from the school. Give them to her on schedule until I return." He says, before grabbing you by the arm and dragging you down the hall as you trip on your feet in the long traditional garb you're wearing.

Naoya pulls you along until you're in another room on the other side of the estate. This one is tastefully decorated, more lived-in than the last one.

"You'll stay put if you know what's good for you." Naoya says as he tosses you onto the ground.

You might be a match for him when it comes to techniques but physically he's bigger than you and easily stronger.

"Stay put while you kill the kid I helped raise and his friend? You must be delusional." You laugh, standing back up

"You'll lose if we fight right now." He chides

"Maybe, but that doesn't matter." You huff, ready to activate your technique

"I'm not interested in fighting a weak version of you. If we fight, I want you at full power, so that when I beat you, you'll know I'm truly better." He says

"Then stay. We can spar like we used to when we were kids." You tempt him with nostalgia

"That wasn't sparing. That was you beating me every day so I could go to dinner and listen to my father mock me." He glares

"Prove you're better then." You smile

Perhaps you can get him to forget about Megumi with a little healthy competition. You don't want Naoya messing with Megumi or Itadori. After Shibuya, there was no telling what condition either of them was in. If they weren't at their best, he'd win and kill both of them.

You weren't interested in burying either of them. Megumi meant more to you than you had ever thought he would.

"Our little blessing."

Satoru's teasing voice echoed in your brain. He called him that as a joke but it was true. Megumi and Tsumiki were one of the most important things in your life.

"You're injured. You won't be healed for another few days. Plenty of time to kill the kids and then spar." He says, beginning to walk for the door

Shit. You couldn't let him run off!

"Fine then, no sparring then..."

If there was a God, you prayed that he would step in before this went too far. You slowly cross the room to where Naoya is. Your hands gently tug at your robe, pulling it so your chest pops into his line of sight.

"Instead of sparring, why don't you stay here with me..." You put on your best smile, hoping you don't gag as you speak, and press yourself against him, "Aren't you interested in why Satoru has kept me around for so long? I'm good with my mouth..."

You'd do anything to keep Naoya away from Megumi. Even sleep with him if that's what it took...

"Looks like I was right, you're nothing but some cheap whore." Naoya laughs, pushing you off of him "Cover up. Maybe when I'm back I'll take you up on your offer. I'll bring you Megumi's head, too. He can watch as we fuck."

His words are so crude you activate your technique, hoping you have enough in you for a duplicate or two.

"Stop that." He smiles, mockingly

A flash of color from Naoya's clothes floats in front of your face and a hard fist is the last thing you see.

March 1995 (You and Naoya: 4)

"Naoya, you could've dodged that!"

The angered voice of his father's voice carrys across the training grounds.

What the hell did he know? It wasn't even fair for him to be fighting, after all his technique hadn't manifested yet so how come he was fighting some girl who already had hers? Did his father like watching him get sent flying by her or her stupid doubles?

"Can we stop now? My mom is making rice balls at home and I want to help her!" The girl who stands above him asks

"No! I don't care about stupid rice balls, we're sparring until I beat you!" Naoya demands, brushing dirt from his pants as he stands up

"But aren't you tired of getting punched?" She asks him innocently

Sure he is, but he's more tired of listening to everyone blab about this girl across from him and her technique and skill. He was born a week before her so why was she so much better than him? It wasn't fair!

"We're fighting until I win!" He demands

July 1997 (You and Naoya: 6)

"Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible person, Naoya?" You ask as he pulls you through the maze of hallways that was the Zenin estate

"Huh? What are you blabbing about now?" He asks, clearly uninterested in what you had to say

You wouldn't venture to say that you were friends with the dark-haired boy. More like both your parents were constantly pushing the two of you to spend time together. Whether it was training or school work, or even just a normal day, you were stuck with Naoya Zenin. Why? You weren't quite sure yet.

"You're dragging me to go see someone who doesn't have any cursed energy just so we can go make fun of him. That's rude don't you think?" You ask

"Why does it matter? This man must be pathetic anyway. Just some weakling." He responds but his voice falls quiet at the end as you both reach your destination.

The man Naoya had dragged you around all day for was right in front of you. Messy dark hair was on his head and a healed scar adorned his face right where his lips met.

You glance at Naoya who seems frozen by the sheer intimidation the man, Toji Zenin puts out. He passes by silently, one big arm suspended by a sling, the other resting idly by his side.

"Still think he's pathetic?" You ask once Toji is out of earshot

"Shut up." Naoya commands

September 1999 (You and Naoya: 8)

"You're crushing me!" You gasp as Naoya tries to use you like some ladder and sits on your shoulders

"You're the one who was saying that you were stronger than me the other day during training. Suck it up." He says

"I didn't think I was going to have to lift you up to a window like a personal step stool." You groan

"Shut up. Someone just opened the door to the room." Naoya says

You roll your eyes but stop speaking anyway. Besides, you were interested in what was happening too. Rumors had been swirling the past week that members of the Gojo Clan would be visiting the Zenin Estate.

Apparently, the new clan head was a child, only a year older than you and Naoya. Satoru Gojo was supposed to be in the room Naoya was trying to peer into atop your shoulders.

"Lift me higher." He whispers

"I can't! You gained weight since the last time we did this!" You say, trying to straighten your knees so he could be taller.

The last time you had held The slightly shorter than you Naoya like this was in July. His mother had yelled at him for eating too much sugar and you helped him steal a bag of sweets he knew she hid ontop of the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" A voice asks

"Shit..." Naoya says

Yor turn your head slightly to see where the voice was coming from but Naoya interrupts.

"Put me down!-" Naoya commands, struggling

"Wait! I need to-"

You don't get to finish as you lose your grip on him and the two of you fall backward.

"Idiot!" Naoya scolds as you try to ignore the pain in your back as he gets to his feet first

"It's your fault!" You argue back looking at the hand Naoya has extended to help you up.

A soft laughter fills the air and you look up to the person who had snuck up on the two of you.

Hair whiter than snow glitters in the sun as you watch as he covers his mouth while laughing.

"You can't laugh at me! I'm the heir of my family!" Naoya says, angry that he fell over.

"Naoya I think that's..." You trail off as the white-haired boy opens his eyes

Dazzling blue meets your eyes and Naoya freezes next to you. Satoru Gojo is just six feet from the two of you. The boy you had heard about for so many years was looking right at you.

Suddenly, a bustle of female attendants interrupted whatever this was and Satoru Gojo was led away.

"What an idiot." Naoya deems as he watches the other boy who disappears into a room.

"So rude. You know, no girl will want to date you if you're mean like that." You say

"Good!" Naoya scoffs "Let's go get some ice cream, I'm hungry.

June 2004 (You and Naoya: 13)

"Mom, where is Naoya? I thought we were supposed to train today. I got stuck with one of the other guys and he smelled like old fish." You groan

"Noabito-san has sent Naoya away. He's spending some time training with the Hei." She responds "I heard he'll be gone all summer."

"What? No fair! I'm better than Naoya is at everything! How come I didn't get to go?" You whine as you enter the kitchen

"The training was set up just for Naoya. Besides, I think it's a men-only thing. You understand right?" She says as she cuts vegetables for dinner

You let out a scoff at that. Men only? Naoya hasn't won a single fight against you yet he gets special time with the Hei!? Whatever. Once he comes back you were going to beat his ass into the ground for leaving,

November 2004 (You: 13 Naoya: 14)

Cold wind threatened to knock you over as you ran from the car to the house. When the hell did it get so cold so early?

"I'm home! They didn't have any white onions so I got some yellow ones!" You yell toward the kitchen where your mother was surely awaiting your arrival with the extra things she needed for the food.

"You got taller."

You turn from where your face was buried in the overflowing coat closet where you had shoved your coat.

"Naoya!" You greet

He certainly looked different...dyed hair, piercings...shit was he actually taller than you now?

"Looks like you actually have to wear a bra now. Guess your height isn't the only thing that's changed. " He mocks, staring at your chest

Your face heats up with embarrassment as your mother urges the two of you to come sit down.

"Would you like tea?" Your mother asks

"Yes," Naoya says he seemed almost bored

"How were your private tutoring sessions with the Hei? Think you're finally strong enough to beat me?" You tease, hoping he'll fall back into your usual pattern.

Maybe that bra comment was just a fluke. He was 14...your mother had said boys got like that as they got older.

