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chiacanwritesometimes · 4 months ago

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everybody adores you, at least i do.

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based on “everybody adores you (quiet)” by matt maltese :)

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

authors note: i wrote this after listening to ^^^ on repeat, god i love matt maltese. there are scenes of alcohol intake, a panic attack and brief self harm. please dni if these topics bother, trigger, or make you uncomfortable. this was a pretty long drabble, hope you enjoy :D

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you can act all shy, but you know that i want you.

you aren’t one for flattery, that much was obvious. every time bucky took the time to compliment you, he knew what your next words would be. like clockwork, you would turn red, look away, and sheepishly mutter, “thanks”. you fiddled with your hands, and quickly changed the subject. how desperately he wanted to hold your hands, and kiss them. for years, he pined over you, and you’ve always been almost at his grasp. these past couple of weeks though, it seemed to hit you, that he wanted you.

in the dead of night, i want to live with you.

it all started three years ago, after everyone came back from the blip. people were everywhere, and it seemed that all the noise that lacked from the world came back in an instant. after realizing what happened to you, your environment and your home, you couldn’t help but laugh. how comical, that it seemed like nothing changed. your family hadn’t contacted you, well, the distant family that you still had. you walked to a bar in the hazy hours of the night, and met him. some guys were bothering him about his glove, but he seemed unaffected. he just stared ahead, and drank his whiskey. you devised a plan, to distract the assholes and to maybe introduce yourself. you didn’t want to seem like you were trying to pick him up, but you were trying to make friends in this new world. you asked the bartender quietly to escort the two loud drunks out, and sat down next to him. you didn’t think you’d get this far, so you were at a loss on what to say. did people still talked the same five years later? of course they did, but how do you navigate yourself into talking? your thoughts piled up, and they kept piling up, until his gruff voice interrupted them.

“thanks.” he grumbled quietly.

“hm?” you didn’t catch what he said, as you were too distracted. he cleared his throat.

“i said thanks. for the, yeah.” he pointed to the two men outside. he wasn’t much for words, you realized. you sighed in relief and nodded.

“yeah, dont sweat it.”

he offered to walk you home, as a sign of gratitude. it amused you both that you lived in the same building. small world. you invited him inside, but he hesitated.

“we can take a rain check, if you’d like. ill write you my number.” you assured him, and walked inside to grab a post it. what were you doing? giving a stranger your number? you put those thoughts to rest as you wrote your number.

he awkwardly waited at the half open door. he was glad to have made a…friend? he didn’t know what to call you yet, but he was sure to catalogue you at the back of his mind to let his witch of a therapist know. over the next couple of weeks, you had began to know him better. he had a cat, alpine. he had a past that he wasn’t open to sharing. his apartment was empty, almost ready to be left without a tenant at any moment. he froze at your touch, so you made a mental note to not do that. what a strange person. you knew he disappeared during the blip as well, but you felt as if he had lost more than five years.

so terrified of the road that takes you, me too.

a year had passed for your friendship. you came to his apartment, unexpected, and brought two little cupcakes with candles on them.

“what’s this?” he asked, a little embarrassed to be touched by such a small little gesture.

“its our friendship anniversary, goofy.”

“do we sing happy birthday, or what?” you paused. you weren’t sure, you didn’t really think of singing.

“um, we can have toasts if you’d prefer that. yes, toasts! ill get the glasses.” you sprung to your feet and gracefully navigated yourself in his small kitchen. you had spruced up his place a little, buying him hand towels, candles, and little trinkets that make a house a home, or rather, an apartment into a cozier place to live. you brought the two flutes, and filled them with champagne. he frowned.

“that is definitely not mine.”

“i brought it to celebrate, we need something fancy.” he rolled his eyes, but went along to your little celebration. he sat on his couch and observed you placing the cupcakes on the coffee table, and as you passed him his glass.

“ill go first. um…” you didn’t want to admit that you had started liking him, so you decided to say general statements.

“i hadn’t had a friend since, high school? maybe…so thank you for letting me be yours. err, friend, that is. to many more.” you clinked your glass with his, and motioned for him to go next.

“my last friend died a year ago. you haven’t died yet, so cheers to that.” he said dryly, with a little smile on his face. he thought he was so funny. he clinked his glass with yours, and drank the liquid. you rolled your eyes and mirrored him.

you started watching a movie with him, but you weren’t really paying attention. he started to accept your touch more and more, and you watched the movie with your head leaning on his shoulder. he leaned his head on yours, and tried his best to not move, so as to not bother you. the second act of the movie was commencing, and he had something on his mind. he had to fess up eventually about who he is- who he was, that is. someone he no longer was, someone he despised so vehemently.

“doll?” he tested the waters. he started calling you that, a reminder of how much of a casanova he was when he was in high school. you protested but eventually let him continue calling you that, as it was more effort telling him to stop than you cared to give.

“mm?” you hummed softly, half asleep.

“i wasn’t joking about my toast.”

“i didn’t think you were. you don’t have to talk about it if you don-“

“i want to talk about it.”

you paused. this was rare. you didn’t know what to think, so you gave him the space to talk.

“there’s a reason i’m always wearing this glove, you know.”

“yeah, circulation problems.” you joked, but he didn’t laugh.

“doll, i was born in 1917.”

“…” you sat up. “what? james, you’re not being funny right now.”

he continued tentatively.

“my name is james buchanan barnes and i was born in march 10, 1917.” he recited as if giving a memorized speech, his monotone words hitting you, syllable by syllable.

“i was forced to be the winter soldier, and i was framed for the U.N bombing.” your facial expression must’ve hinted that you put the pieces together, and he stopped.

“and, yeah. i have a metal arm.” he added almost rushed, he wanted to explain that part as well. he gave you space to fully digest everything.

“so…your friend that died was…” he nodded.

“steve rogers.” he finished for you.

“wow.” you didn’t know what to say, you just sat there. everything made so much sense now, why he always wore a glove, why he never had any pictures of friends or family, nothing. suddenly, you smiled.

“doll?” he looked confused. your best friend admitted to lying about his identity to your face for a year, and you’re…smiling?

“the first friend i made in ten years is someone who’s older than me by eighty years.” you giggled.

“i don’t- you’re not mad?” his brain short circuited. you’re not responding the way he thought you would’ve. you shook your head.

“i mean, what kind of friend am i for you not to be able to trust me with that? yeah, im a little blindsided, but i understand. i still see you as my friend.”

he didn’t know what to do. tears threatened to fall.

“pay attention to this part, its my favorite.” you leaned back to your original position, as if nothing happened. you offered your hand, and he took it.

don't modify, every one adores you, at least i do.

“dont look at me like that.” you said, a little tipsy. you had been friends with him for two years now, and you had invited him over to your apartment, for new year’s. you both didn’t really have any plans, or friends, for that matter. of course, he had sam, but sam was with his sister for the new year. he had barged into your apartment with a six case of beer on him, and two little paper hats saying, “happy new year!”. how adorable. you weren’t dressed up, gracing yourself with an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. you sat on the couch with your legs on his lap, his flesh hand holding his beer and his metal hand holding you. he traced small circles on your calves, which felt really intimate. you’re grateful he used his metal hand, because you weren’t sure what you would’ve done if he used his skin to tease you so.

“like what?” he asked. his tone was quiet, his eyes searching for permission in yours. permission for what?

“like you want to kiss me.”

“and what if i do?” there it was. you didn’t want to ruin any friendship you still had left after he threw that bombshell. you paused and looked away. you took another sip of your beer.

“i’m afraid i’ll have to decline your advances.” you quietly said. its not that you didn’t love him, but it all felt so wrong. the only reason he wanted to kiss you was because it was the new year, and that stupid fucking tradition.

“you know i could get lost in those eyes. i’d trip over my words trying to find my way back.” he admitted. he really did love you. god, he loved you.

“if you keep looking at me like that, i might think that you have a crush on me.” you teased, face red. from the intimacy or from the alcohol? you weren’t sure, maybe it was both.

“and what if i did?”

“bucky…” you sighed. you sat up and moved your legs away from him.

“i mean it. would that be such a crime?” he leaned his body towards you. you noticed that his cheeks had their own hue of red, and his eyes felt unsure.

“bucky.” you cut him off. you didn’t know what to say. its not like you could say, “i dont want you to kiss me for new year’s, because i want you to kiss me for real.” you didn’t know what to say, so you just shook your head slightly. he nodded, stood up, and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“i understand.” he whispered into your ear. you bit your lip, this was the friendliest he had ever been towards you, and you only wished for more. he smiled softly and said,

“happy new year, y/n.”

right where the black wood sighs, i look at you, through and through.

your birthday was coming up, and he decided to surprise you. he researched thoroughly about forests located next to you, and found the one. things had been a little rough post new year’s eve, but your connection through knowing who he was kept the friendship close. you soon were back to your old self, but remained a bit guarded.

your birthday was today. you hadn’t received any messages from him, so you felt a bit let down. you sighed throughout the day as you kept checking. suddenly, around 2 in the afternoon, he knocked on your door with a basket in hand, and flowers in the other.

“happy birthday, doll.”

it’s safe to say that you spent the rest of your day very content, and impressed at the picnic he had organized.

right where your father died I'll hold on to your hand.

you don’t remember much from your father, other than the fact that he died early in your youth. you detested seeing children with both their parents with them, even as an adult. you felt jealous, angry at your father for dying. you knew it wasn’t your fault, but still. you occasionally visited his grave, and the place where he passed on. it was a rainy day, the day he went with you. you asked him to go, as you weren’t feeling so well. he obliged.

the downpour matched the dreary mood, and as you stood near the bench he died on, a bench he felt was familiar. he started to panic, thinking that somehow he was the one responsible for the death of your father, wondering if you taking him here was some sort of ploy to avenge your father.

“he got caught in the crossfire of a crime.” you admitted. “police were chasing this guy, and he meant to shoot the…” you trailed off. he knew what you were trying to say and he nodded. he sighed, partly from the mood and partly from relief that he wasn’t the one that took him from you. you took his hand and held it. he squeezed your hand, and rubbed circles on your knuckles.

“thank you.” what an odd thing for him to say to you, but you knew that he meant for taking him to a place so sacred to you.

“now we’re even.” you smiled at him. no more secrets about the past.

so terrified of the road that takes you, me too.

panic attacks didn’t hit him often. it was around two weeks since his last one, and it wasn’t something he wasn’t thinking of at the time, until now.

he spent so much time at your place, so much in fact, that some of his mail correspondence was sent to your place by the mailman. how silly. he was over for some random dinner, and conversed with you as you cooked. you were making spicy chicken alfredo, or something along those lines. he didn’t really pay attention, he only focused on you. he noticed how fluid you were in the kitchen, as if you were dancing. when he thought you were going to run into a cabinet, you moved away just in time. wether that be for your reflexes or by chance, he wasn’t sure. he had shared with you a couple vinyls, a way of sharing his past with you. he hummed along to the smooth voice of ella fitzgerald, until you interrupted the noise with a yelp of pain. he turned to you, and noticed you had cut your finger with the knife, which confirmed to him that in fact, the reason you didn’t run into cabinets was by chance, maybe some guardian angel working overtime. he kissed your finger, and walked to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. everything was going so well, too. its just a small setback. until, he came back.

you looked to be covered in blood everywhere, with a heavy concentration on your torso. there was a gunshot in your stomach area, and you hunched over the cabinet for support. at least, that is what he saw. in reality, you leaned on the cabinet, waiting for him. his heart dropped and his eyes scanned you so worriedly. he ran to you, inspected your arms, your eyes, your neck, your stomach. your confused expression felt almost like daggers at him, and he started hyperventilating. he felt hands all around him, suffocating him. he knelt to the ground, gasping for air. his hair started clinging to his forehead, his clothes suddenly felt too tight, the air felt too hot, his metal arm too familiar. did he do this? he kept thinking. he heard a voice, his voice, but different. it was him.

“of course you did this.” he said, full of poison. tears fell down his eyes, and they kept falling, even when he shut them so tightly. he clawed at his metal arm, at his reminder of who he was.

you tried your best to make him realize that you were there, and in fact, not dead. no matter your volume, he couldn’t hear you. he was rocking back and forth, and you kneeled to his eyeline.

“bucky?” you kept saying. you kept repeating, kept trying to open his eyes, move his hand from hurting his shoulder. soon, your hands were stained with the blood drawn from where metal met skin. you sat with him, and listened to his cries. you didn’t know what to do, he hadn’t discussed panic attacks with you, so you weren’t sure if you could hold him or not. you decided to take a risk and rub his back, and lean your head on top of his. a few minutes were spent like that, his quiet sobs filling the apartment. eventually, he calmed down enough to the point of hugging you, and whispered “i’m sorry”. that’s all he said, and he kept saying it. his face was nuzzled into your neck, and he kept saying that. your hands held him tightly, your own tears falling as well. he stopped hurting himself, but seeing him in this state broke your heart. you knew why seeing you bleeding affected him so badly. he didn’t often tell you of all the people he killed, but when he did, he was always filled with immense grief. you’d always remind him that it wasn’t really him, and that he didn’t have body autonomy. those words, although comforting, felt like a lie. he was scared you believed differently, thought of him differently. your words and your touch remained the same, though. after his panic subsided, you led him to the sink, and washed his hands. you cleaned his wounds, and wrapped them with gauze. you asked him to stay at your place, and he accepted. you set his bed, and gave him some spare clothing you had. he sat down next to you, and watched you lay down, before looking at you. his blue eyes looked into yours, asking for permission. you held your arms up, and he instantly moved. he laid on top of you, almost tentatively. you ran your fingers through his hair, and he adjusted himself on top of you, holding your waist. no words were exchanged.

you two never spoke of that moment.

don’t modify, every one adores you, at least i do.

three years had passed since you first crossed paths, and he wanted to be the one to initiate the celebration. he didn’t know how surprise you, you two had already done a lot of things. picnics, dinners, sleepovers. he realized he needed to buy a gift. what should he get you? you already had enough jewelry, you always went thrift shopping with him, and you seemed pretty content with everything you had. it clicked in his mind. he got you a photo album for your pictures, and a star projector, showing how the stars looked like on the day you first met. he felt nervous, he hadn’t felt this close to someone in a while, and he was scared to ruin it.

you spent the anniversary gushing over your gift, and kept complimenting him throughout that night. his fears for being a bad friend were eased.

everybody has you up on their wall sometimes.

he wasn’t one for photography. his walls were bare, aside from the decorations you bought for him. you, however, loved your polaroid camera. you took pictures of anything you deemed important, like meeting someone with a similar outfit to yours, a cat you saw on the street, and him. you deemed him important, and he had to pretend like that wasn’t the biggest compliment ever. he had to pretend that every time you snapped a picture of him, he wasn’t blushing so hard, and how he loved being your muse. he started putting more effort into his appearance, so you would take more pictures. you noticed, of course you noticed. you had to keep a solid stream of film. one day, he held your camera. he often wondered how you saw the world, and seeing the little window in the polaroid camera made him smile. you were comically posing in the couch, giggling with every new pose. he clicked away, happily. he then sheepishly asked for a serious picture, for his new collection. well, your picture would be the first in the collection. how fitting, that you would be the one to star in the little joy you shared with him. your face flushed a bit as you sat up and smiled softly at him. he swallowed his nervousness, and took the picture. as he let it develop, he walked away, leaning on the wall. he didn’t want to let you see how red he was. you didn’t know if you were friends or not. of course, you were friends, but you weren’t sure if you were more. you walked to where he was, took the picture from him and placed it on a side table. you grabbed the camera from his hand, and tossed it lightly to your couch. you looked at his lips, his eyes, his scars. you lifted your hand and traced his eyebrows, his nose, his chin, his jawline. his eyes fluttered shut, as he grabbed your hand and kissed it. he pulled you closer, as if you were the air he so desperately needed to breathe, as if you were the water in the middle of the desert. he held you so gently, leaning you against the wall. he leaned his lips towards yours, but didn’t press forward. he just breathed deeply, breathing you in. you looked up at him.

“bucky?” you asked softly, as to not shatter the moment.

“please. you’re all i have ever wanted these three years. i’ve been…you’re…” he couldn’t find the words. he grew a little frustrated at his lack of ways to express himself.

“i love you. from the minute i knew you, from new year’s, every birthday, every anniversary. please, y/n. i need you, like i need air, like i need water, like i need…you.” his eyes looked into yours, waiting for a response in the almost deafening silence.

you leaned forward, kissed him, and were made his that night.

everybody thinks of you when they sleep at night.

he liked waking up next to you. he liked the way your hair ruffled up because of the pillow. he loved the way your eyelashes fluttered when you opened your eyes, and your sleepy smile greeted him.

“good morning, bucky.” you would say.

“dreams?” he’d reply. if you had any dreams, you’d go on in detail about them, and if not, you’d shrug and say,

“my subconscious took the night off.”

he’d tuck your hair behind your ear, and kiss you. how wonderful, that he was able to kiss you, show you how much you meant to him, make you his. how serendipitous, that the first words he ever said to you were “thank you.” fate knew. you knew.

when I say, "everybody", i'm actually referring to mе.

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m3l0nfl0at · 8 months ago

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tell your friends - t. kuroo

kuroo tetsurou x gn! reader ; secret relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, relationship problems, misunderstanding, insecurity issues on kuroo’s side, happy ending, and readers issues with their parents pops up for a second, 3.2k words

summary: this is a mini fic based off of my fic here, just say yes but this can be read as a stand alone! after you and kuroo make it official, you decide to hide your relationship from your roommate kenma. what happens when kenma confronts you about how you’re acting around kuroo? (aka reader is conflicted about revealing their relationship to roommate!kenma)

melon’s recommended melody: coward - matt maltese

Ever since Kuroo and you got together, you both decided to keep your relationship a secret from your roommate, Kenma. Now, don’t get me wrong you love your roommate but knowing you’re dating his best friend obviously puts him in an uncomfortable situation between you two. So for now, every time Kuroo comes around to you and Kenma’s apartment you pretend like nothing between you ever happened. That big fight you and Kuroo had that caused you to sleep at Alisa’s for the weekend, poof, doesn’t exist. Kenma notices the weird shift in energy between you two lately, due to his observance but doesn’t want to comment just in case it’s still a touchy situation for you both. Something’s Kenma has noticed between you two includes you blushing more than ever at any mention of Kuroo, Alisa’s playful elbow nudge and teasing eyebrow waggle towards you when Kuroo comes over, and most importantly Kuroo’s silence around you. Kuroo wasn’t usually loud like their friend Bokuto but Kenma would never use the word quiet and Kuroo in a sentence to describe him.

