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luvnami · 3 years

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𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 (here) | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This is my entry for @jjkmag Summer Collab! It’s my first long fic in a while but I had a lot of fun writing this (that isn’t to say I think it’s very good. I hope the plot/finality was pulled off decently ok lol). I hope you enjoy it! I chose the prompt 'coming of age', though there are definitely scenes where the other prompts were present as well. Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife @amjustagirl @aliteama

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Bullying, Mild Racism (only in the first part), Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6.4k

The first memory Nanami has of you sits in a blurry haze at the back of his mind.

You’re probably four or five years old at best, squatting by a puddle in the empty kindergarten playground. Nanami wonders what made him waddle over to you that warm afternoon.

His shoes, scribbled with ugly caricatures in marker, carry him to the other side of the puddle. A shadow cast by a plastic slide slices your features neatly in half like a Greek theatre mask. Nanami doesn’t speak a word to you as he stares at your chubby fingers that push a fallen leaf around in the water as the surface ripples silently.

You look up at Nanami. He’s an odd child, excluded by the other kindergarteners because of how quiet and strange he is. Nanami’s blond hair is abnormal to the immature local Japanese children. They knee the back of his legs while calling him names like ‘banana-gaijin!’ and making fun of his fancy leather shoes.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

Nanami wonders if the words you speak to him are from your heart or something constructed from a plan to bully him again.

“My mama taught me how to make boats with leaves. See?” You point to the puddle. “We can race them.”

Nanami carefully selects a leaf off of the playground’s floor. It’s still green, freshly fallen from its branch. You grin toothily, your eyes sparkling.

“That’s a perfect leaf!” you declare.

Nanami thinks he wants to play with you forever.

He follows you around in school like a lost puppy after that, clutching his hands nervously when you stand up to the children who bully him. Nanami wonders if you’ll ever turn your back on him. He arrives earlier than you every morning and hurriedly scrubs at your table with his handkerchief to get rid of nasty words and obscene drawings, heart thumping against his cotton polo. When his mother asks him why his new handkerchief is so dirty, he remains silent and grips the hem of his shirt tightly.

Children are children; Nanami learns. Afraid of abnormalities, they defend their right to innocence and ego with harsh words and various schemes. He learns to ignore the whispers behind his back. What he can’t disregard, though, is when they lash out at you.

They jeer when you trip during P.E. classes and bump into you on purpose when you carry your lunch tray. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Nanami holds your hand gently and leads you to the nurse’s office with scraped knees, hiccuping and swiping at your eyes roughly.

He wonders why you don’t take the easy way out and just stop being friends with him. What’s wrong with you? You hold him tightly, a bundle of thorns, in your soft hands and pretend that you’re not bleeding.

“Ken-chan?” you sniffle.

He turns.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Nanami gulps. He doesn’t question why you cry on graduation day, bidding your final farewell to him with vague promises of meeting in the same elementary school. Something in his chest doesn’t sit right; the kind of feeling when his mother threw out his old stuffed toys after she deemed him too old for them anymore.

He watches you grow smaller and smaller in the rear window of his family car till you’re the size of an ant, his knees digging into the leather seats.

“Sit down, Kento,” his father chides.

Nanami ignores him. He watches you wave your hand in the air as the car turns around the corner and lurches into the seat.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s genuinely surprised when he finds out that his assigned seat is right next to you on the first day of elementary school. You’re no different, mouth wide open in an ‘o’ as you stare at him.“Ken-chan!”

You almost yell, and Nanami shushes you as his face heats up. He finds out that your mothers had conspired to put the both of you into the same school. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet, but peace settles into his chest the same way the wings of a bird return to its sides after flight when you giggle at his flustered expression.

Through nine years of elementary and junior high school together, Nanami learns that you always arrange the tips of your pencils to face the right side of your pencil box, and you keep the torn bits of movie tickets shoved into your bedside drawer. You find that Nanami has a knack for dry humour — he’s blunt at every moment possible (which caused much distress after he talked back to a teacher that one time) and can usually be bribed for any favour as long as you pay him in food.

What the both of you find oddly shocking, though, is that no one else can see the creatures that swim through walls and perch in dark corners of the school.

They make you sweat whenever they get too close, bulbous eyes and strange bodies twisting in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible. Sometimes they make noises, whispering or coaxing or shrieking or crying in broken sentences.

Nanami learns to treat them as background noise. You, on the other hand, find that a little more complicated. Sometimes you latch onto him when one brushes against your arm, squeaking and swatting at them in an attempt to chase them away.

“They’re so gross!” you’d whine, pressing yourself even closer to Nanami. “Did you see that one in the gym yesterday? It had tentacles!”

In cases like this, the blond clears his throat and ignores you, averting his gaze. He doesn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that the warmth of your skin through your uniform makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve grown so close to him that you even know that Nanami sleeps with Doraemon pajamas (absolutely, abhorrently embarrassing. He made his mother throw them out the night after you came over for a sleepover). It was inevitable for him to develop feelings.

Nanami shoves his feelings below a lid and sits on top of it, keeping them under lock and key. He’s sure this is just something to do with puppy love or ‘infatuations’ that are underlined in the puberty print-outs the school distributed, alongside scientific diagrams of genitals that the boys in his class giggle at.

Being friends is enough. Or so he thinks, anyway.

☆*: .｡.

It’s a Friday evening when the sky is dark, and street lights flicker in the distance. Nanami munches away on melon bread from a convenience store while you sip on a carton of juice. Your clubs had ended late today, so the sun was down by the time you left school.

“How’s the bread?” you ask, slurping up the last drops of your drink.

Nanami chews and swallows while you dab at your mouth with a yellow cotton handkerchief.

“It’s okay. Not as good as a bakery’s, though. Kinda stale.”

He crumples the plastic packaging in his hand and sticks it into his pocket, planning to dispose of it later. The both of you round the corner to the bus stop, and your feet fall still. A large curse sits in the middle of the road.

Numerous cars are crumpled like drink cans, smoke, and gasoline leaking onto the streets. There’s blood. Too much blood, in fact, that they seem like puddles of rain on the dark tarmac. Your juice box drops from your hand.

The curse turns to you, its teeth split vertically down the centre of what constitutes a face. Multiple eyes run down the length of its engorged body where various hands and feet stick out at random parts.

“Blood… Blood…” it moans in a cryptic voice.

Nanami stands with his feet frozen to the ground, eyes wide in horror. His knuckles turn white as he grips his school bag. Run, run, run! He screams internally, but his limbs don’t listen to him. The curse slides over the road towards him, slipping through the blood easily.

“Give me… Your blood…”

A part of the curse’s body bubbles up into a large hand. It swings itself back before throwing its newly created appendage towards Nanami. RUN RUN RUN! His legs don’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the impact. Except that it doesn’t hit him. Nothing hurts, except the shrill scream that pierces his ears. Nanami’s eyes snap open in horror.

“Kento!” you yell, dangling upside down as the curse pulls you towards its mouth.

Your school bag lays on the ground below, books scattered as their pages turn red.

“Run!”

Nanami drops everything as he scrambles towards you, tripping over his own two feet and landing face-first in the blood. His hands and knees sting. He shoves himself and gets up with his teeth clenched. You kick your feet in the air in a poor attempt to escape the curse’s grip but to no avail. Another groan is squeezed out of you as the curse opens its mouth, the foul stench of rotting bodies engulfing you.

“Run, Kento!” you plead.

How can he turn his back on you? Sweat drips down his forehead as Nanami pulls his hand back. The adrenaline that rushes through his blood clears in a split-second moment of raw emotion; anger, disappointment, confusion, sadness. A tingling sort of energy floods his body, and Nanami takes a sharp breath of air. He sees something like a ruler — a line divided equally with ten markings, the seventh one crossed out. His fist connects with it.

The curse lets out a weak moan of pain, shaking you around as it recoils from Nanami’s hit. It’s not much, just a surface injury at most. Nanami’s limbs tremble with exertion. One more time, again and again, until you’re safe-

A thick, gross liquid engulfs Nanami as the curse explodes in front of his very eyes. He coughs, running a slimy hand over his face. It smells like death.

“Woah! You put too much into that again, Satoru.”

“Shut up!”

Nanami looks up as he hears footsteps move towards him, the quiet splashing of blood beneath shoes.

“Ugh, this place is so gross.”

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Nanami looks up to find a male with his hair pulled back into a bun staring at him. Behind him is a white-haired teenager with sunglasses (strange, hasn’t the sun already gone down?) and an imposing-looking man.

Where are you?

Nanami glances around frantically amidst the dead bodies that lie on the ground. Not you, not you, not- A tiny sliver of hope slips into his heart when he spots your uniform, and he stumbles over.

“Woah! Slow down!”

He calls out your name, slipping and collapsing onto his knees. Your eyes are closed, and a wound on your head oozes blood. A young girl with short hair reaches out to touch you, but Nanami pulls you into his chest, his eyes wide.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

His head spins. Are these good people? How did they just destroy that big monster? He hadn’t even seen them coming. Were they going to hurt you?

“Calm down, man! We’re good guys.”

“No one’s going to trust you when you say that, Satoru.”

The girl stares at Nanami.

“I’ll take care of your injuries. Can you let me see them, please?”

He relaxes. His grip on you loosens, and the girl feels for your pulse, nodding in affirmation.

“Alive.”

Nanami breathes a sigh of relief. At this realisation, his body begins to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He digs his nails into his palms but still they quiver. His heart pounds in his chest and he struggles to take a deep breath, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Hey, you okay?”

His eyes fall shut.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami finds out over a hot cup of tea that those monsters are called curses, and not everyone can see them.

“Lucky you!” Gojo chimes in.

Lucky? His face wrinkles in despair and Getou laughs so loud at his reaction that he has to step out of the room.

Nanami had sustained minor injuries — nothing beyond a few scrapes and some trauma. You were fine for the most part. After hitting your head on the ground, you remained unconscious for a few more days after Nanami had woken up. You were covered in a few bruises, but otherwise alright.

Nanami was infinitely thankful for that

Yaga tells him that he has enough aptitude to become a full-fledged sorcerer. The school he teaches at is called Jujutsu High and is located on the outskirts of Tokyo. Since he’s in his final year of junior high, why not give it a thought if he wants to join them? Nanami holds Yaga’s name card numbly.

He looks up at Yaga, only one objective clear in his mind. He doesn’t want to see you hurt any longer.

“Will you teach me how to exorcise curses?” he asks.

Gojo laughs outrightly and Geto snorts. Yaga gives him a confident smile, clapping Nanami on the shoulder (he doesn’t quite like that, but he overlooks it for now).

“You can count on that.”

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s a little apprehensive about entering Jujutsu High, especially when you decide to enrol as well. Given the ability to see curses, you were adamant about learning to help others with this ability you were gifted with. He relented and sulked for the rest of the day until you gave him a cup of pudding.

The first day Nanami and you enter Jujutsu Tech, you meet a wide-eyed boy named Haibara Yu. He’s overly optimistic and passionate — precisely the kind of person that Nanami tires of interacting with. In fact, the very first thing Haibara says upon meeting the both of you irritates him.

“Woah! Blondie, are you from an emo band or something? Your hair really matches the vibe!” Haibara had gasped.

You struggled to suppress your giggles, biting on your lower lip as you turned to the side. Nanami, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“No, I’m not. Nice to meet you too,” he replied monotonously.

It takes all of the following month for Nanami to get used to Haibara’s eccentricities. He always does his best during training, mingles enthusiastically with the upperclassmen and chows down on at least two bowls of rice during break time. The most annoying part about him is how Haibara seems to get along so well with you.

You laugh too loudly for Nanami’s liking at his jokes, squeeze in between Haibara and him (brushing shoulders with the both of them! Seriously!) when they’re standing together just to listen in on Haibara’s monologuing, and sometimes even end up sparring with him instead of Nanami.

The blond curses that there is an odd number of first years and peers in the mirror after his shower as he wonders what he would look like with a black bowl cut. He even tries to finish more than one serving of ginger pork on one particular day and gets sent to the school nurse for a tummy ache.

Though, the three of you have chemistry that works out when fighting curses. Nanami is the primary damage dealer of the group, while you learn how to provide support with Haibara and create openings for Nanami to attack. So on your first ‘real group mission’ assigned to you by Yaga, you can’t help but set off with overflowing excitement.

It isn’t often that you have the opportunity to step outside of Jujutsu High on your own without supervision. Even on weekends, you’re usually expected to train or study. The sun shines warmly down upon the streets of Asakusa, and tourists and locals alike swarm the city area.

“Hey! We should totally give Sensou-ji Temple a visit later!” Haibara suggests, pumping his fist in the air.

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Nanami sighs.

“That’s what you said the last time we went to Okinawa, and guess what, Nanamin! We didn’t even get to try their sushi!”

“Yeah, and you forgot to bring back souvenirs for me, Ken-chan,” you chime in.

“I told you to stop adding -chan to my name.”

“Why not? Doesn’t it sound cute?”

“Mhm!”

Haibara nods furiously. Nanami ignores the both of you with a sigh. He slings a bag containing his sword over his shoulder once more as the crowd barely makes space for you to move through.

“We can’t take too long,” he relents.

The cheers and high-fives that you and Haibara give each other make a vein bulge on Nanami’s temple. He tries not to read too much into the way you immediately begin discussing what places to visit and eat at with Haibara — didn’t you care for his opinion? He shakes his head and increases his pace, leaving the both of you behind.

Nanami ignores the cries of ‘Ken-chan!’ and ‘Nanamin!’ that ring out through the crowd. Whatever. If you want to be with Haibara, then Nanami will gladly get out of the way for you. He drags his feet on the pavement and settles for a cup of iced tea in a nearby cafe gloomily.

What Nanami is doing is… childish. He knows, at the very least, that he should be happy the both of you have met a nice new friend. But he can’t help the jealousy that rises in his chest like smoke in a chimney when he sees you cling onto Haibara the same way you used to do to him.

Was Haibara nicer, more good-looking, stronger, funnier, gentler, better than every single trait in Nanami combined? You no longer ask Nanami how he slept the previous night, instead running over to Haibara and greeting him cheerily. Forget about how you used to come over to Nanami’s house to study after school — you and Haibara disappear to who knows where after training everyday.

He bites down on his straw. The bitter taste of a lemon seed fills his mouth and Nanami spits it out onto a napkin with more force than necessary. He takes a deep breath. He should make things clear to you, then, and let you know how he feels about you. To him, it sounds a little like love.

Nanami’s face flushes with embarrassment. Love is… Love isn’t this. It definitely isn’t getting jealous over your relationships with other people, nor is it forcing you to accept his feelings out of spite. He finishes the last bit of his iced tea, the straw making a gurgling noise as it fails to suck up any more liquid. He leaves his money by the counter and walks back outside, returning his heart back to its safe, clicking the lock shut once more. His shoulders sag as he lets out a pent-up sigh.

Nanami squints at his phone. The golden sunlight makes it difficult to read his messages, but he manages to pick out four missed calls from you and a hundred text messages from Haibara. His blood runs cold when he scrolls to the last text that he received.

Haibara Yu, 4.25p.m.: curse help 6 cho

It’s currently 4.35p.m. 6-chome is a 15 minutes walk away, five minutes if he sprints fast enough. Nanami hopes that you’re okay, that Haibara has enough sense to call for other back-up or avoid the curse.

Nanami’s feet pound under him as he shoves his way through the crowds, earning distasteful looks and swears. He doesn’t care. Not when you and Haibara are facing a possible grade 2 curse alone, and not when it’s because of Nanami’s irresponsibility and useless emotions that had caused the three of you to be separated.

His breath comes quick and hard and his thighs burn, screaming for relief. He makes a sharp turn and almost crashes into a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” an angry housewife yells, but her words fall on deaf ears.

Just a little more, he begs.

Nanami hears the fighting before he sees it. The sound of metal meeting metal and the roar of the curse sound uncharacteristically comforting to him as he draws his sword, racing to bear a fighting stance.

But he’s too late.

“Yu!” you cry out as Haibara crumples onto the ground.

His eyes meet Nanami’s. His uniform is tattered, face bearing wounds and his right arm is bent at an unnatural shape, almost like a knotted tree branch. You seem relatively unhurt, although your breathing is laboured.

“Kento,” Haibara wheezes.

Nanami’s feet don’t move. His chest heaves, perspiration pouring down his face and drenching his uniform. The grip on his sword slips ever so slightly. The curse stands at the end of a ruined district. You aren’t trained to fight in such close quarters, or reduce the number of casualties to a bare minimum.

And Nanami hadn’t been here to provide damage to exorcise it.

“Who are you? Another small fry?” the curse scoffs.

It takes the body of a geisha, dressed in luxurious robes that whip about in the air. Consciousness? This isn’t a grade 2 by any means — it’s a special grade curse. The will to fight slips out of Nanami like water from a cup, trickling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

“Haibara!” Nanami shouts.

The male gives Nanami one last smile from where he is.

“You’ve got it from here,” he whispers, lips barely moving.

The geisha stretches out its hand, a portion of its obi moving along with it. You and Nanami watch in horror as Haibara’s head is neatly decapitated from his body. His blood drips off of the ends of the robes as the curse cackles, his head rolling to a stop as his half-closed eyes stare up at Nanami like a dead fish’s.

“You think you can beat me? Look at your little friend!”

Fury rushes into Nanami like a wave meeting the shore.

“You’ll die here by my hands!” the curse roars.

You take a step back as the geisha prepares to launch another attack, silk sashes drawn back into the sky before they plunge back at you two in an aerial attack. Nanami leaps through the attacks as his body moves faster than he can process it.

You, on the other hand, create a shield out of cursed energy to try and deflect the attacks. At the very least, Haibara deserves a proper burial. There isn’t time for mourning now, and you have to wipe away the tears that pool in your eyes. You try to ignore the way his head rolls closer to your foot and bumps against it gently.

Nanami lets out a yell of anger. His cursed energy swells as he cuts his way through the sashes, movement based on momentum than anything else at this point. His mind is clouded with regret and frustration. Nanami channels his anger into his sword, the ten destined lines appearing before his eyes once more.

The curse lets out a cry of pain as it stumbles back, sashes redrawn as it tries to gauge its wounds. Blood gushes from a slash on its side and Nanami darts forward again — again, again, again, until its dead. His legs, however, are weaker than what he thinks they can bear. Nanami stumbles in his step.

“Ken!” you shout.

The curse grins. It takes little to no time to regenerate, skin overlapping raw flesh as it gets back onto its feet.

“You’re weak,” it taunts. “First your friend, now you. I’ll be sure to savour the last one as well!”

Nanami struggles to get back onto his feet. He gasps, heart ripping a hole through his chest. He’s so exhausted; so worn out, that his arms refuse to raise his sword above chest height. He curses.

