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danger-xylophones · 2 years ago

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Okay here’s a request, no rush on the writing, take your time. How about a domestic one shot with General Ba’kif. He needs a break, he has a lot to deal with.

TDIL I can write for Ba'kif

Pronouns: neutral

warnings: implied chiss reader and ungodly amounts of fluff

Note: 'baba' is a widely used term across various cultures with a couple different meanings. In this instance I use it as an affectionate pet name for the grumpy general

Ba’kif designs I like/reference I II

masterlist | chiss

The light from the questis was burning your eyes, a result of having stared at if for so long - no doubt. Even spaced lines creating elegant tables filled with data upon data had long since blurred together into an incomprehensible information vomit. To your good fortune, it was the end of your work day anyways.

With a lengthy sigh, you set the questis face down on your desk and rose from your seat. Your lower back seemed to yell in protest, angry from the lack of proper lumbar support it seemed. A dry smile spread over your lips - when you were younger, your mother had often jokingly warned you to never grow old. Now you wished you'd listened to her. After a few stretches, you were finally able to amble out of your home office.

As nice as it was that you had a job that allowed you to work remotely, it did lead to a sense of isolation from your coworkers. Maybe you should reach out to some of the others on Naporar? See if you couldn't find a day for you all to go out and get drinks or something.

Your musings trailed off as you made it to the kitchen and started on a pot of tea. When the water reached a boil, you began pouring it into a cup.

A shrill but quiet beep sounded from the front door, followed by the distinctive sound of it opening. A smile lit up your face. "Ba'kif?" You called out.

"Yes, my love." His gravelly voice answered back, "I'm back."

Abandoning your tea, you swiftly stepped out of the kitchen - intent on finding your husband. He was still by the front door, slowly toeing off his boots in the entry way. "Ba-Ba" you cooed, making him look up at you. A subtle purple blush was just visible beneath the white of his full beard. You reached out, arms wrapping around his middle to tug him in to a firm hug. "Welcome home." With your face pressed into his chest, you could feel the embroidered honor patches denoting his status as Supreme General gently digging into the plush of your cheek. It was a welcome reminder that your dear love was a powerful and honorable man. "I missed you."

With a hum he raised his hand and cupped the back of your head, keeping you close. "I missed you too." Ba'kif mumbled, his voice not unlike the low of a contented growzer.

Smiling gently, you pulled back but kept your hands on his waist. "Long day?" You asked with a subtle squeeze before letting go and stepping aside to invite him in.

He snorted derisively, "An understatement if ever there was one," as he trekked further into your shared home, he removed his dress jacket. "I didn't think the meetings would end." He draped the jacket over his arm just as he crossed the threshold to the bedroom.

You made a humming noise in the back of your throat, sympathetic to his plight, as you plucked the immaculate white coat off of his arm and moved to hang it up. "The syndicure still on you?"

"Yes," Ba'kif heaved in a drawn out sigh as he shucked off his uniform pants, "the Ufsa are outraged at the council for reinstating Thrawn." He moved to the dresser and pulled out a comfortable pair of pants and a loose shirt.

"I told you they would be." You pointed out, moving to collect his discarded clothing. Ba'kif turned around right as you'd picked them up.

"I was going to get that, dear." He frowned, one arm through the sleeve of his shirt.

You waved him off, "I was right there," and moved to deposit the pants in the hamper you'd set aside specifically for his white uniforms. "Let me guess," you leaned against the wall to watch as he finished dressing, "They want you to kick Thrawn off again and give command of the Springhawk back to Samakro?"

"I didn't kick Thrawn off his ship-" Ba'kif started to grouse as he sat down on the bed to retrieve his slippers.

"You took his toy away, Ba." You crossed your arms and sent him a pointed look.

"It was for his own good." He raised his gaze to the ceiling, closed his eyes, and then shook his head as he brought his chin down, "If the syndicure had its way it would've been his career." Ba'kif seemed to brace himself for a moment before rising and approaching you. "But enough about that," you met him in the middle where he was quick to pull you close, "how was your day?"

"Fine," you hummed noncommittally, one hand creeping up the back of his neck to play with the hairs at the base of his skull, "boring. As nice as it is to be able to do laundry and get paid," he let out a little chuckle, "it becomes mind-numbing when you aren't here to talk to."

"I warned you about taking a remote position, love." He said with a small laugh. After a beat, he bowed his head and gave your lips a quick glance. You got the message and soundly pressed yours against his in a soft kiss. Now that he was starting to relax and forget about his day, he was becoming more affectionate.

You parted from him, "I only took it so I could spend more time with you, Ba-Ba." Like magic, his face flushed again. That nickname worked like a charm, seamlessly causing the normally composed man to blush like a mid-ager. "I'm trying to plan ahead for when you retire-"

"I'm not ready to retire-" he immediately protested.

"When you do though - you'll get the chance to quit working before I do, Supreme General." You smirked at him while Ba'kif just rolled his eyes at the use of his title. "We'll not only have your stipend from the Stybla but also my income so we can finally travel like you want to."

He tilted his head. "Why do you think I'll rejoin the Stybla? Why not one of the nine?"

Smiling fondly, you cupped his jaw. "Because you love your family, Labaki." You ran your thumb over his cheek and relished in the feel of his beard tickling your palm.

When you'd met the man, he was freshly minted Lieutenant Stybla'ba'kif, a blood member of the Stybla family. You were an accomplished chemist for the U. A. G. and a new merit adoptive. And he'd barely been able to look you in the eye when he'd (quite literally) bumped in to you in the homestead after your ceremony. You'd followed him through his career, finally marrying after his promotion to colonel. And when he'd achieved flag rank, you'd surrendered your family name just as he had, in a show of support and as a signal to his detractors in the syndicure that he was truly going to uphold the tenant of no family ties.

"And they'd welcome you back with open arms." You pecked his lips.

He seemed thoughtful as he gazed at you, a look of nostalgia on his face. "And you'd rejoin with me?"

"I've followed you this far, Ba-Ba," you grinned as the flush once again appeared, "I'm not gonna retreat now."

Ba'kif chortled. "Was that supposed to be a military joke?"

You shrugged but couldn't contain the shit-eating grin on your face. "Depends, was it funny?"

He bumped his head against yours affectionately, "Coming from you? Yes."

You pressed forward, keeping your foreheads together. "Good." Bringing your hands up, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled the man into another kiss - still soft but deeper than the first. Ba'kif pressed into you, his hands pulling your hips flush with his before moving wrap around your waist in a way more comfortable for him. You separated for a moment only to press back into each other again and again, slowly each time, in an achingly sweet waltz that made your stomach flutter and warmth flood your heart. At length you parted for good after one last lingering kiss that left your lips tingling with enchanted electricity. "Do you want to watch a holo?" You asked quietly, all too aware of the dazed look on your face. You had no reason to be ashamed, though as Ba'kif's expression was much the same.

"Sure," he hummed, "you pick. I'll order dinner."

"Order?" You asked as he pulled away from you and started to make his way to the living room.

"Do you want to cook?" He asked over his shoulder.

"No."

"Neither do I."

Behind his back, you rolled your eyes at him but couldn't help but smile. "Whatever, Ba-Ba." You turned in to the kitchen, intent on making yourself and Ba'kif some tea. Only to find a full tea-cup waiting on the counter.

#supreme general ba'kif #ba'kif #ba'kif x reader #thrawn #thrawn ascendancy #chiss #chiss ascendancy #thrawn trilogy

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karla-the-elemental-dreamer · 2 years ago

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KH OC Short Story: "I'll Never Do It"

I wanted to share this story I wrote last night. It's an imagination of if I featured in the KH Novel. Unfortunately, short stories are not my forte, and as my mum said, I do tend to struggle with conveying the emotions of characters. My writing is more 'recap' like; likely due to the millions of dreams I've recapped in my life.

I may try and re-write this story to practice conveying emotion, but it won't be a 'short' story lol.

The timeline of this story is based on what has happened in my waking life; my dreams; and energy communications that Riku and Terra have given me to continue our bond, including how they reference their cannon timeline.

Enjoy reading :3

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To really think I would be a keyblade wielder at the start of it all. I thought there were certain rules that you just HAD to follow, at least by the precedent of certain keyblade masters. I always insisted to myself, and consequently to those around me, that this wasn’t for me.

I never saw Namine fighting within the group, but then I thought she was powerful enough in her own right; a witch with power over people’s memories.

I never followed trends, but what if I could be a trendsetter?

My favourite colour is blue. The first keyblade wielder I formed a connection with, to link to their world, was Riku. And guess what; Riku is a keyblade master… After everything I’ve said. Maybe I’m to blame, as I remained with my assumptions for quite a while, but I saw Riku as one angry man. No matter the amount of letters I wrote in an attempt to explain myself, he always seemed to complain that I was too needy for him.

And then his mentor came, or who was at least supposed to be his mentor if he wasn’t stuck in limbo for ten years. Terra seemed to watch me carefully.

I never heard the boys speaking seriously to each other, but then what were Riku and Terra conversing about behind the scenes?

This led Terra to start subtly taking over the roles that I had set for Riku, and that perhaps Riku was trying to palm me off to him. But then I thought to myself, “Is Terra going to get me past the tax exam?”. It seems I have a one-track mind. It had to be Riku.

Now in hindsight I think, was it right to push Terra away? To see a grown man cry from something I’d done, when it was never my intention to make him feel that way. And in turn, Riku grew more cross.

My intentions were being misconstrued, and so were theirs.

It seemed near impossible to convey my truth to Kingdom Hearts. But then impossible is made up of I’m possible, right?

After my dad’s best friend had passed away, I saw a different side to Riku. He seemed to take a step back and just observe the emotions of my family during a seemingly tumultuous time. One night, in my room, I heard Riku whispering a phrase from behind the open door.

“Because somebody needs me”.

I don’t know who or what he was talking to, but this seemed like Riku’s promise to finally try and help me rather than hiding.

It was still rigid for a while, but each day got lighter and brighter as Riku tried to understand me further, and we connected more. We taught each other the art of compromise in subtle ways. Riku did his best to reserve initial judgements of me and learn more about my special needs, and I had begun to think that not all keyblade masters were grumpy, old-fashioned, and I guess linear.

Riku embraced being my first connection to Kingdom Hearts and admitted that he felt lucky. And then he broke the most significant message by far.

He thought of me as his first de-facto student.

He told me I could take all the time I needed and that he would never apply pressure for me to use a keyblade. My life lessons would show me the way and would determine when I’d be ready.

With all the guardians of light flocking to watch me in Riku’s time, it would be easy to get to know the others.

Times seemed to be getting harder and harder for my family and the world in general. I decided that for the first time, I’d let two connections at once take the driver’s seat in watching over me.

With many options to choose from, making the choice seemed harder than I thought. No matter how seemingly fairly and equally I assessed each guardian, I was always being drawn to Terra. I couldn’t not choose him after how I had hurt him in Riku’s early days. And then there were also many more deciding factors. In-fact too many to list… All roads lead to Terra.

But now that I had given Terra the role he seemingly wanted in the first place, I couldn’t understand why he looked like he now didn’t want the role. Or was this simply the insecurities of his past setting in? The whisperings of his enemies that he wasn’t good enough.

Just like with Riku, there was a day where Terra suddenly changed. Like something had finally pushed him into his role.

In this world, Riku and Terra could be together and share many smiles and laughs.

Weeks later, I ended up summoning a keyblade in my hand, but it wasn’t my own. It was Riku’s Braveheart, and then I subsequently summoned Terra’s Ends of the Earth keyblade. The boys were impressed with each one taking turns to talk when I had summoned their keyblade. However, a thought worth noting is that I had summoned Terra’s ending keyblade, rather than his starting one.

Was this a foresight to the special bond I’d create with Terra?

It seems the boys knew me better than I did, or so I thought. There was always this pull towards Terra. Sadness and insecurity from him when I resisted, but a new and unrecognisable person when I responded to Terra, and we exchanged our needs and comforting words and gestures to meet them.

Whenever I’m in trouble, my Kingdom Hearts dream guides are always there to help, whether it’s in person or lending me their keyblades.

And I’m starting to have an affinity for the colour purple.

INFJs are quiet and mysterious, but powerful people after all.

#kingdom hearts #riku #terra #karla #dream guide #dreamer #riku kh #terra kh #oc #story #oc story #fiction #timeline of events #timeline #fan writing

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theteasetwrites · 3 years ago

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The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 85: Addition

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: none! ❧ Word Count: 6.5k

❧ In This Chapter: News of a new addition to the Dixon family is starting to spread around the Commonwealth. Still, there remains one very important person who needs to know: Robin.

❧ A/N: Just a sweet, lighthearted chapter. We've got some nice moments with our two favorite lovebirds, as well as a scene with Carol and Princess which was fun to write. Also love Reader/Robin scenes, or just scenes with her and the kids in general. I think she's a pretty good mom, if I do say so myself (because I wrote her as what I imagine to be a good mom lol). I'm so excited for baby Dixon #2! I've got plans for this little one... Lots of plans...

He huffed and puffed breaths of warm air as you brushed the dog hairs off his black thermal sweatshirt, and played around with his wispy strands of wavy dark hair until they framed his face in what you believed was the most flattering way.

“There,” you said before placing a tight kiss on his cheek. “Now you’re ready to go, handsome man.”

He grunted and leaned down to pet Dog, sitting patiently between the two of you on the musty old carpet in your tenement.

“Yeah, I look good for Major Asshole?”

You tilted your head and scoffed at Daryl’s less than affectionate term for Mercer, his “boss” who’d been particularly hard on him the last few weeks since he started basic training for the Commonwealth Army.

At least he’d already gotten a paycheck, which turned out to be somewhat hefty, and apparently would only increase when he became a certified officer.

Your paycheck had been less substantial, considering your responsibilities at the Commonwealth Library included reshelving books and stamping due dates, but at least it was getting you all closer to affording the luxuries that the Commonwealth had to offer.

“You know,” you said, making more finishing touches to Daryl’s appearance, “I bet if you get to know him, you two are both more alike than you think.”

“Pfft,” he scoffed. “How so?”

“You’re both incredibly grumpy, for starters,” you said. “And you both like to make people think you’re these big, strong, tough guys, and that might be true, but deep down, you’re just a big softie with a heart of gold, hm? Am I getting somewhere?”

You pressed another kiss to his cheek, then pulled back to run your finger along the little scar trailing down his face.

He shifted his hands to your waist and tilted his head as he admired you, your sweet, smiling face and your wide open eyes, eager to face the day and try to make yourself in the Commonwealth once again.

“You’re an angel, you know that?”

You giggled and shook your head. “Aw, well, you do tell me pretty often, so I guess I know. Oh, are you picking up the kids from school or should I?”

“Dunno know when I’m gonna be off,” he said reluctantly. Indeed, Daryl’s schedule was sporadic, with Mercer and other Commonwealth soldiers often pounding on your door at ungodly hours to throw Daryl into an impromptu training session.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll pick them up.” You pulled him close by the shoulders and gave him a long, firm kiss on his lips. “You be careful today, and don’t let that little prick get to you.”

That little prick being Sebastian Milton, the son of the Commonwealth’s esteemed leader (well, governor, but due to past experience, you were reluctant to call her that), Pamela Milton. He was a typical trust fund kid, spoiled rotten with an even more rotten attitude towards those “below him.” You hadn’t had the distinct displeasure of meeting him yet, but he hung around the police station and the training grounds for the Commonwealth Army, and was even more of a pain in Daryl’s ass than Mercer. At least he was somewhat respectable in Daryl’s eyes, while Sebastian was a complete and utter piece of shit.

“If he bothers you,” you continued, “you send him to me and I’ll set him straight, honey.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow and quirked his lip in amusement. “I don’t doubt it. You’re mean when ya wanna be.”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a nod. “No one treats my man like a second-class citizen and gets away with it with his balls intact. Now, get yourself to work before Mercer gives you an earful again. I’ll be downtown if you need me.”

He narrowed his eyes and pointed loosely towards you as he opened the door. “No shoppin’, (Y/N).”

You held your hands up in defense. “No shopping, sweetheart.”

One time, one time you use a small portion of your first paycheck to buy Daryl a new shirt, and you never hear the end of it. It was a simple blue linen shirt, loose and breezy, perfect for warm days, and yet it seemed like you bought a flat-screen TV with how much Daryl carried on about “saving money.”

At least he looked good in it.

“Love you,” he said.

“Love you more.”

The transition from the slummy tenement buildings to the colorful, clean downtown area was always a breath of fresh air.

You still weren’t quite used to carrying a purse, or walking Dog on a leash, or looking in the windows of the shops you wished you could go into, but convinced yourself not to, for fear of spending more money than you had.

You didn’t think there would be any harm, though, in paying Carol a visit at Elodie’s Bakery, where she’d been assigned employment.

The bell on the door handle chimed sweetly as you walked into the vibrant, heavenly-smelling bakery, where upbeat jazz music played over a speaker and Carol’s voice resounded from behind the counter as she stocked the baked goods rack.

“Welcome in,” she said, still not yet seeing you on the other side of the counter. “I’ll be right with you.”

“Sounds good,” you said with a laugh, and immediately alerted Carol to your presence as she lifted her head with a wide grin.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovely Mrs. Dixon…” She reached her hand into a large clear jar and fished out a dog treat for Dog, which he gladly accepted. “Wait, it’s officially Mrs. Dixon now, right?”

You came forward and placed your purse atop the counter, instructing Dog to sit beside you as you did.

“Yes,” you said. “We’ve been ‘legally’ married for… a week?”

“Mmm,” she hummed with a smirk. “And how’s the job?”

“Fine,” you said. “Kind of makes me wonder why I bothered getting a masters degree in library and information science if I just ended up reshelving books.”

Indeed, you felt rather silly doing the menial tasks assigned to you, especially since it was the same kind of work you did when you were an undergraduate in college, but at least it was something.

The only thing you were really worried about now that you’d decided to keep the baby was maternity leave, but you supposed you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

Oh, yes—the baby.

Your hospital visit two weeks ago confirmed that the fetus was over a month old now, and when you saw the little grainy figure of the tiny pre-baby, you knew what you wanted—you wanted to keep it.

Daryl would never say, for fear of wrongly influencing your choice that he believed was yours, but he wanted the baby, too. The very idea of having another child to worry about and care for was, of course, incredibly stressful, and it only gave another reason to work as hard as possible to get a better living situation for your soon-to-be six person household.

The sudden wave of anxiety over your future second child reminded you—you had yet to inform anyone besides Aaron and Daryl of your pregnancy.

“H-hey,” you said, straightening your back and taking a deep breath as you prepared to make the rather sudden news. “So this is kind of out of the blue, but I figured I should probably start telling people… I’m pregnant.”

Carol looked up at you wide-eyed, a glob of orange frosting slowly dripping from the end of the icing bag she was using to decorate the bare cupcakes before her.

“What? Are you serious?” she asked, her face forming into a wide grin.

“Yep,” you laughed. “Almost two months.”

Carol dropped her icing bag and walked around the counter to give you a big hug, rocking you back and forth. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I mean, is it wonderful?”

She had known your preference to just have one child, so it seemed evident that this pregnancy must’ve been an accident.

“Yes,” you said. “It’s… unexpected, and certainly not planned for, but I’m excited.”

“And Daryl?”

“Worried,” you sighed. “To be expected.”

“And Robin?”

Your stomach turned at the thought of Robin having a less than favorable reaction to the news, or even asking where babies come from. Either way, you weren’t prepared.

“We still have to tell her, —”

“Tell who what?”

Princess’s voice cut through yours as the bell of the door rang once again, this time alerting you to her presence.

She was relatively new to you, having been met by Eugene, Yumiko, and Ezekiel on their journey to the Commonwealth. She had lived by herself for over a year before this, so you couldn’t blame her for her occasional lack of boundaries. Plus, she was incredibly fun and sweet, so you had a soft spot for her.

“Oh, hi, Princess,” you said. “Um, I was just talking about my daughter.”

Carol smirked at you knowingly, and when you gave her silent permission, she broke out into an excited grin at Princess.

“(Y/N)’s pregnant!”

“Dude, no way!” she gasped, reaching out to wrap you up in a big hug, then stepped back and looked you up and down curiously. “You don’t look pregnant.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, flattered that you at least didn’t look pregnant. “I’m only two months along. Doesn’t start showing much until the second trimester.” You reached down and caressed your belly, slightly more distended than usual, but mostly you just appeared to be a little bloated. “Baby’s about the size of a raspberry, according to the doctor. Oh!” You suddenly remembered that you’d slipped the ultrasound photo into your purse before you left, and grabbed it from the counter to show Carol and Princess, who both gathered around you in awe.

“Here’s my little raspberry,” you said sweetly, as if cooing to the photograph.

“Whoa,” said Princess, looking at the bean-shaped blob with teeny tiny legs in the blank space of your uterus. “Look at his little legs, and his little head… He’s adorable.”

Carol raised an eyebrow at Princess. “You know they can’t tell the sex yet, right?”

“Oh, I know,” she replied, then raised her fingers to either side of her forehead. “But I can sense these things, you know. I’m getting major boy vibes from this little guy.”

You laughed. “Oh, really? So it’s gonna be a boy?”

“Mhm,” she said. “And he’s gonna be a handful, too.”

“How can you tell?” asked Carol with an amused smirk.

“Don’t question it,” said Princess. “I know shit. When’d you conceive? August?”

You shook your head in amused disbelief. “I, uh… yeah. Mid August I think. Why?”

“Mhm, mhm,” mumbled Princess, still analyzing the fuzzy grey fetus in the ultrasound. “That little guy’s gonna pop out in April. Aries. Short temper, impatient, lots of energy… Yep, I can already see it.”

You scoffed and tucked the photograph back into your bag. “You don’t actually believe that stuff, do you?”

“Hey,” said Princess, “I’m an Aries, mamacita. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. Don’t worry though, if he’s like me, he’s hella fun. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m here to pick up my cookies.”

Carol huffed and went off to the kitchen to fetch Princess’s order.

“Those wouldn’t happen to be for Mercer, would they?” you asked.

Princess bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders playfully. “Oh, I don’t know… That crazy hot beefcake in the uniform? They may or may not be, I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “I’m sure he’ll love them.”

“A dozen snickerdoodles,” said Carol, carrying out a brown box of cookies tied with a pink ribbon. “Five dollars, please.”

You’d never get used to that, and you’d certainly never get used to the feeling of cash in between your fingertips again. Princess seemed eager to give it away, though, handing Carol a few extra dollars.

“Keep the change,” she said, taking the box in her hands. “I gotta get to Mercer before he heads to the training grounds. Hey, congrats, (Y/N). Thanks, Carol. See you ladies later.”

