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ohnopoe · 3 years ago

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Old Beginnings | Benny Miller

Ship: Benny Miller x Reader Summary: Some conversations are easier than others, and some are a unnecessarily messy disaster, brewing in the darkness in a way that only Benny could create Word Count: 2.8k+ Warnings: Miscommunication, idiocy, emotions, Benny deserves his own warning because honestly... he is the only warning you need for this omg Author’s Note: This is for the utterly incredible @daffodin for my Secret Santa gift event! I’m sorry it took so long, and thank you for your patience. On top of that, and far more importantly, thank you for your friendship. Getting to know you this past year and counting you as a friend has been a true treasure and I am so so grateful to know you. I’ve loved all of our ridiculous talks, our insane brainstorming, and our eerily similar musical tastes. I hope you have the BEST new year, and I can’t say how much love is being sent with this utterly ridiculous fic. All the hugs and love 💕

Looking back, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint when you had fallen into a relationship with Benny Miller. Years of friendship blurred into something you never could have expected, something that was both heavy and light, almost tangible to your exhausted mind, as if you could reach out into the darkness and feel the magnitude of what sat between you.

You couldn’t say it was a surprise the first time he kissed you, moving achingly slowly as he tried to restrain his excitement. All the signs were there, and yet… When had you come to expect it? To anticipate the way he would draw you in, forever the moth to his flame.

Frankie argued it had begun at the fights, all those times Benny refused to be patched up, only to inevitably yield when you would push past his complaints with a roll of your eyes, and bandage the suddenly silent boxer after every fight. It had become tradition now, so much so that Benny never fought you or complained, merely handed you the first aid kit with a grateful smile and a promise that next time he’d make sure there was less for you to patch up.

That was when Frankie started counting you as a couple.

Santi disagreed.

He claimed it happened at the bar, on his birthday nonetheless. Some guy had been hitting on you when it was your turn to grab the drinks and apparently didn’t get the message that you weren’t interested. It wasn’t until Benny had rushed over, wrapping an arm protectively over your shoulder, and seriously hindering your ability to carry your tray, that the stranger seemed to even consider he might have struck out. But there was a persistence that lingered in his gaze, and you didn’t even notice as it disappeared, too distracted by Benny’s words to register why they were needed in the first place.

“You alright babe?” he asked in a tone that could have appeared nonchalant were it not for the way his eyes were throwing daggers at the man.

Pet names were nothing new between you. For years you had answered to a slew of them, from honey to sugar, hell, he’d even tried ‘Ketchup’ once, only to find a bottle of it being lobbed in his direction. But ‘babe’... Perhaps it was the implication, the possessive nature of it as he held you, protective but supportive as he let you call the shots…

It took longer than you’d care to consider to bring yourself back to the moment. But even after he had brought you back to the table, far from the stranger’s gaze, he seemed to crowd you, keeping you in the warmth of his hold as he kept his arm stretched out behind you, ushering you in.

It was only fake, right?

But still, Santi was determined, that was when it truly began.

Of all the boys, however, it was Will whose theory you liked the most.

He didn’t have a date or a moment, something that seemed so out of character for the usually number oriented man. No, he claimed it truly began with a key.

You hadn’t even had a chance to ask the boys for help moving before they were offering.

“It’s what family does,” was all they’d say whenever you tried to thank them. So you came up with a different plan.

Pizza at your new place, with your furniture all in place was a great start, but the keys…

“They’re only for emergencies,” you had clarified over and over as you passed the four keys to your new home to each of the boys. And they had listened… for all of three days.

“I need your advice,” you’d hear at the same time your front door opened with ease.

“I’m bored,” became a common line of greeting as any one of the boys would let themselves in.

“I haven’t seen you since yesterday!” Benny would complain as he threw himself onto your couch, already scouring through takeout options as you laughed at his antics.

Apparently they were all emergencies. And while it hadn’t been your intention, having the boys treat your place like an extension of their own somehow made it feel more like a home.

While each of the boys were guilty of unannounced arrivals, it was Benny who truly became a regular. His flat was lonely, he claimed, giving you those puppy dog eyes that actually started working on you somewhere along the line. You had better takeout options. It didn’t take long for the excuses to stop.

And suddenly he was around more often than not, falling asleep with you as you continually pushed yourselves past the brink of exhaustion because neither really wanted the night to end.

And somewhere along the line, it just became you.

Dinner orders were now dinner for two. His favourite beer always had a place in the fridge. And you always felt most relaxed right here, wrapped up in his arms, somewhere in the blissful land between a field of endless dreams, and an equally enticing reality.