You run over to Nanami, grabbing his uniform and dragging him back. The curse starts to chant ominously. Its face turns dark, taking steps that sway its body with thick, lacquered geta. You shove Nanami back as you’re engulfed by its domain, swallowed up by darkness and spit into a tatami room. He barely has time to call your name before you disappear.

“Shit!”

Nanami stumbles back onto his feet, but sinks down onto his knees again. His shoulders quake as he tries to suck in breaths of air, but his throat is too dry. He coughs and adjusts his grip on his sword. Shit, shit, shit. All of his partners tossed themselves at death as if it was an idle thing just to protect him. What was Nanami doing? He would never become a sorcerer like this, never be able to protect you.

He grits his teeth. He’ll never be enough.

Nanami picks up his sword, wrapping his fingers around its hilt one more time. He dashes towards the domain, tasting iron as he hacks and slashes at it. Again, again, and again. His hands turn numb and his cursed energy flickers like a candle’s flame, but there’s one thing Nanami’s insistent on — getting you out of there.

The domain finally collapses as Nanami finally steadies himself on his feet. You roll to the ground, breath shallow. Your uniform is sliced up in different areas and a pool of blood begins to spread where your head meets the floor.

“Ken…?” you whisper.

Nanami smells it — the scent of death. Why did he ever choose to become a sorcerer over an ordinary high school life? He wouldn’t have dragged you into this mess, caused you to be hurt time and time again. Nanami calls out your name tentatively. You don’t respond.

The curse roars with laughter as your eyes fall shut, “Don’t you see how I’m so strong? You’re nothing compared to me-”

Nanami sees red. He launches himself forward, brandishing his sword even if it’s for the last time.

He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards.

Nanami sinks into a pool of blood, head spinning with exertion. Your body lays to his left, Haibara’s head to his right. He collapses to the ground.

☆*: .｡.

When he comes to, Nanami’s eyes struggle to adjust to the white light that floods the room. It smells vaguely like antiseptic. He slowly sits up, body aching with exhaustion with telltale bandages wrapped around most of his exposed limbs.

A drawn curtain separates his bed from the rest of the room, which he assumes to be Jujutsu Tech’s sickbay. He runs a hand over his face and lies back down, letting sleep take him by the hand and lead him a step further from reality.

Nanami wakes up a second time when Shouko returns to the room. He stares at her, blinking once, then twice.

“Nanami?” she asks softly. “Can you hear me?”

He tries to reply, but his throat is parched. He ends up coughing, wrinkling his face as pain spreads through his ribs. Shouko rushes to get him a glass of water and calls the rest (namely Yaga and Gojo) over. Nanami nurses the glass as Yaga takes a seat by his bed.

There are no questions, only condolences and murmured explanations of what had happened. The only thing Nanami picks up is that you’re alive. That’s more than enough for him to relax, nodding dumbly along to Yaga’s words.

The curse had been on the brink of death when Nanami collapsed. However, he had put up enough of a fight for nearby sorcerers to come to his aid and finish it off. There was no doubt about it — it was a special grade curse. Yaga apologises for the miscommunication and loss of Haibara’s life. Nanami doesn’t reply.

No amount of apologies could turn back time and bring Haibara back.

It takes him a few more days before Nanami’s able to hobble around the school, aided by crutches. Gojo pokes fun at how he seems like a grandpa but even his jokes don’t bear the mean edge they usually do. Getou leaves a can of vending machine coffee by his bedside table and Shouko brings him some wildflowers. Nanami leaves the plush cat Yaga had made for him untouched.

Nanami struggles against the nightmares that plague him. In one Haibara cradles his decapitated head in his own arms, asking Nanami why he hadn’t saved his life; in another you die, guts spilling onto the streets with your eyes bulging from your skull. Nanami wakes up in cold sweat. He calms his breathing alone and doesn’t sleep a single wink.

It’s a rainy day when Shouko lets him enter the morgue. Haibara’s body is laid in a shroud of white, his head positioned to appear attached. Had he ever been so pale? Nanami’s fingers grip his crutches, gritting his teeth.

How long his eyelashes had been! A small scar runs down his left temple (“After my sister shoved me in the playground!” Haibara had chirped), and his bangs remain as perfectly cut as they had been when he died. Nanami half expects him to sit up, to grin and laugh at his twisted face.

“Why’re you so stiff, Nanami? It’s just a joke!”

Justajokejustajokejustajoke.

A chasm opens up in Nanami’s stomach. His crutches clatter to the floor as he races out of the morgue, stumbling when pain shoots up his right leg. He retches dryly and tears pool in his eyes. Shouko silently covers Haibara and closes the door, Nanami’s tears falling alongside the pouring rain.

That night in his dreams, Haibara slices Nanami’s head off. He wakes up with his heart racing and tears slipping down his cheeks.

Nanami visits you the next day. He had been reluctant to do so — what if you blamed him for everything, for Haibara’s death and your injuries? He wouldn’t be able to bear it, to be hated by you. His hand hovers over your dorm doorknob, hesitating. Nanami takes a deep breath as he swallows his anxiety and opens the door.

It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

You sit on your bed, neatly tucked under the covers with a book sitting on your lap. Warm sunshine pours through the open windows and the penguin plush Nanami had won for you at a festival still sits by your desk. You look up when he walks in.

Nanami calls out your name. You stare at him.

“Sorry, but… Who are you?” you ask quietly, a sense of confusion lacing your words.

He stops by the door and Nanami’s heart sinks to his feet.

“I’m Kento. Nanami Kento,” he repeats, words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Checkered curtains flutter in the wind and the pages of your book butterfly open to an unread chapter. You keep your eyes focused on Nanami, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you reply.

☆*: .｡.

A toxic mix of trauma and a severe head injury had caused your amnesia. Nanami lays in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. If only he hadn’t let his emotions overtake him, if only he had been there a minute earlier, if only if only if only. Regret dulls his sense of taste and emotions. He no longer takes joy in eating anything (even those croissants Getou had bought while out on a mission), nor does he even crack a smile at Gojo’s antics.

Nanami returns to training once he is physically well again. He becomes the only first-year to attend Yaga’s classes, sparring practice conducted with the second years. He goes out on missions alone and learns to provide both defense and offense for himself. Nanami trains, he exercises curses, he returns to school. He repeats this same cycle mindlessly over and over again.

Time heals, they say. Nanami wonders how much time it must take for him to let go of everything.

Nanami learns to hide his disappointment. His face becomes a strong facade for whatever his weak heart truly feels. The quiet sigh he lets out when no one’s around, the stretching of his neck after yet another fruitless day of training — Nanami decides that he’ll leave the world of sorcery once he’s graduated.

Seasons change and Nanami becomes a second year, then a third year. Getou falls away. The seniors graduate and new freshmen enter the school. Nanami keeps these things in the back of his mind as he raises his sword for a countless time, striking the training doll with ease.

You work with Shouko in the infirmary, occasionally helping out with office work. The school had deemed it better to keep you under their care than to release you outside. Like a rehabilitated animal, Nanami thinks.

You still remember no memories of him. Nanami brings you sweets and souvenirs from his missions, letting you trace your fingers over the fancy packaging with a sparkle in your eye. At this, Nanami swallows back his confession of love once more. He can’t bear to burden you with his feelings.

You form new impressions of him. Nanami turns into the stone-faced and adorable boy who treats you like fine China, always sticking his hands out awkwardly when he tries to give you something. The tips of his ears burn red when he lies — especially when you ask him, “Nanami, did you buy this for me?” and he shakes his head furiously.

You think he’s kind. He comforts you when you cry over lost memories, unable to remember the faces in photographs that had once been so familiar. The first thing Nanami does after returning from a mission is to rush to you. Were you okay? Did you have your meals? One time, he came over without getting his injuries checked and collapsed by your feet. You scolded him after that, tenderly dressing his wounds.

“Nanami!” you said crossly, a pout on your face.

He tries to forget how he had asked you to stop calling him ‘Ken-chan’. He ducks his head, hissing when you douse his skin in antiseptic.

Some things don’t change, though. You still keep your pencil box immaculately neat — the tips of your stationery always pointing to the right side. Though you don’t have any more movie ticket stubs, you carefully clip the pictures of your childhood Nanami had given to you together and keep them under your pillow.

One day, you munch on a yummy biscuit Nanami brought back for you. He sits on the floor and polishes his sword, peering at it from every angle to make sure it’s evenly oiled.

“Nanami?”

He hums.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re from an emo boy band? Your hair matches it.”

Your shy laugh rings out in the room as bile rises in Nanami’s throat. He sheathes his sword and lays it on the ground.

“Yes, they have.”

He struggles to smile, his gut twisting.

☆*: .｡.

On graduation day, no one else but Nanami receives his certificate with a flower corsage pinned to his chest. The room is empty save for him and Yaga, the chirping of spring birds breaking the silence.

“I’m glad to have been able to teach you, Nanami,” Yaga broods. “You’ve grown a lot.”

Nanami does not reply. He bows deeply and strides out of the main building. All of a sudden, the traditional architecture and nature that surround Jujutsu High seems stifling. His skin crawls with the urge to leave as soon as possible.

“Nanamin!”

He jumps. Turning around, he finds you grinning happily with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Congratulations on your graduation!” you chirp.

Nanami accepts the flowers awkwardly and rests them in the crook of his elbow, his other hand clutching his certificate. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees and a wave of sakura petals descend from their branches like rain.

“Nanamin,” your voice grows softer. “Are you leaving forever?”

He swallows, then nods wordlessly.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I wanna be with you forever, Ken-chan!” you wailed.

“Forever’s a long time,” Nanami replied.

He handed you his yellow cotton handkerchief, face wrinkling when you honked your nose into it. Gross. His neck hurt from sticking it out of the car window. He can hear his father tapping a finger onto the wheel impatiently, his mother silent as she stares out the front.

“B-but!”

Your bottom lip quivered and Nanami let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Really, Ken-chan? Forever?”

“Yeah, really. Forever.”

You grinned in the waning sunlight as your mother tugged you away.

“I’ll never forget you, Ken-chan!” you shouted.

The car window rolled up and he watched you disappear into the horizon, turning as tiny as an ant.

Nanami swallows his heart into the pit of his stomach.

“Probably.”

“That’s not a definitive answer, Nanamin.”

“What do you want me to tell you, then?”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice. The plastic wrapping of the flowers crinkle under his grip and waves of emotions rush over him; the biggest out of all of them regret. He struggles to breathe underwater, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and nose plugged up. A sakura petal lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t bother brushing it away.

“Say,” you whisper, taking a step to close the distance between Nanami and you.

He gulps as you place a hand upon his chest. He can feel the heat of your skin through his uniform and Nanami’s too dumbstruck to respond.

“Why don’t you give me your second button?”

Your eyes meet his. A smile toys with the corners of his lips and suddenly Nanami blurts out a nervous “Okay.”. His mind flickers back to Haibara momentarily; how you had appeared to like him so much back then. But he chooses to shove those memories into the back of his mind once more as you produce a small pair of scissors and snip the thread.

“You always take care of me, Nanamin. It was natural of me to fall in love with you,” you breathe, cradling the swirl patterned button in your hands.

A gust of cool air slips into his unbuttoned shirt and Nanami’s breath hitches.

“Do you like me too?”

Your question is innocent. With the way you peer up at him, there’s no way that Nanami can lie. Your glittery eyes were the same ones he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He wonders if he still loves you in the same way as he did then; as faultless and innocent it had been. His heart sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges as you smile, an evident sigh of relief escaping your lips. You slip the button into your pocket before tugging Nanami even closer towards you. He yelps as your chest presses against his and the tips of his ears turn red.

You plant your lips by the side of his.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk fic #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #nanami kento fic #nanami x reader #nanami angst #nanami fluff #nanami fic #jjk nanami #jjkmagsummer

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wendy130 · 3 years

Note

Hi! This is my first time really sending you an ask dhdbchdhc im very excited lol. Maybe for a small prompt (i don’t know if you have like a way to know if prompts are closed and if they are I’m very sorry!!), some T!Dream and G!George noms?👀 I see quite a bit of G!Dream and T!george noms but not much reversed. You can do whatever you’d like with this, but if you get stuck on ideas, possibly a protection scenario :)

//Dude, you’re so valid; I love this. Tiny!Dream and G!George pog. I was going to include nomfs, however the way I wrote this made it hard to include them. So this story will not have noms.

//Perhaps if I can think of a good scenario, I’ll try this again. (Or someone can give me a specific scenario too. My inbox is now open so :) )

//Edited / Unedited

He hated thunderstorms. Dream shivered, covering his ears with his hands as another crash of thunder rang around him, and the house shuddered around him. He shivered as the cold air around him embraced his small form; he hated days like this.

Rain was a wonderous thing. It can give birth to newborn flora, shaping them into the giant trees that tower over his world. It can quench even the hungriest fires, flood the soil until it’s nothing but a sludge-like version of its past self, or simply lend a soft melody to fall asleep to.

But it can also take away those things, becoming a raging horror to young plants and ripping away their breath of life. It can drown the small beings like him, crushing ants with a single drop, or stray a straggling soul to death. For him, it would surely suffocate the last bit of life in him.

He came to a daunting realization. He didn’t want to be alone right now. How was he supposed to find comfort, though? No other borrowers lived here, and the only soul nearby was George. He frowned, he couldn’t really go to the human, right?

The few times he’d had interacted with the clumsy human were brief, and he wasn’t even sure he could trust the other male. George was pleasant at first glance, yet no borrower could ever be completely certain with trusting the other species.

Dream almost screamed as another loud boom shattered the quiet pitter-patter of rain outside.

He decided he’d take his chances with the human.

Running through the dusty tunnels, he flinched at every creak of the surrounding grime-covered walls, imagining thousands of inky black arms reaching out to grab him and drag him back into the shadows. By the time he had reached his hidden door hatch, his body was racked with heavy breathing and tears brimmed the edges of his vision.

He threw open the small door and stumbled out. Throwing his head up, he looked at his surroundings. It was the human’s room. The room was incredibly clean, which was surprising considering the human was one of the inept beings he’d met. He stared at the bed which laid in the center of the room, seeing that a leg was draped on the side of the giant mattress.

Now or never.

He took a deep breath, “GEORGE,” he yelled. He nervously watched as the leg twitched, and soon another leg swung to lay next to the other. He flattened himself against the wall he had come from as the human came closer to kneel in front of him. He hesitantly peered up at the human to see the male was rubbing at their eyes.

“Yeah...?” the sleepy voice mumbled from above, “whaddya need?”

He gulped, “I- well...” he suddenly felt very meek. His legs shook, and a heavy weight formed in his stomach as he looked up at the human. They were so tall compared to his tiny figure. George could hold so much power over him if the giant really wanted to, and he wouldn’t have to even use that much force to pin him to the ground. His breath became uneven and quickened in pace, “I- uh, if it’s p-possible...” This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea. Why did he force himself to do this? The human was going to-

“If what’s possible?” George inquired, cutting off Dream’s spirling thoughts. He took another deep breath in, steadying himself for the upcoming rejection,

“Is... would it... I don-” another thunderbolt cut off his sentence, and he shrieked at the loudness, covering his ears. It was so much louder out here.

George stared at his quivering form with a small, mellow frown, “is it the thunder?” the giant quietly asked. Dream could only timidly nod, his hands still covering his ears. George sighed, and Dream flinched back, waiting for the giant to refuse. His breath caught in his throat as two large hands approached his shivering form before pausing,

The human quietly hummed, “may I?” Dream’s wide, fearful eyes met with the calm, blue of the giant’s, searching for any ill intent. He had never been in the human’s hands, only once, and that was when they had first met. He warily looked back at George’s hands before glancing up at George’s face again, almost expecting him to be maliciously grinning back at him. He was only met with a patient stare.

He nodded slowly.

George’s hand gently scooped Dream’s tiny form up, bringing the tiny towards his chest. Almost instinctively, Dream clutched onto the soft, blue fabric for some type of comfort. He shakily breathed in, and a musky stench from the human’s shirt filled his senses, making him feel drowsy.

He vaguely feels the human get up and move somewhere, but he’s too tired to really focus on anything. He’s too dizzy to think straight, and the warmth bleeding off of the human’s chest, and their hands barely do anything to keep his eyes from fluttering shut. The smell of the human’s clothes brings back familiar memories of people he might have know when he was younger but have now simply faded into fuzzy memories.

His head lolls to the side as he drifts off to sleep, and he barely feels the weight of a hand resting on his back, nor the sound of George’s snores.

#g/t #g/t Georgenotfound #g/t Dreamwastaken #writing #drabble #g/t mcyt #g/t writing #this was nice to write #too bad y'all are getting angst later this week lol #or... month maybe #gonna be pretty busy gh

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victorluvsalice · 3 years

Photo

And we complete Ship Meme February with this “Understand My Ship In 5 Minutes” meme, made by GibSlyThe -- this one’s actually from twitter, and you can find the original tweet here! As usual, some stuff has been covered in previous memes (height and age seem to be constants, and this one also has “gender” and “sexuality” like the previous one -- though you’ll see here for “sexuality” I went “okay, for readability Alice’s is just going outside the box” XD), but the newer stuff is explained in more detail under the “read more!”

The “Mark On The Line” Bars: This was a bit tricky, as I always wonder about the placement of my Xs on these kinds of lines and graphs, but I’m pretty happy with these. To take them one-by-one:

Big/Little Spoon: Despite Victor being the taller one, he prefers being the little spoon, as he likes to be held and snuggled like that. Similarly, Alice likes being the big spoon as she likes feeling like the “protector” of the little spoon. They can and do switch, but that’s their preferred set-up.

Lends/Borrows Clothes: I put these close to the middle as I don’t think there’s much clothes-sharing just on the basis of “I’m not sure they’d FIT each other’s clothes” -- though in a more modern setting, I can see Alice occasionally stealing a baggy hoodie from Victor’s closet, so she gets closer to the Borrows Clothes side.

Doesn’t Use/Uses Pet Names: Again, close to the middle as it isn’t too common with them, but they’re not opposed. I feel like Victor would be prone to it more often than Alice (usually “darling” or “love”).

Introverted/Extroverted: They are both introverts who don’t like being around lots of people if they can help it. XD Victor scores higher than Alice thanks to being generally socially anxious too.

Affection Through Words/Affection Through Actions: I put Alice a little closer to the “words” side, as she’s fairly open about saying how much she loves Victor, while Victor’s a little closer to the “actions” side thanks to the whole “his two main love languages are ‘acts of service’ and ‘gifts’“ thing I established in the very first ship meme. Obviously Victor can use his words and Alice can do things for Victor (”acts of service” is one of her love languages too), but this felt like their usual dynamic.