She left with a flourish of her hand as she waved, and you turned back to Carol, who was holding back a laugh.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just… can’t wait to meet baby Dixon number two.”

You left soon after, realizing it was about time to pick up the kids from school. Carol handed you three cupcakes (for the kids, of course) and sent you and Dog on your way.

It was going to take a while to get used to the sheer number of people in the Commonwealth. There were apparently about fifty thousand across all of the Commonwealth’s territories, but the Commonwealth itself had the largest population, and it showed.

Walking through the streets towards the elementary school, every new face was so distinct and almost eerily dissimilar to the hundred or so faces you had come to know so well over the past ten years. Being amongst such a large population again was jarring, to say the least, but the sight of the three children scurrying towards you as you awaited them in front of the school was enough to bring you back to the familiarity of your own little world.

“Hi, (Y/N),” said Judith first, always so grown and the most confident of the bunch. “Hi, Dog.”

“Hey, Jude,” you said. “How was school?” You took Robin’s hand, who held RJ’s as the four of you crossed the street. There might not have been any cars in the Commonwealth, but the bicyclists went fast down the little paths that stretched from the school through the arboretum and the park.

“RJ got put in timeout,” Robin immediately said. “He had to sit in the classroom during recess.”

“What?” you asked in bewilderment. “Why?”

RJ glared at Robin, no doubt irritated by her lack of a filter, combined with her tendency to be a “goody two shoes.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Aunt (Y/N),” he said. “These two boys were being mean to Robin and me. I told them to shut up.”

Shut up for children was one of the worst things one could say, that and calling someone stupid.

“And he called them stupid, Momma. He almost got me in trouble, too.”

“Shut up, Robin! You’re such a big tattletale!”

You stopped abruptly and pushed the children away from each other, handing Dog’s leash to Judith all the while.

“Stop it,” you said sternly. “Right now.” You turned to RJ and leaned down further to look him directly in the eyes. “Don’t tell people to shut up or call people names, RJ, especially not your friends. It’s hurtful. And Robin—”

You turned to look at your daughter, who was trying desperately to hold back her tears. Her face was reddened and her lips sealed shut, but blubbering when the sobs couldn’t be contained anymore.

You held one of each of the young children’s shoulders in each hand, looking around the park as if that would somehow help you figure out what to do.

Looking back down at Robin, who wiped her tears with balled fists and lightly cried between sniffles, you realized what you really needed to do was be there for your daughter, who would surely be embarrassed by Judith and RJ seeing her cry.

“Judith,” you said to the older child. “Can you and RJ walk home from here if I give you the keys?”

“Mhm,” she said, taking RJ’s hand in hers and tugging him away towards home. “Meet you there?”

“Yes.”

“What about the cupcakes?” asked RJ as he gestured to the box of cupcakes peaking out of your purse.

You raised an eyebrow as you handed Judith the key and gave RJ a stern look. “We’re having a talk when I get home, young man. Maybe then you’ll get a cupcake, once you explain yourself. Go on. Take Dog.”

You watched the protective canine and the two children walk hand-in-hand for as long as you could until their figures disappeared, and you shifted your attention to Robin, still crying and trying to keep her tears at bay.

“Sweetie,” you sighed, brushing a stray strand of wavy caramel colored hair that had been loosened from her headband. “Did RJ hurt your feelings?”

She nodded with her head down, as if ashamed of how weak she felt.

You took her hand in yours and guided her over to the nearby park bench where you wrapped her up in your arms and hugged her close to your body, letting her cry against your chest as you rubbed her back.

“No one likes me,” she said.

“Now, that’s not true,” you replied. “RJ likes you, he’s just going through a phase. He misses home, and that’s making him lash out. It’s not your fault.”

Robin shook her head and raised it to look directly at you, with the whites of her eyes painted a pinkish-red, creating a sharp contrast with her crisp, vibrant blue irises.

“Not RJ,” she said. “Those boys at school.”

“What did they say?”

She wiped her nose and sniffled before speaking with pouty lips. “They told us to go back where we came from… Said we’re from the wasteland, and we’re all dumb hillbillies.”

You scoffed and felt a wave of anger rising up in you, but then you remembered the boys who had told this to RJ and Robin were probably also six-year-olds. Still, it pissed you off.

“First of all,” you sighed, “they’re wrong. We’re not from a wasteland, we’re from a place a lot like this, just… different.” Better was a more apt word, in your mind, but you didn’t want Robin to take that wording to school and instigate something.

Indeed, Alexandria was so much better than the Commonwealth in your mind. Just because this place was more like the old world didn’t mean it was a good place. Sure, there were good things about the old world, things that Alexandria embraced, too, but the Commonwealth seemed to embrace what was bad about the old world—wealth, status, exploitation of the working class, oppressive systems of power, militarized police… You could go on.

“Second of all,” you continued, “we are most certainly not hillbillies. We’re not from the Appalachians. Well, your father is, but that doesn’t mean he’s a hillbilly.” You weren’t entirely sure where you were going with this.

“Look, people here… They have this idea that certain people are better than others, that where you’re from or how much money you have is more important than your character or your actions. It’s not right, but that’s how a lot of people think.”

Robin lowered her head and twiddled her thumbs as her hands sat delicately upon her lap. “I miss home,” she said. “More than RJ and Judith. They like it here… I just wanna go back.”

You sighed and brushed her hair back again. “I miss home, too. It’s going to take some time to get used to all this, but change is a big part of life, and getting used to it and seeing the good in it is something you’re going to have to learn as you grow up.”

You thought then about the big change in your family that was growing inside your belly, and how you could possibly explain that to Robin without her getting upset, but you only hoped you could show her that change isn’t always a bad thing.

“And you know,” you continued, “so many people love you. If those boys at school don’t like you, their opinion doesn’t matter anyway, because they’re wrong. You’re a sweet, smart, kind, brave little girl, and there will always be people who are too blind to see that, but that doesn’t mean you’re not loved.”

You held her face with her cheeks and wiped away her tears with your thumbs. “There are good people here, they’re just a little blind.”

As her tears faded, you reached for your purse and pulled out the box of cupcakes given to you by Carol. Robin’s eyes widened slightly, causing you to smile in amusement at the child’s wonder. She’d had sweets before, but whatever sugar was in the sweets you made back at home was usually just natural sugars, not the processed sugar that was no doubt in these perfect, professional looking cupcakes.

“I think you deserve a cupcake,” you said, handing her the miniature vanilla cake topped with a fluffy swirl of pastel orange frosting. She took the treat in both of her delicate hands and looked in awe at the intricacy of the swirled frosting.

“Whoa,” she said under her breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a cupcake before.”

“They’re hard to make at Alexandria,” you said. “Easy to make here.” You laughed at the curious girl, looking with her inquisitive, wide blue eyes at every angle of the cupcake as she turned it between her fingers, gently stripping off the paper as she did so. “Go on, try it.”

She gave you one last curious look, and then slowly brought the cupcake to her mouth, opening wide in an attempt to get as much frosting and cake as possible.

The cream-colored crumbs of vanilla cake fell down onto her red corduroy pants, and the orange frosting immediately globbed onto the tip of her button nose, but the surprised joy in her face as her eyes widened and crinkled with her smile distracted you from it all.

You hadn’t seen such pure, radiant happiness on her face since before Alexandria was nearly destroyed, and it felt like magic to see her like that again, without a care in the world, the way it was meant to be, the way you and Daryl always wanted her to be.

“How is it?” you asked.

She nodded and peeled back more of the paper to take another bite. “Delicious,” she said, more crumbles falling out of her mouth as she giggled in delight. Her little legs that were dangling over the side of the bench kicked back and forth in adorable giddiness as she savored her sweet treat. “Thanks, Mommy.”

You laughed and wiped her nose with your finger. “Silly goose,” you said. “You’re all messy.” You licked the glob of frosting off your finger, sharing a muffled laugh with the child. “So, that’s a good change, right?”

She looked at you curiously, tilting her head and furrowing her brow as she licked her lips of the remaining crumbs. “What is?”

“The cupcake,” you said. “We don’t have cupcakes back at home, so maybe there’s good things here. And it’s not forever, sweet pea. Just until everything’s fixed up back at home.”

“I know,” she said. “Maybe change ain’t so bad, I guess.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, hoping maybe now Robin was more open to the idea of things around her changing, willing to accept the new addition to your family.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were compelled at this moment to tell Robin about her little sibling, but it just seemed right, and Daryl seemed to have a lot on his plate with his job, so you were sure he wouldn’t mind if you made the announcement by yourself, and dealt with any questions she might’ve had.

“Hey, chipmunk,” you said, all while giving into your motherly instinct to wipe her face of the crumbs she missed, “how would you feel if I… gave you one more change to deal with? A good change, a fun change.”

She seemed to be somewhere in between excited and nervous, but you supposed that was better than her immediately breaking out into tears at the idea of another change in her little life that seemed to get bigger and bigger with each day.

“We’re getting a new house?” she asked, eyes narrowed in a way uncannily similar to her father’s when he was suspicious of or intrigued by something.

I wish, you thought.

“No,” you said with a laugh. “Not until Daddy’s done with training. Might take a few more weeks. No… but it’s a pretty big change. Well, more like an… addition, actually.”

She furrowed her brows again, slightly confused by your use of the word “addition,” the only type of math she liked doing, that and multiplication (which also seemed appropriate for the situation).

“Addition?” she asked. “We’re… getting something?” She gasped adorably, her eyes getting wide again, reminding you of your own wide-eyed expression. “We’re getting a bunny?!”

“No!” you chuckled. “Not unless you want Dog to eat it… No, we’re not getting a bunny, sweetheart.”

Her shoulders slumped in slight disappointment, though she knew the likelihood of your family getting a bunny was low anyway. “So what is it?”

You sighed and wriggled yourself on the bench until you were facing her more directly, trying to decide exactly the right way to say this. “We are getting a new addition to the family,” you said. “But it’s a… human addition. Robin, you’re going to be a big sister.”

She looked you up and down with a slight drop of her jaw, and for a moment you couldn’t really tell what her expression was, as it seemed she’d gone into some unreadable look that reminded you once again she was her father’s child.

“You’re gonna have a baby?”

You nodded with bated breath, still searching her face for some indication of her reaction.

“Mhm,” you said.

Her eyes moved down to your belly, where she tilted her head and looked curiously at the nonexistent baby bump.

“You don’t look like you’re gonna have a baby,” she said. “Rosita had a big belly.”

You followed her gaze down to your stomach. “Well, mine’s going to get big, too. It’s just too early. The baby’s about that big.” You curled your thumb and your index finger into a half-inch wide circle in front of her.

“It’s gonna be like me?” she asked, this time confusing you.

“Um, yeah,” you said with a laugh. “I mean, it’s going to be its own person. It’s not… a Robin clone, but it’s part Daddy and part me, like you. It’ll be a different uh, combination of Daddy and me, if that makes sense.”

It was a rather impromptu lesson on basic genetics, but Robin seemed to understand. The baby wouldn’t be a carbon copy of her, but a similar, though different, being created by the same parents.

“Is it gonna be a boy or a girl?”

You laughed as you thought of Princess’s earlier declaration that your second child would, in fact, be a boy (a rambunctious one at that).

“It’s too early to tell. The doctors won’t know for a few more months. Oh,” you said, turning to riffle through your purse to find the ultrasound photo. “I have a little picture of it.”

You leaned towards her and held the picture for her, but she gently took it in her own hands, studying intently the intricate details of the rather blurry little kidney bean-shaped figure in the photograph.

She turned to grimace at you. “That’s it?” she asked, as if she was expecting more. “Doesn’t look like a baby. Looks more like an alien or something. Like in Uncle Aaron’s Star Trek comics.”

“Hey,” you said. “That’s your little brother or sister.”

She smiled then, for the first time since telling her of your pregnancy, and returned her eyes lovingly to the picture. “I know,” she said. “So, I’m gonna be a big sister? Like Judith?”

“Yep,” you said. “And I think you’re gonna make a great big sister.”

She giggled sweetly as she blushed and swept her hair back behind her ear, and you let out a relieved sigh, happy that she reacted so well to the news. It seemed she liked the idea of being a big sister, and to your delight, she didn’t ask about how the baby was created, though she seemed terribly intrigued by your stomach as the two of you walked home hand-in-hand.

“The baby’s in there?” she kept asking, gesturing to your abdomen. “And I was in there?”

“Yes, Robin,” you said in amusement at her questioning. “I carried you in my belly for nine months, and I’m going to carry your little sibling for nine months, too. Then it’ll pop out, just like you did.”

“Pops out of where?” she asked, skipping over a crack in the sidewalk (RJ had informed her that stepping on a crack would break your back).

You swallowed hard, knowing that it was good for her to know the process, but also nervous to explain it to her for fear that you’d do it wrong. “Down here,” you said, gesturing vaguely to your pelvic region.

“I read in my Eyewitness book that boy seahorses carry baby seahorses,” she said matter-of-factly. “How come Daddy doesn’t carry the baby?”

You snorted and shook your head at the image of Daryl with a pregnant belly. “Um, well, that’s just not how it works with people,” you said. “In mammals, which is what humans are, the female of the species carries the baby. And did you know, most other great apes have a much easier time giving birth, but in humans, babies’ heads are so disproportionately big compared to their bodies that it makes birth much harder on the mother?”

Robin looked wide-eyed at you, and you suddenly remembered you were talking to a very young child who probably didn’t really understand the things you learned from your anthropology degree.

“What I’m saying is,” you continued, “you had a very big head.” You scruffed up her hair and pulled her close to your side as you walked towards the tenement houses. “Which means you’re smart.”

“Mrs. Turner says me and RJ might go up a grade,” she said. “And she says I’m the best reader in the class.”

“Already?” you asked, walking up the stairs to your building with the girl’s hand in yours. “Well, that’s wonderful, sweet pea. I guess all that reading paid off, huh?”

“Mhm,” she said. “And if I skip a grade, I get to do a book report, and Mrs. Samson, the second grade teacher, she lets her students do pastels. I really wanna draw with pastels, Mommy. Do you think we can get some?”

“Sure,” you said. “I’ll take you to the art shop downtown after work tomorrow, okay?”

You knocked on the door of your room, awaiting Judith or RJ to open the door, but you were greeted instead by Daryl, who was immediately bombarded with hugs and kisses from Robin.

“Whoa,” he laughed, surprised by the excitement of the child who normally only greeted him with such fervor when he returned from a hunt or a run or some other dangerous adventure. “What’s all this?”

Robin pulled away and looked excitedly between RJ, Judith, and Daryl. “Mommy’s gonna have a baby!” she said. “Isn’t that cool? I get to be a big sister like you, Jude.”

“Wow,” said RJ.

Judith blinked as she looked at you, dumbfounded and excited. “You’re having a baby?”

“Uh, yes,” you laughed, not entirely expecting to tell the other children, too, but you supposed they would know soon enough. It seemed Robin was about as good as keeping a secret as you were—so, not good at all.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with a litany of questions from the other children regarding the baby, and a stern talking-to for RJ, who only received his cupcake after apologizing to Robin for calling her a tattletale, though she had seemingly been less hurt by the interaction and the incident at school when she became enamored with the idea of being a big sister.

As the sun began to set in the sky, you took Dog out for his evening walk in the nearby park, with all three children and Daryl tagging along. Ever since Daryl brought a frisby home, the kids and Dog had developed a love of tossing the saucer around, letting Dog catch it and bring the disk back to them, receiving hugs and pets as reward. The game seemed to get all their energy out just before bedtime, and you were happy to watch, resting your head on Daryl’s lap as the two of you lounged on the grass, watching the oranges and purples of the autumn sunset frame the shadows of the children as they played.

In that moment, as Daryl’s hand absentmindedly laced through your hair, brushing it and gently smoothing out the tangles, it felt almost as if the world had never ended. You had had that feeling before, of course, in moments like these, but this was different. This felt like how the world should’ve been, how everything should’ve turned out. Even if you knew maybe you never would’ve met Daryl if it weren’t for the world ending, you still believed this was right where you were meant to be, both of you.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he mumbled, then reached his hand to your forehead to mockingly check your temperature. “You feelin’ okay?”

You scrunched up your nose at him as you turned, letting the back of your head rest upon his thighs so you could look up at him. “Are you saying I talk a lot?”

“Yeah,” he said, a slight chuckle behind that gruff, scratchy voice of his. “Ain’t a bad thing… Actually like hearin’ you talk.”

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Even after all these years?”

“‘Specially after all these years,” he said, lowering his hand to caress your stomach with the utmost gentleness, as if afraid he’d hurt you and the baby. “Robin seems pretty okay. She took it well, I’m guessing.”

“Extremely well,” you said, and turned your head to look back at the children. Robin had just caught the frisbee between her hands, and Dog was now at her feet, jumping up on his hind legs and begging her to throw it for him. She finally relented after teasing him for a moment, and tossed the frisbee rather weakly, but far enough for Dog to run after it. She certainly did not inherit her father’s upper body strength, but maybe she was still just too small. Sometimes it was hard to tell, especially the older she got, and the more mature she seemed. “We made a pretty good kid, huh?”

“The best,” he said, looking like a proud father as Robin helped up RJ, offering him a hand when he took a little tumble on the grass. “This one’ll be the best, too. I know it.”

Princess’s words from earlier came back to you then, and you let out a small chuckle at the thought of the baby being a troublemaker. “Honey,” you said, “so I ended up telling Carol and Princess today, and you know what Princess said? She said that the baby’s gonna be a boy, and he’s going to be a big handful.”

Daryl scoffed and shook his head, protectively rubbing your belly as if to shield the raspberry-sized being’s ears that hadn’t even formed yet from your words. “Nah,” he said. “Robin was an angel, still is. How can our baby be a handful? It’ll be perfect.”

You rolled your eyes and reached your hand up to scratch under his chin, the scruff of his beard tickling under your fingernails. “She said he’d have a short temper, he’d be impatient… Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but he couldn’t really pretend to be offended by your comment, not when the feeling of your fingernails soothingly scratching against his coarse skin felt so heavenly.

“Gotten better, haven’t I?”

Of course he’d gotten better. He’d been getting better ever since you met him, at least in his eyes. To you, he was always perfect. Maybe he was a little misguided and cruel under his brother’s influence, but all in all, he was the softest, gentlest, warmest man you’d ever met, even if he didn’t always show it on the outside. He always saved that softness for you and his family.

“Hard to get better when you’re the best,” you said. “And you’re the best.”

He broke out into a sweet, crooked smile, and for a moment, he got lost in your eyes, and lost in the sound of the children laughing in the distance, and the sound of Dog barking playfully as he frolicked with them. The church bell from nearby rang as the clock struck five, and when the sonorous echoes died down, he heard the chirps of what he knew to be robins in the tree under which you both laid.

He raised his head to look up and saw two robins upon a branch, meticulously building their nest which would no doubt soon safely hold a few bright blue robin’s eggs nestled amongst the soft twigs.

“Look,” he said, patting your shoulder and pointing up towards the branch. “Robins.”

“Aw,” you cooed, admiring the beautiful muted red tone of the birds’ chests, and the slight flashes of greyish blue on their wings. “They’re building a nest. How sweet.”

You sat up to get a better look, and Daryl seemed to become more infatuated with you now, how in awe you looked at the little creatures working on their home, building a safe little place to raise their young.

“You think they’ll start laying eggs soon?” you asked.

“Little early,” he said. “Maybe they’re just makin’ sure everything’s safe first.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, still entranced by the movements of the two little birds making the finishing touches to their nest. They seemed to always be close to one another, always within reach and following each other’s every move, careful to keep the nest intact as they worked together. “Do you think they love each other?”

Daryl raised an eyebrow as he looked back up at the birds. Of course, he wasn’t entirely sure if birds were capable of love like humans were, and he knew that robins didn’t mate for life, but something in the whimsy and wonder of your voice, the innocence and hope of your question, made him want to believe those birds loved each other.

“Yeah,” he said, and gently tugged you closer until he could wrap his arms entirely around you, squeezing you tight and eliciting a sweet giggle from your mouth. He pulled your chin towards him and placed a soft, delicate kiss upon your lips. “They love each other.”

You tilted your head and beamed at his response. “I think so, too. Have to love each other to build that together.”

Night fell not long after that, and though life in the Commonwealth was not all sunshine and rainbows as Lance Hornsby had promised, you found at least that there would always be magical moments wherever you went, so long as your family was there.

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 years ago

Text

Assumptions

10/01/2021

Pairing: Manuel Neuer x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 6,018

Warnings: rpf, mentions of age gap (not between reader and Manu and nothing illegal) and strong opinions on that, banter, jealousy, infuriation, fluff and cuteness

Summary: The reader finally catches her long time crush Manuel Neuer alone on her uncle's birthday. Things are quickly starting to get heated—sadly it's not the kind of heated she would have liked it to be.

A/N: Most of you probably don't know Manuel Neuer. He is the goalkeeper and captain of Bayern Munich as well as the German National Football Team and every once in a while I find my thoughts drifting towards that adorable and amazingly talented manchild. This story has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I wasn't sure whether I felt comfortable with publishing it in case it ever got finished. But I found that there is an intolerable lack of Manuel Neuer x reader fics on here, so here it is. I tagged everyone from my general tag list, but I understand if this is not what you signed up for. So sorry in advance and please feel free to ignore this story at your leisure.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

It was only a few minutes to midnight and still the dance floor was as filled as ever, an enchanting mixture of young and old people alike. The bass rolled deep in his stomach, making him even queasier than he already was, and the lights, flickering across the mass of moving bodies in sync to the rhythm of the music, didn’t help either.

Suddenly a figure broke through the outer wall of bodies and made her way over to his table. A small smile crawled over her lips, a little shy but genuine, yet he didn’t feel like returning it. He had hoped that she would change her mind upon the disgruntled look on his face, but much to his dismay, she did nothing of the sort and sat down right next to him, just as a waitress passed the table with a tray of colourful shots. The woman next to him stopped her, before she turned to him.

“Care for a drink?”

Did he care for a drink? He yearned for one.

“No, thanks. I’m not really fond of drinking.”

“Shame,” she shrugged, her smile growing a bit wider when she took two shots from the tray anyway. For a second he thought she might actually force him to drink with her, but then she placed down the two glasses in front of herself. Raising her first glass to him, she gulped it down in one swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand afterwards.

“Do you care for a dance then?” She nodded over to the dance floor, her eyes and body inviting him to take the offer.

He found that he somehow couldn’t hold her gaze when he answered, “I’m afraid I’m also not very fond of dancing.”