Benny’s hold tightened around your waist, an incomprehensible mumble muffled against his pillow as he shifted closer, forever proving he was far more of a cuddler than he’d ever let anyone know.

There was a serene beauty to him in the early morning light. Worry free and at peace, it was a sight rarely seen on the boisterous man’s features, and one you couldn’t help but turn towards, watching every subtle movement as he slept.

“Why are you awake?”

So much for him being asleep.

But his words were barely there, groaned into the dull light of the bedroom as he shifted his free hand under his head in an attempt to appear more alert than he truly was.

A gentle hum escaped you as you smiled at the attempt. It was too easy to pigeonhole him as just another jock, but he was aware of an awful lot more than he let on, especially when it came to you.

“Doesn’t matter,” you replied softly, careful not to wake him further as you watched his features screw up in response. “Just thinking.”

With a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a stifled yawn, he fell onto his back, his arm pulling you with him until you landed on his chest without a trace of grace. But you stifled your laughter in a vain attempt to let him snooze longer. There was no reason to be up for a good few hours, and you weren’t about to steal his slumbers with the thoughts that had stolen yours.

“Thinking about what?” he muttered against your hair, placing an exhausted kiss on the top of your head as he persisted.

He was relentless when he wanted to be, and whether that be in the ring or helping you open up about whatever plagued you, that determination knew no limits.

“Us,” you replied simply, hoping it would be enough. It was the truth, really. Even if your thoughts were far more complicated than a two letter word could ever show.

“Oh yeah?” you could hear the mischief in his tone, the way you had piqued his never ending interest with one of his favourite topics. “We doing something fun in these thoughts?”

You could feel the way his chest rumbled as he laughed, only to join him as you laughed at his rather more awake tone.

“Not like that,” you chuckled, hitting his chest with so little pressure that it wouldn’t have even hurt a mosquito. But he was still sleepy, his eyes remaining shut as that blissful hold of sleep lingered on his features.

Maybe you could just ask.

He rarely remembered your conversations at this hour, held in between sleep. And you could always blame exhaustion if he questioned you in return.

Tilting your head upwards, you watched as he waited patiently, his hand running against your side without thought as he silently encouraged you to continue.

“When is our anniversary?” you let the question escape before you could overthink it any further.

His forehead scrunched up in response, and you couldn’t help but reach up to smooth out the wrinkles his expression caused.

“What are you talking about?” his eyes peeked open, glancing at you in confusion as he tried to focus on you in the dark. “Which one?”

It was your turn to furrow your brows in confusion now, your hand moving to hold his cheek as you struggled to find a question that could hold all the thoughts his question had created.

But he continued, watching you carefully now. “When we first met? Honestly, you’d have to ask Will for that one. When I kissed you? When-” he stopped short, looking away into the dark as his own thoughts consumed him.

“Our first date,” you answered almost shyly. You should know this, it was the true beginning of a relationship, and yet, amongst all the things that brought him to be practically living with you, to introducing you as his partner, to having your name right next to his on the shared invitation to Will’s wedding, you still couldn’t place it.

Neither, apparently, could Benny, if the way his shout of “Fuck!” echoed through the house in response.

He was wide awake now, scrambling to kick the covers off as he pulled out of your hold in a way that terrified you.

Had you somehow misread everything? Was this simply the most convoluted friends-with-benefits relationship the world had ever seen?

The bedside lamp was turned on with so much force that it tilted precariously as the blond got out of bed in a rush of grumbling that you couldn’t make out.

You couldn’t make out his expression as he rushed about the bedroom, a constant litany of irritated words spoken under his breath as he grabbed the clothes you had discarded in your excitement last night.

He was clearly in his own world now, and it left you to dwell in a sudden combination of fears and anxiety as you waited with baited breath to learn your fate.

“Fucking idiot,” you heard as he turned to toss your tee in your direction.

You could have sworn you felt your heart shatter as he began to dress in a hurry. How had you been so wrong? You knew Benny didn’t do commitment… until you. That’s what everyone had said. You were the exception, the one he couldn't go without, except you weren’t.

You hadn’t noticed the way your gaze began to blur before you, or the wetness of your cheeks. Tears felt too simple for something that was so… not simple.

A sweater landed before you with a thud as it joined the pile of clothing that was amassing on your comforter, and you couldn’t help but stare at it. It wasn’t yours, not really. One of Benny’s most hideous but deceptively warm Christmas sweaters that you found yourself stealing more and more as the weather grew colder.

It was his.

And if he was leaving, it would have to leave with him.