It wasn’t until Kenma noticed your absence in the apartment getting more frequent, every weekend he would knock on your door to find it completely empty and cold. Kenma felt a bit sad, he didn’t want to keep you in an environment you didn’t want to stay in. However, he also felt conflicted. One part of him doesn't want his best friend to stop coming over completely but he also doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable by his presence. Kenma got worried about you when the weekends of you missing turned into weeks, he knew he had to address this situation somehow without it turning into a dumpster fire of drama. Kenma needed you to know you were not only his roommate but you were also his friend first, he would never want to hurt you or make you feel unwanted. Midthought Kenma hears the door click, signaling that you made it home safely. Even though you think he’s probably asleep, he feels more awake than ever seeing you with a large duffel bag at the door.

“Can I ask where you’ve been?” Turning around you jump, met with Kenma’s striking cat-like eyes. “Ken, what’re you doing up? You scared the crap out of me!” Kenma notices you dodge the question, feeling more suspicious than ever. “So, I’m guessing I can’t ask where you’ve been?”, you feel sick to your stomach. You never wanted to lie to Kenma, you’re only doing this to protect him, right? “I was at Alisa’s, that’s why I have this big bag!”, you sputter out your words fast. Kenma lets his head hang, feeling his hair cover his face before stating the obvious. “You’ve been weird ever since you came back with Kuroo, is everything okay with you two?”, palms sweating, knee’s shaking, and fingers fidgeting as you respond. “Yeah, we’re fine. We’re two peas in a pod, me and that guy!”, you smile obnoxiously wide trying to sell your lie. Kenma laughs, seeing right through you, “If he’s intolerable, you know you can tell me right? You don’t have to run away, I miss you being here. I don’t know what happened to you two after that weekend but obviously it was bad.”

Tears well up in your eyes and for a moment you consider if you’re keeping this secret from him for a selfish reason or truly to protect him. “No, Kenma there’s nothing going on between Kuroo and I, okay? What happened between Kuroo and I that weekend means nothing, so don’t feel that you can’t invite him over. That’s your best friend, and it would kill me if I found out that I caused a rift between you two. I just stay away because he’s a teasing ass, he was like that even before we went away.” Kenma knows you’re being truthful due to you taking your time with your words wanting to convey the message clearly to him. “Well if you don’t mind, I’ll invite him over tomorrow. Is that okay with you?” You nod telling him that you had work tomorrow so you might not come home till later, leaving the conversation with the problem patched up.

The next day Kuroo ends up coming over to talk to Kenma. Various topics come up in the conversation from Kenma’s upcoming stream to how the volleyball season is going for their friends in the league. Yet Kuroo can’t help but notice your absence, questioning Kenma mid conversation. Kenma brushes off saying you had an impromptu day of work ahead of you, wanting to continue the conversation about his upcoming stream till Kuroo interrupts him yet again. “Haven’t they been working a lot more lately? I mean I get work is every day but even on weekends they’re gone? Are they not working themselves to the bone?” Kenma huffs feeling tension arise in the conversation at the mention of you, “Yeah well maybe you should talk to them about it. They were being super weird when I mentioned you yesterday.” Kenma lays himself flatly on the couch suddenly feeling fed up. “What do you mean weird? Everything between us is perfectly fine?” Kenma hears Kuroo’s tone of voice raise slightly at the end of his sentence.

He’s lying, Kenma repeats what he did with you, feline like stare aiming right at Kuroo. Hoping that he would break and tell him the whole story that you failed to tell him yesterday. “Ok well if you were both “perfectly fine” then why did they get all fidgety when I brought you up? I mean I believe them more than you. Since they said what happened between you two that weekend meant nothing but I know you’re both leaving something out.” Kuroo’s ears hear a high monotone pitch, speeding up Kenma’s last sentence and putting it on a constant loop in his head. Kuroo frantically gets up, it means nothing huh? Did you really think that way or were you just saying that to get Kenma off both of your guys’ back? Kuroo gets that you wanted to hide your relationship from Kenma but going to the extreme and saying the weeknd that cemented your relationship meant nothing? Why couldn’t you just tell him, was he embarrassing, did you think he wasn’t worthy enough to be your boyfriend? Kuroo needed to get out of your apartment fast, he needed to talk to you before his head started spinning with false truths.

“Kenma, I’ll talk to you later. I forgot I had a meeting today with MSBY. I’ll tell Shoyo you said hi.” Kuroo doesn’t even give Kenma a second to respond before going outside to get some fresh air. Immediately calling you up for an explanation, only to be met with your voicemail. “When you’re done with work can you head over to mine. I need to talk to you face to face, please.” Hearing Kuroo’s voicemail when you left work felt like you were listening to Kuroo having a panic attack. You knew you had to drop everything to make your way to him quickly before anything else bad happens to him. Shooting Kenma a text that you were going to run an errand before heading to the apartment today. Taking the train to Kuroo’s, you knock on his door opening up only to be met with Kuroo’s blank stare burning a hole into you. “Tetsu, what’s up? Are you okay, you sounded troubled on the phone?” You place your hands on his face, caressing it softly.

Your heart drops when Kuroo takes your hands off his face, “You can’t do this. You can’t run to me and call me sweet names then tell Kenma that what happened that weekend doesn’t matter to you. How long are you going to keep us a secret?” You were silenced knowing Kuroo was speaking the truth, “I’m sorry Kuroo, you’re right. It’s not fair of me to want to keep you a secret knowing that we’re together almost everyday.” Kuroo falls silent still feeling hurt by your actions deciding to let his insecurities take over, “Do you regret being with me?”. You quickly look up baffled, “Tetsu, no absolutely not! Everyday that I wake up to you I’m reminded of everything I did right in my life to be able to be with you. I’m so sorry Tetsu, from here on out I will prove through my actions and my words that you truly mean a lot to me.” You go up to Kuroo to hug him as tight as possible, not wanting to let go of him at this moment. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear to reassure him and ease all of his insecurities.

“I was scared to tell Kenma not because of you but because I’m scared something will change between Kenma and I or even worse something will change between Kenma and you. I would never forgive myself if I was the reason that something bad happened in your friendship. However, what I failed to realize is that by doing this I was causing a rift in our relationship and I’m truly sorry Kuroo. I’m scared of what’ll come after we tell Kenma about us but that doesn’t give me the right to dismiss your feelings and our relationship.” Kuroo stares at you before grabbing your hand, “Well whatever comes we’re going to go through it together, remember?” Kuroo grabs you before pulling you into the couch tickling the sides of your stomach, “Promise me you’ll tell me what’s going on in that big overthinking brain of yours next time.” Your laughter echoes throughout his living room before you shout that you promise in hopes that he’ll stop tickling you.

Kuroo’s reminded that this was just an obstacle in your relationship, the first of many but he’s glad to have a partner that’s as understanding as you. Just as you both stop laughing he’s met with a harsh knock, you both exchange glances at each other than at the door, questioning who it could be? “Kuroo, it’s the weekend you do not have a meeting today liar. I heard you laughing too, so I know you’re in there.” Hearing Kenma at the other end of the door Kuroo shoots you a glance before you grab his hands squeezing them, “In this together, remember?” You get up wanting to show Kuroo you were ready to take initiative for your relationship. Opening the door you greet a confused Kenma, “Hey Ken, what brings you here?”. Kenma’s brows furrow, unsure that you’re even real and standing in front of him right now, “That’s weird because I could ask you the same question? Is this the errand you were talking about?”

You open the door wider showing Kuroo sitting on the couch, Kuroo pats the cushion next to him to get Kenma to sit down. Kenma points at him then to you, still confused as to why you were in Kuroo’s apartment. “Come in Ken, we have some explaining to do.” you shift the conversation knowing that Kenma might need some time to process everything. Kenma sits slowly, not feeling the weird tension he’s felt these past couple of weeks between you and Kuroo. You take a seat right next to Kuroo, grabbing his hand to begin fidgeting with his fingers before he decides to intertwine them. “Ken, Kuroo and I are together, we’ve been together ever since that weekend we came back together.”, looking up you see Kenma’s eyes return back to their relaxed state. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Kenma looks up at both of you, not showing any signs of anger more so confusion.

“To be honest Ken, I was the one who didn’t want to tell you. Kuroo just wanted to do what felt the most comfortable to me. I was scared things would get awkward between us or you two, I didn’t want anything to change.” Kenma notices how softly Kuroo looks at you while you explain your doubts, “I would never hold anything against you two, you’re both old enough to make decisions. As your friend, I’m happy for you both and thank you for telling me. Just next time please tell me sooner, I thought something terrible happened between you two and you were on the verge of moving out.” Kenma knows you always had a hard time opening up due to the problems your family put you through. Yet seeing Kuroo being next to you, caressing your hand making sure you felt safe while opening up hit a soft spot in his heart. Yeah, you guys were going to be together forever and Kenma would never doubt that. Kenma’s never seen Kuroo so soft with someone before, sure Kuroo was a patient person due to his teacher like qualities. However with you he was so careful like you were made out of glass. He looked at you like you were so beautiful yet something that could be broken if not taken care of properly. He knew if anyone was going to go above and beyond for you romantically it would be Kuroo, the guy’s been crazy about you ever since you moved in with Kenma.

Kenma remembers how you used to dislike Kuroo teasing you but what you didn’t know was that, that was how Kuroo showed his affection. You thought he liked Alisa for the longest time because he never teased her but Kenma always laughed at that conclusion. He never teased Alisa because he wasn’t comfortable enough with her, it was always going to be you. Everyone around you knew that one way or another you two would end up together and he’s glad you see it now too. “Is that why you’ve both been acting so weird? I knew something was off, you started blushing whenever Kuroo came over and Kuroo became super quiet anytime I mentioned you.” Kuroo and you looked away from each other feeling suddenly exposed by Kenma analyzing your offbeat yet longing behavior. “I mean Kuroo would never shut up anytime I mentioned you, talking about how cute you were, how you were so caring, and how amazing you handle yourself! So for him to shut up? You must have him in a chokehold.” Kuroo coughs loudly, “Okay that’s enough out of you Kenma. No need to mention the past.” You laugh gently nudging Kuroo aside, “No no, Kenma tell me more.”

Kenma takes a while to remember Kuroo’s strange behavior towards you, “Well after we moved in together Kuroo came over everyday for a week straight because he was trying to work himself up to talk to you. You should’ve seen him, he was practicing talking to you in our bathroom mirror but when you would come home he would suddenly forget everything he practiced.” Kenma and you giggle, Kenma remembering Kuroo’s fake confidence while Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Well that doesn’t matter because they’re mine now, isn’t that right sweetheart?” Kuroo kisses your cheek. Reminiscing on the sleepless nights where you helplessly consumed all of his thoughts, oh how lucky he was now that you’re actually his. Now, he could scream from the rooftops that you were together, post those cringey pictures on social media flaunting his relationship, and he would tell anyone how amazing his partner was to anyone who would be willing to listen.

Kenma grimaces because even though he was happy for you two oblivious idiots, it didn't mean he had to get used to you guys’ PDA. “Well Kuroo they aren’t innocent either.”, you look over at Kenma, laughing. “Ken no offense you have nothing on me, I just thought Kuroo was a teasing jerk.”, Kenma looks over at you while his face says really? “Ok then why would every time I mention Kuroo to you you would start stuttering your words? Or that one time we got drunk and we played truth or dare and you said you wanted to kiss Kuroo even if it was just once?” You rush over to Kenma covering his mouth, “How dare you? You said you would never tell that story!” Kuroo is the one laughing with Kenma, “Aww bunny, you always had a soft spot for me didn’t you? I knew you never hated my teasing you masochist.” You cover your face with your hands feeling more embarrassed than ever, “I hate you both now. You’ve both been demoted from best friend and boyfriend to roommate and boy I tolerate.”

“Kuroo, since I’ve been demoted to roommate, that reminds me. No, you can’t steal my roommate from me. When they’re gone for too long the apartment is eerie and cold.” You slightly pull back from your hands to face Kenma, “Ok Ken from now on, Kuroo will come to our apartment instead of me going to his, so now we’ll both be there.” Kenma nods feeling a bit better that you won’t be going missing from the apartment for so long. “Do I have any say in this?” Kuroo questions before you shake your head jokingly and begin to pet his head. Kuroo deflates knowing he was never going to win in an argument between his two biggest weaknesses, you and Kenma. “So you’re telling me every time you stayed at Alisa’s you were really at Kuroo’s?” Kenma's face scrunches in disgust. “Don’t think like that Ken, gross!” Kuroo, offended, places a hand on his chest. “Plus Ken, we were just going on date’s and having movie night. Nothing like that!”, you shake your hands while Kuroo smirks. “Yeah Kenma, most we did was make out.”, you smack Kuroo’s chest while Kenma makes a bleh noise.

“Well, I’m going to head back to the apartment. Are you guys coming over too?” Kenma looks at the both of you. “Yeah, well I have to grab a bag to stay the night but we’ll meet you there!” Kuroo gets up to go pack for the night ahead while you get up to go bid him farewell. As soon as you reach for the door Kenma stops you, “I’ve never seen Kuroo look at anyone the way he looks at you, you deserve each other.” Kenma closes the door while you stood starstruck, in awe that someone who’s known Kuroo for so long would say that he’s seeing something he’s never seen before. Just as you’re stuck in thought Kuroo comes up from behind you, “You ready baby?” You turn around grabbing Kuroo and pulling him into a deep kiss.

Kuroo pulls back, “Well I was only gone for a couple of minutes but hello to you too, I guess.” Kuroo smirks as you send him a wide smile, “I love you Tetsu, I love you so much.”. Kuroo pulls back shocked that you said you loved him first, stuttering he finds himself speechless at your bold actions. “Close your mouth Tetsu, now let’s go before Kenma leaves us.”, you start taking off but feel a strong tug pulling you back. “I love you too bunny. Now let’s go.” Kuroo pecks your lips sweetly making sure to get the last word just to tease you, that is how he shows his affection after all. Both of you leaving towards your apartment feeling better than when you arrived, you loved Kuroo and that will never have to be kept a secret ever again.

divider credit to @/vase-of-lilies, @/bunnysrph, and @/thecutestgrotto

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raven-dor · 9 months ago

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everyone adores you (at least i do)

In which robb stark and his new bride get aquainted

PAIRING: robb stark x baratheon!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, new love, slight nsfw, reader is mentioned to have black hair

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

🎶 : everyone adores you (at least i do) - matt maltese

The festivities had been fun-filled, to say the least, despite Catelyn having to leave before they started. Her goodbye had been bittersweet; Robb now had no adult relatives at the reception, and Y/N felt as if she was completely alone, even though she barely knew Catelyn.

He hadn't touched a single drop of his ale, and Y/N couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign. The night had soon ended, and they bid goodbye to their guests. Theon was the last to leave, smirking and leaning in, whispering in Robb's ear. She rolled her eyes; she had seen this before at many receptions in Kings Landing. The groom's friend would joke about the bride's virginity, and the groom would laugh, joking back.

Robb's face went red, and he smacked Theon's shoulder. "Watch your mouth, Greyjoy."

Y/N was pleasantly surprised, her stomach fluttering at the thought of Robb defending her, even if they had just met. Theon nodded, obviously too drunk to be embarrassed. He looked over to Y/N, bowing mockingly. "My lady."

She smiled kindly. "Have a restful night, Theon."

Robb held out his arm. "Shall we retire?"

This is when all of the nerves Y/N had been holding off kicked in. She nodded, but from there to their chambers, she had sworn she blacked out. He shut the door, standing awkwardly by the fire. She looked out the window, fidgeting.

"Should we-"

"I'm not a virgin!" She looked down at the ground. "I'm not a virgin, so I-" Robb laughed. Actually laughed. She glared at him. "I would appreciate it if you didn't laugh at me."

"It's not you, I just..." He stared at her like she had three heads. "Do you think I care?"

"Well... yes." She nodded. "Brides are supposed to be innocent." She tried to hold back her distaste for the term, though her face certainly showed it.

He nodded. "Yes. They are. But that doesn't matter to me. Your honor shall remain intact; do not worry."

Y/N smiled. "I didn't think this is how the night would go."

"Oh." He sauntered over, staring at her dangerously. "And how did you imagine this night going?"

She fluttered her eyelashes, suddenly very flustered. "Well, in every nightmare, you would call me a whore and then take me without any-" Her eyes widened. "I mean-"

He laughed even harder. "Oh, Y/N." His hand inched around her waist. "I hope the men in Kings Landing treated you correctly." His eyes squinted. "They didn't-"

She shook her head, looking down at her hands. "No, it was-" She blushed. "It was something we both wanted."

He nodded. "Well, in any case, we do not have to do anything tonight if you do not want to." He stepped back, taking off his cloak, boots, and shirt. She tried not to stare at his abdomen, looking anywhere else but him.

"And how do you plan to keep my honor intact?"

He pulled out a dagger, slicing a small cut on his palm. Y/N gasped. "Robb, that is-"

He pulled the blanket up, putting a few drops of blood on the sheets. He admired his work like he was a painter. "See? No one shall be the wiser."

Y/N sighed. "Come here. You're going to make a mess dripping blood everywhere."

He sat in the chair by the fire, watching her every movement. She still had her wedding dress on, which made Robb happy. She looked like an angel. She huffed her hands on her hips as she skirted around the room, utterly lost. "Where is the bandage?"

"The cupboard, just there."

She stood on her tiptoes, reaching up. "Ah." She walked back over, ripping some off. "I'll use some to clean it and then some ale to sterilize."

"Sterilize? Just put the bandage on, I'll be fine-"

"Just let me help you. It's the least I can do after you did this for me."