Her forearms resting on the table, she leaned closer, obviously not taking the hint that he just wanted to be left in peace and quiet.

“Then what are you fond of?”

“I think you know pretty well what I’m fond of.” To his own surprise he sounded even harsher than he had attempted to, but the last thing he needed right now was an eager fan trying to engage him in a conversation.

“I do,” she retorted undeterred, “but that’s not what I wanted to know. See, you might not have noticed through all your sulking, but I was actually interested in you as a person, not as a footballer.”

He huffed, although he wasn’t sure she had heard him above the music.

“And you might have noticed that I am not interested in talking about private stuff to complete strangers.”

Sure, he was being massively impolite, but at least he hoped that this would do the trick now. But instead of finally leaving him alone, she shot him an amused look.

“Ooooh, grumpy, aren’t we?”

Now it was him who leaned in closer, making sure she could hear him properly. “Look, it’s nothing personal, okay? I just...it wasn’t such a great evening for me.”

Unintentionally his eyes wandered over to the dance floor for a split second, where a very young, very blonde girl was dancing happily among his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. Cursing himself, he looked over to the woman by his side carefully, hoping she hadn’t noticed. But of course she had, her eyes still fixed on the girl.

“Ah, I see.” She turned to him and the glint in her eyes made his stomach turn. “Puberty is a bitch, eh?”

“Excuse me?” he spat, equal parts bewildered and stunned.

“You heard me alright.”

Who did she think she was? Impertinent woman.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” The volume of his voice must have slipped his control a little, as he noticed a group of elderly men standing nearby turn into his direction. Still the woman’s smile never left her face, appeasing the men who turned away again.

“Really? After all I have to sit here with a pissed thirty something man who refuses to acknowledge he let his hormones get the best of him.”

“Whoa! Okay, first of all, it was you who decided to come and sit at this table and second, again, none of your goddamn business.”

Her answer was a simple grin, still not fazed by his anger in the slightest. It almost felt as if she was enjoying to get him riled up.

“You’re right.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

He rolled his eyes heavily. Why couldn’t she just leave?

“You know, that phrase usually goes with an apology. Like ‘You’re right. Sorry I assumed you’re having a mid-life crisis and bang a chick that is 15 years your junior to boost your fragile ego.’”

“Do you?”

Inhaling deeply, he tried to calm himself a little. After all, he couldn’t afford to yell at her again, not that he didn’t want to, but causing even more unwanted attention was not in his plans for tonight.

“I didn't say that.”

“Well actually,” she looked at him triumphantly, “you kind of did. I never said you were having a midlife crisis or that you need her to boost your ego. Those were your words. And seeing that my assumptions caused a reaction like that, I’m afraid I can’t really say I’m sorry either.”

All right, that was it. Enough was enough.

“Look, I think I have an assumption for you too, lady. I’m starting to assume that you only came over here to rile me up further. And guess what, mission completed. So why don’t you do us both a favour and head off to pester someone else now?”

She was quiet for a moment and for the first time, the cheeky smile left her beautiful, burgundy lips. He had expected her to be a bit shaken at least, maybe even as pissed as himself, and yet the next words were spoken with such dignity that he couldn’t help but admire her a little for it.

“Oh, I would love to say you’re right again, but I’m afraid I can’t this time. And since we seem to have warmed up to each other quite a bit by now, I feel it’s okay to be completely honest with you.” She paused a second, simply for the effect, he guessed and her warm eyes never left his. “I came to sit with you because you looked miserable. Still do, by the way. And I thought you might need an actual grown up to talk to. But it seems I was wrong. You’re just a pouty manchild, like the rest of them.”

She waved her arm, pointing over at the dancing crowd of his friends and their spouses. His eyes followed her gesture and when he laid eyes on the heart of the matter, a hot flush of rage began to swirl through his veins, making his hands clench into fists. Fully set on giving her a piece of his mind, not caring who might hear him at this point, he turned to her again. But the familiar figure that had somehow entered the picture without his notice made him stop in his tracks.

“Here you are, sweetie.” The man cooed, laying his large hand on her shoulder in a protective gesture. “I almost got the feeling you were hiding from me since I made you promise to dance with me tonight.”

She twisted her slender neck to look up at his gentle face, her attention making him smile sweetly at her.

“You know I’d never do that to you, Uncle Hans, especially not on your birthday. I just thought your no. 1 goalkeeper here was in need of some mature company, but clearly he is perfectly happy with the way things are.”

Bewilderment flickered behind the coach’s gaze as he looked between his niece and one of his best players and Manuel was sure that this might not be the last time they would speak about this matter.

“So then, may I have that dance now, sweetheart?”

“With pleasure.” Manuel watched almost transfixed as she gracefully took her uncle’s hand and stood up. It was only now that he noticed how perfectly her dress showed off her voluptuous curves. He was almost certain that she would leave without another word when once again she proved him wrong. Turning on her heels, she grabbed the remaining shot and gulped it down in one large swig before she looked down at him, almost as regal as a queen.

“Have a pleasant evening, Mister Neuer. I’m sorry I can’t say I enjoyed our conversation more. Oh, and just in case you should ever feel in need to talk to a grown up, don’t call.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She could still feel his piercing look on her back as Hansi led her through the crowd and away from him. They had just begun to dance when the song changed and a much slower tune echoed through the large room. With a smug grin, her uncle pulled her closer, bringing his hand to the small of her back. Cheek to cheek he swayed her to the beat and she could feel that her mind was almost beginning to slow down, when he decided to pick up a conversation.

“Will you tell me what that was all about?”

She bit her lip like a little girl that was about to be scolded. “Do I have to?”

He chuckled deeply, the vibration rumbling against her chest and she could easily imagine the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“I’m certainly not going to force you. It’s just, you know, I always thought you kind of liked him.”

Instantly, she could feel her face heat up. How could he possibly know that?

“True. Liked, as in past tense. And besides, it’s not that I actually know him, personally, I mean. You could perhaps say I admire his talent, at most. And he also may be kind of easy on the eyes.”

She had become more and more quiet while she spoke, merely mumbling the last sentence. But he had heard her nonetheless, her silliness making his lips twitch in amusement.

“Hm. I clearly remember your aunt begging me to invite him over for a barbecue party last summer, telling me that you wouldn’t shut up about his quiet reserve, his amazing performance on the field and his stunning smile. Sadly he didn’t have time.”

She gulped audibly, tensing up a little in his arms, which made him enjoy their little talk even more. “So, what changed your mind?”

“He did,” she said a little too quickly, before she sighed so heavily that her uncle almost regretted bringing this topic up after all. “It’s just, I don’t understand his choice in women. I mean, he could choose literally anyone, so why her? I mean, she clearly doesn’t make him happy.”

“And how do you know that? You have spoken to him for what? Like five minutes?” He turned them around, making her face the gloomy goalie once more, before he went on. “I might be wrong, sweetheart, but I think you’re just jealous.”

Over his shoulder her gaze met Manuel’s for a split second before his eyes shot to his right, where the blonde teenager stepped into the picture, blocking him from view. She sat down on his lap, her arms dragging around his neck possessively, as her lips met his in a feverish kiss. Averting her gaze immediately, her eyes darkened and her heart clenched heavily in her chest.

“If by jealous you mean disenchanted, you’re right.”

Her bitter words made him loosen his grip on her so that he could see her face, and the hurt in her eyes pained him more than he cared for.

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but he really is a good person.”

She scoffed while her incredulous eyes landed on her uncle’s soft, blue orbs. “Well, he certainly hid that pretty well.”

He gave her a tight lipped smile. “I think he’s just lost his way a little at the moment.”

“So you think I’m right then?”

The excited sparkle in her eyes made him regret his honest words a little.

“I didn’t say that.” He protested strongly. In the end it was not for him to judge his players’ private lives. “After all he is a grown man and he can decide for himself.” He could see her face fall again and so he was quick to add, “Nevertheless, I don’t think you’re completely wrong either.”

He was very pleased to see that his words had caused a small smile to crawl back to her pretty lips. He almost felt like a proud father and when she finally leaned back in a bit closer, her forgiving gesture almost made him a bit bold.

“So, uhm, one more question, sweetheart. In the unlikely event that he should after all need a grown woman to talk to, can I give him your number?”

“Certainly not,” she insisted with a steady voice, but when she looked at him, the adorable grin on her face left no doubt that this was the biggest lie she had ever told.

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Manuel was furious as he watched her leave towards the dance floor with the coach. How could she dare call him out like that and then leave without giving him the chance to set her straight? His eyes fixed on her, he watched as Flick pulled her closer, his eyes following her uncle’s hand to the small of her back. Being the gentleman he was, his hand had found the only spot on her back that was actually covered by the dark red fabric of her dress. And for a second he imagined what it might actually feel like to let his hand wander upwards until it covered her bare skin. Or maybe he could let it slip down a few inches, until his fingers would grasp the soft flesh of her behind. He had just been able to fully picture the exact feeling of her body pressed up to his when he could feel the man who actually held her in his arms catch his indecent look on his niece’s back. Immediately he sat up straight, averting his gaze, completely missing the amused smile on the other man’s face, and when he turned back to face him, he almost lost it when he found her sparkling eyes instead.

He was still trying to figure out what had happened, when he heard a familiar voice calling him.

“Hey, babe.” The high pitched noise made him flinch and instinctively his eyes shot to his right, just in time to pull his arms away before she slumped down onto his lap clumsily. She laid it on thickly as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I missed you on the dance floor, honey bun. Why don’t you come dance with me?”

And before he even had the chance to answer, her lips crashed down on his mouth almost painfully, her tongue forcing his lips to open. The stench of alcohol filled his mouth and he pushed her drunken form off of him determinedly. Before she even had the chance to protest, he lifted her up and placed her in his chair.

“I don’t think dancing is a good idea in your condition.” She glared at him, but then she seemed to have forgotten what for and her lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Look, why don’t you just stay here and I get you a nice, big glass of water to sober you up a little?”

She began to nod, but then her eyes lost focus und she stared past him at god knows what.

“All right, I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go anywhere.”

Quickly he made his way over to the counter and ordered a whole bottle of water, when he felt the slap of a hand on his left shoulder.

“Wow, you look even more frustrated than after our knock out at the World Cup in 2018. What happened?”

“Don’t ask.” He sighed as he turned around to face his friend. Manuel hoped that he would accept his wish, but when he saw the apologetic look on Thomas’ face, he instantly knew that he wouldn’t drop the topic.

“Too late. I just did.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the next words were spoken more to himself than to his teammate.

“Great, just what I need. Another pain in my ass.”

“Another? Who was the first then?” Obviously Thomas had taken no offence and sounded a bit too cheerful for Manuel’s liking.

“She.”

He looked over at the dance floor, where the impertinent woman was just sending her uncle the most beautiful, cheeky grin he had ever seen.

“Who? Y/N?” his friend asked incredulously.

Y/N. So that was her name.

“You know that annoying woman?”

“I do, although I can’t really say she’s annoying. Met her at the coach’s home once. She seemed rather sweet and intelligent to me.”

“She certainly hid that pretty well,” Manuel growled under his breath, earning him a surprised frown from Thomas.

“Are you gonna stand here and stare daggers at her or are you gonna tell me what she did to make you throw a fit?”

“She approached me out of nowhere to tell me that I’m dating a teenager to compensate my inability to commit to a partner on eye level.”

Thomas let his words sink in for a while.

“That doesn’t really sound like her. I mean, what reason would she have to come at you like that? She doesn’t even know you.”

Manuel sighed, thinking about the way she had somehow coaxed the statements from him instead of making them herself.

“Well, she might have phrased it differently,” he admitted meekly. That seemed to spark Thomas’ interest even further and he could feel his expectant look on him, pressing him to finally tell the whole truth.

“Actually she didn’t say it like that. She only made an allusion and made me somehow say those things myself.”

“Mhm. And exactly what allusion did she make?”

Manuel rolled his eyes again, his ego still fighting to repeat her words out loud.

”She said puberty was a bitch, clearly hinting at the fact that she thought my girlfriend was too young for me.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Thomas’ roaring laughter filled the air.

“Now that does sound more like her.”

He needed a bit to contain himself when he suddenly looked up at Manuel with an unusually serious expression on his face.

“And I have to admit, Manu, she kind of has a fair point there.”

“What?”

Manuel could not believe his ears.

“Come on, man. It’s what everyone thinks. She just said it out loud.”

“Fuck you.”

But instead of rising to his expletive, Thomas just looked at him sympathetically. Pushing himself off of the counter, he pat his shoulder in an attempt to encourage him a little, ready to leave him to his self-denial.

But then he stopped. “You know, I personally didn’t have a problem with it. You’re an adult, you can make your own choices. As long as you’re happy, right? But the truth is, Manu, I don’t think you are. Not anymore.”

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“See, I told you he wouldn’t be here. No need for all the panic beforehand.”

She narrowed her eyes at her cousin, shooting her a dirty look.

“Yeah, and I hope it’ll stay that way. Oh, and for the record: I wasn’t panicking at all, it was just you and your sister’s sudden eagerness to lure me here that got me suspicious and nervous in the first place.”

“We didn’t lure you here,” her other cousin piped up a little offendedly. “We simply wanted to spend some time with you. Come on, it’s been what, like 4 months now? Since you moved to Munich three years ago, we hardly get to see you anymore.”

“You and our father,” her sister added quickly. “So it seemed the best option to kill two birds with one stone and bring you along. After all it’s called a family day, right?”

Y/N sighed, not fully convinced, but finally ready to let the topic go.

“Right. Let’s just hope for your sakes that there will be no surprises today that might prove your guilt after all.”

“How are my girls doing?” she heard a familiar voice from behind her back, turning towards her favourite uncle with a beaming smile. What she didn’t see, however, was the brief look that was exchanged between her cousins as soon as she had turned her back, proving exactly what she had suspected all along.

“We’re good, dad. Actually, we’re more than good, we’re excellent,” the older cousin chirped.

“Great.” He paused a moment, but it was clear that he had more to say. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he looked from one woman to the other. “So,” he began carefully, before a huge Cheshire grin spread across his face. “I hope you all reserved a dance for me tonight.”

“Oh, no, daddy, not again.”

“Please, don’t make us do this.”

“There will be dancing here? If you had told me that beforehand, I certainly wouldn’t have come.”

“Of course there will be dancing. I thought that was obvious.” He had to try very hard to look a little slighted, while he actually drew a horrendous amount of amusement from their antics. “Remember, girls, we have a tradition to uphold. Whenever there is some dancing at a party, you have to reserve at least one dance for me. That’s the rule.”

And with that he turned and left them on their own again.

“Ugh, why does he always have to do that to us?” her younger cousin whined.

“Oh stop it, silly. You’re the one who likes it the most and everyone knows.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She had been the first to pay tribute to the family tradition and after a very exhausting Discofox dance session, luckily one of her cousins had taken over from her. Kicking off her heels, she welcomed the feel of the cool grass underneath the soles of her feet. Walking over to one of the empty tables, she slumped down heavily into one of the comfortable looking chairs. With a contented smile she let herself fall back against the backrest, closing her eyes and breathing in the mild air of the warm summer night.

“Care for a drink?”

His voice made her jump, sitting up straight immediately, eyes shooting wide open. And there he was, two shot glasses in his large hands and grinning down at her, obviously very satisfied with the slight scare he had just given her. He looked amazing, the smug bastard, in his casual jeans and white shirt, two buttons undone, topped with a sporty black jacket. She highly doubted that she had ever seen a finer man in her entire life. Luckily that didn’t make her lose her sharp tongue.

“And here I am thinking that you weren’t fond of alcohol. What happened?”

He smiled sheepishly, only one corner of his mouth tugged up, when he handed her her drink. He took his time, grabbing a chair and positioning it opposite hers, then sitting down carefully, not wanting to spill the shot all over his chest. She had already come to think that he was trying to avoid her question after all, when he locked eyes with her and finally began to speak.

“Hm. It’s been a while since I last saw you. A lot of things happened, you know. Maybe it was finally time for me to grow up.”

“Hear, hear.” With a mischievous smile she raised her glass. “To your coming of age, then.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “If you insist.”

His magnificent blue eyes never left hers while they chinked glasses, and a second later she could feel the more than welcome liquid moisturising her suddenly very dry mouth.

With a thud, their glasses landed on the table, both of them chuckling like giddy children when their eyes found each other again and then, for a moment, there was nothing but silence. The world seemed to have zoned out, leaving behind nothing but his aquamarine orbs and the wild smile on his face.

Just gradually, the world seemed to set back in again. There was the monotonous clitter of the crickets, overlaid by the muffled sound of the music that was carried over by a soft breeze, and loudest of all she could hear the beating of her own heart against her chest.

“What else has changed now that you are a proper adult?” she heard herself ask, not having the faintest idea where those words came from and how the hell she managed to deliver them so smoothly when her whole body seemed to have gotten out of control.

He took a quick look over his shoulder, his thumb pointing in the same direction.

“If you mean the dancing, I’m still not very fond of that.” Her face must have fallen a little because he was quick to add, “Except...”

“Except what?”

His eyes landed back on hers and she almost choked on her hitching breath.

“Except I think I could make an exception for the right partner.”

From the corner of her eye she registered a movement between their bodies, but she was hesitant to let her view stray from his captivating appearance. At last it was something in his eyes that looked at her expectantly which finally made her snap out of her trance.

Looking down at his hand sheepishly, it took her a while to fathom that he was actually asking her to dance with him.

Slowly her eyes wandered up to his again, asking a silent question, which he answered with an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrows. And before she knew what she was doing, she laid her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

He had just turned towards the source of the music, when she suddenly held him back.

“No, wait.”

With a puzzled look he did what she asked of him and let her twist him back around.

“Why don’t we just stay here? The music is loud enough anyway.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

She nodded softly, her teeth biting down on her lip in excitement.

And before she knew what was happening, she found herself secured against his chest by his firm grip. It felt like being pressed up to a hot furnace which she would usually have appreciated any other time, but on a sweltry night like this and in a place she had wanted to be in for so long, it was pure torture. And as if this wasn’t bad enough already, his strong fingers pressed down on her lower back, threatening to scorch her even through the fabric of her blouse as he pulled her an impossible inch further into him. He was so close now that she could sense the heat radiating off his cheek as well, bringing along a whiff of his enticing scent and she couldn’t help but close her eyes as she inhaled deeply and her head began to spin. It was odd, but her mind was completely blank by now, blank except for one thought and her lips spread into a blissful smile as she repeated it in her head again and again, relishing in the feeling that if either of them moved just the tiniest bit, their cheeks would inevitably touch.

Slowly they moved and despite the unhurried shift of their bodies her heart was beating so violently that she thought it pondered jumping out of her chest to meet his. There was no chance he wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he held her, and when he finally drew away a tad to look at her, she fully expected him to call her out for it.

But he didn’t. Instead his sinfully soft lips curled into a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“You were right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A cute chuckle escaped his mouth, leaving the corners of his eyes crinkled in the most beautiful display of amusement.

“About what you said at your uncle’s birthday party.”

“Oh.” She had said a lot that evening, words that she had come to regret later and remembering them now set her cheeks on fire. “About what exactly?”

“About everything,” he admitted without hesitation, yet he couldn’t hide the spark of misery that flitted across his sea blue orbs. “Didn’t take me very long after that night to finally see things clearly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was true. Although she knew that she probably sounded like a madwoman after everything she had confronted him with back then, at least the frown on his forehead seemed to confirm that. “I truly am. I really would have liked to see you happy.” Even if it was with that girl.

She was glad she had managed to keep that last bit to herself. She had no idea why she had said that she was sorry in the first place, but judging by the wild smile on his face it must have been the right words after all.

“Well, I certainly am happier now than I was that night.” He shrugged. “So, thank you, I guess.”

She huffed. “For what? Making absolutely inappropriate remarks on your relationship? I shouldn’t have done that. I know that now. So it should be me who is sorry here, don’t you think?”

She could feel his fingertips press into the soft flesh of her back.

“Don’t be. I guess you were exactly what I needed.” It took him a second before he realised what he had just said. “I mean it. It was exactly what I needed.”

His eyes snapped to the left and she was thankful that he couldn’t see the grin that decorated her lips as she watched the treacherous colour creep into his cheeks, spreading all the way to his ears. For a while he didn’t say another word, probably still trying feverishly to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. And when he finally spoke, she wished he hadn’t.

“There is one thing though that I have gone over and over in my mind. But no matter how long I think about it, it just won’t make sense.”

She already knew that she wouldn’t like where this conversation was heading now, but she found herself asking nonetheless.

“And what is that?”

His head turned without a warning as his eyes searched her gaze and for the blink of an eye his lips came so close that she couldn’t say if they had actually brushed along hers or if her needy heart had just imagined their brief touch. He didn’t answer her question right away, his breath blending with her own in the narrow space between their faces and suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore if she had really only dreamed up their fleeting foretaste of a kiss.

“Why did you do it?” Panic rose in her chest. She hadn’t done anything. After all it had been him who had turned his head. But as he went on, she realised that he wasn’t referring to that at all and the suffocating distress eased away bit by bit. “I mean, we didn’t even know each other when you decided to come at me like that.”

Now it was her who had to avert her gaze.

“I think I don’t really want to answer that question.”

“Why not?” His voice was so soft and gentle, making it even harder to answer him.

“Because the truth might be kind of ugly.”

“But the outcome wasn’t, so I think I’ll take that risk.”

Her feet stopped their mechanical movements as a violent shiver ran down her spine. So this would be it then. It would be over before it had really begun. Pity. But at least she would have the memory of these few minutes, of his genuine smile and the way he had held her tight against his chest. With a deep sigh she bid their daydream of a dance goodbye.

“I could tell you now that it was for some noble reason, but at the bottom of it all I think it was nothing more than jealousy that drew me to your table that night. I had been unable to ignore you all evening — ignore her. The way she behaved like a spoiled brat, drinking and losing control, not caring in the least that she not only made a fool out of herself but of you as well. God, I hated her in that moment, for having everything I ever wanted and riding roughshod over it. And when I saw you sitting there, looking so utterly crestfallen, somehow I couldn’t help it.”

An undefinable silence settled between them and the only sound that remained was the beat of the music wafting over from the party that went on behind his back. The faint whisper of the melody seemed to push itself up between them and tear them further apart, exactly as she had expected. And just like the bass, her heartbeat slowed until it died away completely.

It was over and everything she wanted to do was let go of his hand so she could do him the favour of leaving, but to her astonishment he refused to set her free. And rather then releasing her from his grip, he squeezed her hand, briefly and just once, but it was enough for her to find the courage and face him. But instead of finding a frown or a scornful pair of eyes, his blinding smile made her forget to breathe for a moment.