"Shut up. I didn't come here to be insulted by a woman. Go help prepare tea if you're going to run your mouth. I'm not interested in answering questions from you. I don't have to tell you anything."

What. The. Fuck.

You're sure you scare your mother half to death when she opens the tatami doors to find you wrestling with the heir of the clan. She tries to peel you off him but you're set on pounding his obnoxious face into the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You yell when she finally is able to move you enough that Naoya scampers out from under you

"Your daughter has become an animal!" Naoya shouts to your mother and father whose hands are full with the rest of the groceries, Naoya's hand is clutching his injured eye, "If she ever presumes to lay a hand on me again I'll kill her. I don't care about the potential she has, she's just a stupid whore who can't keep her hands to herself!"

You watch an enraged Naoya storm out of your home, brushing past your father, who rushes after him.

The way he carries himself is starkly different than the boy you grew up with. His words hurt your heart as your parents yell at you for what you've done but you can't bring yourself to care, you're mourning the loss of a childhood friend tonight. Sure he wasn't the best but he was the only one you had to begin with and now he was gone, buried by blonde hair and a confusing persona you thought he'd never develop towards you.

November 8, 2018

"Did you OD while I was gone?" A voice asks as you're shaken awake

Naoya sits next to you on the floor as a doctor is looming over you. Your shirt has been pushed up and you can just barely feel some pinching on your abdomen.

"Master Naoya. Removing stitches can be rather graphic. You may want to wait outside." The doctor suggests.

"Just get it over with. I have business to attend to with my future wife here." He grumbles

"Of course." The doctor says, "You'll just feel some light pinching."

A few moments pass and you don't miss the way Naoya looks away when the doctor goes to work. You want to tease him for being a wuss but your brain feels a bit foggy, most likely a side effect of whatever drugs are in your system and the fact that Naoya knocked you out before he ran off.

Wait a moment...if he was back, then where the hell was Megumi?

"Where is Megumi?" You ask, fearing the worst.

"He's alive. Yuta Okkotsu killed Sukuna's vessel though. Megumi never showed up so I came back here." He says

Itadori was dead? Sukuna just let Yuta kill him? That didn't sound right...

"Alright, I'm done. Keep the area clean and take it easy for a day or two." The doctor says as you sit up.

"Thank you." You say as you fix your shirt

Naoya waits for the doctor's departure to speak again.

"Megumi will turn up eventually. If not I'll get ahold of Maki or Mai and then he'll have to show." He says

"They won't come back here willingly." You say

"No? What about when Maki needs a cursed tool? We cleared the stock that we kept at the school. If she wants one she'll have to come here." Naoya smiles

He's probably in the right for once. Megumi would show up if it meant danger for another. Not to mention if Naoya said that you were at the estate as well...

"Stop thinking so hard, you'll hurt yourself," Naoya says before grabbing your arm and hauling to your feet

"You promised a sparring match." He says as he leads you down the hallway

The scene before you is oddly familiar. Naoya has dragged you to the training grounds against your will and is now preparing for a fight he expects to go his way. It's nostalgic and makes you feel like a child again.

"Before we start...I want to ask you something." You say

"I'm not pulling my punches. This is our first match since we were 14, I intend to go all out." He glares

"I know that. I wanted to ask why you bothered saving me from execution and from Jinichi. Letting me die would be easier and it would get you out of the contract easily." You say

"You're smart for a woman. I kept you alive because I wanted to be the one to kill you. I can't let you go to the grave without having won a fight against you, simple as that." He shrugs

You should've known it was something as petty as that. Of course, Naoya only cared about his ego.

"So is this my death sentence then?" You ask warily

"Sure. After you it'll be Megumi and then Maki and Mai. I can't have any competition for the clan head. I'm the sole heir." He says

"Yeah those 15-year-olds, they pose a big threat, huh?" You laugh and pick up the training staff that rests on the stand of weapons

"Shut up." He says

"So are we using techniques? Or just hand to hand like when we were kids?" You ask

"Both. I want to beat you at your best. Besides we already know I'm physically bigger than you. I don't want to cheat my way to victory."He says

"Right. You're a Special grade one right? Last time I checked that means I still rank higher than you." You smile

"Do you ever stop running your mouth?" Naoya groans

"No, I in fact quite enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice."

You're taunting him and he's falling for it like he always does. It sucks you never got married, the fights would've been legendary!

Naoya makes the first move, and like always he swings right for your head.

"So predictable." You huff and easily jump back.

The medicine that was clogging your brain has worn off and you feel better than ever. Perhaps it was that strange soup the attendants had fed you as you drifted in and out of consciousness waiting for Naoya to return from his murder mission.

"Head of the Hei, and I can still read your every move." You say

"Shut up!" Naoya yells and stomps his foot like a small child

"I don't think I will." You say

Perhaps you should start with four duplicates. One to hold each of Naoya's limbs.

"Activating your technique so early? Are you scared?" He asks as he swings at you again

"Nah, I'm interested in wrapping this up quickly. I wanna go see Megumi, make sure you're telling the truth." You say

"You leave me and the higher-ups will have you killed. Can you truly win against Yuta Okkotsu?' He asks

"Probably not. I don't mind dying though, just as long as it's not by your hands." You say honestly.

A loud bell interrupts Naoya before he can speak again.

"The alarm?" You ask dropping the staff

"What the hell is going on?" Naoya asks looking at you for an answer

"You seriously think I'd use a cheap distraction to beat you?" You roll your eyes

"You've become quite the conniving bitch over the years, I wouldn't put it past you." He snaps "Come, let's see what's going on."

"I'm not a dog, Naoya." You scold

He doesn't reply as you walk next to him, interested to see why the alarms would be ringing, Has Megumi come to challenge Naoya? Was he seriously that stupid?

You're nearly mowed over by Ranta, another member of the Hei as he turns a corner.

"Master Naoya! Its Maki! She's gone mad!" Ranta says "She killed Master Ogi!"

Maki killed her father? What the hell was she doing? More importantly, how did she do it?

"She killed Ogi..."Naoya asks slowly

"The Kukuru are off to confront her," Ranka says

"Good. Bring her to me when they get her." Naoya says, cooly

"She's a kid, Naoya." You say, "Ogi must've provoked her if she went after him."

"I won't let your student run around murdering members of the clan. You can either hold your tongue like a woman should or die with her. I've already been lenient with you, even now you're standing next to me like you're my equal. Don't forget what you are." Naoya says

You think of Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki...was it worth it trying to resist Naoya for your own pride?

"Fine. But once Maki is here I expect you to talk to her, not just cut her down right away." You say

"It's a deal," Naoya says

Loud shouts are coming from across the estate, none of them sound promising as Naoya paces in anger.

"Where the hell is Jinichi and Ranka? They should have grabbed her by now." Naoya says

You follow him towards where Maki is supposed to be. For once you listen to his three-step rule, after all, being behind a person is the best way to get the drop on them.

Your eyes widen when you see what is taking place, Maki has cut down all of the Kakuru and she holds Jinichi's head in one hand, a cursed tool in the other. Ranka is there as well, blind from who knows what.

A smile streches arocss your face when you see what she's doing. How she's doing it, you're not sure but right now she's fulfilling everything you saw in her all those years ago.

You have potential to be amazing,

Looks like you were right. Maki's moving at a speed that rivals most special grades as she cuts through the last of the Kakuru and sets her sights on Ranka.

"Looks like my student won't be dying today." You laugh as you quickly deliver a kick to Naoya's back.

"What do you think you're doing? You're a member of this clan. Go down there and stop her, special grade!" He says pointing at Maki.

"Nah, Don't want to." You say

"You'll become an exile then." Naoya seethes "And just when I was beginning to think you weren't so bad."

"You talk a lot." You point out and activate your technique, "Think you can beat me and Maki?"

Naoya seems slower than usual or maybe he was just slow in general as your four duplicates grabbed him on all sides.

"Maki?" You call to the girl who readys a finishing blow

Naoya lets out a loud call, he reminds you of an animal who know's its trapped.

And then suddenly a blade is in his hands and he cuts through your unsuspecting duplicates.

"I hate sorcerers who only rely on blades." He declares " I'll be beating the two of you without this."

You watch as he discards the once-hidden weapon. Naoya easily closes in on Maki and sends her flying with a good punch. Ah, so that wasn't his top speed.

