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fanmoose12 · 4 years ago

Text

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 9/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

"Have you lost your goddamn mind?" Levi paced around Erwin's office, his face dark with fury and his hands clenched into fists. "Erwin, since she won't listen, never listens to me!" he sent a sizzling gaze at Hange. "You tell that idiot that she lost her mind!"

"Levi—"

"Don't fucking Levi me, four-eyes!" he cut her off harshly. "What the fuck is wrong with you? That fucker ruined your life, and now, what, you're defending him?"

"I'm not—"

"I don't understand it! Just a few days ago you wanted to catch him. You were ready to sacrifice your own life to get that bastard. What the fuck had happened since then? Why are you trying to save him?"

"Levi." Hange’s voice was quiet, low. So unlike her usual one, it made shivers run down his spine. Levi knew that voice, Hange reserved almost exclusively for the worst, most despicable criminals and greedy snobs from the brass. She used this voice with him only once. And it was one of the most unpleasant moments of his life.

Hange slowly rose from her seat at the sofa and came to stand in front of Levi, looming over him. In the semi-darkness of Erwin's office, her eye was burning with fury.

"Shut up and listen. Stop focusing on your desire to avenge Zeke. Believe me, I can't wait to get him behind bars, that's the only thing that got me through these past two years, but can't you see it? Someone's obviously trying to set him up."

"So what?"

"So what?" Hange repeated, disbelief and irritation painting her voice. "Do I really need to spell it out for you? If you let Zeke go to prison for someone else's crime, then the real criminal won't be punished for the death of two civilians. Is that what you want? Have you forgotten about your duty?"

Fuck.

Levi took a step back from Hange, lowering his head and hiding his eyes from her. She was right, of course, she was right. He was too blinded by his hatred to see it.

"Besides," Erwin spoke up, reminding them that he was still there. He was sitting at his desk, hands folded beneath his chin. Levi looked up, staring at him cautiously. When Erwin wore that particular expression – brows furrowed and lips pressed in a line – it always meant bad news. "Zeke is not the only one who's being set up."

"What do you—"

"I've been thinking about this too," Hange agreed.

Levi let out a low growl. He hated when these two did it. Kept him in the dark about their genius revelations.

"So? Fuckling enlighten me then."

"Think, Levi," Erwin said, his frown deepening. "What would have happened if you try to tell anyone that Zeke is the real murderer?"

"I—"

"They'd call you insane," Hange answered for him. Despite her sympathetic tone, her face showed the same graveness as Erwin’s. "For everyone else, Zeke had been dead for two years."

"Yes, but—"

"You could prove that he's alive," Erwin agreed with a small nod. "And that may even work. But if you don't," he shook his head. "They'd kick you out. Sannes has been trying to find the excuse for a long time now."

"What?"

That was news to him. Sure, he knew that he had somewhat tense relationship with Sannes. But to go as far as to try to fire him? What a fucker.

"He had been complaining about your work for a while," Erwin explained. "I do what I can to protect you, but Sannes got almost every captain on his side. I thought that if I make you agree to accept another partner, he'd stop, but—"

"He didn't," Levi guessed. "What did that asshole do this time?"

"During the brass's meeting this morning, he raised the issue of your discharge once more. I managed to convince a couple of captains—"

Dawk and Pixis, Levi realized. And if he could somewhat understand why Pixis would vouch for him, the man looked like a goof, but always had some hidden motive, what Erwin could have promised to straight-laced, bullheaded Dawk? Levi refused to believe that he agreed to help simply out of the kindness of his heart.

"But others still push for your dismissal,” Erwin continued, his clenched jaw showing all of his disapproval and annoyance. “This case will be decisive. If you find the killer, you'd keep the job, if you fail—"

"They'd kick me out," Levi realized. Fuck. He didn't want that to happen. He liked his job. A lot. He wouldn't know what to do with his life without it.

"Now you understand why you can't just go around, claiming Zeke is the killer."

"Because that's what Sannes wants me to do," Levi agreed.

Scheming bastard.

"Fine," Levi announced. "You won, I agree that turning Zeke in isn't the best course of action. But," he leveled Hange with a fierce glare. "I still don't understand why you would want to tell Zeke about everything."

"We might need his help. Besides," Hange shrugged, her motions easy and careless. "He'll find out anyway. I want it to happen on my terms."

"There is nothing I can say to change your mind, right?"

Hange shrugged again, grinning lopsidedly.

Levi sighed. "Fuck. Alright, tell me about you plan again."

*** "Are you kidding me?" Oluo took a step back, shaking the hand Petra wrapped around his wrist to drag him here.

She brought him to a hallway at the east wing of a precinct. Old and unused, it was one of the most secluded areas. No one ever walked in here. It wasn't even properly lighted, and Oluo's irritated mien disappeared with each flicker of a pale fluorescent lamp.

"Please, tell me you're kidding."

"I—"

"Are you seriously asking me to spy on deputy police chief? What the fuck, Petra? Is your partner's paranoia contagious?"

"What?" Petra blinked a few times, mimicking the flickering light above them. "Levi is not paranoid."

"Sure," Oluo drew, following it with a short huffed laugh. "Everyone knows he's got a few screws loose."

"No," Petra argued with a confused frown. "You're wrong. You've said it yourself, Levi is a great detective."

"He was a great detective. Until his partner died. His success rate dropped and he became even more secluded than usual. Did you know that there are talks about his discharge?”

No, Petra didn’t know about that. Why didn’t she know about that? Did Levi know?

“I didn't tell you, because I know how much respect you hold for the man. But it's not a secret to anyone that he's obsessed with conspiracy theories. And the fact that you want to spy on freaking Sannes only confirms it. He's lost it and now he's dragging you along with him as well."

"You don't understand—"

"Of course I don't," Oluo said, sarcasm dripping from his every word. "I'm such a fool after all..."

Petra drowned out the rest of his blubbering. She heard something, just a second ago. She closed her eyes, straining her hearing. Oluo's voice was severely distracting, but it seemed like...

Without thinking more about it, Petra acted. She needed to create a diversion, she needed to make their little meeting look less suspicious. So she grabbed the back of Oluo's neck and dragged him down, pressing her lips to his.

The moment stretched on, as she listened, with her eyes still closed. She was sure she heard someone's steps. But now the hallway was silent, save for the quiet sound of Oluo's moan?

Right, Oluo. Oh god, Oluo.

Petra jumped back from him, mortified and embarrassed. Her cheeks were so red, she felt like her skin was going to catch on fire.

She kissed Oluo. She kissed him on the lips in the dark, deserted hallway.

Her father didn't raise her like this.

And, sure, she kissed him just yesterday, but it was a very different kind of kiss. That kiss was innocent, chaste. There was nothing chaste about their second kiss.

"Sorry!" she squealed, covering her face with hands. Embarrassed, she was so embarrassed.

"Huh, Petra," Oluo's lips curved into that irritating smirk Petra hated so much. "You've come up with all that nonsense just to get me here and steal a kiss? I'm flattered, really."

"Shut up," Petra whimpered, still hiding behind her hands. "I thought someone was coming and I panicked, and, hey!" She glared between her fingers. "I was being serious! I need your help, Oluo. I know that Levi doesn't have a very good reputation but—"

"He thinks his dead partner is alive," Oluo said in a grave voice.

"Oh," Petra dropped her arms to the side, looking up at him. "But she is alive."

Oluo's face fell. "Petra..."

"No, no!" she shook her head. "I know how it sounds, but detective Zoe is actually alive, I've seen her with my own two eyes."

The hallway was silent for a long, long moment. Oluo kept staring at her, searching for something on her face.

Then he raised his hand to rub his forehead and let out a long, tired sigh.

"...Oh. Um. Okay, yeah, alright, I believe you,” he didn’t look utterly convinced, but he stopped looking at Petra like she had gone insane, and she counted it as a win. “Maybe, detective Ackerman isn't a complete lunatic after all. But... How is it connected with deputy chief Sannes?"

"He's crooked. He's been working with criminals and I know it. I just need a real, substantial proof."

"Sannes is crooked, oh god,” Oluo closed his eyes. “Another big revelation, alright. Let’s not focus on it right now, or I’ll have a panic attack. Do you know who he’s working with?”

Petra pursed her lips. “I’m not sure yet, Levi doesn’t tell me much, but I think he might be working with Zeke Yeager.”

“Yeager?” Oluo repeated. “I’ve heard this name.”

“Yeah, Zeke Yeager, he was a notorious criminal back—”

“No,” Oluo shook his head. “Not Zeke. I’ve heard the name Yeager before. Read it in one of the reports, I just can’t remember what the case was about. Maybe, it’s a just a coincidence, but it was about Grisha Yeager. The name was so strange, that’s why it stuck with me.”

“Hm,” Petra frowned, tapping her chin. “Grisha Yeager… No, I don’t know that name.”

“Doesn’t matter then,” Oluo shrugged. “Better tell me - how you're intending to get your proof?"

"I don't know," Petra hanged her head, fidgeting with a sleeve of her blouse. "I've thought about following Sannes home…"

"What?"

"But later I realized that it won't produce any results, because I doubt he has frequent meetings with his allies. Then I thought that getting inside his computer might be a good idea—"

"What?"

"But then again, there's no guarantee that he keeps important data there. And it would be pretty hard to get past his password. I wasn't able to guess Levi's password after all. But!" Petra looked up, a smile present on her face. Oluo didn't like that smile. It wasn't Petra's usual warm and pretty one. This one had a weird, almost feral edge to it. "I've come up with another plan, and that's why I need your help!"

"What do you need me for?" Oluo asked slowly, eyeing her carefully. He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"You have keys from a depository, right?"

"Right..."

"And you're friends with Dita, the janitor, yeah?"

"Yep..."

"So!" she clasped her hands, looking unusually delighted for a person who was in a middle of plotting a very dangerous and definitely illegal scheme. "I need you to go into repository and took a wire from there, and then I need you to go to Dita and—"

"And ask him to give me keys from Sannes' office?" Oluo guessed. "We'll be discovered in no time, Petra. Dita and I aren't that close of friends."

"I know," Petra rolled her eyes. "That's why you'll steal them!"

"Petra!" he exclaimed with a scandalized expression.

"Shh," she smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine, I promise. You'll get a wire and a key, we'll get inside Sannes' office and plant the wire. I'll be able to listen in to his conversations, and no one will suspect a thing. Oluo, please?"

It was a stupid and extremely daring plan. If it failed, they'd be kicked out of force immediately. In the best case scenario. In the worst - they'd go to jail for breaking and entering the policeman's office.

But Petra's smile was really nice, her hand on his shoulder was so warm, and she looked right at him, batting her long and pretty eyelashes.

He was never a man with strong will. Oluo’s resolve crumbled.

"Fine," he sighed, refusing to even think about possible consequences. "But you owe me, Petra. This whole scheme is worth two dates. Minimum!" he finished, raising a finger.

"If we manage to succeed, we'll go on as much dates as you want."

"And kisses? Will you give me more kisses?"

"Of course," Petra murmured, leaning in to give Oluo exactly what he wanted.

***

"Call me when you finish with this, erm, meeting of yours," Erwin said, when Hange and Levi were ready to leave the office.

��Will do, captain!” Hange saluted, giggling.

Listening to the sound of her laughter and staring at Erwin’s smiling face, warmth spread through Levi’s chest as he was hit with a wave of nostalgia. Just a day ago, he would have never thought that he’d get to experience this. His two best friends, laughing together, as if nothing had changed. As if these two years, filled with grief and misery, had never happened.

The warm and familiar atmosphere enchanted Levi. The corners of his lips slowly lifted into a smile.

“Come on, four-eyes,” he turned to the door, hiding his joyous expression. His soft voice treacherously betrayed his feelings anyway.

"Wait!" Hange called the moment they left Erwin's office.

The hallway around them was dark, deserted. It was almost ten pm, so it wasn't a surprise that the precinct was so quiet.

Leaning against the wall, Hange took off her backpack and started rummaging through it. "Wait, wait, wait, I've got something for you. Here!" she announced with a proud grin, presenting Levi with his own coat.

Levi hesitantly accepted it, arching an eyebrow. "How did you manage to fold it so neatly?"

"It's one of my secret powers, of course!" Hange fixed her glasses with a cheeky grin.

"Hm," he narrowed his eyes. "Did you take it to the laundry?"

"Um, no," Hange answered, rubbing her neck sheepishly. "Didn't have the time to do that."

Good, Levi almost said. He wanted Hange's scent to linger, he hoped it did.

He carefully unfolded and put the coat on, lifting the collar. It was faint, but Hange's scent was present. He pushed his hands inside the pockets, feeling strangely content.

Still, something gnawed at him.

"Hey," he glanced up. He tilted his head to the side, giving Hange's dark green blazer a critical look. "Is that shitty jacket of yours warm enough?"

A soft, gentle smile bloomed on Hange's lips. Just the sight of it made Levi's breath catch in his throat. His recently discovered feelings made themselves known again. Goddamn it, she was beautiful. How he had never seen it before? He was a fool.

"I'll be alright, shorty, don't you worry. Your concern is touching, though."

Levi forcefully tore his eyes away from her face and tsked, trying to fill the sound with as much annoyance as possible. Hange's smile didn't even falter, and it meant that he wasn’t too successful in hiding his true feelings. That, or Hange just knew him all too well. It was probably both.

"Just don't want you catching pneumonia or some other shit after you just got back from the dead." He grunted, dead set on keeping his aloof demeanor.

"Touching," Hange repeated in a singing voice.

"Shut up," he groaned, fighting a smile that threatened to appear on his face.

He shook his head and headed to the elevators.

"Hey," Hange touched his sleeve. "Can we take the stairs instead?"

"Are you restless?" Levi asked, as he turned around, leading Hange to the stairs just like she requested.

"A little," she chuckled awkwardly. "Not exactly afraid, but, um, nervous. And excited. I can't wait to see Zeke's face when I tell him the truth."

As that image entered his mind, Levi let out a soft chuckle as well.

"Thanks for bringing me with you then. I'd like to see it too."

They couldn't get Zeke in jail right now, and as much as that knowledge pained Levi, there were other ways to make his life a living hell. He couldn’t wait to exploit some of them.

"Wait," Hange suddenly raised her arm, stopping him. Her face became sharp, focused, as her gaze was trained at the dark hallway in front of them.

"Hange?"

"There is someone there," she whispered, taking one cautious step forward. Instinctively, Levi mimicked her soft stride. "I heard some muttering."

"Sannes' office is that way," Levi whispered back. "You think it's him?"

"Only one way to find out," Hange said with a rueful grin.

Before she could take another step, Levi wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

"You shouldn't go in here,” he said, his voice urgent. “Let me handle it. We can't let Sannes know you're alive."

"I disagree. The cat is almost out of the bag as it is. Let him know who he's up against."

"You're too reckless," Levi scolded with a shake of his head. He didn't try to stop her though.

They went ahead, each move slow and deliberate. The muttering became louder and when Levi and Hange turned the corner, they saw two figures, standing next to the door to Sannes' office. Levi narrowed his eyes with a frown.

One short figure seemed strangely familiar.

He cursed under his breath.

"Petra!" he shouted.

The woman whirled around, pressing hands to her chest with a shocked gasp.

"Levi!"

Levi strode closer, his scowl deep and dark.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hissed.

"I wanted to know more about Sannes' intentions, so... We broke inside his office and planted a wire there."

Levi cursed again, more creatively this time. Beside him, Hange started laughing.

"It’s not fucking funny, four-eyes," he glowered, not taking his eyes from the young woman in front of him.

Petra stood with her head bowed and her eyes cast down. Her fingers were playing with the ends of her skirt. She looked like an abashed student who was scolded by her teacher. That thought chased away some of his anger.

Levi let out a tired sigh.

"Take it easy on her, shorty," Hange leaned over to murmur in his ear.

"I'm trying," Levi answered in the same quiet voice.

"Are you finished already?" he asked Petra. He decided to follow Hange's advice and make his tone a bit softer.

"Yes," Petra nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "We planted the wire inside his chair."

"Huh," Levi blinked. It was a pretty creative hiding spot. "Not bad."

"Good job!" Hange congratulated, raising her thumbs. "You did great!"

"Oh, detective Hange, you're here too..." Petra mumbled, finally lifting her eyes.

"Detective Hange?" the man behind Petra gulped. “So you’re actually—”

“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Hange snickered.

Levi rolled his eyes at her silliness and then took a step closer to the man, looking at him intently.

"Bozado?" he asked. "And what are you doing here?"

"You know my name, sir?" Oluo's looked up, his eyes bright with hope.

"It's written on your badge," Levi pointed at his breast pocket with a bored expression. "And you didn't answer my question."

"I— I was helping, Petra, sir," Oluo said, scratching the back of his head. "I got the keys to the office and took the wire from the repository."

Levi bored his eyes into the man. Oluo swallowed, squirming under his heavy gaze.

"And why did you decide to help?"

"Levi!" Hange pocked him in the side. "Don't be so insensitive. It's obvious he has feelings for her."

"How is that obvious?" Levi argued, turning to Hange. "And who is being insensitive now, four-eyes? You brought up the subject of his feelings!"

"I was just trying to save the poor man from your fearsome glare," Hange huffed. "And unlike you, I actually know what feelings are."

"Just what are you trying to—"

"Levi?" Petra interrupted softly. "Can we— can we go? It's late already."

Levi looked at Petra, his eyes widening. He almost forgot they were still here.

"Did you take care of everything? Did you make sure that you won't get caught?"

"Yes, sir!" Oluo answered, straightening out and doing a quick salute. Levi scoffed at the gesture. "I'll return the keys to Dita next morning and since I'm in charge of checking the repository, no one will know that something is missing."

"Okay," Levi nodded, his scowl almost disappearing. They really did a good job. He was proud of Petra. And he couldn’t wait to hear what kind of results this scheme would achieve. "Then you can go. We should go too, Hange.”

"You're right, we should hurry," she agreed. "Goodbye, guys!" she waved at Petra and Oluo and then took Levi by the sleeve of his coat, dragging him away.

*** "What the hell just happened?" Oluo asked, when Levi and Hange left.

"Detectives Ackerman and Zoe happened," Petra replied, feeling just as confused and bewildered as Oluo.

"The legendary duo, huh?" Oluo scoffed, thrusting hands into the pockets of his pants. "They definitely have some issues they need to work on."

"Yes..." Petra agreed, remembering the expression Levi made when Hange said he had no feelings. Her statement confused him, it was obvious, but Petra could swear she could see a flash of pain in his eyes. There was an apparent tension between two partners. She shouldn't pock her nose into it, though. She learned her lesson already.

"I'm so tired," she yawned, feeling her eyelids grow heavy. It was a stressful day, and, now, as the adrenaline rush was over, she was left utterly exhausted. Petra looped her arm with Oluo's, leaning slightly onto him. "Let me buy you a dinner and then let's call it a day."

"Forget the dinner. Maybe, I should just take you home?"

"No," Petra protested, brushing her nose against Oluo's shoulder. "I want to thank you first. You really helped me out today, Oluo. You're the best."

"I think your exhaustion makes you exaggerate," Oluo snorted. With a soft expression, he lifted a hand to brush a lock of hair from her face. "But I'll take the compliment. Come on, let's leave this place already."

Petra silently nodded in agreement, letting Oluo lead her outside.

***

"Tell me again," Levi asked, as he parked the car near their meeting place with Zeke. "Why did you choose this place?"

"It's public, for starters, and I hope that would be enough to quell Zeke's murderous intents. And it's pretty inconspicuous."

Levi narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the carelessness in Hange's voice at all. Inconspicuous? What the hell did that mean?

"What the fuck did you tell him, four-eyes?"

Hange shrugged, getting out of the car. "I told him it's a date."

Levi, who was in the middle of closing the car’s door, stopped. He froze, then blinked a few times. He stared at Hange intently trying to see if she was joking.

She wasn't.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, completely shell-shocked.

"Hey! Don't look so scandalized!"

As he continued to further contemplate this whole thing, his eye began to twitch. He forcefully shut the door closed.

"Are you actually serious?"

"Um," Hange deflated slightly. "Yes, I am. I just thought it would make him less suspicious. And, well, convince him to come alone."

"So," Levi croaked, finding his throat weirdly inoperative. "Did you and Zeke—"

"Levi." Gone was the easiness of Hange's tone. As she stared Levi down with hands on her hips, her voice was rough. And displeased. She usually used it on him whenever she thought he was being extremely irrational and she was done with him, pestering her about such illogical requests like eating her lunch, sleeping for more than two hours a day and washing her hair at least once in a week. "Are you seriously asking if me and Zeke - the jerk who had ruined my entire life - had hooked up?"

Well, now that Hange had put it like this, he did feel kinda stupid. And more than a little embarrassed.

Fuck. He really was an insensitive jerk.

"Sorry for bringing this up," he grumbled, pushing past Hange and continuing to walk down the street.

"Oi, Levi, wait!" grabbing his sleeve, she quickly caught up with him. She fell into step with him, and for a moment, she was silent.

Their conversation was far from being over and Levi knew it. He didn't have to raise his head to see the pleased smirk on her face. Smugness was practically radiating from her.

"So did I just witness the jealousy of great Levi Ackerman?"

His cheeks burned. Levi kept looking straight ahead. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing his discomfiture.

"No."

Hange chuckled. "Just so you know, Zeke isn't my type."

"Cool. I don't care."

"Do you want to know what my type is?"

"No." Yes. "Can we have this conversation some other time?"

"Sure." A pause. "So you are interested what my type is."

Levi groaned.

"Oh, we're here!" Hange said flippantly, like she wasn't mercifully making fun of him just moments ago. "Are you ready, shorty?"

"Yes," he answered, putting their previous conversation to the back of his mind. He fixed his hair and clenched his jaw. "Let's do this, four-eyes."

"Alright," Hange stopped to take a deep breath. She looked more than a little uneasy and, acting on a sheer impulse, Levi took her hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

"I'm with you," he reassured. "I've got your back, Hange."

She smiled, relaxing ever so slightly. "Thank you. There's no one else I could have done it with. Well," Hange tapped her chin with a finger. "I could do it with Erwin too, but—" her smile turned into a playful grin. "His face isn't quite as scary as yours."

Levi rolled his eyes, glad that Hange was back to her insufferable self.

He pushed the door open, still holding Hange's hand in his.

The café, when they entered it, was mostly empty. There were only two people inside - a girl and a boy probably in their early twenties. They were lounging side by side in the corner of the café, but when Levi and Hange appeared, one of them – a blonde boy with big blue eyes - jumped to his feet and hurried to approach them. The girl with the hair as dark as her expression followed, hovering over boy's shoulder.

"Welcome to Dorothy's corner!" the boy squealed with a nervous smile. "What would you like to order?"

"You didn't give them the menu, Armin," the girl reminded softly, nudging him in the back.

"Oh, right! I'll bring it immediately, just—"

"Relax," Hange advised softly. Her words, coupled with that sweet smile worked like a charm. The boy chuckled sheepishly, scratching his neck with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry, I'm kinda new here."

"New?" Levi repeated. "And for how long have you been working here?"

"Almost a month, sir. Why are you asking?"

"Simple curiosity," he murmured. So it was just a coincidence. The boy wasn't a replacement for the dead waitress.

"And you?" he nodded at the gloomy girl. "Are you working here too?"

"No," the boy smiled, affection lightening his features. "Mikasa just worries too much about me. There was a murder recently and, well, she’s here to look over me."

"Oh, she's a good friend,” Hange praised. “We're actually here to meet our friends too. There they are, by the way!" she pointed her finger at the booth near the window.

Levi followed it, and, now he could see Zeke's blonde head sticking out too. And from looks of it, he wasn’t alone. The rage started boiling inside of him just at the sight of that bastard. Hange squeezed his hand again, offering his silent support.

"Can you bring a cup of green tea for me?" Levi asked, turning to the boy.

"S-sure!"

"And a black coffee with three sugars for that weirdo," he added.

"Still remember my order?" Hange wondered, as they walked towards the booth where Zeke was sitting.

"Focus, four-eyes," he scolded sternly, before coming to a stop in front of the needed table.

With a toothy grin, Hange slide in the booth, taking a seat opposite from Zeke. Levi sat down at her side.

When he saw them, Zeke's eyes widened and his mouth hanged open in silent surprise. That expression was gone way too quickly, however, not giving Levi enough time to savor it.

Zeke clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowed and his face sharpened as he glared at Hange.

"You have the gull, Zoe," he sneered. "You fuck—"

"Oi." Levi interrupted. His voice was quiet, but filled with so much fury and hatred. Zeke visibly shuddered. "If I hear another shitty word about Hange from your dirty mouth, you'll be missing some teeth, you asshole."

"Um." Someone above Levi cleared his throat. He looked up, meeting the scared gaze of the waiter. "Y-your order," he said, his eyes darting nervously between Levi and Zeke.

"Thank you," Hange smiled.

"We'll call if we need refreshments." Levi grunted with a nod.

"Charming as always, detective Ackerman," Zeke scoffed, when the boy left. He pushed the glasses up his nose, and Levi noted with no small amount of amusement that his fingers were slightly trembling.

Zeke turned to Hange. "I thought you wanted to meet me alone."

"I told you to come alone," Hange corrected. "You didn't though."

"I thought you'd like to have a double date," Zeke smirked. The arrogant expression disappeared the second he met Levi’s dark eyes.

"Oh, right!" Hange slapped her forehead. "Where are my manners! Levi, this is Porco and Pieck," she gestured to a man and woman, who sat at the either side of Zeke. The man - Porco - gave Levi a small nod. Pieck waved at him with a grin, tilting her head and staring at him curiously.

"And this is Levi," Hange said. "My partner."

"Partner?" Pieck raised an eyebrow. The grin on her face grew broader.

"I meant, colleague," Hange clarified, clearing her throat.

"I'm curious," Zeke said, not taking his eyes off Hange. "What are you trying to achieve with this stunt? It’s true I can’t do anything to you right now, but what do you think is going to happen afterwards, Hange? Do you think I'd let you go? Do you think your boyfriend,” he looked pointedly at Levi. Levi stared right back, his face blank. “Can protect you? You were too valuable to me, you know too much,” Zeke shook his head, his voice disappointed. “I thought you were smarter than this."