“I had hoped you might say that.” And with that he pulled her into his arms again and continued swaying her to the music as if she had not just revealed her repulsive self to him. Her brain still a step behind, she couldn’t do anything but stare up at him stupidly.

“What? Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” And when she shook her head like a petrified imbecile, an amused chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Because even though your behaviour was extremely infuriating, I have to admit that I like you. And asking you out on a date will be so much easier now that I know you like me too.”

With a violent jolt, the useless muscle inside her chest started to beat again, its heavy pounding filling her ears with white noise as the world around her started to spin. Unable to stop the motion, she felt herself leaning in, her nails digging into the undoubtedly expensive fabric of his jacket as she desperately tried to gain control over her unruly body.

“So, will you go out with me?”

It seemed like an eternity until she finally mustered the strength for a mechanical nod. Neither had she noticed in her struggle that he had stopped dancing, nor that the priceless look on her face had made his eyes and heart go soft for her.

“Great. That’s settled then. When are you free?”

It was only when he took a step back, taking his warmth with him as his hand slipped out of hers, that she snapped out of her trance.

“Now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

More like now as in before she could screw everything up again.

“Yes, why not? I know you have a busy schedule, so finding a date when we are both free might be tough. And above that, it is a beautiful summer evening.”

Had all those words really fallen from her mouth right now? Embarrassed about her lack of composure, her hand flew up to her mouth, making him smile again.

“I guess you have a fair point there.” And just like that, his hand was there again, fingers entwining slowly with hers like they had never been meant for anyone else. “All right then, let’s get out of here.”

***

Tag List: please let me know if you want to be removed or added by either ask or DM - thank you!

@summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @dorothea-hwldr @omgkatinka @ashesofblackroses @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @icarusblinders @zealoushound @asuni921 @endofalldays01 @nerra75 @indigosaurus @nowyouseeme098 @cap-just-said-language @miss-rebel-without-applause @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maan24 @mochionly @introvertedmouse @sofiebstar @kebabgirl67 @marytudorbrandon @littleone65

#manuel neuer x reader #manuel neuer x you #manuel neuer fanfiction #manuel neuer #football au #manuel neuer fanfic #manuel neuer fic #manuel neuer imagine #manuel neuer rpf #assumptions

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maschotch · 2 years ago

Note

unpopular opinion- rossi gets more hate than jj and jj deserves it way more than rossi

hmm i tentatively agree with this. rossi has a lot of problems of his own: he’s played by a horrible actor, his mob/military background is boring as shit, he’s a misogynist (he’s gotten better but im p sure thats just him getting milder in his old age) and oh yeah he’s fucking racist aljdlajd so its hard for me to straight up say he doesnt deserve the hate he gets

that being said i feel like people arent necessarily mad at him for the right reasons? like i barely hear anyone talk ab any of the above, mostly its that he’s just mean to reid. which… i mean he’s not not mean to reid. but if we’re comparing apples to apples, i think he’s not nearly as bad as jj in that sense. it may just be a matter of personal opinion: i happen to think his jokes land better and overall his humor seems to come from a better place. it feels like he jokes around for the sake of the joke bc he sees an opportunity to be funny, as opposed to jj who seems to be making fun of reid as a way to seek validation from others that she’s better than him

this may just be me finding a snarky old man less threatening than a blonde haired blue eyed mean girl, but idk there just seems to be a difference between “we found him on the steps of the fbi” and the annoyed faces jj makes every time reid speaks. one is clearly a joke, obviously an exaggeration, and spoken with a bemused fondness. the other plays into reid’s insecurities, is only meant to be funny to others, and comes from genuine annoyance. this is just the energy i get from them, but idk how my many years of anti jj bias plays into the interpretation of their actions

i guess its bc, as much as rossi makes fun of reid, they’re backhanded compliments more than anything and unlike jj he’ll actually give reid credit (showing him off to his friend w the crossword puzzles). he acknowledges reid’s strengths even as he puts him down, while jj seems to tolerate him. i think rossi plays the grumpy grandpa role well, and it works bc he doesnt take himself to seriously either. he can take a joke when jj would just get defensive

but that confidence is also part of whats frustrating about him. he’s frequently wrong and stuck in the old ways, but still feels justified and a sense of pride. jj rejects her roots (she doesnt do it well, but at least she’s vocal ab her disappointment w her childhood) but rossi frequently reminisces ab “the good ol days” whether its back in his early bau days w gideon, back in his days w the military, back in his days w his mob buddies, or back when he was growing up in general. jj doesnt like to admit she’s wrong bc she’s defensive and has an inferiority complex. rossi doesnt like to admit he’s wrong bc, more often than not, he still thinks he’s right

personally i agree w u bc i find jj way more annoying. ive also grown weary of the fandom pretending she’s an angel when i have yet to hear anyone point out any redeeming qualities she may have (spoiler alert: there are none). meanwhile i dont really hear anyone talk positively ab rossi… not that he deserves it at all aldhakhd its just makes it more obvious that people like jj for no reason. ultimately it is just a matter of opinion, i just dont think many people bother defending rossi so its less irritating when he clearly does something wrong. pointing out jj’s flaws feels like an uphill battle against people plugging their ears, digging their heels, and pretending she’s perfect.

ultimately rossi is just a goofy old man set in his ways, and its hard to blame him for that. hate to use such an overused word, but he’s just a boomer aldhskhc and on the boomer scale he’s not that bad akdhkshd. but jj is young. part of being young is learning to grow from your mistakes. she’s not even willing to admit she makes any. i think thats why its harder for me to forgive her akdhskh which may not be fair: rossi gets the “he doesnt know any better” excuse from the “cant teach an old dog new tricks” cliche (as problematic as it is). jj is far more stubborn and abrasive, which is less forgivable when she’s still supposed to be growing as a person. she’s stunting her own growth and idk if she could ever admit it

#a reason some people say they like jj is that they relate to her #but im like?? thats not something to be proud of?? akdhksh she is Not a good person #what is it you relate to? her sense of inferiority? her need to degrade others to make herself feel better? her egocentric worldview?#meanwhile no one says that shit ab rossi bc he’s a 70 yo man and completely out of touch alhdkshd #asks #char crit #anti jj #like. i agree w u but its hard to say rossi doesnt deserve the hate he gets #so its a hard position to defend #but jj definitely definitely deserves more hate #the day she’s usurped from the fandom’s pedastal will be a happy day indeed (tho i fear that day will never come aldhakdh)#also alhdksh another reason is bc idk if its just me but i find rossi genuinely funny sometimes when most ppl r upset w him #like when he gives hotch the gun to kill himself? im sorry but that was the funniest fucking thing anyones done on this show akdhskhd #‘oh ur depressed? kill urself then or stfu’ incredible he’s so inspiring aldjkshf

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golden-pickaxe · 3 years ago

Text

Coffee (Part 5)

Fandom: Vikings

Paring: Ivar x Reader

Type: Modern AU, Office AU

Wordcount: 3619

Warnings: reader drinks wine casually

[Coffee - All Parts Here]

A/N: Here is part 5!

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @punkrocknpearls @mootiemoose @istorkyou @dini73 @heavenly1927 @hashimily @peakywitch

Summary: You are a graduate student at the University of Oslo, and have applied for a job as a personal assistant at the Lothbrok Corporation, without really knowing much of the position advertised. When it turns out you are going to work for the (in)famous Ivar Lothbrok, your whole life is turned up-side-down.

With Ivar just wearing a t-shirt, instead of his usual well-cut suits, you could very clearly see the strong muscles in his arms, as you watched him pushing his wheelchair out of the pedestrian zone, towards the street. You had to swallow at the sight, hating yourself for the effect this man had on you.

You walked along side him, finally realising what you had done. Just like a year ago, when the coin had dropped that you had really applied at the Lothbrok Corporation, it now dropped that you had just accepted his invitation to come to his home and let him cook for you. Him, one of the most influential businessmen of Norway. With his own fucking Wikipedia site.

Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest at the thought, and you bit your lower lip, not quite knowing what this whole thing would mean now. And if it would change anything between you. You hoped not, but in the same way, you did hope.

Getting your private life mixed up with your job probably was not a good idea. On the other hand, this whole situation kind of freaked you out, but in a good way. It was exciting.

You and Ivar had reached the street, next to the national gallery, where a few minutes later the taxi arrived. Personally, you would never get a taxi in Oslo, as it was just insanely expensive, but with a lot of public transport, such as the tram you had taken to get here, not entirely being accessible to someone in a wheelchair, you could understand why Ivar had called it.

Ivar maneuverered himself into one of the back seats, while the driver put his chair into the trunk of the car. You felt Ivar’s blue eyes watching you, as you rounded the vehicle to get into at the other side.

Even though he always successfully overplayed it, you saw that he was a bit self-conscious about his legs, often cursing them underneath his breath when they once again got into his way. He could move them a little bit, and also seemed to have some feeling in them, was even able to stand up for a few moments, if he could support himself with his arms. But in general, they did not really seem to be working.

In the office, Ivar hated to use his wheelchair, often just dragging himself from his desk to his sofa, his immense upper body strength enabling him to pull himself up with not much of an issue.

Now, sitting next to you in the taxi on the way to his apartment, he readjusted his legs a bit with tight lips, appearing a bit nervous once more. You still could not quite wrap your head around what was happening right now, it all felt a bit like a dream to you. Just so, you managed to resist the urge to pinch yourself.

Your boss, your grumpy boss, the infamous Ivar Lothbrok had just casually invited you to go out for coffee with him, had questioned you about almost every aspect of your life, paid for your drink, and now took you to his home to cook for you. It almost sounded like a very bad rom-com, like a romance story some bored, lonely woman would think up. Not that you expected it to end that way, of course. Even if you honestly wished it would.

Until now, even if you sometimes chatted on business trips, your relationship had been purely professional, and you had only been over to his flat once, when you had brought him a set of suits to his home, when there had been issues with his dry cleaner. It had not really surprised you, finding out that he also lived in Majorstuen, actually not very far from you, although it had been a stress factor for you. Of course, he did not live in one of the old buildings, like you did, with paper thin walls, no elevator and wonky doors, no. He lived on the top floor of one of those new, fancy apartment buildings, costing a few ten-million krona, overlooking Frognerparken.

When you had brought the suits up to his apartment, you had also met a famous Norwegian actor in the lift, so it was clear what kind of people occupied the other flats of the building. You had never been inside his home, had only delivered his suits to his door, but even the entrance and the lift had been very fancy and expensive looking. Admittedly, you had taken a stupid selfie in the mirror of the lift and posted it to Instagram.

As Aker Brygge was, as stated, not far from Majorstuen, the drive was quite short, and the few minutes of silence were only broken by far too relaxing music coming out of the car radio. The taxi stopped in front of the apartment building Ivar lived in, and he paid the driver, while you got out, retrieving Ivar’s wheelchair from the trunk. You set it up and positioned it next to the car, for him to climb into.

Ivar clenched his jaw a bit, obviously annoyed at something, even though you were not quite sure what exactly it was that he was annoyed by now, only hoping that it was not you. Well, at least you would have not far home now.

Ivar climbed out of the car, moving himself over to sit in his chair, before unlocking the breaks and rolling towards the door of the building, while the taxi behind you departed.

Just as you remembered, the entry hall of the apartment complex was very posh, and you were reminded that this was a completely different world from yours. A different world from your shitty apartment, where you could hear almost every conversation your neighbours were having, and where you had push your full body against the bathroom door to get it to close properly.

Following Ivar to the lift, the two of you got in, and Ivar pressed the button of the top floor. As soon as the doors had closed, Ivar’s eyes were on you, mustering you intently. His gaze was a tad intimidating, you had to admit, once again looking like a predator looking at his prey. Still, you managed to look back with a smile.

“Are there any things you don’t eat, before I work my magic?” he asked, a smirk on his handsome face. You had to laugh at his choice of words, but told him about any dietary restrictions or things you didn’t like, and Ivar nodded.

“Alright. I think I know what to make, then.” He leaned back in his chair a bit, biting how lower lip, a move that made your knees feel very weak.

“Thank you.” It came out of your mouth, earning a very surprised expression from Ivar.

“What for?” he asked honestly a bit confused, tilting his head at you.

“For the coffee. And for inviting me over, and for cooking.” You studied his face, hoping to find something there, something that would give up his intentions, something revealing why he was doing this. You just needed to know, needed to know if you could get your hopes up or not. Was this really just a social call because you had been working for him for a year now, or was it something else?

“Thank me after you’ve tasted my glorious food! Then I will gladly accept your thanks.” Ivar winked, and the elevator doors opened. Ivar left the lift, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he stopped at his front door.

His flat was the only flat up here, and you guessed it had to be gigantic, covering the whole top floor. You were sure, his flat probably also had a roof terrace.

You had to admit, this was another thing you found kind of intimidating about this man. The sheer amount of wealth he had, the wealth his family had. While you lived in a flat share with an old kitchen and horrible, tiny bathroom, with just a wet room and not even a proper shower, he lived in this extremely modern, borderline futuristic building, overlooking Oslo.

Ivar opened the door, and pushed himself into the flat, with you following close behind, walking past him before he closed the door again behind you.

Obviously you had imagined this place to be huge and expensive, but what you were seeing in front of your eyes was just.. something else.

It was less of a normal flat, and more of a large loft, most of the rooms merged into one big space. There was, similar to his office, a gigantic glass front overlooking the famous park, and West Oslo. The sun was still in the sky, the sunset not being for another one and a half hours or so.

In the centre of the room was a big, beautiful white sofa, the kind where one could just stretch out like a starfish and not fall down. In front of it was a coffee table made out of driftwood and glass, the dark wood in stark contrast with the sofa. On the right of it were large, metal, urban looking bookshelves, filled with many thick books, some leather bound and old looking, dividing the living area from the ‘bedroom’, and there were a few doors opposite of the windows, that seemed to lead into extra rooms, probably the bathroom and other rooms.

Behind the bookshelf you could see a large bed at the wall, so large in fact that you were sure that it could comfortably fit three to four fully grown people. It was covered and surrounded in white and grey furs, sheep and reindeer as far as you could tell from the distance. Furs also covered parts of the marble floor of the flat.

There were many more furs on and in front of the sofa, and in general it seemed that grey, white and black, together with different shades of brown were the only colours in the whole apartment, making it look very sophisticated.

On the left-hand side was a giant, very modern kitchen, seemingly equipped with everything a cook could wish for, with a large kitchen isle and a big table in front of it, a rustic looking piece of furniture, made of wood and carved with beautiful knot patterns, probably hand made by a very skilled Scandinavian carpenter knowing a lot about medieval woodcarving.

The kitchen itself, you noticed, was lower than what you were used to, and while it confused you for a moment, you quickly realised that it was built so that Ivar could easily reach everything from his wheelchair, without having to get any help.

“Welcome to my humble home.” You heard Ivar’s voice behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You swallowed and turned to him, looking at him as he watched you with a knowing smile on his lips.

You could not hold back a laugh.

“Humble?” you simply asked, slipping out of your shoes and walking further into the big room, looking around.

The whole flat was modern and elegant, yet had such a rustic and clearly Scandinavian aesthetic, it was truly impressive. Whoever was the interior designer, was truly a genius, and showed an amazing appreciation for medieval Scandinavian design. Similar works you had only seen in the Folksmuseet in Bygdøy.

The walls that were not made out of glass were covered in picture frames, displaying either old Viking artwork or photographs of Norway and Iceland, of runestones and old temples. Somehow, it fitted in perfectly with the rest of the decoration.

There was a door in the glass front of the flat, leading out, just as you had assumed, onto a large roof top terrace, furnished with even more rustic, wooden, and probably handmade tables and chairs, and, as cliché as it sounded, a beautiful hot tub. It was built into a frame, reminding you of a Viking ship, with a set of carved stairs leading up to it, probably so that Ivar had an easier time to get in and out of it, without requiring any help.

“Alright, I admit, not so humble.” Ivar chuckled. “It was a present from my father when I started to officially work in the company. He had his friend Floki and his wife Helga design and build this whole thing.”

That made you turn around to him once more. You knew these names.

“The Floki and Helga?” you swallowed.

Floki and Helga were very, very famous, highly awarded architects and designers, often hired to design important landmarks and museums. Houses planned by them costing up to a hundred million kronas. They were famous for being able to combine the traditional aesthetics of their ancestors with the modern designs of this century, creating masterpieces that were rewarded all over the world. Now, looking around Ivar’s loft once more, it seemed obvious that this was their handy work.

“Yes, The Floki and Helga.” Ivar chuckled. “The two of them almost raised me when I was a kid. With my parents busy all the time and me being bound to.. this.” He gestured at is chair. “Floki made all the wooden furniture himself. I am very lucky.”

“Indeed you are.” You shook your head, unable to believe what you had just heard.

Obviously, he had been raised by the two of them. Obviously, they had made his home for him, being like family to him, and being friends of his father, the most powerful businessman in Norway, and probably even all of Europe.

By now, you wouldn’t even question, if Ivar casually told you that he was descended from Odin.

Ivar just shrugged at your words, although the expression on his face was a mixture of amused and pride. He bent down to slip out of his shoes, before moving his wheelchair over to a spot next to the door, where another wheelchair was waiting for him, this one looking a bit different, similar to the ones used by disabled athletes. Easier to navigate and probably a bit more comfortable. Ivar heaved himself up from his chair, navigating himself into the other one, a sigh leaving his lips.

“I don’t fancy the dirt from the streets in my home.” He explained at your confused face, before he pushed himself towards you.

Oh yes, that made sense. Just as both of you had taken off your shoes, it would only be logical for him to also ‘change wheels’.

A faint smile was on his lips, as he looked up and into your face, his expression soft and open, something you were not quite used to from him. His body language was relaxed too, his arms simply resting in his lap, as his head was once again tilted slightly.

He was truly a beautiful man, you had to admit. It was difficult to ignore, and sometimes you caught yourself staring in meetings, hoping that no one had noticed how your eyes had been practically glued to your boss. Solveig had made fun of you even more, when you had told her about it.

“I think I’m going to start to cook now, before we starve to death. So, sit down, get comfortable.” He winked at you, before moving his chair towards the kitchen, in the process letting the wheelchair roll a bit, while he pulled his long hair into a tight bun at the back of his head. “Or would you like to help?” he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow, looking at you from underneath his long eyelashes. You had to swallow.

“Well, I am still your personal assistant. So, I will assist you.” You smiled, following him into the kitchen. You hoped that reminding yourself that you were still his employee would calm your nerves.

“I had hoped you’d say that, dove.” There it was again, that nickname. Your nerves were certainly not calm now.

Ivar started to pull out pans and a cutting board, gesturing at the fridge for you to take out certain ingredients and washing them in the sink.

You were not entirely sure what he was going to make, but you were positively surprised that his fridge and his whole pantry was stocked very well. You had to admit, you had taken him for one of those bachelors who had never touched their kitchen in their lives, and with all the money they had always ate out.

But, as Ivar casually explained while you were preparing food, he enjoyed cooking for himself, and did so almost every evening.

While you were washing some vegetables, and he was skilfully cutting up an onion, he casually told you about the cooking schools he had visited when he was younger, and about the occasional dinner parties he threw for his close friends and family, where he cooked up five course meals for them all by himself. He moved around his kitchen as if he knew every millimetre of it, knowing the layout like the back of his hand.

You enjoyed this far too much. You rarely saw Ivar this casual, only on business trips when he was not in the mood to talk about work anymore. And though you did not like to admit it, you were keen to know more about his personal life, to know more about the man behind the name Lothbrok.

It was nice to see him here, in his home. He seemed so at ease, so open, the usual anger and annoyance he often seemed to carry around with himself in day-to-day life completely absent in this moment. This was his space, where he did not have to worry, to think about what upset him.

This flat truly seemed to be his place, and his place alone. His kingdom far from the influence of other people. Here he was himself, independent of everyone else, everything built in a way that he did not need help from other people.

Whatever else would come of tonight, you were just happy that you could witness this. You would see Ivar differently now, you knew. And would probably fall even more for him.

You noticed it getting a bit darker out, and a quick look at your phone told you that it was already half past nine PM. It had not seemed that long, getting to Ivar’s home and starting to cook, as you had not even finished the preparation for cooking yet, but frankly, you didn’t even mind. The setting sun tinted the whole apartment in a magical, golden light, making it look even more beautiful and magical. Ivar’s face turned away from his work for a moment, his blue eyes wandering over the horizon, where the sky was slowly tinted in orange, pink and purple. A faint smile appeared on his face, before he returned his attention to the food.

Absently minded you put your phone on the kitchen isle, before you grabbed a jar of mixed spices, which Ivar had instructed you to get for him while he was still cutting up vegetables. You read the label, not surprised that he had not purchased them in Norway, but in Spain, turning around, eyes still on the jar. Thus, you only noticed too late that Ivar was right behind you, his chair almost inaudible on the marble floor.

With a slightly embarrassing yelp escaping your throat, you lost balance, tripping over Ivar’s wheelchair, falling over and landing straight in his lap. His strong arms were suddenly around you to keep you from completely falling to the floor, and your face probably had taken on a crimson shade.

“Careful there, dove. I’m usually not that hard to miss.” He smirked, to your surprise not even remotely angry with you.

You had once, in your third month at the Lothbrok Corporation, seen a small clerk run into him in the office, who had been a bit late and had not really paid attention. After Ivar had yelled at him for good twenty minutes, he had never been heard of again.

“Gods, I’m so sorry, I..” but you stopped, swallowing, not knowing what to say. You tried to get up, the jar of spices still in your hand, but Ivar’s strong grip around you firmly held you in place.

The man tilted his head, eye flickering to the glass container you were holding. He let go of you with one of his arms, while the other one was still around you, taking the jar from your hands and placing it on the counter next to him. His blue eyes mustered you once more. Your heart was pounding. In the light of the setting sun he looked even more handsome than he had already.

“I have told you, that you look good today, right?” he asked, his voice low. His hand had returned to hold you again, and you noticed his fingers carefully caressing your back, which sent a shiver up your spine.

Your mind was racing, as was your heart.

You could not but stare into his piercing blue eyes, not sure what to say, how to respond to him right now, or if you should say anything at all. You were unable to think even one coherent thought, as you felt his strong arms around you, his firm body below you, and his hot breath against you skin.. wait. When had he gotten this close to you?

Before you could really comprehend what was happening, you suddenly felt Ivar’s lips against yours, not firm, but soft, almost shily moving against yours. In that moment, it was as if your mind just gave up, and turned itself off.

#ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivars heathen army #ivar x reader #vikings imagine #coffeeAU

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awanderingdeal · 3 years ago

Note

I vote leo meeting the harvard team! 💕

So this fic has been a bit of a mare to write, but we are here!

You can read the first part of this here

Rating: T

CW: Alcohol, academic superiority complex and coming out.

Logan, Finn, Leo, Percy, Will and the general Sweater Weather universe belongs to @lumosinlove. The other team members were made up by me for this fic.

“Okay, tell me their names again,” Leo said, tugging at the rolled neck of his sweater as he shut the car door.

“Nutty,” Finn laughed. “There’s not going to be a pop quiz. We’ll introduce you when we meet people.”

Leo scowled, letting Logan thread their fingers together. It was weird being able to do this in public still and Leo couldn’t help but glance around. “I just don’t want to make a fool of myself.” Logan squeezed his hand reassuringly, meeting Leo’s gaze with a soft smile.

“Nobody expects you to know anything. And everybody’s great.” Logan wrinkled his nose like he’d just smelt something bad. “Except Wesley, he’s an ass, but I’ll point him out.”

Like many of the others in Harvard square, the building was all exposed brick and white accents, blending in seamlessly with those around it. Inside was different, more modern. Leo didn’t get to see much of the first floor, the one dedicated to the restaurant Finn, Logan and the rest of the team had dined at previous evening, before he was ushered up a grand staircase, but he’d seen the photographs. The cherry blossom ceilings and walls of glass provided the perfect backdrop for the instagram feeds of the hoards of celebrities and influencers that flocked there. Hence his surprise when, after checking their invitations again, an employee pushed open a set of double doors to reveal a room that more resembled a 1920’s speakeasy than anything 21st century. A loud cheer went up as they crossed the threshold.

“Is this a team thing?” Leo mouthed at Logan.

He got his answer from Percy Marshall. Leo had met him a few times before when they’d played the Rangers. “You’re the last to arrive,” Percy chuckled. “I’d say I was surprised, but that would be a lie.” He slapped a hand playfully against Finn’s bicep. Is this outfit change number 52, Finn? Don’t worry, you didn’t disappoint. You look wonderful.”

“Fuck you, Marshy,” Finn laughed. “Tremz was on a call to his sisters actually.”

“Oh, I do apologise,” Percy clasped his hand to his chest. “We wouldn’t dare break up a Tremblay soiree.”

“You’re an ass,” Logan scoffed, plucking at Finn’s slacks. “I was only talking to them because Finn was taking so long. Did you know there are several shades of mustard and only one of them goes with this shirt?”

“Oh look, they argue like an old married couple too,” William Morgan, another of those Leo knew, and Percy’s teammate on the Rangers, teased. “Marshy, these hands are looking too empty. Get these men a drink.”

“Aye, aye, capt’n.” Leo set to follow as Percy led the way to the bar, stumbling slightly as he found Will’s firm grasp on his shoulder stopping his movement. Logan turned as his fingers slipped from his hand.

“Go ahead, Tremzy. I’m going to introduce Leo to some of the team. We want all the gossip without you two around to censor him.”

Logan frowned. “I’m not sure -”

“Relax, Logan. This isn’t a hazing. We’ll be right over there,” Will pointed towards a group perched on stools around two of the tables in the centre of the room, a mix of the old team and what Leo assumed were their partners. “Knut’s a big boy. He can object for himself if he really doesn’t want to come.”

“I’m sure I can hold my own,” Leo cocked his head slightly and smiled. “You better not leave Harzy with Percy for too long. They’ll be three shots down by now.”

The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of introductions. Leo had lost count of the number of hands he'd shaken and the new names he'd learned. It reminded him of those first few days in Gryffindor, being shuffled around from place to place and everybody telling him he'd get used to it.

The quiet of the bathroom was a welcome reprieve to the chaos. “Sweetheart,” Leo laughed, listening to Finn sing to himself in the stall. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there a while.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” A concerningly loud crash preceded the door being pushed open. “I’m here.”

“You’re drunk,” Leo chuckled.

Finn pulled his hands from under the stream of water, shaking droplets everywhere as he squeezed the tips of his thumb and forefinger together. “Maybe just the tiniest bit.”

Leo shook his head fondly. “Let’s go and find Lo.” Glancing back to check Finn was following him proved to be a mistake. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologised, rubbing at his forehead and stepping back from the wall of muscle he’d just crashed into. Of course, the tall man with his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail was the one person Leo hadn’t yet met.

“Leo, this is James. Call him Hunter,” Finn grinned with his hand resting in the small of Leo’s back. "Hunter, this is -"

"Leo Knut. I know. Everybody knows," Hunter said and Leo noted the familiar notes of his own accent in the words. He faltered with his hand thrust halfway in Leo's direction, letting it fall back by his side. "Oh fuck, sorry man. Did you want to introduce him as your boyfriend? Go ahead."

"It's cool, no worries." Finn shrugged, the rounds of his cheeks tinged with the slightest of blushes. "Aww, what the heck!" He squared his shoulders, standing a little taller, the corners of his mouth splitting with pride. "Hunter, this is Leo, my boyfriend."

Hunter extended his hand again for Leo to shake. “Nice to meet you. Please excuse me, I have to use the bathroom now, but we’ll talk later.”

***

"Boys." The call had come from behind them and Logan groaned low in his chest as they turned to acknowledge it.

"Wes! You made it," Finn smiled, the corners of his mouth tight. "We weren't sure you'd be able to. With all those big meetings you have to attend and such. Is your wife, Renee, wasn’t it, here? I'd love to meet her."

Something flickered in Wes' smug expression. "They stayed in California. Nate has a very busy schedule. Harvard is very important to me, as you know, so I came alone."

“Isn’t Nate three?” Logan blinked.

“You have to give them a good start if you want them to get them to get into a good college these days, I’m sure you understand. Where was it you went, Leo?"

Leo pursed his lips, letting the same calm wash over him that he channelled for interviews. “I didn’t go. I got drafted straight out of high school.”

“Oh, well, that’s a shame,” Wes said. “College isn’t for everybody though, is it?”

Logan bristled beside him, and Leo placed a placating hand on his shoulder. “Indeed,” he blinked. “I didn’t need my intelligence validated by a degree then, and I still don’t now. And I was hardly about to turn down an offer from The Gryffindor Lions now, was I?”

Wes grumbled something that sounded vaguely like an agreement before turning on his heel and walking off in a manner that Leo could only describe as petulant.

“You’re so hot,” Finn took Leo’s face between his hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want another?”

“Please,” Leo nodded. Logan raised his still mostly full glass as a rejection of the offer.

“You should have let me punch him,” Logan huffed. “He would have deserved it.”

"And get blood on your shirt? Let’s leave that on the ice, shall we?” Leo tugged at the lapels of Logan’s jacket.

***

"So," Logan started as they claimed one of the low tables in the corner, a little tucked away from the rest of the room. "What do you think?"

"It's always nice seeing where you two started," Leo hummed, threading his fingers through the thin curls on the nape of Logan's neck. "I just don't know how you used to do this everyday. Live amongst all this energy. The guys all seem great, but it's a lot even now and I'm assuming you've all mellowed somewhat with age."

"I am not old," Logan scoffed. "Mais non, I agree. Wasn't always like this though. There's more than one graduating class here and we've been apart a long time. A lot of excitement."

"Sorry, sorry, I got caught up with Biscuit. He has triplets now, isn't that crazy?" Finn said, pressing a glass into Logan’s hand and setting Leo’s in front of him before flopping onto the couch opposite. "One Margarita for the fine sir."

"Thanks, Harzy," Leo laughed lightly.

"I can't believe him and Vanessa are still together," Logan hummed, taking a long sip of his drink. He leaned back, crossing his left leg over his right thigh and snaked his arm across the dark leather, brushing his fingers against Leo's shoulder. "I only introduced them because she was flirting with you at that party, the one just after we got back from winter break my junior year, and I wanted to distract her."

"Oh, so that's why you got all moody," Finn said. "She wasn't flirting, she needed help with an essay, idiot."

"The fact you remember Logan's mood on a night seven years ago says more about you than him," Leo snorted.

"First of all, Tremzy being grumpy? That's just a good guess. Second, some of us were still stupid at 20, Knutty." Finn sighed wistfully. "Hey, at least it doesn't feel like I'm being stabbed in the chest these days when I think about it. Progress, right?"

Logan tipped his glass in Finn's direction, nodding his head briefly. "I'll cheers to that."

"To -" Leo started, letting the toast die off as another of Finn and Logan's old team mates approached. He hoped the disappointment he felt wasn't written across his face; whilst he hadn't really expected to be left alone for too long, he had hoped for the brief respite to have lasted longer.

"Hey." The newcomer had his hand shoved into his pockets and his shoulders stooped, almost as if he was trying to hide himself. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Ken!" Finn patted the empty seat next to him. "Of course not. Come, sit."

Leo extended his arm, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you. Ken was it? I'm Leo."

"Ken's what the team always called me. Don't really hear it much these days." Leo thought he saw something sad in the smile sent his way. "My real name is Obi."

"That's because you went off the radar," Logan gave a pointed look.

"About that -" Obi swiped Finn's drink, ignoring his disgruntled protest. He drained what was left of it, pulling at an non-existent loose thread on his sweater. "I wanted to say thank you, you know. For having the guts to come out. I know Black and Lupin were first, but that was forced wasn’t it. You made a choice. I know that must have been hard. It was one hell of a ballsy move."

Leo looked between Finn and Logan, expecting them to answer, but neither of them spoke. "We didn't have much of a choice, not if we didn't want to be watching our back every second of every day."

"It was still brave," Obi muttered. "I couldn't have done it."

"Ken, what are you saying?" Logan never did have much patience for others taking their time to get to the point, even though he was a fan of the scenic route himself.

"They gave you a whole Harvard degree and you need to ask that question?" Obi huffed a laugh. "I'm gay. I met Marco, my now husband at the end of senior year, and freaked out. I didn't know how to make these two worlds work, so I didn't. I moved to DC with him, and started a new life. I'm an accountant, he works in marketing. We have four rats, and a Vizsla called Poppy. It's all very domestic. I love it, but I was a coward.”

"You're not a coward. You don't owe that information to anybody, Ken. Not the others, not the media, not the NHL and not us. Not now, not then, not ever.” Finn took a breath, holding up his finger to signal he wasn’t finished. “Besides, it's not as if Lo and I planned this. We went into this with every intention of stuffing this deep, deep into the depths of denial, never for anybody to find out. Including ourselves. And then Nutty came along.”

Obi smiled at Leo, turning his attention back to Finn. "When did you become Gay Yoda?"

"I spend way too much time in our psych's office. Just spreading the wisdom. Heather would be proud."

"Do the others know?" Logan asked.

"Not yet, I think I'd like them to though."

Logan shifted, leaning forward in his seat. "There's no rush, Ken. We've got your back, whatever you decide."

"So, do you have photos?" Leo cocked his head. "We got to show off. Now it's your turn. Even if it's only for us."

"Of Marco?"

"I'm sure he's wonderful, but I was actually talking about Poppy. And the rats," Leo teased.

There were moments when Leo wondered whether they had made the right decision. When he was playing in front of hostile crowds, or fending off stupid media questions, or blocking bigots on twitter. And then there were moments when he knew the decision they had made was 100% perfect. Right now, that was one of those moments.

#leo knut #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #rating:t #cw:alcohol #cw: academic superiority complex #cw: coming out #sweater weather #lumosinlove

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bittydragon · 3 years ago

Text

The Ant King

Note: Huge thanks to Bittydragon for inspiring me to write this. I’ll be honest, this is the first fic I've ever actually written, as well as the only piece of creative fiction I've written in like two years so… fingers crossed it goes well hahaha.

TW: tight spaces, darkness, uh,,, bugs i guess. Near death experience

There are things you have to know about ants when you get an ant farm. Basic fundamentals. What to feed them, how to keep them alive, what type of ants you have, etcetera. Even if your intentions were… torturous. After all, you need to know what makes something tick in order to make it stop.

One of the more common facts about ants is that every colony has a queen. She orders her ants to keep her alive so she can make more ants. Simple biology, the continuation of a species. Every nest has a queen, or it dies.

Apparently, this colony didn’t get the memo.

These thoughts buzzed in grumpy circles around Wilbur's’ head as he followed his ant companion, Tommy, deeper into the ant-farm. They had been wandering these tunnels for what felt like days now, in the center of the farm so there were no glass barriers to show the outside world. They were deep too. Almost at the bottom of the compound. Wilbur was not one to show fear, but even he was beginning to get claustrophobic.

Tommy, who up until now had been jabbering like a toddler the whole trip through the ant-farm had also gone uncharacteristically silent. The whole trip Wilbur had wanted nothing more than a few seconds of quiet from him, but now he missed the carefree noise.

They were on their way to see the ant King. A type of ant that, as far as Wilbur knew, didn’t exist. So either they were on a wild goose chase, or Will was way out of his depth.

The further they went, the more he was convinced it was the latter.

“Tommy do you-” Wilbur paused, his echoing voice in the tunnel almost felt like a taboo. An affront to the maddening silence that stalked them. He lowered his voice.

“Do you think… Will I ever get back to normal? Will the ant king change me back?” He hated that little quiver in his voice. He hated the uncertainty. The waiting.

Tommy continued to march forward silently, pondering the question.

“I dunno big man, I think you’ve changed heaps since you got here.” He turned his head to flash Wilbur a grin “Then you’ll be out there and all nice n shit. It’ll be poggers.”

The tunnel was dark, but not dark enough to hide the flash of uncertainty in Tommy’s eyes.

Wilbur's heart sank. “Thanks mate.” He mumbled, and they trekked on, once more in silence.

By the time they saw light, it felt like they had been walking for days. Wilbur was almost glad he was about to meet possibly one of the most powerful ants in this colony. They rounded one last bend, and they were there.

Before them stood a huge double door set in the wall. Two vines with some kind of glowing fruit framed the door, shedding light on the small space. In front of the door, leaning on a spear made from a twig was another ant with a pair of large white rimmed goggles.

“Well… This is it I guess.” Wilbur muttered. He cleared his throat “Hey, um. I-i’m here to have an audience with the King? If that's alright.”

The guard ant didn’t respond, continuing to stare at them with no discernible expression.

“H-hello?” Wilbur glanced at Tommy, who shrugged.

“Excuse me? Anyone home?” Wilbur snapped his fingers in front of the ant's face.

He seemed to startle slightly, before slumping down a bit and letting out a loud snore.

“What the fuck” Tommy said.

Before anyone could do much of anything, one of the massive double doors creaked open and a voice came through.

“George, I swear if you fell asleep again, I'm going to rip off your antenna and use them as- oh.”

Another ant entered the room, this one also carried a twig-spear and had a strip of white cloth tied around his forehead. As soon as his gaze landed on Wilbur, his expression soured.

If looks could kill… Wilbur thought nervously

“It’s you” The new ant spat “Took your sweet time getting here Soot. Earthquake slow you down? Didja get a taste of your own medicine from your big pals out there?”

Wilbur pursed his lips, and the ant snorted. “Yeah. Thought so.” He walked forward and gave George a hard shove, sending the other ant sprawling with a startled yelp.

“Sapnap what the hell?!” He snapped, before spotting Wilbur and Tommy. “Oh hey. That guy is here.”

“Yeah he’s here, idiot.” Sapnap smacked George over the head with his spear “And we would have known a lot sooner if you hadn't fallen asleep on duty again!”

“OW! Sapnap stop! Get off me!”

Wilbur cleared his throat, drawing their attention “Sorry to interrupt, but me and my friend have been walking for a long, long time, so could we please have an audience with the King?”

Subpoena glared “Yeah. He’s waiting for you. Against my advice, he wants to see you.”

Oh. That… didn’t sound great.

Wilbur tried not to think about the implications of that statement as he approached the double doors. Tommy moved to follow, but was stopped by the guards.

“Hey!” He groused “Let me through dickheads!”

“I'm afraid the King only wants an audience with the great and powerful Wilbur Soot” Sapnap said with a smirk.

“But I want to go too! Let me in! You stupid ugly bitch ill fight you! You may have a fancy stick but just wait until I pull out my knife-gun!”

“Tommy its fine.” Wilbur interrupted “I’ll be fine mate, promise. Just wait here. I wont leave without saying goodbye.”

The last thing he saw was Tommy’s antenna drooping sadly, before the doors swung closed behind him.

If Wilbur thought the tunnel was dark before, that was nothing compared to the room he was in now. The darkness was so thick, so absolute, that it made no difference if his eyes were open or closed.

“Hello?” Wilbur called “Uh… your majesty? I was told that you wanted to see me.”

His voice echoed slightly in the huge space, but there was no reply.

Wait. What was that? Something rasped ever so slowly across the opposite wall. Something big. As it moved, the moss where it had been standing glowed a dull green.

Bio-luminescence Wilbur reasoned. Trying to distract himself from the fear creeping up his spine. Touch activated, it seems.

He swallowed dryly “L-look, just tell me what you want. I’m not here to cause trouble”

The thing moved again, its raspy scuttle reverberated through the chamber.

“Wilbur Soot, not here to cause any trouble” A thoughtful voice hummed from the dark “Now that’s a first.”

The bio-luminescent moss was lighting up more of the room. If he squinted, Wilbur could make out a... leg. Probably.

Wilbur inches slowly to the side, the moss lighting up his own path. “Okay, I get it, I've done morally questionable things in the past, but I've learned a lot from my time here. I’m sorry.”

“For now” The voice replied. The thing was moving on the other side, matching him step for step. “What's to say you aren't faking remorse to get out of here? And maybe you really are sorry. How can I be sure you wont change your mind the second you're back to normal? It's too much of a risk.”

Wilbur continued to back away nervously “Your majesty-”

“Please, call me Dream. Everyone else does.”

“Right… Dream. I can say with 100% certainty that won't happen. I've seen people die in front of me. That’s enough to change anyone's stance on something.”

“And yet I'm still not convinced.” It was moving faster now, scuttling across the floor, walls and even across the ceiling. Wilbur's head spun with the motion. “And since we’re talking in hypotheticals, riddle me this: Whoever said I was going to let you out anyway? What if I just like to play with my food?”

Dream stopped suddenly, rearing over Wilbur, and with all of the lit up moss, he got his first proper look.

This ant was huge. Twice- no, at least three times the size of Wilbur himself. He looked a bit like a centaur, with a human torso connected to a pure white and thorax and abdomen.He also wore a strange white mask with a blank eyed smiley face drawn on.

Two huge claw arms- similar to those of a praying mantis- extended from Dreams waist and slammed into the dirt either side of Wilbur, startling him enough that he fell onto his ass. The king leaned forward with that lifeless grin, and Will closed his eyes, preparing for the end.

“But…” Dream said thoughtfully “A proper experiment should account and test for all variables, shouldn't it?”

“Y-yeah generally” Wilbur stuttered

“Oh good.” Dream hoisted him roughly to his feet. “I’m glad I asked you. After all, you know all about experiments, don’t you?”

Wilbur chose not to answer, glowering at Dream as the eyes on his mask briefly glowed a dull green.

A moment later, Sapnap and George marched in, dragging a cussing and struggling Tommy behind them.

“YOU STUPID MOTHEFUCKERS!!! Let me go or ill get married in rage!! Fuck you and-! Oh. wow that is a big fella.” Tommy stopped and stared in awe at Dream

“Sapnap, give Wilbur your spear.” Dream ordered.

A flicker of doubt crossed Sapnaps face but he obediently shoved the spear into Wilbur's hands.

“I’ll make you a deal, Wilbur Soot.” Dream purred, circling him. “I will let you go to your old life. You can do whatever you like; kill us, torment us, throw us away… it doesn't matter. All you have to do is kill one ant.” He gestured to Tommy.

“What?” Wilbur whispered.

“WHAT?!” Tommy roared “fuck you! I'm not your dumb-ass pawn, I'm going to kill you! Rrrrrrrrrrr!” he writhed, attempting to bite George who did a surprisingly good job of holding him still.

“Go on.” Dream cooed “It's just one insignificant ant standing between you and freedom. You've killed hundreds. What's one more?”

Spear in hand, Wilbur took a hesitant step forward.

Tommy's gaze snapped up “Wilby?” He asked, his struggling pausing for a moment.

Their eyes met, fear clashing with sorrow. Tommy seemed to see something in Wilbur's expression and hung his head in defeat. As if he had expected Wilbur to betray him.

Oh hell no. Fuck that. Wilbur angrily tossed the spear aside.

“No. I won't.”

“What?” Dream spat

Wilbur rounded on him “No! I won't kill him! Keep me here, kill me, hunt me for sport, whatever! Just leave him out of this! Tommy has been nothing but nice to me since I met him, even though it don't deserve it!” He rubbed his arm. “God knows I don't deserve it.”

“Hmm…” Dream hummed “Are you sure, even if it costs you your life?” One of Dream's massive claw arms grazed his side, a subtle threat.

Wilbur looked over at Tommy, who had a look of hope on his face.

“Yeah.” Will smiled, “I'm sure.”

I probably could have written more, but i wont. I hope you like this fic bitty! Thanks for reading :)

Edit: Fortune, this is amazing! Like, I hadn't really thought about this encounter in a lot of detail, but I honestly like this a lot! And Dream being a big boy since he's the king ant. Just yes. Thank you so much for this.

#submission #fan work #tiny!tommy #tiny!wilbur #tiny!dream #tiny!sapnap #tiny!george #giant!dream?#maybe?#mcyt gt #thank you again!#betmyfortune

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bansept · 3 years ago

Text

Ichihime Week | Day 3: Family

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Kurosaki family always had little trips prepared for this or that occasion: the end of school, someone’s birthday… And of course, Masaki’s death anniversary. When the children were young, it was a thrilling idea, a way to discover a new place and imagine an exciting story. When the children grew, the mere thought of going away was disturbing, annoying. The meaning of moving to a place with the family got lost in cries of boredom and arguments, but Isshin never gave up.

Yuzu and Karin were still there, in his house, and officially speaking, still “had” to obey his commands, canceling plans they might have with their friends. One day, one of the twins had muttered the word “dictatorship”, and he had cried, whimpering at how ungrateful his daughters were to him. They still came, frowning a little bit, but a smile never too far behind.

Ichigo had been too busy to go on a family trip. First, with the Dojo: who knew a place that was not so visited could be lively at the exact time his presence was required to have fun? The kids and teenagers were far too inclined in asking him to show them moves for him to refuse. A paycheck was a paycheck. Second, Orihime herself was atrociously busy. Being the main confectioner, she oversaw most of the confection of chocolate delights in the bakery. Giving orders was a full-time job, and even if her love for her work brought her happiness, she was as exhausted as her husband.