Confesses First/Waits For Confession: This one was a little tricky, because there’s not a lot of traditional confessions in my Valice stuff. . .but looking at the evidence, Victor is both generally the one to figure out his feelings first, and the one to express them first, however accidentally. While Alice, who has less experience with love and is demiromantic anyway. . .yeah. Victor gets the “blurted out without meaning to” confession, Alice the “holy shit so THAT’S how I feel about you” moment. XD

Screams About The Bugs/Squashes Bugs w/a Shoe: Victor only screams about bugs in an enthusiastic sense 99% of the time, so he goes closer to the middle -- Alice goes closer to the squashing side as she is not really a bug fan, and besides, she’s killed a LOT of Army Ants, Mechanical Ladybugs, Nightmare Spiders, and Samurai Wasps in Wonderland. (Yes, I know spiders are arachnids, but they can still be lumped in under the “bug” label.)

Drives The Car/Can’t Drive lol: Victor goes in the middle simply because I imagine he learns to drive in modern settings (hell, he’s Victoria’s ride to the Giovanni Mansion in “Londerland Bloodlines”). Alice, meanwhile, is generally out of commission during the time most people normally learn how to drive, and I’ve yet to picture her learning. Honestly, she probably doesn’t because she does NOT want to risk a Wonderland episode behind the wheel. Too much risk!

Can’t Cook For Shit/Makes Dinner: As I have stated previously, Alice does much of the regular cooking (when applicable -- aka when she eats and they’re not living with June), but Victor likes to bake. And he does help out in the kitchen with regular meals, so they’re kind of a dinner-making team. :)

Dislikes PDA/Loves PDA: They don’t torture people with it, but they have indulged (notably in “Fixing You” where Alice scandalized some ladies by daring to kiss Victor on the sidewalk), so closer to the “yes” side. Victor I imagine is generally somewhat more open than Alice about it (hell, him suddenly NOT being okay with it is basically a plot point early in “Fixing You”).

Overprotective/Chill Going: While they’re both independent people, they also both have some abandonment issues, along with those they love being threatened in front of them, so they tend toward overprotective. Alice more than Victor, as -- well, I believe I’ve mentioned what the Liddell fire did to her head. She’s NOT losing someone she loves again if she can help it.

Has more relationship experience/Has NO relationship experience: Alice has been in an asylum most of her life, and generally found the people who tried to hit on her in Whitechapel pretty repulsive. Romance to her is a foreign land! Victor generally isn’t much better, but he at least has the short amount of time he spent with Victoria and Emily (and sometimes more, like “Fallout of Darkness’s” Victor being married and in a secret poly relationship with them). It’s something!

[Blank] Levels: By contrast, these were pretty easy to fill in --

Horny Level: Yeah, neither of them are the horniest people. Alice gets a tiny bit because she’s grey asexual and thus under the exact right circumstances can want to get it on; Victor gets a little more as he’s allosexual, but he’s not a very horny guy by nature -- and growing up in Burtonsville with his parents and the looming presence of Pastor Galswells probably didn’t help!

Awkwardness Level: Okay, yeah, I think we can all agree that Victor, being socially anxious and not good with words, is pretty much made of awkward. XD Alice also gets a pretty high awkwardness level because spending most of your life in supervised hospitalization doesn’t give you that much in the way of social skills. She’s better than Victor, but she finds it hard to socialize with others, and her snarky sense of humor isn’t often appreciated.

Jealousy Level: And right back to low, as neither of them tend to be the jealous type (hell, they’re both poly if given the chance). Alice gets a higher level than Victor thanks to the green-eyed monster rearing its head a couple of times around Victoria in the Forgotten Vows Verse, while Victor never really gets jealous of anyone -- he’s more prone to slipping into self-loathing. Aw.

#valice #shipping #ship meme #victor van dort #alice liddell #yay one where I don't have to do mouse-drawn doodles XD #but yeah you're getting the gist of things here I imagine #I actually had to shift those Xs on the 'cooks' line because I wasn't happy with the original placement #too much toward the middle when they can and do cook for themselves #at least in more modern settings #honestly the only problem with filling out these ship memes is #there's some stuff that is generally true with an asterisk for the AU where it isn't #hence why I spend some time explaining my choices #and giving examples of the AUs that differ #good way to make me think about my ship though #and my AUs #queued

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 3 years

Text

glimpses into a calmer universe

a gift for @luyous, because you once made some posts asking for indchu fics, and I started writing indchuran for the hell of it, but never finished until now. I think this could fit in the indchuran: bros for life AU but only after they get together, since there’s less pining than usual. Anyways, this is very overdue, but I hope you enjoy!

A little bit of domestic fluff. 3 glimpses into the indchuran universe through three different perspectives. Iran/Persia is Roshan, and they’re genderfluid.

Also on AO3!

———

The smell of food is wafting upstairs from the kitchen. It tempts Aditya sorely, and he tries to resist—he has a rather crushing workload to get through today—but five minutes later his feet are padding softly on the first floor landing, the tiles cool under his bare soles. He stops in the doorway, idly tracing the spots of afternoon sunshine dancing on the walls, and watches the figures of his two loves, side by side in the kitchen. Yao is standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand, and Roshan is at his side in front of the sink, busy washing something Aditya cannot see. They are talking quietly above the sizzle of the wok and the sound of water gushing out of the faucet, a perfect picture of domesticity, all easy smiles, gentle touches, quiet jokes and careless laughter. An intimate synchronization of movement, like their hearts are beating in time. It strikes Aditya that his heart suddenly feels like it is overflowing, and he supposes he’s done enough watching from afar—for today, at least.

Yao hears him coming first, and turns around as he enters the kitchen, but doesn’t say anything, just acknowledges him with a smile and a softening of the eyes, and begins to heap the stir-fried ants-on-a-branch—the vegetarian variation, with diced shiitake mushrooms instead of minced meat—onto a plate. When Roshan sees him, Aditya is treated to a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek that smells like roses before they turn back to washing the spinach, cilantro, and parsley—Aditya thinks they’re for the reshteh that recently appeared in the kitchen cupboard—in the sink.

He offers to help with the washing, or the onions (even though they make him cry, which always makes Roshan and Yao laugh), but Roshan pushes him lightly out of the kitchen and Yao makes sure he doesn’t go back in. So Aditya is forced to sit at their small dining table, debating whether to finish his work or enjoy the afternoon sunshine streaming in from the glass back door. The work, he decides, isn’t worth it, and instead he goes back to watching Roshan and Yao work. He refuses to think he is admiring them.

Nevertheless, it isn’t long before he’s too caught up in staring that he doesn’t notice Yao nudging Roshan and whispering “Aditya’s pining again”. But when Roshan catches him staring, they just smile cheekily, wink, and blow him a theatrical kiss that still makes Aditya’s throat catch and his heart stutter, even after a year of dating them. When they turn back to chopping herbs, the sunlight catches on their hair, coating it gold. Aditya is reminded of Roshan’s name, and Yao’s—and their meanings: light, shining.

He does not think himself sentimental, but sometimes—many times—he wonders if they were fated to be. And he supposes it is not too cliche to admit to himself, privately, that his partners are the lights of his life.

———

Yao pauses at the entrance of the Ferry Building Farmer’s Market, still wondering whether it was wise to bring Aditya and Roshan along, and whether they will drag him to every place that sells anything vaguely shiny before leaving. But just as he thinks this, he makes the mistake—and it is definitely a mistake—of turning, and catches Aditya grinning at him, flashing an easygoing smile—a smile he’d do anything to keep, and he relents. But his regrets, or doubts, or whatever the vaguely self-preserving feeling in his chest is, must have shown on a slight frown or in an imperceptible sigh, because Roshan kisses his cheek and says,

“Come on Yao, we’ll handle ourselves. We won’t get distracted and we’ll be back at home in no time, exactly as you planned.” They wink at Aditya, which is never a good sign, but it’s still enough to wheedle him into agreeing, however fondly exasperated he is, and however certain he is that they will waste half the day away, as usual. He sighs again—the old man sigh, according to Roshan—but grumbles a “fine, but you need to pay me back in white rabbit”, and watches them veer off towards the artisan stalls, holding hands. Aditya’s hair glints brightly in the sun, and Roshan’s is dyed a rich, dark brown. Like two suns, hand in hand; one bright, the other warm.

Someone bumps into him, and Yao shakes himself out of his reverie. The grocery list is a mile long, and he doesn’t need to waste more time than is absolutely necessary, after all.

But finding all the things he needs to buy takes more time than he likes, and the walk to the Chinatown butcher’s to see whether they have halal live chicken— they don’t—takes even longer, so that it is almost noon (two whole hours, which he realizes with a pang) when he wanders back to the Ferry Building to find Aditya and Roshan in a small jewelry shop, excitedly inspecting a stand of earrings. He watches them for a second through the windows as Aditya holds a pair of dangling yellow lotus blossoms up to his ears and Roshan looks on admiringly. Yao is pretty sure he too is admiring Aditya—he looks truly beautiful, with the earrings and a modest smile and a bright twinkle in his polished obsidian eyes—but some part of him pulls him back into real time and reminds him that although it is a Saturday, he has no time to waste (stupid law firm), and he regretfully walks into the store to retrieve his partners. He thinks—no, he knows—it will be half an hour before he can pull them away from the (admittedly alluring) jewelry displays, but he supposes Aditya’s cheek kiss and Roshan’s cheerful gratitude will be worth it. Anyways, he can always bullshit case briefings and squeeze out extra time somewhere. He’d rather not rush this moment.

———

When Roshan finally trudges home after getting the week’s groceries, neither Yao nor Aditya are there to hold the door open for them, and there is no response when they call out an “I’m back” from the kitchen. They know Yao and Aditya are in the house—Yao’s Hello Kitty slippers are missing from the shoemat—so the only possibility is that they are ignoring Roshan. Sad. They sigh—rather theatrically—but heave everything into the refrigerator without calling a second time, and hope this will be a fair trade for them failing to find white rabbit in Chinatown for the third time in a row.

Yao and Aditya, they find, are in the living room couch, engaged in another petty struggle over the remote. The newest Game of Thrones episode is playing on the TV Yao shipped from China, and Aditya is furiously muttering about “what a trashy white-produced rapefest show it is” and trying to swipe at the remote Yao grips with white-knuckled hands. Yao, for his part, has not retaliated much at all, besides scooting over to the other side of the couch and obstinately holding onto the precious remote. Roshan looks on for a time, amused, and watches Tywin Lannister’s face loom nastily over them all, until Aditya turns around and catches sight of them in the doorway.

“Roshan, help me! You can’t possibly agree with Yao’s taste, can you?” Aditya looks thoroughly exasperated, and Roshan almost can’t believe how much his voice begs them to take a side.

“No thanks. Aditya, you’ll have to fight the good fight by yourself; I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner.” They smirk, and decide that the way Aditya swells up with absolute fury is definitely worth whatever payback is coming. And as they walk back to the kitchen to start washing vegetables for dinner, there is a brief moment of silence as the TV switches off before everything descends into chaos. Yao's yelling now, and, by the sound of it, has started a pillow fight that Aditya joins in with enthusiasm. Roshan glances back, just in time to watch Yao whack Aditya with a flower patterned pillow and scream,

"LET ME LOOK AT TYWIN LANNISTER AGAIN, ADITYA!"

They are idiots, Roshan thinks with a smile, but they are their idiots.

———

Feedback is welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading :)

Notes

In the second scene, I just chose a notable farmer’s market in San Francisco at random hhhhh (apologies for any inaccuracies if anyone from CA is reading lol) the Ferry Building Farmers Market is pretty close to Chinatown, and although idk where they live in San Fran, Yao’s gotta get his white rabbit from somewhere right (the live chicken would be for chicken soup, but not the American kind)

Last scene inspired/taken from this ask! thank you bones, this was the fic I was talking about lol

the title was made up on the spot but I was thinking along the lines of “well this is a universe where the three of them are less of a group of bastards and also don’t have to contend as much with complex relations and just be lovers together”

In the first scene, there are two dishes I was referencing:

Ants-on-a-branch: 蚂蚁上树, whose proper name is ants climbing a tree, but I tweaked the translation a little. It’s a Sichuan dish that usually consists of vermicelli noodles cooked with minced meat (pork I believe) and a bunch of green onions and chopped peppers for spice (my parents also add stuff like wood ear, a fungus, and carrots and don’t add pepper but idk how “authentic” that is because we ain’t from Sichuan lol). For a lot of Chinese dishes you can usually substitute meat with shiitake mushrooms to make it vegetarian/vegan.

I tried to imply that the dish Roshan was planning to make is ash reshteh, a Persian dish of thick noodle soup with various herbs, onions, and peas. Kashk or yogurt whey is also a component of the soup and gives it its signature rich sour flavor. Because reshteh noodles are believed to bring good luck, ash reshteh is typically served around the Persian New Year, Nowruz, and at important events, but it can be theoretically be eaten at any time.

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punkranger · 3 years

Note

Ant villain reveal!!!

You know what just have all of it, there's a lot I'd change now but I think it'd be better to just start over because this has been lying around since 2019 so I don't think I'm gonna get back to it lol

Anyway, it's as the title says, villain reveal with Ortega, plus a little more.

Ricardo is the one following you up the stairs this time. Your hands ball into fists as you try to contain your steps, even though your body is screaming at you to run up the stairs, to get away, or to gain an advantage. Mostly the latter. You long for a fight, to let out the tension.

But it’s not the time. Not yet, but who knows how this evening will end.

Finally you unlock your door and let him in, although letting him go on ahead of you into your apartment isn’t much of a relief.

“Cosy.” He comments as he looks around.

You snort, knowing full well it’s the exact opposite of his style, pulling up your cigarettes as you walk past him into the kitchen.

It’s not an elegant and modern apartment like his, but dark and crammed, and the walls covered in posters and old vinyls. They are collector items only, these days, except for those extremely rich people who’d managed to save or buy the few remaining turntables. Perhaps that should be your next mission… find out who owns a record player and steal it.

Perhaps you should pretend a certain Ranger isn’t here, standing a little awkwardly in your small kitchen, watching you smoke. You’d have offered him a beer, but you don’t have any - you don’t drink when you’re home. Too many ways that could turn into a habit.

You have enough vices as it is, and smoking isn’t the worst.

But it’s not doing you much good either, you think as you cough slightly. Ricardo looks over at you. That stupid mustache has grown back now, it hides the scar, but not the concern that makes the corners of his mouth turn down.

How many more scars will you give him? How many will be too many for him to forgive you. Maybe you’ve already crossed that line. Probably.

You look away from him, anywhere, out the window, which you have opened for his sake. It’s evening, the clouds gathered in the horizon gives everything a muted, cold look, a promise of rain.

It’s the first time he’s been to your apartment. Somehow he found out where you worked, and along with that, the knowledge that you lived on top of the tech shop that is supposed to be your main source of income.

Except a couple of stairs down is where you actually work, your base, and in there your armour. Too far, yet too close.

Were you foolish to keep everything so close by? Definitely. It was only a matter of time before he found out where you lived.

But you know he already suspects you, so perhaps it doesn’t matter. All you can hope for is that he’ll ignore it for a little longer. Otherwise you might have to do something about it.

What you’ll do, you don’t know. Knock him out? Move as much as you can and set up a new base? You wonder if that would even be possible… If he’d let you get away again. You doubt it, he promised he’d stop Ruin.

You sneak a look at him, see him still watching you, frown still on his face.

Then he says it, just like that.

"It's you, isn't it?"

You raise a brow, as if wondering where he is going with that. Even if you can't read Ricardo's mind, you can tell by the weight of his words exactly what he means.

Ricardo looks away, running a hand through his hair. Either he hadn’t meant to ask that, or he thinks this conversation is as difficult as you do. Well, probably not, because you wouldn’t have had this conversation at all if you could have helped it.

You vaguely wonder if you should get ready to run, or to fight.

But you don't do anything, you're tired. Tired of hiding, tired of lying.

Ricardo finally faces you, and there is no humour in his eyes.

"You're Ruin."

Even if you knew it was coming, it feels like a gut punch. Not that he says the word with any particular strength, but having it all out in the open...

"Come on, Ricky, my economy isn't that bad." You say, attempting a smile, but it falls short. You prepare yourself for accusations.

They don't come.

He doesn't even look angry. Just sad. It hurts more, so you look away from him.

Dangerous, but that’s how you live now, isn’t it? How long that will last is another question, one you don’t intend to contemplate now.

Instead you take a deep breath, putting out the cigarette on the tray on the sill. Then you turn to him. You’ll give him one more chance to back out, to pretend like nothing is wrong.

"Look, if I really were Ruin, would I be standing here now? Would I have let you live?"

"Yes." He says, without hesitation. "You already did."

You press your lips together, guess you're doing this.

"What are you going to do about it?”

Ricardo takes a step towards you and you step away, instinct taking over before you stop, hold your ground. There’s also an open window behind you. You could jump, escape.

In front of you, it feels like the only shield you have left is the distance between you, brittle as glass.

Glass that shatters so easily, only breaking more if you fall upon it.

One wrong step and you’ll fall again.

"Just stop. Please.” He doesn’t move, but he looks like he wants to. “Whatever it is you need to do, I can help."

The worst thing is that he looks like he means it. But you can't tell, all you hear is the static dialing up, his emotions clear, but nothing else comes through.

The glass turns opaque as if from rain, edges blurring, colours smudging together.

You should run. But you don't, because a part of you is relieved. To finally tell someone everything.

Blinking, you massage your aching temples and swallow sharply, before replying. Your voice is hoarse, it feels like you can’t breathe. "Do you really think someone like me could have a normal life? Do you think I could even just go back to working with you? Being a hero?"

"But-"

"I can't, Ric!" You yell, but the anger leaves as quick as it comes and you look away from him again. Even if you really should look at him now, watch him in case he tries anything… But you can’t bring yourself to care. Maybe it would be better if he destroyed you, before you destroy everything.

"You could…" He sounds like he believes it.

“I can’t stop it, I need to do this.” You mumble. Your fingers pick up another cigarette, but you don’t light it. “Just leave, pretend you didn’t know me. You’ll only get yourself hurt, for no good reason. I might be bad, but there’s worse people out there for you to fight.”

“That’s not what I want.” Ricardo says and he sounds determined now, so sure of himself. “I want you back, Antoine.”

You look at him at the sound of your name. He’s stepped closer, why, no, you back away and you can see his expression become panicked as your back hits the windowsill. Does he think you’ll jump out? The fall would not be high enough to be crippling, unless you were unlucky. You don’t want to run though.

“I can’t be a hero again, Ricardo.”

Sighing, you turn to lean on the counter beside the window, rubbing your eyes.

Your make-up is probably all over the place. A short laugh escapes you, because everything is unreal, so you looking like shit should be the least of your worries.

“Just, tell me why.” The words are spoken softly, but no less demanding. You know that you have to answer this time. What the hell, what else have you to lose?

You might as well tell him everything. Because doing otherwise would mean you’d have to lie again and that is pretty much meaningless now.

Turning around, you close the window, then you drop the cigarette, then shrug off your jacket.