"What makes you think I need protection?" Hange leaned over with a smile that looked just a little bit feral. "Maybe, I've already told everything to the police."

Zeke returned her smile, lifting his hands. "Then where are my handcuffs, detective?"

"If you wanted to imprison me, I'd already be behind bars," he continued, remarkably relaxed. "No, you want something from me, Hange. But for the life of me, I can't understand what exactly."

"Like you said, Zeke," Hange's eye glinted wickedly. "I know too much."

"Wh—"

"Levi has brought you something. I'm sure it'd be quite a thrilling read."

Following the cue, Levi took the file out of his pocket and threw it on the table.

Reluctantly, his eyes shifting from Hange to Levi, Zeke opened it. A confused crease appeared between his eyebrows, as he looked at the first page. Nevertheless, he fixed his glasses and started reading. His two companions joined him, leaning over his shoulder.

It was quiet for a long moment, and Levi used this time to drink his tea. It was good, he was quite impressed.

"Is tea here still up to your standards?" Hange asked in a whisper.

"Mm," he nodded. "Definitely not as shitty as the tea you used to make, four-eyes."

"As shitty as it was, you still drank it."

Yeah, he did. Actually, Levi kinda missed that awful, bitter taste. Maybe, once it was all over, he could ask Hange to brew him tea again. Just like in the old times.

"It's the case you told me about," Pieck concluded, when she finished reading the file.

"Yes," Hange nodded.

Levi tilted his head, looking at that Pieck curiously. Hange trusted her. Why?

"I hope you don't think that I did it," Zeke scoffed. "I was out of country. I couldn't kill these women."

"I know," Hange agreed.

"Believe me, if I had even the slightest doubt that you did it, we wouldn't be sitting there, chatting," Levi added menacingly.

"What do you want then?" Porco spoke up, glancing between Hange and Levi.

"Cooperation." Hange answered. "Whoever committed these murders is close to you, Zeke."

"Or tries to get rid of you." Levi said.

"And why do you care?" Zeke asked. "Why would you decide to help? After everything I've done to you, don't you want to take your revenge?"

"You can't even imagine how much I want this," Hange told him fiercely. She moved her face closer to Zeke, putting her elbows on the table. A wide, crazy grin spread on her lips, and Zeke recoiled as though in fear.

Levi relaxed in his seat, watching their interaction closely. Seeing the panic reflect in Zeke's eyes put a satisfied smirk on his face.

“And I promise you, Zeke," Hange continued. "I will get my revenge and I will make you pay for everything you put me through. But," she chuckled, easing her expression into her usual friendly mien. "As it is now, a criminal, who killed two women, is on the loose. And I consider it my duty to catch them. My retribution can wait for a while."

"Do you have any suspects?" Pieck asked, making Hange look at her and giving Zeke a much needed moment of respite. Levi continued to watch him, though, enjoying the slight fear that painted his features. The sight was all the more pleasurable for Levi, because Hange was the one who made the bastard feel this way.

"Zeke is not the only one who's being targeted. Someone tries to harm Levi too." Hange replied. "I'm pretty sure that Sannes is on it."

"Sannes?" Porco frowned. "Isn't he one of yours?"

"We all know that he's one of yours," Levi's face twisted in grimace.

"Why would Sannes go against me?” Zeke wondered. “We've been working together for years."

"Maybe, someone tries to take your place," Pieck speculated. "If that's the case, Sannes could agree to betray you. He's not loyal to you, but to your influence after all."

"Sannes can't be the only one, though," Hange went on. "His main goal is to get rid of Levi, and he could have come up with something less complicated to achieve it. So," Hange kicked Zeke's leg under the table. "Spill it out, Zeke. Who hates you so much?"

Zeke scowled, irritated by her cheerfulness. He opened his mouth, and Levi was sure that nothing nice or useful was going to come out of it. He kicked him under the table too. His kick was much stronger than Hange’s. Zeke yelped, bending down to rub his leg. Levi almost smiled.

"I think Floch is the betrayer."

"What?" Zeke snorted. "Floch is the one who had come up with that plan? Don't make me laugh, Hange."

"I didn't say that he was the one who had come up with it," Hange argued. "I said that it’s possible that he had betrayed you."

"So you think Sannes and Floch are the one to blame?" Porco clarified.

"No," Hange shook her head. She tapped her fingers on the table, biting her lip. "I think... There is a third party involved. Floch would never act on his own volition. But he's easily influenced and if he encountered someone charismatic enough, he wouldn’t think twice about betraying you. But why would they need such an elaborate plan?" Hange wondered. "If they wanted to take control of your gang—"

"Criminal organ—"

"Shut up!" she barked, glaring at Zeke. "You're making it hard to think. Where was I?"

"If someone wanted to take Zeke's power, why not simply kill him?" Pieck said.

"Exactly!" Hange snapped her fingers with a grateful smile. "Whoever is against you, Zeke, doesn't want to simply kill you. They're trying to put in prison. We don't know who that is and I'm pretty sure you don't know it either. I don't think it's someone from your gang, Floch doesn't respect anyone but you. So that leaves with one possible explanation - it's someone from outside. Maybe, a partner you've fucked over."

"Does anyone come to your mind, boss?" Porco asked.

"There is someone," Zeke mumbled, his eyes cast down. "But he already took his revenge on me."

"Hm," Hange scratched her chin. "That complicates it."

"If someone wants to get rid of Zeke," Pieck spoke up. "Then how is your partner involved in this?"

"Through Sannes." Levi replied. "Sannes wanted to get rid of me. He couldn't find a reason to fire me, so he decided to exploit my only weakness."

"Your weakness?" Hange repeated, confused.

Levi sighed. "You, Hange. Everyone at the precinct knows that I..." he cleared his throat, shifting his eyes to the side. "That your death hit me hard. And Sannes decided to use that. He wanted me to stop thinking rationally, wanted to me to lose my cool. He almost succeeded." He added softly.

Under the table, Hange took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Levi looked up, meeting her gaze. It was full of sympathy, regret and something else. Something unreadable, something fierce. Something that made it hard to look away.

"Could you please stop this?" Zeke groaned. "I believe we were in a middle of a serious discussion."

Hange was the first to look away. She continued to hold his hand, however. Feeling bold, Levi intertwined their fingers.

"You were saying?" Zeke prompted with a roll of his eyes.

"Um, yes, right," Hange nodded. "There a lot we don't know about our enemies, but I theorize that something like that happened: someone - a past ally, or, maybe one of your victims - approached Floch. They convinced him to betray you and probably shared with Floch their desire to take you out of the picture without murdering you. We don't know their motivations and why they couldn't just kill you, since whoever they are," Hange's face twisted in disgust. "They are more than okay with murdering innocents. Floch then goes to Sannes, and Sannes decides to join on the plan. They devise some sort of a gamble – either Zeke goes to prison or Levi gets fired."

"Sounds far-fetched," Zeke scoffed.

"Maybe," Hange shrugged. "There is a lot we still don't know. Would you help us, though?"

Zeke sighed, covering his eyes with a hand. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Nope!" Hange clasped her hands with a wide grin.

"Don't forget that this alliance is temporary," Levi added.

"I would rather die than continue it for a second longer than absolutely necessary." Zeke snarled.

"Good," Levi retorted. "Then die."

"What Levi wanted to say," Hange corrected with a chuckle. "Is that we're hoping for a fruitful cooperation. But for now, we should go our separate ways. I'll contact you if we discover something."

"We'll do the same," Pieck smiled, ushering Porco and Zeke to get up from their seats. "Enjoy your evening," she added before the three of them left.

The moment the door of the café closed behind them, Hange exhaled in relief. Levi sighed too, slumping in his seat.

"Pieck is nice, isn't she?" Hange asked softly.

"Are you two... friends?"

"Sort of," she replied. "Is that a problem?"

"No," Levi assured. "It's just, well, a bit weird."

"She helped me," Hange confessed. "When Zeke—" she made a vague gesture with her hands, pointing to her lost eye. "You know."

"We'll make him pay," he promised.

"I know," Hange leaned against his shoulder, yawning. "Can I stay at your place tonight?"

"Of course," he murmured. "Grim would love to see you. I don't have anything to eat at home, though. Want to order something here?"

Hange looked up at him, blinking sleepily. "You'll make me have dinner no matter what I say, right?"

He lightly flicked her nose. "What's the point of asking if you already know the answer?"

"You don't change," she whispered fondly. "It's good to be back, Levi."

It's good to have you back, he thought, admiring her peaceful expression. ***

One foot in front of the other, Petra slowly made her way up stairs to her apartment. She was exhausted, tired to the bone and the only thing she craved was to get into her cozy and warm apartment and then fall face-first into her soft and comfy bed.

But as her luck would have it, the elevators were broken and now she had to climb all the fifteen flight of stairs that lead to her apartment.

Heaving a sigh, she looked up. She was already on thirteenth floor.

Just two more, she thought grimly. Petra grabbed the railing tightly and pushed herself upwards.

Finally, when she was almost at the brim of exhaustion, Petra climbed up to the needed floor. She breathed out in relief and her lips curved into a small, satisfied smile.

She was almost home, the only thing she needed to do was to walk up to her front door, unlock it, took off her coat and shoes and change into pajamas. Then, she could get some rest at last. After that insane day, she more than deserved it.

As she neared the door to her apartment, Petra caught a weird scent, hanging in the air. She stopped for a second, sniffing. It was a strong, bitter and unpleasant. The scent of a cigarette smoke, Petra realized. She had never smelled it there before. As far as she knew, her neighbors didn't smoke. Then where the scent had come from?

A bit wary and alert, she continued her way. She was tired, maybe, she just imagined the smell. Or, maybe, one of her neighbors started smoking. It wasn't a big deal. Definitely wasn't illegal.

With a reprimanding shake of her head, Petra willed herself to relax. She took out her keys and approached the door. She touched the door handle.

And the panic nearly overwhelmed her.

Her front door. It wasn’t locked.

Staring at it in confusion, Petra searched her mind, trying to remember if she had forgotten to close the door when leaving in the morning. She always locked it. Could it be that she had forgotten about it today?

She was a creature of habit, she always made sure to turn off the lights and lock the front door before leaving the apartment. On the other hand, however, a lot happened this week. She wasn't sleeping enough. She wasn't getting enough rest. She was constantly in the state of worry and anxiety. Locking her front door was at the very bottom of her list of priorities. She could very easily forget about it.

Right?

She was probably just getting too paranoid. It was probably caused by exhaustion and emotional distress. She was worrying over nothing.

Petra took a deep breath. She was worrying over nothing. She kept repeating this phrase like a mantra in her head. She slowly pushed the door open.

The apartment behind it was silent. And dark.

Petra exhaled in relief.

She chuckled softly, scolding herself for being a scaredy-cat. She closed the door - making sure she locked it this time - and took off her coat and shoes. She draped the coat on the clothes rack and then entered her bedroom. She touched the switch, turning on the light. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the sudden brightness. She swept her eyes across the room—

And then gasped, the fear gripping every part of her body.

There was a man sitting in her armchair near the window. The same man that she saw in the precinct today - the one with eerie smile.

That same unnerving smile was spread on his lips once again.

"Detective Ral," he murmured softly, rising to his feet. "Did you and your partner receive my note?"

#i have love/hate relationship with this chapter #so i'm very curious what y'all think about it #:)#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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klixxy · 4 years ago

Text

Weekly Fic Recs

(ft. my bookmark comments)

HAIKYUU!!:

the pretty (pining) setters squad - bloodyhalefire

(haikyuu!!; multiple relationships; chatfic; setter-centric; 36k words; ongoing)

oikawa: I HAVE NO FEAR

suga: straight iwaizumi

oikawa: I HAVE ONE FEAR

said you’re coming back home, boy, don't feel so alone - jublis

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; 9k words) MANGA SPOILERS

The ball rolls gently on the ground, all the way to Tobio’s feet. He bends down to pick it up, and something in his blood sizzles like lightning. He looks at the leathery surface, then at his sister’s wild smile and neat hair; looks back at the court and the net, where the boys are running a spiking practice. Everyone else seems focused on the attackers, but Tobio’s eyes are zeroed on the one tossing. Set, connect, spike. Bang-bang-bang.

No one wins without the setter.

Tobio tosses the ball to Miwa and says, “Again.”

Or, Kageyama Tobio grows up, older, and not that much wiser at all. Featuring brothers and sisters, anger, connection, and that moment when someone finally catches up with you.

My Best Friend is a 9 Year-Old - CO32minus

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; kagehina-centric; 48k words) MANGA SPOILERS

Kageyama didn't expect to become friends with Hinata nearly as fast as he did. He expected becoming best friends with Hinata's sister even less. But over the course of his high school career, the two of them grow closer than any friend Kageyama has had in a long time. A long time.

[my bookmarks: beautiful. a masterpiece. i have been rendered... speechless. it's poignant and painful and heartbreaking.

explores the relationships between tobio and a variety of people in a unique way. an emotional, tearful rollercoaster all the way through.]

you who appeared before my eyes like a miracle - vivahate

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; hurt/comfort; 2k words) MANGA SPOILERS

Everything I told you last night,” Kageyama says at last and he sounds so awful, so defensive: he keeps trying to pull away, and Hinata can tell he’s come to all the wrong conclusions. “I told you because I wanted to. There’s nothing more to it. I don’t need your -”

“It’s not pity!” Hinata hisses, tightening his hold on Kageyama’s hands. “Or whatever else you’re thinking.” Hinata releases another quivering breath against Tobio’s neck, the setter going completely still in his arms. It’s important that Tobio understands. “It breaks my heart knowing that the boy I love was hurting and I didn’t even –” he breaks off with a sound of frustration, “I could’ve done something to make it at least a little better for you.”

(or; Kageyama tells Hinata about Kazuyo san after the Black Jackals/Adlers game, and Hinata processes.)

cats and other challenges - vivahate (they have such good fics!)

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; hurt/comfort; 6k words) MANGA SPOILERS

“Was that Hime?” Miwa asks over the phone, having apparently heard that pathetic yowl.

“No.” Tobio grunts, “It’s a different cat I picked up from the garbage on my way home.” On the other end of the line Miwa laughs gleefully, probably thinking he’s joking.

He’s not.

(Or; Sometime in the year following the Olympics, Tobio finds himself adopting a cat. And then three more. Hinata doesn't mind.)

etymology - tothemoon

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; coming of age; 3k words) MANGA SPOILERS

Kageyama Tobio has a language all his own.

[my bookmarks: holy shit this is pure poetry. beauty. breathtaking. <3]

and if you asked me if i love him (i'd lie) - fakecharliebrown

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kagehina-centric; humor; falling in love; au; 13k words)

“Okay, what the fuck,” Tobio said, upon seeing the source of the commotion in his kitchen. There, standing in front of his open window—when had he opened that?—was a guy probably several years younger than Tobio, a high schooler most likely, with bright, orange hair. He was soaked to the bone, dripping rainwater all over Tobio’s kitchen floor like he was trying to fill a new lake.

The boy looked up, wide-eyed, and blurted, “This isn’t my apartment.”

or; Hinata accidentally breaks into Kageyama’s apartment, starts a fire, and is deeply offended that Kageyama eats lettuce. It all seems to unravel from there.

burn - orphan_account

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kagehina-centric; au; 3k words)