The third was Kazui. Or mostly, the presence and necessity to oversee a young child, the infant going to a nanny when his parents could not attend to his needs. Moody because of his teething, Kazui was a small little ball of smile, and the next minute, a crying angry puddle of anger. As peaceful and adorable as he could be, he was still so young, so dependable of his parents that taking him anywhere outside of the environments he knew was a big no-no.

“Ichigo, can you please go and get him?” Orihime mumbled, one hand raised to her husband’s shoulder, pushing him slightly to make him understand with subtility that she would not move a muscle herself.

Ichigo, eyes half open and short hair sticking out in a comical manner, groaned a response stuck between a ‘yes’ and ‘you’re next’ before getting up tiredly to retrieve his crying son.

Somehow, and after a good year of no traveling in family, Orihime had suggested a family day here, in their house. To catch up, to brag about how Kazui was able to carry his head by himself and how close he was to sit steadily. Yuzu and Karin could see their brother and nephew, and Isshin could discuss with his daughter-in-law. Strangely enough, the idea was immediately accepted when it was Orihime that talked it out. And so now, the two young parents would prepare their small home for the rest.

Ichigo came back into the room, Kazui sniffling in his arms, little hands gripping his father’s shirt. The man was shushing him, rocking the boy slowly and repeating everything was alright.

“You’re hurting? I’m sorry baby… It should stop soon… Didn’t the doc say it lasted like, 8 days for a crisis? It’s been 6 days…” Ichigo asked, finger going to his son’s mouth so he could massage his gums, anything for the pain to be lessened.

“Maybe he’s hungry too… Here, give him to me.” Orihime answered, sitting up against the bed and opening her arms. Ichigo carefully placed the infant in her embrace, giving him a light peck on the forehead. Kazui shuffled a little but smiled when he saw his mother.

Orihime made some funny gurgles, talking to her boy with a high voice, trying to get him in a better mood until he got something to eat. Ichigo watched the scene with a smile and stretched his back, sighing.

“Should get things ready before the horde arrives.” Ichigo joked, walking to the bathroom near their room to get some water on his face. That should help wake him up.

He heard the funny noise die down as Orihime breastfed their son. Ichigo didn’t need to be next to them to know she was smiling down at him tenderly, and Kazui was certainly looking up at her with the same brown eyes filled with amazement. At least they were in calm waters for now…

By the time it was 9:30, Kazui was set to stay in the living room and play with Ichigo in his cute outfit. Orihime and Ichigo themselves were ready, preparing their small house for the arrival of his family, but nothing too fancy. In Ichigo’s opinion, they didn’t need to have balloons floating around, or a cake ready when it was still morning.

“And right at this moment, that giant ice cream cone yelled at me to run far from the bean paste, but I just couldn’t! How can you choose between two of your favorite things?” Orihime asked, hands on her hips, eyes wide as saucers, clearly expecting an answer from her husband, who definitely knew she had to stop eating sweets before going to sleep.

“Um… Yeah, but that bean paste was clearly trying to eat you… So I’d say, you listen to ice cream.” It was silly to answer her about her own very silly dreams while holding Kazui up so he could experiment walking. But that kind of silly was always welcomed.

Orihime shook her head with a pout, but was interrupted by the sound of someone pressing the doorbell. She got up from her seat, fixing her dress slightly before opening the door with a big smile.

“Yuzu! Karin! Hi!” She hugged them both preciously, the twins greeting her in response. Stepping back, she looked around to see Isshin wasn’t behind them, and frowned, worried.

“Don’t worry about dad, he’ll arrive quickly. We were just ahead so he could work on another file before coming.” Karin explained, waving a hand as her sister cooed at the interesting picture of Ichigo holding Kazui by his hands, the little boy not knowing what to do with the two jelly legs he possessed.

“Ichi! Aw, let me get a picture!”

“Yuzu stop! No! Not a picture come on!”

Karin placed a bag near the door, observing with a satisfied smile her brother being taken advantage of, unable to escape or fight the will of his own sister and his wife.

“Are… No, I can’t hold him… I’ll drop him!”

“No, you won’t. Come on, he’s your nephew, you gotta hold him once in your life.”

Karin frowned, Yuzu prepared her phone for yet another picture and Orihime held up Kazui to Karin, reassuring her that he wouldn’t end up on the floor. The baby seemed to not mind, appreciating any hands that carried him, knowing none would harm him. Ichigo was like an eagle, not even blinking while he stared at his sister, the black-haired girl grumbling a little at how she was forced. But really, she wasn’t.

“Is… Like that, okay? Is that good?” She asked, infant stuck in her arms, and Orihime nodded.

“Yes, just like that. See? It wasn’t too complicated.”

“Yeah… But I didn’t expect him to be so… Heavy? No, not heavy… But he’s not as light as I thought he’d be.”

“He’s growing. Of course he’ll be heavier than at his birth.” Ichigo remarked, snickering at the grimace Karin sent him.

Orihime smiled brightly at the two bickering siblings. Ichigo used to not joke around with his sisters, too busy mopping his anger and pain in his corner, but now, he was having a great time annoying the twins. She guessed it was something older brothers did.

Isshin opened the door loudly, singing about finally seeing his grandson and daughter-in-law again after so long, the ridiculous amount of baby gifts in his hands falling on the floor as he walked in. Now, as to why Isshin, out of all people, had a key to their house, Ichigo was not willing to say. He had chosen Yuzu to have it first, but she had lost it for a good day, and the panic it brought was a cold shower to everyone, to the point Karin mentioned Isshin as the best key keeper out of the three of them.

Which, of course, was true. Since he was an adult and all. But he was still Isshin. Loud, impulsive and horribly annoying Isshin.

“How is he?? Aw, look at him in his cute little clothes! Oh yes, you look just like your dada when he was your age Kazui! Although, thank God you have your mama’s smile!” He cooed at the baby, who of course didn’t understand a single word, but the mere expression and intonation pulled his smile up, showing just a few teeth. Isshin gasped and tickled the baby’s tummy. “Oh, yes, you already have such cute little gums!”

Orihime laughed at the voice Isshin always took whenever Kazui was around, and freed him from the many plushies he had gathered in his arms.

“Oh, thank you, Orihime. So, is everything doing alright for you three?” He questioned, straightening up and looking at the woman. Of course, as a doctor, he’d ask this question with real interest.

“Yes, we’re all fine. Kazui is still having a bit of a crisis from time to time, but we manage to handle it well. And Ichigo is getting better and better at handling Kazui.” She smiled, whispering the last part in a conspiratorial tone. Her husband heard her, and with a blush, frowned in her general direction.

Isshin grinned at the exchange, but didn’t tease his son further. It was strange how one day he was grumpy, and the next, he and Orihime walked into his house to tell him they were dating. From that moment, his son was like a stranger: offering help to do this or that house chores, hesitantly discussing with his family, feeling happy and calm around them… And now that he was a father, he hardly ever yelled at Isshin anymore. Of course, he was still mad at him for being the silly old man he always had been, but Ichigo seemed to be mindful of what his own son was going to grow up to.

By the time Kazui was hungry again, Orihime excused herself as she picked the infant and walked back to her room, giving Isshin the opportunity to talk with Ichigo.

“So… How are you handling all of that?”

Ichigo raised his head from the table, placing another plate on the surface and shrugging his shoulders.

“Well… We’re happy. I think that’s what matters. Orihime and I are working, so it’s a good thing, even if we wish we could be around Kazui more. And Kazui is growing up…” He turned silent after that, the timid smile he had on his face stilling.

Isshin tapped his back lightly.

“You’re doing a good job Ichigo. Although you became a father early, you’re doing your best for him and for your wife. Honestly, you can be proud of yourself.”

The orange-haired man shook his head with amusement, gazing at his goat chinned father.

“I tell myself that. But soon he’ll be able to stand on his own, or even talk… And we’ll have to teach him everything about this crazy world of ours… Things about Shinigamis and Hollows, Arrancars even, so that he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Isshin looked around the room to his daughters, watching as they discussed on which fluffy plushy was the cutest.

“Your sisters only knew after a good while. But don’t worry about that. Kazui will have a lot of people to teach him, and all these people will keep him safe. Plus… I’m pretty sure he will be safe with the amazing parents he has.”

Ichigo’s eyes opened wide, tenderness and surprise taking the lead in his mixed emotions. Isshin was right : Orihime and he were not alone in this. People from Karakura, the Soul Society and the others stuck between the two would help them keep their child safe. Keep him from being hurt. That simple but truthful knowledge made him gasp for air, relaxed and thankful.

The young man nodded, throat a bit too tight for him to talk in his usual confident tone. Orihime walked back in, Kazui looking sated and in a good mood as his mother placed him in Yuzu’s eager arms.

“You know… I, guess it’s strange for everyone to see me like that… Not yelling at you for goofing around. But Orihime told me she felt that this excitement I almost resented a few years back, this closeness with family members, she thought it was the right way to be wife the family you loved. She wants Kazui to grow up surrounded with love and joy, and I want that too for him.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes on his sisters then on Orihime. “I still think you’re a silly old man that makes way too much noise. But… I’m happy you’re Kazui’s grandfather, and my father.”

It was Isshin’s turn to have his eyes become the size of tennis balls, tears rushing up. He needed to hold it down, to not explode with joy, to not ruin the moment by hugging his son that had more or less told him he loved him, after so long. So, instead, he ruffled his son’s new short hair.

“It’s my greatest pride to be part of this beautiful family.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaaaaaand day 3!

More than 2100 words, I like that hehe

I thought about writing Kazui to be taller so he could be asking this or that question or be a cute lil cutie pie, but since I visited a family member who recently had a child, heh, I was more inspired in writing an infant.

Don't hesitate to review this, and see you tomorrow for day 4!

#bleach #ichihime #ihweek2021 #ichigo kurosaki #orihime kurosaki #kazui kurosaki #ichigo x orihime #papa ichigo #mama orihime

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scabopolis · 3 years ago

Note

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.”

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can’t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. “Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

“Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

#vm fanfic #lv fanfic #logan x veronica #veronica mars #logan echolls #still all the way out of my comfort zone!#but here we are! doing the damn thing anyway #never stories #otp: the one person #c: veronica mars #c: logan echolls #p: logan x veronica

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sunsetcurvecuddles · 4 years ago

Note

Hello you told me not to hold back so I’m gonna be ANNOYING feel free to ignore indefinitely until you’re feeling it but I’m gonna send you like a bunch of prompts cause I can’t sleep and am stalling finishing my own fic.

First one: Bobby (obviously), Reggie or Luke or friends I don’t even care, tea and blankets

lol hi have a rebuke cuddle-puddle disaster, also available on ao3 here. warning for swearing and very vague allusions to physical child abuse.

i guess we belong to each other | reggielukebobby | 1.8k words

Luke has his guitar in his lap and his writing notebook by his side even though it's late at night. He's playing his acoustic, so that he has no chance of stirring Bobby's parents from where he's sat in their studio, and though he'd never admit it to anyone, it's cold enough that he's found one of Alex's hoodies in the back of the studio, a black one Alex never wears any more, and he's bundled up in it to try to fight off the chills. He regrets storming out earlier this evening — not because his parents might be worried, he's still too mad at them for that, but because he misses his own warm bed in a house with central heating.

But it's late, and he doesn't want to bother Bobby, who's already been generous enough as it is (and is exceptionally grumpy when he's woken in the middle of the night). So Alex's old hoodie, smelling vaguely of the dusty studio and distantly of Alex, will have to do.

A noise distracts Luke from his writing. Something outside the studio, maybe an animal, but it sounded like footsteps. Cautiously, he draws his guitar closer, running through what he could say if it's Bobby's parents, his heart suddenly rabbit-fast in his chest.

A head pokes through the door.

Luke's shoulders drop with relief.

It's Reggie.

He looks a little scruffy, not like himself, because usually Reggie pays such close attention to his appearance, fusses over his hair and colour-codes his outfits and shaves with the precision of a professional painter. But he kinda looks messy, which makes Luke's stomach feel even colder than the air around him.

“Oh! Hey, man,” Reggie laughs, putting on a big smile, and it'd fool anyone else — Reggie's too experienced at this for his own good. “I didn't know you'd be here!”

“Hi, Reg,” says Luke, sounding a little distracted even to his own ears as he carefully looks Reggie over. He's not walking like he's been hurt, and there are no visible injuries. So that's something. Jesus, Luke wouldn't know what to do if Reggie turned up here with a fresh version of the bruises Luke sometimes catches him trying to hide. “You, uh — you good?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Reggie agrees easily, saunters into the studio and slumps down on the couch next to Luke. The relaxed way he moves soothes Luke's worry somewhat. “The house was just — ugh. You know how they can be.” Looking over at Luke, Reggie adds, “Hey, isn't that Alex's hoodie? I was wondering what had happened to that.”

“Hey!” Luke sputters, a little defensive. “He didn't, like, loan it to me or anything, it was just here! I found it.”

“It is cold,” Reggie concedes, pulling his flannel a little tighter around him. “Wish I'd brought my jacket, but it was in the kitchen and I didn't wanna. I dunno. Didn't wanna get in the way.”

Luke nods, puts his guitar to the side so he can press up against Reggie's side. Hip to hip, his cheek on Reggie's shoulder, links their ankles together and puts an arm over Reggie's stomach. Almost automatically, Reggie links his arms around Luke in turn.

Honestly, Luke was intending to steal some of Reggie's body heat, but after Reggie's walk outside and in such a thin layer, he thinks Reggie's probably leeching his own. Luke lets him go ahead; Reggie seems to need it more than he does.

They sit for a moment, both unusually quiet, huddling and not talking. Not so much for a lack of things to talk about, but more because any topic that comes to Luke's mind feels insurmountably complex and emotional. There’s so much stuff he can't tell Reggie — so much stuff Reggie isn't telling him. So they sit together and try to create some warmth without the need for disclosure.

Until there's another set of scuffled footsteps outside.

“Not Alex too,” Reggie sighs, at a whispered volume so that the newcomer can't hear him, “he squirms so much in his sleep, man, I can't share this pull-out with him again.”

Luke muffles a laugh with the back of his hand, but he can't help worry it's Alex, too. Things have been... okay, he thinks, with Alex's folks since he came out, but he also knows Alex hoped for better. Suspects there are things Alex isn't telling them (so they all have that in common).

But it's not Alex. Preceded by an armful of blankets that he's almost tripping on, Bobby staggers in, still in his pajamas and with his eyes almost all the way closed. “Luke? It's fucking freezing, I thought I'd—” He stops when he gets far enough in to see Reggie on the couch too. “Oh, shit.”

“Hey, Bobby,” says Reggie, voice a little nervous. “I hope it's okay that I—”

“Shut up,” Bobby grumbles, and dumps the whole pile of blankets on top of Reggie. “You guys are stupid. You're both out here, in the freezing cold, and neither of you come wake me up?”

“We didn't want—” Luke starts, at the same time as Reggie insists, “You were sleeping—!”

“Idiots,” Bobby growls, rubbing his eye with his sweater paw and yawning. He looks stupidly cute, like a little kid. “You're idiots, and I hate dealing with you. I'll be back.” Turning to leave the studio again, he turns back and adds, “Hurry up and burrito yourselves in those blankets, I swear to god. And Luke, isn’t that Alex’s hoodie?”

“He left it—!” Luke starts, but Bobby’s already gone, leaving Luke with Reggie, cackling at him.

—

By the time Bobby returns, Luke and Reggie have folded the couch out into its bed form, and are snuggling under the several blankets, giggling together as they talk about how grumpy Bobby had been.

“We should have woken him up,” Reggie snorts, “I think then he would have been less pissed.”

“I would have,” Bobby agrees, sounding somewhere between menacing and amused, as he reappears over them. His hair is all shaggy in his face. He's carrying a teapot. And cups. “Sit up.”

Luke does right away, Reggie pulling himself up a little slower. Bobby sits cross-legged at the foot of the couch-bed, tucking his socked toes under his own legs to keep warm, and pours them each a mug of what smells like peppermint tea. Suddenly, Luke can't imagine anything better in the world. When Bobby offers him a cup, he takes it eagerly, wrapping his cold hands around it and enjoying the steam wafting up to his face.

“Wow,” says Reggie softly, eyes wide, “thanks, Bobby.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Luke echoes, letting out a sigh as he takes his first sip.

“Forget it,” Bobby says, a little bitey. Luke knows it's because Bobby hates being seen as nice, so he doesn't take it personally, and he knows Reggie won't either. He has his own cup, which he drinks as though it's done something to offend him, scowling off into the corner of the studio. Reggie nudges Bobby with his foot from under the layers of blankets, and a tiny smile tugs at Bobby's mouth as he nudges Reggie back with his elbow.

After the cup of tea, Luke feels better. He feels warmer on the inside, now, and sleepy too. Reggie is starting to get that dopey, slow blink that shows he's on the verge of sleep as well. Bobby clears his throat and holds out a hand, beckoning for their empty cups. Luke and Reggie hand them over.

“Okay,” says Bobby, after a pause. “G'night, guys.” He goes to stand, but Reggie leans forward and catches Bobby's sleeve.

“Would you stay?” he asks, as if he can't help himself, as if on sheer impulse, but he doesn’t look embarrassed afterwards.

“Reg!” Luke says, a little startled. “It's cold out here, he won't want—”

But he sees Bobby's face, and he stops himself. Because he can see it in Bobby's eyes. That he does want. He’s Bobby, so he won't say it, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed on some point behind Luke and Reggie's heads, but Luke has known Bobby for too long to miss something this obvious, no matter what else Bobby can hide from him.

“That being said,” Luke backtracks hurriedly, “it would be warmer with you here, Wilson. I'm happy to be a leech.”

“That's all I'm good for, huh?” Bobby snorts, but he's already setting the mugs down on the floor near the side of the bed, already shuffling the teapot down there too. He hops up for a moment, and Luke wonders where he’s going, before he realises Bobby is just switching off the light. When Bobby comes back, he pauses, like he's not sure where he fits, and Luke and Reggie make eye contact for only a second before they move apart, leaving a space in the middle.

Bobby looks even less sure of himself, eyebrows knitted, jaw tight. His hands flex and one of them twists in the hem of his sweater. Luke gets it. It looks too much like it's on Bobby's behalf, like they’re doing it to make space for Bobby. Bobby’s always had trouble accepting anything that seems like it’s for his own benefit.

“I already sucked all Reggie's warmth up,” Luke explains.

“Yeah,” Reggie agrees immediately, and Luke loves him, “and you're warmer than Luke anyway, man. I wanna huddle with you. As a penguin, you would be my first-choice huddle-buddy.”

Bobby barks a laugh. “The fuck? What does that even mean?” Finally, he wriggles his way under the blankets in between them, and rolls his eyes when they both throw limbs over him right away, twining legs and arms together and resting cheeks on his chest.

“Like, if we were penguins. You know? In the winter?” Reggie says, like this is totally obvious and self-explanatory. “If I was a penguin, I'd be looking for the Bobby-penguin in the winter huddle to stick close to.”

“Aaand I'm at my capacity for dumb shit,” Bobby says, closing his eyes pointedly, but it's a scam, because his hands come to run through Luke and Reggie's hair. “Goodnight, morons.”

“Goodnight, Bobby,” they chorus. This close, Luke could almost brush noses with Reggie, has to try to focus his eyes to keep Reggie from getting blurry. Reggie sticks his tongue out at Luke just a little, and Luke grins back, links his fingers with Reggie’s over Bobby’s stomach, rubbing over Reggie’s knuckles until Reggie’s fingers don’t feel so much like icicles. When Luke uses his free hand to tug the neckline of Alex’s hoodie up over his nose, the familiar smell of the third piece of his heart soothes him right down.

The feel of Bobby’s fingernails on his scalp makes Luke’s eyelids flutter, and before he knows it he’s dopey, the world feeling blurrier and safer and cozier. Honestly, more like home than his own house would have. He no longer daydreams of returning to his own warm bed. Instead, he feels the way Bobby’s chest rises and falls with his breaths, pushing his and Reggie’s joined hands up and down. If he listens closely, Luke can hear Bobby’s heartbeat, familiar and steady.

Maybe the cold isn't all bad.

other prompt fills here :)

jatp taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @queenmolina @nickalicious @bi-reginald @malecacidd @burntchromas @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @cinnamonstickrayofsunlight @chickwiththepurpleguitar @fairylightsandrainydays @joyandthephantoms @fighttoshine @michelangelinda @queenofthequillandink

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #reggie peters #bobby wilson #luke patterson #lukebobby #boggie brain rot #rebuke #idk how else to tag this LOL #my fic #chickwiththepurpleguitar #peterpatter

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depressedhatakekakashi · 3 years ago

Text

Sleep Over’s and Ghost Stories

AU: Rural Au

Words: 2289

Rating: General

Characters: Hatake Kakashi and Tenzo|Yamato

Warnings: Ghost stories, Mentions of blood.

Summary: Naruto informs Kakashi that he has invited his friends over for a sleepover at their ranch that night. Knowing he can’t do everything himself to get ready to host a bunch of kids, Kakashi calls in some help.

Warning wasn’t something that Naruto had given Kakashi a lot of that afternoon when he came running into the house after a long day of school and announced that he had invited his classmates over for a camping sleepover, tonight.

Any less warning and Kakashi might not have been able to secure any help for the night, leaving him to take care of all of the food prep, wood gathering, and other chores that needed to be done while Naruto took the trunk into town to get enough marshmallows to feed an army.

That was an understatement of course. It was more likely that they could feed all of Konoha with the number of Marshmallows he had bought. At least he had also thought ahead and gotten eggs and bacon for tomorrow’s breakfast, which Kakashi had no doubt he would be cooking.

Panicking over the amount of work that was being handed to him, and wanting someone there to help him out, Kakashi decided to call the best person to help him out for the night.

Gai had unfortunately informed him that he had to head into the city the next morning for a supply run, meaning Kakashi had to call his other best friend. An unpleasant call to make since he knew that Tenzo had planned to go to the lake tomorrow for a relaxing day by himself.

Thankfully with enough pleading and a promise to go to the lake next week with Tenzo, he finally secured some help for the night.

Which was how he ended up here. Setting up a bonfire for the kids while Tenzo and Naruto put out chairs for everyone.

“Did you buy enough non-marshmallow snacks?” He called over to Naruto, wanting to make sure that no one was left hungry tonight.

“I even made sure to pick up extra bags of everything for Choji,” Naruto beamed. “And I asked Choji to bring some snacks from the bakery, Sakura to grab some stuff from the general store, and Kiba’s even bringing some dog food because I told him it was the only way you’d let him pet Pakkun.”