“I’ll show you why.” When you look up at him, he looks confused. You don’t know what you look like, you feel like crying, laughing, screaming.

Just do it, don’t think. Pull off the band-aid.

Or your shirt in this case.

The air feels like concrete in your lungs. There’s no sound, that you can tell, only the ringing in your ears. Alarms going off, unheard by everyone else, unheeded by you.

“Do you understand why I can’t live as a normal person - a human? Because I’m not-”

You flinch as he touches you and he pulls his hand away, but he’s still standing close to you.

“Antoine look at me.”

Before you can stop yourself you do.

What you see on his face isn’t hate, or disgust. Just understanding and… tears?

This time you let him touch you, his hand tracing the orange lines trailing up your arm.

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I let you think those things about yourself.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing, Ricardo apologising?

“Why would you be sorry, it’s not your fault.” You mumble, his hand still on your shoulder.

He doesn’t answer, just pulls you in for a hug that’s too tight. Fortunately he releases you before the panic sets in, but he keeps his arms around you, resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re still not getting rid of me.” He says as he leans back slightly, a small smile on his lips even though his eyes are still wet.

Your face hurts and you try to keep from falling apart, ironically his arms are the only thing keeping you together.

“Idiot. You’re an idiot, but I’m worse.” You laugh slightly, even when your eyes are tearing up again. Ric reaches up to wipe away the tears, ending up with black streaks across the back of his fingers. Both of you laugh a little and then you lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. Ricardo strokes your hair, then moves down to your neck, rubbing away the tension until you finally relax, breathing easier.

Then he moves you back and kisses your forehead, so tenderly you want to hate him. How can he be the one that comforts you, that reassures you. How can he take it so easily, when you’ve been agonising over his reaction if he ever found out, for months, years. You almost wish he’d yelled, attacked you, given you a reason to push him away for good. Given you a reason for hiding all this time, justification.

But he doesn’t let you have any time to dwell on that, just takes your hand.

“Come on, let’s sit down.” He says, leading the way to your couch as if it was his own house. You don’t complain this time.

He sits down and you make to sit down next to him, but he pulls you down on top of him, kissing your face softly. Holding you close, like something treasured.

You grasp his shirt, then wind your arms around his neck, kissing him back once. Then you lie down, burying your face in his neck.

“Guess you’ll have to stay, because I’m not moving now.” You say, your words muffled against his shirt.

He laughs softly, you feel it in his chest and the breath that passes over your hair.

You feel his hands stroke your back, each stroke making you breathe easier.

You feel his heartbeat and you are grateful for that.

There’s still more to talk about. But not now.

#i'm not putting any tags on this #anyway just.. take this with a pinch of salt #definitely an alternate version of how things will probably turn out #these days antoine would be way more annoyed #that's just one thing i'd change

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pepperful-qt · 4 years

Note

Hi there! Can I request hcs of kuroo, kita and semi with a big brain s/o? It doesn't just apply to s/o academically, but more so about life in general (like having ~streetsmarts~) thank you!

you said street smarts my mind went to jj bittenbinder. ngl i kinda used the wisdom proficiencies from d&d as reference for this hahaha nerd i hope it’s what you want! also i just want to thank you for requesting my not-so-secret fav semi semi

Kuroo, Kita, & Semi with a big brain s/o

* * * * *

Kuroo Tetsuro

oh this man appreciates it. he’s so entertained

you know that drinking game that Tyrion does with Shae where he guesses something about your past and if he’s right you have to drink, if not he does? that’s what you do minus the drinking part obv,, unless

as a person with high charisma himself, you make it a game to see who can bluff out and/or fool the other (you almost always win)

any time there’s a game night and you’re playing a social deception game you always win. no one can get a lie past you

if it’s a teamwork one, you and Kuroo crush everyone else

you find ways to skimp on your hw but still come out fine. he has no idea how, and it both annoys and impresses him

“i thought you stayed up watching buzzfeed unsolved instead of studying last night??”

“yeah so what?”

“but you got a 96%”

he knows that intelligence isn’t just defined by what you’re able to memorize out of a book, and you’re a perfect example of that. he respects you a lot

you’re the type of person that reads random articles and therefore has the most random bits of trivia that you throw in conversation

he can have an intellectual conversation with you, since you always come up with unique perspectives. he loves asking your opinion on things, bc who tf knows what’ll come out of your mouth

you don’t know what a derivative is to save your life but you know the location of every 7/11 in a ten mile radius, and if they carry a specific type of onigiri or cup noodle flavor

but fr you give the best advice and are always there to lend an ear

you watch murder mystery movies together and try to figure out the culprit, sometimes actually arguing over it

other times you’ll watch a drama and make bets on who’s gonna do what or end up with who

rip Kenma in the corner just trying to live his life

it’s hilarious seeing you interact with someone who is not “big brain” or street smart

let’s just use Lev as an example for no particular reason, just bc

you quickly learned that Lev would believe almost anything you said, he was that fascinated by your apparent wisdom

so you and Kuroo will sometimes join forces and see what you can get him to believe. you once convinced him that if you kill an insect you’d become that insect in your next life and die the same way, and for a solid month he would start crying if he ever stepped on an ant

chaos couple™

you have this whole atmosphere about you that is just “do not fuck with me” bamf if i do say so myself

which tbh is one of the things he finds most attractive about you. you knew exactly what he was up to the first time he started flirting with you, but you weren’t intimidated one bit. you became a challenge~

10/10 best looking couple of the three

* * *

Kita Shinsuke

the two voices of reason, bless you both. you’re very similar, but also very different

he’s the definition of high intelligence & high wisdom with low charisma cleric kita omg, while you have both high wisdom and high charisma with an intelligence stat you barely use (high or low lol)

he’s the kind of guy who always thinks things through with logic, and he’s always sure of his decisions

you on the other hand, have an intuition based logic

freaks him out when you rely on your gut instinct but somehow it always pays off

“why?”

“just because”

“but why??”

you’re adaptable in almost every situation, always know what to say, and have an uncanny ability to read people

which actually comes in handy in your relationship

he’s not the best at expressing himself but you always seem to know his emotional state and thought process, something no one else except his granny has really cracked yet and you do it so easily. sometimes he wonders if you’re a mind reader

you knew he liked you before he did & you asked him out first ~

“Shin-kun, you look happy today!”

“Ah, I was able to clean all the volleyballs after practice and still had time to fold and organize the scrimmige vests by color.”

meanwhile Atsumu: “hE litERALLY?? looks the sAME??!”

speaking of the twins, you’re great at handling them

Atsumu tried to scare you away the first time you showed up at practice before you and Kita announced your relationship, but you were calm and polite

which tbh put him off more than if you’d clammed up or gotten angry. he almost felt bad for being rude. almost.

imagine how bad he felt when Kita found out

the both of you are both feared and respected by the team

you’ll help Kita out with his self-assigned chores sometimes, figuring out new ways to be efficient and not lose quality

he also loves how he can trust you to take care of yourself, whether it’s walking home alone or losing you in a crowd or just looking after your health. he still worries and dotes on you but it’s out of love, not because he’s concerned you’ll hurt yourself unintentionally

he loves a person with common sense @ inarizaki

you’re both really good at getting gifts for each other, since you’re both very perceptive

one time you guessed his favorite flavor of ice cream and it made the butterflies a’flutter

there’s this silent competition between you two of who can give the better gifts

wishes you would study more though ngl. he knows you’re smart you just don’t always dedicate that intelligence to your schoolwork

he finds it charming how you’re always looking at things from different angles rather than the straightforward path. he thinks it’s a very good quality

that “yeah but what if...” kind of mentality

we already know he appreciates that attitude if he doesn’t really take it on himself

you’re both able to appreciate the nuances of life and enjoy the moment together

your relationship is one of the most balanced and strong out there tbh,,

* * *

Semi Eita

you’ve got this charm that makes people respect you. a certain type of confidence, if you will, that made him first notice you

lots of students were intimidated by the members of the volleyball team, for their height and reputation etc, but you never showed any reservation, not even with Ushijima

as well as your conviction, you have take no shit attitude that comes in great handy with certain members of the team it’s also hot af

you can banter with Tendou and you provoke Goshiki all day long but never Shirabu bc you know what’s up

you do however irritate him with mind games, bc you know he’s a little shit who stole your bf’s spot and needs to be taken down a peg sometimes

you: *describing the quantum wave trolley problem”

Shirabu: *screams*

all the while Semi is trying and failing to hide the smug little smirk on his face

with Semi though, you’re able to just talk

he enjoys conversation with you bc he’s never bored. you make him think and you make him laugh, both good things

sometimes you’ll point something out that just makes him go “oh” bc it seems so obvious when you point it out

other times it’s something so outlandish that he can’t help but crack a smile or let out a laugh

sometimes it’s the connect the dots meme “you didn’t connect shit” lmao

again, solid advice giver with no holds barred. anyone who needs to be straight up told what they need to hear comes to you, bc you're usually right

and Semi himself can get lost in his own head so it's nice to have you to ground him

you’re decent in your classes sure, but where you really impress is your strategy in game. any game

once you were invited to play laser tag with the team and you whipped out a battle plan that annihilated the other team

alternatively, you show no mercy in monopoly or uno, damn your relationships

it’s actually very annoying how quickly you pick up the rules and nuances to games and use them to your advantage

if you’re both very competitive, it’s usually better for everyone if you’re both on the same team

but he likes a challenge heh

okay, we know he’s bad at dressing himself when it comes to casual outfits. no common sense. you notice this too

“Eita, sweetie, if you go out like that you will get mugged,, even in Miyagi.”

you’ll walk down the street hand in hand and you make random guesses or stories about the people you see

“that guy is totally a scammer” or “bet that lady looking at the papaya is trying to start a diet for the third time, look at her face” and he’ll chuckle

he knows there’s always something going on inside your mind and he wants to know

when you’re lost in thought he’ll tap your forehead

“hey what’s going on in there?”

he enjoys listening to your musings and thoughts and opinions. you either have a crazy gut instinct or have some unique thought you’ve internally debated over for months

gets inspiration from you actually, even if he doesn’t realize it

likewise, you realize he has a lot on his mind he doesn’t say, but you have a way of making him say it, even if he is hesitant and abrasive at first

you’ll call him at 3am with a random thought and he’ll grumble a bit but actually will listen to you with the smallest smile on his face

* * * * *

i hope??? this was good??? also lmk if this is too long without a read more i’m not sure :P

#kuroo tetsuro #kita shinsuke #semi eita #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #semi eita x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kita x reader #semi x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu headcanons #the way i got so excited seeing my boy semi on here #don't look up the quantum wave trolley problem unless you want your brain fried

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sweetestlamb · 4 years

Text

All I Want for Christmas is You- Part 2

Summary: Mun-yeong realizes somethings about herself and gets an unforgettable Christmas. .

Author's note: Thanks for all the love for part one, part two made my heart ache a lot while writing and there’s only one more part to come! Once you finish this part it will be pretty obvious what the next part will be LOL but thanks for joining me on this Christmas journey y’all. HAPPY READING.

Trigger warning: mentions of child neglect, domestic abuse. Don’t read if those are triggering to you, do what’s best for you.

It's her fault, she knows that entirely, she was the one to get her hopes up. When she came home and saw the suitcases on the ground, her heart beat skyrocketed thundering through her brittle ribcage babum babum it thumped as she dropped her backpack on the ground and ventured further into the lavish space. Fingers lightly caressed the matte black case as her eyes darted around looking for any signs of humanity.

Glasses.

On the pristine clear center table sat her father's reading glasses. The ones he would perch on the edge of his nose while he would look over his blueprints, nudging them up with a single digit when they slid down the bridge of his nose.

"Father?" The foreign word left her tongue, a word she hadn't uttered for months. She spun around desperately longing to catch even a glimpse of the elusive figure.

There was a distant sound of a door opening and then her father stood there in the hallway. Her lungs almost collapsed as she struggled to complete a simple bodily function she'd mastered since birth.

"Mun-yeong."

That was all he said. And it was the sweetest sound, suddenly flashbacks washed over her of running to meet her father by the door when he would arrive home. He would lift her up and spin her around, her gleeful squeals bouncing off the mansion walls. He would ask her about her day and tickle her little belly before she could answer.

Once upon a time they'd been happy. Too happy. She'd spent so much of her life laughing, maybe that was why the universe was balancing it out now. Before Gang-tae crashed into her world she had no reason to smile.

Flashes of her huddled under her blankets listening to the screams of her parents in the kitchen below, her mother's manic screech as she accused her father of cheating. Her father's adamant denials and then the metal crashes, her mother always became physical, bruises would litter her father's body. Then one day her mother was just gone. Without a single goodbye suddenly she was motherless. But she still clung to the idea of having her father, his love would be the balm on her wounds.

Then he moved them to the city, busy and bustling with life and movement and her eyes widened with wonder and she thought this would be their new beginning.

Her father took countless business trips, so much so that she never saw him, would glare at the other girls at the father daughter events. Remembered shoving a group of girls who called her an orphan, the rage singing through her blood.

Sang-in was hired soon after and she was a demon, she knew it and reveled in making his life a living life. She was demanding and bratty, crying and screaming in equal terms but he was persistent, disgustingly patient. He would smile at her antics fondly and never rise to her bait. Without her permission he was the first one that came to her mind when something good happened in her life.

When she'd written her first story, a morbid thing about consuming the things you loved, it had gone missing temporarily and then popped up in the visor of his car. When she demanded to know why he took her story his only response was, "It deserved to be shown off." She'd scoffed at the sentimental response twisting away to wipe at moisture that escaped.

So all in all it was her own fault for expecting something from someone who had given up on her a long time ago. Who she should have given up on too.

So she'd stood there silently with her father, deep wrinkles marring his skin.

Waiting.

"I didn't think you'd be home, I should have called first. I just came to get some important things, I have another business trip. Switzerland."

Important things. She took in the ties and pens in his hands, carefully folded clothes and sketches. Those were the objects he'd considered important here, she was discarded and left behind but those objects they were essential.

She wanted to scream, to hurl words at him like knives, slicing him up into shreds just like his words had done to her heart.

"Okay."

She collected her bag off the floor, walking past the stranger in the room without a second glance. It wasn't until she heard the front door close that she finally allowed the emotions simmering below the surface to erupt.

The decorations had been the final straw. It was salt on her festering wound.

She didn't expect Gang-tae to show up, thought that he too would forget about her existence. But instead he had tilted her world off axis, uttering words that her ears hadn't heard for years.

Love.

She didn't know what she felt for him exactly, she needed him that much she knew. She knew her jealousy and possessiveness wasn't healthy, knew that he wasn't hers, he wasn't an object or something she could own. But she wanted to. Wanted to lock him away and keep him to herself, there would be other Ju-Ri's- pestering ants- ready to steal him away and she wanted to smash them all to pieces. But did that translate to love, was she even capable of such a fragile emotion?

She falls asleep in his arms, rocked into a fitful sleep as he strokes her head whispering sweet nothings into her starved ears. She wakes up bewildered in her plush bed, thick blanket tightly tucked around her frame. When she ventures out into the living room after brushing her teeth and brushing her tangled hair, the sight of her boyfriend with an apron around his broad chest is enough to knock away some of the ice around her heart.

"What are you doing? You didn't go home?" Her voice is sleep laden and raspy even to her ears and she watches with feminine satisfaction as a chill runs down his body.

Twisting to meet her eyes, he locks eyes with her. The warmth in his deep orbs could rival that of the sun. It's almost painful to look at.

"Good morning. I didn't want to leave you. I called my mom last night, told her I was staying with Jae-su. How are you feeling?"

Like shit. Her eyes are sore and her throat is scratchy like she swallowed a bucket of sand.

He nods as if she spoke words, reading her face like an open book.

"Here." He hands her a cup of tea. "The soup will be ready soon and the rice is finished. Can you get us some plates and chopsticks?"

She absently listens to his requests, getting what they need on autopilot before sitting at the table and watching him move comfortably in her kitchen. After a minute of stirring and tasting he deigns the soup perfect and he brings the hot pot over to the table, before going back to scoop fluffy white rice into a deep round bowl.

The aroma perfumes the space with smells of spice and warmth, and she watches as he serves the food, handing it to her first.

"I hope you enjoy the meal."

She can't remember the last time someone made food for her, the closest thing she has is room service and one time Sang-in made a grilled cheese for her, too burnt around the edges and the cheese not all the way melted but she'd seen the treat on an American drama and demanded it.

"Thank you." She replies barely a whisper feeling vulnerable before him, he's seen her at her worst so many times but for some unfathomable reason he hasn't left. Unlike Sang-in he's not getting paid so she truly doesn't understand.

The first sip of soup is delicious, salty and thick with chunks of fish, potatoes and soft tofu. She hums at the flavor eagerly going back in for more, stuffing giant spoonful's of rice into her mouth until her cheeks puff out.

His airy chuckle breaks her single minded focus and she peers up at him inquisitively.

"What?"

"You're cute." He shrugs, looking her right in the eyes as if he isn't the same boy who blushes when she holds his hands.

"Cute? I'm not cute. And why are you so brave lately?" His confession replays in her mind, her traitorous heart thumping away frantically in recollection.

This time he does pause, putting down his spoon and looking at her over the table with a serene little smile on his achingly handsome face.

"Love makes you brave."

She chokes on air, sputtering and coughing at his boldness again.

His laugh is loud and booming this time, rattling her bones and then he dives back into his soup with a happy chuckle.

"We're leaving after we eat. Wear something warm."

"Don't tell me what to do." She fires back. But she walks off to her room to change after slurping the last bits of the soup, ignoring his amused brows and knowing smile. Annoying.

He's changed too when she comes back out and she looks at him confused.

"I had Sang-tae meet me with a change of clothes earlier."

She wonders what time he woke up to do all these errands and why he's even going through all this trouble for her, she's not worth it.

But he looks gorgeous as ever in an emerald green turtleneck and dark wash jeans, his eyes are positively gleaming as he looks at her. She's swaddled in a cashmere cream sweater that hangs over her thick plaid skirt and tights. The way his eyes graze over her form makes her warm and she escapes before he can burn her up.

As she bends to tug on her winter boots she feels his presence behind her, he tugs her backwards into his hold. She immediately stiffens at the affection, unprepared for it.

"You look pretty."

Her heart flutters at the soft words whispered directly into her ears and she scoffs, leaning back further into his embrace.

"Why are you so mushy today?"

He hums instead of replying, suddenly spinning her around and she almost falls at the rapid move. He catches her with a strong grip on her waist.

"I really want to kiss you."

Her breath hitches as she gazes up at him, taking in his hungry stare and red lips. She reaches out to latch onto his sides, tugging him closer until their faces are inches apart.

"Do what you want."