Benny was already pulling his boots on as you hesitantly played with the cuff of the sweater, but you couldn’t watch, couldn’t bear to see the man you loved leave in the early dawn light.

“C’mon, get dressed,” he muttered, turning to push the clothing towards you only to stop when he saw you.

Your tears were silent as his quiet verbal tirade had filled the room, but now he could see what he had been so oblivious to only moments earlier, and if you only glanced up you would have seen the look of horror on his face as he took in your broken form.

“Hey, hey,” he spoke softly but surely, throwing himself across the bed until he was seated in what had to be an awfully painful position in front of you.

“I know I fucked up,” his voiced cracked as he reached out for your cheek, slowly tilting it towards him until you had to close your eyes to avoid looking at him.

“I fucked up so bad,” he started once more, and he sounded so different now, as if his words had stolen your emotions and bleed into a tone of agony. “I’ll fix this, ok? Look, you just get dressed and- and we’ll have breakfast at the lake, and lunch at that diner you like and fuck I can’t believe I never actually asked you out.”

Confusion flooded your mind, and you were beginning to lose track. What were you thinking? What were you feeling? Hell, what was even happening?

It was as if you were lagging, lost moments ago and utterly thrown when it came to the present. You should know this, a part of you scolded, sounding eerily like an earlier thought. You should have known where you stood, and where you stood now. You should understand what the man you loved-

Your thoughts came to a crashing halt as a sob escaped you.

You loved him.

It was obvious really, the only piece of clarity amongst the craziness of the early morning. It made sense that this hurt more than anything you could remember. That you couldn’t think straight, let alone logically, when it came to him.

You loved him, and suddenly you couldn’t remember not loving him.

You loved him, even through whatever was breaking you to pieces.

“Talk to me?’

In all your years of knowing him, you had never heard him sound so timid or quiet. Hot-headed and ready for a fight? Absolutely. Playful and flirtatious? It was one of your favourite things. But never could you have used ‘quiet’ and ‘Benny’ in the same sentence, even as he spoke filth in your ear in the dead of the night.

No, Benny was loud, and the change had you opening your eyes without any conscious decision to do so.

The sudden light mixed with the blur of your tears, forcing you to blink in desperation until, finally, he was there before you, a clear image of pain and anguish that threatened to break your heart all over again.

He was waiting, shifting anxiously as his gaze fluttered around your features, searching for answers to questions you didn’t know.

“Y-you-” how you hated the way your voice broke on the single word, a hiccup making you jump as it betrayed you in yet another show of your emotions. But you had to continue, even as your chest jumped with each ‘hic’ that escaped you. “You don’t have t-hic- Breakfast?” you tried more simply, too upset to deal with the constant interruptions that came with a proper attempt at a sentence.

But Benny was smiling now, quickly morphing into a grin as he brought himself closer, looking somewhat manic as he gently wiped away your tears with a tenderness that in no way matched his expression.

“A breakfast date,” he corrected, his eyes softening as he took your hand in his.

“A proper one, official, and lunch, that can be the second date… Hell, I'll find some fancy French place for dinner if you want.”

And despite the consistent attacks of whiplash your emotions seemed determined to give you, you laughed.

The sound echoed through your bedroom, somewhere between a snort and a sob, but even Benny could see the truth of it.

A French restaurant would no doubt be the bane of Benny’s existence, and you were no more interested in such a place than him, but it did answer a lot more of your fears than it should have. You could see him taking you to lunch, trying to find a way to keep your friendship and whatever had been between you in a delicate hold. Only moments ago you had been able to imagine him storming out of your life for good. But this- this was clear in its insanity.

“So, what d’ya say?” Benny’s voice cut through your pondering, soft and encouraging as his hand ran comforting circles against the back of your palm. “Breakfast date?”

You were nodding before he could finish his sentence, a sense of peace finally washing over you after an eventful few minutes.

You could feel the smile on his lips as he pressed a quick kiss to your own.

But before you could even think of deepening it, he was pulling away.

“I’ll make coffee, you get dressed. We have some dates to make up for,” he grinned as he shuffled off the bed.

Your first official date was waiting, months later than it should have been, and wildly out of order.

He was already through the door when you finally started gathering the mismatched outfit he had thrown your way.

But as he slipped from view, his voice called back with certainty and laughter.

“I’ll make sure I actually ask when we get engaged.”

And with that he was gone, leaving you alone to deal with yet another attack of emotional whiplash.