Kageyama Tobio had always had the odd ability to see the numbers signalling how dangerous a person was. He'd gone through his childhood surrounded by Twos and Threes, maybe even Fours. And then he meets his Ten.

~~~~~~~~~~

The flame seemed to burn ever so bright, as Kageyama felt the air around the other basically crackle. He felt as if he was Icarus and Hinata was the Sun. Two wings to hold him up, a fiery heat to burn him down.

Don't get too close, or you'll melt.

6/10 - CheekyBrunette

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; social anxiety; 19k words)

Hinata babbled on. “Natsu’s just so annoying sometimes. Everyone comes over and is like, ‘But oh, she’s so cute!’ and, well... yeah, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like pushing all my buttons, you know? I mean, this is the third time she stole my blue furoshiki, so I had to wrap my bento with her stupid cat one!”

Kageyama’s hands knotted up in the bottom hem of his shorts. “Little sisters are the worst,” he tried.

Hinata’s nose scrunched up, and Kageyama’s stomach threatened to tie itself in knots. That had been the wrong thing to say. “Well, she’s not the worst,” Hinata corrected. Kageyama felt stupid for speaking up.

Fixation - @radio-silents

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kagehina-centric; 7k words)

Hinata can’t stand Kageyama.

He can’t stand Kageyama’s stupid grumpy face, he can’t stand his stupid hair, and most of all he can’t stand how stupidly good Kageyama is at volleyball.

Alternatively, where Hinata spends a lot of time being frustrated and confused about his conflicting emotions toward Kageyama.

Summer Days, Flying By - @anawriteshorror

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; abuse au; angst; 11k words)

“Ne, Tobio.” Shouyou asked him one afternoon, smile relaxed on his face as he spread his fingers, splaying shadows on the walls. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to fly?”

He shook his head. Flying meant going outside, and even imagining it made him tense up. He was already breaking enough rules as it was; no need to stir up his mind more than he already had.

Shouyou looked a little sad at that. “Well, I have.” His eyes went to the sky, like he could see himself soaring at that very moment. “You should imagine it, just once.”

The facts that make up his world are this: his name is Kageyama Tobio, he's ten years old, and he's never been outside his house.

Until he met Shouyou.

well, maybe i'm a crook - aruariandance

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; angst; 6k words)

The thing is-- Hinata is in love with Kageyama and everyone knows it, including Kageyama.

[my bookmarks: i'm cryignd i can't-]

discovering the smile of one kageyama tobio - Emlee_J (also a great fic writer - check out her other fics they’re all equally as good)

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; falling in love; 3rd year au; 8k words)

Kageyama blinks once before a grin of his own spreads over his face. Shouyou’s breath halts in his lungs at the sight, and he wills for time to stop, just so he can drink it in. He sees it sometimes, when they’re playing - Kageyama’s fierce smile when they pull a combo off just right, when they show their opponents how possible the impossible can really be. But then there’s another serve, another rally, and the moment is gone.

'Shame', Shouyou thinks to himself, as he lets his eyes roam over Kageyama’s stupidly happy face, taking in the creases that are from joy rather than frowning, for a change. 'It’s a really nice smile.'

In which it's their third, and final, year in high school and Hinata has only one goal: to make Kageyama smile outside of volleyball.

Wedding Tosses - its_tabby_cat

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; wedding; fluff/humor; 4k words) MILD MANGA SPOILERS

Based on the post I can't find anymore about Hinata and Kageyama spiking their wedding bouquet during the bouquet toss in their wedding.

Hinata and Kageyama's wedding is unique in their friends and guests' memories for one very specific reason. Natsu and Miwa wish they could say they saw this coming when they organised a bouquet toss as part of their brothers' wedding, but they didn't. They should have, though.

Hinata and Kageyama have no regrets. Neither do any of their guests (Except maybe Tsukishima).

gonna stand by you - meregalaxiesandgods

(haikyuu!!; gen; 3rd year au; kageyama-centric; 5k words)

Five times Kageyama defended his teammates, and one time they defended him.

baby, i can give you wings - Metis_Ink

(haikyuu!!; kagehina/daisuga; superpower au; humor/romance; 8k words)

In which there are superpowers, cats, rainstorms, realizations, split-second jealousy, embarrassing volleyparents, killer whales, electric Kuroos, unstable emotions, bad romance movie mentions, some angst, some fluff, but mostly a lot of awkward high schoolers.

The minute Kageyama walks into the gym and sees Hinata hovering eight feet over the nets he knows he’s screwed.

if it wasn't for you - diphylleias

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; getting together; 13k words) MANGA SPOILERS

A long moment passes between them, and Hinata watches, starstruck, as Heitor’s eyes linger on Nice’s silhouette from across the venue. His voice is deep, rich, all encompassing. “Some people change your life just by being in it, and you don’t want to let that go.”

Huh, Hinata thinks grandly.

[my bookmarks: This is majestic. Im now gonna proceed to scream internally about my kagehina feels for the next few hours.]

kintsugi - horchata

(haikyuu!!; gen; magical realism; kageyama-centric; 4k words)

Tobio notices when people get hurt. Something inside him hums to fix it.

The first time’s for Iwaizumi-san.

i bear little resemblance to the king i could become - silpium

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; kageyama-centric; found family; 1k words)

Something else that’s infuriating about Hinata: he doesn’t question much. He never questions how Kageyama never smiles. He never questions why Kageyama doesn’t seem to have any friends. He never questions why Kageyama doesn’t talk much about himself, or talk much at all. He’ll make fun of these things sometimes, sure, but there’s never a probing question lingering beneath it. He seems to know there are just some things about Kageyama that are the way they are and that won’t change.

Or: sometimes people find their homes later in life.

Saffron and Cayenne Pepper - dontsaycrazy

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; falling in love; cooking au; 30k words)

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

halcyon - @queenanimetrash

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; depression; falling in love; hurt/comfort; 11k words)

"...And Kageyama cried. There was no rhyme or reason to it. There was no reason for all of the things he was feeling. Depression was weird like that, the lady in the pantsuit told him. There was no reason for it. It just comes and stays sticky on your skin, lumpy in your throat, heavy in your heart, suffocating and cold all at once."

again - bigspoonnoya

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; falling in love; reincarnation au; fantastical; 15k words)

Both your deaths in this universe have failed. “Failed…” Kageyama echoes. The word seems to hurt him. “How can you fail at dying?” Hinata asks, incredulous. Luckily you have an infinite selection of universes, with an extensive number of lifetimes, still remaining. Until you can save one another, you will never grow old.

[my bookmarks: magical. absolutely breathtaking. amazingly poetic. <33333]

Blowing Up - sarahenany

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; bombing au; angst; hurt/comfort; 10k words)

Minor spoilers for early S4 of the anime. Hinata and Kageyama go to different training camps, but news reaches Hinata's camp that there's been a bombing at the Ajinomoto Center, where Kageyama's camp is being held. Kageyama has minor injuries. Hinata is worried and protective. Tsukishima, Ukai, Takeda, Kenma and Kuroo are awesome.

like a sudden flight of birds - starstrikes

(haikyuu!!; atsukage; soulmate au; 17k words) MANGA SPOILERS

There are these chances—the ones that come flying overhead, streaking through the sky, waiting for a jump and a catch.

It takes Tobio a couple wrong chances before the right one comes swooping by like a shooting star. This time, Tobio jumps for the catch and doesn't let go.

stray bird - diarahans

(haikyuu!!; tsukkikage; falling in love; fluff; 7k words)

Tsukishima brings home a rain-drenched Kageyama.

All That's Left - tsunderei

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; falling in love; pacific rim au; 38k words)

Almost immediately after his last mission, where his mistakes nearly claimed the life of his partner, Kageyama Tobio resigns as a Jaeger pilot. Since then he has kept to himself, his life stuck in a rut and his reputation left in tatters. When the Kaiju suddenly threaten to rise again, he doesn’t want anything to do with them.

But along with the new threat comes new recruits, and a certain redheaded pilot isn’t willing to give up on Kageyama so easily. Hinata Shouyou is all about fighting spirit and second chances, despite his lack of experience. Slowly but insistently, he pulls Kageyama along – back to life, back into the Jaeger, back into the drift.

everything/anything by @superish

[all of my bookmarks for superish’s stuff: ]

like literally. this was my bookmark for one of their fics:

OH. MY. GOD. OHMYGOD. THIS IS PHENOMAL. BEAUTIFUL. BREATHTAKING. THE DESCRIPTIONS OF TOBIO WERE JUST- A+++++++++++++. INFINITE +S. INCREDIBLE. RIDICULOUSLY GOOD. HEART-STOPPING. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH ADJECTIVES TO PRAISE THIS FIC.

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I'M SCREAMING. I'M GONNA SCREAM. I'M DYING. HOW- WHY- THE EQUIVALENT OF PERFECTION EXISTS IN THIS WORLD, AND IT IS THIS FIC. JESUS CHRIST I'M IN LOVE. THIS IS MY NEW FUCKING RELIGION AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.

BNHA:

Knead a Hand? - staqua

(boku no hero academia; bakutodo; bakutodo-centric; 5k words)

Ah. For all of the appliances Shouto had been, a blowtorch was new. Still, just to prompt and bother: "So...?"

"So..."

It was a plea for help but Shouto wanted to hear the words. Another eyebrow twitch. The other one this time, because Bakugou clearly liked to workout both muscles for ultimate impact.

"Argh! Just light your finger on fire and caramelize these shitheads!"

OR: Shouto discovers his quirk is useful for more than hero work through his time spent cooking with a grudging Bakugou.

journey to the past - @aloneintherain

(boku no hero academia; gen; midoriya-centric; time-travel au; 44k words)

Izuku is five years old the first time he's saved by heroes. He's an instant fan of the woman in pink with her cheerful smile and the man with his ice powers and fine-boned features, even if they both refuse to tell him their names.

For most of his life, Izuku has been the centre of villain attacks, but he has never been injured. Every time, he's saved by bright, unknown heroes—heroes who smile at Izuku, and ruffle his hair or ply him with hugs, and seem mesmerised by how small he is.

Heroes that the rest of the world doesn't believe exists.

(Time-travelling Class 1-A AU)

Candy Canes And Christmas Crackers - bigdorkenergy

(boku no hero academia; bakutodo; fake dating au; slow burn; 104k words)

“So….your huge family somehow all think that you have a long term boyfriend and are insisting that you bring him to your week long Christmas family reunion?” Despite his efforts the end of his question raised in pitch as Kirishma swallowed down a giggle.

“How does that even happen?” Kaminari added popping some of the hashbrowns Bakugou made into his mouth.

OR your classic holiday romcom where Bakugou needs a fake boyfriend to bring home for Christmas and Todoroki is willing to take that bullet.

some days - @chibistarlyte

(boku no hero academia; pre-bakutodo; gen; angst; 6k words)

Most days, Shouto is fine.

But some days...

Some days, Shouto falls apart.

hear me howling - @lunal0u

(i absolutely love, love, love this author check her out PLEASE you don’t even have to ship tododeku just PLEASE)

(boku no hero academia; tododeku; gen; angst; suicide; emotional rollercoaster; 14k words)

Instead of squinting away like Izuku would, Shouto’s eyes seem to grow warmer as they stare into the sun, seem to grow softer.

In the glow of the early morning, the sky painted in hues of red and pink, it almost looks as if the sun itself is reflecting from Shouto’s eyes, his dark pupils dyed gold by the light.

(or, four times izuku watches the sunrise with shouto and the one time he doesn't)

[my bookmarks: this is everything i aspire to be, shoved into one, brilliant fic.]

the stars are floating and we are flying - @lunal0u

(boku no hero academia; tododeku; gen; angst; mental illness; 39k words)

Aizawa starts walking towards the exit, obviously expecting Shouto to follow him, but Shouto's feet are frozen in place. His eyes flicker from the distorted reflection of himself in the ice to where All Might is giving him a long look, eyes kinder than anything Todoroki has ever been deserving of, and he feels sick.

“Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya says gently, squeezing his arm in what Shouto presumes is meant to be a reassuring gesture. “It’s going to be okay.”

He doesn’t think Midoriya is in any place to tell him what okay is, all things considered, but he chooses to keep quiet on the matter.

[my bookmarks: this made me burst into tears. my heart just exploded. I'm crying like a baby. just fricking- it's just fricking beautiful. astounding. incredible. wonderful. poignant. heartbreaking. so, so very sad. i can't even put it into words frick.]

rock'n'roll, buckaroo! - Origamidragons

(boku no hero academia; gen; humor; youtube au; 6k words)

Kaminari walks up to Todoroki in the hallway after class and says, “Dude, I need your help.”

Todoroki checks over his shoulder, twice, to verify that Kaminari is indeed talking to him. “Why?”

“Yesterday you asked Shinsou-kun if he was Aizawa-sensei’s son,” Kaminari says, as though that explains anything at all.

“...yes?”

“Make a hero conspiracy YouTube channel with me.”

FMAB:

snipers solve 99% of all problems - silentwalrus

(fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood x harry potter; gen; humor; 226k words; ongoing)

Ed had thought, after the whole Promised Day, homunculus, entire country harvested for alchemical batteries thing, the batshit quotient of his life would have settled down some. He really ought to have topped out the meter with that one. But no. The bullshit is just getting started.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Ed demands. “The wizards?”

Podfic & Chinese translation available! See notes

[my bookmarks: holy shit this is amazing... {SPOILERS}]

everything/anything by tierfal

you don’t even have to have read fmab for some of their fics- you can hate royed for all i care- just PLEASE read their fics. all of their fics are just so wonderful and are such an emotional rollercoaster that has you absolutely hooked from start to end. the author has an amazing quality that their writing just makes you feel so much.

please check them out.

ATLA:

respite - @blue---pluto

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; gaang finds out abt zuko’s scar fic; 3k words)

“It’s healing really well.” Katara tells him with a smile, before her lips quirk down into a frown. “Though it’ll still scar pretty bad.”

Zuko shrugs. “It’s ok. I doubt people will really focus on it anyway… the one on my face is a bit more prominent.”

Katara makes a face, like she’s not quite sure if she should laugh or frown, when Toph speaks up.

“You have a scar on your face?” Toph asks, sitting up so she’s sitting by his legs rather than lying on them.

Zuko blinks. He never quite forgets that Toph is blind, but the fact that she can’t see his scar never really occurred to him.

“Oh, yeah.” Zuko looks down at his lap. “My father burned like, half my face off before I was banished.” He says it a little too casually, probably not bitterly enough.

The Competition - @littlelovelyspiderling

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; tickle fic; zuko-centric; 8k words)

The avatar gang competes to see who can get Zuko to laugh first. Adorableness ensues.

where the stars do not take sides - WitchofEndor

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; zukka; azula and zuko-centric; 60k words)

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

asmr: Actively Seeking Machiavellism's Redemption - cereal_whore

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; azula redemption; zuko-centric; time travel au; humor; 13k words; ongoing)

When Zuko's midlife crisis is just his life replayed for a second time, it tests not just his patience, but also whether it's truly Azula that's the murderous sibling out of the two. Because Zuko might be a mentally matured sixteen-year-old with his own handful of daddy issues, but he is this close to throwing hands at his eleven-year-old baby sister out in their courtyard.

Or: upon being hit by Azula's lightning in the last battle, Zuko finds himself back in time to when his father just branded half of his face. He also finds himself facing his younger sister, eleven and not a murderer, and through his own mixture of overwhelming pity and resentment for her, realizes he could possibly save not just all the people she killed- but herself as well.

In other words: Zuko wants to make things right for Azula (who was never given a chance by anyone), so he essentially drags her along with him on his life-changing field trip as a tired nanny.

heirloom - jublis

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; azula redemption; angst; series; 56k words; ongoing)

The weight of the world rests on the shoulders of children. In spite of it all, they still find enough place to grow.

[my bookmarks: fuck i’m gonna cry again]

Leaves and Shells - ChimaeraKitten

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; angst; zuko-centric; 2k)

Zuko thought he knew how to deal with grief. But loss is different every time, and losing the one person who anchored him through all the other turmoil is its own special kind of pain. Luckily Zuko is not quite as alone as he once was.

Names - TGP

(avatar: the last airbender; jetko; angst; amnesia au; 89k words)

His name is Li. At least, that’s what the villagers call him and when they die in a Fire Nation attack, he carries that name with him to the Freedom Fighters and a war that will test every fiber of his being.

Where Zuko ends and Li begins is a muddled thing indeed.

[my bookmarks: i don’t ship jetko but... but this... i did NOT see this fic coming and it hit me with the feels train... hard.]

CROSSOVERS:

In His Element(s) - WriterGreenReads

(boku no hero academia x avatar: the last airbender; gen; aang-centric; 111k words; ongoing)

“So… one more time.” Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting both waking up this morning and possibly existence in general. “You’re the spiritual avatar of an entirely different world, and in the process of keeping the peace with said spirits, originating from your… dimension, you’ve come to our world to stop the actively malicious versions of your spirits, because our world told your world that something was wrong.” The child shrugged and grinned, looking much too cheery for someone currently in handcuffs. “Pretty much!” he chirped. “Your world spirit is really polite, too. Ours was super grumpy about all the spirits escaping, but then yours said it was ok, so long as I teach her more about them on the way back!”"

Aang chases some renegade spirits across worldly borders and possibly makes some new friends along the way.

but it's a little too late - @irleggsywrites

(haikyuu!! x bleach; kageyama x ichigo; gen; humor; 11k words; ongoing)

Kageyama's elusive "girlfriend" turns out to be a bizarre ginger-haired boy who isn't Hinata. Subsequently, he may or may not lose it at some point.

Karasuno's getting kind of suspicious of Kageyama's relationship. It seems like he always runs into trouble around this guy, and some things aren't adding up. When push comes to shove, they aren't afraid to show their protective streak, especially when it comes to their youngest.

Ichigo likes his new volleyball-playing boyfriend a lot. He just wishes ghosts would stop crashing their dates, because it's a real mood-killer.

(This is 110% crack. HQ!! focused.)

Ignis Aurum Probat - writing_addict

(fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood x how to train your dragon; gen; angst; humor; 37k words; ongoing)

Edward Elric is born early into the dead of winter, on an island twelve days North of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing-To-Death. He comes into the world sickly and small--and endlessly defiant, burning with the kind of rage that can shake the foundations of the universe. The gods themselves hear that scream, that roar of fury and thunder promising to remake the world as they know it, and wonder.

Fifteen years later, Ed brings down the Night Fury that's been plaguing his people for generations, stands over it with the perfect opportunity to make the kill...and spares it. And just like that, the Norns begin weaving the fate of a hero.

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flying-nightwing · 4 years ago

Text

Night Adventures in an Unlikely Maze of Blue and Yellow

Hiiiii guys. This is for @batwngs, the MVP of leaving the best comments ever and being generally an amazing person. I still have trouble closing my imagines so nevermind the underwhelming ending. Anyway enjoy the probably sweetest thing I’ve ever written, it’s really really really freakin’ cute.

Masterlist in bio // pinned

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader

Word count: 3174

Warnings: none beside mentions of doing the do and one (1) innuendo

Summary: While most people would qualify married life as boring, having Dick Grayson for a husband turns the most mudane task into an adventure. This is the story of one shopping trip turned into a teenage dream (Katy Perry can suck it up)

You were making breakfast when you heard it.

The sound of the coffee brewing and the sizzling pan were singing the beginning of a new day, harmonizing with your soft humming of a song you had heard on the radio the day before. The sun basked the whole kitchen in golden sun and warmed your back through your fluffy robe, so much you never wanted to leave this spot. You closed your eyes, taking in the peace you had long seeked. But then, it was interrupted by a loud crash and a high pitched scream.

You perked up, turning down the stovetops and rushing to the bathroom. Luckily, your husband never kept the door locked. In fact, it was wide open when you came in. You reached the shower handle and pulled it open with all the concern in the world, only to see Dick with a pout on his pretty face.

“Dick” You frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“This is the worst thing that happened to me” He almost sobbed. Your concern spiked.

“What happened?” You asked. “Are you hurt?”

“My toes...” His pout intensified as he pointed behind him. “The rack broke and all the bottles fell on my feet”

The sudden stress and concern fell, only to be replaced by your incredulous expression. You shouldn’t have been surprised by his blown out of proportion reaction, but again, Dick was probably the most dramatic person you knew. Punch him, shoot him, beat him up to an inch of his life, the guy will shake it off and get back on his feet. Minorly inconvenience him? You’ll never hear the end of it.

“You big baby” You rolled your eyes. “You’ll be fine”

“You won’t join me and make it better?” He now gave you his puppy eyes, opening his arms. You had to admit, it was hard not to cave in and go hug the giant toddler. “I’m hurt”

“You’ll get over it” You tried to say sternly, but a small smile still made it past you. “I’m going to finish breakfast now”

“Don’t forget--”

“Your cereals yes I know”

“You’re the best” He yelled after you as you closed the shower door. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

You went back to the kitchen and turned on the stove tops again, taking care of the hashbrowns and bacon awaiting for your return in their pans. While they cooked, you cut oranges and melons, poured Dick’s favourite cereals in a bowl and put a cup of oat milk right beside. You started the eggs when you heard Dick come out of the bathroom, and managed to have everything ready on the table seconds before he came walking in in his own matching robe, his hair all damp and face shaved.

“Smells amazing in here” He announced loudly.

You walked to him and kissed him on the cheek. He smelled of aftershave and jasmine shower gel. “Just in time”

Dick paused in his steps and stared at the full table with childish wonder. Then, his beautiful, almost sparkling eyes found yours. “What did I do to deserve you? And most importantly what would I do without you?”

“You were very handsome and convincing” You answered the first question with a sly smirk. “And probably dead in a ditch”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but closed his mouth when nothing came out. “Probably dead in a ditch, yeah” He admitted, before his gorgeous smile graced his features again. “Thank you for breakfast babe”

“You’re very welcome” You gladly accepted the quick peck on your lips, and laughed as he hurried to the table. You followed him and sat in front of him, watching as he piled food on his plate, unimpressed. You had been caught short handed when you first started dating, foolishly making food for two people like the boy didn’t eat enough to match a small village. But now you knew the trick and would never make that mistake again; you had to cook for a family of four. It was of utter most importance at breakfast, because he always woke up hungry. You didn’t mind though, because nobody appreciated your food more than him. You’d always get a ‘thank you’ before and after each meal, and he’d usually drop positive comments while he ate as well.

Cooking for Dick Grayson was gratifying, to say the least.

“What?” He asked right after he shoved a spoonful of cereals on his mouth. “Why you shtaring?”

“Don’t worry about it” Your smile widened as you shook your head.

“It makes me shelf conschious”

“Aw baby” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t be. You’re cute when you eat cereals”

He smiled wide, chewed cereal and milk pouring out of his mouth and onto his chin. You averted your eyes from the disaster and sighed.

“I walked into that one” You mumbled, looking up at the ceiling. “Should have known. That’s on me”

“Sorry” He half heartedly apologized, the laughter in his voice evident. “You can look again now, I swallowed”

You slowly trailed your glance on him, sending him a silent warning not to add a sexual joke to it. He visibly wanted to, but instead chose the prudent way and held his hands in defense of his innocence. You nodded slightly in satisfaction and served yourself breakfast, or what was remaining of each plate. You had enough however, since Dick knew exactly how much you needed and took care of leaving your preferred quantity. How thoughtful of him.

“So, I guess we’ll need to go to Ikea to replace that shower rack” You spoke up once you knew his hunger rush had calmed down. “We can go this afternoon if you’ve got nothing to do”

“Oooh, I wanted to buy candles for the living room” He nodded. “Heard they got new ones. Yeah, we can go this afternoon”

“Cool” You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee. “There’s always less people near closing anyway, so that way we’ll avoid the crowds”

“Brilliant” He pointed, nodding along. “I hate when they’re all gathered around the Rättviken and you can’t even see your Pilkån”

You laughed at his exaggerated mannerism and his pretentious eye roll over his botched swedish accent, then finished your breakfast in comfortable silence. Whoever tried to scare you about married life when you were younger was clearly missing on something amazing, or was dead wrong, because you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

---

Some might say going to Ikea in disguise might be a little excessive.

But you and Dick knew better. The number of times you were accosted by either journalists raising to the opportunity to grab a quick interview taped on their phones or nosy citizens looking for a peek of Gotham’s finest son to show off on their instagram feed was enough for you to take measures to ensure your privacy. You didn’t exactly mind, in fact, you thought it was kind of funny. However, sometimes you wanted to be left alone to your candle and shower rack shopping.

Today was one of these days.

Hence, the baseball caps and sunglasses that would follow you even inside away from the sun rays, and away from unwanted attention. Dick suggested he wore his fake mustache, but you deemed it unnecessary for this not so delicate operation. Arms linked together, you entered the swedish domestic heaven and began snooping around the showrooms, pointing out what you liked better and styles you would definitely consider if your house hadn’t been entirely redecorated when you bought it some years ago.

“We should buy an apartment just so we can recreate those rooms” You said as you paused in front of a beautiful study. “That would be fun”

“How about we just buy the show rooms so we can go whenever we want?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, good point” You grinned, then let it fall. “If only we had more than negative ten dollars in between us both”

“But then,” He began, glancing at you. “The same problem arises for the apartment option. We’d still be broke”

You blinked a few times, then sighed. “Then we’ve got no choice” You stared at him through his sunglasses. “We gotta steal the showrooms and make a run for it”

You held for two more seconds before you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore. The few people in the store looked at you like you were crazy, but you cared very little for them and their opinions. The facts were you had fun and they didn’t. You moved along to the bedrooms, where the big fluffy beds just called your name. Like your minds were connected, you and Dick both launched yourself on the king sized mattress in the orange tinted room. You bounced like you weighed a feather, then sank into the memory foam that would guarantee a good night of sleep to anyone bringing the mattress home.

“I’m comfy here” Dick scooted closer to you, reaching for your waist to cuddle and burying his face in your neck. “Don’t wanna leave”

“Babe” You giggled, half heartedly pushing him away from you. You knew it was impossible to move him if he didn’t want to be moved. “We’re gonna get kicked out of the store if we get caught cuddling”

A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes, and before you could strategize to stop whatever plan he acted in his mind, he somehow pulled you from the middle of the bed and used his vigilante stealth to carry you inside a closet, shutting the door behind him. Your face was flushed at the sudden rolling and spinning, and he only had a shit eating grin you could see all too well even in the dark.

“What the hell?” You whisper-screamed. “We could have been seen!”

“Nope” He seemed so proud of himself. “Made sure of it”

“Cameras?”

“Blind spot” He replied. “I checked everything. I’m a pro, babe”

You kept glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “I hate you”

“Uh huh” He gave you a small, unconvinced nod, knowing all too well it wasn’t even close to be true. “That’s why you stormed off the closet the second after I brought you here… Oh wait”

“Smart ass” You lightly slapped his chest, a small smile creeping on your lips. You kind of enjoyed the thrill of hiding out somewhere anybody could burst in at any moment, and you definitely didn’t dislike the proximity to your husband. Even if you were married, his close presence still made your heart do backflips.

“Your smart ass” He corrected, giving you once again his puppy eyes. Well, you couldn’t actually see his eyes, but the tilt of his head and the slight jut of his lower lip all pointed to his famous facial expression that got him virtually anything. And you were far from immune to it. So naturally, you leaned in for a kiss, knowing it was what he was begging for this time.

And just like that, you were making out like two teenagers in the janitor closet.

It was messy, teeth clashed and giggles interrupted the motions more than not. Dick bumped his head at least twice on the bar above him and you almost fell down on your ass if it hadn’t been from Dick holding you. Hands got grabby and before you knew it, the temptation to make articles of clothing fly like fireworks brought you back to reality. You reluctantly broke the kiss, still giggling as he definitely didn’t want to leave your lips just yet. He whined when he realized you weren’t coming back.