He doesn't need to be told twice and almost instantly he's devouring her, licking at the remnants of soup on her tongue. She rises on her tiptoes to fully meet his passionate embrace, his love driving out all the cold that still stubbornly remained. His hands slide into her soft tresses as he bites at her plump bottom lip, sucking the sore flesh into his hungry mouth. A moan escapes her throat and she can feel how his fingers tighten on her scalp. When they break apart, he looks dazed running his tongue across his lips as if chasing her taste. It lights a fire in her belly.

"Okay now we can go."

"What the hell is this place?" She sneers looking around in contempt at the beaming families.

"A tree farm. I come here every year to pick out a tree with my family. I wanted to pick one with you."

She turns around walking away, skin crawling from being in such a place. He must have lost his mind. But he catches her hand in a large clasp and when she looks back vehemently, she meets his puppy dog eyes and pleading bottom lip.

"Please?"

She's not going to fall for that, he's not even that cute. No, she's definitely leaving and locking her door and telling security but to let anyone up.

"What about that one?" He inquires dragging her to another tree, identical to the one before it.

"They all look the same, I don't care. You pick." She whines for the hundredth time about ready to stomp and throw a tantrum like a child they'd walked past earlier.

He shakes his head and walks away again spewing some crap about finding the perfect tree for her. And then she spots a crooked tree in the corner, far away from the other trees. It's a decent size but it leans slightly to the right and the pines aren't as full as the other trees they've seen. It looks discarded and abandoned as a family walks past it, "Definitely not this one. Who would want an ugly tree like this? They all snigger. Something like sympathy swirls in her belly and she catches Gang-tae's eyes.

"I want that one."

He nods asking no questions, "It's perfect. I'll go get someone to pack it up for us."

It's not until they have the tree wrapped and tied that she remembers that they took a cab here.

"How are we going to carry this thing home?"

Gang-tae looks up from his phone with a smile before a car horn sounds behind them.

"With help." He points behind her and when she turns around she meets the grinning face of one Lee Sang-in, waving from the front seat. He hops out and immediately picks up the tree going back to strap it to the hood of the car.

Then he opens the car door for her with a bow, "Young mistress. It's good to see you."

She rolls her eyes at the title, he hasn't called her that since she was young and wanted to pretend she was a princess.

She hears Gang-tae thank him quietly before sliding into the car right after her, their thighs pressed closely together.

"Where to now? Sang-in asks adjusting his mirror

"Hom--"

"The mall." Gang-tae interrupts and she looks at him in surprise. "It's part of your experience, trust me?"

She doesn't respond but it scares her that her heart immediately says "yes", she does trust him.

When they reach the mall he grabs her hand again, pulling her out with a quick "See you later" directed at her driver, who nods in response driving off to find parking.

"Why are we here? I don't need anything."

He looks at her mysteriously before speaking, "You're going to buy gifts for the important people in your life."

Her father's voice echoes in her head and bile collects in her throat. He must notice the shift in her mood because he pulls her close.

"Shhhh. Not them. The important people in your life. The people who you love."

"Who....who I love?"

He drags her away from his hold and looks into her eyes softly brushing her cheeks.

"Yes. The people who make you happy. Only think about that."

Nodding she finally breaks from his embrace and steps into the mall, it's busy and crowded but Gang-tae uses his body as a shield and the shopping begins. By the time they leave the sun has began it's descend, vivid yellows and pinks painting the sky.

As if summoned the car pulls up by their feet, Sang-in hopping out to open her door once again.

This time when they both get in he doesn't ask them for directions and starts the familiar route back to her place. Head too heavy with ideas she stares aimlessly out the window, too overwhelmed to converse to Gang-tae.

When they reach her apartment she is unprepared for the sight that greets her.

On the sidewalk standing in the blistering cold are Sang-tae, Seung-jae, Jae-su, and Gang-tae's mother. They all begin to wildly wave when they see the car pull up.

"What?" She barely gets out before Gang-tae is tugging her from the car. Bounding over to the small group.

His mother is the first to speak, "Interesting how you slept at Jae-su's house but here you are at Mun-yeong's apartment." Her face is hard as ice while looking at her son but it melts to the warmest smile when she sees Mun-yeong. She ignores her son's breathless excuses and his older brother's mischievous sniggers at his little brother's discomfort.

"Oh Mun-yeong don't you look pretty? You must be cold, let's head up." The woman links their elbows and begins to tug her into the building. Seung-jae skips along with them happily linking arms from the other side and introducing herself to Gang-tae's mother.

Behind her she misses Sang-in trying to leave only for her boyfriend to block him, dragging him along with the group.

"So fancy." Gang-tae's mom whispers looking around, clutching at her threadbare sweater looking self-conscious and Mun-yeong tightens her hold.

"I like your house better." She says honestly, thinking about how much love is soaked in every surface of the small home. The smile she receives is better than all the riches in the world.

It's not until she reaches her front door that she remembers the mess she left behind, turning to Gang-tae with terrified eyes she looks for help.

He smiles at her, shaking his head and waving her in.

With trembling fingers she pushes the key into the hole and opens the door.

It looks at neat as ever, not a decoration in sight but all the broken glass and tinsel is gone. It looks reborn.

Breathing out a breathe she didn't release she was holding she steps inside, there aren't enough slippers for everyone- she's never had this many people over- and Sang-in rushes off to get extras from the front desk.

"Well, let's get started." Gang-tae's mom says, opening a large box she was clutching in her hand. Inside are the prettiest ornaments she's ever seen, homemade ones and lopsided ones that look like they were created by a child's hand.

As if reading her mind the woman lifts one bringing it closer to Mun-yeong before leaning in as if sharing a secret, "Gang-tae made this for me when he was six. He was so proud to show it off. Every year we put it on the tree, it deserves to be shown off."

The motherly pride bursting from her eyes steals Mun-yeong's voice and she remembers when someone said those very same words to her. Finding his eyes in the room, the urge to hug him washes over her but too frightened by her own emotions she hugs herself tightly instead.

"It's pretty."

And then it's a whirlwind of movement, Gang-tae's mother putting everyone to work- the men are setting the tree up in a corner by the window, while Seung-jae is on decorating duty leaving her on chopping duty in the kitchen.

"I'm not very good with a knife." She admits, embarrassed by her uselessness, it's clear that Gang-tae and Sang-tae were taught to be self-sufficient, both comfortable in the kitchen.

Instead of chastising her the woman takes the knife she was holding awkwardly in her hands.

"You need to hold it like this unless you'll chop those dainty little fingers off, I hear you're a writer so be extra careful. Just hold it like this and let the knife do the work." She models as she instructs Mun-yeong slicing the carrots into perfect rounds, before handing the utensil back to her.

"Try."

And so she does and they're nowhere near as perfect, not as even but they aren't too bad and pride sears under her skin.

"I did it."

"They look great. Keep going just like that." The praise makes her light-headed and she keeps chopping, wide smile spread across her lips.

"Hey Mun-yeong-ah, do you like this here?" Seung-jae calls from her spot on the couch, standing on it to put a sparkling string of snowflakes draping from the curtains.

She nods in reply. Too choked up to find her voice.

Her friend looks at her with warm knowing eyes before turning back to her decorations.

"We should let Mun-yeong put the star on top. Hey, Mun-yeong we're done over here, you wanna put the finishing touch?" Jae-su calls out to her, bits of tinsel lost in his hair as he waves her over to the almost completely decorated tree. The lights are twinkling, reflecting beautifully in the glass and she steps forward with her heart firmly lodged in her throat.

She stands in front of the tree, staring up at the empty spot for the star.

Gang-tae places it in her hand, his thumb gently swiping across her trembling skin.

"Here I'll help." Sang-in whispers, stepping behind her and lifting her off her feet so she can reach the top of the tree. Tears glisten in her eyes as she finally places the star on top.

"It's perfect." Her voice is too soft, she doubts anyone heard it.

But then they all explode in a small applause.

"It looks great Mun-yeongie! Nice job!" Sang-tae calls out, clapping the loudest before meandering off to try to steal food from the kitchen.

They all snigger at his pained "ow!" as he's thwarted once again by his watchful mother.

By the time they're sitting down to enjoy the feast her mind is going a mile a minute, listening to the rambunctious conversations around her as her world collides with Gang-tae's. She's never sat at this dining table before, opting to eat her meals in the safety of her room. But now she understands why others do this, eat together. It makes her fuller than the food she's shoveling into her mouth.

"One more minute." Sang-tae says loudly checking his watch.

When the clock strikes twelve, all is moving and she's passed from arm to arm until she's finally in familiar arms, Moon Gang-tae. He rocks her side to side as he tucks his head into her hair.

"Merry Christmas Mun-yeong, I love you."

She clings to him, emotions bubbling up as she fights back her tears. I love you. She thinks it loudly in her mind, this must be what love is. The way that she feels about him has to be love, it's too big to be anything else. She's certain.

"You don't need to say anything. Just know that I'm not going anywhere. That's love. It doesn't ever leave."

All these damn confessions. He'll be the death of her.

"Annoying."

He giggles before pulling away to hug his mom and Seung-jae fills his void, lifting her off her feet and she can't stop the cheerful laugh that explodes out of her.

She's happy.

They all clean up, pushing her on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate with large marshmallows. And then she realizes they're all going to leave, she's going to be alone again.

Cold icy dread fills her gut until the inevitable moment comes.

"We're all done. It's pretty late. We should start heading out." That's Gang-tae's mother as she packs away her things neatly and Mun-yeong wants to get down on her knees and beg them all to stay.

She's pulled into a warm embrace again.

"You make sure to come over often okay? We need to practice your chopping skills and fatten you up, you’re too skinny.”

It's not a question but she still nods letting the woman hug her and Sang-tae ruffles her hair, punching at her chin and asking her to keep Gang-tae in line, she smirks in response nodding.

Seung-jae hugs her and promises to text when she gets home, skipping out the door to catch her taxi.

Gang-tae kisses her head and she presses her face into his neck, "Thank you."

He hugs her closely, breathing her in before twin coughs cause them to break apart.

He rubs his neck bashfully under the hard looks from his mother and Sang-in.

With a final bow, Gang-tae leaves with his family. But not before promising to come over tomorrow. Love never leaves, it always comes back.

Then it's just her and her driver.

"He's a good kid. Did you have fun today?"

She turns to look at him with wet eyes, tears finally falling after all the kindness she was shown today.

"Sang-in," she chokes out, "Why didn't you ever quit?"

He looks at her curiously before walking to sit on the couch, patting the cushion next to him in invitation. After a moment she sits down beside him melting into his arm around her shoulder.

"You were such a demon." He finally speaks and she turns to stare at him, his eyes are filled with fondness. "You were demanding and I was scared to come to work sometimes honestly, I did think about quitting once. Just once. But then I read that story you wrote, do you remember?"

She sniffles, "Yeah. The girl who ate everything."

He nods in agreement, "The girl in that story was so lonely that whenever she made a friend she would swallow them whole. Or they would run away. I knew that girl just needed someone to show her that you don't need to own everything you love. They can just live beside you, loving you too."

"I bought you a gift." She pulls away, brushing away her tears to collect the gift that Gang-tae helped her wrap in her room when everyone was busy.

She runs off to get the gift and brings it back to Sang-in, thrusting it at his chest. He looks at her with wide eyes before grabbing the shiny red square.

He opens it gently, peeling away the tape instead of ripping the paper, reverence in his very move.

He stares at the black box before prying it open.

Two buttery soft leather gloves stare back at him.

The gift feels stupid and too little in the wake of the words he just said to her and she's about to tell him that she'll get him something better and this isn't his real gift, she's never done this Christmas thing before she needs practice and--

"I love them."

He slips the driving gloves out of the box, sliding them over his calloused hands.

"Thank you Mun-yeong."

His reaction forces her to be honest with him, "I want you to be my driver for a long time. So you need to take care of your hands."

He nods softly, "Yes. I'll make sure that I do."

"I also got you this. If it's too weird you don't have to use it."

It had caught her eye at the mall, seeing it on others before but knowing she would never get to give it to anyone. But then Gang-tae had been there telling her to get it, she looked at him like he was insane but he insisted, "You know who you want to give it to. Stop hesitating, your heart knows best."

So she shoves another box at him, looking away in embarrassment, not emotionally ready to watch him open it.

He gasps when he does. A loud gasp that bursts out of his chest, he leans back into the couch as if sitting is too difficult.

"I.. Mun-yeong... I don't....thank you."

#1 dad.

Those are the words on the tie that hangs from his finger, the tie is silky smooth a deep hue of blue that has bits of silver when it catches the light.

In every sense of the word he's been like a father to her. More than her own father ever has.

"He's really rubbing off on you isn't he?"

She can't argue. Without his guidance she would have never done any of this, wouldn't have looked into her own heart to find these hidden dormant emotions.

"I think I love him."

Sang-in stills before brushing her hair behind her ears, "Then I'm not the one you should be telling. Love should be expressed. “

“I will. I’m going to tell him.”

Tomorrow can't come soon enough. She has to tell him how she feels.

I'm in love with Moon Gang-tae.

#psycho but it's okay #It's okay to not be okay #moon gang tae #ko mun yeong #family feels #the life she deserves #pure Christmas smut next chapter #had to get the feelings and emotions out first

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ramblinganthropologist · 3 years

Text

Fictober 21 - 4 “Fine I give up”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect (Actor AU)

Summary: Yep. They fucked - so much for his self control, huh? Now Macen has to deal with the fallout, and more importantly, his feelings. Maybe it wasn’t just sex after all. Did he mention he was bad at ad-lib?

(Don’t worry folks, the confession will come another day... I’m tired, lol.)

---

…

You know that part where he said he was going to break things off? Yeah… the opposite of that had happened.

Macen was careful to sit up as he glanced across the darkened room. Next to him, fast asleep and burrowed under the covers, was his costar. Alex’s face was peaceful as he wandered through his dreams, like he hadn’t just fucked the turian within an inch of his life. Baby faces were damn deceptive that way, and he was proving to be a fine example.

His body was sore in that way he enjoyed oh so much as he slid out of bed, distributing his weight so he didn’t wake the human up. Naked as the day he was born, he padded to Alex’s shower and got in. Human showers were always too damn cold for him, but it didn’t matter as he let the water pour down his carapace as he stood there, standing at the drain.

“You said you weren’t going to do it again…”

And that promise had crumbled like a sandcastle on the beach the moment Alex had looked at him with that expression. After that, it was a blur of tossed clothing, roving hands, and tongues that were still learning how to play nicely with each other. Part of him was glad he had clipped his talons the day before… but that was like admitting defeat in itself.

Fuck… he had fucked up.

He sighed as he rested his head against the shower wall, praying for the freezing water to snap some sense into him. Macen knew he should leave the moment he was dry and had found his pants, but a large part of him just wanted to go back to bed. They had to be on set early tomorrow. He’d be wasting valuable sleep time if he went back to his place. Besides, Alex was closer…

And they’d risk showing up together.

“No, you’re going home after this. It’ll just mean more coffee tomorrow.”

Yet his voice wavered as he washed the soap disappear down the drain. Even then, he was doubting himself. Right then, it felt like he was fighting a war against an unholy combination of his sex drive and… well he didn’t want to mention the other organ. It shouldn’t have had a say in this in all. Really, if anything, his situation was his brain’s fault. Damn thing had gotten used to the human…

Yeah… he had totally meant his brain.

“Alright, get in there and say goodbye.”

The water shut off and Macen dried off in silence. Still naked, he padded back to the bed. Unsurprisingly, Alex was still fast asleep, hugging a bit of the blanket as he dreamed. He looked so peaceful, that it almost seemed cruel to wake him up.

But… he couldn’t just go without saying anything. They had moved past the fuck and leave point months ago.

“Shit…” Macen’s expletive hissed out from between his teeth as he looked around for his pants. At least those he could find – halfway across the room. What could he say, Alex was an enthusiastic partner. Add in the training, and he had reach. No wonder people kept trying to get him to sign up for friendly biotiball matches. “Just… get them and say goodbye.”

Yet when he reached down, he could see the human’s face better. Something about how soft and quiet he looked did terrible things to his stomach, and his pants dropped to the floor with a soft thump. Unfortunately for him, his belt buckle hit first – the metal clang rang out like a shotgun blast.

Shit…

“Mmm…” Alex rolled onto his stomach and burrowed under the blanket. “S’cold… come back to bed, Macen.”

Now, at the moment the turian was definitely not in a sub headspace. If he had been, that could have explained his compulsion to stay. Yet, there was nothing like that in the moment. Something else was leading him back to the bed he had been trying so hard to avoid. It was a powerful urge, and he had no ability to resist.

“I’m coming…” He slid back in, pulling the cover back over his naked body. As soon as he had settled back in, Alex’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. He could feel the human’s heart on his back, and it made his beat faster as his mouth went dry. “Alex?”

“Too cold…” Then there was a sleepy yawn as he nuzzled into his back. “Night…”

Macen’s stomach bubbled as he felt himself leaning into the touch. Logic was screaming at him to do anything, but he was ignoring it then. Instead, he felt his eyes slowly close as the warmth of Alex’s body and his off-beat heart lured him back to sleep. In the morning he would regret this, but at the moment he didn’t care. Right then, there was just the bed and the warm embrace of the man he had come to…

He could deal with that thought later. Much later.

---

“They totally came to the set together.”

“Do you think those rumors were true after all?”

Nothing like crew rumors to make Macen regret being born.

It was finally time for some food after a long morning of filming. Just like he had feared, he and Alex had wound up heading to work together. To say people were talking was putting it mildly. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had already wound up on social media, though he had no ability to check. After the last two disasters he called relationships, he had gotten rid of the entire thing.

Honestly, he didn’t miss the memes. Plus, it gave him a mysterious edge. It was good PR.

Still, his carapace itched as he shot the two humans a glare as he passed. He still had enough bad boy reputation that they scattered like ants, but it didn’t do much more than soothe his prickled ego. In that moment, he had probably confirmed everything they had been whispering about.

What… no one had ever claimed he was smart.

“Fuck…” Macen sighed as he found a quiet place to settle in and eat. Doing so with the mandible implants was a little difficult, but he had figured it out with trial and error. It was good he had too – makeup had been getting annoyed with him. Now at least he was back in their good graces, which was what anyone should want in his line of work.

“Yeah, I’d be saying that too if I was you.”

A shadow had fallen over the turian, and he didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. There were only two people on set who went around in all black armor on the regular, and one of them definitely didn’t set him in shade like that. Just the sound of her voice made his stomach drop.

Talk about going from the frying pan to the fire…

Beau took a seat nearby, her eyes laser focused on him. It made it hard for Macen to swallow his lunch, but he did his best. Honestly, it wasn’t the best idea – it felt like he was swallowing concrete. At least it didn’t actually get stuck, but maybe that death would’ve been preferable to whatever she had planned for him. He’d had a good life… mostly…

“Afternoon, Beau…” Even he knew that was a faulty opening, but Macen had committed to the bit. “Can I help you?”