#benny miller #benny miller x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller reader insert #benny miller fic #benny miller imagine #my fic

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pfreadsandwrites · 3 years ago

Note

40 for Yamato pretty please 🥰

100 follower celebration

Okay, so let’s get a few things out of the way - I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long. I don’t even know if you’re still here and it’s literally been a year to the day since I last posted an actual fic and this request has been sitting here slightly longer than even that. I don't wanna get into a bunch of excuses, life’s been kicking my ass for various reasons, etc etc. Secondly, a Yamato request. Thank you for having faith in my writing enough to request a different character, but please forgive me and give me feedback if you feel I’m missing the mark here but I really appreciated the opportunity to explore him more. It was a bit of a challenge, but in a good way! I should say that this is *extremely rusty* because it's been a long time since I wrote properly.

warning: 4.4k, very rusty (it's been a year!), the fluffiest fluff, proposal (attempts), STUPID humour, cameos from team 7, a very smitten yamyams, a lack of abillity to portray yamyams but I TRIED, mention of a suggestive joke i guess, oh and some really shitty plant names (but i know people that have used these as plant names so take it up with them) , there may be mistakes

taglist: (also, note to those on my taglist - feel free to tell me to remove you if you're no longer interested in being on here, or if you aren't interested in reading non-Kakashi works - you obviously never have to read anything I post, but I'm aware that anyone who wanted to be on here was probably wanted to because of Kakashi, and also it's been literally a year since i last tagged anybody. Totally understand if you're over this, no hard feelings ) @madaras-housewife @datblobbyfish @praisingkuroosbedhead @allthingskakashi @enchantedpendant @aineirisha @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @tachibrii @drunkenfists @daffodin @apricitobio

40. “Will you marry me?” (Yamato x reader) AO3 Link here.

回

In hindsight, it’s an easy decision.

A quick one, too.

It doesn’t take much, and though Yamato is never one to indulge himself the luxury of sentimentality - he might even have prided himself on that trait, once upon a time - that all melts away with you.

It isn’t like you do much, but then, it isn’t like you have to, either.

There you are, again.

Giving the poor shopkeeper a run for his money, intent on haggling your way to what you’ve decided is your fair and deserved price, no doubt - he’s sure you’re right, of course - and then, as if it never graces your face in the first place, your defiant expression disappears.

You turn away, and before it even registers in his mind, something else occupies your attention, and you vanish from his frame of vision. It disappoints him, briefly, and yet again, he begins to contemplate the ridiculousness of this situation as the wooden box in his pocket prods his thigh. The ridiculousness of him, of you, of how you manage to entrance him without trying every single time. (And every single time, he is left unable to come up with an answer.)

He’s still pondering - though he looks more perplexed than it makes sense to be - when you chirp up behind him.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all over today.” There’s a lilt to your voice, and you shove his shoulder in mock-punishment harmlessly, but he stumbles anyway. It’s also ridiculous that of the few people in the world who can catch him off guard effortlessly, you’re one of them.

Yamato looks at you, smiling your carefree, strong smile, the way you giggle and lean against his side to steady him. He’s thankful you don't seem to notice the small wooden box in his pocket - not least because you’re the type to make a silly joke referencing his mokuton (to his detriment, you know from experience how beetroot it makes him) - but because you’d see right through him.

He can see it now, you persistently demanding an explanation from him in your infuriating way, just like how you’d demanded a discount from the merchant just now, until he does end up proposing to you in the middle of this tired Monday marketplace desperate for some excitement. No. He doesn’t want that. It’s not even the audience, though he doesn’t like that either, but it’s too small. Too trivial, too unremarkable. And you’re anything but.

“You don’t need to look so worried, Yamato. It’s not for any particular reason,” you smile again, and Yamato’s heart just might burst out of his chest, “I just missed you, that’s all.”

It always astounds him how easily words like that flow out of you, words that affirm your own feelings and his own significance to you, as if you just breathed them.

And just like that, he feels as if he’s taken his first breath of the day, the one he didn’t even realise he’d been holding.

(Every single time, he’s reminded that he doesn’t need to find an answer, as ridiculous and unbelievable as his situation is. The answer is you.)

*1回*

“So, what’s your name?”

You had only asked that once, not even looking at him when you did.

Even though he knew exactly what you were asking, and you knew that in turn.

But you just concentrated on the small, but persistent, effective fire you’d built. The one where Yamato had only provided the kindling after he’d insisted; strange, he thought, you knew all about his ability. And yet it didn't even cross your mind, to use him to build some kind of lodging, let alone create firewood. To use him like his comrades were supposed to, to use him for the purpose he’d been created. Instead, you had just set about your task silently, independently.

“I could have built us a shelter, you know,” Yamato said, for the second time. The first time, you’d just shook your head and continued scrambling for branches, forgetting to mind your already mission-scraped hands and splintering yourself more on the way.