"You don't have any debt, Y/N. I can do something kind for you, and you don't have to immediately repay me."

"I know. I'm simply showing affection." She huffed. "Now, hold still, this will hurt."

He laughed. "I believe I will be fine. It is only-" He hissed. "That stings."

She laughed. "That is how you know it is working." He stared at her, smiling as she worked. She was beautiful in this light, he realized. She was beautiful in all lights. "There, all finished." She looked up, her breath catching.

He smiled lightly, whispering. "Thank you."

She nodded, standing up. "Of course." She looked back out the window once more. "Should we-" A hand reached around her waist, pulling her back.

"You are beautiful."

"Robb-" She turned around, staring into his eyes. "We do not-"

"If you do not want this, say the words, and I will go to bed. But I-" He gulped, staring at her lips. "I do."

She smiled, her tense stance easing. "I do, too."

"Thank the gods." He pulled her closer, bringing her lips to his. "You are divine."

She laughed, melting in his arms. "Robb-"

"I love when you say my name." He pulled at the strings on the back of her dress. "I- turn around."

"I can undo them if you just give me a moment."

"No, I want to." She nodded, turning around. He quickly unlaced her dress, pupils dilating as her dress hit the floor.

She turned back towards him slowly, face to the ground. He grinned, staring. "You are beautiful, have I told you?"

"Just a few moments ago." She tilted her head, teasing. "But I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

He grinned, pulling her closer. "You will hear it constantly; I will make sure of it." He walked her towards the bed. "Now lay back."

The morning light peaked through the window, but neither of them stirred. Well, Y/N didn't stir; Robb had been up for hours staring at his wife, smiling gently at her still form.

A knock came off the door, and Robb sighed, leaning his head back on the bedpost. "Come in!"

She still had not moved, not even when Maester Luwin walked in rather loudly, in Robb's opinion. "Good morning, my lord; the possible steward is here for your appointment."

He nodded, his face permanently stuck in a grimace. "Very well. I'll be down in just a moment."

"My lord." Robb waited until Maester Luwin left to look back down at Y/N and found that she was already looking up at him. She laughed, caressing her hand over his chest. "Good morning."

He glared playfully. "And how long have you been up?"

"Since Maester Luwin walked in with iron boots." She sat up, leaning her head on his shoulder. "He walks very loud."

Robb nodded, smiling down at her. "He does, doesn't he?"

She stood up, walked across the room to her chest, and pulled out her dress for the day. "You have a meeting."

He just stared, grinning much too brightly for how early it was. "Can a man not bask in his wife's presence?"

"You could," she pulled her petticoat on, " if you did not have a day full of appointments."

He groaned. "And what will you be doing all day?"

"Giving Bran company." She laughed. "Perhaps I can entertain him into waking up."

Robb smiled. "If anyone could, it would be you."

She huffed, looking over her shoulder. "Can you lace my dress, please?"

He nodded, rolling out of bed. "The things I do for you."

"Robb, we have been married for less than a day. Please do not start your complaining until-" She put a finger on her chin. "Until a week from now."

"Very well." He laughed, pulling at the strings. "One more week of bliss."

"Thank the gods." She smiled.

Strolling through the halls with her books and breakfast in hand, Y/N finally felt at peace with her new life. It only took one night of- She blushed, shaking her head as if the action got rid of her thoughts. Bran's door was already open, and she’d grinned at the sight.

"You're awake!"

He just stared at her, not bothering to say anything. Old Nan smiled at the young woman. "My lady. I was just about to tell him a story about a crow."

Bran's voice was monotone as he spoke. "I hate your stories."

"I know a story about a boy who hates stories."

Y/N laughed, covering her mouth quickly. "Sorry."

"I could tell you a story about Ser Duncan the Tall. Those were always your favorites."

"Those weren't my favorites. My favorites were the scary ones."

Old Nan sighed. "Oh, my sweet summer child. What do you know about fear? Fear is for the winter when the snow falls a hundred feet deep. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hide for years and children are born and live and die all in darkness. That is the time for fear, my little lord when the White Walkers move through the woods. Thousands of years ago, there came a night that lasted a generation. Kings froze to death in their castles, same as the shepherds in their huts. And women smothered their babies rather than see them starve, and wept and felt the tears freeze on their cheeks. So is this the sort of story that you like?"

Bran nodded. Y/N sat beside his bed, entranced.

Old Nan continued. "The White Walkers came for the first time. They swept through cities and kingdoms, riding their dead horses. Hunting with their packs of pale spiders big as hounds-"

The door rattled, and Bran and Y/N jumped. Robb walked through the door, smiling at his brother. He sighed, looking over to Old Nan. "What are you telling him now?"

"Only what the little lord wanted to hear."

"Get your supper. I want some time with him."

She nodded. "Perhaps that is enough of scary stories today."

Robb waited until she had left to talk to his brother. "One time, she told me the sky was blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant named Macomber."

Bran just stared, no emotions evident on his face. It broke her heart to see such a young boy so melancholy. "Maybe we do."

Rob's smile fell, and he sat down on the bed beside Bran. "How do you feel? You still don't remember anything?" He shook his head softly. "Bran, I've seen you climb a thousand times. In the wind, in the rain... a thousand times. You never fall."

"I did, though." He knew something, something he wasn't telling anyone, and Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with her family. "It's true isn't it, what Maester Luwin says about my legs?"

Robb nodded.

Bran sighed, looking at the ceiling. "I'd rather be dead."

Robb's eyes widened. "Don't ever say that."

Bran looked down, staring at his brother. "I'd rather be dead."

She sighed. "Perhaps we should talk about something else." She smiled down at Bran. "Would you like to hear stories about King's Landing?"

Bran nodded slowly. "Alright."

She leaned forward. "Anything you'd like to hear about in particular?"

"Tell me about your parents."

She laughed. "Are you quite serious?" He nodded once more, staring at her curiously. She gulped, putting her book on the table beside her. "Well, my parents, they..." She looked to Robb for help before realizing that he, too, had no idea what they were like.

"My mother was very young when she had to marry my father. You know that your Aunt Lyanna and my father were engaged?" Bran nodded again. "My mother could never amount to your Aunt in my father's eyes, which caused problems in their marriage. Before I was born, my mother was pregnant with a boy, and when he was just a year old, he caught a fever. He couldn't shake it, even though he fought hard." She smiled sadly. "Very hard. He was my mother's first child with beautiful black hair. And then, when he died..." She took a deep breath. "My mother was heartbroken. My father wasn't allowed to grieve, and so he- I guess he used ale, mutton, and-" She looked at Robb, blushing. "Other things to forget. Then they had me."

Bran tilted his head. "Do you know why none of your siblings have black hair like yours?"

She didn't know why persay, but she had a gut feeling. She had seen her mother and Uncle Jamie when she was younger, closer than they should have been for siblings. "I don't. The Lannister blond won thrice. I guess that means I'm stronger than the rest of them. My father, I guess, treats me kinder because I remind him of his firstborn, his darling boy."

Robb scoffed. "Joffrey not good enough for him?"

Y/N laughed. "Joffrey is a wicked boy. I fear the day he rules, truly." She looked down at Bran, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "That's not to say they do not enjoy each other's company. Marriage is difficult, but my mother and father make it work. They may not be in love, but they understand each other."

Bran huffed. "Your Uncle Jamie..."

"Yes?"

"Is he close with your siblings?"

She nodded. "Closer than with me, that is for sure. He's very protective of them, which I appreciate. Tommen and Myrcella are good children; they need protection. Joffrey, on the other hand—" She laughed, shaking her head. "There is no saving that boy."

Y/N smiled as Bran slept, glad that his mind was otherwise occupied. She hated that he wished death upon himself; he was so young, so full of life. Summer lay beside him, standing watch. The door opened, and Theon walked through, Bran's eyes shooting open.

Summer growled, seemingly glaring at the young Greyjoy. Y/N cooed, shaking her head. "Summer, it's alright."

Theon bowed. "We have visitors."

Bran huffed. "I don't want to see anyone."

"Really? If I was cooped up all day with no one but this old bat for company, I'd go mad."

She looked up from her book, staring expectedly. Theon smiled. "Not including you, my lady." He looked back to Bran. "Anyway, you don't have a choice. Robb's waiting."

She stood, leaving her book on the table. "It'll be nice, the fresh air."

Bran rolled his eyes. "There's fresh air here."

She laughed. "You know what I meant, Bran."

"I don't want to go."

Theon sighed. "Neither do I. But Robb's lord of Winterfell, which means I do what he says, and you do what I say." He called out. "Hodor!"

A lumbering giant of a man walked through the door, smiling. "Hodor?"

"Help Bran down the hall."

"So it's true."

She grinned. "Hello, Uncle Tyrion."

Tyrion waved, staring at Bran. "Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

Maester Luwin spoke. "He has no memory of that day."

She hissed. "Uncle, what a question."

He sighed. "Curious."

The young woman walked up to the table, sitting beside Robb. "Why are you here?"

Tyrion ignored him, addressing Bran. "Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel? My neck is beginning to hurt."

"Kneel, Hodor."

"Do you like to ride, Bran?"

The young boy nodded. "Yes. Well, I mean, I did like to."

Maester Luwin glared. "The boy has lost the use of his legs."

"What of it? With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple."

"Then I'm not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it."

Y/N sighed. "Uncle, please get to the point."

"I have a gift for you." He handed Bran a scroll. "Give that to your saddler; he'll provide the rest." He looked to Robb. "You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling and teach it to respond to the reins and to the boy's voice."

"Will I really be able to ride?"

Tyrion nodded. "You will. On horseback, you'll be as tall as any of them."

Robb glared in confusion. "Is this some kind of trick? Why do you want to help him?"

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things."

This only confirmed her suspicion that her family had something to do with Bran's situation. She leaned over, resting her hand on Robb's knee. "He is merely trying to help, my dear."

Robb nodded, looking back down to the Lannister. "You've done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark. There's a brothel outside your walls. There, I'll find a bed, and both of us can sleep easier."

"Uncle, please at least stay for dinner." She smiled. "I've so longed to hear of the Wall."

He stared, his eyes softening. "Fine. But only because you are my favorite niece."

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #got #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #literature #house stark #stark #catelyn stark #theon greyjoy #tyrion lannister #🪩! fics

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sonotpattismith · 7 months ago

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pretty little things (kento nanami x reader)

word count: 10.3k inspired by: as the world caves in by matt maltese warnings: slight angst, fluff, me missing Haibara Yu like a mf summary: when nanami faces near death at the hands of his cruel reality, he's reminded of the graveness of simplicity at the hands of a friendly bookstore owner, who is struggling to find meaning in her own mundaneness. a/n: okay format switch up? LMK if you guys prefer this post format better! Also if it wasn't apparent in the tooth-rotting fluff- I LOVE NANAMI KENTO. That's all. I hope you all enjoy 🫶🏻🥹

Learning how not to ask questions was an art.

Having worked in a bookstore that shelved such a wide array of genres for a few years— there were many questions that constantly littered your mind as character after character came and went from your quaint little shop. They all varied in age, gender, ethnicity, and their choice in literature offered that much more variety. You watched countless titles being laid against your checkout counter. Macbeth, Twilight, Baking for Dummies, A Happy Life in an Open Relationship, The CBT Workbook for Perfectionism, Why Can’t I Let You Go— all the covers that your neatly manicured nails skimmed over each hour told a story.

Sometimes, as you peered up at the customer attached to the novel, you painted a picture of their story in your ever wondering mind. This evening, it was an elderly woman, her silvery hair pushed back with soft pink clips and a sage green frock clinging delicately to her slumped shoulders. Window to Widow, the bolded letter across the cover told her story for you. No matter how much you felt compelled to question, aching to ask her how she was doing— people came to the bookstore to find something in the world that they were missing from themselves.

You, on the other hand, were only there to observe with a welcoming smile. Never judging, never questioning, never helping. They were here to help themselves, after all.

So, you smiled warmly at the somber woman and rang up her total. Turning back to your side counter with her book in hand, you wrapped it delicately with twine, pressing your pointer finger in the middle of it to tie a quaint bow with the tool. Your lips twitched melancholily as you picked a small bundle of forget-me-nots from the cardboard box beside the register and carefully tucked it into the twine.

You had gotten very skilled at not asking any questions.

Sighing at the computer screen before you, your mind was flooded with uncertainty as you skimmed through the countless college programs emailed to you by the advisor you’d spoken with weeks prior. She told you that, following your meeting, these seemed like the best fit for what you wanted to pursue. As you clicked into each one and read more into them, you couldn’t help but look around at the solace of a corner bookstore you’d built up from the ground just three years ago.

It wasn’t enough, you always thought when you heard about the countless deaths and tragedies that were befalling the city around you. After all, there were people on the frontlines, people making a difference, and you felt inferior as you selected your week’s display line up and decorated it just pretty enough to catch passer byer’s attention. You loved it with your whole heart, but was it enough?

“Excuse me,” A firm voice called out from behind you as the soft melody of the door chime sounded. Turning your head, you were met by the guarded gaze of a tall, suited man. His blonde hair sat almost perfectly on his head, save for the stray strands that fluttered across his forehead. The hollows of his cheeks made way for his carefully carved face and jawline, and the sight of him had your brows raising just a hair. “Do you happen to have a section for cook books?”

Despite his question being directed at you, he was already looking around the small store with a hand on his hip. The yellow tint of his glasses shone as the setting sun hit them from the window, revealing a glimpse of his narrowed eyes. Taking in his seemingly strong physique, his serious expression, and well pressed suit and tie, his question surprised you. A cookbook?

Shoving your questions to the back of your head as you always did, you smiled softly at him in greeting. Stepping down from the small footstool you’d been balancing on, you walked toward the far right aisle of the store, nodding for him to follow along with you. You heard his steady footsteps behind you as you stopped in front of your small selection of cookbooks. A timid smile lit graced your features as you waved your hands in presentation, watching as he nodded at the selection.

“Um… is there anything specific that I can help you find?” You cringed at your question, beacause, in reality, there weren’t that many cookbooks to choose from, so you were sure the more than competent looking man did not need your help. Still, you couldn’t help but want to linger— he was the most handsome customer that had graced your store in a minute, after all.

“No, that’s quite alright. Thank you.” The man didn’t even look at you as he dismissed your help, already peering curiously at the baking section.

“Right,” You muttered pathetically, turning on your heel to give him some space to browse. “Well, let me know if you need anything!”

It was only a few minutes later, as you continued busying yourself with the finishing touches of the display table, that you heard him politely clear his throat behind you. Catching yourself before you slipped off the footstool, you nodded bashfully before placing yourself behind the register. The man set a hardcover down on the counter in front of you. Peering down, you smiled gently. The Bread Bible. Something about the mental image of this beefy, solemn man carefully following cookbook directions to make bread tickled a part of your brain that had you suppressing an amused expression.

As he handed you his credit card, he took a chance to look around the small store thoughtfully.

“Is this a new business? I frequent the café next door, but I don’t think I’ve ever noticed this being here.” You were surprised when he initiated the conversation, as you had already gotten the impression that he wanted to be in and out of here without being bothered. “I usually go to the bookstore down the street, but it seems they’ve closed for renovations.”

“Oh! No, I actually opened about three years ago.” You flushed, suddenly very aware of the fact that your little store was by no means attention grabbing from the outside. Glancing at the front windows, you made a mental note to search around for some plants or lights that might make it stand out more.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“So, you like the café next door—” You squinted down at the card in your hands before smiling up at him and returning it. Grabbing the book from the counter, you made quick work to begin wrapping it up neatly. “Nanami-san? You should try their daifuku if you haven’t already. It’s to die for.”

Nanami’s head turned at the sound of his name.

“Daifuku, hm? I’ll have to try it the next time I go.” With curious eyes, he watched as you cut a string of twine and began wrapping his book. “There’s no need for that. It’s only for me.”

Glancing up at him with a smile, you shook your head in dismissal before plucking a few flower’s from your stash to place into the knot.

“I do it for all the books I sell.” You explained fondly, handing the beautifully presented book to him. His fingers brushed yours as he grabbed it, staring intently down at the soft, blue flowers that graced the cover. “Everyone needs a little reminder of the pretty things in life, right?”

For the first time since coming into the store, Nanami actually glanced up at you with the intent of seeing you. You wore delicate, linen overalls over your thin, long-sleeved white top. The loose strands of hair falling from your bun framed your kind face, making the corners of his lips twist up, just barely noticeably. Your smile was soft, kind— a reminder of the pretty things in this life.

“I suppose so.” Nanami quipped under his breath, bowing slightly in thanks before exiting your little, corner bookstore.

That cookbook didn’t get touched for the weeks that followed. It was sat beside the pile of other books he’d bought, always telling himself he’d make some time for himself to wind down and read them. Still, each time he stumbled home from work, his muscles aching and his eyes burning, all he could find the energy to do was shower and fall into his cold bed. After all, if he didn’t sleep when he had the chance, when would he?

Despite the dust collecting on the cover, those forget-me-nots always caught his attention from the corner of his eye. After a few days, they began wilting, but the reminder of them still rang clear each time he walked through the front door of his lonesome apartment and came face to face with the untouched, delicately wrapped and decorated book.

It seemed as though each day, his missions became more strenuous, and with each mission, his lips seemed to brush that much closer with the kiss of death. Though his past had brought him face to face with such tragedies before, it felt as though the added risk to his mortality was being brought to his attention more often. So, the more he put off his books, or learning new hobbies, or forming any sort of real connection outside of his work, the higher the stakes were drawn.

As he awaited his coffee that day though, just as he did every other morning, the rigidity of his routine was so much so that he didn’t even notice how he didn’t have to check the total before swiping his card— already knowing it by heart. The packaged pastry was warm against his cool hands as his eyes drifted over the display case, and he had the strangest feeling that he’d forgotten something. It wasn’t in his robotic list of motions though, so he left the café without a second glance.

Nanami was on his way to work when his routine was interrupted. Well, not interrupted, but perhaps distracted was a better word. The quaint bookstore he’d discovered just two weeks ago came into his line of sight as it always did on his way to work. Though he sometimes cast a sidelong glance into the window, he had yet to stop in again. This morning though, you were outside.