Another glance as she sipped from a can of soda. “Just wondering when you’re going to ask Alex out and get it over with. You two have been dancing around this for way too long.”

Macen was glad he hadn’t been eating at that point – if he had, he would’ve sprayed levo crumbs everywhere, and as far as he knew she was allergic. Instead, he just choked on his own spit and wound up coughing. To say it wasn’t his finest moment was putting it mildly at best, but at the moment it was all he could do.

At least she had enough heart to thump him on the carapace a few times. It wasn’t going to do anything – he wasn’t human – but it was the thought that counted.

“Don’t die on me, Virius. Garrus was a nightmare to find someone for, or at least that’s what I heard.”

He coughed a few more times, eyes watering. Words were hard, but doable. “I’m not… we’re not…”

Yet there was the feelings in his stomach squirming about in the mere mention of the man he more often than not found himself in bed with. He was adult enough to admit they had moved past simple sex, but… this was something else entirely.

And it was a dark, nasty road, one he knew way too well to be comfortable with anymore.

“I see the way you look at each other. Besides, you’re over each other’s places so much you might as well just fucking move in.” When he gaped, Beau added, “We text each other. I can tell when he’s getting laid, his messages stop and then he’s all relaxed after.”

Damn Alex for being so obvious in his tells…

Macen managed to straighten up, but his heart was still pounding. “It’s… complicated, ok?”

“Because you’re making it that way. You were an ass, get over it and get with it before you regret it.” Beau took another sip from her can. “Unless you’re still thinking this is just a sex thing.”

No… even he knew that one. And even thinking of that made him sigh as he hung his head. It was impossible to ignore the feelings that had been plaguing him for quite some time. To admit it was, in a way, admitting defeat in a war against himself. It was one he had tried to win for so long, yet he was seeing the last of his defenses crumble with every touch, every smile, every time Alex so much as looked at him.

He may have been a turian… but he knew he was beaten.

“Alright, fine … I give up.” His mandibles twitched. “I like the guy, ok?”

Part of him had expected the words to taste bitter on his tongue. Defeat was supposed to be something like that, and yet it was the complete opposite. Macen was surprised to find he felt lighter with just a few words. Of course, that didn’t last long – as soon as there was room, worry filled the place denial had once been.

He never got a fucking moment’s rest.

Beau shook her head as she put her can down. “I hope your delivery’s better when you tell him, Virius. How the hell did you get an award for acting?”

“I never said I was good at ad lib.” Despite everything, he snorted. It was a little bitter and self-depreciating, but it was still a laugh. “That’s going to take more work. I have no idea what to say to him.”

Something about this made him feel like a stupid teenager again, crushing on the cute boy in his class before either of them wound up in basic. He was far too old for something like this, and yet the feelings were so familiar he couldn’t deny it. Despite how hard he had tried, he had damn well caught feelings for Alex.

Well… at least his taste had improved. The guy in his math class had turned out to be a real dickhead.

“That I can’t help you with, Virius.” Beau stood, once again enveloping him in shadow. “But, lucky for you he’s coming this way. Time to work on those ad-lib skills.”

In that moment, Macen could have sworn she smirked as she left him behind to go fuck with someone else’s day. Even worse, she was right – he could see Alex in the distance and judging by the speed he had been spotted by the human and was now being targeted.

Shit… he hadn’t been kidding. He had always been terrible at ad-lib. But… there was no way out of this except through it. All he could do was brace himself for impact and hope he didn’t get tossed like a biotiball during a champion match.

For all he knew, Alex was capable of that now. Wouldn’t that be a way to go… death by being yeet’d by his crush into a wall. Well, there were worse ways he supposed…

Fuck, he so wasn’t ready for this. Fuck…

#fictober21 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #shakarian #the actor AU

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enha-woodzies · 4 years

Note

this is a mutuals mention game! u need to mention one or more mutuals that come to your mind at first when you read the following words (per word): flower, angel, love, chocolate, sweet, cute, gorgeous, fun, sun, moon and stars 💓

it's been a while since i've got another one of these... and i know i should just tag my moots but i can't go on without stating why cos there are valid reasons as to why i've thought of them that way. soo,, here we go~

🌼 flower :: @berrywoo i can't stress this enough you've always been a flower to me besides your name ofc and you're an icon of growth and genuine beauty. no matter how much people trample down on you, you still rise up with strength and beauty and humility. you show them your true self and how we all can be very vulnerable despite feeling all sunshine-y and you definitely put them where they rightfully belong. words can't even explain how pure you are 😘 i just love you so much

👼 angel :: @fluffi ayee pumpkin~ ma child <33 always exuding a bright beam of light and softness, a precious lil one 🥺 goal-directed and driven and what else? needs no effort to brighten up your day, it's just so easy with her that you'll end your day always full and happy :))) mwaa

❤️ love :: @en-amours besides the url lol i love how jo and i can go deep into our conversations and talking with her always makes me feel this kind of depth and solace + this sentimental vibe where just a mere presence of her can totally make you feel at ease. jo always have a lot to say abt things but they're usually not the general knowledge that you'll get from her. her words and sentiments often carry a lot of emotions and meanings. she's so raw with her thoughts and i loooveee that so much. i know we still have a long way to go to build up a much tighter bond but i can already say these with ease cos jo, you are a gem and i'm always in awe and in comfort talking to you 💛

🍫 chocolate :: @jakeysim gill, my babyghorl, she reminds me of chocolate mainly because she has a lot of energy and emotions 一 like a chocolate 🙃 you get that feeling when you take a bite off a chocolate bar and you suddenly feel a rush of different sweetness at once? like it may not look like it has a lot to offer but when you indulge yourself in it, you get a whole package maam. you get what i mean? like she's more than what meets the eye. she's not the typical "what you see is what you get" cos she's a WHOLE lot more 😉

🍭 sweet :: @en-sun wifey <33 ohh nani 🥺 mi precious luvv, always so supportive and sweet and thoughtful ughh might have ants biting me soon cos she hella saccharine sweet my teeth cant even >< she never fails to brighten up my day even when she was still my adorable emoji anon 🥺 she's just ultimately friendly and genuine, man

🧸 cute :: @chuunie aaaaa yuriii my other unofficial child lmao very very supportive and energetic and ofc, i cant leave adorable out now, can i? this loving being pls i feel like yuri's pretty jumpy in person and i would just shower this little cutie with lotsa hugs right away. cuddles >>> & @vrsace-niki my babykins!! very endearing and genuine 🥺 literally feel like biting or pinching your cheeks everytime we talk oh god cmere childddd i wanna wrap you up like a burrito and hug you so tight with my legs around your burrito body 😭

✨ gorgeous :: @entypens ooohh angel, my my, dont get me wrong all of my mooties are exceptionally gorg she a beaut and a gem, ya girl be slayin' all day and i'll be like "damn, that's my girl right there" proud mom right here yall !! at this point i cant keep track of how many children i have on this hellsite JFBHS

🤪 fun :: @soyatenada bee !! this person right here maam. very enthusiastic when her interactive mode's on. she's very analytical and deep too! such a great listener and a person with heaps of genuine feedbacks and advices. very curious and exciting like maam, your energy bar pls take it slow imma have to catch up JFHHS

☀️ sun :: @angeljungwon haziebub! she just exudes warmth and comfort 😌 it feels so easy and relaxing talking to hazel, like you can approach her at any time of the day and scream at her about something that made your stomach do backflips ykwim babe 😉 and she would immediately ride in the vibe and get along with your silliness or whatever... until the vibe dies out cos my energy is very limited pls im a hag

🌙 moon :: @miffythoughts eyyy miffy~ i totally loveeee miffy's appreciation to the wonderful, little things in life. i get that a lot of people do cos i myself adore little things as much as yall can imagine but there's something with the way miffy portrays those details and emotions. she just gets that feeling and i am in awe of how intricate she goes into describing these beauties. she's very deep and beautiful, inside and out. she knows what she's doing and what she's talking about and just... w o w her mind ykno 🤯 i kinda wanna live there rent free even just for a day. lemme peek through those intricacies you mold into masterpieces hun !!

🌟 stars :: @serendipitysung andiii, ma lifesaver andi HAHA andi sure is a bright jewel. she seems timid sometimes and in other times, she's loud. but she's just right 😉 she doesn't say much but you'll always have this sense of security and safety cos you know she's just right there beside you, no words needed to let you know that. i enjoy her feedbacks and appreciation and support towards my writing endeavors and how she's always so nice it feels like she embraces you in warmth and comfort that you just wanna snurfle under her chin and stay there because dang, feels so homey might wanna camp in here along with the sweetest aroma from fragrant candles surrounding around <33

#thank you anon this was really fun!!!#cutee.mail 💌#tag games #moot.moots ✨

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buccigang-headcanons · 4 years

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La Squadra Backstories!!!! Stream of consciousnesss style!

So literally I just sat down and wrote down exactly what I thought. I have not edited these at all lmaooo. But I made long drawn out backstories for our underrated assassins so enjoy!!

T/W + C/W - idk I talk about people dying in a lot of ways. Child abuse, drugs, severe illness, dead cats. This stuff is a mess I really didn’t censor it. But nothing is described in detail cuz I’m too lazy for that.

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Prosciutto cuz he’s at the top of my mind. Mmkay he and Pesci are brothers but not by blood. Pro was an orphan, I still wanna make him Russian, and pesci’s extremely kind and gentle family adopted him when he was like 7. They were like literally a garden catalogue family. Perfection. The parents died when pro was like 15, Pesci was 13?? Idk the age difference I’m just making shit up now. And Pesci had no fucking idea what to do, they didn’t have any other family, and pro was like “I’m still basically a hardened criminal from living on the streets of russia most of my childhood, so joining the local mafia should be a piece of cake”. It was.

Risotto..... fuck it. Polpo is risottos dad. I’ve seen that so much and fuck it I’m here for it now. Idk how I feel about the whole Mariah from part 3 being his mom that seems too coincidental. But either way, he is half Spanish. I don’t think he’s ever been in touch with his Spanish roots at all, but that’s what he is. Polpo had too much fun on vacay in Spain. But it was a once night stand and polpo, a skinny king back in the mid 70s, fucked off to do mafia stuff and didn’t know about this kid. Risotto never knew his father. Time goes by, about the time he’s 10, rizzo’s mom moves to Italy to find the man she once loved. Since the 70s, she has been married and divorced 4 times, disowned by her entire family, and she speaks only of Polpo, the man who swept her off her feet and then disappeared into the night. Leaving only this child with his matching eyes. So they live in Italy, risotto is about 13 now and his mom has been searching seriously for polpo for about 3 years. One day, she gets too close, mafia takes her out. Risotto is all alone in a country he has lived in for less than 3 years. So he decides to take revenge against the mafia. He goes to hunt them down. (I’m too lazy to write out how. Gets a gun. Basically the scene in part 5 where the kid is like “you killed my father and now I’m gonna kill you!!” But he chickens out???) yeah except rizzo didn’t chicken out, he stood firm and killed 2 of them. The other 2 surrendered, and immediately asked rizzo to take polpos test. He did. And he unknowingly met his father, the man his mother had died looking for. He stared into his fathers eyes, black sclera reflecting each other, and passed his test with ease.

Wowwwwwwwww alrighty then that was something. Let’s shake out those jitters because fuck that was intense and let’s move onto some happy shit.

Melone!! Always a bottle of joy. He was a phenomenal student, a perfect child. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, perfect looks. Onlyyyy tiny thing is he murdered cats and buried their heads in the back yard. But that was his only flaw. Aaaaaaaand mayyybe trying to use his extensive knowledge of molecular biology and genetics (even at as young as 11) to asexually breed said cats.

But, apart from that, absolutely perfect specimen of a young boy. And he kept that up until college. Until the rape accusation. Melone had no interest in having sex with her, he swore under oath in open court, he only wanted to “extract her essence” in the hopes of making her amazing genetics stay pure for centuries.

Due to his previously amazing school record, he was allowed to plead not guilty by reason of insanity (because the justice system is bullshit) and was released to his parents. During this whole process, Melone’s mother had begun to grow suspicious of her son, wondering if there was something wrong with him. This led her to explore the crawl space under the garage, more commonly known as “Melone’s childhood laboratory”. The cat skulls alone were enough to set her off. They allowed him into their home long enough to fool the court, but parole officers don’t pay attention, and they kicked him to the curb a month later. Broke, alone, and with no real skills other than his genius mind and gorgeous body, he became a prostitute. It was only a few months before he wandered up to a gigantic white haired man with angry eyes and asked if he wanted a date. Instead of declining, our good ol rizzo just knocked him out cold and brought him home. The rest is history. Literally because I can’t think of what would happen between that and Melone joining the mafia. I assume he was just their house pet for a little while before he decided he wanted a stand too.

Oh good lord these are getting insane. Better keep going. Okay I have no idea what’s about to come out of my head for ghia but oh Lordy. Might as well start. Ghiaccio wasn’t always quite as angry, but it’s actually gonna be a sweet story. Kinda. He used to act perfect, even tho he always felt the anger inside. He was forced to bottle it up and put on a happy exterior always. His mother was Belgian. (From experience, Belgian mothers (Flemish in particular) will beat you until your ass is raw if you talk back). Italian father, they lived in italy. He had 4 sisters, he was the middle child of 5. Around high school, he started acting out. Of course this was due to all of his bottled up anger from the past 15 years. 4 shattered sinks, 16 holes in the drywall, and one classroom fire later, Ghiaccio was expelled from school. His parents were too busy brimming with joy about the success of all his sisters that they didn’t take much notice to him. “If you’re going to behave in such a manner you might as well leave” his mother said. She was past the point of caring enough to beat him. So he left. 16 and with no where to go, he wandered the streets. After a year or so, Ghia had gotten used to that life, and was angry at everyone, sometimes when he wasn’t even angry. Anger had become his coping mechanism. Screaming was easier than talking. Until one day, he screamed at a blonde man in an intersection. Prosciutto was driving back to the squads hang out, boxes of takeout in the back seat of the car. He had chosen to not stop at the red light, just for fun, and nearly ran into our blue haired teenager. Ghia proceeded to cuss him out for a good 4 minutes in the middle of this intersection before pro cut him off. “Get in the back. “ he said, with his own special brand of brotherly love. “I know how you can put that anger to good use”. Ghiaccio, having no real reason to object, got in the back seat. Prosciutto was silent the rest of the drive and Ghiaccio yelled about all the take out food, now splattered on the backs of the seats due to the sudden slam on the brakes.

Y’all I don’t even remember the other la squadra members. Let’s do sorbet/gelato because they have zero backstory or personality so I can just ramble. *Clears throat* let’s begin. These fuckers. Friends since birth. Grew up together, always really close. They were both dirt poor, but because the only school nearby was a decent public school, when were able to slightly experience middle class living. They liked it. They wanted to see upper class, and once they did, they wanted to be there. These two were money grubbing bffs, I’m talking josuke and okuyasu, but like waaaaay more intense and also violent. They both left home around 14, together of course. Gelatos father had left them a few years prior, and his family were on the brink of starvation. Figuring they didn’t need another mouth to feed (and completely abandoning his post as family patriarch lol) he left with sorbet, who’s family had all died in various ways over the years. Most recently, his older sister being taken by some illness that was probably easily treatable, but with no means for a doctor, she died in days. The boys left home and school, and made a living by pickpocketing tourists and occasionally launching into larger heists. They made a decent living for themselves, but eventually started spending their money on drugs. It’s was sorbet first, heroin was really good to him for awhile. Gelato was against it, knowing it was the reason sorbets family had been so poor to begin with. His father was an addict, and despite holding down a job fairly well, spent all his earnings on drugs. Eventually he became too dependent, lost his job, and OD’d. But around this same time, when the boys were 16/17, they were starting to realize their feelings for each other. Confused teenaged minds full of budding love led to Gelato giving in, and soon their days were filled with heroin fueled ecstatic sex. They lived like this for awhile, existing in half reality, until one day they chose to set their pickpocketing targets on a short man with close cropped gray hair. The plan was perfect, sorbet bumped into the man and gelato passed by to grab his wallet, and suddenly they were the size of mere ants. In an instant, they were returned to size, left to wonder if it was real or just a hallucination from long term drug use. But they didn’t run. Formaggio introduced himself, with a loose handshake and a pause to spit out some tobacco, and promptly invited them to a “party”. Although, Formaggio was honest in his promise, this party did have drugs.

Cheese boys turn!! Seriously who am I forgetting??? Illuso my mirror man! Am I forgetting someone else too?? Idk. But shut up Kel it’s cheese boys turn.

So. Formaggio. Probably the most chill childhood. Lower middle class, pretty average, but he was quite gifted with sports. Soccer was his main, and also a fantastic competitive swimmer. (Okay I have a separate hc that Bruno is really good at soccer so hol horse up a moment so I can imagine those 2 playing soccer together in friendly competition. In my lil au where Bruno is in la squadra because I say BruPro exes rights please and thanks.) but anyway, he got really good at soccer and was offered a scholarship to play at a fancy pants private high school when he was 14. Of course his parents made him go, this has been the family’s dream for years, and formaggio’s as well. So high school is amazing, he’s starting to attract attention from universities even tho he’s barely in grade 11 by this point. And it’s all really amazing until he realizes. This isn’t what he wants. And it’s just that. He doesn’t want to play soccer anymore, he doesn’t want to potentially be famous. He just wants to be a kid. So he leaves school, he leaves home, he wants to start over. And he wanders into a diner and sees this small group of weirdly dressed men. At this point, it’s rizzo, pro, Pesci, and ghia. And he’s staring at them because they’re dressed like circus clowns but their aura is so murderous. And then the one who looks like a giant pineapple starts staring back. Pesci gets up and walks over to Formaggio. “I know you! You’re that amazing kid soccer player!!” And he just goes on and on about shit he read in the news (70% of it was false) until pro comes over and yanks his idiot brother away. Pro starts asking Formaggio questions, thinking he could be a good target. Stupid little rich kid. But to prosciuttos surpise, Formaggio is just a down to earth kid with no more money to his name than he needs to pay for this meal. Prosciutto takes him home after that. He doesn’t really offer any explanation.