“Hey, hold on cowboy” You chuckled, holding his shoulder. “If we keep going on like that, we’ll end up making a baby inside this closet”

The playful expression came back, along with a dash of flirting. His hand caressed your arm. “Would it be so bad?”

“Yes” You deadpanned. “Because you would name the baby like, Songesand or something”

He gasped. “I would never name my child after Ikea furniture”

You raised an eyebrow. “We’re not naming our baby Björn either”

He paused, caught in the headlights. You knew him so well he was becoming predictable. “But then how will people know he was conceived in swedish furniture?”

“You dork” You poked his chest, making the grin return on his face. “Obviously we let people know by having an ABBA reference in his middle name”

He laughed loudly, but you didn’t care whether or not you got caught. You were having too much fun. “Please marry me now”

“Sorry, already taken” You tsked, showing your ring. The one he put on your finger on your wedding day. “But he’s a cool guy, maybe I could talk to him about us seeing each other”

“Nah, he’s a jerk” He brushed off. “I’d rather have you all to myself”

He was about to kiss you again when you heard the lights going off. It was already dark in the closet, but there was no doubt, the main lights had been shut down. Your eyes widened as you stared at each other for a moment in surprise, until Dick grabbed his phone in his back pocket and checked the time. He turned the phone to you, letting you read the clock screaming 17:45 at you.

“Uh oh” You bit your lip. Fifteen minutes after closing. “They’re closing already? Shouldn’t they do a check up before?”

He shrugged. “Maybe the employees got some places to be?”

“Who’s got places to be on a Tuesday night?”

“Nightwing?”

“So the employees are all vigilantes?”

“Maybe, we can’t know for sure”

“Sure, okay. So we’re locked in?”

“Yup”

You took off your cap and sunglasses. “Guess we won’t need these anymore”

“Come on” He said as he also took off his semi disguise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about getting locked in an Ikea for the night?”

“I have actually” You pointed out. “It’s both my dream and my nightmare depending on who I’m there with”

“And I’m..?”

“Oh definitely nightmare” You replied in a serious tone, and his eyebrows raised. “Just kidding, being locked in here with you was on my bucket list”

“Attagirl!” He laughed, pushing open the closet like he realized you didn’t need to be hiding in there anymore. The store now had an eerie feeling, something on the other side of the vibe spectrum than it would usually be. It felt like you had crossed in another dimension narnia style. “This is gonna be fun”

“Where do we start?” You asked, stretching your legs. You had gotten a cramp from being all folded up in the closet. “Bathrooms? Living rooms?”

“Guards’ round” The mischief in his eyes returned, and just like that you were remembered you also would have to evade a guard. “We find out where he starts, how fast he makes his round, where he’s looking more carefully. Then we begin the cat and mouse game”

“Sounds like a plan” You nodded, then watched him perk up at something above your shoulder.

He put a finger against his lips and stared down the hallway until you heard the shuffling of keys. How he managed to hear it long before you did would forever remain a mystery to you. In a blink, he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun around behind the very wardrobe you were hiding in minutes ago. You put a hand against your mouth to hold back the giggle that threatened to reveal your presence, and it didn’t help that you could feel Dick’s grin on the skin of your neck. He only turned you around in his arms when he was sure the guard was far enough.

“All clear” He confirmed, a boyish expression gracing his features. Yup, you definitely felt like a teenager sneaking around where you shouldn’t. The thrill was a refreshing spin to your routine. “Where to?”

“Hmm” You hummed, tilting your head. “Cap on the living rooms?”

Without warning, he grabbed your hand and took off running in the opposite direction from the security guard and toward the beginning of the Ikea maze. You almost let out a squeal of surprise, but managed to keep it down for the sake of your stealth operation. He only slowed down once you reached the area, letting go of your hand to jump on a couch. He threw his arm over his head and adopted a dramatic pause.

“My love, thee life shall be intertwined withet mine for the ends of times”

“Oh my dearest Eleanor” You joined in, adopting a much lower tone to match his higher one. You kneeled in front of him. “I taketh the oath to love you forever”

“Even if my corset is not made of real lace?”

You gasped. “How could you lieth to me such way?”

Dick was about to reply something even stupider when you were interrupted.

“Who’s there?”

“Oh shit” You hissed, grabbing Dick’s wrist and sprinting away. You were just getting to the good part of your goofing.

“The English, they’re invading!” He yelled loud enough to be sure the guard chasing you heard. “Ring the bell, wake the men, hide the tea!”

“Hey come back!” The guard, well, a different one, chased after you. You didn’t plan on having two of them making rounds. “You can’t be here!”

“You’ll never take us alive!” You added before you took a shortcut through the living room appliances to try and gain ground, then glanced at Dick. “If you have any vigilante disappearance act, now would be the time honey”

“I’m trying to spot an exit point--oh there”

You were yanked through an employees only zone, from where you easily found the door for the outside smoking zone. You could hear the security guard behind, but you were too fast. You came to a halt in front of the fence, hesitating. You were able to more or less follow Dick at a running pace, but you were in no way an acrobat or parkour expert. Dick, knowing this, didn’t waste time grabbing your waist and lifting you above it and jumping suit. You then ran straight back to Dick’s car and drove quickly out of the parking lot towards your home.

“Oh my god” You laughed in disbelief. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done”

He laughed heartily. “You’ve always wanted to see what patrol was like as Nightwing, this is as close as it gets without doing the real thing”

“I mean, beside the role play probably”

“Hmm no, it happens more often than you would think” He nodded. You kept staring at him for a moment, but he was serious. Well, after a small reflexion, and knowing his family, the surprise kind of fell apart. It made sense.

“We should do this every week” You declared. “It was fun!”

“Told ya it would” He winked.

“With all of this though,” You began, suddenly thoughtful. “We did forget the shower rack”

“And the candles!” He gasped. “Not the candles!”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson

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magioftheseas · 3 years ago

Text

★ Usami, Get Fired Up! ★

Summary: Usami and Matsuda’s first meeting, building from a scene in Chapter 25 of Super Danganronpa 2: Matsuda Yasuke’s Battle of Despair and Wits.

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence against stuffed animals outside of the flashback.

Notes: Thought it’d be fun to tack on a bonus scene to the incinerator scene. Poor Monomi. I swear I love her.

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

The truth is that Usami met Matsuda years ago. This is a fact the readers already know, but it is one that Usami kept close to her heart and continued to cherish even after becoming Monomi.

She had been a new AI at the time. Her creator, Gekkogahara Miaya, designed her with the intention of helping more reserved children open up. As a cutesy and cuddly friendly face, she was meant to be unassuming if not comforting. At first, Gekkogahara would communicate through her but with the development of the Neo World Program, an AI was thought to be more practical.

Usami was ‘born’ soon after.

Matsuda Yasuke was one of the first people she met.

“So, she’s active now, sensei?” Matsuda had peered into her screen, brow raised. “She looks the same as always.”

“It’s very nice to meet you!” she chittered, naturally excited and joyful, flailing as she struck a pose. In her overzealousness, she almost twisted her foot too much. Still, she bounced and squealed. “Magical Miracle Girl ★ Usami! The lovey-dovey, cutesy-wutesy cuddle buddy!”

Matsuda clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“...she’s supposed to be a teacher, right? Not sure if this is the right personality for a teacher.” He directed his questions to Gekkogahara. “Sensei, I hate to say it but I’m not sure about it.”

Usami couldn’t see Gekkogahara, but she did see Matsuda nod along. Saw him duck his head respectfully and mutter a dull acquiescence.

“I guess with you and Fujisaki working on her, it should pan out,” he was saying. “It should be fine...?”

“It will be fine!” Usami chirped. “Have hope, Matsuda-kun! Usami—I will do her bestest-westest for everyone! Love, love!”

“Love... Urgh.” Matsuda grimaced at her, only to shout when Gekkogahara’s hand rests atop his head. “H-Hey! Sensei, I’m not a fucking child!”

He’s flustered beyond belief, and Gekkogahara pulls away. Whatever gesture she makes gets that blush on Matsuda’s cheeks darkening.

And he notices Usami staring at him. He gives her a look, but says with utmost seriousness, “I’ll be expecting a lot from you. Don’t let me down.” A pause. “Don’t let Sensei or Fujisaki down either.”

“Of course, of course! Love, love, love!”

Usami’s first impression of Matsuda Yasuke was that he could be a bit prickly, but he was definitely a kind person. He was someone her creator was as fond of as she was respectful towards. In the days of developing the NWP, Usami did pay him a lot of mind.

“He has a difficult personality and has had many difficult experiences,” was Gekkogahara’s report on him. “Please be patient with him. He may seem cruel and aloof, and it can take time for him to let others into his heart. However, he cares deeply and unwaveringly. To a worryingly codependent degree.”

“Usami will do her best!”

“Be mindful, be patient.” Gekkogahara’s instructions were precise. “He is not one of your students, but observing his behavior and learning how to engage with him...should assist in your learning.”

Usami did watch him. Both him and Fujisaki. She watched the two of them work together and communicate, and she paid close mind when the two of them were anxious and uncertain. Fujisaki was always more obvious about it, but because Matsuda noticed, he was always much gentler, much less brusque. More complimentary, even.

Matsuda Yasuke could be a bit prickly, but he was definitely a kind person.

He was definitely...definitely...

...he’s definitely a kind person, definitely a kind person, definitely, definitely, definitely!

But no matter how much she told herself that, she couldn’t climb up the chute. She kept sliding back down and down.

If he just had the chance to live normally, this wouldn’t have happened.

She knew that. Gekkogahara knew that. Naegi knew that.

It’s all because of Monokuma. It’s because of Eno—

“Shiiiiiit, sis!” came the cackling, resounding, screeching laughter from above. “You’re really in the pits now! Upupupu!”

Even in the darkness, Monokuma’s maliciously gleaming grin casted the worst shadow.

“Matsuda-kun reeeeeeally hates you, huh?” it remarked, vibrating with despicable glee. “He hates you, resents you, totally deeeeeespises you! So much so that it’s deeeeespairing!”

“It’s all your fault!” Monomi shot back hotly. “If it wasn’t for you—!”

“If it weren’t for Enoshima Junko, Matsuda-kun wouldn’t even beeeee here,” Monokuma said. “Did you know? Matsuda-kun’s everything is aaaaaaaall thanks to Enoshima Junko!”

“You LIAR! I won’t be misled by you!” she shrieked. “Matsuda-kun may be prickly, but he’s definitely a kind person! It’s because of you that he—!”

Monokuma sighed heavily. The sound so low and yet so loud that it caused the inside of the incinerator to rattle.

“Gosh, sis, you just can’t keep up at all. You’re HOPELESS! Wake UP! Do you think you can conveniently blame everyone’s problems on only one person? I know I’m your cool older brother, but I’m not that incredible y’know.”

“You’re not my brother!” Monomi could protest that point, and got another heavy sigh for her troubles.

“Boring... So boring... Oh, Monomi. Poor, sweet, stupid Monomi. I didn’t make Matsuda-kun shove you down there.”

She did flinch and that—that was her weakness.

“Upupupu. I’m not gonna be the reason why Matsuda-kun hates you so much that he doesn’t care about what happens to you. Even! If! It’s something like THIS!”

Monokuma slipped out of view but there was a sound soon after. An awful, wretched noise as the incinerator roared to life. No matter how much Monomi screamed, it was all over for her the second it ignited.

And no matter how much it burned, no matter how much it burned and burned—

He’s definitely a kind person, she told herself over and over. They’re all good kids. They deserve a chance. Everyone...deserves a chance...

Even if—they’ve done—terrible, horrible, awful, despairing things—

It hurts it hurts it hurts

Have patience.

Have hope.

It hurts it hurts iT HUR—

Everything will be okay!

Everything burned to a crisp. In the same breath she choked on a sob, she also choked on so much smoke from her own sizzling body.

“Uwaaah, waaah, poor sis. Poor, poor sis.”

Monokuma patted the incinerator a few times.

“She’s really so annoying, it gets me fuming!” A pause. “But now I’m all fired up to cause even MORE despair!”

No one was around to appreciate his red-hot puns. Alas, that Monomi was already in ashes. Still. Still, still, still.

“My beloved Matsuda Yasuke-kun will fall into despair,” it said. “That’s been set in stone.”

It spoke with all the certainty that LOVE could have.

#yasuke matsuda #matsuda yasuke #sdr2 #dr0 #Monomi #Magi fics #Protag Matsun

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samthemarvelfan · 5 years ago

Text

See You Again: One Shot

Summary: 5 years after losing Bucky, you find yourself still trying to adjust to your not-so-new version of normal. One knock on your front door changed all that.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, Steve Rogers.

Warnings: A bit of angst and then pure and squishy fluff.

A/N: Hi everyone! Okay so this one kinda got away from me a little bit (AKA its waaaay longer than I intended.) Still, I hope you like it all the same.

Taglist:@iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @heartofagamotto @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!) Tags are OPEN! Just send an ask :)

Monday.

The sound and smell of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen. Your iced coffee was within an arms reach, using it to kick start your morning.

“Mama, I can’t wait til next year.” Your daughter said proudly, coloring at the kitchen table.

You smiled to yourself, tussling her hair as you put her plate of pancakes and bacon in front of her.

“And why is that, sweet girl?” You asked.

Maggie put down the yellow crayon she’d been scribbling furiously with. “Because Mama, then I get to ride the bus and go to school! Remember what you said? When I’m 5 I get to go to big girl school!” She held up a picture of a wonky school bus with a smiling girl inside.

A chuckle escaped you. “You’re so smart, baby. Do you remember everything I say?”

She nodded taking a big, sticky bite of pancakes. “Yeah. Most of the stuffs anyway. Can you put this one on the ‘frigerator?”

“Of course.” You hung the picture with a homemade play-doh magnet she’s made for you at summer camp last year. Maggie ate happily, as you played music and did the dishes. Mornings like these were your favorite, soaking in the happiness of your daughter before you had to head to work.

You were snuggled with Maggie on the couch, watching Blue’s Clues. She wiggled taking a sip of her apple juice; a treat in her eyes. Usually, you only gave her water.

“Mama, Blue starts with the letter ‘b’!” She shouted excitedly, turning to face you.

Her cerulean eyes lit up at you, looking for confirmation.

You released a shocked gasp, “Oh my gosh, it does! You’re so smart, Maggie!”

She smiled proudly, before turning back to the tv.

“Mama?” She called to you.

“Hm?” You said absentmindedly.

She looked up at you with big eyes once again, “My Daddy’s name started with a ‘B’, too.”

All at once, it’s as if time moved a bit slower. You try your best to hide your reaction from Maggie. “It sure did, baby girl. Well his nickname did, anyway.”

She let out a small giggle, “Oh jeez, I’m so silly, Mama!” She said, pretending to hit her palm against her forehead.

The smallest tears prickled your eyes, “Yes you are, baby. I love you.”

“Wuv you, Mama.” Maggie said, climbing onto your lap and giving you a wet kiss that still smelled of maple syrup.

Glancing at the clock, you notice the time. “Maggie, grab your bag and put your cup in it, Uncle Steve will be here soon.”

She squealed in delight. This was the routine, Steve comes Monday’s and Saturday's to spend time with Maggie, and you do some light office work down at the VA. It was only two days a week, but it made you feel somewhat normal.

As normal as could be.

Steve arrived at 10 am on the dot as usual. “Hey, Ella.” He said smiling, kissing your cheek.

“Hey yourself, someone is excited as al—“

“Uncle Steve!” You were cut off by a high-pitch scream and the pitter-patter of little feet running toward the door.

He crouched and smiled immediately, “Hiya, munchkin!” He scooped her into his arms, carrying her back into the house.

“I brought you a surprise.” He said as he held her.

She instinctively covered her eyes, “I won’t peek! I won’t!”

He placed her down, and pulled a small container of bubbles out of his back pocket.

“Wanna go to the park and maybe blow some bubbles?” He asked her with a smile.

She gasped, “Bubbles! Bubbles, Mama! Uncle Steve brought bubbles!”

You smiled at her excitement, “I see that, baby! Go get your shoes on quick!”

Your smile faltered slightly as Maggie ran to grab her shoes, and Steve noticed.

“You okay?” He asked, rubbing your shoulder.

You nod subtly, “She mentioned him this morning. Just wasn’t expecting her too—hell I never expect her too.”

He smiled, “She’s a smart one, that kid. Remembers everything.”

You smile in an attempt to push the pain away, “I’m always so impressed when she talks about him. It’s like she knows him, Steve. Even though she’s never met him.”

Steve heard the wobble of your voice. He sighed with empathy, before enveloping you in a hug. “He’d be so proud of you. You’re such an amazing Mom, and Maggie...” Steve said pulling back, you noticed the tears brimming his eyes. They must’ve matched yours.

“Maggie is everything good that Bucky ever was. Even more so because she’s half of you. God, she reminds me so much of him.” He smiled fondly.

You feel your lip quiver, “5 years, Steve. I can’t believe he’s been gone that long.” You wipe your eyes quickly, knowing Maggie will be back any second.

Steve cleared the tremors from his throat. “I know.”

“I just wish I got to tell him. I can just see the look on his face...he would’ve been so happy.” You imagine fondly.

“Mama! I got my...Mama? You okay?” Maggie asks, slowing down as she enters the room.

She walks up to you with arms up, and you hoist her to your hip. “Mama’s okay, baby.”

She grabbed your face in her little hands, and shook her head. “Mama sad...” she said quietly.

You kiss her forehead, and hold her to you close. “I’m was a little sad, baby, but seeing you made me so much better. I love you, Maggie.”

“I wuv you, Mama, and I wuv Uncle Steve.” She said happily.

“You do?!” Steve asked, tickling Maggie’s sides.

She laughed for a moment, before clinging to Steve’s neck. “Yeah, and I wuv my Daddy too. I bet he was so nice, Uncle Steve.”

That’s another thing Maggie definitely got from Bucky; knowing just what to say and when to say it.

Steve smiled, and pushed some hair out of her face, “Your Daddy was the best, kiddo. I promise.”

You looked at the clock once more, “Shoot! I gotta go, have a good day, baby!”

You kissed the crown of Maggie’s head, and kissed Steve’s cheek before handing her bag to him, “Lunch is—“

“In the bag.” He said smiling.

“Yeah. Oh and the sunscreen—“

“Little pocket on the front.” He said, handing you your keys.

“Right, oh and don’t let—“

“Don’t let her have anymore juice because she had some already. I got it, Els. Go.” He chucked, ushering you out.

“Okay, okay. Bye, guys!” You said happily.

While you knew talking about Bucky with Maggie was always a good thing, the missing him never got easier. Sure there were days you thought about him less, but he never really left your mind.

Not when the daughter you share is waking you up every morning with hugs and snuggles and kisses.

Bucky missed everything.

He missed the diapers, all those diapers. Her first laugh, and when she said ‘mama’ for the first time. He missed her learn to crawl and her first steps. Bucky never even got to heart her heart beat.

These were things you should have shared with him—memories you should’ve made with him.

You’d gone to therapy. You’d been walked through the stages of grief more times than anyone should have to be. Yet, the hurt was still there. It’s always going to be there, and that’s the life you’ve got to make work now. This—this is your normal.

Friday

“Maggie, don’t touch those cookies, little missy!” You shout from the living room.

She comes sulking out of the kitchen, “Mama you left them on the counter! I see them! They’re right there!”

You chuckle as you finish wrapping the vacuum cord back up to put away. “Yes I did, and they’re for after dinner.”

“That’s not fair!” She whined, fake tears being forced into her eyes.

“Maggie Jane I am in no mood for this. You can either sulk on the couch with no tv, or you can go play in your room until I say your spaghetti is done. Whatcha think?” You asked in your sternest mom-voice.

She wiped the fake tears, “Okay Mama, I go play.”

You bent down and smooched her forehead, “There’s my girl.”

Her feet padded down the hallway, and you made your way to the kitchen, putting on a pot for the pasta.

As you wiped down the counters, you felt something strange; like a surge of energy. The kind that is palpable, and makes your hair stand on end. It was hard to explain, but it was like suddenly the air was electric.

The kitchen lights dimmed four or five times before settling back to normal.

Goosebumps prickled your skin and you’re mind began to race.

“What the hell...” you whispered. “Maggie, you okay?” You called down the hall.

“Yes, Mama! I’m playing with my play-doh!” She responded happily.

Thank God... you thought to yourself.

After what happened 5 years ago, any time something felt off, no matter how small it seemed, you automatically assumed the worst.

You open the shades above your sink. The sun was shining bright—brighter than it had in forever.

“Huh...” you thought aloud.

Before you made the pasta, you sent a quick text to Steve, making sure he was still coming for his weekly dinner. After almost 20 minutes and no response, you figured something came up.

“Maggie! Dinner!” You shout, putting her plate and cup on the table.

She ran into the kitchen with delight, “S’ghetti!” She shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

You scooted her in closer to the table, before sitting in the seat beside her.

“Mama? Where’s Uncle Steve?” She asked taking a bite of her pasta.

You scooted some of the food around on your plate, “I’m not sure, kiddo. I think he might’ve gotten stuck at work.”

“Can we call him?” An innocent question from an innocent mind.

You shook your head, “No, baby. Well call him tomorrow.”

The rest of your evening was relatively calm, considering the unsettling feeling you’ve had since that episode in the kitchen. Maggie had her bath and 2 bedtime stories, and was now safely and soundly tucked in bed.

You, on the other hand, lay awake in your own, your mind unable to quiet the eerily familiar thoughts that something was wrong.

You still hadn’t heard from Steve, which is very unlike him, so you decide to text him once more.

Hey, haven’t heard from you. Weirded out by what happened earlier, idk if it was a power surge or what but now I’m anxiety city. Call me please, so I know you’re safe. Love you.

You sat with that for about an hour, before you eyes betrayed your mind. Your lids felt 1000 times heavier and you decided sleep would be a good idea since Maggie is a notoriously early riser on the weekends. You’ll call Steve in the morning, and if necessary, you’d send out a search party.

Saturday.

You’d surprisingly woken up before Maggie. This meant hopefully and hour or so to yourself, maybe watch a movie without animals that sing? That would be paradise.

As you padded through your living room with your coffee in hand, you jumped hearing someone scream outside.

You put the coffee down and quickly check on Maggie, still sound asleep. Her sound machine muffling the screams and cries from outside.

Peeking out the window, you see your neighbor crying on her knees. She’s holding someone, a boy, no older than 12 or 13.

“Miles?” You ask yourself. He was your neighbor’s son.

He’d also vanished 5 years ago.

“That’s...that’s not possible.” You whisper.

Then you hear it again, more cries. Cries of joy, from all around your neighborhood.

You fumble with the blankets on the couch, searching for your phone. You find it and quickly dial Steve’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Your body is shaking as you hear the beep. “Steve, I-I don’t know what the hell is happening. T-There’s people who...I don’t know. I’m freaking the fuck out! Call me soon...please.”

A knock at the front door makes you jump. You slipped your phone into your pocket, and walked to it slowly.

With your hand on the knob, you hesitate, feeling your body screaming at you not to open it.

Another set of knocks, softer than the ones before had been.

You let out a puff of air, and swing the door open. When it revealed your visitor, you swear you could have fainted right then and there.

This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be real.

“Hey, Sugar.” He said breathlessly.

His hair was in a bun at the nap of his neck, and he was dressed in a black Henley and sweats to match. His face was bruised and cut and the circles under his eyes showed whatever he’d just been through definitely wasn’t easy.

You felt like you were gonna collapse. The room was spinning and your vision went blurry.

“Y-You’re dead. You’re dead, James.” You spoke. What else could you say?

“Ella, you gotta sit down, your pale as a ghost.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you back into the house.

Bucky kicked the door closed, the sound of it slamming seemingly braking your trance.

“Let me go!” You shout, pulling away from him.

“Els—“ he starts.

You shake your head, “No...stop. You’re not real. I’m hallucinating or something.”

When Bucky first died, you saw him everywhere. Swearing to yourself, and your therapist, that you could still hear him—smell him.

He reached out and stroked your cheek, “I swear to you, Doll, I’m real.”

Your eyes stung with tears, “H-How?”

“It’s a long story. One that I promise I’ll tell you but I really just wanna hold you for a second.” He breathed.

You stared at him. Bucky was, for all intents and purposes, unchanged. He looked the same way he did when he vanished.

You on the other hand looked entirely different. The crinkles by your eyes were more defined, there were stretch marks on your belly from carrying Maggie, and those chronic bags under your eyes from raising her alone.

Bucky took a tentative step forward, before taking your face in his hands. He took you in for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around you. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He said into your hair.

You felt yourself melt into him, something you’d done so many times, it’s no wonder it happened so naturally.

“You always know just what to say.” Your voice was trembling.

You inhaled him. A lifetime of memories flooding your mind, along with all the pain you’d felt for the last 5 years. You shut your eyes tight, keeping the warmth of his body against yours. “I-I can’t even begin to tell you—“

“Shh, I know. Believe me, Els...I know.” He whispered.

You looked up at him. His cerulean eyes reminding you of all the life you’d lived with him, and of the one you’d loved without him. But Bucky was here, standing in the home you’d once shared together.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, “Buck, I need to tell you...” your voice drifted off.

Bucky brushes the hair out of your face, “What is it, Sugar?”

You shook your head, still having trouble believe this is real. “I just, I don’t know where to start, James...”

He kissed your forehead sweetly, his warm lips soothing your soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until this moment.

“Start from right now. I don’t know how to navigate this...but we can figure it out. To—“

“Mama?” Maggie’s small voice interrupted Bucky’s words.

You peek around his large form to see your daughter clinging to her stuffed piglet that shows all the signs of being well-loved for the past few years.

You sigh contently, “Good morning, beautiful girl.”

She quietly walked by Bucky, looking up at him as he stares at her in disbelief. Maggie held her arms out for you and you hoisted her to your hip.

“Ella...” Bucky says breathlessly, looking between the two of you.

He sees it immediately. The eyes that are mirror images of his own, the dimple on her cheek matching the one you have on yours.

You kissed her temple. “This is Maggie.”

A muffled sob sounded from Bucky’s chest, “Maggie...” he whispered happily.

She turns her head at the sound of her name and looks at him, watching him for a moment, taking him in.

“Does your name start with a ‘B’?” She whispered, fiddling with her stuffy.

Bucky smiles and let out a small laugh, “It sure does.”

Maggie turns back to you, her eyes wide with excitement. “Is that my Daddy, Mama?”

You squeeze her tight, blinking the tears away. “It is, baby.”

She wiggles to be put down on the floor, so you oblige.

Confident as always, she walks up to Bucky, and he crouches to meet her. “I’m Maggie.” She says, holding back a giggle.

Bucky smiles and strokes her hair, “Hi, Maggie.” He chokes out.

She spots the tears in his eyes and turns to you. “Mama? Is Daddy sad?”

Daddy

A word that was once so painful for you to hear her say, was now your favorite sound in the world.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Why don’t you ask him?” You say, crossing your arm comfortably.

She turns back to Bucky with her arms raised, and he scoops her up without a second thought. She places her little hands on his face and look at him, “Daddy sad?” She asks.

Bucky’s lip quivered, and he shook his head. “No, beautiful. D-Daddy isn’t sad.” You could tell he couldn’t believe he was saying that word.

“Daddy is so, so happy.”

Bucky has spent the day getting to know his daughter.

Maggie had shown him all of the pictures she’s drawn of him over the years. They’d had a tea party for lunch, and played with her play-doh.

You’d put her down for a nap, and Bucky washed the dishes from lunch. It all felt so routine, domestic...

Normal.

Bucky told you everything.

Thanos. The army. Natasha, and Tony. Oh God, Tony...Your heart hurt for him, and the thought he’d never see his daughter again.

“I’m so sorry, Sugar.” He said, sipping coffee from his mug.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Why are you sorry?”

He thought for a moment, before he grabbed your hand, entangling your fingers.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I made you do all this alone.” He pulled you close to him, so you were leaning against his body.

“I should be apologizing to you, I never even got to tell you...” you drifted off.

He turned your face to his, and put his lips on yours.

Passion wasn’t even an accurate enough word.

This was gratitude. This was fear, it was heartache and lust and yearning all wrapped into one.

This was love.

Bucky pulled away slowly, resting his forehead on yours.

“You’ve given me everything, Ella. Maggie...she’s--she’s incredible, and you made her that way.” The tears in his eyes finally spilled over, as did yours. “I can’t wait to get to know her.”

“I love you, James. I love you.” You said quietly.

Bucky stroked your cheek, “I love you, too.”

#samthemarvelfan #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky angst #dad!bucky

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skullrock · 5 years ago

Text

the parents - Steve x Reader

pairing - Steve x Reader

request - Hi! If possible could you write a something where the reader meets Steve parents for the first time (after being cancelled on so many times) and they’re not the greatest which results in the reader standing up for Steve!