Your arms were outstretched above you, a set of fairy lights hanging from your fingers as you tried your best to loop them through the hooks above the door. The decorations you had ordered for the front of the shop had finally come in, and you were desperate for anything that would draw a little more attention to your hole in the wall of a shop. Hopping up a bit with a grunt, you pursed your lips in frustration as you missed your target again.

“Would you like some help?”

You whipped your head around mid-jump at the familiar, solemn voice. Sure enough, the mysterious Nanami himself stood behind you, coffee in one hand and packaged croissant in the other. Just as he was the first time you saw him, his suit was pristinely pressed, and it made you wonder what kind of big shot job he must have.

“Nanami-san!” You muttered in surprise. A flush quickly found its way to your cheeks, embarrassed to have revealed that you’d remembered the man’s name that you’d swiped from his credit card. He didn’t seem phased though, shifting his croissant into the same hand occupied by his coffee and taking the string of lights from your hands. Reaching up with an ease that made your previous hopping look quite pathetic, he carefully looped the fairy lights in and adjusted them to frame the door nicely.

“Is this how you wanted them?”

Too caught up in your blatant staring at his casual display of masculinity, you hadn’t noticed that he finished. Snapping from your haze, you took a step back to inspect his handiwork. With an excited smile, you pressed the button on the remote in your pocket, watching the tiny bulbs light up the entryway.

“What d’ya think?” You asked, not tearing your eyes away from the door.

Frankly, Nanami thought the lights were barely noticeable in the daylight, but you seemed so elated by the delicate change. So, he simply hummed in acknowledgment. Casting a shy look his way at the sound of his unenthusiastic reaction, you squatted down to grab the box of flowers at your feet.

“Thank you for your help. I didn’t really feel like dragging the ladder out here.” Grunting softly with the effort of the weighted box, you were surprised when he slid his arm right under it and relieved you of it, nodding for you to get the door.

The sorcerer took in the sight of the various, opened books that littered your back counter as he set the box down. From the looks of it, they all appeared to be exam preps. You blew your hair from your face and followed his gaze to the aftermath of your anxiety induced study session.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess in here.” You chuckled nervously, frantically moving to mark your pages and stack your books neatly beside the checkout. “I have my entrance exams in a week, so I’ve been cramming when I can.”

“Entrance exams?”

“Um… yeah! I’ve been thinking about going back to school.”

“Something related to business management, I presume?” His question made you look down apprehensively. Chewing on your bottom lip, you began absentmindedly picking debris, spare flower petals, and leaves from the counter.

“No, actually. I’ve been hoping to get into something more… meaningful?”

This made Nanami pause, tearing his gaze from the display case to face you. He wasn’t sure why he was lingering, but something about your sweet-tempered voice, and its nature to say whatever came to mind— it grounded him outside of his usual routine. It, of course, didn’t hurt that the owner of the nice, little bookshop just in the perimeter of his daily walk was so prepossessing. The sorcerer tilted his head with a furrowed brow.

“I’m assuming by that, you mean you think that what you do here isn’t meaningful…” His shielded eyes drifted down to the name tag pinned onto your sweater. The way your name rolled off his tongue, in combination with his gentle, lecturing tone, flustered you a bit. The man wasn’t harsh, or judgemental, or mean. No, his words were curious and calculated, as if truly trying to understand such a notion.

“I don’t know.” You squeaked out, feeling small under his dominant gaze. It had you wondering how intimidating he was without those damned glasses shielding his eyes. “I mean, is it really, in the grand scheme of things? I feel like people are dropping dead left and right. Probably be more useful as like… a nurse or something, y’know?”

Nanami hummed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other purposefully. Still, he gave you no solace from that smoldering, contemplative stare. You tried your best to take it head on, refusing to shy away from his determined eyes.

“There was a time that I felt the same way, but what I was doing was truly not meaningful. People come into bookstores to get away from the grand scheme of things. I believe an escape is just as meaningful as tackling these problems head on, wouldn’t you agree?” His question wasn’t as rhetorical as his tone made it out to be, because he was staring down at you expectantly, awaiting confirmation that what he was saying was penetrating. You nodded dumbly. “It’s just as you put it… remembering the pretty things in life?”

If he kept talking, you were going to fall to your knees in the middle of this damned store. With flushed cheeks, you attempted to collect yourself. You cleared your throat and smoothed down the soft, cotton of your sweater as a customer walked in. Finally, Nanami’s eyes drifted to the entrance, allowing you a chance to breathe. With the newfound clarity, you noticed the coffee and pastry in his hand.

“Speaking of,” You chimed in, grateful to get the topic off of you and your pathetic little existential crisis. His blond hair swayed as he turned to regard you once again. “Did you try that daifuku I told you about?”

It was like a bell had suddenly tolled in his mind, and he mentally cursed himself for having forgotten to pick one up, given he had been in and out of that café at least six times since you’d told him about the damned pastry. Pursing his lips, the blond looked down at his croissant.

“No, it must have slipped my mind.”

“Busy working man, I assume?” You teased, taking another once over at his suit and strangely patterned tie. Nanami hummed in a sort of regretful agreement. “What do you do anyway? You said you found your old work meaningless.”

For the first time since meeting him, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He bowed politely to you before making his way out of the bookstore.

“Have a nice day.” Nanami offered calmly over his shoulder, and you were once again left melting at the sound of your name falling from his lips.

The sorcerer heard you call out a meek goodbye behind him, and it made him forget that, for the first time in years, he was late to work.

Kento Nanami stopped by the shop more often after that. Certainly not as often as you would have liked, but he was swiping his card for a singular, new book at least once a week now. He would ask you how your studies were going, and you lied and said that they were good, too embarrassed to tell him that you’d canceled your entrance exams in a panic following his impromptu pep-talk. It wasn’t that you fully scrapped the idea, but his finding meaning in your seemingly mundane little career gave you pause. Maybe you just needed more time to think about it.

Each time he stopped by, there were new decorations out front. From the fairy lights he’d hung still lit up at the door, to the potted plants that dangled from the overhang, down to the charming welcome mat that you’d placed by the door. His usual bookstore finished construction a week prior, but it didn’t seem as appealing to him anymore.

His selection of books ranged drastically, to the point that you wondered if he was purposefully doing it to throw you off. The more rational part of you said that he didn’t seem the type to care enough about what picture he was painting with his literature choices. From thin books on mixology, to informational books about stain removing, and self-help books about time management— you could never get a proper read on Kento Nanami. Still, you bit back your questions and tied them all up with a different flower each week.

The sorcerer’s pile of untouched books grew and grew as the weeks passed, taking up his coffee table with a haunting energy. Ever since Sukuna’s vessel had sprung up, work was consuming him more than usual. Despite his hectic schedule, his aching muscles, and his survival mentality as he floated through life, the wilting flowers in his collection of books always grounded him back to his quiet apartment.

It wasn’t until a particularly perilous mission that he wished he had made the time to read at least one of those books. His cheek rubbed against the cool, gravelly cement, and he could feel the warmth of his own blood, spilled and pooling around him. At the very least, the special grade was sliced into desolate pieces and scattered around him. As he attempted a deep breath, trying to gather his energy to grab his phone and call for help, Nanami realized all he could manage were short, shallow breaths, and even they felt as though they were piercing holes in his lungs.

Crimson pooled his vision, and his lids snapped shut as the puddle of viscous liquid invaded the corner of his eye. With shaking hands, he reached into his pocket to press the emergency button on the side of his phone twice, sending out an alert for help. Maybe they’d come in time. His hand fell limply to his side, and he shifted carefully onto his back, choking out desperately from the effort.

The blood beneath him soaked into his shirt and clung to his hair. He knew he was losing too much, it was evident in the way his vision began to blur, and his head began to spin in a haze.

The sorcerer thought about the pile of books in his apartment. He thought about each time he stumbled home and not once felt that he had it in him to do something for himself. The reminder that each time he could have indulged, the rigidity of his mindless routine kept him from doing anything of the sort— it haunted him as his consciousness began to wane.

His fading mind wandered over every abandoned book, to the wilting flowers that accompanied each one of them. Your words rang in his mind as if a distant echo.

Everyone needs a little reminder of the pretty things in life, right?

Despite himself, and how close his knuckles were brushing against death’s door, Nanami smiled, his split lip leaking with blood that stained his pearly teeth. Even in this mangled, godless tomb he’d found himself lying in— even with the demolished, irreverent figure that had desecrated his body so carelessly— even with the deplorable state his body would be leaving this world— you were there in the back of his soul to remind him, because you were the prettiest thing he could possibly think to remember in his final moments.

It was the first week that had gone by in some time that Kento Nanami hadn’t stopped by your shop. Though it might have been silly, you began to expect him each week— either early in the morning before his shift, or late in the afternoon when he had a certain gruffness in his tone that gave way to the lingering effects of his day. You would never be able to tell by the look on his face though. It was ever neutral; never a frown and even rarer a smile.

When the second week passed, you figured he’d simply gone back to his routine of going to the larger, more commercial bookstore that had reopened down the street. They had a wider selection, after all, and he said himself that he’d only stopped by your store due to their closure.

In a haze of high-school type infatuation, you had told your friend about the guarded man that had been frequenting the store. She had a job at the local clinic, however she often came by to help you out around the store on the rare instances it was too busy for one body alone to keep up with the influx of customers. Each time she’d come in for a makeshift shift, you always silently hoped he’d stop by so she could at least put a face to the name.

He never did though, and, with his now two week absence, you were coming to terms with the fact that she likely never would see him. You smiled wistfully at the thought as you watched her show a customer to the cookbooks. It was likely that you’d allowed your imagination to take you too far, and Nanami was, as simply as he put it, browsing your selection until the other shop reopened.

You couldn’t discount the hope he’d instilled in you though that the work you were doing did mean something to someone. Even someone as consumed by the hustle and bustle of the city as Nanami seemed to be made the time to stop by your shop with the intent of escaping, and it had been so important to you each time you heard his polite, reserved greeting filling the air around you.

“Excuse me,” You were snapped from your dissociative haze by the customer in front of you. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you’d failed to greet them before you began mindlessly scanning their books. Looking up in surprise, you smiled apologetically to the man in front of you. “Where’s that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

Your smile faltered for a moment at his borderline creepy question, but you shrugged it off nonetheless and began packaging his books up.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” You questioned politely, haphazardly measuring the twine you were rolling out before slicing through it.

“Well…” The man sighed dramatically, leaning against the counter. You knew then that you shouldn’t have asked, and, with an internal sigh, you knew you’d spend at least the next ten minutes suffering for your fatal mistake. “I was hoping to get the nice cashier’s attention, but it looks like she’s otherwise preoccupied.”

Not looking up at him as you continued packaging his books, you resisted the urge to correct his cashier comment to owner, figuring the less he knew— the better. Having picked out about five books, he had the time to go on a long winded rant about how decent courtesy was a thing of the past, and women just aren’t as nice as they used to be but that he was sure you seem different from all the rest. The irritation was rising in your chest, but you swallowed it down as you placed the finishing touches on each of his books.

“Have a nice day, sir.” You smiled meekly at him as you slid his nicely presented books toward him. He stared dumbly at you for a moment, blinking a few times before offering a sly smile.

“And I don’t suppose your number is written in any of those right?”

With a blush that was more so from irritation than anything else, you began cleaning your workstation, once again choosing to ignore him. You never were good at putting your foot down in such awkward situations. An anxious gulp forced its way down your throat when you heard him hum in question.

“C’mon, I see that blush—”

“Is it time for your break yet, my love?”

Your head shot up at the sound of another voice cutting off the sleeze’s comment, and your eyes met those of a taller man looming calmly beside your lingering customer. They were calculated, focused on you while seemingly ever-aware of the lurking presence beside him, hazel irises glistening from the sun shining through the windows.

It took you almost a full minute to realize it was Kento Nanami standing before you. You had never seen him without those goggle-like glasses always attached to his nose, and he wasn’t in his usual suit. Instead, he donned a cream colored, knit sweater that paired well with his neatly fitted, dark jeans. You couldn’t tell what caught you more off guard, seeing how striking his eyes were for the very first time, or how different he appeared in such casual clothing.

Clutched in his hand was a bouquet of white roses, light-blue forget-me-nots sprinkled throughout the arrangement.

“My love?” The questioning call of his voice, paired with the intense eye contact he was maintaining told you that he indeed was directing that term of endearment toward you. He cast a quick, sidelong glance to the man beside him, and you quickly caught on, nodding softly.

“Um, yes. I was just wrapping up with this customer.” You hinted, pushing the stack of books closer to the dumbfounded man for good measure. “Have a nice day, sir.”

Not allowing him to respond, Nanami stepped forward to take his spot at the counter, leaving the man to begrudgingly pick up his books and take his leave. Your eyes followed him out, and you couldn’t help the dramatic sigh of relief that heaved out your chest as the door closed behind him.

“I apologize if I overstepped, but it appeared as though he wasn’t taking the hint.”

Looking back over at your knight-in-cashmere-sweater, you smiled gratefully at him. Nanami’s lips twitched up ever so slightly at the sight.

“I didn’t even recognize you.” You admitted bashfully, looking behind him to assure there were no other customers waiting. Focusing your gaze on him once again, you couldn’t help but feel relieved that he had finally returned. “Those flowers are beautiful, by the way. Special occasion?”

He hummed, looking down curiously at his attire before meeting your gaze once again.

“Oh, they’re for you, actually.”

This made your finger’s soft drumming against the counter pause, assessing the sincere expression on his face. You gave the store a quick once over.

“I think he left already, Nanami-san.” You laughed softly, trying to quiet the butterflies in your stomach at the idea that he had actually come in to bring you flowers. His thin, blond brows furrowed a fraction at your comment, and he shook his head.

“No, I brought these for you. Also— please call me Kento.” He clarified, watching the way the blood rushed to your cheeks as your eyes ran flusteredly over the bouquet he was handing your way. “I apologize for not having come by recently, I got into quite the accident at work, but I’m feeling better now and would like to take you out. If you’d like, of course.”

Your fingers wrapped hesitantly over the bouquet. Leaning forward, you gently breathed in the delicate scent emanating from the flowers. It was mixing with Kento’s cologne, wafting into your senses in an intoxicating mix. He watched pensively— the way you tried to bite back your smile, but soon enough your teeth were shining brightly at him, cheeks ablaze in a manner that made you appear absolutely radiant. The sight clenched at his bandaged chest, and he wasn’t sure if the burning was coming from his steadily healing ribs or the erratic beat of his heart.

Despite what his rapid blood loss and slipping consciousness had led him to believe that night, help did come in time for him. They cut it incredibly close, but still, when he pried his eyes open the next day, his heart was still beating and his flesh was still warm. He spent a few days in the hospital, Gojo and a few of the students stopping by to see him once they were informed that he’d woken up.

The warm welcome back into the land of the living was kind enough, even if he had to beg them to quiet down at least four times during their half-hour visit. When he returned to his apartment a few days later, each step seemed to take every last bit of energy from his already worn out body. The door opened with a creek, and he was enveloped in silence.

Nanami usually welcomed the blissful peace with open arms, already worn out from the atrocious ways fate had played with him for one day. That night though, it only reminded him of how close he was to dying alone.

So, he stood before you, gazing upon the very smile that had flashed in his mind when he believed himself on the brink of death. Flowers were clutched firmly in his fingers, a reminder of the way you planted the seed of meaning back into his life— of something more than his thus far wasteful nature of crawling through his days had provided.

Kento smiled at you, pounding the final nail in the coffin that held any semblance of dignity you hoped to hold onto when you saw him next.

It was criminal, you thought, how perfect one man could look— how easily he could render you a stuttering mess with just a flash of his golden smile.

“I hope your silence isn’t my cue to take a hint as well.” His honeyed voice quipped, and you could swear there was the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

“No! I mean— I’d really like that.” You attempted to save face for your flustered state, but you were sure even he could see right through it. “Thank you… for the flowers, Kento.”

Even his name falling from your lips sounded so blissfully intimate in his ears.

“Shall we go then?”

“Oh— now?” You squeaked, checking the time to see it was still only noon, and the shop didn’t close for another few hours. “I don’t close here until—”

“She can take a break!” Your friend suddenly chimed in, having been pretending to stock the shelves (she had been pulling and placing the same book from its shelf for five minutes now). You looked up at her in shock, watching Nanami turn and bow to her in greeting from the corner of your eye. She gave you a pleading look, as if she was the one being pulled from her shift midday by the six feet of pure gentleman that had just graced your store. “The rush has died down. I can hold down the fort for an hour.”

You made a mental note to bring her back something sweet from the café Kento was steering you toward, a guiding hand resting respectfully on the small of your back. Even with the well-mannered placement of his palm, the feeling of his touch at all was turning your brain to mush.

It seemed to all be rushing to you now, as you looked up at him. He was speaking calmly with the woman at the register of the café, and you finally caught onto the almost faded, yellowing bruise on the right side of his face. It lined his sharply defined cheekbone, a tiny scar on the edge that made you wonder how bad it had looked two weeks ago.

What kind of accident had he been in that made him rush to take you on a date with such fervor as soon as he was well enough to leave the house? Better yet, what line of work was he in that put him in such positions? It was all simmering in your mind, growing hotter as you recalled his dodgy answers when you would ask what he did for work.

Kento called your name, the sound slowly pushing its way into your consciousness as you snapped from your haze. He was looking down at you in question.

“What would you like to drink?” The tone of his voice let you know that this wasn’t the first time he’d asked you. Tearing your gaze from his, you gave your coffee order to the barista before nodding in thanks. “Something on your mind?”

You couldn’t help but notice how casually he’d crossed over this boundary with you. Just minutes ago, he was Nanami, your guarded, regular customer who had a knack for entrapping you in never ending daydreams of domesticity and dominating glances. Now though, in a matter of minutes, he had turned into Kento, your date who was paying for your coffee and pulling your chair out for you— asking you about what was on your mind, blissfully unaware of the fact that it was him.