This must be one of those ‘proud dad’ moments that Gai was always talking about.

Tenzo, on the other hand, didn’t seem as happy about Naruto’s underhandedness, judging by the unimpressed look on his face. “Some days I wonder how you two get along, and then moments like this happen,” crossing his arms over his chest he turned to glare at Kakashi. “Quit teaching him bad habits, Senpai.”

They both knew that was never going to happen of course. Kakashi loved teaching Naruto all of his worst habits. It ensured that there would always be someone in the village to mess with other people, even long after Kakashi was gone.

“I also asked Sasuke to bring some cat food,” Naruto added. “Once Kakashi Nii-san told me you were coming over to help. He said he could bring a bag of cat food that Itachi made himself. Something that your cats would love.”

Tenzo’s hands dropped to his side, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“I see,” his voice softened. “Still, you shouldn’t lie to Kiba to get free food for the dogs.”

“He’s right you know,” Kakashi added, smiling when Tenzo gave him a skeptical look. “But really it’s Kiba’s fault for believing you. Everyone knows Pakkun won’t let anyone pet him but me.”

Ok, him and Gai, and sometimes Tenzo depending on how nice the pug was feeling.

“Senpai, what did I just say about teaching him bad habits!?”

Resting his hands behind his head, Kakashi chuckled when Tenzo started to lecture him about the importance of friendship and trust. This wasn’t the first time he had gotten this exact lecture and there was no doubt in his mind that it wouldn’t be the last. Tenzo gave it to him at least once a week after he used his friends’ love of praise to get a free coffee or lunch out of him.

Meanwhile, Naruto continued to set everything up. Far too used to Kakashi and Tenzo’s arguments he had learned long ago to tune them out and keep doing whatever it was he was in the middle of.

It was simply better not to interrupt Tenzo, or one risked him dragging them into the lecture. Naruto was already lucky he wasn’t getting it alongside Kakashi since it had been his actions that upset the woodcarver.

“Oh!” reaching out, Kakashi placed one hand over Tenzo’s mouth to silence him and used the other to point towards the driveway. “Naruto, your friends are starting to arrive.”

Naruto immediately dropped what he was doing and turned towards the driveway, throwing his hands up into the air when he saw Itachi’s car pulling in beside Tenzo’s truck. “Sasuke!” He called out, running towards the driveway and leaving Kakashi and Tenzo to finish up with the bonfire set up.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Once everything had been set up and all of Naruto’s school friends had finally arrived, it was finally time to relax and enjoy the rest of the night. At least, enjoy as much of the night as one could while Kiba was sitting beside him trying desperately to pet the pug dog sitting on his lap.

“He’s going to bite you,” he warned, chuckling when Kiba continued to ignore him and narrowly avoided getting his hand chomped by Pakkun. “I told you.”

“He’s supposed to love me,” Kiba huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at Pakkun. “All dogs love me.”

“Pakkun’s a picky dog,” scratching the pug behind the ears, Kakashi chuckled when he instantly relaxed into his hand. Forgetting all about the mean teenager who had been interrupting his relaxing nap just seconds ago. “You have seven other dogs to play with on this ranch. I don’t see why you’re so determined about getting Pakkun to like you.”

“All dogs should like me,” planting his hands on the chair, Kiba glared back at Pakkun from the corner of his eyes. “I’m a dog person. All dogs love me.”

Giving his head a shake Kakashi turned his attention back to the rest of the group and continued to scratch Pakkun’s ear. It was amusing to see Kiba continuously trying to win his favourite dog over, but at some point, the kid had to give up.

When feeding Pakkun treats didn’t work, it was a lost cause. He had chosen his favourite human and he simply wasn’t interested in anyone to who Kakashi wasn’t incredibly close.

“We should do something interesting,” Glancing towards Tenzo, Kakashi raised an eyebrow when he saw him staring at Naruto and all of his friends huddled around the fire roasting marshmallows. “It’s too quiet. Something interesting has to happen.”

And Tenzo accused him of being a bad influence.

“Mmm, and what ‘interesting’ thing would you like to happen?” Watching as Tenzo leaned in close, Kakashi listened to his plan carefully. A small smile pulling at his lips.

This was going to be perfect.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Catching the attention of the kids hadn’t been as hard as Kakashi thought it would be. With the simple mention of a ghost story, he suddenly found himself surrounded by excited, bright-eyed kids waiting patiently for him to tell them the story.

Now he just had to hope that Tenzo was ready to put his plan into action.

“The tale of old man Tobirama, hmmm. Well, I guess you’re all old enough to hear it now. But don’t come crying to me if you end up having nightmares for years about it.”

“Kakashi, stop teasing us and tell us the story already.” Naruto insisted, puffing out his cheeks and glaring at his guardian.

“I bet it’s not even that scary,” Sakura commented, acting like she wasn’t leaning in to hear better. “‘Old man Tobirama’. There probably wasn’t even anyone named ‘Tobirama’ in our village.”

Oh, boy were they in for a surprise.

“Well, in the case,” leaning forward, Kakashi planted his hands on his knees and smiled down at the group. “Let me tell you the story of old man Tobirama. The grumpy old guy who lived in the old Senju ranch and would cook up children for dinner.”

At the mention of the Senju ranch, he could see the kids already starting to shake.

“Long ago, before I was even born, the Senju ranch was full of life. With a large family, parties every weekend, and a garden that could make anyone jealous. They were known for having the best fruits and vegetables in all of Konoha, though back then the village was a lot smaller so who knows how good they were.”

He’d probably get smacked by Tsunade for saying it, but it was worth it for the giggles he got from his audience.

“For the longest time, the Senju’s lived in the village peacefully. Mingling with the other villages, trading their fruits and veggies for other goods that they could use. But then one day the Senju’s just stopped coming into town. It was like they disappeared. No one knew what had happened to them, but there were rumors. Little whispers that floated around the village about the middle child, Tobirama.”

Naruto shivered in front of him, Sakura slinked behind Ino just a little, and Kiba used Bull as a shield from Kakashi. So far, none of the other kids were showing much of a reaction except for prompting Kakashi to continue with the story.

“For years the house lay empty. No one going in or out. It slowly started to decay and rot from the inside, and the garden became overgrown. Surrounding the house with vines, vegetables, and fruits. There wasn’t an inch of the place that was accessible. After fifty years the villagers finally got together and made a decision. The house had to come down.”

“This is boring,” Sasuke interrupted him. The same unimpressed look on his face that he always had when someone other than his big brother was talking. “Nothing is even happening.”

Giving his head a shake, Kakashi reached out and flicked Sasuke in the nose.

“Hasn’t Itachi taught you anything about patience, brat?” he teased. “I’m just getting to the good part. Now shush.”

Settling back into his seat, Kakashi returned his hand to Pakkun’s head and took a deep breath. “Anyways, the villagers had made their decision. They found a group of hard workers to tear down the old building and started to gather all of the equipment that they would need. A week later the workers were ready to head onto the property and start with the demolition. They hoped that it would only take a few days, but as the hours passed by, they slowly started to disappear one by one.”

Sakura was now completely hidden behind Ino, and it looked like Ino wasn’t doing much better. Her face had lost all colour, and her eyes were wide with fear.

Naruto had slowly begun to inch away from Kakashi, using any of his friends that were readily available as a shield between himself and his guardian. Hinata was cowering behind her favourite hoodie, only her eyes visible.

The only people who didn’t look fazed by his story were Sasuke, Shikamaru, and Shino. None of which were a surprise given their personalities.

He just had to hope that Tenzo pulled through and managed to fix that.

“By the end of the day the only person left was a young woman. Desperate to find the rest of her group she searched the entire house. Looking in every bedroom, searching the yard and even the attic. But no matter how often she called out to them, or where she looked, she couldn’t find them anywhere. Finally, she was left with only one place to look. The old cellar under the kitchen.”

There were a few mummers in the crowd, and at least one ‘not the cellar’ spoken in a whisper somewhere behind Shikamaru.

“Pulling up all of her courage, she headed for her new destination. The door to the cellar creaked as she pulled it open, but when she peered down there was nothing but darkness. She called out to the others, but no one answered.”

Naruto shifted a bit closer to Sasuke, nudging his shoulder until the Uchiha finally gave in and threw an arm around him.

“Taking the first step down the stairs, she held her breath. The stories villagers had told her growing up swimming in her mind. Images of Senju Tobirama, a teenager with bright silver hair and angry red eyes, wielding a bloody ax in his hands. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get rid of those thoughts, and every step she took down into the cellar felt like it would be her last. But finally, she made it to the bottom of the stairs and reached out for the cellar lights pull cord, hoping to add some light to the room. Finding it in the pitch black, she tugged at it and…”

“She was met with the face of Senju Tobirama!” Jumping up behind the kids, Tenzo flashed the light under his chin and warped his face into the most haunting face he could manage. With wide creepy eyes, and his mouth hanging open with what Kakashi could only assume was ketchup smeared all over his chin, Tenzo sent every single one of the kids scattering. Screams filled the air, only slightly drowned out by Kakashi and Tenzo’s laughter.

If Kakashi had been smart he would have brought a camera. There was no way Itachi was going to believe him the next morning when he told him about the look of absolute terror on Sasuke’s face.

#Hatake Kakashi #Tenzo #Yamato #Uzumaki Naruto #Inuzuka Kiba #Uchiha Sasuke #Konoha 12 #Senju Tobirama #Tobirama's a scary ghost #i swear XD #Taryn's Birthday Celebration 2021 #Taryn's birthday fics #Rural Au #ghostface #Mentions of blood #Ghost stories

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narrators-journal · 3 years ago

Text

A run-in with a succubus

Here we go, another entry in the dr stone modern Monster AU or whatever. This idea just is so much fun to me, so yeah, expect more ship-focused writing or something lololol. Either way, I hope you enjoy my dumb little ideas~

Succubi and Incubi were arguably the bane of a monster hunter's existence. They were born of already dead souls, so they couldn't be perma-killed like a vampire or werewolf could, they often came with a slew of powers that varied from demon to demon in exact powers and strength, so each one was basically an rng-decided-encounter. Senku, however, didn't really mind dealing with sex demons. So, when he was called to deal with a particularly powerful seeming demon who was harassing an entire neighborhood, he didn't mind and just set to work on sniffing out the sex demon. It didn't hurt that the twenty-year-old hunter had fun drawing out the demon lurking around in the darkness of the night. He enjoyed having the chance to make dry ice bombs, light garbage can fires, or do anything to stir up drama in the quiet neighborhood to cover the fact that he was marking specific spots with symbols that he'd later use to banish the succubus from the area until his ruckus finally drew the attention he wanted and the street's temperature dropped a noticeable and sudden amount, one of the biggest signs that a demon was in the area. The thought of a demon now zeroing in on him in the chilly night honestly sent a thrill down the hunter's spine, or, more-so, Senku was excited to confront a creature he could maybe question and mine for information on his species. However, before he could try to bring back any bit of possibly helpful information about sex demons, he'd have to actually encounter the demon he's supposed to be hunting. So, he just returned to acting like an annoying teen or troublemaker who broke into yards and stole a few things before painting a half finished symbol beside a stranger's trampoline and flopping onto the bouncy piece of equipment to stretch out and wait out the demon. I guess now it's up to waiting. Senku thought with a sigh, hating this period in hunting monsters, having to wait. At least with sex demons, they were pretty easy to lure, despite what his slightly snobby mentor, Xeno Wingfield, always told him. All he had to do was get the demon's attention and then wait for the creature to approach him to attempt to feed. Luckily, maybe, for the apprentice hunter, he ended up dozing off completely on the trampoline, only stirring when he felt himself bounce when the tightly woven surface of the trampoline was jostled. When he woke up with a jump, Senku's crimson eyes were met with a sight that he wasn't exactly used to seeing. In general, the leek-haired man wasn't super experienced with sex, so the sight of someone straddling him with half lidded eyes and a coy smirk was already a surprise, but the added temporary shock of the two tails, one to match each half of his split-colored hair and small, equally mismatched horns sent his brain for a loop in the first few moments of him being awake. "Ah! I see you've woken up!" the succubus cooed, his hands sliding up the hunter's chest until they were chest to chest with the demon's hips wiggling to make his tails sway as rhythmically as a pendulum, "good morning handsome~ I don't think you'd mind if I maybe had a little nibble from you, would you?" The hunter blinked at the demon's words, taking a moment to register the situation before shaking his head, which seemed to shock the demon. Props to the succubus though, because he adjusted very quickly, just cupping Senku's cheek and sending a wave of tingly sensations across his pale skin. However, it was like the warm, euphoric feeling didn't sink in, didn't reach his brain to turn off the common sense as the creature spoke again, "Come on now, if you're awake, might as well have a bit of fun with a succubus, right? I'm told I'm quite the catch.~" he tried, giving the man a quick kiss, and while it wasn't at all bad, it didn't spark a hormonal reaction the sex demon seemed to be seeking. "Why aren't you falling under my spell?" he huffed, his dark blue eyes shining with frustration and confusion, but all Senku could do was stare while the demon pushed himself back into a sitting position with lashing tails. "I’m sorry, was I supposed to do something specific? Was the kiss supposed to do something?" He asked, making the sex demon growl at him, "It's already weird that you woke up when I was trying to feed on you, but you're not supposed to just shrug off my magic. You're supposed to be horny putty in my hands right now, not laying there staring up at me like a kid during his first damned time." he complained, and all the odd-haired man could do again was shrug at him. "I get the sense I've maybe offended you..." "No, I'm not offended." he huffed, "I'm just frustrated. I think I need a moment," with that, he rolled off of the hunter, making him bounce on the lawn toy as the cranky demon sat up, now a distance away, to pout. So, Senku sat up and sat on the edge of the trampoline against the mesh barrier around the circumference of the thing, politely waiting a small stretch of time before trying to question his new companion. "So, uh, why do you have two tails? Is that normal for incubi and succubi?" He asked after a long moment, turning his red eyes back to the succubus to watch the twin tails flick and lash before the sex demon spoke, "Kinda rude to ask about my biology before even asking for my name." "Well, alright, my name's Ishigami Senku, what's yours?" that got the apprentice hunter a dirty look, but he did answer, "Asagiri Gen," he gave a nod, then repeated his question, "So, why do you have two tails? Is that normal for sex demons?" He watched said tails fall and send a ripple across the taut surface as Gen sighed, "I come from a line of strong sex demons, the two tails are a feature I inherited from my family, like how you look like your family has a resemblance to one another, this is my line's shared feature for the most part. No, I do not know the biological reason beyond that, it's just something I have." With that, they returned to a momentary silence, full of Gen throwing inquisitive looks towards the man sent there to banish him, trying to get a read on his intimate details, but the leek wasn't giving him any cues as to any deep dark fetishes or secrets, he was watching him, but with the same curiosity a scientist had towards the lab rat he'd just gotten, not a hint of lust or desire in his body language. "How often do you have to feed?" The monster hunter asked as the sex demon turned to face him, meeting his own question-filled gaze with his own, "Y’know what? I'll answer your questions if you answer mine, how about that?" Gen offered, giving him a sweet smile while his tails returned to their gentle swaying, and he pretty eagerly nodded, "Great! I can go about 3 months without food if I feed for a month or so straight. Are you into men?" The blunt question made the hunter blink a bit, but he shook the small shock off, "Yeah, all of my crushes have been men. Are sex demons all bi? Do you have, like, a 'status quo' sort of sexuality?" As he spoke, the succubus moved closer to him, casually answering as he crawled over as seductively as possible, "Not that I've seen, though I personally am bisexual, but I generally prefer to go for men~" he hummed, putting his hands on the leek-haired man's thighs so that he got another wave of tingly warm sensations as he leaned closer to his face "How many people have you slept with, dear Senku?" The hunter thought a bit, not reacting strongly to the buzzing feeling across his skin nor how close Gen's face was to his when he spoke, "I haven't slept with anyone, I rarely get the urge to have sex at all, dear...Asagiri," he hummed, and the sex demon's face turned to a look of 'aha' for a moment, "Senku, are you asexual at all?" He huffed, narrowing his dark blue eyes at the leek, already knowing the answer, but he answered nonetheless, "I am gray-ace and homoromantic, I think," he gave another infuriating shrug, "haven't put much thought into the labels." At that, Gen pushed himself off of the hunter, flopping back onto the trampoline and making the hunter bounce briefly into the air, "God DAMN IT." He groaned, his tails once again lashing in frustration. So, for a moment or two longer, they sat in silence, until the succubus spoke once again, "I know you're here to banish me from the neighborhood, just go ahead and do it." that honestly surprised the hunter-in-training, making him raise his eyebrows at the demon, "Really? No fight? No argument?" The monster sat up with a long sigh, "Yeah, I can't exactly fight you, I'm as physically strong as you are without my powers of seduction," he pointed out, "it wouldn't be that much of a fight," He had a point with that, Senku wasn't that physically strong, so he didn't bother arguing and just climbed out of the trampoline's little barrier and hopped down to the lawn. While he got his paint out of his equipment bag, Gen laid on his stomach and watched him grumpily. Why is he still so pissy about not feeding off me? Senku thought, finally just asking while he tried to re-activate the paint, "Why are you so grumpy about me not being into you? Haven't you run into an asexual before?" The succubus jumped a bit at the sudden question, but once again covered it pretty quickly, "I have run into asexuals before, but I was wanting to feed on you, you're really cute." he admitted, and the hunter snorted, beginning to finish up the symbol he'd painted beforehand, "Well, if it's any consolation, if we run into each other when you're not being a nuisance, maybe you can try to, y'know, properly seduce me." he suggested, and that made the demon perk up and quickly agree. With that, Senku finished up the symbol and Gen was thrown from the neighborhood. Yeah, sure, he'd likely go somewhere else to feed, but the leek's job was done, so he was satisfied and simply returned home with a smile.

#Sengen #dr stone #drst #dr stone au #monster au #succubus!Gen #Monster hunter!Senku #scenario #au

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kpophours · 4 years ago

Text

Haven

➵ Stray Kids: Jisung x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, frenemies to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 6k

It’s not even 8am, and your eyes feel as dry as sandpaper while your head is pounding with a slight migraine. You’re currently getting everything ready for the crowd of caffeine addicts that will soon arrive at the café you work at. It’s way too early to deal with the horde of zombies called students, but you got stuck with the worst shift of the day - starting at 7.30am which, in your opinion, is just inhuman. Stupid Minho and his stupid luck whenever it comes to drawing straws. For some reason, you always end up getting the shortest one. At least you’ll be done with work before most people your age have even made it out of bed. Still, right now you’d give almost everything to be back in your blanket burrito. Earning money is hard and annoying. If you’ve ever wondered if working at a café could ruin the beauty of coffee… the answer is yes. Because capitalism destroys everything, leaving no survivors.

“Good morning, Y/N!”, your co-worker and the other unlucky one having drawn one of the shorter straws chirps when she enters the café, and you grimace - Sana’s voice is way too cheerful so early in the morning. You only give her a curt nod of your head, not in the mood to talk right now. You’re not really in the mood to do anything, if you’re being honest. Ugh, you hate the morning shift. You’re currently 80% tired, but 20% also tired - you don’t even remember what it’s like to not be tired anymore. College is great!

Sana doesn’t seem to mind your grumpiness though, being the sweetheart that she simply is, and begins to wipe the counter while humming a cheery song under her breath. It’s only her second week at work, but so far she’s proven to be a better and more reliable part-timer than the last three who had worked here. Jun is usually a nice and caring boss, but he has some strict rules - always be on time, no drinking coffee while you’re working, don’t take more breaks than necessary, and don’t give out free drinks to your friends. The last three part-timers had broken at least one of these rules, so Jun had let them go again. Sana is doing well so far, and you think that Jun has maybe even taken a liking to her - not that you can blame him, she’s not only super nice and a general sunshine, but also incredibly beautiful and funny. You’re always happy whenever you work a shift with her. She’s a student like yourself, and wants to become a kindergarten teacher. You’d never let your children near her though, too scared they’d like her more than you - not that you could actually blame them. “Shall I put on some music?”, Sana asks after she’s finished with wiping everything down, and you just nod, finally being done with prepping the giant coffee machines. Just seconds later, smooth lounge music fills the cozy space of the café, and you inhale deeply.

Maybe you lied earlier. Capitalism did not destroy coffee for you, you still very much love the scent, taste, and especially the effect of it. You check the time, noticing you still have about 15 minutes left before you have to open the café - meaning you have more than enough time to enjoy a nice cup of coffee with Sana. She immediately agrees to drink a cappuccino with you, and just minutes later, you bask in the fresh scent of grounded coffee beans. Sana sighs deeply after having taken the first sip, and gives you a bright smile. “Heavenly. You truly make the best coffee out of all of us, Y/N!”, she compliments you, and you tilt your head to one side. Thanks to the caffeine in your system, you’re finally ready to talk to her now. “Well, if my academic brilliance proves futile, I can always become the best barista in the world, I guess. And by the way, don’t let Minho hear you say that, or he’ll force you to taste all the coffee he makes, resulting in you overdosing on caffeine. You know what he‘s like.”, you answer, and Sana giggles. “Well, I stand with what I said, and I’ll even say it to his face. He needs to learn that he can’t always be the best at everything.” You raise one eyebrow, lips twitching. “No offense, but I don’t think he’s ever been the best at anything so far, he’s just very good at pretending. He basically invented the phrase “fake it till you make it”.”

Before Sana can reply, there’s a knock against one of the café’s windows. Surprised, you look up, and groan when you see a familiar face staring back at you. “What is he doing here?!”, you grumble, and place your mug on the counter, not moving a single muscle. But Sana, being her nice and angelic self, is already walking towards the door of the café, and before you can protest, she’s already unlocked it. Jisung jumps over the threshold, sporting a bright grin. He greets Sana with a hug, before sliding his giant headphones off his ears. “Moooorning.”, he says, with at least five Os. You’re already annoyed. You’ve known Jisung for… well. For a long time. Too long, some would say (you, for example). Your moms have been close friends since their own college years, and while they thankfully didn’t move into the same neighborhood, they ended up living quite close to each other. Meaning Jisung had been there for pretty much you entire childhood and teenage years - at every single one of your birthday parties, at most Christmases, and sometimes even at Easter (even though neither of your families really celebrated Easter). You’ve also gone on hiking trips together, and on wildlife expeditions, and on holidays by the seaside… In almost all your memories, there’s Jisung.