word count - 1.7k

warnings - swearin’

a/n: this was CATHARTIC I hope you enjoy <3

===

Steve’s grip on the steering wheel is so tight that you’re worried he’s going to break his knuckles.

“Hey,” you say calmly, resting your hand on his thigh. “It’s just a dinner.”

“It’s not just a dinner.” He rakes his hand through his hair and clenches his jaw. “It’s a dinner with my… my shitty dad.”

You lean back in your seat with a sigh. Steve had cancelled, and cancelled, and cancelled on his parents. They finally tricked him into coming by with you, and he was not happy. Actually, he was really pissed off.

“Please unclench your jaw. You’re going to break it and you’re too pretty for that.”

He relaxes slightly, a faint smile on his lips. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course I think you’re pretty.”

He takes a hand off the steering wheel and laces his fingers through yours, squeezing tightly. “I apologize in advance for whatever they have to say. And whatever they do.”

You roll your eyes at him. “It can’t be that bad.”

===

Turns out, it can be that bad.

Steve’s dad is a literal Bond villain. He smokes a cigar around the house and never takes it out. He has a painful handshake and pointed eyes. He just looks angry, even when he is happy. You’re very nervous around him, but you understand where Steve gets his looks.

His mother is beautiful and meek, compared to her husband. She is very doting on Steve, but has some passive aggressive comments. She hugs you, and she smells like perfume that costs too much for what it is. Steve has her brown eyes.

The atmosphere is tense and hangs over the room like smoke, suffocating and thick. You clear your throat and ask questions in an attempt to stop his father from glaring and his mother from wringing her hands, decorated with diamonds and jewels.

“What was Steve like when he was a kid?” you ask, smiling. You bump into him beside you. “Probably a menace.”

“You can say that again,” his father says, his cigar still hanging from his lips. Steve stiffens beside you and you attempt to quell his anger by rubbing your thumb over his, but it doesn’t do much.

“Awe, Steve wasn’t that bad,” his mom says. Her eyes shine. “He was a little troublemaker, but he was a cutetroublemaker.”

“Mom,” Steve hisses, and you laugh genuinely.

“He liked to get in trouble with the girls, that’s for sure,” his father mumbles. “And how many times have you gotten your ass kicked?”

Steve’s mom slaps his father’s arm, glaring, and you tense up, too, in shock. Your brows furrow and you open and close your mouth. You want to say something, but you can’t. You know it’s probably not a great idea to confront your boyfriend’s father. You can practically hear Steve’s teeth cracking as his jaw clenches again. Your heart aches – there’s nothing you can do to make him feel better except get him out of that house as soon as possible.

“Dinner ready?” you ask, looking directly at his mother, who nods eagerly and jumps up. You follow her to a dining table, decorated with porcelain that must have been imported. She goes to the kitchen to get the food, which leaves you, Steve, and his dad sitting at the table in an awkward silence. You bump your feet into Steve’s repeatedly as a way of silently telling him that you’re here and he’s okay. His mom comes out a second later with a pan, then some pots, and then a pitcher of water infused with fruit.

You feel like you’re at a five-star hotel, if it were run by a Bond villain and a mouse.

Perhaps the worst part of the visit is how everyone sits in complete silence while they eat; or, more accurately, push their food around. You cannot believe this is their actual chemistry with each other; and although Steve is moved out now, you feel horrible that he had to live like this for twenty years. Every night he had to sit at a huge table that could easily sit 8 but is set for 4, watching his father smoke a cigar and read the paper, as his mother desperately tried to get his approval and attention. The thought of it spikes irritation in you, only fueled by the sickly smell of the cigar smoke.

“Like your cigars, huh?” you ask his father, eyes narrowed.

“Imported from Cuba,” he says, as if it’s something to be proud of.

“So, do you smoke while you eat, or?”

Steve chokes on his water beside you and kicks your leg, silently begging you to shut up. You glance at him and smirk – you think it’s kind of funny. His father glares again and slowly sets it on a nearby ashtray, the sizzling of it going out the only sound in the room, aside from forks pushing meat on the china.

“Thanks,” you say sweetly, a shoulder cocking up and back down.

“I like this one,” his father says, pointing a finger at you and smiling. “Does she push you around too, Steve?”

“Sometimes,” you answer for him, forcing a smile.

Steve knows this will simply not be ending well for anyone, and he wants to scream and run out of the room, leaving a Steve-shaped hole in the wall in his wake. He’s nauseous and anxious, bouncing his knee up and down erratically. It makes the table shake, but his folks don’t seem to notice. They’re used to it.

“Steve needs someone to push him around,” his father continues. “He needs someone to give him some motivation.”

You bite your cheek, contemplating if you want to respond or bite back.

You bite back.

“That’s not true. I think Steve needs someone who doesn’t hound him at all hours of the day.”

Steve wants to die.

Steve’s mom wants to die.

“Anybody want dessert?” she asks weakly.

“Well, hounding him all day every day didn’t do much,” his father replies.

“Yeah? I wonder why.”

Steve kicks you under the table again, hissing your name under his breath. He pointedly avoids eye contact with his father.

“Steve must be different around you,” his father says, smiling bitterly. “When he lived here, we couldn’t get him to do anything. It was like he wasn’t capable. Ain’t that right, honey?”

His mother shields her face.

“Steve’s more than capable.” It comes out without thought, and you want so desperately to swallow the anger that rises and sits at the base of your throat, but it comes out in a rush. “Steve’s smart, and caring, and a hard worker.”

His father laughs and your fists clench.

“Maybe Steve didn’t thrive around you because it’s hard to have an asshole as a dad.”

“Y/N,” he hisses, clutching your forearm.

“You know, they always say it’s like father like son. So how many times did you get your ass beat, Mr. Harrington?”

“Too many to count,” Steve’s mom responds, and you stifle a laugh.

“Enough,” Steve and his father say simultaneously, and while his mother slinks back, you sit straight, chin up.

“Don’t like being hounded much yourself, huh?” you ask, and his father’s pupils flare, but he stays quiet.

“Think we better get going,” Steve says, standing up, but you pull him back down.

“I thought your mom said something about dessert. It would be rude to leave now, wouldn’t it?”

Steve is conflicted. On one hand, he hates that you’re talking back to his dad, because he knows more than anyone how it ends. On the other hand, it’s really amazing to have someone see his worth and verbalize it to his biggest critic’s face.

So he decides to sit back down, relaxing at your touch as your fingers swirl circles on his wrist.

“I’ve got a pie in the kitchen –“ his mother starts.

“Let me help you with that!” you say quickly, folding your napkin and sitting it on the table. Steve excuses himself to the bathroom – no way in hell is he going to sit at the table alone with his dad – and you follow his mother to the kitchen while his father follows with his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you start as soon as you get to the kitchen. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable –“

“My husband needs to be told off,” she says, hushed. “And Steve needs someone to tell him he’s worth it.” She grabs your hand and squeezes it, and you swear her eyes are welling with tears. “You’re perfect.”

Over pie, you talk to his mother about Steve, making a point to tell his parents about all the good things he does and everything he is good at. You tell him about how protective he is, how he defended a child from a teenage bully – leaving out the part where he almost got beat to death for it – how kind, caring, thoughtful, courageous he is. Steve blushes the entire time, but he radiates with happiness. For the first time, he feels loved for all he is.

You leave by giving his mother a hug and shaking his father’s hand again, your grip matching his, and while it hurts, it feels good. You smile at him and he frowns. You enjoy his confusion at your behavior. You also enjoy how he hasn’t said a word since you spoke up.

Steve pulls you into a long, tight hug once the front door shuts. It’s so tight that you can hardly breathe. He leans down and kisses you deeply, pulled close to him. Resting his forehead on yours, he whispers, “Thank you.”

“Wasn’t so bad,” you say cheekily. “And I even have something to celebrate with.”

Steve’s brows furrow and you smile before reaching into your jacket and pulling out a box of his father’s beloved Cuban cigars. Steve’s eyes widen and then he laughs – hearty, fully, happily.

“Let’s go home and trash them,” he suggests.

You stand on your tip toes and kiss him again. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

===

taglist (join here!) - @harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @gothackedalready @wolfish-willow @sassisaluxury @willowrose99 @harringtown @m-blasterrr @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo @darth-el @sourapplebaby @yall-wildin-like-siriusly

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #my fics #I could NEVER I would simply just leave if my bfs dad was being a dick #reader... u go girl

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statusquoergo · 4 years ago

Note

'tis the season ... for prompts:) May I ask for Marvey with 13? I think we are all in need of a bit of cheering:} And thank you for doing this, and all of the fics you've written so far, your words always manage to brighten my days! <3

Absolutely you may, and thank you for the prompt! And for saying such kind things about my fics, I really appreciate that a lot. Indeed we could all do with a bit of cheering, it’s been one hell of a year... Well! I hope this helps a little!

Things you said at the kitchen table

[Read on AO3]

They don’t always have time for breakfast. Well, that’s not strictly true; they run the firm, they can show up whenever they feel like it and no one would say a damn thing. Breakfast could take three hours, if they wanted it to, they could waltz in the doors at half past eleven without anything that even sounded like an apology. Not that they would; not that Harvey would be so irresponsible, not that Mike would leave their employees hanging like that, but if they wanted to, theoretically. The option is there.

Sundays, though. Sundays are for them.

What that usually means is that Sundays are for sleeping in, but every once in a while, every now and then, the day hits a little different, the sun shines a little brighter, and the rich aroma of a freshly brewed pot of coffee tempts Mike out of bed toward the sizzle of frying bacon or a slab of french toast or whatever Harvey’s in the mood to whip up that day. Those mornings are the his favorites. Not that Sundays aren’t always great, but those Sundays are the best.

Usually.

This Sunday morning in particular, Mike is lured into the kitchen by the percolating coffeemaker to find Harvey at the stove, flipping blueberry pancakes and tending to a small saucepan of maple syrup warming over a low flame with a very private smile on his face that vanishes the instant he notices Mike settling in at the island. And Mike appreciates the indulgence of it all, and the effort Harvey is putting in and everything, but that smile thing, that’s a little…odd. Is Harvey going to tell him something he doesn’t want to hear? Ask him to do something he doesn’t want to do? There’s not much in the world Mike would deny him, he should know that much, so what…

Wait. Wait, shit, wait, this is about the Andretti case. This is about Yorker and Harrison suddenly threatening to pull out of the merger agreement Harvey’s favorite associate has been working on for the past six months if Andretti doesn’t double his capital investments by like…Friday, or something. Harvey is going to ask him to storm the barricades and pull a solution out of thin air to save the day. This isn’t breakfast, this is a bribe.

God dammit, Harvey. He’s not falling for that one, not again.

He can’t come right out and refuse it point blank, though. For one thing, Harvey might suddenly stop cooking like the petulant little shit he is, and Mike really doesn’t want to waste all that food when he could eat it instead. For another, it’s not as though Harvey would give up trying to get him to sign on to the project after one measly rejection, and Mike doesn’t particularly want to spend the entirety of the next week on pins and needles, sunk into a paranoid haze where every nice thing his boyfriend says to him is a just another stepping stone toward begging him to pull out his white cape and play Avenging Attorney.

Fine. He can play the long game, too. Putting a big old smile on his face, Mike leans across the counter and takes a pointed sniff of the oncoming feast that makes Harvey turn around with an answering grin, the spatula nearly slipping from his hand before he tightens his grip.

“Morning,” he says, turning back to the stove.

“Morning,” Mike echoes, settling back into his chair. “Blueberry?”

“Sorry, we were out of chocolate chips.”

“We definitely aren’t, but I might be able to forgive you if the orange juice is fresh squeezed.”

Harvey snorts an undignified little laugh; he must know Mike is going to turn him down. “Have you always been this needy?” he asks lightly.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘driven.’”

“The word I’m looking for is ‘demanding.’”

Mike shrugs. “At least I know what I want.”

Or don’t want. Go on, just try passing this one off. See how far you get.

Harvey plates a couple of pancakes and shakes his head. “The crap I put up with from you…”

Kind of a weird segue into asking such a big favor, but Mike won’t be fooled into dropping his guard just yet. He’s no rookie.

“I’d say we’re on pretty equal ground there.”

“Yeah.” Harvey turns off the burners and reaches into the cabinet for a carafe for the syrup. “You might be right.”

Mike frowns. Harvey isn’t even going to make a token argument against that? No fight at all? Huh. It’s not the worst tactic he could’ve chosen; too bad for him, Mike came prepared.

“I know I am.”

Harvey just smiles as he sets a plate down in front of Mike, and this is starting to get a little creepy. Might as well start the ball rolling, then; better to get it over with.

“So,” Mike says, pulling the carafe toward himself, “anything special you wanted to do today?”

Harvey shakes his head and picks up his fork.

“I didn’t have anything in mind.”

Mike nods slowly. “Right,” he says. “So… Okay then.”

They eat in silence until Mike’s stack of pancakes is reduced by half, and Harvey seems to have finished about…one.

Mike drops his fork down on the counter. “Alright what—”

“Actually there—”

They both cut themselves off, and Mike narrows his eyes as Harvey widens his.

“What?”

“No,” Mike says. “No, what were you going to say?”

There are only so many hours in the day, and the sooner this is over and done with, the sooner he can relax and enjoy them. He grits his teeth as Harvey takes a breath and drops his hands down to his lap.

“Actually,” Harvey repeats, “there was something I wanted to do today.”

“Oh yeah?” Mike smiles tightly. “What’s that?”

Harvey casts his eyes down for a minute, not completely closed but definitely turned away. Wait, so, wait, actually, maybe this isn’t about the Andretti case. Maybe this isn’t about work at all. Or— Is it? Anything with as much buildup as this has to be big. Maybe—maybe Harvey is sick of the firm. Maybe he’s finally gotten sick of the grind, sick of the hours and hours of his life he’s given over to the law, everything he’s lost, all the sacrifices he’s made. Maybe he needs a change, maybe he wants to start over in some little town in Iowa where nobody knows his name, to throw away the life he’s built for himself, the life they’ve built for themselves, maybe— Maybe he wants Mike to throw his life away too, to go somewhere else and find something new, to start from scratch and build themselves from the ground back up.

And maybe he’s afraid to ask Mike to make that kind of sacrifice, maybe he’s afraid he’ll say no, because he would, wouldn’t he? Would he? Would it be so bad, really, to start over together? To make a life together, something just for them where they could be whoever, whatever they wanted? Could they do it? Would they make it? Would Mike be willing to try? Would Harvey go without him if he wasn’t? Would Mike let himself be trapped into a relationship so lopsided, so dismissive of his wants and needs, so shaped around Harvey’s sudden wanderlust? Would Harvey be able to stand it, doing that to him? Knowing he was doing it to himself? Is that what this is all about, is that what all of this is hurtling toward? Is it?

Rationally, probably not. In all likelihood.

But what if it is?

Mike blinks a couple of times, coming out of his own head to find Harvey looking at him with the most intensely calm expression Mike has ever seen on anybody, anywhere, ever.

“Mike,” Harvey says. “You— Do you like your life? Our life together?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. All these goddamn questions and no fucking answers, how dare Harvey spring this on him without any warning? That bastard, what’s he trying to pull?

“Yes,” Mike says slowly. “Are we breaking up?”

Harvey’s lips twist into a smirk, his shoulders twitching back. “Not on my account. Do you want to?”

Mike frowns. “No?”

“Well that’s good.” Harvey’s arm moves like he’s put his hand on his hip, or into his pocket, and he leans forward as Mike’s eyes dart toward the motion and then back up to Harvey’s face. “Because I was thinking about making my mistake official.”

Making— What? He isn’t— This isn’t— This couldn’t—

What?

Harvey grins in that way he has where his eyes sparkle and crinkle up at the corners, his mouth wide like he’s trying not to show his teeth because it’s the only way to keep himself from laughing, and he pushes a little black velvet box forward that can’t possibly mean anything other than exactly what it means, that can’t possibly hold anything other than what Mike knows it must, and this is— He can’t— This doesn’t—

What?

“Mike.”

With enormous effort, Mike wrenches his eyes away from the box and fixes them on Harvey’s.

“So will you marry me or what?”

“I.”

A second ticks by, and then another, and two more. Maybe three. Harvey reaches out to open the box, the heavy platinum band glinting as he nudges it closer.

“What do you say?”

What—

“I say— I say yes.” Mike stares down at the ring. “I mean. Obviously. Yes.”

Being that Mike seems to have more or less frozen in his seat, Harvey slips the ring from its velvet pillow and motions for him to lift his hand.

“You seem surprised,” Harvey teases, sliding the ring onto Mike’s finger. A perfect fit, naturally; Mike doesn’t even know his own ring size, how the hell did Harvey figure it out?

“A little bit, yeah,” Mike says, tilting his hand to catch the light. “I thought you were going to ask me to take over the Andretti case.”

Harvey tilts his head. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“No.”

“Yeah, fine, so are you gonna kiss me or what?”

“God, Harvey, have you always been this needy?”

(But Mike kisses him anyway.)

#marvey #ficlet #fluff #things you said #Anonymous

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rhetoricalrogue · 4 years ago

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31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 30

Prompt: Night Rating: G Words: 1,804 Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Nicolo Morelli Summary: This is the fic, if it were a show, that would be titled The Boys Talk About Their Feelings. AKA, Unit Delta (D for Demotion!) field missions are boring as hell. Note: The mention of a certain type of shapeshifting animal is a nod to the Wayhaven Writers Group and a certain Saturday book club reading.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Stakeouts were usually the most boring thing Nicky could think of doing. Nothing usually happened on them and he hated staying still in one place. At least this time he was partnered up with his Commanding Agent so the company was good and he didn’t have to sit out in his car freezing his ass off alone.

“You think there’s going to be any movement?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea he had, seeing that he’ll have to go out and find a tree or nearby bush take a piss behind sometime within the next hour or so, but the coffee was hot and he needed something to keep him awake. Napping while doing boring surveillance was a surefire way to make sure that something important did happen that he would unfortunately miss.

“Probably not.” Cam relaxed in the driver’s seat and grabbed a snack sized bag of chips he’d packed. Stakeouts always made him hungry and it was one of the few times that he liked to indulge in junk food and convenience store ready made meals, especially if Nicky was around. It was funny, the man had serious Opinions, capital O and everything, when it came to restaurant food, but the two of them could tear up a 7-11 if left alone without adult supervision, namely Penny and Winona. “Looks like this is another wasted evening.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nicky raised the night vision goggles he had been messing with and pointed towards some people who were walking away from their car. “I think that’s a drug deal.”

Cam, who had no need for night vision goggles, tracked Nicky’s finger and rolled his eyes. “Nick, those are kids. They look like they’re twelve.”

“Then they’re out past curfew. We should sneak up and scare the hell out of them.”

Cam gave him a disbelieving look before opening his chip bag. “I’m not going to scare a few kids just because they’re walking home in the dark.”

“Spoilsport.”

“You want to be the next cryptid creepypasta on Reddit or somewhere, be my guest. This isn’t the sixteen hundreds where you just had to worry about being stabbed if these kids were carrying knives, Nicky. Kids these days are probably carrying mace and knives and I for one do not wish to spend my evening cold and covered in pepper spray.”

Nicky caught Cam mumbling especially when I could be spending my evening someplace better under his breath. “So, scaring a few juveniles is out of the picture and we both know that tonight’s another wild evening of sitting in the car watching these two were...were-” he turned to Cam. “What sort of shapeshifters are they again?”

“Bears. The husband and wife are on thin ice for apparently attacking a home intruder. They shifted into bear form while attacking her because they were afraid for their children sleeping upstairs.”

Nicky ran a hand over his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re dealing with the case that some of the agents are dubbing the Goldilocks Affair?”

Cam sighed. “Look, I didn’t name it. I feel bad for them, they were just defending their home.”

“Yeah, but they could have beaned her upside the head with a bat, they didn’t have to practically claw her to death. From what I heard, the Agency had to go in as a group of doctors to memory wipe her and make her believe that she was out jogging in the woods when she slipped and fell down a ravine.”

“How did they make her injuries look like she fell? I saw the file report, there were definitely bite marks involved.”

“You got me, you know how I feel about the Agency when they start doing shady shit like this.”

Cam nodded, grabbing the binoculars on the dash and looking around the area. He paused when he saw the husband stare out the window, his hand at the curtain. “I can’t believe that these people think that we’re here as security, just in case the woman has friends who figure things out and want to retaliate.” He gave a brief wave back when the man waved at them.

Nicky dug in the plastic bag full of food and pulled out a waxed package. Unwrapping it, he took a bite of the handheld fried pie inside, the chocolate filling seeping out from the edges. “I guess it’s better than them being paranoid and knowing that we’re here to look into them to make sure they don’t start making a habit of eating people in the privacy of their own home.” Nicky stretched his long legs in front of him and started tapping a wordless tune on the car’s console as he chewed. “So, you and Penny, huh?”

Cam stiffened. He was wondering how long it would take for Nicky to bring that up. It had been a few days since Cam had told Nicky of his and Penny’s relationship, and he was surprised that it took their friend this long to start to pry again. “Yes, me and Penny. I thought we went over this already.”

Nicky grinned and playfully punched him in the arm. “We went over the fact that you and her were an item, and the fact that you were going to be a prude and not tell me a single sex-related thing, but we never really went over how the two of you went from sighing and mooning over the other when you thought the other wasn’t looking to holding hands and leaving socks on doorknobs.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s not much to explain? I asked her out to dinner and made it clear that I wasn’t asking her out as a friend. She agreed and we spent the evening talking about how much we wanted our relationship to change.”

“That,” Nicky spat, flopping in his seat and leaning his head back dramatically against the headrest, “has got to be the most boring of how I met my girlfriend stories I’ve ever heard. Where is the drama? The emotion? The sizzling lust that finally gets to ignite after years of longing?”

Cam laughed. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“This is the worst. Twenty years, I’ve waited for payoff to all the pining and this is what I get? Disgusting.”

“Well, we can’t all be you, Nicky. When are you going to tell me about you and your surprise wife?” As if by magic, Nicky’s phone lit up with a text notification from Isabela.

“Speak of the devil,” he murmured, swiping at his phone and giving the picture on his lock screen a fond smile before opening up their chat. “I told her I’d be working tonight, but she was free to text. Didn’t think that you would want to hear me whisper sweet nothings into my phone or else I would have said that it would have been okay for her to call me.”

“Thanks,” Cam deadpanned, finishing his chips and digging into the bag for the sandwich he’d bought. “But Nicolo, are you actually okay with this? I mean, the woman put a spell on you that won’t let you die, didn’t try to find you and made it impossible for you to find her when she was pregnant with your daughter, and from what you told us, stabbed you to death when you went to meet her.”

Nicky shrugged. “We all have our flaws.”

“Nicky, she killed you. You were dead on her kitchen floor. If that’s not a red flag that this relationship is toxic, I don’t know what is.”

“And I’ve been dead in many other places over the course of my life, that isn’t new.” Nicky had a faint smile on his face as he finished texting. “This, Cameron. This talking with a woman and slowly getting to know her instead of heavily flirting just to get into her bed for a brief fling? This is new.”

“And what do you think about it?”

“I don’t know yet. Part of me doesn’t want to put too much hope in this working out because I don’t want to be disappointed if the other shoe drops, but part of me does want this to work out.” He lifted his phone as it vibrated with her reply. “I’ve gotten to know my daughter, Cam. Having a family wasn’t quite the first thing on my mind back when I was still alive. I thought I had time to play around and be the romantic, but really I was just being a fool. And I’ve continued to be the fool all these years because it was easier to fall back on that aspect of my life instead of growing up.”

Cam shook his head. “Come on, Nicky, I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit. You’ve been a fine asset to this unit and there’s no one else I’d trust to have my back than you.”

“Thanks, you don’t know how much that means to me.” He looked at him. “And you know that I trust you and our team with mine. You’re my brother, Cameron, even if I am older than you by a few centuries.”

“Family is important, and I hope that whatever happens with yours works out for you.” He paused. “But really, what do you think will happen between you and Isabela? Will you ask her to come here? Would you leave the Agency?”

“I don’t know. You know how Facility life is, Cam. She’s a witch who’s had her own space for centuries, she’d hate it here.” Nicky laughed as he took another sip of his coffee. “Then again, could you see me as a civilian? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, especially since I wouldn’t have the same salary to buy all the shiny new gadgets I can get my hands on here, not to mention having disposable income to get bespoke clothing whenever I feel like it.”

“I’ve seen stranger things, though I’ve got to admit, seeing you in a day job? That would be the weirdest sight of all. What would you even do?”

“I could always be a food critic.”

Cam snorted, but hid the sound by opening up a can of soda. “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’m sure that you would be brilliant at it.” He eyed him. “And don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not pushing you out of the unit either. I would love to have you around forever.”

“An eternity watching werebear houses and making sure that little tea shops run by witches were up to code?” Nicky drained his coffee cup and reached into the bag for an energy drink Winona would have had a conniption over if she’d been there to see him drink. . “Count me in.”

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #Unit Charlie #cameron buchanan #nicolo morelli

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lloydskywalkers · 6 years ago

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aftermaths

I am emotions! About that finale, I’m just. A lot of feelings! It’s really late and I don’t entirely have the words right now but here is...something. Me crying over christmas colored ninjas once again, I guess.

(I really hope I’m not gonna regret posting this at 2am hnsldgkdjfg).

Spoilers for episode 98!

“Okay. Does this look right?”

“It had a, um, I think it had another notch there.”

Kai hmphs, turning the blade over in his hand. He squints at the glinting metal, then shrugs, lowering it back to the anvil.

“You sure you don’t want a dragon or something on the side?”

Lloyd smiles slightly. “Nah, the script’s fine,” he says, shifting where he’s perched on the old wooden table, watching as Kai works.

Kai eyes him, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with his elbow. “I know you want a dragon on it.”

Lloyd flushes. “But you’re — you’re already rebuilding me an entire sword, Kai, I don’t wanna make it even more complicated.”

“Ha,” Kai snorts. “Lloyd, I just rebuilt the Golden Weapons. One tiny dragon is a party trick.”

Lloyd rolls his eyes, but his smile is a bit brighter. “Whatever you say.”

Kai flashes him a cocky grin, then returns to hammering the metal, re-shaping the blade. They’re silent for a moment, the only sound the repetitive strike of Kai’s hammer.

“…could you have it breathing fire, maybe?”

Kai shakes his head, grinning. “What kind of dragon would it be if it wasn’t?” He pauses, glancing at Lloyd before continuing. “I can have it biting off an Oni’s head too, if you want. Or your dad’s, either one works.”

Lloyd gives a surprised, bright laugh, eyes flashing with the fire from the forge as he does. Kai watches him, the way he kicks his legs out and swings them. His eyes trace the bandages plastered over nearly every inch of skin, the same darkening bruises Kai knows he himself is sporting. Watches his brother, warm and animated and living.

-his brother, cold and still and lifeless, blood trickling from his brow-

Kai’s hands still over the weapon, tightening around the hammer until his knuckles turn white. He sucks in a breath, exhaling on a shudder.

It’s over. It’s done with, and they all made it out alright. Just like they always do. Lloyd is in front of him and laughing, just as he can hear Cole talking animatedly with Zane outside, and when he closes his eyes again he won’t see-

-Cole, the frightened look on his face as he’s falling-

-the despair in Sensei Wu’s expression, as he tells them there’s nothing to be done-

Kai gives a desperate, wheezing breath, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to swallow back the tide of emotions.

“Kai?”