"You. I can't believe you're betraying your entire bloodline for a teenager." He says

"Believe it. I don't feel any allegiance to the Zenin. Why should I? I haven't felt welcome in the clan since you came back from that training when we were 14." You say blocking the punch he sends your way

"You're still upset about that? What a stupid woman you are. Fawning over the past." He berates and slaps your arm to activate his technique.

Dammit, his technique was so annoying.

He easily kicks you through a wall or two and you stand up, your duplicates are back running behind him, ready for an attack.

"Looks like this is our final act then, Naoya." You say

"Let's make it a good one, then." He grins

He's a blur as he sends a barrage of punches to you. Your duplicates take some of them and melt away as you think of a way to stop him. You can hear Maki fighting again, the rest of the Kakuru must have come after her.

"You're weak. I don't know why I wasn't able to beat you before." He says when he finally stops

You're out of breath and bloody from his well-timed hits. He targeted the spot where your stitches had just been removed and the blood was flowing from it again, staining the concrete of the walls the two of you had broken through.

" I'm not the weak little boy you used to beat up on the training ground anymore. Too bad my dear old daddy is dead. He spent a lot of time comparing me to you when I was young, Made me sick listening to it all." He says

"Yet you spent how many years by my side?" You laugh, ouch that hurts your stomach

"It wasn't voluntary." He dismisses

"You're a piece of shit, Naoya, I didn't know you were a liar though." You say "I know you didn't mind being around me when we were kids."

"You spend too much time mourning for the past." He says

You were right. That's all you need to know as you let more duplicates out. Naoya is nothing but a kid who views you as a rival. Perhaps that's all it ever was, maybe you were wrong for thinking he was a friend all those years ago. Oh well, it doesn't matter now.

None of it ever has.

You smile as your duplicate grabs Naoya from behind, pinning his arms against his back. Another grasps his legs and you get ready to finish him for good.

"No." Naoya orders, his technique doesn't work on the new duplicates since they weren't active when he slapped your arm earlier, "Stop it, now."

"Why should I? You're nothing to me. After all, you just said you didn't want to spend time with me. Why should I want to spend any more time around you after that confession?" You ask

"We have history. You don't want to let it go. You're sentimental." He says

He's trying to weasel his way out of this, he must be scared of death.

"You're right, I am sentimental. Just not for you." You say, "Getting rid of you means getting rid of everything I've hated for so many years."

A discarded knife sits on the ground. It's not a cursed tool, just a normal kitchen knife and it'll do just fine.

Naoya lets out a string of pleas and struggles against your two duplicates. He even calls your name for the first time in years. Not whore or bitch, or even woman. He's scared and he's calling to your humanity with your name.

Too bad for him though. he doesn't matter to you anymore.

You ignore his words and pour your cursed energy into your duplicates, strengthening them both tenfold.

"I'll see you in hell, Naoya." You sweetly say into his ear

There's a slick slicing sound and warm blood pours onto your hand and down your arm as you slowly slit his throat.

You release your technique and your duplicates are gone. Without them, he collapses and claws at the wound.

You watch as Naoya Zenin, your wonderful fiance, drowns in his own blood, clawing at his throat like an animal. His last words are a gurgle of unintelligible sounds. A smile is tugging at your lips as his hand reaches for your ankle, his blood smearing across your skin.

What a wonderful sight. You can taste the freedom already.

I didn't really spend too much time editing this one. If you saw a typo, no you didn't.

More to come! Comment to be tagged!

Taglist:

@laviefantasie @kiya-things @dann-acalle @bakedpotato12 @pweewee @lysaray @midnightwriter21 @exprimidordefresas @ariiiii0938

[thepenultimateword]

Skin Crawl Part Two

Part One

CW: bugs, shedding skin (the description has the possibility of grossing people out)

Hero pinched themselves hard in the thigh, managing to snap our of their gawking stupor.

Ok. This was real. Villain--their Villain--was here and a criminal and apparently in a relationship. Not that that mattered, it wasn't like they'd ever been anything anyway. It'd been 8 years, and Hero had gone on plenty of dates in that time too; it would be weirder if Villain hadn't, so smooth and beautiful and interesting as they were. And Hero was the one who cut contact, so they didn’t really care what Villain did or who with, though maybe they should be focusing more on the criminal part of things, namely the imminent danger they would be in if they were found out, not just as a member of the agency but as Hero.

"Y-you don't want to make an appearance?" Hero said, attempting composure. It was not their best work.

"And ruin all your hard work?" Villain said with a tsk. "Despite what you think, I'm not that ostentatious. Come."

Hero sauntered closer, uncomfortably aware of their longer gait. Shedding one's skin could do many things, but it could not alter height. Bones were stubborn, painful things to change. Most people didn't notice a few-inch difference, and slouching, heels, or any manner of things could hide it. A familiar face blinded even the closest of friends and family. After all, shapeshifting wasn’t exactly a go-to suspicion. But Villain knew. Eight years ago they'd gotten good at picking Hero out of a crowd. If anyone was to notice that Remy was too tall, it would be them.

They consciously shortened their steps.

Villain dropped into a seat behind their desk, tossing the moth wings to either side of them. Hero carefully stepped over the curling tails and hesitated behind the criminal's shoulder. They were even more breathtaking up close. Hero had to fight the urge to run their hand down the velvet stretch of one wing. When had they learned to extend their power this way? At least, Hero had to assume the new appendages were due to their power. Abilities tended to have more angles than expected when properly trained. Did that mean Villain had found a trainer? Hero couldn’t imagine it. Their old friend had been so sensitive about using their gifts in front of others, and they’d had no relevant career plans to motivate further development. Though obviously neither of those things were the case now with Villain a criminal and flaunting their buggy affiliation to the world. People could change a lot in 8 years. Maybe Hero just didn’t know them anymore.

Had they been standing here too long?

Lover, Hero! they snapped internally. You're their lover! Do something lovers would do!

Their insides twisted.

They had played lovers dozens of times in their career and all that role entailed. Stepping into another's skin was like stepping into another reality, completely separate from their own. It didn't matter what they did or said, it wasn't them. But suddenly the idea of touching Villain hitched their breath in their throat, and they knew that reaction didn’t come from being Remy.

They would not slip through the cracks in this mask.

Hero gently draped themselves across Villain's back, wrapping their arms tenderly around their neck and tucking their chin against their lean shoulder. Hopefully, Vilain couldn't feel their heart pounding violently into their leather duster.

The centipede on Villain's shoulder took the opportunity of a new nearby surface and skittered up Hero's cheek, tangling its long body between the strands of their hair.

"You can quit the act," Villain said, shrugging Hero off. "No one else is around."

Quit...

Hero's stomach dropped. Did Villain know? How long? When they touched them? Since they entered the room?

"I--"

"And yes, I've checked for cameras. I don't accept building rentals from your family without thoroughly looking it over first."

Hero blinked.

Wait.

No.

They weren't referring to Hero's act. They meant Remy's. Remy's act of affection. Because... Oh. Oh! The relationship was fake!

The relief was intense, unexpected, and quickly smothered. They had a job, and if Villain was a part of it, that was too bad, but it didn't change anything.

Hero hastily grasped for the little they knew of their cover's personality. They'd hosted this party, their family rented this building, and they looked great in a silver ribbon tie.

"Well,” they said sitting on the edge of the desk and crossing one leg cavalierly over the other. “You can never be too careful. Also bug." They tipped their head toward Villain. "Bug."

Villain sighed and parted Hero's hair with careful fingers, manicured nails just scraping their scalp, and plucked up the centipede by its squirming middle. Then, tipping their head way back, they swallowed the entire massive creature in one gulp.

“John Macias is here.” They held up a rose gold tablet to Hero’s face. The screen displayed several panels of camera footage taking place in and directly outside the building. “And Lottie Blake.”

Hero knew both those names. The first was a generous donor to the agency. His funds had bought them a new combat training gym and updated the medical wing. He'd hinted at making the donations more regular, so now he was invited to every banquet, award ceremony, and exclusive event the agency held; he had even been given an extensive inside tour of the facilities. The press and the higher-ups liked to make a big fuss over him, but somehow Hero had the impression he wasn't giving money out of the goodness of his heart. As for Lottie, she was an ex-hero turned celebrity. Hero had been a rookie when she stepped down from the role of team leader and agency posterchild and turned to modeling and influencing, so they'd never met personally. However, they had enough associates in common for Hero to know she had been well-loved.