His hazel eyes gazed down at you curiously as he placed an ivory plate in front of you before taking the seat across from yours. Glancing down at the dish, a small smile tugged at your lips. You must not have heard him order in your haze.

“Daifuku?” You grinned teasingly at him. He hummed in amusement, looking down at his own, matching pastry.

“If I remember correctly, you said they were to die for.”

“Yeah, like two months ago.” You laughed, blowing softly on your steaming cappuccino.

“Oh, has the title expired? I can take yours too, if you’ve changed your mind.” He was hiding a tickled smirk as he reached over to grab your plate. You swatted his hand away with a blush, taken aback by his subtly playful nature that had since been concealed behind pressed suits and tinted lenses. With a knowing hum, he looked down at his own plate. “Truthfully, I had been so caught up with work that I had forgotten all about it.”

“That secretive job of yours, huh?” You quipped softly and took a small bite of the chewy sweet, biting back a contented sigh upon the realization that he’d somehow guessed your favorite filling. It was a beat longer before you spoke again, afraid if you pushed it too much, he’d be too quick to throw out another guarded excuse. “Ever the mystery, Kento.”

At the sound of his name, he peered back up at you. You were glad your mouth was occupied by your warm cup now, convinced you would have drooled at the sight of his smoldering gaze.

“I don’t mean to be so… mysterious.” He admitted as he straightened his posture against the café chair. “The truth is, I can’t disclose much about my work. The nature of it is… sensitive. I hope you can understand.”

Your eyes drifted over the bruise on his face, and you thought back to how badly he must have been hurt to have gone MIA for two weeks. Kento was watching you so earnestly though, a glimmer of hope in his usually stoic eyes.

Against your better judgment, your ‘no questions’ policy began influencing an area of your life it definitely should not be touching. The sincerity in his explanation though, paired with his calm and collected demeanor, had all common sense evading you. You raised a brow at him, a breathy laugh slipping past your lips. His head cocked ever so slightly at the noise.

“Funny you should say that, I was like convinced you were yakuza for a while.” You attempted to lighten the mood of the heavy topic at hand— one he didn’t seem ready to explore yet. The serious expression on his face made your laugh falter for a moment, and with a quirk of his thin brow your smile disappeared all together. Your stomach fell uneasily.

Oh fuck.

“Oh, um, I… uh—”

“That was my attempt at a joke, I’m sorry.” Nanami’s tense expression finally broke, a genuine smile splitting across his cheeks at the fear on your face. It did make him wonder though, how you would react to his actual profession. “I assure you I’m not in a gang, though I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not that you think I’d fit the description.”

Jesus, this man was going to make you hurl.

“Yeah, big, buff, and quiet with your strawberry daifuku— so scary, Ken.”

He tried not to feel too proud at your description of his physique, hiding his smirk with a first bite of the dessert in question. A contented hum rumbled in his chest, and you found your lips parting as you watched his face melt in pleasure at something so simple. You didn’t have time to conceal your stare before his eyes opened once again.

Nanami wasn’t sure how he had been blinded for so long at how pleasurable life could be. It had been just beyond his reach, yet it took his near death for him to snap from his ambivalence. The confection he’d glazed his eyes over for years in this little shop, the bewitching girl he’d strolled right past, the ease of connecting with another soul; it was intoxicating how the promise of lighter days filled his senses, lit him ablaze. Looking back at your innocently charmed expression, he couldn’t believe he had almost left this cruel existence behind without ever having been on the receiving end of it.

The sorcerer’s weekly visits to your shop promptly resumed. This time though, he always came bearing gifts; whether it be a hot coffee (having already memorized your order from that first time he heard it), an accompanying pastry, or a fresh set of flowers when he knew your previous ones were beginning to wilt.

Maybe it was overbearing for so early on in your relationship, though he wasn’t even sure he could call it that yet, but he couldn’t help himself. Watching the way your eyes would light up, how your cheeks would flush, and, in recent development, you would lean across the counter to press an appreciative kiss to his clean-shaven cheek— Kento would buy the world for you if it meant he’d have the chance to see such joy one more time.

Much to his surprise and relief, you didn’t bring up the elusive topic of his career again, save for when you’d ask him how his day was going. There were times, so many times, that you had come close. Each time he’d show up with a new, what would have been a inconspicuous had they not been so damn frequent, bruise or cut on his face or arms, the question lingered in the back of your throat. When he’d help you move things around the store, and you watched him lift the still stocked display table with an ease you’d never seen before, even for someone with his impressive build, you bit back your interrogation.

A seed had been planted in your mind though— so tiny you weren’t sure if you were deranged for even having the fleeting thought of it.

Nanami had stopped by the shop one evening when you were stocking the shelves, eye level with the top shelf you were working on as you balanced on your trusty footstool. Your headphones were pressed snuggly against your ears, your soft music occupying any spare space in your mind. A pair of gentle hands settled over your waist, ripping a gasp from your chest as you jolted back. The grip around you tightened as you fell into a warm chest, one arm wrapping around your middle as the other moved to pull the headphones down around your neck.

“Perhaps the noise canceling headphones aren’t the wisest choice when you leave the store unlocked.” Kento’s buttery voice flooded your senses and calmed the fight or flight response his unexpected appearance had triggered. You turned to glare half-heartedly at him as he set you back down on your feet.

“Well, I left it open for you.” You mumbled sheepishly, adjusting the headphones around your neck and nudging your shoulder into his firm chest. As you turned to look up at the box you’d left behind, you missed the way he smiled softly at your comment.

“I’d be far more flattered if you would protect yourself from intruders for me, but I appreciate the thought.” Kento quipped, reaching up to grab the abandoned box from the top shelf just as you stepped up on the stool to grab it. You stepped back down with a shy smile. “I’ll be leaving town this weekend for work.”

“Oh,” You acknowledged quietly, unsure of where he was taking this conversation. Twisting the hem of your sweater awkwardly between your fingers, you chewed on your bottom lip. “Well… I’ll miss you coming to scare the shit out of me when I’m closing?”

“That’s sweet, darling, but I was telling you because I’d like to have you over for dinner before I go.” The sorcerer mused, using his spare hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You weren’t sure if your sudden onslaught of nerves and flushed skin was due to the nickname he’d given you, or the thought of going over to his house for the first time. Attempting to stop where your racing thoughts seemed to be wandering to, you began to absentmindedly grab books from the box clutched in his grasp to finish shelving them. He peered into the box before grabbing one and finding its rightful place, hoping to help you in being able to close and get home earlier.

“You sound like you’re about to go to war or something.” You joked hesitantly, but, honestly, the implications of his offer had your pestering curiosity peaking once again. “How long will you be gone?”

“It should only be a day or two.” His attempt at reassurance only served to concern you more though. Maybe, if he said he would be gone for a week or more, you would have understood his supposed urgency in getting one last date in before his trip. With him only being gone two days though? You realized that perhaps something more dire was at play here. Sensing your contemplative state, he halted his stocking and leaned against the shelf to look down at you. “It’s just that— my work is…” Kento’s voice trailed, unsure of where he was going with his explanation.

“I’d love to come for dinner, Ken.” You reassured with a gentle smile. The furrow in his brows, the hope in his eyes, the apprehension in his tone— it told you all you needed to know, and you heard it loud and clear.

It had been a while since Nanami had the chance to delve into one of his old hobbies. Cooking was one that used to be his favorite, something he indulged in before his schedule became so unpredictable and his missions turned more crucial— before he had lost himself to the cruelty of the reality he’d chosen for the sake of a meaningful existence. There was something different about this time though, he thought as his knife sliced expertly through his selected root vegetables. Perhaps it was the knowledge that, once the small, black timer on his counter went off, alerting him that his veggies were done boiling, that he’d be one step closer to setting a plate down before you.

The sorcerer glanced back at his modest dining table, already set up with two plates and utensils, taking a deep breath before wiping his hands and checking the time on his watch. It was already five minutes past the time he’d told you to come by, but he figured closing was simply taking longer than expected. After fifteen minutes though, he found himself frowning over the boiling pot, stepping away to check his phone in case you’d attempted to reach out to him regarding your delay. With nothing to show for, his mind began to race a bit.

You did have a tendency, Nanami had come to understand, of leaving the shop unlocked as you closed. This wouldn’t be so bad would it not be for those damned, clunky headphones you insisted on wearing each time, blocking out any noise possible danger would alert you with. Without much thought of how irrational he may appear, he found himself swiping through to find your contact and hitting ‘call’. It went straight to voicemail.

Yeah, he thought as he abruptly shut off the stove and tossed the towel from his shoulder, fuck the radishes.

Kento had all but ripped the door of his apartment open, barging down the hallway with terrifying calculation as images of you unconscious in the quaint aisles of your shelves flashed through his panicked mind, when he ran straight into you. Instantly recognizing your startled gasp, his hands reached out to steady you as you stumbled back in surprise.

“Kento, I’m so sorry!” You babbled, brushing your wet hair from your face in a frantic attempt to appear put together, when you knew deep down you were anything but. The man before you was staring down at you with a relieved expression, but it faded as quickly as it came as he took in your appearance.

You were practically soaked, mascara running mortifyingly down your eyes and onto your flushed cheeks. The delicate, ivory sundress you wore was clinging against your wet skin, and Nanami forced himself to respectfully avert his eyes from what the now see-through fabric was revealing. There was a wine bottle clutched desperately between your fingers as you waved your hands in explanation. “I know I’m late, I wanted to bring you some wine, but the store was short staffed so the line was abysmal. Then the train got delayed, and it started to rain, and my phone died. I’m sorry I look a me—”

The baffled man stepped forward, clutching your jaw between his calloused hands to lift your gaze to meet his. Despite your dishevled appearance, smeared makeup, and frigid clothes, all Nanami could think about was how relieved he was to see you well. Additionally, as you rattled off all the ways in which your night hadn’t gone as planned, the only thoughts in his mind were how grateful he was that these silly, insignificant little hiccups were the extent of your day to day battles.

It was so like him, so ingrained in his very being to expect the worst. The truth was though, not everybody’s life was on the line everyday. Not everybody drifted through life in survival mode as he had grown accustomed to doing. Some people missed the train and got caught in the rain, and his heart was so full with the notion that you were one of those people with such domestic struggles. On the other side of it all as well, you braved through them to come see him, and he didn’t think he could ever find you more beautiful than he did in that moment.

He exhaled with softly drawn brows, allowing his hazel eyes to appreciate each streak the rain left on your delicate features before leaning down to kiss you. Your lips were frigid against his, and you leaned into his warmth, the shame of soaking through his neatly ironed dress shirt with your rain soaked body flying out your head as he wrapped his arm around your shivering form in an attempt to draw out all chilliness that dared disturb you. The hand that gripped your jaw slid down and around your neck to tangle into your nape, tugging you closer.

You pulled away for a breath, but Kento chased your lips with determination, quickly capturing them once again. His fingers pressed firmly into your nape as if to stop you from escaping him so prematurely again. Accepting your fate with a graceful willingness, you reached up with your free hand to grip at his shoulder in an attempt to pull yourself up and closer to him. It wasn’t until a shiver ran down your spine, though you weren’t sure if it was due to your soaked clothes or the desperation he was pouring into the unexpected kiss, that the gentleman in Nanami tugged him from his primal desires.

Pulling back with a heave, the sorcerer took a moment to compose himself, eyes drifting over your shivering figure. He ran a hand down his jaw, pretending not to notice the way you panted softly as you stared up at him with those wide, glistening eyes that made him rethink his restraint.

“It… the wine I brought isn’t that nice, you know.”

As Kento shut the apartment door behind him, he couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit awkward for the way he came onto you so suddenly, though something about the glowing smile you were attempting to conceal told him you didn’t mind as much as he did. You looked up from your search around his tidy apartment when he cleared his throat. It was evident in his face how he’d caught himself off-guard, barely able to look you in the eye. You bit your lip to hide your amusement.

“You must be freezing. I’ll grab you some dry clothes.”

You opened your mouth to stop him, but he had already disappeared into the hallway. Now by yourself in his space, you took the chance to unabashedly look around. It was just as you expected his apartment would look like; warm, pristinely kept, and it held an air, just like him, that something deeper was hidden within the cream colored walls. A warm smile fell on your lips at the spread he’d prepared, and you placed the wine bottle on the counter to continue your search. Just as your eyes drifted to the stack of books on the coffee table, the man returned, a small stack of clothes in one hand and a towel in the other.

“Please feel free to dry up in the restroom. Take your time, I’m just finishing up dinner.” He offered as he placed the soft articles into your arms. With flushed cheeks, you took note of the sweatpants and sweater he’d picked out for you.

“No, really, I’ll be fine. You made everything so nice, I would hate to be in pajamas.” You shook your head bashfully, nudging the items back into his hands.

“And I would hate for you to get sick sitting in wet clothes all night.” He countered with a playful shove of his clothes back into your chest.

“I am not having dinner in sweatpants when you’re in a suit, Kento.” Another shove back at him. This time, he tilted his head, his lips pursed in mock frustration, but you could see the playfully challenging glint in his hazel eyes. Straightening his posture, the blond accepted the clothes you shoved his way this time.

“Oh, is that what this is about?” He challenged before nodding softly to himself. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment then.” Confusion crept up in you as you watched him walk back down the hallway without another word, shutting the door of what you presumed was his bedroom behind him. You sat, slightly dumbfounded, on one of the dining chairs and cringed at the feeling of your cold, wet dress pressing against your thighs.

It was only moments later that he reemerged. Abandoned were his previous, light blue button down and khaki slacks, and in their place were a simple, white tshirt and plaid pajama pants. You felt your heart race a bit at the casualness of it all, how at ease he looked with his once neatly placed hair ruffled from the swiftness he had yanked the cotton shirt over his head. Biting at the inside of your cheek in any attempt to control your facial expressions, you watched his biceps flex as he handed you the previous stack of clothes with finality.

“No excuses now, hm?”

So, you and Kento sat at his formally set dining table that night and sipped at your wine glasses in your— well— his pajamas. The change of scenery helped ease some of the expectations for your date to go a certain way, setting a domestic tranquility over the evening as he watched you with his knuckles pressed against his cheek. Your face appeared fresher than he’d ever seen it, likely due to the fact that you had had no choice but to wash your ruined makeup off of your face while freshening up in his bathroom. It made his heart soar, as he imagined this is just how you appeared in your own space— comfortable, vulnerable, and beared truly to the world. It allowed him to see every freckle and blemish, every blush more clearly.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t help himself as he moved to grab your plate to place in the sink, leaning down and pressing a lingering kiss to your awaiting lips as you tilted your head up to him expectantly. You already had pinpointed that look in his eyes. Under your breath, you thanked him for dinner as he pulled away slowly, your noses brushing together softly. For a moment, Nanami thought as he peered over his shoulder from his place in front of the sink, it felt as though you always had a place right there at his dining table, with his sweatpants rolled up at your ankles and his sweater swallowing you so warmly. He tried to think of anything else, because the thought of you taking up residence so comfortably in his space was exciting him way too quickly for a first home visit. The sorcerer cleared his throat.

“Oh, I had almost forgotten,” He began, placing the last, scrubbed plate onto the drying rack. You didn’t pretend to not be staring when he turned to face you again, leaning so delectably against the counter behind him. “Have you heard back about your applications?”

“My applications?” You questioned with furrowed brows, fingers rubbing pensively against your nearly empty wine glass. In an instant, though, you recalled one of the first conversations you had had with him, the one that planted that seed of intrigue in your mind in the first place. Your eyes fluttered down to the red liquid sloshing around the bottom of your glass. “Oh right. Well, can I be honest?”

Nanami only hummed in response, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“I never actually went through with my entrance exams. I… had a change of heart, I guess.”

“A change of heart, huh?” He repeated thoughtfully, regarding you with a curious gaze. You only nodded curtly, feeling small under his studious eyes. “What changed?”

Kento had pushed off of the counter to walk closer to you and lean instead on the table in front of you. You swallowed thickly at the sudden proximity. Setting your glass down beside him, you looked down at your laps, fingers twisting in the soft cotton of his grey sweatpants.

“I thought about what you said.” You confessed quietly. Peering up at him through your lashes, you didn’t miss the way his features contorted in perplexity. “You know, about how having an escape is just as important as getting your hands dirty. I… didn’t want to give it all up, but I couldn’t live with the guilt of not playing some sort of role in helping. You coming in every week… it made me realize that I was— y’know, in my own way.”

It felt as though all the resolve he’d built up over the years, trying to protect himself from caring too much again, it had all been for not. Here you were, an angel put down the middle of his path of unrighteousness, gracing him with your kindness, your humility and gentleness, yet you had the nerve to spill such fantasy from your plush lips that he had been the one to show you the path of meaning.

Kento’s hands worked mindlessly to pull you up by your gentle hands so that you stood between his thighs. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, allowing his other hand to find purchase on the back of your head as he pulled you into him.

One day, he thought to himself as you wrapped your startled arms around his chest, perhaps he’d tell you of the horrors that had led him to where he was today. Maybe over coffee and daifuku, he’d tell you of the boy who couldn’t save his best friend and cursed the world because of it. You’d smile and ask the blond about him— what he was like and all the memories he’d kept buried in his imprisoned mind for so long. Kento would tell you he was just like you; tender-hearted and with the willingness to save the world— existing in the same reality he had deemed fatuous and yet still holding that love for others that poured out with each wide lipped smile.

For now though, Nanami wanted you to remain just as you were; only plagued by long grocery store lines and dodgy weather. The sorcerer wanted you to continue to find meaning in your books and your flowers, even if just for a little longer.

“I’m glad.” Kento murmured against your damp hair, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple before releasing you from his firm grip. “The world needs you as you are now. No need to change anything.”

And there it was— that innocently animated smile gleaming up at him as if there was no wrong in the world. He smiled back at you, and you must have seen the misty haze in his eyes.

“What’s that look for?” You questioned in amusement, tugging at the sleeves of his tshirt absentmindedly. He shook his head, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ears.

“You just remind me of someone, is all.”