The laughter is an echo now. Lloyd’s voice is quiet, concerned. Kai doesn’t reply, furiously biting his lip as he squeezes his eyes tighter. There’s a feather-light touch on his arm, Lloyd’s hand warm as he squeezes gently.

“Kai, are you okay?”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t shake Lloyd off. He takes another breath, sliding a glove off so he can run his hand over Lloyd’s wrist, his index finger finding the steady pulse. Lloyd lets him, adjusting his hand so Kai can feel the strong presence of life better, the two of them simply standing there, not talking, not moving, just breathing, and reminding themselves.

“You were dead.”

Lloyd gives a hissing intake of breath, and Kai feels him stiffen through his hold on his wrist.

“I’m sorry.”

“You were cold.”

Lloyd finally moves, sliding from the table so he can place a hand on Kai’s shoulder, his grip steady and comforting. “But I’m not,” he says, earnestly. “I’m not anymore. I’m here, Kai, and I’m fine.”

Kai looks away briefly, his throat working as he swallows down an endless depth of loss felt twice in one day, only to dispel that very same one.

“You just - you can’t do that to me,” Kai manages, breathing raggedly. Lloyd is quiet for a moment, and Kai can feel the weight of his gaze on him.

“I saw my grandfather.”

Kai brings his head up slowly, blinking back the mist from his eyes as he looks at his brother. Lloyd suddenly looks younger, less sure of himself, almost nervous as he chews at his lip.

Kai turns his words over in his head, then feels a sudden cold swoop in his stomach. “Your grandfa- you mean-“ he swallows tightly. “So you went to. You were…”

Lloyd shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think…I think he just wanted to talk to me.”

“Oh,” Kai says, the tight knot in his chest easing a bit. Lloyd remains quiet for a beat, looking as if he’s debating something.

“He offered to take me with him.”

It takes Kai a minute to make sense of Lloyd’s words, quiet as they are. When he does, though-

Kai’s stomach wrenches, bottoming out as a cold wave of nausea replaces it. His breathing stutters, his mouth going bone-dry. He wanted Lloyd to-

“I said no,” Lloyd says. “Um. Obviously.”

“He had no right,” Kai wheezes out, trying to fight back the rush of panic. After everything, everything Lloyd’s gone through for his family — every terrible thing that’s happened to him because of his family’s legacy — his grandfather’s idea of a reward is death?

“It doesn’t really matter,” Lloyd says, quickly. “It’s whatever now, I guess. I can barely remember it anyways.”

“Lloyd, you-“ Kai cuts off, passing a hand over his eyes. The heat of the forge sizzles below him, but all he can feel is that icy cold grip of fear. First Spinjitzu Master or not, Kai can’t — he offered to take his brother away. He would have stolen him from them all, struck Kai down with that horrible loss, if Lloyd hadn’t-

Kai stops, and his eyes raise back to Lloyd. The fear doesn’t ebb, still twisting into tight knots in stomach.

“Did you…” Kai swallows, forcing back the impulse to be sick. He doesn’t know if he wants the answer to this, but he feels like he owes it to Lloyd — to himself — to ask. “Did you want to?”

Lloyd goes still. “Of course not,” he says.

Kai looks down, watching the way Lloyd’s fingers trace nervous circles into the patterning of the table. “…did you consider it?”

Lloyd takes a breath, then exhales, looking up at the ceiling. His jaw clenches and unclenches, and the little circles he’s tracing grow more frantic.

“I didn’t - you weren’t-“ His throat bobs. “You weren’t there,” he says, almost as if begging Kai to understand. “It was different there, it was confusing, it was…”

Lloyd’s voice trails off, thickening into silence. Kai looks down, watching the red glow from the forge, trying to fight back the blurring of his vision.

“Do you really think I’d leave you?” Lloyd finally says quietly, an edge in his voice. Kai shakes his head.

“No, not like that. I just — what if you’d be happier there?"

“What, and miss all this?” Lloyd gives an almost-strained laugh, gesturing to the sword slowly melting on the anvil, left unattended. “Please, like I’d ever be happy knowing what I’d left behind.”

Kai just looks at him, his gaze pained. Something toughens in Lloyd’s expression, his jaw setting stubbornly.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” he says, his voice quiet as steel. “I don’t abandon my family, Kai. I’m not like-“

Lloyd cuts off, inhaling sharply, but Kai can finish the sentence for him.

I’m not like my father. I’m not like my mother.

“I’m not like them,” Lloyd whispers. “I’m not.”

Kai takes a steadying breath, and the cold feels a little further away. He sets a hand on Lloyd’s shoulder, shaking him a bit. “Nah, you’re one of us,” he says. “Just a normal, lame ninja.”

“You guys aren’t lame,” Lloyd says, but there’s an edge of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, well.” Kai’s hand tightens on his shoulder, and the image of Lloyd’s motionless body flashes before his eyes again. “I’m gonna hug you now. Like, real gross sappy hug you.”

“Oka- oof.”

It takes him a second, but Lloyd finally relaxes, his hands gripping the back of Kai’s shirt tightly as he hugs him back. There’s an unsteady hitch in his breathing, a catch in his throat, and Kai feels him press his face tightly against his shoulder.

Kai finally speaks up, his voice thick. “This was the worst day ever.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd snorts wetly, voice muffled. “I’ve still got that one back with the Sons of Garmadon to compete with.”

“Huh. Yeah, that was rough too, I guess.”

It’s silent for a minute, the only sounds the quiet hissing of the flames from behind them.

“…thanks for not dying on us.”

Lloyd gives a laugh that could be a muffled sob, and clutches Kai tighter. “N-no problem.”

They stay like that, braced by the forge, until the cold in Kai’s chest has thawed away, and Lloyd isn’t shaking quite as badly.

Someone laughs from outside, Jay’s voice mingling with Nya’s.

“…you gotta let go of me eventually.”

“What, so you can go get yourself almost killed again? I think not.”

Lloyd sighs. “I’m not the only one who almost died, Kai,” he says. Kai huffs, but he pulls away, wiping at his sore eyes and fiddling with the edge of the anvil. He’s never put the team through anything like this.

That he can...immediately remember, at the time being.

“I-“ Lloyd looks down, grabbing his arm so his fingers fist in the green fabric. “I really am sorry. For - for putting you guys through that. That’s…that’s the last thing I wanted, I swear, I just-“

“Nah, I kinda get it,” Kai says, exhaling. “If my long-deceased god of a grandfather showed up and asked me to take a trip to paradise or whatever with him, I’d probably need a minute or two to think about it too.”

Lloyd gives a quiet huff of laughter. “He’s not even that cool anyways,” he says. “In..all honesty.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, he is kinda a jerk,” Kai says, before quickly praying he isn’t stricken dead on the spot for that. He’s Lloyd’s adoptive brother, maybe that’ll…earn him points, or something. “Saddling you with all, um…”

“My family?” Lloyd says, wryly.

“Uh, yeah,” Kai winces. He straightens, aiming for a lighter tone. “Besides, he’s never even like, remembered your birthday or anything. What kind of grandpa does that?”

“He’s definitely never blown my birthday cake up in my face, so yeah, he’s pretty lame for a family member,” Lloyd grins.

Kai flushes. “That was one time, and you know it was Jay’s fault with the candles-“

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Lloyd leans back against the table, glancing down at the anvil. “Ah, you don’t have to finish that now, if you want.”

Kai follows his gaze, then cringes, yanking the sword up. “Y-eah, um…nah, I can finish it now, just gonna have to re-heat it.” He sighs, flicking imaginary dirt from the slightly mangled metal as he turns for the flames. “It might take me a while though, so if you wanna-“

“Here.”

Kai looks up, and raises an eyebrow. Lloyd has pulled one of the shop aprons on, and is just tying the ends of his hair back. He shrugs a little awkwardly, hands upturned. “I can help, if you…teach me?”

It’s a hesitant question, almost timid, but Kai is almost surprised to find it genuine.

“You wanna learn this?” He blinks, gesturing to the forge.

Lloyd tugs anxiously at the edge of the apron. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s, um, it’s cool.”

Kai stares at him, then back to the sword in his hands. Cool. He’s never really thought about it like that. Blacksmithing is just something Kai was sort of good at, barely even brought up after he became a ninja. He certainly never expected to have the fate of Ninjago resting on it. But it’s…it’s something almost mindless, something constructive, and maybe…maybe they both need something like that.

“Well, blacksmithing is a family secret, you know,” Kai muses.

“Oh,” Lloyd says, expression quickly shutting down, taking a half a step back.

“Lloyd.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re part of the family, dummy.”

“Oh.” Lloyd blinks rapidly, a small smile growing at the edges of his mouth. Kai rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you how to make a dragon.”

#march of the oni #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #ns10 #ns10 spoilers #moto #when ur dumb brother has a bad habit of almost dying every season #My fic

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all-of-the-imagines-for-eve · 6 years ago

Text

United We Stand ~ Sweet Pea (Part 7)

A/n: Haven't updated this in a MINUTE, huh? Well, here's to the continuation ig lol

Word Count: 2537

MASTERLIST

Alene completely disappeared.

The first day Sweet Pea tried not to think about it but after an entire week passed where he saw absolutely nothing of her, he was worried. The others, who had classes with her, said they didn't see her in class. She wasn't coming gone to the trailer. THE trailer, because it wasn't his anymore. It was theirs. Except that now that she was gone it was just a place he lived, not the new kind of home they'd built together.

He hadn't even realized how much of his life was her. It was weird to sleep without her figure against his, her warmth and breath felt against his skin. Without waking up to see her face or hear her voice. Even just knowing that she was okay or being sure that she was well rested and had something to look forward to or smile about or a moment to relax and that no one had picked on her to much. Or... worse.

He was going out of his mind with worry. He got so desempate that he went to her dad's house. He knocked on the door, ready to face the worst, only to be surprised when a tired man that seemed ready to fall apart answered.

This was not the same man that had wrenched the door opened the night Sweet Pea had taken Alene away from this house, but he did have the same face. Did the Devil Man have a righteous twin?

"Uh... are you Alene's dad?"

The man looked up hesitantly, his shyness reminding Sweet Pea of how Alene used to be when they first met. It made him uneasy and he found himself readying for a jump scare or some sort of attack. "I have to say yes, don't I?" His eyes watered and he whimpered. Sweet Pea shifter uncomfortably. "She's gone. Been gone so long. Probably killed herself and it's all my fault. I'm such a terrible father. I wish she would come home. Place is so... empty without her. I miss her. Martha..." the man moaned miserably and Sweet Pea turned and walked away. She wasn't here. He didn't know who Martha was but Alene definitely wasn't here.

He hated to think about her in that house, getting beat on and touched and used in every way and then made to feel bad for the person who was ripping away at her with his claws. How evil does someone have to be to turn her disappearance into an occasion to talk about himself? He hadn't even asked if Sweet Pea knew anything, or asked why Sweet Pea was there or how he knew her. No, he was fishing for reassurance that he wasn't a terrible father. He was fishing for a compliment, an ease. It sickened Sweets. No wonder she stayed. She pitied him. She was too pure for her own good.

He waited until Monday, planning on going to the police after school if she wasn't there again. He'd been avoiding it because if anyone would be considered when a South Side-friendly North Sider went missing would be the Serpent who asked about her... but her safety was worth him being stereotyped and over analyzing and run through the wash.

Conveniently, that was the day he noticed her.

He hadn't realized it, but recently she'd worn more decisive colors. Black and purple and neons and pastels. Lively colors that drew the eye and made her pop out. Today, she wore one of her old shirts: a beige, long sleeved sweater and faded grey-black jeans. Turns out she had had a bunch of jeans that had just worn out over time, not one pair she wore every day. It hadn't been an issue before, but now she faded into the walls, keeping her head down and her body small and she weaves and bobbed and dodged and stayed hidden.

His eyes went wide. How had she backtracked so much from where she had been before?

...What had happened to knock her down?

"Lee!" He called, trying to maneuver through the crowd to her. The girl froze, her body responding without her permission. That voice, that name. It wasn't within her power to resist it. And once she saw his face? It was over.

He found his way to her, his hands hovering between them, wanting to touch her, but not sure if she wanted him to.

Spoiler alert: She VERY MUCH wanted him to.

He looked around at the most students who were giving them side eyes and slowing down to try and hear their conversation. He swallowed. "Can we... talk?" He looked at her desperately.

"What do we have to talk about?" She asked. Her eyes met his and he realized that despite her skill of blending in and fading out, she hadn't really backtracked at all. She still had all her confidence, she was just using it to hide.

His face twisted in hurt. "Lee-"

"Don't call me that," she snapped. He stepped away from her. She might as well have slapped her. She just needed a distance. She needed space. She needed him to stop saying that name with that voice, low and soothing and full of concern. It was too painful, too distracting. To him though, it seemed she was cutting that last string that held them together. They were worryingly far apart and he couldn't even begin to reach her.

His lips parted but no sound came out. He closed his mouth. She clasped her hands behind her back to try and keep hold of her self control. Finally he found his words. "So that's it?" His teeth locked together and the edge of his jaw pressed against his skin, working and grinding.

She looked around at the students too. Yeah, this wasn't a good place. "Let's go somewhere else," she said quietly. He followed numbly after her as she guided them outside, to the football field that was abandoned during school hours. The bell rang in the distance but neither of them much cared. Honestly school could suck it.

When they stopped, she stayed facing away from him. Her eyes were watering and her hands, now clasped in front of her, were shaking. His words ran through her head again and again as she swallowed her own words she was so desperate to say. That's it, he had asked. As if it was up to her. As if SHE had been the one to say that was it for them. SHE had not said that they would not work. Put this space between them that was killing her. She had hid, doing everything she could to be invisible in this school once again. And when she was really hiding, it seemed Sweet Pea was the only one who could see her. What did that mean? Maybe it didn't mean anything! Maybe she was just so desperate for an alternative ending to this story that she was searching for something that wasn't there.

Maybe she'd been a fun experiment this whole time. Could he solve the puzzle? Could he figure her out? Could he find a North Sider that wasn't complete shit? But then he'd gotten too involved and now...

Sweet Pea swallowed as he went to say her name to get her attention and then thought of her snapping at him not to say it. She didn't want him to call her Lee but he couldn't bring himself to call her Alene. He couldn't do that, it would be final then. "Hey," he croaked. He closed his eyes. "It's not easy for me to open up to someone that isn't one thing or another. I used to think this world was black and white, and then you cake along and became this gray area that scared and intrigued me and I was so drawn to you." He took a step closer. "So I'm not good at this. This gray area. This word thing. Opening up and turning what I'm feeling into explanation. But what I said, it... I didn't mean that we would never work. I meant... I meant that seeing you look so North Side terrified me because, what if you realize what South Side Serpents really are, you know? We're not always butterflied and safety nets. We're not always big and strong. We don't always win. We're not heroes. We do bad things and get involved with bad people. I mean, Tall Boy for one. The Snake Charmer." He flinched at the memories of the two people he never wanted to see again. "What I'm saying is that you're so... good. You deserve to be happy and safe and sure of where you are, and you can't have that with me. And I'm terrified you're going to realize that."

Lee turned slowly to face Sweets and both froze upon seeing each other's expressions. Both of their eyes were watery and her hands were shaking as he wrung his wrists. They were falling apart.

"This is ridiculous," Lee groaned. "Let me tell you now, I know you're not perfect. That the Serpents aren't perfect. But I was willing to work to make it work, imperfections and all. You aren't a safety zone, Sweets, you're my-" she cut off, suddenly realizing that they'd never officialized anything. She was so stunned that something came out of her mouth that she had been trying not to say. "I love you." Her eyes widened and Sweet Pea didn't move a single muscle, trying to process. "You're not perfect and you're not all good. But what the fuck ever!" She looked at him, her words growing louder. "I'm NOT a princess. I'm a prisoner. Cheryl is a princess. Betty is a princess. I'm trapped in this stupid world I want nothing part of, looking for a reason to escape. YOU are that reason, Sweets. You want to know what was going on when I was with all those North Siders? I was enjoying a joke. A temporary phenomenon." She stepped closer to him. "I went deep into hiding since we've been apart. Kept my head SUPER low and took absolutely no risks. No one else could see me, Sweets. I disappeared. I was invisible again... to everyone except you. I think I knew. I avoided you so much because I was scared you wouldn't see me like everyone else, even more scared that you would. But you saw me and it's so much better than I thought it would be." Her eyes closed. "I get it if you don't feel the same but-"

Sweet Pea rushed her. Their lips met and his hands pulled her close. She went tense, freezing, and then even so slowly responded. Her lips worked with his, her hands reaching up and tangling in his hair. They fused together, and to anyone watching it wasn't completely sure where one stopped and the other started. It was heated, their bodies lighting on fire. It was impossible to move, breathe, or even think because the sizzling and burning that made it impossible to part also made it unbearable to stay together. She shivered and his hands tightened on her.

Finally it ended. Mercifully. Unfortunately. The fire was terrible except that it was also life giving and cleansing. It super charged them and wiped every other emotion off the table. It was painful and it hurt oh so good.

When they did finally stop kissing, they didn't stop touching, keeping the fire alive. Their foreheads pressed together, their noses brushing and their breaths mixing. "I love you too," Sweet Pea whispered. The words were huskier than usual. Still smooth though, soft and gentle and full of ease and warmth. He suddenly dipped down, kissing her again. "I love you." Another kiss. "I love you." Each fast kiss came with little confessions between them, over and over again until they were laughing, Sweet Pea weak at the knees and Lee trying to wipe the tears that wouldn't stop. "Don't cry," he begged quietly.

"These are happy tears," she comforted him. "I don't think I could stop them if I tried." She laughed. "I AM trying, so-" Another laugh.

Sweet Pea smiled. "We're so dumb," he groaned. Lee groaned in agreement, her forehead pressing on his chest.

Lee leaned back, looking at the world around them. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the colors more vibrant and the movements of cars and wind-pushed plants smoother and more natural. She leaned away from him, grabbing one of his hands with two of hers. He rose an eyebrow and she winked. She sat down in the middle of the field, tugging him until he sat down next to her. "Lay down with me," she asked him, patting the grass. He did so, his expression unsure but curious. On instinct he put his hand under his head, his arm sticking out. She smiled, laying on her side right next to him, scooting as close as possible. The arm that was between her body and the ground she slipped under his folded arm, laying on top of their arms. Her other arm went over him and the leg on the same side of that arm went on top of the leg that was closest to her. Without thinking about it he put the other leg on top of the one she'd placed on top of his. His free hand moved down to allow his thumbs to trace her bare arm. The arm she had under his, under her head, she bent to brush her fingers through his hair or across his shoulder.

It was comfortable. So comfortable it surprised Sweet Pea. She moved closer so that her ear was pressed against the connection between his arm and his chest. She hummed. "I can hear your heartbeat."

He smiled. "How did you learn how to do this?"

She blushed. "I read a lot of books. And watch movies." Her smile was soft. "My mom used to tell me stories, snuggling up with me when Is have panic attacks. She said this was the most comfortable position she'd ever found to cuddle in...." The more she talked the quieter her voice got.

Sweet pressed his lips briefly to her forehead. "You never talk about your mom," he quietly noticed.

"She left," Lee answered. "I don't blame her, my father is... terrible. Tried to take me with her but I wouldn't go. He begged me not to." She flinched and Sweet Pea held her tighter. "I'm glad I didn't go. Despite everything... I look like her. He used to call me Martha."

Sweet Pea's eyes widened. "Your mom is Martha?" He felt sick.

Lee nodded. "Yep." Her words grew strained. "He used to say I was just as pretty as she was."

"I love you," Sweet Pea said.

She smiled. "I love you too."

With the sun above them and the grass under them and their words between them, they were cocooned in soft safety. Nothing existed outside of them. It was just them, here, now. Lee's past was dark and demented, but her present was good and her future seemed to be looking even better. Nothing else mattered.

Story Tag List: @shookyungsoo

FTL: @chipster-21 @alexa-playafricabytoto @bitchyseawitch @justanotherdaydreamersoul @wolfgirlxslytherin

#sweet pea #jordan connor #serpents #south side serpents #riverdale #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #jordan connor imagine #jordan connor x reader #serpents imagine #serpents x reader #south side serpents imagine #south side serpents x reader #riverdale imagine #riverdale x reader

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tehkusogaki · 6 years ago

Text

Gravitation Fanfic

Riku stood uneasily in the kitchen entryway, ready to retreat back the way he came. He grappled with his nerves to finally find a smidgen of resolve. Only to have it immediately vanish, like a puff of smoke in the wind.

He couldn't do it.

Why was it so difficult to talk to that man?

He slunk away, and was betrayed by the creaking of the floorboards beneath him.

“Riku?” His dad turned to face him, his attention pulled from the meal he'd been preparing. “Finished up with your homework already?”

Riku studied his father for a moment. He was relieved his dad had finally shaved off that awful beard, but wondered if he still wouldn't be teased if his classmates saw the man now in all his glory: cute apron, thick glasses, and headband adorning him like a lopsided crown.

...Well, he was also brandishing a large knife, so maybe not.

“Uh, yeah…” Riku shrugged and ran his hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his neck, and pretended to be nonchalant before letting it drop back to his side and wishing there was an inconspicuous way to run back to his room and barricade the door.

“How about you wash up and help me then?” That Man asked, though to Riku it felt like a command. “It's just us tonight.”

Dammit! Riku was trapped. He blamed his Japanese upbringing: he was too polite to decline.

“What about Mom?” Riku asked while scrubbing his hands in the sink.

“Ayaka’s letting your Uncle Hiro out of the house for the first time in ages-- I guess the twins are finally manageable-- he and Shuichi are having a boy's night out.”

“Oh.”

It had been a long time since Mom had spent any time with his oldest friend, so Riku didn't want to resent him taking the opportunity, but it was going to be so awkward eating dinner alone with Dad!

“Where should I begin?” Riku asked, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“Get the rice started. By the time it's done, everything else should be ready to eat.”

“Okay.” It was a simple task that was quickly completed. “Now what?”

“Finish cutting up these vegetables, I'll start grilling the meat.”

It was weirdly familiar, this scene.

...No, maybe not so weird. Riku could remember helping his dad in the kitchen when he was younger-- before his dad had developed his wanderlust.

It was kind of fun then.

“Watch your fingers,” his father warned.

“I know,” Riku said as the sound of rhythmic chopping filled the room. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Sorry,” his dad chuckled, “force of habit. Your mom's not exactly a child either, but I'm still constantly restocking the first aid kit.”

Chop.

Sizzle.

Chop.

Awkward silence filled the room save for the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board and the meat frying in the pan.

“So… what are Mom and Uncle Hiro doing tonight?” Riku asked in vain attempt to shoo away the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“Probably getting blitzed off cheap beer, and singing karaoke. Those done?”

Riku's father pointed to the veggies he’d been dicing.

“Uh, yeah,” Riku replied.

“Go ahead and add them to the pan. Slowly.”

Riku carefully pushed the fresh cut vegetables off the edge of the cutting board and into the skillet with his knife while his dad stirred them in with the meat and sauce.

As soon as Riku pulled the empty board out of the way, his father flicked the pan up, tossing its contents into the air and catching them with the flourish of a much practiced skill, coating everything evenly with seasoning. He then mixed everything together and and adjusted the cooktop's heat settings.

“Just a simple stir fry dish tonight. I didn't feel like making something fancy.”

“T-that's okay,” Riku said. It certainly smelled good! And Riku had never known his dad to cook anything that wasn't delicious. His dad could make any 'simple dish’ amazing.

Riku watched his father, trying to work up the courage to ask him what he originally came into the kitchen for.

“Go set the table.” Dad said suddenly and derailed Riku's train of thought. “I'm almost done here.”

“Uh, sure.”

In all honesty Riku was relieved to be given an opportunity to leave the room, even if the dining room was barely separate from the kitchen.

His dad hadn't been staying home that long, but Riku still habitually grabbed three place settings before reminding himself that Mom wasn't going to join them.

“Finished,” Riku said, returning to the kitchen in time to catch the musical chime of the rice cooker.

“Perfect timing! Go put the rice out.”

Riku scooped the rice out of the cooker and into a serving bowl and ran it out to the dining room table.

“Here,” Riku's dad shoved a tasting spoon in front of Riku's face the moment he returned. “Try some.”

“Mm! Good!” Riku said around a mouthful of food.

“Vegetables not too crunchy?”

“Nope, I like them better when they're a little crisp than when they're soggy.”

His dad smiled-- just a little bit-- and nodded approvingly. Then, without dropping a single morsel, transferred the food from pan to serving dish and turned off the stove.

Whenever Riku or Mom (especially Mom) cooked the kitchen was always a mess afterwards! Dad left everything sparkling.

“Here, go put this out,” Dad said. He handed Riku the food, the took off his apron and headband- tossing them onto the counter to be dealt with after eating. “I'll join you in a sec.”

Riku took the food to the table, then served himself some. He wondered if it would be rude to start eating before his dad sat down.

Luckily he was saved from having to answer himself when his dad plopped himself down in the chair across from him, took a swig of beer from the bottle he'd grabbed from the fridge, and started shoveling food on to his own plate.

For someone who could cook such high-class looking cuisine, his at home table manners we're practically barbaric. Riku wondered if he acted like this when he travelled. Who would let him into their country?!

Uncomfortable quiet filled the room as they ate. In between bites Riku pushed food around his plate with his chopsticks, wondering how he could breach the silence.

“So…what is it?”

Riku jumped at the question.

“Huh!?”

His dad took another swig straight from the bottle, adjusted his glasses, and met Riku's gaze without wavering.

“When you came into the kitchen earlier, you kind of looked like you had something to say to me.”

“I, um, yeah…” Shit! Now that his dad had brought it up, there was no way he could back down!

Riku squirmed and fidgeted and hoped his father wouldn’t notice.

“It's, um, it's just that…”

Why was this so difficult! It wasn't like he was making that big a request, was he?

“It'sjustthattommorowisMike’sbirthday!” Riku finally spat out in a single breath.

His dad blinked, trying to process Riku's flurry of words.

“Did… you... want to go get him a gift?” He asked, having finally sorted it out. “I can take you shopping if you'd like. Do you need money?”

“No,” Riku answered as he stared down at his plate.

Surely initiating conversation was the worst part, right? It shouldn't be too hard to ask for the rest...

Riku forced himself to make eye contact.

“Mike wanted me to ask you if you'd make him a birthday cake.”

“Hmm…” his dad thought for a moment. Then he set his chopsticks down and vanished into the kitchen.

Was that a no?

A yes?

Why the HELL was that man so difficult to read?!

How did Mom do it?

Riku heard rummaging in the kitchen and the opening and shutting of several cupboards and drawers and the familiar sound of the refrigerator opening and closing.

“Alright,” his dad said as strolled back in the room and took his seat.

“Alright?” Riku pressed.

“I'll bake that cake for you,” his dad answered. “On a few conditions though…”

“What conditions?” Riku couldn't help but be worried and a little suspicious.

“Yeah, I have to go buy some things for it, so you have to clean up the kitchen and do the dishes while I'm out.”

Well, that was fair.

“And?”

“And now I want cake, so I guess I'll have to make an extra one for us... and maybe Shuichi if he hurries his ass home before I eat his share.”

Of course. There was a time in Riku’s life when he thought birthday cakes came half-eaten. At least he was making his own this time instead of cutting a slice from the birthday boy’s.

“Is that all?”

“No, one last thing…”

Riku flinched. What could his dad possibly want from him?

“Make it with me?”

Riku stared at him in disbelief. Maybe Mom was right after all, Dad was sometimes hard to understand, but perhaps he really was trying.

“Sure.”

And maybe it wasn't so bad having him home after all.

The End.

#gravitation #shindou family circumstances #rikuto shindou #eiri yuki #fanfiction #my fanfiction #yay! awkward family bonding!#they'll get better #probably #it's about time i wrote fic for this cute series #sorry you were only mentioned shuichi #but i'm sure you're happy to see you son and husband try to get along #now i gotta think of a title #so i can post on ao3 #happy birthday michael #sorry it's late

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killjoytigermom · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 5 - Pillars Of Sand