"Ok, so what's next?” Hero said. The faster they figured out Villain's plan, the faster they could get out of this situation.

“Your favorite part," Villain said. "Shopping.”

***

Hero had been prepared for many things tonight, but they had not prepared to be kneeling on the floor of Lottie Blake’s walk-in closet, rapidly stuffing designer heels and dresses into a garbage sack.

"You take the upstairs, I’ll take the downstairs,” Villain had said once inside--a disconcertingly easy task since Miss Blake's security was with her at the gala. A few guards were posted at the door and around the perimeter of the glamorous building but none had thought it very important to look up.

Villain's wings were even more gorgeous unfurled, pitch black against the night except for a faint silver lining that caught the moonlight, creating a glimmering outline from underneath. If that wasn't enough, the things were enormous, even larger than Villain's armspan. Hero supposed they would have to be to get them into the air, especially holding Hero under the arms. Once again, Hero had feared exposure by the difference in weight, but Villain hadn't said anything.

Inside there had been cameras, but a swarm of ants could look an awful lot like static when they crawled right against the lenses.

Hero shoved one more pair of glittery heels into the sack and then crawled to the closet door, peeking out into the bedroom to ensure they were alone. Finding the room empty, they fished their earpiece out of their pocket and pressed the call button.

"Hero?" came Other Hero's voice.

"So I figured out the heist," Hero said. "It's a robbery. The gala is just a distraction for both Lottie Blake and John Macias while Villain breaks into their houses."

"Seems like a lot of work for something as simple as a robbery."

Hero shrugged but then realized that Other Hero couldn't see them. "Maybe. I'll keep you updated when I find out what Villain is stealing. They're downstairs." A sudden image of the other agency members bursting in flashed across Hero's mind. Shoving Villain down. Crumpling those long moth wings like tissue paper. Revealing themselves as Hero. They suddenly felt nauseous. "I should probably stay undercover for as long as I can. That way I can gather more info."

Other Hero paused. "If you're up to it, I won't complain. But we can't just let criminals rob prominent agency affiliates."

Not if they wanted to continue getting donations.

"I think we should allow at least one hit, so Villain doesn't get suspicious," Hero said. "But we're going to have to come up with a plausible reason to alert Macia's security. One that doesn't involved Villain getting arrested."

"Leave that to me," Other Hero said. "You work on keeping your cover."

The call cut off, leaving Hero in anxious silence on the closet floor.

"Remy."

Hero's stomach leaped and they peeked out of the closet a second time. Villain stood in the bedroom door, carrying nothing but an apple.

They took a large bite and jerked their head behind them. "Ready?"

Hero pushed themselves to their feet and swung the garbage sack over their shoulder."Yeah. Let's go."

Villain peered at the sack as they headed out onto the bedroom balcony. "Quite the haul this time."

"You said to take the upstairs, so I took the upstairs." Hero gave them another quick once over. "Did you get everything you wanted?"

Villain fished a sleek black thumbdrive out of their pocket, rolling it over their fingers with a smile. "You could say I'm satisfied."

Not just any robbery then. But what info could Lottie Blake have that a criminal wanted. She wasn't exactly secretive. In fact, she seemed to enjoy flaunting every little detail of her life. Perhaps it was bank account information? Or past hero records?

No, they shouldn't overthink, all in good time.

"Good," they said.

Villain shoved the drive back into their pocket and stepped up behind Hero, casually wrapping their arms around their middle. Hero held their breath.

Calm down, calm down. You are Remy. Remy is not in love with Villain. Are they?

Villain's chest pressed sturdy and warm against Hero's back as they unfurled their wings, and that second pair of arms, or legs, grabbed their hips, securing them completely as they took flight. Hero had been too focused on their weight the first time to notice just how much care Villain put into transporting them comfortably, no dangling lower-half or painful pressure on one point of their body. Villain had always been thoughtful that way, not that anyone back at school recognized it.

What would it have been like to do this back then? To be held as themself. Before the secrets. Before the fallout.

"Do you ever get tired of it?"

"What?" Villain said.

"Being able to fly. Is it just normal for you? Or is it always amazing?"

"I thought it made you sick?" Villain said.

Hero choked. "Right. It does. But objectively, flying is amazing. So I was just curious. Forget it."

Villain's wing movements were soundless. And along with the long pause, all Hero could hear was the breeze brushing past their ears. Great. They'd screwed up.

"It's always amazing," Villain said suddenly. "I'm not saying I don't take it for granted, but if I was to ever lose this... It would be unbearable."

Villian had always been trapped in their life. In more ways than one. By parents, by circumstances, by expectations. Even if Hero was tricking them right now, possibly leading them into another cage, they were happy that Villain had found some freedom. Is that what had turned him to crime? A search for freedom?

"Villain--"

"Crap." Villain pulled up higher into the sky. Blue and red lights bathed the entire street in flashing blue and red.

Hero cranked their neck back to look up into their frowning face.

"How did they figure out we were coming?"

"Do you think someone saw us at Lottie's house?"

"Maybe. But even so, I don't know how they would've figured out our next target."

"Coincidence? For all we know everyone was tipped off, not just Macias."

Villain didn't respond to that. They just sighed heavily. "Well, that's that ruined."

"What do we do now?" Hero asked tentatively. "Go back to the party?"

"No point. The heroes probably have set up a trap. Hotel?"

Hero's insides went electric. Did Villain not have their own place? What about Remy? Didn't they have a rich family? But the way he was asking made it sound like a plan, not spontaneity. Great, Hero really hadn't wanted to wear this skin overnight.

"Hotel." Hero agreed. "But when you say that, you mean two separate rooms, right? Because you know I need my space--"

"You have your room, Remy."

"Ok, ok, just making sure."

A few minutes later, Villain landed them in an alley. They walked the rest of the way to a hotel just up the block. Not too shabby, but nothing extravagant either.

"Give me your jacket," they demanded just before reaching the door.

"What?"

"Your jacket. Unless you want thrown out before we even check in. People don't always take kindly to a bugman walking through their door. Especially hotels."

"Right!" Hero quickly shrugged off their wool, black coat, and passed it over to Villain. Villain threw it gingerly over their shoulders. It was a bit small for them, so the woman at the desk stared at them a bit strangely, but Hero supposed it was better than moth wings and an extra pair of legs.

Rooms 203 and 204. They walked together up the flight of stairs, stopping just outside their doors.

"I'll check the drive tonight and let you know what I've found in the morning," Villain said.

Or Hero could find out now and report it to Other Hero before morning.

"I could help."

"Ha! No offense, Rems, but I don't trust you with my laptop. You've broken my technology one too many times."

"Ah, well, I offered. Don't complain that I didn't help tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Remy," Villain said, rolling their eyes.

Hero knew that Villain wasn't talking to them. Not really. But for a moment it was so reminiscent of their teenage years. Staying up late. Not wanting to go back to either home.

Their heart squeezed. "Goodnight."

They gently shut the door and let out a long breath as they trudged over to the bed, flopping down face first.

What a nightmare. They couldn't wait to be back in their own skin. They forced themselves off the bed and into the shower where the evidence would wash away quicker. They stripped out of their clothes and rolled their muscles gingerly feeling the skin loosen like wet plaster. It sloughed off in dead sheets, revealing a more freckled skin beneath. Within a few minutes they were back to themselves again, They grabbed a towel from the hook, leaving the water running to break up the shed skin and wash it down the drain.

As they exited the bathroom, Hero dragged the table chair to the vanity and surveyed their face in the mirror. They tugged gently at a stubborn piece of skin, half-peeled under their right eye.

Next, they rubbed at their throat ponderingly, weighing pros and cons. Eventually, they decided to leave the vocal cords intact. Their throat might feel weird and cottony in the morning but hacking up bloody tissue was the last thing they wanted to do right now. Not to mention they’d just be shifting right back tomorrow. Best not to put too much strain on them by overshifting

A loud rap on the door made them leap in their seat.

"Just--just a second!"

They looked rapidly around the room. Clothes…clothes… Where were their clothes?

Hero scrambled toward the bathroom, snatching up water dropped outfit, chasing as the fabric caught on their damp skin. After a lot of hopping and maybe also a bit of fabric stretching, they strode to the door.

They were already grabbing the handle when they remembered their face.

The bit back another curse, and their face exploded with prickles as the newly shed skin encased them once again. Just in time to meet Villain’s off-in-thought face.