The two of you silently agreed that you weren’t ready to part ways just yet, evident in the way you lingered too long on otherwise pointless conversations, and how neither dared look toward the front door. You had confronted him about all his books that were still wrapped up and stacked neatly on his coffee table, teasing him about how the escapism qualities he spoke so highly of wouldn’t work if he never actually opened them up. Kento allowed you to rummage through them, recounting each memory you had of wrapping up each respective cover.

He watched with soft eyes as you laid back between his legs on the couch, one of his abandoned books laid snuggly in your lap as you read it to him, claiming if he wouldn’t make the time to read them that you’d do it for him. Your head rose and fell in tandem with his breaths as he laid underneath you, allowing your honeyed voice to fill his senses and breathe more life into his quaint apartment than he’d ever felt in the years he’d resided in it.

You tilted your head back to look at him as the hand that wasn’t occupying your raised thigh came down to brush along the swells of your cheeks. A dazzling, bashful smile flashed his way as you raised a knowing brow at him.

“Are you even listening to me, Ken?” You laughed, feeling dizzy with the way he gazed at you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky. He immediately shook his head, and you laughed breathlessly at his bluntness. Leaning down, he pressed a longing kiss against your lips, his nose brushing against your chin as you tilted up to meet the motion eagerly. His fingers tightened around your thigh, and he allowed them to drift up just a fraction before he stopped himself.

“I was busy reminding myself of the pretty things in my life, darling.”

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themissinghand · 1 year ago

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Hiiii.Welcome home and back!.How was your day?.I hope it was good.I miss you.Can I make a request about Han Yoojin x femreader?!.(This guy needs attention like Kim Dokja and Cale Henituse!!).The reader is very loyal and loves Han Yoojin.The reader and him were lovers in the first life before the reader died from the high rank dungeon.So they met again after he 'collected' the S rank hunters.Angst to Fluffy.Hehehe.I need something to cry then happy.

Thank you for listening. Take care of yourself.

The S-Classes that I Raised Heartstrings [1]

Part 2!

Summary: In which you don't remember Han Yoojin in this life, but he remembers everything.

Or, as Yoojin watches you from afar, he vows to make you fall in love with him all over again.

Pairing: Han Yoojin x F! Reader

Note: I'm doing good! Hope you're having a wonderful day too!

It is my job as a manhwa reader to complete the holy trinity. Also, is it just me or like it's a desert for this fandom for x reader stories??

Warnings: Angst and fluff served on a silver platter just for you anon! ★・・・・・・★

“Y/N!”

Han Yoojin pulled you in a hug, relief washing over him for a brief moment until he was pushed away harshly.

“Who are you?!”

“Woof! Woof!” Your dog, a Maltese, growls at him fiercely, trying to protect his owner.

Seeing your shocked and cold expression, one that screamed “touch me and I will call the police”, Han Yoojin struggled to come up with words.

You don’t remember.

“Stop Bong!” You called out, trying your best to calm your dog by slowly stepping back away. Once Bong was a little more tame, you looked at Han Yoojin with a suspicious look.

“I don’t know you.”

With a bitter smile, Yoojin swallows, before bowing and apologizing.

“Sorry, wrong person. The person I am looking for has the same name and looks similar to you.” Your hostile expression fades away to one of understanding and even empathy.

“Oh, that’s okay. My name is pretty common in Korea.” You smile awkwardly before dusting off your shirt.

“You seem very desperate to find this person, so I hope you find her soon.”

With a weak smile, Yoojin nods and waves goodbye. Watching you leave and hop onto a bus. His eyes follow you until you completely leave his sight.

“Hyung! There you are. What are you doing?”

“Just…meeting a friend.”

That’s right. You don’t remember.

Han Yoojin met you in his lowest times.

When his younger brother rose to the top of fame as a S-rank, he was left behind.

He was ridiculed by the world and abandoned by the brother whom he tried so hard to raise.

In the midst of trying so hard to understand and gain recognition, he met you, who was an D-class hunter that specialized in healing.

You, who reached out to heal his wounds and scars, and the first to see him without the branding of a failed older brother of a S-class hunter.

You, who helped him stand on his two feet again after each failure of a dungeon.

You, who stayed with him through his depression, and frustration.

You, who showered him with reassurance, kindness, patience and love, whereas he was too naive, envious, and took advantage of you for emotional support.

You, who taught him his worth-

And him, who couldn’t protect you.

“I’m sorry, (L/N) (Y/N) has died in the B-Rank dungeon.”

Your death has killed him too.

He remembered going back after your funeral to your shared apartment. He didn’t know how he made it back, he felt like he was simply drifting along without any meaning in life.

“Woof!” Startled, Han Yoojin looked down to see the white Maltese looking up at him with cute puppy eyes.

“Woof!” Bong patted his shoe, before running around, patting the door, as if telling Yoojin something.

Then, Bong sniffed your shoes.

Han Yoojin remembered breaking down then, crying, begging, and praying to God like a pathetic idiot he was.

In his next life, he will protect you.

He hugged Bong close, who seemed irritated and confused.

Bong didn’t understand.

For everyday he waited by the door, waiting for you.

Everyday that passed without you, Han Yoojin was dying.

He slowly went back to his old self, and society began to overwhelm him.

Until the day he too caused his younger brother to die, and he got the opportunity to fix everything from the beginning.

Han Yoojin wanted to see you so badly.

From the moment he woke up in the past, you and Yoohyun were the first he wanted to see.

But, he remembered how he was so weak and useless, and did not want to repeat that life again.

So he built up strength, collecting S-classes as he goes and making sure that he will never be a burden to Yoohyun or anyone he loves.

So that when he met you again, you didn’t have to take on the burden to take care of him.

This time, Han Yoojin swore that he will protect you.

Even if you don’t remember who he is, and even if no one else acknowledges you, he will.

Just like you have done with him.

“Bong!”

“Hyung!”

“Wait Yoohyun!” Yoojin stops his younger brother from making a mess, and watches a familiar Maltese stop in front of him with puppy eyes. He sniffs his shoes and then circles him excitedly.

“Woof!”

Does Bong remember?

“Bong, you can’t just run away like that!” You catch up finally, panting a little bit before meeting Yoojin’s eyes.

For a moment, time seems to stop as if giving Yoojin time to make a decision.

But luckily, he didn’t need to once he saw your potential showing above your head.

“Ah, you’re the man from before! So sorry about that. It seems like Bong remembered you.” You were embarrassed as you picked up Bong in your arms.

“It’s okay, I like dogs.”

“Yea, I don’t know why Bong is acting like this. Usually, he isn’t that friendly with strangers…”

“What’s your name?” Yoojin asked, and you sheepishly answered.

“(L/N) (Y/N), and you are?”

“Han Yoojin, and this is my brother Han Yoohyun.” You gasp, a look of realization flashed on your face, before bowing profusely.

“I’m so sorry, I promised we won’t bother you again-”

“It’s okay, actually, are you a hunter by chance?” You stood confused, but nodded.

“I am…but I am only a D-class healer-”

“That’s perfect, we were looking for one, and you look like you have potential. Right Yoohyun?” Yoojin quickly elbowed his younger brother, hoping that he would get the cue, and Yoohyun smartly responded with a nod.

“Are you sure? I don’t think my skills are that valuable.” Surprised and embarrassed, you fidgetted a bit and stroked Bong’s head.

“Don’t worry, I see potential when I see one.” With a hand extended for a hand shake, he smiled gently, just like how you reached out to him.

“I believe you can be better than you are now.”

This time, his skills can help you become someone more than a D-class hunter, but a S-class Saintess.

Because that’s who you are.

It was hard to get you to trust him.

It was even harder, managing the suspicious looks from Yoohyun and his S-class children, and ensuring you are safe from his potential enemies.

But it was all worth it, when you learn, grow and gain confidence in your skills.

With how close the two of you have gotten, both of you celebrated in a restaurant with beer after seeing a breakthrough in your healing skills.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

Yoojin said out of nowhere, and while he said it to activate his skill, it was also with a genuine heart.

“(Y/N), I love you.” He felt emotional, finally saying the words he buried deep in his heart that he wasn’t able to say easily back then.

You, who was tipsy and giddy, could only grin stupidly and joke at his comment.

“Haha! I love you too, Han Yoojin.”

Even though you probably will not remember tonight, or your time together with Yoojin in your past life, Yoojin is happy with this.

“Aww, boss, why are you crying?”

“Shut up and drink.”

“Yes sir!”

Seeing you laugh as you down each drink, he matches your energy with gratitude.

This time, he will be patient, he will be your emotional support and shield.

This time, he won’t be foolish, he won’t be a burden.

This time, he will treat you better, and cherish you with everything he’s got.

So if, by the off chance that you will remember the past, the two of you can still live a happy life together.

“Yoojin~ Did you find that person *hic* by the way? My twin?”

It became a running joke, one that embarrassed Yoojin, but also made him feel happy.

“I did.”

“I hope I can meet her soon!”

“Me too.”

When you finally knocked yourself out, he laid on the table facing your sleeping face and smiled.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

#manhwa #s classes that i raised #s class #han yoojin #the s classes that i raised #my s class hunters #han yoohyun #han yoojin x reader #female reader #x reader #manhwa x reader #light angst #angst #fluff

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jjkamochoso · 7 months ago

Text

Flufftober Day 1: Lost Pet Meet Cute

@flufftober

Angst, Fluff

Gen Narumi x gn!reader

Warnings: slight cussing

When you got the alert on your phone notifying you of a kaiju attack happening, your heart dropped when you realized it was taking place near your apartment. You had no way to get there from your work; it was way too far to walk and no public transportation was reckless enough to bring people anywhere near an active attack. Why were you so desperate to reach your residence anyway?

Your dog was at home.

You were overcome with anxiety as you tried to reach your neighbors by cell phone to ask them to evacuate with your best friend, but no one had answered you. Tears welled in your eyes as you waited for the kaiju to be neutralized so you could go back home and assess the damage. Checking every news website every 30 seconds for updates, you finally read that the JAKDF's First Division had taken down the threat and were allowing people back in the area to salvage anything they could before clean up began. You boarded a packed bus with others in your same position, all almost too nervous to see what was left in the aftermath. When the bus stopped at the drop off point, collective gasps were heard throughout. Your entire neighborhood had been destroyed. Buildings had just barely stopped smoking, if they were still standing, but most of it was pure rubble. Your apartment complex was completely gone; you weren't sure where it stood in the first place. You were so shocked at the sight that your seat mate had to nudge you out of your stupor before you both got left behind on the bus. You shakily stood and made your way outside; the odds of your dog surviving something like this were little to none. The wreckage mocked you as you began your futile search for any signs of life below the mangled concrete. You didn't even bother calling her name--you didn't want to disturb the dead. Up ahead, you heard a voice talking and you went to check out what was going on. You figured you'd do more good helping your fellow humans than grieving at the moment. As you got closer, you noticed the person was a member of the Defense Force! You hurried, eager to help with whatever they needed; it was only fair of you to try and return the favor after they saved countless lives less than an hour ago. You took note of the black, spiky hair the person was sporting and your breath hitched in your throat when you made the connection to who you were approaching.

"Um, excuse me? Captain Narumi?" you called out, causing him to jump.

"Ah! You scared the shit outta me," he replied, starting to turn around.

"I'm so sorry!" you responded, embarrassed at how you were making a total fool of yourself. "I was seeing if you needed help with anything. I live-well, used to live, here, and I--" You stopped. Narumi had faced you and you were taken aback by both his handsome face and the dog he was holding in his arms.

"Shredder?" you asked, your voice wavering. The dog jumped out of his arms and up into yours, licking your face. You triple checked the collar and tags to make sure you weren't dreaming, but indeed, you were holding your beloved pet. You snuggled into her fur, not caring that you were almost sobbing in front of one of Japan's strongest soldiers. You tore yourself from your reunion to thank the man who had saved your dog, and you were surprised for the umpteenth time that day when you saw Narumi discreetly wiping at his eyes. Was he... crying with you?

It's good to know that under their tough exteriors, these guys do have hearts.

"You named that Shredder?" he grumbled, pointing an accusatory finger at the happy go lucky Maltese in your arms.

You let out a laugh for the first time that day. "Isn't she just the most ferocious thing you've ever seen?"

"Lemme guess. I have to find another dog of yours named Cupcake that weighs 200 pounds," he teased with a small grin, making you laugh again. It was strange to be so happy in a place filled with all that destruction, but Narumi was really making you feel at ease.

"No, seriously, you don't have any more pets for me to save, right?"

"That's right. She's all I got," you told him. "Thank you. For everything you've done today. We all owe you and your team any sort of favor you could think of for saving us and many of our family members. Human and otherwise."

Narumi let out a humorless chuckle, gently petting Shredder on the head. "We're just doing our job."

You studied the way his two toned hair reflected the sun and highlighted his face in a way that could only be described as angelic. His sharp features were softened by the sweet look he had as he practically cooed at your dog and you liked being treated to this front row seat of the revered Gen Narumi acting so... normal. You didn't realize you were staring until his eyes met your own, you both looking away shyly as blushes crept onto your faces. He cleared his throat, his attention on the broken road beneath his feet.

"It's kinda dangerous over here so if your dog was the only thing you were looking for right now, you should probably head back and wait for next directions," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, you're right," you agreed, nodding. He nodded back in the silence.

"Um, it was nice to meet you..." he trailed off.

"Y/n," you replied.

"I'm Gen."

"I know."

"Oh. Right," he chuckled awkwardly. "Okay, well, I'll see you around? Sometime?"

"I'd love that," you told him, and you bid each other goodbye. Before he got too far away, though, you were struck with a sudden thought.

"Wait! I don't have a house!" you yelled. Gen turned around, obviously confused by your announcement.

"I won't live here for awhile," you clarified, "so I don't know if you'll see me around this area by chance for a long time. I also, uh, don't have a kitchen, so... would you like to go to dinner with me? Tonight?"

His eyes widened ever so slightly. "Like a date?"

"Yes? Maybe? Only if that's okay with you?"

It seemed as if your sudden confidence left you high and dry and you nervously cuddled Shredder as you awaited Gen's answer.

"I know a great ramen place not too far from here that wasn't destroyed. They allow dogs, too," he finally responded, and your heart skipped a few beats from his kind demeanor and consideration for Shredder. After exchanging contact information, Gen had to get back to work, but he kept a close eye on you to make sure you made it safely to the designated safe zone for evacuees.

You may have lost all of your belongings, but that day, you gained something better:

Gen Narumi's heart.

#flufftober2024 #day 1 #kaiju no. 8 #gen narumi x reader #gen narumi x you #gen narumi x reader fluff #gen narumi x y/n #gen narumi fluff #gen narumi #kaiju no 8 x reader #gen narumi x gn!reader #flufftober

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nyx-knacks-writes · 6 months ago

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Daisy and the Beast

A little fic based on a headcanon posted to my other blog. I can't think of any content warnings or spoilers for Broadchurch, but like... Be mindful. Happy (week early) Halloween! 🎃

One part of Alec’s brain thought that he looked stupid. He was a grown man, not a little boy anymore, and he certainly wasn’t the type of grown man who dressed up for Halloween. He wasn’t even really the type of grown man who passed out candy for Halloween. He was more apt to pretend the holiday wasn’t happening and shut himself in the house with a coffee and some case files to avoid the hordes of primary schoolers hopped up on Maltesers and Skittles. All that to say that he wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to allow his daughter to talk him into this. (The secret had to have been in her masterful kicked-puppy eyes and his pathological inability to say “no” to her without death and injury on the line.)

Daisy was eight years old, and like many girls her age, positively enchanted by Disney movies, particularly the Disney Princess movies. The Little Mermaid, Cinderella, Aladdin, The Princess and the Frog, she’d seen them all. However, her all-time favorite was Beauty and the Beast. There was no contest. After all, what wasn’t there to love? Living furniture, classic musical numbers, and true love’s kiss to wrap it all up in a neat little bow. Alec didn’t quite see the appeal. He could appreciate the hard work that went into the animation, but the real world was a lot crueler than a strong man belittling his Daisy’s intelligence and a group of men trying to kill a beast that they viewed as dangerous. Problems in the real world didn’t magically stop existing because you sang a little song or had a single dance. And he would know. As it turned out, Tess was not fond of dancing. His clumsy-if-well-intentioned attempt to smooth over an argument with a romantic dance had certainly proved that. Talk about only working in the movies.

Back to Daisy. Because she adored Beauty and the Beast so much, she had decided that she wanted to be Belle for Halloween. She’d also decided that she couldn’t possibly be Belle without a Beast, and in the absence of any younger siblings or pets who wouldn’t care what they wore, she’d decided the next best option was her father. Her grumpy, people-hating father who may as well have been a beast himself at times. She’d begged and pleaded like her life depended on it, making promise upon promise upon promise. She’d eat her vegetables, do her chores, go to bed on time (wasn’t she doing that already??), anything and everything to make him say “yes”.

He’d lasted all of five minutes.

So there he stood. Halloween night. In a big, furry Beast mask, a blue and gold suit, a tail, horns, fake claws, and even more fake fur that itched like crazy as Princess Daisy-Belle stood at his side, giggling up at her daddy as he stood stiffly in place. Tess, meanwhile, stood a few feet away with her phone out, snapping picture after picture for the future and completely failing at hiding her laughter.

“Come on, Alec, smile!” she tried, forcing her own smile off of her face. “You don’t want Daisy looking back on these and just remembering you being grumpy, do you?”

“You try smiling when you have polyester fur down your—” he cut himself off with a grumble and forced a happy smile.

“There you are, that’s a love,” Tess replied, still snickering. “All done.”

Alec sighed with relief and turned to his daughter, this time with a genuine smile.

“Alright, wee princess, are ye ready to go?” he asked, scooping her into his arms as she squealed delightedly.

“Yes, Daddy, yes!” Daisy cried back, wrapping her little arms around her father’s neck and squirming like she’d already eaten a kilo of sugary sweets.

“Glowstick?”

“Got yer bucket?” he asked, placing her back on the floor.

“Yes!”

“Shoes?”