“Ugh, why are you so obsessed with me?”, you whine when he leans over the counter to grab your mug and take a sip of your coffee, “There are literally hundreds of colleges and you had to go choose the one I’m attending?!” He grins, puffing out his stupidly adorable hamster cheeks. “I’d never be so cruel and rid you of my pleasant company, my dearest Y/N.”, he answers, dark eyes sparkling with humor. You just huff and turn around. “The usual?”, you ask in a flat voice, and he hums in confirmation. To say you hate Jisung would be a severe overstatement, you just often strongly... dislike him. And feel annoyed whenever he’s around. Mostly because he’s a walking disaster, who kinda thinks the world revolves around him (you blame him being an only child for that). One of your most vivid and probably also traumatic childhood memories is of your sixth birthday party: you had gotten a brand new, soft green bicycle, falling in love with it as soon as you laid eyes on it. Naturally, you had wanted to take it around the block for a little test drive, but all of the sudden, Jisung had thrown a big tantrum until your mom had made you give him the bike first. And being the clumsy child that he simply was (and kinda still is), he had crashed your beautiful new bike into a tree. The tree had won that battle, the handle bar completely bent, same with the front wheel. So you and your bike had been a very short love story with a tragic ending. Romeo and Juliet had nothing on you. And this instance has only been one of many - Jisung had also accidentally sat on your birthday cake once (till this day, you have no idea how he’d even managed to do that). He had also ruined one of your favorite jumpers by dumping ink all over it, had tipped over the canoe when you’d been happily paddling on a lake one summer day, and had given you a black eye when you went mini golfing for your eleventh birthday.

So Han Jisung has always been - and probably will always be - a walking disaster. Being his friend means you have a “Why is he like that” moment at least five times a day. Your biggest fear at the moment is that he’s accidentally going to sit on your brand new laptop and break it, the one you had been saving up for for over two years. And then you’ll just have to kill him which will probably make his very nice mom very sad. But as the bible clearly states: an eye for an eye, a life for a laptop. Or maybe he’s just going to set your whole apartment on fire - he’s truly a mess inside the kitchen, you sadly know that from experience (note to self: never try to bake cookies with Jisung ever again). Your old dorm kitchen will probably never recover from that one particular incident that ended with half the building having to be evacuated. This is one of the reasons why Jisung hasn’t been at your new place yet. The second one being that you also only just moved into it a few weeks ago. Ever since moving, he’s been pestering you though, asking you to have a movie night with him at your new place. Like you said, he’s kinda obsessed with you. He also literally spends every morning at the café you work at - or well, you just assume it’s every morning. As you’re a part timer, you don’t actually have to work every single morning, but he’s definitely always here when you have drawn one of the short straws again.

You quickly busy yourself with making a flat white for Jisung, his preferred drink of choice, while he continues to chat with Sana. They know each other thanks to a mutual friend of theirs, Chan - he’s one of Jisung’s roommates as well as Sana’s best friend. Everyone on campus knows Chan: he’s on the student council, he plays for the baseball team, and he’s one of the most promising music majors you’ve ever seen (or well, heard), already being scouted by different labels even though he’s not even a senior yet. And he’s also just so nice and down to earth, truly a prime example of a man. Jisung should really take a leaf out of Chan’s book.

“Here you go.”, you say while sliding Jisung’s finished order his way, taking your own mug out of his hands while doing so. You quickly shake your head when he wants to hand you his credit card, and he shoots you a happy smile. Jun would probably fire you instantly if he knew about this, but not once have you let Jisung pay for his coffee - and you’ve been working here for almost four months now. You try to ignore the way your stomach jolts when Jisung locks eyes with you, but fail miserably. So maybe he has the most beautiful smile in the whole world, and maybe his eyes hold entire galaxies in them, but what about it? It’s not like you even really like him, right?

You turn around and pretend to wipe down the coffee machine, but in reality, you just don’t want to look at Jisung’s cute hamster cheeks anymore, because they just make you want to squish them. And you have a reputation to lose. “Well, I’m off to my lecture now - I hope your day will be pleasant, ladies!”, Jisung finally says, and you turn around, catching him giving you a mock salute and mischievous wink. You just wave at him, while Sana wishes him a good day as well. As soon as the door falls close behind him again, you exhale. You really need to get a grip on yourself.

It’s Friday night, and there’s a party at Jisung’s frat house. At first, you don’t want to go, but your roommate Amber basically drags you with her. You know she’s only going because she has the biggest crush on Chan, and you honestly can’t even blame her - half the girls on campus have a crush on him after all, and at least a third of the guys. But while Amber and Chan are good friends, nothing more has ever been going on between them - not yet, that is. Who knows, maybe tonight’s finally the night.

You’re currently sipping on some stale beer Seungmin - one of Jisung’s roommates - had handed you the second you stepped over the threshold of the frat house, scanning the room for people you know. Amber is off to greet some friends from her architecture class, so you’re on your own for now. Which is fine, you don’t really mind just standing in the corner to observe the other guests, it’s actually highly entertaining. For example, there’s one guy twerking like crazy to some Beyoncé song. You think his name is Kevin and he’s in your calc class. A friend of his is currently hyping him up like crazy, while another one with green dyed hair is clearly wishing he was somewhere entirely else. You honestly can’t blame him, the secondhand-embarrassment way too real. A few seconds later, Sana enters the room with a group of girls, and she happily waves at you as soon as she spots you. You simply return her smile, before continuing to watch Kevin.

“Enjoying the show?”, someone beside you suddenly asks, and you jump, dumping some of your beer over your shirt. “Oh fuck you!”, you yelp, and turn around to glare at Minho’s shit-eating grin, “You definitely scared me on purpose!” “Fuck... me? Absolutely, just name the time and place, babe.”, he answers, and you smack his chest. “Not even in your wildest dreams, Lee.”, you reply, and narrow your eyes at him. He pouts playfully. “I just think we’d make a really great couple.”, he argues, and you shake your head. “Well, society should be able to limit what some people are allowed to think, then.”, you retort, voice flat, and he ruffles your hair. “You know what I love about you? You’re kinda mean and annoying, but unapologetically so.”, he says, and you raise one eyebrow. “I might be kinda mean and annoying, but at least my lock screen isn’t a selfie.” At this, Minho gasps dramatically, and protectively clutches his phone to his chest. “I mean, I could always change it to one of your selfies, you know?”, he then suggests, making you groan. He’s clearly drunk already or else he wouldn’t be flirting like this. If this sad attempt can even be considered flirting, it’s probably just him being his annoying and arrogant Scorpio self. Minho sighs deeply. “When will you finally accept my eternal love for you, Y/N?”, he asks, and tries to grab one of your hands, but you just smack him again. “Maybe when you finally stop cheating at drawing straws! I have the Monday morning shift again!”, you hiss, and he smirks. “You’ll never know my secret.”, he says smugly, and empties his cup in one single gulp.

You begin to pout and take a sip from your own cup, eyes wandering towards where Kevin is still throwing it back on the dance floor. “If I ever do something remotely like that, just take me out, and instantly.”, you say, an exasperated expression on your face. “On a date or with a sniper?”, a familiar voice on your other side suddenly asks, and you sigh internally. “Han.”, you greet your favorite frenemy, and Jisung grins while wrapping one arm around your shoulder. “Nice to see you accepted my invite.”, he says, and you quickly duck out of his embrace, trying to ignore your racing heart. Minho just wiggles his eyebrows at you, before flashing you a shit-eating grin and disappearing from view. Traitor.

“I only came because Amber asked me to.”, you explain, and stand on your tiptoes to look for your friend. Seriously, where did she even go?! It’s been at least 15 minutes since she left you on your own. “You can just admit that you missed my handsome face, you know.”, Jisung says, and you snort. “Yeah, whatever you say, hamster boy.” He groans, ruffling his hair with one hand and making it stand on end. You desperately suppress the need to flatten it again, and quickly take another sip of your beer. “Don’t you get tired of using that old nickname? Plus, my cheeks aren’t as chubby anymore! I have finally lost all my baby fat, the glow up we’ve all been desperately waiting for!”, he says, and you suppress a smile, looking him up and down. “I guess some people would agree that you don’t look bad.”, you finally reply, and ignore the way your heart flutters when he shoots you a wide grin. “Aww, you old softie, I knew you actually liked me.”, he says, lovingly punching your shoulder. You grimace, rubbing the spot he hit - you know he and Chan have started to work out recently, and apparently, Jisung doesn’t know his own strength anymore. “Now don’t get all sappy on me, just because I might have erased your name out of my death note.”, you reply, quickly draining your cup to hide your blush, and mumble something about getting a new drink before basically running away from him. When you enter the kitchen, you exhale deeply. Your hands are shaking, your heart is racing and you know the blush is still very prominent on your cheeks.

So yeah, maybe you’re kinda a bit in love with Han Jisung. He might be a complete mess, but he’s also funny, hard-working, intelligent and something close to a musical genius. And yeah, maybe you absolutely adore his stupid hamster cheeks, bright smile and beautiful dark chocolate eyes. You close your eyes for a few seconds, groaning internally. You don’t want to be in love with Han Jisung! There is literally no other person you want to be less in love with. Okay, except for Lee Minho, simply because you just couldn’t bring yourself to ever date a Scorpio, no offense. But Han Jisung is at least a close second!

You can’t even say when you first began to develop these kinds of feelings for him. After graduating high school, you had finally realized how much you’d actually miss Jisung’s constant presence once you had to go off to different colleges. You’re almost embarrassed to admit how your heart had leaped when he told you he’d actually be going to the same college as you. Maybe you had truly just always kind of loved him - him and his weird antics. He’s always been himself, and unapologetically so. In the modern world of snapchat filters, snow apps and facetune, he’s always felt real to you.

You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts, and groan again. After you’ve refilled your red party cup, you drown it in a few gulps, repeating the process a few times. Drowning your feelings might not be the responsible thing to do just now, but well, you’re only in your early twenties, so you still have lots of time to become a more responsible adult in the future.

Half an hour later, you have probably drunk way too much beer and are also still trying to figure out where Amber has gone. So you finally decide to go search for her, noticing that for some reason, the floor seems to tilt a bit with every step you take. “Weeeeird.”, you mumble, squinting your eyes, “That’s new.” Just then, you manage to walk into someone, soaking their entire backside with your beer. The person yelps loudly, before turning around to glare at you. Your brain needs a few seconds to recognizes the handsome face, and when it finally does, you give him a bright smile while slurring “Hyunjiiiiiin.”, squishing his face between your hands. The boy turns from annoyed to alarmed, and pries your hands from his face while narrowing his eyes at you. “Okay, what and how much did you drink, Y/N?!” Your smile gets even wider. “Only the best kind of alcohol, which is a lot!” Hyunjin just groans and begins to look around for someone. “Where is Han when you need him?!” With that, he wraps one arm around your waist to pull you with him and through the crowd. You hold onto him like your life depends on it - and the way the floor is swaying from side to side right now, it truly just might. You make a disgusted sound when your hand touches Hyunjin’s soaked shirt. “You’re wet, do you know that?”, you mumble, head lulling around until Hyunjin gently guides it to rest against his shoulder. “Yeah, surprisingly I do.”, he says, but in your current state, his sarcasm gets totally lost on you. “You should change, it’s freezing outside, and we don’t want you to catch a cold!”, you tell him off, and he groans, half amused, half exasperated. “I promise I will change as soon as I’ve found Han.”

You raise both eyebrows at that. “Why do you need to find Jisung? Does he have clothes for you?” Just then, Hyunjin seems to find the desired person, sighing in relief. “Hey, Han! I think your girlfriend has had a little bit too much to drink tonight.”, he yells over the music, and you frown. “His girlfriend? Since when does Jisung have a girlfriend?! And why hasn’t he told me about her?! I’m his oldest friend! Like, not old in the sense of actually being old, but in the sense of time spent toge-”, before you can ramble on, Hyunjin basically shoves you into Jisung’s outstretched arms. “Here, she’s your responsibility now! Take her home or whatever. I’m gonna go change.”, he says curtly, before turning around and marching off. You wave at his retreating backside, before you look up at Jisung, who sports a very confused expression. “Uh, what exactly happened?”, he asks, taking in your glossy eyes, flushed cheeks and lopsided smile, “Shit, are you drunk?! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk!” He actually looks amazed, and you can’t help but ruffle his dark hair. It feels silky when it slips through your fingers, and you giggle to yourself. “Nice.”, you murmur, before you glare at him, “So, you have a girlfriend and didn’t tell me about her?! That’s rather rude, you know? We’re friends, after all! The oldest friends ever! I tell you almost everything.” Jisung just blinks a few times, before he shakes his head in disbelief. “Uh, okay, maybe I should bring you home.”, he murmurs, and wraps his arms even tighter around your waist, “Where’s your stuff?” You shrug while snuggling closer to him to bury your face in the crook of his neck. He yelps, and freezes for a few seconds, before he sighs and drags you towards one of the sofas. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be back in a second.”, he murmurs softly, and tugs some of you hair behind your ear. You lean into his touch, and close your eyes while nodding. The last thing you hear is his low chuckle.

Bright sunlight greets you the second you try to open your eyes. You groan and decide it’s better to just close them again. Seeing is overrated anyway, especially when your head is pounding like crazy. Mh, maybe you did drink a little bit too much yesterday.

“Are you alive? Groan once for yes, twice for no.”

You truly love your roommate, but right now, you’re prepared to throw her out the window as her voice cuts through your hazy state like a knife. Still, you manage to groan once.

“Okay, good. There’s water on your bedside table, and some aspirin. Take it.”

For the second time this morning (or midday, you honestly have no idea what time it is), you try to open your eyes, just a teeny tiny bit. Still half blind, you carefully fumble for said things on your bedside table. After taking the aspirin and drinking some water, you sigh in relief and fall back into your pillows. “You were really out of it yesterday, huh? Any reason for drinking for at least three people?”, Amber asks, her voice laced with quiet humor. You just grumble something unintelligible, and she chuckles. “Do you remember who brought you home?”

You finally turn around to look at her, raising one eyebrow. “... You?”, you guess, and she presses her lips together to try and stifle her shit-eating grin - she fails though. “Nope. I was kinda busy.”, she just answers, a smug expression on her face. You finally manage to sit up, ruffling your messy bed hair. “Busy doing what? Now that I think of it, I remember you were gone from my side the second we stepped foot inside the frat house. Talk about loyalty.” You try not to sound too offended, but while you don’t remember much from last night, you do remember that you spent some time looking for it, but in vain. “Chan.”, Amber just answers, and you squeal - regretting it a split second later when a sharp pain shoots through your head. “Remind me to never make that noise again while I’m nursing a hangover.”, you say, holding your head between your hands, and Amber giggles. “Noted. But yeah, Chan and I… well. Let’s just say we had a good night.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you return her grin. “Well, congrats, then! You snatched the Bang Chan, props to you.” Her smile softens, and she sighs dreamily. “He even asked me on a date afterwards. So we’re going out to get some pasta tonight.”, she tells you, and your smile gets even bigger. “I’m so happy for you, Amber. He’s a really great guy, and you deserve a really great guy.”, you say gently, and she nods. “Damn right I do. But speaking of a really great guy - Jisung was actually the one to bring you home last night.”, she explains, grinning smugly when she sees your shocked expression. “He did what now?!”, you ask, not ready to believe her, at least not yet. Amber leans back on her elbows, obviously enjoying this way too much. “Well, after you drank about half the alcohol the boys bought for the party, you decided to give Hyunjin a beer shower, who immediately realized it was definitely time to get you home, so he went searching for Jisung who then brought you to our apartment. No idea what happened after you left the frat house though, I only got to know about this because Hyunjin told Chan who told me.”

You bury your face in your pillow and let out a long, miserable noise. You sound a bit like a dying whale which makes Amber laugh. “Ah, come on, it’s not that bad. You and Jisung are friends after all, I’m sure he saw you drunk lots of times already!”

You shake your head.

“Wait, he hasn’t?!”

“Nope. I very rarely get drunk, and it’s not like Jisung and I are actual friends like that - friends who take care of each other and so on, you know?”, you try to explain, and Amber frowns. “What do you mean? Y/N, you and Jisung have known each other since forever, you hang out constantly, and you always talk about him with endless adoration - well, and a bit of annoyance too, to be fair. But what do you mean you’re not friends “like that”?!” You blink at her, surprise written all over your face. “I don’t talk about him with endless adoration!”, you disagree. Amber just gives you a very long, hard look, and you begin gnawing at your lip. “I… do?”, you ask in a small voice, and she nods. “You talk to him every day, Y/N, and you talk about him even more. It would be annoying if it weren’t also extremely cute.”, she replies, and begins filing her nails, lips twitching while she watches you trying to digest what she’s just told you. “I guess… I should at least message him to thank him for bringing me home.”

“And for tucking you into bed.”

You groan and throw your pillow at Amber. She catches it and laughs. “What, you looked very cozy and all snuggled up when I came home! And I doubt you yourself did that, at least if Hyunjin told the truth about the amount of alcohol you consumed yesterday.”

You look yourself up and down, noticing that you’re not wearing your clothes from last night anymore, but your favorite pj’s, the ones with little succulents on it. “Does this mean…”, you whisper, but shake your head, “Nope, not even going there. I’m way too sleep-deprived and hangover to deal with any of that right now.” Amber grins and shrugs. “Just go ask Jisung, I’m sure he can fill you in on everything.” You groan again, and fall back onto your bed. “I’ll have to take a shower first.”, you mumble, and close your eyes again. “Yes, please do, you reek of stale beer.” And with that, your roommate throws your pillow back at you.

It’s already about to get dark again when you arrive at the frat house, nervously bouncing on your feet for a few seconds before you finally gather the courage to knock on the front door. You quickly stuff your hands back into the pockets of your leather jacket, gnawing at your lower lip while waiting for someone to open the door. Just a few minutes later, Hyunjin’s tired face greets you. He raises both eyebrows when he lays eyes on you, immediately noticing your nervous expression. “Hi.”, you say, and give him a small smile. He leans against the doorframe, and crosses both arms over his chest. “Hi yourself. You actually look less zombie-like than expected.” You roll your eyes. “Thanks, today’s look is inspired by sleep deprivation and a mean hangover. Water and aspirin helped though, or else I could have auditioned for The Walking Dead.”, you grumble, “And uh… Thanks for yesterday, by the way. I’m really sorry about your shirt, I heard I dumped beer all over it.” Hyunjin cracks a smile at that, and shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s fine. The washing machine will take care of that. Wanna come in?”, he asks, and you nod, quickly following him inside the warmth of the parlor.

Surprisingly, the house looks clean and tidy again - the guys must have spent the entire day getting rid of last night’s mess. You’re actually impressed. “Han is in his room.”, Hyunjin says, before you even have the chance to ask, and you gulp nervously. “O-okay…”, you mumble, and are just about to walk up the stairs, when Hyunjin tugs on your sleeve. You turn around to face him again, expression questioning. The boy gnaws at his lip, looking nervous. “Just… Finally tell him, okay? I’m like, literally begging you.”, he then says, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Tell him what, exactly?”, you inquire, but Hyunjin only gives you an exasperated gaze. “You know exactly what. We’re all tired of you guys pining after each other but not actually doing anything about your feelings. Quick reminder: this is not a cheesy rom-com where you have to wait until one of you guys leaves the country so you can finally declare your love at the airport or some big, stupid gesture like that. Just do it now, in his stuffy frat room and get it over with.” Before you’re able to reply, he gives you a mock salute and retreats into the kitchen. You huff, surprised at the audacity of his words, and turn around to finally go up the stairs and towards Jisung’s room.

You take in a few deep breaths before knocking on his door, trying to steady yourself. Then, you wait - but after a few seconds have passed and the door has not yet been opened, you simply turn the doorknob and let yourself in. Jisung sits at his desk, giant headphones covering his ears while he hums along to the music he’s listening to. Well, that explains why he didn’t hear you knocking. You quickly cross the room, and tap his shoulder. He screams, and whips around, almost ripping his headphones off in the process. You giggle at his shocked expression, dark eyes almost comically big in his face. “When did you arrive!?”, he almost yells, and you slide the headphones off his ears, brushing some of his hair back while doing so. His eyelids flutter for a few seconds, before he raises one eyebrow. “You don’t look that shitty, which is surprising considering the amount of beer you drank last night.”, he says after looking you up and down, and you defensively cross your arms over your chest. “Wow, thanks. Always the charmer, huh?”, you huff in mock offense, and he grins up at you. “No need to charm when I know your heart is already mine.” You almost choke on your own spit, and beg the blush creeping on your cheeks to just not do that right now. Truly not the time nor place. “I came to thank you, actually. For last night - I heard you were the one to bring me home.”, you finally admit, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

Jisung just stares at you for a few seconds, before giving you a soft smile. “Well, yeah. I couldn’t just let anyone take you home - and Amber was kinda busy, I heard.” You nod. “True, I’m glad you didn’t interrupt whatever she was doing. So, uh, yeah, thanks, you’re… a good friend, I guess.” Almost immediately, embarrassment washes over you, and you groan at your own words. Jisung’s lips begin to twitch. “A good friend, huh?”, he repeats and crosses both hands behind his head, still looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You blink a few times, before slowly beginning to nod. “Y-yeah…?” “For someone so smart, you’re really fucking oblivious sometimes, you know that?”, Jisung suddenly states, and you huff. “Excuse me?! Who do you call obliv-” But before you can tell him off, he pulls you onto his lap and then, his lips are on yours. You yelp, freezing for a few seconds, before basically melting against him. He hums appreciatively, and wraps both arms around you to pull you even closer towards him, deepening the kiss. You bury your hands in his soft hair, gently tugging on it, and he groans against your lips. You use the chance to slide your tongue into his mouth while his hands wander lower to grab your ass. You shift on top of him, and he moans when you brush against his crotch.

When you draw back to catch your breaths, you simply stare at each other, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Then, Jisung begins to smile at you, and your heart flutters. Twenty years of seeing his smile, but you’ll apparently never get used to it. “About fucking time.”, he then murmurs against your lips, voice pleased, and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m not oblivious, by the way! You’re the oblivious one - I never give anyone free coffee, because it could literally cost me my job, and yet you always get a flat white on the house!”, you tell him, and he smirks. “Oh, baby, the oblivious one is definitely you - or do you really think I just happen to have a lecture every morning you got the early shift again?”, he replies, a smug expression on his face. You just stare at him. “You-”, but before you can say anything else, Jisung quickly presses his lips against yours again. You immediately lean into his embrace, and close your eyes, losing yourself to his touch - so familiar, yet also so new and exciting.

Yes, maybe you’ve truly always been in love with Han Jisung - but at least he seems to feel the exact same way.

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