Their expression snapped back to alertness with the creak of the door.

"Hey, Remy--"

They froze.

"What?" Hero said, heart pounding. Was the face wrong? They’d spent so long studying it today, surely it wasn’t wrong?

"You're bleeding."

Hero felt their face. Sure enough, a warm streak of blood smeared across their forehead.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Oh, yeah. Just cut myself. You know...shaping my eyebrows."

"Right..."

Hero pressed their palm over the tear and with their other arm leaned casually against the frame. "Did you need something?"

Villain stared at them a moment. "Just curious if you wanted something from the vending machine. I'm asking the desk for an extra pillow and thought I'd grab some drinks or snacks or something on my way back."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Maybe a Coke?"

Villain smiled. “Sounds good. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” They paused. “I’ll bring back a bandaid too.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Sure.”

As they stepped away, Hero quickly shut the door. Had Villain reacted strangely? Were they overthinking because of their close call?

Hero sped to the mirror turning their head from side to side. Yep, still exactly like the picture, well except for the cut across her forehead.

There would have been no reason to question them, right? They probably didn’t need to call Other Hero and worry them over nothing.

Hero sat back on the bed, only vaguely annoyed that they’d need to rushed part of their body all over again. The annoyance was eclipsed by the gnawing worry inside of l them. They really hoped they hadn’t gotten anything wrong,

[beneaththebirches]

Liability: Part 2

Pairing: College Student!Rafe Cameron x Cousenlor!Reader

Summary: After a month and a half of meeting, tensions rise. But not in the way that either of them expected.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, flirty talking.

Word Count: 5.6k (I’m so sorry lol)

A/n: Hi guys! just a reminder that this is a repost from my original account @sublimecatgalaxy!

Part 1

“Is there anything you want to talk about today?” Rafe’s eyes flicker from the drops of rain on the window to me, head shaking simply as I tuck my legs underneath me. He seems particularly tense today, because of anger or disappointment, who’s to say. But I can’t help but feel his sour mood right in my sternum, my whole body aching uncomfortably at the sight of his own discomfort. “I’m going to give you options- I learned about this in child psychology-”

“Oh fuck off.”

“-and I thought it would help.” He cracks a small smile at my attempt to make him laugh and for extra help, I reach over to flick the lava lamp on, knowing how much the nostalgic decoration has helped comfort him in the last month and a half of our meetings. Other than the incessant flirting. “I’m going to give you some options- things that I’m interested in talking about- and then you can choose which ones you want to talk about.” His eyes harden briefly, strong shoulders rolling in an attempt to relax. “Sound good?”

“I seriously have no other choice, do I?” He deadpans but I respond with a wide grin and a simple shake of my head.  “Fine, what’re my options?” 

“So, we can talk about your family and hometown, your behavioral issues, or the people who are currently in your life-”

“Last one, please.” He pleads, cutting me off as my lips part in quiet shock, adding his desperation to not talk about his past or family to the list of very evident concerns that have come from our meetings. I decide to cut him some slack so, instead of investigating, I instigate.

“Please- god, who taught you manners in the last forty-eight hours.” A small smirk spreads across his lips at my teasing, the deep blush on his cheeks crawling all the way down his neck and under the neckline of the baby-blue t-shirt that clings to his torso. Clings? Really, Y/n?  “I’d like to get them on the phone and get some pointers on how to keep you in line.” The eye contact that he maintains is down right cruel and anything but innocent, the air quickly sucked from my lungs as I try to suck in a gulp of air.  

“I can be persuaded.” 

What the fuck. 

“Hey now-” I clear my throat, suddenly overwhelmed with butterflies in my stomach, head pounding at his words but it’s really his voice, the octave dip- “Alright, people in your life- other than me- rapid fire, lets go.” I clear my throat, running my hands down my face to try to recover as Rafe chuckles to himself, leaning back into the couch, knees parting to spread across the couch.

This is definitely breaking some guideline or rule out there. 

“Uh, Josh- I guess he’s my friend- he’s the quarterback on the football team, my friend Topper from my hometown, my younger sister and, uh, that’s pretty much it.” He rambles quickly as I jot the names down in my notebook, writing question marks next to each of their names in hopes that I’ll fill in more information later down the line.

“Topper? Who names their kid ‘Topper’.” I snort and a bright smile spreads across Rafe’s lips and he shrugs, head shaking. Who names their kid Rafe, though? “Fair enough. So, younger sister, huh? Any more siblings?” His spine straightens at my proposition but he’s quick to squash my dreams of talking about more, his lips straightening into a fine line and his forehead creases.

Over the weeks I’ve seen Rafe, he’s gotten increasingly better at calling bullshit when it comes to my subtle prying, quickly setting our conversations back on a track that he’s comfortable with. My coworkers did not give his intelligence enough credit.

“I said I’d talk about important people.” He urges, fists clenching in his lap and just like that, he’s agitated and rebuilding the walls he has built so high around his mind. So he has other siblings- check.

“Also fair enough.” I huff, letting it go. He’s nearly impossible to sway, more impossible to argue with so giving into his temperamental attitude and his moodiness is sort of always my best and only option. I wonder where that defense mechanism came from. “No girlfriend?” My voice raises at the end and so do his brows, head tilting as a sudden playful vibe takes over his expression.

“Not that I know of.” He folds his hands in his lap, a small smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes flicker to the floor. I can see the question he’s begging to ask, the infamous ’why do you want to know’ or ‘care to fill that role?’ but he doesn’t, just snaps his mouth shut with a shit-eating, tight-lipped grin.

“Interesting.” Picking up my pen, I write no girlfriend and I bite at the inside of my cheek to hide a cocky smile as Rafe leans towards me, trying to get a good view of the paper in my hands. 

“Wha- Why is that interesting? What are you writing?” He asks, reaching out to tip the edge of the book down, neck craning to read the few words I have written. “Really? The notebook thing is really passive aggressive, doc.” He taunts, snatching the book from my hands before tossing it onto the table between us. 

“You’re a jock with anger issues. Isn’t dating around supposed to be your man-whore thing right?” 

“I don’t know, is it?” His head tilts cutely at me, brows furrowed. 

“Touche.” I whisper, feeling so suddenly small in his gaze, blue eyes flickering over my nervous expression. I’ll never admit to him that I find him intimidating- not because of his violent actions or mood swings, but because of the way he looks at me, the depth behind his eyes, the ways his pupils expand and blue hues darken- like a predator stalking a prey.

I’m definitely not the one in a position of power in this scenario. 

“Am I allowed to ask you questions now?” He asks, tone dropping again as his jaw clenches.

“How is that relevant?” My voice squeaks and he grins, taking advantage of my meek and nervous demeanor like he always does, and he quickly takes control of the conversation to benefit his own comfort. He leans towards me, lips turned down in a nonchalant frown and shrugs.

“You want me to talk, I want to pass time. Might as well make this interesting.” Like this isn’t extremely interesting as it is? His proposition makes my brows tick up, wondering the weight behind his words and if he truly just wants to ask me innocent questions. The look in his eyes says otherwise. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m interesting.” I meet him halfway, leaning towards him with a teasing look, eyes flickering back and forth between his. The silence that swarms around us is deafening, the blood in my body rushing to my head and pumping loudly in my ears as a slow grin stretches across his lips. “Fine, you can ask me a couple of questions- use them wisely- but I get to know more about your younger sister.” 

“Fair trade.” He claps, mirroring me and folding his legs beneath him as he thinks, finger tapping his chin playfully. “Is this on or off the record?” His question makes me laugh, adoring the fact that he takes school counseling seriously enough to think that he could possibly get in more trouble for asking me simple questions. 

“There’s no record, dude. I get paid either way and you’re not going to listen to me anyways.”

“At least you’re self aware.” He grins. “Favorite color?”

“Seriously?”  I ask, remembering how much shit he gave me for asking his favorite color so many sessions ago. He hides his smile behind his hand, chest rumbling in quiet laughter as I gawk at him. “Really, Rafe?” 

“See how stupid that question is now-”

“Yellow, asshole. Next question.” His eyes light up with mischief at my attempted insult but he just nods, accepting my answer. He ponders for a few seconds, blue eyes seemingly inspecting my frame, down to the smallest of details; the color of my eyes, the necklace around my neck, my hands.

“I don’t see a ring so I assume you’re not engaged or married.” He nods towards my ring finger with a curious, boyish smile. What I want to ask is ‘why do you care’ or ‘why is this important’ but then I realize that he wasn’t asking.