“Uhh…” Daisy looked downward, picked up her skirt to see her feet, and ran off to get her shoes. Luckily, they were just a pair of black Mary-Janes rather than anything sparkly, so there would be no need for a second photoshoot. They hadn’t been the shoes that Daisy had wanted, but both Alec and Tess had insisted on practical shoes rather than the tiny yellow heels that had been on display beside the costume. After all, how was the girl meant to trick-or-treat if she was struggling to walk?

As soon as the errant shoes were strapped on, the little group set off to raid the neighborhood candy bowls, full of as much Halloween spirit as they could muster (though it should be said that one member was notably lacking). Overall, it was a pleasant, fruitful venture. Being police, Tess and Alec had done their best to settle in a safe neighborhood in Sandbrook, full of old folks and young couples and positively brimming with free candy, which was all that really mattered on Halloween night. As expected, the father-daughter duo raked in copious amounts of colorful candy. Lollipops, jelly fangs, M&Ms, Skittles, you name it, it was in the bucket. Alec had to wonder, in the back of his mind, if this had been a factor in Daisy’s insistence upon dressing up together. She was a smart kid, so he wouldn’t put it past her to figure out that the cuter she was, the more candy she could get. Eh, it didn’t really matter. She wouldn’t want to dress up with him forever. Even if he did have fur in places where fur should never be, he’d cherish the unrestrained love of his daughter while he still had it.

With aching feet and heavy arms, the Hardys arrived back home just as the porch lights began to wink out. Halloween night was drawing to a close. Being that it was Tuesday, Daisy couldn’t stay up much longer, or she’d be too tired for school. Realistically, her class wouldn’t be doing much of anything the next day anyway, but that didn’t mean that she should be allowed to stay up until midnight cramming her cheeks with chocolate and crisps and whatever other junk people gave out for Halloween. No no no, she was sent off to shower, put on some jammies, brush her teeth, and hop along to bed. When she came out, she made a beeline for Alec, thankfully already changed, and made sure to hug him and thank him and tell him how much she loved him. A happy smile parked itself on his face, and Tess couldn’t help a smile of her own as her husband waltzed into the bedroom and settled beside her under the covers.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“Nothing, love. Just happy to see Daisy so happy. Snickers?” Alec held up a pair of candy bars that he’d pilfered from Daisy’s bucket.

“You didn’t. Stealing from your own daughter?”

“Parent Tax.” Alec shrugged and unwrapped a bar. “Don’t tell me you weren’t going to do the same.”

“Touché, sir.” Tess took the second bar and dug into it, only getting a bite in before turning to press a chocolate-tasting kiss against Alec’s lips.

“Happy Halloween, love.”

“Happy Halloween, darlin’.”

#alec hardy #daisy hardy #tess henchard #broadchurch fanfiction #broadchurch fandom #broadchurch #david tennant #halloween #no beta we fail like alec's heart #nyx fics

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rems-writing · 11 months ago

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Doberman cafe but a Maltese owns it?

Pairing: barista!Yeosang x office worker!reader

Summary: This will be tied to the dilf YunGi fics I posted a while back but this time, the reader will have no connection to any of the characters. Just a heads up lol

Warning(s): Swearing, yelling, Yeosang being a total softie for the reader, reader is a certified simp for Yeosang (i mean who wouldn't be lol), mentions of a non-Ateez member

Genre: A shit ton of fluff lol

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

Originally, I was going to post a Hongjoong fic. However, in observance of the birth of the man named Kang Yeosang, I've decided to post this first before the Joong fic.

Thank you to @bunnliix for helping me decide the order of the remaining fics that I should write and post

The calming effect of the soft jazz music playing in the background of the Doberman Cafe provided much needed soothing effort for those that entered the small coffee shop. From college students to families that wanted a day out, the owner would always greet his customers with a smile.

Kang Yeosang was happy where he was at. After quitting his old job, he found it relaxing to grind coffee and mix in various ingredients to create caffeinated drinks varying from sweet to bitter. He also got some help from his best friend Jung Wooyoung, who was currently in the back baking various pastries. The two have been friends since diapers and they vowed to never abandon the other.

Yeosang has heard tales of Wooyoung's other best friend getting together with Jeong Yunho and the widow of Doh Kyungsoo dating Song Mingi.

When would it be his turn?

Business was slow as usual for today. After all, it was Friday so most of his usual customers weren't coming in which was fine. It gave the man time to relax and rest his hands from making coffee. The bell attached above the front door chimed and Yeosang looked up. He was getting ready to greet the customer with a kind smile when he heard the argument that came through.

"LISTEN, JONES! I DON'T FUCKING CARE IF HE ACTS LIKE A DAMN CHILD THROWING A TANTRUM! HE SHOULD'VE THOUGHT TWICE BEFORE FUCKING CHEATING ON ME!"

Oh dear. This person sounded angry. Wooyoung must've noticed Yeosang's confusion and slight fear since he poked his head out of the back and heard the unintentionally loud conversation this person had with this Jones person.

"HE HAD THE AUDACITY TO SAY THAT?! OH HELL NAH! I'M OVER HERE BUSTING MY ASS LEFT AND RIGHT 24/7 TO BRING FOOD ON THE TABLE AND PAY RENT WHILE HE SITS ON HIS ASS AND DOES ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING! AND YET HE HAS THE GALL TO SAY, 'yOu nEvER mAkE tiMe fOr me' STRAIGHT TO MY FACE?! AT LEAST I DIDN'T SLEEP WITH HIS BEST FRIEND!"

Oh. This just got interesting. As Yeosang saw the customer sit down, he couldn't help but to be smitten with them. Sure, they were angry as hell and very much stressed yet he couldn't help it. He tilted his head and eavesdropped some more. Unintentionally.

"Look, Jones! After gathering the divorce papers, make sure you also provide documents for a restraining order against my soon to be ex-husband. It may be too much, but I don't care. I'm so fucking tired! I'm just... done. Let me know when those papers are finished and fax them to me. My boss won't care. He knows of the shit that's happening to me right now. Hence, that strangely kind offer for me to take a trip down to the Bahamas. Anyways, I have to go. Tell your wife and kids I said hi."

You hung up after your attorney and former college roommate Jones bid you goodbye. You groaned quietly and laid your head on the table that you sat at. You felt someone sit across from you and you were about to tell them to kindly fuck off when you lifted your head and was immediately greeted with a statue staring down at you with big brown eyes that were full of curiosity and wonder.

'HOLY SHIT! I KNOW THAT A LOT OF PEOPLE SAY THAT THE OWNER WAS HANDSOME, BUT THEY CERTAINLY DIDN'T TELL ME HOW HANDSOME! AND HE'S SO CUTE TOO! LIKE A MALTESE!'

'Quit it, Y/N! He probably thinks you're a lunatic with the way he must've heard you scream over the phone.'

'Damn it! Ok I'll stop my simping...'

After you finished internally scolding yourself, you looked down to see him move a white teacup slowly in your direction, along with a slice of cake.

"Hey. I figured you'd need this. I didn't mean to, but I overheard you yelling at someone over a certain douchebag that's also a man-child. Hopefully, this cheers you up." He said in a rich honey-like deep voice.

In the cup was a freshly brewed batch of lavender green tea and on the plate was a slice of black cherry chiffon cake. You smiled sheepishly and thanked him shyly for the treats.

When you sipped the tea, all the stress over your cheating soon-to-be ex-husband washed away and you instantly relaxed. You then picked up your fork and took a piece of the cafe before eating it.

You were in heaven. You definitely needed this.

"Um... thank you." Your voice came out softer than usual and had a twinge of shyness to it. Yeosang smiled and beckoned for Wooyoung to come sit with you.

Wooyoung was extremely sexy, but not as sexy as the man sitting across from you.

"I hope you guys don't mind me coming in here at this ungodly hour. If you haven't heard, I'm... kind of going through a lot right now."

Wooyoung, who was usually loud as hell, softened his voice.

"It's no problem. Fridays are our slowest days and since Saturday is our day off, we usually stay in here until we decide to go home. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Thank you. By the way, these are amazing."

"Thank you! I made the cake." Wooyoung proudly said with a smile.

"And I made the tea." Yeosang said. "Speaking of which, would you like to spill the tea on your oh-so shabby life?"

You found yourself smiling at that and Yeosang found his heart beating rapidly with excitement.

"Oof. Where do I start?"

From there, you spilled the tea on everything. From your recent tragic event to your life in general, you said it all. Yeosang and Wooyoung were sassy and savage and you found yourself giggling at their quick and witty responses. Finally, you felt yourself becoming sleepy and you yawned. Yeosang found the sound cute. Wooyoung cleared the dishes while Yeosang stood up and help you with your things.

"Would it be possible to walk you home? Not only do I enjoy your company but uh... the Namhae Strongman is still out there. You need to stay alive in order to sign those divorce papers and file that restraining order against that ex of yours."

You shivered at the thought of the killer coming after you. Even though you were angry at your ex, you wished him well enough to pray for his safety.

The Namhae Strongman is not someone you'd want to mess with.

"Of course, Yeosang. I live down the block from here so it'll be a short walk."

Yeosang grinned excitedly and your heart ached in adoration for the human personification of a Maltese. After Wooyoung locked up the shop, you three headed to your apartment. You talked some more and kept an eye out for any suspicious activity or sign of the killer. Finally, you reached your apartment.

"Thanks for the walk home. Oh and for the tea & cake as well. How much do I owe you by the way?"

"It's on the house."

"No no, Yeosang. It's ok. I seriously need to repay you-"

"Repay me by giving me your number. So you can send updates."

Wow. He was smooth.

You blushed lightly and nodded before exchanging numbers with him. After that, you bid him goodbye and entered your apartment. You sighed dreamily as you closed the door behind you and locked it. You set your keys on the counter and made your way to the kitchen, where your roommate was still awake.

"So... you got a new man now?" He teased you and smirked at your reaction.

"Shut up, Jongho!"

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

A couple of days later, you found yourself in Doberman Cafe again. Insomnia was being a bitch to you so you woke up way earlier than Jongho. Sighing to yourself, you threw on a hoodie and walked to the coffee shop before looking for the one person you were majorly simping for.

He just so happened to be standing in front of you with a grin on his face.

"Good morning, lovely."

The pet name gave you butterflies.

Yeosang led you to your seat from Friday night and sat down across from you.

"What will it be today?"

"I'll get a caffe mocha with a soymilk substitute and if possible, a slice of that black cherry cake?"

"Ahh. Now with that cake, it only pairs with tea since it's sweet. Unless you have a giant sweet tooth, I'd recommend some of our breakfast sandwiches. Specifically, a roast beef sandwich with a fried egg all on ciabatta bread that's toasted to perfection."

"Ooh! In this case, I'll have that then. And maybe later, when I leave, can I get an iced americano to go?"

"Sure thing, lovely. It'll be $10 by the way. For your order and that iced americano."

You pulled out a $10 bill and gave it to Yeosang before seeing him walk away and do his magic. While you waited, you received a text from Jones.

Jones: Hey. I'd thought I'd stop by and give you the papers myself. Are you home?

You: No. I'm at the Doberman Cafe. I couldn't sleep anymore so I'd figure I'd stop by here and wake myself up.

Jones: Oh? Ok bet. I heard from my wife that the owner is handsome. Maybe I'll see for myself. ;)

You: And I oop -

You: Don't go simping for the barista now, Jones. You're married and he's actually mine fyi

Jones: Can't a man appreciate another man's good looks?

You: Of course you can. Just don't go full on simp mode. XD

Jones: Like you? XD

You: Fuck you <3

Jones: Ew. No thanks <3

You: Hurry with the fuck ass papers, you dickhead.

Jones: Ok ok! XD

"Is that Jones?" Yeosang asked curiously. You would expect the Maltese to be jealous, but since he overheard your conversation two nights away, he wasn't too worried.

"Yeah. He's coming by here to drop off the divorce papers and the necessary documents to file a restraining order." You clarified to him. "I know I said that he'd fax them to me, but I didn't think he would get them that fast. Hence, why he's coming over to drop them off himself."

Yeosang nodded and set your coffee and meal down before sitting next to you. You thanked him and began to eat. You two made small talk and even introduced Yeosang to Jones when Jones came walking in to deliver the papers. Yeosang grabbed a pen and you happily retrieved it from him before signing the papers. After that, Jones put all of those papers away and bid you goodbye before buying a coffee from Yeosang and going home.

A weight lifted off your shoulders and you felt at ease. Yeosang was feeling the same way, especially since he found you attractive.

Little did he know that you felt the same way.

"Now that it has been done, want to turn this little encounter into a date?"

Yeosang was shocked by your boldness but he eventually nodded eagerly.

"I would love nothing more than that."

#mirohsaurorasociety #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader

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practically-an-x-man · 2 months ago

Text

Scars (Eris character study)

Summary:

I'm still burning like a tire fire deep down inside Oh, I'm burning like a tire fire and I don't know why Was I born with a hole in my heart

A fatal fault at the start Tell me it's inevitable that I end up with scars

Or, in which Eris becomes a mentor and is faced with the memory of their own upbringing

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: Emotional angst, violence, strong language, character study, backstory, title from a Crane Wives song

Crossposted on AO3

____

“I need a favor.”

“Do I look like the kind of person who gives out favors?” Eris shot back, vaguely surprised that DuBois would present such an idea. He knew them better than that. Maybe he thought they’d softened in the wake of Corto Maltese.

If that was true at all, it wasn’t true for him. Eris was and would always be a creature of armor and thorns. There was only one man on Earth she’d soften for, and even that came in spilled blood and saltwater tears.

DuBois failed to respond at first, and Eris nearly thought he’d dropped the issue. That would be smart, he thought. He’d have better luck tossing a bottled wish into the ocean, or stepping into a fairy ring and asking his favor of the Unseelie Court.

Then one heavy hand dropped onto Eris’ shoulder, squeezing firmly enough to make his shoulder ache. It wasn’t quite to keep him in place - no man was truly strong enough for that - but perhaps to convey the intensity of emotion he couldn’t otherwise express.

“It’s my daughter.”

That, of all things, did give Eris pause. Much as Rick was the chink in their own armor… they knew Tyla was the chink in his. The sole person on the planet he’d bend for, bleed for, give his life for.

This must have been serious.

“And?”

“I want you to train her. Teach her how to defend herself.”

The thought was so ludicrous that Eris audibly scoffed, and ignored the way it made DuBois’ face darken.

“No, you don’t.” he said, rubbing idly at the rough scars across his hands and wrists, “Your daughter’s, what, sixteen? Give ‘er a can of mace. Put her in Muay Thai. I am not a teacher, Robert. What I could give her isn’t what she needs.”

“You don’t understand.” DuBois replied, and suddenly jerked Eris towards him until she could feel his breath on her neck. His voice fell to a hushed sort of growl, a tone often devoted to secrets and contraband. “Waller is not happy about that drive. And you know how she is with revenge. She’s already sent two cons to my ex-wife’s place. Metahumans. Lucky my daughter don’t live with her mother anymore. And lucky I was there to take care of things. But she’ll find Tyla soon enough, and she’ll do it when she knows I’m not there. You think Muay Thai and pepper spray’s gonna cut it against Waller’s metas?”

“You’d rather put her in the ring with me? You don’t think she’d be worse off?” Eris shot right back, “Train her yourself.”

“She could use some discipline. And you’re the most unkillable fucker I know.”

“I can’t make her heal like I can. That’s not how it works.”

Doubt colored DuBois’ face. They supposed that was fair. After all, with Corto Maltese only six weeks past and Rick already up and walking (slowly, perhaps, but walking nonetheless), rumors had begun to percolate in Eris’ wake. Thus was the price they paid. They’d certainly paid much worse, and for much less.

But he seemed to realize can’t instead meant won’t, or something similar, and he simply shook his head.

“Just teach ‘er to survive. That’s what she needs. She won’t listen to me, Flag’s in no shape for it, and I dunno anyone else who’s got what I need.” he said, and for the first time Eris heard a ribbon of real desperation under his voice. It gave them pause. It gave them… consideration.

DuBois sealed the deal.

“This is my daughter’s life we’re talking about. Isn’t this what your people do? Train women to be Amazons?”

“I have not been an Amazon in a very long time.” Eris hissed, “Themyscira does not want me.”

Finally he shrugged DuBois’ hand off of his shoulder and took a large step back, looking the taller man in the eyes. DuBois didn’t break. He never did.

“But I will keep your daughter alive.”

____

“Adamantia!”

The sudden sweep of a blade. The spurt of blood from her flesh, shining dark like Amazonian wine as it fell to the sand. In reflex, her fingers opened and her training blade fell with it.

The skin knit together far faster than it should have, and left behind it the first of many scars. She would come to realize it had been a necessary wound. She had drawn first blood in a battle that should not have had blood at all, and with it some beast had awoken deep inside her. If not for the wound, and for the arms that grabbed her tight and wrestled her back from her battered opponent, that beast might have raged unchecked.

Even young, barely into her training, she knew this was not the way of the Amazons. This was not the honor and discipline they trained her for. This was not the warrior’s code they instilled in her.

But she took to the blood like a shark, and she couldn’t stop herself.

She refused food on that night, and escaped from her bedroom window once the moon had risen. It was only on the farthest reaches of Themyscira, the rocky cliffs bleached by the endless spray of the ocean, that those new sparks in her chest finally quieted. Even still, she remembered the feel of blood against her fingertips, the satisfying impact of her wooden staff against soft flesh, the vicious joy of victory. She remembered the thrill of the battle, like lightning dancing all across her skin, like any minute her feet would simply lift off the ground and she’d fly, weightless and unstoppable.

Amazons fought for honor, for valor, for justice. Battle was an obligation, a duty, a burden that fell heavy upon their shoulders. Scars were stories, but they were rarely stories of pride.

There on the cliffs, she looked upon her first scar and she did feel pride. Even untrained and clumsy, it had taken a grown warrior to pull her from the battle. In time, she would only grow stronger. She could be Themyscira’s bravest warrior, the one most fit to shoulder their pains. She could grow to make her sisters proud.

Or the beast could rise up and she could raze it all to the ground.

Perhaps she had gained two scars on that day. A mark on the flesh, and a hole in her heart that would never mend.

____

“I’m no teacher. His daughter’s better off with someone else.” Eris hissed, “Anyone else.”