“A musical one, huh?” "Apparently," I replied to Jet's grinning stature at my wit's end as I shuffled through the now quickly cooling diner. The sun had set and the incoming darkness quickly covered the desert with a chilly wind. As the five of us began to hermetically close up the building, I started to realize how weird, hectic, and utterly tiring this day had been, with the Battery City trip and everything else.

Eventually I grabbed one of the blankets we had and walked around the bar of the diner, retreating into the old fashioned kitchen where I opened a few aligned cupboards, revealing the insides that I'd made into a makeshift bedroom over the past couple of years. I always kept the doors open, but liked the reclusiveness of it. I crawled in, on top of the few blankets that already laid there, and curled up underneath the one I'd just grabbed, sighing again and looking at the bread basket I'd put right next to the cupboards- there hadn't been any space left inside next to me. The nameless girl was still vast asleep after my karaoke session, and I was glad of it as I looked at her.

Before I could try and fall asleep myself however, one of the guys walked into the now quickly darkening kitchen. "Ty?," Party questioned quietly. I scoffed; "Yeah, what's up?" "I think we should go to Dr. D tomorrow, tell him the good news." "You think he'd be invested?" "Well, for one, he's a firm believer in the Phoenix Witch, so there's a start," the redhead said as he quietly slid down the drawer section I slept next to, before plopping down onto the tiled floor next to the basket with the girl. He stared at her solemnly before he spoke again. "If there's anyone who might maybe have some answers," he mumbled," it's him."

"I suppose you're right," I sighted, really not wanting to have this conversation at this time. "But I'm sleeping in tomorrow." "You're going to sleep through the morning cold?," Party chuckled, legitimately surprised. "Not just wait for the afternoon slur? Have a little siesta?" "Nope," I said, before shuffling myself further down my cupboard, hoping he'd pick up on my hints. “Not today.”

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tumblr removed line breaks this is fine :)

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“You think they’ll be okay out there?” I snorted as the guys walked out of Dr. Death’s radio station, laughing at something one of them had muttered on their way out. “Ah, they’ll be fine,” Death chuckled amusedly. “Show Pony knows how to keep people entertained alright,” he continued, turning his wheelchair to me and leaning back with a deep sigh. His build was reminiscent of my dad’s, whom I hadn’t been able to contact since the Analog Wars, and I wasn’t sure if I found it comforting or distressing.

His smile faded as his glare went down to the girl in my arms, sleeping soundly. “What to do with you…,” he said quietly, dragging out each word as if questioning himself. He quickly gathered himself however and faced me again. “Party said you wanted to talk to me specifically?” “Oh, uh, yeah,” I stumbled over my words awkwardly. “I always knew you were a spiritual one,” I continued, “but when Party mentioned you were invested in my suicide mission of getting her out of Battery City I was a bit surprised.”

“Well it’s not every day a Killjoy puts their life on the line by walking down Battery City’s streets,” the large man chuckled. “Party told me you had some vision or something, said that he thought it would be good if you and I sat down and had a talk.” “Oh, well…” I thought for a bit. “Then he and I had the same idea. ‘Cuz that’s why I wanted to talk to you alone.” He hummed and adjusted himself in his seat. When he didn’t speak up after that I decided to just rant and get it over with.

“You know how her mum and I were friends, right? Me and Bandit’s Grace? I mean I didn’t see her that much ‘cuz she operated in a different part of the Zones but when she got pregnant I was so ready to become the ‘aunt’ of this kid… And then our two groups met up and they had that ambush lying there, those Scarecrows? She was mere weeks away from delivery so when they’d shot her down instead of dusting her they put one of their Drac masks on her, and I saw them do that and as that happened, everything around me just sorta seemed to slow down, you know how they used to do that in movies? Like the sounds would be like you’re underwater and everything becomes slow motion? It was kinda like that and as they put that mask on her I feel these long, sharp nails in my shoulders, pinching, and I smelled birds - I know that sounds weird but birds DO have a smell, it’s kinda muffy and dusty? - anyway this raspy voice whispered in my ear and I knew I shouldn’t turn around to see who it was and I really didn’t need to ‘cuz when they started talking I knew who she was, and she goes and calls me by my real name and goes ‘you see what’s happening there’ as she points at Grace and as she’s pointing, Grace’s chest starts glowing but like, from the inside? It looked like when you take an old flashlight that had those yellow light bulbs and hold them against the palm of your hand and this little orb became smaller and smaller and moved from her chest to her stomach and the Witch just went ‘that’s what you’ve got to protect. At all costs. Tell them. There won’t be a next time’, and then everything just went back to normal.”

I was quiet for a moment and looked up at Dr. Death, who didn’t seem to have moved a muscle. “After that I got the worst headache and felt my knees shake and before I knew it I was lying in the dirt, limp.” Death remained silent. I waited for a bit but then plainly said: “That’s it, I’m done now.” Still nothing. He almost seemed lost in thought but the direct eye contact he was making suggested otherwise. “I don’t know why she chose me, honestly. Probably because she wanted someone to stand in for her mom, and she wanted to give me some good motivation for it instead of being all cryptic about it? I don’t know Doc., I truly don’t.” “And you didn’t tell anyone else besides the rest of the Fab Five,” Dr. Death suddenly asked. I shook my head, still holding the tiny human in my arms as it slept. “I didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone else.”

Death sighed once more and leaned back in his chair again. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “Y’know kid, I hate to admit this but even I don’t know all about the Phoenix Witch. I do know what she does: she helps those who got dusted in the fight to find some peace, and for that we should be thankful, but stuff like this?” He gestured with his hand and made a face. “This is beyond me too kiddo.” I sighed. “I know, and I don’t blame you, I just wish I could know why me? Or maybe there even isn’t a why, maybe it was just a roll of the dice….”

When we both remained silent I continued rambling. “And next to that it’s like, why is she being so cryptid about this kid,” I said while nodding at the baby in my arms. “I mean I’m not against getting as many people out of BL/ind.’s clutches as possible but why is THIS ONE so special? ‘Cuz she’s making it sound like this one is going to wake Destroya one day or something!” “Isn’t that android belief?” Death asked, an eyebrow raised. I shrugged annoyedly. “I don’t know what to believe at this point anymore man, but the Witch is sure making it sound like this is the new Messiah or something like that.”

Dr. Death chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t that be somethin’... then again, a Killjoy, born from someone who’s turned into a Draculoid? You never know,” he winked. I blinked a couple of times, registering what he’d said. “I mean yeah, when you put it like that…”

Then suddenly, Death briskly turned his wheelchair around and made his way to the minifridge across the room. “I’m sure the Phoenix Witch knows what she’s doing, I have faith in that. All advice I can give is follow her instructions,” he said as he opened the door and the blue light illuminated his face. “Soda?” “Sure.” He grabbed two brightly colored cans from the fridge and closed the door. “Well, either way, whatever happens, you know me and my crew are on your side. That includes Cherri and Pony,” he assured me as he handed me the can.

“If there’s ever something you need that you can’t get at Tommy’s, or just need someone to help out, you know where to find us,” he said with a smile before opening the sizzling can in his hands. “Which reminds me,” he said after taking a big swig, “how did you guys even manage to get that deep into Battery City? The place is sprawling with BL/ind. forces, they should’ve spotted you immediately!”

I opened my own can and took a small swig as well before explaining. “There’s a group called The Undead, they operate from within Battery City, even before it was called ‘Battery City’. While they’re not the biggest believers, they’ll support anything that can possibly help them bring back the city that they lost. Ghoul once got in touch when them when he needed materials for his explosives, that’s how we were able to get their help - Party probably mentioned it would help their cause if they helped us. They mainly operate from The Lobby, but have mastered making their way through town unnoticed.”

Dr. Death hummed approvingly. “Maybe Battery City’s built on more pillars of sand than we thought,” he mumbled with a small smile.

#killjoy fanfic #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #my chemical romance #mcr #killjoy oc #My fic #Killjoyverse #Danger Days #self #party poison #jet star #kobra kid #fun ghoul #dr. death defying

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anarchetypalarchive · 7 years ago

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the summer is ended and we are not saved

aka that bfu shane/ryan demon fic i decided to write even though it’s been done seven hundred times already lowkey cowritten by @slaughtervoid via discord chat rating: explicit, but not like. extremely explicit? you get me. like there’s no outright sex but don’t read this in front of your mother probably content: holy water guns, shane’s creepy and makes vague murder threats, ryan gets fear boners, i’m giving this a pretentious title in spite of the slapstick on ao3 excerpt:

Ryan drops the holy water gun with a shout and stumbles back, fueled by blind panic as he turns and sprints past their sleeping bags for the attic door.

Behind him, he hears Shane sigh almost calmly despite his flesh still burning. “Don't— C’mon, seriously, do we really have to make this a whole thing— You've seen horror movies, you know how this is gonna—” Apparently still annoyed, he breaks off, and the door in front of Ryan slams shut on its own.

Ryan skids to a stop and reaches for the knob, rattling it ineffectively. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“So many horror movies,” Shane says, voice much closer now, and Ryan spins around. “I’m just saying, can we not make this a thing right out of TV Tropes, you know, that’s just boring for both of us.”

It’s the stupid holy water gun that fucks him over.

It’d seemed like such a good idea at the time. Hilarious, at least, in terms of views, and if he’s honest, the concept of rapid-fire holy water just seemed smart. It seemed smart, and it made him feel more secure, and he could use the humor of the device to save himself at least a little ridicule, hopefully.

He and Shane had been wandering a supposedly haunted mansion—and, yeah, the Disney theme park allusions from Shane hadn’t exactly been infrequent—for most of the night, and Ryan had to admit that the scariest thing about the place so far was the mold in the walls and the structurally-unsound foundation.

They decided to settle for the night in the attic, clearing away some dusty storage boxes (junk, Ryan, it’s junk, look at this, I bet you’d put this on your antiques shelf, let’s take it, do you think the ghosts would mind) and laying their sleeping bags down.

As usual, they tried to sleep, but nerves eventually got Ryan out of his sleeping bag, and Ryan’s pestering got Shane out of his.

And then Ryan had to go and start joking around.

“I’m just saying, I’ve got pinpoint accuracy,” Ryan says, grabbing the plastic gun from its holster and pretending to shoot at random corners of the attic they’re in.

“Pinpoint accuracy at absolutely nothing,” Shane responds easily, sitting on the sill of the attic window and holding the camera.

Ryan rolls his eyes, then grins and spins on his heel. “Watch it, demon!” he shouts dramatically, and squeezes the trigger of the gun to send a stream of holy water at Shane.

Shane holds his hand out instinctively, and then instead of the protesting complaint he expects to hear, there’s the sound of what Ryan can only describe as sizzling. Shane yelps, bringing his hand to his chest protectively, and what Ryan can see of his hand and wrist is red and splotchy.

“Ow,” Shane says irritably.

Ryan stares, suddenly feeling cold. “What— What the hell was that.”

Shane shakes his hand out and sighs. For a long moment, he stares at Ryan, then looks resigned. “Yeah, alright, this was bound to happen eventually.”

Ryan takes an automatic step back. “What was bound to happen eventually?” He gestures at Shane’s hand as it slowly goes from blistered red to pink.

Shane sighs again and pushes himself away from the windowsill. “Alright, calm down—”

“What the hell was that?”

Laughing, Shane takes a few steps towards him. “I mean, honestly, Ryan, what did it look like?” All at once, his pupils seem to eclipse the whites of his eyes and his irises. “Use your critical thinking skills.”

Ryan takes equal steps back, wide-eyed. Later, he’ll admit that maybe he shouldn’t ever be trusted with an actual firearm, because when Shane takes another step forward, Ryan starts frantically squirting the water gun in terror.

Shane jerks back, hands in front of himself protectively again as he cringes when Ryan manages to hit any part of him not covered by clothing. “Ow— Ow, Ryan, stop, Jesus Christ— Ugh,” he says finally, looking more annoyed than agonized. He reaches out and motions slightly with a blistered hand.

The gun crumples in on itself.

Ryan drops it with a shout and stumbles back, fueled by blind panic as he turns and sprints past their sleeping bags for the attic door.

Ryan skids to a stop and reaches for the knob, rattling it ineffectively. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“Boring,” Ryan repeats, voice shaking. He presses his back to the door as Shane approaches him. Struggling to screw up any amount of courage he can find, he takes a deep breath. “Get away from me, Shane—or—whatever the hell you are, get away from me, get out of my friend—”

“Hey, now, I’m the same guy you know and love,” Shane says, looking offended. “You’re the one that befriended a demon, what’s that say about you?”

“What?”

“And, I mean, okay,” Shane continues, slowly closing the distance between them. “Your initial fight reaction? I’m so proud. Very brave. Where’s the fraidy cat from season one, huh?”

Ryan, now flattening his back against the door, puts his hands up like there’s a weapon trained on him. He’s vaguely aware of his own harsh breathing, the tightness in his lungs. He’s pretty sure he’s hyperventilating. Shane either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Stupid,” he adds, taking the last couple of steps towards Ryan and grabbing his jaw with a blistered hand. “But brave.”

Ryan can’t manage to get his mind to slow down long enough to process anything beyond he’s a demon, he’s a demon and you’re trapped in here with him.

“And let’s be honest, you're lucky I claimed you and not some other bump-in-the-night creature. Anyone else would’ve seen your precious, untainted soul and ruined you before you could even figure out what was going on.”

Ryan shudders, trying to free himself from Shane’s grip. His jaw aches. “But—you haven’t.”

Shane smiles. “I like to play with my food.”

Ryan jerks back, but Shane doesn’t let go, just looks down at him, calm as anything. He fumbles mentally, desperately, for some means of fighting back, but his holy water is gone and he doesn’t know any prayers and his arms and legs feel like sluggish, heavy tree trunks.

He wonders if he could even run away if he had the option.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Shane says, and maybe he means to be soothing but everything just sounds ominous now. “You’re the most entertaining thing I’ve played with in—wow, decades, at least.”

“I’m not a thing,” Ryan snaps.

Shane releases his jaw to wave a hand dismissively. “Point is, I haven’t had so much fun in years. You’re so easy.”

Ryan rubs his jaw, frustration struggling to win out over the poignant, raw stabbing of terror. “Is that why you’re always fucking—trying to rile things up wherever we go? Offering me up as—as bait all the time?”

“It’s a joke, obviously, because you’re mine,” Shane says. “It’s not like I’d say, hey, goatman, why don’t you come tear off Ryan’s legs if I thought it’d actually happen. Probably.”

“Probably?!”

“But you just get so spooked,” Shane continues, grinning a little. “I can’t help myself. And, y’know, it’s interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Are you just going to keep repeating the last word I say? Makes for a dull conversation, Ryan. Don’t bore me; I get extra demon-y when I’m bored.”

“Shut up, Shane.” The words come out automatically. Ryan flinches, expecting the worst, but Shane just laughs.

“You’re so afraid of this—” he gestures at the mansion as a whole, “—and you throw yourself into it anyway. Why? To prove something? Well, hey.” He turns and waves at one of the cameras standing on a tripod in the corner of the attic. “You’ve proved something! How’s that working out for you?”

“I—”

“Personally, I think it gets you off.”

Ryan goes wide-eyed. His face feels hot all of a sudden. “What?”

“The fear. You get off on being scared.” Shane says it matter-of-factly. “Admit it. You think people don’t notice—maybe most people don’t. But me?”

Shane reaches out and strokes the bruise forming on Ryan’s jaw with his thumb.

“I notice everything.”

Ryan squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to shiver. And here’s the thing: Shane isn’t wrong. He’s not wrong, and Ryan’s been aroused since Shane cornered him and grabbed him like Ryan was just a thing he owned.

“I’ve thought about killing you,” Shane says, almost cheerful. “Entertained the notion, you know, thought about just how I’d do it. And I bet if I pinned you here and told you all the grim details, you’d come in your jeans in less than a minute. Wouldn’t you.”

Ryan can’t make himself respond, too overwhelmed by fear and arousal and the absolute, raw horror of the situation.

“Ryan.”

He screws his eyes shut tighter.

“Ryan.”

He shakes his head, trembling.

“Ryan, open your eyes.”

Shane’s broad hands are cupping his face. Ryan flinches.

“Wake up!”

Ryan’s eyes snap open, and he gasps out a shuddery breath as he lurches upright in his sleeping bag.

Shane’s kneeling next to him, brow knitted in concern and his hands up in a surrender position. “Whoa! Hey, relax!”

“What—” Ryan groans dizzily, rubbing his eyes and trying to orient himself. “Fuck.”

“You were, like, whimpering in your sleep,” Shane says. Ryan can see the faint glow of an approaching sunrise in the window of the attic. “Guess you were so disappointed we didn’t find anything supernatural-y that your subconscious decided to give you a scare to make up for it?” He laughs a little.

Ryan looks at Shane suspiciously for a moment. Normal eyes. Uninjured hands. Nothing demon-like at all. He sighs and shakes his head. “Jesus Christ.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck no.” Ryan stretches and shifts, prepared to get out of his sleeping bag and get the fuck out of this place, and then he freezes.

Personally, I think it gets you off.

He shifts again.

His boxers are damp and clinging to him. His sweatpants don’t feel like they’ve fared much better. An overstimulated pang of arousal hits him.

Ryan shuts his eyes, groaning in defeat, and buries himself back in his sleeping bag.

Shane raises an eyebrow. “What, you need more sleep? I thought you’d wanna get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get up in a minute,” Ryan says. His face is hot. “You just—uh, you go ahead, I’ll meet you down there. I just need to, uh. I need a minute to relax.”

Shane shrugs and gets to his feet. “Must’ve been one hell of a nightmare.”

#anarchetypal writes #shyan #i'm terrible at writing serious fic i just couldn't do it #shipfeed

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trinitymarrow · 7 years ago

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MOONLIGHT SEDUCTION: Preorder Launch + Chapter Reveal!

Title: Moonlight Seduction by Jennifer L. Armentrout Release Date: June 26th, 2018

SYNOPSIS:

The de Vincent brothers are back—and so is the intrigue that surrounds them—in New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout’s sizzling new novel...

Nicolette Bresson never thought she’d return to the de Vincents’ bayou compound. It’s where her parents work, where Nikki grew up... and where she got her heart broken by Gabriel de Vincent himself. Yet here she is, filling in for her sick mother. Avoiding Gabe should be easy, especially when so much of Nikki’s time is spent trying not to be stabbed in the back by the malicious hangers-on who frequent the mansion. But escaping memories of Gabe, much less his smoking-hot presence, is harder than expected—especially since he seems determined to be in Nikki’s space as much as possible.

Gabriel spent years beating himself up over his last encounter with Nikki. He’d wanted her then, but for reasons that were bad for both of them. Things have now changed. Gabe sees more than a girl he’s known forever; he sees a smart, talented, and heartbreakingly beautiful woman... one who’s being stalked from the shadows. Now, Gabe will do anything to keep Nikki safe—and to stop the de Vincent curse from striking again.

Chapter One Reveal + Preorder Links + Campaign under the cut

Chapter 1

Six years later . . .

It took every ounce of self-control for Gabriel de Vincent to stand back and do nothing. Just stand there and watch him being led away, but that’s what he had to do, because that’s what he’d promised and Gabe tried to be a man of his word.

Sometimes he failed at that. Failed at that in ways that haunted him late at night, but he wouldn’t go back on this.

He’d promised them three uninterrupted months. That’s what he was going to give them. His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it as the Rothchilds walked back into the restaurant. He didn’t take his eyes off them, not until he couldn’t see them anymore. Only then did he look at the slip of paper.

Looking down at the drawing of puppy on a piece of blue construction paper, he felt the worst mix of emotions. Sadness. Pride. Helplessness. Hope. Fury that he’d never tasted before. He had no idea how one person could feel all of that at once, but he did.

A wry smile tugged at his lips. There was definitely talent in the drawing. Real skill. The de Vincent knack for the arts was still kicking around it seemed. His gaze flickered over what was written in a blockish handwriting. He’d already read in three times, but couldn’t bear to read it a fourth time. Not right now. He didn’t want to fold the paper and created creases in it, so he was careful as he carried it back to where he was parked.

“Gabriel de Vincent.”

Frowning at the vaguely familiar voice, he turned around. A man stepped out from behind a truck. Dark, square sunglasses shielded half the man’s face, but Gabe recognized him.

He sighed. “Ross Haid. To what do I owe the honor of seeing you in Baton Rouge?”

The reporter for the Advocate gave one of what Gabe assumed was a trademark half grin; the kind that probably got him into a places and events he sure as hell didn’t belong in. “Headquarters are here. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you work out of the New Orleans office, Ross.”

He shrugged a shoulder as he neared Gabe. “I had to come up to headquarters. Heard through the grapevine that a de Vincent was in town.”

“Uh-huh.” Not for one second did Gabe believe that. “And you just happen to hear that I was at this restaurant?”

The smile kicked up a notch as he ran a hand over his blond hair. “Nah. Seeing you here was just luck.”

Bullshit. Ross had been sniffing after his family for about two months now, trying to get to one of them when they were out at dinner or at an event, showing up at nearly every damn function one of them was attending. But back home, in New Orleans, Ross had trouble getting near them. Well, he had troubled getting to the one he really wanted to talk to which was Gabe’s older brother.

Didn’t require any leap of logic to figure out what was going on. Somehow Ross had heard that Gabe was here, and that’s why Ross conveniently ended up here. Normally he could tolerate Ross’ incessant questioning. Hell, he sort of liked the guy, appreciated his determination, but not when Ross was here and something he didn’t want a reporter finding out mere feet away.

Lowering his sunglasses, Ross eyed Gabe’s ride. “Nice car. Is it one of the new Porsche 911s?”

Gabe raised his brows.

“Family business must be going well. Then again, the family business is always going strong, isn’t it? The de Vincents are old money. The one percent of the one percent.” Gabe’s family was one of the oldest, linked all the way back to the days the great state of Louisiana was being created. Now they owned the most profitable oil refineries in the Gulf, coveted real estate all around the world, tech firms, and once his older brother married, they’d be in control of the one of the largest shipping industries in the world. So, yeah, the de Vincents were wealthy, but the car and nearly everything Gabe owned, he bought it with the money he worked for. Not the money he was born with.

“Some say that your family has so much money, that the de Vincents are above the law.” Ross straightened his sunglasses. “Seems that way.”

Gabe really didn’t have time for this. “Whatever you want to say, can you stop beating around the damn bush and get to it? I’m planning to head home sometime in the next year.”

The reporter’s smile faded. “Since you’re here and I’m here, and it’s damn hard to talk to you all any other time. I want to chat about your father’s death.” “I’m sure you do.”

“I don’t believe it was a suicide,” Ross continued. “And I find it also convenient that Chief Cobbs, who openly and publicly wanted your father’s death investigated as a homicide ended up dead in a freak car accident.”

“Is that right?”

Frustration hummed off Ross about as loud as the damn locusts. “Is that all you got to say to me about this?”

“Pretty much.” Gabe grinned then. “That and you have an overactive imagination, but I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

“I don’t think my imagination is nearly vast enough to compete with all the things the de Vincents have had their hands in.”

Probably not.

“Okay, I won’t ask you about your father or the chief.” Ross shifted his weight as Gabe opened his driver’s door. “Also heard some interesting rumors about some of the staff at the de Vincent compound.”

“I’m started to feel like you might be stalking us.” Gabe placed the drawing facedown on the passenger’s seat. “If you want to talk about staffing, then you need to have a chat with Dev.”

“Devlin won’t make time to talk to me.” “That doesn’t sound like my problem.” “It seems like it is now.” Gabe laughed, but the sound was without humor as he reached inside, grabbing his sunglasses off the visor. “Trust me, Ross, this isn’t my problem.”

“You may not think so now, but that’ll change.” A muscle twitched along the man’s jaw. “I plan to blow the roof of every single damn secret the de Vincents have been keeping for years. I’m going to do a story that not even your family can pay to keep quiet.”

Shaking his head, Gabe slipped his sunglasses on. “I like you, Ross. You know I’ve never had a problem with you. So, I just want to get that out of the way. But you have got to come up with some better material, because that was cliché as shit.” He rested his hand on the frame of the car door. “You’ve got to know you’re not the first reporter to come around thinking they’re somehow going to dig some skeletons out of our closets and expose us for whatever the hell you think we are. You’re not going to be the last to fail.”

“I don’t fail,” Ross said. “Not ever.” “Everyone fails.” Gabe climbed in behind the wheel. “Except the de Vincents?” “You said it, not me.” Gabe looked up at the reporter. “Some unasked for advice? I’d find another story to investigate.” “Is there where you’re going to tell me to be careful?” He sounded oddly gleeful by the prospect. “Warn me off? Because people who mess with the de Vincents end up missing or worse?”

Gabe smirked as he hit the ignition key. “Doesn’t sound like I need to tell you that. Seems like you already know what happens.”

Nikki stood in the center of the quiet and sterile kitchen of the de Vincent mansion, telling herself that she was not the same little idiot that almost drowned herself out in the pool six years ago.

She sure as hell wasn’t the same idiot who had spent years making an utter fool out of herself, chasing after a grown man. An act, which resulted in one of the worst ideas she’d ever had in the history of bad ideas.

And Nikki had a remarkable history of making not the brightest of all decisions. Her dad said she had a bit of wild streak in her, taking after Pappy, but Nikki liked to blame the de Vincents for the recklessness. They had this really bizarre talent of making everyone around them stick one toe into Recklessville. Her mother claimed that most of Nikki’s bad decisions came from having a good heart.

Nikki had the habit of picking up strays—stray cats, dogs, a lizard here and there, even a snake, and humans, too. She was a bleeding heart, hating to see anyone she cared about in pain and she was oftentimes a bit overly affected by the troubles of strangers.

It was why she avoided the TV around the holidays, because they always played those heart-wrenching videos of freezing animals or children left to starve in war-torn countries. She hated everything about New Year’s Eve because of that and spent the week between Christmas and the first of January moping around.

There was a lot of Nikki that was the same as she was the last time she walked through this house. She still got emotionally invested in animals that didn’t belong to her—that was why she volunteered at the local animal shelter. She still couldn’t turn away from someone who needed help, and she still found herself in weird situations but reckless? Wild?

Not anymore.

Not since the last time she’d been in the house, right before she left for college. That had been four years ago and now she was back, and nothing and everything had changed.

“You okay, hon?” her father asked.

Turning to find her father standing just inside the large kitchen, she pulled herself out of her thoughts and smiled widely for him. Goodness, her dad was starting to look his age, and that scared her—truly terrified her. Her parents had her late in life, but she was only twenty-two, and she wanted another fifty years or so with them.

Nikki knew that wasn’t going to happen. Especially now. She forced those thoughts from her head. “Yes. I’m just . . . it’s weird being in here after being gone so long. The kitchen is different.” “It was remodeled a few years back,” he replied. The mansion was constantly being remodeled it seemed. After all, how many times had this place caught fire since it was built? Nikki had lost count. Her father drew in a deep breath, and the lines around his mouth became more pronounced. He looked so tired. “I don’t know if I’ve said this to you or not, but thank you.”

She waved him off. “You don’t need to thank me, Dad.”

“Yeah, I do.” He walked over to where she stood. “You went away to college to do something better than this—better than cooking dinners and running a household. To become something better.”

Offended on his behalf, she crossed her arms and met his weary gaze. “There’s nothing wrong with cooking dinners and running a household. It’s good, honest work. Wok that put me through college. Right, Dad?”

“We take great pride in our job. Don’t get me wrong, but what your mother and I did all these years was so you could do something else.” He sighed. “So, it means a lot that you would come home to help us out, Nicolette.”

Only her dad and mom called her by her full name. Everyone else called her Nikki. Everyone except a certain de Vincent who shall remained nameless. He and only he called her Nic.

Her parents had worked for the de Vincents, one of the wealthiest families in the States and possibly the world, since long before she was born. It was weird growing up in this house, being privy to a lot of strange stuff—things the public has no idea about and would probably pay a large sum of money to learn. And personally? It was like she had a foot in two different worlds, one absurdly wealthy and the other middle working class.