“Is that a question?”

“More like an observation.” He shrugs, fingers tapping against the expanses of his thighs. It takes everything to avert my eyes from the repeated movement, almost as if he’s trying to draw my attention away, to catch me off guard like I’ve been trying to do for weeks now. 

“No secret fiance or husband.” I reply simply, heart aching painfully in my chest. “I live alone with my two cats.” My eyes flicker down to my lap, cheeks warming bashfully because I can only assume how sad that sounds to anyone other than me.

I’m fine and content with my two fur babies, in my perfectly decorated and organized apartment, no man- or woman- there to mess anything up or disturb the peace I’ve created. 

But that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m at peace with the loneliness I feet at two in the morning when I’m curled under a blanket, the sound of the TV going in one ear and out the other as I wait for my phone to buzz with any notification- a text, a call, a snap, anything.

“That’s sad.” My head snaps up to look at him, eyes thinning to slits as I scoff, watching his brows furrow, smile faltering at the realization that hurt my feelings.

“And you’re in mandatory counseling. What’s sadder?” The words leave my lips faster than I can control, his words hitting a bit too close to home- too close for comfort. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for self deprecating comments and mutual teasing but sometimes I can’t take it as well as I dish it.

“Fuck, you’re mean-”

“And you’re stalling.” Snatching my notebook from the table, I place it back in my lap, opening it to a fresh page and getting my pen ready. His eyes widen briefly at my subtle threat to psychoanalyze him- his favorite activity- and his hands raise in surrender.

“Fine, fuck.” He huffs, urging me to return the notebook to its previous position on the table but I keep it close, hugging it to my chest as he sighs. “Do you enjoy bullying me?”

“Yes, I enjoy bullying you. You’re an easy target.” I say plainly, waiting for him to speak but he just scoffs, teasing eyes flickering back and forth from me to the clock on the wall.

“This is a toxic therapeutic environment. Is there a Title X form I can fill out?” I bite back a laugh at his painfully ironic joke, my cheeks puffing out as I try desperately to avoid laughing at his perfectly timed joke.

“I’ll give you that one. That’s good.” I crack, ignoring the obvious flutter in my stomach. “Ask me a question, hot shot.” I offer, watching his eyes light up at the chance and I can tell that he’s going to try to use it wisely. He bites at his lips as he thinks, eyes squinting briefly as if he’s the one analyzing me and his gaze flickers back and forth between my eyes.

“If everyone comes to you to talk, who do you go to?” His question feels like a punch to the gut, heart aching behind my ribs, but I maintain the professional smile on my lips, hands shaking in my lap as I press them into fists. He waits patiently but there’s no ounce of malice or mischief behind his eyes. He’s truly curious this time and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he actually cares. 

“That was oddly personal.” I laugh awkwardly, setting my pride aside for a second and taking a deep breath.

“You want me to talk about my sister? Then you’ve gotta earn it.” 

Fuck he’s right. 

I wrack my mind, trying to come up with something vague, something simple to offer him so he doesn’t worry or have any more prying questions. If he thinks that he doesn’t like to talk about those closest to him then he hasn’t heard my extremely short list of people that I interact with on a day, let alone the people I actually enjoy talking to (other than him).

But I have to give him something if I want to know more about his past and his support system.

“My list of ‘important people’ is even shorter than yours. I do fine, though.” I hold my breath, hoping he’ll accept my sad excuse for an answer but he just nods slowly, leaning back into the couch with a cocked head, lips fanning out into a small smile. A moment or two passes as the sound of my breathing slows, Rafe’s eyes moving to look over at the lava lamp. 

“I call my younger sister Wheezie.” I fight the urge to reach over for my notebook, realizing that he’d probably shut down if I tried to document anything he’s telling me. Guess my memory will have to do. “She’s 14- maybe 15 by now. I haven’t seen her in a while.” His tone saddens a bit but his eyes glimmer as if he’s remembering something fond, deep eyes full of sudden adoration. “I was such a jackass to her when I was younger. Now that I’m away from home, I want to talk to her more- text her more.” He sounds guilty, eyes closing briefly before he returns his gaze back to me, waiting for me to digest the information and respond accordingly.

“That’s good.” 

“She’s way more smart than I am- such a fucking spitfire.” He grins with a scoff, shaking his head and I can only imagine a shorter, girlier version of him, commanding those around her and teasing everyone in site. I bet her and I would get alone nicely.

“I can see who she learned that from.” He grins shamelessly at my teasing, cheeks reddening briefly before he flashes his eyes at me, fingers prying at the strings on his sweatpants. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t the best influence.” His once reminiscent and happy expression turns sour suddenly, lips tugging down into a guilty, frustrated frown.

“Wanna talk about it?” Don’t forget to do your job, Y/n.

“Not really.” He sighs, reaching up to run his fingers through his unruly hair, eyes flickering briefly up to the clock as I, too, notice our lack of time. We’ve talked more today about the things I’m mandated to talk to him about than all of our meetings combined and, sure, that’s a good thing but I can’t begin to ignore the weight- the tension- that’s suddenly filled the room at the mention of his sister and the possible wrong-doing he’s committed against her.

“Do you need to talk about anything?” I ask with an uncomfortable sigh, anxiety sitting on my chest like a twenty pound weight. 

“Do you?” He dodges but not to avoid the question I asked but because, yet again, he’s more interested in talking about me.

“We’re not here for me.” I smile kindly but he’s being completely sincere.

“Well, I am.” He shrugs, his confession making my heart skip beats as he continues. “If I really hated you, I wouldn’t be here.” There’s a sense of fondness in his voice that makes me grin like an idiot and he realizes almost instantaneously the weight behind his words.

If I really hated you, I wouldn’t be here. 

“Oh, I’ve definitely grown on you.” I gawk, lips parted in proud shock.

“No, but the lava lamp has.” He denies with a click of his tongue, jutting his thumb in the direction of the bright object, the glowing orbs bouncing up and down as a sort of pendulum.

A few dazed moments pass and Rafe is still stuck looking at the lava lamp as if he’s entranced, a small smile on his lips and the clock ticks louder and louder behind us as minutes pass. I feel antsy to ask him more, knowing that it’ll be a whole weekend before I see him again and a part of me almost feels sad.

I don’t feel like diving into the ‘why’ that is. 

“I’m assuming by the lack of text messages and urgent calls that you’ve been behaving?” His lips quirk up at my instigation and he gives me a playful shrug.

“If behaving means no suicidal or homicidal thoughts than yeah, sure.” I can’t fight the eye roll that passes across my expression but his smile turns sheepish as if he was trying to be genuinely honest. I fight the urge to ask about both topics mentioned- homicide and suicide- wondering if there’s actually any weight to them or if he’s just messing around. Both are equally concerning. 

“You can text or call if you feel like you need to talk about something, ya know.” I offer gently but he starts nodding sternly before I can even finish my sentence.

“I know. You said that.” 

“I know- I’m not trying to press…” My hands raise in simple surrender, backing off immediately before he cuts me and this meeting short. “But, you’re here for a reason. I get it’s mandatory but like you said, if you really hated me- hated this- you wouldn’t be here.” He ponders for a second, lips turned down in a playful frown.

“Gives me something to do other than ace tests and apparently be a so-called ‘man-whore’.”

“So you are a man whore? God, I’ve been dying to know if that’s true or not.” I tease, cupping my cheeks in my hands as I lean towards him, watching mischief flicker through his eyes. “Do you need the safe sex speech?” I gasp, holding a hand to my chest in feigned shock, like I needed any confirmation that Rafe could get around if he actually wanted to.

I mean, look at him. 

“Oh my god- this is painful. How much time do we have left?” He pleads and his brows knit together in pure disgust, his voice scary close to a whine.

“I’m messing with you. I know you’re not getting around- the faculty gossip more than the students.” His eyes widen at my implication that he’s being talked about behind his back and he scoots to the edge of the couch eagerly.

“What have you heard about me?” He asks out of pure amusement, eyes glimmering in the light of the lava lamp.

“Depends on what I’ve chosen to believe.” I shrug, folding my hands in my lap as I think of the very few nice things I’ve heard actually come out of my coworkers mouths. “Before I met you, I heard the words ‘neanderthal’ and ‘Juvenile delinquent’ but everyone raved about your grades.” 