“You’ve taught me.” Rick protested, his eyes on her even as his hands shuffled a deck of cards. The game had long since dissolved, but the cards provided some escape from the restlessness that his recovery had sparked in him. He managed a half-hour walk every day, sometimes more, but this was painfully little compared to his usual routines. “Taught me plenty. The, ah- what was it? The lamsat almawt? ‘N plenty else. Kept me alive.”

“You are a grown man and a soldier. She is a child.”

“Older n’ you were when you started, right?”

“Comparably. But time moves differently on Themyscira. And the traditions are…”

“Different?”

“Ingrained,” Eris finished, “I was a warrior raised by a creed of fellow warriors. The world I knew saw battle as honor, as necessity, and there was no higher status than one who could not be cut down. This world, this- this time, it doesn’t operate that way. The culture I was raised in would crush Tyla.”

“You’re so sure that’s true?” Rick, nearly as much of a contrarian as Eris himself, replied, “DuBois said she’s pretty hardcore.”

“He told me she was ditzy. His words.” she said, “Besides, hardcore might have stood up to my own mentors, but it doesn’t stand up to me. My own people could not stand up to me.”

She found her fingers dancing across her own skin as she spoke, tracing staggered scars until they finally came to the very first. The very oldest. It had been a part of her so long that it was no longer raised or textured, and was barely even a slash of color against her darker skin, but she knew exactly the path it took all the same.

“My first battle- not even a battle, just a children’s sparring session with wooden hafts in place of true swords- they had to cut me away from my opponent. My blood was spilled, and I was dragged away by force. Over nothing more than a… a scuffle.”

Eris abruptly jerked his hand away from the scar, as if burned by the touch, and curled his fingers into the hem of his tunic to keep them from creeping back to it.

“And you know what I’ve become since then.”

Rick was silent for a beat too long. Eris turned and found his eyes on them, following the paths of so many scars across their skin- and yet lingering on one, the same one Eris had lingered on merely a moment before. They couldn’t begin to guess his thoughts. They weren’t sure they wanted to.

“So does DuBois.” Rick finally said, “Still asked you to train her. Doubt he’d trust most people to do that.”

“Trust, or desperation?”

“Probably both.” he said, with a careful shrug, “But he still could’ve asked someone else.”

“I am not. A teacher.”

Their traitorous fingers had found their way back to that scar. The realization, or perhaps the touch itself, made their skin prickle unpleasantly. Eris again snatched their hand away, but not before Rick had drawn a conclusion of his own.

“You’re afraid you’d hurt her.”

“When have I been afraid of anything?”

Rick shifted on the bed, biting down a faint wince as he did, and fixed Eris with eyes that were a hair too intense for the smile he tried to offer them.

“I’m not the person to ask, doll. I’ve got a real answer for you and I know you don’t want to hear it.”

Eris just huffed and shook their head, refusing to call his bluff- because they knew it wasn’t really a bluff. Much as she was loath to admit it, Rick had seen her afraid. He’d seen the battles that grew too close for comfort, the moments of desperation, even the rarer times of mundane fear. He knew more of their heart than anyone else, and that meant he’d grown awfully good at creeping past that shell.

Hell, the scar on his chest was a mark of her fear. Eris had scrawled their emotions on his heart - it was the only reason he was still alive. Much as he didn’t regret his decision, would never regret his decision… rarely did he ever let his emotions go so candidly.

“Why not give ‘er a day? One lesson. Just to see how it goes. If it’s shit… then we’ll know. Tell DuBois to find someone else. But if it’s not, then…” Rick trailed off and gave him another low shrug, “Anyway, I’ll go with you. Just in case.”

“Please, what could you do about it?” Eris fired back, eager for the chance to recover control of the conversation. In case the words weren’t enough, she leaned over the bed and prodded Rick just an inch above the new scar on his chest - not enough to hurt, not enough to cause damage, but plenty a reminder of the state he was in.

“I’m not saying I’d fight you.” Rick said, “Just saying I’d…. y’know, step in.”

His words struck true, and Eris recoiled before she could stop herself. He understood what Rick was implying, of course. Just as much as he understood that it might not work.

Of course, Eris didn’t want to hurt DuBois’ daughter. That was why he’d fought hard to refuse such an offer, and continued to refuse it as the concept continued. And of course, they certainly didn’t want to hurt Rick, least of all when he was still healing, still vulnerable. Rick knew that much, and perhaps that was more than most.

But he didn’t understand that spark within them. He didn’t understand how much effort it took to keep that beast muzzled. He didn’t understand that there was a fire raging deep inside, a fire fueled by blood and pain.

He had been safe from Eris’ blades for years now, and he knew it. At the very least, he’d been safe from her conscious cunning, her focused ferocity. He knew she’d never hurt him by her own hand, in her right mind, of her own choice.

He didn’t know that might not be enough.

They’d have to be careful, then. Very careful. That spark would have to remain contained, for fear of Eris doing something he’d regret.

This would not be like the sparring bouts of his youth. He would not make the same mistake. He would not let that weakness win, when the stakes were so high.

____

She prowled into the mess hall like a lioness back from the hunt, and for the first time she understood the meaning of her name.

Adamantia. The unbreakable. The unconquerable. While her sisters were bruised and limping, hunched over their bowls and wincing at new wounds, she was the pinnacle of health. She’d had pains, yes, but they vanished in wake of the battle. There came that electric thrill again, the instant mending of her wounds, the feeling that she’d conquer the entire world in one fell swoop. The sensation was addictive. For all the bruises, all the blood, the sidelong glances they now threw her way, she couldn’t get enough.

Whispers trailed her as she crossed the room. Daggered eyes were thrown her way with every step. Somehow their rage only sharpened her senses further, until her skin felt charged with lightning.

With every skirmish, the hurricane beneath her flesh only continued to grow and roil. A part of her, as she collected her evening meal with its stew and spiced bread, wanted simply to dive across the serving table and claw at the first person in her way. She wanted to start a fight. She wanted to feel that thrill again.

It wasn’t quite rage. What she felt… it wasn’t anger. These were her sisters, her cousins, the women who raised her. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt them. Or… to hurt anyone.

But it was a need for something, as primal as water and food and air, and she hadn’t yet found a way to fill that need that didn’t end in blood and pain. She’d suffocate under its absence, or starvation would make her desperate.

Either way, she knew she’d never be without it again, whatever it was that festered within her.

Her sisters did not want her at their tables. They turned their backs as she approached, and some even hunched over their bowls as if they feared their meals snatched or poisoned by her hand. Knuckles grew white around their cutlery - for those that did not simply eat with their hands, which was most - in preparation of yet another fight.

So she turned, brought her meal away and prepared for another night spent alone. It was not the first, and she knew it would not be the last. There would be quite a many lonely nights in her future.

As she scoured the halls for a place of relative peace, she passed a cluster of the warriors who trained her. Something within her spoke to keep quiet, to slip by undetected, and so she ducked low and crept through the shadows, allowing her smaller form to be hidden by the weathered walls and potted greenery around her.

“I am worried we gave her the wrong name.”

“Adamantia?”

She froze in place when she heard her name. Something in her knew what came next would scorch her, scorn her, and she prayed her limbs would take her onward before she heard it. But she couldn’t move.

“Yes.”

“Seems fitting enough. She has not yet been conquered in a fight. I’ve begun to wonder if she ever will. She takes to it quickly. She will be a great warrior.”

Her chest swelled with pride, and she allowed herself a hidden smile. It wasn’t quite like the skin-prickling electricity that came from the fight itself, like fruit in place of a candied treat, but it was close enough.

Yet her pride withered in the moment that followed.

“Or a great plague. You have seen her in her training. She simply does not know when to stop, and no lesson will teach her. The battles feed her- she revels in it. She walks away with no wounds. Her anger cleanses her when it should caution her. I worry…”

There came a great sigh. It sounded like a woman’s last breath. From her hidden post, she wondered how she knew that sound without ever having heard it. Perhaps the battle was in her blood, as they said. Perhaps it would never escape her.

“I worry we have not raised an Amazon, but strife itself. I worry another god has descended to us, and if we allow her to rage unchecked… she will leave our home barren.”

What she first felt was protest, bubbling up from deep below. It covered what else should have been there, the fear and the heartbreak, and this was painful as much as it was a relief. It spared her the deeper thoughts, the prickle of tears or any other unpleasant responses, and yet it felt… wrong. It made her fingers twitch and her body thrum, itching for a fight she did not want.

It wasn’t anger, she wanted to say. She loved her sisters. The blood on their faces, the betrayal in their eyes… that hurt her like it would anyone else. Her body may have reveled in the fight, healed her wounds and sprung her onwards, but her heart did not.

She did not want to be a plague. She did not want to ruin her home.

“You want to pull her from training?”

“I think we must. She is strong enough as a child. If she learns what she is capable of, there will be nothing to stop her. If we don’t stop this now, there will be no restraint on Themyscira powerful enough to hold her.”

“But if the gods have indeed sent us…” The name could not seem to draw itself past her mentor’s lips. Even so, she knew what it would be. She had been taught the stories of the gods since the day she was made awake to this world. There came a second sigh, though this one the firm breath of a woman ready for battle. “They must have done so for a reason. Perhaps we have a great storm coming… perhaps her skills in battle are meant to be utilized. If we refuse to train her, and that storm comes to us, Themyscira will die anyway. You know none of our girls have been easy to raise. She is more of a challenge than most, but… it is awfully early to call her a plague.”

“Very well, Hippolyta. If you want so badly to train her, you train her yourself. But I would not have the others hurt for her lack of control. What she grows into is your responsibility.”

Footsteps arose and swept past her hiding spot, and she hunched low for fear of being spotted. Even once all the sounds had faded, she waited through moments of true silence until she was sure she was alone. Balancing her meal carefully between her hands, she crept out from the shadows…

And found herself face-to-face with her mentor.

“We will start tomorrow, Adamantia. On the limestone cliffs.”

She was far too stunned to respond, having greatly overestimated her capacity for stealth compared to her mentor.

Hippolyta spoke to her in the same way she always had, with not a word towards the conversation that had just taken place. Only one thing betrayed her inner thoughts.

That was the last time she’d been called by that name.

From sunrise on, she was strife.

____

“Keep your body in line.” Eris instructed. It came out as more of a snap, but after the first week of training, Tyla had learned not to flinch. “You’re making too many unnecessary movements. Keep your arms in.”

“I’m a dancer. It’s how I balance.”

“Bully for you,” they drawled, “But now you’re a fighter. And fighters keep their arms in. Unless you’d like to pay discount rates on manicures from now on.”

Tyla rolled her eyes, but made a show of tightening up her posture. The past week had granted her bruises aplenty, deep purple against her brown skin. She’d complained ceaselessly over the first three days, before finally realizing those complaints fell on deaf ears. Even Rick refused to coddle her - he hadn’t gone quite as military as Eris had, or as much as they expected given his history with the Squad, but he’d still presented himself as a brick wall against her whining.

The girl was knocked off her feet time and time again. Each time, she got back up. Each time, she lasted a moment or two longer. Each time, her form grew better, and her motions more intentional, and her expression changed from irritation to dedication.

Eris had not yet felt that beast begin to stir. Perhaps his body had learned what made a real fight and what didn’t. Perhaps even his instincts did not see Tyla as a threat. Perhaps, over a thousand years after it had sparked to life, he’d finally learned the restraint his own mentors feared he’d never have.

She’d still become what they’d feared. She’d left before she could ruin Themyscira, but she’d caused more than her share of destruction in this world all the same. If her home ever opened its doors to her again, she knew she’d only be met with the same guarded, fearful expressions that had sent her off.

But they’d learned restraint. At least on some level.

“Have you ever met Wonder Woman?” Tyla asked, the words difficult to make out past her labored breaths. Eris responded with a vicious sweep of her bo, intending to knock the wind out of her, but Tyla reacted quickly enough to block the strike. Better than the first few times. Eris would give her that much. It wasn’t enough to survive one of Waller’s desperate metahumans, but it was a start.

“Fighters don’t chatter either.”

“You chatter.” That remark came not from Tyla but from Rick, who was watching from the sidelines with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked better today, a bit more color in his face and a bit more brightness in his eyes, and Eris wondered briefly whether that was the sunny day or the sparring session. If he’d given his regeneration to Rick, at least in some part, had he also given a piece of that spark? Was he stronger for watching the fight, even when Eris’ own sense told him it was hardly a fight at all?

“I have done this for a thousand years. I’ve earned my chatter.”

Maybe it was the banter Rick drew today’s strength from, and not the sparring. If that was true, he hardly needed Eris’ spark for that. That was how he’d always been.

“But do you know her?” Tyla persisted, even as it earned her a fresh volley of blows. These she did not all succeed in blocking, but she at least remained on her feet.

“‘Do I know her?’ and ‘have I met her?’ are two very different questions.”

“You grew up together, right? She’s, like, your sister?”

“No. She came after. They did not let me near her when she was young, and by the time she grew old enough to begin her training, I had already left.” Eris obliged her with that much of a response, something of a reward for remaining on her feet this long, then gave Tyla a brisk shake of their head, “We’ve had sparse interactions since then. Enough chatter.”

Tyla worked up the bravado for a strike of her own; weak and easily parried, but at least better than remaining strictly on the defensive. She had potential, Eris thought. She’d never be the world’s strongest warrior by any means, but she might just keep herself alive. With the proper training, of course, and the proper tenacity.

“Who trained you?”

“A warrior named Hippolyta.”

“Was she your mother?”

“I have no mother.” Eris responded, but the words left something of a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried again. “She was my mentor. Among others. That’s the closest I had. My people are not born to mothers.”

“Then how were you born?”

“From the clay. My soul was imbued to me by the gods.” she said, vaguely aware that she was revealing too much but choosing not to stop herself now. If nothing else, she could name it a distraction, an attempt to waver Tyla’s focus. “Many are given the souls of the battered and mistreated, so that they could find the honor and strength they’d lost. I was given… something else.”

From the corner of their eye, they were aware that Rick’s posture had shifted. He’d leaned in, as if to catch the words, and his expression was curious in a way that Eris had only rarely seen. They shrugged it off. They’d assumed, from all his work with metahumans, that he’d heard the legends of how the Amazons were born. But maybe he hadn’t. Or maybe he was just surprised to hear the story from her own lips.

“What else?”

There was the line Eris would not cross. He’d already let the conversation go on too long. If Tyla truly wanted to know, she would guess it from his name.

Once again, Eris swept his student’s feet out from under her, and she hit the packed earth beneath her with a grunt. This time, the determination on her face had faded into pure exhaustion, and she did not move to stand back up.

“I’m done. I can’t do this.”

Eris tensed for barely a millisecond, finding a way to play this. For all Tyla’s whining, all her endless complaints and distractions, this was the first she’d outright thrown in the towel. That showed some level of tenacity, but it wasn’t enough. She still could hardly hold her own in even the simplest sparring match.

Then their posture loosened. Eris dropped his own bo and listened to it clatter against the girl’s own fallen weapon, then extended a hand in offering.

“I’ll give you ten minutes.”

Tyla reached for her hand- and, with a flash of sudden silver, snatched it right back to her chest.

The cut was clean and shallow, more symbolic than anything. A clean slash across the palm, an offering in blood. Eris flicked the blood off his blade, a slender dagger hardly as long as his pinky finger, and briskly returned it to its hiding place amidst his folds of clothing. Without bending down, he rolled his bo onto the opposite foot and kicked it up to his hands.

“The only way you decide a fight is done is when you win it.” she hissed, brandishing her weapon, “You think your enemy will let you take a break? You think you can pick and choose your battles in this life?”

“You cut me.”

“Waller’s metahumans would do worse. Will do worse. They will not give you a break, they will not give you a truce, and they will not care that you’re a child. Waller has bombs in their heads, and they’re the kind of people who will always put their own lives before anyone else’s.” Eris snarled, “So you put your life first. You do not get to choose what life puts you through. Your only job on this Earth is to survive it. Do you understand?”

For the first time since the training began, that fire again rose in the back of Eris’ chest. She could sense Tyla’s hatred with her, her determination to succeed reborn in a new and crueler form, and steely sparks flashed across Eris’ skin in response to it. A part of them was wary, concerned that a true battle might grow unchecked, but this was a smaller part than he expected.

It was Hippolyta’s voice that he spoke. That gave him strength - an inward strength, one he seldom found within himself.

“Do you understand?”

Tyla nodded.

It wasn’t enough.

“Your father asked me to train you because he wants you to survive.” Eris continued, “He asked the embodiment of conflict to teach your prissy ass to fight because the only thing he cares about is for you to survive. So you will survive. The only option you have is to survive. You do not get to quit a fight because you’re tired or you’re hurt or you want to take a break. The only fight that exists is a fight for survival, and that is a fight you do not quit. Do you understand?”

Tyla’s eyes dropped, her posture hunched around her bleeding hand. From the blurred edge of his vision, Eris saw Rick take a half-step closer. They held up a hand, and he froze. This was no lapse in control. This was a lesson that needed teaching. It was a lesson that couldn’t be taught without a little spilled blood.

“I understand.” the girl finally mumbled, still refusing to meet Eris’ eyes.

“We go again. We aren’t finished until the sun touches the ground, or I do.”

Tyla nodded once again. This time there was acceptance in the gesture, and the same glimmer of fiery drive simmering beneath the surface. That fire was what she needed, more than any techniques or weapons. The raw skills would allow her to hold her own, in time. The fire was what would turn the tides.

Eris extended the same hand to her, a thin pale ribbon of a scar nearly hidden against the lines of his palm.

Tyla took a deep breath, apparently granting herself one more moment of rest. Eris decided to allow her that much. They’d consider it a small mercy, for the purposes of training.

She twisted abruptly, raising a storm of dust and kicking at his knees so suddenly Eris felt something pop. He toppled, out of surprise more than pain, and Tyla was on her feet in the time it took him to reset his knee and return to his own. She had failed to retrieve her weapon, but her fists were raised high and her eyes were steely.

It was a start.

#my writing #my ocs #oc eris #character study #emotional angst #kind of a sequel to let us prey in a way?

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