Her father was basically a butler, except she always had a small suspicion that her father had . . . taken care of things for the de Vincents that no normal butler did. Her mother ran the day-to-day functions of the house and prepared the dinners. Both her parents loved working for the family and she knew both had planned to continue to the day they died, but her mom . . . .

Nikki’s chest squeezed painfully. Her mom was not well and it had happened so fast, coming out of nowhere. The dreaded C word.

“Honestly, this is perfect. I got my degree and this will give me time to figure things out.” In other words, figure out what the hell she wanted to really do with her life. Get to work or go for her master’s? She wasn’t sure yet. “And I want to be here while Mom is going through everything.”

“I know.” His smile wobbled a little as he brushed a strand of blondish-brown hair out of her face.

“We could’ve hired someone else to step in while your mother—”

“No, you couldn’t have.” She laughed at the mere thought of that. “I know how weird the de Vincents are. I know how protective you two are of them. I know how to keep my mouth shut and not see what I’m not supposed to. And you two don’t have to worry about someone new not keeping their mouth shut and not seeing what they’re not supposed to.”

Her dad arched a brow. “A lot of things have changed, honey.”

She snorted as she took in the white marble countertops with gray veining. Mom had filled her in on some of those changes during one of her chemo treatments. After all, what else did they have to talk about while she was being pumped full of poison that would hopefully kill only the cancer cells building in her lung?

Things in the de Vincent mansion that had changed.

For starters, the patriarch of the family, one Lawrence de Vincent, had hung himself a few months back. An act that had shocked her because she figured that man would’ve outlived a nuclear bomb. And Lucian de Vincent apparently had a live-in girlfriend and they were about to move into their own place. That was even more insane, the idea of Lucian settling down.

The Lucian she remembered put the play in player. He’d been an incorrigible flirt, leaving a string of broken hearts across the state of Louisiana and beyond. She hadn’t met his girlfriend yet since they were away on some kind of trip; the rich rarely seemed to have much of a schedule. She just hoped whoever his girlfriend was, she was nice and nothing like Devlin’s fiancé.

Nikki might not have been around the de Vincents in four years, but she remembered Sabrina Harrington and her brother Parker.

Sabrina had just begun seeing Devlin the year before Nikki had left for college and that had been a year’s worth of snide comments and rather impressive disdainful looks. Nikki could deal with Sabrina though. If she was the same woman as she was before, she could be as mean as a cornered rattlesnake, but Nikki normally didn’t even register on her scale of people to pay attention to. Parker though?

Nikki suppressed a shudder, not wanting to worry her father who was watching her like a hawk.

Parker had often stared at her the way she’d wanted Gabe to look at her, especially when she had grown brave enough to move from a one-piece bathing suit to a two-piece.

And Parker . . . he had done more than look.

She drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t going to think about Parker. He wasn’t worth a single thought.

What happened to Lawrence, and Lucian’s new romance weren’t the only things her mom had told her. She filled Nikki in on the whole sister reappearing and then disappearing again thing. Something that she knew the general public had no idea had even happened. She didn’t know the details around it, but Nikki knew that in typical de Vincent fashion, it had to the most drama-llama-est thing possible.

And she also knew better than to ask questions about it.  Her father stepped back. “The boys are all out.” Thank God and baby Jesus. “Devlin should be back this evening for dinner. He likes dinner to be ready at six. I believe Ms. Harrington will be joining him.” Well, thanking God and baby Jesus lasted all of five seconds. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and make a gagging sound. “Okay.” “Gabriel is still in Baton Rouge, or at least, that’s the last I heard,” her father continued, ticking off the brothers’ schedules while she wondered what Gabe was doing in Baton Rouge. Not that she cared. She totally didn’t care whatsoever, but she wondered if it had anything to do with his woodworking business.

The man was talented with his hands.  Really talented.  Her cheeks flushed as an unwanted memory of how his calloused palms felt pierced her straight through the chest. Nope. Not going there. Absolutely not. There were examples of Gabe’s skill all around the house—the furniture, chair rails, and trim, even in the kitchen. All of the woodwork was designed and created by Gabe. As a little girl, she’d been fascinated with the idea of picking up a piece of wood and turning it into something that was truly a work of art. That fascination had turned into quite the hobby for Nikki.

It had started one long, fall afternoon when she was ten and she’d found Gabe outside, whittling away on a piece of wood. Out of boredom, she’d asked him to show her how he did it. Instead of shooing her off, Gabe had given her small scrapes of wood and showed her how to use a chisel.

She’d gotten pretty good at it, but she hadn’t picked up a chisel in over four years. Nikki refocused on what her dad was telling her. “We’re a little understaffed right now,” her dad continued. “So there’s a lot of dusting in your near future. Devlin is very much like his father.”

Great.

That was not a compliment in her book. “Is it the ghosts?” She half joked. “Scaring off the staff?” Her father shot her a look, but she knew damn well that her parents believed this house was haunted. Hell, they wouldn’t even come here at night unless it was a dire emergency. None of the staff would and everyone in town knew the legends about the land the de Vincent mansion sat on. And who hadn’t heard about the de Vincent curse more than a time or two? Being in this house as much as she had been in the past, she had seen some weird things and heard some stuff that couldn’t be explained. Plus she grew up within minutes of New Orleans. She was a believer, but unlike her friend Rosie, whom she met in college, she wasn’t obsessed with all things paranormal. Nikki operated on the whole if- you-don’t-acknowledge-ghosts-they-can’t-bother-you theory and so far it had worked so far wonderfully.

Then again, Nikki had only come here at night once in her life, and that had not turned out well at all. So maybe ignoring ghosts didn’t work, because she liked to think she was possessed by one of ghosts that supposedly wandered the halls, and that was what provoked her to do what she’d done that night. Nikki was well aware of how the house was run because she’d spent most of her summer vacations in the house watching her mom, so she got to work pretty quickly once her father left her.

First thing first was tracking down what staff they did have at the house. Understaffed her butt! The only staff they had left was her dad; the landscaper who was constantly mowing grass it seemed or re-mulching; the de Vincent driver; and Mrs. Kneely, an older woman who’d done the laundry services since Nikki was a little girl.

Beverly Kneely actually owed her own laundry business and only came to the house three times a week to take care of the linens and clothing. According to Bev, whom she found in the large mudroom at the back of the house, packing up clothing that needed to be dry-cleaned, over the last couple of months, nearly everyone had quit.

“So, let me get this straight.” Nikki smoothed back a few strands that had escaped the knot she’d pulled her hair up in. “The waiters are gone, as are the maids?”

Bev’s buxom chest heaved as she nodded. “It’s just been your parents for the last three months. I think all that work was wearing poor Livie down.”

Anger flashed through Nikki. Hadn’t the de Vincents noticed how thin and tired her mom had been getting? How quickly she got out of breath? “Why didn’t the de Vincents hire someone to help?”

“Your father tried, but no one around here wants to come close to this place, not after what happened.”

She frowned. “You’re talking about Lawrence? What he did?”

Bev tied up the bags. “Not like that wasn’t bad enough, but that wasn’t the straw the broke the camel’s back around here.”

Nikki had no idea what she was talking about. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve been updated on all the crazy. What else happened?”

Looking around the room, Bev arched her brows as she headed toward the side door. “Walls got ears. You know that. You want to know what’s been going on here, you ask your father or one of the boys.”

Her lips pursed. She was so not asking the boys.

Bev stopped at the door and looked back. “I don’t think Devlin is going to be happy when he sees what you’re wearing.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” It was jeans and a black tee shirt. No way was she going to dress like her mom or her dad. Her willingness to help her parents did not extend to wearing uniforms.

She looked down at herself and saw the hole just below the knee. Nikki sighed. Devlin was probably going to have a problem with the hole, but what Nikki wanted to know was what the hell had happened in this house to drive almost all the staff away? It had to be something. Not just because the de Vincents paid extraordinarily well, but also because her father hadn’t told her.  And that meant it was something really bad.

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butiaintgonnaloveem · 8 years ago

Text

Nothin’ Says Lovin’

Chapter One: Friendly

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, other named minor characters

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language, innuendos, sexual tension, FLUFF

Square Filled: Friends to Lovers

Summary: The reader is a chef who owns a small-town gourmet kitchen shop. Sam and Dean helped the reader with a curse a few months back, and have kept in touch and visited often since. The reader isn’t sure if the feelings for Dean are mutual, until he takes her up on an offer.

A/N: This was inspired by a request from @feelmyroarrrr for the Friends to Lovers square on my @spnkinkbingo card. I also included my prompt from @klaineaholic‘s 400 followers Steven Universe celebration, which is bolded in the fic. I have no self-control, so this is a part one. Future chapters will fill other squares from my bingo card. I’ve got a lot of thanks to give to @ilsawasanacrobat and @kayteonline for being awesome betas.

Feedback and constructive criticism are both appreciated and welcomed, and if you want to have a look at my bingo card and want to send in a request, please do so!

Gif from @canonspngifs

AO3 Link to fic

You haul another box from the back to the front counter, carefully unwrapping each delicate piece from inside, checking for damage before pricing it and repacking it for storage. Just as you finish with the box, familiar voices drift in from the sidewalk outside, the deep rumble gives away their presence before they push open the door, making the bells ring. Your stomach does a quick flip, and you stare, waiting for them to enter, your mood lifting as soon as you see their figures filling up the entryway.

“Hey guys,” you call over, watching as Sam and Dean scan the store until they locate you behind the box on the counter.

Sam grins, lifting a hand from his pocket as he waves, and Dean glances down to the box in his hands, a tight smile on his face.

You step out from behind the counter, arms lifted to offer hugs to both of them. “It’s good to see you guys again. I mean, this is a good visit? Right?” You stop, cocking your head to the side as you wait for confirmation.

“As long as you don’t have anything to report to us, then yeah, just here to say hi,” Sam assures you, leaning down and wrapping his arms around you as you let out a small sigh of relief.

Trying to return to business as usual hadn’t been easy, although the construction crew and the insurance company had both been surprisingly efficient and helpful. Your property had been replaced and you’d even managed to upgrade a few things, but since then you’d been caught in a constant loop of inventory, and sales, and cleaning, and cooking, and tension.

“Sorry,” you scrunch up your face in apology, regretting the way you jump to the worst conclusions each time they enter your shop. “Yeah. So far, so good. Aside from Muriel next door. She’s still pissed about that wall that got blown out.”

“Want us to keep an eye on her? Make sure she doesn’t curse you, too?”

“No, I think we’re good. I think I can bridge the gap with a few more plates of cookies. But thanks.”

They both lift their brows, tilting their heads and sharing a look that’s gone in a flash.

“Seriously guys, it’s fine. Muriel loves my cookies.”

“The way you cook? She’d be nuts not to.”

You look up at Dean, inhaling sharply at his praise as you feel the rush of heat from your body amping up with the mixture of excitement and exhaustion that comes with restrained attraction.

“Well, thanks.” You glance past him, eyes drifting until you notice the time on the clock on the wall. “Speaking of - you guys hungry? I could close up for lunch and make you something?”

“That’d be great-”

“We were actually heading-”

They answer at the same time, talking over each other for a moment until they stop, sharing annoyed looks at one another.

“That would be great,” Sam begins softly, “But I was going to head down to a few other stores. Dean can stay with you, though.”

Dean nods his head slightly, eyes rolling a bit as he agrees, his fingers pinching the corners of the box he’s holding. His expression too hard to score. You’ve been mentally tallying the moments you spent together, trying to determine if he’s being friendly, or trying to be friendly. So far, coming up with nothing conclusive.

He’d started by blatantly flirting with you, but that turned out to be part of him working the case. It felt real enough, and you could have sworn you’d seen the same flirty look in his eyes at least a few times since then during his visits, but then again, he sometimes looked at the food you served him the same way. That’s how everything was when you tried to figure him out; tender brushes of hands and skin and long looks canceled out by ‘atta girl’ back pats and tight nods. Friendly then friendly.

“Okay,” you breathe. “If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you in a bit.” Sam winks at you, flipping over the closed sign on your door as he walks through it.

“Well,” you rock a bit on your feet before sliding over to flip the lock, “Let’s eat, huh?”

“You know, you don’t have to feed us every time we come by.” Dean walks behind you, following you down the stairs to your demonstration kitchen. The quiet hum of appliances replaces the sounds from the street and the light music you had playing throughout the storefront.

“Like hell I don’t. It’s really the least I can do, considering. And anyway, what other reason would you have to keep stopping by if it wasn’t for the food?” You cringe, glad he can’t see your face as you clench your fist to keep from slapping your hand over your mouth. A quick stretch of your facial muscles and you turn to him to change the subject.

“So, what’s that?” You nod your head at his hands as you turn to the fridge, grabbing the ingredients you need.

“Oh. It’s uh, another thing I found in the kitchen. See? A reason other than the food.” Friendly.

“I’m sure it’s one of many,” you sarcastically reply around the slice of tomato in your mouth, falling back on self-deprecating humor to push back your nerves. He nibbles a bit on the inner corner of his lip, looking uncharacteristically shy. Friendly. “Alright, lemme see.”

Dean slides the box across the counter, and you notice the age of it, the corners battered and the flap close to ripping off. Delicately, you pull it open, and pull away the neatly folded, yellowing tissue paper revealing a worn wooden handle attached to a slightly bent, narrow rod, and three flower and star-shaped iron molds. You suck in a breath and your lips curve into a gleeful smile.

“It’s a rosette iron.” You pull out one of the molds, flipping it over in your fingers as you examine the intricate pattern. It’s dark and heavy in your hands, not like the newer sets made from stainless steel; this is cast iron. You remain lost in admiration for who knows how long, until Dean breaks the moment with a soft chuckle. It’s not the first time he’s interrupted your daydreaming. It’s almost become routine since he started bringing by vintage kitchen supplies for you to identify for him every other month or so. Stuff he says he finds in his kitchen. Last time it was a nut grinder, and the time before that a bean slicer. You catch his amused and curious glance as he waits for you to explain yourself.

“Sorry, this is just such a gorgeous set. It-It’s for cookies,” you tell him, returning the piece to it’s spot in the box and folding the tissue back over it. “You don’t know how jealous I am that you just have all this great stuff in your kitchen.” You slide it back to him across the counter.

“It’s only great if you know how to use it. Keep it.” He says, stopping you with his hand. Friendly.

You can’t help the look of hope and excitement in your eyes as you pretend to try to refuse his offer. “No, I couldn’t.”

“You can, and you should. Use it to make Muriel some more cookies. Or consider it my small way of trying to make things up to you after blowing out half your shop.”

You turn away, putting together ingredients and warming the pan as you finish putting together some lunch. “You know, when you said ‘Wait! I have a better idea that doesn’t involve destroying the house’ I hoped you meant there would be a lot less destruction than there was.”

“Well, witches don’t make things easy. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s been months, and you did what you had to do. I’m alive, and while things are a little rough, I’m still glad.” You smile to yourself, letting the sound of the sizzling pan fill the silence.

“People really pay you sixty bucks for a plate?”

You turn to look at Dean, finding him twirling a platter between his fingers a bit too haphazardly for your liking.

“Ye-eh-esss,” you nervously sing as you skip over to grab it from him. “This is hand painted.”

“It’s a plate.”

“Well, you don’t just use it every day. It’s for special occasions, or for decoration.” You set it back on the display.

“Do people really need all this stuff? I mean, what the hell is this thing?”

You can’t help your giggle because it really is one of the more absurd items you carry. “That. Is a melon corer,” he stares at you blankly, “For like, cantaloupe. You slide it along the inside to cut some away from the rind, then use the fork part to eat it.” His expression moves from confused to pained, pulling a full laugh from you. “I know. I know, but people like giving gifts. No one needs all this stuff. It’s the thought that counts. It’s taking time to get something for a person, or making a meal and serving it with a special item that makes it useful.”

“I s’pose,” he flicks his brows; his eyes darting to the box containing the iron and then to you, one cheek rounded in a smirk. Friendly.

The conversation lulls as you cook, but you can feel Dean watching you, and keep your back to him while you work, trying to muster up the courage to make a move. God, something, anything. Since the incident with the curse, your stomach churned with the uncertainty of his intentions; or maybe more from your hope of what his intentions could be.

“That smells awesome,” he says, his head appearing right over your shoulder, making you jump.

“Thanks. It’s what we’re making in class tonight, so you get to be my guinea pig and tell me if it’s any good.”

You plate up two servings and set it before him, steam still rising from the hot food in tiny wisps. You settle on the stool next to his, watching as he digs and scoops with his fork, getting a huge bite of food ready to devour. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, amusement pulling up at the corner of his open mouth.

“What?” he asks, nervously.

“Nothing.”

“You’re watching me.”

“I know. I want to see your reaction. It’s part of the joy of being a chef.”

He remains still, dragging out the moment until you’re almost ready to push the food into his mouth yourself. You start to reach for the fork when he finally shoves it into his mouth, hissing at the temperature, before moaning at the taste. His head rolls back and his eyes close, and it’s dangerously close to what you’d consider an orgasmic reaction.

“So?”

“Fuck, that’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I could eat that everyday. This. Is. Awesome.”

You look down to your plate, happy with the way it looks and scoop yourself a bite, humming with satisfaction while critiquing yourself for not using enough herbs. You watch Dean, enjoying the way he’s digging into the food, imagining the two of you were back at your house, or at the nice little restaurant down the road with the strong brandy Old Fashioneds. You clear your throat.

“Would you ever want to…” you pause, caught in surprise by the way he fully turns his attention back to you, rich green eyes staring right back into your own. “Uhh,” you backtrack, “You should come to one of my cooking classes.”

If he notices any of your disappointment, he doesn’t show it, instead giving you a playful grin. Friendly.

“I don’t know about that. I’d hate to show up the teacher in her own class, I mean. I know my way around a kitchen.”

You play offended, “Well, then, in that case, I bet you can tell me what this is.” You hold up what looks like a comb with a long handle.

“Oh come on, that’s easy,” he waves you off. “It’s a backscratcher.”

“Cakebreaker.” You whisper.

“Yeah, like I said, a cakebreaker.”

“Just like you said.” You giggle and look back down to your food, trying to once again hide your blush and the way you swallow thickly despite his kind rejection. Friendly.

A little while and some small talk later, you hear the jingle of the bells from your shop door, eyes wide in alarm having remembered you locked it. Dean goes stiff at the sound too, his head perking up to listen.

“Hello? Dean? Y/n?” Sam calls, making you both slump in your seats again.

You roll your jaw, “Did he seriously just pick my lock?”

“Well, I wasn’t answering my phone, so probably.” He flicks out his phone showing six missed call notifications, pouting in a fake apology before sucking in a quick breath and shouting, “Yeah, Sam. Down in the kitchen!”

“You shouldn’t ignore him like that, it could have been important.”

“And let him drag me away? Not a chance,” he finishes with a wink. Friendly.

You hear Sam’s feet hurry down the stairs before you see him, his face tense for a second until he observes the scene and shifts to something resembling embarrassment.

“Ahh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt -”

“No, it’s fine, Sam.” You flash him a smile, “We lost track of time. There’s still some food left. Want some?” You move over to the still simmering pan, lifting it to scoop the food onto another plate before he can answer.

“Oh, Sammy, you gotta try this - “Actually, we kind of have to hit the road.”

The brothers talk over each other again, and this time there is no hiding the way your face falls. Dean let’s out a quiet ‘Oh’ as he wipes his mouth with a napkin and brings his cleared plate to the sink.

“Well, take the leftovers. You gotta eat, too.” You dig out a to-go container, packing it up as you hear them smacking one another behind your back. You plaster on a smile, turning around and gripping the container. “Now Sam, don’t you dare let Dean steal a bite of this,” you tell him sternly.

They lift their hands, waving behind themselves while they make their way out. Friendly.

You pause and nod at both of them, a sad smile drawing your lips tight, “Til next time, guys.”

Everyone was packing up, talking amongst themselves as you wrapped up the class.

“Now, on the back of your recipe cards, you’ll find some wine pairing suggestions. And remember, if you refer a friend, you get one class free,” you spoke above them.

They start to wave you off, making their way up the stairs and out of your shop as you follow, ready to lock up for the night.

“I missed it, huh?”

Your head shoots up, surprised by Dean’s voice, before you collect yourself, smiling while you shrug in confirmation.

“Good night,” one of your regulars, Janice, says with a hint of a question and a pointed eyebrow.

You flick a glance at Dean, then back to her with a nervous, restrained smile. “Goodnight, Jan.”

She smirks and ducks her head as she walks out, pulling her friend’s sleeve as she not-so-subtly checks out Dean while he leans against the counter.

You usher the rest out, chewing on your lip, your stomach doing flips as the nerves flare up again. You face the door, taking your time with the lights and the lock until you catch the figures being reflected in the window and notice Dean watching you - waiting. Just the way he leans against the furniture makes this appearance feel friendly. The blush couldn’t be stopped at he caught your look in the glass, and you quickly pulled your teeth away from your lip, straightening out and turning back to him.

“I, uhh. I thought you and Sam had to go?”

“Sammy had to go. I stuck around.”

“Everything okay?” You ask, anxiously shifting as you try to focus without staring too directly at him.

“Yeah, things are fine. Muriel checked out by the way.” He pauses as you roll your eyes. “And I just...you know I was hoping to get in on that lesson. Expand my horizons. I don’t suppose I could get a private lesson now that everyone’s gone?” Friendly, that definitely goes in the friendly column.

“Well, I hope you guys didn’t torture her too much, or else I might have to upgrade from cookies,” you smile as you walk past him toward the back stairs. He follows without having to be asked. Biting back the hopeful question you really wanted to ask, you clear your throat, “So, you’re serious? You want me to give you a lesson?”

“If you’re tired, or it’s too much trouble then-”

“No! No, it’s not a problem. Just...surprised...is all.”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I nee-ever said that,” you say as you throw your hands up in defense. “I’ve still got some food from the class if you’re hungry. That’s easy to make, probably even for you. But, mayyyybe we can give the rosettes a go?”

He grins at your teasing, before questioning you.

“You want me to help you make cookies?”

“They’re deep fried, they barely count as cookies. Unless...you don’t think you can?” You challenge. He stares you down before sliding his jacket from his shoulders.

Challenge accepted. You gather the containers for sugar and flour, “Okay, you start mixing this stuff, and I’ll get the oil started.”

You work with your backs to each other, him tossing questions about the recipe over his shoulder, and you multitasking as you tidy up while waiting for the oil to heat. You check over Dean’s shoulder, finding him mashing the ingredients like he’s trying to put a hole through your countertop. Your hands come to rest on his forearm, stopping his movements. He slumps a little, staring at you with adorable wide-eyed uncertainty.

“Here, a little lighter. It’s not gonna fight back.” You guide his arm in a circular motion, gently whisking the flour with the egg and milk mixture.

“Thanks, I got it.” He gives you a sheepish smile before pulling his posture back up.

“Sure.”

You turn back to the stove, watching the oil, wondering about watched pots while trying to think of something to fill the blaring silence.

“So? No Sam tonight then?”

You hear him push a breath through pursed lips. “Ahhmm, nope.”

“He got something against eating?”

“I wonder the same thing all the time,” he says, chuckling.

“Well, more cookies for you. Okay,” you pause to think through the recipe one more time, “We should be ready.” He sets the bowl onto the counter, standing so close he’s pushing into your side as you continue. “So, we need to get the iron nice and warmed up in the oil.”

“Always good to get warmed up,” his voice low and throaty in your ear.

You stifle a snort, looking at him, waiting for a twitch, or a wink, or anything else to let you know which column to bank that one in, but he’s got such a damn good poker face. His one eyebrow bends slightly, and you notice the corners of his mouth pulled in - pinching, just hinting at a smirk, but not even that gives away the intent of his words, and he seems to know it. The cockiness there instigates you, eyelid twitch and all, and before you can overthink it, you continue on, voice dipping into something more sultry.

“Ye-up. So after a minute or two, and while the iron’s hot, you dip it in the batter, nice and easy. Not all the way, you don’t want to just thrust it in there.”

“Oh, come on,” he groans.

“What?” You scoff.

“Really? Do you hear yourself?” He tilts his head, forehead wrinkled in disbelief.

“You got a problem with the way I teach?”

“Nope. Please continue.” The glimmer of amusement in his eyes makes you swallow hard. Friendly, with a little bit of friendly...or maybe it’s the other way around.

“Okay, so then you kind of swipe it in the hot oil, before finally plunging it in there.”

“Kind of tease it first, then dive in?” His voice wavers, and you glance at him, noticing him trying and failing to maintain a straight face. Your mind adds a tally in the column for the even more confusing friendly followed by a question mark.

“You’ve got it.” You watch as a bit of a blush creeps over his complexion. Your own heart pounds as your chest constricts, trying to keep your breathing normal instead of the adrenaline-fueled panting your body is calling for. “Okay, so now, see how the edges are puffing up and opening away from the hot iron?”

“Puffy and open, sonofabitch,” he whispers. You feel his hand on the small of your back, a little shaky, but blazing hot through the fabric of your top.

Now, your ears start to burn as you restrain yourself from backtracking. Your skin immediately heats up enough to draw out a light breakout of sweat, and you tremble with jitteriness as you opt to continue with the lesson that’s hopefully still tame enough to brush this all off as a joke if it goes south.

“That’s perfect, now we can take this chopstick and help push the cookie the rest of the way off the iron. Then you flip it, let the magic work while it’s face-down, and it’s finished.”

“That’s how you finish?” He sounds strained. Friendly.

“That’s - ah -,” You’re thrown off for a moment, knees weak at his implication. With how close he’s standing you can smell the mixture of sweat, and air, and whatever deodorant or body wash he used, something probably named Ocean Breeze. It’s mouthwatering and exactly what you would describe as masculine. You think you’ve got more in the fun column, but the thrill of the moment tempts you to push on. “You know, it’s not always that easy? Sometimes there’s a big mess, and then there’s the praying to god that you can actually make it to the end. But it’s worth all the effort, especially if they’re only an occasional kind of treat.” Friendly.

His eyes are bright and focused hard on you. He shifts a little as he wets his lips, “You don’t mind only having them once in awhile, even though you like em?”

Your mind races, eyes dancing back and forth between his as you search hopefully for a double meaning to his words. Head close to shaking side to side as you try to determine - cookies, or cookies?

“Nuh uh, nope. Sometimes there’s just no time, or...someone could be kind of picky, or prefers variety or something,” You struggle to find a good innuendo. Inarticulate sounds escape from you as the panicky rush constricts your chest until you finally let it spill out. “Or maybe sometimes someone has other obligations and the other person can understand that and still enjoy the cookies, even if they’re just...cookies.”

Friendly.

His mouth hangs slightly open, chest heaving as he looks you up and down. “Just,” he pauses to clear his throat after his voice shakes, “Just to be clear, we’re not just talking about cookies?”

The tension snaps within you and you giggle nervously. “No. I hope we’re not. I’m certainly not.”

“Okay, good, me neither.” He dips his head to place his lips against yours in a quick and confirming type of kiss. He pulls back, looking at you from under his brow, eyes narrowed as his expression goes back to cocky. “Can I teach you to cook sometime?”

A laugh escapes on your exhale. “Sure, what’s your specialty?”

“Well, I was thinking pancakes,” he smirks, waiting for you to take the bait.

“I only eat breakfast in the mornings, you think you’ll still be around tomorrow morning?”

“Until you kick me out,” he assures you, nose and lips brushing against yours as he leans in again.

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