“And now?” He quizzes, hair falling in his eyes as his head tilts dumbly.

“I don’t particularly believe the ‘neanderthal’ part- maybe the delinquent part- but the good grades, charming, way too smart for your own good.” The wink I throw him has him almost giggling, his chest rumbling and shoulders shaking in bashful laughter. “Handsome.” The word leaves my mouth as a sort of intrusive thought- literal word vomit- and my lips part in quiet shock as he gives me a similar, stunned look. His cheeks redden almost immediately and all cockiness from him vanished, just left with boyish, bashful, wide eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” He asks, voice cracking pitifully.

“No, because that would be inappropriate and obviously I do everything by the books here. I’m only speaking on behalf of my colleagues.” I clear my throat, giving him a half-assed nod but he sees right through it. 

“Anything else you’ve- I mean, your fellow colleagues have said about me?” He asks, shit-eating grin evident once more and it only makes flames ignite in my belly.

“You have an issue with authority and apparently talking to older women.” I snap with a smirk and he scoffs, eyes rolling and he claps his hands.

“Alright, I don’t like you anymore.” He juts his finger my way, clicking his tongue with a tired look.

“Awe you’re in denial- that’s cute, really Rafe.” I whisper, reaching out to rest my hand on his knee- feigning support- his whole body aflame beneath my touch. He looks at me and my hand, back and forth, with wide, frantic eyes but he’s not nervous or awkward- no, there’s something far deeper to the way his pupils dilate, tongue sweeping out helplessly over his cracked lips. 

“Fuck.” He mutters, dragging his fingers across his jaw as I slowly retract my hand from him. His body deflates as soon as my touch leaves him, his head hanging back against the couch shamelessly. 

“Time’s up buddy.” His eyes flicker up to the clock and an almost disappointed smile spreads across his lips, brows furrowing as he reaches down to check his own phone with a frown. 

“Really?” He asks, more to himself but stands nonetheless, soothing his hands over his thighs. I stand too, following closely behind him as he stops in front of the door, waving his phone in the air. “Can I, uh, text you?” He asks bashfully and a wide smile spreads across my lips.

“I said you could.” 

“I know- I just mean…” He trails off, eyes fluttering to the ground briefly.  “Like, off the record.” My stomach flips at his words, not knowing what he actually intended to get across but based on the look in his eyes alone, I know he literally means off the record conversations.

“There’s no record, Rafe, and we’ve already leveled about the fact that I live alone with my cats. My life after work is not glamorous.” I giggle, reaching past him to open the door and he looks out into the hallway with a heavy sigh.

“Alright.” He nods, hand raising to send me a simple wave and a smile. “See ya, Y/n.” 

——

Unknown Number: I thought of another question. 

My eyes widen as I stare down at the text, shocked that Rafe actually meant it when he said he was going to text me, my mouth drying at the confirmation that he does want to talk to me, just not about the things I’m mandated to talk to him about. But at least he’s talking now. A win is a win right? 

Alright, shoot. I type back, thumbs shaking against the bright screen as I add him as a contact, my cats purring beside me as I flip over to the other side of the bed, curling into a ball as I watch the three bubbles appear at the bottom of my screen.

Rafe: Are you typically this chill with other students?

“What should I say, Winston?” I ask, showing my cat the text as he sniffles, looking between me and the bright screen, eyes squinting in discomfort. “Should I tell him that I find him incredibly attractive? So much that it makes it very hard to do my job?” Winston just looks away from me with a quiet meow, tucking his head under my hand that holds my phone.  “They told me I need to connect with students on a personal level- to use my age as a tool to connect and develop interpersonal relationships- to get people to trust me.” I snort, typing the first response that comes to me before I type something that I could possibly regret.

Not really. I could just tell that I wasn’t going to get you to open up if I acted my role. My answer isn’t necessarily a lie, but there’s something about him- though cocky and sometimes unbearable- that just makes it so easy to be myself. He’s done such shit in his life so maybe he’s just not that judgemental cuz he’s done worse, but there’s just something open about him, even if it might be unintentional. 

Rafe: Cuz I have an issue with authority?And older women apparently. 

My cats jump as I laugh out loud, cheeks warming as I press my face into my pillow momentarily, hating the smile that spreads across my lips. I feel like a middle schooler who’s finally getting attention from a cute guy, blood pumping and mind running with thoughts.

Yeah, I wanted to make it easier on you- more comfortable. 

Rafe: That’s kind of nice. 

Well, I’m a nice person. “Duh, Rafe. I’m a nice person.” I whisper to myself while typing.

Rafe: I can think of twelve things you said to me today that were the opposite of nice.

It’s as if he knew what I was going to say because the minute I send my text, his text comes flying back in return. He’s not wrong- I did mess with him all day, and the thought of me teasing him so much forces a proud grin on my lips as I type. 

I figured it out pretty quickly that you deflect with humor. I happen to be remarkably funny. 

Rafe: Got me figured out, huh?

He has no clue how much I’ve already figured out about him just from the fact that he keeps deflecting and avoiding talks about his family. I can assume his younger sister is the only family member he hasn’t had a negative encounter with and looking at his academics versus his social life, it almost seems as if he doesn’t actually want to be here, like it wasn’t his decision but he has to maintain the grades but not the image. That maybe his outbursts, like keying his professor’s car, was a last ditch effort to get out, not stay.

You could say that. Men are pretty easy. I respond simply, knowing it’ll get a ride out of him.

Rafe: First you call me a man whore and now I’m ‘easy’?

You had the chance to ask me questions and you didn’t. 

Rafe: I did, they were just stupid. I couldn’t really think of anything. I was too preoccupied.

With? I bite at the excess skin on my nail as I wait for his reply, tearing my eyes away from the phone for a moment to look down at my cats who both stare at me, probably wondering how I’ve managed to stay awake this long. If only they knew and could fathom ‘a crush’.

Rafe: Well you called me handsome and I think that’s the last thing I remember.

Oh shit, I did, didn’t I? I pause, actually considering the fact that my comment actually stuck with him enough to take him off guard. It’s common knowledge that Rafe is a good looking guy, tall, built, kind eyes and a silver tongue. I’d have to be blind or dead to not see him.

You’re all talk. I type, biting at my nail as the dots appear and disappear, Rafe choosing his answer wisely. It makes me laugh to think of him in a similar position as me, laying in bed, typing back a reply with a blush on his cheeks- or maybe I shouldn’t think about him in bed?

Rafe: I’m not, you’re just all by the books.

Am I? I know that I’ve joked about being by the books and dying on the hill that I’m such a rule follower, but if I was seriously a stereotypical counselor for him, I would think that I wouldn’t enjoy conversations with him so much- so much that I stay up way past midnight just to continue a vaguely flirty conversation with him.

Har. Har. Doesn’t seem like you’re having an issue talking to older women now. 

Rafe: Cuz you’re not here staring at me and judging me.

The thought of him finding me as intimidating as I find him is exhilarating, the air in my lungs seemingly evaporating as I gasp in a breath.

Rafe: Writing shit down in that passive aggressive notebook. What have you even written in there?

You don’t wanna know. I giggle, picturing the dopey, confused look on his face, a kind smirk. In person, he would pry and stare at me until I break, taking advantage of my weariness when it comes to him. But right now, so far away from him, I don’t let up, continuing the torment and teasing that he subjects me to during the day.

Rafe: Is it just a bunch of ‘Mrs. Cameron’s’ written over and over again?

“Rafe, what the fuck!” I yell out, sitting straight up in bed as I hear the neighbor bang on the wall behind me, chastising me for my shouting. I slap a hand over my mouth, typing back a shaky response. 

Asshole. Go to bed. I’m not actively trying to get rid of him, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to see where this conversation would go if I did indulge him and give him a taste of his own medicine. He’s a tease but he’s an intelligent tease; he knows how to rile a person up, maybe from experience or maybe it’s just his personality. Either way, it works too well.

Rafe: You’re no fun :(

I am, it’s just above your pay grade. I don’t even know what I’m implying with this whole ‘paygrade’ joke, maybe I’m implying that there’s more under my surface that goes beyond a flirty college counselor. Maybe I want him to see under the surface and I instigate because I know he likes the chance and the taunting. Maybe it’s just fun to get him going.

Rafe: Again with the fucking pay grade. How do I get promoted?

Why do you want to be promoted? What do you get out of it? My stomach drops, my heart pounding in my throat as my fingers type against the screen, the typos only a testament to how nervous he makes me. 