You finally looked up from your handiwork, meeting his gaze with the ghost of a smirk. Though your eyes were just as worn, as tired, as his, it belied an energy. Something playful, but simultaneously shrewd. “I know how exhausted you are, Yamato. It’s a warm, clear night. I’ll - we’ll - be fine.”

He didn’t know which was kinder. Your concern, unfamiliar though not unwelcome, or the fact that you didn’t repeat your question. And as gratitude for either, or both, he found himself answering it. The only way he knew how, anyway. “I’ve had a lot of names. Names are complicated for the ANBU, and that goes double for me.”

You just hummed, ruminating on his soft, matter-of-fact words as they settled into the liberated air around the two of you.

“That’s sad,” you said after a moment, bereft of judgement or pity. Matter-of-fact, just like him. “Your name and identity tied to your missions like that.”

“Not all the names I’ve had are like that. Some stick. Some feel right.”

“Oh yeah?” You brought one of your knees to your chest, hugging it in a casual, comfortable gesture as you listened to him with a contrasting intensity. Bringing a simplicity, a gentle breeze to this surprisingly intimate conversation that Yamato hadn’t felt in a long time. “How’s Yamato?”

“Yamato is pretty good. I like it. But it’s not the only one, nor my actual name.”

You smiled, just smiled, and Yamato felt the fatigue that weighed so heavily on his shoulders, dissipate, just a little. “Well, it would be nice if I learnt that other one someday. Maybe.”

He smiled back in turn, because, how could he not? “Maybe.”

The time where you’d hug his neck, calling him Tenzou behind closed doors, doors that you’d finally let him build for you, would still be a little while off. But nowhere near as long as Yamato would have thought, even in his wildest dreams.

Even though you only asked his name once.

**2回**

A plant.

It was the first gift he gave you. And the second, embarrassingly.

(But that wasn’t his fault, he’s sure; it’s still a point of contention between you even now.)

Of course it was going to be a plant, Yamato knew that, and he assumed you would too - but why shouldn’t he stick to his area of expertise, predictable as it was?

Somehow, Yamato didn’t think you would mind.

Even if you teased him first, for which he was certain you would, it would be worth it. In fact, that was exactly what he was counting on - he had come to learn, rather quickly, that what he looked forward to most, the closely guarded secret, was your laugh. Whether it was at his own expense was irrelevant; you both knew you didn’t mean it.

He settled on a succulent, after some careful deliberation, much like all his tasks. Not that this was an ordinary task, of course, because it was for you, but that only made him all the more determined to get this right. And finally, he was satisfied; succulents were notoriously hard to kill, perfect for novices (if your pitifully empty apartment was anything to go by), and an aloe plant in particular would be useful - every time he saw you, mission or not, you’d acquired some silly new bruise or cut with an even more silly story behind it. The last time, it had been something about falling into a rabbit burrow and dealing with the aftermath from its very angry inhabitants. And though you’d jabbed him in the shoulder when he pointed out the absurdity of a jounin being so clumsy, the fact that you let him apply some ointment to your scrapes told him you weren’t angry. Something about that uncharacteristically shy smile. Something about that ‘thank you’, something about that barely audible murmur.

And, as if he needed more, he could practically see that infuriating smirk, hear the lilt in your voice as you’d ask him ‘just what are you trying to say?!’ in your eternally playful tone, prodding him, just like you, all of you, prodded at his self-control each time he saw you. That thought - that you might end up depleting it one day, one day soon - it made his chest flare, not just with anxiety, but something striking, unfamiliar, intangible but definitely there. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that day coming faster.

Yes, Yamato thought, decisively. He’d chosen well.

Not even the confusion that graced your features when you opened your front door, something that ordinarily would have halted his enthusiasm and hastened his doubt, stopped him.

“Yamato,” you smiled.

It might have been optimistic, especially for a man like him, but Yamato was sure he could chart the moment your expression evolved from surprise to something akin to content, comfort, peace. It was even more optimistic, probably too optimistic, but he liked to think that he had something to do with it. It would only be fair, after all. God knows you had done that two-fold for him, and it came much more naturally, he was sure.

He realised he’d been watching your face a little too long when he saw your eyes dart to the plant in his hands, and a wry, bemused smile began to form on your lips. He had to pull himself away then, and back to the task at hand, because he was more than a little scared of what you would say - and what he would do, in turn - if you noticed just how distracted he was by your lips.

“I brought you something. A plant. An aloe vera plant.” He held it out to you, more awkwardly than he would like, but that smile changed once more anyway. Small, soft, touched. Just like that time he’d tended to your cuts.