(The rambling at the beginning of this paragraph actually happened lol so I paused for like 4 hrs oops)

Alright we are back. Had to leave to go to therapy and then scream at my mother and cry to my boyfriend but we are ready to go! Illuso and I really hope he’s the last one and I’m not forgetting one. Illuso was raised in an orphanage from infancy. No idea who his parents could even be. Fun fact: one of the nuns at the orphanage (cuz it’s an orphanage in Italy in 1980, they’re catholic.) nicknamed him Illuso because he was always pointing at things that weren’t there. As a tiny baby and a child, he would always be looking at things no one else can see (yes illuso is a natural stand user fight me). The nuns called him illuso as an insult, hoping to shame him into stopping. He never did. When he outgrew the orphanage, he decided to join the priesthood. He was 19, a priest in training, when the mafia came to the orphanage. They were collecting, and illuso knew they didn’t have the money this month. He tried to talk the mobsters down, but that went about as well as planned. 4 bullets to the chest, 3 open heart surgeries, and half a dozen resuscitations later, Illuso was released from the hospital. The orphanage had been shut down, and no one knew what had happened to the children or the nuns. With no where to go, illuso knew of one place that could use talents like his. The talents of steadily stealing money from the starving children of the church for a decade. It was during polpos test that illuso’s stand manifested. Not due to the arrow, but to protect its user from the other stand. Illuso was able to avoid Black Sabbath by hiding in his newfound mirror world until it was time to return the lighter to polpo (kinda cowardly but whatever.) he was assigned to risottos group by chance and was the last to join excluding Melone. But they loved him as if they had found him themselves.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #la squadra #Melone #ghiaccio #Formaggio #illuso #sorbet #gelato #risotto Nero #prosciutto #Pesci #jojo part 5 #jjba

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saratour · 5 years

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Don’t give up love yet!

This was written for @cevansgirl writing challenge. Thanks for hosting this and getting myself into writing again.

A/N: It’s technically already the 2nd December but as long as I haven’t slept it isn’ the next day. So I still made it in time... kinda lol... I changed the whole fic in the last hour because I wasn’t happy with the beginning. I was only content with the ending so now the ending is the new beginning and I think that is kinda poetic.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: You were done with love, after several attempts at a relationship you came to the conclusion that love wasn’t just something you’ll get in this life. You made your peace with it but it seems like destiny had other plans for you.

Type: one-shot

Prompt: I don’t want to be in love, but you’re making me.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: uncertain feelings, open end

“Do you think I want that? I was happy! I made peace with it… but now?” you threw your hands in the air. A variety of emotions flashed over your face – anger, frustration, uncertainty, fear and… hope. “Argh! I don’t want to be in love, but you’re making me!” you almost screamed at Chris, letting him look at you all baffled. There it was! ‘Great work, (Y/N)’, you scolded yourself. Now you wouldn’t be able to get back to what you had. ‘As if you could’, snorted a small voice inside you. You felt helpless and lost. This whole situation got quite out of hand.

Chris was still trying to comprehend it all. His brows were knitted together tightly and his forehead was crinkled. “(Y/N), I had no idea…” You stopped him midsentence with a raised hand. “Don’t Chris, don’t make it any harder than it already is.” A sad smile appeared on your features and you turned your back to him. “I guess that’s it, huh.” Tears threatened to fall but you held them back. One mindless moment shattered years of perfect friendship. But what a cliché you were, falling in love with your best friend.

Your feet were taking you away without a conscious thought, faster and faster and just before you realized it, you were running from him. His callings became distant rather fast. He didn’t follow you and maybe that hurt more than if he actually tried to stop you from running away. Why did you have to realize your feelings when it was already too late. All those years you wasted. Buried the butterflies under false pretenses. You angrily whipped away the now falling tears. Sadness and frustration dominated inside you now. You wanted to hate him, be mad at him, blame him. Anything to help distract you from your own mistake. But the truth was, you couldn’t because you knew Chris did nothing wrong. You were to blame – in every way. First, you developed feelings towards him and afraid as you were, you pushed them deep down until he met someone else. Second, you were a bad best friend for not feeling happy for him. He deserved to be happy. Chris was caring, gentle, thoughtful, funny, beautiful inside and out and he deserved the world. Pity that his world was not you. The tears had stopped and with no particular goal in mind, you wandered around the busy streets, people passing you by, giving you nothing but a mere glance or a raised eyebrow. The big city, the anonymity you always appreciated left you with an unpleasant feeling of loneliness. You needed someone to tell you that everything would be alright, that you would get over your feelings, someone to hug you tight and block out the world for just a moment. But the irony was, that the only one capable of doing that was the one who caused everything in the first place.

You were so occupied with your pain and thoughts that you bumped into two girls coming out of the nearest shop entrance. After apologizing, you just stopped and for the first time after that horrible encounter, you noticed your surroundings. All the noises, the smells and the cold December air hitting your senses at once. It made you feel dizzy and you needed to steady yourself with one hand at the shop window. With an aching heart, you looked skywards. It was dark and cloudy, the night sky as black as your mood. Suddenly you felt something touch your face, it was a delicate contact. It was soft and cold first but then it changed into something wet. Fairly quickly you realized that it had started snowing.

The soft flakes falling silently down to earth. In awe, you held out your hand and caught a few. They immediately melted away, forming small trickles on your skin. ‘How tragic’ you thought, they were born in the clouds and descended this long way down and for what? Just to vanish after a few seconds? “Beautiful, isn’t it?” You looked up from your hand. An old man was smiling fondly while watching the snowflakes fall. He was quite stout with a round face and a big pug nose. He reminded you of your first Santa Clause in the shopping mall. “More like tragic”, you mumbled under your breath but the old man caught it nevertheless. “In a rather dark mood, aren’t we?” He chuckled with a deep, booming voice. His gaze lingered on you with a soft expression before he looked up again. Something in the way he looked at you made you feel at ease. “You could see their short existence as tragic, sure. But I like to think that they are happy.” You looked at him with a baffled look. Knowingly and with a warm twinkle in his eyes he continued. “They are born in the clouds high above our heads. Wondering what it’s like down here. We must look like little ants from up above.” Again a deep chuckle. “So they wonder and admire us from afar until they fall. They cover fields, meadows, streets, cars, and people. They turn our grey everyday life into something white and magical.” He smiled gently and you could see that he truly believed what he told you. “Look”, the old man pointed to a group of kids who were dancing happily under the falling snow. Their laughter and joy was somewhat contagious. All the adults around them who were passing by smiled and you could see love and happiness in their faces. Even their posture changed, their walk was a little lighter and the slumped shoulders were lifted. “All the joyful laughter and fond smiles are their reward. All the love going around is their gratification.” The warm and deep voice reminded you gently. You watched those kids a while longer, a small smile curled your lips to your surprise. You thought you had forgotten how to do that. “Don’t give up love yet, (Y/N). It’s Christmas after all.” At these words, you tore your gaze away from the kids and wanted to ask the man where he got your name but he was gone by the time you turned your head. In the same place, you glanced into two beautiful and oh so familiar orbs.

“Hey”, Chris huffed and the word formed a small cloud in the cold air. “Hey”, you replied with the same tenderness. You shouldn't feel so happy that he found you, but the almost dead butterflies in your stomach fluttered lightly, awoken by the huffed greeting. You bit your lip and drenched your hand, not knowing how to react and what to say. You wanted to apologize, to tell him to forget everything you said tonight but as soon as you opened your mouth you were stopped. Chris wrapped his strong arms around you and hugged you tight. With a strangled sob you closed your eyes, tears stinging in the corners. He held onto you for a long time, people passing you by complaining under their breath that you’re in the way and the snow covering the two of you like a blanket. And that was how you felt. Wrapped under a warm blanket that blocked out the world and the difficult reality. You sniffled and slowly broke apart from Chris. You couldn’t help but stare into his mesmerizing eyes, trying to read what was on his mind. He smiled at you, a warm and understanding smile. A promise to help sort out this mess. Chris rested his forehead on yours.

“So I’m making you being in love, eh?”

“Oh, don’t bring it up again!” You cringed and tried to look away but he held your gaze.

“Hear me out, (Y/N), please.” He was still so unbelievably close. His breath fanned over your face, warm in the cold night air. Normally you were fine with this closeness but today it made you blush and the presumed dead butterflies buzzed happily.

“You are such a strong and independent woman. You always take what you want and you never complain about anything – except for when there is no ice cream in the fridge” You both chuckled at that but his look turned serious quickly after the small outburst.

“I knew that you thought that love wasn’t an option anymore. That Mr. Right would never show up… That a happy relationship just wasn’t in the cards for you.”

He sighed and while bringing a bit of distance between you, he cupped your face. His hands were freezing but that wasn’t the reason you shivered. His intense look made your stomach drop and your heart flutter. You never had seen him so stern and determined.

“(Y/N), I hate to tell you that, but you’re wrong. I can see that know. You always take what you want and by some weird miracle you want me.” He snorted. “I am no Mr. Right nor perfect but I am here for you, always have been always will be.”

You couldn’t trust your ears, what was Chris trying to tell you? He was in a relationship but now he was telling you that he would be what? Your Not-Mr. Right? Your head started to spin and you shifted uncomfortably in his embrace.

“But what? … I don’t understand, Chris. What about Becca?”

He released your cheeks but still hold onto your hands caressing them with his thumps.

“That wasn’t real. We both weren’t fully in it from the start. You could say she was a distraction for me as much as I was for her. I am not so strong-willed as you are, cupcake. I knew that you were done with love and so I…”

You couldn’t take it anymore, all these crazy feelings that made no sense made you act out of your way. Before you fully realized it, you crushed your lips on his, shutting him up in the best way possible.

Chris was surprised by your sudden action but it only took seconds for him to kiss you back. Now wrapping his arms tightly around you once more. You still needed to sort out your feelings and you should definitely talk about all this, preferably not in the cold but that could wait. For now all that mattered was, that you didn’t give up love after all.

#cevansgirl writing challenge #chris evans x reader #prompt

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spideyy-girl · 5 years

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Hope ~ Peter Parker (pt. II)

Summary: it’s been five years since the Decimation, and a lot has changed. Y/N has yet to give up hope and move on from the death of her best friend and the love of her life, Peter Parker. But when Ant-Man reappears from being stuck from the quantum realm, could there be a way to reverse the effects of the snap, and bring everyone back?

Fandom: Marvel (MCU)

Warnings: INFINITY WAR AND ENDGAME SPOILERS, swearing as always, sort of mentions PTSD and depression, angst, sad, dad!tony x daughter!reader, doesn’t really follow endgame canon

Word Count: 4910 (13.7 pages)

A/N: had to repost because for some reason the tags weren’t working lol. Anyways hope you enjoy! Tony isn’t actually the reader’s dad, but he sort of takes her in after the decimation y’know.

If you haven’t read the first part I would suggest reading that first before reading this one! Let me know if you want to be tagged!

READ PART 1 HERE

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Five Years Later…

Y/N pried her eyes open, feeling the warmth of the summer sun soaking into her room. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before stretching her arms over her head. She lay back down, confining into the comfiness of her mattress, turning to her side to see the time on her alarm clock, which read 10:03 am. It was a little later than she usually woke up, but she did fall asleep a little later than usual last night.

Y/N threw the covers off of her body, standing up and stretching her arms over her head, the oversized white shirt she wore rising up her thighs. She walked over and grabbed a pair of shorts, slipping them on under the shirt, although the illusion that there were no pants remained. She walked back beside her bed and unplugged her phone, grabbing it off the table. She pressed the button which illuminated the screen. She smiled at the background, the one that used to make her cry every time she saw his face. Pocketing her phone, Y/N opened the wooden door and walked down the hallway, the cold floor tickling the bottom of her feet.

Soon she could here pitter patter of small feet hitting the hardwood floor. Small giggles echoed off the walls throughout the house, the sound could bring a smile to anyone’s face. As she turned a corner into the kitchen, she found the source of the sounds, the young girl turning quickly, her laughter increasing as she flings herself onto Y/N.

“Y/N!” Morgan screams as the girl mentioned crouched down to pick up the four-year-old, placing her on her hip. Morgan Stark had become like a little sister to the woman and had helped her through more than the little girl could ever understand. Y/N placed a kiss on the younger girls messy brown curls, bringing her into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Morgan,” she says, smiling at her as she gets a small toothy grin back. Y/N sways with the girl still on her hip to the soft melody of the music playing in the kitchen, spinning around every once in a while, causing a string of laughter to escape the child’s lips. “What are you up to this morning.” Y/N dropped the girl back onto the floor gently, thought Morgan still held tightly onto Y/N’s hand, dragging her further into the room, where you see two other familiar faces.

“Daddy is making pancakes!” Morgan says, giggling as she goes up to her parents. Y/N laughs, going over to Pepper Stark and giving her a kiss on the cheek before replying.

“Oh boy. That must not be good,” she jokes as Morgan pulls on her father’s sleeve, causing Tony Stark to lean down and pick up the girl who was curious about the process of flipping the batter. Tony turned around to face Y/N, a girl who he’s become close enough to consider a daughter as well, an expression of faux hurt painted on his face.

“I take offence to that,” he says sarcastically, tilting his head. “I am the ultimate maker of pancakes, and I’d bet you’d love them.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head and passing by him, bumping his shoulder lightly.

“I’ll stick with cereal, thanks,” she says. Tony scoffs, his attention going back to the now burnt pancake as he urgently tries to flip it. Morgan slips out of her fathers’ arms and goes over to Y/N, tugging you down to whisper into her ear.

“I think you and mommy are much better at pancakes than daddy,” she says not-so-discreetly. Pepper laughed from the other side of the kitchen, taking out plates and cutlery to set the table with as Tony brings his attention back to his stubborn daughter. He furrows his eyebrows, looking at the girl as she stared back at him, her nose scrunching up and a giggle escaping her lips. Tony rolled his eyes as he goes back to the task on hand: breakfast.

“Wow, betrayed by my own daughter,” he says, using the spatula to put all the pancakes on a plate before pointing the flat handed tool at her. “Just for that, you are getting the burnt pancake.” Morgan laughed again, going down and grabbing onto Tony’s leg, clinging onto him like a monkey.

“Nooooo, daddy,” she smiled as he walked, slowly with the extra weight of the toddler on one leg, to the kitchen table. Y/N decided to make his life a little easier and take the plate and put it on the table, before sitting down in her usual spot. She lifts up Morgan, after pulling her off of her dad’s leg and placed her into the high chair so she can reach the table. She placed a smaller pancake onto the little girl’s plate, cutting it up in little squares for her before grabbing one for herself and doing the same. The house was silent, the only sounds being the soft music still playing from the kitchen radio and the soft sound of chewing and forks scraping against the ceramic plates. After a few minutes when everyone except Morgan finished her food (it was harder since she lost her tooth just a week ago), a conversation started to flow.

“Oh, Y/N,” Tony interrupts the quiet, catching the girls attention as her eyes go up from her plate pooled in syrup to meet his. “Nat wants you at the compound this weekend for some training. It’s been a while since you’ve gone.” Y/N nodded, making a mental note.

“Yeah. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss those dorks,” she laughed, and Tony smiled. Although he still wasn’t on the greatest terms with the rest of the Avengers team, he’s happy that she had gotten closer to them all. It really was true that the team was like a family to her, they’ve all helped her so much the past few years, more than they know. Even the ones who she had just met the first day she came to the compound, and the ones she didn’t get along with at first.

“Alright, great. I’ll send her a message,” Tony says as he pulls out his phone, which was quickly snatched from Pepper, explaining how “there are no phones at the table, you can do that after,” earning an eye roll from the billionaire, but accepting the rule none the less.

Y/N grabbed the empty plates and went over into the kitchen, washing them in the sink. As she was drying them with a towel and putting them onto a dish rack, a photo caught her eye. She placed the plate she was cleaning and reached up to grab it on the shelf, having to go on her toes just a bit.

The frame held a photo of Tony and her old friend Peter Parker, who had died after the snap. It was the two of them holding Peter’s Stark Internship certificate, both smiling goofily and holding bunny ears on top of the others head. Y/N had never seen the photo before and wondered why Tony had never shown her before, or how she had never noticed it before, although it did seem to be hiding behind everything else.

“I love that picture,” Tony said from behind her. Y/N almost dropped the frame in surprise, quickly turning around to face the older man. “It’s okay, you’re not in trouble. I just hide it because it makes me sort of emotional seeing it,” he explains, his eyes not leaving the photo. Y/N could only nod, watching as tears start to form in his eyes.

“This is a great photo, it’s very… him, y'know?” Y/N says as she tries to smile at him. Her eyes also trailed back to the photo, noticing how happy he looked. “I remember when he came home with that, he was so proud… He really loved you, Tony.” She confessed, now not even trying to hold back tears. Tony smiled softly, finally ripping his gaze to look at the girl, only to see her own eyes looking at the boy in the frame.

“He loved you too,” he says, so quietly she almost missed him saying it. “You both loved each other so much, I could tell even when I first met you. And I know you still do.” The words made a sob escape her mouth. It had been a long time since she had cried for Peter, not that she was sad that he was gone, but she had finally accepted that he was gone. He was never coming back, and although it was harsh it was the truth, no matter how hard she and the other Avengers tried to find a way to reverse what happened. Y/N pursed her mouth into a thin line, squeezing her eyes shut to try and control herself as she nodded at Tony’s words. They were true, he was right.

Although he was gone- and she realized and accepted that a long time ago- she could never stop loving him, maybe in a way more than she was supposed to.

Tony watched the girl trying to hold herself together in front of him. It was sad but even sadder that he had gotten used to the sight. But trying to fix her was like trying to put an expensive vase back together with craft glue, as much as you try and even though it will hold for a moment, everything will come crashing down again, breaking even more than before. Tony held her shoulder, before pulling her into his chest, letting her cry into his chest. He could feel his shirt getting wet from the salty tears but he didn’t mind. He closed his eyes, letting a few warm tears of his own slide down his cheeks, disappearing into the girl’s hair.

They stood there for a few moments, letting her calm down in his arms. Once she stopped shaking, he pressed a kiss to the side of her head, before pulling her away from him, holding her by the shoulders again. She looked back at him, her eyes already bloodshot. She sighed, closing her eyes in a longer-than-normal blink.

“Do you miss him?” She asks him quietly, although she knew the answer. He smiles, nodding at her question.

“Of course,” he says, replying in a small voice so she wouldn’t hear it crack. “To be honest, there isn’t a day that has gone by in the past five years that I hadn’t thought of him at least once, or what happened.” Y/N nodded, her eyes dropping onto the floor, letting out a cold laugh.

“Yeah me too,” she sniffles, wiping her extra tears away before her eyebrows pull together in confusion, looking back at Tony. “God, has it really been five years already?” She asked, thinking of all that has happened. Tony laughs, nodding.

“I know right, all feels like yesterday,” he says, not really meaning it in the way your mother would say after explaining a fond memory from when you were a child. It was meant more in a way like the event was so tragic that it stuck with and haunted not only the two, but everyone who had lost someone that day.

“Daddy?” a little high-pitched voice says from the kitchen entrance. The two looked over to see Morgan standing at the doorway, a stuffed bunny hanging limply from one of her hands, dragging along the floor. “Are you okay?” she asked, this time the question was directed more at the other person in the room. Y/N gave her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, crouching down so Morgan could run into her arms. Y/N placed the ever-growing girl on her hip and she kissed her cheek, the girl in her arms immediately making her feel so much better. “I was just thinking of my friend, remember I told you about uncle Peter?” Morgan nodded, smiling.