Rafe: Tell me how to get into that head of yours and maybe I’ll let you know why I care so much.

I screech out loud once more, reaching out to comfort Winston and my other orange tabby Clementine with a quiet apology for continuing to wake them up repeatedly. Forgetting my mission, my head snaps back to the clinical benefits from this conversation, needing him to finally open up to me about his own problems if we’re going to get anywhere. He needs the clearance from the school, I need the praise from my boss, and- the most important- he needs to heal from whatever’s eating him up inside. 

I’d tell him anything if it meant that I could help him.

Tell me where your anger issues stem from and why you won’t talk about your family or hometown. I press send before I can contemplate it, worrying that the interjection into our playful conversation might make him mad because it’s typically his response to me prying into his personal life. But instead, he surprises me.

Rafe: I’ll think about it.

It’s not what I was expecting at all but I’ll take any progress that I can get. A month ago, he’d threaten to leave the room if I tried to bribe information out of him but now he seems willing. Maybe he thinks that if he tells me things, that I’ll open up. But if that’s the case, then we’re playing the same game and it looks like both of us are going to ultimately get what we want from each other. In more ways than one apparently.

Rafe: So you hang out with your cats and you go to work at the campus. Is that all you do?

If I give him the answer I want to reply with, he’ll know where to find me outside of school. He’d have the opportunity to see me outside of our sessions, to talk to me literally off the record and have the freedom to say or do whatever he’d like. To weigh the odds of a pros and cons list would take too long so my fingers type quickly enough to not give my brain a second to think or argue.

No, I work as a bartender too at a bar on Grant. Again, the bubbles on the bottom of the screen appear and disappear, Rafe obviously deciding carefully on what to say. I know that he’ll take advantage of it, even if I ask him not to but maybe it’ll be what he needs- to see me in a scenario where he doesn’t have to talk to me. Maybe it’ll happen naturally on its own if he chooses to interact with me, to talk or open up.

Rafe: Oh, that’s kind of badass.

A girly grin takes over my face, Clementine’s quiet meows spooking me out of my giddy mood, her paws digging into my boobs as she flops down on my chest. I let out a quiet ‘oof’ and she looks at the bright screen of my phone, meowing once more as another message comes through.

Rafe: I know you’ll ask me not to come visit you but I make no promises.

[eddieandbird]

Wayne ripped down the sign off the screen door with one hand and pinched the top of his nose with the other. He gave a slow, regulating sigh before stepping inside the trailer.

“Eddie! Eddie boy come in here!” He threw his voice down the hallway to Eddie’s room, but it was met with no response. He placed the cardboard down on the coffee table before sinking down into the worn couch beside it. “Edward, now I ain’t gon’ tell you again. Get your ass out here,”

A thud could be heard as Eddie reluctantly got out of bed and stomped to his uncle in the living area. His hands were shoved inside his pockets and his eye contact remained on the floor.

“What do you want?” Eddie’s words seemed to ooze with bitterness. Wayne replied with an annoyed scoff.

“Well son, I want to know just why in the hell you put up something like this on our front door,” Wayne tapped his fingers on the sign angrily.

“Because it’s true, we don’t have any candy,” Eddie shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant.

“Now you know damn well I ain’t talkin’ bout that,” Wayne crossed his arms and leaned back into the couch. “What are you doing callin’ yourself a freak?”

“Everyone calls me that uncle Wayne. Why do you think I have no plans on Halloween?” Eddie rolled his eyes and groaned. “No one likes me at the new school. They all call me a freak because I’m loud and I like metal. No one even wants to play Dungeons and Dragons with me!”

His breathing accelerated and tears welled up in his eyes. Wayne pressed his fists into the cushion beneath him to help him up. Once on his feet, he walked to Eddie and pulled him into a hug. Eddie’s body loosened up as he sobbed into his uncle’s chest.

“Listen to me boy, everyone is scared of things they don’t understand. Just because you’re not like one of those prissy rich kids, doesn’t mean you need to shut everyone out. You’ll find your people, kid. Be patient. Be yourself,” Wayne lightly roughed up the messy curls on his nephew’s head. “Now if you hurry and put on your costume, we’ll still have enough time to drive up to the nicer neighborhoods and bleed them for all their full-size candy bars,”

“No… Are you serious?”

“I already called off work-”

“THANK YOU,” Eddie squeezed Wayne so hard, he could hear his joints popping.

“Just go before ya kill me,” Wayne gave a strained laugh as Eddie disappeared back into his room.

[genshin-scenarios]

curious injuries - maid!xiao x reader

Summary: maid xiao! concerned reader notices he’s hurt (dw it’s not serious)

Wordcount: 700+

Adopt a Wanderer: Digital Store

“I don’t see how this helps.” Xiao says, cringing when you tighten the bandages around his arm. Earlier today you’d noticed how he was shifting uncomfortably during his chores, and caught him hiding an injury under his maid uniform.

“Well, I’m trying to make sure you don’t get an infection.” You rebut sarcastically. “How did you even get scratched?”

“You’ll laugh.” Xiao’s words are clipped, but certainly not as guarded as he was a year ago when you’d first met. “And it’s highly inappropriate for my master to be touching me like this, so please leave the rest of the bandages to me. I know how to—”

“There’s more?” Realising his mistake, Xiao’s immediately shuts his mouth. If it wasn’t for his remaining code of conduct, he’d be turning his head away rather than just averting his gaze. “Xiao, show me.”

“You’re asking me to strip?”

Flabbergasted by his choice of words, you fumble while Xiao meets your gaze with a challenge. He’s trying to test how long your embarrassment will hold. You can’t take that!

“And if I say yes?” Your ears must be burning crimson. “Out of concern for my most valued employee, whose stubbornness I know is like my own—I respectfully order you to show me any other injuries you have.”

A beat passes, then another. Before Xiao finally sighs and slides off his shirt. Previously he’d left his white, long-sleeved button-on hanging halfway off his body, as his right arm was riddled with mysterious scratches. But now with his torso exposed to the air, you see remaining red marks—not purple yet, but certainly light bruising.

“Great Morax, what happened yesterday?” You exclaim, more out of surprise than in an attempt to force an answer out of Xiao. “You look like you fell into something.”

“Not going to ask if I’ve fallen for you?” Xiao returns dryly. You give him a disapproving look while he shrugs. “Can’t let you forget that you had the gall to say it to me before. Remember during my first month, you tripped from the stairs and—”

“You fell over trying to catch me, because my momentum was too strong.” You finish, now blushing for a different reason. “But I’m more careful these days, and you are being haunted by some mysterious cat... ghost?”

He snorts. “Did Hu Tao tell you that?”

“She said you feed the cats that sneak into our gardens.” You hum, walking to the shelves to find a cooling ointment. You’re in the infirmary during the early afternoon, so your footsteps sound comfortably against the quiet. “It’s weird, though. If it were a cat, I’d always imagine they quite liked… you…” 

Xiao helps you retrieve the bottle, reaching over from behind. Your brain shuts off when his chest makes contact with your back for a second, feeling his warmth—before it disappears. When you swivel around, you have to force your body to melt into the counter in an attempt to not bump heads with him (would that be so bad?), only to realise that Xiao, like any capable maid who knows how to respect boundaries, has already taken a step back to create a comfortable distance. The sensation of his hair tickling your neck lingers like a ghost.

Curse his professionalism. 

“...A cat didn’t attack me. I was just trying to get it off a tree, only for us both to fall off the branches.” Xiao offers the cooling salve to you. “So don’t worry. It wasn’t anything serious.”

Your mind lingers on the word worry. Sure, you were worried, but something in your heart twinges when you realise Xiao was more concerned for your peace of mind. 

Pursing your lips, you apply the medicinal ointment to his bruise, watching for signs that it hurt. He doesn’t shift. And as much as you’re exasperated that he fell out of a tree for a cat, the last thing you want to do is reprimand him when he didn’t do anything wrong. “Does the cat have a name?”

Xiao’s quiet again.

“...Almond.” He mutters.

A smile creeps onto your lips, but you suppress it and try to sound nonchalant so he doesn’t feel self-conscious. “We’ll have to visit it then. I’d like to have a word with Almond about climbing into trees they can’t get out of.”

A light scoff. “You’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?!”

Xiao has a warm smile. You realise you like being the reason he makes an expression like that.