“You know, I might not be a nature expert like you are, but that much I could tell,” you retorted, in a way that didn’t match your expression. “What’s the occasion?”

“None. I thought you might like it. It’s a gift.”

“A gift? I’m honoured.” The way you took it from his hands into your own - carefully, delicately, holding it close to your chest - told him you really were. It surprised him; he’d prepared himself for more teasing, more jokes. What he hadn’t prepared himself for was for you to look so… soft. So happy. It might have been what he wanted, the best possible outcome in fact, but he didn’t think you would honour him with it. He didn’t think he would be that lucky, and if he ever would be, it wouldn’t be so soon.

“I also thought you might find it useful. You can use the matured leaves as ointments for cuts.”

“In case I upset any more rabbits, right?”

“Or any other woodland creatures,” Yamato chuckled, with an ease he rarely felt. One he never felt, if he was completely honest, before you. And when you giggled in response, it only magnified that ease, and the ground beneath him felt light. He felt light. How miraculous you were.

“I really do appreciate the gift, Yamato. But unlike you, I don’t have much of a green thumb.”

“Don’t worry, they’re a relatively low-maintenance plant and good for beginners.”

“Hey… Just what are you trying to say?” you asked, laughing, just like he knew you would. Just like he had been counting on. But somehow it was better, greater. “Because if you’re saying I don’t know what I’m doing, you’d be right.”

When you leaned forward, encroaching on the ever-shrinking distance between you, somehow bold and vulnerable simultaneously, it sparked something in him. Something that had been there, for a long time, longer than he cared to admit.

“Well, I’d be happy to give you all the help you need,” he said emphatically, with an unexpected courage. Unexpected even to you, if your wide eyes were any indication. “Whenever you’d like.”

“I’d like that.” Your response was quick. So quick, that it seemed like something had been there for you too, and Yamato wanted to kick himself. Could he really have wasted so much time?

Yamato never made empty promises, as he would make sure you knew, when he showed up again at your apartment the next day.

“Herbie looks lonely,” you’d sighed wistfully, after enthusiastically showing off your beloved gift on the windowsill. Yamato did think that perhaps you were too proud, prematurely confident - it had only been a day, after all - but you were so damn adorable that he kept his mouth shut.

“Herbie?”

“That’s his name.”

“His?”

“Yes,” you said simply.

“He doesn’t have herbs, though. Leafy makes more sense.”

“Names don’t behold to reason, Tenzou,” you smiled, and when you moved to shove his chest, you stopped just as your palm pressed against his muscles. Yamato noticed. You must have been flustered - and it looked adorable on you - because you moved to change the subject. “But Herbie is lonely, though. I think he needs another friend.”

He would make a note of that, but it was a little too late. The atmosphere was different now. That name brought with it intimacy, just as your hand did just now.

So it became easier than Yamato ever thought it would be to close that distance. And when you didn’t stop him, replacing that hand and pressing your own chest flush against his broad one, it only ignited his courage once more. He brought himself closer, lips edging closer, closer, brushing against yours ever so tentatively.

And you didn’t stand for that. You tugged the fabric covering his chin, kissing him with more force than he had dared to. He smiled against your lips, strong hands pulling you even closer, returning your zeal with his own twofold.

He had been counting on that, too.

And when he showed up at your apartment again, with another aloe (what would you call this one? Leafy? Please?), when you responded with raucous laughter - he’d been counting on that too.

“You said Herbie was lonely!”

“That’s right, I did. But he’s not the only one,” you snorted, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you. He didn’t deny you, because, how the hell could he?

You would tell him, only a little while later, that you hoped he would do that, listen to you so earnestly, even if it was silly - because you’d been counting on that too.

And only a little while later, Yamato decided that maybe, just maybe, he might like to spend a lifetime like this. With you. Counting on each other. For laughter, for light. For love. That something he found so hard to name.

Even if that meant gifting the same plant twice in a row.

***3回***

The third time Yamato did this, it wouldn’t be a mere attempt.

No. Of that he was certain. Even if he had to use his mokuton to keep everything in its place and everybody away. Because he would absolutely not have three proposal attempts thwarted. Not by Kakashi, not by Naruto, and not by -

A bird squawked somewhere, again, Yamato was certain, but when he looked around, there was nothing to be seen. He’’d been hearing the damn thing all day. Some kind of crow, maybe even a magpie, he guessed, yelling, ringing in his ear. Mocking him. So clear that it even sounded like a word.

Caw. Caw. Caw. (Idiot). Caw. Caw. Caw.