“Spidey!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. Y/N smiled, a laugh escaping her own lips as she nodded. Even though the girl had never met Peter, she already loved him, always listening intently to all the stories Y/N told about him and his adventures as Spider-Man. Tony smiled at his two daughters, even though one wasn’t his blood, he loved them both. He went over and patted Y/N on the back, kissing Morgan’s still messy hair.

“I’m gonna go text Nat that you’ll be there tomorrow,” he said, winking at the smaller girl being held by her. He walked out of the room, leaving the two girls. Y/N bounced Morgan on her hip a bit before turning to her.

“How about we got get you dressed, okay?” Y/N suggests. Morgan nods, placing her head on her shoulder, closing her eyes. Y/N smiled at the girl, carrying her to her room to pick out a nice outfit for her and maybe even do her hair.

~~~

“Oof.”

Y/N hit the ground hard after her legs were swept from under her. She groaned, propping herself up on her elbows and blinking to make the stars appearing in her vision fade away. Over her stood the red/blonde woman, Natasha Romanoff. She shook her head, although she had a small smile on her lips.

“You gotta pay more attention, Y/N,” she said, holding a hand out for the girl under her to grab. Y/N only rolled her eyes. “You can’t let your enemy see your weaknesses, you can’t give them a chance to take over you.” Y/N reached up to grab Natasha’s hand, only to pull her down and roll over, pulling her arm behind her back in a lock, standing on her knees over her.

“How’s that for seeing my weakness?” Y/N asked sarcastically, smiling down at Natasha, who had the side of her face squished down on the mat below them, unable to move from the position Y/N had her trapped in. Although half of her face was pressed against the mat, she could see the smirk growing on her trainer’s face. She tries to nod the best she can in her current situation.

“Well done, Y/N,” she compliments, trying to kick herself up again to set the girl off, but was only met with a foot on her back to keep her side. “You’ve learned so well the past few years.” Y/N finally let her go, releasing her grip on her wrist and taking her foot off of Nat’s back. She quickly jumped up, dusting herself off and looking back at the girl, who shrugged.

“I learn from the best,” Y/N says, winking at her as they both make their way out of the training room into the locker room connected. Nat smirked as looked over and offered her a towel, before grabbing one for herself.

“And this is why you’re my favourite one here,” she laughs. The two of them get changed into your normal clothes before going into the conference room. Natasha sat down in a chair and called Rocket, Okoye, Nebula, Carol and Rhodey while Y/N offered to go to the kitchen to make them both a peanut-butter sandwich, to which she happily agreed to one. She quickly went in the kitchen and pulled out four sliced of bread, lightly buttering them before putting on a smack load of peanut butter on two and a little bit less of jam on the other two. She put the peanut butter and jam slices together, making two sandwiches, and also poured the two of them a glass of chocolate milk.

Y/N’s past experience with being a waitress at Delmar’s made carrying all of the items easy, setting a plate and a glass down in front of her mentor before taking a seat beside her and putting down her own. By the time she got back, only Rhodey was standing, talking to her about who she assumed was Hawkeye, or used to be Hawkeye. Natasha sat teary-eyed while talking to the War Machine.

“Will you tell me where he’s going next?” She asked, voice shaky. Y/N felt horrible for her, knowing that they used to be close and she couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have your best friend turn into something you thought they weren’t. She couldn’t even imagine if Peter had gone off randomly killing people just for the hell of it, but she knew it would destroy her too.

“Nat…” Rhodey trailed off, giving her a silent warning to her actions. But she persisted.

“Please,” she asked again. Rhodey looked at her with sad eyes for a second before responding with a small “okay,” and walking off the screen, the blue light dissolving. Nat out her head in her hand, trying to hold herself together. Y/N reached out and placed a soft hand on her arm. She knew Natasha wasn’t exactly one who found physical contact more comforting like she did, but Nat looked over and gave her a smile, putting her bigger hand on top of hers.

“I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you already look horrible,” Steve says, leaning on the doorframe. He gives Y/N a smile, to which she returned before they both brought their attention back to Natasha. She looked up at him, rolling her eyes as they had small banter. Y/N drowned out of the conversation, focusing on the small meal she prepped for herself before something caught her eye.

“Hey, there’s someone at the door?” Y/N said, pointing at the notification that popped up from the table. Nat swiped it to open the front door camera and was met with a sight that none of them were expecting.

“Hi? Hi! Is anyone home?“The voice of Ant-Man called from the screen. Y/N had to rub her eyes because from what she remembered Scott Lang had disappeared too after the Decimation, yet there he stood, just outside the front door. She stood up immediately, checking for a date on the camera.

"Is this an old message?” she asked, and she didn’t know what answer she was expecting. Hell, she didn’t even know what answer she wanted to hear. Natasha and Steve stood as well.

“It’s at the front gate,” Nat said breathlessly. Y/N shook her head, her ears starting to ring and her head feeling dizzy but she paid no mind as she sprinted out the door, going to see Scott Lang, the two Avengers followed closely behind her.

~~~

Y/N, Natasha, Steve, Scott and Tony stood on the latter’s porch outside his new house in woods, the same one you had been in just a day ago. Scott was trying to explain how he was stuck in the quantum realm for the past five years, even though it was only a few hours for him. He then used this information and thought about how you might be able to use that to go back in time and reverse what happened. The idea was extremely intriguing to the girl, thinking of the possibility for if it were to work. But she didn’t want to get her hopes up too much.

Because last time she put all of her hope into something, it ended up destroying her.

“That’s not how quantum physics works,” Tony sums up. Y/N sat in a chair beside him, taking in his words but not really processing them. She picked on her lip in a nervous habit as she undevotedly listened into the conversation.

“Tony,” Nat steps in, standing up. “We have to take a stand.”

“We did stand,” he replies quietly, looking down at his hands before looking back at the group. He glances at the girl beside him. “And yet here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line; you’ve got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me, a lot of people did,” Scott said, the statement catching her attention as she stared at him, pleading him to go on. He spares a glance at her, he’s going through the same thing she was. “But now we have a chance to bring her back, to bring everyone back! And you’re telling me that you won’t even-”

“That’s right, Scott, I won’t,” Tony interrupts his speech. Y/N looked at him in disbelief.

“But Tony, what if-” Y/N tries to speak in, but Tony interrupts once again.

“I said NO, Y/N!” he says, his face turning red as he looks at her. “Kid, you don’t understand. It’s never gonna work, okay? It’s not worth the risk!”

“I’m not a kid, anymore! Stop calling me that!” She yells back. “And I don’t give a shit about what you think. We have a chance! I’m gonna do whatever I can to get him back, and honestly, I thought you would too…” her words are silenced by her trying to hold back her sobs as she standing up, the metal patio chair scratching harshly on the porch before storming off the balcony and down the driveway. She ran down the dirt road and into a path of trees that she’s grown familiar with, it would be her safe spot when she first arrived at the cottage with Tony and Pepper and the sound of the nature around her and the green tinted light from through the leaves of the trees would silence her crying.

After a few minutes, she sees Steve emerge from the thick packet of trees. He walks over to the girl hunched over herself, the sun perfectly reflecting the tear tracks staining her cheeks, and crouches down in front of her, squeezing her arm in reassurance.

“We’re gonna be on our way now,” Steve says quietly, causing the girl to look him in the eye. “Tony wanted to know if you’re still staying for the week. I think it’d be good for both of you.” Y/N averted her gaze back to the mossy forest floor and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she says, her voice drowned out by the rustling of the 50-foot trees in the warm wind. Steve wouldn’t have heard it if his hearing wasn’t enhanced by the super serum, as well as pretty much all of his other senses. He gave her another pat on the shoulder, before standing up and making his way back to the little cottage. Y/N sat in the clearing, watching the small river flowing steadily just a few inches beside her, the quiet trickling of water crashing over small pebbles steadying her nerves. She closed her eyes, intrapping herself in the sounds surrounding her, wondering why her life couldn’t always be this peaceful and carefree.

After she felt she was good to go, she carefully stood up, walking through the shrubs and out of the woods, walking back down the rocky driveway and opening the screen door. She smiled at Pepper, who offered her a grilled cheese and garden salad for lunch, but Y/N politely declined, telling her that she’d be downstairs.

In the basement is where Tony’s little lab was set up. She liked to come in every once in a while when she was bored or had nothing to do, helping Tony with new technology or even updating her protocol suit. She never even put it on, but she had it ready just in case. Tony called it the “Silk” suit. The design was very similar to that of Spiderman’s, but instead had the colours of white, black, and pinkish-red. The torso was white, with light webbing details in the red, and of course the infamous symbol in the middle of the chest. The arms and legs were black, with light white webbing details that could only be seen when reflecting light, and lightning like designs coming down on the shoulders and things in the same colour. And the last detail was a thin material that covered half her face, which was a beautiful shade of red. It was breathable, but still a tight fit to reassure that it wouldn’t fall from her face and reveal her identity while fighting.

She walked up to the suit, which was encased in glass and stood proudly beside past suits of Peter’s. Her slim fingers delicately traced against the glass, admiring all the tiny specifics of the suit, and how the webbing reflecting a certain way in the light. She averted her gaze to walk over to the glass table, to do what she really came here for.

What Scott had said about using the quantum realm for time travel had intrigued her, and although Tony couldn’t see how it could ever work, Y/N had seen it as an opportunity. She brought up the pop-up screen and started making models, mixing certain materials and chemicals to see if anything could be stable enough to go through with the idea. She spent hours with her head swarming with possibilities, trying every single combination. And soon enough 1 in the afternoon became almost 11 at night, but it made no difference to her. Y/N let out a long yawn, rubbing her eyes before speaking to FRIDAY again.

“Hey, FRIDAY, one more sim before I head off for the night,” Y/N spoke to the AI, turning the holographic model, looking for points of improvement. “Umm, try an… inverted mobius strip? Please?” Y/N watched as the hologram shifted and turned into the shape she asked for, turning the model around and inspecting certain particles. “Also, do you mind giving me the eigenvalue of that particle there? Factor it into the spectral decomp, yeah.” Y/N points at a certain point, which shifts immediately after she says the command.

“Processing, this might take a few minutes,” FRIDAY responded, changing the model into different structures to see if any of them fit with the girl’s idea. Y/N watches intently, not noticing the small Stark girl climbing down the stairs looking for her sister. She sat on the steps, watching her work. It reminded her a lot of her dad.

“Don’t worry if it doesn’t work out. I’ll be back on it tomorrow,” Y/N states, looking down at the glass table, watching the reflection of the changing model. After another minute or so, FRIDAY finishes up, a sound notification letting her know that the model had rendered. When she looked up she couldn’t believe her eyes, bringing her hands up to her mouth and falling into the chair behind her. There, in big letters stood tall and proud.

‘MODEL SUCCESSFUL’

Y/N felt tears spring up into her eyes, staring at the large words printed beside the efficient time travelling device she created herself. “Shit,” she spoke quietly into her hands, before springing up again and starting to pace around the table, a smile making its way onto her face. “Holy shit! Fuck! Oh my god, oh my…” she rambled on, spewing profanities as she looked onto the device until she heard the smaller voice.

“Shit!” Morgan said from the stairs. Y/N whipped her head around, shock taking over her features. She shook her head, giving Morgan a stern look.

“Morgan, no no no, we don’t say those words, okay?” She said, as Morgan stood up and walked over to her, Y/N going up to her as well. “Those are very bad words, I shouldn’t have even said them.” Morgan only giggled at her.

“Fuck!” she said and then laughed. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of how yes, she was most definitely a Stark. Y/N picked her up, shushing her before bringing her over to look at the model.

“Yeah, fuck is right,” she whispered, more to herself. She felt Morgan lean on her shoulder, probably trying to fall asleep. Y/N held the little girl close to her, rocking her back and forth to soothe her to sleep as she felt hot tears fall off her cheeks. She sat back down on the chair, still carefully holding Morgan as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, silent sobs raking through her body. She didn’t really know how to feel, but she felt the need to cry.

Tony came down a few minutes later, he saw Y/N crying on the chair, still holding his sleeping daughter, and beelined towards her. “Hey, Y/N calm down, okay. What’s wrong?” Y/N could only shake her head, looking at him before looking back at the screen. Ton looked behind him as well. He straightened his legs quickly standing up and turning towards the model. “Holy shit,” he whispered, looking back at her for a second before turning his attention to the screen again.

Y/N stood up with him and leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his embrace as he continued to stare at the model, not even bothering to blink. He placed a kiss to the top of her head, before guiding them up the stairs and into their bedrooms, Y/N saying she didn’t mind if Morgan slept with her that night.

~~~

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x reader #tony stark x reader #dad!tony stark x daughter!reader #avengers #avengers endgame #avengers infinity war #infinity war spoilers #endgame spoilers #sm: ffh #spiderman far from home #series

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wxnnabe · 5 years

Note

are you still doing the drabble list? if so, gureito daze! can i please have 66 + giorno please? thank you!

I feel like I answered this but I…can’t find it anywhere. I’ll just post it here anyways lol

And sorry for the delay!

66+ Giorno “If I die, I’m never speaking to you again.”

You had a long night ahead of you, judging from the lack of progress on your upcoming assignment-that you had yet to complete 3 days before the submission date. Why hadn’t you checked over this sheet earlier?! You could sigh and scream and berate yourself all night-it wouldn’t change anything. The least you could do was look over the progress you’ve made and start a fresh.

Thank goodness you didn’t have any plans tonight. You got to work, reading through the material before looking at the question response pattern you were to answer in.

You looked up at the time to see three hours had already passed. You had gotten a little over what you had expected to get done, which you were glad for-but with a glance to the clock in your room it was also early in the morning, and you were dying to hop into bed. You got up for a stretch, padding over to the dresser and breezing through the drawers for something comfortable to wear to bed. The breeze from the window sent chills down your spine, and you were suddenly aware that you were a touch parched. You flung the window closed, perhaps a little too loudly, before walking to the kitchen for a glass of water. The night air still seemed to follow you-had you not closed the window properly? It was freezing outside, as peaceful as the morning seemed.

You stumbled back into your room as the exhaustion hit, and closed the door before placing the water on your beside table. Your eyes moved to the green root crawling through the gap left in the window, stretching and growing at an unnatural pace…wait, green root? Since when has your window ever…? You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before peering at the now branch that was edging your window open. You watched as the branch grew, pushing your window open further before flinging the window open. There was only one explanation for such a bizarre occurrence, and if you took a peek outside your window, you were sure you’d see Giorno’s smile looking back at you.

Speak of the devil, he was climbing down to your window, and you stepped back as the branch bloomed and thickened to shoot Giorno a grin.

“When are you going to stop scaring the neighbours with your beanstalks, huh?” While his face held a blank expression, the glimmer in his eyes spoilt his amusement.

“When you learn to use the fire hatch to climb to the roof, perhaps?” He held out a hand to you, and god, did he look ethereal. His golden hair glowed in the morning light, and with not a stray lock out of place, he looked ready to model for an expensive hair product than meet you this morning. He looked almost overdressed in his blue suit for the drab apartment building your family had rented out. Always perfect, like a flawlessly carved marble statue. You often pondered just how far that marble went-how much had he carved away from that scared little boy he once was, troubled and hurt and alone.

“I’ll take that as a never. I hope they don’t mind the cracks in the pavement,” You looked down briefly, as if you could actually see the point where the street walk split open. He graced you with a smile in response to your comment, but his eyes narrowed into contempt. You simply placed your hand in his, balancing your weight as you jumped up onto the branch with Giorno. You knew your comment would draw a reaction from him, even if you didn’t say it with the intention of poking his ire. There was a brief pause as he nodded to the branches that reached for the roof of the building. You gave him a nod back and began to climb the tree you could almost feel the waves of his carefully veiled anger through you before Giorno spat out his reply.

“What’s a few more cracks in the pavement to a selfish landlord?” Your landlord was not the giving type. And while he stayed out of trouble with the local mafioso and kept the building safe, he also neglected children and young teens they often preyed on in his own streets. ‘Anything that doesn’t happen in my building isn’t my problem,’ was his motto.

You could see why he lived like this-the mafioso in this part of Naples was especially dangerous-but you knew why this infuriated Giorno. You couldn’t agree more, that even if you were not in the position to take down the mafia, if you were in a position to help those who suffered from the hands of Passione you should. You had often wondered whether he really was angry at your landlord;or simply angry that your landlord had every right to refuse to help for his and his tenants safety.

You continued climbing and let the silence stifle the air to the top of your apartment. Once you reached the top, you turned to gaze at the scene before you. It never failed to take your breath away, seeing the city from above-coated in the pink gold hue of the early morning sun. You could see the ocean from here, and a few early birds going about their business. They looked like ants from where Giorno had lead you. Speaking of, you turned to see Giorno had sat down on the edge of the apartment, just next to his tree that had finally stopped growing. You climbed the last few branches and Giorno held out his hand for you to take.

“It’s always so beautiful up here, you know. It almost makes me want to sneak out here every afternoon to watch the sun set.” He smiled as he gazed out at the horizon. Once again, you opted for silence, and watched as Giorno took in the world with a look of awe. The world really was beautiful up here, before anyone could really wake up and the stresses of daily life were in place. It pulled your stressful night into a peaceful lull, and you cut through the silence between you to yawn.

“You brought me out here for something, what was it? As beautiful as it is up here I have a beautiful bed that’s getting more and more tempting waiting for me in my room,” When he turned back to you, all the joy from his face fell. He looked so incredibly serious he woke you up from your sleepy exhausted delirium. You’d only seen him this determined once; normally, he always held nothing but a small grin for you, or a nod if he was busy..

“I’m going to be away for a while. I wanted you to know, in case-this,” he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. He caught your eyes once more, and you found yourself pierced under his gaze.

“What I am doing, it will be dangerous, to say the least. And I don’t want you to contact me until I do. For anything. No phone calls, no visits to my boarding house, no asking around-nothing. Can you promise me that?” You frowned, and looked back to the sun rising slowly in the sky.

You had so many questions. What on earth was he doing that could be so high profile? Was he part of some government spy organisation or something? Giorno was a good man, he wouldn’t get tied up in anything too reckless-but why was he suddenly going away? Why didn’t he tell you earlier? How long would he even be gone for? If it was dangerous…no, you didn’t want to think of it but…would he come back?

“Giorno…I need time to process this-” Giorno let out a sigh of frustration.

“I don’t have time. I need you to promise this-swear it on your life,” Your eyes turned back to him, and before you even knew what you were doing, you nodded. You had to trust that he would come back. And he would, he had to.

“I will. I promise. And if-If I die, I’m…never speaking to you again,” He nodded, but behind his solemn face you could see that telltale grin ghosting his lips.

You didn’t know just what he had gotten himself into-but you would but your trust in him. He would never bring you into any danger.

If this was the last time you’d see him in a while, well-you had better enjoy it while you could.

#giorno giovanna #this looks almost platonic but in a ride or die friends way #prompt.meme

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