Again!

He craned his neck with a reaction speed better suited to battle, but, unsurprisingly, nothing. Again.

Get a grip, he decided with an exhale. He was a shinobi for heaven’s sake; surely he couldn’t let himself get so stumped by some birds, real or imaginary. Never mind that - he had better return to the task at hand. It was probably his own nerves getting the better of him, and who could blame him? It was nerve-wracking - the act, not the decision - and it had failed twice already. But not thrice. Steeling himself, he turned on his heel. He would find you, and he would ask you that question, and you would be surprised.

Attempt #1 had seemed promising enough, at first. A midnight walk. Simple, but the end point would be what had become one of your favourite spots: on the outskirts of the village, in that maze of forest and woods, was a little enclave. It wasn’t the only one, but you had claimed it as your own. Something about this one was special, surrounded by all those trees, the way the moonlight trickled through the leaves and illuminated that clear ground. Safe, grounded, yet somehow magical too. You looked natural there. Yamato still remembered the way your face had looked when you marvelled at the stars the first time he brought you here, luminous, ethereal. A face that left him speechless. He thought he might want to see that face again, lit up for an entirely different reason.

But when he met you at your apartment door, and you popped out, looking, well, he never had the words - the one that was speechless was him. That was typical, but that didn’t make him any better at adjusting to it. Fortunately, you spoke to fill the silence, locking the door behind you and grabbing his arm swiftly.

“I’m excited. We haven’t been to our secret base in so long!”

Yamato smiled. Our secret base. How many more things could be ‘ours’, he wondered. Maybe it was greedy of him, to want so much of you, to want so much with you, but he couldn’t help it.

“The missions have been hectic lately,” you continued. Though he was the one technically ahead of you, it still somehow felt like you were the one pulling him along.

“You’re telling me. I half-expect Kakashi or Genma or someone to show up from around the corner and summon one of us.”

“Ugh, don’t put bad vibes out there. I think they do it on purpose.”

“Right. Sorry.”

The wooden box thudded against his leg the whole walk there, appropriately matching the sensation inside his chest. Fortunately, you hadn’t seemed to notice either, chattering happily about this and that. The walk went on, long but not long enough, but then, they never were. Affirming and reaffirming Yamato’s decision with each step you took. This was going well.

That is, until you almost reached your destination.

Just a few metres from your secret base - which perhaps wasn’t so secret anymore, if it ever was - a smooth, low voice stopped you in your tracks. A familiar voice.

“Hey, guys. You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve been looking for you. I-” Kakashi stopped, his one visible eye darting from Yamato to you. The mask was hiding it, but it was damn obvious the asshole was smirking. “By any chance - could I be interrupting something?”

Before Yamato could retort, and figure out how to answer his senpai’s question without floundering, you already did, gritting your teeth. “Yes.”

“That’s too bad. I’m sure you had something special planned. It is a beautiful night, after all-“

“What do you want, Hatake?” You folded your arms. It wasn’t that you disliked the silver-haired bastard, despite referring to him as such. You just had this uncanny ability to wade through his bullshit. Something at which Yamato both was astounded and envious.

“Ah, right. The Hokage has summoned you, Tenzou. We need you to fix something. The foundation of one of the buildings in town is a little shaky.”

“You’re not supposed to call me that! And right now? But-“ Yamato began, before you laid your hand on his wrist gently, glancing back at him with a warm smile he was familiar with, but wasn’t expecting.

“I warned you about putting out bad vibes.”

That you did.

Yamato sighed, and turned back towards Konoha. Again, he found himself grateful for your laugh, accompanying him back, and even while he rebuilt the foundations. Of course, they weren’t urgent.

And of course, Kakashi vanished as quickly as he appeared.

Attempt #2, just in case, would take place in the village. It was cherry blossom season, so, appropriately romantic, and space under the trees was already filled with the picnic blankets and lovingly packed bentos of so many couples that it would camouflage the two of you quite nicely. Even if Yamato would prefer to do this in isolation, right now, this was the same thing. No one would notice you in the crowd. Definitely not.

“You know, when you said you wanted to go flower-viewing, I didn’t think you’d go all out like this. I would have helped, you know. And I didn’t think you’d go when it was this… lively.” You tucked your ankles underneath you and to the side, getting comfortable on the blanket. Yamato watched the way you sighed in respite, wrists behind you as you leant back, just as mesmerised by you as you were by the cherry blossom petals. “Not that I mind. It’s beautiful.”

Beautiful - yes, yes you were. Yamato cleared his throat. “It is.”

He suspected you noticed his gaze, but you were gracious enough not to draw attention to it, for once. You just looked at the hanami bento with perfectly apt salted sakura onigiri, sushi, kamaboko and countless other intricate little delicacies. “I still can’t believe you put all this together.”

“It wasn’t so much work,” Yamato lied. Pointless, because he suspected you knew he was, too. He crossed his legs in an attempt to get comfortable, and when he did, the ring box damn near fell out of his pocket. He stammered, shoving it back in as inconspicuously as possible. “B-besides, before we get to the food, there’s something else.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. You see, for a while now-“

“Oh dear. Better make it quick,” you interrupted, sighing, collapsing from your wrists onto your side.

“Better- what?” Had he done something wrong already? That would be impressive, even by his standards. He hadn’t even started yet.

You didn’t respond, only pointing to something behind him in resignation with your eyes closed.

“Wow, all this food is gonna go to waste, Captain Yamato!”

“Don’t worry, we can help you with that!”

He shouldn’t have been surprised - why should he get anything he wanted? Why should anything go well? It was him, after all. He didn’t even turn around to look at Naruto and Sakura. And he didn’t have to, because they went ahead and joined you both on the blanket anyway. Lack of space was no obstacle, as nothing was. Sakura at least made a show of guilt, apologising when you sat up to make room for her, where as Naruto just planted himself next to Yamato himself, chuckling as he dug straight into the bento.

“So, what were the two of you doing?” Sakura asked knowingly, surreptitiously nibbling on one of the sakura onigiri. Yamato didn’t even feel like arguing; he had to admit it was picture perfect.

“Exactly what it looks like! Trying to have a hanami party without us,” Naruto said indignantly between mouthfuls.

“We almost got away with it too,” you murmured, giving in and taking an onigiri for yourself, but not before nudging Yamato’s foot with your own.

Next time.

Next time it would be, Yamato resigned, and resigned himself to the fact that his proposal had become a team picnic, funded by his truly. Because, why should their actual leader do it, right?

Next time, the third time would not be Attempt #3 of #?.

Next time, he would ask you ‘will you marry me?’ In no uncertain terms, and you would give him an answer, in no uncertain terms.

回

In hindsight, it’s an easy decision.

When he sees you standing there.

When you smile at him with that unwavering smile.

When you run to him, as if you’re even happier to see him than he is to see you (that’s impossible), when you giggle and his world is just a little brighter, lighter. Easier.

When he thinks about how you asked his name only once, and when you finally used it, he feels more like himself than anyone else.

When he thinks about how you graciously accepted his gift, and how it led to the kiss of which the memory still gives him goosebumps.

When he thinks about how you let him go back to his duties that night with a smile, and you didn’t leave his side the whole night.

When he thinks about how you let the kids ruin your picnic, and though you were probably disappointed, you shared the food and laughed with them for hours anyway.

When he reaches into his pocket, and you laugh.

“I wondered if you had something in there. I thought you were just very happy to see me.”

Yamato stops, shaking his head and smiling in disbelief. The blush doesn’t settle on his cheeks this time, because, well, of course. Maybe you weren’t completely unpredictable.

And he wasn’t completely predictable, as you would come to know in a few seconds.

It’s not like him to do something so impetuous, so unthought out, so unprepared - but then, then he hadn’t planned for you either. Not to mention, his thought out attempts were just that, attempts. Which is something he suspects the entirety of Team Kakashi now knows.

He holds the box in his hand. It had been hard to craft, which he’s sure you won’t believe, because, why would you? But it had.

When he sees you still staring at him, in your inquisitive, adorable way, in something that looks a little like bewilderment - it’s rare, but he very much likes it on you - he flicks the box open. He doesn’t have to think about it anymore.

“Will you marry me?” Yamato asks quietly but emphatically, matter-of-factly.

When you throw your arms around his neck, forgetting to mind where you are, he figures that’s a yes. Even if he wishes that you’d studied the ring at least a little - he’d worked hard on it - and even let him slip it onto your finger.

But it doesn’t really matter, he admits, and holds you closer.

There’ll be time for all that.

Because Yamato knows now, that simple, but all-consuming fact.

It’s an easy decision for you too.

#yamato x reader #yamato #naruto #naruto fanfiction #yamato imagines #yamato scenario #pfwrites #please say YES to this man he loves you SO MUCH #finding a yamato gif was so hard #he's always with someone #he seems to be only thought of because of his connection to kakashi :(#speaking of the kaka-man.... y'all want something spicy?#cuz the next request...#idk if it'll be the next one i work on there's just so much spice requested and like... loads of other writers do that way better than me

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